‘The Lord High Commissioner, my worthy employer, his Majesty’s representative in the Eastern Mediterranean, He Who Must Be Obeyed—Sir Thomas is arranging a marriage for her. To a Viscount, if you please.’
‘Then she must turn it down.’
‘Won’t.’ Harrison shook his head sadly. ‘Good girl, Maria, dutiful. Her mama wants her to make a good match.’
‘You are a good match.’
‘I’m not. The family is all right, but I’m just a secretary.’
‘Well, you will be a great administrator yourself someday. How did Sir Thomas start? The same way as you, I’ll be bound.’ Chance said bracingly. ‘Have you told her you love her?’ Harrison nodded morosely. ‘Does she love you?’ Another nod. ‘Right. You go and tell Sir Thomas and she can tell her mother. Neither of them can want her to be unhappy.’
‘They’ll browbeat her, tell her about duty and family and—oh, hell, I’ll just go and shoot myself.’
Chance whisked the bottle out of sight, now seriously worried. ‘Don’t do that. It makes a mess, it’s unfair on the servants and Maria will break her heart and probably go into a decline.’
‘Hadn’t thought of that.’
‘Can’t you compromise her?’ Chance could hardly believe he was saying this. It must be the effect of being in love.
‘Shouldn’t think so. No idea how to go about it. I never was much of a rake, and she’s too well brought up to go and wander in the garden in the moonlight. What would you do? You seem to understand this romance business.’
Chance potted two more balls to give himself time to think. They dined late at the Residency to make the most of the cool of the evening. ‘Do the young ladies still have a rest before dinner as they did at the villa?’
‘Yes.’ Harrison glanced at the lock. ‘I expect Lady Trevick will be waking them up shortly.’
‘Excellent. We haven’t a moment to lose. Here, drink this.’ Chance poured the remainder of the wine into Harrison’s glass and pressed it into his hand. ‘Now, we’ll just undo your neckcloth, and unbutton your waistcoat and pull out your shirt a bit…’ He stepped back and eyed the result. The secretary blinked back at him. ‘Perfect. Come along, no time to lose. Do you know which is Miss Trevick’s bedchamber? Show me.’
Chance bundled his befuddled companion up the stairs, along the passages to a door where the secretary stopped. ‘This one. But what have you done that to my clothes for?’
Chance opened the door. ‘In you go, and give the girl a damn good kissing.’ He shoved the bemused secretary between the shoulder blades and propelled him into the room.
‘What? Henry, darling—’
Chance shut the door and leaned against it. So far, so good. He thought Alessa would approve.
He did not have long to wait. Lady Trevick swept round the corner to rouse her daughters. Chance did his best to look shifty and stood in front of the door. ‘Good evening, ma’am.’ He kicked the door panel with a backward flick of his heel and coughed loudly.
‘Lord Blakeney, what exactly are you doing here?’
‘Er, got lost, ma’am. Looking for Har…I mean to say…’
‘Have you been drinking, Lord Blakeney?’ Without waiting for an answer, Lady Trevick reached for the door handle and turned it. There was a cry of alarm as the door opened.
‘Mama!’
‘Mr Harrison!’
‘Now isn’t that romantic?’ Chance observed, following the outraged mother into the room. ‘But damned indiscreet of you, old chap.’
‘Madam, I love your daughter. I beg the honour of her hand in marriage.’
Was he sufficient witness to ensure success? Chance glanced down the corridor and saw Lady Blackstone emerge from her room. ‘Ma’am, I believe Lady Trevick would welcome your support,’he said earnestly, guiding her towards Maria’s bedchamber. ‘All very unfortunate, but true love, you know how it is.’
He hung around, keeping out of sight until he heard Lady Trevick emerging with Lady Blackstone. ‘I shall have to agree to it. She seems to love him very much, and unfortunately Lord Blakeney saw it all.’ She looked back into the room. ‘Mr Harrison, I think you had better have a word with Sir Thomas. At once.’
Chance leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes with a smile of pure mischief. Harrison would be happy, poor chap, once he had been mauled by Sir Thomas and lectured by his future mother-in-law. And Alessa would be impressed by Chance’s romantic and unconventional behaviour.
He strolled off, whistling, to change for dinner. He was looking forward to tomorrow, to telling Alessa how he felt about her, to watching her face as he told her he loved her. To holding her, warm and vibrant in his arms.