“I quite forgot for the moment that you find the gentleman most attractive. You must talk with him if the opportunity presents itself. And Jane”—Ariel turned to the younger girl— “you must not tag along with your sister and Mr. Ponsonby should they take a turn in the garden. I would deem it a favor if you could disappear?” Ariel said hesitantly, not wishing to hurt Jane’s feelings, but knowing how difficult it might be for Celia to encourage Mr. Ponsonby with a younger sister around.

  Jane nodded seriously, then said, “Perhaps we had best talk about what we will wear to the Assembly on Wednesday? Mama has said I may have my hair put up and wear the dress Celia had last year, the peach one.”

  “That’s a lovely gown, and with some new white satin ribands, perhaps a knot or two, and a few silk flowers at the flounce, it will look fresh,” Ariel said, trying to tear her mind away from the awful promise of the future her aunt deemed proper for her.

  Celia offered a few comments on her gown, while Ariel struggled to remember what she had planned to wear—likely the blue silk she had intended for the party if it was ready in time. Nothing seemed important at the moment other than finding a way out of marriage to Mr. Dudley. That her aunt, who had seemed so faithful and concerned for her niece declared Papa dead and was deeply involved in some scheme of her own distressed Ariel as well.

  A sound from the front of the house turned all eyes to the doorway.

  “What has happened?” Lord Harcourt asked as he entered the sitting room. “I know you would not summon me here unless something serious was afoot.”

  Ariel rose to greet him. “How are you? Poor man, scarce a chance to rest!” She nodded to Mr. Ponsonby, who had followed his friend. That he was smiling at Celia brought Ariel to mind the earlier conversation. “Celia, perhaps you would like to show Mr. Ponsonby the lilacs while I discuss my problem with Lord Harcourt?”

  “I must ask Mama about my gown for the assembly,” Jane said quietly. “I do believe those knots of white riband and the silk flowers will be just the thing.” She slipped from the room with tactful grace.

  Celia gave Ariel an amazed look, then accepted Mr. Ponsonby’s arm. “The lilacs are unusually fine this year, sir,” she said as they strolled out the door leading to the back gardens.

  “I gather this has been discussed at some length before I reached here?” Jordan said with a nod at the departing figures. “It must indeed be serious.”

  “Celia is my best friend and is remarkably sensible... usually.” Lady Ariel fiddled with the gloves she had removed to eat her biscuit, casting hesitant glances at him until he took one of her hands to lead her to the doorway.

  “I suggest we walk the opposite direction from Percy and your friend. I would hear the worst that has happened and at once.”

  “Perhaps that is best.” They left the house behind them as they strolled along the first path they came to, one that led away from Percy and Celia. Spring blooms peeped from the border, offering brilliant hues in a wide variety. Jordan paid them not the slightest attention, rather he concentrated on the lovely young woman at his side. That she would not have summoned him there unless the situation was dire was not lost on him. He could only hope to turn matters to his own advantage if possible.

  “First of all,” she began, “the powder flask is missing from my father’s case. I have it here, and I would prefer you to keep it for me. In the event my father returns in time, I may have need of it as proof that something was not right. Just what—I am not certain at the moment, but there have been some developments.”

  She retrieved the powder flask from inside her neat gray jacket, giving it into his keeping. The silver and gilt gleamed brightly in the filtered light offered through the shade of a row of birch trees.

  Jordan took the flask still warm from her body. He looked at it, then slipped it into his pocket. “I’d not expected to see it again. But you said first... What else has occurred?” Jordan felt her hand tensing on his arm and wondered what could be so terrible that she found it difficult to talk about now they were no longer strangers.

  “I had just discovered the absence of the powder flask when I heard my aunt and Sir Henry return from a drive. I was in the library still. She came to the doorway to inform me that they, ostensibly she, had decided that I must marry Mr. Dudley! What Sir Henry has to say to my marriage is beyond me, but there he was—looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Aunt Maitland is convinced my father will not return from India—she declared him dead, and believes that as my guardian she has the right to arrange this marriage. Needless to say, I am devastated.”

  “There must be something you can do. You wrote your father. Since no word has come to you regarding his death, you must believe he is still alive. When he discovers what is afoot, he is bound to return at once,” Jordan said, hoping he sounded more encouraging than he felt.

  “She means to announce the betrothal at the Wednesday assembly.” Lady Ariel paused to look up at him, searching his face for something she wished to see. “I do not know when she plans the marriage, but I doubt if I can delay a wedding until autumn if she is determined.”

  “That puts an entirely different slant on it altogether,” Jordan said slowly, continuing on the path. The sound of crunching gravel and a few birds was all that was heard for some moments.

  “The most maddening thing about this is that Mr. Dudley is nowhere to be seen. I do not even merit the decency of a proposal, much less the opportunity to say no! Were it not so outrageous, it would be laughable.” She sounded near to tears. Jordan drew her to a pretty little stone bench beneath a birch tree that waved delicate, pale green leaves in the slight breeze. He placed a comforting arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him and taking hope from the lack of any resistance.

  “I told you that it might be necessary for me to step into the fray, as it were. Come Wednesday evening, I will bring an engagement ring with me to the assembly, and you and I will announce our engagement before your aunt can say a word. I’m certain I can bribe the master of ceremonies to allow me to be first. However, if my ring is on your finger, Dudley can scarcely place a second one there.”

  Jordan wasn’t sure how he could convince the master of ceremonies that it would be proper for him to announce the betrothal rather than a member of the family. “I believe that if I point out how your father is absent that it would be proper for the gentleman involved to make the announcement he may agree.”

  “You would do this for me? It would be just until my father has returned. I promise.”

  She looked at him with an expression he found hard to interpret. However, if he could accustom her to having him at her side, perhaps, he thought, she might be willing to make it permanent? And that was most ironic, since he had declared while on his way to Kent that he had no need of a wife. That was before he met Ariel.

  “I will do this for you and more if you but ask,” Jordan began, then stopped at the odd look in her eyes. Had he gone too far?

  Ariel studied the man at her side. She had dreamed of a romantic proposal, with the gentleman sweeping her off her feet, offering a promise of love and devotion. She certainly had never expected to bargain for a betrothal, especially with the man she would truly like to marry. He had revealed a compassionate nature and an excellent mind, not to mention other skills as well. He also had told Miss Vipont that he was not looking for a wife. Ariel hoped he had changed his mind; if not, she would work to that end.

  “Then I accept your generous offer.” She lifted her face, hoping he might bestow another kiss. He didn’t fail her. And it proved far better than the hastily snatched kiss in the stable yard. Perhaps there was something about a stone bench beneath a gracefully arching birch tree? If so, she would request more birch trees to be planted at Stafford Court.

  Jordan fought the desire to sweep Ariel into his arms and kiss her as he would prefer. A gentleman didn’t do that with an innocent, not if he wanted to advance his cause. He reluctantly released her and was most pleased when she did not draw away from him, but remained in his embrace, close to his side.

  “Be careful not to say anything that might give away our intent. We would not want to forewarn your aunt what we plan. Pretend you accept your fate. But I promise you that I will do everything in my power to protect you from whatever your aunt and Sir Henry have in mind. You do not think they will attempt to wed you against your will, using a special license?” he asked.

  She pulled from his embrace, jumped to her feet, and began to pace back and forth, her steps crunching loudly on the gravel. “Mr. Lytton would never agree to such a thing, I am certain of that. He would be our ally.”

  “Perhaps I ought to tell the gentleman what we intend to do? Could he keep a secret? If we have made arrangements with Mr. Lytton, your aunt can scarcely command him to marry you to someone else. Particularly when he would see you wed to me.” Jordan smiled at Ariel, his fellow conspirator.

  “Isn’t it odd how things work out?” she mused, glancing at him from the comers of her eyes. But she looked very cautious. He might have convincing to do.

  “Indeed.” He stood, wanting to enfold her in his embrace and ward off the dreaded marriage and whatever else was planned. He suspected that more was involved than the marriage. That was merely the beginning. Was it possible that the aunt, with Sir Henry at her side, intended to take control of Ariel’s fortune? Dudley wouldn’t stand a chance against a determined pair. He had as much fortitude as an overcooked spear of asparagus. Jordan turned at the sound of someone approaching, only to see Percy and Celia Townsend.

  “Here you are,” Celia said with delight. “We found you had left the sitting room and wondered what had happened.” She turned to Ariel and asked, “Has he thought of a solution?”

  “Lady Ariel has consented to make me the happiest of men; our engagement will be announced the night of the Wednesday assembly in Tunbridge Wells,” Jordan said firmly with a significant look at Percy.

  “Oh, my, you intend the proposal real?” Celia cried, groping for the stone bench as she sank down. “This will certainly put the cat among the pigeons. What about the man who shot at you?”

  “I had almost forgotten that,” Ariel wailed. “I cannot allow you to make that announcement. To do so would place you in great danger. Remember—the last Lord Harcourt was killed. I do not want you to die!” She placed her hands on his chest, offering a beseeching look.

  Jordan smiled down at her, effortlessly enfolding her hands in his and quite ignoring the twinge of pain in his arm. He had not forgotten anything and would continue to pursue his investigation, but quietly on his own. “It will not happen, my dear girl.”

  “I am not so certain,” she countered. “We do not know who was responsible for the shooting—either of you or your late cousin.” She turned to Percy. “Please sir, make him see sense.”

  “The previous Lord Harcourt was not killed by being shot,” Celia reminded them. “He was thrown from his horse and broke his neck.”

  “And we learned little from the recovered lead balls.” Percy shook his head. “I hate to say this, my friend, but it would appear you are asking for trouble. Whoever shot at you before may not miss the next time.”

  “That does it,” Ariel said with a firming of her lips. “You will not announce our betrothal come Wednesday.”

  “You go tamely to marry Mr. Dudley?” Jordan said in an innocuous manner that didn’t deceive anyone, least of all Ariel.

  “I will think of something else that will not place you in such jeopardy.” She placed her fists on her hips, giving Jordan such a defiant glare it was all he could do not to snatch her into her arms and forget the world.

  At that moment Jane came rushing along the path, looking anxious and not a little flustered.

  “What is it, dear?” Celia queried. “What has happened to upset you?”

  “Mr. Oswald Dudley is here—that is what happened. He is looking for Lady Ariel, to escort her home from her visit to Miss Townsend. Shh, I believe he intended to follow me,” Jane whispered.

  The crunch of gravel gave them a warning. Ariel immediately composed herself on the bench at Celia’s side. Jane moved close to Ariel’s other side, standing as though she might in some way defend her friend if necessary.

  With a look at Percy, Jordan moved to stand opposite to Ariel and the other girls.

  Mr. Dudley joined them in a few moments, coming around the row of birches with an air of bewilderment that looked quite natural to him. Then he caught sight of the group and halted in his steps. “I have come to take you home. Your aunt wishes you to change for dinner. There is to be a little party this evening.” He looked at Jordan, then suddenly assumed a superior air. “I suppose Lady Ariel has shared her news with you? We are to be married.”

  Jordan refrained from hitting Dudley only because of the look from Ariel.

  “How interesting, since I have not been asked, nor have I agreed to anything of the sort. I hereby give you notice that I will not marry you, Mr. Dudley, no matter what my aunt and Sir Henry have told you.”

  “But she said ... he said... that is, it is all arranged.” He floundered, appearing truly at sea.

  “Precisely what is arranged?” Percy inquired.

  “The wedding. Miss Maitland said it would be three weeks from Sunday.” Mr. Dudley edged away from Jordan, apparently not liking his expression.

  Ariel was thankful she was already seated, or she would have most likely collapsed in a dead faint. “There will be no wedding, Mr. Dudley. Mr. Lytton would never agree.”

  “I believe she said something about the bishop,” Mr. Dudley replied, now a trifle unsure of himself with all the hostile faces aimed in his direction.

  “My aunt has overstepped her authority. I will not wed without my father’s consent to the marriage.” Lady Ariel rose to confront Mr. Dudley. Jordan stepped behind her, while Celia and Jane ranked the other side and Percy joined his friend. All it wanted was Prince to make the scene complete, Ariel thought wildly.

  Apparently Mr. Dudley found this front more than he cared to oppose. “You are wanted at home,” he insisted, but without his earlier arrogance.

  “Stafford Court is my home, not yours—not yet, not ever,” Lady Ariel said with determination.

  “I meant your aunt wishes you to return now,” Mr. Dudley repeated, looking more and more flustered.

  “Shall I go home to Stafford Court?” Lady Ariel asked Jordan urgently. “Dare I?”

  “Would you wed Lady Ariel against her will? It would be illegal,” Jordan said with a deadly calm.

  “Of course not,” Dudley stammered, taking a step back.

  “May I suggest that we all gather tomorrow morning to spend the day in a ... a ... picnic,” Celia Townsend suggested. “It would be a pleasant way to relax. You are welcome to join us, Mr. Dudley.”

  “Celia,” Percy began only to be silenced with a look from her lovely eyes.

  “I shall go home now and meet you first thing in the morning. But”—Ariel turned to Jordan—”please take great care of yourself.”

  He smiled down at her, again wishing he might crush her in his arms. With everyone looking on, all he could do was smile, place a kiss on her hand, and say, “Until tomorrow, my dear Lady Ariel.”

  The look from Dudley was almost comical. Almost.

  Ariel turned from her friends and joined Mr. Dudley to walk to the carriage. They followed immediately behind the hapless pair.

  A groom awaited them with Blossom. Ariel gave a triumphant smile and walked over to her horse. “I shall see you at Stafford, Mr. Dudley.”

  Jordan lifted Ariel to her saddle, then stepped back, unable to prevent a grin.

  Ariel spurred her horse ever so slightly, and they set off down the avenue that led to the main road. This time she stayed not on the road, but took off across country. She would be at Stafford many minutes before her supposed suitor.

  “We shall see you tomorrow, Dudley?” Jordan said politely as the other chap lifted the reins to signal his horse.

  “Indeed, I’d not miss it,” came his terse reply before the gig set off in the direction of Stafford Court.

  Jordan, Percy, and Jane all turned to Celia, the collected frowns most daunting.

  “Well, I thought if we knew where he was and kept him away from Miss Maitland and Sir Henry there could be no more planning done. At least he wouldn’t know about it.”

  “I cannot say if that is good or bad,” Jordan mused. “Sometimes it is better to know what the enemy is planning.”

  “I shall tell Mama that we will need a picnic on the morrow.” Jane turned to leave for the house to be stopped by Jordan’s touch on her arm.

  “Allow me to offer my cook’s services,” he said at once. “It is the least I can do. I feel as though I should have taken Dudley apart limb by limb, then the aunt and Sir Henry.”

  “Oh, what are we going to do?” Celia cried.

  “We will think of something by morning.” Jordan and Percy walked to where the groom now stood with the curricle.

  “In the meanwhile, think of poor Dudley. He is supposed to marry a woman who refuses to have him, and he is at the mercy of Sir Henry and Miss Maitland. I think he may be very glad to be gone tomorrow—even if it allows them to plot in private.”

  “Plot!” cried Jane in dismay. “Oh, dear.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Percy leaned back on his chair, resting his arms against the dining table. “Are you certain this picnic tomorrow will be safe?”

  “As safe as anything else around here,” Jordan replied, toying with his wineglass. The meal presented by Simnel had been outstanding as usual, but Jordan had little appetite for the excellent food.

  “You growl at me, but you must know that whoever shot at you before may decide to strike again,” Percy argued with perfect logic.

  “And you believe that next time the aim may be more accurate? I still cannot fathom why anyone would want to rid the world of my hide.” Jordan finished his wine and rose from the table, followed by Percy.

 

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