The Honourable Fortune Hunter (Scandalous Miss Brightwells 5)

And by then it was too late.

Now he noticed Amelia, his salvation, standing a few feet from him. As if willing him to raise his head from his brandy and look her in the eye. Who would have thought the child he’d known as Jane’s playmate would grow up with such courage and determination—all so well hidden beneath her bland and missish demeanour.

He was puzzled by the look in her eye. On the periphery of a group of women, she stood alone, her stance forlorn, her expression almost stricken.

“Amelia?” He made a move towards her, but as he was about to speak, she tossed her head and turned her back on him. “Amelia? What is it?”

“I think the young lady wishes to be left alone.”

A severe-looking woman in dove grey addressed him in reproving tones, stepping forward to prevent Theo from getting any nearer.

After an initial jolt of shock, he remembered Amelia’s ploy. A small act on her part but perhaps noted in the right quarters. He supposed she had chosen her moment for the greatest effect and knew who would be watching.

With a sigh, he turned, searching for something or someone on whom he could train his attention as a means of alleviating his embarrassment. How much he disliked being the villain, yet again.

“Theodore McAlister, I have been remiss is not properly thanking you for rescuing this lovely damsel in distress.”

Theodore swung round to see Dalgleish approaching, a proprietorial hand beneath Lizzy’s elbow. She did not appear to dislike Dalgleish’s close proximity. However, her gaze was fixed firmly on Theodore. There was something sweet and almost yearning in her expression.

And it spoke to his heart.

Then his sense of honour collided with a stab of guilt and he nearly winced. Rising from a small bow, he said, “I could hardly watch a carriage plunge into the river before me and do nothing. There was nothing heroic about it.” He had to be very careful not to make eye contact with Lizzy, and wished the reason he turned his head slightly away was that the pearls woven through her golden locks were dazzling, and not that she really was the most beautiful young lady in the room.

In his eyes, certainly.

The way Dalgleish was looking at her suggested that he thought the same, and the observation twisted in his gut like a dagger. Dalgleish wanted her for her money, but he wanted her for her womanly charms too, and that was what was so unpalatable.

“I beg to disagree,” Dalgleish said. He seemed to think a moment, then added on what appeared to be a burst of inspiration, “I trust you are being suitably lauded for your actions, nevertheless. Your infamous reputation must have…hampered many opportunities these past months.” He sent a meaningful look around the illustrious company before returning a fixed glance at Theodore.

“And why is Mr McAlister infamous?” Lizzy giggled like a silly schoolroom chit, but Theodore recognised it for what it was. A ploy to perhaps punish him for last night. He realised how much he’d have injured her dignity.

Theo quirked a brow. Dalgleish would offer his own interpretation, which would give Theo an opportunity to hear how his exploits were generally described. Perhaps it was better this way. What did it matter if his past was laid bare?

“A gentleman does not publicly slander another in polite company,” Dalgleish said with a smirk.

“Is that what you would do? Or have been doing?” Theo pretended puzzlement. “For the fact that I rescued a young lady from an unwelcome marriage?” He felt the anger bubble up inside him and tried to remain calm. After the drama had unfolded, he had tried his best to make known Catherine’s terrible predicament. But the Harcourt girls’ uncle, Mr Grainger, had legal responsibility for them, and Grainger’s friend, Lord Leighton, Catherine’s betrothed, were far better connected than Theo. Theo’s attempts to explain the real situation had soon sounded hollow to even his ears—for no one would listen.

“You would charge me with kidnap, Dalgleish? When the young lady came willingly with me?”

“Kidnap?” Lizzy’s eyes shone more from excitement than horror, it would appear. “That is a very great crime, Mr McAlister. I hope it’s the worst of them.”

Dalgleish chuckled. “We will leave it there, shall we?” he said, nodding curtly.

“With an undefended charge of kidnap? No, do go on, Mr Dalgleish, if you think there’s worse.”

“The girl died. I think that is what people are up in arms about. She needn’t have died.” Something snapped in Dalgleish’s tone and he went on with a strong note of grievance, “She was left alone in a common inn. Ill and in need of loving care. A disreputable place for a young lady like herself to be in the first place. And that is where she died. Alone. It was her distraught husband-to-be who found her. The man who should have married her just twenty-four hours before you, Mr McAlister, kidnapped her…” Dalgleish paused for effect. “Then you abandoned her to die alone.”

For once, Theo had no response. Everything Harry Dalgleish had said was true. Catherine had died, alone and ill. But she had begged Theo to carry out every act he had done on her behalf.

He saw Lizzy looking at him, unsure and unsettled by Dalgleish’s anger—for Dalgleish was good. It was as if he really had a valid grievance and that Theo truly was beyond redemption.

“How did…Miss Harcourt die?” Lizzy asked in a small voice.

“Of fever.” What more could Theo say. “Now, pray excuse me.” Since it was more in his interests to disabuse Lizzy of any tender feelings she might have for him, he let it go. Though, lord knew, he wished they could have parted with her thinking him the hero she had once believed him to be.

Chapter 17

Theo would have left there and then, only he was invited into a group of gentlemen talking hounds and horses. They were no doubt too in their cups to know who he was.