The Misguided Matchmaker (15 page)

Scarcely
had he raised the knocker than the door burst open, revealing an ancient fellow
whose formal attired proclaimed him a butler, but whose scarred cheek and
patch-covered eye more closely resembled those of a Barbary pirate.

“Come
ye in, Miss Maddy, and ye too, young feller, and glad I am to see ye. The
cap’ns been storming around like a sou’wester in the rigging this week past and
I’m that weary of his evil temper,” he declared with a familiarity no proper
butler would presume to display.

Remembering
the old codger he’d met at Harcourt’s office, Tristan decided the eccentric cit
must make a habit of surrounding himself with colorful employees.

Stepping
aside, the butler waved them through the door into a small entry hall, the
walls of which were adorned by paintings of a dozen or more brigantines in full
sail, all bearing the Harcourt flag and each with a brass nameplate at the base
of its frame.

Tristan
was so intrigued by the paintings and by the intricate ship’s model displayed
on an ebony pier table, he failed to see the old butler limp to the foot of the
graceful staircase curving to the floor above. “She’s ere, Cap’n. So ye can
quit yer frettin’ now,” he hollered at the top of his lungs, then promptly
disappeared behind the stairwell.

Moments
later, Caleb Harcourt thundered down the stairs, sans both topcoat and
waistcoat, and with his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow. He stopped a few feet
short of Tristan and surveyed him with a baleful eye. “So, you’ve arrived at
last,” he declared in the booming voice Tristan remembered all too well. “And
high time too! I’d have thought with Boney at your heels, you’d have reached
London sooner than my reckoning—not a full sen’night later.”

Tristan
felt his hackles rise at the injustice of this criticism. “The circumstances
did not permit setting a rigid timetable,” he said coldly. “Indeed, with all
that’s transpired in France during the last month, we are lucky to have made it
to London at all.”

Harcourt
looked taken aback by the vehemence of Tristan’s reply. “Aye, I give you that
now that I think on it,” he conceded. “I wasn’t complaining, lad, but merely
giving vent to the frustration of the past seven days.

His
gaze shifted to Maddy, traveling from the top of her head to the tips of her
toes with a perusal so intense, Tristan saw the color blanch from her face.
“Never say this woman grown is my daughter, Maddy,” he said gruffly. “Hell’s
bells, girl, when I last saw you I could carry you on my shoulder. This day has
been a long time coming. Much too long, to my way of thinking.”

Maddy
dropped into a graceful curtsy. “I am pleased to see you, too, Papa,” she said
in a stilted little voice that told Tristan she’d been much more nervous about
this meeting with her father than she had let on.

Harcourt
raised his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Here now, none of the bobbing up and
down for me, girl. I’m a plain man and always will be. Save such folderol for
the swells you’ll be meeting once we’ve had a fancy modiste make you up some
pretties.”

He
chuckled at Maddy’s look of surprise. “Ay, that’s right. I’ve plans for you,
young lady. Plans I’ve been laying all these long years I’ve waited for you to
remember who it was that fathered you.”

Maddy
felt her knees go weak, recalling her grandfather’s surprising deathbed
confession. “I believed
you
had forgotten me, Papa,” she said, choking
back the sob rising in her throat. “Only recently did I learn otherwise.”

Harcourt’s
eyes blazed. “Forgotten you? How could you think such a thing when even with
England and France at war, I managed to smuggle enough money to your
grandfather each quarter to guarantee you were always well cared for?”

He
studied Maddy with narrowed eyes. “That devious old Tartar never told you! And
all this time I was thinking my own flesh and blood didn’t care enough to write
me a line once or twice a year.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, blew
his nose, and wiped his eyes, which had grown suspiciously moist.

“Damn
and blast! I should have sent for you years ago.” He shrugged his powerful
shoulders as if divesting himself of a great burden. “Well, it’s all water down
the Thames now, and I’m not one to look back on yesterday when we’ve tomorrow
ahead of us.” He held out his arms. “Come here, girl. Give your old papa the
hug he’s not had these fifteen long years.”

Maddy
stepped into his embrace and instantly was deluged with memories of being swept
up in the arms of this great bear of a man, of walking through Hyde Park, her
hand safely clasped in his. And other memories of crying herself to sleep night
after night in a strange bed not at all like her own little trundle bed, afraid
to ask why her beloved papa had sent her away. She longed to tell him how much
she had missed him. But she could see that with Tristan looking on he was
already embarrassed by the emotion of their reunion, as was she, so she merely
laid her head on his shoulder and gave way to her silent tears.

“But
here now,” he growled a moment later, “what are we doing standing around in
this drafty entry hall like a bunch of gapeseeds fresh from the country?” He
lifted her chin with his large, callused finger. “And you with circles as black
as the soot from a London chimney beneath your pretty eyes.”

His
rugged face softened in a smile. “I think I should have old Griggins show you
to your chamber so’s you can have a lie-down while I trade a few words with the
earl’s brother here. Then we’ll have a bite to eat and a nice, long gabble.”

He’d
called her a woman grown one minute, and was sending her to her chamber for a
nap as if she were still a five-year-old, the next. She could see she would
have to make him understand who and what she was. But not now. Not when every
inch of her body ached from exhaustion.

She
slipped out of his arms and as she watched, he reared back his head like a
great bull elephant and bellowed, “Griggins, you blasted old swabber, where’d
you get to now?”

“Hold
your water, Cap’n. I just be finishing my supper.” The voice came from behind
the stairwell, and Maddy stifled the urge to chuckle as the old fellow emerged,
evidently from the kitchen as he had a muffin in his hand and crumbs on his
lip.

It
was obvious her father was accustomed to his servant’s lack of respect, for he
made no comment about the fellow’s cheeky reply, but merely ordered, “Take Miss
Maddy up to her chamber while her legs’ll still carry her.”

Maddy
turned to Tristan, and for one brief instant his eyes caressed her with tender
concern. Then, as if he realized they had an audience, he donned his usual mask
of cool indifference. Her gaze traveled to his strong, expressive mouth and she
felt a sudden overwhelming desire to collect another of the kisses owed her.

Nom
de Dieu,
she must have the
instincts of a trollop to be constantly bedeviled by such unladylike thoughts.
She only hoped Tristan made her an offer soon, before her feelings for him
drove her to commit a serious impropriety.

Determinedly
she pulled her wits together. “Thank you, Tristan,” she said in the most proper
of ladylike voices. “Ours was a great adventure and I shall treasure the memory
forever. But Papa is right. Now that it is over, I find I am very tired. A nap
sounds most welcome.”

She
followed Griggins to the foot of the stairs, where she hesitated, a wry smile
on her face. “But I shall plan on seeing you later, Tristan.”

“Not
tonight, Maddy. My stepmother was not well when I left, and I am anxious to get
home.”

“Very
well, tomorrow then.” She held his gaze with her own, her lips curling in a
mischievous smile. “Do not forget we have some unfinished business.”

Caleb
Harcourt poured two brandies, handed one to Tristan, and took a seat behind the
Sheraton desk in his bookroom, where they’d adjourned after Maddy left them.
With a wave of his hand, he indicated Tristan should occupy the chair facing
him.

Like
the entryway, this walnut-paneled room also had a nautical ambience. A ship’s
compass adorned the top of a small table, which on closer inspection appeared
to be constructed of a brass hatch cover, and to the left of the desk stood a
cluttered chart table.

Every
wall was lined with books, and Tristan found himself wondering if Caleb
Harcourt was actually an avid reader or if the hundreds of rich bound volumes
were used merely to create the effect that this “plain man,” as he termed
himself, was really a learned scholar.

“Maddy
favors her mother in looks, and that’s a fact,” Harcourt said, opening the
conversation. “Except for her height, of course. Clarisse was a head
shorter—prettiest little creature God ever created. I took one look at her and
lost my head completely. It wasn’t until after Maddy was born that I realized
I’d married a woman who’d never had a sensible thought in her life. I’m
trusting Maddy’s inherited some of what’s between her ears from me.”

Tristan
smiled, remembering how often she had outwitted him. “You need have no worry on
that score, sir. She is highly intelligent and I’d stack her up against any man
when it came to courage. We had some rather harrowing experiences on our trip
across France, and she survived them all without a whimper.”

“Got
bottom, has she? Good. I’d expect nothing less of my daughter.” Harcourt’s
shrewd old eyes studied Tristan closely. “What did Maddy mean when she said you
had unfinished business?”

“Just
a friendly bit of banter,” Tristan said vaguely.

“Friendly,
eh! I couldn’t help but notice how friendly the two of you had gotten on the
trip—enough so as to be calling each other by your given names.”

He
paused. “But not too friendly, I trust. Man for man. I’d take you over your
half-brother as a son-in-law any day, you understand. But he has the title, and
I’ll not settle for less where Maddy’s concerned.”

Tristan
felt a sudden urge to plant the rag-mannered old tyrant a facer, even though he
knew his anger was occasioned as much by his own sense of guilt as by
Harcourt’s insensitive remark. “Damn your eyes, Harcourt,” he snarled. “Thanks
to you, your daughter and I found ourselves in a very dangerous situation in
France. We managed to survive it and, as a result, formed a fast friendship. I
resent your implication that I abused that friendship in any way or that she is
the kind of woman to inspire such base conduct on my part. For your
information, sir, the fact that I am a bastard does not preclude my having
principles.”

Harcourt
blinked. “Simmer down, lad. I meant no offense. I’ve nothing against bastards.
Truth is, I’m one myself in every sense of the word, which is why I want
something better for my daughter. I saw what being tarred by my brush did to
her mother. I’ll not have those biddies in the
ton
barring Maddy from
their fancy doings like they did Clarisse.”

“I
can accept that. I’d probably feel the same If I had a daughter,” Tristan said
stiffly. “If there is nothing more you wish to discuss, sir, I shall take my
leave of you. I’ve a good two-hour drive to Winterhaven and both I and my nags
are near exhaustion.”

“You’re
not to go to Winterhaven.”

“Sir?”

“Lady
Ursula asked me to tell you the earl’s London townhouse has been refurbished
and the family will be staying there for the balance of the Season. She had
your clothes and other belongings brought up from Winterhaven.

Tristan
couldn’t believe his ears. He had stayed at the townhouse the two nights prior
to leaving for France and couldn’t imagine the family being in residence there.
The staff had all been let go months before; furthermore, most of the furniture
and all of the paintings and artifacts had been sold by the Fourth Earl to
raise money for his gambling habit. He could only assume that Caleb Harcourt
had already begun to replenish the empty Ramsden coffers in anticipation of his
daughter’s marriage into the family.

He
had known all along this had to happen, had even convinced himself he accepted
it. But his palpable proof that Maddy would soon be his brother’s wife bore the
terrible finality of a death blow.

Without
further ado, he rose and prepared to take his leave before Maddy awoke from her
nap and he had to face the agony of seeing her again.

Caleb
Harcourt insisted on shaking his hand and offering his heartfelt thanks for
delivering his daughter safely under such difficult circumstances. “Give us
three or four days to get Maddy properly outfitted before you and your brother
call on her,” he said as he walked Tristan to the door.

Tristan’s
heart skipped a beat. “Call on her?”

“It
was Lady Ursula’s suggestion. Fine woman that, with a keen sense of what’s
right and proper. She believes the best way to get Maddy and the earl together,
natural like, is for you to introduce them, seeing as how you’re the only one
who knows them both.”

Harcourt’s
smile was infuriatingly complacent. “I agree with her completely, for even
though the deed is as good as done, I’d not want Maddy to think her marriage to
the earl was anything but a love match. Women, especially young ones like
Maddy, put great store in such things, if you take my meaning.”