“What is it you wished to tell me?” he asked Miss Ashbourne.
She tilted her head. “Have you thought of anything yet? Anything I can do?”
Philip hesitated. He chose his words carefully. “What do you hope to accomplish?” he asked. “You will not change men’s minds. Not by yourself and not even with me beside you. Indeed, if we try, we may both find ourselves clapped up into Bedlam!”
She met his gaze unflinchingly. “It will not come to that,” she said quietly. “I do not mean to make, again, the sort of mistake I made yesterday. And while I know you think me a fool, I do not expect to truly change anyone’s mind. Yesterday, I still believed it was possible for me to do so, all by myself. Today, I am wiser.”
She paused and took a deep breath, and he could see what the effort cost her. “I shan’t change their minds, but perhaps, indeed I hope, I shall at least begin to make these men think. Perhaps I can prick at their consciences so that, in time, when others speak to them, they may remember what I said, as well. In any event, whether I can succeed or not, I must try.”
Philip did not like to be cruel but he could see no alternative save to tell her the truth. “They will not believe you because you are a woman,” he said bluntly.
“You are a man,” she countered.
“But I have not seen these conditions.”
She smiled. And the moment she smiled, Philip knew he had made an error. A grave error. He took a step backward. She took a step toward him. “You could come and see for yourself,” she said coaxingly.
Philip felt even greater alarm than before. He stopped backing up and put his hands on her arms. “Listen to me, Miss Ashbourne,” he said firmly. “I have far too much to do here, in London, to go rushing off to look at mills and factories and such. Whatever the cause.”
She regarded him steadily, for a moment, searching his eyes. Apparently what she saw convinced her for her shoulders slumped in defeat.
He could not bear it. There must be something he could say to take away the look on her face. And then he knew what to offer, what hope that would not require him to dash all over the countryside. He turned the idea over and over in his head and could see no flaw in his plan. It would even keep her out of trouble. He hoped. He smiled.
* * * *
Emily did not trust Mr. Langford’s smile. It betokened a sense of triumph she did not like to see. Not when she knew he had been so outspoken in his belief that what she intended was futile. She did not think she was going to like what he was about to say.
His words confirmed her fears.
“My dear Miss Ashbourne, if you wish to influence these gentlemen, you would have far more success if you attempted to do so on the dance floor than by storming White’s where they cannot help but think you an intruder.”
Emily held onto her temper with great effort. “And suppose I am recognized?”
He hesitated only a moment. “I think it most unlikely,” he said smoothly. “The description of you circulating about London bears little resemblance to the reality. And if someone thinks they recognize you, you need merely stare them out of countenance. Besides, by the time you have been presented at court—”
“I have been,” she said, cutting him short. At his look of surprise she added, unwillingly, “I was brought to London for a Season when I was seventeen. I disliked it intensely and managed to land myself in the briars within a few weeks and found myself back home rusticating where I assure you I much preferred to be.”
“I see.”
Emily sighed. “No, you don’t. Your suggestion might have some merit,” she said, evenly, “if there were some way, any way, for me to procure invitations to balls and routs and parties and such. But even I am not such a want-wit as to suppose the Patronesses of Almack’s are likely to grant me the entrée, particularly after the manner in which I left London six years ago. And without invitations, your notion will come to naught.”
“That,” he countered, “is your dilemma. I have offered you what I believe to be the only possible way to proceed. If you choose not to follow my advice...”
He had the audacity to shrug as he allowed his voice to trail off. It was a challenge, deliberately offered, and Emily had never drawn back from a challenge in her life.
Perhaps, she thought with a hint of despair, she ought to marry Mr. Canfield, after all. As his wife, she might be able to effect changes in his mills more easily than she could persuade the lords here in London.
A moment’s reflection, however, sufficed to make her realize that no one could alter Mr. Canfield’s methods. More than one overseer had attempted to do so and everyone knew of the public and immediate dismissal each had faced. No, she would have to try to prevail here, in London, however difficult and frustrating a task it might be.
Besides, Mr. Langford was looking at her with a smug expression on his face, certain he had spiked her guns, and it would give her great pleasure to do what he patently believed to be impossible for her.
Emily straightened her shoulders, without even realizing she did so. Her chin came up and her eyes sparkled in the most alarming way.
“Suppose I do as you suggest,” she said. “Contrive a way to appear on the dance floor with these gentlemen. Will you be by my side to help persuade them?”
If she had hoped to disconcert Mr. Langford, she was mistaken. To be sure, there had been a moment when he started, his eyes widened, and he seemed about to object. But it was only a moment, a very brief one, and then he, too, straightened.
Mr. Langford bowed gallantly. “My dear Miss Ashbourne, if you meet these men on the dance floor, you will not have the slightest need of my help. Your beauty alone will charm them into doing what you wish.”
Emily said a rude word. It was a word much in favor in the stableyard among the grooms back home. It patently took Mr. Langford aback. She followed it with another. Then she sighed.
“Mr. Langford,” she said, with exaggerated patience, “if you wish to renege on your promise, that is one thing. But do not, I pray you, insult me with meaningless nonsense not even a baby could pretend to believe. You wish to set me a task, you believe impossible. Then you can say that you would have stood by my side, but I failed on my part of the bargain. Well, Mr. Langford, I shall not fail. And then you, sir, will find that you must either prove a false witness or do as you have said you would.”
Emily was in a towering rage. She had wanted, so dearly, to believe in Mr. Langford and his promise. She had wanted to believe that here, at last, was someone who would act as her champion.
Well she ought to have known better! she told herself, even as she turned her back on him and dashed a tear from her eye. She would not let him see how overset she was. She would not let him guess how much she had counted on his support!
Over her shoulder she said, “I am certain you can find your way out, by yourself, Mr. Langford. My aunt will understand your precipitous departure. Good-day, sir. I shall not trouble you again.”
But before she had taken more than two steps, Emily felt a pair of hands grasp her shoulders. She half expected him to spin her around to face him, but he did not do so. Instead his hands squeezed tight, repeatedly, and she held her breath to hear what he would say.
His voice, when it came, was so low she had to strain to hear it. “You mistake me, Miss Ashbourne. I do believe this is the best way for you to proceed. And I promise that when you find a way to attend a ball or party, I shall come as well and stand by you.”
Now she pulled free and turned to face him, a puzzled look on her face. “But what if you don’t have an invitation?” she asked.
He gave a cynical smile, one so cold it made Emily flinch.
“Oh, never fear,” he said with a bitter edge to his voice, “I am a presentable, unmarried man. I may only be a barrister, but I do have a snug little estate, as well as a London town house, left me by an uncle, along with sufficient funds to support it. I have never, until perhaps now, engaged in any behavior likely to cover me
with scandal. You may trust me when I say that no hostess will turn me away.”
Emily swallowed hard. So he thought she would bring scandal down upon his head? The worst of it was, he was probably right. Still, she could only nod, for this was too important for her to refuse his help. She hoped it would not end with Mr. Langford hating her, but if it accomplished her goals, she would do it in a shot.
So, aloud, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Langford. I shall hold you to that promise. And now, good-day.”
And if he bowed and left with alacrity, what was there to upset her in that? She had what she wanted, didn’t she? She had his promise to help her.
But there was a part of her that hoped, desperately, he would not come to hate her in the end, after all.
Chapter 10
James was, as Philip rather expected, waiting for him at his London town house when he returned that evening. It had been too much to hope that James would not have realized who the lady must be that George had had carted off to Bedlam. Thank heavens he could be trusted to hold his tongue! Still, Philip was less than pleased to see him.
“Don’t you have some engagement tonight?” Philip demanded irritably. “Cards or dancing or something?”
James, the absolute picture of a dandy, regarded his neatly buffed nails, then smiled and shook his head. “No,” he said sweetly.
Philip gritted his teeth and offered his brother some brandy. In answer, James held up a half full glass and said, “Thank you but your valet—an excellent fellow, by the way, I may steal him from you one of these days—has already seen to the matter.”
“Very well, then, out with it! What do you want?”
James raised his eyebrows and pretended to look offended, but Philip knew him too well for that to wash. His younger brother was laughing at him. Which he could have borne with equanimity, save that he could read concern in James’s eyes as well.
When Philip did not answer, his brother became even more blunt.
“Did you rescue the fair damsel, last night?” James asked. “I presume it was your fair damsel George was talking about?”
“It was and I did.”
James raised his eyebrows even more, at this curt tone. “Was it too late?” he asked, all teasing gone from his voice now.
Philip shook his head. “Not in the way you mean. But I fear her reputation will be fairly destroyed should anyone ever learn about her adventure.”
“Hers or George’s,” James countered, the mischief back in his eyes. “Just think, our brother George, the epitome of propriety, tossing a lady into Bedlam!”
Against his will, Philip began to grin at the image. For James was right—George would be mortified to learn what he had done. To send a maid servant to Bedlam was a right and proper thing to do, in his mind. But a lady? Never!
James grinned as well. “Shall I tell him?” he asked, his eyes twinkling at the thought.
At once the amusement left Philip’s eyes. “No!”
At James’s look of surprise, Philip reluctantly went on, “It will only harm Miss Ashbourne’s reputation, even for George to know. Time enough if he encounters her on the dance floor. Though I do not think it will come to that. Still, she did seem determined.”
“What the devil are you muttering about?” James demanded impatiently. “Meet George on the dance floor? Yesterday you said the girl had no intention, or means, of getting caught up in the Season.”
Philip hesitated, then sighed. He had already said too much. He had best tell his brother the whole of it, for James would never let it be. And James, even more than he, had the power to help Miss Ashbourne, if he chose. The trouble was, Philip thought, he didn’t know if he wanted her helped. Still, he decided to tell James the plan he had suggested to Miss Ashbourne.
When he was done, his brother was silent for several moments. Then James nodded to himself. “I know a lady or two to speak to. Sally Jersey, for one. And if she takes the girl under her wing, that should do the trick. Mind,” he said, holding up a finger, “she must not count on vouchers for Almack’s. That is beyond even my realm of ability to procure. But invitations for a few balls and such, yes, that much I think I can manage.”
Philip did not know whether to be pleased or alarmed. Hastily deciding, he said, “I shouldn’t wish to put you to any trouble. And Miss Ashbourne did say she that had retired from London in disgrace a few years ago. So it may not be possible.”
James smiled in a way that his older brother profoundly mistrusted. His next few words confirmed Philip’s worst fears.
“Oh, I think there may be a way. The ton has a conveniently short memory when it suits. And I assure you that it is no trouble to me. I should enjoy helping this Miss Ashbourne. Any young lady who can twist my brother around her finger, as she appears to have done, is definitely worthy of any help I can give her. Trouble? Oh, no, dear brother, it will be, I assure you, a great, great pleasure to assist Miss Ashbourne.”
Philip opened his mouth to object, to say that she had not wrapped him around his finger. And then he closed his mouth again. Somehow he had the sinking notion that anything he said would only get him into a deeper morass than before.
“Thank you,” he said, letting the irony show in his voice. “I am all gratitude for your generous assistance.”
But James was undaunted. Even as he rose to his feet he grinned unrepentantly and said, “No, you’re not. Not yet, anyway. But, unless I’ve greatly misjudged this Miss Ashbourne—which is possible since I’ve never met her—sooner or later you will be. No, no, don’t trouble to thank me. Or to show me out. No doubt you’ve some boring books you wish to pore over, or some such thing, and I’ve an engagement I’m already late for.”
And then he was gone. Philip could only feel a profound sense of relief. He loved his brother, but were he ever to get through a week without wishing to strangle him at least once, he would count it something of a miracle. And this week was clearly no exception.
With a sigh, Philip rang for a servant and gave orders for his dinner to be served in an hour, and then, just as James had predicted, reached for one of the law books he kept at home. It was, his friends and even his brothers thought, a shocking circumstance.
It was bad enough, they told him, that he had decided to take up the law and become a barrister. That was eccentric enough. But to be serious about it! To actually intend to work at the profession? That was what they found all but unforgivable.
A pity. Because studying and practicing the law was what Philip intended to do, for the rest of his life. It was, quite simply, what he loved.
Unfortunately for his peace of mind, Philip thought to look at his mail. There was a letter from Harry, which he reached for first.
It ought to have set his mind at rest to know that Harry, at least when this was written, was unhurt. But it was a most distressing letter.
My dear brother, Harry wrote, news will soon reach London of the fighting here. It was, and continues to be fierce, with many casualties to our side. The enemy was too well informed and I suspect treachery. Please discover what you can about a man, a mill owner, named Richard Canfield, but do not commit anything to paper. I shall come for the information myself, when I can. Yours, Harry.
It was such a typical letter, Philip thought. He set it carefully in the locked drawer of the desk, knowing Harry would not want prying eyes to see it. He should burn it, but not until he had read it several times through. Richard Canfield. The name struck him like a chill. Surely it could not be the same man Miss Ashbourne had mentioned? That would be far too much of a coincidence. And yet, perhaps it was. Stranger things had been known to happen. Sir Thomas had said the man owned a mill.
Philip wished his brother was here to ask him all the questions that came to mind. But as it was, he would do his best to fulfill Harry’s request. And hope that Harry came to claim his information soon.
* * * *
Emily was having no easier a time of it. Aunt Agatha was regarding her as if she had lost her wits.
“Parties? You wish to go to parties?”
“Yes, Aunt Agatha.”
Miss Jarrod leaned closer. “You never said anything of this before,” she said suspiciously.
Emily opened her eyes wide and tried to look innocent. She didn’t succeed very well. “But Aunt Agatha, when I came in from the garden you were nowhere to be found.”
Miss Jarrod blinked, then smiled, then said triumphantly, “Oh, the garden! Then this is because of Mr. Langford? Why, that’s different, Emily. Of course, if you wish to have a respectable way to see him again, I shall help you! I said I liked Mr. Langford. I like him much better than I like Mr. Canfield. Indeed, I think it a great pity you ever agreed to marry the man! Though I do understand why you did so. Still, this shall answer much better. Much better indeed.”
Helplessly, Emily tried to interrupt the woman. “No, Aunt Agatha! It is not that way at all! It is all part of my plan!”
The change in Miss Jarrod’s expression was ludicrous. Emily thought she was going to cry.
“Not to see Mr. Langford?” she asked. “It’s all part of your plan? Oh, dear.”
Emily cast about for a way to persuade her aunt to somehow regain her enthusiasm for the notion. A way that did not include pairing her with Mr. Langford in her aunt’s mind. But it was too late. Miss Jarrod was smiling again.
“Well, I suppose, whatever your motives, it will still throw you into his company. And that of other men like him. And your father could scarcely disapprove,” she said. “Very well, Emily, I shall see what I can do. It has been some time, but some of my dearest girlhood friends are here in London. I could call on one or two and see if they will help you and invite you to their parties.”
Emily breathed a sigh of relief. Unfortunately, her relief was a trifle premature for now Aunt Agatha turned a stern gaze on her and said, “New clothes. You will order new clothes. And at least three new ball gowns or I shan’t lift a finger to help you.”
The Reckless Barrister Page 8
