Wanted, a Gentleman

by KJ Charles

“It’s probably better if I don’t,” Theo said. “Discretion. You know. The lady’s feelings.”

  “Theo, what’s wrong?”

  “Just go and get her. I’ll wait.” He turned away.

  Martin wanted to take him by the shoulder, but he had Miss Jennifer to think about, and if this was not the pair he sought, a long way yet to go. “Very well, sit down. Have a drink. I’ll be back soon.”

  Lucy led him down a narrow, low corridor to a door, and knocked. A male voice called, “Come in.”

  She poked her head round the door. “Beg your pardon for the trouble, sir, madam, but there’s a gentleman.” She bobbed again and retreated hastily.

  Martin pushed the door wide. There were two people in the parlour, looking round at him. He had just a brief impression of a well-dressed man rising from his seat, because all his attention was fixed on the young lady whose teacup slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor.

  “Martin?” said Jennifer Conroy.

  “Miss Jennifer.” Martin’s legs were suddenly weak with relief. He came in, shutting the door. “Are you all right?”

  “Who the devil are you, sir?” demanded the man. Troilus, Martin had to assume. “I did not invite you in.”

  “Your parents asked me to come after you, since your father could not come himself,” Martin said, ignoring Troilus. “They are very worried for you. Will you come home?”

  Miss Jennifer’s mouth trembled. She shot a glance at her swain, looked back at Martin. “I can’t. I’m . . . I’m going to get married.”

  “You can come home,” Martin repeated. “I will take you. Nobody can stop you.”

  “But I have to get married,” Miss Conroy whispered. “Geoffrey said . . .”

  Troilus, who was rather red in the face, wasn’t the dashing rake of Martin’s vague imaginings. Medium height, with light-brown hair, a slim build padded out by his tailor. Not a repulsive specimen by any means; in fact, he looked not unlike Theo might, given money for a decent set of clothes and a good barber. But he was no Adonis, and he was also at least ten years too old to blame this kind of roguery on youthful enthusiasm.

  “I am a friend of the lady’s parents, sir. Kindly let me speak to her in private.”

  “Leave my betrothed in a room alone with a strange man? Certainly not.”

  “Oh, Geoffrey, this is Martin,” Miss Jennifer said. “Martin St. Vincent, Geoffrey Hazelwood. Martin lived with us for years.”

  “Does the gentleman have your permission to leave us?” Martin pressed.

  “Whatever you have to say can be said in front of me,” Hazelwood said. “Miss Conroy is my affianced bride.”

  “She is not. She is seventeen years old, and you do not have her parents’ consent,” Martin retorted, and realised too late that was a mistake as Miss Jennifer’s face set into a familiar pout.

  “You see, Jennifer?” Hazelwood appealed to her. “This man is come to make you do your parents’ bidding, without the slightest regard for the wishes of your heart. He’s here to separate us. Well, we will not be separated.” He reached out his hand, and Miss Jennifer took it.

  God give me strength. “Miss Jennifer,” Martin said. “If you truly, earnestly wish to marry Mr. Hazelwood, you know very well your father will not stand in your way.”

  “He will! He wants me to marry a lord!”

  “Yes, he does, but more than that, he wants your happiness. You can twist him round your little finger, you know that. If he believes that this is the right marriage for you, then he will see you wed to Mr. Hazelwood—”

  “But Mother—”

  “With enough ceremony to delight Mrs. Conroy’s heart,” Martin went on over her. “Come, Miss Jennifer. They aren’t cruelly bent on sacrificing you on the altar of worldly advancement. Of course they should like to see you well up in the world, but do you really think they would deny you your heart’s wish if this is a lasting attachment? When have you ever been denied what you wanted?”

  “You were not permitted to correspond with me,” Mr. Hazelwood put in.

  The arsehole. “Sir, you did not bring your suit to the lady’s father as a gentleman should,” Martin said. “If you pay court in the proper manner, if Miss Conroy’s attachment is lasting—”

  “And wait for years to have their permission?” Hazelwood struck in.

  “Why?” Martin asked. “Aren’t you prepared to wait for her?”

  “Stop it!” Miss Jennifer flung a hand up. “Stop talking about me. I am not prepared to wait for years, or have Mother and Father decide for me.”

  “There is no need to talk of years.” Martin had a worrying sense that he was losing this argument. “Or even months. But why this rush to Scotland, when you could be married in the eyes of the world? Why deny yourself all the preparations for a wedding and the pleasures of it, and your parents the chance to see their only child wed? You may not wish to marry into Society, but surely you wish to be received. And a border marriage—”

  Miss Jennifer’s face crumpled. Martin pressed his advantage. “You will only marry once, Miss Jennifer. One wedding, one chance, one day. Why must it be this way? Why is this gentleman in such a hurry?”

  “Don’t listen, Jennifer,” Hazelwood said. “You and I know the truth. My love . . .” He dropped to one knee. “You know I should have preferred to court you in the proper fashion. You know this was forced on us. You know I have promised that you will never regret confiding me your heart and hand.”

  I know when quarter day is, Martin wanted to say, but he was sufficiently familiar with Miss Jennifer’s response to contradiction; he must not drive her into this fellow’s arms by questioning her judgement. “Sir,” he said instead. “I want only to know that Miss Jennifer is well, happy, and safe. If you want that, then you and I have the same goal.”

  Hazelwood shot him a glare of intense dislike. “Handsomely said, sir.”

  “I have no right to take you anywhere against your will,” Martin added to Miss Jennifer, “and you know I should not try. You have kicked me in the shins quite often enough.”

  She gave a gurgle of laughter and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh, I was a terribly naughty child.”

  “And yet, I still wish you well,” he assured her. “Somehow. Please, may I speak to you, alone? To put my mind at rest?” She looked just a little uncertain. “You cannot imagine I should try to persuade you when your mind is made up. I know you a little too well for that.”

  Miss Jennifer hesitated, eyes darting between the two men. Martin thought she seemed undecided, and that gave him a flare of hope. “I can’t enforce you,” he went on. “I only want to be sure of your heart.”

  “Really, Geoffrey,” Miss Jennifer said. “There is no reason why not. I have known Martin all my life. And after all, we will have to—to justify our decision when we are married. Please excuse us.”

  Hazelwood hesitated, clearly weighing up his options. “As you wish, my dear. But remember, there will be those who try to separate us. I will keep faith with you, my love. Keep it with me.”

  He stooped to press a passionate kiss to her fingers, exchanged a blank look with Martin, and left the room. Martin knew a strong wish that Theo was with him, just to exchange a roll of the eyes. He would relish his pithy opinion of this cheapjack fraud.

  He sat opposite Miss Jennifer. She offered him a smile that wasn’t quite as confident as she probably meant it to be.

  “Miss Jenny,” he said gently. “You know I want your happiness. Will this really make you happy? A runaway wedding, whispers, backs turned, your parents’ distress? The gentleman feels such affection for you; surely he will be willing to wait a little longer rather than inflict disgrace on your good name?”

  She twined her fingers together. “But I don’t want to wait.” It didn’t sound happy, or impatient. “I can’t. It’s too late now.”

  “Of course it’s not. You can come home and nobody will know. Mr. Hazelwood won’t speak of this, will he? And who else is there?” Excep
t Theo, of course. Martin made a mental note to keep him out of the way if possible. “You haven’t ruined yourself, you are not compromised. This was an indiscretion, but it does not have to shape the course of your life. I don’t ask you to reconsider your affections, Miss Jenny. Just to give yourself more time.”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t think I can. And I promised Geoffrey.”

  “A gentleman will not hold you to that promise.”

  “It seemed like such a wonderful game.” Her voice held the threat of tears. “I thought eloping would be an adventure, and it was, but— I wish I’d done it differently. I keep thinking of what Papa will say.”

  “He will welcome you home with open arms,” Martin said. “And if you are escorted back by Mr. Hazelwood, if Mr. Hazelwood shows that he puts your happiness and well-being before his own satisfaction, I imagine your father will very soon be persuaded of his true worth.” He was absolutely sure that Mr. Conroy would have a very good idea of Hazelwood’s worth, no matter what wheedles the fellow cut; he was equally sure that nothing would persuade Hazelwood to renounce the chance of an immediate marriage when he was so close to his goal. If he could only persuade Miss Jennifer to ask for more time, he was quite sure the man would show his true colours.

  Her hands tightened. “Do you think—”

  “You little bastard!”

  Martin and Miss Jennifer both jumped in shock. The bellow had been one of unrestrained fury, it had come from the direction of the taproom, and it was Hazelwood’s voice. “Swine!” He was shouting now. “Treacherous damned swine!”

  “That’s Geoffrey!” Miss Jennifer said, eyes wide. “What on earth—”

  “I’ll find out.” Martin ran into the corridor and through, and saw the tableau. The few customers gawping, the outraged landlady with hands on hips, Hazelwood and Theo standing face-to-face in the middle of the taproom. Hazelwood’s hand was curled into a fist as though he would strike.

  Martin skirted round them. Hazelwood’s face was red with anger and what seemed to be real indignation. Theo looked . . .

  Caught. He looked as though he’d been caught.

  “You worthless hound,” Hazelwood was saying. “You damned liar. And after all we did for you. I had your promise, curse you. You had my money!”

  “What?” Martin couldn’t take this in: Hazelwood’s outrage; the wretched guilt on Theo’s face.

  “Well, you’ll pay for it, you little cheat,” Hazelwood said viciously, ignoring him. “I’ll have every penny you owe me or I’ll see you gaoled for it.” He swung round, jabbing a finger at Martin. “I daresay you think you’re clever, suborning him, but he’ll sell your skin as fast as he sold mine, as soon as there’s a higher bidder in the offing. Won’t you, cousin?”

  Theo twitched. Martin stared at him.

  “And as for coming here pretending you’d give me a fair hearing,” Hazelwood added to Martin, a little louder. “Cozening Miss Conroy with promises of listening to her, pretending you did not know me, when all the time you had my wheedling, deceitful cousin accompanying you? For shame, sir. It is hardly fair to misrepresent yourself so.”

  Martin didn’t have to look round to know Miss Jennifer was there; the triumphant look in Hazelwood’s eyes was enough. “I am as surprised as you,” he said, attempting to keep his voice even. “I was under the impression that Mr. Swann was helping me in my search. That he was as ignorant as I as to who you were. It seems we have both been played for fools.”

  Theo’s mouth moved. He didn’t speak.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” Martin said, to Theo’s shoulder. He couldn’t quite make himself look at the man’s face. “Miss Jennifer, can we finish our conversation?”

  “I think you have shown your hand, sir,” Hazelwood said, very nearly suppressing the triumph in his voice, and went to Miss Jennifer. “I am sorry, my dear, that any friend of yours should act so duplicitously. But that man there is my cousin, who demanded, nay, extorted money from me not to betray our destination, and you must judge Mr. . . .” He flapped a dismissive hand at Martin. “His claims for yourself.”

  “I had no idea,” Martin repeated. “Miss Jennifer—”

  She shook her head, lips clamped together. Hazelwood took her arm. “Come,” he said gently and steered her back to the private parlour.

  Martin couldn’t move for a second, stunned by defeat, and then turned back to look at Theo. “Cousin.”

  “I. Uh.”

  That seemed to be all he had. They stood in silence that grew and twisted between them, tangled itself around Martin’s throat, stole all the air from the room.

  “May I speak?” Theo asked at last.

  Martin grabbed his arm and dragged him out to the inn yard, careless of the fascinated audience, pulling him as far as possible from the building before the words could no longer be contained. “What the devil? What the hell?”

  Theo swallowed hard. “Well, it’s true. That’s all. It’s true.”

  “But what’s true? What did he mean, ‘cousin’? You took his money? For what?” Martin demanded, but he already knew. “You’ve known who he was, who Troilus was, all along. Haven’t you?”

  “Not at first,” Theo insisted, as though it mattered. “Not when you first asked. Only after the last advertisement.”

  “But . . .” Martin didn’t even know what to say. “I don’t understand. Why did you do this? Why did you help me if—” His voice cracked.

  Theo flinched. “When this started, I hadn’t any more idea who Troilus was than the man in the moon. I didn’t know his handwriting, or care either. I was helping you, truly. I meant to. But when I went to the White Horse Cellar . . . I told you nobody there could identify him. I told you he’d already gone.” He shut his eyes. “I lied.”

  Martin took that in. “She was still there? You could have stopped her setting off, ruining herself? You could have prevented all of this and instead—what? Why?”

  “Because she was with my cousin,” Theo said dully. “Geoffrey.”

  “I find it very hard to believe you’re related to a gentleman.”

  Theo did not react to the contempt in his voice. “My mother married beneath her. A poor curate. I saw Geoffrey there, I asked his intentions, and he told me he intended to take her off to Gretna.”

  “And what did you ask for to keep that nugget of information to yourself?”

  “He offered,” Theo said thickly. “I owe him money. He offered to forgive my debt, and I accepted, and I—” He cleared his throat. “I advised him to go up the Great North Road. To evade pursuit. He was pleased with that.”

  “You pretended you didn’t know about the different routes to the border,” Martin said. “I only thought of that because of the book you had written, but you pretended not to know. Would you have mentioned they might not go to Gretna, if I hadn’t said so? Why did you agree to come with me at all?” He could hear his voice rising, couldn’t quite control it.

  “You offered me forty pounds.”

  “You asked me for that!”

  “Well, I didn’t think you’d agree! How should I have turned that down?”

  “So you came with me—what, intending to mislead me? Planning to let me go up to Gretna on a wild-goose chase, while that rogue forced Miss Conroy into marriage?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I meant to do.” Theo met his eyes for the first time. “Does it count at all that I didn’t?”

  “You’ve been lying to me from the start.” Martin’s breath was coming short, his throat tight. “Every word. And last night? What was that for?”

  “If I said, because I like you, would you believe me?”

  “Believe you?”

  “I could have told you they’d gone to Gretna Green at Boroughbridge,” Theo said. “Or just let you decide which way to go for yourself. You’d have picked Gretna. Geoffrey would have secured his rich marriage and written off my debt, and you’d have paid me forty pounds. And you’d have thought it was just bad luck, and you wouldn�
��t hate me now.”

  “Are you asking me to be grateful you didn’t betray me?” Martin’s fists were clenched so hard they hurt. “Am I supposed to thank you for that? You’ve been making a mockery of me for days, and you’d like me to be happy that you stopped?”

  “It wasn’t a mockery!” Theo hissed. “For God’s sake! Why should I have cared? Why should Miss Conroy have grown men chasing over the country to save her from her stupidity? I’ve worked every bloody hour in the day for seven years to keep myself afloat with a damned great millstone around my neck, and when I saw a chance to free myself, I took it. Wouldn’t you have?”

  “Not at that price.”

  Theo set his teeth. “Is there any chance at all that I could explain and you would listen?”

  “I have listened,” Martin said. “I listened to you. You listened to me.” They had talked—he had talked so intimately. Theo had known what success meant to him almost better than he had himself. And still he had deceived Martin, lied to him by word and omission, all the way through, from that first claimed ignorance.

  “You lied about the chaise,” he said slowly. “You didn’t tell me what it looked like. Did you really ask as we went about where they had gone, or was that invented? I suppose there was no need to make the effort, since you had no intention of finding them. How far ahead they were, where they were going, it was all a lot of nothing, wasn’t it? And then—last night.”

  “Martin—”

  “You said, because you like me, but still you didn’t stop lying to me. Even then, even after last night, you didn’t decide whose side you were on.” It hurt extraordinarily. “You didn’t decide until this afternoon, not until Boroughbridge, did you? You were still ready to let him carry her off, and thanks to you he will doubtless do that now.”

  “And not forgive my debt either,” Theo said through his teeth. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I failed and I’m sorry I’m not a better man and—I’m sorry.”

  “So am I,” Martin said. “I trusted you and you made me a fool.”

  “If you would listen—”

  “Can you tell me that Miss Conroy will not marry your cousin?” Martin asked. “Because if you can’t tell me that, you have nothing to say that I want to hear.” He took out his purse and extracted a couple of guineas. His hands were shaking a little. “Here. Find your own way back to London. I don’t want to see you again.”