A Suitable Match: Historical Romance (The Marstone Series Book 2)

by Jayne Davis

  “You should not keep such a treasure to yourself,” Senhor da Gama interrupted. “But my apologies, we have not been introduced.” He cast a quick glance at Bella, laughter in his eyes, before bowing with a flourish. “Senhor Luis Alfonso Sousa da Gama, at your service, sir.”

  Relieved that he hadn’t asked her to make the introductions—and remember that string of names—Bella tried to hide her smile. Senhor da Gama had not sounded so pompous when they’d talked before.

  “Lord Barnton,” her escort said. “Heir to Viscount Chevington.”

  “Ah, how nice for you,” Senhor da Gama said. “I, myself, am merely a younger son of the Visconde de Santa Ines.”

  “Your servant, sir.” Lord Barnton glared at Senhor da Gama, his posture stiff, but the Portuguese only smiled pleasantly in return. Lord Barnton finally turned to Bella and bowed over her hand. “It has been a pleasure, Lady Isabella. I hope to see you again soon.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” She turned to look at Senhor da Gama as Lord Barnton stalked off.

  “I hope you do not mind the interruption, Lady Isabella,” he said, his voice deepening a little as he looked into her eyes.

  “No, not at all.” Bella’s heart began to beat faster.

  “I am here with friends of my family, but I could not resist the chance to pay my respects to you.”

  Could the younger lady be his aunt? Bella smiled up at him.

  “I think that one does not like me,” Senhor da Gama said, glancing at the retreating form of Lord Barnton. “Did you listen carefully to his lecture?”

  Bella giggled, his answering smile making her heart race. “My attention might have wandered,” she admitted. As she spoke, the bell for the third act rang—she had to ask now. “Senhor da Gama, may I ask you to do me a service?”

  He bowed. “It would be my pleasure, my lady.”

  “You don’t know what I am going to ask yet,” Bella said.

  “Ah, well. If it is an impossible task, then I am very good at thinking of excuses.”

  He had lovely smiling eyes.

  “But tell me what you need, Lady Isabella.”

  “I need someone to escort me to… to a part of London of which my aunt would not approve. I will have a maid and a footman, but someone more…” Her voice tailed off. Stronger? With more authority? “It is nothing improper.”

  “How could it be? I will happily escort you, my lady. What time shall I call?”

  He must not come to Marstone House—that would destroy her plan. Bella tried to recall the names of the streets near Grosvenor Square.

  “Could you meet me tomorrow at two o’clock on the corner of Green Street and Park Street?”

  He raised a brow, but nodded. “I will be there. Farewell, minha dama.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to the back of it.

  Bella felt her cheeks heat, and pressed her hands to her face as she watched him walk away. No matter if she was blushing—the lighting in the box was dim.

  Nick hurried up the stairs, not wanting to interrupt his hosts’ enjoyment of the play with another late arrival. He was jostled by a man hurrying in the opposite direction.

  “I beg your pardon.”

  The apology drifted to his ears and he stopped, turning abruptly. All he saw was the back of a burgundy coat and matching breeches. But the words had been accented, and the Portuguese had been wearing that colour.

  Damn it. He’d bet money that Lady Isabella had talked with the man, in spite of his warning. How was he supposed to help her if she would not do as he advised?

  “She took a turn on the corridor with Lord Barnton,” Lady Tregarth whispered, in answer to his question. “No-one else called on her.”

  He hadn’t seen Barnton on his way back to the box, so she could have spoken to da Gama. His concern might be unfounded in any case. Although the Portuguese seemed to have a way with women, that did not mean he would behave improperly towards Lady Isabella.

  He turned his attention to the stage, irritated that he now had to keep an eye on da Gama as well as everything else.

  Chapter 9

  Luis leaned against a wall at the end of Green Street, tapping his stick against one boot. If this business took too long, he’d be late for his meeting with Lady Sudbury.

  He pulled his watch out for the third time—he’d been here for twenty minutes now. Not only had the novelty of listening to the cries of milkmaids, flower-girls, and other hawkers worn off, but a fine drizzle was beginning to mist the air.

  His eyes on the street, he didn’t notice Lady Isabella approaching until she stood beside him. She was clad in a drab brown redingote, her hair stuffed into a plain cap beneath an even plainer bonnet. She looked little better than the frowning maid standing behind her.

  He transferred his stick to his left hand, and made his bow. “My lady. Where do you wish to go?”

  She blushed delightfully. “To St Giles, if you please. I am trying to find a… a servant who I am worried about.”

  A servant?

  “She lost her job, and I feel responsible,” Lady Isabella added. “I am told that it is not safe for me to go alone to where she lives.”

  It was an odd request for assistance—a lady should not be concerning herself with the lower orders. But she wanted to go, and he saw no harm in escorting her. “Very well. Anything to please a lady.” He bowed over her hand again with an extravagant flourish, and laughed with her as she giggled. “Are we to walk?”

  “No, I sent a footman to find a hackney.” She turned to the maid. “Molly, where is Langton?”

  “He’s here now, my lady.” Molly pointed at a carriage drawing up beside them. A young man jumped down and Luis inspected him with disapproval—a footman working for someone of Lady Isabella’s status should be in livery with a properly powdered wig.

  Langton opened the door and Luis wrinkled his nose as a smell of stale sweat, cabbage, and… yes, vomit, wafted his way. He could not ride in that, and nor could Lady Isabella.

  “This is not good—”

  “It will have to do, Senhor da Gama.” The command in Lady Isabella’s words surprised him—she had not seemed so forceful when they talked earlier. She climbed into the carriage, followed by her maid.

  Getting in after her, he dusted the seat with his handkerchief before sitting down. If he’d known he would have to ride in a conveyance this filthy, he would not have worn these clothes. The footman closed the door, and the hackney rocked as he climbed up beside the driver.

  Lady Isabella stared out of the window, looking distracted—worried, even—as the carriage wound its way through the traffic. The view changed from large, stone-fronted houses to smaller brick ones, and the roads grew narrower. They passed fewer polished carriages with matched horses, and more delivery carts and hand barrows.

  “Are you sure you wish to go to this part of the town?” he asked. They were well beyond the areas of London he had explored—these streets were beginning to resemble the overcrowded and filthy areas around the docks.

  “My footman knows the way,” Lady Isabella said, her voice lacking the confidence it had held before.

  London must be larger than he had thought, as it seemed to take a long time to reach their destination. Eventually they came to a halt, and Langton opened the door.

  “This is as far as the carriage can go, my lady,” he said, ignoring Luis. “The next streets are too narrow.”

  Luis stepped out with relief, and held his hand to assist Lady Isabella.

  “I can take a message, my lady,” Langton suggested. “You could wait here.”

  Lady Isabella’s brows creased as she looked about her. Luis followed the direction of her gaze. Paint peeled from the doors of the dirty houses, and the wet cobblestones could hardly be seen for mud and other things he didn’t like to contemplate. It smelled, too, although not as badly as the inside of the hackney. The people on the street were careworn, hunched under shawls or ragged coats.

  “Langton, did you see Billy whe
n you came before?” Lady Isabella asked.

  “No, my lady. There was only a woman and a lot of brats at the address Miss Fletcher gave me. The woman said it’d cost, but she’d see Billy all right this once.”

  None of that made any sense to Luis.

  “It’s a few streets away,” Langton went on. “What do you want me to say?”

  “I wish to speak to her myself.”

  “Are you sure, my lady? It’s not a good—”

  “Your mistress has decided,” Luis said impatiently. “She is under my protection.”

  Langton’s mouth turned down at the corners, but he took a step back. “It’s down there, my lady,” he said, pointing to the entrance to an alley.

  “Oi, I want my money before you go,” the driver called.

  “We will pay when we return,” Luis said, holding his elbow for Lady Isabella to take.

  “Not good enough. ’Ow am I to know you’ll come back?”

  Luis spun around, glaring at the driver. “You have my word as a gentleman.”

  “Bugger that,” the man said. Luis jumped backwards as a gob of spittle just missed their feet.

  How dare he?

  Luis took a couple of paces towards the driver, raising his cane. “Hijo de puta! You do not—”

  “Sir!” Langton stepped in front of him. “Sir, you will put Lady Isabella in danger. Look around you.”

  Luis almost hit the footman, but stopped himself in time. It would not do to brawl with one of Lady Isabella’s own servants, no matter how insolent. A small audience of skinny urchins had gathered around them, and a little way down the street a group of men clustered before an alehouse.

  “My apologies, my lady,” Luis said. “I was thinking only of the disrespect to you.”

  “I can send Langton—”

  “Nonsense. I will protect you, Lady Isabella.” There was no need for her to change her plans because of the protests of a mere servant. He glared at Langton. “Pay him.”

  Langton pulled some coins from a pocket and handed them up. The driver bit one, then stowed them in a pocket. “There’ll be more if you’re still here when we get back,” Langton said.

  The driver shrugged and called one of the urchins over. Luis looked back as they moved off down the street, seeing the lad dashing into the alehouse. The man might wait, but would he be in a fit state to drive them?

  That was a problem for later—he could always send the ill-mannered footman to find another carriage when they returned. And a cleaner one, this time.

  Not liking the look of the men outside the alehouse, Luis gestured for Molly to walk next to Lady Isabella as Langton led the way. He fell in behind them. A few children kept pace with them, round eyes moving from Lady Isabella’s garments to his own coat and breeches. He checked that his sword was loose inside its stick.

  Bella looked at the crowd of ragamuffins from the corner of her eye, not wanting to attract any more attention than they already had. The men’s stares had seemed to bore into her as they passed the alehouse, but thankfully none of them had approached their little party.

  “What do they want?” she asked Molly, keeping her voice low as she indicated the children. She pulled her skirts sideways to avoid a pile of refuse with a gaunt dog sniffing at it.

  “Looking at your clothes, like as not, my lady. They’ll not have seen anything as fine, not in these streets.” Molly’s lips were a thin line, turned down at the corners.

  “Should I give them some money?” Bella’s hand moved towards the slit in her skirt as she spoke.

  “No!” Molly took a deep breath, then spoke in a whisper. “No, my lady. Don’t let on you’ve a full purse, for heaven’s sake.”

  “Why n—?”

  “My lady, there’s some as would steal the clothes off your back, never mind taking the money.”

  Bella swallowed hard. Molly had tried to dissuade her from coming in person—why had she not listened? Stealing jewellery she could understand, but to steal clothing from a person wearing it? Molly’s chatter about village life had included the effects of poverty, but she’d never seen this degree of hardship with her own eyes. None of the villagers at church had been as thin and hollow-eyed as these children.

  Not only children, she realised, taking more note of her surroundings. A woman stood in a doorway, barely sheltered from the drizzle. She was more gaudily dressed than the others, with lace around the edges of her low neckline. As they approached, Bella could see that the gown must once have been very fine, but had been mended too many times. The woman smiled and took a step forward as they approached. Senhor da Gama snapped something at her and she retreated again, scowling. Glancing behind as they passed her, Bella saw two men further back. They were smaller and less well-built than Senhor da Gama and Langton, but Bella shivered. It was the expression on their faces—smiles that were more like snarls—and the purposeful way they walked.

  Senhor da Gama pulled on the handle of his cane and she caught a glimpse of a sword blade. He sheathed it again, but the action did nothing to reassure her—he was also worried about their safety.

  Her actions had put Molly and Langton into danger, as well as herself.

  “Langton?”

  “My lady?” The footman slowed, but did not stop walking.

  “Can we go back?”

  Langton, too, took in the men behind and shook his head. “Best not, my lady. I can try a different way out of this area, if you wish.”

  “Yes.”

  Langton turned left at the next side alley, his pace picking up. Bella looked behind again as they neared another corner, relieved to see that the men were no longer there. Langton turned left again—that should take them back towards the cleaner streets where they’d left the carriage.

  Her moment of relief vanished. The alley ahead of them twisted to the right. Langton slowed, looking about him, then came to a stop.

  “I’m sorry, my lady. I don’t know my way from here. We will have to retrace our steps some of the way.”

  “Can we ask for directions?” Although that might not be a good idea. The few people standing in doorways regarded them with sullen expressions.

  “Those men,” Senhor da Gama said behind her.

  Bella turned, her heart thumping in her chest as the same two men turned into the alley and advanced towards them. They smiled, triumph and greed plain on their faces, and one of them licked his lips.

  “I’m sorry, Molly,” Bella whispered, her stomach feeling as if a lump of cold lead had settled in it. This was all her fault for not listening. She clutched Molly’s hand and moved a few steps further down the alley, but then stopped. There might be just as much danger if they went on. Metal sang as Senhor da Gama drew his sword, and the two men came to a stop, their smiles fading.

  “Keep an eye out the other way, my lady,” Langton said, moving around her to stand next to Senhor da Gama. “Molly, if you can, run past them and back the way—”

  Langton’s voice broke off as four more men turned into the alley. One of them shouted and broke into a run, pushing his way between the two would-be assailants. Behind, the other newcomers swung cudgels.

  “Thank God,” Langton muttered.

  Bella looked again—what was Langton thinking? These men only added to their danger, surely?

  “That’s Mr Archer, my lady,” Molly whispered. “We’ll be safe now.”

  Their two assailants turned to look behind them, then ran, pushing past Archer’s men and disappearing down a side lane.

  Bella swallowed bile in her throat, her knees threatening to collapse with relief. If it hadn’t been Archer, they could all have been killed.

  “This way, my lady,” Archer said as he reached her, taking her arm without ceremony and setting off back the way they had come. Apart from being rather cleaner, Archer was dressed as scruffily as the others in this neighbourhood. Was this really Will’s trusted man?

  “Unhand her, man!” Senhor da Gama pulled on Archer’s shoulder, but Archer sh
ook him off with a glare and Langton grasped his sword arm.

  “Don’t, sir. You’ll attract more attention.”

  Archer pulled Bella along, Molly hurrying beside them. A servant had never handled her so, but Bella was too glad of the rescue to mind.

  “I am not afraid to—” Senhor da Gama protested behind them.

  “Then you’re a damned fool.” Langton’s voice carried clearly. “There’s more of ’em in these houses, and we need to get Lady Isabella out of here.”

  The men with Archer were keeping a watchful eye on the houses lining the street, their expressions wary rather than threatening.

  She would be safe. The knot of dread inside her vanished, even though they were not yet back in civilisation.

  Archer’s pace did not slow until they came in sight of their carriage. The driver took one look at Archer’s face and handed a mug down to a boy still hanging around on the corner.

  “Where to, guv’ner?”

  “Davies Street,” Archer said, opening the door. Bella climbed in without assistance, Molly following her.

  “No.” Senhor da Gama’s voice carried through the door. “Grosvenor Square. Lady Isabella needs to be—”

  “Davies Street,” Archer said again. “We will walk from there. Get in, or be left behind. Your choice.”

  “How dare—?”

  “Can we go now? Please?” Bella begged, leaning forward until she could see Senhor da Gama.

  He muttered something she could not make out, but did get into the coach. Archer shut the door and climbed up with the driver before the coach moved off.

  “Who is that man?” Senhor da Gama asked, his mouth tense in anger.

  “He works for my brother.”

  “He works—?”

  “He rescued us,” Bella said firmly, resting her head against the greasy squabs and closing her eyes. She should thank Senhor da Gama for escorting her, even though he hadn’t actually been much help. If Archer hadn’t…

  No, she refused to let her mind dwell on what might have been. She must think about a better way of contacting Fletcher instead. Would Archer know? Molly could ask him.