Page 15 of A Sense of Fate
Both men had looked down their noses at Elroy when he had been up at Oxford, as though his comparatively lowly origins did not entitle him to a place in such an august bastion of learning. He had never forgotten the slight and had luxuriated in the knowledge that Felsham had killed himself when falling from a lady’s bedroom window.
Except now he had come back to life.
Elroy was one of the few men in the country who didn’t seemthatsurprised when Felsham miraculously rose from the dead. His friendship with Miss Latimer, which ran deeper than the romp had implied, he was absolutely sure of it, could be disastrous and had to be discouraged. The last thing they needed was Felsham sticking his unwelcome nose into their business in an attempt to protect the chit.
Elroy, the only young and single man in Latimer’s inner circle, had been charged with befriending Flora and diverting her attention away from men like Swindon and Felsham. Men who might want to seduce her but would never marry her. First and foremost, he had been charged with discovering if she suspected anything. The book she had been reading when he called—a diary of some sort—looked old. He’d tried to get a glimpse of it but she hadn’t wanted him to see and had hidden it beneath a cushion. He’d mention it to Latimer in passing, but he didn’t think it was significant. If there was anything in writing to concern them, it would have come to light before now.
Latimer was panicking about nothing.
Elroy finished his ale and signalled for a refill. He had raised objections when assigned to bringing Miss Latimer to heel—at least until he made her acquaintance. She was no raving beauty, but he could see what attracted Felsham. Simpering misses were ten a penny, but this self-sufficient female had backbone, an independent mindset and a lively personality that held Elroy’s attention. He would enjoy taming her, while ensuring that she really didn’t possess any harmful information.
He might have to search her cottage to achieve that ambition, but only if his charm offensive failed—which of course it would not. She couldn’t be serious in her disinterest.
‘Find Miss Latimer, did you?’ the barmaid asked as she delivered his ale.
‘I did, thank you. I had a message to deliver from her father, the dean of Salisbury Cathedral.’
‘Religious man, are you?’ The girl sent him a jaundiced look. ‘You don’t look the type.’
Elroy smiled at the girl, but she seemed as unimpressed by his charm as the troublesome Miss Latimer had been earlier. He must be losing his touch, or perhaps it was simply a case of being insufficiently interested to make a real effort. He reminded himself what was at stake and adjured himself to be more sincere on the next occasion that his path crossed Miss Latimer’s.
‘Latimer is a family friend,’ he said, fixing the barmaid with an assessing look. She wasn’t bad looking in a common sort of way. A little plump, but unlike Miss Latimer she’d be free enough with her favours, he suspected. Her good opinion would be worth cultivating simply because there wouldn’t be much going on in this village that she didn’t get to hear about. Taprooms were hotbeds of gossip and he would make it his business to become a familiar figure in this one.
The girl sniffed without responding to his friendly overtures. ‘You’re close to her pa but he didn’t tell you where his own daughter lives?’ She frowned. ‘Sounds a bit suspect.’
‘Miss Latimer has just moved here, so I expect her father forgot her direction.’
‘Very popular is Miss Latimer. She does a lot of good without feeling the need to get down on her knees and pray every five minutes. More practical help is appreciated by them that need it, and people round here hold her in high regard.’
Elroy recognised a veiled warning when he heard one. ‘I don’t intend her any harm; quite the reverse.’ He paused, encouraged when the barmaid didn’t take herself off again. ‘I hear tell that Lord Felsham and she are on friendly terms,’ he said, playing a hunch.
‘She don’t make a habit out of entertaining unmarried gentlemen—or any gentlemen at all, if that’s what you mean to imply. Miss Latimer maintains high standards and Lord Felsham protects her interests, there ain’t no more to it than that.’
Elroy nodded, cutting his losses. It appeared that Felsham had made his feelings about the chit clear, and that no one locally would dare to chance their arm. He’d wondered about that. A female of modest means living alone would ordinarily be a target for the less scrupulous, and Felsham’s protection ensured that she wasn’t troubled by unwanted attentions.
As he made inroads into his new tankard of ale, Elroy assessed what he had learned or suspected, none of which was particularly encouraging. Miss Latimer was clearly better acquainted with Felsham than he had supposed, reinforcing the information he had been given by someone other than Latimer which had been partly responsible for this visit. His curiosity had been piqued. Felsham had lowered his sights since the days when he’d held Magda Simpson in the palm of his hand, successfully fending off all competition. The predecessors for her favours—foremost among whom had been Elroy—had been unceremoniously dismissed from her bed when Magda caught the eye of the future marquess. Elroy frowned.
The recollection still smarted.
In some respects, Elroy decided, his temper subsiding as his limbs thawed out and the ale mellowed his mood, Felsham still had impeccable taste. Magda was exquisite, but made herself a little too available, spoiling the thrill of the chase. The virtuous Miss Latimer, on the other hand, with her impertinent tongue and religious background, wouldn’t be nearly so willing, making the eventual reward well worth the effort. It wasn’t as if her father could raise any objections if she ran to him after the event, he thought, chuckling.
Elroy turned his thoughts to her friendship with Felsham. Did he really want to cross swords with the man who was now more mature and infinitely more powerful than he’d been in his carefree student days? It would be sheer lunacy. The man was a cripple and Elroy would be best advised to enjoy thoughts of his incapacity and leave it at that. Then he thought of Miss Latimer and the manner in which she had looked down at him and his temper reignited.
Elroy never forgot a slight.
If Miss Latimer discussed his visit with Felsham, which she very likely would, then the marquess would recall their previous dealings. Nowhewas a danger to them all and Elroy needed to remain close at hand in case drastic action was called for. He was loyal to Latimer in his way, but his first and foremost concern was self-preservation. If Latimer was right and his daughter suspected something, then Elroy would be the one to keep her nose out of their business, no matter what it took.
Damn Latimer for making him come down here! He should have refused outright.
Even so, Elroy had never been one to back down from a challenge, and he wouldn’t give up on Miss Latimer despite the fact that common sense told him to steer well clear. If she wasn’t involved with his old adversary then perhaps he would have taken a more sensible course, but it was too late for that. By asking him not to call again she had insulted him and made herself a target. He refused to believe that she was indifferent to him. No female who took his fancy had ever turned him away, and Miss Flora Latimer was not about to become the first. Besides, if she had her sights set on Archie Felsham, he would be delighted to exact a more personal form of revenge.
‘See how you like it, Felsham,’ he muttered into his tankard, ‘when the tables are reversed and I take from Flora Latimer what you plan to grab for yourself.’
Elroy grinned as he drank down the last of his ale, settled his account and left the tavern to drive back to Salisbury.
The battle lines had been drawn.
Chapter Four
