Page 11 of Escape of the Scoundrel (Escape #1)

H arriet and Sir Ralph did not win the treasure hunt. Lady Bab and Lord Illsworth did, a mere whisker ahead of them, to a barrage of applause from those who had not taken part, and the other hunters scurrying behind them.

Harriet, laughing and clapping with everyone else was concerned to see a certain strain in Bab’s demeanour. Somehow, she did not look quite delighted enough, even though she won a rather exquisite pair of earrings. Illsworth’s share of the treasure was a gold and diamond cravat pin, which was quite ironic.

“Tea out here on the terrace in twenty minutes,” Lady Grandison said when she and Sir John had acclaimed the winners. “There’s no need to change unless you wish to!”

Harriet had no wish to, although Sir Ralph, like several other gentlemen, had got his sleeve wet by delving into the waters of the lake to retrieve the pig-skin covered clue. On the other hand, it was an excellent time to look in on the children, who had been promised their own tea on a smaller terrace near the kitchen garden. Hoping to slip away unnoticed, she hurried around the length of the house until she was surprised and slightly frustrated to find Bab at her heels.

“Are you going in to change? I’ll come with you, since I don’t want to find myself alone with wretched Cedric, even for an instant.”

She spoke with unusual bitterness and Harriet, seeing she was genuinely upset, felt her selfish irritation melt away. “Oh dear, did something happen?”

“Well yes, he was my partner in the treasure hunt, and I kept having to swerve away from him and avoid the solitary paths, if you take my meaning. The more I see of him, the less I like him, even though we’ve known each other forever. Then he crept up behind me when I was reaching up for a clue in the oak tree and tried to kiss me.”

“Oh, dear. Did you shame him? Or just slap him?”

“Neither,” she said, blushing in a rather guilty manner. “Oh, I didn’t let him, precisely , but as I fended him off with one hand, I felt in his pocket with the other, just in case the tie pin was there.”

Harriet uttered an inappropriate choke of laughter at the picture this conjured.

“It’s not funny,” Bab said morosely. “He’d just worked out what I was about when James of all people caught us standing there in an embrace. Oh, Harriet, I have never seen him so livid!”

“I imagine not,” Harriet said. “What happened then?”

But Bab was distracted. “He really did look rather splendid,” she confided. “In fact, I was almost afraid of him. I don’t know what violence he would have done to Illsworth if Snake hadn’t suddenly appeared from the other side and got between them. We ladies were ordered from the scene, and the gentlemen seemed to sort it out among themselves, for they were perfectly amiable when they rejoined us, and no one had any bruises. But oh, Harriet, how am I to explain this to James? He must really believe I am at least considering a liaison with Illsworth when the truth is, I wouldn’t touch him with a long-handled broom.”

“Except to pick his pocket,” Harriet said, and Bab let out a giggle.

“Yes, but James wouldn’t believe that either. He will not even look at me, let alone speak to me, unless it is in that cold, polite voice in front of other people. Snake has vanished, so I can’t ask him what went on. I don’t know what to do.”

“We need to think about it,” Harriet said.

“Then you will help me?” Bab asked eagerly.

“If I can, but I really think you might have to resort to the truth—”

“Are we going via the kitchen?” Bab interrupted, suddenly noticing their odd direction.

“Oh, no, I’m in search of my sisters and...”

She trailed off, because they had just come in sight of the small terrace next to the kitchen garden, where a table had been set for a small tea party. Rose and Alex were laughing. Orchid was bouncing up and down on her chair while the Earl of Sanderly stepped out of the side door carrying a beaming Lily in his arms.

“What on Earth ...?” Bab murmured, as Sanderly set Lily in the chair next to Orchid.

It was a good question. But chiefly, Harriet was aware of a rush of warmth, not just toward her family, but Sanderly, who bowed elaborately and stood back, making some remark that made all the children laugh harder, until he glanced up and saw Bab and Harriet.

His smile died instantly. That hurt, so much so that Harriet couldn’t move until Bab strode forward, dragging her along.

“Harry! We thought you weren’t coming!” Rose exclaimed.

“Lily wanted to come,” Orchid cried, “but it was too far for her to walk, and the footmen are all busy serving tea to all of you on the big terrace. Snake had nothing better to do—”

Harriet blinked, finding her voice at last. “ Who had nothing better to do?”

“Lord Sanderly,” Orchid said meekly. “I beg your pardon. I forgot we are in public.”

“Oh you needn’t count me as public,” said Bab, clearly thoroughly amused. “I’m only his sister.”

“Miss Fforbes with two Fs?” Orchid asked.

“Mrs. Martindale with one M. But since we are on such informal terms, you had best call me Bab in private.”

While this exchange had been taking place, Harriet had transferred her attention from Lily to Sanderly and finally worked out the meaning of his expression. He might really have been dismayed to see her and Bab, but only because he was embarrassed to be caught doing a kindness for the children.

“You’ll forgive my interference,” he drawled now. “I wouldn’t have, only Orchid—” He broke off as he felt the child’s anxious glare. “...and the others were eager to have their sister join them.”

Another little piece of Harriet’s heart melted. She knew her siblings. Orchid had been crying and now, fierce little soul, she did not want Harriet or Lily or Lady Bab to know. And Sanderly, understanding, was keeping her secret.

“I brought shawls and a blanket if Lily needs them,” Rose said.

“Well done,” Harriet said to her, shifting her gaze quickly to Sanderly to include him. “Thank you.”

The earl was looking bored, yet his skin darkened along the fine blade of his cheekbone as though he were blushing.

“Have a cake,” Orchid said, beaming at him.

“Sadly, I must leave you to your feast. Miss Cole, Bab, little Coles.” He bowed and sauntered away into the house alone.

Bab was looking after him with a queer little smile on her face. She murmured something under her breath that sounded like, “Why, Snake, are you back?”

***

T HE EVENING’S ENTERTAINMENT was to be an informal waltzing party where the young people could practice the new, rather fast dance under the watchful eyes of chaperones. The debutantes were wild with excitement. Harriet was more nervous than anything else since she knew nothing of the waltz. She barely remembered the country dances she had been taught as a child.

However, Lady Grandison summoned her and Alex to her sitting room before dinner to demonstrate. She then made Harriet and Alex take up the required positions and sang loudly with the same rhythm while they tried to waltz. Confusion and pain ensued as they danced over each other’s feet and tried to go constantly in different directions. Which made them both laugh so hard that Lady Grandison began to look flustered.

“No, Harriet, you must let your partner lead. The gentlemen expect it.”

“Yes, but Alex doesn’t, and he has even less idea of what he’s doing.”

“That’s a fair point,” Sir John said. “I shall dance with Harriet, and you, my love, with Alex.”

Since Lady Grandison continued to sing at the top of her voice, this caused Alex a fit of the giggles which quickly transferred to Harriet. Still, the dance with Sir John was something of a revelation. His hold, while strangely intimate, was utterly respectful, and it was somehow easy to dance where he led, keeping to the repetitive rhythm of the waltz.

“Much better,” pronounced Lady Grandison. “You will do. Alex, you will not!”

“Thank God I’m not invited,” Alex said cheekily and received a mock slap on his wrist. Sir John twinkled at him.

“Remember what we discussed,” Lady Grandison said to Harriet as she was about to depart for her own room to change for the evening. “Imagine every man you dance with as your husband and see if the idea pleases you or not.”

“Well, I’ll try,” Harriet said doubtfully, “but shouldn’t I feel a little more than merely pleased with my future husband? I really don’t think I would make the kind of wife gentlemen want—well, not after they realize I’m not fabulously rich.”

“You’ll be surprised,” Lady Grandison said comfortably. “Everyone will want to dance with you. It is rude to refuse, so unless you are already promised, you must accept. I’m talking about dancing, of course. The husband is your choice.”

“What if none of them will do for Harriet?” Alex asked.

“Then she has merely enjoyed the evening and knows there are lots more fish in the sea,” Lady Grandison said comfortably. “You are actually quite beautiful, Harriet. You should remember that. Also, consider that once you are a well-married lady, you will be able to bring out your sisters and see them creditably established, too.”

Harriet had not actually considered so far ahead, but Lily was fourteen years old. In another three years she would be of an age to be out, to be presented at court, even. She had a vision of herself and her sisters, looking much as they did now, tripping over their lace trains and squabbling their way across a room, barely remembering to curtsey to the disapproving queen.

***

T O HARRIET’S SECRET horror, she was placed beside Lord Illsworth for dinner. He, however, was perfectly charming, making mildly humorous conversation. He asked her to save a waltz for him, though he did not specify which, and when she thanked him, a faint frown tugged at his brow.

“I can’t help feeling we have met before this party, Miss Cole.”

“I should be very surprised. If we had met, I’m sure I would remember for until this week, I did not meet many strangers at all.” She felt a sudden wave of homesickness and worry for all the people she had known. The tenants of the estate, the servants, the neighbours, who must all feel neglected by the family’s bolt. Randolph was not a good landlord or a caring man, despite being ordained. Perhaps he would marry well and his wife would be kinder...

She dragged her mind back to the present, where Illsworth’s cravat pin winked at her in the candlelight. “Congratulations on winning the treasure hunt.”

“Ah, you are admiring my treasure. I owe it all to my partner Lady Bab. But we must modestly admit that you almost got there first.”

“Almost does not win! You obviously had no trouble on the way.”

She half-expected him to brush off the comment as meaningless, but in fact his eyes focused directly on hers for a moment.

He smiled. “Why should you imagine trouble in this idyllic setting?”

“No reason. I found the contest most good-natured, didn’t you?”

“Indeed.”

She could push no harder for confidences without giving away that she was helping Bab, so she resolved to wait and beard Sanderly later. With luck, he would waltz with her. For some reason that possibility caused a little tumult inside her—foolish when she liked him and was discovering more hidden kindnesses in him all the time. She also suspected him of possessing a much more sensitive soul than he showed the world. He could and was hurt by some of the barbs constantly aimed at him. His unhappiness, his loneliness, pained her, yet she always looked forward eagerly to their next encounter.

He had not been at tea on the terrace. Nor had she encountered him later in the garden with the children, or in the library. He had not appeared to see her as they gathered for dinner. At the table, his attention was divided between the scared looking debutante who had partnered James Martindale for the treasure hunt, and a spritely young matron whose name Harriet had forgotten.

Well warned by Lady Grandison, the gentlemen did not linger over their port that evening but joined the ladies in the drawing room quite promptly. Here, the carpet had been taken up and the furniture rearranged to the edges of the room, to make a dance floor. Since the dance was informal, the music was to be supplied at the pianoforte by a rota of the older matrons who had apparently been practising.

Harriet, besieged by prospective partners for the first waltz, was relieved to be able to plead her promise to Sir Ralph. She just hoped he would remember.

“I thought you had forgotten,” she told him in some relief as they took the floor.

“You are understandably popular.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “I would be flattered except I know perfectly well they all have the wrong idea about my wealth!”

Sir Ralph smiled. “Not all of them are gazetted fortune hunters, you know. Accept your success and enjoy it.”

This turned out to be quite possible in Sir Ralph’s company. Dancing with him took the edge off her nervousness and her fear of making clumsy mistakes. Her confidence grew, so that when he surrendered her to Mr. Dolton, she found the dance quite simple. She found it more pleasurable if she ignored her feet and relaxed. Mr. Dolton—she would not think of him as Dolt—was not as graceful as Sir Ralph, but she still followed him with ease while fending off his ardent compliments and pleas for another dance.

“Sadly, I am already promised,” she said, unaware if it was even true. Since yesterday, she seemed to have promised a lot of men, although she could not remember which ones. In fact, she hoped for Sanderly, especially since he, as the most senior ranking nobleman present, had opened the party by waltzing with Lady Grandison.

She had tried not to watch, though she was left with an impression of his easy, casual grace; and her own strange, turbulent yearning. He was sitting out this second dance so perhaps he would be the first to accost her.

He wasn’t.

He remained in his chair until an impromptu card game sprang up in the far corner, when he moved to take part. She danced instead with Lord Wolf, with a couple of gentlemen whose names eluded her, then Mr. Wriggley, Lord Illsworth, Mr. Poole, and a slightly older gentleman with serious dark eyes. It was all rather enjoyable, until the final waltz of the evening.

She had just sat down by Lady Grandison to catch her breath, when two gentlemen appeared, one from either side, and asked her to dance in perfect unison. Swallowing a breath of laughter, she would have refused them both, only she knew it would be rude without reason. One of them, she had certainly danced with already that evening, so she resolved to choose the other.

Before she could speak, however, Mr. Dolton said, “You’ve danced with him before! In which case, I must claim your prior promise!”

“And I mine,” sad another indignantly.

“Ma’am, allow me to protect you from this—”

“Push off, Fool.”

“Quick, Miss Cole, run away with me to the dance floor!”

“Take my hand, ma’am...”

It was quite ridiculous and tomorrow, no doubt, she would laugh about it with the children, but tension had cramped her stomach. Quite suddenly, she was transported back to the market when she was a small child, to the press of tall people and the loss of her governess. The fear of being alone in a large, noisy crowd was irrational, but it had always been with her since that long ago incident.

She turned instinctively to Lady Grandison, but she had gone. There was only this press of men, like at the inn, like at the market. A silent scream rumbled deep inside her and she was terrified it would come out. Hands were thrust in front of her face. Someone actually plucked at her right hand, then instantly someone took her left. She could not breathe.

Then abruptly, the space before her cleared. One man had elbowed several of her tormentors aside and somehow caused the others to step back from sheer force of personality. For an instant there was blessed silence, as she gazed in bewildered relief at Lord Sanderly.

He halted several paces away and slowly extended his hand. It looked like an arrogant summons, and yet she knew, she knew , it was an offer of aid, of relief.

She stood, closed the distance between them, and grasped his hand like a lifeline.

***

F OR ILLSWORTH, IT WAS like a lantern flaring in his head. This had happened before. Snake Sanderly parting a huddle of stupid, amorous young man to take their prize and kiss her.

Well, he might not be kissing her in the middle of Lady Grandison’s drawing room, but surely it was the same girl? No wonder he had thought her familiar! Admittedly, he had not been entirely sober at the Duck and Spoon. He had only seen her from a distance, and her face, while gleaming with promised beauty, had been half-hidden by that ugly straw hat with the battered brim. But he was almost certain... He thought of her clear, carrying voice demanding the room she had reserved, and knew he was right.

He itched to look again at that note he had found in Sanderly’s room, to decipher the signature with this new suspicion. He had time to nip up to his room and look at it before supper.

Or he could dance with the divine Bab. How much would that annoy her dull, righteous husband? To say nothing of her infernally smug brother, waltzing with the party’s new darling. A darling he had already tasted, ravished and ruined.

Possibly. Right or wrong, the possibility was a powerful weapon in his hands, just when he needed one. Smiling, he strolled in Bab’s direction, just as she rose and walked on to the floor with Sir Ralph.

Oh well.

Illsworth eased his way out of the drawing room and went in search of the note he had purloined. He was sure the signature would resolve quite easily now into H. Cole.