Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (22 page)

“Then get someone else!”

“‘Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair,’” Sir Antony murmured.

She turned on him angrily, but then, realizing she knew the rest of the couplet, she found herself suppressing a gurgle of laughter instead. Meeting an answering twinkle in his eyes, she said, “Do you think I shall be ‘Death’s conquest’ and ‘make worms thine heir,’ sir? How dare you?”

“Taken on the whole,” he said thoughtfully, “it means you are too lovely to be the spoil of death and the prey of worms. The words sprang to my tongue only because they somehow seemed appropriate to the moment.”

“Did they?” But her flash of irritation was gone, and when she turned back to Rockland, she was able to say calmly. “Very well, sir, I will acquit you of lunacy. I presume that you have already arranged either for someone else to fetch Great-Aunt Ophelia, or for someone else to marry us.”

“Well, I haven’t,” he confessed. “Now don’t fly into the boughs again, for there’s not a dashed thing I can do about it. The old lady’s accustomed to me escorting her about, even to Scotland if need be, and she’s bound to take a pet if I send someone else. As for another parson, I don’t want one. Getting a special license from a bishop is complicated enough for one who ain’t a resident of Cornwall. It ain’t like going to Doctor’s Commons in London and plunking down blunt to get a chit signed by the Archbishop. This fellow Halsey wanted to know all about me before he’d agree. Said he had to decide if I was worthy. If he don’t perform the ceremony, I’ll have to convince some ordinary psalm-singer all over again. I found a better solution.”

“And what might that be?” she asked.

“The wedding will be on Saturday all right and tight. Only thing is, I’ll have a stand-in saying the groom’s bits for me, like when the King got married.”

“You mean a marriage by proxy?”

“That’s it. Couldn’t think what they called the thing.”

“Good gracious,” Edythe exclaimed, “is that an acceptable way to marry?”

“Acceptable enough for His Majesty,” Rockland pointed out. “That’s how he married that dashed peculiar wife he had. Daresay that’s how I came to think of it.”

“But His Majesty wasn’t just away for a day,” Charley pointed out. “The Princess Caroline lived in Brunswick.”

Rockland shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing stopping him from going to fetch her, instead of sending Malmesbury. Might have worked out better if he had. He’d have seen for himself what a dashed squirrel he was catching, for one thing.”

Sir Antony said, “Fetching her did not suit his notion of propriety, I’m afraid.”

Alfred, who had been a silent listener so far, said indignantly, “I should say it didn’t! Nor would it have suited England’s dignity. It is not for the heir to England’s throne to go haring off to bring back a wife from foreign parts. Next you’ll be saying he ought to have been married in Brunswick.”

“But, dash it,” Rockland exclaimed, “ain’t that just what I
am
saying? He
was
married in Brunswick. He just didn’t happen to be there at the time.”

“I don’t suppose it matters, as long as the ceremony is properly performed,” Charley said. She wondered why, under the circumstances, she felt as if it mattered a great deal. “Whom will you ask to stand in for you?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve already asked Antony here to do it, and he agreed.”

“Good mercy,” Charley exclaimed.

“Well, who else would I ask?” Rockland demanded indignantly. “I expect your cousin Alfred here would oblige me, or Medrose, perhaps, or—”

“Stop,” she begged, torn between tears and laughter. “Forgive me,” she said to Sir Antony, “but it all seems very strange. There must have been a more sensible way to do the thing, if only Rockland had thought of it before arranging this charade.”

“Well, I didn’t think of one,” Rockland said, “and I’m dashed put out to find you don’t appreciate the trouble I went to, after pushing and poking at me to get it done.”

Alfred said, “That’s what comes of letting a female rule the roast, sir. Your trouble stems from giving in to her in the first place. Had you simply put your foot down, you would be a happier man now, I venture to say.”

Charley’s head began to ache. Much as she wished she could think of something to say to annihilate Alfred, she couldn’t seem to think at all. She was angry with Rockland, although his actions did not warrant the depth of anger she felt. She was angry with Alfred, too, but that went without saying, and she was furious with Sir Antony for no cause whatsoever. Feeling trapped one moment, surrounded by enemies or isolated the next, she began to think she had not a single friend in the world.

She had never felt the need of bosom friends. Much of her childhood she had shared with her Aunt Daintry and her cousin Melissa, but Daintry had been more mentor than friend, and Melissa had always depended on Charley more than Charley had depended on Melissa. Rarely alone on the busy estate, Charley felt closer to her animals, and to certain characters in books she read, than to most of the people around her. She had rarely, if ever, felt lonely. Now, suddenly, she yearned for just one close friend who would understand her feelings and explain them to her, a friend sufficiently wise to help her understand and contain the rage steadily growing within her.

Sir Antony’s calm voice startled her, and she realized that the others had fallen silent and were staring. Someone had spoken before Sir Antony, but she had been so lost in thought that she did not know which of them it had been or what had been said. She looked at Sir Antony. “I-I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I merely offered my humble opinion of Mrs. Alfred Tarrant’s suggestion that you be ordered to stop dithering, and to obey Rockland’s commands.”

She felt herself stiffen. “And what did you reply to her?” Her gaze met his, and the others seemed to vanish, leaving her alone with him.

His smile was reassuring. “I pointed out that although Rockland might somehow contrive to force your obedience, he could not force mine. If anyone tries to make you take part in this ceremony against your will, they will have to do so without my help.”

“Thank you.” Feeling calmer, with her eyes still fixed on him, she said in a much firmer tone, “I am obliged to you, Sir Antony. I assure you, I am not generally given to distempered freaks, and I do intend to carry on with this wedding as long as Rockland is willing. The ceremony he arranged is not what I would have chosen, but he knows that. He knows me rather well, in fact, and despite that, he has been persistent in his attentions. Therefore, I owe him some extraordinary duty now. If you are willing to stand in for him, I shall not oppose his arrangement.” She heard someone’s breath catch, but she did not turn away from Sir Antony.

He frowned, then said firmly, “You
are
marrying him for no other purpose than to escape a position that is excessively distasteful to you. Is that not the case?”

Without looking away, she answered steadily, “It is. Is that so dreadful?”

“Not at all. I am persuaded that any number of young women marry for the same reason. The ceremony will go forward then. Will you join me for a brief stroll in the gardens? That is,” he added, glancing at Rockland, “if you have no objection.”

“None in the world,” that gentleman replied promptly. “You’ve a better chance at turning her up sweet than I have, after all.”

Without comment, Charley accepted Sir Antony’s arm. She wished she could read his thoughts, but he was a very self-contained man, whose expression rarely gave away what he was thinking. Neither spoke until they reached the lawn and began to follow the path toward the mirror-like lake, but at last, unable to stand the silence a moment longer, she said, “I suppose I have surprised you.”

“Why do you say that?”

“One day I declare to the world that I’ll never wed. The next I practically coerce Rockland into marrying me. Then I quibble and question, and …” She bit her lip.

“As I saw it,” he said, “those first two events took place in a single day.”

She glanced up, expecting to see mockery in his eyes, but he was gazing out over the lake, his expression, as usual, unreadable. It occurred to her then that he surprised her more often than she seemed to surprise him.

“What are you thinking about?” she demanded.

He looked at her then and smiled. She was struck yet again by how charming his smile could be, revealing something of the boy he once had been. He did not sound boyish, however, when he said, “I’ve been pondering a question Letty asked me yesterday, about how I can learn what I must if I stay at Tuscombe Park. I had hoped to gain access to more people, but I find I must exercise more care instead, which hampers my actions considerably. The Duke will arrive in little more than three weeks, and I cannot yet guarantee his safety. The most I have been able to report is that I am fairly certain which men to watch closely, but even that is guesswork, I’m afraid.”

“Have you made contact with the coastal gang since you arrived here?”

“Briefly. I managed to slip out last night, because there was something I particularly wanted to know. For some time, I have tried to identify the man to whom I presented my character references, as one might say, soon after I arrived in Cornwall.”

“The leader of the coastal gang? Did you identify him? Who is he?”

They had reached the lake. He said, “I knew him only as Michael.”

“Michael Peryllys! Good mercy, I would have guessed at once!”

“I doubt that, but I won’t argue the point. The lads refer to him only as ‘our Michael,’ which is hardly an uncommon name. I knew they would not welcome much inquisitive interest from me, and in truth I did not think I would find it hard to learn his full name if I required it. The Lloyd’s agent, Oakes, helped me get onto him through a chap from Fowey, but I knew Michael did not live there. I’ve spent uncountable hours hanging about seaside towns and villages, looking for him.” He smiled ruefully. “It never occurred to me that he lived inland, or that you might know him. He’s a thorough ruffian, you see, not a fellow I’d expect to cross paths with a lady of quality.”

Thoughtfully, Charley said, “I must confess, the few times I have met him, he was civil enough. Still, I think you might have followed your Michael home from one of those meetings you had with him. You’d have known then.”

“Our meetings were at night, and I always had an escort to a meeting place unknown to me beforehand. A very untrusting lot, your Cornish smugglers.”

As they began walking back toward the house, she said, “What did make you think Angelique’s Michael might be your Michael? You never saw hers.”

“You mentioned that she was French just before we reached the Bretons’ cottage, so I got a prickling when I learned her husband’s name, for I had reason to suspect any Michael with a tie to France. That’s why I didn’t escort you to the shop. I’ve taken care never to let him see me in a good light, but I did not want to chance walking bang into him as Sir Antony, just in case he did prove to be ‘our Michael.’”

“I can readily believe he would support the gangs, for many in Cornwall do, but I can’t imagine him as their leader. He once handed me into my carriage after I had visited Angelique, and his manner was perfectly civil.” Looking up at him, she added, “Apparently, you are not the only one who is adept at playing a double role.”

“So it would seem.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “I ought to have learned about Angelique before now. If I’d investigated her—”

“I told you about her only yesterday, for mercy’s sake. If she were the only Frenchwoman in Cornwall, you might have cause to berate yourself, but that is not at all the case. French emigres are not common hereabouts, but neither are they a rarity, and since you believed your Michael lived near the sea …”

“I won’t castigate myself,” he said, smiling again when she let her words trail to tactful silence. “I’m just glad I did not discount her altogether. In all honesty, when you first mentioned your Angelique …” This time, he paused, looking apologetic.

“You assumed she probably wasn’t French at all,” Charley said, chuckling. “I know just how it is, for I suspected the same myself when she opened her shop some years ago. One encounters so many modistes in London who claim to be Bernadette or Cerisette, but who turn out to be plain Polly Flinders or Moll Smith instead.”

“Yes, that’s it. Look here,” he added abruptly, “we’ve nearly reached the house again, and I must know. Are you determined to marry Rockland?”

She stopped, turning to face him. “So that did surprise you.”

“I am never surprised by the things other people say they will or won’t do,” he said. “Only actions matter, and in the end, what men and woman say rarely agrees with what they do. Thus, their actions never surprise me much either.”

“Then why ask me if I am determined to marry Rockland?”

“Because I want to know your answer, of course.”

“But if what I say has nothing to do with what I will do … If, in fact, you believe I will do other than what I say I will do—”

“Spare me,” he said, holding up a hand in the gesture used by fencers to indicate surrender. He looked amused. “I don’t want a war of words with you. I want only to know if you care more deeply for Rockland than you have admitted to me or to the others, and if you are committed to this marriage.”

She opened her mouth to inform him that she was a woman of her word and that whatever she had decided to do she would do without explaining herself to him or to anyone else. But something in the way he looked at her kept her from blurting out the words. Instead she said honestly, “My feelings for Rockland are what they have always been. He amuses me, and I like him, but I am committed to the marriage for exactly the reason I have given. It is the only acceptable way I know to escape Alfred’s tyranny.”

“There must be a more satisfactory way to do that.”

“If there is, I don’t know it. In truth, sir, until Mr. Kenhorn explained my position, it never occurred to me that could find myself a poor relation dependent upon near strangers for my bed and board. Marriage must be a better fate than that.”

“But you have other relations, who are not strangers at all. What of young Letty’s parents, your cousin and her family, or this great-aunt of yours in London?”