The Dashing Miss Fairchild (8 page)

He turned the carriage in the direction of Bath once again, then continued their planning. “How soon can you leave?"

"Goodness, this has all the earmarks of something improper. I imagine I shall not be permitted to travel alone with you.” Clare said this with a small chuckle, but knowing she was precisely correct.

"According to the papers and the tabbies about the Pump Room, the latest scandal is of such great proportions that you have been relegated to stale news."

"I must be thankful for small mercies.” She wrinkled her brow. “And the latest
on-dit."

"A notice has been placed in the local paper to the effect that a lady has eloped from her husband, and that he warns he will not pay any of her bills in the future. She had run him into debt, and he cautions others not to trust her."

"That certainly must have set the tongues wagging."

"A decided hum hovered over the ladies at the Pump Room, I believe.'’ He grinned at her, and Clare found her pulse racing madly.

"I believe it is urgent we go as soon as possible,” she said to change the subject and calm that silly pulse. “Do you agree? Although I shall not take Venetia along, no matter what she says. This calls for caution, and she is another not to be counted upon. Unruffled she is not."

They entered Bath once again, and as he wove along the streets, noting the interested looks that followed them, Richard could only be glad he was to take Clare away from the city for a short time. Out of sight, perhaps out of mind and off the tongue? He detested the gossiping and knew it bothered Clare not a little.

"I am at your disposal.” He refrained from commenting about Miss Godwin. She was Clare's chosen companion, and as such, it was for Clare to decide their relationship. If he had his way, things would be vastly different.

Venetia reacted to the news of Clare's imminent departure exactly as Clare feared: lengthy lectures on propriety and virtue, challenges regarding motives, and impugning Mr. Talbot until Clare thought she might explode.

At long last on the following morning, as her modest-sized valise was shut and placed by the bedroom door, Clare turned to face her companion.

"I have asked Priddy to travel with us. Mr. Talbot has his man and our Tom Coachman and a groom. You go too far when you cast aspersions on Mr. Talbot. He has been the perfect gentleman at all times. His concern for little William, not to mention my good name, has been praiseworthy. Far better than some I might name, but shan't.'’ She paused to cast a significant look at Venetia.

Deciding it might be better to still her tongue for the moment, Venetia dropped her gaze to conceal her fears. If Clare found she might get along without her, it would mean that Venetia must find another place to live, and the number of options had dwindled severely as of late. She was down to Aunt Peasely, who was horridly deaf.

Clare regretted her words as soon as they flew out. Not that any of them were not true. But Venetia looked so shattered, like a frightened little bird.

"Forgive the, my dear Venetia. This is a necessary thing I must do, and I would not have you touched by it in any way. I pray you will understand?"

Venetia smiled like a cat who had just received a plump mouse. “Of course, dear Clare. I feel sure Mr. Talbot is just as he ought. I noticed he is most kind to Lady Kingsmill as well."

A grim look flashed across Clare's face. Mr. Talbot had seemed more than the perfect gentleman. His eyes and his hands touched her probably no differently than any other man's. It was merely her foolish reaction. Her years were beginning to affect her emotions, that was all. She had no business in longing for his touch, or wishing for a closer relationship. She scolded herself into propriety all the way down the stairs and out the door to the coach, while deep inside she was thrilled to know she would be in the same coach with him, partake of meals together—at least for a few days. As luck would have such things, it was highly unlikely he would return her regard. And that would be the end of that.

So, resolved to maintain a proper distance and determined that Mr. Talbot should not think she was throwing herself at his head, she accepted his hand to enter the coach. They departed in a flurry of dust. From further down the crescent, Mrs. Robottom took stock of the departure, noting that Priddy was along and the baby left behind.

The trip actually went very well. Meals were no difficulty at all, and Clare told herself she was pleased that Mr. Talbot failed to argue about the bills. Although he insisted upon treating her to an occasional meal, Clare paid for her lodgings and most else. It set her mind at ease. He remained the perfect gentleman.

The hours passed by in pleasant conversation and exploration of each other's interests. At least, as much as might be said with Priddy sitting across from them with her ears literally straining to catch every word.

Only when they rumbled through the front gates of Millsham Hall did Clare give Mr. Talbot an anxious look. Could they pull this off? It seemed imperative they find Baby William's parents, or mother, as the case might be.

"Just follow my lead, promise?"

Clare gave Richard Talbot a startled look before facing the opening door. “Very well.” She paused a moment before accepting the hand offered by the Millsham footman, then bravely set forth.

Curiosity gleamed in his eyes, and he watched the party march up the stairs with a speculative tilt to his head.

"Lord Millsham, please,” Richard said firmly to the butler at the door. “Richard Talbot and Miss Fairchild to see him.” Richard took Clare's elbow with a gentle and proprietary hand as a slim, dark-haired man strolled forth from an adjacent room to greet them.

He waved a hand at the butler, effectively dismissing the man. “Good day, Talbot, Miss Fairchild. I haven't seen you in years, Talbot. What brings you to Millsham Hall?"

Darting a nervous look at Mr. Talbot, then back to the earl, who had suddenly assumed a disturbing mien, Clare hastened into speech. “Actually, I am the one who sought your home. I hope I might find Jane, Countess Millsham,” Clare said, not certain if the earl had lately married and she did not know of it. “The last I heard from the dear girl was from here.” He was not to know the two women were barely acquainted.

"I forget my manners. Come, we must not linger in the hall.” The earl flickered a glance at a nearby footman, then returned his bland gaze to them. “Join the in my sitting room. It gets a lovely bit of sunshine this time of day.” He escorted them across the vast hall into a comfortable-looking room full of sofas and cozy chairs, tables piled high with books and magazines, and vases of summer flowers. In short, a place that was very livable and quite charming.

Clare studied their host. Odd that his eyes did not match the rest of him, for they contained a distinctly hostile look in their depths.

Richard noted that Millsham took an uneasy glance at the clock on the fireplace mantel before turning toward them again.

"Strange that you should come seeking Lady Millsham. I haven't seen her for some time. She never was one to socialize, and I fear she resented my moving into the Hall as quickly as I did. She seemed content to ruralize here, alone. I never could understand why Cousin Peter married the little drab."

"You have no idea where she is? She does not reside at the Dower House?” Richard queried, wanting to press the earl for more answers. “Forgive my curiosity, but I know how much Miss Fairchild wishes to see her."

"I'm afraid I know nothing about her,” Millsham snapped, his composure cracking. “My agent pays into an account for her, but that hasn't been touched the past few months.” Then getting himself in hand once again, he added, “Tell you what, old boy, find her and let the know where she is, for I'd like to do something for the poor thing. Not proper to let the sixth earl's wife live in obscurity, now is it?"

His hearty laugh seemed forced to Clare, and she took a step closer to Richard. She permitted him to guide her onto a sofa at his side and drew comfort from his nearness.

The butler appeared at the door with a tray of tea and other refreshments suitable for a summer's afternoon. Clare sipped a cool glass of lemonade while wondering how Priddy was making out belowstairs.

The earl
seemed
all that was affable. That was the rub. Clare sensed he was uneasy, wary of them, though he had no reason to be, or did he? He sat with his back to the inviting sunshine as though wishing to conceal his expression from them. Or was she simply imagining things? Was she suspicious needlessly?

Sending Richard a searching look, she sipped the lemonade while wondering if Jane had decorated this room in such a charming style. What sort of woman would the new earl select? She shivered at the thought of marrying such a man as this, who appeared so outwardly smooth and unctuous. And inwardly?

Finally there was nothing to do but leave. The earl was like a block of stone, refusing or unable to reveal anything more.

As the coach rumbled down the immaculately kept drive, Richard turned to Clare and said, “His request for news of Jane had all the earmarks of Caesar's order to the wise men to let him know if they found the babe they sought."

"Murder?” Clare cried. Priddy looked well nigh to fainting.

"Not murder, surely,” Mr. Talbot replied, trying to calm both women with his voice and manner. “But his concern did not ring true to the. What was your reaction, Miss Fairchild?"

"I, too, had the feeling our host was being less than truthful with us, for whatever reason he might have.'’ She glanced across to where Priddy looked more herself, then queried, “Did you discover anything belowstairs?"

The abigail shot her mistress a triumphant look, then straightened her shoulders. “Aye, that I did. After chatting some time with the cook, I found out that Lady Millsham, the poor little darling as cook called her, was with child at the time the late earl died! Although the cook said nothing direct, I suspect that she felt there was something smoky about the riding accident."

Clare turned her head to gaze wide-eyed at Mr. Talbot. “I knew it. My instincts rarely mislead the. The sixth earl dies and his countess disappears sometime after. When you total up the baby in the basket, his belongings of the finest quality, and his red hair—you no doubt observed that the present earl has that dark red color?—you cannot deduce other than there is something decidedly fishy about the circumstances. I imagine his elegant lordship might be able to tell us a thing or two about that. Or am I jumping to conclusions on too little evidence?''

"May I make a suggestion? Why do we not stay over at an inn near here? It might be possible to do a hit of sleuthing about in the neighborhood, possibly set our fears to rest—or bolster our forebodings. As well, you know there are other possibilities. I should hate to think we overlook another prospect. What say you to that?"

Priddy had stiffened at his words; he could see her rigid figure in the periphery of his vision. He concentrated on Clare Fairchild. In the past she had possessed a reputation for propriety, a name without a hint of indelicate behavior. Her family was without reproach. While there would be nothing unseemly about staying over at an inn, what with her abigail to guard her, there could possibly be uncomfortable talk. She had already endured more of this than she ought, and it was not his intention to add to it needlessly.

"I imagine some might think it improper, but I would do naught to harm your good name.” He wanted to place a hand over hers to reassure her of his noble intentions, then realized that touching her was hardly the manner in which to proceed. Especially when she looked so tempting in her pretty pelisse and dashing hat, not to mention gentle blue eyes so widely imploring him.

Clare normally would have left for home immediately. She did not flout the rules of Society. Ever. But since little William had entered her life, everything had been topsy-turvy. What was it she had said to Venetia? That she had met every proper gentleman in the country? And that they bored her? Well, Richard Talbot did not bore her. She found being in his company stimulating and most desirable. For once in her life she was going to do the unconventional and dangerous!

"I believe that to be an excellent notion. With Priddy along to see to my reputation, there should be no problem.'’ She gave Mr. Talbot what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

It took some time before they settled on a country inn at the next market town. While not of great size, the Star and Garter looked to be far cleaner than anything seen so far that day, and the aroma of fresh-baked bread hung in the air to tantalize even a jaded palate.

Country dinner was served early, so that Richard found there was a good deal of daylight remaining afterward. He sought Clare out where she wandered about in the minuscule herb garden behind the inn. “I believe I shall ride over to the village closest to Millsham Hall to see if there is any gossip to be found at the local alehouse.” He waited to see if she would rail at him for deserting her. He was not disappointed in his estimation of her character.

"I think that an excellent idea,” she replied with a resolute voice, damping the notion that she would have preferred his company for the evening. “Perhaps you can pry out any details of the manner of the late earl's death, or maybe discover if anything is known about the poor little countess. I only wish I might go with you.” Clare gave Mr. Talbot a rueful quirk of a smile, knowing full well that the less she saw of him the better it was for her simmering feelings. Personal matters must be pushed aside for the nonce. But later, she intended to explore them with intensity.

Richard arranged for a horse, then spoke briefly with his groom. Within a short time, the two men rode off in the direction of Millsham Hall.

The seventh Earl of Millsham was not pleased with the day's events. The visit from Miss Fairchild and Richard Talbot had upset the even tenor of his routine. Ever since their traveling coach rumbled off in the direction of Bath, he had prowled about his stately home with an uneasy mind, wondering if Miss Fairchild was one of those women who persisted in ferreting out the past. She reminded him of all the failures he'd endured in Society.