A Little Mischief (2 page)

Daniel’s gaze met Chilton’s. “I won’t let that happen. Bradford would gamble the fortune away before a year had passed. No, I’m committed to marry before I’m thirty.”

“By autumn, then?”

“By summer.”

Chilton splashed a generous amount of the fine brandy into his glass and handed the decanter back to Daniel. “You have a late start.”

“Now that I’ve set my mind to getting the job done, it shouldn’t take too long to find an acceptable lady to be my wife.”

“I can tell you’ve never seriously considered marriage if an acceptable lady is all you’re looking for.”

“No, I haven’t. Have you?”

Daniel didn’t know what made him ask the question, but he wasn’t prepared for the troubled expression that flashed briefly across Chilton’s face.

Chilton didn’t immediately answer but sipped his drink instead. The fire crackled and hissed as the silence stretched. “No, not seriously,” he finally answered and immediately added, “Look on the bright side, there is always a chance you’ll walk into a party and see the lady of your dreams and fall madly in love.”

Daniel nodded. “And there is always a chance it will snow in July, but it doesn’t. I need a wife to give me sons. Not love. Besides, if you haven’t found anyone you want to marry this Season, I don’t hold out much hope for finding the perfect lady for me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment to my high standards.” Chilton smiled a bit wickedly at Daniel and lifted his glass to him, the earlier sign of concern gone. “But as you know, my mistress serves me well. I have no need to look for a wife. You, on the other hand, need an heir.”

Daniel groaned. “Perish the thought.”

Chilton swirled his brandy in his glass and for a moment seemed mesmerized by the dark amber liquid. “I should get to the reason I’m here.”

“I thought we had.”

“Truly? You thought I came out on a dreadfully cold afternoon such as this just to talk about you?”

“Well, you did give me the scandal sheet to read as soon as I poured the brandy.”

“Yes, but the reason I’m here is about the other bit of news written in the column.”

“Really?” Daniel could see in Chilton’s dark eyes that he was serious and tried to remember what he’d read. What was it—something about a lady and mischief?

“It’s about Gretchen.”

Daniel perked up. “My sister? I didn’t see anything in the column about Gretchen.” He bent to pick up the sheet of paper he’d dropped to the floor earlier.

“Don’t bother looking at it again. Her name isn’t there.”

Leaving the paper where it lay, Daniel said, “Then what the devil are you talking about? I instructed Aunt Mattie to see to it Gretchen was invited to all the right parties and to secure her vouchers for Almack’s.”

“I’m sure your aunt has done a splendid job. I don’t think the parties are the problem. It’s whom she dances with at the parties and with whom she has tea.”

“Who?”

“I’m not sure you’ll be happy with one of the bachelors who might be pursuing her.”

Daniel shifted forward to the edge of his chair. The fire and the brandy heated his face. “Tell me.”

“Boswell Throckmorten.”

“Damnation! That drunken wastrel. Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “Before they left for London, I instructed Aunt Mattie to make sure Gretchen was presented to acceptable fellows like Thomas Wright and Harry Pepperfield.”

“I’m sure she was. I’ve seen her dance with both Tom and Harry.”

“Then
what
the bloody hell is she doing dancing with a gambling scoundrel like Throckmorten?”

“Neither man is as handsome as Throckmorten. I’m sure she’s flattered by his attention.”

“What was Aunt Mattie thinking to allow Gretchen to know him?”

“She probably had no choice. You have to admit that Throckmorten is a charmer when it comes to ladies. I’m sure Gretchen prefers him to Pepperfield or Wright.”

“But what would a man like Throckmorten see in a young lady like Gretchen?”

“Spoken like a true brother.”

Daniel pulled on his tight collar and neckcloth. Suddenly the chill had gone out of the air. “Don’t get grumpy, Chilton. You know I only meant that she’s always been so shy, and she can’t see a damn thing without her spectacles. She hates to wear them, but she trips over things and bumps into furniture when she doesn’t.”

“How long has it been since you’ve spent any time with your sister?”

Daniel thought back. “I saw her in the Cotswolds not more than a month ago, but only for a day or two. Why?”

“You look at her through a brother’s eyes. I think you might be surprised at how she’s changed.”

“In what way?”

“She’s no longer shy for one thing. She does wear her spectacles.” Chilton paused and looked thoughtful a moment before adding, “But even when she has them on, it’s clear she’s blossomed into quite a lovely young lady.”

Daniel had missed that. He had to admit that with his travels, he hadn’t taken the time to really look at Gretchen, and certainly not the way another man would look at her.

“Do you really think Throckmorten is pursuing her?”

“Or her dowry,” Chilton said without hesitation.

Daniel eased back into his chair. It had never crossed his mind that someone like Throckmorten would take an interest in Gretchen. The man usually went for the prettiest of the young ladies, but then Throckmorten would assume Gretchen’s dowry would be substantial. And to a big gambler like him that would be important if he were seriously considering marriage.

“I think you may be right, Chilton.”

“It’s only a possibility, Danny. As I said, Gretchen is quite fetching.”

Fetching? Gretchen?
Daniel would take a closer look at his sister when she returned home.

To Chilton he said, “I want to see her married to a decent man—not some fancy-dressed dandy who lives off his winnings and can’t stay out of his cups or the gaming hells.”

“Yes, I saw Throckmorten at White’s placing his bets only a short time before I came over here, and he was already quite foxed.”

It appeared Daniel had come to town not a moment too soon. “No doubt Throckmorten wants the steady income a generous dowry would afford him.”

“Could be, but he is only part of the problem.”

There
was
more?
“What do you mean? Just spit it out, Chilton. I don’t have the patience to pull each word from you.”

“Gretchen has also become part of a group of ladies who are being talked about in an…”

“What?”

“Unflattering way,” he finished. “Some of the young bachelors are calling them the Wallflower Society. The group mentioned in the newspaper.”

Daniel rose from his chair and stood before the fire. “Gretchen? In a group called Wallflowers and said to be up to mischief? Good Lord. First, Throckmorten, and now this. What is she thinking? And what is this group about?”

“The name only pokes fun at the ladies, of course. I think they call themselves a Reading Society or something like that. I really don’t know any details. I just wanted to make you aware of everything that’s going on since you’ve only just returned. I didn’t want you to be caught off guard by any of this when you attend your first party. I don’t think harm is intended by this group, but…”

“Say it.”

“Some of the young ladies who visit with Miss Winslowe on Tuesdays and Thursday are, shall we say, considered the least likely ones to make a match their first Season.”

“Hence the term
Wallflowers
?”

“Exactly. I can’t help wondering if Miss Winslowe is a troublemaker.”

“She’s probably just some lady with nothing better to do than befriend a few young ladies. What kind of trouble could a Reading Society get into?”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

“Who is this Miss Winslowe, and why does she have such a gathering?”

“I’ll leave you to form your own opinion of the lady when you meet her, as no doubt you will when you attend your first party this evening. Suffice it to say her little gathering started last year with only a handful of ladies, but this year her group has grown to about a dozen. It appears the mothers don’t seem to mind because it makes their daughters appear more sought after when they are part of a select group.”

“How, if they are called Wallflowers?”

“That term is not widely known among the
ton.
Only a few of the confirmed bachelors are having a bit of fun with it. Somehow, once a part of the group, some of the ladies seem like anything but wallflowers.”

“I wonder why Gretchen would want to be part of a group like that.”

“Apparently whatever they do helps the young ladies overcome their shyness.”

Daniel looked into the fire. He’d come back to London in the nick of time. “Well, that can’t be all bad, but I agree about one thing. No mother should want her daughter associating with a group called Wallflowers. If that name got out, it could prevent Gretchen from making a good match.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I’ll speak to her immediately when she returns. She won’t be attending any more of Miss Winslowe’s Wallflowers meetings.”

***

Elizabeth’s eyes opened to cold darkness and the eerie feeling of not knowing what disturbance had stirred her slumber.

She
rose
on
her
elbows
and
listened, trying to ascertain what had startled her. Her pale green eyes scanned the darkened corners of her bedchamber. Her sight slowly adjusted to the moonlit room. No one was there. Nothing appeared out of place.

This
was
the
first
time
Elizabeth
had
spent
the
night
in
the
drafty
old
house
on
Glenberry
Hill.

Suddenly
from
the
adjoining
chamber
came
a
noise
—
like
someone
thrashing
in
his
sleep. Elizabeth’s eyes widened in fear. Should she stay in her bed or pursue the noise? The decision was made quickly. She crept from her bed, tiptoed across the Turkey carpet, and peeked through the door that stood ajar between the rooms.

The
shadowy
figure
of
a
man
loomed
toward
her, his shoulders broad and rugged; his chiseled features visible even in the dim light.

Isabella Winslowe slammed the book shut. The young ladies sitting in her parlor jumped and gasped. Isabella smiled. “That’s all for today, ladies. We will start a new chapter on Thursday.”

“You can’t stop now, Isabella,” Abigail Waterstone moaned. “We
must
read on!”

“Oh, please read one more chapter,” the soft-spoken Amanda Wright breathed.

Isabella looked over the room of eager ladies muttering and talking among themselves about the intriguing horrid novel. She had a delightful time every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon drinking tea and reading with the ladies. They were never ready to go home when the hour was up.

“Just one or two more pages, Isabella, please. I simply must know if Elizabeth sees a man or a ghost,” Lady Lynette Knightington pleaded without shame.

“Oh, we know it’s not a ghost,” Abigail argued, looking at Lady Lynette. “But we want to know who the man is.”

“How do you know the shadow is not Lord Pinkwater’s ghost?” Lady Lynette said, taking umbrage at Abigail’s claim.

Isabella remained quiet and let the ladies talk for a while. She enjoyed listening to their comments. Lady Lynette, who sat to her right, was a tall, buxom young lady who had a lovely face except for a dark brown birthmark that spilled down her cheek. She was not afraid to speak her mind. Beside the duke’s daughter sat Miss Abigail Waterstone who was short and slightly built. She fell down a set of stairs when she was a young girl and was left with a bad limp.

Miss Beverly Smith, who occupied a small ottoman, was really rather pretty until she opened her mouth. Her two front teeth had been knocked out when she was younger and now even with her fake teeth, she never smiled or laughed when she was around gentlemen. Lady Gretchen Colebrooke had to wear spectacles to see anything. Completing the group were other young ladies like Miss Amanda Wright who were either plain in appearance or extremely shy.