The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  “Why the devil would you want to go there?” Matthew demanded.

  “I don’t suppose we would,” Henrietta said, “but I would like the opportunity, just once, to see what we are missing.”

  “Go for tea and stick your head around the door,” Matthew advised. “It will be quiet at that hour.”

  “Exactly!” Henrietta pounced. “I want to see it at eight or nine o’clock in the evening, when it’s busy.”

  “Well, I can’t think why.”

  “That’s because as a man, you take it for granted you can go there whenever you like.”

  “Exactly,” said Almeria.

  “Well, I don’t like,” Matthew retorted. “I don’t think I’ve been there above twice in my life.”

  “But if the notion took you, you could just walk in there,” Henrietta said. “We could not.”

  “Yes, you could,” Matthew disputed, looking somewhat harassed. “You’d just have to be a bit creative, but it’s my belief you just don’t want to be there. Otherwise, you of all people, Henrie, would have gone already.”

  “Don’t be silly, Matthew,” Almeria said. “It would cause a terrible scandal, and Lord Overton would be livid.”

  “Still,” Matthew held out obstinately, “It’s my belief she just doesn’t want to.”

  Henrietta regarded him, a wild idea forming in her head and egging her on. “Then I will be creative and I will go.”

  “No, you won’t,” Matthew said with a derisive smile that was his undoing.

  Henrietta smiled back. “Care to wager on that?”

  *

  The Hart exploit was just what Henrietta needed to raise her spirits. Some people, like her sister Charlotte, for example, seemed to fall into adventure without actually trying, but nothing truly interesting had happened to Henrietta since the family had come home from the Peninsula last year. Admittedly, only a few months ago, a London season had been the most exciting thing ever, but after her presentation at court and her first few balls, she had begun to wonder what it was all for. She had actually had more fun at Charlotte’s ball in Lincolnshire. And the idea of “catching a husband” had grown both dull and vaguely distasteful. She now preferred the story of Charlotte’s sister-in-law, Lady Cecily, who had been scandalously pursued and married by the sinister baron, despite all opposition.

  Not that she was a romantic, she told herself, but the idea of being married to a polite and wealthy stranger just for the felicity of being allowed to run his house and bear his children—dear God!—had somehow become unappealing in the extreme. Not that she had forgotten her family duty, but her wager with Matthew Lacey would shake her up, remind her of her love of life.

  Accordingly, after dinner, which was early at Audley Park, she raided her brother Richard’s bedchamber for clothing. Eliza, who had followed her, watched in silence.

  “What do you think?” Henrietta asked, standing in front of the glass in a pair of boots that were slightly too big.

  “I think Richard will be mad as fire to see you wearing his favorite pantaloons,”

  “Well, most of his clothes are with him at school. This is all there is. I suppose they are a little long, but you can’t tell under the boots, can you?”

  Eliza shook her head.

  “And the coat is a little tight across the chest, but never mind. I do think I managed the cravat quite well. Do I look like a young man, Eliza?”

  Eliza considered. “You don’t look like Henrietta.”

  Henrietta laughed. “Then I shall be Henry for a change. Very well, let me take these off again for an hour. I’ll plead a headache to Mama. Don’t look so worried, Eliza, I’ll be back well before morning and no one but you will know I’ve gone.” She hesitated, searching her sister’s worried face in the glass before turning toward her. “They won’t ask you, Eliza. Just stay out of their way. If they do ask, then you must obviously tell the truth and I’ll stand the scold when I get back.”

  It all seemed perfectly simple, and the first stages of her plan worked perfectly. She climbed down the ivy from her bedchamber window—a trick she had learned during one of their brief visits home when she was a child, and had practiced with Charlotte and Richard last winter. Feeling slightly guilty, she picked Richard’s good hat off the flowerbed where it had fallen during her climb. Then, since it was still light, she made sure there was no one to observe her before she sauntered off toward the wood, practicing a male swagger as she went.

  At the edge of the wood, Matthew was waiting for her on horseback, leading another slightly smaller mount. He grinned at her. “Good for you! I didn’t really think you’d do it, you know.”

  He began to dismount to help her, but she stayed him with a quick gesture. “No, I’d best practice doing it myself, for it would look very odd if you helped me mount at the inn! Oh, will it look odd if I keep my hat on at the inn? I’ve tied my hair up tight under it, but I can’t really take it off.”

  “Oh, just shove it to the back of your head in a rakish sort of way. No one there is going to care about etiquette or manners.”

  Henrietta mounted the rather large horse with only a little difficulty, and they set off through the wood. Sitting astride felt very odd at first, and she wondered how she would manage. However, once she got used to it, she felt balanced and proficient once more.

  Riding across country was certainly quicker than going by road, but it was still a good hour’s journey to the Hart. It was dusk by the time they got there.

  “Did you bring a lantern?” Henrietta asked, wishing she’d thought of it before.

  “Of course,” Matthew scoffed, watching critically as she dismounted.

  “Remember to call me Henrie,” she murmured. “Just as my family do.”

  “It’s not hard to remember,” he said impatiently, handing over the reins to the waiting ostler. “Come on.”

  Her heart beating with wicked excitement, Henrietta strolled up to the front door with him. Inside was a hallway leading to a coffee room, a parlor, and the staircase to the bedchambers. It was a little-known fact beyond Henrietta’s family, but her sister Charlotte had been married here to the Duke of Alvan. There was no real reason for such a venue or such urgency, and Henrietta had once thought it bizarre behavior on the part of the apparently proper duke. Now, she found she rather liked the spontaneity of it.

  Matthew pushed open the door on the right, and the hum of voices beyond exploded. The smell of alcohol and tobacco smoke was so strong it almost blinded her.

  “I told you, you wouldn’t like it,” Matthew murmured in clear amusement.

  Henrietta grinned in a way she hoped was boyish. “It just took me by surprise. Lead on.”

  Inevitably, as strangers, they attracted a bit of attention, although a couple of farmers did nod in greeting to Matthew who, as the squire’s son, must have been known to them. Henrietta concentrated on keeping her face stern and walking like a man.

  She sat down on the hard bench beside Matthew with just a little relief. However, when a neat and pretty maid came over straight away, asking, “What can I get for you, young sirs?” she began to enjoy herself.

  Shoving her hat to the back of her head at the rakish angle suggested by Matthew, she smiled at the maid in the lecherous manner she had observed in several men. The maid didn’t blush—no doubt she had to deal with worse all the time—though she did blink rapidly before transferring her attention to Matthew.

  “Two pints of ale, if you please,” Matthew said hastily. “Oh, and brandy. Your best brandy.”

  “Right away, sir.” The maid scurried off.

  Matthew glanced at Henrietta in amusement. “Were you flirting with the innkeeper’s daughter?”

  “With any luck she won’t look at me closely again!”

  “What if she took a shine to you?”

  “Oh, I’m much too lofty to do more than smile at such a person,” Henrietta assured him, and he laughed out loud.

  “You’re game as a pebble, Henrie, I’ll g
ive you that.”

  “So, I’ve won our wager?”

  “Not until we’ve drunk our ale and got out of here. But I’ll tell you what, I’ve never had so much fun losing before.”

  The innkeeper’s daughter presented them with ale, a bottle of brandy, and two glasses before hurrying on to her next customer. Remaining in character, Henrietta watched her go. After pausing to take the order of a couple of fishermen, almost in passing, she moved on to a lone figure lounging in the shadows at the back of the room. As he spoke to the girl, a not-infrequent memory popped into Henrietta’s head—of the man who had saved her from falling down the theater stairs. She didn’t know why she thought of him now, for she could not see this man’s features clearly and there was little enough to remind her of him.

  She looked away and somewhat gingerly lifted her mug of ale.

  “Good health!” said Matthew and took a sizeable drink.

  Henrietta imitated him and couldn’t help her grimace as she swallowed. “Heavens, that’s nasty.”

  “Yes, well, another reason ladies don’t want to come to such places. Don’t drink it all, now, and lay off the brandy, for God’s sake, or you’ll be drunk as a lord.”

  “I don’t think I could drink it all if I wanted to,” Henrietta said.

  “The brandy’s good, though. Definitely French.”

  “You mean it’s smuggled?” Henrietta said, shocked.

  “Of course it is. So is my father’s and yours.”

  “Oh, no,” Henrietta denied. “Not Papa’s.”

  “Whatever you say.” His surrender was so patronizing that she scowled at him, but he didn’t seem to notice. His attention had moved on to a group of men who had just come in. They seemed to be talking among themselves while gazing at Matthew and Henrietta.

  “Oh dear, do you think I’m rumbled?” Henrietta asked.

  Matthew shrugged. “No reason to think so. But I’ll drink up and we can be gone in ten minutes.”

  Although a mere ten minutes seemed rather tame—not even long enough to rest the horses properly—Henrietta began to see the point. Apart from the curious newcomers, another set of men at the next table seemed to have taken an interest in them, too—and it was they who caused the first trouble.

  “Mind if we join you?” said one, a greasy looking individual with a leer in his eye, as he slid along the bench next to Henrietta.

  “Actually, yes, we do mind,” Matthew snapped, leaning around her to glare at the intruder.

  “Think you’re too good for us?” sneered the greasy man as his friends moved onto the stools opposite. “Well, you might be, young gent, but your companion sure ain’t.”

  Matthew sprang to his feet in outrage. “Now listen here, you—”

  “In any case,” interrupted a man with a missing front tooth, “we wasn’t talking to you.”

  The greasy man shifted closer yet to Henrietta and rubbed his shoulder and his thighs against hers. Revolted, she sprang to her feet, but he instantly yanked her back down by the arm. She shook him off furiously.

  “Come, Henrie,” Matthew said grimly. “We’re leaving.”

  “Off you go,” the greasy man invited. “Your friend here will have more fun with us, anyway.”

  Matthew, clearly expecting things only to get uglier, seized Henrietta’s arm, and she stood with him. The men all laughed uproariously, rising to their feet in a seriously threatening manner that drew attention from the other patrons.

  “Dad!” the innkeeper’s daughter called over the counter.

  But the man with the missing tooth drew back his fist to strike Matthew. In desperation, Henrietta tried to pull him the other way to escape, forgetting that the greasy man blocked her way.

  In the sudden silence, a chair scraped back ominously, loudly enough to distract Matthew’s immediate attacker. Even Henrietta glanced toward the sound and saw the solitary man she’d already noticed in the shadows. He stood and walked unhurriedly into the light until he stood beside Matthew.

  The man without his front tooth dropped his raised fist. The stranger, who appeared to be their ally, looked around the other men until his gaze finally rested on the greasy one, who stumbled to his feet. In silence, the men melted away to a far distant table. Conversation started up again, buzzing in Henrietta’s ears.

  She barely noticed because she finally realized why her savior from the theater had sprung into her head when she had first seen the solitary man in the corner. They looked exactly alike. Apart from their dress, and this man’s dark-stubbled jaw.

  It’s him. It has to be…

  Slowly, his gaze moved to hers, and the butterflies soared all over again.

  “The trouble is,” he observed with lazy amusement. “You look nothing like a man.”

  “I do so!” Henrietta exclaimed.

  His eyes laughed at her before they turned in Matthew’s bewildered direction. “I suggest you send for whatever vehicle you arrived in. I’ll wait with…your companion.”

  Matthew, clearly, had doubts about that, too, for he frowned in suspicion, clearly undecided what was best.

  “I know him,” Henrietta blurted.

  Matthew’s eyes widened, but at least, without further hesitation, he strode off to fetch the horses.

  Silently, their savior turned on his heel.

  “I thought you were waiting with me?” Henrietta flung at him.

  “I can wait as well from over here,” he replied and strolled back to the shadowy table from which he’d risen so recently.

  Piqued, she sat down again. No one was paying her any attention at all now. As if the word, the protection of this banker’s son was law.

  A banker? In the theater, it had been conceivable if disappointing. Here, he looked nothing like a banker. Nothing of the respectable middling class clung to him at all. He might have been the banker’s twin. Perhaps that’s it. Only what a coincidence that both should come to my rescue in such different ways! Then again, it was quite a coincidence to come upon the same man here.

  She pushed her barely touched mug of ale aside and drummed her fingers on the table. Where the devil was Matthew? In truth, she would rather help him with the horses than sit in here with everyone—except him—not looking at her. His gaze she could feel burning into her face. But she refused to be ashamed of her attire or her presence.

  She stood abruptly and strode across to the door. The innkeeper’s daughter stood aside for her.

  The fresh night air felt delicious on her skin as she stepped outside and moved toward the stables at the other end of the yard. It was well-lit, so when the groan attracted her attention and she looked up, she saw Matthew’s face quite clearly, even though his head lolled between the two men who dragged him between them.

  “Leave him!” she shouted, running toward the men and the waiting horses.

  But they didn’t even slow down. They heaved him across the saddle of a man already mounted. One slapped the horse’s rump and it took off at a gallop while the other two men leapt into their own saddles and whipped their horses into flight. Henrietta was left running after nothing.

  “Oh, dear God,” she whispered, tugging at her hair. “What the devil do I do now?”

  Follow. She had to follow to at least discover where they were taking Matthew. He’d groaned, so at least they hadn’t killed him. Yet. She spun around, running back to the stables.

  “My horse!” she gasped to the ostler who was already leading out her borrowed mount. A shadow blocked the light from outside the door and the ostler’s eyes went beyond her.

  In fear, she jerked around, and saw her savior once more. Or his twin. “They took Matthew!” she blurted. “I think he’s unconscious but I can’t lose them.”

  He didn’t ask questions, simply strode up to her and boosted her into the saddle before taking his own horse—already saddled—from the ostler. “Come, then. Which way did they go?”

  Chapter Three

  Since the road was quiet at this time of night, it w
as remarkably easy to discern and follow the bobbing lanterns of the men in front. In fact, Matthew’s abductors slowed up after the initial gallop, clearly not expecting any hue and cry.

  “It wasn’t the men who bothered us before,” Henrietta told her companion.

  “Oh, no, they won’t trouble you again. There was another group at the front of the room who seemed interested in you, too. They left just before your friend. They were strangers at the inn.”

  “I don’t understand why they would take him with them just to rob him,” Henrietta said worriedly.

  “Who the devil is he?”

  “Matthew Lacey from Seldon Manor.”

  “The squire’s son? Why are you gallivanting in men’s clothes with the squire’s son?”

  “For a wager, of course. We are old friends.”

  “Not sure he’s a very good friend.”

  “It was my idea,” she said defensively.

  A hiss of laughter escaped him. “Oh, I know that.” He considered. “There was some sort of ransom racket going on around here not so long ago.”

  “They caught most of them and scared the rest away,” Henrietta said impatiently. “I can’t imagine they would come back or inspire anyone to imitation. Sir?”

  “Hmm.”

  “What do you plan to do when you catch them up? Are they afraid of you, too?”

  He glanced at her. “I imagine we’ll find that out.”

  “Why are the others afraid of you?” she asked, because she really wanted to know.

  “Because I look mean and fierce,” he replied flippantly.

  “You don’t look at all as you did in London. You are the same man, aren’t you? Not his twin?”

  He didn’t answer that with more than a crooked smile.

  “Thank you for giving Minnie to the doorman,” she offered. “I have her with me at Audley Park.”

  “It didn’t put me out in the slightest.”

  “A friend told me you were a banker.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “Then you’re not?”

  He shrugged. “I’m a sea captain. With trade interests.”