Now she shook her head and looked at him with some exasperation apparent in her eyes.
“Mr. Langford,” she said, chidingly, “your imagination has run away with you. Mr. Canfield and I did nothing, other than find ourselves to be stranded.” She paused, then added, with a patent attempt at full honesty, “I grant you that he wished matters to go farther. Had I not found that pitchfork and managed to prove, to his satisfaction, that I meant to use it if necessary, there is no knowing what Mr. Canfield might have tried to do.”
Now Philip’s hands clenched into fists, as if of their own accord. “I should like to thrash this Mr. Canfield of yours!” he said, with a fierceness that astonished him. “He ought not to be allowed to force you into marriage this way.”
Miss Langford hesitated and seemed to choose her words with great care. “What other choice have I? He made certain that there would be a great many witnesses to our return. I collect,” she said dryly, “that he planned this well in advance.”
“You might still have refused,” Philip said stubbornly.
“Certainly,” she agreed, cheerfully enough, “had I been willing to be thrown out into the street penniless, by my father. For that, you know, is precisely what he threatened to do.”
“Is there no one who would have taken you in?” Philip demanded.
Miss Langford shook her head. “No.”
Another couple appeared and as one, they decided to start walking again. After a moment, when they had put some distance between themselves and the new couple, Philip asked, “What do you mean to do? It can surely only be misery for you to be married to a man like this Canfield.”
Miss Langford halted and looked up at him. “I mean,” she said slowly, and with great determination, “to destroy his business and prove to him that there could be no worse fate—for him—than to be married to a termagant like myself. And that is the other reason I sought out help to change the mill laws.”
He knew he would regret it in the morning. Indeed, he regretted it before the words were even fully spoken. And still, Philip took her hand in his and said, solemnly, “Then, Miss Langford, I promise I will help you. Together we shall find a way to persuade Mr. Canfield not to marry you.”
Chapter 6
Philip finally managed to run Sir Thomas to ground in his chambers early the next morning before anyone else was about. At the sight of his protégé standing in the doorway to his office, Sir Thomas lifted an eyebrow and gestured him to come in.
“Ah, good morning Philip. Have you come to discuss the Wentworth case?” Sir Thomas asked as the younger man took a seat.
“I should like to do so,” Philip admitted. “But I should also like to ask you about Miss Ashbourne.”
“She wrote to you, then?”
Philip drew in a deep breath. “Wrote to me? No, she didn’t write. She came to see me. She told me you had sent her. I collect you knew her uncle.”
“Her uncle, your father, and I were all friends,” Sir Thomas said gravely.
The elder barrister’s expression gave no hint of what he was thinking. It was one of the things that made him so successful in court. At the moment, however, Philip found the impassiveness a source of supreme exasperation.
“Do you know what she wishes me to do?” Philip asked, holding onto his temper with an effort.
Sir Thomas shrugged. “She wrote and asked for my help, but without telling me what sort of help she needed, only that she wished the aid of a barrister. I had to reply that I am now a judge but I gave her your direction and suggested she ask you to take the matter in hand. I did not expect her to come to London herself. What, by the by was the matter she needed help with?”
Philip gritted his teeth. “Oh, a mere trifle. Miss Ashbourne merely wishes to change the laws of England. Those regarding mills and factories. She wishes to protect workers against their employers. And she will not listen to reason, sir!”
“I see.” Sir Thomas pursed his lips. Judiciously he said, “It is just the sort of cause your father would have relished supporting, even in the House of Lords.”
“My father is dead and George will certainly not do so,” Philip countered. “I cannot make Miss Ashbourne comprehend that there is nothing I can do to help her.”
“Or nothing you wish to do?” Sir Thomas hazarded shrewdly.
“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Philip said stiffly.
Sir Thomas shrugged. “I am not disappointed, precisely. You are still very young—”
“Five and twenty,” Philip countered.
“Still very young,” Sir Thomas repeated, undaunted. “You have time to grow into your true character. And I have no doubt you will.”
“And was sending Miss Ashbourne to me meant to prod me into doing so more quickly?”
“No.” Sir Thomas smiled. “I will admit that I hope she does so, but I sent her to you because I am fond of you, you need clients, and I thought the two of you would deal well together.”
Philip wanted to refute the suggestion. He wanted to snort and declare once again the impossibility of Miss Ashbourne’s notions. Instead he found a corner of his mouth tugging upward almost into a smile.
“I will allow,” he said, begrudgingly, “that Miss Ashbourne has made my life much more interesting these past few days. I have learned more than I ever wished to know about hiring servants.”
Sir Thomas chuckled. “I shan’t ask what that is about, for I can see you won’t wish to tell me. I do not ask the impossible of you, Philip, even if Miss Ashbourne does. But I must admit that knowing she is in London, I am glad you will be able to keep a careful eye on her. Perhaps the two of you will even discover you have a great deal in common.”
“Miss Ashbourne is here to buy her bridal clothes,” Philip said, unable to resist the chance to depress Sir Thomas’s obvious matchmaking intentions.
It worked precisely as he hoped. “Bridal clothes?” Sir Thomas sputtered. “What the devil? I have heard nothing of this. Who is she to marry?”
Philip looked at his fingernails, carefully avoiding his mentor’s eyes as he said, innocently, “A Mr. Richard Canfield, I believe.”
“Canfield!”
It was Philip’s turn to be startled. “Do you know the man?” he asked.
“I know of him,” Sir Thomas answered grimly. “And nothing to his credit! Or rather, very little to his credit. He is a self-made man. He came out of the poorhouse, went to work in a mill, and made himself so useful to the owner that when the fellow died, Canfield inherited everything. He is ruthless, not overly choosy in the means he employs to achieve his goals, gives not a damn about his workers, and is intent upon thrusting himself into society. Hence, I must suppose, his impending marriage to Miss Ashbourne. I cannot imagine two people less suited to one another.”
“Neither can I,” Philip said curtly. “That is why I have agreed to help her try to find a way out of her betrothal. Canfield forced her into it, you see. With her father’s help,” he added grimly.
“I think,” Sir Thomas said, leaning back with a gleam in his eye that Philip knew boded ill for Canfield, “that you had better tell me everything.”
Philip leaned forward and did so.
* * * *
In another part of England, the Honorable Mr. Ashbourne stared at the most recent letter from his late wife’s sister and tried to make heads or tails of what she was saying. At last he gave it up as a poor job.
They ought to be back already. How long could it take to order a wardrobe, anyway? And why couldn’t Emily have done so here? The longer it took before a date could be set for her wedding, the longer before Canfield would fund Mr. Ashbourne’s plans for a breeding stable on his land.
Something discreet, of course. Nothing crass, but rather, a place that would be known for a small number of excellently bred cattle. Everything would be handled in the most gentlemanly of ways.
But it all depended on Canfield disbursing the funds. Which he wouldn’t do until the knot was safely tied between
himself and Emily. And if the girl was the dutiful daughter she ought to be, Ashbourne thought resentfully, she’d be back here by now and ready to marry the man.
His greatest fear was that she would yet cry off, despite the consequences to her reputation. No, she needed to be married and as quickly as possible. Good lord, the girl ought to be grateful that, past her last prayers as she was, there was a man willing, nay, eager to wed her!
But could she see it? No! It had taken all his authority to override her protests and tears. This trip to London was the one concession she’d manage to wring from him. And he wouldn’t have done so if she hadn’t used estate funds to pay for the hire of a house so that if he hadn’t let her go the money would have gone to waste. He only hoped she wasn’t playing out one of her schemes again.
Well, he’d overrule her, if he had to. The moment she returned from London. And if she took much longer about it, he’d go there himself and hurry her in whatever female things it was she thought she had to do.
But that would have meant expense. Expense Mr. Ashbourne was reluctant to bear. Until Canfield placed the promised funds into his hands, he must not spend a farthing more than absolutely necessary.
Which was another reason he grudged how long Emily and her aunt were taking in London. Why his daughter had hired a house was beyond him. And yet, it was true that to stay in a hotel would have cost almost as much, perhaps even more.
The fact that his sister-in-law, Miss Jarrod, was bearing all expenses herself, save that of the actual hire of the house, did not weigh with Ashbourne. He still begrudged every penny for otherwise, he persuaded himself, it might have come to him.
With a sigh, he rose from his breakfast and went to go through the accounts yet once again. It ought to be Emily, doing so, but since she wasn’t here, he would have to go through them and see where expenses might be cut. Something Emily was reluctant to do. Well, perhaps it was a blessing after all that she was not back yet.
Yesterday he had discovered that she had been allowing the purchase of expensive cuts of meat. Surely Cook was skilled enough to make do with cheaper ones? That had been an easy place to make a change and however much Cook protested she would soon accustom herself. But it still was not enough. So Mr. Ashbourne set himself down in his study and pulled the account books forward.
He was lost in the numbers when a rap at the study door startled him. Angrily he called for the servant to enter but, a moment later, rose to his feet, his face wreathed in smiles, his hand held out in welcome.
“Canfield! It is good to see you! What brings you here this fine morning?”
“Is it fine?” Canfield asked with a cool air, ignoring the hand held out to him. “I had not noticed. I came, sir, to discover when my bride-to-be returns home again.”
Slowly, Ashbourne pulled back the rejected hand. Stiffly, he answered, “I do not know, Canfield. I have told you before: ladies take a great deal of time and trouble over their clothes and I would not deny my daughter her right to do so as well. I have had a letter from my sister-in-law and it seems the fittings are taking longer than expected.”
Canfield nodded curtly and some of the stiffness left his shoulders. He even condescended to throw himself in the nearest chair. He leaned back and crossed one leg carelessly over the other.
“Ah. Well. Of course. I merely wanted to make certain she was not trying to avoid me.”
“Why should she do that?” Ashbourne prevaricated, his color betraying his pretend innocence.
Canfield merely gave him a derisive look and didn’t even bother to answer. Instead he smacked one glove against the palm of his other hand and said, meditatively, “You do know that my backing for your stables depends on Emily going through with the marriage?”
“Of course!” Ashbourne protested. “And I assure you she will do so willingly.”
Again the derisive look. “I do not look for the impossible,” Canfield said dryly. “I shall settle for her doing so at all.”
“She will!” Ashbourne avowed fervently. “I swear it. She may be headstrong, at times, but in this, I assure you, she will obey me. I have her word. Perhaps if you wrote her a love letter? Perhaps you could remind her of the advantages in being allied to you?”
Canfield considered that. Eventually he nodded. “Yes, I suppose I ought to do so. Emily is a woman and women wish to be pursued. Very well, I shall write such a love letter and send it to her in London. I will even be patient a while longer, Ashbourne. But only a little while longer. I want my wife!”
And with that, Canfield rose to his feet and stalked from the room, not bothering to shut the study door behind him. Ashbourne did not know how it was, but even though he was Canfield’s social better, he found himself wiping his brow and, without complaint, closing the study door behind his truculent visitor.
He started to reach for the account books again and changed his mind. Instead he reached for a fresh sheet of paper and a knife to trim his quill. It was time he sent his sister-in-law another letter urging her to return home with all due haste.
* * * *
In London, unaware of what her father and her suitor were saying, Emily repaired the hem of one of her gowns and found herself wondering if Mr. Langford would come to call again today.
It felt very strange to be thinking of a man in such a way. To feel as though she could trust him to look out for her interests. After all, her father had never done so. Nor Mr. Canfield. But somehow Emily found herself believing Mr. Langford when he said he would help her.
“Emily! You’ve pricked your finger! Again! And now you’ve spotted the gown with blood,” Aunt Agatha said with pardonable exasperation.
Hastily Emily surveyed the damage. “It is on the inside and does not show through,” she assured her aunt.
“Not this time, at any rate,” Agatha grumbled. “Whatever are you thinking about that you should be so careless?”
Emily blushed, fiercely, and bent her head to hide her fiery cheeks. Aunt Agatha was having none of it.
“Mr. Langford again?” she hazarded shrewdly. “Good! I should like to think you had taken a liking to him. I certainly have! I wonder if we could persuade your father to prefer him to Mr. Canfield? Does he have a fortune, do you think?”
“Aunt Agatha!” Emily exclaimed, scandalized.
“Oh, I shan’t say anything of the sort in front of Mr. Langford,” Agatha assured her niece. “But one must be practical. And I do much prefer Mr. Langford to Mr. Canfield, don’t you?”
Fortunately, the sound of the knocker at the front door forestalled the need for Emily to answer. Though the manner in which she smiled and the blush that came to her cheeks when Mr. Langford was shown into the parlor might well have been considered sufficient answer to Miss Jarrod’s question.
Chapter 7
Two days later, Philip found his brother James waiting in his chambers, glancing through some of his law books. Although James was younger by several years, he had the most disconcerting way of looking at one as if he could read one’s thoughts. He set aside the book he was holding and gave Philip just such a look right now. There was only one way to handle James when he was in this sort of mood.
“Out with it,” Philip said waving his brother to a chair as he took up his post by the empty fireplace. “Why are you here?”
“To discover,” James said blandly, as he sat down and leaned back to stare up at his older brother, “how and why you have undergone such an astounding transformation that you have been observed dancing attendance upon one young lady. I have heard you have even gone so far as to take her driving in the park. And I am also here to discover what these rumors are of another young lady who is supposed to have invaded your offices a week ago.”
Philip considered lying to his brother, but it was too much trouble. Besides, he had no doubt James would soon ferret out the truth, if he tried to do so.
Instead, he made sure the office door was securely closed, then came back and sat down opposite James. He, too, leane
d back in his chair.
And in his blandest, most innocuous voice, he said, “Such curiosity! And all for nothing. The young lady, in both cases, is Miss Ashbourne. It seems her uncle was a friend of our father and when she wrote to Sir Thomas to ask for legal advice, he suggested she come to me. I have merely been looking out for an old family friend.”
James quirked an eyebrow. “Taking her out driving? Doing it much too brown, Philip! I cannot recall when you last favored any lady in such a way.”
“Miss Ashbourne required my assistance with a matter and rather than allow her to subject herself to the noise and abuse of this office,” Philip said stiffly, “I took her out driving in my carriage, or rather your carriage, to discuss whether or not I could help her.”
“Can you?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Philip, unfortunately, wasn’t at all sure. He said something of the sort aloud. That brought James upright in an instant, his feet landing on the floor in a solid thump.
“Just what the devil do you mean by that?” James demanded.
“Precisely what I said,” Philip answered irritably. “Her circumstances are distressing, what she wishes to accomplish unorthodox, and my means to help her quite limited.”
James studied his face for a long moment, then leaned back in the chair again. “In that case,” he said, waving a hand carelessly, “you had best forget about her altogether. Fob her off on someone else.”
“I don’t want to fob her off on someone else!” Philip snapped before he could help himself. Then, attempting to retrieve his position he added hastily, “I have told you, Miss Ashbourne’s uncle was a friend to father. Of course I cannot fob her off on someone else.”
James grinned. “No, no, you are too late. You have betrayed yourself,” he said. “You had best accept that fact and tell me all about Miss Ashbourne. This young lady you cannot bear to send on to anyone else.”
Instead Philip directed his own quelling look at James. “I think,” he said, “I should rather hear about your latest exploit. What are you up to now? And does George know about it?”
The Reckless Barrister Page 5
