Fenella J Miller (4 page)

 
The movement drew Penny’s eyes and she
couldn’t help but notice the girth of his thighs encased so snugly in his buff
inexpressibles
. A wave of warmth suffused her cheeks and
she hastily removed her gaze to stare at the clenched fingers resting in her
lap.

‘Go on, sir. I am eager to hear
your conclusions on this unfortunate incident.’ Aunt Lucy fixed him with a
beady eye. ‘I take it you do have conclusions?’

‘Indeed I do, my lady. I believe
this was a deliberate attempt to abduct Miss Coombs. If you recall, whilst we
were at the balloon ascent, you were discussing quite openly your plan to ride
across country. There were dozens of gentlemen within earshot and anyone of
them could have decided you were an easy target.’

Penny had heard enough. ‘That’s
preposterous! It sounds like something from a Gothic romance, my lord, not the
explanation I would have expected from a rational man.’

His eyes narrowed but his tone
remained bland. ‘I believe, Miss Coombs, you gave your word not to interrupt
until I had finished.’

With difficulty she bit back her
sharp retort. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Weston. Pray continue your Banbury
tale.’

‘Miss Coombs, your father was one
of the warmest men in the country. Do you think your wealth has gone unnoticed
by all the fortune hunters? You’ve no male relatives to protect you and it would
be relatively simple for an unscrupulous man to force you into wedlock.’

The colour drained from her face
as she understood the full import of his words. He was suggesting that an
opportunist rogue had decided to kidnap her and then hold her captive until her
good name was gone and she would have no option but to marry him.

Her aunt broke the silence. ‘If
you are correct in your assumptions, sir, what are we to do? Every time
Penelope leaves the house she will be at risk.’

Penny felt too sick to speak. She
could see no way out of the impasse. She raised her head to find herself pinned
by the penetrating green gaze of Lord Weston.

‘There’s a way out of this, Miss
Coombs, but you will have to trust me.’

‘Tell us at once, Lord Weston, if
you please,’ Aunt Lucy demanded.

He nodded. ‘You must agree to
marry me, Miss Coombs. Then I shall have the right to keep you safe.’

Chapter Four

‘Have you run mad? That is an outrageous
suggestion.’ Penny wished her answer unspoken the moment it had left her lips.

To her astonishment Lord Weston
threw back his head and laughed. She exchanged worried glances with her aunt,
both convinced the poor man had taken leave of his senses. After several noisy
moments he removed his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his streaming
eyes.

‘I apologize, Miss Coombs.
Obviously I was not suggesting a genuine betrothal; merely a ruse to allow me
to investigate who was behind the attack this morning without anyone
questioning my motives.’

Not sure if she was mollified or
offended by his explanation she found herself in a quandary. ‘And I beg
your
pardon, my lord. How stupid of me
to not to guess that your offer was false.’

‘Will you allow me to explain
what I have in mind?’ Both ladies nodded, but offered no comment. Emboldened by
their acquiescence he began to explain the plan he had formulated. ‘We shall
announce our engagement at dinner tonight. It will hardly come as a surprise to
many of the guests. Everyone knows that we spent a deal of time together when
you were in town last year. This will enable you to stay here until I have the
villains apprehended.’

He was waiting for her to speak,
to agree that his proposal was not only an excellent idea, but also a kind and
thoughtful one. The words would not come. They were stuck somewhere behind her
teeth and she was mute. How could he be so heartless? In the long, miserable
months following her beloved father’s sudden death she had rehearsed the answer
she would give when Lord Weston appeared to make his offer.

He had never come. He had not
loved her as she had loved him. His particular attention, his appearance to
escort her to picnics and parties, had been a hollow sham. At the time she had
believed he felt the same way, but with hindsight she had come to realize a man
in love would not have been content to keep his distance. He would have stolen
a kiss from her. At no time did he overstep the bounds of propriety and put
himself in the position of being compromised by his actions.

‘Miss Coombs?’ His enquiry was
spoken softly and the kindness in his voice released her tongue.

She raised her head. ‘I agree,
Lord Weston, I’m in no position to do otherwise. I thank you for your offer of
protection and gratefully accept. However, I wish it to be clearly understood
that this charade ends the moment I’m safe.’

Something she didn’t understand
flashed in his eyes and was gone. Could it have been triumph? What kind of game
was he playing with her? She rose gracefully to her feet and bent to offer her
arm to her aunt.

‘I believe that I’m hungry again,
Aunt Lucy. Shall we repair to the dining room and see if our fellow guests have
left us anything to eat?’

He bowed. ‘There are still one or
two matters we have to settle before this evening, Miss Coombs. I should like
to continue this conversation later, if you have no objection.’

She had no intention of being
closeted alone with him. ‘Lady Dalrymple will be unavailable to chaperone me
this afternoon, my lord. Perhaps we could meet here before dinner?’

‘I am at your disposal. Shall we
say six o’clock?’

Not until mid-afternoon was Penny
able to find solitude in the rose garden and have time to mull over the
extraordinary events of the day. She had been ambushed, injured her arm, cast
up her accounts in front of Lord Weston, been inveigled into a false engagement
and all before luncheon.

No one could say that life at
Headingly was dull. She shuffled back on the warm stone bench so she was hidden
in the arbour of sweetly scented honeysuckle. She tilted her face to the sun,
closing her eyes, feeling the tension slowly trickle away. She found it hard to
credit his story, but she could vaguely recall a group of smartly dressed young
bucks standing within earshot of her carriage.

Was it possible one of them had
decided to abduct her and force her into marriage in order to gain access to
her fortune? After all she had reached her majority in March and now had full
control of her inheritance.

Why should a fortune hunter
believe the loss of her good name would force her to relinquish control of her
wealth? Perhaps a young lady with a more delicate disposition would believe
death was a better option than disgrace? In those circumstances marriage might
appear a reasonable option. But she was made of sterner stuff; it would take
more than ruin to force her into an unwanted marriage.

Her lips curved as she recalled
the conversation in the library. It might be amusing to play the part of
besotted bride-to-be and pretend to hang on his every word knowing he would
have no option but to respond in kind.

There was the sound of male
footsteps approaching and her pulse quickened. Had he come to seek her out so
soon? She decided to feign sleep and await events.

‘Miss Coombs,
how delightful.
A picture of loveliness and it’s I who have been
fortunate enough to see it.’

‘Mr Weston, I had thought I was
alone here.’ Her tone reflected her irritation.

‘I beg your pardon, Miss Coombs.
I had no wish to disturb you. Please forgive me for speaking so….’ The young
man, his face a study of embarrassment, prepared to back away, realizing he had
unwittingly annoyed her.

‘No, it’s I who must apologize. I
spoke too sharply. I’m afraid I was lost in a dream and reluctant to return so
suddenly.’ She smiled up at him not wishing him to think
ill
of her. ‘Would you care to join me for a stroll around the garden? I’m quite
ready to continue my walk.’

His delight at her unexpected
invitation was endearing. Gallantly he offered his hand and drew her to her
feet. ‘Have you visited the maze, Miss Coombs? It’s said to be one of the
finest in the country.’

‘This is my first time here, Mr
Weston, so I’ve seen very little of these magnificent grounds. I should love to
see the maze for I’ve never had the opportunity before.’

He crooked his arm and willingly
she slipped hers through it. He was a pleasant young man and it was no hardship
to walk at his side.

Ned was in the barn supervising
the belated arrival of the motley crew that made up the balloon party. There
were three laden carts pulled by sturdy farm horses and one closed carriage in
which he expected to find the pilots. He studied the assortment of roughly
dressed men as they scrambled down from the carts. Was the man he sought
amongst them?

He strode forward waiting
impatiently for the carriage door to open. He had spoken to the pilot yesterday
and he was no more than he appeared. He had met Monsieur Ducray several times
over the past few years and was certain the man was innocent of any wrongdoing.
He was a genuine
émigré
and skilled
at his trade.

The traitor, if there was one,
would be masquerading as a helper. Ducray always had a smattering of fellow
countrymen working for him and he must look for clues amongst them. It was a
damned nuisance he was now also obliged to also search out and apprehend the
man behind the attempted abduction of the delectable Miss Coombs.

He dragged his attention back to
the matter in hand. It wouldn’t do to let his concentration falter. His very
life might depend on his vigilance. ‘Welcome, Ducray. I hope you find
everything here that you want.’ He nodded but didn’t offer his hand.

The small, neatly garbed
Frenchman, bowed deeply. ‘My lord, I am so honoured to be ’ere at your so
magnificent ’
ome
.’ Monsieur
Ducray
skipped to one side allowing the second occupant of the coach to descend.
‘Allow me to make known to you, Count Everex.’

A prickle of
unease flickered through Ned as he bowed more formally to the second man. This
man was exactly the sort of person one would expect to be involved in
treachery. He was of medium height, dark hair swept back and secured by a
ribbon at the back of his neck. His aquiline features gave credence to his
pedigree. He was every inch an aristocrat. Where had this man sprung from? He
had not been in Ipswich yesterday. This man’s garments were the height of
fashion, no different from his own, hardly what one would expect of a person
who made his living flying balloons for the entertainment of the public.

‘Lord Weston, I can see that you
are surprised by my appearance here. I am, as you have no doubt surmised, an
amateur. Ducray has kindly offered to teach me the intricacies of piloting. I
hope you do not object to my accompanying him here?’ The count’s English was
accentless
, unlike his compatriot who had yet to master it.

‘You are welcome, sir. Allow me
to take you inside and introduce you to my guests.’ Ned smiled, at his most
urbane. ‘From your faultless English, Count, I would surmise you have been
resident in England for some years.’

The count nodded. ‘My mother is
English, Lord Weston. My father died when I was a boy and we returned to my
mother’s ancestral home where I grew up. I have not visited my estates in
France since the revolution.’

‘Your mother’s
name?
Would I know your family?’ The man beside him stiffened; had he
asked one question too many? ‘I only ask, sir, as your face looks familiar. You
are the image of Lord Stanhope, a dear friend of my grandfather’s; sadly both
gentlemen are no longer with us.’

This fabrication appeared to
satisfy the count.
‘Coincidence, my lord.
I am no
relation to the
Stanhopes
.’ He did not offer any
further information about his ancestry.

‘I imagine you would like to
supervise the unloading of your gear before you come up the house, Ducray?’

‘I would, my lord. ’
owever
, the count ’as no need to
be ’ere with me. I ’
ope
you ’
ave
no objection to ’is staying too?’

Ned nodded in the gentleman’s
direction.
‘Of course not,
monsieur
.
My guests will be delighted to have another added
to their number.’

‘It is a large house party you
have, my lord?’ The count sounded anxious.

‘No, not
particularly.
At the moment there are five ladies and four gentlemen.
Your arrival will even up the numbers nicely.’

He turned to lead the way to the front
of the house. Immediately he spied his cousin walking arm in arm with Miss
Coombs, obviously coming from the direction of the maze. They were talking like
old friends, not two people who had only met the previous day. He had no desire
to introduce the elegant Frenchman to either of them. He increased his pace
allowing his guest no alternative but to hurry after him. The household
staff had already been alerted and were
waiting to greet the
new arrival.

‘I shall hand you over to my
staff
who
will look after your requirements. We dine
at seven. I look forward to renewing our acquaintance then.’

He turned smartly and strode off
to intercept his cousin and Miss Coombs.

Penny didn’t see her host heading
in her direction but her escort did. ‘Come, Miss Coombs, allow me to show you
the orangery. It’s situated on the far side of the mansion and is well worth a
detour.’

‘Thank you, Mr Weston, but I
believe I’m ready to return to my rooms. Perhaps you could take me tomorrow
after breakfast, when it’s not so hot?’

‘Of course, forgive me. I have
had a most enjoyable walk, and shall look forward to escorting you in the
morning.’ The young man smiled and released his hold. ‘If you will excuse me,
Miss Coombs, my mother is trying to attract my attention.’ He gestured towards
the small group sitting in the shade of an ancient oak tree.

A woman of middle years, dressed
in a sprigged-muslin gown more suited to someone half her age, was waving in
their direction. ‘Pray don’t let me detain you, sir. I’m quite able to find my
own way back.’

The young man hurried away his
green coat tails flapping behind him. What had upset him? He appeared most
agitated.

‘Miss Coombs, I wish to speak to
you. Do you have a moment?’

Lord Weston! How curious. Why had
his appearance driven her escort away in such a flurry? Slowly, she turned to
greet the man she had once wished to marry.

‘My lord, I’m returning to my
chambers. I wish to rest before dinner. Please forgive me.’

Her evasive answer didn’t please
him. ‘You have been visiting the maze with my cousin.’ This was a statement
not, she considered, requiring an answer. He towered above her, using his
superior height to dominate.

She stepped backwards catching
her heel in hem of her gown. Instantly his arm shot out and saved her from a
painful tumble. Flustered by the contact she tried to move away but for some
reason he retained his hold.

‘Please, my lord, release me.
We’re in full view of your guests.’

‘Exactly so, my
dear.
We wish them to believe our announcement to be genuine and seeing
us like this will help to create the impression that we are romantically
involved.’ He reached out and casually straightened her bonnet which had
slipped sideways. ‘There, Miss Coombs.’ His fingers brushed her overheated
cheek as he moved back a pace.

Her breathing only returned to
normal when she was out of arm’s reach. ‘Lord Weston, I’m going inside. I don’t
need your company.’ She walked across the grass knowing she hadn’t acquitted
herself well. She got the distinct impression he was going out of his way to
flout convention and cause gossip amongst his family and friends. This was
quite out of character and she was at a loss to know how to deal with it.