The Earl steepled his hands, pondering her words. ‘So, let’s assume Carlingford agrees for a moment. For thetonto accept his ongoing presence as Mercy’s escort, he would have to play the part of a devoted fiancé convincingly. And Reinhardt himself needs to believe it real. The dual purpose of the charade would be to keep Mercy safe and force Reinhardt into acting rashly, - hopefully revealing himself in the process.’ He paused before directing his next words to Mercedes.
‘Once the danger has passed, how do you propose to end your engagement to the Viscount? I seem to remember being told of your Aunt Patience playing a similarly dangerous game with Max during her come out. That whole smoky business had a happy ending, but I think it unlikely that history will repeat itself.’ He shook his head doubtfully. ‘I feel as though we may well be trying to use a sledgehammer to drive in a nail…’
Chapter Thirteen
Mercy was silent while her father wrote the note to Nathaniel Harding. Her thoughts were going round and round in her head – a ceaseless cacophony of questions she had no answers to. She’d had no idea how she would end her fictitious engagement and couldn’t make her mind up as to whether she would even want to. And then there was the guilt about using a man who had already gone through so much in his life. She had never been so confused about anything in her entire life. And on top of all that was the fear that Reinhardt might succeed in his bid to force her into wedlock.
So far, her father had spoken very little about the American’s reason for wishing to abduct her. He claimed Reinhardt was a gambler and a fortune hunter – and while she believed him to a point, Mercy was almost certain there was something he wasn’t telling her. Something to do with her mother. Whether he was protecting her sensibilities or trying to lessen her fear, she wasn’t sure, but for the moment she was content to let sleeping dogs lie. First things first – would the Viscount agree to help them.
To helpher.
Mercy knew the request for aid from a stranger didn’t sit well with her father, and she also knew he was sending two more letters – to the Duke of Blackmore and the Earl of Ravenstone. Both had become close friends over the years, and Mercedes was well aware that asking for aid from Nicholas and Adam was much more to her father’s liking. That said, neither man was in a position to provide what was needed to draw Reinhardt out of hiding. And unfortunately, Mercy didn’t have a surfeit of potential suitors prepared to put their lives at risk to protect her.
She told herself that Nathaniel Harding’s lot would be hugely improved by their association. He would be able to complete the repairs to his house, and if he wished, take his place in society – even putting aside her confused emotions about the whole matter.
As her father handed the three missives to the messengers, she couldn’t help wondering what Jennifer and Victoria would say if they knew what was happening. In truth, none of her other seasons had started quite so eventfully…
***
Nate stared down in consternation at the letter in his hand. Why the devil would the Earl of Cottesmore invite him to visit? Thrusting aside his sudden fierce elation at the thought of seeing Mercy again, he read through the missive a second time. Though couched in flowery language, Nate recognised it wasn’t simply a social invitation. The Earl wanted something from him.
Laying the note on his lap, he absently stroked Ruby’s head. To turn down the invitation would be unforgivably ill-mannered, and though the knowledge irked him, the fact of the matter was, he needed the Earl’s favour. Especially after learning that theessential repairs to Carlingford were significantly more urgent than he’d previously believed.
The messenger hadn’t waited for a response. Clearly, Christian Stanhope did not expect him to refuse the invitation. Nate looked down at the letter again. He was to present himself the day after tomorrow in time for dinner. Even riding Duchess, it would take the best part of a day to reach Cottesmore, so he’d have to leave at dawn. The Earl hadn’t patronised him by offering to send a carriage.
Closing his eyes, Nate leaned his head back and wondered if he actually possessed any clothes suitable for dinner at an Earl’s country estate. He presumed the invitation would extend to an overnight stay, so not only would he need evening attire, but a change of clothes for the following morning.
Hopefully, he’d be able to unearth something that was relatively clean, or at the very least stain free. He shook his head. The events of the last week had provided the most excitement he’d had for more than a decade, and sitting alone in his sitting room, Nate discovered something interesting about himself.
The Earl’s invitation definitely had him intrigued, so perhaps that meant he hadn’t entirely lost all enthusiasm for life. With a soft chuckle, Nate climbed to his feet and went searching for something to wear…
***
Reverend Shackleford frowned as he read Percy’s letter. Was the curate actually suggesting he should bring Finn with him to London? Thunder an’ turf, that would be a disaster. How the devil would he and Percy find the time to look into thewhereabouts of Reinhardt if they were spending all their deuced time babysitting?
The Reverend had written to Prudence and Jamie to tell them he and Percy were going to be in London though he hadn’t told them why, except to say they would be staying at Christian and Chastity’s townhouse. Naturally, the clergyman had been hoping that if Harding agreed to pretend an attachment to Mercy, he and Percy would be free to do a little more snooping. There wouldn’t be much chance of that if the curate was bacon brained enough to bring his son along.
Reverend Shackleford sighed. Investigating such smoky business was all very well – after all, aside from his God-bothering duties as Dougal Galbraith referred to them, it was what he did best – but the Earl was right. He wasn’t getting any younger. And as much as he was loath to admit it, the journey from Scotland had taken a lot out of him.
The Reverend was just about to pen a letter telling Percy that under no circumstances was he to allow Finn to accompany him to London, when the clergyman suddenly had another thought.
Finn was light-footed and quick. And whenever he stopped talking long enough to actually think, the lad had a sensible head on his shoulders. He was also small for his age and might well come in useful if they needed him to squeeze into a tight space for a spot of eavesdropping. At the end of the day, bringing the boy along might not be such a bad idea after all.
Naturally, they wouldn’t actually put him in danger – there would be no sticking him up any chimneys for example – Lizzy would string them both up if they did, but there was no denying, having another pair of eyes that didn’t need deuced eyeglasses to see beyond the end of their nose would be very useful indeed.
Augustus Shackleford nodded to himself in thoughtful satisfaction. It was all about thinking creatively, and if there was one thing the Almighty had gifted him with, it was an ability to come up with ideas that lesser men might consider a trifle bird witted.
Things were coming together nicely. Providing Harding agreed to play the loved-up suitor, he, Percy and Finn would be free to find Reinhardt and hopefully have him shipped him back to the Americas before he managed to cause any more deuced trouble…
***
Mercedes stared at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to see herself from every angle. This wasn’t usual for her at all - any more than giving consideration to the colour of her dress, or how low the neckline should be. Usually, her tendency was to give whatever she was wearing a quick glance and, providing she was showing nothing untoward, she was content.
Tonight, however, she was wearing a dark apricot dress with large gigot sleeves which had recently become all the rage. Fitted across her bosom with the skirt flaring from her waist, it showed her curves to quite the advantage. Though in fairness,curvesmight be putting it a little strongly - but at least she had a reasonably small waist.
The warmth of the apricot suited her olive colouring too, and her hair, held back in a simple chignon, appeared almost mahogany in the early evening light, while her eyes had taken on the colour of melted chocolate.
All in all, Mercy was satisfied she looked her best. Forcing down a sudden bout of nerves, she offered her maid a warm smile of thanks and picked up her reticule.
