A Fine Caprice - A Regency Romance (8 page)

Inside the house t
he air inside smelt almost as musty as the stables had and
Caprice
arched an eyebrow. She had the impression that Angelique and the viscount spent quite a lot of time at their country residence
and yet the place
was redolent with
damp disuse. It was impossible to believe that her friend, having been brought up by a most particular mother, would have been neglecting her household duties.
Perhaps they have dry rot, she
thought vaguely. She didn’t know a great deal about dry rot but she had heard her father discuss it with their estate manager one day and it sounded most unpleasant.

Lamp held high, she left the more
workmanlike area
of
butler’s pantry and headed into the main living area. She paused, looking around her a
nd once again and
was startled
by her surroundings. The furniture was heavy and old, belonging to another era entirely. It did not look like it had been updated since the place had been built. Not only that but the central hallway, into whic
h she had emerged, was cluttered
with the most peculiar array of things, everything from a suit of tarn
ished armour to a confused tangle of i
t
ems, many of which
seemed to derive from foreign climes. A wide metal branch of brass bells was next to the armour, which was
next to several very large ceramic pots that were garishly decorated in vivid, jarring colors. On the floor in front of these items were piles of papers, boxes, what appeared to be men’s riding boots – no less that four pairs – at least seven hats of various styles.
Caprice
blinked and turned around slowly. The hallway, which would normally have been spacious and well p
ropo
rtioned, was like a jungle
. Everything from a
large
birdcage, half buried beneath a motley rug, several statues of elephants, pottery bowls, a large and eclectic
variety of walking sticks
and a large wicker basket that would have held several grown men it was so large
.
Swinging the lamp around, she gave a small shriek when the light encountered a pair of glassy eyes
. Heart racing, she realized she was looking at a stuffed monkey.
A stuffed monkey?
Good God… S
he
stared at this bizarre collection incredulously. Unless Angelique was undergoing a massive clean up – and truthfully, who would
not
want to be rid of some of these things? –
then
she… then…
Caprice
swallowed and
allowed the thought to settle. She
glanced around her uncertainly
, heart sinking
.

Steadman Hall was unmistakable, the landlord had reassured her.
‘Only place for
miles. Nearest neighbors are miles away at Abbey Cross but that’s in the other direction entirely.
You shouldn’t have any problems. Just turn at the end of the village road.’

‘Which way?’

A maid had hurried in, carrying several jugs of ale. She slopped some, avoiding one of the dogs
that belonged to a patron. ‘Now then
May,’ the landlord had grunted, ‘you be careful now.’

‘
It’s
awful busy in there Mr. Dutton! I only got me two hands.’

‘I’m a comin’ aren’t I?’

‘Which way do I turn at the end of the road?’
Caprice
had asked again and had been sure he had flung the word ‘right’ over his shoulder as he’d headed back into the noisy, boisterous taproom.
Almost positive.

So she had turned right.

‘Oh dear…’

She couldn’t have gotten it wrong, could she? This
had
to be Steadman Hall. But
the furnishings, the smell of damp misery, the poor repair of the stables. Suddenly,
Caprice
was very sure that she had made a dreadful mistake. Not only had she gone the wrong way but she
h
ad walked into a house owned by people she did not know, which probably meant that she was trespassing.
And people who had such strange and unusual
items in their house might not like trespassers. Stairs went up on her left and she glanced towards them apprehensively, suddenly very reluctant
to encounter anybody, be it servant
or house owner.

Expelling her breath slowly, she wondered what to do. She could go out again and resaddle up Ulysses, turning to the left when they were back on the road again. She would undoubtedly find Steadman Hall in the opposite direction. Quite a distance in the
opposite
direction, she thought wearily for it had taken her an age to get to here.
Unfortunately, it seemed to be the only option
open to her
for she
certainly
could not stay here.

But I’m so very tired…

Moving forward as quietly as she could
, she shone her lantern through the first doorway she came across and found it to be a drawing room. At least, it had divans and tables and sideboards, which could be found in most drawing rooms. It also had almost as much jumble as the hallway, boxes and detritus piled high along every wall. Several couches were buried beneath clutter but a chair stood vacant and
to
Caprice
, it appeared
peculiarly inviting
. Perhaps she could just rest here, for a moment? Catch her breath
and
gather the strength to venture onto the road again. A strong gust of wind hit the house, wailing down the chimney and she grimaced. Wild wind was just what she needed to make the night perfect. It would be hell to negotiate her way to where she needed to be.

Walking
across to
the chair
, she
drop
ped down
. She needed
a moment
to think about what she w
ould do next but she was so tired that thinking seemed out of the question without some kind of cushioning for her tired muscles. A girl with her background usually spent no more than an hour or so on the back of a horse, so endless miles of travel had been exhausting.  It wasn’t until the prospect of a bed seemed to have been snatched from her that
Caprice
realized just how much she had been relying on it.

She sighed and stared around her dolefully. Of all the wretched turn
ups…

This wasn’t Steadman Hall. And she was undoubtedly in a world of trouble.

A creaking board beyond the door made her stiffen instinctively. She sat up straight in the chair, suddenly tense. She was in a strange house that, while it appeared to be a manor house of sorts, was also filled with a bizarre collection of exotic peculiarities. Who could live in such a place?

A madman might
, a little voice in her mind suggested helpfully.
Instinctively,
Caprice
shuttered her lantern and then immediately regretted it for the darkness was disturbing. Not that it was entirely dark, she realized with a sharp stab of fear for a gl
ow of candlelight was visible from the hallway, growing stronger as somebody drew closer
. Setting the lamp on the floor, she rose to her feet and hurried across to step behind the door, suddenly
convinced that whoever she m
et in such a place would not be the kind of person that would offer her a welcome and a bed for the night. Most likely they would give her a good whipping for stepping so freely into their house.

Boots could be heard approaching the door to the drawing room and the light swelled a little, casting a golden glow on the bit of worn carpet she could see. Whoever was holding the candle paus
ed on the threshold
and
Caprice
caught her breath, listening hard, just a
s they must be. Did they know she was there? Why didn’t they just come out and say something? The tension made her heart thunder all the harder.

Just go away
, she begged silently.
I’m not here… at least, I’ll leave if you just go away
and it will be like I was never here to begin with
…

But whoever was on the other side of the door did not go away. Instead, the boots moved slowly forward
, mov
ing with deliberation
.
Slowly and
inexorably
.
The listening silence was almost too much to bear.
Caprice
had been hopeless at hide and seek
when she was a child. If somebody
was searching for her close by
the tension had always been too much and she had burst out of hiding before being found. It was ridiculous, really but there was something about the tension involved in being found, the waiting, the uncertainty that was simply too much.
Caprice
felt much the same way now, only it was a hundred times worse because she did not know who it was that was looking for her.
The only thing that was certain was that this was not a game and that she could be in all kinds of trouble. Worst still, the old urge to rush out from her hiding place was stealing over her. She wanted this d
rea
dful tension to end! Surely who
ever was on the other side of that door was no worse than the tension that was building inside her, a hard knot of horror that made her feel physically ill?

‘I know you are in there,’ a deep voice spoke softly, making her jump. ‘Show yourself.’

He spoke in a low, menacing tone, convincing
Caprice
that she had indeed entered the house of a lunatic. She swallowed heavily and held her breath, moving backwards a little so that her hip bumped into a sideboard. It was not much of a jolt but it was enough to make the china heaped on top rattle softly and she froze.
As did the figure on the other side of the door.

He knew she was behind the door!

Half turning, she seized the first thing that came to hand and lunged blindly forward, swinging it just as her tormentor – for that was surely what he was, playing a dreadful game
with her
– jerked the door towards him
. The china plate shattered over his head and he cursed, the candle in his hand wavering as he
put his free hand up to shield his eyes.
Caprice
, seeing her opportunity, went to dart around him but, quick as a flash, he stuck a boot out and she tripped, falling in an ungainly heap on the floor. Slightly winded,
it took a moment for her to get
some air into her lungs and by then it was all too late. A hand grabbed the back of her jacket and dragged her upright, shaking her like a dog might be shaken at the scruff.

‘Right then!’ that same voice sounded a great deal grimmer now. ‘How about you explain to me who the devil you are and why the hell you are sneaking around my house.’ He swung
Caprice
around and she found herself, booted toes barely scraping across the carpet, staring into a pair of angry grey eyes.

Chapter Four

‘I asked you a question,’ the stranger snapped
, shaking her again for emphasis
.
‘And you would be wise to
answer me quickly and without prevarication
.’

Caprice
opened – and then closed – her mouth. She
sucked in a quick breath and
tried again. ‘Put me down!’

‘I might; when you tell me who the devil you are.’

‘You’re hurting me!’ Actually, his hold on her coat was not so much painful as uncomfortable, the material straining under her arms. ‘Much more of this and the stitching would come adrift.

‘
I will hurt you a great deal more if you don’t start talking
.
Who are you? What are you doing here?
’
Interesting
ly, he
kept his voice down, as if unwilling to rouse the rest of the household.
Caprice
toyed with the idea of screaming for perhaps it would bring somebody a little more sympathetic to her plight.
Then again, perhaps not.

‘I’m lost. I didn’t mean to hit you but -’

‘Do you make a habit of assaulting people?’ he growled, shaking her again.

‘Stop that! You’re tearing my jacket.’

For a moment they looked at each other, her green eyes more or less on the same level as his grey, thanks to the ruthless hold he had on her. Then, abruptly, he dropped her and she stumbled a little as she regained her own two feet.

‘Explain
yoursel
f
,’ he demanded curtly, putting
a hand up to rub his head where she had struck him. Broken
pieces of china were scattered across the floor.