Miss Radley's Third Dare (Miss Mayhem 3)

Faraday stood and held out his hand for Valentine to shake. The sudden dismissal had a ring of finality to it he did not like. Would Valentine be denied his wish to obtain their support for his work just because he accepted and lost a challenge?

She’d been a worthy opponent and he’d done his best. He’d not been able to match her zeal and catch her that day.

He tucked his mantel clock under his arm and reached for the pocket watch Mrs. Faraday toyed with. When he took it, Mrs. Faraday climbed to her feet. She followed him toward the front door while her husband remained behind sipping his tea.

Once in the hallway, she glanced behind them and then drew close. “The company really only admits married men to their ranks, or those soon to be married.”

The whispered warning came as a shock. “I’ve never once heard that before.”

She winced. “It is not really a secret. Most craftsmen do marry young, and your behavior with Miss Julia Radley worries my husband greatly. He supported your application to join the company as a bachelor because of your skill and connections. But even so, with the scandal, I must tell you he has met with considerable resistance.”

“I see. I have no plans to marry.” His craft consumed his every waking moment, which made the time required to pursue a lady to marry a great inconvenience at present. “What else can I do to win their good opinion?”

“If your sister had remained in Brighton, the situation might not be so problematic. Her sudden departure makes it appear she disapproves of what you’ve done.” She grasped his arm. “Without her presence to win the company over completely, then you must propose marriage to Miss Radley as soon as possible.”

“We have only ever been good neighbors. I hardly know her. I will not marry a woman just to suit the company. It is not right.” Valentine’s heart pounded. It wasn’t the first time someone had suggested he must marry Julia to wipe away the scandal of the contest. It was, however, the first time anyone had suggested that marrying Julia might be in his own best interests. “I thank you for your candor, Mrs. Faraday. Good evening.”

“Good luck, sir.” She eased the door shut behind him.

Outside, a dense fog had crept over Brighton, and knowing his home so well, he made his way to Cavendish Place without deviation, cursing under his breath. He would not tie himself to Julia just to improve his own situation. She was too young, too excitable for the quiet and serious life he wished to live. She wasn’t interested in him as a man either, except to use as a method of proving a woman could be as fast and as strong. In that alone were their goals aligned. He had been proud of her achievement, even if her success was entirely unconventional.

He let himself into his home and sighed. No, marriage to Julia wouldn’t suit either of their temperaments or needs.

“Valentine?” The query spun him about.

His cousin, Teresa Long, stood on the stairs, her hand to her throat, her dark-blonde hair down and falling over one shoulder. She had stayed behind in Brighton when his sister had returned to the family. The sea air was better for Teresa’s constitution than anywhere else and she made few demands on his time, save for the occasional request of an escort to an entertainment with friends.

He removed his hat and hung it beside the door. “What are you still doing up, cousin? I told you I would be late home tonight.”

“I couldn’t sleep. The house is always too quiet when you go out. I could not bear to close my eyes until you came home again.”

Teresa had revealed a startling timidity since his sister had gone away—small things that had previously escaped his notice seemed to set her nerves on edge. She started at strange creaks the house made from time to time. Waking him when she believed she’d heard a knock at the door or a window rattle. When he went out to his workshop, she usually visited him once a night just because she imagined a shadow from the window. Hiding what he was doing out there had proved a difficulty. Melanie’s absence had c

hanged Teresa, and not in a way he could accept.

“I’m sorry Melanie is not here to soothe you when I’m about my business. I regret having to send her away, especially tonight.” She might have helped him decide what to do next.

“I’m sure you had very good reasons for your decision. She assures me in her letters that she is quite content in Oxford. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.” Teresa smiled. “You seem troubled, Valentine. You can confide in me as well as you could in her. We are almost brother and sister. You can tell me anything and I’d never betray you.”

“Thank you.” Only Melanie understood the true reason behind his desire in applying to the company for membership and become a businessman. He wished more than anything in his life to get out from under the yoke of his parents’ expectations. He needed his independence, and going into trade would secure that. Melanie understood their restrictive conventions wore him down more every year.

However, he’d never once revealed his ambitions to go into trade to his cousin, and he hesitated to tell her now. “Well, I’m home. Off to bed with you.”

She drew close and smiled up at him. As was their habit, he extended his cheek and her lips brushed against his skin lightly. “Good night, Val.”

“Pleasant dreams.”

She crept upstairs slowly, nightgown and robe lifted above her ankles and clear of the treads. Valentine averted his eyes and, when her bedchamber door rattled, he made his way outside to his workshop for another few hours of toil. He glanced up as he crossed the yard. The fog had drifted away and it would be a fine night for stargazing if the activity still suited his interests. He hadn’t touched a telescope in over a year, not since he’d promised himself he’d go into business as a clockmaker.

As he approached the door, he couldn’t mistake the glow of light around the doorframe, and grew alarmed. An intruder? He picked up a garden spade from beside the vegetable patch and cautiously pushed on the door.

He glanced around, looking for signs of life.

A slender figure, outlined by the glow of a candle, rose from his workbench chair. “Good evening, Mr. Merton.”

He knew that voice very well, unfortunately, and dropped the spade to hurry inside. “Miss Radley?”

She moved toward him eagerly but Valentine took a step backward to keep a distance between them. “How did you get in here, and why?”