The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  “Rudd,” Lady Carew greeted him with some relief. “Do join me.”

  “Gladly,” he replied, setting his full plate on the table and taking the vacant seat next to her.

  To his relief and everyone else’s, Mrs. Cromarty retired to rout her poor husband out of Silford’s library.

  “In fact,” Rudd admitted, “I’m glad of the chance of a word.” Providentially, at this point, Ashworth was hailed away by the sporting young men at the end of the table, so Rudd needed only to lower his voice to be sure of privacy. “You must be delighted by the discovery of Silford’s heir.”

  She smiled beguilingly. “You could have knocked me down with a feather. I thought he was nobody.”

  He will be again. But to some degree, her plans must differ from his own and Charles Cromarty’s. Rudd smiled back. “How fortunate that you were there ahead of the pack. Although if my eyes did not deceive me, I believe you have competition.”

  “I?” she said incredulously. She laughed. “You mean the little Maybury girl? Naïve and sillier than most.”

  “Naïve, I allow. She is but eighteen years old. However, I have never found her silly.”

  “That is because you have never seen her in the middle of the night dressed in boy’s clothes that do nothing to disguise her sex, in the company of…well, we shall leave that.”

  He regarded her with considerable interest. “I confess you have surprised me. But I can use it—if you do not spread the information around. I take it you have not, so far?”

  Lady Carew shrugged. “I’d no idea who she was until I saw her here. She does not interest me.”

  “She should,” Rudd said frankly. “For she stands in your way.”

  Lady Carew’s eyes flashed pure venom although it wasn’t clear whether the poison was aimed at him or at Henrietta.

  He said, “I am prepared to take her out of your way.”

  Her smile was no longer pleasant. “Taken a fancy to the chit yourself, Rudd?”

  “Yes, as it happens, so I won’t have her name blackened. But some evidence of your continuing relationship with Cromarty might prove helpful to my cause.”

  “And in return, you marry the chit. Do you really think that will stop him?”

  “Oh, yes,” Rudd said softly.

  Her eyes gleamed.

  “You needn’t perform a play for her,” Rudd went on. “A letter in his hand, perhaps, with the date altered if necessary. I leave the evidence up to you so long as it proves his faithlessness. And once she sends him about his business, if you cannot pick up the pieces, you are not half the woman I take you to be.”

  “Oh, I’m twice the woman you think me, Rudd.”

  “Good,” he said, addressing himself to his breakfast at last. “How is poor Carew?”

  Chapter Nine

  On their return from Steynings, Henrietta could not throw off her restlessness or her impatience to see Captain Cromarty again. Something had changed with his kiss, releasing a longing she hadn’t known was in her. So, when Eliza announced that her brothers finished school at the end of the week, she jumped at the chance.

  “Oh, you are quite right,” Lady Overton exclaimed. “I always relied on Charlotte to bring them home. And Nurse has gone to her sister in Portsmouth.” She frowned. “I suppose your father or I could go…or Miss Milsom!”

  “The boys have never met Miss Milsom,” Henrietta pointed out. “It would be strange, especially for Horry, to be met by a stranger. But I could go, and Miss Milsom, perhaps, could accompany me.”

  “And then who would teach Eliza? And Jane Verne who is coming to stay for the weekend again.”

  “They will be delighted to have no lessons for a day,” Henrietta said wryly. “The other option is that you and I go together.”

  “I’ll speak to Miss Milsom.”

  The upshot was that Henrietta and Miss Milsom set off in the travelling coach early on Friday morning. Unfortunately, the governess did not appear to be at her best. Her eyes watered and her nose ran constantly, and as the morning went on, she began to look really ill.

  “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have dragged you out on such an outing,” Henrietta said contritely.

  “I’m happy to help,” Miss Milsom said wanly. “I’m eager to meet your brothers. Eliza has told me so much about them.”

  And in fact, she did seem to perk up once they had collected the boys, who seemed to bring a whirlwind of noise and fun with them.

  For once, none of the three brothers asked to sit with John Coachman, since they wanted to meet Miss Milsom properly. So, they all squashed inside, with Horry on the floor, to ask questions and share amusing stories about school. Their activities seemed to have very little to do with learning.

  Miss Milsom took it all in her stride, even Horatio’s slightly anxious questioning since, as Eliza’s twin, he was afraid of her being thrust under the thumb of some harsh person with no understanding. Fortunately, although he clearly still reserved judgement, Miss Milsom appeared to pass most of his tests.

  Despite the governess’s cold, the journey was somewhat riotous and full of chatter and laughter. Henrietta was delighted to see her brothers again and wondered if she was too old to run wild with them at Audley Park. At Easter, she had had no desire to, being so concerned with the novelty of being a young lady about to embark on her first season. Four months later, it seemed, everything had changed. It wasn’t that she wished to revert to childhood, not really. But she had missed the fun and found life in London far more constricting.

  And then there was Captain Cromarty.

  “There, ahead to the right,” Richard said. “That’s the road up to the Hart Inn. We had to go there once when it was too foggy to go on, and the whole inn was deserted. We stayed the night.”

  “Really?” Miss Milsom marveled.

  “Actually, they did,” Henrietta told her. “My sister Charlotte was with them and there was nothing else for them to do!”

  “It was a great adventure,” George enthused. “We met the Duke of Alvan who has bang-up horses, and he had to fight armed robbers!”

  “I don’t know so much about that side of things,” Henrietta said uneasily. “But they do seem to have had quite an adventure!”

  “Can we go again?” Horatio demanded. “Come on, Henrie, we’ll show you around, and Miss Milsom, too.”

  Henrietta hadn’t actually thought of this before, since the Hart was slightly off their path. But, of course, she had an ulterior motive for agreeing to go. Captain Cromarty was frequently there, and she had not seen him since the Steynings ball. Against the scheme was her late visit there with Matthew a couple of weeks ago. But even if the staff had perceived her as a girl dressed as a boy, they were surely unlikely to associate such a person with Lord Overton’s fashionably dressed daughter.

  Miss Milsom looked at her somewhat doubtfully.

  “Contrary to what they have just told you, it is actually a respectable house,” Henrietta reassured her. She made her decision. “I suppose we could have an early tea there and still be home for dinner.”

  George and Horatio cheered while Richard, almost grown up at the age of fifteen, merely grinned at her. Just in time, George yelled the new instructions out the window at John, and the coach turned onto the Hart road just a little too fast.

  Only minutes later, they pulled into the courtyard of the inn. Richard remembered his manners without prompting, and courteously handed out Miss Milsom and Henrietta. The innkeeper came out to meet them, greeting John like an old friend and beaming when the coachman introduced him to Henrietta.

  “Welcome, Miss! Come in, come in and my wife will attend you. The private parlor is free, but the coffee room is quiet also.”

  “The coffee room is fine,” she said, aware once more of her ulterior motive. If Captain Cromarty was here, he might not see them in the private parlor.

  “Oh dear, it’s cold in here, is it not?” Miss Milsom said as they were shown into the coffee room.

  “Do y
ou think so?” Henrietta said in surprise, throwing off her bonnet. “Come, sit in the window seat and let the sun warm you!”

  Obediently, the governess sat in the beam of sunshine, but it seemed to Henrietta that her cheeks were rather hectically flushed for someone feeling the cold. When she touched Miss Milsom’s face, her skin was hot and tight.

  “Oh dear, you really are not well,” Henrietta said anxiously. “We shall go as soon as we’ve had tea and get you home to bed.”

  “Oh, I shall be right as rain in a few moments…”

  But this optimism was clearly misplaced. Miss Milsom swayed dizzily when she stood up and her stomach threatened to relieve itself of the tea she had just drunk.

  “I think you must have influenza,” Henrietta said anxiously. “Elsie the chambermaid is down with it. Do your bones ache, too?”

  “A little,” Miss Milsom admitted.

  “Then maybe we shouldn’t bump you around in the coach just yet. It’s another couple of hours to Audley Park by coach… Richard, are the inn rooms comfortable?”

  “Yes, clean sheets and feather beds,” Richard assured her, swallowing the last of his bread and butter and reaching for a slice of cake. “Maybe you should lie down for a little, Miss Milsom.”

  “Let me speak to Mrs. Villin.”

  The innkeeper’s wife immediately sent her daughter for a hot posset and insisted on helping the governess upstairs to bed. Henrietta loosened her gown and helped her into bed.

  “Maybe she’ll be better after an hour’s rest,” Mrs. Villin said as they watched her eyes close.

  “Maybe,” Henrietta said doubtfully. “I think she must have been hiding this for days. I should never have let her come.”

  “Well, we’ll see how she is. You go back down and finish your tea.”

  As she rounded the half-landing, she caught sight of the wrong Cromarty.

  The blond, petulant Charles, who had once asked her to waltz, walked across the entrance hall and was bowed by Mr. Villin, the innkeeper, into the private parlor where an unseen man greeted him.

  Henrietta, who had ducked back out of sight, continued her descent of the stairs rather more rapidly, rejoining her brothers in the coffee room. “Who arrived while I was upstairs?” she demanded.

  “Dull looking fellow in a coat he was too fat for,” George replied at once. “And an old tricorn hat. His horse was an old nag. And then a very bang-up gentleman with a grumpy face. Showy chestnut,” he added in case anyone was interested in the horseflesh.

  “I wonder who the dull fellow is?”

  The boys shrugged. “He asked for a Mr. Cromarty and then demanded the parlor,” Richard added.

  “Mr. Cromarty?” Henrietta asked anxiously. “Not Captain?”

  “No, Mister.”

  The innkeeper’s pretty daughter, whose name was Lily, came in then to see if they desired anything else. Since she seemed friendly enough, Henrietta asked her bluntly who was with Mr. Cromarty in the parlor.

  Lily smiled. “Mr. Pollard, Miss. Exciseman. He checks up on us all the time. Never finds anything.”

  “And Captain Cromarty,” Henrietta said in a rush. “Is he here?”

  “The captain?” A frown flickered across Lily’s smooth brow and she looked at Henrietta more closely. “No, he isn’t here.”

  Although the disappointment was sharp, it mingled with relief because she just knew his cousin Charles meant him ill.

  “Do you know the captain?” Lily asked.

  “A little,” Henrietta replied, trying not to blush.

  “And the gentleman with Mr. Pollard. Would he be a relation of the captain?”

  “A cousin, I believe.”

  Lily nodded thoughtfully and turned to go.

  “Lily?”

  The girl turned back, “Yes, Miss?”

  “I don’t believe he means the captain well.”

  Again, Lily’s eyes searched hers. She was a very pretty girl, a strand of golden hair escaping her white cap. More than that, there was something very deep and beautiful about her eyes. Something almost over-perceptive. And yet, if she recognized Henrietta from her evening in the taproom, she gave no sign.

  “Thank you, Miss,” she said and went out.

  What did that mean? That she would somehow warn the captain? A twinge of sadness, flecked with something very like jealousy, twisted through Henrietta. Lily Villin, innkeeper’s daughter, was more part of his world than she. It shouldn’t matter, but it did.

  She and her brothers took a turn about the inn yard, and George inevitably dragged them off to the stables to look at the horses. The ostler, whose name was Jem, was very good natured about it. He let them look at the showy chestnut and the old nag, as well as their own horses. They saw the inn’s spare team for travelers and the Villins’ own ponies. And another horse Henrietta thought she recognized blew down her neck.

  “It’s as if he knows you,” George said, impressed.

  “Perhaps he does,” Henrietta said vaguely. “Boys, I’m going to check on Miss Milsom and then we must decide what’s to be done.”

  Miss Milsom was so sound asleep that Henrietta didn’t want to wake her. Her skin still felt a little less feverish to the touch.

  “Best thing for her, sleep,” Mrs. Villin said comfortably. “Poor lady. You leave her here with us, Miss, and your man can come back for her tomorrow or the day after.”

  “Oh, no, I couldn’t leave her,” Henrietta said, genuinely shocked at the idea she should abandon a dependent of her family to the care of strangers. “Though perhaps I should send the boys home.”

  The boys, however, were dead against this plan and all for staying together for the night at the Hart.

  “Who knows what will happen?” George said enthusiastically.

  “But Mama and Papa are looking forward—”

  “What a whopper, Henrie,” Richard said cheerfully. “You know perfectly well they won’t notice.”

  “Of course they will! They love to have you home,” she said.

  “Yes, but they don’t really mind when we’re not,” Horatio said shrewdly.

  “Eliza does.”

  Horatio looked somber for a moment while his brothers nodded. “I wish you’d brought her with you.”

  “There wouldn’t have been room in the carriage. It’s squashed enough as it is.”

  Horatio sighed. Then his head jerked up again. “But you said she has a friend staying. The sinister baron’s niece! She won’t miss us too much before tomorrow, and we won’t have the chance to stay here again after we’re home. Come on, Henrie, let’s stay.”

  Henrietta glanced up at the inn, then over toward the sea. “I suppose we could send John back with the news, and he could come back for us tomorrow.”

  The decision made, John was dispatched with the coach. Henrietta made sure there was fresh water by Miss Milsom’s bed, and then she and the boys went for a walk down to the sea.

  Lily came running out after them, a seaman’s eyeglass in her hand. “Are you going to look at the ships?” she asked, offering it to Henrietta.

  “If there are any to see. Thank you.”

  Richard took the glass from his sister. “Wonderful!” he enthused, trying it out while George and Horatio jumped up and down in front to annoy him.

  Lily laughed, although her gaze lingered on Henrietta, almost as if she were trying to tell her something without speaking the words.

  “Are your guests gone from the parlor?” Henrietta murmured.

  “Yes. One is heading back to London, he says. The other returns to his work.”

  Searching for contraband. After meeting with a man who meant Captain Cromarty ill.

  Henrietta had to catch her breath. “Is there a ship we should look for especially?”

  “The Siren is pretty. Comes in close sometimes. But you can wave to any ship you see.” Lily smiled and went back inside.

  Have I just been asked by an innkeeper’s daughter to warn smuggling vessels away from the coast?
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  No, she was reading too much meaning into a casual conversation. No lowly person would ever suggest any task to a lady of her standing, let alone one that went against the law. Henrietta was of the opinion that wealthy people at least should pay what they owed without cheating duty. And she knew, besides, that some smugglers were in league with France for their own ends.

  Not Captain Cromarty.

  But she didn’t know that. She just wanted it to be true.

  As they followed the path down the side of the cliff to the sea, she had to hold on to her bonnet, for despite the blue sky and sunshine, the wind had sprung up. The boys took turns with Lily’s glass, looking out to the water and back at the inn and at the birds perched along the rocks.

  “There’s a man hiding over there,” Horatio said, nodding over to the left.

  “It’s a large seagull,” Richard assured him.

  “Below the seagulls! I can tell the difference!”

  “Actually,” Richard said, having snatched the glass from his little brother and looked for himself. “He’s right. There is a man, there. With his back to us.”

  “What’s he doing?” asked George, peering in the same direction. The breeze blew his hair right back from his head.

  “Nothing. He’s just sitting there,” Richard replied.

  “Is it the exciseman?” Henrietta blurted.

  “Can’t see his face, but I don’t think so. He’s wearing a floppy hat, not a tricorne.”

  As they walked on, Henrietta could see over the rocks to a little cove, where two small rowing boats were tied to a boulder. Glancing up, she found the watcher no longer visible. Perhaps Horatio was right about him hiding.

  The path led down to a tiny, pebbly beach. They sat on the rocks, and the boys dangled their feet in the little pools left by the tide. When they grew tired of that, the boys scrambled over the rocks, exploring. Henrietta, hampered by her skirts, regretfully let them go without her, but they were back quickly enough, tense with suppressed excitement.