The Honourable Fortune Hunter (Scandalous Miss Brightwells 5)

“Poor Mr McAlister,” Fanny remarked, earning herself a fulminating look from Mrs Hodge, who went on, “He should have been horsewhipped. His injuries are far too minor for what he has done!”

“What has he done that has so outraged you, my dear lady?” Lord Quamby, who’d arrived in the drawing room, adopted the most conciliatory tone of which Fanny knew he was capable since she knew how much he disliked Mrs Hodge. “I’m sure his crimes pale into insignificance when set against…mine, for example.”

Mrs Hodge glared at him. “I’m sure you don’t know what you’re talking about, my Lord!” she snapped before paling at the realisation of her want of conduct, though her contrition was short-lived for she rushed on, “He has become emboldened by his failure to be properly brought to justice for what happened to that poor heiress last year, so now he’s got my poor Lizzy in his sights.” She shook quite theatrically before adding grimly, “Mr McAlister set upon Mr Dalgleish when he and Lizzy were taking an innocent walk by the lake. Yes, that’s what I heard. Completely unprovoked it was, as McAlister has clearly got it into his head to try and turn Lizzy’s head.

“Good lord,” Fanny murmured. She turned to Antoinette. “Do you know anything about this, my dear?”

Antoinette looked confused. “Why, this is dreadful. I took Lizzy to the folly to meet Mr Dalgleish…”

She trailed off, and Fanny asked sharply, “What are you talking about, Antoinette?”

“Well, I knew Mr Dalgleish wanted to propose so I led Miss Scott to the folly where they could be alone. With Mrs Hodge’s approval. At least, I was quite sure I had her approval,” she added quickly.

“Unchaperoned?” Mrs Hodge raised an eyebrow before saying, “Well, indeed, a couple needs privacy when a proposal is in the wind. And you knew I endorsed the union. But obviously Mr McAlister, that wolf in sheep’s clothing, became jealous and took it into his head to attack Dalgleish in the most unprovoked manner.”

Fenton, who had put down his newspaper with a loud crackle and sigh, now sounded confused. “If my sister-in-law led Miss Scott to the folly to meet Mr Dalgleish, then back to the lake where Mr McAlister was supposedly lying-in wait, why did nobody see this crime? Are you quite sure you’ve been properly informed, Mrs Hodge?”

Mrs Hodge threw her hands up in the air. “The details are unimportant! Both men had severe facial injuries indicating a fight had taken place when I passed them in the corridor, and Mr Dalgleish told me Mr McAlister had set upon him with no provocation whatsoever.”

“And your serious allegations against Mr McAlister are based on what Mr Dalgleish told you?” Fenton asked. “Backed up by a cut lip?”

“Mr Dalgleish is a man of great integrity.” Clearly, she was not to be dissuaded for her furious rant went on with even more fervour, “Mr McAlister ought never have been allowed through the doors of Quamby House with his past so…blackened. Everyone knows he ruined Miss Harcourt’s elder sister not one year ago, yet has he been properly brought to justice?”

“I had rather thought there was less substance to those allegations than warranted anything more severe than the cold shoulder.” Fenton looked at Mrs Hodge as if he dared her to contradict him. “Granted, the girl died, but there was nothing to suggest that she didn’t go willingly with Mr McAlister.”

“He left her to die alone and ill in a tavern frequented by cut-throats—”

“That is not quite true.” Fanny had had enough, but Mrs Hodge was

not to be deflected.

“There’s no time for that now,” she snapped. “I want Mr McAlister to leave. He is not to attend tonight’s ball where my Lizzy is likely to be enticed into his arms, and goodness knows where else he might take her.”

Fanny was aware of the frisson of disgust that descended upon the room. The earl was the most genial and accommodating of men—to a degree. But he was not one to be told what to do. Mrs Hodge had crossed a line and Fanny knew it, even if she didn’t.

Lord Quamby settled himself a little more firmly into his chair. “I am the host of this evening’s entertainment, and the guest list is something decided by myself and my wife.” Although he smiled, there was a warning in his eyes. Even in his foppish, old-fashioned rig-out and outmoded wig he suddenly seemed every inch the powerful, prominent man he was.

Mrs Hodge seemed to sense it, too, for she faltered before saying in a more ameliorating tone, “But then, why would Mr McAlister want to stay when he has been roundly rejected?” She sniffed. “And there are not too many who’ve rushed to embrace him into their midst. No, Mr McAlister is persona non grata, to be sure, and I’m sure you’re right, my Lord. If Mr McAlister knows what’s good for him, he’ll take himself off long before the ball tonight.”

Chapter 21

Alone and trembling, Lizzy hunched on her bed in the grand, high chamber she occupied at Quamby House and tried not to cry.

A shaft of afternoon light slanted across the bed where she’d spent the last two hours, unmoving, since she’d returned from her dreadful experience at the folly.

What had just happened to her? Her mind was in a muddle, but she could not rid herself of her confusion.

Everything had started off well enough, but then, so suddenly, she’d seemed to find herself out of her depth. Mr Dalgleish’s kisses had started in a way that had her toes tingling and a warm feeling creeping up her legs and into her lower belly. For a moment, she’d believed she could find what was needed within herself to like the arrangement she now felt was her only alternative.

But then Mr Dalgleish had grown suddenly impatient or overeager. She couldn’t make sense of it. He’d begun to rush things in a way she didn’t understand, and she didn’t like. What was all that with his hands creeping up her legs, pushing up her skirt? The sense of invasion had been at first uncomfortable, then unnerving, then downright terrifying.

And she hadn’t had the least idea how to extricate herself from the situation.

She’d tried to push him away, but he seemed to heed nothing of what she wanted.

“Miss?” Mabel put her head round the door with an enquiring look. “Are yer all right, miss? It’s jest, the mistress wants ter see yer now.”

Lizzy brought her hands to her eyes. “Tell her I’ll see her later.” She glanced down at the hem of her skirts, and Mabel, intuiting that Lizzy’s reluctance was on account of the tear that was now apparent, crossed the room, saying soothingly, “It won’t take yer a moment ter change, miss. An’ I can mend that t’night. It’s jest that madam was so outta sorts an’ so insistent I think ’twould be best if yer didn’t disappoint ’er.”