“Don’t you mind?”
“Not at all. It’s vastly entertaining.”
“But why is he doing it?”
Lucy’s smile was like the cat’s that ate the cream. “Perhaps to punish me for making him lose his race. He certainly gets cross when I seem to enjoy these men’s company, doesn’t he? And they enjoy mine.”
Alice doubted it had anything to do with the wretched race. “Well, you might not mind these ridiculous stratagems, but I do,” she said with asperity. Getting Lucy safely married was not a joke to her. Her future peace of mind rested on it.
Lucy seemed to realize this. She leaned forward to place a hand on Alice’s arm. “Please don’t worry, Alice. I promise you I will find myself a husband, and quickly. It just won’t be with your nephew’s help, that’s all.”
* * *
* * *
But, Aunt Alice, you said you wanted your goddaughter to meet suitable eligible men.”
“Don’t try that flummery on me, Gerald,” Alice said. Gerald had called on her, as she’d requested the previous night. Lucy had gone off with Lady Peplowe and Penny to visit Hatchards bookshop, so Alice had her nephew to herself.
“Not one of the men you’ve produced has been in the slightest bit suitable—eligible, perhaps, but you can’t possibly believe that a girl like Lucy, who is bright and lively, could be interested in marrying a man who never speaks or one who never stops speaking, and then only about pigs! Or one with the kind of attitudes that Mr. Ffolliot espouses? Or the rest? Honestly, Gerald, you couldn’t possibly have dredged up any worse candidates if you tried!”
“Nevertheless, she seems to have made a conquest of them all,” Gerald muttered.
“Is that disappointment I hear in your voice, Gerald? Because if Lucy has made a conquest of any of those impossible gentlemen, it is simply because she is a polite, kindhearted girl. She might appeal to them, but none of them could ever appeal to her.”
Gerald snorted. “Polite and kindhearted? She’s just trying to annoy me.”
Alice wasn’t going to argue with that. Lucy was playing her own deep game, as was Gerald. “At least now that we’re getting more invitations to balls and parties, she’s starting to meet suitable gentlemen at last.”
“Does that mean you no longer have need of my services?”
“If you were in the least bit serious about it, I would, but since you seem to want to make a mockery of my difficulties—”
“I’m not.”
Alice merely looked at him with brows raised.
“Oh, very well. I might not have chosen the more suitable of my acquaintances for Miss Bamber, but—”
“They were, I have no doubt, the least suitable, and if you are determined to waste our time, I beg you will desist. Now, how have you been doing with your search for Lucy’s father, or have you been spending all your time on finding ridiculous matches for Lucy?”
Gerald grimaced. “I’ve made inquiries all over, but it’s as you said: the man seems to have no permanent address. He’s as slippery as an eel. I’ve tracked him to several different addresses, but at each one he’s been long gone. Have you thought about hiring a Bow Street Runner?”
“Are you mad? Word would be out in no time. No, we need to make discreet, private inquiries, not have it on public record.”
“Then may I share the problem with Lord Tarrant.”
Alice looked at him in horror. “Lord Tarrant? No! Why on earth would you want to tell him my private business? I barely know the man.” Bad enough that he haunted her thoughts with his offer of friendship. She didn’t want him involved any deeper in her life.
“No, but I know him very well,” Gerald said. “And there’s no one I’d trust more with my problems.”
“It’s not your problem, though, is it?”
“You’re family, Aunt Alice, and your problems are my problems.”
“That’s all very well, but Lord Tarrant—”
“Has connections.”
Alice eyed him cautiously. “What sort of connections?”
“There’s a fellow in the Horse Guards who runs the most extraordinary network of investigative agents. They’re famed for efficiency and discreet inquiry. They don’t usually do private work—the network was built during the war to gather wartime intelligence—but there’s not as much work for them in peacetime, and there might be a possibility that one of the agents could track down Bamber’s whereabouts on your behalf. If anyone can swing it, it would be Tarrant. He’s a friend of the fellow who runs it.”
Alice didn’t like the sound of it. She didn’t want Lord Tarrant to be involved. She hardly knew him. She didn’t want him to know she was being blackmailed, didn’t want him to think badly of her. And she would die if he ever read those dreadful letters.
“You can trust Tarrant, Aunt Alice. He’s the most honorable, capable, trustworthy man I know.”
“Perhaps, but I don’t want him to—”
“Don’t you want Bamber found?”
“Yes, of course I do. It’s just . . .” She took a breath and tried a different tack. “What would you do to Bamber if you found him?”
“Force the swine to give up those letters.”
“Yes, but how? You wouldn’t hurt him, would you?”
“What do you care if I did? The man deserves a dam—a dashed good thrashing.”
“Yes, but it could get you into terrible trouble. People go to gaol for that kind of thing. Besides, scoundrel as he is, he’s also Lucy’s father.”
Gerald gave a derisive snort.
“And none of this is her fault.”
“It’s not yours, either. Now, may I tell Tarrant about the problem or not?” She hesitated, and he added, “It’s the best chance we have, and if Miss Bamber is refusing to have anything to do with lords, you’re effectively breaking your agreement with her father. Finding him and getting the letters back is your only hope, and for that we need Tarrant and his connections.”
Alice sighed. It made sense, but she really, really didn’t want Lord Tarrant to know. He would never look at her in the same way again.
“I know you’re uneasy about it, Aunt Alice, but it really is the best solution. Tarrant is off fetching his children at the moment, but he should be back in London soon.”
“In that case, give me until then to think about it. When Lord Tarrant returns, I’ll let you know my decision.”