A Season for the Heart (22 page)

Lady Masterson had scarcely time to compose her features and apply a little of her French perfume before Gordon deposited the colonel. Her Ladyship shyly raised her eyes to his bold, commanding countenance. What she saw there went a good way toward restoring her confidence. For the colonel, no ladies’ man, was bowled over by the fragrant femininity before him. His hard eyes almost goggled at the sight of this adorable woman in such an intimate setting. Feeling extremely crass and heavy footed, he marched forward across the delicate carpet as though he were walking upon eggs, and bent with a military precision to kiss her soft white hand. His rout was completed when her soft voice breathed above his head in anguished tones:

“Oh, my dear sir, you will be terribly angry with me, but indeed, Colonel Rand, I could not prevent it!”

The colonel straightened his big, battle-hardened body and stared into the most enchanting countenance it had ever been his pleasure to set eyes upon. Gone was the haughty
grande dame
who had spurned him so coldly. This was a warm and frightened woman, for whom the colonel’s chivalry was immediately enlisted.

“Whatever is troubling you, Lady Masterson, I shall never blame you. Only tell me what I can do to help you!”

Lady Masterson indicated a chair close to her
chaise longue
, and they seated themselves in silence. Then, gathering up her courage, she told him the facts as she knew them.

“But how is this a fault in you?” the gallant colonel asked. “My niece received a letter from a friend; she left in answer to that friend’s appeal. You knew nothing of it until the message was discovered. I shall go round to Miss Boggs’s residence at once and see what the trouble may be.”

“I fear that Pommy has been decoyed away by kidnappers,” said Aurora, her tear-filled eyes abject upon his face. “And while she was in my care, too! It is shaming—”

“Nonsense,” the colonel said briskly. “From the way she looked when last I saw her—” he hesitated, noted the rosy flush which crept across the white cheeks, and took firm control. “No, Milady, we must not permit ourselves to dwell upon
that
unhappy occasion. Tempers were short. An unpleasant woman had made mischief. But I saw for myself that the girl was happy and comfortable in your gracious care—”

“From which she has been decoyed!” Aurora persisted, enjoying the pleasure of his reassurances.

“Through no fault of your own,” the colonel reminded her, and was emboldened to lean forward enough to clasp her hand. This she seemed willing enough to relinquish into his grasp, and for a moment neither of them spoke. Then, with a final gentle pressure, the colonel released it reluctantly, and resumed the discussion. “What measures have been taken so far?” he asked.

“I have sent for Lord Austell,” began Her Ladyship. “I—I had not thought to send for you, sir,” she apologized.

The officer rose and strode around the room as though feeling the need for action. “Good! Your brother-in-law will be aware of the friendship between my niece and Miss Boggs, since I am given to understand that it was he who brought both of them to you in London. He will therefore have Miss Boggs’s direction. I shall accompany him to the Boggs residence.”

Lady Aurora was suddenly struck by another thought. “Why did you come here today, Colonel Rand? I was informed you wished to speak to your niece.”

A softened look came into the soldier’s face. “I had bought a gift for her—a trifle to wear at your Ball—which I am sure, knowing my sister-in-law Henga, is the first she has ever attended! I was going to make sure she had a pretty dress, too,” he confessed with some embarrassment, hoping that his honest statement would not anger his niece’s employer.

On the contrary, Lady Masterson smiled at him with such approval that his heart began to pound in his chest. “That was thoughtful of you, sir! And are you very knowledgeable in the matter of ladies’ gowns?” she teased.

This sally gratified him enormously, as she had intended it should do, and while he made a suitable disclaimer, she was pleased to note that the warm look was still present in his eyes, and softened his hard features enormously.

“What trinket had you brought for Pommy? Will you show it to me,” she invited, “since we must wait for Austell to take you to Miss Boggs’s residence?”

The soldier took from an inner pocket a small white jeweler’s box. Opening it, he displayed a small string of perfect pearls.

“Exquisite,” pronounced Her Ladyship. “Most suitable for a young girl in her first Season.”

The colonel frowned. “That is something I had hoped to discuss with you, Lady Masterson,” he began. “I am most grateful for what you are doing for my niece, but I am not quite certain how matters stand. She is your companion, is she not? Surely you do not intend to sponsor her into the
Ton
?”

Whatever Lady Masterson might have confided to this very masterful soldier will never be known, for at that very moment Gareth burst into her sitting room in a positive frenzy of alarm. Completely ignoring the unusual sight of a large military gentleman seated upon one of his mama’s dainty chairs, he shouted, “What has happened to Isabelle? Where is Pommy? Oh, why was I not summoned?”

His mama regarded her agitated son with disfavor. “We are already doing all we can until Derek arrives to take the colonel to Miss Boggs’s home,” she said sternly. “You will bring on a headache with this uproar.”

“I never have headaches,” said Gareth simply.

“I do, however, upon occasion,” said his mother repressively, “and I do not wish this to be one of them. You seem to forget that we are having a large formal Ball this evening.”

“Not if Isabelle is missing!” protested Gareth.

“What has Miss Boggs to say to anything?” asked his mother coolly.

“I love her,” retorted Gareth. “I shall accompany my uncle and Colonel Rand to search for her.”

“Oh, in that case,” agreed Lady Masterson, softening toward her son. “Of course, if you love her—
you love her!
” she shrieked, suddenly taking in what he had said.

“I intend to marry her, and settle down—”

“My son!” breathed Her Ladyship. “You are fulfilling my fondest hopes for you! You shall both live here, and be my dear companions—”

“You already have Pommy for that,” said Gareth, setting his beautiful mouth stubbornly. “I wish Isabelle to come with me to my own estate.”

“You would leave your mother alone—?” began Lady Masterson, a desolate expression clouding the delicate beauty of her face.

“Lady Masterson,” interrupted Colonel Rand urgently, “
dearest
Lady Masterson! Never while I live shall you be left alone! Only say that you permit me to court you—that you will listen to my representations—that is, that I may be allowed to offer for you—” He took out an immaculate handkerchief and wiped his forehead. “Lady Masterson!” he ended upon a note of desperation.

The lady so passionately apostrophized bent upon her petitioner a speculative glance. It suddenly occurred to her that a gallant officer with matrimony in mind might be a far better attendant than a love-smitten son or even a love-smitten companion. She gave the distressed officer a gentle smile, whose demureness was belied by the provocative twinkle in her lovely eyes.

“Although I had not realized it until the advent of your dear niece, I find I am becoming bored with living retired,” she admitted. “I should expect you to engage in an active social life with me—that is, of course, if I were to accept your proposal.”

Such a light dawned upon the soldier’s stern face that even Gareth was struck by it.

“If you were—! Oh, My Lady, could you ever consent—?”

“An
active
social life,” insisted His Lady, striking while the iron was hot.

The dazzled soldier would have sworn his head was his heels at that moment. To gain the prize he had dreamed of since their first calamitous meeting, with only the stipulation that he should take this radiant being into Society upon his arm, seemed to the besotted creature no penalty at all, but the utmost delight.

“It would be my deepest pleasure to escort Your Ladyship to every reception and Ball in London,” he promised, eyes on her adorable face.

“I shall hold you to that, sir,” Lady Masterson warned him happily.

“Unless, of course, we become engaged in another war,” amended her colonel conscientiously. “In which case I might be called overseas.”

“We shall face that when we come to it,” agreed Aurora silkily. Secretly she had already decided that if another conflict broke out before Colonel Rand was too old to go to it, she would pull whatever strings were necessary to have him stationed at the War Office in London.

Gareth watched the two happy faces with satisfaction. He was beginning to see that this union would release him from social duties he had come to find more than irksome, free him to take his Isabelle to—
his
Isabelle? Why were they not out searching for her? His panic was only allayed by the entrance, at that moment, of Lord Austell. The Earl at once assumed command of the situation.

“I am sure you are wishful to come with me to Miss Boggs’s home, Rand,” he began. “Chelm has put me into the picture as we drove here. I have some suspicions that all is not exactly as it appears, but our first step is naturally to go to Isabelle’s residence.”

“I am coming with you,” announced Gareth. One look at his stubborn face convinced the Earl not to waste time arguing.

“Very well. My carriage is at the door. Let us leave at once. I shall take Chelm with me, Aurora, since he seems to have his wits about him, and can recognize the servant who brought the note. I’ll send him back to you as soon as there is anything to report. Meanwhile, do not succumb to the vapors, I implore you!”

Leaving her smiling wryly, he was about to lead the way downstairs when he noticed Colonel Rand hanging back long enough to plant a firm kiss upon Milady’s rosy lips, which startled her as much as it delighted her.
No slow-top, the soldier
, thought the Earl, as the colonel, brick-red but defiant, met his raised eyebrows. “Your servant, Lady Masterson.” The colonel bowed. Then, “I am with you, sir,” he told Lord Austell.

Within fifteen minutes the Earl’s carriage drew up in front of the vintner’s lavish residence. To Gareth’s delight and the other men’s dismay, Miss Isabelle was discovered to be safely within, and had no knowledge of anything remotely connected with the sensational material in the scrubby letter which the Earl produced.

“But of course I did not write that!” she said. “I would be ashamed to send out such a wretched scrawl! I cannot think what this is all about.”

“It is a trick to lure Pommy away from my sister’s home,” said the Earl grimly. “We have now to decide who is villain enough to perpetrate such a wicked hoax.”

“Her aunt?” suggested both Isabelle and George Rand.

“Possibly—although this does not have quite the sound of a disgruntled, essentially prosaic female,” Lord Austell objected. “It has rather a Romantic sound—”

“You are suggesting that Pommy sent this to herself?” queried Colonel Rand, bristling.

“Of course not,” snapped the Earl. “For one thing, Chelm admitted the messenger, and he has already told us how white Pommy became as she read the note. No, this is the work of someone with quite a different kind of Romantic imagination than our Pommy’s. But who wrote it,” he added severely, “is not our first concern. Where is Pommy? That is what I wish to know!”

“Do you think it is abduction for ransom?” ventured Isabelle, who was already weeping without appreciable change in her flawless features. Gareth rushed across the room to comfort her, while the Earl said decisively:

“No, I think not. Chelm said Pommy offered to get money, and the messenger rejected the offer.”

“Then why—?” asked Colonel Rand in bewilderment. “The whole affair has a very amateur taint.”

“Exactly.” The Earl looked grim. “The writer of that note knew exactly how things stood between Miss Isabelle and our Pommy—that they were friends, and that Pommy, Romantic idiot that she is, would rush unheeding upon her fate if offered the challenge of a friend’s distress.”

“Someone who knows her well, then,” agreed the colonel. “Miss Isabelle, do you have knowledge of any young man who might consider himself sufficiently enamored of Pommy to wish to spirit her away in this manner?”

Isabelle shook her lovely head. “I was not aware that Pommy knew any young men in London, aside from Mr. Gareth Masterson and Mr. Corcran—”

“Corcran!” snapped the Earl. “He’s hanging out for a rich wife, is he not? Was he not dangling after you until your father changed his mind?”

“Really, Lord Austell, you speak too freely,” said Rand stiffly. Gareth was glaring angrily at his uncle. Isabelle stared from one to another of the gentlemen with an expression of bewilderment upon her flawless face. The Earl ignored them all.

“Corcran must know Pommy hasn’t a groat,” he said tensely. “There must be some other reason he’s abducted her. Did he have a
tendre
for her, do you know, Miss Isabelle?”

“He ain’t plannin’
marriage
if he’s run orf with ’er,” Chelm spoke for the first time from his position on the fringe of the group.

“What the devil are you all talking about?” asked Gareth. “What makes you think Pommy has gone off with Alan Corcran?”