Leighton rode Chandros again in the morning, farther into the hills this time, taking some of the side roads and cart tracks. Familiarizing himself with the geography of a place was a habit he had picked up in Spain. You could never tell when knowing where a road led might save your life.
He then spent an hour touring several of the jewelers’ establishments. Of course, there was the family heirloom ring, an amethyst set in gold but he did not want to try to pry that off his mother’s finger. He was sure Maddie would prefer to chose her own jewelry…if she would still marry him at all, or even speak to him after yesterday’s debacle.
Yet he could not think that finally confessing his part in the war had been a mistake. He had actually hoped that Maddie would admire him for what he had accomplished. Far from it, she had very nearly ditched him then and there. So why had he tried to defend himself? Clearly he should have owned to his fault and begged her forgiveness. At least that hurdle was past them. And he was glad he had not let the deception run on any longer. Better to confess than have her find out from someone else. Whether anyone else found out now was immaterial. If was only Maddie’s opinion that counted.
He did not run up against them while shopping, though he had looked for them. Either Maddie was very angry with him or their plans had changed. He had a sensation of being watched that went beyond the residents scrutinizing him with their quizzing glasses as a newcomer. By now Patience would have had time to write to her father. Leighton was going to have to decide what he would do if Vicar Westlake confronted him on a Bath Street and demanded he leave town. He would not leave, of course but such an altercation would not be good for Maddie’s reputation. Patience’s actions did not jump with her tattling to her father but old habits died hard. She had taken Maddie in on command. What if he had also told her to let him know if Leighton showed up?
When he returned to his rooms, his valet was polishing his evening shoes and handed him a thick packet of papers. It was addressed simply to Mr. Stone, Prad’s Hotel.
“I didn’t think anyone knew I was here.” Leighton opened the bundle on the small table near the door. There was something oddly familiar about the bold lettering on the outside sheet but his name was not written in cursive, so he could not recognize the hand. He extracted a sheaf of sheet music, some was printed in America, some was in French and as he leafed through, he found one very badly handwritten page of music.
“Did this come in the post?”
“No, not the post.”
Leighton waited in vain for clarification. “From where then?”
“A servant delivered it.”
“Whose servant?”
Tibbs thought for a moment. “I have no idea.”
Leighton groaned. “There is no return address. Didn’t this servant say anything?”
“Had an odd accent. If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say he was…American.”
Leighton knew there was no point in trying to get any more out of Tibbs. The man was still punishing him for dragging him out of London. He turned the packet over and over, looking for some clue to its origin. Perhaps a military acquaintance had been posted to America and had sent him these scores. Certainly the war with America was still in full force. But there was no enclosure letter, which seemed damned odd. And how would such a person know he was at this hotel or in Bath at all? Leighton cast the printed pages aside, then scrutinized the handwritten piece.
“Tibbs, where’s my cello?”
He heard a scrape and then saw Tibbs wrestling the cello case through the doorway.
“You brought it. Good.” Leighton threw the case open on the floor.
“You did say send only the books to your estate.”
Leighton ignored Tibbs’ rare example of explicit obedience, removed the instrument and tuned it, then tried to master the notes on the page. He saw Tibbs flinch and got a chill himself from the scraping. This could not really be music. So what was it?
Leighton laid the cello to rest again. He folded the handwritten piece and put it in his notebook, thinking he might recognize the handwriting when he had more time.
He had something of a coughing attack on his way down to the courtyard garden as he recalled he had left poor Tibbs to put the instrument away again. He definitely had to treat the man with more consideration if he wanted to keep him.
He asked the waiter for a brandy and water with his luncheon, got the same table where they had tea yesterday and gave a sigh of relief when the brandy arrived. He couldn’t help wondering if there were any traps in the way of his engagement, other than his mother, Maddie’s father and sister and now Maddie’s anger at him. If only things could be simple. He glanced at the pond. The sunlight on the rippling surface bounced back to the underside of the dogwood leaves, making it look as if there were a thousand suns in the sky playing over the tree leaves.
The fountain reminded him of that sheet of music, so he spread the quartered page out on the small table and tried to follow the crabbed notes but they had no continuity as he had just demonstrated. And no one could have played such a reach on a pianoforte. As music they made no sense at all. Perhaps it was some amateur’s first composition. In his young days had he produced such ridiculous flights?
Leighton went back to the puzzle of why it had been sent to him. He could not place the writing, although he was good at that sort of thing. His mind raced back to long sleepless nights spent with Scoville over messages and sheets of decoding. Then he made the sort of leap that usually meant a breakthrough.
The spring in the courtyard had nothing to do with music but he and Maddie both thought so because they had music in common. What if this piece of paper had nothing to do with music either? And he was the link. But between what and what? It was like an equation with no known factors.
He laughed and pushed it aside when the waiter brought his food. His mind needed work. Into the vacuum of no work he was trying to create some, to knit up a task out of a nonsense shred of paper. But he lived and worked in a world where everything had a purpose. He was not used to having an unknown, a puzzle piece without a puzzle.
He pulled the sheet toward him again. He had no idea of its purpose and why it had been sent to him. The war with France was over. They were negotiating a peace. Of course, the war in America was far from over. But this had nothing to do with the Foreign Office. It was not so mysterious in its requests. Who would have sent him such a thing, if it was not a joke?
* * * * *
Maddie was furious but this time not at Leighton. As she was driven with her luggage in the Haddon coach up the hill, she gave vent to her frustration by ripping up the cordial note Lady Haddon had sent to Patience inviting Maddie to stay with them until mid-August. It was the second time in the space of two weeks she had been packed up and shipped off as though she were a piece of baggage. She reminded herself that she had thought of seeking such a position. Unfortunately, Lady Haddon was not even going to pay her for playing companion to Lucy. Maddie was there strictly as a houseguest but she felt sure she would be expected to work for her keep.
Why had Patience done this to her? They’d been in the Pump Room talking to Mrs. Marsden, the grandmother, along with Lady Haddon and her daughter. Maddie had felt obliged to chat with Lucy, though the girl bubbled far too much to suit her. But then Lucy was several years her junior. Suddenly Patience, who had been in a brown study ever since the post had arrived, got the brilliant notion of farming her out to the Haddons.
When they’d returned to Royal Crescent to pack her things, Maddie had accused her sister of conspiring to put her beyond Leighton’s reach. Oddly enough, that had seemed to take Patience by surprise. But she had grasped at it as an excuse to send her own sister away. She’d said that if Leighton really wanted her, Marsden House would be no bar to him.
Now that Lady Haddon’s note had been reduced to a pile of very tiny pieces of paper, Maddie did not know what to do with them, so she dropped them into her parasol. What did it all mean? For one thing, the reason she was being sent to the Haddons had nothing to do with Leighton. It was something darker or more serious.
Perhaps their father was coming and Patience wanted her out of the way. No, she would never willingly face him alone. But it would mean Leighton would not be showing up on her doorstep every day, so if their father were coming, Patience could avoid the inevitable scene between the two. Patience could also shift the burden of chaperoning her to someone with more skill at depressing aspirations.
Perhaps that was it. As for what Leighton would do, this was a good test of his ingenuity. As an earl, he could probably get an entree into the house of a mere knight, even though Sir Phillip Haddon was a wealthy and important one. But she rather thought Leighton would not take the easy road. If it was in her power, she meant to see to it that he could not. He should pay for being so secretive. He had never really properly courted her. Now he would have to. She dismissed the truth that her father would never have permitted a normal courtship. It would be interesting to see how long it would take Leighton to breach the fortress of Marsden House, the grandmother’s grim four-story edifice that overlooked Bath from the north.
She plastered a polite smile to her face as they approached the walled and gated estate. Yes, it would be interesting to see what Leighton contrived.
* * * * *
Leighton was kept waiting in the hall at 6 Royal Crescent. He heard a man and a woman talking with Patience and expected them to still be there when he was admitted. But when Leighton was shown into the morning room, Patience was alone. That gave him an uneasy feeling. Certainly her other company could have left through the adjoining room that gave on to the hallway as well but why would they sneak out?
“Where is Maddie?”
Patience looked up at him with a challenge. “Not here, obviously.”
“But you said I could call on her here.”
“Circumstances have changed.”
Leighton parked himself on the sofa without being invited. “What circumstances?”
“I have found Maddie a position. It is a genteel—”
“What?” He leaped to his feet again. “But we are going to be married. She does not need to go into service. Where is she?”
“Papa wanted me to find her a situation and I have,” she said with a satisfied smile.
“And where is that?”
Patience glanced toward a set of double doors then looked away. Leighton almost went to thrust them open, for he now suspected Vicar Westlake was behind them. But he restrained himself. What good would that confrontation do?
“So I have to hunt her down again. If you think to throw a rub in the way of our marriage…”
“No, why should I?” She scribbled something on a piece of paper. “What you and Maddie do is no concern of mine so long as you do not create a scandal.”
“But you try to put her beyond my reach.”
“How so? Of course, you may be denied when you ask to see her.”
“Just what sort of position is this?” He was looming over her now but Patience showed not the slightest discomfort at his anger.
“A companion but to a most genteel family.”
“Poor Maddie. She is ever taking care of the aged.”
“You mistake. She is to keep company with Mrs. Marsden’s granddaughter.”
“Where?” Leighton demanded.
Patience cringed. “No need to shout. At Marsden House. It sits by itself on Richmond Hill. Here, I have drawn you a map.”
He took the paper suspiciously. “You had better be telling me true, Patience.”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“I think your father might compel you to do many very bad things, just because you are afraid of him.”
“I am not afraid of Papa. Did I not run away and get married?”
“Did you? I thought he approved.”
“Do you think I care what tale he told once I was free of him? Now go to Maddie and leave me alone.” She glanced at the double doors again.
“But we have not finished our visit yet,” Leighton said by way of baiting her.
“We most certainly have.” She stood and showed him the door into the hall herself. If Patience was not acting for her father, then Leighton could think of only one reason she would want to be rid of both Maddie and him. She must have a lover. The notion caught him so unexpectedly that a chuckle burst out of him which he was able to disguise as a coughing fit.
On his way out, he wondered if there was any way he should feel responsible for this childhood friend. She was a grown woman, a widow and should be able to handle her own affairs, whatever they were.
He had never thought Patience’s intellect superior but he had never had cause to doubt her reason before. To carry on a clandestine affair in London was difficult enough. To try to do so in Bath was social suicide.
He stood outside the house a moment, getting his bearings and wondering whether to present himself at Marsden House immediately or to catch Maddie in the Pump Room. He heard Patience talking to someone and the lower tones of a man’s voice. For a moment he thought there was something familiar about it but it was definitely not Vicar Westlake.
Leighton left Royal Crescent and started uphill but he had no idea how he was going to gain admission to Marsden House. What he needed was some advice and coaching in the social graces as they pertained to Bath. It was casual here but would he be allowed to call on Maddie in the family drawing room, or need he go around to the kitchen? If Patience had set this family up as chaperones for Maddie, most likely he would not be admitted at all.
He reversed his steps and headed down the hill. The only person he knew in Bath who might help him was Dr. Murray and at this time of day he should be in the Pump Room looking for patients.
Leighton was not disappointed. He spotted the doctor among a crowd of women. To his distress, the doctor introduced him as a young man with an interesting cough. Finally Leighton was able to drag the man away.
“What troubles you?” Murray asked.
“Maddie’s sister has placed her with Mrs. Marsden as a companion to her granddaughter Lucy. I need a way into their house.”
“There I can help you. The grandmother is a patient of mine. You have only to return here at four o’clock and I will make you known to each other. But do you really think it will help?”
“What do you mean?”
“The last time you and Miss Westlake talked, you seemed to be at loggerheads.”
“Pay that no mind. Maddie will forgive me if I admit my fault but I must make a chance to speak with her.”
“How will it serve to get an introduction to her hostess? They will not let a young woman in their charge go wandering about on her own. You would be better advised to attend the subscription balls they hold twice a week in the Upper Assembly Rooms.”
“But if I am running tame in their house, I know I will be able to get back in Maddie’s good graces.”
“Seems like a crackbrained idea to me but, oh well, the course of true love…” Murray shrugged.
“See you at four o’clock.”
* * * * *
Leighton spent the afternoon getting acquainted with the rest of the streets in Bath. Within a few hours he had a reliable mental map of the place. Once he saw a tall man who looked so familiar from the back he felt compelled to follow him but he lost him in a side street. Most likely it was someone he had known in Spain but just could not place. Since the doctor was here, the city might very well be crawling with veterans.
He shrugged off the feeling that someone was watching him. London was large and anonymous. In a place as small as Bath you were likely to keep seeing the same faces over and over. And the stream of shoppers and saunterers that crowded the streets was probably normal traffic for the town.
After changing his shirt, cravat and coat, he returned to the Pump Room. There were a surprising number of dandies there, besides ladies both old and young but no doctor. Leighton gave a sigh of impatience, had another coughing fit and was just recovering himself when an older lady in a gray walking dress cast him a concerned look.
“Are you all right, young man?”
“Oh, fine. I was walking too fast, I suppose. I was to meet Dr. Murray here.”
“I know the man well. He is my physician—”
A burst of laughter from the dandy set who crowded around the younger women interrupted her.
“Popinjays!”
“I beg your pardon.”
“Them, not you. They are just waiting about to pounce on Lucy when she gets here. Fortune hunters and ne’er-do-wells, the lot of them.”
“Even the captain?” Leighton asked, nodding toward the tall Horse Guards officer who dominated the room.
“A half-pay officer, no doubt.”
“But why would they pounce on your Lucy?”
“She’s an innocent. But no more of that. Her maid has never been able to fend them off but I lay odds Miss Westlake will give them their marching orders.”
“Oh, you must be…Lady Haddon.” He conferred the mother’s title on her rather than the grandmother’s, forming what he thought was a clever plan. He bowed and smugly wondered if he would be able to do without the doctor’s introduction. “I am sure you are right. Let me introduce myself. I am Leighton Stone.”
“What makes you say that about Miss Westlake?” The woman fluttered her fan in front of her breast as she looked him over.
“I am somewhat acquainted with Miss Westlake. I feel confident you are right about her keeping men at bay.”
Suddenly she laughed and cuffed him with her fan. “You think I am Lucy’s mother?”
“Aren’t you?” Leighton stepped back and regarded her. She was stately and dignified and there were a few strands of silver in her fine brown hair.
“Lord, no. I am her grandmother.”
“Grandmother?” Leighton feigned surprise. “No, I am sorry, madam. I will allow you to be her mother but never her grandmother, unless you had her mother when you were but a child yourself.”
“Flatterer,” she said with a becoming flush. “Here they come now. Lay you odds they can’t even get across the room without being stopped.”
Leighton glanced at the granddaughter, stunning in yellow poplin, her gold ringlets bouncing. Maddie, carrying a large shopping basket full of packages, walked beside Lucy, trying to persuade her of something.
“Of the Bedford Stones?” the grandmother asked.
The girls had been swallowed up by a crowd of five gentlemen. He supposed he would have to go get them.
Leighton turned, puzzled. “Bedford? Oh, you mean my family. No, Hereford. Shall I bring the girls to you?”
“Do you think you can?” she challenged.
Leighton chuckled. “I think I can contrive something, if you will oblige me by having a seat.” He led Mrs. Marsden to a chair, then started across the room but looked back.
She perched on it but did not look particularly helpless as she scowled at the crowd of men.
Leighton made fanning motions at her.
She gave him a puzzled look but complied and he strode across the room.
* * * * *
Maddie was doing her best to disentangle the flirtatious Lucy from the gaggle of men when nearly half of the compliments were flying in her direction. To make matters worse, there was Leighton coming up to her. If he made a jealous scene, she would never forgive him.
“Excuse me, Miss Haddon. Your grandmother seems to be feeling unwell. Would you come to her?”
“Grandmother? She is never ill.”
Maddie didn’t like the way Lucy looked Leighton up and down, nor the way she let him take her arm and lead her away. What the devil was he playing at? She dismissed the rest of the men with a glare and trailed after Leighton and Lucy, failing to catch whatever words of flattery he was pouring into her ears.
“By the way, I am Leighton Stone.”
“I’m Lucy Haddon, Sir Phillip Haddon’s daughter.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Grandmother, what is it? Are you all right?”
“Perfectly. Are you finished making a spectacle of yourself?”
“Well, I cannot be rude to people, can I? You do look flushed. Perhaps Mr. Stone should call you a chair.”
“Certainly not!”
“How do you come to know Mr. Stone?” Lucy asked.
“Chance met. But he is acquainted with Miss Westlake.”
Maddie felt her cheeks flush for no reason other than anger. Bad enough she was sold into service to the Haddons but it was the outside of enough to have to be polite to Leighton when it was probably all his fault.
“Yes, Leighton and I have known each other for ages.” Maddie realized some further explanation of their connection was necessary, for Lucy was already looking at Leighton far too greedily. Maddie decided she would not lose her earl without a fight, even though she was feeling out of charity with him at the moment. “We played together.”
“You grew up together?” Lucy asked.
“We played music together,” Leighton corrected. I am in her father’s parish and since she was the only child in the district with any faculty for an instrument, the burden of church programs fell to us.”
“Ah, I see. You were her music master,” Lucy’s grandmother said.
“No—yes,” Maddie said in quick succession. If Leighton did not blab about being an earl, she might be willing to let him lord it over her as far as music went.
“Well, which is it?” Lucy said, a frown marring her mouth.
Leighton gave a cough. “Not officially her music master. I may have taught her a little of what I learned at university but Maddie has a natural ear. She is as good at the pianoforte as I am. We play duets sometimes, or I accompany her on the cello.”
Leighton smiled at her then and her heart melted. How could she have doubted him? To be sure, he had inflicted himself on Lucy’s grandmother only in order to talk to her.
“Leighton composes too,” she said, seeking to further obscure his identity.
“Indeed?” Mrs. Marsden said, eyeing him with new respect.
“For my own amusement, though we have performed some of my music at the church.”
Lucy eyed him with wonder. “I have never met a composer before.”
Leighton could not avoid the chuckle and the inevitable coughing fit that followed.
Dr. Murray strode over to them. “I see you’ve met my new patient.” He pounded Leighton on the back. “Sorry I am late, lad. I had an emergency.”
“Indeed,” Leighton croaked.
“Well, it was not I taking up your time with silly illnesses,” the older woman said. “Will you do us the pleasure of dining with us before the subscription ball tomorrow night, doctor?”
“Why thank you but Leighton and I had planned to dine together.”
Maddie saw the doctor wink at Leighton. Her betrothed put on his most innocent face.
“Oh, go ahead, Murray. We can delay our dinner.”
“Grandmother, why cannot Leighton dine with us as well?”
“My dear girl, I do not even know your parents,” Leighton said. “A very odd start they would think it.”
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Marsden replied. “The house in Bath is my home, not my son-in law’s. Of course you may dine with us since I am inviting you.”
“I would be delighted,” Leighton said with a bow.
“And Dr. Murray, bring that nice Lieutenant Reid with you. So refined and polite. Now we must return home or we shall be late for tonight’s dinner.”
“We’ll walk with you,” Leighton offered, taking Mrs. Marsden’s arm.
“With that terrible cough?” Maddie jibed.
“Oh, I think the reason Bath is so famous for its cures has nothing to do with the waters but with making invalids walk up all these hills. I assure you I have vastly improved in the few days I have been here.”
To Maddie’s surprise, Leighton walked with Mrs. Marsden and the doctor got between her and Lucy.
“Are you going to the ball tomorrow night?” Murray asked Maddie.
“Oh, I do not think so.”
“Of course you must attend,” Lucy said. “It is so much more fun when one has a best friend to confide in. You can wear your new dress, the white one.”
The doctor nodded. “Things are rather informal here in Bath. You will enjoy yourself very much.”
When they reached Marsden House, Maddie thought Leighton might have tried harder to get a word alone with her but instead he left with the doctor without even entering the house. What was he playing at? And why in God’s name had she introduced him as a music instructor? She hated to think what Mrs. Marsden or Lady Haddon would say when they found out who he really was. But actually she had told no untruth. She merely had not puffed off Leighton’s consequence and he had looked as though he was enjoying the joke. She wondered what Patience would say if she knew how easily Leighton had breached the walls of Marsden House.
* * * * *
“Well, does that make up for my tardiness?” the doctor asked him on the way back to the hotel.
“I am amazed. Dinner and the ball. Surely I will find ample opportunity to woo the reluctant Maddie.”
“And she did not seem badly disposed toward you. Did you buy a subscription to the balls?”
“Yes and found out where I can obtain a license. In two weeks we can be married and no one will be able to stop us.”
“You know, if you were a conniving fellow, you could probably have the lovely Lucy and all her fortune.”
“She has a fortune?”
“Yes, she’s a considerable heiress and no siblings to share with.”
“Poor girl.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Maddie must know my interest is genuine since she has no fortune but Lucy will never be able to tell when she is being preyed upon.”
“Yes, that is why they watch her so closely. But there are fellows who would take Maddie just for her looks.”
“I must remember she is not safe here either.”
Leighton dined with the doctor again, this time in the main dining room at the hotel. They were joined by Lieutenant Reid, a limping soldier in the uniform of a cavalry officer, whom Leighton assumed to be one of the doctor’s patient’s. Leighton had also seen him around the city but if Reid had noticed him in the Peninsula he did not speak of it. He showed no surprise at the dinner invitation to Marsden House and seemed content to listen to Leighton’s questions for the doctor about Bath and the balls.
“They are held twice a week, Monday and Thursday. Sometimes there is a theme, such as costumes but not tomorrow.”
“Is evening dress appropriate?
“Yes, or military uniforms.”
Reid nodded.
“Do you both go?” Leighton asked.
“Yes, I shall look in on it,” the doctor said.
Reed shrugged. “I shan’t be dancing for a while but more goes on at a ball than dancing.”
Leighton nodded, trying not to put a grim twist on the man’s words but Reid never smiled. Though his speech gave Leighton no reason to distrust him, there was an unexplained reserve about Reid that made Leighton think the man was studying him.
Then it hit him that Reid was probably in pain. While Leighton had come home with no more than a scar, Reid must have taken a career-ending wound. Leighton began to try to think of some way to make it up to him, as though it were his fault. Then he stopped and scolded himself for assuming Reid could not manage on his own. He was always doing that, taking over and finding solutions where others did not even perceive there to be a problem.
Instead he should be applying himself to the problem of how to court Maddie. He must start with an apology, then engage her interest, possibly by showing her that mysterious piece of sheet music. Now there was a puzzle. Perhaps if he could get a moment alone with Maddie, she would have some idea what it could mean.