Parfit Knight (13 page)

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Authors: Stella Riley

Tags: #romance, #history, #humour, #duel, #18th century, #highwaymen, #parrot, #london 1774, #vauxhall garden

BOOK: Parfit Knight
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A tiny nagging
fear was growing in Robert’s brain but he was unable to resist the
opportunity of indulging in a little subtle malice. ‘Oh quite – and
I daresay there’s nothing in it for all Amberley’s such a shocking
flirt.’


Is
he?’

‘So I’ve heard.
There have been any number of girls who expected him to offer for
them – all of ‘em disappointed. And one – a Mistress Irwin – was
made a complete fool of when he paid her the most marked attentions
and then ran off to Paris with – with someone else.’ Rather pleased
with this skilful blend of fact and fiction, he went on carelessly,
‘I suppose he’s something of a rake – but there’s nothing in that.
After all, who isn’t?’

Lord Philip
fixed him with a level blue stare. ‘I’m not. And I don’t find it
any recommendation. Do you?’

‘God, no!’
scoffed Robert airily. ‘I’ve never been much in the petticoat line
myself. But it’s not generally frowned on so long as one is
discreet. And Amberley is. At least, he’s only been out once, as
far as I know – and that was years ago.’

‘You seem to
know a great deal about him.’

‘Only what
anyone could tell you.’

‘Really?’
Philip raised an ironic brow. ‘Then he can’t be all that discreet,
can he? And if I find he’s been trifling with Rosalind, he’ll have
the chance of a second meeting. With me.’ He paused consideringly.
‘And even if he’s behaved with perfect propriety, I fancy he still
has some explaining to do. Any gentleman should know better than
spend a week with an unchaperoned girl and I’d like to know what
prevented him from going to an inn – not to mention what made him
stop at Oakleigh in the first place. It all seems damned peculiar
to me.’

Robert found
himself in a slight quandary. He had three thousand very good
reasons for wishing his future brother-in-law to remain on less
than friendly terms with Amberley but he suddenly realised that if
he went too far in pursuit of this goal, he might well precipitate
the kind of revelation that must at all costs be avoided. He
decided to temporise a little.

‘Well,
Amberley’s always been a law unto himself – but I shouldn’t worry
about it, I expect it’s all harmless enough. Besides, he only
singles out the real diamonds and your sister is blind, isn’t she?’
His tone put Rosalind’s sightlessness into the same category as
squints, buck-teeth and pimples.

An expression
of dislike crept into Philip’s sapphire gaze. ‘You haven’t met her,
have you?’

‘No. Why?’

‘Because, if
you had, you’d know better,’ came the inimical response. ‘And now,
if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to be at Oakleigh in time for dinner
and I naturally want to call on Isabel before I leave.’

This cavalier
dismissal put a spark of resentment into Robert’s eye but he forced
himself to accept it with apparent good-humour. Captain Lord Philip
was quite rich enough to make it worth the effort.

‘There’s no
need for you to see Bella. I can explain it all to her for
you.’

‘Thank you. But
since I had promised to escort both Isabel and your mother to
Bedford House tonight, I think the least I can do is to offer my
apologies in person,’ said Philip coolly. ‘And I should be obliged
if you will treat this matter with the strictest confidence. I
don’t wish my sister to become the object of club-room
speculation.’

‘Of course
not,’ replied Robert stiffly. ‘But in that case, you’ll have to
refrain from challenging Amberley, won’t you?’ On which Parthian
shot, he took his leave.

Philip
discovered that he was becoming more than a little tired of Mr
Dacre – a fact which owed more to that single, slighting reference
to Rosalind than to the three thousand guinea loan which he was
well aware he had little hope of ever seeing again. But just now he
had more important matters to consider and he promptly forgot his
betrothed’s tedious brother in a flurry of preparations for his
journey.

An hour later
he was on the point of leaving for Viscount Linton’s residence in
Clarges Street when a phaeton drew up outside his door and its
driver tossed the reins into the hands of his groom and jumped
lightly down on to the flagway. Lord Philip stood frozen at the top
of the steps and stared.


You
!’
he said incredulously.

‘Ah.’ Amberley
surveyed him thoughtfully. ‘I have the strangest presentiment that
someone’s been telling tales. Dearest Letty’s weasely mama, at a
guess.’

In spite of
himself, Philip’s mouth relaxed a little. ‘Yes. She doesn’t like
you.’

‘No? Then that
makes it entirely mutual.’ The Marquis paused and then said gently,
‘They say the east wind brings on rheumatism and one can’t be too
careful at my advanced age. Do you think we might go inside?’

Unsure of how
to take this, Philip flushed and led the way wordlessly into the
house. As at their first meeting, Amberley had managed to set him
at a disadvantage and Philip, irritated that he’d allowed that
description of Lady Warriston to arouse a brief feeling of kinship,
suspected him of doing it on purpose.

In fact, he did
the Marquis an injustice for Amberley had no such intention. It was
merely that the prospect of constructive action enabled him to
resume his normal manner and the amusement in his voice was in no
way meant as mockery. He simply assumed that, like his sister,
Philip’s sense of humour was lively enough to banish constraint and
put them on a tolerably amicable footing. That Philip had other
reasons to mistrust him never crossed his mind and, because of it,
the quagmire of misunderstanding was destined to deepen with every
step.

He followed
Lord Philip into the drawing room and subjected him to a reflective
stare as the tall, blue-coated figure with its powdered head was
replaced in his mind’s eye by an anxious, dark-haired
fourteen-year-old. Philip tolerated the uncomfortably penetrating
gaze for as long as he thought necessary and then said, ‘Will you
not be seated, my lord?’

‘Thank you.’ He
smiled. ‘You are remarkably like your sister.’

Philip bowed
slightly but his mouth was again set in uncompromising lines and he
said nothing.

Taking this
failure philosophically, Amberley came to the point.

‘I’m here –
amongst other things – to tender my thanks for the hospitality of
your house. I am only sorry that I was forced to accept it without
your knowledge.’

‘Forced?’
Philip shot him a sharp glance. ‘How so?’

‘You don’t
know? No – you wouldn’t, of course. Doubtless Lady Warriston had
other things she was desperate to tell you.’

‘Quite. Though
she did mention something about a corpse on the road.’

‘My fault, I’m
afraid. But did she also mention,’ asked his lordship pleasantly,
‘that the last mortal act of this corpse was to hold up my carriage
and shoot my coachman? For that, you see, was the reason for my
presence in your home. It was dark and snowing heavily and my man
would almost certainly have bled to death if I’d attempted to reach
Hadham Cross.’

‘I see.’ Of
course the fellow
would
have to be a damned hero and go
about shooting footpads, thought Philip unreasonably. ‘But you
stayed at Oakleigh.’

Conquering his
dislike of self-justification, Amberley said briefly, ‘That first
night I was thankful to do so. Thereafter I had no choice.’

‘Because of the
snow?’

‘Precisely.’
Grey-green eyes held blue with unexpected austerity. ‘I can all too
easily imagine the tenor of Lady Warriston’s letter – but I hope I
don’t need to tell you that your sister received no disrespect at
my hands. I was as fully alive to the impropriety of the situation
as you could possibly wish.’ He paused and gave a sudden and very
infectious smile. ‘And Lawson was pleased to approve – which I hope
will be as big a comfort to you as it was to me.’

Philip resisted
the impulse to grin back. He was prepared to accept that if Lawson
had been satisfied with Amberley’s conduct then it must indeed have
been exemplary; but there were still too many other things weighing
against him.

‘On the other
hand,’ continued the Marquis imperturbably, ‘I can see that you
have every right to be worried. Mistress Vernon’s position is –
forgive me – as irregular as it is unhappy.’

‘I
beg
your pardon?’ snapped Philip, startled.

‘You sound
surprised – but it must surely have occurred to you before,’ said
Amberley with raised brows. ‘A week ago I’d merely have said that
she should not be living alone save for a parcel of servants,
however devoted they may be;
now
I’m of the opinion that … ‘
He paused as if choosing his words.

‘Oh don’t stop
there,’ said Philip sarcastically. ‘I’m fascinated, I assure
you.’

‘I was about to
say that I’m of the opinion that the problem is more complex than
the mere lack of a chaperone. I perfectly appreciate the
circumstances that have prevented you from spending much time at
Oakleigh – but have you ever really tried to imagine what her life
there is like?’

‘I don’t
need
to imagine it!’ came the indignant reply. ‘I know what
it’s like – and much better than you. She has every comfort. And
though naturally I’m aware that it isn’t exactly ideal – ‘

‘It’s far from
ideal. And material comfort has absolutely nothing to do with it.
Oh – I don’t doubt that you love her and I know that her entire
household staff does – but it isn’t enough. To be frank, Lord
Philip, your sister is in a cage and I think it’s time she was set
free. Don’t you?’

‘What I think
is that you haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,’
retorted Philip, thoroughly nettled. ‘What the devil gives you the
right to come here telling me how to look after my own sister when
less than ten days ago you’d never clapped eyes on her?’

There was a
long silence. Finally, smiling oddly, Amberley said, ‘My apologies.
I’m doing it rather badly, aren’t I? Perhaps it will help you to
bear with me if I say that I mean well. For I do, you know.’

For the second
time in half an hour, Philip suffered the irritating sensation of
having been put in the wrong.

‘I daresay you
do,’ he said grudgingly, ‘but I can’t see what difference it makes.
There is nothing to discuss.’

The grey-green
eyes grew suddenly hard.

‘You are
mistaken. Your sister is beautiful, intelligent and twenty-two
years old and she is wasting her days being civil to Letty
Warriston and her like or waiting for the rector’s daughter to come
and read to her. She’s immured in what is little more than a
luxurious prison with no one to talk to but servants and a
temperamental parrot. And if you think that’s good enough, you must
be bloody insensitive.’

Philip came
abruptly to his feet, eyes blazing and voice tight with temper.

‘I think, my
lord, you have said more than enough.’

Lithe as a cat,
the Marquis also stood up. ‘I doubt it very much.’

Philip opened
his mouth and then closed it again as if he couldn’t trust himself
to speak. Then, drawing a long, unsteady breath, he said frigidly,
‘Very well – finish it. I’m sure you have some startlingly original
suggestion you would like to make.’

‘You
over-estimate me,’ replied Amberley coolly. ‘I merely wondered why
you don’t bring her to London and introduce her to society.’

Philip gaped at
him and then gave a brief, scornful laugh.

‘Now I know
you’re raving. You must be if you think
that
a viable
solution.’

‘And why do you
think it isn’t?’

‘Because, Lord
Amberley – although it seems to have escaped your attention – my
sister is blind.’

‘I know that.
So?’

‘What do you
mean – so? Isn’t it obvious? Away from Oakleigh she couldn’t stir a
step without someone to guide her. And how the hell do you think
she’d cope with balls and routs and all the rest of it?’

‘I think she’d
surprise you,’ came the calm reply. ‘And as for needing to be
guided – I don’t imagine there would be any shortage of
volunteers.’

‘Oh wonderful!
That’s all I need!’ said Philip in exasperation. ‘Rose may be
two-and-twenty but she’s no more idea of how to deal with
that
kind of attention than a – ‘

‘Then it’s time
she learned. Or are you going to let her die an old maid simply
because you’re not prepared to put up with a little inconvenience?’
asked the Marquis, walking to the door. ‘If so, she is indeed
unfortunate.’

Philip flushed
to the roots of his hair. ‘Are you saying that I’m selfish?’

‘Not
necessarily.’ Amberley turned slowly to eye him with an air of
dispassionate appraisal. ‘What I’m saying is that you should ask
yourself if you are. My own opinion, for what it’s worth, is that
you want what’s best for her but are so completely hide-bound by
convention that you’ll never achieve it. Or not unless you
cultivate a little imagination. Your servant, sir.’ And with a
swift, elegant bow, he turned on his heel and went out.

Philip was left
prey to a multitude of heated and very mixed emotions, foremost
amongst which was a desire to knock Lord Amberley’s teeth down his
throat; a desire that was only strengthened by the infuriating
suspicion that much of what the Marquis had said might actually be
true. Captain Lord Philip swore long and fluently to the empty room
and then flung out of the house to pour all his pent-up grievances
into the gentle, understanding ears of his bride-to-be.

Isabel Dacre, a
diminutive brunette with large, pansy-brown eyes, listened in
responsive but increasingly baffled silence and then, when his
lordship finally paused for breath, said quietly, ‘I’m sorry – but
I don’t quite see what’s upsetting you so. Not unless you think
that the Marquis might be right.’

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