The Earl's Revenge (13 page)

“Devil take it,” Mark growled, scanning the list again. The numbers were uneven. And how was he to cope with a house party when he had virtually no servants? It was too late to bring in more from London, or even from Exeter. Could he find anyone in Bodmin who would accept this isolated posting on a temporary basis? Bowles had reported no luck.

After another burst of invective, he went to find Burgess.

* * * *

Elaine wiped the frown from her face, replacing it with a neutral expression as she exited Mr. Holyoke’s office.

“A gentleman was inquiring about Mr. Merriweather this morning,” he had informed her once their business was concluded. “He is traveling with Mr. Thornton, who is visiting the area and hopes to meet his illustrator.”

“What?”

“Not to worry, Miss Thompson. I informed him that Mr. Merriweather was away. But I thought you should know that Thornton is somewhere in the neighborhood. Unfortunately, his friend did not mention where.”

“It would not matter. Even if I met him socially, there would be no threat to my identity.”

But she was curious and more than a little nervous as she left the office. It was natural for Thornton to wish to meet her, particularly if he was in the area already. She would very much like to meet the poet herself. Where might he be staying?

But she dared not ask, for no hint of his presence had come to her ears.

And that was decidedly odd, now that she thought of it. He was not an unknown. Why was there no rumor that so famous a poet was visiting Cornwall? Mrs. Hedges had not said a word, and she was always the first to know everything. Was it possible that he was traveling incognito?

She puzzled over that question as she headed for the bookshop to pick up the drawing materials that should have arrived by now.

Turning a corner into the town’s main street, she gasped. An exquisitely dressed gentleman was crossing the road a block away, looking as out of place in Bodmin as a porpoise would on the moor. He was dressed in a light blue coat and silver pantaloons, his cravat so tall that it elevated his chin until he was nearly staring at the sky. One gloved hand held an elaborate cane as he minced in exaggerated affectation. She recognized him – Mr. Harold Parrish. His estate ran with her father’s.

Had Lord Grimfield discovered her whereabouts and asked his young neighbor to verify the information? Despite her claims to Bridgeport, she was not sure that her father would ignore her if he knew where she was. She was legally of age, but his rigid ideas about duty and a woman’s place in the world often countered both custom and law.

Elaine ducked into the bookseller’s and tried to control her shaking hands. Surely this was coincidence! After eight years even her father should have written her off. And Anne would have heard if any rumor of her location had surfaced at home, wouldn’t she? She still corresponded regularly with the cousin who was married to Grimfield’s vicar. Mrs. Alden reported all the local gossip, knowing that Anne had met most of the residents. Her letters meant that Elaine knew more about her old neighborhood now than when she had lived there.

So Mr. Parrish’s business must have nothing to do with her. But she took no chances, remaining in the shop for half an hour. By then he was nowhere to be seen.

She was exiting the linen draper’s when Bridgeport cannonaded out of the employment registry next door, nearly knocking her down.

“Sorry. Good afternoon, Miss Thompson,” he said.

“Of course! He is your cousin,” she murmured in relief, hardly aware that she was talking.

“Well that certainly puts me in my place,” he snorted dampingly.

She glanced up in surprise. “Pardon me, my lord. I had not meant to speak aloud. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“
One of those heavenly days that cannot die
," he quoted with studied enthusiasm and a pointed glance at the threatening overcast.

“Wordsworth,” she identified instantly.

“Who is my cousin?”

“You don’t know?” A new frown formed on her forehead.

“This conversation is ridiculous,” he complained, steering her into a nearby confectioner’s shop. “Suppose we begin again. Good afternoon, Miss Thompson.”

“Good afternoon, my lord. Fancy running into you in Bodmin. Has Treselyan already grown so dull that you must seek the society of the largest town in all of Cornwall?”

“You tread upon my patience.”

“Shakespeare,
Henry IV
. Forgive me, Lord Bridgeport. My mind seems to be unsettled today.”

He raked her with a comprehensive stare. She did appear unnaturally discomposed. “Bad news, Miss Thompson?”

“Not really. I was just wondering if perhaps I was wrong about my father’s lack of interest. Our neighbor was mincing down the street an hour or so ago. Since he appears so out of place here, it occurred to me that he might have agreed to check up on my whereabouts. But then I remembered that he is your cousin, which must explain his presence.”

“Harold?” His voice held both surprise and displeasure.

“Exactly.”

“I had no idea he was in the area. And I’ve no particular wish to see him. Can’t stand his affectations.” Or the way he was constantly asking for loans.

“Tulip of the
ton
,” she agreed. “Does he lisp as well?”

“Incessantly.”

Elaine laughed.

Mark suddenly straightened. “Of course! You would be perfect.”

“How oft the darkest hour of ill breaks brightest into dawn,” she murmured.

“Good God! Euripides.” He looked amazed.

“Sir Jeremiah shares his library with us and often spends an evening discussing books we have all read.”

“I had not remarked him as being particularly bookish.”

“Why should you? He would hardly launch a discussion of Greek poets or Roman philosophers with a man whose reputation encompasses only sporting and debauchery and who is suspected of committing all manner of crimes. Nor are you prone to airing your own unexpected education from what I have observed, though frankly I have never understood why gentlemen would rather be thought empty headed than knowledgeable.”

“Stop!” he pleaded. “You’ve shredded my character enough for one day.”

“
How poor are they that have not patience
,” she mourned, shaking her head sadly.

“Saucy wench. Shakespeare,
Othello
, act II, scene 3.”

“Show-off!”

“Quit sidetracking,” he begged. “You may be able to help me with a small problem. I just received word that a group of so-called friends will shortly descend upon me for a stay of undetermined length. I have been trying to find enough servants to handle a house party – and having abominable luck. But that is not what I wanted your assistance with,” he quickly added when she frowned. “Not only are these people uninvited, but the group contains equal numbers of men and women. With only myself in residence, the party will be uneven. Perhaps you could join us.”

“Not a very flattering offer,” she said with a grimace.

“I did not intend to insult you, Miss Thompson,” he disclaimed immediately. “This has overset all my plans, you must understand. I have no experience organizing house parties. Nor does Mrs. Burgess. I desperately need someone to act as hostess.”

“And how would I have learned to run a society gathering?” she scoffed. “You would be better off inviting Mrs. Hedges.”

“Good God! How can you even suggest such a thing with a straight face?”

Elaine laughed. “At least she would jump at the opportunity. It would allow her to verify all the rumors. And I think she would enjoy rubbing elbows with so scandalous a set, for all she deplores your morals.”

“You cannot be seriously suggesting I invite her!” His face was taking on a greenish tinge. “Please, Miss Thompson. Help me out. I quite look forward to seeing your exquisite beauty arrayed at the foot of my dining table or posed behind a tea tray in my drawing room. The house will seem warmer if you will only bless it with your presence. It will quite break my heart to be turned down.”

“Considering that this plan occurred to you less than five minutes ago, I find that rather hard to believe. You are doing this much too brown.
Praise, like gold and diamonds, owes its value only to its scarcity
.”

“Samuel Johnson. Perhaps I am tipping the butter boat a bit too far. But I would very much like you to join this party.”

“I cannot consider it unless Anne comes, too. But that would merely throw the numbers off in the other direction.”

“You are adamant about that?”

“Absolutely. Given your reputation and that of your associates when I was in London, I can hardly trust my own to a party of strangers who feel close enough to you to drop in uninvited,” she stated.

Bridgeport frowned. He could probably invite Sir Jeremiah. With this new information concerning that gentleman’s character, it might be interesting. On the other hand, the baronet had shown a partiality for Miss Thompson that Mark did not want to encourage. It would interfere with his own plans for his former intended.

“Perhaps I should invite Harold,” he mused aloud. “The group is already so odd that his presence cannot possibly make it worse.” He bit his tongue, wondering why he had mentioned that. Disparaging his guests before he had Elaine’s agreement would not convince her to help him. His address was usually far better.

“If they are such a trial, why not send them on their way and be done with it?” she asked.

“After they have braved the journey all the way to Cornwall just to see me?”

“You sound flattered.”

Sarcastic was closer to the truth. “It is more a case of manners. I won’t encourage them to stay very long, though, so you needn’t worry on that score. Will you help?”

She sighed. “I suppose so, though only if you cease this ridiculous flirtation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Do not insult my intelligence. Your sudden warmth can only be ascribed to a masculine plot of reprisal. But you overstep your authority by doing so –
vengeance is mine, saith the Lord
. However high your title, you are not God. If I am going to help you with this little problem, I expect you to behave yourself. This is wasted effort anyway, for I will not succumb to your wiles. Now who is coming? And why would anyone travel this far if you are not close friends?”

“Lord and Lady Means are probably outrunning creditors. I expect several others joined them on a lark. Carrington came along to lend me moral support. He really is a friend, you might recall.”

“Vaguely. I doubt I met him more than twice. When will they arrive?”

“I am not sure, though I expect it will be within the next couple of days.”

“Anne and I had best move in immediately, then. Mrs. Burgess must be overwhelmed with work. But we cannot spend all our time with your guests. Anne will continue working with Helen, and I will not give up my usual activities.”

“I doubt any of these folk will be up much before noon.”

“I will not act as your official hostess,” she continued. “I will preside at meals if you insist, but anything more will be detrimental to my reputation.”

“Very well.” His forehead was creased in a frown, but her tone had left no room for argument.

“How bad is the servant situation?”

“Improving, but it will not be pleasant. I found a housemaid and a kitchen-maid today, but there is no hope for more. Aside from the Burgesses, there are only two footmen. Perhaps that will encourage them all to leave soon.”

“Since both Anne and I will be at the Manor, I can offer Lucy’s services for the duration. She can do most anything.”

“Thank you, Miss Thompson. I will be eternally in your debt.”

“Coming it too brown, my lord. Again.” She noted a cart approaching along the road and jumped. “I must go. Mr. Jessup looks to have concluded his business.”

“Did you ride into town with him?”

“Yes.”

“You are welcome to return with me. I am driving a curricle and have a groom, so there would be no impropriety.”

She hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “Thank you, my lord.” After a brief word with Mr. Jessup, she returned.

They discussed what preparations needed to be made and considered possible entertainments for such a disparate group. It was a congenial meeting, Elaine admitted silently. He had even dropped his flirtation, though she did not seriously believe that he had abandoned his plans. He was too arrogant to concede the game to a mere female. This was but a short interlude while he developed a new strategy. By moving her into the house, he would have additional opportunities to pursue her.

A nagging voice wondered if perhaps this house party was neither as spontaneous nor as unwanted as he claimed.

Within moments of exiting the shop, they encountered Mr. Parrish. Elaine watched his eyes widen in shock at the sight of them – together.

“Well, Cousin,” drawled Bridgeport. “What brings you to Cornwall?”

“The Season was a dead bore this year,” lisped Harold. “I thought it might be amusing to see a bit of the countryside.” He flicked open a snuffbox and delicately partook of its contents, dusting his fingertips on a lace handkerchief.

“Rusticating, I suppose,” observed Mark goadingly. “But as long as you are in the neighborhood, perhaps you would care to visit Treselyan. A few friends are arriving soon, including one of your most dedicated imitators. You must be ready for fashionable company after several days away from society."

“Imitators?” lisped Harold.

“Mr. Reginald Taylor, budding fop.”

“Indeed? It might be amusing. I shall join you tomorrow.” He turned to Elaine in mock surprise. “Fancy meeting you here. And in such unexpected company.”

“True, I had not anticipated running into either of you when I came to town today,” she replied calmly. “But life does not always progress as one would like. I thought I had seen the last of you when I left home.”

He grimaced. “Just so.”

“Until tomorrow, Cousin,” said Bridgeport, piloting Elaine away. He had not liked the tenor of that last exchange.

The two stopped at several shops before finally reaching the inn. Mark’s curricle was painted dark green, with the wheels picked out in gold. The seat was of light green leather in a shade Elaine had never before seen – almost the color of willow leaves. Bridgeport’s steeds were perfectly matched chestnuts, their coats only one shade brighter than the earl’s own hair. He helped her onto the seat, climbed up beside her and ordered his groom to release the horses. But when the man swung onto his perch, an ominous crack filled the air.