Fenella J Miller (3 page)

Penny prepared to point out that
this had been no spur of the moment attack. It had been premeditated. How else
could they have had the time to fell the tree that trapped her in the lane? But
he prevented her from speaking.

‘I shall call out the militia,
Miss Coombs. As the magistrate of this area it’s my duty to keep the lanes and
paths free from all sorts of vermin. Let us speak no more of this.’ He smiled,
at his most charming. ‘Tell me, are you intending to ascend in the balloon?’

‘I fear that I’m a reluctant
aeronaut, my lord. But Lady Dalrymple is determined to go up and I suppose I
shall be obliged to accompany her.’

‘I am an experienced pilot, my
dear. Are you sure I cannot persuade you to accompany me on a flight?’

She shuddered dramatically.
‘Absolutely not!
I shall only step into the basket if I know
the contraption is firmly anchored to the ground. If the good Lord had meant us
to fly He would have given us wings like the angels.’

By the time they arrived Penny
had all but forgotten her fear. Two grooms ran forward to take the bridles’ of
their mounts. She slid her foot from the iron and was preparing to dismount
when Lord Weston appeared at her side.

‘Allow me, my dear.’ Giving her
no time to refuse he encircled her waist and lifted her from the saddle. She
had forgotten how strong he was.

Her voice was scarcely more than
a whisper and she thanked him politely. Before she could protest his pulled her
arm through his. There was to be no escape. The wretched man was determined to
escort her all the way to the house; no doubt in full view of all those watching
from the drawing-room window.

The housekeeper was waiting in
the vast marble floored hall to escort her to her rooms.

Lord Weston bowed. ‘I shall leave
you in the capable hands of Brown, Miss Coombs. I look forward to meeting you
again at dinner. We don’t keep country hours here so I shall see you at seven
o’clock in the drawing-room.’ Without a backward glance he strode off, his mind
obviously elsewhere. Penny turned to speak to the housekeeper.

‘If dinner is to be served so
late I do hope a nuncheon will be served at midday.’

The
devil take
it! How could his cover have been blown so easily? For years he had maintained
the fiction of being no more than a wealthy aristocrat who enjoyed sailing his
yacht around the world. Only a select
few,
and none of
those present today, knew of his work for the government. But he was in no
doubt that today the men in the lane had been waiting for Miss Coombs.

A member of the balloon party
must have seen them together and decided to organize her abduction believing
she would be a useful pawn in their game. This confirmed what Carstairs had
told him. He was dealing with ruthless traitors. He would call up the militia
and have all of them arrested. Then it would be up to the major to discover
what he would.

His long strides led him to his
study, a sanctuary where no one who wished to keep their head on their
shoulders dared disturb him. He should return to his chambers, remove his
soiled riding clothes, but that would have to wait. He needed to think.

After pouring himself a generous
measure of brandy from the decanter on his desk he took it to the window.
Staring out at the rolling park helped him concentrate. Methodically he
reviewed what fact was and what he surmised. Thoughtfully he swallowed the
amber liquid. His immediate assumption, that the men were in the employ of the
traitors he was searching for, didn’t make sense. What could they possibly have
to gain from the death of either
himself
or Miss
Coombs? If they knew they were discovered all they needed to do was vanish. Why
should they wish to risk their lives by drawing attention to themselves?
Kidnapping Miss Coombs would bring every available militiaman into the area.
How could this help them raise money for that bastard Bonaparte?

Hell and damnation! He was losing
his touch. Under normal circumstances he would have solved this conundrum by
now. He scowled into his glass. He must not allow the involvement of Miss
Coombs to interfere with his judgement, but every time he closed his eyes, his
head was filled with the image of a girl galloping towards him, crouched low
over her horse’s withers, her face white with terror.

Chapter Three

Word of the attempted attack on Penny
was common knowledge by the time she was ready to descend from her apartments.
She was relieved that her aunt had arrived in time to hear the story from her
own lips.

‘Mary, make sure the staff are
aware I was in no danger from the footpads and the incident was no more than an
added excitement to my journey.’

The maid pursed her lips. ‘If you
say so, miss. But you know how they like to gossip downstairs. I reckon Billy
and Fred will have told everyone ready to listen that there were a dozen men
and you were only saved from the clutches of the monsters by their own
bravery.’

‘Well, it’s up to you to correct
their version. I don’t wish to make too much of it. Lord Weston is taking care
of matters and I wouldn’t wish him to think I blamed him in any way for
allowing those men to infiltrate his lands.’ Penny turned to leave the room. ‘I
am tardy. I must go down. Did you pull the bell-strap?’

‘I did, miss. I’m sure the
footman will be here to escort you.’ Her maid stepped forward and bent to shake
out Penny’s skirt. ‘There! You look pretty as a picture, Miss Coombs, if you
don’t mind me saying so. Pale green is perfect with your colouring.’

Penny glanced at her reflection
in one of the gilt pier glasses that hung either side of the central window. ‘I
wish I was less tall and more rounded.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘At least this
bodice is well fitted and is giving nature a helping hand.’ The loud knock on
the door interrupted the conversation. ‘Excellent, my guide is here. I intend
to explore the gardens after I’ve eaten so will need my kid half- boots and
bonnet when I return.’

‘Will I leave out your matching
spencer, miss?’

‘No, Mary, thank you. I believe
it’s too warm to wear a jacket. A light shawl will suffice.’

Outside, the smartly liveried
footman bowed. ‘If you care to follow me, Miss Coombs, I’ll take you to the
small dining room.’

‘What’s your name? If you’re to
be my guide for the present I should like to be able to ask for you
personally.’

The young man grinned revealing a
large gap in his teeth. ‘My name’s Will, miss.’

‘Well, Will, tell me, do you know
how many chambers there are here?’

He shook his head. ‘Never tried
to count them, miss. But there’re six apartments on this floor and his
lordship’s rooms on the ground floor.’ He scratched his head, forgetting for a
moment that he was wearing his half wig, and it slipped askew. He straightened
it, glancing nervously over his shoulder to check his disarray had not been
spotted by the eagle eyed butler, Foster.

Penny followed the footman down
several corridors and two flights of stairs before they finally arrived in the
impressive entrance hall which she immediately recognized. ‘Thank you, Will, I
believe I can find my own way from here. I can hear voices along the corridor
and one of them is Lady Dalrymple.’

‘You’ll find the guests are
gathered in the morning room, miss. They haven’t gone in to eat so you’re not
late.’

Penny hurried
across the hall, her
slippered
feet making no sound.
She had almost reached her destination when Lord Weston appeared beside her.
Startled, she shied sideways knocking her arm painfully on the corner of a
heavily carved picture frame.

‘Ouch! That hurt. It’s
inconsiderate of you, my lord, to rush upon a person in this way.’

‘Here, let me see.’ Before she
could protest he peeled away her hand. ‘Good grief! My dear girl, you’ve a
nasty gash.’

She glanced down horrified to
find blood oozing from between his fingers. ‘I had no idea I’d cut myself. I
must return to my room to have this dressed.’

Lord Weston removed a crisp white
handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against her injury. ‘Hold this
firmly in place. It will stem the flow of blood until I can deal with it
properly.’

He slid his arm around her waist,
as if expecting her to faint away in a fit of the vapours at any moment. She
stiffened. ‘I have no need of your assistance; the sight of gore does not send
me into a faint.’

She tried to move away that he
was too strong for her. ‘Nonsense, Miss Coombs. Allow me to escort you to the
library. There’s no need for you to return to your chambers. I’m quite capable
of dressing your wound.’

She had no choice. Unless she was
prepared to struggle in a most unladylike way she was obliged to do as he said.
Fortunately the library was nearby and the door ajar.

‘Sit down here, my dear. I shall
ring for assistance.’

Penny found herself gently placed
on a leather covered chair. Her pulse was racing and her cheeks flushed and it
had nothing to do with her arm. From the moment Lord Weston had led her on to
the dance floor over a year ago, it had been ever thus. The mere touch of his
hand sent inexplicable waves of heat around her body. It was the outside of
enough that after so long apart he could still have this effect on her. She
kept her head lowered, unwilling to make eye contact.

‘Drink this, Miss Coombs, it will
restore you.’

She opened her mouth to protest
only to have a liberal swallow of brandy tipped carefully down her throat.
Penny avoided alcohol of any sort as it made her sick. Her hand flew to her
mouth as her stomach revolted.

‘God’s teeth!
Hold on. I’ll find you something.’

A receptacle was shoved into her
hands not a moment too soon as she cast up her accounts. When her retching had
finally stopped she felt too unwell to worry about the embarrassment of
vomiting in front of her host.

The noxious mess was removed from
her lap and he gently wiped her face with his handkerchief. She leant back in
the chair, grateful this was deep enough to allow her to close her eyes and
rest for a moment whilst her rebellious digestion recovered. In the distance
she heard the murmur of voices and the door opened and closed softly.

‘Miss Coombs, I have some boiled
water here. Would you care to rinse your mouth?’

Wearily, Penny forced open her
eyes to find Brown smiling down at her. Of Lord Weston there was no sign.

‘Thank you, but I fear I cannot
hold the glass myself for my left arm is hurt.’ The housekeeper held it for
her. Penny took several mouthfuls, rinsing and spitting into the bowl on her
knees before the vile taste had completely gone. ‘I feel much better now.
Apart from my arm, of course.’

‘I’m here to deal with that, Miss
Coombs.’

Ten minutes later the cut was
cleaned and neatly bandaged. Brown gathered up the various receptacles she had
used and handed them to a waiting parlour maid.

Penny no longer wished to join
the other guests. She decided to return to her room and rest for an hour before
taking her walk around the gardens. She thanked the housekeeper and assured her
she had no need of further assistance.

She would sit for a few moments
longer before attempting to stand. Her eyes were closed and she was resting
quietly when she heard the door open again. She didn’t bother to look up
believing Mary had been sent down to escort her to her chamber.

‘I shall be well enough in a
moment. Kindly wait for me.’

‘I shall be delighted to do so,
Miss Coombs. I’m entirely at your disposal.’

 
Penny shot upright her stomach lurching
unpleasantly. ‘Lord Weston, I believe I told you earlier that it’s not polite
to startle people.’ She glared at him, her eyes huge in her ashen face.

‘Are you still feeling unwell?’
He stood up looking around the room for something suitable.

‘I’m not going to be sick again.
And I would not have been the first place if you’d not tipped brandy down my
throat in that highhanded manner.’

He dropped into a seat opposite
her, a slight smile hovering on his lips. ‘I must apologize for doing so, my
dear. It’s not a mistake I care to make again.’

He was laughing at her. How dare
he? He had caused her to injure her arm and be horribly ill and now had the
temerity to find the situation amusing. She scrambled from the chair forcing
him to spring to his feet also.

‘I find that I don’t like you,
Lord Weston. I have no wish to remain under your roof a moment longer. I shall
return home immediately.’

His expression changed. She saw
anger flicker in his eyes, but his tone was even. ‘That’s unfortunate, Miss
Coombs. However I cannot allow you to leave today. Might I suggest you return
to your chambers until you have…?’ He paused, his eyes glacial.
‘Until you have recovered.
When you are sufficiently
restored to hold a conversation I wish to speak to you about this morning’s
incident.’

Penny stared back, refusing to be
cowed. She was no longer the timid girl he had first encountered in London. For
the past year she had been managing her own affairs and successfully running
the estate. That she was obliged to do this through a third-party, her man of
business, did not alter the fact she was fully conversant with matters more
normally left to gentleman.

Slowly she allowed her eyes to
travel disdainfully from the toes of his immaculate top boots to the crown of
his fashionably cut hair. If he had been angry before now he was incandescent.
She would not back down - far too late for that.

‘I do not believe you are either
my husband or my guardian, Lord Weston. Therefore it is a matter of supreme
indifference to me what your wishes are. I intend to leave here today and there
is nothing you can do to prevent it.’ With a regal nod of her head she turned her
back on him and stalked towards the door.

She had taken no more than three
steps when she found her passage blocked. ‘You’re not leaving this room, or my
home, until you have heard what I have to say.’ She could feel his enmity
vibrating between them and took an involuntary step backwards. He moved,
forcing her to retreat again.

Penny did not stop at the chair
she had been seated on, but continued to back away until she had placed the
length of the room between them. Only then did she feel safe. He moved towards
the wall and tugged the bell-strap, turning his back on her as he did so. The
heavy thumping of her heart gradually slowed. She hadn’t realized quite how
large he was until he had stood inches from her almost quivering with rage.

A farmyard image of a turkey cock
gobbling with anger and visibly swelling as he did so
came
unbidden to her mind. She hastily spun to face the window not wishing her
amusement to be discovered. She had narrowly avoided a nasty set down and did
not wish to antagonize him further.

From her position at the library
window she was unable to hear what instructions Weston had given to the
footman. She wished she hadn’t spoken so intemperately. It was unpardonable to
tell one’s host you held him in dislike, even when this was true. Aunt Lucy had
explained to her years ago that in society true feelings were rarely revealed.
One must pretend to enjoy the crush and overwhelming smell of barely washed,
over perfumed humanity that you encountered every time you attended a
fashionable soirée or ball.

This was the way things were
done. If a gentleman wished to find a suitable wife then he was obliged to seek
her out at
Almack’s
, or some other event, where
hopeful debutantes were paraded by their doting mama. She was roused from her
reverie a few minutes later by the arrival of her aunt who nodded regally to
Lord Weston before hurrying to join Penny by the window. They conversed in
muted tones, not wishing to be overheard by the glowering man at the far end of
the room.

‘Penelope, my dear child, I have
been searching for you everywhere. Why have you not come to join us for
luncheon?’

‘Aunt Lucy, I’m so glad you are
here. I wish to return to
Nettleford
and Lord Weston
has said I cannot leave.’

‘He is quite right to say so. Whatever
are you thinking of? We have only just arrived and it would be unforgivably
rude, and give rise to unpleasant gossip if we were to depart so suddenly.’

‘But I don’t wish to stay another
minute under that man’s roof….’

‘Enough,
Penelope.
You are behaving like a child. I thought you had grown out of
such temper tantrums.’

Aunt Lucy was quite right to
castigate her; she was ashamed of herself. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Lucy. I have no
excuse apart from the fact that Lord Weston caused me to injure my arm and then
forced brandy down my throat.’

‘My goodness!
That was unfortunate.’ The redoubtable old lady grinned up at her great-niece.
‘It is no wonder that you wish to remove yourself. However, I suggest that we
hear what Weston has to say before we make a final decision.’

‘Very well.
I feel more sanguine now that you’re here. Shall we join him and discover what
it is?’

He bowed politely and gestured
towards the
chaise-longue
. ‘If you
would care to be seated, I have much to say to you.’ He waited until they were settled
before selecting an upright chair and carrying it to a position opposite them.

Penny wondered why he looked so
grave. Surely he wasn’t still annoyed with her? ‘I believe that I must
apologize, my lord.’

He smiled, his features
softening, and she found herself responding. ‘It’s forgotten, Miss Coombs. Now,
could I ask you to listen without interruption?’ He raised an eyebrow at her
and she grinned.

‘I promise to listen without
comment, my lord.’

‘Excellent. I must first inform
you that the militia are already on their way from Ipswich and will search the
surrounding neighbourhood for your attackers. However, I believe they will be
long gone.’ He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle.