A Regency Charade (7 page)

As the servants quickly dispersed, Mr. Hornbeck followed her into a small, rather dark room which had been considerably brightened by the cheerful flowered chintz which covered the windows and the two love seats flanking the fireplace. Lady Vickers motioned for him to take a seat on one of them, but Isaiah Hornbeck had a strong streak of stubbornness and would not budge from his stance just inside the doorway. “I don’t intend to sit down, ma’am, though I thank ye kindly. It strikes me as not very likely that y’re the lady I’ve come to see, so unless ye intend to lead me to her, I won’t take up any more of yer time.”

“It strikes
me
, Mr. Hornbeck,” she retorted disapprovingly, seating herself on one of the love seats, “that you are a very truculent man, and a rudesby as well.”

“P’rhaps I am, but at least I gave ye my handle. I didn’t hear you givin’ me
yours
,” he replied in his blunt manner.

“Yes, I suppose you have me there.” She held out her hand to him. “I’m Dorothea Vickers, Captain Tyrrell’s mother-in-law.”

Hornbeck’s brow cleared instantly. “Ah, so
that’s
it. Small wonder I didn’t guess. Ye look too young to be mother of a grown woman.”

“Never mind this offer of Spanish coin, Mr. Hornbeck.” A little twitch of laughter at the corners of her mouth softened the harsh words. “It comes too late. I already have your measure.”

“I’m not the man to offer Spanish coin, ma’am. But that’s neither here nor there. Ye’ll be wishin’ me to come to the point.”

“Yes, please. You have a message for my daughter from Captain Tyrrell?”

“Well, not exactly. I only thought she’d like to know that he’ll be stayin’ with me at Graham’s Hotel tonight.”

Lady Vickers gasped and started from her seat. “With
you
…? At …
Graham’s
? I don’t understand. Do you mean he’s
here in London
?

Mr. Hornbeck blinked at her, confused. “In
London
? He’s right outside in the
hack
!”

Lady Vickers fell back against the cushions and gaped at him. “
Outside
?” She put a hand up to her breast and seemed to struggle for breath. “
Here? Now
?”

Hornbeck had a sinking feeling that he’d made a huge mistake in coming here. He had evidently blundered into something he didn’t at all comprehend. He took a backward step toward the door. “I … er … seem to have troubled ye. I’d best be off—”

At these words, Lady Vickers sprang up in alarm. She almost flew across the room, grasped both his arms and shook him. “No,
no
! You don’t under
stand
. You must tell him to come
in! Please
! Tell him to come in at
once
!” she cried eagerly.

Mr. Hornbeck was not comforted by her excitement. “But … ye see, ma’am, he said he didn’t wish … er … I mean …”

“Nonsense. This is his
home
! He
must
…! Oh, my
God
, Prissy will be
beside
herself! I must go up and tell her at once! Please, Mr. Hornbeck, do as I ask. Tell him to come in.”

Hornbeck eyed her doubtfully. “He wouldn’t thank me for it, ma’am. He expressly said—”

Lady Vickers dropped her hold on him and stared at the man’s face in dismay. “Are you trying to tell me he doesn’t intend even to
see
her? Is he still so foolishly adamant that …?” Her face suddenly paled in anger. “Do you mean to stand there and tell me that he’s cruel enough to sit outside this very door at this moment while you inform us that he prefers to stay at a
hotel
?”

“No, ma’am. That’s not quite the way it is. He’s out there, all right, but he’s a trifle … er … well-to-live. Not in a condition to say a word to anyone, if ye take my meanin’.”

“What?” Lady Vickers raised her brows. “Are you saying that my son-in-law is
drunk
?”

“As a lord, as the sayin’ goes. Hasn’t he ever shot the cat before?”

“If by that dreadful expression you mean to ask if I’ve ever seen him drunk, I must certainly have
not
! Of course, since we haven’t laid eyes on him in six years, I’m sure I couldn’t say what he’s been doing of late.”

“What?
Six years
?”

“Yes.” Lady Vickers sighed and cocked a suspicious eyebrow at Hornbeck. “Didn’t he tell you?”

Hornbeck, dumbfounded, shook his head. “No. I thought … Ye said ‘we.’ Are ye tellin’ me his
wife
hasn’t seen him neither?”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Do you mean … that spat they had … it took place
six years ago
?”

She gaped at him. “
Spat
? Is
that
what he called it?”

“No, now ye mention it.” Mr. Hornbeck’s bristly eyebrows came together worriedly. “I shouldn’t have assumed … I’m the devil’s own fool, I am. I should never have interfered in matters I know nothin’ of. I think, ma’am, it would be best if I took him off now, if ye don’t mind.”

“Are you
mad
?” she cried. “Of course I mind! My daughter’s been half out of her
head
, waiting …!
Bring him in at once
!”

Hornbeck scratched his head. “But … he’s … overcome, ye might say. Out cold, ye see.”

“All the more reason to bring him in. Tell Craymore, the butler, to see to it. The footmen can assist him, if they’re needed.”

“They’ll be needed,” Hornbeck said with a rueful, surrendering sigh. He turned to do as he was asked, while Lady Vickers ran up the stairs. The elderly fellow was smitten with remorse. Had he, in his ignorance, done the Captain a backhanded turn?

As the butler and his assistants ran out to the carriage, Hornbeck paced about the entryway agitatedly. Suddenly, the sound of running steps on the stairs caught his attention. He looked up to see a girl flying down toward him. One glance was enough to convince him that this was the lady he’d come to see. He had only a second in which to catch a glimpse of her (he had an immediate impression of a pale, oval face, fair hair piled carelessly on top of her head, a girlish figure under a rather faded rose-colored dress held up in front to permit her to run, and slim ankles flashing prettily from below the gown as she sped down the stairs) before she loomed up before him, her eyes wide with terror. “What did Mama
mean
, bring him in? Is he
wounded
?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, no, my lady,” Hornbeck hastened to assure her. “Nothin’ wrong with the lad that a night’s sleep won’t cure.” He smiled at the girl, suddenly reassured and free of his feeling of guilt. Any man who’d object to coming home to
this
lovely creature would have to be touched in his upper works.

The girl shut her eyes and dropped her face in her hands. “Oh, thank God!” she murmured tremulously.

The footmen, four of them, carried the Captain in carefully, followed by the butler bearing the officer’s shako as if he were carrying a ceremonial urn. Lady Vickers, who had followed her daughter down the stairs, led the procession into the drawing room and ordered the men to place the unconscious soldier on the sofa. Priss ran across the room to the sofa and knelt down on the floor in front of him.

Lady Vickers signaled the servants to withdraw, leaving only Priss, Hornbeck and herself to watch over the heavily breathing Captain. Hornbeck couldn’t help noting that the Captain looked unbecomingly dishevelled. His hair had become matted, his coat was carelessly undone at the neck, his complexion, sickly pale under the dark tan he’d acquired in his years of military service, looked almost green, and his mouth was slack and slightly open. It suddenly occurred to Hornbeck that perhaps Captain Tyrrell hadn’t wanted to come home until he’d had a chance to make himself more presentable. Perhaps he
had
done the fellow a backhanded turn after all.

The girl stared at the Captain’s face, unmoving, for a long while. Then, slowly, she reached out a trembling hand and brushed the hair from his forehead with an almost ethereal gentleness. The room was hushed, the very air seemed still and expectant. At last the girl turned her face up to her mother, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “Oh, Mama,” she breathed softly, “isn’t he
beautiful
?”

Chapter Five

Alec slept and slept. The afternoon and the rain passed, and tea time came, but he didn’t show signs of awakening. Priss, however, didn’t move from her place on the floor at his side. It wasn’t until he sighed, snorted and rolled over, burying his face in the back cushions of the sofa where he lay, that her mother and Mr. Hornbeck dared to interrupt her vigilance. “He’ll undoubtedly sleep for a long while,” Lady Vickers whispered at last. “Come and take some tea.”

Priss shook her head. “I’ll stay here and watch him,” she insisted.

Mr. Hornbeck added his support to her mother’s plea. “He’ll sleep through the night, more ’n likely. And ye can’t even
see
him with his head turned away like that. Be a sensible lass and do as yer mother says.”

But Priss would not be persuaded. While she remained with her husband in the drawing room, Mr. Hornbeck accompanied Lady Vickers to the morning room where tea awaited them. Over the cups, Mr. Hornbeck was subjected to a number of questions about his situation in life, and his answers gave her ladyship many opportunities to giggle. Mr. Hornbeck was spirited and unaffected, refreshingly immodest about his business success and humorously entertaining when describing his battle to avoid remarriage against the persistent efforts of two or three over-eager widows to capture him. When he finally took his leave, Lady Vickers urged him to call again, assuring him that
she
would make no effort to alter his single state.

Mr. Hornbeck guffawed loudly. “As if a lady o’ quality like yerself could take a shine to a tattlin’ old chubb like me! However, with yer permission, I
should
like to call again … just to see how the Captain does.”

Lady Vickers, feeling tremendously grateful for his service in restoring Alec to their midst, assured him that he would be welcome at any time. After seeing him to the door, she returned to keep her daughter company at the side of the somnolent Alec. At midnight, unable to persuade her daughter to leave with her, she made her weary way to bed, leaving Priss alone to gaze at Alec undisturbed.

Obligingly, Alec soon turned on his back again. Priss bent over him and, in the dim light of the fire and the branch of guttering candles on a table behind the sofa, stared at his so-long-absent face. He was much changed. There were long lines creasing his weathered cheeks and a small scar just under his left eye. With a twinge of pain, she saw that he’d lost the boyish sweetness that she’d found so endearing in former days. Instead of the gentle sensitivity that had marked his looks before, there was a hardness, a sinewy impregnability in his face now. She had not been able to notice earlier, when his mouth had been open and slack, the extent of the change. But now she could see that his mouth and chin were firmer and somewhat grim, his face broader, and his brow lined and severe. The sensitive, questing student’s face had become that of a man who was austere, steely and accustomed to command.

How had he changed
inside
? she wondered. Had his nature become as unyielding as his face? She was stricken with sudden fear. Was it possible that his
heart
had become hard and invulnerable? Wouldn’t there be at least one small, open place … some soft remainder of his youth where she could gain a new hold on him?

He groaned, shuddered and threw an arm over his forehead. Silently, she rose, tiptoed to a chair across from him and sank into it. What would he say to her when he woke? She shivered in fearful anticipation. Shutting her eyes, she tried to imagine the scene. He would open his eyes, look round and spy her watching over him. He would stare for a moment in puzzled confusion. “Priss?” he’d murmur.

“Yes, love,” she’d whisper. “I’m here.”

He would put out a hand and clutch her arm. “You’re not a dream? So many nights, I’ve thought—”

She would bend and kiss his lips. “See? Not a dream at all,” she’d sigh, brushing his cheek with her fingers, smoothing the lines and the little scar into invisibility.

“I was a fool,” he’d tell her then. “The greatest fool in the world, to have believed … Tell me that you forgive—”

“Hush,” she’d say magnanimously. “There’s nothing to forgive. We won’t speak of it ever again. We’ll just be happy … as happy as we ever were before …”

She smiled to herself blissfully. Why
shouldn’t
the scene turn out just that way? After six years of absence, why shouldn’t they be able to forget the foolish misunderstandings of the past? She had only to be patient for a few more hours.

Alec floated in comatose peacefulness all that night, but the next morning his brain shook itself and lurched reluctantly into painful consciousness. His first awareness was of a stiffness in his back, a constriction at his waist and a most unpleasant pounding inside his skull. Where was he, and what—? Oh, yes. He remembered. He’d been
drinking
… with a likeable old gentleman he’d come upon in the city. The city … near his solicitor’s office …
Newkirk
… the
news
… he was
still married
! The pounding in his head was dreadful.
Damnation
, whatever possessed him to imbibe so deeply! He wasn’t usually the sort who’d permit a bit of troublesome news to drive him to the bottle. With excessive caution, he lifted a shaking hand to his throbbing forehead.

Where was he now? he wondered. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and found himself staring at a white ceiling from which hung a vaguely familiar chandelier. Where had he seen the thing bef—? Good
God
! He was
home
!

He sat up in hasty alarm. The abrupt movement made his head throb with even greater pain. He was about to groan aloud when his eye caught a glimpse of Priss, asleep in a chair at the window. The sound froze in his throat.

Blinking, he tried to fix his eyes on her face. The morning sun, pouring in through the partially drawn drapes, lit her face and hair with so bright a glow that he had to close his eyes against the glare. But the sharp brightness of the light could not keep him from a second attempt to stare at her. He couldn’t see clearly in the glare, and his eyes burned irritatingly, but it seemed to him that she was less beautiful than he remembered. There were gaunt hollows in her cheeks and tiny lines at the corners of her mouth.