The Captain's Courtship. Regina Scott

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      Chapter Seven

      She’s changed.

      The thought kept running through Richard’s mind as he saw Claire home and returned to Everard House for his own bed. Claire had always been popular; when he’d been courting her, at some balls he’d had to wade through suitors six deep to reach her side. Then she’d seemed entirely too aware of the power she held over them all; as little as a frown from her would take the wind from their sails. Tonight, she’d been gracious to everyone, from Widmore to the feckless Horace Hapheart. Was it all part of her plan to win them to Samantha’s side, or had her proud heart truly softened?

      Then there was the matter of her dancing. Claire had danced with a rare combination of joy and grace. He’d found it hard to take his eyes off her as she swung around him, and he’d never known her to sit out a set. Yet tonight she hadn’t stepped onto the floor once. He simply couldn’t believe she’d forgo the pleasure just to complete her so-called strategy. So, why refuse to dance with him? Was he still so repugnant to her?

      He was still thinking about the ball when he left the house the next morning to complete his preparations for the trip north. Mr. Marshall, the butler, had agreed, uncommon gleam in his eyes, to hire more staff and prepare the house for Samantha’s arrival, with the help of the decorator Richard had commissioned. Now Richard just had to see that Samantha reached London as planned.

      He’d ridden from Cumberland, but he couldn’t see Claire making the return journey that way. And Vaughn’s chariot, though sporty, wasn’t built for travel over long distances. So he hired a post chaise and postilion and made arrangements for changes of horses along the way.

      His second task was more grim. At his brother’s suggestion, he’d enlisted the aid of a Bow Street Runner to look into the disappearance of Repton, his uncle’s valet, and the treacherous footman Todd, who had stolen from them and threatened Jerome and his wife. Richard had no reason to think the footman had returned to London, but the famed thief-takers associated with the Bow Street magistrate’s office could travel anywhere in England, on request.

      “I’ve found nothing on your valet,” the runner reported that morning, when Richard met him at a public house near the office. A slight, older man with graying, curly hair and a lined face, he wore his red waistcoat, the badge of office, proudly. “But a fellow matching the description of your footman turned up.”

      “Oh?” Richard leaned closer across the top of the scarred wooden table. “Where?”

      The runner cocked a grin. “He was found dead in a rooming house in St. Giles last night, shot through the heart. The constables felt it was a falling-out among thieves.”

      Richard could see why they’d make that assumption. The St. Giles area of London was rumored to be a cesspool of crime. Though Todd had stolen from them, Richard found it hard to imagine the footman falling so low. And why stay in the rookeries? With a priceless porcelain box to sell, he could have gone anywhere, in far better style.

      “Confirm his identity and keep looking for Repton,” Richard instructed, passing the fellow another twenty pounds for his efforts. “I’m heading to Cumberland this afternoon. Send word to me at Dallsten Manor in Evendale.”

      The runner had agreed, and they’d parted company. Richard was returning home via Piccadilly when he saw the man Claire had called Lord Eustace from the evening’s ball strolling in his direction.

      “Everard, isn’t it?” the young lord asked, positioning himself so that Richard could not easily pass him. The way he swung his ebony cane told Richard the fellow was actually considering using it as a weapon.

      “Captain Everard,” Richard said, widening his stance.

      Eustace nodded. “You seem a decent chap. See that you marry her this time. I’d hate to have to call you out.” With a tip of his top hat, he passed and left Richard standing there.

      What was that all about? Did the fellow actually think Richard was courting Claire? If so, then Eustace was dimmer than he looked. With a shake of his head, Richard continued on his way, but he’d hadn’t even reached Hyde Park before he found Horace Hapheart blocking his path.

      Today the dandy was dressed in a checked coat of red-and-white material that surely would have looked better draping the back of a horse. His shirt points were so high Richard wondered the fellow didn’t poke himself in the eye. He had a sheet of newsprint in one paw and an eager look on his flabby face.