Intriguing Lady (22 page)

“You are a foolish drunkard, Davenport,” Sir Nicholas said coldly. “This time, I will excuse your behavior, but never again presume to address me in such a fashion.”

“What do you know about anything?” Stephen demanded. “She’s drawn a spider’s web over your eyes, as she did mine. You’re the fool, Sir Nicholas, not me. I know her for what she is.”

Sir Nicholas’s eyes blazed angrily as Roberta tried to pull him away. “I demand that you apologize to Miss Rushforth immediately,” he said, shaking off her hand. “I cannot allow your insults to go unchallenged.”

“Please, Nicholas, it doesn’t matter,” Roberta murmured anxiously. “He’s deliberately trying to provoke you. Take heed of your advice to me. Ignore him, and perhaps he will go away.”

“Don’t tell me you are going to let her ride over you in such a fashion,” Stephen sneered. “Isn’t it about time you took a stand?”

“I have taken a stand, Davenport, and I’m still awaiting your apology,” Sir Nicholas responded coldly. “Do you make one or not?”

“Your concern for the lady’s feelings is quite touching, but I’m damned if I can see why you should be so bothered. She is, as all of London knows, the one who jilted me, and will now, quite obviously, remain on the shelf for the rest of her life.”

“Stephen!” Roberta exclaimed in horror. “How can you be so cruel?” She swayed against Sir Nicholas, oblivious to the crowd that had started to gather.

“You had best retract your words, Davenport,” Sir Nicholas said quietly.

“What right do you have to demand such a thing?”

“I asked Miss Rushforth, not fifteen minutes ago, to become my wife. That, I think, gives me the right to demand an apology from you.” He grasped Roberta firmly about the waist, giving credence to his claim, and smiled at her. “Well, Davenport?”

Roberta returned his smile tremulously, a sudden surge of joy making her heart beat rapidly at the prospect, nay, even the possibility of marrying Sir Nicholas. Almost as swiftly, though, her smile faded as she was forced to acknowledge it had not been a true declaration, merely a ploy to avoid embarrassment to her.

Her spirits sagged, and she wondered how she had managed to delude herself as to her true feelings for so long.

“Do I have to ask you again, Davenport?” Sir Nicholas’s voice, clipped in anger, brought Roberta to her senses.

There was only one thing to do, she thought, before the ugly scene turned into a nightmare, and that was to persuade Sir Nicholas to take her back to Lord Bromley immediately.

“I—I—don’t believe you,” Stephen blustered even as Roberta tugged at Sir Nicholas’s sleeve. “Is it really so, Roberta?”

The crowd seemed to hold its breath as it waited for Roberta’s response, and then sighed its disappointment when, instead of answering Stephen, she turned to Sir Nicholas and in a firm, clear voice asked if they could not go in search of her uncle. “And I can only hope,” she added, drawing on the last reserves of her strength, “that we will not be subjected to another of Stephen’s Cheltenham Tragedies.”

Much to her relief, Sir Nicholas nodded. But he gave her cause for further concern when he halted and turned back to face Stephen.

“I will deal with you later, Davenport,” he said.

“Please, Nicholas,” Roberta begged. “Let us go now.”

The crowd parted with some reluctance to allow Sir Nicholas and Roberta to pass, and broke out in excited chatter when they had disappeared from view. Stephen slipped away, unnoticed.

Roberta allowed Sir Nicholas to guide her along the passage. Tears of rage and frustration pricked her eyelids, making it impossible for her to see clearly, although, her mortification at the insults Stephen had flung at her was as nothing, compared to her fear for Sir Nicholas’s safety. She was convinced the comte was behind Stephen’s deplorable behavior.

Sir Nicholas felt her distress keenly, but wisely did not express his concern. “It puzzled me, Roberta, what attraction Davenport held for you,” he said in bracing tones. “I find him to be the most tedious of men.”

“He is, isn’t he?” she responded in a small voice. “But, Nicholas, I do wish you hadn’t compromised yourself so on my account.”

“I have done nothing of the sort,” he said. “And, what is more, I am still awaiting your acceptance of my proposal.”

“I—I cannot. You know that. However, I shall be eternally grateful for your intervention.” She gave him a watery smile before continuing. “Please, please promise me you won’t seek an apology from Stephen. I’m truly afraid of the consequences.”

“I will on the condition that you don’t reject my suit, at least for a while. I’m of the mind that we will manage to overcome any gossip if we stay together.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Roberta said unhappily.

“Then I think you should let your uncle decide. Here he is now.”

“Good heavens, Nicholas, what is this I hear?” Lord Bromley asked as he hurried up to them. “Some wild rumor has just reached the library, that you have proposed to Roberta.”

Sir Nicholas nodded. “And I’m depending on you to persuade your niece to accept,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, I have just left Ashley proclaiming to all her cronies that she’s not in the least bit surprised by the news,” Lord Bromley returned. “So, naturally, I had to pretend an equal lack of astonishment.”

“Please, Uncle, say no more for the moment,” Roberta begged. “Let us all go home and discuss how we can extricate Nicholas from this situation with the least possible fuss. Stephen forced him into making the declaration, and—and I refuse to accept it.”

Lord Bromley glanced at Sir Nicholas in alarm. “Very well, my child,” he said gently after Sir Nicholas had nodded. “Nicholas, take her to my carriage. I will collect Ashley and join you outside.”

The short journey to Grosvenor Square was accomplished in silence.

Sir Nicholas, who had walked from his lodgings to the drum and consequently was without transport, sat beside Roberta. He glanced down at her several times, as if to reassure himself that she was all right. But that was the only indication he gave of the concern he felt. His face was a mask, although inwardly he was cursing himself for underrating Stephen and allowing such a scene to take place.

Mrs. Ashley eyed the couple with misgivings. She had been overjoyed when the news of the engagement had reached her. Her moment of triumph, however, had been short-lived. When Lord Bromley rejoined her in the library and told her that it was all a ghastly mistake, she felt sick with disappointment. There was no understanding Roberta, and she couldn’t comprehend why her charge would reject such an advantageous marriage.

Roberta, looking pale and dejected, sat primly on the edge of her seat. She couldn’t understand her companion’s silence, but was grateful for it. She was acutely conscious of Sir Nicholas’s presence and wondered if he already regretted his hasty proposal.

Who could have guessed that her return to England would end in such confusion and unhappiness? It would be so tempting to accept his offer, albeit on a temporary basis, and thus avoid any immediate embarrassment. But could she bring herself to use so noble a man in such a cowardly way?

By the time Williams had halted the carriage outside Lord Bromley’s house, she had convinced herself she couldn’t. She would accept the consequences of her decision as bravely as possible. If Society shunned her, she could always return to the Continent until the incident had been forgotten.

She allowed Lord Bromley to help her inside the house and stood mutely to one side as Mrs. Ashley bid everyone good night.

“Let us adjourn to the drawing room,” Lord Bromley said, “and discuss the implications of this affair in private.” He ushered Roberta and Sir Nicholas into the room and closed the door behind him. “I, for one, Roberta, am convinced that you must accept the situation for the moment, no matter how repugnant it is to you.”

Sir Nicholas raised his eyebrows at this but remained silent. Although he himself wouldn’t have addressed Roberta in those terms, he had to believe that Lord Bromley, with his knowledge of his niece’s moods, knew best.

Perhaps if Sir Nicholas had spoken at that point, Roberta would have had reason to change her mind. But his silence convinced her that he was no more willing than she to become embroiled in such an embarrassing situation. Consequently, she remained firm in her resolve to refuse him.

“I don’t agree, Uncle,” she said gravely. “I can’t see whose best interests it would serve. Certainly not mine or Sir Nicholas’s. I am prepared to face the consequences of my decision, and I’m certain Nicholas will accept it without argument. Indeed, Nicholas,” she continued with a hollow laugh, “I expect you to feel infinitely relieved in the morning that I refused to avail myself of your very kind offer.”

“Will you listen to me for a moment, Roberta?” Sir Nicholas asked. He felt an overwhelming admiration for her show of courage and had to fight the urge to embrace her. “With your uncle’s permission, I will gladly marry you to avoid causing you unnecessary suffering.” His words surprised everyone, including himself.

“Egad, Nicholas!” Lord Bromley exclaimed. “That is most handsome of you.”

Roberta had to struggle to check the anger she felt at this humiliating proposal. What right had any man to be so condescending? she thought. Especially one who had yet to succumb to the torments and uncertainties of loving another being. She became aware that both men were looking toward her, awaiting her answer.

“I think a marriage based on pity, Nicholas, would be disastrous,” she said with quite dignity. “My answer is no. Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will bid you good night. You have a meeting with Sir Lacey, I believe, and I’m sure you will want to prepare for it.” She left the room with unhurried grace before either man could speak.

“It would seem I have made a mull of matters,” Sir Nicholas observed ruefully. “I’m sorry, John. I had no other idea in mind than to ease Roberta’s suffering. I realize now how offensive I must have sounded.”

Lord Bromley shook his head wearily. “You were nothing of the kind, Nicholas,” he said. “Roberta is a wonderful young lady, but headstrong to a fault.”

Sir Nicholas laughed. “I liken her to an unbroken filly,” he murmured with affection. “Difficult to handle, even if one uses a firm hand. Now, about Davenport, John. Do you give me leave to deal with him?”

“In any way you see fit,” Lord Bromley replied. “What do you have in mind?”

“I thought to call him out while everyone is still under the impression that Roberta and I are betrothed. Then, if it should happen that he sustains a fatal injury, we can get by without announcing publicly that he was a traitor.”

Lord Bromley nodded. “Just insure
you
don’t sustain an injury, Nicholas.”

C
hapter 17

Roberta was surprised to see
a
strange young man already seated at the breakfast table. He was listening to Mrs. Ashley with a patient smile on his pleasant countenance even while suppressing a yawn.

“Ah, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley exclaimed as Roberta entered the room. “I’m so very glad you have joined us, for I don’t believe you have met Sir Lacey Stigmore. I can’t tell you what a delightful surprise it was to see him seated here. He had an early appointment with Lord Bromley, and your uncle insisted he stay and eat with us.”

As Sir Lacey sprang to his feet, Roberta inclined her head graciously. She, too, was grateful for this diversion and knew instinctively that her uncle had purposely arranged for Sir Lacey to stay in order to protect her from Mrs. Ashley’s questions.

“Sir Lacey,” she said pleasantly, “may I say how pleased I am to make your acquaintance?”

“Miss Rushforth,” he returned, bowing low.

“Please continue with whatever you were discussing,” Roberta said, “while I help myself.” She turned to the sideboard and served herself a small helping of shirred eggs from one of the many warming dishes on display.

As Roberta sat down opposite Sir Lacey, Mrs. Ashley urged her to have more. “I declare, you have quite lost the bloom to your cheeks you acquired in Switzerland,” she said.

“When were you in Switzerland?” Sir Lacey inquired. “I was there myself several years ago, but unfortunately, only for a fleeting visit.”

“And my stay, also unfortunately, was far too long.” Roberta laughed, grateful for his timely intervention. She found Mrs. Ashley’s fussing too much to bear today. “I was there for six months, undergoing treatment for a lung disorder.”

“I am sorry,” Sir Lacey responded. “It was nothing serious, I hope.”

“No, thank goodness,” Mrs. Ashley replied. “The specialists were wonderful, weren’t they, Roberta? The sanitorium we stayed in was more palatial than most manor houses I’ve seen in England. And the service was excellent.”

Roberta was content to let Mrs. Ashley carry the conversation. She studied Sir Lacey from beneath lowered lashes and decided she liked what she saw. His firm chin jutted out arrogantly, and his eyes, although red-rimmed from lack of sleep, seemed to constantly assess what he saw. He was not a handsome man, but she found the air of purpose about him attractive. In many ways, he reminded her of Sir Nicholas.

She sighed as the image of Sir Nicholas rose before her, and wondered if she would ever be able to face him again with any degree of calmness.

Roberta was aroused from her reverie by the appearance of Perkins, who coughed discreetly and passed her a note from Lord Bromley requesting her immediate presence. She interrupted Sir Lacey, much to Mrs. Ashley’s annoyance, and excused herself.