“Oh, thank you!” Her smile lit up her whole face. “Now I feel like you’re at last letting your guard down, and I promise you I shall repay the compliment—and your bravery—and do what I can to rectify this terrible situation that’s obviously giving you sleepless nights.”

“They’ll tell you I’m a philanderer who kidnapped a young lady on her way to her wedding.” Theo had his head sunk in his hands so he couldn’t see the horror in her eyes.

He glanced up when he heard her gasp, but to his surprise her expression was rapt with wonder. “How romantic!”

“No!” He shook his head. “It wasn’t romantic at all! It was terrible. What I mean to say is…it all went so terribly wrong!”

She was about to reply when the coachman called down from the box, “Do I drop yer inter the town, first, like yer asked, sir, or drop the young miss at the Big 'Ouse which is right up ahead an’ through them trees?”

Chapter 6

“What were you thinking, Antoinette?” Fanny cried as she hurried into the drawing room.

Antoinette, who was showing off her new Pomona-green round gown to an appreciative audience consisting of her husband and Fenton, turned with a look of surprise.

“Of what do I stand accused that should put you in such high dudgeon, sister dearest?” she enquired. “Am I supposed to have made off with your jewel box when mine is vastly superior?” She sent Quamby an adoring look. “Or, has some lover’s tiff sent you into the boughs and I’m the unfortunate victim of your chagrin when surely dear Fenton is far more culpable than I—of anything, really?”

The simpering smile she sent both the gentlemen was repaid, in kind, which did nothing to improve Fanny’s temper. In fact, she stamped her foot.

“Antoinette! What possessed you to invite Mr McAlister to be your guest for the next four days. Mr McAlister! Do you know how people will talk? They’ll see it as a sign that we condone what he did!”

“Mr McAlister?” Antoinette wrinkled her nose in puzzlement before exhaling on a gasp of enlightenment. “Goodness, was that fine young man who arrived in the shabby carriage with that adorable little chit really the notorious Theodore McAlister?” With a giggle, she added, “In front of whose nose we promised Mrs Hodge we would not dangle her valuable cargo; poor, innocent little Miss Lizzy Scott.” Antoinette’s eyes shone. “Is he really the young man who rescued Lizzy—who I must add is a diamond of the first water which makes me wonder what else I shouldn’t believe that comes out of Mrs Hodge’s mouth.”

“It’s not amusing, Antoinette!” Fanny knew she sounded uncommonly vexed and was even more so when Antoinette said airily, “Really, Fanny, the man has served his time in Purgatory, but if you wish it, I shall ensure precious Miss Scott is kept well out of his orbit. They only took a carriage ride together, you know.”

“I don’t care a fig about Lizzy Scott. I don’t suppose she’s in danger, anyway. Not with Mrs Hodge breathing fire through her nose at the slightest hint of misbehaviour. It’s Miss Amelia Harcourt I am concerned about!”

This pronouncement changed the mood in the room. Even Lord Quamby, as relaxed as any, harrumphed. Fenton, balanced on the arm of one of the sofas, contemplated his pumps. “How could I have forgotten Miss Harcourt was here?”

Quamby cleared his throat again. “Rather a forgettable little personage, really,” he murmured. “However, as you inferred, young Amelia is under my care until Lord Leighton arrives to claim her. Her uncle would not be inclined to forgive us, I suspect, if he knew we had invited Mr McAlister to our little gathering.”

Fenton, who was studying his his fob watch, looked up. “She’s surely not likely to allow herself to be seduced and whisked away like her poor sister, though. God rest poor Catherine Harcourt’s soul but she was a dashing piece and nothing like mousey Amelia.”

“Really Fenton! Did Catherine allow herself to be seduced and whisked away by Mr McAlister?” Quamby said with more energy than usual. “No, she was kidnapped. Amelia might be a little brown peahen, but her fortune puts her at risk. It’s far from ideal that McAlister should darken our doorstep while she’s here.”

“Then we shall all keep a collective eye on her,” stated Antoinette.

“And on Miss Scott,” added Fanny, “since Mr McAlister has just spent a number of hours in a coach turning her head, no doubt. I suppose we can hardly rescind our offer of accommodation—not when the fellow risked his life to save Miss Scott as she rather dramatically declared in her letter this morning,” she added uncertainly. “Though I find it rather telling that she omitted to mention his name.”

Quamby shifted his gouty leg upon the ottoman. “Good thing that Lord Leighton isn’t due until after the house party. He is on his way from France now, full of e

xpectation for reuniting with his bride-to-be. I think we won’t mention McAlister’s name, eh?”

Fanny sucked in a breath. “Oh dear, I know you think I’m playing it too rum, but Mr McAlister must feel like the fox who’s got into the henhouse. He’s simply spoiled for choice when it comes to heiresses in danger of falling victim to his charms…and Antoinette has invited him here. Do you know what it’s going to be like having to listen to Mrs Hodge on the subject?”

“Ah, so there we have it?” Antoinette regarded Fanny with scorn. “You are only concerned about the drubbing you’re going to receive from Mrs Hodge for perceived dereliction of duty! You’re not worried at all about Miss Scott or Miss Harcourt, are you, Fanny?” She put her hands on her shapely hips. “I must say, I am relieved to have discovered your true motivation for I was convinced you’d lost all sense of fun and possibility.”

Fanny shook her head. “No, Antoinette, we have a responsibility to the young people we invite—”

“And it’s bad enough that we consciously invite Mr Dalgleish,” Antoinette said with a pointed look at her sister, “but that I’ve invited a second fortune hunter is just not good form, eh? Well, if Mr McAlister is the true fortune hunter in our midst, I say, let him properly give Mr Dalgleish a run for his money. I say, let the best man win!” She clapped her hands. “My bet is on Dalgleish, though. Mrs Hodge wants him for Lizzy Scott, and he has a strong case for persuading her. Rawlings, Dalgleish’s family seat, is rather lovely though rundown. Miss Scott will be mistress of a fine estate once her money has paid for the necessary renovations.”

“But Mr McAlister also is a landowner of some note,” Fanny argued. “And he has shown himself to be far more ruthless and dangerous than Mr Dalgleish. He may well prove persuasive, too.”

Fenton rose and wandered off to the snuff jar on the mantelpiece. “I’m afraid McAlister’s lost the majority of what he once owned, and his home is very modest compared with Rawlings,” he said, offering the tin to Quamby. “I daresay he considered he had nothing to lose and everything to gain when he tried to run off with the late Miss Harcourt. Take heart, Fanny my love; I think your sister can be forgiven. McAlister is no threat. He’s a spent force with no reputation left to speak of. My guess is that he will find it a very lonely few days under our roof, despite his supposed heroism in rescuing Miss Scott.”

Fanny nodded slowly. “I daresay you’re right, Fenton,” she agreed, feeling her confidence return.

“And Dalgleish has much in his favour,” he husband went on. “He’s young and handsome and in line to inherit a title. Miss Scott might do well to form an attachment to the gentleman.”

Tags: Beverley Oakley Historical
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