How to Treat a Lady (27 page)

Gower's hands opened and closed. “That's not—I didn't mean—but what about the Wards? What about their note?”

“That's no longer your concern,” Silverstone snapped. “Leave, Gower. You are dismissed.”

Gower sputtered. “B-b-but—”

“Leave,” Silverstone ordered again, but in a colder voice. “Or I'll see to it that you never work in banking again. Ever.”

Red-faced, Gower seemed to be struggling with his temper. Finally, he swallowed, then said, “Yes, sir.” It was easy to see that he wanted to say more.

Silverstone looked Gower up and down before turning away and murmuring something to Mr. Picknard.

There was nothing left to be done. Gower cast one
last look at Harriet, slammed his hat on his head, and then turned on his heel and left.

Chase watched the man go. Had it not been for Harriet's small hand on his arm, he would have gone after that lout and shown him the true meaning of the word “honor.”

Mother cleared her throat. “Mr. Silverstone, thank you very much. Mr. Gower has not been at all pleasant for us to deal with. However, he was right about one thing. Without the wool…we cannot make the final payment.”

Harriet's heart sank. It was so unfair—they had all worked so hard, so very hard. Chase gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She looked at him and he lifted her fingers to his lips.

Mr. Silverstone nodded. “If the board would approve an extension for a month, then perhaps—”

“No,” Mother said. “I'm afraid it would take an entire year to find the money.”

“A year?” Mr. Silverstone sighed. “I'm afraid we could never get the board to agree—”

“What about two months?” Chase asked. “Would that be acceptable?”

“Of course,” Silverstone said with a nod. “I'm certain that Picknard and I could get an extension for that length of time.”

Mother frowned. “But what could we possibly do in two months?”

“I could marry your daughter.” He looked down at Harriet. “If she'll have me.”

Harriet's throat, already a bit sore from the fire, now seemed to close. She swallowed three times before she could even rasp out, “What—you can't want to—but you've never—”

Chase turned her to face him, his hands resting
gently on her shoulders. “Harriet, I love you, and I want to marry you. I know I have things I must do, things I have to see to, but I think, with you by my side, that I can face those things.”

Harriet's heart quivered. “You are sure?”

“With all my heart.”

“But you were going to leave last night. I could tell—”

“Only because I hadn't settled things in London. But I wouldn't have been gone long. I couldn't have stayed away, no matter how much I wished it. And now…now I realize that with you beside me, I can accomplish anything.”

Tears welled in Harriet's eyes.

Devon cleared his throat. “Mr. Silverstone, I believe you have your answer. A two-month extension seems to be in order.” Devon smiled at Harriet. “Mustn't keep the bank waiting, you know.”

Harriet found herself returning the smile. “No. We mustn't.” She turned to Chase. “Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I will marry you. And I already have the perfect shoes, too.”

Chase tilted back his head and laughed, pulling her into his arms and hugging her tightly.

Mr. Silverstone smiled indulgently. “I hope we receive an invitation.”

“Oh, you will,” Marcus said. “Here. Allow me to escort you out. I want to tell you what I plan on giving the couple as a wedding gift. I'm sure it will go a long way to assuring you that the payment can be made, however much it is.”

Marcus took the bankers outside while Harriet smiled up at Chase. “It seems I've loved you for so long. Since the first moment I saw you, I think.”

He smiled into her eyes. “I'm afraid I can't make
the same claim. You stole my heart in little bits and pieces.”

“Oh for heaven's sake—” Derrick dropped into a chair. “Do we have to listen to this?”

Devon nodded. “Sickening, isn't it? Personally, I prefer to do my lovemaking in private, but well…that's just me.”

“Oh, look!” Ophelia said from her post by the window. “Here comes a very large rug!”

“A what?” Sophia asked.

Marcus reentered the room. Behind him came the largest man Harriet had ever seen. Tall and blond, he barely cleared the doorway, especially since he carried a rolled-up rug over one shoulder.

Harriet openly gaped until Chase kissed her chin and reminded her not to stare. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“That's Anthony, my half brother.”

Anthony stopped on seeing Chase. “Good God, what happened to you?”

“Sheep. I'll never eat mutton again.”

“I can see why not.” Anthony dropped the rug in front of Chase.

“What's this?”

“Your birthday present,” Devon said merrily. “Open it.”

Harriet looked at the rug. To her amazement, it began to wiggle. “Chase…”

“I see, sweetheart.” Chase stood, gripped the edge of the rug and yanked. It unrolled with a thud, the disheveled figure of a man coming to rest at Anthony's large feet.

The man looked up at Anthony and visibly started. “
Argh!
”

“Don't worry, little man,” Anthony said, grinning.

“There will be no more magic rug rides if you behave yourself.”

“Oh, he will behave himself,” Marcus said, coming to stand beside Anthony. “Won't you, Mr. Annesley?”

The man nodded, his eyes wide.

“Who is this?” Harriet asked Chase. Sophia and Ophelia were standing on tiptoe to see, while Stephen and Derrick watched with wide grins.

“This,” Chase said grimly, “is the man I told you about. The one I thought was my friend, but wasn't.” Chase looked at Marcus. “Before anything is said, I must speak. T—there is something I must tell you.”

“We already know,” Marcus said. “You were out in your phaeton and you accidentally hit a woman.”

Chase winced. “Yes. I should never have been drinking while—”

“Wait.” Marcus lifted his foot and prodded Harry. “Tell him.”

Harry shook his head. “I am not a man to be made a fool of, Treymount! I demand—”

“That's it,” Anthony said with unperturbed calm, “back into the rug you go.”

“No!”
Harry said, scooting away from Anthony. “No! I just—I can't—what the hell do you want?”

“The truth,” Marcus said.

Devon leaned toward Stephen and said in a low voice, “There is an Easy Way to learn things, and a Hard Way. Some people always seem drawn to the Hard Way.”

Harry sighed. “Oh blast it! I cannot believe—you know I could go to the constable and—”

“And what?” Marcus asked, obviously amused.

“Tell them we forced you to ride inside a rug for a day?”

“It was longer than that,” Harry said defensively.

“We let you out to get a drink of water,” Anthony said.

“And we fed you,” Devon added. He looked at Stephen. “I voted against that, but Marcus has a humanitarian streak.”

“Oh all right!” Annesley snapped. “May I at least stand?”

Anthony seemed to consider it. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

“You might run. And while I know I could catch you, I just ate, and I've no wish to unsettle my stomach.”

“I,” Annesley said in a lofty tone, “will not run.”

“Very well. But if you try—” Anthony balled his huge fist and slammed it into his other palm.

Annesley gulped. “There is no need for that.” He clambered to his feet. “I'll tell you everything, though I think this is grossly unfair.”

“Unfair?” Chase asked.

Annesley shrugged. “I owe you an apology. I should never have extorted money from you.”

Everyone waited.

“And?” Marcus said, his cold gaze pinning Annesley.

The rogue rubbed his neck wearily. “And there was no…you know.”

“No what?” Chase asked.

“No accident. Well, there was an accident, but the woman was unharmed.”

“
What?
” Chase started forward, but Harriet held him in place.

Annesley sighed. “After that night, I went out and found her. She was in the first hospital I went to. I paid her ten pounds to disappear.”

“Was she hurt?”

“A scrape or two. Nothing more.” Annesley met Chase's gaze and gave a rueful shrug. “It just seemed like too good an opportunity to let pass.”

“Tell him what else you did,” Devon said.

Annesley sent a cutting glance at Devon.

Devon lifted his brows, a chill to his gaze. “Who put you in the rug the first time?”

Annesley's jaw tightened. He turned back to Chase. “I borrowed your bill from White's and used it to make a promissory note.”

“For twenty thousand pounds,” Anthony added.

Harriet could feel Chase's fury. She gripped his hand tightly.

“And?” Devon prompted, eyes narrowing. “There's more.”

“What more?” Annesley asked, laughing uneasily.

“I know what more,” Chase said. He took Harriet's hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Hold that for me, sweet.” He approached Annesley. When he stood directly before him, he pulled back his sleeves. His wrists were raw from where he'd been bound. “Someone attacked me in the barn and tied me up, then set the place on fire. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

Annesley appeared pained. “All I asked was that you be delayed. That is all. I may be a bit of a shyster, but I am no murderer.”

“I disagree. You are exactly the type of monster capable of doing such a thing. It's your fault I was attacked. Your fault the barn was burned and the wool lost.”

“I don't know anything about wool or—”

Chase slammed his fist into Annesley's mouth. The man turned a complete circle, then landed, facedown, on the rug.

“Well done!” Devon exclaimed. He clapped his hands lightly. Sophia and Ophelia joined in, while Stephen and Derrick nodded their approval.

Anthony rolled the rug back up and then hefted it to his shoulder. “I'll put this in the carriage, and we'll deliver it to the constable on our way through town, along with the name of the fellow Annesley hired to delay your return to London.”

“Be sure you tie that rug tightly. I wouldn't want any unnecessary air to get inside.”

Anthony grinned, then went out the door, letting the rug thunk solidly against the doorframe as he went.

Chase turned back to Harriet. For the first time in his life, happiness was within a fingertip's length.

Marcus moved to the door. “Devon, I believe the time has come for us to leave.”

“So soon?”

“Now,” Marcus said firmly.

Devon sighed. He bowed to everyone, kissed Mrs. Ward's hand, then winked at Sophia. “Fare thee well, my friends! Chase, will we see you back in town?”

“Yes. I've a wedding to plan, you know.”

Devon grimaced. “Well, don't look to me for assistance. You know how I feel about weddings.” He sent a fond smile to Chase. “I'm glad you're well.”

Chase smiled back. “So am I.”

Marcus waited for Devon to leave the room before he turned to Chase. “If you need help procuring a special license—”

“If I need help, I'll ask for it.” Chase smiled down at Harriet. “That's one thing I've learned in staying here at Garrett Park.”

Marcus's hard mouth curved into a smile. “Then perhaps that knock on the head was good for you.” He bowed to the others. “Good day. I look forward to seeing all of you at the wedding.” In a moment he was gone.

They all stood in silence as the sound of the carriages faded away.

Ophelia let the curtain drop. “Well!” she said with a beatific expression.

Mrs. Ward glanced at Chase and Harriet, then cleared her throat. “Sophia and Ophelia, could you help me in the breakfast room?”

Sophia frowned. “Breakfast room? Now? Why—”

Mrs. Ward calmly propelled Sophia out the door, Ophelia following.

“Stephen and Derrick,” Mrs. Ward continued determinedly, “I believe you are needed in the kitchen.”

“The kitchen?” Derrick scowled. “I was going to sit here and read—”

“Come on, Derrick.” Stephen grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him to the door. “You can read in the kitchen.”

“Yes, but—” The door shut behind him. Mrs. Ward soon followed.

Moments later, the room was silent and empty except for Chase and Harriet.

Chase sighed heavily and rubbed his chin on Harriet's hair.

“What now?” she asked, wrapping her arms about his waist and snuggling closer.

What now, indeed. Life lay ahead of them, bright
and shining and full of hope. Chase reached into his pocket and found the talisman ring. Then he took Harriet's hand and slid it gently over her finger.

“Oh no! It will never come off!”

Chase kissed her cheek. “Oh yes it will. On the day we marry. And if it doesn't, then we'll just be stuck with it forever.”

She smiled and looked up him, her eyes shimmering softly. “Forever, my love, may not be long enough.”

D
evon St. John leaned back in the plush coach, stretching his legs into the farthest corner. The coach swayed and bounced, taking curves at breakneck speed as they flew through the countryside, going northward, toward Scotland.

Scotland, Devon decided, was safe. He would visit his friend, Viscount Strathmore, for a few weeks and then, when the way was clear, he'd return to England. But only once he was assured that the way was clear.

Life, Devon decided, was beautiful. He'd just escaped the largest trap ever to befall a man, especially a St. John. Somewhere back at a church in the tiny village of Sticklye-By-The-River, his brother Chase was getting married. In fact…Devon pulled out
his watch and looked at it. The ceremony would be over in another ten minutes or so. Then, once the reception began, everyone would look around and see that Devon had already made good his escape. And Chase, already cursed by the ring and thus married, would realize that there was only one single St. John brother left in proximity—Marcus, the oldest. Chase would have no choice then, but to trick Marcus into taking the bloody ring while Devon cavorted merrily in Scotland.

Devon grinned sleepily. Sometimes he amazed himself with his intelligence. It really had been too easy. He snuggled in the corner, crossed his arms, and closed his eyes.

Several hours later, the coach crossed the Scottish border. Devon was awakened by the definite chill that had begun to crisp the air. He thought about asking the coachman to stop, but then thought better of it. They were making such good time.

Devon reached across the seat and grabbed the carriage blanket that was folded neatly in one corner. As he pulled the blanket toward him, a loud ping sounded in the carriage. Then another and another as something small and metal bounced along the floor and then rolled to a stop.

“No!” Devon closed his eyes, refusing to even look. Chase St. John had left the blasted talisman ring neatly tucked in Devon's carriage blanket. And now, miles and miles from home, Devon was stuck, the ring was his.

He was doomed. Doomed unless he could come up with a way to circumvent the magical impulses of the ring.

The only hope Devon had was to avoid women. All of them. He reflected glumly on what he'd been
told about Scottish women, of their innate passion and flaming good looks and in that instant, he knew he was damned.

Well and truly damned.