Intriguing Lady (17 page)

“He—he didn’t…” Mrs. Ashley stuttered in great agitation.

“No, he didn’t do anything that embarrassed me,” Roberta reassured her, “and I didn’t give him any encouragement. Now, please tell me about your dream,” she continued. She had no intention of elaborating further on Stephen’s visit.

“It was quite dreadful,” Mrs. Ashley recalled with a shudder. “Your were at Almack’s and Mr. Davenport interrupted the conversation you were having with one of your friends and caused the most frightful scene. He kept insisting that you talk with him. He pestered you all the time. His behavior had all the tongues wagging, and his poor wife sat to the side in acute embarrassment. You were magnificent, though, I’m glad to say, and remained calm and aloof throughout.”

“Thank heavens for that!” Roberta murmured with mock gravity. “How did it end? Did I acquiesce or send him on his way?”

“Noooo…Sir Nicholas arrived and saw in a trice what was wrong. He intervened successfully.” Roberta grimaced at this, and Mrs. Ashley shook her head. “I didn’t think you would approve of that. Anyway, he introduced you to Mr. Davenport’s wife, Lady Anita, and that put an end to Mr. Davenport’s game.”

“Is that all?” Roberta inquired, disappointed by the anticlimactic ending.

Mrs. Ashley pursed her lips primly and nodded, but Roberta’s suspicions were roused when Mrs. Ashley refused to look at her.

“I believe you’re holding something back, Ashley,” she accused. “Did Sir Nicholas come to fisticuffs with Stephen?”

“Nothing like that,” Mrs. Ashley replied firmly. “The ending wasn’t very pleasant, though, and not worth repeating.”

“But you must tell me. You simply can’t leave me up in the air about it, for that would be most unfair.”

“Oh, dear! I don’t want to, for you know my dreams often become reality.”

“That is why I insist you divulge the ending, Ashley. Forewarned is to be forearmed.” She kept her voice light, for she could see that Mrs. Ashley was shaken.

“Well…I omitted to mention that the comte was also involved. He was behind Mr. Davenport’s hounding of you. He wanted Sir Nicholas to intervene, you see, so that Mr. Davenport would be forced to challenge Sir Nicholas to a duel. I know it doesn’t make much sense, Roberta, but dreams are abstract.”

“Did Stephen challenge Sir Nicholas?” Roberta asked, frowning at this unexpected twist. “It all seems very foolhardy and unnecessary.”

“I—I was woken before I discovered,” Mrs. Ashley said hastily, quite unequal to the task of relating the last gory scene, where Stephen lay in a pool of blood. “Anyway, it was an absurd flight of fancy,” she added as Roberta looked at her in disbelief, “brought about, I’m sure, because of my dislike of Mr. Davenport and the comte, and eating too much rich food last night. I wish I hadn’t told you of it now, for I can see I have distressed you.”

“Nonsense, Ashley. I’m intrigued, that’s all.”

“Now that I’ve related my little story, why don’t you tell me what you wanted to see me about originally?”

“I had thought to persuade you to come for a stroll with me, but I just remembered I have a few letters to write,” Roberta said, suddenly deciding that she should warn Sir Nicholas of the possible danger he faced from Stephen. “Excuse me, dear Ashley, and forgive me for interrupting your dalliance with Mr. Burns.”

*

Much later in the afternoon, long after Roberta had abandoned her attempt to write Sir Nicholas, she impulsively decided to call at his lodgings. She wanted to thank him, anyway, for protecting her from Mrs. Ashley’s disapproval last night. The trouble with writing about Mrs. Ashley’s dream was finding the right words to convey the possible threat it held. Very few people of her acquaintance really believed that dreams actually could predict the future, even though they all seemed to revel in hearing stories of this type of clairvoyance. Indeed, she might well have held the same skepticism had she not known Mrs. Ashley.

Over the years, Mrs. Ashley had proven to be uncannily accurate in her prophecies, and they had all come to her in her dreams.

But Sir Nicholas, Roberta knew, would be more skeptical than anyone else. He certainly wouldn’t put any credence in anything she wrote, so she would just have to tell him personally.

She summoned Polly and asked her to order the carriage for immediate use and to ready herself for an outing.

“We won’t be long, Polly, but I need your presence to lend me countenance.”

Mystified, Polly nodded, and reappeared ten minutes later with the news that Lord Bromley’s carriage was waiting for them.

When Roberta gave Williams her intended destination, he growled his disapproval, saying that it was unseemly for young ladies to visit the lodgings of gentlemen.

“Polly will be with me,” Roberta said with some exasperation. “I will be quite safe.”

Williams closed the coach door reluctantly, and Roberta sat back, trying to suppress the misgivings about her intended visit. She paid scant attention to Polly, who sat hunched over in her seat, and consequently failed to notice how agitated her maid had suddenly become.

“I know it’s not my place to say anything, Miss Roberta,” Polly burst out finally, “but I don’t think Lord Bromley or Mrs. Ashley would approve of what you’re doing. Please let Williams take a message to Sir Nicholas.”

Roberta looked at her maid in amazement. “Polly!” she exclaimed. “How dare you! You are quite right when you say it’s not your place to say anything. I will forget your impertinence this time, but don’t ever let me hear you speak so again.”

Polly, quite overcome by these harsh words, started to cry. “I’m ever so sorry, Miss Roberta, really I am,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me of late. But, you see, the thing is… Oh, dear! Would you mind very much if I stayed in the carriage while you got about your business? I just can’t face ’im, not now…” She broke off as her flood of tears made it impossible for her to continue.

Roberta, mistakenly thinking Polly was referring to Sir Nicholas, looked at her maid in bewilderment until, with a flash of intuition, she guessed why Polly was so hysterical. Then a cold fury enveloped her as she envisaged Sir Nicholas propositioning her maid.

“There, there, Polly,” she said in an effort to comfort the girl. “You have nothing to worry about. What has he done to cause you so much distress?”

“No…no…
nothing, Miss Roberta,” Polly wailed. “’E—’e thought to enjoy ’imself at my expense, and I wouldn’t ’ave any of it. I’m a good girl, really, I am, and if my mother knew what ’e had suggested, she would ’ave turned in ’er grave.”

“The monster!” Roberta snapped, her eyes flashing angrily. “How dare he? I’ll settle all this for you, Polly, and you’ll never be bothered by him again. How dare he be so presumptuous as to make improper overtures to you!” she repeated. “I’ll make him rue the day he ever dared to do such a thing.”

“Please, Miss Roberta,” Polly wailed, “don’t ’urt ’im, whatever you do. I—I wouldn’t be in such a state if I didn’t care for ’im so. But the very idea of ’aving to see ’im again after ’ow we parted, unnerved me.”

The carriage came to a halt before Roberta could respond, and, giving Polly a curt command not to move an inch, she opened the door and was on the pavement before Williams could help her.

“Wait for me,” she ordered the hapless Williams, all thought of the original purpose of her visit erased from her mind. “I will not be more than five minutes.”

She sounded the knocker with a heavy hand, and the door was immediately opened by Jenkins.

“I demand that you take me to Sir Nicholas immediately,” she said, brushing past him. Jenkins closed the door with exaggerated slowness.

“I am not certain he is at home,” he said. “If you would care to leave your card, Miss Rushforth, I will tell Sir Nicholas that you called.” His wooden smile concealed the surprise he felt at Roberta’s extraordinary behavior.

“As I have no intention of leaving until I have seen Sir Nicholas, you will be well advised to inform him I am here,” she said, removing each finger from her glove with short, deliberate tugs.

Jenkins shrugged in resignation and moved away, but not before Roberta glimpsed the smile that was beginning to spread across his face. Her anger deepened at this display of insolence, and by the time he returned with the news that Sir Nicholas was willing to receive her, her temper had reached its breaking point.

“If you’ll step this way, Miss Rushforth,” he said, “Sir Nicholas is in his study.”

She followed Jenkins quickly and waited for him to withdraw before beginning her tirade. “Sir,” she said in righteous tones, “I have borne much from you since you insinuated your way into my life, appearing in my bedroom in the dead of night, involving me with a French comte of despicable character and forcing my companion and me to undertake a journey fraught with danger. Then I knew you to be a man of questionable moral conduct, and later I suspected you of committing serious crimes against the state. But when you betrayed the trust my uncle placed in you, by having the
audacity
to propose a liaison of the basest kind with my personal servant, then, sir, you earned my deepest contempt. No matter what I think of the comte,” she concluded, trembling with indignation, “he was correct last night when he called you a man without honor.”

Sir Nicholas’s reaction was not at all what Roberta expected. His raised eyebrow suggested his surprise at her attack, but the quirk of his lips expressed an amusement that infuriated her all the more. When she saw his smile widen, she became so incensed that she stepped over to him and slapped her gloves across his cheek.

“I refuse to allow you to make fun of me this time,” she declared, watching with mixed feelings of satisfaction and dismay as a large red welt appeared on his face. “Unless you give me your word that you will immediately cease your pursuit of my maid, I will inform my uncle.”

Sir Nicholas threw back his head and laughed. “My dear Miss Rushforth,” he gasped, “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’ve been hounding your maid, but I hasten to reassure you that you have been wrongly informed. Why, I don’t even know the girl’s name. Now, please, I beg you, take a deep breath to calm your nerves and tell me exactly what has caused your agitated state.”

Roberta stared at him, aghast. She could not mistake the sincerity of his words and was mortified by her mistake. “I—I—Oh, dear! I—I must have misunderstood Polly. When she heard we were to visit you, she said she couldn’t bear to face you. In fact, she begged me not to come, because she was so upset by the prospect of seeing you again.”

“Aha! The charming Polly. Are you quite sure she mentioned me by name?” he inquired, his eyes dancing with laughter.

Roberta shook her head. “I assumed it was you she meant. Who else could it be?”

“One of my servants, perhaps?” he suggested quietly. As that possibility had not occurred to her, she felt renewed humiliation at the obviousness of his suggestion. It had become a habit, she conceded to herself ruefully, to believe the worst of him.

“I hope you will accept my apologies,” she said lamely. “I can’t think why I acted so rashly on such circumstantial evidence.”

“It’s quite all right, Miss Rushforth,” Sir Nicholas said gallantly. “Please don’t be so abject. It doesn’t suit you!”

“But I am truly sorry, Sir Nicholas, and quite ashamed of myself. If you will tell me which of your servants she was referring to, I will speak with him immediately.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary. I know whom Polly meant, and you must believe me when I say that his affection for her is genuine. If my household were run on ordinary lines, I know he would marry her. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, and he doesn’t feel that he can offer your Polly a life she would enjoy. Whatever transpired between them is their affair, and I don’t think either of us should interfere.”

Roberta was surprised by the understanding note in his voice and found herself agreeing with his advice. “It’s a pity, nonetheless,” she added, “that they can’t be given the chance to find happiness with each other.”

“I did offer my man employment at Stanway, but he refused.”

“You mean so that he could marry Polly? Then why did he decline the offer?”

“On my account, I’m afraid. He has been with me a long time and will not be persuaded that I can dispense with his services. He’s right, of course, for not only is he a trusted servant; he’s my protector as well.”

“Poor Polly!” Roberta exclaimed. “It’s awful how shabbily life treats the lower classes.”

“I don’t think you need repine, Miss Rushforth. We all get over life’s disappointments eventually. Polly can be thankful she has a comfortable position, a charming mistress and a warm bed every night.”

“I suppose so. Most women, though, dream of other fulfillments. No matter; as you say, she will recover,” she added hastily, not wanting to discuss those “other fulfillments” with Sir Nicholas.

“Now that we have agreed upon that, perhaps you will tell me what prompted you to visit me in the first place,” he said. “Has the comte been bothering you again?”

“No, I don’t see him until the morning. Actually, I came to speak with you because I didn’t think you would have taken anything I wrote on the subject seriously.”

“Pray continue. You have aroused my interest.”

“Well,” Roberta began awkwardly, for now that she had to address herself to the dream, she felt silly. “It’s Mrs. Ashley and her prophetic dreams. You
see…”