What a Spinster Wants Page 14

  “I canna let ye see him,” Edith insisted, her heart leaping into her throat.

  “You will,” Amelia told her without concern. “He has no reason to harm me or to cause me difficulty. If he knows anyone in Society, he will realize the danger I present. I think you might be too close to the situation and take too much upon yourself.” She stepped forward and took Edith’s hands. “Hide yourself upstairs and let me take control of the situation.”

  Edith shook her head frantically, unable to voice her objection, but needing to refuse adamantly somehow.

  Amelia gave her quite a stern look. “Edith, from what I can tell, Sir Reginald wants you, not me. He takes care to have you be alone when he comes, despite his claims of going public, because he knows how to unnerve you. You have dealt with him on your own up until now and have done most admirably. Now please, let me try my way. Owen will ensure I am safe.”

  Owen grunted once and crossed to Amelia, stepping behind her in a show of support.

  Edith could only gape at her friend, who suddenly possessed more mettle than she did, then looked to Owen, who only inclined his head towards the stairs.

  Unable to fight anyone at all on this, Edith did as they suggested, but not before writing a quick note to Hensh and sending Simms out with it.

  Edith bit her lip as she heard Owen go to the door and sat herself on the floor of the corridor above, staying close enough to hear what transpired below. If anything happened, if Sir Reginald did not behave appropriately with Amelia, Edith would rush down and give herself up. She could hardly do otherwise.

  “Took you long enough to admit me,” Sir Reginald grumbled as he was let in. “Is Lady Edith growing particular as to her guests?” He chuckled at his own words, and Edith could hear the sound of his walking stick hitting the floor in time with his shoes.

  Why did that sound so ominous now, rather than the ridiculous charade it always was?

  The clicking suddenly stopped, as did the feet.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Miss Amelia Perry,” Edith heard her reply in a calm tone.

  “Where is Lady Edith?”

  “Not at home.”

  Edith could hear his snarl from her position. “I don’t believe you. You would not receive callers if she were not at home.”

  “Lady Edith is a generous benefactress, and said I may receive callers without her, so long as Owen was close.”

  Edith smiled to herself, imagining how Owen must have looked standing there as a chaperone. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing nervously.

  “Your benefactress?” Sir Reginald asked. “How can she be so when she has nothing?”

  “She has connections and gentility, sir, which is all I have need of.”

  “When will she return?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know, sir. She did not say.”

  How in the world could Amelia remain so unmoved in the face of this man? So collected, so bold, when she had professed to simply being a silly girl like any other in Society. There was nothing silly in this, and no other woman in Society to compare.

  “How long will you be here, then?” Sir Reginald’s voice sounded more irritated than irate, but there was an undertone that had Edith curling into a ball where she sat.

  Amelia, however, remained unruffled. “Some time, I should think. As long as Lady Edith allows me to.”

  Steps echoed once more. “You will leave this house tomorrow.”

  There was no mistaking the venom in his voice now, and Edith pushed to her hands and knees, teeth pressing down painfully into her lip.

  She could not believe his audacity. To threaten a young woman with no connection to him? Whose family was influential and popular? Either he did not know of the family, or he did not care.

  The first would have been understandable, the second terrifying.

  “I will do no such thing,” Amelia insisted in an equally harsh tone. “I have been invited to stay, and stay, I shall. We have a great many things to accomplish together, and I don’t believe any of them include you.”

  “Take care, Miss Perry. You don’t wish to make an enemy of me.”

  “I have no wish to make an enemy of any man, sir, but that does not mean I do not have them. And you should take care, I think. My uncle is the Earl of Wicklow, Lord Frenway, and unless you have completely mistaken your histories, you will know that means he is one of the most powerful men in Ireland, and a personal friend of the prime minister, whom I am to have tea with tomorrow. Perhaps I should tell him of your visit?”

  Edith’s mouth popped open. Amelia had said nothing about influential relatives, and for her to give such a threat, veiled as it was, to Sir Reginald was unfathomable. What he wanted most was to have standing and place in Society, and to risk that was to risk ostracization.

  He could not have that, surely.

  Sir Reginald’s shoes clipped in the corridor almost immediately. “Good day, Miss Perry. Do forgive my rudeness. I am only disappointed. I beg you to inform Lady Edith of my call, and that I would be pleased to find her at another time more convenient to her.”

  Some scuffling was heard, and then the door closed soundly, leaving the house in complete silence for a moment.

  Edith raced down the stairs and rounded into the drawing room, looking at Amelia in shock. Her expression was much the same.

  “Where did that come from, Amelia?”

  “I have no idea,” she whispered.

  The two suddenly burst out laughing, nerves and relief blending in hilarity, and were quite insensible.

  “Mad as hares, the both of ye,” Owen grumbled. He shook his head and moved back to the door as frantic knocking echoed there.

  Edith wiped tears of mirth from her eyes as familiar voices filled the air. Henshaw and Lord Radcliffe appeared in the drawing room, looking as if they had run a very great distance.

  “What in God’s name…?” Henshaw asked, looking between the still laughing ladies.

  Owen explained what had happened hastily, and the men looked at each other in confusion.

  “Edith, are you all right?” Henshaw asked, coming to take her arm once she was calmer.

  She nodded and gestured for them all to come more fully into the room. “I am verra well. I’ve not had to deal with Sir Reginald in so long, I almost forget what it is like.”

  Henshaw gave her a shrewd look. “Don’t make light of it, Edith. This has to stop.”

  Edith sighed and rubbed at her brow. “I know. I canna stop it on my own, but Amelia’s quick thinking today will no doubt change things.”

  Lord Radcliffe stood nearby, looking at her with some interest. Edith finally looked at him, and his focus seemed to intensify.

  Her cheeks heated. “My lord, it is good to see you again.”

  His mouth quirked only slightly. “You as well, Lady Edith, though I had hoped for better circumstances.”

  “How did you come to be here?” she asked, looking between him and Henshaw. “I sent a note to Lieutenant Henshaw, but—”

  “I saw the weasel, and he looked distressed, so I made the logical conclusion.” He shrugged. “Henshaw and I arrived at the same time.”

  Edith smiled at his attempt to lessen his response. “Trying for another mark, my lord?”

  “Perhaps,” he replied, his eyes becoming amused.

  Henshaw looked over at Amelia, who had said very little. “Well, thanks to Miss Perry, there was nothing for us to do. That was very smart, Miss Perry.”

  Amelia flushed a little. “No doubt, it was the first time I have told a lie of such magnitude, but I trust it shall not count.”

  Edith reached out a hand and covered hers. “If you hadna told him I was out, he would have been far worse.”

  Amelia smiled a bit shyly. “Oh, no, that was not the lie I meant.”

  The room looked at her in confusion, waiting.

  She snorted a bit and covered her mouth. “My uncle is a gentleman, with a fine heritage, richly tied to Irel
and.” She looked at Edith quickly, her smile growing mischievous. “As blacksmiths. Then in trade. My mother’s entire fortune was from shipping. I have never met anyone close to the prime minister, and I have not, nor likely will ever, have tea with him.”

  Edith stared at her for a long moment, then burst out laughing again. Henshaw and Lord Radcliffe grinned, while Owen applauded and cheered as loud as any Scotsman ever has.

  “This could prove interesting,” Henshaw said, looking back at Lord Radcliffe. “Sir Reginald will have a difficult time slandering Lady Edith while she is in Miss Perry’s company, particularly if he thinks she has ties to the prime minister.”

  Lord Radcliffe nodded slowly. “How much time will that buy us?”

  Henshaw hissed. “Hard to say. Enough time to figure out a better course, I would think. He’s shown he is willing to torment Edith at events, so that avenue is not open to us.

  They continued to converse among themselves, and Amelia leaned over to Edith. “What are they talking about?”

  Edith shrugged and reached for the tea she had put down before. “I have no idea. I have completely lost control of my life. I only do what others tell me. But handsome would-be heroes are tolerable compensation.”

  Amelia giggled and took some tea herself while both waited to be addressed again.

  Chapter Twelve

  A little interference may go a long way.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 12 July 1815

  “Tell me more about your brother, Edith. He’s a baron, yes? I find him enormously intriguing.”

  Edith looked at Charlotte with some alarm. “No. Absolutely not, Charlotte.”

  “What?” Charlotte replied, dark eyes wide, looking around at the room of Spinsters. “I merely wish to learn more about the family member of one of my closest friends. Where is the harm in that?”

  “A young, handsome, by all accounts, vigorous Highlander who has recently come to London to make amends and reconnect with his sister,” Grace mused aloud as she poured her tea, smiling to herself. “Yes, your interest would be quite innocent, would it not?”

  Prue snickered to herself, raising her teacup and sipping slowly.

  Edith did not find the idea so humorous, her mind spinning on the idea of Charlotte taking an interest in her brother. They would kill each other, she had no doubt, though the journey they took to that point would likely be an interesting one.

  “Charlotte, he has no fortune, minimal manners, and no holdings to speak of,” Edith assured her friend with all possible bluntness.

  Charlotte raised a brow. “Is he your father’s heir?”

  Edith cringed, her hands folding tightly in her lap. “He is.”

  “Then I say let me meet his lordship, Baron Halsey.” Charlotte folded her arms and lifted a daring brow. “Lachlan MacDougal would be a wonderful addition to my coterie.”

  “Oh, stop,” Georgie protested, putting a hand on her cheek. “Must we admit so frankly that you collect suitors?”

  Izzy snorted softly. “What else would you call it, Georgie? That’s exactly what she does.”

  “If you want a Highlander for a suitor,” Edith said with a weak smile for Charlotte, “I can give you the names of several others who are far better candidates.”

  Charlotte grinned in her usual mischievous way. “But they are not your wicked brother, Edith. That is the most appealing aspect.”

  Edith leaned forward in her seat and leveled a hard look at her. “Lachlan is the reason I was forced into marrying Archie. His debts and my father’s debts ruined us, and Lachlan absolved a decent amount of his particular debt by using me as a bargaining chip. He may ask for forgiveness now, Charlotte, but you should be fully aware of who he has been.”

  The room was silent, and Charlotte’s suddenly pale complexion made Edith regret saying anything about it. How could Lachlan truly make amends if she continually brought in the reminder of past sins and misdeeds?

  “Then bring him into my fold,” Charlotte managed, trying for another smile, “so that I may give him a proper dressing down.”

  Edith smiled. “I will consider it. You might do a better job at that than me.”

  “Of course, I would.” Charlotte winked. “I have no shame.”

  “Well, soon, neither will I,” Edith admitted, “and no pride to speak of, either.”

  Georgie looked at Grace then, rather significantly, and so obviously that Edith stared at them both in return. She looked only slightly abashed, and Grace snickered.

  “What is this all about?” Edith finally asked, reaching for a biscuit on the tea tray.

  Again, they shared a look. Then Georgie spoke up. “We have something to tell you, Edith, that concerns you and Amelia.”

  That piqued her interest, and she wished she had brought Amelia to the meeting today. “Oh?”

  Grace looked rather smug for a moment, smiling about some secret or other. “You are not to argue, and not to worry, either.”

  Edith felt the first prickle of dread begin to start, wondering what was going to be said. There was no question it would be about Sir Reginald or her situation, and anything in those veins would undoubtedly make her uncomfortable.

  “We are all leaving London,” Georgie said with a smile, “including the both of you.”

  “What?” Edith cried. “No! No, we canna possibly…”

  “We will be going to Berkshire,” Grace said loudly, “to a house party.”

  Edith looked at the others in bewilderment. “Whose house party, and how did I manage an invitation? I’ve never gone to a house party before, and I wasna aware of any invitations of late.”

  Grace grinned a bit mischievously. “That is because the invitations to this house party are very exclusive and very private. Only a select few members of Society even know about it, and discretion is the key.”

  “Why so discreet?” Izzy asked, looking a bit suspicious.

  That surprised Edith. So, not everyone was aware of what was being proposed? Interesting… Then who was behind it all?

  “Because if more people knew, they would all wish to go,” Georgie told her. “People have been known to randomly show up at Merrifield Terrace without invitation when a house party is in progress.”

  “Merrifield?” Edith repeated, her brows rising. “I don’t know that house at all. I’ve never heard of it. Who is hosting?”

  Now, Grace looked positively gleeful. “Lord Radcliffe, of course.”

  There were no words for such an answer, at least as far as Edith was concerned. Charlotte, on the other hand, clapped her hands and dissolved into laughter.

  “Oh, this is perfection!” Charlotte cried. “Absolute perfection!”

  “He does not seem like the sort to put on such an event,” Prue said, looking a bit embarrassed by her words.

  Grace shrugged. “He’s not. But his late brother and his wife were.”

  The silence in the room was deafening. Mortification rose within Edith, for her thoughts had been very similar. Prue turned so red, one could be worried for her health.

  “Oh…” was all Prue managed to say before her eyes welled up with tears. Izzy moved to sit beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders and rubbing soothingly.

  Grace reached out a hand and smiled softly. “No one talks about it. It was a great loss to Society.”

  Georgie cleared her throat. “The late Lord and Lady Radcliffe died three years ago. She was elegant and refined and hosted the most glorious house parties. He was devoted to her, social and charming, the perfect match for her. Everyone wanted to attend, would vie for months and months to be invited. Every year was better and better, and if you weren’t invited to the Radcliffes’ house party, something was amiss with you.”

  “So,” Grace said with a sigh, “after all this time, the new Lord Radcliffe has decided that this is the year to bring back the house parties that made his brother and sister-in-law so famous, and made his country estate the envy of all humanity.”

  “It is a
glorious place,” Georgie said with a heaving sigh of her own. “Woods and trails and such lush nature all about you, and the house itself is massive. So elegant and majestic, the most absolutely perfect place in England.”

  “Perfect, is it?” Edith murmured, not knowing what else to do but make light of all this. “Well, well. Why shouldn’t we all venture thus, indeed? I’ve yet to see perfection in England. What a notion.”

  “You jest if you will,” Grace said with a warning finger, “but Georgie is not exaggerating. The ballroom alone in that place would make angels weep for its beauty. There is a lake nearby, excellent stables, a library to end all libraries…”

  “Well, that’s enough to convince me,” Izzy muttered as she took a bite of a cake.

  “Gardens that one can get quite lost in,” Georgie said with a touch of longing and a sly little smile towards Edith.

  Edith blinked at it. “What? What need have I to get lost in a garden?”

  “Who doesn’t have a need to get lost in a garden?” Charlotte insisted, fanning herself for good measure.

  Georgie rolled her eyes. “I’m getting your invitation revoked, Charlotte. You’re just going to create a scandal.”

  “One can only hope,” came Charlotte’s quip.

  They all giggled for a few minutes, and then Grace gave Edith a smile. “Mr. Copeland and Mr. Tomkins will be invited, as will Mr. Gaither, and several other men whom you may wish to meet.”

  Edith blushed a bit. “So, you are saying I should use Lord Radcliffe’s party to find the protection I seek, yes?”

  Grace shrugged. “In a word, yes. Henshaw is coming, and several other ladies have been invited, too. Radcliffe didn’t want to make it seem as though all of this was for you, though I do believe you were the motivating factor.”

  How could she take that? How would anyone? He’d said that he had an idea for how to help her, but he hadn’t said what it was. Just the other day, he and Henshaw had been discussing time and options, though nothing specific had been shared with Edith. Now, he would invite her, and others, to his home, despite not being particularly social, in an effort to help her.