“No. I did not. No one else saw me.”
“Well, no one else but Milly, the housemaid. Are you saying she is not of significance enough for us to worry over her word?”
“A housemaid? No. We may simply deny.”
He could feel her eyeing him. What did she expect him to say? It seemed she was waiting for something.
“And should your brother wonder why we are in no hurry to set the date,” he went on, deciding this was perhaps the direction of her thoughts, “we’ll tell him, uh, we wish to wait a bit.”
“For your uncle.”
“What?”
“We’ll tell him we’re waiting for your uncle to finish arranging for your finances.”
“Indeed, that sounds plausible.”
“Of course it is! Isn’t that what this is about, after all? You are willing to go along with this so that your uncle will look on you favorably and will arrange for you to have a better living? See, it’s the perfect excuse because it’s partially true.”
He acknowledged her point. “Yes, I see. And every habitual liar knows that the best falsehood is one that employs a great deal of truth.”
“Exactly.”
“I worry for you, Miss Rastmoor. You appear far too good at this sort of thing.”
“I’ve lived under my brother since Papa died years ago, sir. I’m afraid I’ve had to learn a few things to survive.”
“To survive? Rastmoor doesn’t strike me as an ogre, my dear.”
“No, he’s not an ogre. I love my brother, I do. It’s just that, well, his goals for me are very much different from mine. If it were up to Anthony, I’d never do anything, go anywhere, meet anyone, or learn anything at all.”
“Sounds like a very safe existence.”
She actually snorted at that. “Yes, doesn’t it? But what fun is it to be safe all the time?”
He had to admit the prospect didn’t exactly sound like much fun, but he could truthfully say the idea of being safe certainly had its merits. The girl had no idea just how lucky she was to have family who looked out for her well-being and actually wished to keep her around them. He could barely recall the last time any of his so-called family truly wished for his company, no matter how many times over the years he had craved theirs.
“I’m sure Rastmoor has your best interests at heart.”
“I know, I know. He believes he does, but really he has no idea what my interests are.”
“From what I’ve seen of your interests, my dear, your brother may, in fact, be quite wise in holding you on such a tight leash.”
“Oh bother. Not you, too!”
He had to laugh. “No, not me, too, Miss Rastmoor. If you may recall, I am currently playing the role of villain in one of your schemes, so you can hardly accuse me of being party to your boredom.”
“Well, you certainly don’t seem to be playing the villain with much conviction, Lord Harry. My brother is quite in love with you, it would seem. I fear things are going far better for you in this plot than they are for me.”
He twitched the reins and the finely bred horses eagerly increased their steps. The phaeton was well sprung and did not lurch or jolt in the least. They rolled along in perfect comfort and admirable style.
It was not the fashionable hour, so Harris had not bothered to steer them toward the park. Instead, they were traveling roads lined with homes of the well fed and highly regarded. The traffic was light and the sunshine filtered through the leafy overhang where a row of ash trees had grown full and mature along one side of the street. Indeed, his companion was correct. Things certainly were going well for him.
He’d found most of the stolen collection, the scarab was nearly in his possession, and now he’d gotten a brilliant new phaeton out of the bargain. Indeed, all he needed was to put it all together and Professor Oldham was as good as rescued. It would be up to Rastmoor to rescue his sister. Harris hoped to be a continent away by the time Penelope was left to face society’s censure alone.
He did regret that. True, Penelope had run headlong into this sham engagement knowing it could not possibly end without at least some damage to her reputation, but still he couldn’t really pretend to take pride in his involvement in her ruin. Enjoyment, perhaps, but certainly not pride. Likely that was what pricked his conscience the most, the fact that he truly was enjoying himself.
He enjoyed the pretense of respectability, the easy acceptance he’d received from Rastmoor, the glorious sensation of driving and being seen in this remarkable new carriage, and of course he enjoyed Penelope. If he had his way, likely he’d enjoy a good deal more of her, too. That would, of course, be reprehensible, but he was hardly one to worry over such foolishness as honor and morality. His uncle reminded him at every possible moment that there was no honor in him—not from the start. Why should he deny himself what Miss Rastmoor was making so very easy?
At least, he thought she would make it rather easy, should he ever get around to asking. He’d simply have to ask the right questions.
“I’ve noticed you wear a rather striking pendant. Egyptian, I believe?”
“Oh, you mean my scarab. Yes, it is striking, isn’t it?”
“A gift from someone?”
“No, actually, I purchased it for myself.”
“Really? Er, rather an unusual purchase, I should think.”
“Should you? I don’t think so in the least.”
“But it’s not exactly something one sees around every corner.”
“Which of course merely adds to its allure.”
“Is that what the shopkeeper who sold it to you said?”
“Shopkeeper? Honestly, you cannot come by something like this in a simple shop, Lord Harry.”
“Oh? You came by it through some other means?”
“Well, I…Oh look. There is someone waving toward you, just ahead.”
He glanced in the direction she pointed to discover there was indeed someone waving toward him. Bother. Just when he was getting into conversation that would prove most enlightening, now they were distracted. Miss Rastmoor would likely wonder at his interest in her jewelry when he tried to bring up the subject again. The last thing he wanted was for her to become curious and discover just how valuable her little bauble truly was.
But there was nothing he could do. Approaching were two young men on horseback. Harris recognized both of them. He was only barely tolerant of running into one of them. The other he would rather wish to hades than suffer the interruption.
“Hello, cousin!” the tolerated one called, smiling.
Ferrel. What the devil was he doing here? And with such annoying company. Harris eyed his younger cousin and the gentleman who rode along beside him.
“Hello, Ferrel. Markland.”
“Good day to you,” Ferrel said, cheerful as always. “And to Miss Rastmoor, as well.”
He could not say he liked the warm smile Ferrel had ready for the young lady. “So you and my fiancée are acquainted?”
“Only just,” Ferrel replied. “We met yesterday. It’s most pleasant to see you again, Miss Rastmoor.”
“Thank you, sir,” Miss Rastmoor said with a polite nod.
Harris approved of the cool tone she used. He would have approved even more if her gaze had not shifted to Markland and lingered over his elegant form.
“May I present my friend George Markland?” Ferrel said. “He is just arrived in Town.”
Ah, pity he’d chosen now to arrive. Another few weeks and Harris would have been gone and missed this happy reunion.
“Yes, Markland and I have met,” Harris said, carefully ignoring the fact that the introduction had most likely been for Miss Rastmoor’s sake. “I hope your family is not missing you too much while you are in Town, Markland.” And how soon before you leave?
“My grandfather’s health continues to be poor, but he assures me I can be spared from his bedside to attend to business here. How surprised I was to arrive and hear of your engagement, Chesterton. May I extend my
good wishes?”
No, actually, you may not. He didn’t say that out loud, of course. No reason to make things unpleasant at this point. With luck, they’d never so much as lay eyes on Markland again during his stay in Town and there’d be no reason to inform Miss Rastmoor of the unpleasantness between them. The sooner Harris could make polite small talk and then be rid of the men, the better.
“I am indeed a most fortunate man,” he said. “I find being engaged is quite a comfortable circumstance. I encourage everyone to try it at some point.”
Markland did not reply. Ferrel, however, thought it was great fun.
“Listen to him, Markland! My cousin is natting on like some silly schoolgirl in love! Oh, but this is rich. I never would have thought to see the day, Harry.”
“Obviously Miss Rastmoor is a true Incomparable, to reduce our Lord Harry to this condition. I tip my hat to you, miss.”
Miss Rastmoor seemed to find the gentlemen quite amusing, and she laughed easily for them. Her smile for Markland’s flattery was warming inordinately, and Harris could not like that one bit. Fortunately, as they had paused in the street to pass these pleasantries, they were now blocking traffic and it was time to move on. Harris could not have been happier for it.
“And now the incomparable Miss Rastmoor and I must be off on our way, gentlemen,” Harris announced. “I bid you well, Cousin.”
“Indeed, Harry. Perhaps we’ll meet up soon.”
“Perhaps,” Harris conceded, considering it would be rather difficult to avoid him now that they’d run across each other again.
Ferrel would likely seek to trot after his heels as he’d often done before. Harris could only hope he would not bring along his smug and superior new friend. Perhaps, in fact, Harris would be forced to fabricate some good reason for Ferrel to avoid Markland. True, he’d likely not find any real issues to score against the man, but that was a part of the problem. George Markland was too damn perfect, and Harris would make well certain that as few people as possible ever figured that out.
Miss Rastmoor especially.
Chapter Eight
She wasn’t certain, but it seemed Lord Harry had not been very pleased to see his cousin or his friend Mr. Markland. Penelope had no idea why that should be the case. True, Ferrel Chesterton had been abominably forward yesterday when he’d approached her in public, but he’d seemed earnestly pleased to run into his cousin. And Mr. Markland seemed quite cordial. Perhaps she had imagined any ill humor in Lord Harry at meeting them.
No matter. Lord Harry’s connections were the least of her concern right now. She’d do well to worry more for the pressing matters at hand. Such as Anthony’s growing fondness for a future brother-in-law he was supposed to despise.
“I’m getting a bit concerned about Anthony’s attitude toward you,” she began. “I fear you are not nearly as disgusting to him as I had first expected.”
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not, Miss Rastmoor.”
“Not, I should think, since disgusting Anthony is our top priority.”
“Yes, that and impressing my uncle.”
“Yes, that, too.” She had to think about this for a moment. “It does seem quite a conflict, doesn’t it, to accomplish both tasks at the same time?”
“It does, I admit.”
“I suppose we may have to concentrate on one at a time, and since once we’ve managed to turn Anthony completely against you your uncle is hardly likely to be pleased, then perhaps we should work toward gaining his favor before we increase our efforts to lose Anthony’s.”
“It would seem logical to approach things that way.”
“Very well. I’ll allow Anthony to continue to like you just a bit longer.”
“You are kindness embodied, Miss Rastmoor.”
His smirk assured her he was mocking now. “I’m so glad you are finding this whole thing amusing, Lord Harry.”
“And I am, my dear, I assure you. Would that all my engagements were to prove this entertaining.”
“All of them? And how many have you had, sir?”
“I’m pleased to say you are my first, Miss Rastmoor,” he said, then glanced at her with lowered brows and flashing eyes. “Pity you cannot say the same for me.”
His tone made her blush. Her cheeks grew warm and she found herself staring at her lap. The man’s eyes, his words, the deep warmth in his voice…It was impossible for her not to recognize his implication.
She supposed, in fact, she ought to be somewhat insulted by it. Why, obviously he implied by his tone and flashing eyes that she’d behaved badly with her previous fiancés. Insulting, indeed. Yet she wasn’t insulted. He was teasing her, of course. Far from being insulted, she found herself oddly flattered by such warm attentions.
How ridiculous of her, to blush at his teasing. As if she welcomed it! Very well, perhaps she did. What female could not? Lord Harry was, after all, impossible to ignore from a feminine viewpoint. She simply must get hold of her silly emotions and recall that theirs was a relationship of convenience and nothing more.
He was still eyeing her, though, and drat it all if he didn’t appear to be considering her most convenient indeed. The blushing continued. Botheration! This was most decidedly inconvenient.
“I believe I explained to you the situation regarding my various fiancés, sir,” she said, aiming for pert and a bit chilly.
“You babbled something about them, but it was nothing like an explanation. I rather assumed you had something to hide.”
“Well, I do not. I simply do not wish to spend hours discussing ancient history.”
“No, you prefer to grab ancient history up from a table and bludgeon me with it as I enter the room.”
“You entered the room through the window, sir! Honestly, you cannot continue to blame me for doing what every sane human would.”
He laughed at her again. Extra drat; she found she enjoyed that, too. She enjoyed seeing the sparkle in his eye, the hinted dimple in his cheek, and knowing somehow she’d been the one to put it there.
“London can rest well at night as long as Miss Rastmoor has her funerary phallus close at hand.”
“However did you know what that was?” she said, then realized she was rather indicting herself. A decent and proper young lady would certainly have no inkling what that item had been. “I mean, is that truly what I grabbed up last night?”
“I regret to inform you, my dear, that indeed it was. In all its wooden glory.”
So he had recognized it for what it was. Well, of course he had. What else could it have been? Even if the man had no knowledge whatsoever of Egyptian antiquities, he’d certainly have recognized that object. And, dear Lord, she’d been wielding it around like her weapon of choice! She was blushing again now; she could feel it.
“I should have thought you might have known what it was yourself,” he said.
“What? No, of course not. I’m shocked you should think so!”
“Well, you wear that Egyptian pendant around your neck. I merely thought perhaps you had a certain propensity for antiquities.”
“Oh. Yes, well, I do enjoy some of the more aesthetic items. They are quite lovely, aren’t they?”
“Indeed,” he said, and was eyeing her scarab again. “This one in particular, because it is adorned by you, my dear.”
“I believe you are teasing me again.”
“What? No, in this case I am perfectly serious. Your little scarab would not look half so pretty on anyone else. You were wise to purchase it for yourself. Where did you say that you got it?”
Now she knew he’d been teasing her. No man who flattered in earnest would have been so quick to change the topic and pursue mindless small talk this way. She tried not to be disappointed.
“From a friend, sir.”
“A friend who collects antiquities?”
“Er, not that I know of. My friend had come by it and did not wish to keep it, so I purchased it with my pin money.”
“Pin mon
ey, you say? Your brother must be very generous indeed.”
“I believe he’s rather proven that point today, don’t you agree?”
He nodded. “Indeed I do. Anthony Rastmoor has proven himself a generous and benevolent man, even if he has insisted that you never do anything, go anywhere, meet anyone, or learn anything at all.”
“Perhaps I did exaggerate a bit about Anthony’s rules.”
“And perhaps your brother has relaxed his rules now that you are a respectably betrothed woman.”
“Perhaps. Now if we can only see such an effect on your uncle!”
“I’m afraid that might be a lost cause. Come, why don’t you tell me more about your scarab and how your friend came to possess it?”
“Oh no, don’t think you can change the subject so easily. It’s not fair that I should be getting all the benefit of this engagement. We should think up some way to convince your uncle that you are worthy of his high esteem, after all. Why, certainly if he believed you reformed, he’d reverse your financial difficulties immediately. Somehow we must show him that you are every bit respectable now. Yes, that is what we must do.”
“Clearly. But how, exactly, do you propose we do that, my dear?”
“Well, perhaps you could introduce me to him. If I pretend to fawn on you and drivel on and on to him over your many virtues, that might have some effect.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt your ability to drivel and fawn, Miss Rastmoor, but I’m afraid an introduction would be rather difficult. I’m told my uncle has left London for Kent, the family seat, and I’ve certainly not been issued an invitation. In fact, I doubt he even knows I’ve become engaged.”
“What? He doesn’t know? Well, then I must send him a letter. Yes, that is what I’ll do.”
“A letter? You make it a habit of sending unsolicited letters to men you’ve never met, Miss Rastmoor?”
“No! Of course not. Don’t be silly. I just…I was thinking aloud, that’s all. You should be the one to send him a letter, of course. Then you could tell him of our engagement and you could give him my good wishes.”
Passion and Pretense Page 12
