Intriguing Lady (24 page)

Mrs. Ashley shrugged. “There was a duel, and—and Sir Nicholas injured Mr. Davenport.”

Roberta’s joyous reaction to this disclosure clearly puzzled Mrs. Ashley, and she hastily added that it was only a dream and bore no reality to life.

“You are probably right, Ashley,” Roberta responded lightly. “But in this instance, it might well turn out to be the truth.”

Chapter 18

The intricately embossed envelope that the butler handed to Roberta as Mrs. Ashley was pouring tea aroused her curiosity. It also served to divert her from the interview she had just had with Lord Bromley, which had left her feeling most disgruntled.

“I can’t think who it can be from,” she remarked, and wrinkled her nose in distaste at the perfume with which the note was drenched. “None of my friends indulge themselves in this latest fad of scenting their missives.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t open it,” Mrs. Ashley declared. “Hurry, child, it might be another letter of support in response to your contretemps with Stephen Davenport.”

Roberta laughed at her companion’s impatience. “I think I will wait until after tea, and spend more time contemplating the many notes I have already received. I thought it was extremely magnanimous of Mrs. Pinson to write, didn’t you? I didn’t even see her last night.” With deliberate slowness, she placed the letter on the table in front of her.

Mrs. Ashley sniffed and pulled a face. “The scent is awful, isn’t it? I think you’d best open it and read the contents; then we can burn it and get rid of the smell.”

“Oh, very well!” Roberta said, and with a show of reluctance, slit open the envelope. “Why, it’s an invitation to join Lady Anita for supper tonight,” she exclaimed. “She apologizes for Stephen’s behavior and wishes to know how to make amends.” She read on a little further and then added, “Oh! Isn’t this sweet of her, Ashley? Here, I’ll read it to you: ‘If you are agreeable, as indeed I hope you will be, for I have long desired to make myself known to you, I will send my carriage around at seven-thirty in order that we can enjoy a comfortable coze over dinner!’”

“I think you should accept,” Mrs. Ashley said, “for I believe if you can reach an accommodation with Lady Anita, it will go a long way to silencing the gossips.”

“My own thoughts exactly,” Roberta said. “Will you join me, Ashley?”

“My company might prove something of an encumbrance, don’t you think? If the two of you are left alone, you are likely to talk more freely. Take Polly with you, and I will retire early, for I really am feeling very tired today.”

*

As Roberta dressed for dinner that evening, she recalled her discussion with her uncle earlier that afternoon. The proprietary attitude Lord Bromley had adopted with her still rankled. He had deftly avoided answering her questions about his whereabouts all day, and had laughed heartily when she had mentioned her belief that Sir Nicholas had challenged Stephen to a duel.

“A most preposterous suggestion,” he had said. “Why, Nicholas and I are dining together tonight at my club. He would hardly have agreed to join me if that was his intention.”

“Are you not concerned about the possibility that the comte might try to take Tytler’s letter whilst you are out?” she countered irritably.

“By the same token, my dear, the comte is not likely to attempt to steal the note if he knows I am at home, and since our goal is to catch him red-handed, so to speak, we prefer to encourage rather than discourage him. I can’t guess what method he will use to gain entry to my study, but as long as you and Ashley retire early, and keep to your rooms, I do not envisage any problems.”

“Well, I do,” Roberta said. “And I can’t like the idea of the comte being allowed to run free in our home.”

“I assure you, Roberta, you will be fully protected. I have replaced the servants with my own men for the night. If the comte does come tonight and tries to take anything but that letter, he will find his way completely blocked.”

She had nodded reluctantly, but on receipt of Lady Anita’s letter, she hadn’t hesitated to change her plans for the evening.

Just then, the front-door knocker sounded, and she allowed Polly to put the finishing touches to her toilette. She looked extraordinarily fetching, in a simple blue chiffon dress caught beneath her breasts by a ribbon of a deeper blue.

Lady Anita’s coachman was most solicitous and handed Roberta into the luxurious carriage with due deference, leaving Polly to scramble in unaided. He inquired of Roberta if she was in need of a blanket, and when she shook her head, he folded the fox fur neatly and placed it on the seat beside her. When he had satisfied himself that she was comfortable, he closed the door, and they were on their way.

When the coach came to a halt, Roberta peered out into the inky blackness. As her eyes accustomed themselves to the dark, she frowned. “Where on earth are we?” she exclaimed.

“I dunno, Miss Roberta,” Polly said. “It din’t look like Portman Place to me, though.”

Suddenly the door opened, and a man, muffled, hatted and caped, climbed in. He closed the door quickly. Polly screamed, and the man put his hand over her mouth. Roberta quickly tried to open the door, but the man commanded her to stay seated.

“I wouldn’t do anything foolish if I were you, Roberta,” he added, “else this young lady might suffer.”

“Stephen!” she cried. “Don’t be so ridiculous. Unhand Polly this instant and tell me what this is all about.”

“So you were really taken in by my letter, were you?” he said, pushing Polly away. “Obviously the comte knows you far better than I thought.”

“Is—is he behind this—this abduction?” Roberta stammered, momentarily unable to hide her fear. “What does he want with me? Where are you taking us?”

“Oh, Miss Roberta,” Polly interjected in a frightened voice. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“Be quiet, Polly,” Roberta commanded more sharply than she intended. “I don’t think Mr. Davenport will tolerate your hysterics with kindness.” Polly slumped back on the seat, a look of sheer terror on her face. “Answer me, Stephen,” Roberta continued. “Where are you taking us?”

“So many questions, my dear,” Stephen said. “If I tell you we are going to visit your papa, will that suffice?”

“My papa!” Roberta exclaimed in honor as a terrible realization dawned on her. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” She fought valiantly to stem the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. Finally, she succeeded, by forcing herself to think how Sir Nicholas would react in such a situation. “Take me home, Stephen,” she said with studied nonchalance. “You know my papa has been dead these past twenty years.”

“And it was my duty to inform the comte of that fact,” Stephen responded with a sneer.

Roberta felt a surge of anger at his treacherous words, and she struck at him blindly. He caught her hand easily, however, and held in in an iron grip.

“Did you honestly believe the comte wouldn’t discover you’d tricked him? What a little fool you were, and what bigger fools your uncle and Sir Nicholas have been.”

Roberta pulled her hand free and moved to the far side of the seat, so that she was opposite Polly. She felt more comfortable now that she had put some distance between herself and Stephen, and she relaxed slightly.

“We have not been as stupid as you,” she said calmly. “For any man who thinks he can betray his country without being found out lives in a fool’s paradise. My uncle will see that you pay for your duplicity.”

Stephen laughed. “You are the only one who knows, my dear, and after the comte has had his way with you, I doubt anyone will listen to what you have to say.”

“Does that mean you are taking me to his house of ill repute in Richmond?” she inquired.

“Aha, so you know of that, do you? We will go there eventually. But first we have to return to Grosvenor Square and pick up the comte.”

Roberta sat bolt upright. If they were to return home, there was a possibility of escape, surely?

But Stephen, as if reading her mind, laughed. “I wouldn’t make any attempt to escape, if I were you,” he said callously, “for I will not hesitate to use this.” He produced a pistol from the folds of his traveling cape and brandished it in the air. It glinted menacingly in the flickering carriage-light. “Sit back, my dear, and relax.”

Roberta obeyed reluctantly. “You can put it away, Stephen. I won’t give you cause to use it.” She spoke coldly, for she was determined not to let him see how frightened she really was. “What business has the comte at my uncle’s home?” she inquired. “My uncle is out for the evening, and there will be no one there to receive him.”

“How perceptive of you, my dear. But that is precisely what the comte wants. A few minutes of privacy in your uncle’s study, to find a certain letter.”

“A letter?” Roberta questioned, feigning ignorance. “I don’t understand. Anyway, I’m sure he will have wasted his time, for the servants will not admit him into the house if no one is there.”

“The comte, my dear, is not that stupid. He will be admitted, because he bears a message, supposedly signed by Lord Bromley, summoning him to Grosvenor Square. The footman will have no choice but to invite him in. He will insist on being shown into the study—in fact, that is probably happening even as I speak—he will then conduct a thorough search for the required document. In approximately ten minutes, he will inform the footman that he can no longer wait, and he will leave. We shall be outside, waiting for him.”

“You sound very certain of his success, Stephen,” Roberta remarked. “What happens if he fails to find this—this letter?” But she knew he wouldn’t, for her uncle had shown her exactly where he was going to leave it—on top of his desk, with a paperweight on it. “Why is it so important, anyway?” she added. “What does it contain that he dares take so great a risk? I mean, my uncle might return and discover him in the middle of his search.”

“I doubt it, Roberta. For, if I’m not mistaken, your uncle and Sir Nicholas are at this very moment heading for Richmond. They have been led to believe that Sir Lacey Stigmore is there and is in trouble.” He broke off and laughed as Roberta gasped in horror. “It is my one regret that I will not be at Richmond when they walk into the trap that has been set for them.”

“What trap?” Roberta cried. “What is going to happen to my uncle and Ni—Sir Nicholas?”

“I find your concern for
Nicholas
quite touching,” Stephen sneered. “It’s remarkable that your own fate, and that of your maid’s, doesn’t weigh so heavily on your mind. Could it be that you have allowed yourself to fall in love with the man you are about to marry?”

“No—no, it’s not true,” she cried out, refusing to acknowledge the truth of his words. “It’s my uncle’s safety that concerns me. He is an old man, and not used to violence.”

“Then you should be relieved to learn that Lord Bromley will be released in the morning, when he will be free to return to London.”

“And Sir Nicholas?”

Stephen shook his head. “I’m not at liberty to discuss his fate. But as for you and your maid, you will both sail with the comte and myself to France tonight.”

Roberta gasped. “Surely you don’t intend to take us with you.”

“Why not? Your presence will be our guarantee for a safe exit. The comte will explain what he expects from you, when he joins us. And if you’re wise, Roberta, you won’t disobey, for he has an unpleasant way of compelling people to comply with his dictates.”

Roberta stared at him aghast. How could she have underestimated the comte so?

“Is there no way I can persuade you to change your mind, Stephen?” she asked in one last desperate attempt to play on his sympathy. “Are you so lost to all sense of decency that you would refuse to help me escape?”

“Don’t play on my emotions, Roberta,” he snapped. “I offered you carte blanche when you returned from France, and you refused. Now you must face the consequences of that decision.”

“I don’t understand you, Stephen,” she said. “I thought you loved me. Was that all a lie?”

He seemed to waver, and Roberta was about to press on, when the coach came to a halt outside her uncle’s house.

“Damn you, Roberta, be quiet. I made the mistake once before of allowing my desire for you to overcome my sense of duty. It won’t happen again.”

Tears of defeat flooded her eyes, and she turned her head to hide them from Stephen. She clenched her fists tightly as she fought to regain control of herself, and glanced out of the window. Her gaze rested on the oak tree, and for a moment she thought her imagination was playing tricks on her. She blinked several times to clear her vision and nearly cried out in joy when she recognized Davids leaning against the tree. Another idea took shape in her mind, and she fumbled in her reticule for her handkerchief.

She kicked Polly, who was sitting opposite her, and the maid yelped in terror.

“What is it, Polly?” she asked anxiously. “Do you feel sick? Please, Stephen, open this window a fraction, else I’m afraid Polly will be ill.” She slid over to sit next to her.

Stephen hesitated.

“For heaven’s sake, hurry. No one from the house will notice if you open this one,” she said, indicating the one window that faced the gardens. She dug Polly in the ribs, and the girl cried out again.

Stephen quickly pulled the window down six inches. “This will have to suffice,” he said. “But, I’m warning you, Roberta, don’t do anything that will force me to use this pistol.”