by Anne Gracie
Luke snorted. “I’ll lay you a monkey you’re not.”
“Did you see the Bloody Abbot?” Maddy burst out, fearing the manly horse talk would never end.
“He came last night,” Luke said, shrugging off his greatcoat. “The swine destroyed the rest of your garden, I’m afraid, and then he started banging on the windows and doing the moaning wailing thing you told us about—creepy stuff, I must say—for a woman and children, that is.”
“Yes, but did you catch him?”
Luke shook his head. “Sorry. I tackled him—got in a few punches—he’s got a black eye at the very least, but we lost him in the blasted fog.” Luke handed his hat and coat to Bronson. “Wretched stuff was so thick you could only see a few feet in front of you. The villain disappeared into it before Marcus could shoot him again.”
“You shot him?” Nash asked his brother.
“Winged him in the shoulder, I think,” Marcus said. “He let out a yelp, at any rate, and clutched his shoulder.”
“And this morning we found blood on the path and the garden gate,” added Luke.
“But since Luke was swirling around in the fog with him, I didn’t dare risk a second shot.” Marcus tossed his greatcoat and hat to a footman.
“You lost him, Luke?” Harry said incredulously. “Slipping in your old age?”
Luke snorted. “You’d have lost him, too, if you’d been belted over the head with a blasted lump of wood. Look.” He bent and showed them a large lump on his head. “You never told us he had an accomplice.”
“He never has before,” Maddy said, surprised. “It’s always been just one man.”
“So what now? You’ve left the cottage to him?” Nash asked.
“Of course not, my footman’s still there, guarding it, and he’s got my pistols,” Marcus told him. “But we don’t think there will be any more trouble. When I was grappling with him, he called out to his mate, ‘The pigeon’s flown the coop,’ Miss Woodford being, presumably, the pigeon in question.”
Maddy and Nash exchanged glances. Did that mean it was about her, and not the cottage?
Luke continued, “Now he knows there are three men in the cottage and not a lone young woman and a handful of children, we doubt the bast—er, swine’ll return. So we came back here.”
“Why? Why not stay and be sure?” Nash asked, squeezing Maddy’s hand. He knew she wanted the man caught so they’d discover the reason behind the trouble.
“His lordship here,” Luke jerked his head at Marcus, “isn’t used to cramped conditions.”
“You kicked me, twice in one night,” Marcus retorted. “Stormy dreams, this fellow has. Might as well share a bed with a wild beast.”
“Better than an earl who’s never had to share a thing in his life.”
Nash’s lips twitched. “You two were sharing a bed?”
His brother shrugged. “Nobody mentioned the extreme shortness of the beds upstairs. And since Luke and I are both around the six-foot mark . . .”
“I’m bored with talking about beds. Isn’t anyone going to offer us a drink?” Luke interrupted.
“In a minute.” Harry peered past him through the door that Bronson was just closing. “Unless I’m mistaken, that’s Aunt Maude’s carriage bowling down the drive.”
“Good, she must have received my letter,” Nash said.
His aunt? Maddy’s stomach turned into a bottomless pit.
Harry swung around and gave him a long look. “Rather free with the invitations to my home, aren’t you, brother?”
Nash smiled sweetly. “She’s your aunt, too.”
“This is the aunt who’s spent the last few weeks scouring the country to find you a suitable bride, is it not?” Maddy said to Nash. “Does she know about me?”
At her words, there was a sudden silence in the hall.
“Not . . . exactly,” Nash said. “Some things are better done face-to-face. Leave it to me.”
Harry laughed. “History repeats itself,” he said obscurely. “Aunt Maude’s going to love this.”
“I can manage Aunt Maude,” Nash said with confidence.
“He’s a diplomat,” Harry said dryly to Maddy. There was an unholy twinkle in his eye. It didn’t reassure her in the least.
The sight of Maude, Lady Gosforth, striding up the front stairs, dripping furs and complaining bitterly of the state of the road from Bath, was no less reassuring. A tall Roman-nosed matron, she swept into the house and shrugged her furs into the waiting hands of the butler and footmen as if they didn’t exist.
Dressed in the first stare of elegance she exuded the kind of self-confidence that came of a lifetime of telling people what to do, and a set of ancestors who’d done the same.
She paused a moment and regarded the spectacle of the four tall young men standing in the hall with open appreciation. “I don’t know why you’re all standing around in the entrance hall at this time of day, but I can’t fault the picture you make. Harry, my boy”—she presented a lightly rouged cheek to be kissed—“you look splendid but you smell of horse—quite pleasant but I trust you will have bathed and shaved before dinner.
“Marcus, good God, what brings you here? Some crisis prized you away from your beloved Alverleigh, has it?” She didn’t give the earl a chance to respond but continued almost in the same breath, “Luke, my dear boy, what a delightful surprise. Just arrived? And how is your dear mother? It’s been an age since we had a comfortable coze.” She gave her hand to Luke to kiss, then patted him on the cheek as if he were a boy of twelve.
She glanced at Maddy, lifted her lorgnette briefly, then passed her over, no doubt taking her for a maid in her faded and outmoded dress, Maddy thought.
She turned to Nash and presented her cheek for kissing. “Nash, dear boy, why on earth have you summoned me here so urgently? Your letter was remarkable for its lack of information, a dubious skill that I suppose you diplomatic fellows pride yourself on, government being all about the appearance of doing something while doing quite another. And why here? I thought you would have been at Whitethorn Manor putting Jasper’s estate to rights—he got quite reclusive and peculiar toward the end, you know. So why am I here, instead of putting the finishing touches to the ball in London? It’s all arranged, naturally, but I will explain—” She broke off with a frown. “Why, for that matter, are you all here?” She turned to Harry in sudden anxiety. “It’s not Nell, is it? Or the child?”
“No, no, Nell and Torie are both blooming,” Harry said. “Nell was just putting Torie down for her nap.”
Nash drew Maddy forward. “Marcus and Luke arrived minutes before you, so Nell will be down in a moment and will no doubt arrange refreshments, but before you go upstairs to compose yourself, dear Aunt Maude, I would like to present to you Miss Madeleine Woodford—”
Lady Gosforth raised the lorgnette while he was speaking and examined Maddy with unnerving concentration. It took in everything about her, from the auburn tendrils escaping untidily from the knot that had looked so elegant this morning to her shabby clothing and down to her well-worn slippers.
Maddy stiffened her spine.
“—my betrothed,” Nash finished.
The lorgnette froze. Nash’s aunt stared over it, down her long, Roman nose with all the disapproval of a dozen generations of unamused ancestors.
But Maddy had her own ancestors and they were French, and they scorned Lady Gosforth’s English disapproval. “How do you do, Lady Gosforth?” she said calmly and made a curtsy finely calculated to show respect to an older lady, but not intimidation. It was a you-may-not-approve-of-me-but-I’m-going-to-be-polite-anyway kind of curtsy.
Merci, Grand-mère for your instruction in the polite arts. She’d thought all those hours of learning various kinds of curtsies for various ranks and situations were a waste of time. This one gesture made it all worthwhile.
Lady Gosforth’s brows rose. “Charmed,” she said in a voice that was anything but. “Nash, I will speak to you in private in forty minute
s. You, butler, conduct me to my bedchamber.” She stalked upstairs, Bronson in attendance.
“Have you taken leave of your senses, boy?” Aunt Maude groped for her lorgnette and stared through it in a way that reminded Nash of an incident when he was fourteen, involving a cricket ball and an ornately framed looking glass.
She had not taken the news well. But he was not fourteen any longer. “Not at all,” he began in a contrite but firm voice. “Dear Aunt, I’m very sorry to have caused you inconvenience—”
“Don’t ‘dear aunt’ me! Inconvenience? Do you realize I’ve invited the daughters of three dukes, two marquesses, a dozen earls, several ambassador’s daughters—”
“Yes, and I’m very sorry to have wasted your time,” he said, cutting off what promised to be a very long list. “But there was no way to inform you of my change of plans. I was injured and insensible for several days, and when I awoke I had no idea who I was. I’ve only had my memory back for a few days.”
“Presumably your common sense will return in another week,” she said acidly. “I’m out of sherry.” She held out her glass.
He refilled it. The sherry might have been a mistake. He’d sent it up ahead of him, thinking it would mellow her mood; instead, it had sharpened her tongue.
He cursed the chance that had them all gathered at the door when she arrived. He knew better than to spring an unwelcome surprise on an elderly lady after a long and uncomfortable journey and had planned to break the news of his betrothal gently, after she was rested and relaxed from her journey.
Then, when she was reconciled to his news, he’d tell her Maddy’s story and finally he’d introduce her to Maddy. Aunt Maude would love Maddy, he was certain.
Instead he’d had to present his betrothed then and there, and she’d lifted that damned lorgnette and stared at Maddy as if she were an insect.
Maddy hadn’t liked that one bit and her temper showed. She wouldn’t realize it, but the way she’d curtsied almost looked like a challenge. And now Aunt Maude’s back was up, too.
It had been a mistake, too, to allow Aunt Maude forty minutes to compose herself. Two minutes into the interview he realized the wily old woman had used the time to advantage and sent her dresser down to the servants’ hall to gather information about Maddy.
And they’d got their information from her milkmaid-turned-maidservant.
Aunt Maude was not impressed.
“I sift through every eligible lady in the kingdom—”
“Not Wales and Scotland, then?” he interjected irrepressibly.
“Do not,” she ordered with a gimlet look, “be flippant.”
“No, Aunt,” he said, looking humble. He knew how to coax her out of the sullens.
“And don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do. I’ve known you since you were an infant, boy, and you cannot charm me.”
“No, Aunt.”
She took a deep sip of the sherry. “Never thought I’d see you, of all my nephews, making a mésalliance.”
“It is not a mésalliance. Miss Woodford’s father was a baronet—”
“An obscure baronet of obscure family. A dull little man who I gather died in debt.”
“Birth is not everything,” he said stiffly. How the devil did she know that? Did she know everyone in England? Probably.
“You wanted a bride with connections in the diplomatic field. Has this girl such connections?”
“No.”
“Has she had a fine education, perhaps, or experience in running a great house that would make up for her deficiencies in other areas? Is she a skilled hostess, who can organize a ball, a Venetian breakfast, or a dinner for fifty at a moment’s notice?”
He gritted his teeth. “You know she has not. But most new brides are unskilled in this area, too, and yet—”
“The difference is that most of them—and all the gels on my list—have grown up assisting their mothers in the conducting of such events. They, at least, know how it should be done.”
He set his jaw. “It doesn’t matter. Miss Woodford and I have—”
“This girl has no idea how to further your career. She will be completely out of her depth. For heaven’s sake, Nash, it will be a disaster for your career.”
Nash set his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”
His aunt’s eyes almost threw sparks, they snapped so angrily. “Doesn’t matter? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
He hadn’t planned to tell her so soon, had planned to let her learn it gradually, but there was no way around it now. He said with a casual air, “I may not remain in the diplomatic service.”
“What the devil do you mean?”
“I might take up, er, animal husbandry.”
“Animal husbandry?” she echoed with loathing.
“Yes, now I have an estate, there is no need for me to keep traveling. It’s very tedious moving from place to place all the time—”
“Tedious? You love it.”
“—so I’m considering settling down to run Uncle Jasper’s—that is, my estate. Breeding animals and . . . er, growing things.”
The lorgnette dropped. “You? A farmer? Pigs might fly!” She stared beadily at him. “So, it’s come to that, has it? In that case, there’s no alternative: you’ll have to buy the gel off.”
Nash stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, buy her off. It’s the only thing to do—unless you’ve tumbled her already. In which case you might have to find her a husband.” She raised the lorgnette again. “Have you?”
“None of your damned business, Aunt. And I’ll be damned if I buy her off.” He thought about it and if he hadn’t been so angry, he might have smiled at the thought of how Maddy would react. “If I tried, she’d fling it back in my face.”
She snorted. “Because you’re worth more to her in marriage.”
“She’s not after my money.”
“Nonsense, of course she is—not that I blame her for that. According to that maid of hers, she was about to be tossed into the streets.”
Nash said nothing. He wasn’t about to confirm or deny it. Not that his aunt cared.
“And up you rode like a character out of a fairy tale, fell off your horse, scrambled your brains so you didn’t know whether you were Arthur or Martha, and before you know it, little Miss Woodford had her hooks in you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she caused the accident in the first place.”
Nash clenched his fists. “That’s not how it was.”
“Faugh!” she exclaimed. “Men are so blind. Made you think yourself a hero, did she?”
Nash clenched his fists. If his aunt were a man, he’d hit her. “My mind is made up. I will marry Miss Woodford. You may say what you will to me in private, but I insist you treat her with respect. If not . . .” He gave her a hard look.
His aunt raised her well-plucked brows so high they almost disappeared into her coiffure. “Like that, is it?”
“It is.”
She drank the last of her sherry and set down the glass with a sniff. “Even Harry, with all the disadvantages of his birth, managed to get himself an earl’s daughter.”
“Harry didn’t ‘get himself an earl’s daughter.’ He fell in love with a woman who happened to be one. There’s a difference.”
She eyed him shrewdly. “Is that it? Have you fallen in love with this gel?”
“No,” he said shortly. “But it is a matter of honor.” And besides, he liked her. And desired her. But he wasn’t going to justify his feelings to his aunt. She could accept his decision—and Maddy—or she could take herself off.
“Honor!” She snorted. “Foolish male notion. You’ve let a doe-eyed schemer—”
“Aunt,” he said in a warning voice.
She gave him a long look, then shrugged. “Very well, if that’s how you want it . . .”
“I do.”
“What do we do about the ball? Everyone has been invited—la crème de la crèm—and everyone has accepted, even your
Russian grand duchess.”
Nash smiled with confidence he did not feel. “It goes ahead, of course. Only it will be a wedding ball.”
“Then you’d better get her a dress. A whole wardrobe, in fact. The dress she’s wearing now I wouldn’t give a housemaid to dust with.”
“I have that in hand.”
She gave him a skeptical glance. “What arrangements have you made? The season starts in a few weeks and every dressmaker of note will be working around the clock as it is. It will hardly add to her consequence if she’s dressed by some provincial dressmaker.”
“I have obtained the services of the finest mantua maker in London.”
“The finest mantua maker in London is a Frenchwoman and very exclusive—my own mantua maker, Giselle.”
Nash bowed. “Precisely.”
Aunt Maude gaped. “You’ve got Giselle to agree to leave London on the eve of the season? I don’t believe it!”
“Not quite. Giselle has Miss Woodford’s measurements and coloring and is making up several dresses, including a wedding dress. Any day now I expect her assistant to arrive for final fittings before the wedding and to finish off the garments. Then she will return to London, and when we arrive, Giselle will be ready with the rest.”
His aunt regarded him with something akin to awe. “How on earth did you manage that? Giselle is notoriously difficult.”
Nash merely smiled and said, “I have my ways, Aunt.” His ways including a hefty wad of cash and a lot of fast talking from one of his most skilled and charming colleagues in the diplomatic service. He now owed a lot of favors, but it was worth it, if only for the look on his aunt’s face.
She stared at him a long time, then shook her head. “It will be a criminal waste if you molder on Jasper’s estate instead of putting those skills to use in the service of your country, but if that’s what you want . . .” She waved a dismissive hand. “Now take yourself off and tell Nell I’ll be down for a cup of tea in ten minutes.”
“Yes, Aunt.”
“And I’ll be polite to that young woman but I won’t promise to like her.” She held out her hand in clear dismissal.
Nash kissed it. “You will once you get to know her, I’m sure. Thank you for all your help, dear Aunt Maude, and for arranging the ball. I know you are troubled about this wedding, but I assure you it will all work out.”