Page 48 of Ambition (The Chaplain’s Legacy #6)
“And you have been nowhere, met no one, not even had a season. But you should. You ought to go up to town for the first time unattached, so that you can be fêted and mobbed and swamped with suitors, just as Izzy was. You will be the season’s Incomparable, just as she was.
That is what you deserve, before you settle into marriage.
And I shall be just one of your horde of admirers.
I shall court you in proper form, and take you driving in Hyde Park, stand up with you at Almack’s and fight for a glimpse of you at the theatre.
I shall come to every event you attend, just to see you, hoping for a dance with you at balls. ”
“I shall keep every supper dance for you.”
“Shall you? That will be wonderful. And at the last ball of the season, my love, I shall take you out onto the balcony in the moonlight. The air will be filled with the scent of roses, there will be a fountain splashing gently and peacocks will be strolling on the lawn. There under the stars I shall kiss you and propose… or I might propose first and then kiss you. No, because if you turn me down, I should not get a kiss at all, so definitely kiss first.”
“How absurd you are!” she said, laughing. “And what happens if it is raining?”
“Then we will huddle under umbrellas and it might be a fairly rapid proposal. But I am serious, Livvy. I want to court you properly, as you deserve, but I also want you to have the chance to meet other potential husbands, and if you choose one of them…” He stopped, taking a ragged breath.
“I will try to accept it with equanimity. I shall, of course, be doing my best to prove that I am the best of them, but I want you to have the choice and not be tied to me before you even show that adorable dimple in town.”
“Very well, but…”
“What is it? What have I forgotten?”
“What about you? What if you change your mind… or meet someone else?”
“My mind is entirely unchangeable at this point, Livvy, my love. I would have proposed to you here and now, and I am as bound as if I truly had. In fact, I should do this formally so that you know precisely where you stand.” He cleared his throat ostentatiously.
“Lady Olivia, would you do me the very great honour of receiving my proposal of marriage at the final ball of next season?”
That made her laugh again. “I am very much obliged to you, Lord Kiltarlity, and I should be honoured to receive your proposal of marriage at the final ball of next season. And I mean to accept.”
“Those words will sustain me when I have to watch you stand up with every eligible suitor in the Kingdom,” he murmured.
After that, they found that words were no longer necessary.
***
C aptain Michael Edgerton waited impatiently for his fellow investigators to return with news.
Mr Willerton-Forbes had gone to Northumberland to find out more about the baronet’s daughter Rosamunde Wilkes, while Sandy and Neate were visiting brothels in Scarborough in search of the ladies from Pickering.
Michael was not optimistic that anything valuable would be unearthed, but every avenue had to be pursued.
While he waited for news, he relieved his frustration in long rides over the moors.
As often as not, he would find himself near the tower at Welwood, and if there was no one about, he would turn his horse into the field with the retired donkeys and pack ponies, and retrieve the key from its hiding place under a stone.
The tower was still used for Eustace’s smuggling operation, although the work must have been carried on at night, for although Michael never saw anyone else there, the number of barrels in the cellar rose and fell regularly.
The smuggling operation was of no interest to him, however, so after a cursory inspection he would climb to the uppermost room of the tower.
There he sat, gazing down at Eustace’s house and brooding on the progress of the investigation.
Sometimes he looked through the telescope, still pointing towards Welwood, but as often as not he simply read through Miss Peach’s notebook for some clue that he had missed.
It was a pity that her notes had been so cryptic.
If she had been more open about her investigations and shared her findings with Michael, he had no doubt that he would have had the murderer under lock and key by now, and Miss Peach would still be alive.
Instead, she had left only a jumbled collection of fragments — of laudanum and mule droppings, of a person of the greatest interest, of a saddle that would be found in the obvious place. If only she had been less secretive!
One day, he saw a man walking across the field from Welwood towards the tower. Even without the telescope, he recognised the form of Mr Eustace Atherton. He waited patiently, hearing the door open and close several floors below, and then measured steps on the stairs.
“Good day to you, Captain Edgerton,” Eustace said, setting down a bottle and two glasses on a small table. “I saw your horse in the field. A glass of port? That was the only bottle I could find.”
“You do not drink the brandy, then?” Michael said, bowing respectfully, for Eustace might be a smuggler but he was also an earl’s son.
“Not straight from the barrel, no. What brings you out here, Captain? Should I be concerned?”
Michael smiled. “About my visit? No. I had time on my hands and a need for some exercise, that is all. This is just the right distance for an invigorating ride, and a good place for pondering, I find.”
“Is your pondering productive?”
“Not very, no. I am just about at a standstill with my investigations, yet I find myself reluctant to admit defeat.”
Eustace sprawled, one leg over the arm, in a battered leather chair that had obviously been expensive library furniture once, sipping his port.
“That is a part of your character, I suppose, that reluctance to let go. Such determination is presumably why you have made a successful career from investigating murders.”
“Perhaps. That and insatiable curiosity. I always like to know who and where and when, and most of all, why . And you are a case in point, sir. You are the son of an earl, a man of honour — a gentleman. Unlike most younger sons, you have an estate of your own and a modest independence. Yet you choose to involve yourself in the risky business of smuggling. I very much wonder why.”
Eustace smirked. “It is the risk that makes it enticing, Captain. The secrecy, the night adventures, the hidden barrels, the coded messages. Such fun! I think that is something you understand very well, unless I have mistaken you entirely. Some of those tales of India that you tell border on the reckless. Then there was the business of climbing the drainpipe to see if a man could have entered the castle that way. There must be safer ways of finding that out than climbing it yourself, and dangling in mid-air.”
Michael grinned. “We are cut from the same cloth, then, except that my risky ventures would only end with broken bones, whereas yours could bring you to the hangman’s noose.”
“Highly unlikely,” Eustace said, the smirk widening. “Everyone in authority for twenty miles around is receiving from us, and as for the Excise men — ha! So far they have been persuaded to ignore us.”
“How do you persuade them?”
“Oh, one generally knows something about them. A less than honest past. A wife whose adventures would be better not noised abroad. A bribe, if all else fails. I never met an Excise man yet who could refuse a bribe. There is always the chance that a new man might arrive who is… less persuadable and then we should be in trouble. But so far my persuasions have been successful.”
“Ah, you have thought of everything, I can see,” Michael said.
“I believe so, yes. One tries to take care of every detail.” And he grinned at Michael in such a smug and self-satisfied way that it was all Michael could do not to punch him on the nose.
He hastily changed the subject, asking if Eustace had added any new weapons to his already impressive collection, and for some time they talked animatedly, as one connoisseur to another, of broadswords and pistols and rapiers.
To Michael’s intense disappointment, no invitation was forthcoming to view any of these interesting items. Just once he had seen the Welwood collection, but since that day, months ago now, he had not been invited back.
Eventually he had no choice but to make his departure and ride slowly back to Corland Castle, wreathed in thought.