he waited for her to continue with weary patience. Deb took the plunge. ‘You see, I particularly needed your escort today as I am meeting a gentleman here and I-’ She broke off as someone hushed her from inside the auction room. ‘I need to be sure that he is reliable…’
Deb slid into one of the seats at the back of the hall and pulled Ross down beside her.
The auction was in full swing, but the room was only half-full. The sale of items taken by the revenue usually drew quite a crowd, but seizure of smuggled goods had been light recently and there was no brandy on sale today so none of the town’s publicans had turned out. At the front of the hall sat the usual bunch of gawpers who always attended an auction but never bought anything. Further back sat a sprinkling of Woodbridge citizens including Mr Rumbold, who was a collector of items such as snuffboxes and jewellery.
Ross’s frown had not lightened whilst he waited for Deb to explain herself further. Now he started to whisper crossly in her ear.
‘Do I understand you to be saying that you have made an assignation with a gentleman, Deborah?’
‘Yes!’ Deb whispered back. ‘And just in case he is not trustworthy, I need you here to protect me-’
Ross muttered some imprecation, fortunately under his breath. ‘You mean that you have arranged to meet a stranger? What the devil are you about, Deborah?’
‘It is not as it seems,’ Deb hissed back. ‘Allow me to explain.’
‘By all means,’ Ross said, scowling.
The auctioneer pointed his gavel at them. ‘Sold to the gentleman!’
‘Now you have cost me five guineas,’ Ross complained, ‘and gained me a set of engraved glasses that I did not want.’
‘Oh, stop complaining,’ Deb grumbled. ‘Give them to Olivia-it would be nice for you to give her a present for once!’
She heard Ross give a bad-tempered sigh and was grateful that the progress of the auction prevented him from asking her any further questions. Explanations would simply have to wait until later. She felt a little guilty. She knew that she was taking advantage of Ross’s good nature. She should have told him more of the business first, instead of springing it on him at the last moment. But if she had done that, he would have forbidden her to attend and then she would have no chance of meeting Lord Scandal…
She sat bolt upright, clutching her reticule on her lap. Seldom had she felt so apprehensive. Lord Scandal might already be in the room. The thought made her feel breathless with nerves. She had come this far in her quest for a fiance, but now she had a very strong urge to turn tail and flee. Had it not been for Ross’s reassuring if irritable presence beside her, she probably would have done so.
A hasty scan around the hall revealed that it was unlikely that Lord Scandal was already among them. The Tide Surveyor was sitting a little way away to her left, and next to him was Owen Chance, the Riding Officer whom Deb had met at Lady Sally Saltire’s ball. Mr Chance saw her glance in his direction and a smile lit his eyes. He inclined his head politely. Deb smiled back, although she thought it might have come out a little lopsidedly. Her nerves were not diminishing as she made an inventory of the people in the hall. In fact, they were increasing.
There were two ladies who had come in after Deb and Ross and were now sitting whispering through the auction, the plumes in their hats nodding as they gossiped. They could be discounted. Deb’s gaze moved on. The only gentleman in the room was Sir John Norton of Drybridge, who was currently bidding for another set of fine engraved wineglasses. Deb felt a clutch of horror. She hoped that Lord Scandal was not Sir John, for she did not care for him very much. How unconscionably embarrassing it would be to discover that her respondent was someone she already knew and did not like. That would be far worse than having to dismiss the application of a stranger.
The door opened behind her. Deb heard it but could not see anything, for she had just realised that she had chosen the worst possible place to sit to watch for anyone coming in. Her back was to the entrance and in order to see the door she would have to turn around and crane her neck. That would draw too much attention so she would simply have to sit tight and wait…
She tensed. There was a swirl of fresh air, a burst of sunlight, and then the door closed and the hall was quiet again, but for the drone of the auctioneer’s voice as he drove the price up on a packet of Dutch mantua silk. Deb sat still as a mouse, her nerves stretched to breaking. She could hear measured footsteps coming closer. She could see nothing, but she knew that someone was standing just behind her, and suddenly, disconcertingly, she could tell who it was.
The air stirred and then a voice she recognised very well said softly in her ear, ‘Lady Incognita, I presume? And with a stalwart chaperon! How do you do, ma’am? Shall we step outside and talk?’
Deb was mortified. She sat on the bench outside the Customs House and watched Ross and Richard Kestrel as they talked. They were some distance away, but she could follow the conversation fairly well by watching her brother-in-law’s expression. Ross was looking furious and Deb did not really blame him. It was doubly mortifying, however, that Richard was obliged to accept the censure that should by rights be vented upon her. Now she felt even more at a disadvantage.
Deb looked out across the River Deben and wondered why on earth she had never imagined that Lord Scandal and Lord Richard Kestrel could be one and the same.
It seemed so obvious now that she knew. Mrs Aintree had commented that his letter was arrogant, just like the man himself: arrogant, authoritative under that deceptively lazy air, and given to command. Deb remembered that she had even mused at one time that they might be one and the same person, and then she had dismissed the idea because she had thought that Lord Richard would never take the local newspaper, nor answer a chance-placed advertisement…
She glanced back at the gentlemen. Whatever it was that Richard was saying to Ross was evidently quite persuasive. Deb saw Ross’s forbidding expression ease slightly, saw him nod once, shake his head twice, and finally look in her direction. Richard shook hands with him and Ross, with one hard, backward glance at Deb, headed away up Quay Street. Deb took a deep breath as she watched Richard approach. Now that the moment-and Lord Scandal-was here, she did not really know what to do. She thought it best if they ended the interview as quickly as possible. Clearly it was impossible for her to appoint Lord Richard Kestrel as her temporary fiance and the quicker the matter was settled the better.
Richard was standing before her. He took one look at her scarlet, mortified face and said, ‘Shall we walk a little, Mrs Stratton? Your brother-in-law has very kindly given us a half-hour together in which to discuss this matter.’
Deb took his arm, feeling slightly dazed. ‘What did you say to Ross?’ she asked. ‘I did not think that he would leave us alone.’
‘I said very little,’ Richard looked rueful. ‘Since I did not wish to betray your confidence and could not be sure whether you had told him about your advertisement, I made no mention of it. Instead I merely said that you and I had a matter to discuss and asked him to grant me a little time with you.’
Deb nodded. She felt even more distressed as she realised the extent to which Richard had most chivalrously drawn Ross’s fire away from her and to himself.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘You are welcome.’ Richard scanned her face. ‘I was assuming, of course, that you still wished to speak with me. If you have changed your mind, you need only say the word. Ross has gone to the gunsmith’s and we may meet him there.’
Deb hesitated. Richard waited. There was nothing in his face to sway her opinion, but even as she was poised on the edge of calling the whole thing off, she was surprised to feel a strong urge not to dismiss him. He was, after all, her only hope.
‘Perhaps,’ she said cautiously, ‘I could decide what to do once we have spoken.’
She saw a ghost of a smile touch Richard’s lips. ‘Of course,’ he said.
They walked a little way along the path, Richard waiting politely for her to take the initiative.
‘I should have guessed it was you, I suppose,’ Deb said wryly. ‘I cannot imagine why I did not. Probably-’ she stole a sideways look at her companion ‘-because I did not want to. Lord Scandal, indeed!’
Richard laughed. ‘I thought it peculiarly appropriate.’
‘No doubt it is. But it is not at all appropriate for the role that I had in mind.’ Deb sighed. ‘I knew all along that it was a poor idea, but it was the only thing that I could think to do.’
