A Most Unconventional Match

by Julia Justiss

  Daylight was fading by the time Hal returned to his lodgings. Striding into his study, he began packing up the rolls of engineering drawings, expense ledgers and letters of introduction he’d obtained to other potential investors.

  With the consultation he’d just completed, he had now enough investors pledged to the project that he could, if he wished, begin his journey tomorrow. Loathe as he was to leave London and Elizabeth Lowery, the sooner he got the project underway, the sooner he would be able to return.

  He would delay his departure only long enough to call in Green Street and inform Elizabeth of his plans.

  A wistful smile touched his lips. Would Elizabeth protest his leaving as vociferously as Mama had? He thought she’d looked kindly at him today…even ardently, though he must be careful not to project his sensual desires on to her. Indeed, newly widowed as she was, he’d most certainly been mistaken in thinking she’d deliberately leaned toward him in the carriage, as if offering up her lips for his kiss.

  Would she ever offer them? Could he bear it if she did not?

  Dimly he became aware of a murmur of agitated voices in the hallway beyond the heavy mahogany door. When, after several moments, the noise continued, accented by the sounds of scuffling, with a frown he rose from his desk.

  About to ask Jeffers what the devil was going on, Hal opened the door to the hallway and stopped short. To his consternation, straining against Jeffers, who was apparently trying to drag her toward the front door that stood wide open behind them, her cheeks flushed pink with effort and her face determined, there in his entryway stood Lady Tryphena Upton.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  To the murderous glare Hal turned on him, Jeffers protested, ‘It wasn’t my fault! I told her she mustn’t come in, but she—she wrestled her way past me!’

  Aghast, Hal hastened to close the front door, praying that old Lady Worthington, who resided across the street and lived for gossip about the ton, hadn’t chanced to look out of her front windows. He added another prayer that in the few moments Lady Tryphena had stood on his doorstep, no ton carriage had passed by bearing someone who recognised her.

  ‘Insist on entering, go in,’ he told Lady Tryphena grimly, gesturing to the study. ‘Stay here!’ he snapped at Jeffers before he followed her in, leaving the door to the hallway ajar and wondering what in heaven had possessed the girl to do something as unforgivably scandalous as pay a visit upon a single gentleman in his rooms—without even the vestige of a maid to lend her respectability.

  Indicating she should take the chair behind the desk, he strode over to the hearth, his mind already reeling at the possible calamities that might result from this unprecedented invasion of his privacy.

  Voicing his first suspicion, he demanded, ‘Mama put you up to this?’

  Now that she’d achieved her object, Lady Tryphena looked less sure of herself. ‘Well, not precisely,’ she replied, perching on the edge of Hal’s oversized desk chair and rubbing her hands together nervously. ‘She did hint that perhaps I might speed things along by inducing you to linger alone with me in some drawing room, where we might be discovered so society would decide I’d been compromised. But how am I to do that, if you never escort us anywhere?’

  ‘Want to marry me?’ he asked bluntly.

  Her face coloured. ‘No! I mean, yes! Oh, it’s so complicated!’ To his disgust and dismay, Lady Tryphena burst into tears.

  Of all feminine stratagems, Hal most disliked waterworks. Biting back a curse, he stomped to the side table, poured a generous glass of wine and carried it to the sobbing girl. Shaking her shoulder none too gently, he held out the glass. ‘Drink,’ he ordered.

  With a little hiccup of surprise, she ceased weeping and stared at him, then accepted the glass.

  After waiting for her to take a sip, Hal said, ‘Better tell the whole.’

  ‘Well, everything was going splendidly until this Season. Though Mama was upset that I’d rebuffed all my suitors, since Papa and Reginald—my eldest brother—never pay any attention to me, I was left alone. But then, at the race meetings last fall, Reginald lost an enormous sum gaming. Papa’s losses were almost as great, plus he invested a huge amount in some ships that got lost in a storm off India. So now he’s demanding that I help the family by marrying a man of wealth, and soon.’

  If it weren’t his neck she was trying to stick in a noose, Hal might almost have felt sorry for her. ‘Chose me for honour?’ he asked drily.

  She nodded. ‘When your mama approached me, it suddenly occurred to me that you were perfect! If I could please Mrs Waterman and remain near you, I could figure out a way to get us engaged. I have to become engaged to some gentleman of means, you see, or Papa threatened he would send me to live with Great-Aunt Serephina in Northumberland, and I should never have pretty dresses or go to the theatre or see my darling Charles again!’

  Hal blinked. ‘Charles?’

  Her teary visage grew rapturous. ‘He is the dearest, most wonderful man! And I shall never, ever love anyone else, no matter what Papa threatens to do to me!’

  ‘Why marry me, then?’

  ‘Charles is just a younger son and dreadfully poor, so Papa wouldn’t hear of us marrying, nor Charles’s family either, once they discovered Papa and Reginald had lost so much money that I no longer had a large dowry.’

  ‘Marry me, lose Charles,’ Hal pointed out, trying to hang on to his patience.

  ‘But that’s just it! Everyone knows your mama has been trying to marry you off for ages, yet you’ve managed to resist all her attempts. I thought if I could just compromise you enough that you had to offer for me, you’d be in no hurry to wed. As long as I was affianced to a man of great wealth, Papa’s creditors would leave him alone and Charles would have time to figure out how we could be together.’

  ‘Asinine scheme!’ Hal said curtly. ‘What if went ahead and married you?’

  Shock and distress coloured her face. ‘You—you wouldn’t do that, would you?’

  ‘No wish to marry you,’ he assured her, brain racing as he tried to think a way out of this tangle. Coming up with a possible solution, he asked, ‘Willing to elope?’

  ‘Elope—with Charles?’ she gasped. ‘How scandalous!’

  Before Hal could compromise his integrity by urging on her a solution that would ruin her reputation as thoroughly as leaving his house unaffianced, her eyes brightened and she cried, ‘But how exciting! That would be perfect! You’re not as slow-witted as your mama claims after all.’

  ‘Not bacon-brained enough to compromise someone don’t want to marry,’ Hal retorted.

  ‘I am not bacon-brained!’ she flashed back. ‘I think my delaying action was brilliant. It’s all well for you to sniff. You’re a man; you can inherit or earn the money you need. Or borrow it. Or flee the country and start over. A girl has only herself in marriage to bargain with.’

  She had a point there, Hal conceded reluctantly. ‘This Charles willing to elope too?’

  She straightened, looking affronted. ‘Of course! He would face any danger or scandal to claim me for his own!’

  Still thinking rapidly, he asked, ‘Charles have profession? Skills to support wife?’

  Lady Tryphena frowned. ‘He’s a gentleman.’

  Hal sighed. ‘No skills. Could live outside London?’

  ‘If we are together, we could be happy in a hovel!’

  Hal doubted that, as hovels seldom came equipped with theatre seats and pretty dresses, but if the couple were prepared to eschew London, he might arrange something. He had a large estate in the Marches that could provide its manager enough income to support a wife, and the property was in good enough order that even if the unknown Charles were as great an idiot as Lady Tryphena, he probably couldn’t ruin it.

  ‘Who knows you here?’

  She lifted her chin, eyeing him warily. ‘I told my dear friend Olivia Compton that I might have to Do Something Desperate. And Lady Worthington saw me from her window. I waved at her just before I
came in.’

  Groaning, Hal poured himself a generous glass of wine, downed it in two gulps and began pacing the room.

  He’d hoped to delay his departure and take several days to sort this out, but with Lady Worthington doubtless glued to her front window, waiting for Lady Tryphena to emerge from his house, there wasn’t a second to lose, lest he find the parson’s mousetrap closing around him.

  He only hoped Lady Tryphena’s Charles was as ready to flee to Gretna as she was to go there with him. If not, Hal would find himself in a difficult situation indeed.

  Regardless, though, he thought, setting his jaw, he would not be bullied into wedding the girl just to save her reputation—or his own. Would Elizabeth ever speak to him again, he wondered, an ache in his heart, if she thought he’d ruined and abandoned a young lady of quality?

  He’d have to see that it didn’t come to that. Which meant Charles was going to find himself married over the anvil, if Hal had to use half a fortune to bribe him to it.

  Just figuring out how to justify to Elizabeth how he got into this coil to begin with would be difficult enough.

  Telling himself he’d deal with that problem when the time came, he turned to Lady Tryphena, who’d been watching him pace, a hopeful expression on her face.

  ‘Can get private message to Charles?’ Hal asked, not at all surprised when she nodded enthusiastically.

  Hal pulled out paper and a quill. ‘Tell him come here tonight.’ Beckoning to Jeffers, he said, ‘When finished writing, take lady out to mews through kitchen. Summon hackney. See home. Then deliver note where tells you.’

  Turning back to Lady Tryphena, he said, ‘Pack bag. Unless Charles fails, leave tonight.’

  ‘Charles will not fail! You’re going to help us elope, aren’t you?’ she asked eagerly. ‘Oh, that is a million times better than getting engaged to you!’

  ‘Indeed,’ Hal agreed drily. Deciding he’d better remove himself before he strangled a girl who was more self-absorbed and oblivious even than his mother, he gave her a short bow and trotted up the stairs to his bedroom. With an elopement to arrange and the project papers to pack, he had a thousand details to settle before they left this evening.

  And neither the time nor the eloquence necessary to explain in person his abrupt departure to Elizabeth Lowery.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Late the next morning, after a flurry of painting, Elizabeth put down her brush. Wiping azure-tinted fingers on her apron, she gave the canvas a critical look.

  Filled with euphoria after the wonderful visit to Mr Christie’s brokerage, she’d awakened at dawn, eager to get to her studio. It might well be wise to wait for Faith and David to become settled before submitting any work for public display, but rather than slow her efforts, she thought it best to forge ahead so that she might have a body of work from which to choose when the moment arrived.

  A ‘body of work’. How she loved the sound of that!

  In the interim, she might also find a mentor with whom to take lessons. Or, at the least, visit the Royal Academy’s collection and study the masterworks. Hal would arrange it.

  Hal. Hugging herself, she smiled as a rush of warmth filled her. Now that she’d had time to consider what he’d done for her—this time—she admired him even more.

  How horridly embarrassing it must have been for him to force her to face the truth about Sir Gregory. How genteel and forbearing he’d been as she’d railed at him! She felt ashamed all over again, remembering her behaviour.

  Through it all, though, he’d remained as he always was: patient, gentle, concerned. Selfless. She didn’t think she’d ever met an individual who seemed less preoccupied with achieving his own goals or a gentleman more attuned to the thoughts and wishes of the people around him. Was it the observer’s role forced on him by his verbal affliction that made him so perceptive? Whatever forces had shaped him, Hal Waterman was a marvel!

  Oh, how she hoped she would see him today! Though she’d have to behave herself. She stifled a giggle. She might not be able to keep herself from at least stroking his hand. She knew it affected him to be touched by her, had watched his face redden, his breathing accelerate.

  Did she affect him as powerfully as he affected her?

  Probably not, she concluded with a sigh. After all, when she’d leaned toward him in the carriage yesterday, practically begging for a kiss, he’d refrained. Which was for the best, of course. She couldn’t imagine what had come over her! Heat flushed through her as she recalled that brazen gesture.

  Though he’d pretended not to notice her momentary lapse, he was doubtless an experienced man. Just how experienced? she wondered. What else could he do with the big hands that had brushed her cheek so gently? Was every part of him equally big and capable? Sensation swirled in the pit of her stomach, shuddered through her body.

  She was still tingling when the door flew open and David ran in. ‘Are you finished, Mama? Nurse said I could come tell you I read my whole book. Can I read to you?’

  She’d done enough for this morning. Seizing her son, she swung him around in a whirl of shrieking protest. ‘Very well, young man,’ she said as she set him back down. ‘Let’s see how much you will impress your tutor.’

  After he’d completed a whole section, for which she praised him sincerely, he asked, ‘Is Uncle Hal coming today? I want to show him, too!’

  ‘Perhaps after nuncheon. Shall we eat now?’

  ‘Oh, yes! I’m very hungry. When we’re done, I want to teach Max a new trick.’

  ‘As long as it doesn’t involve linen on a laundry line,’ she cautioned with a smile.

  Some of her excitement dissipated as they walked out. She’d not been too disappointed that Hal had not come by this morning. After all, he’d told her yesterday that he would be leaving London soon and doubtless had many details to settle before his departure. Still, he’d said he would visit again. Oh, she did hope it’d be today!

  But as the hours passed after nuncheon with no sign of him, she drifted upstairs to visit with Miss Lowery, taking great pleasure in carrying away the now-drooping flowers Sir Gregory had brought Amelia—an attempt to curry the elderly woman’s favour, she thought darkly. Restless and unable to settle to needlework or household chores, when David bounded in begging her to come and see Max’s new trick, she willingly followed him.

  David had succeeded in getting the puppy to leap up at his command, although since he teased him with his favourite rope to do it, Elizabeth wasn’t sure this truly qualified as a trick. But her own spirits lifted by her son’s delight in his dog, she found herself smiling at their antics. Impatient to pull the rope from David, the puppy launched himself at the boy, missing her son, who jumped aside at the last minute, but grazing her. Caught off balance, she fell in a crumple of skirts to the stable floor, laughing as heartily as her son while the puppy frolicked in her lap and licked her face.

  Oh, that she might jump into Hal’s lap, her hair mussed, her gown awry! Part his jacket, loose the buttons of his waistcoat, run her tongue across the contours of his chin…Her sensitised body hummed to life, her breasts, her body heating. She felt aroused, giddy, light-headed, as if she’d imbibed too much champagne.

  There was still time for him to visit this afternoon, she thought hopefully, dislodging the puppy and standing to brush the dirt from her gown. She must go and tidy up, in case he dropped by for tea.

  Until yesterday, she reflected as she walked up to her chamber, all their conversations had focused around her own and David’s needs. She’d found the few details he’d given her about new investment opportunities fascinating.

  She wanted to know more about them—and Hal. His interests. His background. What, besides managing complex financial schemes, he liked to do. She wanted to know everything!

  While Gibbons clucked over her soiled dress and helped her wash and change, Elizabeth sat dreamily, a half-smile on her face, contemplating all the kind and wonderful things Hal Waterman had done for them.

/>   Taking over their tangle of finances, eliminating the frightening Mr Smith, she ticked off mentally. Realigning the estate’s income and investments to remove her financial worries for good. Showering attention on her grieving son, making him laugh again, bringing a puppy to befriend him. Urging her to simply love David and reassuring her that she need not send him away. Perceiving the danger posed by Sir Gregory, then girding himself to warn her and enduring her abuse. And, last of the wonders, appreciating her painting and understanding its importance to her.

  Truly, she had never before met so amazing a gentleman! Sands had better never frown at him again.

  Recalling Sands, she suddenly remembered that with the distressing events of the last several days, she’d forgotten to reassure Gibbons that her position was secure. She was about to do so when a knock came at the door.

  James the footman handed Gibbons in a note. Elizabeth’s pulse leapt—until she recognised the writer’s hand.

  Her first impulse was to tear up Sir Gregory’s letter unread. But acknowledging that part of her anger was disappointment that the communication had not been penned by a different author, she supposed she ought to allow Everitt’s best friend to apologise.

  Though she had no intention of accepting his apology.

  Her aggravation intensified as she read his pretty missive. In flowery phrases he implored her pardon for their ‘misunderstanding’ and begged leave to call upon her later, when ‘she was less distraught’.

  With a sniff of disdain, she walked over and dropped the letter into the fire. ‘Gibbons, you may discard any future notes from Sir Gregory. And regarding the unpleasantness with Sands, let me assure you that I trust your honesty and appreciate your service. I would never dismiss you on so slender a grounds as someone else’s suspicion. But…’ she paused, the memory coming to her suddenly ‘…was there something more you wished to say?’