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Authors: Dorothy Elbury

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #Romance & Sagas, #Historical romance

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BOOK: A Marriageable Miss
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In answer, Wheatley’s eyes bulged, a weak gurgle issued from his lips and, to his visitor’s consternation, he slumped forwards on to his desk, his outflung hands knocking over the inkstand and scattering his pile of papers in all directions.

Anxiously casting around for the bell-rope, the earl located it on the wall next to the marble fireplace and, having given it two hefty pulls, hurried back to Wheatley’s side where, gently lifting the man’s wrist away from the pool of ink into which it had fallen, he felt for some signs of life.

He was just beginning to discern a faint thready pulse beat when the door opened and a footman entered.

‘You must send at once for a doctor,’ barked the earl, without looking up. ‘Your master appears to have suffered some sort of attack.’

With a horrified gasp, the servant backed out of the room and hurried away to carry out the order.

Richard, meanwhile, was doing his best to make the old gentleman more comfortable. He had managed to untie the knot in Wheatley’s neckcloth and was endeavouring to unwind the linen band when he found himself violently thrust to one side, almost causing him to overbalance.

‘What have you done to him?’ an irate female voice demanded.

‘Hold hard, madam!’ he protested, ruefully rubbing his elbow, which had struck the corner of Wheatley’s high-backed chair in the foregoing scuffle. ‘I must assure you that Mr Wheatley’s collapse was not of my making!’

‘Get out!’ snapped Helena, as she knelt beside her father’s chair trying to get some response from her unconscious parent. ‘I beg of you—just go!’

Biting back the sharp put-down that had been on his lips, the earl, having quickly reached the conclusion that his presence
seemed to be causing more of a hindrance than help, turned sharply on his heel and made for the open door. Clicking his fingers at the footman in the hall, he retrieved his hat and gloves and, without waiting to be helped into his greatcoat, left the house without a backward glance.

Chapter Three

‘A
nd she refused to allow you to explain yourself?’ exclaimed Lady Isobel in amazement, having listened to her grandson’s recital of the afternoon’s extraordinary events.

‘She told me to get out,’ replied Richard curtly. ‘In the circumstances, I could hardly argue with the girl, now could I?’

Striving to hide her disappointment over the fact that her resourceful scheme had gone so badly awry, the dowager pursed her lips. ‘I take it that you were not impressed with the gel? Was she as ill favoured as you had supposed?’

‘I was hardly given the opportunity to study her in depth.’ The earl shrugged. ‘I merely caught sight of her peering out of an upper window as I was arriving—she looked to be a plain, gawky sort of creature and, of course, she had her back to me in the study, so I was unable to determine the full extent of her charms. However, her manner did seem to be singularly unattractive and I have to say that it came as no great surprise to me to learn that she has already managed to frighten off no less than three aspiring suitors.’

‘Such a pity,’ sighed the dowager. ‘All our hopes dashed at the first hurdle.’ Then, eyeing her grandson speculatively, she added, ‘Although, it would be perfectly in order for you to pay a further visit to enquire as to how the poor man does.’

‘I would just as soon not, if it’s all the same to you,’ returned Richard tersely. ‘That agreement that your Mr Wheatley wanted me to sign was quite enough to put me off, thank you very much. The fellow seems to be looking for a veritable gigolo! I’ll have you know that I still have some pride left!’

‘Then we must hope that your resolve remains just as implacable when the bailiffs start to dun us for money that we don’t have,’ returned Lady Isobel with a resigned sniff. Then, after a slight pause, she continued in a somewhat plaintive tone, ‘And, of course, I shall not press you, my boy. It is your heritage, after all. I, myself, will soon be dust and ashes!’ And, dabbing affectedly at her eyes, she gave a heavy sigh. ‘I had, of course, always supposed that I would be buried in the Hall’s own chapel, alongside your dear dead grandfather!’

Well acquainted with his grandmother’s affectations, Richard had long ago learned when appeasement was the better part of confrontation. Furthermore, since the latest request from one of his creditors had been couched in a somewhat more belligerent manner than those received previously, it was reasonable to assume that should one creditor decide to take immediate action, the rest would be sure to follow like a pack of wolves, spelling financial disaster.

‘Very well, you old harridan, I will give your blessed scheme another try!’

‘That is very sensible of you, Richard,’ said his grandmother, brightening. ‘One ought not to allow one’s personal feelings to interfere with the ultimate objective. Besides which, it is infinitely possible that you might find that the Wheatley gel has hidden talents.’

‘Possible, but highly unlikely,’ Richard ground out, as he made his way towards the salon door. ‘But, since it is, apparently, her father’s money that I need to keep in my sights, I suppose I shall have to do my best to try to worm my way into the creature’s good books—regardless of her decidedly unattractive disposition.’

But, as he left the room, his jaw tightened and, under his breath, he murmured to himself, ‘Dear God above! What sort of a fellow is this business turning me into?’

 

The next morning, however, the earl was not a little surprised to receive a note from Miss Wheatley asking him if he would be so good as to call into Cadogan Place that afternoon. Although he had decided to comply with his grandmother’s suggestion, this timely invitation now meant that he would no longer have to return to the house ‘cap in hand,’ so to speak, for which reprieve he was profoundly thankful.

Therefore, it was in a considerably lighter frame of mind that, sharp on the dot of three o’clock that afternoon, he presented himself at the Wheatley house, whereupon he was straight away shown up to a pleasantly appointed sitting room on the first floor.

At his entrance, two equally elegantly clad young ladies turned to greet him; Miss Wheatley, he presumed, as he executed his bow, being the aquiline-featured, mousy-haired female whom he had spotted at the window on his previous visit. However, upon raising his eyes, he met the challenging stare of her very striking companion who, having returned to her own seat, indicated that he should take the chair opposite.

‘It was very good of your lordship to come,’ said this chestnut-haired vision, in a clear, mellow tone of voice which, noted the earl, his temporary loss of composure now restored, was quite as attractive as its owner and who, it was now becoming increasingly obvious to him, was in fact the daughter of the house.

‘Not at all, Miss Wheatley,’ he eventually found himself saying. ‘It is my pleasure, I assure you. I would, of course, have called in any case, to enquire after your father’s health. I trust that he suffered no serious hurt from yesterday’s unfortunate incident?’

‘Thank you for your concern, my lord,’ she replied coolly while, at the same time, beckoning Lottie to come forwards. ‘I am happy to say that he does, indeed, seem to be on the mend—please allow me to introduce my cousin and companion, Miss Charlotte Daniels.’

Rising to his feet, Richard bent his head and raised Lottie’s outstretched hand to his lips, which unexpected gallantry caused that young woman’s cheeks to turn bright scarlet and her heart to flutter
quite atrociously. Bobbing a swift curtsy, she returned hurriedly to her seat where, still overcome, she took refuge in her book.

Finding herself somewhat irritated, not only as a result of her cousin’s gauche behaviour, but rather more so by Markfield’s extravagantly high-flown gesture, Helena, who had been agreeably surprised when the earl had walked into the room, was beginning to think that he was no better than any of her previous would-be suitors.

When she had arrived in the study on the previous afternoon to find him bent over her unconscious parent, other than pushing the visitor to one side, she had given him scant regard. Lottie had, of course, regaled her with enthusiastic descriptions of his dark, wavy hair, shapely limbs and broad-shouldered elegance, all of which Helena, for the most part, had ignored. In fact, had it not been for Mr Wheatley’s insistence that she should write and ask Markfield to pay another call, there, as far as she was concerned, the matter would have rested. However, loath to cause her father any unnecessary anxiety in his present fragile state, Helena felt that she had no choice but to obey his instructions that, since his own consultation with Markfield had been all but finalised before his seizure, she herself should complete the interview, which merely needed the earl’s signature on the document. Once this was obtained, Helena knew that she was then committed to yet another dreary round of accompanying the man to any tedious function to which he had managed to procure an invitation. Having already undergone similar ordeals with Markfield’s three predecessors—as undistinguished a set of no-hopers as one might ever expect to come across—the prospect of wasting still more of her time in another such pointless exercise filled her with the utmost despondency.

Nevertheless, after she had taken stock of her visitor, Helena found herself experiencing the oddest sense of disappointment that this latest contender for her hand had shown himself to be just as shallow as his peers.

Richard, having resumed his seat, was waiting patiently for his hostess to offer some explanation for her note. He knew that it
was hardly likely that she had invited him here to apologise for her untoward behaviour on the previous afternoon and, since he had already expressed his regret over Wheatley’s mishap, he was beginning to feel that, other than the usual trite remarks about the weather, there was little that he could add to the conversation.

Uncomfortably aware of his intent gaze, Helena felt a warm flush creep across her cheeks and, vexed that his scrutiny should have such a remarkable effect upon her normally calm demeanour, she braced herself to carry out her father’s wishes and decided to go straight into the attack.

‘May I take it that you have read these requirements?’ she enquired, gesturing to a small table nearby upon which lay not only the dreaded document from Wheatley’s study but, in addition, an inkwell, a sandpot and a pair of newly sharpened quills.

‘Oh, I hardly think that this is a suitable subject—’ he began, somewhat taken aback at such a direct approach to what was, after all, a rather delicate matter and one that was, insofar as he was concerned, strictly between the girl’s parent and himself.

‘Nonsense!’ she interrupted briskly. ‘It is as much my affair as it is your own! Besides which, my father has expressed the wish that the business should be completed without further ado and so—if you are of a mind to agree to his terms…?’

Frowning, the earl flicked his eyes over to Helena’s companion who, he saw with some exasperation, was gazing at him in breathless fascination. Getting to his feet, he crossed the short distance between himself and his hostess and, lowering his voice, murmured, ‘I am inclined to think that a little more privacy might be in order for a discussion such as this, would you not agree?’

As the barely discernible scent of his lemon-verbena cologne wafted across her nostrils, Helena felt her pulses quickening, immediately causing her to reach the conclusion that this clearly practised popinjay seemed to be attempting, in her father’s absence, to gain some sort of advantage over her undoubted lack of experience in handling transactions of this kind. An indignant spurt of fury ran through her and, leaning well away from his undeniably compelling magnetism, she waved her hand dismissively.

‘That will not be necessary, your lordship,’ she said, in as airy a tone as she could conjure up. ‘You may rest assured that my cousin is perfectly well acquainted with my father’s plans for my future.’ And, picking up one of the pens, she held it out to him. ‘Will you sign first or shall I? My father has given me his authority.’

For, possibly, the first time in the whole of his twenty-nine years Richard found himself at something of a loss. It was becoming increasingly apparent to him that Lady Isobel’s stockbroker’s daughter was no ordinary title seeker. Indeed, the young lady appeared to have all the necessary qualities one might look for, if one were truly in search of a wife and, in any other situation, he might well have been tempted into getting to know her better. Nevertheless, since he considered his word far above any mere signature on a document, and despite the impending disastrous consequences of his actions, he was certainly not about to enter into any sort of written agreement.

‘Lord Markfield?’

Conscious that both of the ladies were watching his movements intently, the earl’s lips tightened. ‘I fear that I shall have to decline your father’s offer, Miss Wheatley,’ he said abruptly. ‘I find that I am, after all, unable to meet his—requirements. Please forgive me for wasting so much of your time.’ With which, he executed a stiff bow and turned to leave the room.

In consternation, Helena leapt to her feet and attempted to bar his way. ‘But you cannot mean to leave!’ she gasped. ‘That is—I gave Papa my word that I would soon have the matter tied up—may I be permitted to know what has caused you to change your mind?’

Looking down at the girl’s lovely face, with her exquisite blue eyes now so full of concern, Richard experienced a sharp pang of regret that he had not met her under more favourable circumstances. Immediately putting aside that obstructive thought, however, he made some attempt to formulate an adequate reply to her question.

‘I have not exactly changed my mind, Miss Wheatley,’ he began. ‘As it happens, it was not fully made up in the first place.’

‘Am I to take it then that you have been offended by my forth-
rightness?’ she faltered, suddenly conscious of the fact that she should, perhaps, have waited until the earl had signed the agreement before she set about demolishing his pretensions.

A swift smile creased his face. ‘No such thing, I promise you,’ he assured her. ‘Your candour is most refreshing.’

Although deeply perplexed, Helena found herself strangely unwilling to allow him to leave before she had discovered the true reason for his
volte-face
.

‘Then,
why?
’ she persisted, steadfastly ignoring the sound of her cousin’s sharp intake of breath.

Richard hesitated momentarily then, with a slight lift of his shoulders, said, ‘The fact of the matter is, Miss Wheatley, that I find I am having considerable difficulty in coming to terms with the idea of being—bought off—if you will excuse the expression!’

She flushed. ‘But I was under the impression that that was the whole point of the scheme!’ she rejoined. ‘Your title for my hand—or rather—the fortune that goes along with it! Why did you offer yourself up if you find the whole idea so repellent?’

Shaking his head, the earl stepped away from her. ‘I fear that it is far too complicated a matter to go into here, Miss Wheatley so, if you will excuse me, I will bid you “good day” and thank you again for your patience.’

‘No, wait, please!’ exclaimed Helena, now in some desperation. The thought of having to tell her father that she had failed to carry out his mission did not sit readily with her and, racking her brain for some sort of inspiration, a possible way out of the dilemma occurred to her. ‘I do have another suggestion—if you will hear me out?’

Richard gave an impatient shrug. ‘Naturally, I will listen to what you have to say, Miss Wheatley,’ he said wearily. ‘But, I must assure you that it will not alter my decision.’

‘You cannot possibly know that until you have heard what I am about to suggest!’ she flashed back at him. ‘Now, do sit down and hear me out, I beg you.’

Stifling the smile that was threatening to form, the earl returned to his seat where, leaning back, he folded his arms and waited ex
pectantly. He was not a little intrigued as to why the lady should be so anxious to stay his departure since, as far as he had been able to gather from his grandmother, she had given every one of her previous suitors very short shrift before he had been sent on the rightabout. Not that he numbered himself among such fly-by-nights as Barrington, Arnold and Farley, he was quick to remind himself. In fact, having spent some time considering the various snippets of information that the dowager had imparted, it had not taken him long to arrive at the conclusion that Miss Helena Wheatley was, possibly, not altogether enamoured of her father’s plans for her future and might well have been going to considerable lengths to sabotage them. Her initial coolness towards him on his arrival had reinforced this belief and had, in the end, gone some way in strengthening his resolve to quit. Although he was achingly aware of the highly parlous state of his affairs, he could see no reason for compounding an already shameful situation by setting himself up as a target for general ridicule.

BOOK: A Marriageable Miss
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