The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (29 page)

“I knew you’d be quick on the uptake,” said Malcolm cheerfully. “You and Del can pop into Folkestone tonight. I have an old friend who runs a cozy gambling establishment; she’s agreed to allow a meeting with Smithton there.”

“Of course, it would be a woman,” said Alaric wearily.

“I know her from my time on the Continent. She’s a widow; a bit vulgar, but she’s honest, and she won’t betray me.”

“Perfect. A vulgar widow.”

“Don’t go mentioning her to Miss Keighley,” said Malcolm hastily. “She doesn’t care for Mrs. Featherhaugh.”

“I will do my utmost not to share this information with Miss Keighley,” said Alaric grimly. “Have you thought what your sister might think of me visiting this, er, establishment, and meeting a female not countenanced by polite society?”

“We don’t need to tell Rowena about it!” protested Malcolm.

“If you can say that, then you don’t know your sister very well. She will certainly find out. Making a clean breast of the matter would be best.”

“But she would tell Miss Keighley!”

“It would serve you right if she did. But I believe I can keep her from doing so. You surely realize that she hopes that you have taken a liking to her friend. She would not want give Miss Keighley an opportunity to be disappointed in you.”

“It’s too late for that,” said Malcolm. “Does this mean you’ll do it?”

“If I refuse I’m sure to be badgered until I agree; my best hope for some peace is to simply accede to your wishes now.”

“Excellent! Del will accompany you; he has been to Mrs. Featherhaugh’s before, and it will seem quite ordinary that he should introduce you to the delights of Folkestone.”

Alaric shuddered. “The delights of Folkestone? Surely you jest.”

“Don’t be a snob, Brayleigh. I’ll tell Del the plan is set, and the two of you can leave after dinner.”

“Very well,” said Alaric reluctantly. He picked up his glass again and held it in one hand, regarding Malcolm over it calmly. “Now, Wroxton, I believe there is something else we need to discuss.”

“What might that be?” asked Malcolm, tossing back the rest of his brandy and pouring another glassful.

“If I am to do you this favor, I want the truth about Miss Keighley.”

Malcolm appeared to be surprised. “The truth about Miss Keighley? She is the daughter of the neighboring estate. Her brother, Sir Arthur, seems to be a decent fellow, though he is young. Miss Keighley is a confirmed spinster, and a bit of a terror. I live in fear of her disapproval.”

Alaric gave him a doubtful look. “Over the past minutes, you’ve said her name ten times if you’ve said it once. You seem to place a great deal of reliance on her opinion.”

“Did I mention her so often?” Malcolm laughed uneasily. “That is only because she is very much a part of this plot. The sooner it is completed the sooner I can return to London and put her behind me.”

“You know, once I might have said something very similar about your sister.”

Malcolm gaped at him. “Brayleigh, if you mean to imply that I’m in love with the Keighley woman, permit me to disabuse you of the notion.”

“You leap to conclusions I have barely hinted at. It does seem odd, though, that you are trying so hard to please her.” Alaric smiled a bit smugly.

“I have explained the freetraders are endangering my tenants as well as the Keighley’s,” Malcolm remonstrated.

“Don’t get your back up at me,” said Brayleigh mildly. “It is apparent that there is a great deal more going on here than you care to admit. But you needn’t tell me you if you don’t wish to.”

Malcolm sat for a moment, gazing into his brandy. Finally, he looked up with a disarming smile. “I suppose it will do me good to tell someone besides Del. I mean to marry Miss Keighley.”

“Congratulations. I hope you are very happy.”

“Alack, I’m not sure I will be. She will have none of me.”

“Clearly, she has excellent instincts,” said Alaric with a smile that belied his words. “Perhaps you can tell me what her objection to could be. You are, after all, passably handsome, extremely wealthy, and a peer of the realm.”

“I don’t know.” Malcolm’s exasperation was obvious. “Sometimes I could swear she is not immune to me, but she insists that she finds me irresponsible, glib, and untrustworthy.”

“Rowena was much the same way. I forced her hand, you know.”

Malcolm nodded, looking a bit grim. “I know. Fortunately for you, I was not in England then. But I cannot compromise Miss Keighley. As she has told me more than once, her reputation is already in tatters; if she can refuse one man, she can refuse another. And that brother of hers will support her in all things, drat him.”

“It is not a bad thing that she has a family who cares for her,” observed Alaric. “But it makes your task harder. I gather you do not believe the stories told about Miss Keighley and Denby?”

“Not a bit. I’ve not asked her about it, as I know without hearing the tale that she would never willingly have allowed him to touch her.”

“You seem to have great faith in her.”

“I do. I also have proof of what were formerly only my suspicions.”

Alaric gazed at him steadily. “I see. You are playing with fire, Wroxton.”

“I’m quite willing to be burned; I’ve asked her to marry me several times,” said Malcolm.

“And if she becomes
enceinte
?”

“Fiend seize it, I’ve been doing my best to make that happen,” snapped Malcolm. “Then she will no longer be able to refuse me.”

Brayleigh took another sip of brandy and sat back in his chair, gazing at his brother-in-law in wonder. “You are in love with her, I see.”

“Not at all,” he said breezily. “I know you and Rowena fancy yourselves to be in love, but I cannot see love as anything but an invention of the poets. I find Miss Keighley attractive, of course, or I would not think to marry her. But she is also intelligent, a good manager, and an excellent conversationalist. She will be a suitable countess, a charming hostess, and a good mother. All in all, we shall deal very well together.”

“Once you convince her to marry you,” concluded Alaric.

Malcolm sat back in his chair. “I can count on you to bring a suitable note of pessimism to any conversation, Brayleigh,” he muttered, draining his glass.

Alaric did likewise, and stood. “I will leave you to contemplate your feelings for Miss Keighley which, I fully comprehend, are not love. In the meantime, your sister, whom I do love, awaits me.”

“You’ll not tell her about this?” asked Malcolm nervously.

“I must tell her something,” Alaric pointed out.

“Then tell her about the smugglers and going into Folkestone; after all, she will wonder where you are off to. That way she will not pester you about Miss Keighley.”

Alaric shrugged. “She will find out eventually. You underestimate Rowena.” He turned and left the library, leaving Malcolm to pour himself another glass of brandy.

Upstairs he found Rowena supervising her maid as she unpacked their trunks. He paused a moment in the door to admire his wife’s elegant figure and the graceful way she moved about. As he stepped further into the room, she turned to him with a quick smile.

“We are very nearly settled,” she said cheerfully. “And I have had such an interesting talk with Mrs. Macomber!”

“Have you?”

“Indeed. I must tell you all about it.” She caught the eye of her maid, who hung one last gown in the wardrobe, and left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

“Must you?” Alaric walked over to his wife. “Discussing local gossip seems very tedious when there are other things to do.”

Rowena gazed up at him as he took her in his arms. “It will take just a moment, and I think you will be delighted to hear it. Mrs. Macomber tells me that Helena and Malcolm spend a great deal of time together!”

“Why should I be delighted by that?” wondered Brayleigh.

“Surely you wish Malcolm to be happy!”

“As long as he doesn’t bother me, Wroxton can be as happy as he chooses,” Alaric declared magnanimously.

“You are trying to annoy me,” accused Rowena.

“Why would I wish to do that?” He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck.

Rowena wriggled out of his arms and stood glaring at him, her hands on her hips. “You cannot distract me that way.”

Alaric sighed. “I could, you know, if I tried. But I will listen to you for—“ he pulled out his watch and looked at it, “—five minutes.”

“Mrs. Macomber says that Helena is here at Wroxton or Malcolm is at Keighley Manor every day, and they spend hours quite alone!” burbled Rowena. “She hinted that they—that, well, that—at any rate, she quite hopes they will marry. Her sister is the cook at Keighley Manor, and it seems the staff there has made the same observations.”

“When your brother tells me he is engaged to Miss Keighley, I will of course wish him very happy. In the meantime, it is none of my business, and were I you, I would not mention this to him.”

“You don’t think a gentle hint or two might push him in the right direction?”

“I do not,” said Alaric firmly.

Rowena looked disappointed. “But surely if he thought we approve of the match—“

“He would doubtless reconsider his actions,” interrupted Alaric. “Leave the man be, Rowena. He will marry Miss Keighley or he will not; it is not our place to interfere.”

Rowena’s brow furrowed, but she finally nodded. “Very well, I will try not to say anything. But it will be very hard, for it is my dearest wish that they wed. What did Malcolm need to talk to you about? I hoped it was Helena.”

“Not at all, except that she is involved in his ridiculous plotting. It seems the local smugglers are desperate types indeed, and your brother and Miss Keighley mean to stop them. The ball tomorrow night is a distraction, so the freetraders will think they can pass over Wroxton land unobserved. I am to go into Folkestone tonight with Mr. Delaney to meet with a riding officer who will assist in their capture.”

“How exciting! May I go with you?”

“I think not,” said Alaric. “It seems your brother has arranged for us to meet this riding officer in what, for Folkestone, counts as a gambling hell. Your presence would not be at all appropriate.”

“A gambling hell!” Rowena frowned. “I cannot like it. But I do want you to help Malcolm.”

“Then you do not mind that I go?”

“Of course I mind, as you will not be here. But if it will help Malcolm, and Helena, of course you must.”

“It is run by a vulgar widow named Mrs. Featherhaugh,” continued Alaric, making a clean breast of the matter.

Rowena laughed. “Then I need have no fears at all. You have never been attracted to the vulgar, my love.”

“That is settled, then.” Alaric glanced at his watch. “It has been five minutes, and I think that, as I shall not be with you after dinner, we should take some time for ourselves now.”

With that he gathered Rowena in his arms again and all thoughts of smugglers were banished.

An hour later Helena’s chaise pulled up in front of Wroxton Hall and she glanced at the white stone façade nervously. She had received a note, written in Malcolm’s firm hand, informing her that Lady Brayleigh had arrived at Wroxton Hall, and that Miss Keighley, should she so wish, would be a welcome visitor. Helena had read it several times, seeking some indication of Malcolm’s emotions, but the missive was impenetrably polite and gave up no secrets. Perhaps, she thought, Malcolm did not wish to see her at all, and would have gone off to the stables. She was not sure if she found that comforting or not.

As she entered the house, she was met by a smiling Catherwood.

“Miss Keighley, welcome,” he said, escorting her into the hall. She realized with a shock how very familiar Wroxton Hall was to her now. A few weeks before it had been a grand, almost overwhelming, mansion, and now she knew it intimately and felt at home there.

“I’ve come to visit Lady Brayleigh,” said Helena, shoving the awkward word ‘home’ out of her mind.

“It is a great pleasure to have Miss Rowena at Wroxton Hall again,” Catherwood informed her. “I remember well you playing together when you were little girls.”

“It was a lovely time, but so long ago,” said Helena. She glanced around, relieved to see no sign of Malcolm.

“Miss Rowena is in her room. His lordship asked that you come to the library, should you visit.”

“Oh no, that is not necessary—“ Helena began, but then realized that Catherwood had his orders and her protestations would only appear odd. “Very well,” she concluded.

Beaming, Catherwood escorted her to the door of the library and flung it open. “Miss Keighley, my lord,” he announced.

Helena stepped into the room, by now more than familiar with it. She glanced once at the settee, thinking of the hour she and Malcolm had spent on it not so many days ago, before glancing towards the desk. Malcolm stood as she entered, and she took in his tall figure, his broad shoulders set off by the excellent fit of his superfine coat, his blue eyes regarding her warily.

Catherwood retired, closing the door behind him. Helena hesitated, saying nothing.

“Come in, Miss Keighley,” said Malcolm. “You need not fear I will importune you in any way.”

“I did not think you would,” she answered quietly.

“Please, be seated. Rowena will doubtless be down shortly; she and Brayleigh are, er, resting after their trip.” Malcolm’s eyes glinted with amusement.

Helena flushed slightly at his implication, and she made her way to the chair, seating herself on its edge as though poised to flee. Malcolm sank down again behind his desk.

“You will be glad to know that Brayleigh has agreed to assist in our endeavors,” he said lightly. “He and Del are to meet with Smithton tonight.”

“That is very kind of him.”

“It might keep Bulkeley off the scent, as it is important for Denby to believe we are wholly given over to pleasure here at Wroxton.”

“I must thank you for your help,” said Helena awkwardly.

Malcolm waved a hand dismissively. “Your concerns about the smugglers were well founded, and I should have paid attention to them long ago,” he said. “As for Denby, his unmasking will be very satisfying for both of us, I believe.”

“He is odious, is he not?” Helena wrinkled her nose.

“Very. I think the most satisfying aspect of this whole plot will be seeing him get his comeuppance.”

Helena found herself relaxing in response to Malcolm’s calm demeanor, and she smiled at him. “I can scarcely believe the ball is only two days hence,” she said. “It seems we have been planning it for so long.”

“Barely a month. But it has been fun, has it not?”

Helena thought back on the days before, the discussions of food and flowers, rides on the cliffs, strolls in the garden, and the way she had responded with such pleasure to Malcolm’s mere touch. “It has been,” she admitted.

“Well, it is nearly over,” he said briskly. “Soon enough you will be rid of me, and you can return to Keighley Manor in peace.”

Helena stared at him a moment, pondering the thought of his departure. It was what she wanted, of course, but she felt a growing sense of loss nonetheless. “I will miss you,” she finally said.

“You will miss some things about me, but not me,” Malcolm replied curtly.

Helena opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. To her great relief, the door opened, and Rowena flitted into the room.

“Helena, dear!” Rowena’s bright eyes flickered curiously from Malcolm’s face to hers. “It has been far too long.”

Helena rose to her feet and hugged Rowena enthusiastically. “It has indeed. I haven’t seen you since your father died.”

“It is wonderful to be back at Wroxton, and to see my brother in his rightful place. I am so pleased the two of you have become friends.”

“We are co-conspirators out of necessity,” said Malcolm. “I am not sure Miss Keighley considers me to be a friend.”

Rowena raised her eyebrows. “Indeed? Well, I must whisk your co-conspirator away, as we need to have a long talk. Letters are all very well, but we have a great deal of catching up to do. Come, Helena, let us leave Malcolm to—to whatever it is that gentlemen do with their afternoons.”

Malcolm rose as the two women left the room, and Rowena led Helena across the hall, throwing open the door of a sitting room and glancing around. “It is empty, thank heavens,” she said. “There are other guests, of course, and I find myself tripping over them constantly. Papa never entertained, so it is odd to see other people in Wroxton Hall. Though Malcolm has made it his own; there is such life in the house now, where before it was almost like a mausoleum.”

Helena nodded, grateful that Rowena was apparently happy to carry the burden of the conversation. She sat down in a chair as Rowena chatted away; she was vaguely aware that she was being regaled with the story of her friend’s courtship and marriage, but her mind wandered as the words rolled over her. Helena thought again of Malcolm’s serious face and his talk of leaving. Doubtless he would be glad to be rid of her and Mrs. Lacey would be only too happy to resume her role as his mistress. Perhaps Malcolm had already been to her room the night before. She frowned.

“Whatever is the matter? Are you unwell?”

Helena started and looked at Rowena, who was watching her with an expression of concern.

“I—I am fine. Why do you ask?” she stammered.

“You looked as though you were about to be sick,” said Rowena frankly. “I hope my story is not upsetting you.”

“No, not at all, of course I am pleased that you and Brayleigh are so happy. I am sorry, my thoughts had wandered.”

“Somewhere unpleasant, clearly. I wish you would tell me what is bothering you. Perhaps I can help.”

“It is nothing; just some loose ends that need to be tied up before the ball,” said Helena. “Do tell me more about Brayleigh.”

Rowena laughed. “You have heard enough about my husband. I want to hear about you.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “What do you think of Malcolm?”

Helena started again. Her conversation with Rowena appeared to be full of pitfalls. “He has been kind enough to assist me. I am grateful to him for that.”

“Grateful?” Rowena appeared to be disappointed. “I remember when we were girls; it always seemed to me that you had a bit of a
tendre
for him.”

Helena shook her head quickly. “No doubt I thought he was quite romantic, because he was so much older than us and rather wild. But wild young men are not as appealing to me as they once were.”

“He is no longer so young, or so wild,” said Rowena. “Indeed, he seems to have grown quite staid since he came down to Wroxton. He writes me letters full of nothing but talk of the crops and the tenants, and he has gone to great lengths to stop these freetraders. Just after we arrived he was entirely indifferent to Mrs. Lacey, which quite surprised me.”

Helena stiffened slightly at the mention of Estella. “He does what he must for the estate, as that is the source of his income. He is kind, of course, and amusing, and has a quick mind, but I doubt he will ever settle down.”

“You seem to know him very well,” ventured Rowena.

“We have been forced together a great deal of late. That is all it is, however,” said Helena repressively.

Rowena gave her a searching look, but apparently decided to drop the topic. “I am very pleased that my friend and my brother have some sort of friendship. It makes life much easier. Alaric has told me a bit about your plot! It seems he is now involved in it.”

“He is?”

“Yes, Mr. Delaney and Alaric go into Folkestone tonight to meet with a riding officer. It sounds very exciting. And imagine, they are to go to a gambling hell run by a widow named Mrs. Featherhaugh. Is that not ridiculous?”

“Mrs. Featherhaugh?” repeated Helena.

“I believe that is the name Alaric used. He said that she is rather vulgar.”

“Your brother knew her on the Continent.” Helena’s voice was stiff.

“Did he? I imagine he knew a great number of odd people during that time,” said Rowena blithely.

Helena stood. “I must speak with Cook about those loose ends. I’m sorry to cut our visit short. You will stay some days after the ball, will you not?”

“Certainly. I have convinced Alaric to stay for a week,” said Rowena. “We will have plenty of time to visit. I wish to come to Keighley Manor soon; it has been so long since I have seen it.”

“You are always welcome.” Helena gave her friend a hug. “I am sorry if I seem distracted. After tomorrow, I will be much more attentive, I promise.”

“I look forward to the ball, and to a good, long chat afterward,” said Rowena.

Helena smiled and left the room, glad to have dodged the conversation. Her friend clearly suspected that there was more to her friendship with Malcolm than she had admitted. Realizing she had said she would go to the kitchen, she made her way to the first floor and talked for a few minutes with the surprised cook, who had plans for the ball well in hand. Helena then returned to the main part of the house, making her way through the elegant corridors. As she approached the hall, she heard voices, and realized that Malcolm and Rowena were talking to each other just around the next corner. She hesitated, unwilling to encounter them again, and ducked into the shelter of a doorway to wait for them to move on.

“What have you done to make Helena disapprove of you so?” she heard Rowena ask. “I had such hopes the two of you would become friends.”

Helena glanced around guiltily, realizing that she was eavesdropping and wondering if she could escape back the way she had come. But the voices were approaching her, and she feared she might be seen.

“Friends!” Malcolm exclaimed. “Miss Keighley is far too strict in her notions to be a friend of mine, Rowena. No matter how I try to please her, I can do nothing right in her eyes.”

“What a pity,” said Rowena. “She is dear to me, and I had such hopes the two of you might—“

“Might what?” There was a pause, and Helena heard Malcolm laugh. “You thought I might fall in love with her? What would I want with a woman like her, when I have Estella? Now, she’s a cozy armful.”

Helena stiffened. It served her right, she supposed, for eavesdroppers never heard well of themselves, but it still hurt to hear what Malcolm thought of her.

“Oh Malcolm, you are such a fool,” said Rowena.

“Not at all, sister dear. I’d be a fool to tie myself to one woman, much less a Friday-faced creature like Miss Keighley.”

Helena gave a gasp of fury, and then, realizing Malcolm and Rowena were coming ever closer, opened the door behind her and slipped into the room. She closed the door very softly, leaning against it with her eyes closed, her blood pounding in her ears. Of course she realized she paled in comparison to the charms of Estella, but it was painful to hear him say so.

After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, looking around the room to realize with a sinking feeling that it was the Red Drawing Room, in which she and Malcolm had whiled away several pleasant hours not a week before. Humiliated, she pulled herself together and peeked out into the hall. Ascertaining that the earl and his sister were no longer there, she slipped silently out of the room and fled. After the ball, she promised herself, she would not need to return.