The Marquess Finds Romance Page 6

  “I do not recall an actual agreement, dear Janie.”

  “Oh, no!” Janie said, pointing a finger. “You are not going to do this. I’m not going to marry Lord Carswell! The man and I don’t even like each other!”

  Lord Carswell felt a dull thud in his chest, as if someone had hit him.

  “Janie,” he protested.

  She whirled around to face him.

  “No! We don’t like each other. We even tried, right? Over the past few hours? But it didn’t work. We don’t like each other. Besides, you’re in love with Clara. So, we don’t like each other, and you’re in love with someone else.” She turned back to Miss Hickstrom, her voice shrill with emotion. “So, no! No, no and no!”

  “Janie, dear, please be civil,” Miss Hickstrom began.

  “I’m not doing this!” Janie said, whirling about to stalk off the bridge.

  Lord Carswell thought to follow her, but her rigid back told him to let her be. It was his turn to face down the fairy godmother. When he looked at Miss Hickstrom though, her cheeks were high with color, though not with anger. Unshed tears filled her blue eyes, and her chin quivered.

  “I fear that she is most vexed with me,” she said.

  Lord Carswell, despite his resolution to defy Miss Hickstrom’s wishes as well, felt a moment of sympathy for the tearful lady.

  “Come now, Miss Hickstrom. Do not distress yourself. Miss Ferguson will relent.”

  She withdrew her gaze from Janie’s retreating back and turned toward him with a hopeful countenance.

  “Oh, do you think so?”

  “Wait a moment!” he exclaimed. “I meant that Miss Ferguson will relent and assuage her anger, not that she will consent to marry me, for, Miss Hickstrom, I do not intend to marry her!”

  A tear slipped down Miss Hickstrom’s face. “You refuse to consider the matter as well? Whatever can be the matter with me? Am I losing my powers?”

  “I certainly hope so,” he said brusquely. “From what I have heard, you have done great disservice to people who did not wish to be controlled, cajoled, imprisoned, kidnapped across time and generally be coerced into love and marriages.”

  Lord Carswell pressed his lips together at the sight of the small woman. She really was nothing more than an interfering, blue-haired, short-statured, plump little bit of a thing. She diminished before his eyes.

  Or so he thought, until she drew herself up as if tall.

  “How very unkind you are, Lord Carswell,” she said, her tears drying. “I am afraid that I must agree with Janie on that score. All I have ever done is sought to bring together lonely hearts. Do you suppose that the heart wishes to be alone? Wishes to do nothing more than keep a body alive? No! That is not the organ’s sole purpose. The heart desires companionship, a mate, a matching beat. We are not meant to live our lives alone, Lord Carswell, without love, without romance, without the communion of two hearts.”

  Lord Carswell heard her effusive words but could only concentrate on one sentence.

  “Janie said that I am unkind?”

  “Did you hear nothing else I said, sir?”

  “Yes, yes,” he responded testily. “The heart desires romance, among other things.”

  “If that is all you heard, Lord Carswell, then it is no wonder that your marriage failed and you have wasted your life!”

  Lord Carswell drew in a sharp breath, aghast at her cruelty.

  “Miss Hickstrom, how dare you!”

  “I dare because I thought you might be suitable for Janie, my romantic Janie. But no, sir, you are most unsuitable for her. And you shall not have her!”

  “I...I...” Lord Carswell could only sputter. The angry little lady before him had done with her tears and seemed almost fearsome in her anger.

  “You what?” she continued. “You are in love with Clara, with Lady Rowe? I do hate to point out the obvious, but she is a happily married woman. And they have me to thank for that! Do please remember that when you dismiss my mission in life, my skills, my powers, when you declare that I have done ‘great disservice to people.’

  “For as sure as I stand here, Lord Carswell, I have now decided that you shall not have the privilege of marrying Miss Janie Ferguson. I shall find a considerate man for her to wed, a kind man, and he shall outrank you! You, for all your snooty treatment of her. Yes, she told me of your disdain for her, for her profession. You are but a mere viscount. I shall find a marquess for her, and you will someday show your remorse by bowing over her hand and addressing her as Marchioness Such and Such.”

  “I...I...” Again Lord Carswell could only sputter.

  “Yes, I...I indeed, Lord Carswell. Good day, sir!”

  With that, Miss Hickstrom vanished before his eyes. Had he ever wondered about her powers, he knew at that moment they were considerable given her disappearance.

  Jasper jumped sideways at Miss Hickstrom’s vanishing, and Lord Carswell busied himself for the next few minutes soothing the horse and taking it under control. When Jasper had calmed, Lord Carswell mounted and walked the horse back toward the castle. At that moment, he was not desirous of meeting either Janie or Miss Hickstrom or any other female who might cross his path. He thanked his lucky stars that Jasper was a male, for had he been a mare, she might have thrown him to the ground, such was his misfortune that day with women.

  At the moment when Miss Hickstrom was at her most angry, she had sought to put him in his place by threatening—if such a term were apt—that she would match Janie with a marquess, a gentleman of higher rank than he. Lord Carswell had not believed his ears. Had he not been on his way to meet his brother’s solicitor in London? His brother, the seventh Marquess of Huntington, who had no other heirs? He had not dared retort to Miss Hickstrom’s threat that he, James, was in line to inherit a marquessate. He did not wish the fairy godmother to know such.

  Lord Carswell did not pass Janie on his return, and he rode the horse straight into the stables. He checked his pocket watch and looked toward the castle tower. The hour was about noon, and he thought he might need a stiff drink...and then only if no females were about.

  Lord Carswell entered a side door of the castle nearest the stable and found his way to St. John’s study. He tapped on the door and was granted admittance.

  St. John rose hastily when he saw his visitor.

  “Lord Carswell! How was your ride?”

  “Could I have a glass of brandy or some of that fine Scottish whisky of yours?”

  St. John blinked but, without further ado, strode over to the sideboard and poured out two drinks. He handed one to Lord Carswell and indicated they should sit in the chairs splayed out around the cold hearth.

  “May I deduce that your ride was not enjoyable? Was it your mount? Do ask for another horse.”

  “No, the horse is fine.” Lord Carswell drank his whisky in one motion.

  “You seem to be parched. Was it warm outside? I have not yet had time to leave the study.”

  “No, the day is quite pleasant. That is to say, the weather is quite pleasant.”

  “What is troubling you?”

  “I think I must cut my visit short and leave for London sooner than I expected.”

  “That is a shame. I hope nothing is amiss?”

  “No, not with my business.” Lord Carswell toyed with his empty glass. “I have been in the company of Miss Ferguson and then with Miss Ferguson and Miss Hickstrom.”

  “That does not bode well.”

  “Yes, exactly! That is what everyone says.”

  “May I ask what transpired?”

  “I do not know whether to tell it to you as a sequential tale or simply provide you with the ‘results.’”

  “It must be as you wish.”

  Lord Carswell sighed. He felt shame...for many things.

  “I do so hate to tout my shortcomings, St. John, but you know that I have had my difficulties with Janie.”

  “Janie, is it?” St. John raised an eyebrow.

  “She has allowed me
to call her such. Did allow it. I am not so certain how she feels at the moment.”

  “I wait with bated breath.”

  “Miss Ferguson and I met while she was out walking and I riding. I discovered her actually hiding behind a tree, but I will say no more on that. I allowed her to ride Jasper, and we roamed the meadow and the woods beyond. We chatted, and I believed we came to a truce, if not a certain appreciation for the other. But something went terribly wrong, perhaps in the topic of our conversation, and she became angry. With me, I believe.”

  “I do so hate to interrupt, but what was the topic which angered her?”

  Lord Carswell hesitated. “Miss Ferguson asked me the oddest question...without preamble. She asked if my affections were with Clara.”

  “Ah! I see. And she used those exact words? They seem very unlike the way that Mary, Rachel and Clara speak.”

  “No, not those exact words.”

  “What exactly did she ask?”

  “She asked if I was ‘in love with Clara.’”

  “Yes, that sounds much more like the ladies I know. Odd question though, as you say, without preamble. I agree. How did you respond?”

  Lord Carswell ran a hasty hand over his face. “I told her that I was.”

  “Goodness, man. Did you really?”

  “Yes, and I believe that I am, albeit that sentiment is unreciprocated.”

  “No, I believe she is quite attached to her husband.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And you say that Janie grew angry at that time?”

  “I do believe that was the moment when she slipped off the horse and stormed away.”

  “Slipped off the horse?”

  “Dismounted. No injuries occurred.”

  “I am relieved to hear that.”

  “Indeed.”

  “And how does Miss Hickstrom enter into this scenario?”

  “She awaited us on the bridge.”

  “I see. Go on.”

  “It seems that Miss Hickstrom does indeed have a plan for Miss Ferguson...and for me. Together. The pair of us.”

  St. John smirked. “I am not surprised. Not regarding that. I am surprised that you did not realize she would attempt to match you and Janie. After all, you are both unmarried, and she cannot abide that state.”

  “To her credit, she believes that the heart is not meant to be alone.”

  “Quite fanciful. I know what she believes. It is her methods that I abhor. What occurred when she suggested that you and Janie form a union?”

  “She was unable to state such was her goal before Janie took umbrage about broken promises and stormed off...again. Then Miss Hickstrom wept—”

  “The fairy godmother wept?”

  “Indeed! She was quite hurt by Miss Ferguson’s anger. I said something...I cannot remember what precisely, and Miss Hickstrom turned on me, growing angry.”

  “I cannot say that I have seen her angry either.”

  “She is a force to be reckoned with, that is certain.”

  “How is that?”

  “I remember now that I told her I would not allow her to force me into marriage, or some such thing, that she had harmed so many others with her matchmaking schemes. She told me my behavior to Miss Ferguson had been disrespectful and that she absolutely forbad me to consider marrying Miss Ferguson—in fact, forbad the act. She stated she would seek out another kinder, more considerate gentleman for Miss Ferguson, a nobleman with a title of greater rank than I, a marquess, and that I would see my comeuppance when I bent over the hand of Miss Ferguson, the marchioness.”

  “Did she now?” St. John said with both brows lifted. “How extraordinary!”

  “Was it? I thought so as well, but I have not had as much experience with the lady as you.”

  “Yes. I have seen many aspects of her character, perhaps even some testiness, most especially when she is thwarted, but I have never seen her angered.” St. John finished off his drink. “You do have a way with the ladies, Lord Carswell.”

  “I presume you meant that in irony, and you are not the first to impugn my treatment of women this day. After the morning I have had, I tend to concur with your assessment. I am not proud of my ineptness. How do you think I might change?”

  St. John shook his head. “It is not my place to say, Lord Carswell. I truly meant the statement in jest. I have no more experience than you when it comes to pacifying females. I was an absolute ogre to Mary when we first met. I treated her dreadfully, with hostility, suspicion and disdain. I do not think I am the person to guide you.”

  Lord Carswell tilted his head. “But you had been truly imprisoned here at Alvord Castle for two years, is that not correct?”

  “That is true. By Miss Hickstrom.”

  “Of course you would have treated an intruder with suspicion!”

  “That is long ago, I am pleased to say, but my point was that I have my own difficulties when it comes to the fairer sex, and most especially with Miss Hickstrom.”

  “I understand,” Lord Carswell said on a sigh. “Since I do not know what to do, I think I must take my leave early. I had thought to extend my stay, with your permission of course, for another two weeks in order to see Clara upon her return, but I see now how unwise that would be.”

  “Clara again,” St. John murmured

  “I gave her my heart. She has not returned it yet.”

  Chapter Eight

  A few hours after her return to the castle, Janie heard a commotion in the drive. She put down the book she had been reading and rose from the sofa to look out the window. A carriage pulled away, heading up the drive toward the gate. Down below, she saw St. John and Mary standing in the drive, waving.

  James. It must have been James in the carriage.

  Janie hurried for the door, then stopped. What did it matter if he left? If anything, that was better than him staying, especially with Hickstrom on the match, especially with Clara’s pending return. Janie returned to the window. The carriage rumbled away in the distance. St. John and Mary had vanished, presumably returning to the house.

  A check of the clock on the mantel indicated it was probably time for tea. Normally, Sarah or another maid would come to get her. Janie dropped back down on the sofa and swallowed hard.

  Upon returning to the house, Janie had seen Mrs. Green downstairs and told the housekeeper that she was going to nap for a while. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone at that point, and she had worried that Mary might come seeking her out.

  Janie enjoyed Mary’s company when her hostess found time to chat, but she belonged to the nineteenth century now. Her loyalties were with her husband, her child, the castle and the property. Janie felt a slight disconnect with her. Mary had once told her that she too had wanted to return to the twenty-first century, and actually had returned only to discover that she loved St. John too much to stay. Despite that, Janie didn’t feel Mary could wholly understand how she felt.

  Mary’s destiny, as decided by Hickstrom, had been to marry St. John. Janie’s destiny seemed a little more ambiguous. Hickstrom had apparently decided she should marry the widower James Landry, Viscount Carswell, on a whim. No destiny was involved. It seemed as if Hickstrom was just punting, making things up as she went along. All the other women had been chosen specifically for their nineteenth-century mates, and brought back in time by a magical book of fairy tales—documented evidence that they were supposed to be there.

  Janie’s case was different. Hickstrom had allowed her to accompany Clara as a kind gesture, no more. She hadn’t had a “Janie Ferguson” on her list of women to match. And Janie was no one’s afterthought. She wasn’t an “also-ran.” She had a decent, productive life in the twenty-first century and no desire to stay in the nineteenth century permanently, especially not as the second option for a man who was in love with someone else.

  In short, Janie didn’t have her own story in Hickstrom’s Book of Fairy Tales. She didn’t belong. Good riddance to Lord Carswell! May he live a happy life pi
ning for what he could never have.

  A tap on her door brought Mary into the room. She sat down next to Janie and eyed her. Janie fingered the book she had been reading and tried to smile, but faltered.

  “So I hear a lot happened today,” Mary said.

  “What did you hear?” Janie asked.

  “Lord Carswell cut his visit short,” she said. “He told me he needed to go to London earlier than planned, but St. John said he’s running away. Well, St. John didn’t say that exactly, but that’s what he meant.”

  Janie swallowed the lump in her throat. Her cheeks flamed.

  “Running away?”

  “From women, I gather. I heard about your ride, the meeting with Hickstrom and Hickstrom’s anger.”

  Janie looked up. “Hickstrom’s anger? Hickstrom wasn’t angry. I saw her twice yesterday, and she wasn’t angry. Does she get angry?”

  “Apparently, she did...at Lord Carswell.”

  “Oh! Well, I got angry with her and with James, so maybe that made her mad.”

  “James, is it?”

  “Oh yes, we’re on a first-name basis now. That’s how chummy we are.” Janie couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice.

  “You are angry, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” Janie said. “Hickstrom promised me she wasn’t going to try to match me to anyone, and now she’s trying to hook me up with James, so to speak.”

  “She’ll do anything to get what she thinks is best for people. So you said you were angry with James too? Same stuff. The disrespect?”

  Janie pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No, he seems to have gotten over his arrogance. He’s actually quite nice.”

  “I’m glad you saw that side of him. If you two were finally getting along, what did he do to anger you?” Mary asked.

  Janie bit her lower lip. “I’d rather not say. He didn’t realize what made me angry, and I need to get over it.”

  “Okay, but just so you know, I think Lord Carswell did mention something about it to St. John.”

  “Really? What did he say?”

  “That is was something about Clara,” she said. “Lord Carswell told St. John you asked him if he was in love with Clara and that he said he was.”