looked surprised to see Barden. He addressed himself to the earl. “Sir, she does not appear to be in the garden. Apparently, she walks down to the river sometimes, so Lady Kitty and King are going down to see if they can see her.”
“Let us hope they are quick,” Barden said, hoping to convey his not-so-veiled threat. “We agreed to an answer this morning, and it is already well after midday.”
“You shall have your answer,” Cosland said haughtily, which was irritating because there was no need to involve the girl at this stage.
“Answer to what?” Catesby asked, with a smile to offset any incivility in his curiosity.
“Barden’s offer of marriage,” Cosland replied.
Barden blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected the earl to admit that much. Was he trying to auction the girl?
“Marriage?” Catesby repeated, a flush mounting to his cheeks. “My lord, I understood…”
“You’re letting the grass grow under your feet, Jeremy,” the earl snapped. “My daughter has never been short of suitors, and she never will be.”
Oh yes, she will be, Barden thought savagely.
“Such was not my intention, sir,” Catesby said earnestly. “You understand this has been difficult for me—”
“And for her!” Cosland snapped.
“Indeed, indeed, my lord,” Catesby said quickly. “But I must claim a prior offer.”
“Which you withdrew,” Cosland pointed out.
Damn the man, he was enjoying this, setting them against each other. He probably wanted to make them both squirm, but Barden knew which of them held the aces in his hand, which of them would come home with the bride.
At that moment, the door opened again, and the countess rushed in, waving a letter in her hand. “Cosland! I have just this moment been handed this! The stupid maid had it in her apron all morning and only now thinks to—”
“What is it?” Cosland demanded, striding up to his wife as though with some premonition of disaster.
The countess, becoming aware of Barden and Catesby, tried to smile, searching visibly for an alternative topic of conversation.
“Speak,” her lord commanded. “If the letter is from Juliet, they had better know.”
“She has gone,” the countess whispered. “You should not have spoken to her as you did, pushed her as you did!”
“Gone where?” Cosland demanded, snatching the letter from his wife’s hand.
For the first time since coming here, Barden began to feel control slipping from his grasp. This was like Brightoaks and Hazel Curwen all over again. He could not afford to lose another stage of his plan, not this stage.
“She does not say.” The countess sniffed and reached for her handkerchief. “But we know all her friends in the neighborhood, so…” She broke off, her eyes widening. “Oh, Cosland, she would not have gone back to London, would she? She has friends there…”
“At this time of year? Who?” Cosland demanded.
“Meg Winter for one, and you know she will feel they are in the same boat.”
They are, Barden thought savagely.
“She would not go to London,” Cosland said impatiently. “She is not so foolish, or so rich in coins! She is somewhere close by, and we will bring her home directly.” He stared down his nose at Barden and Jeremy. “I take it this minor delay makes no difference to either of you? For we are all responsible for her flight.”
“I will stand by her,” Catesby declared.
Barden couldn’t help laughing, “As you did before?”
“No, as I will from now on,” Catesby claimed.
“My offer stands,” Barden said and walked out of the room, proving he was sure of himself, when in fact, those little doubts were back. He should not have pushed her as he did last night, but damn, it was so irresistible. And she would not choose Catesby. Her father wouldn’t let her, not when Barden told them in detail about the alternative to marrying him.
As he strolled across the hall, he was gratified to hear servants being sent out to various neighbors with discreet inquiries.
Wretched girl, she will pay for this. And Cosland will keep paying!
Chapter Eighteen
Lord Myerly was as good as his word and joined his somewhat alarmed family for the evening meal. He sat at the head of the table in an old-fashioned evening coat, smelling vaguely of mothballs, and Juliet was given the place of honor on his right.
“Good to see you so much better, sir,” Colin said politely.
“I believe I’m on the mend.” The old gentleman’s eyes widened with something approaching horror as he saw the size and number of the dishes being set on the table.
Since servants were few in the house, the dishes, much fewer