‘Why do you not tell me all about it?’ Richard asked encouragingly. ‘Since you do not have any alternative applicants to interview, Mrs Stratton, you might as well see if I would fit the bill.’
‘There is no possibility that you would be suitable-’ Deb broke off, looking at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Just a moment. You said that I do not have any alternative applicants. How would you know that? Did you know that I was the one who had placed the advertisement?’
Richard looked at her, brows raised quizzically. ‘I confess that I did.’
‘How? How could you possibly know that?’
Richard did not prevaricate. ‘I met with your gardener’s boy on the road, the morning that you placed your advertisement. I…happened to see the letter addressed to the Suffolk Chronicle, and when the advertisement came out I guessed that it was you.’
Deb regarded him stormily. Certain issues that had puzzled her were beginning to make more sense. ‘Oh! I do believe that you deliberately asked Mr Strawbridge to throw away any other letters addressed to Lady Incognita!’
Richard grinned. ‘You should be flattered, Mrs Stratton, that I wanted to help you so much that I was prepared to go to any lengths to do so.’
Deb gave a long, angry sigh. ‘Flattered? I am no such thing. For all I know there could have been a whole host of meek and helpful gentlemen prepared to offer me their assistance-’ She broke off as she heard Lord Richard’s unmistakable guffaw.
‘Meek and helpful?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘You are looking for a gentleman who is meek?’
‘Yes!’ Deb said, thoroughly ruffled now, ‘so you may see why you do not fit the bill at all!’
‘In that respect I should have to concur,’ Richard said, ‘but I am still anxious to offer you my aid, Mrs Stratton. Especially as I have denied you the chance of assistance from other gentlemen.’
Deb shook her head. She felt wretched. ‘There is no point in my relating the whole story to you, Lord Richard. No point at all. It was a stupid plan and now I shall simply have to reconsider.’
They were walking slowly along the path that wended its way beside the River Deben. The breeze off the river was cool but it did nothing to calm Deborah’s frantic thought processes. She could see no way out of the coil. She knew she would have to call off the plan she had made to hoodwink her father and come up with some other ideas. The only difficulty was that at present her mind was a complete blank.
‘I feel very guilty for preventing you from finding your meek and…er…helpful gentleman,’ Richard said presently, the quiver still in his voice. ‘Are you sure that I may not help you, Mrs Stratton?’
Deb looked at him. She felt hot and frustrated-frustrated because she could see no way out of her dilemma now and hot because merely looking at Lord Richard Kestrel seemed to have that effect on her. Had she been advertising for a lover, then she might be looking at the right man. She had to remember, however, that that was not the role she wished to fill.
‘No, Lord Richard,’ she said, ‘you may not help me. When I tell you that I was advertising for a temporary fiance you will understand why.’
Not a muscle moved in Richard Kestrel’s face. Deb had to admire the coolness with which he took her announcement.
‘You require a fiance?’ he queried.
‘No,’ Deb corrected, ‘I require a temporary fiance. Now you may see why you would be the very worst person for the role.’
‘I do not see that at all.’ Richard sounded quite hurt. ‘Why am I not suitable?’
‘Why not?’ Deb looked at him closely, trying to work out if he was teasing her. The handsome face was quite impassive and she could not tell.
‘Where do I begin?’ She said. ‘I need someone who is biddable, reliable and-’
‘Meek?’ The betraying quiver of humour was back in Richard’s voice.
‘Precisely,’ Deb said. ‘You, on the other hand are reckless, dangerous and a rake.’
‘In your advertisement you asked for a man of honour, discretion and chivalry,’ Richard pointed out.
‘Yes?’
‘I possess all of those qualities.’
Deb bit her lip. ‘I do not believe so.’ She paused, feeling that this was a little harsh. ‘I suppose that you are discreet,’ she allowed. ‘You did not march into the Customs House and announce your business in front of everyone. And you were most chivalrous just now in drawing Ross’s anger away from me.’
‘Thank you,’ Lord Richard said ironically. ‘You do not seem so certain about my honourable qualities.’
‘Your behaviour to me has been far short of honourable,’ Deb pointed out. She remembered guiltily that she had entertained some decidedly dishonourable thoughts about him herself and had connived at his activities with a certain degree of enthusiasm. She did not wish to appear a hypocrite. She fidgeted.
‘A rake’s behaviour is by definition dishonourable,’ she amended.
‘Touche,’ Richard agreed. ‘It is, of course. But do you at least concede that I can behave with honour if I try?’
‘I have no notion.’ Deb gave a little shrug. ‘I should say, if pressed, that probably you could not. However, the question does not arise since you do not fulfil my other requirements.’
‘The…er…biddableness and the meekness?’
‘Indeed.’
Richard squared his shoulders. ‘No, I am certainly not that, and what is more, I should not even try.’
‘You would not do what I told you?’ Deb looked at him and decided that the question was pointless. Was this a man who would be obedient to a woman’s dictates? She thought not-unless they coincided with his own.
‘No, I would not do as I was told,’ Richard said, confirming her thoughts.
‘There, then.’ Deb spread her hands. ‘You are quite unsuitable to be my short-term fiance.’
They had reached the place where the path narrowed and became a rough track leading down to Kyson Point. There was a seat in the sun, with a fine view across the river to the parish of Sutton beyond. Deb made to turn back, but Richard put out a hand to stop her.
‘Perhaps you could tell me a little about why you need a fiance in the first place,’ he suggested. ‘Who knows, I may at least be able to provide an alternative suggestion to solve your difficulties. May we sit? I find perambulation unsuited to serious conversation.’
Deb looked at him suspiciously. ‘Are you seeking to make fun of me?’
Richard looked hurt. ‘Not the least in the world! No sane person advertises for a temporary fiance unless they have a very powerful reason to do so.’ He gave her a smile. ‘I can testify that you are not insane, Mrs Stratton, therefore you must have your reasons. I confess that I am keen to discover them.’
Deb frowned. On the one hand Lord Richard Kestrel was hardly the person she would have chosen as a confidante, for such a role seemed too intimate. The previous time they had met, they had exchanged confidences that had made her feel very vulnerable. To open her heart to him again was surely a mistake. But on the other hand he spoke a great deal of sense and she was in a tight corner now. If he had any proposals that might solve the problem, then she wanted to hear them. After a moment she sat down and opened her parasol to shade her both from the bright sunlight and Lord Richard’s perceptive gaze. He waited patiently and after a moment Deb started her story.
‘I require a temporary fiance because I have told my father that I am engaged to be married,’ she said. ‘We are to return home for my brother’s wedding in less than two months and Papa has commanded that I bring my betrothed with me.’ She picked at the seam of her gloves. ‘I am in the suds because I pretended to be engaged when I was no such thing. Papa was demanding that I return to live in Bath and I could not bear to do so-’ Once she had started, she found that the whole foolish tale tumbled out. She told Richard of her father’s concerns about the dangers of invasion in Suffolk, of his desire to see her living back at Walton Hall and his determination to promote the match she had rejected when she eloped with Neil Stratton. On the one hand she was mortified to be exposing her folly to Richard Kestrel, but on the other it was oddly soothing to talk to him. To her surprise, she found that he was a good listener. He did not interrupt and only asked a few questions for clarification.
‘I can perfectly comprehend,’ he said as she finished, ‘why you feel you cannot return to live under your parents roof after three years away. If Lord Walton plans to arrange a match-’
Deb shuddered and he broke off, covering her hand briefly with one of his. His voice had dropped. ‘You would not feel able to marry your cousin Harry, I assume?’
