Page 16 of Visiting Miss Austen (Miss Austen #2)

The next morning, I was awake at dawn, having slept fitfully. Staying in bed was tempting. But I had locked all our bedroom doors, even Jane’s, and pocketed the individual keys. After what I had heard last night, I wasn’t taking any chances with Mr Hart or Mr Smith-Withers either, especially as they had been on the port.

But now I had to unlock the doors before Lucinda and Jane awoke and wondered why they were locked in. Thankfully, both were still dead to the world as I undertook my task and then padded shawl-less and shivering back to my room.

Lying in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, I wondered what on earth to do now. One thing was very clear: I could not let Lucinda marry Mr Hart. Unfortunately, he was right—his plan to beguile her had worked, and she was now besotted. If he proposed to her, she would definitely accept him.

There were only two ways I could think of to prevent the union, and neither of them was guaranteed to succeed. The first way was thus: Before Mr Hart proposed, I could prepare Lucinda and tell her that I had an inkling that he might. She would no doubt be excited to hear it, but then I would say, ‘But, dear, it would be best to tell him you would like to wait until your father has given his blessing. It is the proper thing to do, and you do not want to upset him, do you?’

Lucinda was very close to Tobias, so the fear of angering her father might hold some sway over her. If I could get her away from the castle and back to Bath, Mr Hart would not have as much power. And I could gently sow the seeds of doubt about his character with Jane’s help (of course, I would have to tell my friend the truth about him beforehand). Hopefully, by the time Lucinda went home to York, she would have come to see Mr Hart as the rogue he was and refuse him.

However, one big problem with this was that Mr Hart might start his own campaign in retaliation and persuade Lucinda, by letters and visits to Queen Square, that everything I said was a lie because I was jealous or bitter or some such nonsense. He might pursue her to York and charm his way into the hearts and minds of her family, and the marriage could still take place.

The second way was to rip the bandage off and tell her in no uncertain terms what I had overheard in the parlour last night. But this, I knew, would upset her tremendously—to the point that she may not want to believe it and turn against me and run straight into Mr Hart’s tangled web like a little fly. If I tried to pry her away from him, then I might have an elopement on my hands.

What a blasted mess! I wished I had been strong enough to withstand the pressure from everyone to come to the damned castle in the first place. If I had also told Elizabeth and Jane of Ceci and Dory being caught in bed together immediately after I had learned it, then I might have prevented this distressing scenario. It was my own fault. I had not wanted to be the ‘dull, boring aunt’ and spoil everyone’s good time.

Even Max had sensed something untoward and written instantly to express his concern, but I had been too proud to tell him the truth and ask for his help. In fact, I had blatantly fibbed to give the impression everything was under control so he thought I was capable and mature. Oh, if only I had written saying I needed him and to please come and take us back to Bath immediately! He would have leapt into his carriage and shown up at the castle before Mr Hart could enact his wicked plan. I blinked away bittersweet tears.

But if he knew the truth of the situation, Max would be loath to let me go away again, and he would certainly lose any faith in my ability as a chaperone. I had to sort out this matter on my own. As I lay there pondering, I realised I was overlooking the most obvious solution and another way I could save Lucinda—it was time to confront Mr Hart.

I chose my moment after breakfast and asked discreetly, out of hearing of the others, for a private meeting. Mr Hart looked at me curiously but did not reject my request. With a shrug, he said, ‘By all means. We can talk in my study.’

His study was located on the other side of the parlour. But unlike the parlour, which was sizeable even though it had a low ceiling, the study was a compact room. It had space for a flat-top mahogany desk featuring several brass-knobbed drawers, as well as a small settee, but no other furniture. The castle was odd in that respect. Some rooms, like the dining hall, were absurdly large, as Jane had pointed out. Others, like Mr Hart’s study, were miniscule. The architecture had no sense of logical proportion. It was as if the inhabitants’ comfort was a low priority on the scale of things.

Indeed, when it came to comfort, I would rather have been in a larger room for this meeting as the size of it placed Mr Hart and me in rather closer proximity than I would have liked.

He indicated that I should take a seat on the settee while he perched on the edge of the desk.

I glanced around at the framed pencil sketches on the panelled walls, mainly of birds and country landscapes. ‘Did you do these?’ I asked, recognising his style of sketching.

He nodded. ‘Yes, when I was at Eton. I found it a pleasant respite to take off into the grounds with my sketch pad rather than listen to law lectures. Such a pastime did not help my grades, though.’

‘I did not know you had a background in law,’ I said, interested despite myself.

‘Yes, that is how I met Smithy, er, Mr Smith-Withers. We were in the same year.’

‘I see,’ I said, my countenance hardening at the mention of that gentleman.

‘But I gather you did not ask for a private meeting to discuss my sketches, no matter how unrealistic you deem them to be,’ he said in a teasing tone. He swung his leg, which was encased in a black riding boot and well-fitted fawn breeches, and I was struck again by how long and lithe his limbs were. His manner of walking was always rather graceful too, but purposeful, like a confident whippet.

I collected myself to deal with the matter at hand. Staring at Mr Hart’s legs was not at all what I was here for!

I sat up straight on the settee and clasped my hands in my lap. ‘No, I did not,’ I said. ‘I wish to discuss a much more serious matter.’

‘Goodness,’ said Mr Hart in the same light teasing tone. ‘I am all ears.’

I took a breath and steeled myself. What I was about to say would no doubt wipe the smile off his face.

‘Certain information has come to light about your intentions towards my niece, Mr Hart,’ I began, trying not to let my voice betray my nervousness. ‘I have come to ask you, well ... to beg you, really, to leave her alone.’

There was a silence, and Mr Hart stopped swinging his leg.

I did not want to, but I forced myself to look at him. ‘Please,’ I added, thinking I should be polite about it.

‘I am not sure what you are talking about,’ he said slowly.

‘I am talking about the plan you have concocted with Mr Smith-Withers: to marry Lucy, take her dowry, and cast her aside while you continue to live a life of debauchery—as well as deceive your father into becoming heir of Hartmoor.’

Mr Hart’s left eye twitched, and I could tell I had caught him unawares.

‘Well, well. Someone’s been sneaking around and listening at doors,’ he said, his teasing tone gone .

‘I am not here to accuse you or judge you or anything like that. My concern is purely for Lucy. All I ask is that you do not go through with your intention to propose and leave her be,’ I said, hardly believing I was daring to speak to him so plainly.

‘And if I will not?’

Glad that he was speaking plainly too and not bothering to deny he was a scoundrel any longer, I pressed on.

‘Then I will have no choice but to out your plan to everyone I know, and then the word will spread. By the time next Season comes around, you will never again be able to hold your head high in good society, in Bath and even perhaps London.’

‘But who would believe you?’ he said, sounding faintly mocking.

‘I have testimony from another to back up my story.’

‘Who, pray tell?’ To my chagrin, he did not sound as worried as he should be.

‘Cecilia Spencer, of course,’ I said triumphantly. ‘She has told me all about your sordid affair.’

Mr Hart rolled his eyes. ‘Ceci! She was infatuated with me. Everyone knew it. It is why her mother separated us. She couldn’t keep her hands off me in public. I doubt anyone will take Ceci’s word over mine. ’

Blast, he might be right about that , I thought, remembering Cecilia had also been quick to defend him when I had dared to criticise her Dory .

‘Then ... then I will pay you five hundred pounds to leave Lucy alone,’ I said, pulling out another ace out of my sleeve since the first one had failed.

‘Oho, so now you are bribing me? Wonders will never cease!’ Mr Hart said, sounding amused.

I gazed at him steadily. ‘Call it what you want. My offer stands. What is your answer?’

‘Five hundred would not inspire me to get out of bed in the morning and take a piss,’ he said, folding his arms.

I wrinkled my nose. ‘There is no need to be coarse, Mr Hart.’

‘My apologies. In plainer and less coarse language, no, I will not accept five hundred pounds.’

‘A thousand pounds then.’

‘You are getting slightly warmer. But I think you can do better than that, Felicity,’ he replied.

‘One thousand five hundred pounds,’ I said.

He shook his head.

‘One thousand eight hundred pounds.’

Mr Hart’s eyebrows raised. ‘Ooh, that might inspire me to get out of bed,’ he said with a laugh, shifting on the desk. I kept my eyes firmly on his face, away from his breeches. ‘But it’s still not quite enough.’

‘Three thousand pounds,’ I said, growing desperate. ‘And that is my best offer.’

Mr Hart whistled. ‘You would pay me that much?’

I lifted my chin. ‘Yes, for the sake of my niece’s reputation and future happiness, I would.’

In truth, I felt a little faint as I had not meant to go that high. But my personal allowance was mine to do with what I liked, and it was in a separate account, so I could easily access it without Max knowing. I was quite prepared to go without new gowns, accessories, and any other trifles if it would deter Mr Hart from his pursuit of Lucinda.

However, the man was so ill-bred he did not even have the manners to accept the money immediately and say he would agree to my terms. Instead, he looked thoughtful, as if he was turning my offer over in his mind and looking at it from all angles.

‘It is very generous of you. But after careful consideration, I will have to refuse it,’ he said at last.

Oh no , I thought, my mouth going dry.

‘W-why must you refuse it?’

‘Because if I took your bribe, it would sully our acquaintance.’

He grinned and started swinging his leg again. ‘ Sully our acquaintance’? The nerve of him! Our acquaintance was already well and truly sullied.

‘Is there anything I can give you to make you stay away from her?’ I asked shakily.

‘Hmm, I wonder ... What can you give me?’ He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

My eyes closed briefly, knowing exactly where he was going with that line of thinking—he was a rake after all.

‘That is impossible,’ I said flatly.

‘Oh, so you know what I’m considering. I thought you might, considering your penchant for erotica.’ He smirked, and I swallowed hard.

‘It will not get you your money, if that is what you are after.’

‘No, perhaps not. But enjoying myself with you will go some way to easing the pain of losing Lucy ... if that is what is to happen.’

‘Pain?’ I said scornfully. ‘You will not feel pain—more like the pain of losing her dowry. But there will be other women you can pursue. Leave my niece out of your schemes.’

There was a long silence, as if he was considering my words.

Then he spoke. ‘Very well,’ he said simply.

I blinked at him.

‘So you will not pursue her?’

‘No, I won’t. You have my word.’

I heaved a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, Mr Hart had decided to choose wisely for once in his life.

On the face of it, it seemed too easy. But short of getting it in writing, what else was I to do? I had to take his word for it.

Perhaps it would be all right. At least he now knew I had the measure of him and would desist or face the consequences.

‘Very good. Now please make arrangements for our immediate departure back to Bath,’ I said, giving him my best haughty face to show that I meant business.

‘I’m afraid I cannot do that,’ he replied smoothly.

My haughty face faltered slightly. ‘You must. I demand it!’

‘The carriage is being repaired and will be ready only on Saturday.’

‘A likely story!’ I scoffed.

‘’Tis true ...’

I stood and made to leave, having had enough of his lies. But quick as a flash, Mr Hart was off the desk and in front of me, blocking my way.

‘Felicity, wait!’

Before I knew what was happening, he was clasping me against his chest, and the nearness and masculine heat of his lower body made me shudder.

‘What if I want you to stay?’ he murmured in my ear. He had not shaved, and I felt the rasp of his beard on my temple and smelt the remnants of port fumes emanating from his skin.

Was this his way of ‘charming me into submission’? If so, I did not like it or want it.

‘Let me go!’ I tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were strong and held me firmly.

‘Just one kiss.’

‘No!’

‘I think I deserve it as payment for being so accommodating.’

He moved his mouth to mine, but I ducked my head at the last minute, and it landed somewhere in my hair. Then I stomped hard on his boot with my heel.

‘Ow! Dammit!’ he swore and released me to attend to his foot. I scuttled around him to the door and leaned on the knob for support, shocked that he had tried to kiss me.

If I’d had a riding crop, I would have whipped him for attempting such a thing with a married woman!

A smile curled on his lips as he took in my flushed cheeks and heaving bosom. ‘You enjoyed that,’ he said with a smirk.

‘You mistake my disgust for enjoyment, Mr Hart,’ I said breathlessly. ‘If you ever try that with me again, you will have injuries more serious to contend with than a sore foot!’

But I knew my words would have little effect on a man like him. Before he could try anything else or detain me further, I flung open the door and beat a hasty retreat from his study.

***

The encounter with Mr Hart left me severely shaken, and I clung to the stair banister for support while making my way up. Everyone was in the parlour, so I thought I would be able to recover my battered senses in private before I was missed.

However, at the top of the stairs, I ran into Jane, twirling her bonnet. ‘There you are, Flissy! We are planning on going for a walk. Mr Hart said there was a lovely stream.’

The mention of his name was too painful to bear, and my legs threatened to collapse. It was most alarming, but I managed to keep my grip on the banister. Otherwise, I would have toppled down the stairs!

Jane let out an exclamation and spun into action. She hauled me up along the landing and into her room. I fell onto her bed, gasping with emotion, and buried my face in the eiderdown. It was a pretty light blue, but it was soon covered with dark blotches as it became a large silk handkerchief to soak up my tears.

‘Flissy, oh my goodness!’ Jane said, sounding startled. But I was too racked with sobs to reply, so she sat beside me and patted my arm and talked soothingly until I had gained some composure. I sat up, wiping my eyes, and let her hug me.

‘Hush now. Are you missing Max? Is that it?’ she asked, hooking her chin over my shoulder and rubbing my back. ‘It is perfectly understandable, and I am sure he feels exactly the same.’

I swallowed. Jane hugging me had brought to mind a clear image of Mr Hart’s arms around me in a vice-like grip. Hot guilt washed over me. It had not been a quarter of an hour since he had done so, and I could still feel his breath in my ear and his stubble rasping along my cheek. I scrubbed at my face ineffectually, but I knew only a good wash would help.

I let out a sob. ‘Oh, Jane ...’

‘It is all right. You can tell me all about it. I promise not to add our conversation to my book.’ She huffed a friendly laugh, but her saying that did not cheer me up.

I took a deep snivelling breath. What I had to say might be too good for her to resist writing about!

‘It is n-not about Max. It is Mr Hart. I w-was w-with him just now in his study.’

Jane drew back, looking at me. ‘But why?’

I bit my lip, wondering how to put it delicately. But there was no delicacy to what was occurring—it was raw and real.

‘I bribed him—to stay away from Lucy.’

‘You what?!’

‘Shhhh, keep your voice down.’ Quickly, I told her everything, starting with my conversation with Cecilia at the baths and finishing with Mr Hart trying to coerce me into an intimate liaison. ‘It was shocking to me that he even suggested it. He did not seem to care one jot that he would be breaking Lucy’s heart, let alone ruining the reputation of a respectable married woman,’ I said in a low voice. ‘He is truly as corrupt a man that ever lived.’

By this point, Jane’s face had drained of all colour; and she placed a hand on her forehead, as if my words were causing her great pain. ‘I do not want to believe it,’ she whispered. ‘But I know you would not lie.’

I felt awful causing her such distress. The shock was doubly great for her because she had been completely taken in by Mr Hart, and up until now, she had believed him to be a paragon of virtue. And she may have even been thinking of weaselly Mr Smith-Withers as a potential suitor!

‘Believe me, I wish it was a lie, but it is more like a nightmare I wish I could wake up from! ’

‘But you have sat on this information about Cecilia Spencer since the baths, and I queried your trust in Mr Hart on the first night we arrived. I distinctly remember doing so. Why did you not tell me what had occurred between him and Cecilia then?’ she said accusingly.

‘Because at that stage, I was still giving him the benefit of the doubt and holding on to the hope that he had changed his ways for Lucy’s sake,’ I said defensively. ‘But the more information I uncovered about him, the worse it got ... And now he has displayed his true colours, in all respects.’

Jane rubbed her hand over her chin distractedly. ‘Lucy ... Oh no, she is going to be devastated when we tell her. She thinks so highly of him.’

‘I know.’

‘Oh, this is too bad of him. I thought he was a gentleman of good breeding, but he is nothing but a sly dog! How could he artfully deceive us like this?’

‘Money,’ I said flatly.

‘But then why did he not accept your offer? It is more than generous.’

That was a good question indeed.

It appeared I had won. He had agreed to leave Lucinda alone, which was a huge relief, but we were still trapped here until his carriage was ‘repaired’. So I did not trust him fully to keep his word and stay away from her. He was a man without morals, so really, I would be a fool to believe him.