The Honourable Fortune Hunter (Scandalous Miss Brightwells 5)

“Except that I am not invited.” He sank back into his chair and looked darkly into his glass. “My grandfather and Lord Quamby were once thick as thieves, but I’m persona non grata these days and there’s not a thing I can do about it.”

Lizzy’s impulse to brush this aside was checked by his apparent genuine distress. He really did look as if the weight of the world were upon his shoulders, for his eyes, which she’d noticed earlier were a very nice grey, were now almost black with emotion. Lizzy, who had recently been greatly moved by Mrs Radcliffe’s thrilling Mysteries of Udolpho knew this was just how the hero Valencourt must have looked when his heart was broken by the lovely, enterprising Emily.

She therefore knew just the kind of succour a heroine was required to render in such a situation.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Mr McAlister!” she said, rising from her ottoman to kneel by his chair, putting a comforting hand upon his back. “Lady Q

uamby probably dropped your invitation and it’s fallen behind a cushion. Or the maid accidentally used it as a spill to light the fire, only won’t admit it. Or the mail coach was held up and—”

“Please, stop, Miss Scott!” cried Mr McAlister, putting his head in his hands.

“Oh, do call me Lizzy. I feel that Christian names are not only appropriate, but necessary, in times of great calamity and surely there can be no greater calamity than being cut by one of the greatest families in the county when it’s clear you’re in need of patronage—or a rich wife, for I couldn’t help noticing that one of your chimney stacks was crumbling. So, of course you’d want to be at Quamby House in order to properly propose to your heiress there.” Lizzy continued to stroke his back since he hadn’t objected, and went on, “And since I would like to repay your kindness, I insist that you accompany me to Quamby House where I shall—with great subtlety, I promise!—make Lady Quamby realise her oversight in not sending you an invitation so that she will rectify her omission and order a chamber to be made up for you on the spot.”

“Your subtlety would be much appreciated.” He rolled his shoulders and Lizzy dropped her hand, uncertainly. But when he saw her face, he sent her a rueful smile. “Your concern is touching. Thank you…Lizzy. We can talk about it in the morning.”

Since he looked like he was about to dismiss her when Lizzy felt the evening had only just begun, she glanced hopefully at the brandy decanter as she countered, “Or we could discuss arrangements now?”

He shook his head. “Young ladies who have had severe shocks do not get a fourth brandy in an evening.”

“It would be a third.”

“Nor a third, either. Now, off to bed, Lizzy or I shall have to enlist Mrs Rice to assist you, forcibly. Your hair is dry, and I am certainly the worse for wear after today’s little adventure.”

Lizzy was about to object but then thought better of it. It was true that he did look a little pale and ‘jaundiced around the gills’ as Mrs Hodge was wont to put it. Though his gills—or rather his chin—was a nice, firm, and resolute one.

But then, so was Mr Dalgleish’s, she had to remind herself.

Which meant that Mr McAlister’s chin, or any other part of him, was out of bounds since he’d said his heart was engaged by another, and he was clearly very much upset at being denied the opportunity of spending the next few days with the young lady to whom he intended to propose.

“Very well,” she said, reluctantly, rising to her feet but finding that the world wasn’t quite as properly on its axis as she’d thought it was, for Mr McAlister had to put out a steadying hand to stop her stumbling back against the fire screen. “Sleep well, Mr McAlister, my noble rescuer.” She smiled through something of a haze, her heart very full of gratitude at having enjoyed the most wonderfully exciting day of her life. “But don’t trouble yourself about tomorrow. One good turn deserves another, as my excellent late father used to say. So, despite the fact it was you who plunged me into such a desperate predicament, you did come good, and I shan’t forget it.” She hiccupped slightly and put her hand to her mouth, though Mr McAlister did not seem to mind, for he was smiling at her with a look that suggested he was most taken by her artful words.

She pressed her lips together, thinking of all the ways she might be able to lift Mr McAlister out of the blue devils so that he’d be forever indebted to her, and said, in a burst of inspiration, “I am very well connected, and Mrs Hodge’s late husband was highly esteemed by those at Quamby House, so I am entirely confident of being able to rectify the oversight in failing to ensure your invitation was sent out to you. Tomorrow we can travel together to Quamby House where you shall receive a warm welcome, and the invitation to join the Yuletide festivities that, quite obviously, was stolen by some jealous suitor who is vying for the attentions of your ladylove and therefore prepared to resort to such underhand behaviour in order to eliminate his competition.”

Mr McAlister inclined his head. “Thank you, Lizzy. Now go to bed…and go to sleep for sleep is what you need.” He waved a hand in the direction of the door. “And do not be distracted by the collection of romance novels by Jane’s bedside for she too was marvellously enamoured of Mrs Radcliffe and her Mysteries of Udolpho— though you may help yourself to a volume to pass the time during the journey tomorrow for I won’t have the energy to keep up with your chatter.”

“So you will come with me!” Lizzy clapped her hands together, her sudden pleasure at his surprise announcement erasing the disappointment she’d felt at having the source of her marvellous conspiracy theories revealed as unoriginal. “And there is no need to worry, Mr McAlister. I shall ensure your journey is not in vain.”

He yawned. “If I am worried about anything, Lizzy, it’s that I shall be expected to offer an opinion upon every passing landmark, and, if my brow is creased as a result, be accused of agonising over my reception at Quamby House, when nothing could be further from the truth. I am properly reconciled to the fact that society has pegged me as a libertine and a fortune hunter.”

“Then I shall see that you are redeemed in society’s eyes.” Lizzy thrust out her chin, a new sense of purpose firing her with energy and enthusiasm for the future. “And I shall not vex you with a running commentary of the passing scenery. However, if I might borrow your sister’s copy of Mrs Radcliffe’s Romance of the Forest, I could read to you to help pass the time, for you may find that soothing. The only compliment Mrs Hodge has ever paid to me is on my reading manner, for she has me read to her every night.”

“Thank you, Lizzy, but…” Mr McAlister raked his fingers through the curls of his fashionably cut hair and closed his eyes “I think I would prefer to sleep.”

Chapter 5

“Ahem.”

At the third delicate clearing of her voice, Theodore reluctantly opened his eyes and directed an enquiring look at Lizzy. He’d been enjoying the gentle rolling motion of the carriage.

He had been enjoying the silence too, for he’d allowed her to chatter to her heart’s content during the first hour of their journey before sleep had claimed him.

It hadn’t been feigned, either, for he’d barely slept last night, his mind being in such disorder over his likely reception at Quamby House.

“I was checking to see if you were awake, and if you were, thought you might wish to be diverted. I’d be happy to read to you. Mabel is very anxious to hear what happens next in Romance of the Forest, aren’t you, Mabel? And we thought you might be, too.”

The little chit was smiling brightly at him over the top of her book; and now her maid put down her knitting and added, “We did, sir, fer yer bin sleepin’ ever so long an’ I’ve jest bin dyin’ ter know if wot poor Miss Adeline’s bin seein’ is a real proper ghost.”

Theodore considered the offer. Having located Lizzy’s trunk by the river’s edge, she was now in possession of a wardrobe befitting an heiress, he supposed, for her carriage dress was of finely woven blue wool with all the à la mode trimmings that would have had Jane in a fever of admiration.