The Reckless Barrister

by April Kihlstrom

  “Well, well, well,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “This puts another face on matters entirely! What a sly puss you are, Emily, not to give me a hint of what you were about! The brother of a lord. Well, well, perhaps it’s not such a bad thing you routed Canfield, after all. Marriage settlements. We ought to talk about marriage settlements, Langford.”

  Now Miss Ashbourne found her voice. “No, Papa! Enough of this nonsense!”

  She turned to Philip. “I had no notion, Mr. Langford, that you aspired to be a writer as well as a barrister. Your imagination is beyond anything I have ever read. It surpasses even Mr. Jonathan Swift’s prodigious talent. What on earth makes you believe that I would agree to such a betrothal? I should rather be a governess than have you sacrifice yourself to a loveless match between us”

  Now Philip gaped at her. Didn’t she understand he was trying to help her? He opened his mouth to answer, but Miss Ashbourne whirled on her father before he had a chance to speak.

  “And you, Papa! How can you countenance such a match? If you think Mr. Langford can make me respectable again, you much mistake the matter!”

  At that, her father began to look alarmed. He cleared his throat. He colored up. He turned a fierce gaze on Philip and demanded to know if this was true.

  “Could you make Emily respectable again?”

  “I think so,” Philip said. “Surely it cannot hurt to let me try.”

  For a long moment, Ashbourne was silent. Then he nodded to himself and said to Philip, “Very well. If you succeed, you may marry my daughter. But only if you succeed.”

  “Papa!”

  “An excellent notion. Why, Emily, I have never known your father to be so sensible,” Miss Jarrod said with patent approval, if not with any degree of tact.

  “Aunt Agatha, I will not marry Mr. Langford!”

  The conversation swirled on as if they had not heard her.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. No notice is to be sent to the papers until Emily is respectable again. And I shall stay in London to see that no one tries to pull the wool over my eyes this time!”

  That set off another round of protests. “Papa, no! We don’t need you here.”

  “There really isn’t a great deal of room Jonathan.”

  In the midst of the confusion, Philip gently drew Miss Ashbourne aside. In a low voice, meant only for her ears, he said, “I know you cannot like this and it is not precisely what I would choose, either. But think! If your father believes you to be all but betrothed to me, he won’t throw your aunt out in the street or make you become a governess! Later you can cry off. But for now, let me help you.”

  She stared up at him with her large blue eyes, searching his face. She wanted to accept his help, he could see it in her eyes. But she also felt she should refuse. For his sake. That, too, was clear in her eyes. There was a great deal he would have said to her, if he could, but with her aunt and father in the room, Philip could only squeeze Miss Ashbourne’s hand in reassurance.

  And then, slowly she nodded.

  * * * *

  Emily felt as though she could scarcely breathe. Until the moment when Mr. Langford had offered to become betrothed to her, she could not have guessed how much she would want to agree. Or how much it would hurt to know he was only offering to do so in order to protect her, that he meant it as a temporary solution.

  It was a most disconcerting discovery. Emily had not depended on anyone else for many years. And yet, in the short time she had been in London, she had come to depend on Mr. Langford far more than comfort would allow, far more than she could believe was wise.

  And yet, what else was she to do? If she did not go along with this scheme, Papa would most certainly force her to become a governess and, worse, throw Aunt Agatha out on her own.

  Emily could not envision either possibility with anything other than foreboding. So now, knowing it was foolish, knowing she ought not to trust this man who was all but a stranger to her, she nodded. And from the smile that suddenly lit up his face, Emily took even greater alarm than before.

  For once, perhaps, she was wise.

  Chapter 12

  Philip cursed himself all the way home. What the devil had he been thinking? Not only had he offered for a girl who was nothing but trouble, and not in the least likely to advance his career, but he had done so twice over!

  He had not even had the sense to draw back when she protested and he had the opportunity to do so. It would have been such an easy thing to imply that Miss Ashbourne was right and that he could not possibly make her respectable again. And it might very well have been the truth! But he had not done so.

  Granted, he had made it clear to Miss Ashbourne that this was a spurious betrothal, meant only to protect her until she resolved matters in some other way, nevertheless it was most unlike him to do such a thing. When had he developed this chivalrous streak in his nature? It was most disconcerting and uncomfortably like what he could remember of his father. And what his brothers would say, when they learned of this latest start, was more than Philip cared to think about.

  His brothers! George! Good heavens, what was he going to do when Emily and George met, for the first time, in his company? Despite the warmth of the day, Philip began to feel quite cold.

  He would just, he told himself firmly, have to make certain that George and Miss Ashbourne did not meet. At least not for a very long time.

  As for James and Harry, well, they could be trusted to understand, he thought, were it not for that damnable pact the three had made not to marry. He could tell them it was a false betrothal, meant only to pacify Miss Ashbourne’s father. The trouble was, Philip found himself oddly reluctant to do so. He was, he realized, actually considering not drawing back from this betrothal. And that thought frightened Philip more than anything else could have done.

  So intent was he on these thoughts that he did not at first notice the confusion when he reached Gray’s Inn. Nor would he have at all had not one of the other barristers hailed him and asked, “Have you heard the latest news? There was a fierce battle in the Peninsula! The casualty lists are to be posted at any time now.”

  Instantly his own concerns were forgotten in his fear for Harry. “Where was the battle?” he demanded.

  His friend named a town that meant nothing to Philip. Nor did he know which regiments had been involved.

  “But we’ve won the battle, that much I know!” he overheard someone say exultantly.

  Philip hoped it was true. But the price would be too high if victory came at the cost of his brother’s life. Not for the first time, he damned his brother for bullying George into buying him a pair of colors.

  Still, with victory in the air, his was not a popular sentiment and so Philip kept it to himself. He retreated to his office, after extracting a promise from his friend to come and fetch him the moment there was news.

  But five minutes, listening to the uproar outside his door, was sufficient to prove to Philip that this would not do. Restless, he rose to his feet and left Gray’s Inn. If he could do nothing to speed the posting of the lists, at least, perhaps, he could do something about Miss Ashbourne’s fortunes. It was time he truly was of service to her and perhaps his efforts on her behalf would hold at bay, at least for a little while, his fears for Harry.

  Besides, for the first time since he had spoken, he understood part of the impulse which had led him to do so, and it had to do with Harry and Harry’s questions about Richard Canfield. As Miss Ashbourne’s fiancé he could visit her home and perhaps inspect the mill Canfield owned. He could speak with her friends who worked there and perhaps discover something that would help Harry.

  But first he had to make Miss Ashbourne respectable.

  It went against the grain with him, but Philip’s manners were every bit as polished as James’s when he chose. And today he chose to be charming and gallant with every dowager, every matron he knew who might possibly be willing to extend an invitation to Miss Ashbo
urne.

  It would never have occurred to Philip to wonder at his success. After all, from birth he was accustomed to being liked. And being able to persuade others to do as he wished. Still, even he ought not to have expected all of the ladies he approached to agree to his request.

  What he did not know was that each and every one of those ladies found herself intrigued by his concern for Miss Ashbourne. Indeed each one felt a certain satisfaction at knowing that some young lady, any young lady, had finally caught the attention of a young man who had long been the despair of every matchmaking mama in London.

  Had they been gentlemen, these ladies would have been making wagers at White’s as to the likelihood that Mr. Philip Langford would become leg-shackled at last. Since they were not, they merely indulged in a little gossip with their bosom bows, once he was gone.

  And that was how, in the space of a few hours, all of London learned that the Honorable Philip Langford had fallen into the clutches of a young lady no one in London had seen. At least not in six years. And those acquaintances who had brushed aside Miss Jarrod’s requests for help in launching her niece, suddenly were sending around invitations, apologizing that they had not been sent out sooner.

  Miss Ashbourne and Miss Jarrod found themselves surrounded by a bewildering number of choices and a sinking sensation that it all had to do with a certain gentleman who had, perhaps, not been as discreet as he ought.

  And they were right.

  * * * *

  “What a fortunate thing it is that you ordered these ball gowns,” Miss Jarrod said as she eyed her niece, later that evening. “Rose is a most becoming color for you.”

  “Is it?” Emily asked doubtfully as she stared into the mirror. “I feel like a hothouse flower. Something to be admired but scarcely touched for fear I shall fall apart if anyone does so.”

  “Nonsense!” Mr. Ashbourne said stoutly. “You look charming, absolutely charming. Just as you ought. If you had ever consented to dress like this at home, perhaps you would have been married years ago and I should have a grandchild to dandle on my knees.”

  More alarmed than ever, Emily began to back away, toward the stairs, her eyes wide. “Perhaps we shouldn’t go tonight. Perhaps I ought to stay here and go to bed early. I know we shan’t have any fun and you, dear Aunt Agatha, surely you have the headache?”

  But these tactics, however well they might have worked at home, did not fare so well here in London. Not now, when her father had the bit between his teeth.

  “You’ll go tonight,” he said sternly, “and no more nonsense about it! Your mama would have said it was just the thing and what’s more, she would have been right.”

  The mention of her mother acted upon Emily as her father knew it would. She went very still, very pale. He pressed his advantage.

  “You look very like her, you know. Particularly tonight. She loved to dance. Thought me a clumsy fool because I couldn’t. But she married me anyway, and very happy we were, until she died. Trying to say you oughtn’t to look for perfection. Now come along. Your Mr. Langford will be here any minute and you’d best be ready. You, too, Agatha. Not in the first blush of youth anymore, but you’ll do credit to me and to Emily tonight, too.”

  Miss Jarrod blushed and shook her head, but it was easy to see that she was pleased. As if to prove Ashbourne right, the knocker sounded a moment later and Mr. Langford was admitted to the house.

  He paused at the sight of the Ashbourne party and Emily was woman enough to be pleased at the way his jaw dropped at the sight of her. It was shock, but an admiring shock, for his mouth snapped shut into a smile and his eyes began to dance as he looked at her.

  And then he bowed. Deeply, elegantly, as if she were a royal princess and not some troublesome creature he kept having to rescue.

  “Well, Langford,” Ashbourne demanded impatiently, “will she do?”

  “She will,” Mr. Langford answered, keeping his eyes on Emily, “take the ton by storm. Yes, sir, she will most definitely do.”

  “Very nicely said,” Aunt Agatha said with a sharp nod of approval. “Now come along, we mustn’t be late.”

  Now Mr. Langford turned to look at the older woman. There was mischief in his voice as he said, “Ah, but don’t you know that it is fashionable to be late? To make an entrance? As we will?”

  Aunt Agatha merely snorted but Emily knew her well enough to know when she was pleased. And she was very pleased with Mr. Langford.

  Well, Emily could understand that. She was rather pleased with the man, herself. And also a little afraid. He turned to her and held out a hand.

  “Your aunt is right,” he said softly, “we should be going.”

  Softly! He spoke to her softly, as if she were a horse that needed gentling! Emily wanted to slap him for his presumption, even as she found herself reaching out and placing her hand in his. Perhaps being gentled wasn’t such a terrible notion, after all.

  He smiled, but it was not a smile of triumph, rather it was a smile meant to reassure. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and then turned to offer his other arm to Aunt Agatha, who took it with a self-conscious smile of her own.

  “Are you coming with us, sir?” Mr. Langford asked Emily’s father.

  Mr. Ashbourne lifted an eyebrow. “‘Course I’m coming!” he snapped. “Think I’d be dressed like this if I wasn’t? Someone has to keep an eye on the lot of you! Agatha’s a good woman, I don’t say that she’s not. But my girl has been able to get around her since the very first. And you, sir, have yet to prove to my satisfaction, that I’ve not just set the cat among the pigeons by encouraging you to make free with this house and escorting my daughter.”

  Emily held her breath, waiting for Mr. Langford to take offense. But he did not. Instead he answered, with cool disdain, “Quite right. In your position I should be just as cautious. Shall we go?”

  But the way he squeezed her hand reassuringly, with his elbow, belied the chill of his words. And when he looked down at her, it was with such warmth in his eyes, that Emily had to lower hers in confusion.

  He showed both ladies every courtesy as he handed first Aunt Agatha and then Emily into his carriage. Nor was it the hollow gesture of a practiced dandy but rather a genuine concern for their welfare that prompted this.

  Or so it seemed to Emily. At which point she scolded herself for a fool and sternly determined to be more on her guard. What, after all, did she know of practiced dandies? Nothing, she had to allow, save that she did not think they often had such warmth in their eyes, such concern in their voices as they talked with the women they were charming. The gestures might have been the same, but it would all have been done in a way that left no doubt it was a game to them. And it did not seem to be a game to Mr. Langford at all.

  Nor did his attentiveness flag once they reached Lady Merriweather’s town house. Emily had the oddest sensation of being protected and shielded as he helped her to navigate between the people gathered there and led their party up to Lady Merriweather and her daughter.

  “May I present Miss Jarrod, Miss Ashbourne, and Mr. Ashbourne?” he said to the hostess.

  Lady Merriweather was pleased to be gracious once she saw that Emily was much older and therefore no threat to her own daughter, in whose honor this ball was being held.

  Nor did he abandon her after this. He led the Ashbourne party to a quiet side of the room where Aunt Agatha could sit. And he was so obliging as to point Emily’s father in the direction of the card rooms. Then he smiled at her and held out a hand.

  “Shall we dance?”

  Emily allowed him to lead her to where the lines were being formed for the next country dance. She caught a sideways glance that told her Mr. Langford was wondering if she would feel out of place.

  She might have reassured him, but preferred to see his look of surprise, if surprise it was, when he discovered that in this, at least, she was as accomplished as any London raised girl. Perhaps one day they would know one another well enough so that she cou
ld confide how, as a child, dancing had been her one joy and her dancing instructor the one person who had not laughed at her odd notions or tried to squelch the streak of rebelliousness that had always been part of her nature.

  Chapter 13

  Philip watched as Miss Ashbourne moved gracefully through the figures of the dance. For the first time since he had met her, she looked as if she had really come alive and he wondered at the change in her. But it was a change of which he thoroughly approved.

  And because there was no chance for them to speak, he let his eyes also watch for the reactions to her presence here. Fortunately his brother George did not seem to be in attendance. Nor anyone else who might recognize Miss Ashbourne as the lady clapped up into Bedlam.

  Then he gave himself up to the pleasure of dancing with a lovely young woman. One who did not expect him to feed her empty compliments at every opportunity, but who was content simply to be in his company as they danced. It came to Philip that when Miss Ashbourne was not pressing her cause, she was a remarkably restful woman in whose company to find oneself.

  And when it was over, he led her back to her aunt, then excused himself to see which acquaintances he could persuade to dance with her next. It was not such a difficult task as he anticipated.

  “Dance with a girl? One you came with? Delighted, Langford, simply delighted!”

  And if there was too much mischief in the smile, how could Philip cavil at it? But he did draw the line at answering impertinent questions.

  “What is the girl to you, Langford? Never known you to take an interest in the petticoat line before.”

  “Who is she and how do you come to know her? Haven’t seen her about before, have I?”

  “Trying to put the tabbies off the scent, are you? Useless thing to try to do, you know. They’ll be making wagers at White’s by tomorrow morning.”

  And so it went. But they danced with Miss Ashbourne. And spoke kindly of her afterward. So much so that at times Philip had to keep his tongue clenched between his teeth. He watched, moreover, with mixed emotions, as some of his friends asked Miss Ashbourne for a second dance, all of their own accord.