Page 8 of Escape of the Scoundrel (Escape #1)

L ife was really quite entertaining when one allowed oneself to pay attention. The charge of the fortune hunters toward Harriet Cole was truly comical. As was her expression of alarm, although for some reason it did not make him laugh. A rumour had sprung up that the girl was an heiress. If she was, what the devil had she been doing on the stagecoach dressed in clothes his sister would not even inflict upon the poor?

Transferring his attention, he was pleased to see James sit by his wife. Astonishing what a swift, verbal kick could accomplish. However, Bab seemed to exist merely to plague him, for a bare ten minutes later she rose and joined a different group. Which was well and good. One had to be sociable, but why in God’s name choose the group that contained Illsworth? Was she a complete idiot?

Well she can do her own verbal kicking next time ... The thought had barely flitted through his frustrated brain, when he realized Harriet Cole was wading through her flock of admirers and escaping the room. She did not look at Bab. But Bab saw her.

She and Bab had left the dining room together. Bab was convinced Illsworth lied about the cravat pin. Had she recruited another ally?

His breath caught on unexpected laughter. Well, he might be wrong, but it might be amusing to find out. He rose to accept a cup of tea from his amiable hostess. He strolled around to the door with it and abandoned it on the nearest table before leaving the room.

The footmen in the hall bowed to him in unison. One of them closed the door.

Interestingly, a familiar boy and girl were playing on the stairs. His lips twitched as he sauntered in that direction.

“Snake,” Orchid greeted him with a surprisingly friendly smile.

“Miss Orchid. Master Alex. What an odd place to play. Shouldn’t you be in the nursery?”

“Oh, we’re allowed another few minutes,” Alex assured him.

“Allowed by your sister, or by the nursemaid?”

“Harriet, of course.”

“Of course. Come along, then.”

“Along where?” Alex asked, willingly jumping up another few steps.

“To find Harriet, of course.”

“She doesn’t want to be found,” Orchid whispered.

“I know,” Sanderly whispered back. “She left you as look-outs.”

“Oh, she told you.” Alex looked relieved. He waved one hand toward the top of the stairs in a clearly pre-arranged signal. Rose waved back.

“Best keep looking,” Sanderly advised. “You would make excellent pickets,” he told Rose on the landing.

“What’s a picket?”

“A soldier guarding his camp from the enemy.”

“Are you going to help Harriet? She’s in—”

“I know where she is. Don’t tell a soul.”

“I wouldn’t!” Rose exclaimed, apparently oblivious to the fact that she had been about to blurt it to him.

Sanderly walked on to the left until he came to Illsworth’s room. A rather bright light moved and flickered beneath the door. He wondered if the redoubtable Harriet numbered lock-picking among her talents, or if Illsworth just hadn’t bothered locking the door. He rather thought the latter, though the former would certainly be more amusing.

Silently, he opened the door and wandered inside. “Good evening, Miss Cole.”

She jumped, quite literally, causing the mattress she had been heaving upward to crash back down. As she spun around to face him, her feet must have got tangled in the unruly sheets for she sat down abruptly on the now askew mattress, trying to untangle her trapped feet by kicking and glare at him at the same time.

“Allow me,” Sanderly said, advancing.

“I can—”

“Manage?” he suggested, crouching in front of her and loosening the ever-tightening grip of the sheet with ease, now that she was still. “Of course you can, but this is so much simpler. And quicker, more to the point.”

When he raised his gaze to her face, she no longer looked panicked.

“So,” he said conversationally. “We finally find ourselves alone together in a bedchamber.”

To his surprise, she smiled. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize you were giving us your room. I set off there in high dudgeon, determined to throw your things out and lock you out at the same time.”

“An admirable plan. But even I would have balked at amorous advances made under the curious eyes of four children, so you were perfectly safe.”

“I was safe because Mrs. George knew you better than I did,” she retorted. “She removed your baggage without my instruction.”

“Who is Mrs. George?” he asked, deliberately provoking.

“You know perfectly well,” she scolded. “I left you a note of thanks, you know, but I think you had gone some time before we did.”

About to rise to his feet, he paused, holding her gaze. “Where did you leave this note?”

“In your room, of course, on the mantelshelf. I thought you would reoccupy the room once we had gone.”

“What did it say?”

“Just thank you. It was very short.”

“I suppose you signed it.”

“Of course I did.”

Something else to extract from Illsworth, no doubt. “Stand up then and let us see what is beneath this mattress.”

He hefted it up and she felt about with both hands.

“Nothing,” she said with dissatisfaction.

He let the mattress down again and began to pull the sheets and pillows straight, before tucking everything in.

“I never imagined you were so domesticated.”

“Army life is much duller than people imagine. Since you are here, how much of the room have you searched?”

“All of it. He hasn’t many things with him and his bags are all empty. Either it really was stolen or he didn’t bring it with him after all.”

“Or he pawned it.”

“Did Lady Bab ask you to help me look?” she asked, kneeling in the middle of the tasteful Persian carpet and feeling it, presumably for cravat-pin shaped lumps.

“Did Lady Bab tell you I had already looked?”

She glanced up. “No, she just said you believed him, and I thought he was a friend of yours, so—”

“What on earth gave you that idea?”

“You were playing dice with him.”

He stared at her. “You have a very odd idea of friendship.”

At that point, footsteps thundered along the passage along with a breathless childish voice singing a high pitched song in French. Both pattering feet and voice might have belonged to Rose Cole.

“He’s coming!” Harriet exclaimed, springing to her feet and grabbing him by the hand. “That’s the signal! Quick!”

***

E VEN AS SHE PULLED Sanderly toward the door, it struck her that one probably should not lug earls around quite so familiarly. However, concentrating on not being caught where she had no business to be—and certainly not with Sanderly—she was only vaguely aware of the startlement in his eyes when she seized his hand. It lay stiffly in her hold, and then abruptly, his fingers curled around hers, halting her at the door while he opened it, peered into the corridor and then he bolted out, tugging her with him.

She had time—just—to close the door behind her and then they were fleeing down the passage hand in hand like a pair of children. His long legs ate up the distance with little apparent effort, while she seemed to fly along and around the bend in the passage that would hide them from anyone approaching from the staircase.

Ahead, the door to the servants’ stairs was still swinging, so Rose had clearly made her getaway. An instant’s sudden joy surged up, the exhilaration of speed and shared naughtiness mixed with memory of a simpler childhood when life was uncomplicated fun. The vanishing of Sanderly’s dignity and the warm clasp of his strong hand had something to do with it too.

But she had only a moment to dwell on it, for the servants’ door suddenly swung open again to the sounds of female voices. Maids sent to light lamps or turn down beds or await their mistresses.

Together, Harriet and Sanderly all but skidded to a halt. She tried to yank her hand free to give them at least a faint semblance of respectability. But to her surprise, he held tight and pulled her suddenly to the right before whisking her inside a dark bedchamber.

A key turned unmistakably in the lock.

It came to Harriet that she should probably be afraid, or outraged. Both, probably. And yet she wasn’t. The excitement was still with her.

Outside, in the passage, one of the maids laughed. A door opened and closed again. One set of footsteps hurried past. Harriet’s heart was still drumming. She could hear Sanderly’s breath, quick and uneven, and turned her head toward him. It was too dark to see anything.

“Are you laughing ?” she whispered.

“Don’t be silly,” he said unsteadily.

“We can’t stay trapped in here.”

“No. Sadly not.” He released her hand but did not unlock the door.

Her heart jolted. “Is this your room?”

“Fortunately not. Imagine the outrage if you were seen emerging from that den of iniquity.” He moved away from her and that, along with the return to his sardonic manner caused a curious sense of loss.

She heard the striking of flint and a light flared as he lit a candle. By its glow, he looked very tall and thin, almost cadaverous, and yet he was a handsome man when the sneer was not on his lips. And those eyes...she wished she could see them.

Abruptly, her wish was granted. Picking up the candle, he raised his gaze to her face. She could not breathe. Something very odd seemed to be happening to her stomach, her knees. Her mind.

“It is my sister’s room. It might be amusing to whip up a scandal for James, but no one would believe it.”

“Why don’t you like him?”

The straight eyebrows flew up. “Bab likes him. I find that is quite enough.”

“You’re helping her,” Harriet said, making the full discovery for the first time. “That’s why you came to Grand Court when you clearly don’t care for such parties.”

“Only partly.” He moved to the door again, listening, before he turned the key in the lock once more. “You should return to the drawing room instantly. I don’t trust Illsworth’s gift for innuendo.”

“You will come a few minutes later?”

“Oh, no, I shall take myself out of the equation altogether and go to bed.”

She blinked. “Won’t Lady Grandison find you rude?”

“Darling, the world knows I am rude. Don’t take all night, there’s a good girl.”

She turned to face the door, still frowning. “What’s your other reason?”

“For what?” he asked, either bewildered or pretending to be.

“For coming to Grand Court.”

His lips quirked. He leaned nearer until she could feel his breath—which was good, she assured herself for she didn’t appear to have any of her own. “You. Now flee.”

He opened the door, looked into the passage and all but pushed her outside. She was hurrying down the servants’ stairs before she realized she was not supposed to believe him. He was teasing her, joking because his reasons were really none of her business.

This realization allowed her to breathe again and be comfortable. Only she wasn’t entirely. Perhaps because she already knew his other reason was the lovely Mrs. Eldridge, whatever Bab said about their liaison being over.

Emerging miraculously unseen onto the first floor, she quickly found Alex and Orchid at the foot of the stairs.

“Where is Rose?” she asked, very aware of the wooden-faced footmen flanking the drawing room door.

“Gone to see Lily. Did you get her warning?” Alex said anxiously.

“Yes, all is well. You’ve done excellently, but now you must go to bed. Collect Rose on your way and send for me if Lily is too hot or unwell.” She hugged them both at once, and sent them on their way, promising to look in on them in the nursery on her way to bed.

A footman opened the drawing room door for her. But once more her hopes of passing unnoticed were foiled by several gentlemen springing to their feet and surging in her direction.

Feeling rather like a hunted hare, she was relieved by Lady Grandison’s summons. “There you are, Harriet. Have you been looking in on poor Lily? How is she?”

As she made her way to her godmother’s side, basic courtesy forced her admirers to fall back.

“I left her asleep,” Harriet said truthfully. “And have ordered the other children to bed. They seemed to have escaped Mildred.” With Harriet’s help and encouragement, of course.

“Mischievous little creatures,” Lady Grandison said comfortably. “You are quite the mother to them. Sadly you have missed our musical entertainment. Miss Leslie and Miss Williams have been playing and singing for us most delightfully.”

“I’m sorry to have missed it. I do enjoy music.”

“I would love to hear you play, Miss Cole,” said Mr. Poole.

Harriet laughed. “No, you would not, sir. I cannot play at all.”

“Were you never taught?” Mrs. Eldridge asked. It was the first thing the woman had said to her.

“Oh, I had teachers, but my silly brain would not make the connections between the notes on the page and the keys on the piano.”

Several ladies smiled with pity, false or otherwise. Harriet hoped her lack of ladylike accomplishments might deter her sudden wave of admirers, but Lady Grandison would not allow it.

“But you do sing charmingly,” she said. “I recall that your voice is quite beautiful.”

“If she sings the right notes,” Mrs. Eldridge said smiling. “We must not pester the poor lady.”

It was the “poor lady” that did it.

“Well, if you play for me, ma’am, I shall do my poor best.”

She sang a happy song with a dancing rhythm that she was glad to see both brightened the company and restored her and therefore her godmother to the ranks of the accomplished and un-pitied. At least partially.

While she was singing, Illsworth re-entered the room. She hoped they had left his bedchamber exactly as he had.

After one song and her gracious acceptance of the surprised applause, Bab seized on her and she was able to report. “Nothing.”

“Really? Then Snake was right, drat the man.”

“I looked everywhere I could think of.”

Bab’s breath caught. “What if he carries it with him?”

Harriet gazed at her. “Well I am not creeping up on him while he’s asleep.”

Bab giggled.

***

I N THE MORNING, LILY felt so much better that she wanted to get up. Harriet forbade it.

“It’s still very early, and you were so weak yesterday. Let us wait until after breakfast, which you must have in bed—though the children and I will keep you company if you wish. After that, we shall see.”

Lily smiled at her, half-mocking, wholly affectionate, and much more like herself. “Where would we be without you, Mama Harry?”

Harriet laughed, although the words brought a serious worry to the fore. What would they do without her at school? Could she rely on anyone to look after the children if and when they were ill? Rose was only ten years old and could not be expected to care for the more delicate Lily if and when she was sick. Orchid was little more than a baby. And Alex would be without any of them.

As she washed and donned the walking dress that had miraculously appeared in her wardrobe along with another afternoon gown, she thought rather hard about her original plan to become a governess. Leaving Lily with a novel to read, she first checked that the children were still asleep in the nursery—they were—and then escaped the house for a brisk walk before breakfast. Fresh air always helped her to think.

When she took up the post as governess, she could not take the children with her.

And another difficulty had struck her yesterday evening. Who would employ a governess who could not teach her charges to read music or play the pianoforte?

Drat and damnation!

On the other hand... Her breath caught on yet another idea. “That is it!”

The trees to her left rustled with more than the wind, startling her and she whipped around to see a man halted a bare yard away on a very faint, narrow path which led off the main one.

“ What is it?” Lord Sanderly inquired.