The Honorable Marksley (5 page)

“I appreciate your foresight, Mr. Marksley. And your
consideration. Though I must tell you that with so much
else decided for me, I question whether I have will
enough remaining to object”

He surprised her by smiling, the first full smile she
had seen on his face. Its effect on her was immediate … and disturbing.

“I very much doubt that is the case, Hallie. And to
prove it I hope you will employ your will by choosing
to call me Richard.”

The concession pleased her, even if he were only
practicing. As he again gestured toward the door, Hallie moved past him. But the heel of her shoe caught on the
edge of a rug. Unbalanced, she reached to brace
herself-and found Richard Marksley’s strong right
arm. She was aware that he drew her closer, steadying
her. She could feel his arm tighten beneath the wool of
his coat. And she could feel his warmth.

The door to the library swung open. Hallie, held in
what could only have appeared to be an embrace, met
the astonishment of the butler-and beyond him, the
open-mouthed shock of her uncle and the Countess.

Hallie glanced up at Marksley, noting his clenched
jaw.

“You see how easily ‘tis done,” she whispered, “with
the simple opening of a door.”

Richard had reason to reflect on the comment the
next morning. As he paced his library, Hallie Ashton’s
words accompanied his steps. “With the simple opening of a door,” she had said, and truly it had been as
simple as that: her uncle’s instant eruption, Geneve’s
shock and puzzlement, Miss Binkin’s owl-eyed stare. If
he and Hallie Ashton had not been betrothed already,
that near-embrace would have sealed their fate. “With
the simple opening of a door!”

And yet nothing was simple, everything had
changed-in his view, for the worse. The sunlight
streaming in upon his desk looked very much as it had
the previous morning, the day promised to be as fair as
yesterday, he had enjoyed another fine ride across the
park. Yet these were all surface similarities, for his
mind was focused entirely on the matter at hand. He could not avoid the frustrating necessity to pay court to
Miss Ashton over the coming weeks, unfortunately a
critical time for The Tantalus.

Had she intended to confound him? Had she meant
to imply that the circumstances tying her to Reggie
were as “simple” or as innocent as what had transpired yesterday? What sort of a cousin was Miss
Binkin then, to consign the girl to an unhappy future
over such a trifling matter? Could he believe the
woman could be so calculating? Could he believe
Hallie Ashton?

He could see her face. With no effort at all he could
see her face and her wide, gray eyes. She did not speak
merely to justify herself, grasping at an excuse for her
dalliance with Reggie. She had wanted him to understand. But he knew Reggie too well. However innocent
and unusually wise Miss Hallie might be, she had succumbed as all the rest. It was the only reasonable explanation. Otherwise, a genteel young woman like herself
would never have come within miles of the Gorgeous
Langsford.

“Blast Reggie,” he muttered, and flung wide the
glass doors to the back garden. The morning was too
cool for such ventilation. The curtains billowed wildly
as Richard breathed in the bracing autumn air. But the
brisk breeze and dancing drapes answered his need for
release. At the moment he craved more than mere minutes in that liberated condition.

The knock at his library door was unwelcome, but
Richard turned back to the room with a curt “Come”

As Gibbs opened the door, the elderly butler met his
scowl with stiff dignity.

“Lord Jeremy has arrived,” he announced, adding
significantly, “with luggage.”

“Ah-Gibbs” Richard rubbed his forehead and
moved toward the door. “I just had his letter yesterday.
In all the excitement I neglected to tell you. Lord
Jeremy will be with us for a few days.”

“Very good, sir. I shall have a room prepared at once.”

“Thank you, Gibbs. Please send Jeremy in here. And
see if Cook would prepare something? Tea, or …
something.”

“Certainly, sir.” And Gibbs unbent sufficiently to
make the briefest of bows before retreating. Within seconds Jeremy Asquith, fourth son of the Duke of Blythe,
strolled into the room.

“I must say, Richard, Gibbs’ welcomes seem to grow
chillier and chillier. As do your rooms, by the way. Is
this a new means of courting the muse? Or the latest in
fashionable country living? ‘Tis a devilish way to celebrate a birthday.” He shivered as he stretched his hands
before the blazing fire.

Richard closed the doors behind him, then smiled at
his friend.

“Have a seat, Jeremy. Gibbs is miffed because I
failed to tell him you were coming-a small oversight
which I will explain. As for the temperature, I was
attempting, unsuccessfully, to clear my head”

“Never say you are having problems with The
Tantalus?”

“With Reggie.” Richard drew his own chair to the
hearth. “But first tell me what really brings you down to
the country. A mere birthday, yesterday by the by,
would never do so”

Jeremy smiled as he leaned back in his chair.

“I can always plead a desire for good company,
Richard. The few people in town these days care little
for horses, books, or a good laugh. I find I need at least
one of the three to make life worthwhile.”

Richard shook his head as he studied his friend.
Jeremy Asquith was the very definition of lanky. Even
while seated, his joints looked set to tumble apart, his
arms and legs like so many pieces of an awkward
puzzle-a deceptive appearance, because he had an
appetite worthy of someone three times his girth and
was accounted an accomplished shot and horseman.
Jeremy’s astonishing physique, combined with flaming
red hair and a taste in clothing bordering on gaudy,
always guaranteed him an initial, startled attention
from those who had known him for years as well as
strangers.

“I am in complete agreement, Jeremy. But as I find
those to be the conditions in town all year `round, you
owe me another explanation.”

Jeremy threw up his hands.

“I confess then, that I understood you have a uniquely lovely creature here in Surrey just now.”

Richard tensed, wondering how Jeremy had heard
about Harriet Ashton-then wondering when he himself had determined that she was lovely.

“The yellow nymph, my dear fellow,” Jeremy supplied with a laugh. “Neonympha lutea. Their last little
butterfly gasp before the winter.” Jeremy’s hobby,
which he had pursued from his time at university with
Richard, had earned him his greatest notoriety-he was
one of the country’s leading lepidopterists and a founding member of the London Naturalists.

Though he did not share his friend’s passion,
Richard understood its compulsions. But just now his
problem weighed so heavily that the frown descended
again.

“As it happens, your timing is faultless. This may
well be my last gasp as well. You must congratulate me,
Jeremy. I am to be married.”

Jeremy’s smile faltered.

“Not Caroline?” he asked, his blue gaze sharpening.

Richard shook his head.

“No, thank God. Though you’ll think me mad
enough once I explain. You wouldn’t have heard of the
girl. Niece of a gaseous old gent over in Berkshire. A
little ville called Tewsbury”

“Tewsbury,” Jeremy repeated slowly. He looked concerned. “Richard, what have you done?”

“I have done nothing, Jeremy. I told you Reggie had
been up to his old tricks, and this time he tossed me
into a true bumblebroth” Richard thrust himself from
his chair and paced again before the fire. “Apparently,
he compromised the girl. Had she been just another of
his indiscretions, we might have looked to her needs
and tried to forget the matter. But this girl is a gentle woman, with a terror of a cousin who caught them
together and a bludgeoning uncle as guardian. Add
Geneve’s fears for her darling and the formula becomes
quite knotty, with the predictable solution.” His lips
firmed bitterly. He was conscious of complaining,
though Jeremy knew all.

“Who’s the chit?” Jeremy asked.

“A Miss Harriet Ashton. An orphan, apparently. A
vicar’s daughter with only the tartar of an uncle to look
out for her. If I didn’t know she had been silly enough
to fall for Reggie, I might even find it in my heart to
pity her.” When Richard finally met Jeremy’s gaze he
was surprised to see how intently his friend was studying him. And to his astonishment, it looked as though
Jeremy attempted to hide some amusement. “Devil
take it, you insufferable carrottop! What can you find
laughable in this?”

Jeremy cleared his throat and looked away, idly
brushing invisible lint from his spotless indigo coat.
“Apologies, Richard,” he said easily. “It’s simply that I
knew an Ashton. Tolliver-Tolly-Ashton. From
Tewsbury, as it happens. I have mentioned him before.
He joined the Light Horse after you were wounded at
Vitoria and sent home. Took a ball at the Nivelle River
and died two days later.”

“And you find that humorous?” Richard demanded.

“No, no, just wondering whether this Miss Harriet
might not be related. Seems likely they would be. Both
from Tewsbury and all. I think I should like to meet her.
As I recall, Tolly had a sister, or somesuch, who wrote some deucedly fine letters” His light gaze met
Richard’s again. This time he looked more curious than
amused-as curious to watch Richard as to meet Miss
Ashton.

“If you’re to stop here with me for a while, you’ll
have opportunity enough. Miss Ashton and I will
attempt to `court’ until Reggie returns from Ireland,
where, of course, he’s conveniently chosen to holiday.”

“Another woman?”

“Horses,” Richard corrected. “An abandonment you
will no doubt commend in him.”

“You forget, my friend, that I have yet to see your
Miss Ashton.”

Richard shrugged. “She has looks enough, I suppose. I was hardly in a frame of mind to do her justice.
She speaks well, very well in fact. You will find her
passable”

“Passable?” Jeremy smiled. “How droll. Is she truly
such an antidote then, to leave Richard Marksley
scrambling for words?”

In all truth Richard had only minutes before thought of
her as lovely. Perhaps his confusion showed on his face,
because Jeremy wisely refrained from pressing him.

“So-your engagement lasts only until Reggie’s
return?”

“Or failing that, for some three weeks from this
Sunday, when the banns will be published. I must thank
my good fortune that Ashton has not insisted on a special license.”

“And if Reggie should decline to do his duty?”

“This he will not decline,” Richard said bluntly. “I
will delay for him. I will attempt, discreetly mind you,
to find a substitute. I’ve asked Appleby to inquire.
Perhaps I can convince some stripling that he desires a
wife. But I shan’t hang myself.”

Jeremy cleared his throat.

“What of The Tantalus?” he asked, turning to survey the room as though its decor were of the utmost
fascination.

“It will be difficult. But I don’t foresee the necessity
to spend every hour of the day with the girl. A man
needs his own pursuits.”

“Decidedly. Though you might find help from unexpected quarters. Particularly if Hallie-beg pardon,
Miss Ashton-were to volunteer some of her time.”

Richard stared at him in amazement.

“Miss Ashton volunteer her time! What are you on
about? I suppose I might set a country miss to opening
the post. But seriously, Jeremy, what can you be thinking?” His gaze narrowed. “And you called her Hallie.
Do you know her, then?”

“What?” Jeremy blinked. “I thought that’s what you
called her. Or perhaps Tolly mentioned it. Just assumed
this Ashton girl must be related. Hallie’s a common
enough name, ain’t it?”

“Is it? I have never heard it before”

“You have scarcely been out amongst the smart set
these past three years, Richard. It’s all the crack for the
young ladies to have their pet names. Miss Emmeline
Potter is Mel, Lady Justine Smythe is Tina, the delec table Persis Kinnicott is Nicky-” He ticked them off
on his fingers.

“I could wish you spent a bit less time in society,
Jeremy. One Hallie Ashton is quite sufficient, thank
you. If Geneve had not promised that this is the last
thing she will ever ask of me, I would never have
agreed to do as much”

“Wouldn’t you, Richard?” Jeremy smiled. “Even to
save the lady’s honor?”

“What there is of it to save, you mean”

Jeremy looked stricken. “Oh, come, you cannot be
serious. Never say that she and Reginald … that
Reggie actually-”

“How can I know?” Richard asked. “Whatever she
might say, whatever I might wish to believe, I know
Reginald.”

“Yes,” Jeremy mused, and tapped the arm of his
chair. “I should like to see Harriet Ashton, Richard.
When do you plan to attend her?”