The Irredeemable Miss Renfield (Uncommon Courtships Book 3)

by Regina Scott

  There was a hesitant scratch at the door, like a hand had touched it and been hastily withdrawn.

  “Come in,” Lord Watkin called gently.

  Eloise entered, and Leslie found himself staring. Gone were the blackened lashes, the rouged cheeks, the clinging gowns. Her face was fresh and clean, her white muslin gown plain and simply cut. She was far lovelier than he had ever seen her, eagerness in every line as she curtsied.

  “You wanted to see me, Father?” she said breathlessly.

  “Do you know this gentleman, Eloise?” her father asked, nodding toward Leslie.

  She must not have realized he was in the room, for she started, then paled. “Lord Hastings,” she murmured, dropping her gaze.

  “Miss Watkin,” he replied with a bow. “I was surprised you had not told your father about our problem last evening.”

  She kept her eyes on the floor. “I am seldom given the opportunity to speak to my father.” The words were not blaming, merely a statement of fact. Still Lord Watkin winced visibly.

  “An oversight on my part, I assure you,” he put in, causing her to gaze up at him in wonder. “Would you care to explain what happened?”

  She bit her lip, glancing between him and Leslie. “It was nothing, Father. I told Lord Hastings he did not have to call today.”

  She looked so contrite that Leslie could not doubt her sincerity. He would have liked to put her whole manner down to artifice, but something told him that his theory was correct. And just as surely, he knew she was not the gossip trying to harm Cleo’s reputation.

  “If you will allow me, my lord,” he said smoothly. “I believe there has been a mistake. Gossip led me to think that your daughter had manipulated me into a compromising situation last night. However, I begin to see that we were both victims.” He bowed again, more deeply this time. “I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Watkin. I see now that you have tried to befriend me all along.”

  Her lower lip trembled, but she held her head high. “Thank you, Lord Hastings. I understand all too well how easy it is to be swayed by gossip.”

  “I knew you would understand,” Leslie told her carefully. “So I must ask you to help me stop the gossip that is being spread. Who told you the story you told me last night?”

  She paled, swallowing but kept her eyes forward. “I...I’m sure I heard it from a girl at school.”

  Her father leaned forward, eyes narrowing, and Leslie feared he had given her away. He tried another tact. “Yes, I believe you mentioned that last night. Stupid of me to forget. But you had heard it again recently, in connection with Miss Renfield’s name.”

  She nodded, relaxing a little. “Yes. Major Cutter told me.”

  Cutter? His flare of anger must have shown on his face for she flinched away. Cutter could very well have spread lies, but it would profit him far more if he knew the story to be true. Someone else had told him, someone he could believe. But who?

  “Does that answer your questions, Lord Hastings?” her father put in.

  Leslie nodded. “Yes, thank you, my lord. And thank you, Miss Watkin. You have been very helpful.”

  “Thank you, Lord Hastings,” she murmured. “And please give my regards to Miss Renfield. Tell her I am sorry for the way I behaved last night. She knows me far better than most. I know she will understand.”

  As Leslie nodded, her father spoke up. “It sounds as if we have a great deal of catching up to do. Will you excuse us, Lord Hastings? That is, if you have nothing more to discuss with me?”

  Leslie bowed. “Nothing I can say can be more important than your charming daughter, sir. Miss Watkin, I bid you good day.”

  She smiled at him then, and he returned the smile, leaving the room far more free than when he had arrived.

  *

  Cleo had thought she would feel free in the morning. After seeing her sisters out the door and explaining to Lady Agnes the situation between Leslie and Eloise, she had retired and dropped immediately into an exhausted sleep. While she had woken surprisingly refreshed, she could not seem to occupy her mind. She tried reading, writing to her friends still at school, and working on embroidering a pillowcase for her trousseau. None of them took her mind off Leslie, particularly the last. She was ready to give it up and go for a ride when Mr. Cowls knocked at her door.

  “Miss Rutherford is here to see you, Miss Cleo,” he murmured. “She is waiting in the withdrawing room.”

  Cleo put down the pillowcase and hurried down the corridor. She found Marlys gazing out the windows, face tight, arms wrapped around her yellow-sprigged muslin dress as if the summer day somehow chilled her.

  “You’ve heard the news then,” Cleo guessed, moving to join her.

  Marlys watched her approach. “That you are to marry Lord Hastings? Yes. The announcement was in the paper this morning.”

  Cleo pulled up short. “Oh, that.”

  “Yes, that,” Marlys said with a laugh. “Is there something else of greater import that’s happened to you?”

  “Countless,” Cleo replied, but she moved to sit on the sofa and patted the space beside her. “The last few days have seemed endless, Marlys. Please sit down and talk to me.”

  “I cannot,” the girl replied, remaining by the window. From downstairs, Cleo heard the faint sound of a knocker. “I promised Mother I would only wish you happy. She doesn’t approve of Lord Hastings, or you, I’m sad to say.”

  Cleo made a face. “Fie on her! Surely you have better sense, Marlys.”

  She shrugged, moving from the window at last. “Surely you will let Major Cutter go now with your engagement announced.”

  “I assure you, I have no desire to speak to him ever again,” Cleo told her vehemently.

  Marlys obviously did not take her meaning for she smiled. “I’m very glad to hear that. There are plenty of other girls itching for a chance at him, you know.”

  “Then they lack the sense they were born with,” Cleo informed her. “Major Cutter is no prize.”

  Marlys’ smile faded. “Why do you say that?”

  Before Cleo could answer, Mr. Cowls poked his head into the room. “Major Cutter is here to see you, miss,” he wheezed with a frown. “He’s in the sitting room with her ladyship.”

  Cleo rose slowly from the sofa. She had forgotten Cutter intended to show up this morning and offer for her. “Wait for me, Marlys,” she said as she moved into the corridor. “I have a great deal to tell you, and your mother would want you to hear it.”

  Marlys paled, but Cleo did not stop. She went resolutely down the stairs, head high. She forced herself to remember that any moment Leslie would come for her. Her heart should be full of hope. She wanted only to see Leslie, to hold Leslie, to be held by Leslie. Just inside the sitting room door, however, she could only stop. Major Cutter rose from his seat beside Lady Agnes.

  “I will not marry you,” Cleo blurted out.

  Cutter snapped her a bow, but he could not hide his gloating look. “Your servant, Miss Renfield.”

  “He says he’s come to offer for you,” Lady Agnes put in with a great deal more glee than Cleo felt was called for. “Tell him your feelings on the matter.”

  “I wouldn’t want him if he was dipped in chocolate and studded with almonds,” Cleo informed her, head high.

  He smiled condescendingly. “I can, of course, understand your contempt of me. My behavior last night was unconscionable. I can only say in my defense that I was misled.”

  “By your own desires, my lad,” Lady Agnes declared. “Don’t you dare imply that my Cleo would flaunt herself at you.”

  Cleo waited for him to protest, but he shook his head with apparent sorrow. “No, Miss Renfield tried to tell me the truth. I refused to listen. I was so sure that gossip was true.”

  “Barbarian,” Hector said obligingly from where he was perched on the mantel.

  Cutter started, and Cleo hid a grin.

  “Never mind him,” Lady Agnes said with an imperious wave. “What about this gossip? Who’s ta
lking behind my Cleo’s back?”

  Cleo was certain she knew exactly who, but she refused to name her. Major Cutter shook his head.

  “A very good friend of Miss Renfield’s, who revealed the information to me in strictest confidence, and rather tearfully too, I might add.”

  Cleo rolled her eyes, imagining the scene Eloise must have enacted. She would have been pathetic in her false loyalty. Small wonder the major had been convinced enough of the story’s truth to try to trap Cleo.

  “She was rather convincing,” Major Cutter continued. “And I fear she will convince others. The safest thing for all is if Cleo marries me, and quickly, before Miss Rutherford can spread the tale further.”

  “Miss Rutherford?” Cleo cried. “Marlys Rutherford told you that story?”

  He nodded. “And you know others will believe her, particularly when it becomes known that you were alone with me at a gaming hell.”

  Cleo’s mind whirled. Marlys? How could Marlys have even known? Had she been listening outside the door that day when Cleo had told Miss Martingale? Had she been listening the day Eloise had called? But even if she had known, how could she have betrayed Cleo? She could not believe the girl had been so overcome with jealousy that she would jeopardize their friendship. There was only one way to find out. Cleo whirled, intent on returning upstairs to her friend, only to find Marlys in the corridor behind her.

  “It was you!” Cleo declared.

  Marlys put up her head. “I told you the Season is a battle. You use your beauty as a weapon. You cannot blame me for using the weapons I possess.”

  “What, lies and gossip?” Cleo demanded.

  “No,” Marlys snapped, “intelligence and cunning. Something happened in the hayloft that day. If you would not speak of it, I certainly had a right to learn the truth another way. How else could I compete against Eloise Watkin?”

  “You see what I mean?” Major Cutter asked, coming to the door. Marlys took a step back from him. “She is well respected, Cleo. You must marry me if you wish to save your family from dishonor.”

  “No, that was not my intent!” Marlys protested. When neither Cleo nor Cutter responded, she turned and darted for the door.

  Cleo could not stop her. She would never have thought Marlys so unfeeling. Now she wondered how many other things the girl had told her had been wrong or been designed to warp her thinking. Indeed, it very much looked as if she had been misjudging Eloise all along.

  “You see how it is,” Cutter pressed as Marlys left the door open behind her. “You have no choice but to marry me.”

  Cleo sighed, suddenly very tired. “Yes, Major Cutter, I have. Tell your lies to whomever you please. I am done with you, sirrah.”

  Cutter barked a laugh. “Your family will see it otherwise.” He turned to look at Lady Agnes. “Surely you understand the wisdom of my proposal, madam.”

  “Poppycock!” Lady Agnes declared.

  “Clever girl!” Hector shouted, spreading his wings and fluttering to the carpet.

  “My sentiments exactly,” Leslie said from the doorway.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  C

  utter stared at him. Just so the villain would have no doubt where her loyalty lay, Cleo stepped back beside Leslie and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “You will not protect her, Hastings,” Cutter threatened. “You know the truth of what she is.”

  “I certainly do,” Leslie replied. “She is a cozening little sprout, and I would like nothing better than to be her husband, if she’ll have me.”

  Cleo threw her arms about him and felt his encircle her. His embrace felt so warm, so safe, so right that she was amazed she had never realized before how much she loved him. “Oh, Leslie, of course I’ll have you!”

  Leslie grinned down at her then raised his head long enough to glare at Cutter. “You heard the lady, you dastard. She’ll shortly be the Marchioness of Hastings. You know the power that name wields with many gentlemen on the ton. You cannot touch her without angering them. Now, take yourself off before I do what I’ve wanted to do for days and break your blasted nose.”

  Cutter’s jaw was tense, but Hector sprang for him, hissing. The major swept out of the house as hurriedly as Marlys had. Only he slammed the door behind him.

  Lady Agnes cackled, and Hector shrieked. Leslie ignored them both. “Are you certain, Sprout? You said I had to ask you again when I was sober, and I promise you the only drug in my body this morning is my desire to kiss you.”

  “I am certain,” Cleo replied. “But are you free to ask? What happened with Eloise?”

  “We agreed to part friends. She wasn’t the one spreading the gossip, by the way.” He glanced at Lady Agnes who was watching them with as great an interest as the parrot. “If we might have a moment alone, Godmother? Your bird has a notoriously big mouth.”

  “I wasn’t the one who taught him to insult people,” Lady Agnes replied, but she called to Hector, and he scurried after her out of the room. Leslie returned his gaze to Cleo and kept his arms about her, to her great satisfaction.

  “I think I understand about Eloise now,” he said. “She told me a little of the story last night. She was the girl in the hayloft, wasn’t she, not you?”

  Cleo nodded. “Yes. I promised Miss Martingale our headmistress never to tell.”

  “Miss Martingale was wrong, I think. Eloise became the victim because of her silence. She was never allowed to tell her father. She has lived with the fear that the world will find out and censure her.”

  “I think I begin to understand as well. She wants to be loved. That’s why she behaves the way she does, Leslie. She’s trying to get someone, anyone, to prove that he loves her, even when she’s not convinced anyone can. Oh, the poor dear! I’ve been awful to her.”

  “You’ve both been through a great deal,” Leslie said softly, moving a hand to stroke her curls. “What I wouldn’t give to find out who started this dastardly gossip.”

  “Marlys Rutherford,“ Cleo told him. “She admitted it just now. I would not have thought it of her. But perhaps she’s hurting as much as we are. I’m learning nothing good can come from hiding your feelings.” She gazed up at him again, noting that his dear half smile was in evidence. “I don’t want to hide my feelings, Les. I’m not sure I could hide them. I love you.”

  Leslie looked at her as if he doubted he’d heard her correctly. She tried to give him a little shake, but he was much too solid for her. “Oh, don’t you see, Leslie, it’s been you all along? You’re the only one who’s ever appreciated me for who I am. It simply took Major Cutter’s disagreeable proposal to shock me into realizing it.”

  He gazed at her a moment more, then he swooped her up into his arms, turning her in a circle that only made her dizzy. When she laughed, he kissed her so deeply that she was very nearly breathless by the time he finished.

  *

  Leslie could not believe his luck. She loved him. It was more than he could have hoped. His heart swelled in his chest. “Cleo Renfield,” he declared, “I love you. You are impertinent, incorrigible, and completely irredeemable.”

  “Quite right,” she replied, snuggling brazenly against him in a way that assured him of her devotion. He wanted nothing more than to carry her further into the house and kiss her until they both were senseless. But perhaps they already were. All he knew was that he would not rest until she was his. He turned with her still in his arms and started for the door.

  There was a sound from behind, and Mr. Cowls made his way past them to open the door as if he generally assisted gentlemen in carrying his mistress’ goddaughter from the house.

  “If I may be of assistance, Lord Hastings,” he murmured with a smile.

  Leslie grinned. The old fox had finally used his title. Perhaps that was because he finally deserved it.

  Cleo giggled as Leslie swept her down the steps. Behind them came a gasp, and. turning, they saw Lady Agnes at the door.

  “Leslie Petersborough!” Her voice ra
ng in the street. “Where do you think you’re going with my goddaughter?”

  “Gretna Green,” Leslie replied with a grin. Cleo squealed in delight.

  Lady Agnes cackled with glee. “Electra and Andromeda will be beside themselves,” she predicted. “Mr. Cowls, fetch me my carriage. I want to see their faces when I tell them.”

  “I wish I could join you,” Leslie commiserated as Cleo hugged him happily. “Unfortunately, Cleo has a distressing tendency to get the two of us into trouble. I thought that since she has agreed she loves me, I’d better not let her out of my arms until we’re safely married.”

  And he didn’t, and then not for a very long time afterward.

  *

  Dear Reader,

  I hope you enjoyed the story of Cleo and Leslie. Leslie was the lovable sidekick in The Unflappable Miss Fairchild, book 1 of the Uncommon Courtships series, which tells the story of how his friend, the infamous Chas Prestwick, met his lady love. Leslie was so lovable, in fact, that other readers consistently begged for him to have a book of his own.

  Some of the other characters in The Irredeemable Miss Renfield have also appeared in other novels. Lady Agnes first began arguing for me in The Marquis’ Kiss, which tells of the romance between her nephew Thomas and the Original Margaret Munroe. The ball at Almack’s where Cleo and Leslie first become reacquainted is featured in The Incomparable Miss Compton, book 2 in the Uncommon Courtships series, where you learn who Lord Malcolm Breckonridge finally chose for a bride. Finally, Leslie’s father, the dapper Harold Petersborough, Marquis of Hastings, has featured in a number of my books, including The Unflappable Miss Fairchild, The Bluestocking on His Knee, and The June Bride Conspiracy. I hated to see him go, but it was time for Leslie to shoulder the responsibilities of the marquisate. Rest easy, old friend, things are in good hands.

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