Читать книгу Chivalrous Rake, Scandalous Lady - Mary Brendan, Mary Brendan - Страница 10

‘If it wasn’t for the respect I had for the old Earl I’d go right now and offer the new one his choice of weapons.’

Theo Wyndham continued gingerly fingering the bruise on his neck. It had been almost a week since Marcus Speer had turned up in Hanover Square and gripped him by the throat whilst informing him in awful tones what he thought of him, and what he’d next do to him if he had reason to return.

The gentleman to whom Theo had directed his remark was lolling against the window frame, ogling a housemaid’s swaying posterior as she scrubbed the step of a house opposite. Theo’s ludicrous boast caused Graham Quick to snort in derision, but his attention remained riveted on the girl’s jiggling buttocks. Finally he turned to slant Theo a laconic glance. ‘I suppose you do know that Speer has winged at least three fellows who’ve annoyed him.’ Graham’s heavy-lidded eyes dropped to the livid mark on Theo’s neck. ‘God only knows where he’d aim in your case.’ After a last leer at the buxom servant, who was on her way to the side of the house with her bucket, Graham turned to face Theo with an impatient sigh. ‘It takes you an age to get ready, dear chap. Are we off to White’s some time this afternoon…or not?’ A pinch of snuff was deposited on the back of a foppish white hand and immediately sniffed into a fastidious nostril.

In Graham’s opinion Wyndham was fortunate not to have on his person a more severe sign that he’d incensed one of the gentlemen he’d solicited to marry his cousin. Graham unashamedly flouted convention, yet he wasn’t sure even he would have found the effrontery to solicit proposals from fellows who had suffered the ignominy of being spurned by a saucy schoolgirl. In a drawling tone he told Theo so.

‘Nothing wrong with a fellow trying to get his ward wed,’ Theo testily defended himself. ‘It’s my duty, like it or not, to get her settled before she gets any older. Besides, there was only one of them took it badly.’

‘And with good reason, considering he’d just announced his betrothal to the sweetest heiress imaginable,’ Graham interjected ironically. ‘Miss Cleveland has a very tempting dowry.’

Theo’s complexion turned florid and he muttered something about being unaware of any of that. The stale lie only served to elicit another snigger of disbelief from Graham.

In exasperation Theo tugged this way and that the linen he was winding about his neck. At last he seemed satisfied that the intricate bow at his throat hid the worst of the damage and he turned from his reflection to give Graham a smug look. ‘This, I think…’ he waved a note he’d picked up from the desk ‘…adequately proves my point. The chit needs a husband, and I’ve got her one.’

‘I wonder if Miss Bailey will agree with you on that,’ Graham suggested with a hint of malice. ‘You might march her down the aisle, but you can’t make her say her vows. Besides, Stephen Crabbe has his pockets to let. Have you settled on her a juicy portion?’ At Theo’s sullen silence he goaded slyly, ‘Come, tell me—perhaps if the price is right I might be interested in her too.’ His idle remark seemed to amuse him and he erupted in a guffaw. ‘’Spose you’d want me to lend you that cash, too, just so you could give it back to me to take the wench off your hands.’

‘I wouldn’t wish you on any female, let alone my own kin,’ Theo replied scathingly, ignoring the reference to the loans he’d chivvied out of Quick.

Graham grinned. He revelled in his reputation as an insatiable libertine. He found Wyndham a tiresome dolt and a constant drain on his pocket. But Theo had got himself an odd notoriety and Graham liked to be in the thick of things, so had become chummy with him. Unwittingly Theo had managed to worm his way to prominence by creating a drama and casting himself as a central character. Once the debate in Mayfair’s clubs and salons over whether Wyndham had impertinently interfered, or sensibly intervened, in his ward’s life ceased, he would drop him like a hot brick.

Theo was also aware that employing desperate measures to get the Bailey inheritance had turned up a wondrous benefit. He’d gained a little in popularity. He had realised the situation wouldn’t last, so was intending to milk his moment for as long as possible. With that in mind, he released the note advising him that Stephen would be happy to be re-introduced to his ward with a view to making an offer. It floated back to his desk to rest atop the one his ward had sent to him earlier in the week. That communication had arrived the day after Jemma had confronted him at home like a deranged harpy and contained no welcome news. She had not spared his feelings or her adjectives describing her disgust at his behaviour. She had also made it plain she had no intention of succumbing to any plot to get her wed. Theo frowned; Graham Quick had touched a raw nerve when he taunted him that he could not force the obstinate minx to marry against her will. But there was always a way, and he would set his mind to finding it in due course. For now a pleasant afternoon spent holding court at White’s beckoned.

* * *

It was no surprise to Jemma when her maid, Polly, announced that Miss Wyndham was pacing back and forth in her parlour awaiting an audience. Maura had been a visitor to Jemma’s home on Pereville Parade every day since the furore erupted over Theo contacting her spurned suitors. As far as Jemma was concerned the whole idiotic matter was unworthy of such attention, and she was becoming irritated that Maura would not let it wither naturally away.

Jemma had been potting seedlings in the small conservatory set at the back of her neat town house. Now she wiped the soil from her fingers on to a cloth and with a sigh set off towards the parlour to see her cousin. Usually Jemma was pleased to have a visitor, but she suspected Maura would again want to hear the details of her meeting with Marcus Speer, and she had nothing new to tell her. Neither did Jemma want to be constantly reminded of that episode. Since it had occurred, every thought of Marcus made an ache of unbearable poignancy ripple through her. It was impossible not to remember their tense conversation without the memory of his lazy lustful look rushing heat and colour to stain her cheeks. It did so now and she put a cool palm instinctively to her skin to soothe it. Her mind darted to recall how, when a little less hostile to one another, they’d walked side by side as civil companions, if not friends, and she’d felt her uneasiness starting to evaporate. She’d been sure he’d believed her when she’d said she was unaware of Theo’s disgraceful behaviour. But, only a few minutes later, and without any warning or proper farewell, Marcus had abruptly walked away and not once looked back. The memory of having been so rudely abandoned still made her inwardly squirm in indignation.

* * *

Within five minutes of having joined Maura in the parlour Jemma’s ivory complexion had darkened in annoyance. Just as she was about to screw up the paper she’d scanned in disbelief her cousin deftly whipped the letter away from her quivering fingers.

‘No, you mustn’t do that!’ Maura gasped and thrust it back in her pocket. ‘I must put it back where I found it before Theo returns.’ She gave Jemma an apprehensive look. ‘I looked for him in his study to ask for my allowance, but he’d gone out. I lingered, thinking he might return. Then I saw this and on impulse took it to show you.’ She shot a look at Jemma that begged a comment on her selfless bravery.

Jemma was still too distracted by what she’d read to remember to thank Maura for warning her that Stephen Crabbe was preparing to renew his offer to her.

‘I hope Theo’s gone to his club, then he’ll come back drunk and go straight to his chamber. I must put this back. If he realises it’s missing, there will be dreadful trouble.’

* * *

Maura led quite an uneventful life. She knew her gay society friends—apart from Deborah Cleveland, who was genuinely kind—tolerated her presence in their heady circle because their sweet looks and vivacity were heightened by her lack of such charming qualities. She had therefore found this family drama oddly exhilarating for, like her brother, she was enjoying a temporary elevation in status because of it. None the less, she was already regretting having impulsively taken the letter. The reason she’d gone to Theo’s study was not to speak to her brother—although she had planned to soon corner him about handing over her overdue allowance. She’d headed there hoping to see a very different gentleman.

Earlier that day, from the top of the stairs, Maura had overheard a visitor arrive and state his name to Manwell. Immediately she had been scandalised. Her brother had few friends and Maura knew that this reputedly wicked philanderer was not one of Theo’s usual cronies. As one transfixed by a dangerous reptile, Maura had settled silently on to a high step to spy on devilish Graham Quick through the banisters. Of course she’d heard of him, but never actually seen him as he socialised, for the most part, in places and with people innocent young ladies knew nothing about.

She’d observed a man of below medium height with an excessively spare frame, flamboyantly clothed, who was blessed with blond good looks. Being a young woman of plain appearance with no experience of stirring interest, let alone passion, in a gentleman, she’d found watching him, unobserved, whilst wondering, acutely thrilling. As she’d gazed down on the top of his flaxen head, she’d recalled hearing a whisper that even the members of the Hellfire Club couldn’t match Graham Quick for depravity.

After a moment the object of Maura’s frenzied imagination had tipped back his blond head to inhale snuff and spotted her. With a sly smile he peremptorily beckoned her to come to him.

From the moment he’d seen her Maura had been petrified. That thin, demanding finger had finally jerked her to her senses and she’d jumped up and fled in a jumble of skirts with her cheeks aflame and his rough chuckle following her along the corridor.

The sanctuary of her room had done nothing to calm her; in fact, once a safe distance had been put between them, Maura had begun to relish her adventure and to find Mr Quick irresistibly interesting. He’d looked wonderfully handsome with his fair face and angelic curls and nothing like a wicked libertine. She’d known that Theo’s visitor, once received, would be shown to his study and had, after a while, boosted her courage sufficiently to decide to go there on the pretext of needing to speak to her brother on a matter. But she’d tarried too long and by the time she’d tiptoed with hammering heart to timidly tap on the door, they’d gone out.

‘I suppose I ought to go home now,’ Maura murmured morosely. She still felt disappointed at having missed the chance to satisfy her curiosity about Graham Quick by seeing, perhaps conversing with him, at close quarters. She also now felt quite miffed that, having sped here to warn Jemma that the plot to marry her off was progressing very fast, she’d not even been offered a cup of tea for her trouble.

‘Oh…I’m sorry, Maura. Will you take tea?’ Jemma belatedly recognised her cousin’s mood and offered her hospitality.

‘Yes, please,’ Maura said immediately and sat down.

Having given the order to Polly for a tray of tea and cinnamon biscuits to be brought to the parlour, Jemma returned to giving the awful matter at hand her full attention. ‘I ought to write to Mr Crabbe and let him know that his prettily stated intentions towards me are unfortunately unwanted.’

‘No!’ Maura shot to her feet. ‘Please don’t do that. It will give the game away that you have seen this letter. Then I will be in trouble, for Theo will guess I have meddled in it.’

With an unsteady hand Jemma pushed back the stray wisps fallen against her pale forehead. Her fingers remained tangled in those chestnut tresses as she slowly walked to the window and stared sightlessly out on another glorious spring day. She certainly did not want Maura to pay for being a good and loyal friend to her, but neither did she want Stephen Crabbe to remain under any illusion that she might agree to marry him. She had hoped that the two gentlemen who had received a letter from Theo—and whose responses she had not known—would have had the sense to treat the matter with the contempt it deserved. Then the whole stupid affair might have faded away with no need for her to do anything at all. But now it seemed she had no option but to quickly state her case before Mr Crabbe paid her an unwelcome call.

Five years ago she’d stirred gossip because she had trifled with Marcus Speer’s affections and led him on like a common tease. Then she’d deserved the opprobrium for her silly flirtatious behaviour. On this occasion she’d done nothing to encourage a suitor’s attention. Once she’d broadcast the truth of the matter, her guardian’s motive would be rightly judged to be claiming the Bailey inheritance. As much as Jemma didn’t relish seeing Maura upset by her brother’s greed being exposed, she could see no other way to proceed.

Jemma’s troubled thoughts were interrupted as Polly arrived with the tea tray. Having settled on the sofa opposite her cousin, and handed Maura her tea, Jemma was surprised to hear a tap at the door and see Polly again hovering on the threshold.

‘A gentleman caller, Miss Bailey,’ Polly announced in her soft Devon burr.

The hand that clutched a teacup froze halfway to Maura’s mouth. Swiftly it was deposited back on its saucer, rattling together the crockery. ‘It’s Theo,’ she hissed, pupils dilating in fright. ‘He must have discovered the letter is missing. He’s guessed I’ve taken it to show you. He’s come to get it…and me…’

‘Shh, it is not him,’ Jemma soothed, quickly standing up. Polly was familiar enough with her mistress’s guardian to have announced him by his name.

‘Who is it Polly?’ Jemma’s heart had plummeted to her stomach. Had Stephen Crabbe come to visit without the courtesy of first sending a card, and before she had properly decided how she must attack such a delicate matter as rejecting him for a second time?

‘It’s a Mr Speer, Miss Bailey,’ Polly announced, her eyes suddenly alight with admiration, her lips compressed to hide a smile. ‘He’s waiting in the hallway. Shall I show him in?’

‘No!’ Jemma blurted in a gulp. ‘That is…yes, of course. Please show him in. No, one moment…’ She again arrested her servant’s departure, but gave Polly an apologetic look for the confusion. ‘Ask him to wait just a moment, please.’

Polly nodded and slipped away to do as she’d been bid. As she skipped along the corridor towards the vestibule she inwardly chuckled. She’d be in a dither too if such a grand-looking man came a-calling on her unexpectedly.

‘What do you think he wants?’ Maura whispered, her eyes as round as the saucers on the table. Now she knew that her brother had not come in high dudgeon to chastise her she looked quite comfortable perched on the edge of her chair, and agog with curiosity. ‘Surely he is not still furious at having received Theo’s letter? Do you think that he is here to again quarrel with you?’

‘I…I don’t know,’ Jemma croaked. And that was the truth. She had no idea why he’d come. The last time she’d been in his company his parting words to her had been that they should finish their conversation another time. She’d imagined it to be just an empty phrase tossed at her as a substitute for a proper farewell. She felt quite light-headed at the prospect of receiving him at home without knowing the purpose of his call. She knew too that she regretted having delayed her cousin’s departure with the offer of refreshment. Of course it was best for her reputation that she did not see him alone but—etiquette be damned!—she would sooner hear whatever it was he had to say in private. Closely following that thought came another to reassure her. Marcus Speer was a sophisticated gentleman. He would refrain from discussing anything of a delicate nature in front of Maura.

After a moment Jemma realised that she would be no better prepared to deal with the situation after ten minutes of brooding on it than she was now. In fact, it would be bad manners to make him wait. She recalled the glimpse she’d had of him pacing impatiently in the hallway of Theo’s house. She guessed Mr Speer was not a man who gladly wasted his time, and she didn’t want to annoy him for no good reason. Quickly Jemma went to the door, opened it and gestured to Polly, hovering in the vicinity, that she was ready to receive him.