The Dangerous Lord Darrington Page 15

  ‘Your excellent housekeeper has not lost her touch, Darrington,’ she said, dabbing at her lips with the napkin. ‘I remember she could always be relied upon to provide a delicious meal, no matter what time of the night we might demand it.’

  Beth fixed her attention on her hands clasped tightly in her lap. There could be no mistaking the woman’s look and purring tones, although she was relieved to note that Guy did not react at all. He merely said politely, ‘I am glad it pleased you.’ He walked to the window and opened one of the shutters an inch. ‘Now if you have eaten enough, my carriage awaits you.’

  Beth watched those darkened lashes flutter.

  ‘Even if you take me back to my lodgings I have not a penny. What will become of me when my landlady demands her rent?’

  ‘I neither know nor care.’

  ‘My lord!’

  Beth was moved to protest, distressed by his harsh tone. Clarice merely fixed him with a limpid gaze. The earl looked from one to the other, his mouth set in a thin line. At length he said, ‘Very well, wait here.’

  As he left the room Clarice transferred her attention to Beth.

  ‘Well, well—you seem to have some influence with Darrington, Mrs Forrester. Has he been hiding you at Wylderbeck?’

  ‘He has not been hiding me anywhere,’ retorted Beth coldly. ‘I have my own property in…’ she hesitated ‘…north Yorkshire.’

  ‘Yes, near Fentonby, I believe.’ Clarice’s smile mocked her. ‘I asked Lady Shott about you.’ She sighed. ‘He has gone to open his safe, I suppose. I wonder how much he will give me?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ returned Beth shortly. ‘I only pray you will use it wisely.’

  She moved away, determined not to ask questions although so many were racing through her head. The engagement had been broken ten years ago—was that when the earl was accused of being a traitor? Was that the reason they had parted?

  Clarice said softly, ‘He was besotted with me, you know. I hear that after I left him he vowed never to trust a woman again.’

  Beth turned, putting back her shoulders as she answered coldly, ‘I know nothing about that.’

  ‘But you would like to be the woman who saves him, would you not?’ purred Clarice. ‘Yes, I can see it in your eyes. You think you can make him love you. Well, be careful, Mrs Forrester, or he will abandon you just as he did me!’

  Hasty footsteps sounded in the hall and Beth was spared an answer. Lord Darrington came in, a roll of banknotes in one hand.

  ‘Here.’ He gave them to Clarice. ‘You will get no more from me, madam.’

  She ran a thumb across the edge of the roll. ‘It is not much, when you think what we were to each other.’ When he did not reply she fluttered her eyelashes at him again. ‘You will not turn me out, Darrington? I can hear the rain pouring down outside and it is so very late.’

  ‘All the more reason to make haste, then.’ He opened the door and barked an order to a waiting footman.

  Clarice pouted. ‘You were not wont to be so cruel.’

  ‘I was not wont to be so wise.’

  Silence fell. Beth watched Clarice, observed her foot tapping angrily beneath the grubby hem of her gown. The tapping slowed as a speculative light entered the woman’s eyes.

  ‘You owe me more than this, Darrington. I was to be your bride!’

  ‘As a matter of fact, madam, I owe you much less. I advise you to go now, before my patience runs out.’ Burley came in to announce that his lordship’s carriage was at the door. Guy said, ‘Well, madam?’

  ‘Very well.’ Clarice stood up, shaking out her skirts. ‘I shall leave you here with your…’ Her eyes roamed over Beth, whose cheeks flamed at the insinuation.

  Guy stepped forwards, shielding her from that knowing gaze. ‘Get out, Clarice, before I change my mind and call the constable to remove you.’

  Clarice’s head came up and she shot him a look of pure venom. ‘You will regret this, Darrington.’

  ‘The only thing I regret, madam, is falling into your clutches in the first place!’

  Beth heard the woman’s sharp intake of breath, a swish of silk and hasty steps across the floor, then the door closed and there was silence.

  Beth sank down on to a chair.

  ‘I would you had not been here,’ muttered Guy, walking to the sideboard and pouring wine into two glasses.

  She recalled the blatant invitation in the woman’s eyes. ‘Would…would you have dealt with her differently?’

  ‘Aye. I would have left her lying in the street!’

  She did not know whether she should be most shocked or relieved by his reply. When he held out the wine to her, she shook her head.

  ‘Thank you, but no.’ She watched him empty his glass in one go. ‘Would you like to…to tell me about her?’

  ‘Clarice? No. I would rather we forgot all about her.’ He shook his head at her. ‘Pray, do not argue with me, madam. The woman is not worth a moment’s thought. Go to bed, Mrs Forrester, and save your energies for the morning!’

  Beth tried to follow the earl’s advice and put Clarice Cordonnier out of her mind. It was not difficult, for she had enough problems of her own to occupy her. She rose early, eager to see Mr Spalding. Knowing it might be a long day, she had a good breakfast, helping herself to slices of ham and cold beef, followed by honey and hot, spiced bread, washed down with fragrant coffee. She had almost completed her meal when Lord Darrington came in, apologising for his tardiness.

  ‘Fitton had put out my tawny-cut velvet, but I thought a plainer coat might be more appropriate for visiting a lawyer. Less conspicuous in Cheapside.’

  Glancing at the earl, Beth secretly considered he would never be inconspicuous, however plain his coat. His height and bearing commanded attention. He had chosen to wear an olive-green coat with silver buttons over a paler waistcoat and immaculate buckskins that were pushed into his gleaming jockey-type boots. His snowy white shirt, starched neckcloth and cuffs were of the finest quality and his brown hair gleamed in the morning sunlight that flooded the room. Her mouth went dry and she had to bite her lips together to prevent herself from sighing.

  Oh, why did he have to be so very handsome?

  ‘You are determined to accompany me?’ she asked him. ‘I am perfectly capable—’

  He raised his hand to stop her. ‘You are indeed, ma’am, but I insist. We are agreed I might be able to help. My curricle is ready, if you will give me but a few minutes to break my fast I shall take you to Cheapside.’

  Beth went off to collect her bonnet and cloak. She was relieved that she would not be venturing forth alone that morning, but all too aware that the more time she spent with the earl, the more pain she would feel at the inevitable parting.

  An hour later they arrived at the offices of Spalding, Spalding and Grooch and were shown into a dark, panelled room that smelled of must and old papers. An elderly man in a full-bottom wig stood behind the desk and greeted Beth with a fatherly smile. He cast an enquiring glance at the earl; once Beth had performed the introduction the lawyer invited them to sit down.

  ‘Your note yesterday said you were waiting for news,’ said Beth without preamble. ‘Are the de Beaunes still in England?’

  ‘I believe so, although my initial information was incorrect. It is only a Madame de Beaune who arrived in London.’ He coughed delicately. ‘With the current unrest in France it is not inconceivable that her husband has been…detained.’

  ‘She might even be a widow,’ mused Beth. ‘I believe he was considerably older than his wife.’

  ‘And where is the lady now?’ asked the earl.

  Mr Spalding looked a little uncomfortable. ‘As soon as you wrote to me to say you were coming to London I contacted Madame de Beaune, intimating that I had a client who wished to see her. I had no reply, so yesterday, when I received your note, I sent my clerk with another message. He returned with the information that the lady was about to leave on the Portsmouth mail.’

  ‘Portsmouth!’
cried Beth. ‘She is going back to France.’

  ‘Very likely,’ said the earl. ‘But if we set off immediately we may catch her. She could still be waiting for a passage.’

  Beth nodded. She turned back to Mr Spalding. ‘Did she leave you a forwarding address?’

  ‘Yes, the White Bear.’

  Beth looked at the earl. ‘Will you take me, my lord?’

  ‘Of course.’

  The lawyer began to sort through the papers on his desk. ‘If that is all, then I must ask you to excuse me. I have promised to visit a client in Hertfordshire.’ He sighed. ‘It is a business that will take me out of Town for several days, I fear, and I am hoping to get away today…’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course, we will delay you no longer.’ She rose. ‘Thank you, Mr Spalding. I shall set out for Portsmouth with all speed.’

  She almost ran out of the door and stood, irresolute, on the flagway. She turned as the earl came up to her. ‘How long would the mailcoach take to reach Portsmouth?’ she asked anxiously as he handed her into the waiting curricle.

  He shrugged. ‘The best part of the day.’

  ‘Then there is a possibility she may still be there.’ She looked up at him. ‘How soon can we get there?’ He did not answer immediately and she said impatiently, ‘Well, sir?’

  ‘If we go back to Darrington House and order my chariot, we could be in Portsmouth by early this evening.’

  ‘So late?’

  ‘There is another way.’

  ‘Well, sir?’

  He turned his head to look at her, a challenge glinting in his hard eyes. ‘We could go there now, in my curricle. I believe we could make it in less than five hours.’

  Behind her, the groom stifled an exclamation, but Beth ignored it. ‘If that is the case, then let us be gone!’

  Without a word the earl took the next turning and drove through a series of narrow side streets to reach Blackfriars Bridge.

  ‘Which way do we go, sir?’ asked Beth, looking at the Thames, its sparkling waters almost obscured by the number of ships and barges going about their business.

  ‘The road via Battersea and Wandsworth will be quicker than fighting through the traffic north of the river.’

  There were fewer fashionable carriages once they had left the city and they wove their way between a succession of covered wagons, brewers’ drays and ox carts. At length the road became clearer and the earl allowed his team to set a cracking pace. Beth relaxed a little, watching the changing landscape as they bowled onwards in the autumn sunshine.

  ‘You are very quiet, Mrs Forrester. Are you nervous?’ asked the earl presently.

  ‘I am led to believe you are an excellent whip,’ she replied coolly. ‘I am too concerned with making good time to reproach you for going too fast. If Madame de Beaune returns to France, I do not know what I shall do next.’

  She could not prevent the note of anxiety in her voice and the earl took one hand from the reins and laid it over her own, clasped tightly in her lap.

  ‘There is no point in worrying about that until it happens.’

  Beth did not reply. Her voice was suspended in shock. His grip on her hands had been brief, but it had been such an intimate gesture, bestowed almost casually, as if they had known each other for many years. She wondered if he even realised he had done it, yet that fleeting touch had conveyed such warmth, such comfort and courage that she felt enormous gratitude towards him. She hugged the feeling to her as they drove on mile after mile, barely checking at the turnpikes and tolls.

  ‘You’re pushing ’em hard, sir,’ growled Holt. ‘You’ll need to change horses at Guildford.’

  ‘No, they’ll make it to Bramshott,’ the earl replied without taking his eyes from the road. ‘That will leave us with less than twenty miles to travel with strange cattle.’

  There was no question of stopping for refreshments and Beth did not suggest it. When they reached Bramshott she descended briefly while the earl haggled with the landlord for his best team; by the time he handed her back into her seat two more spirited horses had been harnessed to the vehicle.

  ‘Holt!’ she cried as the earl took his fresh team on to the road. ‘You have left him behind.’

  ‘He is staying with my horses. We shall collect him on the homeward journey. It is just you and me now, Mrs Forrester.’

  She ignored his teasing tone. ‘If we are alone, then perhaps we could talk about last night.’

  ‘There is nothing to say.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Pray do not concern yourself about Clarice. She is like a cat and will always land on her feet.’

  ‘But she was your fiancée!’

  ‘And what is that to you?’

  His words stung her into silence. What should she say, that she was jealous of every woman he had ever known? That would be the truth, but of course she could not admit it.

  ‘Why, nothing, of course.’

  ‘Then we will not discuss it, if you please. Let us instead consider where we might find Madame de Beaune.’

  She swallowed hard, trying to bring her mind back to their last stop. ‘I spoke to one of the maids there, sir. She tells me there is an inn called the White Bear at the crossroads, just north of Portsea Island.’

  ‘Then that might be where we shall find Madame de Beaune. Well done, ma’am.’

  The sudden praise almost undermined her. She sat bolt upright, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. ‘It seemed sensible to make enquiries.’ She scolded herself for the quiver in her voice.

  ‘This has been a trying day for you, Mrs Forrester. You must be tired.’

  ‘I am too excited to be tired, my lord. I hope by the end of the day to have the evidence I need of my brother’s innocence.’

  ‘You have gone to a great deal of effort for your brother.’

  She turned to look at him. ‘And would not you do the same, sir? Simon’s life is at stake. If it were merely his good name, then perhaps he could quit the world, live retired and ignore his accusers, as you have done—’ She broke off, realising what she had said.

  ‘And just what do you mean by that?’ he bit out.

  Beth squirmed in her seat, wishing herself anywhere but here. ‘I—um—I heard that you…that there was…a scandal. That is why you rarely come to London. Why you live mainly on your northern estates…’

  The horses never checked. Whatever his anger he did not allow it to affect his driving. ‘I wondered if you knew about that,’ he said at last. ‘Since we embarked upon this escapade you have never once asked me anything about myself. I am not a vain man, Mrs Forrester, but I was piqued that you showed so little interest in me. Unless, of course, you thought you knew everything about me.’

  She answered stiffly, ‘What you did in your past is no concern of mine, my lord.’

  ‘Indeed it is not.’

  Beth bowed her head, mortified.

  ‘And just what is it you think I am guilty of? Come, madam,’ he cajoled her when she waved a dismissive hand. ‘You have said too much not to tell me the rest. Perhaps Clarice added some juicy detail last night—’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Very well, out with it. What is it you know?’

  ‘Nothing! I should not have spoken. I beg your pardon.’

  With a muttered oath he brought the curricle to a stand. ‘But that is not good enough, madam. I want to know just who you think you are travelling with today.’

  ‘Please, my lord, I spoke out of turn. Can you not forget it?’ She turned away, only to find herself being gripped by the shoulders and forced to face him.

  ‘No, I can not,’ he ground out. His eyes, hard as flint, cut into her. ‘What have you been told about me? Am I a monster? A murderer? Mayhap a libertine who preys upon vulnerable women.’ His hand came up to cup her face. ‘But you already know that,’ he purred. ‘Are you afraid now that I might take advantage of you?’

  ‘No, you would not do so.’

  He laughed harshly. ‘Look around you.’ H
e waved hand. ‘We are alone, miles from anywhere. Why should I not take what I want from you?’

  Anger blazed in his face, but Beth saw something else there too: pain. She had hit a nerve and wounded him, deeply. His anger was not wholly directed at her and that gave her the courage to meet his look.

  ‘Of course I do not believe that of you,’ she said quietly. ‘I would not have come so far with you if I had believed you would hurt me.’

  His grip on her arm tightened. She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out.

  ‘So what do you believe of me?’

  ‘I heard…’ She looked away and whispered the word, ‘Treason.’

  He released her and she rubbed her arms.

  ‘You know the worst of me, then.’

  ‘I know no details,’ she muttered. ‘It cannot be so very bad, since you are a free man—’

  ‘Mayhap you should have asked me about it.’

  ‘You have not encouraged me to think you would confide in me,’ she retorted, showing spirit. ‘You brushed aside my questions at the soirée and refused to explain to me about your fiancée. What would you have told me if I had asked you about…about this?’

  ‘The worst that can be said of me is that I was a damned fool!’ he growled, gathering up the reins.

  They set off again and Beth thought miserably that the fragile friendship they had been building had been shattered by a careless word.

  ‘I can only judge you on my own experience, my lord,’ she said quietly. ‘I believe you are a good man.’

  ‘I hope you never have cause to think differently,’ he said shortly.

  Guy was thankful that driving a fresh team gave him an excuse to keep his attention fixed on the road. He silently berated himself for allowing his anger to surface. He was no longer a callow youth to lose his temper over such a trifle. He had long ago become inured to the slights and innuendo following the scandal that had forced him to withdraw from public life. Apart from his closest friends, he did not care what anyone thought of him, although he was contemptuous of those women who set their cap at him, so anxious for a title and a fortune that they cared little that the name was tainted with scandal.