Hope Strickland. She is a girl with a plan. A rather stupid plan, in my opinion. But it is hers and she cannot be dissuaded.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘She means to wed the new Earl as soon as the fellow’s shoes touch British soil. She thinks his marrying into the family will soften the blow of learning that the Dowager has been pinching his property.’
‘Such a connection would be expedient,’ Gregory said.
‘It would save us the trouble of finding a husband for Charity,’ Leggett agreed. ‘She has spurned Faith’s offer to share our home and refuses to put herself in the way of gentlemen who might court her. But if Hope snags the Earl, Charity could remain in the Comstock Manor library as though nothing had changed.’
It sounded almost like he was describing a piece of furniture that was valuable, but too heavy to move.
‘All the same,’ Leggett continued, ‘a man should have some say in choosing his own wife.’
‘And you know nothing about him,’ Gregory added. ‘He might already be married.’
Leggett nodded. ‘Or he might be too young to marry. Or old and without the vigour for it. Also, he will have to be even-tempered enough to forgive the pilfering and inclined to care more for family than the money that this new title is bringing him.’
‘He might not be the sort of man a gently bred girl should marry at all,’ Gregory said.
‘He could be a drooling idiot, for all we know: a villain, a cad, a deviant or a toss pot. I cannot let Hope marry into misery just to maintain the status quo for her little sister.’ Now, Leggett had the worried look that so many of Gregory’s clients got when faced with an insolvable problem.
‘Women get ideas,’ Gregory said in his most reassuring tone. ‘Especially when they are thinking of the family and not themselves.’
‘My wife was guilty of similar foolishness. When I discovered her, she was about to marry for money over love.’ Leggett smiled. ‘I managed to set that to rights. But I cannot marry all of them to save them from themselves.’ Then he looked at Gregory in a way that hinted that the finding of lost objects would not be the hardest part of his job.
‘You do not think that I...’ Gregory paused. ‘You do not expect me to find them husbands.’ He prided himself on his ability to rise to a challenge, but matchmaking was not within his purview.
‘Lord, no. We are all agreed that Charity is a lost cause. But Hope is more than pretty enough and will have no trouble finding a husband if she can be persuaded to look for one. I do not want the Season to slip away, or offers to be refused, as she waits like a princess in a tower for a rescue that may never come.’
‘You wish me to make enquiries into the heir?’
‘Any information would be helpful,’ Leggett said. ‘Should you find that there is a wife and ten little Stricklands in America, make Hope aware of them so she will abandon her scheme.’
‘And if I do not?’
‘I would not object to your taking a certain creative licence with the truth,’ Leggett said, as optimistic in his own way as Miss Strickland was in hers.
‘You wish me to lie to her?’ Gregory put it plainly. Though he was not a gentleman by birth, he held his honour as dear, often more dearly than the men who hired him did. If he was to break his word with lies, he had no intention of hiding those untruths under elegant euphemisms like creative licence.
Leggett sighed. ‘I merely want her to set her sights on the men right in front of her. Do what is necessary to persuade her. I will leave the details of it to you.’
‘Thank you.’ That left him plenty of room to manoeuvre before resorting to falsehood.
‘And you will have ample opportunity to come up with something, since you will be forced to work directly with her. It is Miss Hope Strickland who holds the list of items you must retrieve.’ Now Leggett was smiling in satisfaction as if he had made the matter easier and not more complicated.
Gregory began cautiously, not wanting to contradict the man trying to hire him. ‘In my experience, the less the family is involved with these matters, the quicker they are handled.’
‘I did not claim it would be easy,’ Leggett reminded him. And there was that smug smile again, as if it gave him pleasure to see another man suffer what he had endured at the delicate hands of the Strickland sisters and their dotty grandmother. ‘I will give you double your usual fee, since, if I am honest, I have brought you two problems, not one.’
More money on the table before he’d even opened his mouth to ask for it. Gregory already knew he could find the missing heirlooms. How hard could it be to prevent a marriage that was unlikely to occur, even without his intervention?
He looked at Leggett’s smile and hesitated a moment longer.
‘Triple, then. I am eager to depart for the Continent and wish to be sure that the matter will be settled to my satisfaction.’
The offer was too good to refuse, even if he’d wanted to. ‘Consider it done.’
‘Thank you. Miss Hope Strickland, Miss Charity and the Dowager are in London for the Season at the Comstock town house in Harley Street. I will tell them to expect your visit.’
‘Very good.’ There was likely to be nothing good about it. Other than the pay, of course. That was enough to reinforce the smile Gregory gave his new employer.
‘And I trust this matter will stay between us?’ Leggett said, in the slightly embarrassed tone of someone not used to admitting he had difficulties, much less asking for help with them.
‘I shall be the soul of discretion,’ Gregory replied. When one made one’s living mopping up after the gentry, keeping secrets was part of the job description.
‘Good evening, my lord.’ Hope Strickland stood in front of a mirror in the hall of the Comstock town house, examining her smile for traces of insincerity before deciding that it was as near to perfect as she could manage.
Then, she curtsied, analysing the results. She was not inexperienced with the niceties due a peer, but that did not mean she should not practise. First impressions were the most important ones. There could be no flaw in hers.
Not that it was likely to matter. The odds of success were almost nil. But if there was any chance at all to impress the next Earl of Comstock, she meant to try.
Now that Faith had married, Hope was left as oldest. It was her job to carry on as best she could and take care of the family that remained. It was clear, from their scattershot behaviour, that Charity and Grandmama needed all the help they could get.
She dipped again. The bend in her knees was not quite deep enough and her eyes could not seem to hold the fine line between deference and flirtation.
‘Are you still at that?’ Charity was standing in the doorway, arms folded in disapproval.
‘It pays to be prepared,’ Hope replied, straightening the curl on the left side of her face that could never seem to follow its mates into a proper coiffure.
‘Prepared to bow and scrape for the stranger coming to take our house out from under us?’ Charity said.
Hope bit back the urge to announce that it was her sister who needed to mind her manners. Instead, she said, ‘It is his house. We are but guests in it.’
‘Family, you mean,’ Charity responded.
‘It would be nice to think so.’ Hope turned away from the mirror to face Charity. ‘I prefer to take a more realistic view of the situation. Though we share a surname, he has never met us before. He will not think of us as family