Chivalrous Rake, Scandalous Lady. Mary Brendan
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seen this letter. Then I will be in trouble, for Theo will guess I have meddled in it.’
With an unsteady hand Jemma pushed back the stray wisps fallen against her pale forehead. Her fingers remained tangled in those chestnut tresses as she slowly walked to the window and stared sightlessly out on another glorious spring day. She certainly did not want Maura to pay for being a good and loyal friend to her, but neither did she want Stephen Crabbe to remain under any illusion that she might agree to marry him. She had hoped that the two gentlemen who had received a letter from Theo—and whose responses she had not known—would have had the sense to treat the matter with the contempt it deserved. Then the whole stupid affair might have faded away with no need for her to do anything at all. But now it seemed she had no option but to quickly state her case before Mr Crabbe paid her an unwelcome call.
Five years ago she’d stirred gossip because she had trifled with Marcus Speer’s affections and led him on like a common tease. Then she’d deserved the opprobrium for her silly flirtatious behaviour. On this occasion she’d done nothing to encourage a suitor’s attention. Once she’d broadcast the truth of the matter, her guardian’s motive would be rightly judged to be claiming the Bailey inheritance. As much as Jemma didn’t relish seeing Maura upset by her brother’s greed being exposed, she could see no other way to proceed.
Jemma’s troubled thoughts were interrupted as Polly arrived with the tea tray. Having settled on the sofa opposite her cousin, and handed Maura her tea, Jemma was surprised to hear a tap at the door and see Polly again hovering on the threshold.
‘A gentleman caller, Miss Bailey,’ Polly announced in her soft Devon burr.
The hand that clutched a teacup froze halfway to Maura’s mouth. Swiftly it was deposited back on its saucer, rattling together the crockery. ‘It’s Theo,’ she hissed, pupils dilating in fright. ‘He must have discovered the letter is missing. He’s guessed I’ve taken it to show you. He’s come to get it…and me…’
‘Shh, it is not him,’ Jemma soothed, quickly standing up. Polly was familiar enough with her mistress’s guardian to have announced him by his name.
‘Who is it Polly?’ Jemma’s heart had plummeted to her stomach. Had Stephen Crabbe come to visit without the courtesy of first sending a card, and before she had properly decided how she must attack such a delicate matter as rejecting him for a second time?
‘It’s a Mr Speer, Miss Bailey,’ Polly announced, her eyes suddenly alight with admiration, her lips compressed to hide a smile. ‘He’s waiting in the hallway. Shall I show him in?’
‘No!’ Jemma blurted in a gulp. ‘That is…yes, of course. Please show him in. No, one moment…’ She again arrested her servant’s departure, but gave Polly an apologetic look for the confusion. ‘Ask him to wait just a moment, please.’
Polly nodded and slipped away to do as she’d been bid. As she skipped along the corridor towards the vestibule she inwardly chuckled. She’d be in a dither too if such a grand-looking man came a-calling on her unexpectedly.
‘What do you think he wants?’ Maura whispered, her eyes as round as the saucers on the table. Now she knew that her brother had not come in high dudgeon to chastise her she looked quite comfortable perched on the edge of her chair, and agog with curiosity. ‘Surely he is not still furious at having received Theo’s letter? Do you think that he is here to again quarrel with you?’
‘I…I don’t know,’ Jemma croaked. And that was the truth. She had no idea why he’d come. The last time she’d been in his company his parting words to her had been that they should finish their conversation another time. She’d imagined it to be just an empty phrase tossed at her as a substitute for a proper farewell. She felt quite light-headed at the prospect of receiving him at home without knowing the purpose of his call. She knew too that she regretted having delayed her cousin’s departure with the offer of refreshment. Of course it was best for her reputation that she did not see him alone but—etiquette be damned!—she would sooner hear whatever it was he had to say in private. Closely following that thought came another to reassure her. Marcus Speer was a sophisticated gentleman. He would refrain from discussing anything of a delicate nature in front of Maura.
After a moment Jemma realised that she would be no better prepared to deal with the situation after ten minutes of brooding on it than she was now. In fact, it would be bad manners to make him wait. She recalled the glimpse she’d had of him pacing impatiently in the hallway of Theo’s house. She guessed Mr Speer was not a man who gladly wasted his time, and she didn’t want to annoy him for no good reason. Quickly Jemma went to the door, opened it and gestured to Polly, hovering in the vicinity, that she was ready to receive him.
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