The Dangerous Lord Darrington (23 page)

The landlord scratched his head. ‘No more than three miles, sir, just off the Southampton road. Funny how things go,’ he remarked as he began to gather up their empty dishes. ‘I hired my gig to another lady this morning, who was wishful to go to Bourne Park.’

Beth’s eyes flew to the earl, excitement bubbling up within her.

‘That could be Mrs Graveney’s sister,’ she said brightly. ‘I know she was planning to visit very soon.’

‘Aye, that will be it.’ The landlord grinned at them. ‘Pity you didn’t arrive earlier, I think the poor lady would have been glad of your company—she seemed uncommon nervous to be travelling alone, her being foreign and her English not being that good.’

Beth could hardly contain herself until the man was out of the room again.

‘It can only be Madame de Beaune,’ she said excitedly, as soon as they were alone. ‘There is a moon tonight—if the landlord is right about the distance we could be there in an hour.’

‘Are you proposing to call upon a country gentleman at ten o’clock at night?’ The earl raised his brows. ‘He would not thank you for it.’

She put her hands together, prayer-like, and rested them against her mouth.

‘I know it,’ she said slowly, ‘but what if the attack at the White Bear was intended for the younger Madame, and not for her mother? What if the killer has followed her here? If anything else should happen…’

Beth knew she was pleading, but she was not ashamed of it. After a moment the earl nodded.

‘Very well. I will have the horses put to.’ He smiled at her. ‘Put on your cloak again, Mrs Forrester. We are going to Bourne Park.’

Driving in an open carriage at night was a new experience for Beth. They travelled through a world devoid of colour—everything was shades of grey in the dim light of the new moon. She kept her cloak pulled around her to protect against the chill air. They saw no other traffic and everything was still save for the occasional flight of a night bird, and once an owl swooped past on silent wings. The landlord’s directions proved accurate and some forty minutes later they found themselves at the gates of Bourne Lodge. The gates were closed and the drive curved away into a wall of trees so they could not see the house.

The earl handed the reins to Beth and jumped down. Beth watched him walk up to the gates and heard the rattle of a chain.

‘Locked.’ Even as he spoke there was a commotion in the park. Two snarling, barking shapes appeared out of the darkness and hurled themselves at the gates. The earl stepped away. ‘Guard dogs. Someone is protecting themselves.’ He glanced back at Beth, who was trying to calm the startled horses. ‘Can you handle them?’

‘Of course. They are not going to bolt with me.’ They had just grown quiet when a coarse shout from the park made the team throw up their heads again, snorting nervously.

‘Who goes there?’ She could just discern a man’s figure approaching the gates, his face a pale blur. As he came nearer the moonlight gleamed on the barrel of his shotgun. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘If this is Bourne Park, then we would like to see Mr Graveney,’ said the earl, raising his voice to make himself heard above the howling dogs.

‘Quiet, Samson, Ajax!’ The man cuffed the nearest dog and the noise subsided to a muted growl. ‘That’s as may be, but the master’s retired for the night and given orders that no one’s to be admitted.’

‘Very wise.’ The earl reached into his pocket and drew out a small silver case. There was a flash as he flicked it open. ‘Perhaps you would be so good as to give your master this card and tell him I shall call upon him in the morning.’

Beth was relieved to see that he kept his hands well back from the bars and the snapping jaws of the two dogs. Silently the man reached out and took the card.

‘Thank you.’ The earl tossed him a coin. ‘That is for your trouble. And there will be another for you if you are here to open the gates for us tomorrow morning—and those animals are chained up.’

‘That’s for the master to say,’ muttered the man, pocketing the coin and the card.

‘Of course.’ The earl climbed up beside Beth and took the reins from her. ‘But I think he will see us.’

With that he deftly turned the team and they trotted away.

‘I do not think we need fear for the lady’s safety tonight,’ he remarked as they sped back through the darkness.

‘I hope you are correct.’ She shuddered. ‘I would not like to enter the park with such dogs on the prowl.’

‘Nor I. But I am very hopeful that we have tracked down the elusive Madame de Beaune. There is nothing more to be done until the morning, so I suggest we go back to the inn for a cup of hot punch before we retire.’

Beth’s thoughts had been so taken up with finding Madame de Beaune that it was not until they were sitting by the fire in their private room that she began to feel self-conscious again in the earl’s company. They had discussed possible ways in which the murder at the White Bear might be connected with Simon, but nothing seemed to fit.

‘Perhaps we must accept that it was an unfortunate coincidence,’ remarked the earl as he leaned near the fire, stirring a small kettle of steaming punch.

‘I cannot believe it,’ replied Beth, frowning. ‘That someone should attack young Madame and steal her necklace, then two years later she should return to England and her mother-in-law is brutally murdered. There
must
be a connection.’

‘If not, then it is a sad indictment on our country.’ The earl paused to taste the punch. ‘There is one link we have not considered,’ he said, pouring more rum into the pot. Beth waited. ‘Miles Radworth.’

‘Miles?’ She laughed. ‘What has he to do with it?’

‘He was at the inn with your brother and the de Beaunes. Providential that he should turn up on the quay after the attack.’

‘Providential indeed,’ retorted Beth, her colour heightened. ‘He did his best to help Simon.’

‘Did he?’

The earl handed her a small mug of punch and she did not reply immediately. She considered his question while she inhaled the pungent aroma of the hot rum and lemons, thinking back over all Simon had told her.

‘Yes, he did,’ she said emphatically. ‘He told the constables they were making a mistake when they accused Simon and, after, he travelled all the way to Malpass to bring us news of Simon’s death.’

‘That is a lot of trouble to go to for a chance acquaintance.’

‘It speaks of a generosity that I cannot begin to match!’ she retorted. ‘When I think of how I have betrayed him…’

‘You have not betrayed Radworth,’ he replied curtly.

‘No, but I was sorely tempted.’

‘If there was no temptation, there would be little honour in resisting.’ He smiled at her over the rim of his cup. Hot, aching desire seared through her and she wondered how long her resistance could last when Guy was so close.

She kept her eyes lowered as she sipped at the hot, sweet liquid.

‘It is late and you are tired,’ he said, putting down his cup. ‘Come, let me escort you to your room.’

She picked up her cloak and accompanied him through the gloomy passages. The candles burning in the wall sconces made their shadows dance beside them like clownish attendants. A helpful bootboy directed them to the second floor.

‘It appears we are next door to each other,’ murmured Guy, opening her door. She hung back as he walked in before her, returning moments later with a candlestick bearing a small stub of candle, which he proceeded to light from one of the lamps in the passageway. ‘Here.’ He handed her the candlestick. ‘Goodnight, Mrs Forrester.’

Beth retreated into her room, locking the door behind her. She heard the squeak of a hinge and footsteps in the room next to hers. That would be Guy. She leaned against the door, unable to stop herself from smiling. When had she begun to think of him as Guy and not the Earl of Darrington?

It was difficult to remember when he had stopped being an unwelcome guest and become so indispensable to her comfort. Somewhere deep inside a tiny flame of hope flickered. Perhaps, when all this was over, there might be a way…

No! Quickly she thrust the thought aside. She dared not even consider the future until Simon was safe. She moved away from the door to inspect her room by the light of her single candle. Dark panelling stretched from ceiling to floor, unalleviated by any decoration save a small mirror on one wall. A large canopied bed took up most of the floor and a small washstand occupied one corner. She was making her way around the bed towards the window when she saw a line of light at the base of one wall. As she drew closer the candlelight revealed a raised edge to the panelling and she noticed a handle and below it a dull metal lock and key…

She jumped back with a gasp as the panelled door swung open. Guy stood in the aperture, a solid, black figure outlined by the lighted room behind him.

‘If you planned this…’ she began, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

‘No, no, I assure you, I bespoke separate rooms for us.’ There was the hint of laughter in his voice. ‘I fear the landlord may have misunderstood me.’ He looked around. ‘Why have you not lit your candles?’

He took the candlestick from her nerveless fingers.

‘I—I was about to do so.’ She said nothing more; she was not going to admit she had been standing in the darkness, thinking about him.

He went around the room, touching the flame to every candle.

‘There.’ He held out the candlestick. ‘Now you can see to go to bed.’

She reached out, their fingers touching around the metal holder.

Would he kiss her? He was looking down at her, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

He is waiting,
she thought suddenly.
He is waiting for a sign from me.

She drew herself up to her full height. ‘Goodnight, my lord.’ She pointed towards the open door.

‘Are you sure you want me to go?’ His rueful smile was almost her undoing.

‘I am sure.’ She put her hand on his chest and pushed him gently but inexorably towards the opening.

‘Very well, madam.’ He stepped back into his own room, saying as she shut the door between them, ‘You only have to call if you need me.’

She closed the door and turned the key. It gave a satisfying click.

‘What…’ Guy’s voice came muffled through the panelling ‘…Do you not trust me?’

Despite her raw emotions a gurgle of laughter escaped her. ‘Good fences make good neighbours, my lord!’

She prepared slowly for bed. With no nightclothes she decided she would sleep in her shift, but her gown and petticoats needed to be shaken out and folded carefully over a chair in readiness for the morning. She was still smiling when at last she climbed into the bed, thinking of Guy. Was he asleep in the next room, or was he lying awake, just as she was? She curled on her side, nestling her cheek against her hand. He would not coerce her; she was free to lock the door and keep him at a safe distance and that is what she would do. But as the bed grew warmer and she gave herself up to sleep, Beth found herself wishing that she could spend the night in the earl’s arms.

Chapter Fifteen

S
unlight filtered into the bedroom through dusty windows and Beth lay still for a few moments. Excitement stole over her when she remembered that they were to go to Bourne Park that morning. She dressed quickly, humming a little tune as she tidied her hair. It was a long time since she had felt quite so happy. It was because they had found Madame de Beaune, she told herself as she picked up her kerchief and arranged it around her neck. It had nothing to do with the fact that the earl was waiting for her downstairs.

His smile, when she joined him for breakfast, was conspiratorial.

‘I trust you slept well, Mrs Forrester?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ she answered, unable to suppress the twinkle as she responded.

His every look was a caress, heightening her awareness, sending the blood singing through her. She poured his coffee; he carved wafer thin slices of ham and beef and put them on her plate.
We might be a long-married couple.
The thought appeared only to be dismissed. Beth was aware that they were walking on a tightrope of normality. One wrong word, one touch and they would fall headlong into each other’s arms. That must not happen, Beth knew there was far too much at stake for her to risk her happiness and that of her family with a passionate affair. So she smiled at the earl, drank in every word, every look and stored them all away. They might be all she would have of him.

They drove to Bourne Park in a blaze of autumn sunshine. When they arrived they found the gates standing wide and no sign of the night watchman or his hounds. The house was a square gentleman’s residence built of brick and Portland stone with a flight of shallow steps rising to a solid door set beneath a pillared portico. Beth was insensibly encouraged by the gleaming paint, shining windows and neat garden which hinted at an orderly and well-regulated household.

As they swept around the gravelled drive the butler appeared at the door and a servant ran out to catch the horses’ heads.

‘We are expected,’ murmured Guy, handing Beth down.

They were shown into an elegant morning room where they were greeted by a ruddy-cheeked gentleman in a brown bagwig who announced himself to be Mr Richard Graveney.