Chivalrous Rake, Scandalous Lady. Mary Brendan

have 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.

      Chapter Six

      ‘Will you take tea with us, Mr Speer?’

      In her willingness to appear genial, Jemma realised she had barely allowed him to set one expensively shod foot in to the room before bursting out with her offer.

      ‘Thank you. I’d like that,’ Marcus replied lightly and, having allowed Polly to scuttle beneath his braced arm to fetch another cup and saucer, he proceeded to close the door.

      Jemma then received a smile that made it clear he knew she was flustered by his unexpected visit. His amusement, though veiled, was aggravating enough to subdue some of her nervousness. ‘I should like to introduce you to my cousin, Miss Wyndham,’ Jemma plunged on thoughtlessly. A moment later she realised that an introduction was surely unnecessary.

      Five years ago, for some weeks, Marcus Speer had paid regular calls to this house. Then her papa would receive him in his study and the two gentlemen would pass the time of day over a tipple before she was allowed to greet her visitor. Her father’s sister, Aunt Cecily, would then act as chaperon whilst Marcus sat with the ladies to politely take tea. There had been occasions when the weather had been clement and they’d gone for a drive in his fancy phaeton. She remembered how she’d adored feeling the breeze catching at her bonnet as he set the horses to such a brisk trot that her elderly aunt would clutch doublehandedly at the side of the vehicle, her eyes clamped shut, her lips shivering in silent prayer. Delving into her store of memories, she recalled that Maura had enjoyed at least one exhilarating trip sitting beside her. Her cousin would have been present, too, when Marcus and his friends joined their party at an evening gathering. More recently her cousin had been invited to socialise in the Cleveland’s elite circle. As Deborah’s betrothed, it was likely that Marcus would accompany his fiancée and his future in-laws.

      ‘I believe we have already met,’ Marcus said amiably, confirming Jemma’s thoughts. ‘How are you, Miss Wyndham?’

      His greeting to Maura had sounded relaxed and sincere and that pleased Jemma. Theo’s despicable behaviour didn’t seem to have coloured Marcus’s attitude towards all the Wyndhams. Of course, what he really thought of her she had yet to discover.

      ‘I’m very well, sir, thank you. Deborah has invited me to go with her party to the concert at Vauxhall later this week.’ It was rattled out breathlessly before Maura had fully recovered from the little curtsy she was making.

      ‘How charming,’ Marcus replied. ‘Do you like the pleasure gardens?’

      An immediate nod answered him. ‘But I haven’t been for years, not since I made my come out. We were a small group on that occasion. Jemma was there, and Uncle John and my papa and Aunt Cecily. We—’ Maura dipped her head in Jemma’s direction, too engrossed in telling her tale to heed a cautionary glint in her cousin’s eyes ‘—we made our débuts during the same season, but were not as fortunate as Deborah has been in finding a husband…’ Her voice faded away. Maura’s enthusiasm to spin out a conversation with this handsome paragon had made her forgetful of how badly things had ended for Jemma, and for Mr Speer. ‘It’s a long time since we went to Vauxhall,’ she mumbled awkwardly, then gulped from her cup.

      ‘A very long time,’ Jemma endorsed with forced nonchalance. ‘I barely recall it.’ That fib caused Jemma to immediately blush and Marcus to slowly smile at his shoes.

      Oh,