“At all times that can be contrived without producing greater notice than the danger warrants,” said Renforth. “There must be no more salons on her own; no journeys to the factories unattended. She must not make calls where she may be observed arriving and departing alone, if those calls touch upon Kendall, his associates, or any business through which money might be channelled.”
Arch folded his arms. “She will not approve.”
“Her approval is not central to the matter.”
Baines made a discreet sound which, in any other context, might have been a cough but was, in truth, suspiciously akin to a smothered laugh.
Arch cast him a look of annoyance, but Baines assumed an expression of injured innocence so extravagant that it only provoked further irritation.
Renforth continued as though nothing had occurred. “In fact, it might be necessary to say you are courting her, in order to protect her reputation.”
That sentence succeeded where all else had not. Stuart turned fully from the window. Fielding’s brows rose. Baines sat upright with such abrupt interest that one would have thought the entire conspiracy instantly relegated to a secondary concern.
Arch stared at Renforth. “Are you serious?”
“Entirely.”
“You are ordering me to conduct a courtship?”
“The appearance of one,” Renforth corrected.
“Society seldom troubles itself overmuch with distinctions once a narrative has presented itself in a pleasing form.”
Baines, who had thus far shown admirable restraint, by his own standards, gave up the struggle altogether and leaned back with a grin of unholy amusement. “There is a stratagem, and then there is a stratagem.”
“Be quiet,” Arch said, without looking at him.
“I have said nothing of substance.”
“That is nothing new.”
Fielding pressed his lips together, but failed altogether to disguise his enjoyment. Stuart, less scrupulous, laughed outright.
Renforth, infuriatingly unmoved, continued, “If Miss Vale is seen in your company often enough—at suitable hours, in suitable places—it supplies a ready explanation for an attention that might otherwise invite comment. An escort thus becomes unremarkable, concern becomes gallantry, and repeated calls become expected.”
“Are you in league with my mother?” Arch asked dryly.
“I shall write to Lord Upton and Sir Percival,” said Renforth. “That will be my recommendation.”
There was a very brief pause, and then Baines bent double with laughter. Fielding turned aside under the pretence of adjusting his cuff, whilst Stuart, whose control had deserted him altogether, went to the mantel as though the support might preserve his dignity where his composure had failed.
Arch looked from one face to another in disbelief. “I am pleased this amuses you.
“Immensely,” said Stuart.
“More than it ought,” Fielding admitted.
“There is also the thought of Sir Percival receiving a solemn military recommendation that you should attach yourself to his niece like ivy to a wall,” Baines said. “That, I confess, is a pleasure I had never expected this day to bring.”
Arch ignored him with difficulty and addressed Renforth instead. “You cannot mean to phrase it so plainly, sir, surely?”
Renforth’s mouth lifted, not quite into a smile but near enough to suggest the possibility had once been entertained. “No, I am capable of diplomacy when required. The substance will remain, nevertheless.”
“Supposing she refuses?”
“Then you will persuade her.”
“That sounds remarkably like an instruction to argue with a lady who is quite capable of winning.”
