Dangerous Escapade (15 page)

She surveyed
the platters with fastidious distaste. “Do you expect me to eat with my
fingers, Cousin? A knife and fork if you please.”

“For once,
Brabington has shown some good sense,” sneered Wellbeloved. “You would like to
get your hands on a sharp piece of steel, would you not? Use your pretty
fingers, my dear; the food will taste quite as good.”

Without
deigning to reply, Kitty picked up the cheese and bit into it. It was sharp and
tangy, and she could feel the nourishment revive her as she swallowed. Next,
she tried the beef and tore at it with her teeth without embarrassment. “Pour
me a glass of that wine.” She gave the order to Brabington as though he had
been a lackey, and though he flushed, he obeyed, placing the glass at her elbow
with a hand that shook. A little of the wine was spilled. “Clumsy creature,”
commented Mistress Brabington. She sipped the wine and felt new life coursing
through her.

Having
finished the meagre meal and drunk her wine, she wiped her fingers, in the
absence of a napkin, on her cousin’s discarded greatcoat, which lay across the
back of the sofa. He gave a smothered moan but, at a look from Wellbeloved, he
was silent.

Wellbeloved
moved from his place by the fireplace and stood before her. “Well, have you
considered? Is it to be marriage with your cousin, or ruin…with me?”

“It is to be
neither!” Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes sparkled fire.

He merely
smiled at her defiance. “Brabington, leave us.”

His quiet
voice made her shudder. She could not help sending her cousin an imploring look
and, in answer, he ventured a remonstrance.

“Look here,
this was never part of the bargain. I mean, marriage is one thing, but to
force…I mean….”

“Is this the
time for scruples? You had none when you sold the girl’s father to Cumberland. Get
out of my sight, you puling halfwit. And close the door.” He turned back to
Kitty. “You are very brave about dangers of which you know nothing. I think a
little taste of what awaits you if you refuse may bring you to reason.”

She swallowed,
all at once overcome by fear. She could have faced a sword or pistol
unflinching, but the danger a ruthless man posed to her as a woman was
something she had never contemplated. When he jerked her into his arms, she
knew herself helpless, and a faintness came over her. His hot mouth on hers,
his hateful caresses seemed to take from her all power to resist him, and when
at last he released her, she fell to her knees, too sick to stand.

“And that my
lovely one was nothing to what will happen between us if you refuse your
cousin. Do you know, I almost hope that you will?”

“For God’s
sake, have pity!”

He laughed and
went out of the room.

Eleven

When Lord
Debenham flung himself onto the thoroughbred chestnut gelding he had
appropriated, he was in the grip of such a mixture of rage and remorse that he
was incapable of thinking with his usual clarity. However, as the night air
fanned his cheeks and the familiar feel of a galloping horse under him claimed
him, he began to consider his best course of action. He had no doubt that his horse
could catch the travelling coach, swift as it was, but he was not certain after
all that this was the wisest course. No more than his Kitty did he imagine that
Wellbeloved had kidnapped her merely to gratify his own passion.
 
Indeed, he had a very good idea what his plan must
be. Nor did he underestimate his adversary. If there was to be a fight, as of
course there must, he would infinitely prefer to encounter the man in a lighted
apartment than out on the moonlit road, where he would be vulnerable to any
treachery Wellbeloved cared to commit.

Undoubtedly, if
he hoped to discover the whole plan and deal with the Black Dog once and for
all, he must leave his darling in her abductor's hands for a little longer and
himself follow at a reasonable distance behind.

His decision made,
he continued to track the coach automatically, a matter which presented little
difficulty, as the wheel ruts were clearly visible in the muddy highway, while
he allowed himself to dwell upon the last few weeks since he had, against his
better judgement, allowed himself to reveal to his ward how dear she had become
to him. He knew that he had hurt her badly, but he did not think she had the slightest
conception of how her subsequent behaviour had punished him. She had treated him
coldly yet with frigid politeness. All the warmth had gone out of their relationship,
and now it was Courtney who enjoyed her laughter and her confidence. He alone
was allowed to hold and kiss her hand, where her unfortunate guardian received
only the coolest of nods, the slightest of curtsies. He reflected ruefully that
Kitty had learned her lessons too well; no spoiled Court Beauty could have been
more capricious, nor more desirable.

He remembered that
Courtney had charged him with neglecting his betrothed. He supposed that this
was true, but Amelia showed no sign that she even noticed his absence. So long
as he stood up with her occasionally, and could be seen at her side at any
really important gathering, she was perfectly content. He had been surprised that
his attendance had not been demanded that night. But, apparently, Lady Amelia's
mama did not approve of masquerades, so he had been free to escort his ward.
She, of course, had behaved infuriatingly. But, still, he would have given his
entire fortune to have recalled the words that drove her out into the garden and
thus into the arms of her enemies. This reflection was followed immediately by
a lurid picture of what might be happening to Kitty inside the swaying chaise
with Wellbeloved.

Unconsciously,
the thought made him spur his already overtaxed mount and, as it leapt
gallantly forward in response, the horse stumbled and fell, throwing its rider
heavily to the ground.

Debenham was
recalled to himself by the soft velvety muzzle of the chestnut, which was lipping
his cheek anxiously, making little whinnying noises. Thanking God that his
carelessness had not broken its legs, he rose shakily and attempted to mount.
If was no good, however, the chestnut was lame and could carry him no further that
night. His Lordship cursed fluently. He had no way of knowing how long he had been
unconscious; the coach could be many miles away. Wearily, he took hold of the
bridle and began to walk, devoutly hoping that he would come to some sort of
hostelry before too long.

As he walked,
he became aware that the road seemed familiar to him. It was not the main highway
but, nevertheless, it was a road that would eventually lead him to Debenham. If
he remembered correctly, there was an undistinguished little inn only two or three
miles further
—
indeed, a little more than half
an hour later, he saw the lights glimmering through the trees ahead of him. The
horse gave a little whicker of pleasure, as though he, too, was relieved at the
sight.

There was no
difficulty in hiring another horse at the inn. The host was only too anxious to
oblige a member of the quality. He stayed only to see the chestnut bedded down
and to toss down a swift tankard of mulled wine before he was off again down
the lonely road in a desperate effort to make up for the time he had lost. He
had no difficulty in recognizing the road now. It was etched too sharply upon
his memory. This was the very road he had taken when pursued by Wellbeloved all
those months ago, and indeed he shortly passed the self-same copse in which
they had hidden the horses as their pursuers passed by. “So!” thought his Lordship,
“They are taking her to Dover! And from there...?” He shrugged. He would have
come upon them long before Dover was reached. As luck would have it, at this
moment, the moon, which had shone so brightly until then, was extinguished behind
a threatening bank of cloud, which rendered the night as black as pitch for a
good hour. Lord Debenham was forced to pick his way carefully, losing precious
time. But when the moon at last reappeared, he found the interlude had been
even more disastrous than he imagined. The tracks were gone!

The Earl was
utterly confounded. He had been so sure that they were headed for Dover, but
now they could be anywhere in the county. If he were to go back on his own
tracks, he could perhaps pick up their trail again. But time was getting on; soon
it would be dawn, and Kitty would have passed the entire night with her captor.
There was no time for careful tracking. Somehow, he must discover, and quickly,
where his ward was being held. Debenham had grown up in this country; he could
have sworn he knew every inch of it. But what if she was held in some ruined
cottage or stable. There were a thousand such. Consciously, he forced himself
to fight back the hopelessness that threatened to overwhelm him. He turned and
rode back the way he had come deliberating bitterly as he went on all that had
passed. These torments had come upon them because of Wellbeloved—curse the villain!
And yet he was an adversary worthy of respect, unlike the snivelling companion who
had ridden with him that far off night two years before. He had never discovered
who that treacherous lordling had been. Perhaps he was in this plot, too. He passed
a little-used side road so muddy that the earth was churned with countless
cattle's hooves. It led, he remembered, to Brabington Court. He hadn't thought
of Brabington in weeks. What a paltry, snivelling fellow! He paused, some chord
struck. A snivelling fellow...of course! Now he knew why he had recognized the man's
voice, though muffled. Brabington was the traitor; and Brabington wanted to marry
his wealthy cousin! It all fitted! Debenham wrenched the horse's head around
and spurred the animal down the muddy track, hoping against hope that his ward
would be found at the Court but fully determined to kill Brabington if he would
not disclose where she was to be found.

When Wellbeloved
and her cousin were so obliging as to leave her to herself, Kitty's first
impulse was to give way to a natural bout of tears. But this, she told herself,
was behaviour fit for the sort of soft molly-coddled girl Wellbeloved thought her
to be. But she was Richard Clareville's daughter and made of sterner stuff.
Here she was faced at last with the men who had killed her father. Now the time
for her vengeance had arrived. How she longed for her boy's clothes, to have
her rapier and dagger at her belt. Then Wellbeloved should see. As it was, she
must make the best of what she had. One thing was certain
—
she would kill her persecutor before she allowed
him to touch her again.

Kitty rose
from the sofa, full of determination. The most important thing was to find a
weapon of some kind but, as she searched the room, she began to think her task
was hopeless. There was a poker, but she doubted her own strength to do any
serious damage with it. Nevertheless, she concealed it behind a sofa cushion, just
in case. In the drawer of the dining table, she found a rather blunt set of
silver fish knives, but even she was not so bloodthirsty that she could
contemplate trying to drive such a weapon into her adversary. She was beginning
to despair when she came to an old work basket, discarded perhaps by her own
grandmother. It had provided a comfortable home for a large family of mice, but
Kitty was not of that order of women who fear small creatures and, tipping them
out, she watched them disappear under the wainscot without flinching. She had
her reward. At the bottom of the basket, gleaming and purposeful, lay a little
knife, perhaps used to cut the still glowing embroidery silks amongst which it
lay. The blade was at least three inches long and razor-sharp. Kitty would have
no trouble using this. The handle formed the body of some saint in a lacquered
robe of blue enamel and, grasping him firmly, Kitty prayed silently that he
would come to her aid in earnest.

There was no
question of fighting Wellbeloved, of course. With her rapier, perhaps she might
have challenged him fairly, but not with only a little dagger. She must get
close to him and catch him unawares if she were to stand any chance. She would
rather have worsted him in fair fight, but he did not deserve any consideration
after all. He was a very evil man. But how to get close to him? She strode
about the room pondering. As she stood before the fireplace, she glanced into a
dusty mirror that hung there.

She saw an exquisite
lady, pale but nevertheless beautiful, whose black curls lay in riotous
disorder upon white shoulders rising out of a froth of lace. Her bosom heaved
in the low cut gown, and suddenly she smiled. For the first time, she realized the
power a woman could have over a man. She need not trick Wellbeloved into
approaching her, she need only smile. Her confidence was high as she turned to
face her enemy.

“Have you
considered well, my dear,” asked Wellbeloved, entering. His eyes ran over her
in a way that brought colour to her cheeks.

“I have!” she
answered curtly.

“And what is
your decision?”

“I will marry
Cedric,” she answered calmly. He smiled, and she longed to hit him. But,
instead, she continued. “After this night, it is unlikely that I will be
received back by my guardian. Yet I do not think I could bear to spend my life
here with only cousin Cedric for company.”

Wellbeloved
nodded. “I can imagine more enlivening companions,” he agreed.

She took a
deep breath and moved softly towards him. “Then it seems to me that the best
thing for me would be to go away...with you!”