The Reckless Barrister

by April Kihlstrom

  It was too much to be borne. Philip could not help himself. He snapped at her, “I thought what landed you there was your determination to do something! Did you have to choose to harass Lord Darton?”

  She crossed her arms and glared at him. “How was I to know he would be such a pompous fool? Or that he would go so far as to have me carted off to Bedlam?”

  Then, a small frown appeared and she said, more temperately, “How did you know it was Lord Darton who did so? Indeed, how did you know I was there at all?”

  “It is the talk of London,” Philip said scathingly.

  Once again she did not react in the least as he expected. Her eyes glowed and she grinned. “Famous!”

  He flinched. He could not help himself. “You are prepared to wed a man you cannot abide, in order to salvage your reputation,” he said, scathingly, “but you do not object, indeed you are pleased, that all of London thinks you mad? I begin to think Darton had the right of it.”

  Now an angry look came into her eyes. “You appear to have forgotten that my father threatened to throw me penniless into the street if I did not agree to the match.”

  Philip flinched. He had forgotten. She apparently noticed the reaction for she leaned forward and pressed the point.

  “Pray tell me how else I am to avoid such a match that is so disagreeable to me than to give my bridegroom-to-be a distaste of me?”

  “Are you so certain it will?” Philip asked cautiously. “If the fellow has a tendre for you, it may well choose to stand by you, nonetheless. He must, after all, know what you are like.”

  She laughed and it was not a pretty sound. Indeed, it was harsh in the confines of the carriage and her eyes glittered with so much anger that Philip was even more taken aback than before.

  “A tendre? Not Canfield! Though he once tried to make me believe it was so. No, Mr. Canfield wishes to rise above his station and he means to do so by marrying well. I had the misfortune to be the only young lady, within the vicinity, who could possibly suit his purposes. But if I am ruined, because I have been proclaimed mad, why then I shall do him no good whatsoever.”

  Philip’s blood ran cold at the appalling picture her words painted in his mind. And, not for the first time, he felt a strong desire to draw this Mr. Canfield’s cork.

  Still, he was a barrister, and he felt himself compelled to point out the flaws in her plan. He ticked them off on his fingers.

  “First of all, the news may not reach your home village,” he said. “Second, surely those who know you there will know the charge to be false.”

  She leaned forward. “Will they? I have always been accounted eccentric, this will merely seem one step more. As for ensuring the news reaches home, why, I shall gently encourage Aunt Agatha to write Papa, and some of her friends there, in the strictest confidence, of course, of her dismay at my odd behavior and the disastrous consequences it brought down upon my head.”

  He nodded. She appeared to have thought of a great many answers. Still there was one more point to consider. Gently he said, “But have you considered? What if you do wish to marry, someday? You have effectively ruined yourself not only in the eyes of Mr. Canfield but in the eyes of any other possible suitor.”

  One tiny tear trickled down her cheek and it wrung his heart. But there was dignity in her voice and a refusal to accept his pity as she said quietly, “You have said yourself, sir, that you could well understand why I have not found a husband by the age of three and twenty. It has long been apparent to me that I am unlikely ever to do so, whether I ruined myself as I did tonight or not.”

  He felt the oddest impulse to take Miss Ashbourne in his arms and comfort her. Fortunately, sufficient common sense remained that he did not. Instead he inclined his head, stiffly, indicating the truth of what she said.

  But it wasn’t true, a tiny voice whispered at the back of Philip’s mind. Even in her torn gown and with her hair tumbling all about her shoulders, Miss Ashbourne was oddly appealing. And he found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her. What it would be like to come home to her, to a woman who could actually talk to him about things that mattered.

  Yes, odd, was definitely the correct word here. Miss Ashbourne was an odd duckling and one few men would stop to consider for a bride. It took Philip aback to realize he had even thought the word and he made haste to focus on all the legal matters that were on his desk, matters that required his attention more than the young woman in the carriage. She was turning his world upside down and that was the last thing he would wish for, wasn’t it?

  She tried to make it easy for him. She turned her head and pretended to study the window of the carriage. Which would have been a far more effective tactic had he not already drawn the curtains for greater privacy.

  As it was, it only made her seem younger, more vulnerable than before. With a muttered curse, Philip said, “What will you do next? Surely this has proven to you that you cannot effect the changes you wish to effect?”

  She met his gaze squarely. “I shall not give up, though perhaps,” she added reflectively, “I shall not attempt to force my way into White’s again. Nor accost gentlemen as they are leaving. I knew it would not be considered proper but I had no notion just how strongly gentlemen would feel about my doing so.”

  “You ought to have known!”

  She did not deny it, only bent her head a little lower. Philip silently cursed. Then, aloud he asked the question which had been troubling him ever since George told him the story.

  “Why did you choose Lord Darton to approach? Surely you did not think he would help you?”

  “Why not?” she asked indignantly. “His father was a good friend to my uncle. My uncle used to say there was no gentleman in England he would trust more than Lord Darton. That he was one of the few men in England who truly believed in reform.”

  “This Lord Darton is not like his father, in that respect,” Philip replied tightly.

  “Yes, so I discovered,” Miss Ashbourne said, sadly, gazing down into her lap. Then she lifted her eyes to look at him. “But I cannot understand it,” she said. “How could Lord Darton not wish to follow in his father’s footsteps? How could he not admire and wish to be like him?”

  “Perhaps he saw the effects of being ostracized by all those around his father and chose to not suffer the same,” Philip said tightly.

  Now she had fire in her eyes. “How cowardly! If I were Lord Darton I should proudly emulate my father! I should not care what anyone else thought, so long as I knew that I was doing what was right! Would you not do the same, Mr. Langford?”

  Fortunately she did not wait for an answer since Philip was at a loss to know what he could say. Instead, her forehead furrowed and she frowned as she asked, “In any event, I shall know in the future not to waste my time with Lord Darton. Who should I approach next?”

  She was serious. Completely serious. His jaw dropped, then, furious he thundered, “No one! You should approach no one, Miss Ashbourne. Haven’t you learned anything from this debacle?”

  “Well, you needn’t shout,” she said indignantly. “And whatever the difficulties, I must approach someone. What else am I to do?”

  He glowered at her. “Go. Home.” he suggested biting off the words.

  For a moment she didn’t answer. Then, as before, a tear trickled down her cheek. Shaken, Philip started to reach out a hand to her but she pulled away.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Langford,” she said with stiff politeness. “This is not your concern and I keep forgetting that. You have no reason to feel as passionately as I do that the law ought to be changed.”

  “It is my concern when I am called upon to rescue you,” Philip said through clenched teeth.

  “No one asked you to do so!” she said hotly.

  “And if I had not?” he countered. “Who would have done so?”

  Now she flushed and lowered her eyes and bit her lower lip in a gesture Philip found oddly endearing. He wanted more than ever to hold and comfort her. And
because the notion frightened him, he looked away.

  “You cannot simply accost men as you did today,” Philip said, trying to keep his voice gentle.

  Miss Ashbourne nodded, but Philip was not deceived into believing she had surrendered. Nor was he mistaken.

  “I will not give up,” she warned him.

  Philip sighed. “At least give me a few days to think of what you might do,” he said. “Just a few days without landing yourself in the briars? Or Bedlam again?”

  She hesitated but, in the end, nodded her reluctant agreement. “A few days,” she echoed.

  And then she smiled, truly smiled at Philip. As though she trusted him. As though she believed he would think of a way for her to succeed. As though he were not just like George in having turned his back on their father and all that the late Lord Darton had believed in.

  Philip sighed to himself and wondered what madness he had gotten himself into now!

  Chapter 9

  It was too much to hope that the incident would not be talked about. The only fortunate circumstance, in Philip’s opinion, was that no one seemed to know who the woman was. Or that she was a lady.

  George, Lord Darton, had supposed her to be a deranged maid servant who had somehow gotten hold of her mistress’ clothing. Someone, not close enough to overhear, had presumed her to be a cast-off mistress who wished to tax Lord Darton with the unfortunate results of his liaison with her.

  This was the source of much amusement among those who knew Lord Darton well, for he was accounted a rigidly proper fellow who had probably never had a mistress in his life. But nonetheless few could resist the urge to repeat the jest and roast him for it.

  Fortunately for Miss Ashbourne’s reputation, no one seemed to know the name of the supposed temptress and her description grew more lurid with each telling until it was most unlikely anyone would recognize the woman who inspired it.

  Philip shuddered at the thought of having to tell his brother the truth about Miss Ashbourne and his own connection with her. He decided, with some justice, that there was no point in even attempting to do so. With luck, the two would never meet and he need never try.

  When he called upon Miss Jarrod and Miss Ashbourne, he was not certain whether to be relieved or distressed that the elder lady had responded precisely as the younger one had predicted. He discovered that it nettled him to know Miss Ashbourne appeared to have more control over her relatives than he had over his.

  “I must thank you for rescuing Emily,” Miss Jarrod told Philip, grasping his hand fervently between hers. “I do wish you had allowed me to say so last night! But you rushed off before I had a chance to do so.”

  She paused and Philip drew breath to answer her. But before he could do so, she had released his hand and turned to Miss Ashbourne.

  “I don’t know what your father is going to say,” Miss Jarrod told her niece tearfully. “I know he is going to blame me. But how could I stop you? I had no notion what you planned.”

  She whirled back to face Philip again, leaving him feeling a trifle dizzy.

  “I did have to write her father, didn’t I, Mr. Langford? He does have a right to know, doesn’t he? I did also write the vicar’s wife and ask her to try to calm Emily’s father, but I fear it is a hopeless cause. We may expect, any day, to have him posting down here to take us back or a letter summoning us home.”

  One glance at Miss Ashbourne assured Philip that she seemed no worse for wear. She also appeared quite content to let her aunt rant and rave. And well she should, since the poor woman had done precisely what Miss Ashbourne wished her to do!

  Finally Miss Jarrod wound down and suddenly she smiled, a gleam in her eye as mischievous as any he had seen before. “The only good thing,” she said shrewdly, “is that now Mr. Canfield will not force my niece to marry him. And that may be worth all the trouble Emily has caused.”

  She seemed to expect Philip to answer but he merely bowed. Let her take it as she wished. He was not about to become drawn into that discussion!

  Still, Miss Jarrod was apparently satisfied. She settled into the nearest chair and said to Emily, “I presume we have less than a fortnight left in London, my dear. What do you mean to do with the time you have left?”

  Miss Ashbourne grinned at her aunt, completely unrepentantly. “Get into more trouble,” she said.

  Far from appearing to be dismayed or overcome with the vapors, Miss Jarrod nodded approvingly. Philip, however, was moved to protest.

  “Surely, Miss Jarrod, you do not countenance such foolishness? You said you would have tried to stop her if you knew what your niece intended.”

  “On the contrary,” Miss Jarrod replied placidly, “I would have felt I ought to stop her. That is another matter entirely. And precisely why I have advised Emily to tell me as little as possible about her plans. Then I can quite honestly tell her father I knew nothing beforehand.”

  “But you know she means to get into more trouble,” Philip pointed out acidly.

  “But not what sort, or how,” Miss Jarrod shot back. “And I don’t mean to know,” she added hastily, before Philip could tell her.

  Abruptly she lost her somewhat vacant air and stared fixedly at the barrister. “I trust my niece, Mr. Langford, to do what is right. Not what is conventional or proper or what her father would approve, but what is right.”

  “You must know,” Miss Ashbourne added lightly, “that my aunt, despite her conventional appearance, has always encouraged me to read the most astonishing things. Whether she wishes to acknowledge it or not, it is due to her guidance that I hold the views that I do.”

  Philip gaped at both of them. There was, there could be, he thought, no answer to that. Now he fixed his attention on Miss Ashbourne. He stared at her grimly. She, however, did not seem in the least discomposed.

  Clothed today in an elegant morning gown, in a becoming shade of blue, with her hair dressed in a topknot and curls, it was hard to believe this was the same woman he had rescued from Bedlam the night before. Suddenly it was too much for Philip’s temper.

  “Do you have any notion what could have happened to you in Bedlam?” he demanded. “Any notion what the guards are said to do to their female inmates? Or what they will allow others to do, if paid to look the other way?”

  Her gaze did not waver in the slightest, though the look in her eyes also turned grim.

  “I am not a fool, Mr. Langford. It took me all of five minutes inside that place to guess.” Her voice quavered slightly, and Miss Ashbourne paused to draw a deep, steadying breath. Then she went on. “And I do not intend to go back there ever again. At least not,” she added, with an alarming hint of mischief in her eyes, “as an inmate.”

  Philip threw up his hands. What was he to do with such a person? And yet he had to try to make her see reason, however impossible the task.

  “You do not intend to go back,” he echoed sardonically, “yet you plan to cause trouble. Well, Miss Ashbourne, if you do cause trouble, the odds are very great that someone else will get sufficiently exasperated to try to send you back there again. Have you not thought of that?”

  She did not answer at once. And when she did speak, it was to Miss Jarrod. “Perhaps, Aunt Agatha,” she said, “you ought to leave us alone for a few minutes. I do not think you wish to know what I mean to say to Mr. Langford.”

  Miss Jarrod hesitated. She wrinkled her nose. “It would be most improper,” she said. She turned to look at Philip and said, brightly, “I don’t suppose you have your carriage with you? For then you could take Emily for a drive around one of the parks and that would be unexceptionable.”

  “I walked,” Philip said shortly.

  Miss Jarrod appeared to think. “The garden,” she suggested. A moment later she added, doubtfully, “At least, I think it is supposed to be a garden, even though it has only a few very straggly, unfortunate plants left in it. Still, you could take a turn about the garden with my niece. That would be all right.”

  The older woman sm
iled triumphantly, as though delighted to have thought of a solution. Miss Ashbourne was already rising to her feet and Philip did so as well, almost without thinking. To Miss Jarrod he said, in acid tones, “You have a most convenient conscience, ma’am.”

  But she was undaunted. “I do, don’t I?” she agreed. “And why my brother-in-law was so foolish as to believe otherwise is beyond me.”

  Now Miss Ashbourne laughed. “Papa had no choice. There was no one else he could send with me to London,” she pointed out. “Besides, at home you keep a much closer eye on me than you have done here. Now come, Mr. Langford. We are wasting time while you abuse my poor aunt. Come outside to the garden and abuse me, instead, if you must.”

  But he didn’t want to abuse her. He wanted, Philip discovered as he walked behind Miss Ashbourne through the narrow hallway, to take her in his arms. He wanted to pull the pins from her hair and see it tumbled down around her shoulders all over again. And the thought appalled him!

  He had, in some sort, taken Miss Ashbourne into his care. He owed her civility and the best advice he could give her and rigid propriety. Not to have him thinking of her as if she was some sort of wanton creature.

  But he didn’t. He didn’t think of her as wanton, he realized with a shock. He wanted to imagine her letting down her hair only for him. And he wanted as much to continue to protect her as to draw her to him for a kiss.

  Of course he did nothing of the sort. Instead, bewildered by his own thoughts, Philip allowed Miss Ashbourne to put an extra pace or two between them. And he kept his face impassive as she led him through the kitchen to get to the back garden. The thing was, as Miss Jarrod had said, scarcely worthy of the name, but it was undeniable that here, at least, they had some privacy.

  And however reprehensible it might be, Philip found he was unaccountably glad of that. Behind the brick walls that enclosed this small space, they were alone and it was possible to forget, or at least pretend to forget, all the dictates society would impose upon them.