The Dangerous Lord Darrington (31 page)

‘I will reply,’ he said, taking the note from her. ‘I shall advise her of our betrothal and that she can expect to receive nothing until after we are married.’

‘But Simon could be taken back to London at any time.’

‘We will deal with all these matters as they arise,’ he said mildly. ‘Trust me, Elizabeth.’

With that she had to be content, but anxiety nagged at her as she went downstairs to dinner. She had invited Miles to join the family and when Beth reached the drawing room she found him making polite conversation with Mr Davies and Sophie, while Lady Arabella looked on in disapproving silence. Taking in the scene in one swift glance, Beth was obliged to put her worries to one side and take on the role of perfect hostess. It was clear her grandmother did not approve of her intention to marry Miles, but if he could win Simon’s freedom it would go a long way towards helping Lady Arabella to accept him.

It was growing dark as Guy trotted up to the Priory. He thought back to the very first time he had called here, with Davey stretched out on a farm gate. The black outline of the building had towered over them, dark and menacing. Heaven and earth, if he had known the cost of getting involved with Beth Forrester he would have chosen to carry Davey all the way to Highridge rather than come within a mile of Malpass!

‘Don’t be a damned fool, you know that isn’t so,’ he muttered angrily to himself as he dismounted and looped the reins over a post near the steps. Visions rose up before him. Beth directing the servants to carry Davey inside, Beth with a lamp in her hand, her eyes large and nervous as a deer when he met her in the corridor in the middle of the night. Beth with her glorious hair over her shoulders, lying naked in the moonlight…?.

Savagely he dragged his thoughts back to the present as he ran up the steps. Kepwith opened the door, but barred his way.

‘I beg your pardon, my lord,’ he hesitated, and looked a little embarrassed. ‘My mistress has ordered that you should not be allowed into the house.’

‘The devil she has! Then tell
your mistress
that I wish to see her out here!’

The door was closed again as the butler went off to deliver his message. Guy looked at his watch. The family dined early, so they should have finished by now. Would she come? As the minutes dragged by, he began to doubt it.

At last the door opened and he looked up quickly, only to have his hopes dashed when he saw who was standing there.

‘Davey! Will she not see me?’

‘No, she will not.’ Davey stepped outside and pulled the door almost closed behind him. ‘Radworth is here, but I doubt if she would have admitted you, even had he not been.’ He tucked his hand in Guy’s arm. ‘Let us walk away from here, where we will not be overheard.’

They descended to the drive and walked away from the house, Guy slowing his stride to match Davey’s limping step.

‘Did she receive my letter?’ he asked bluntly.

‘Aye, but she burned it.’ Davey shook his head. ‘She thinks you have deserted her.’

‘Because I refused to hand over the money to that blood-sucking woman? I asked her to trust me and the next I hear is that she and Radworth are to be married in three weeks!’

‘She is very angry with you, my friend.’

‘I thought she knew me better than that!’ He gazed up at the darkening sky, his breath escaping in a hiss. ‘Davey, when Clarice came here demanding money she had a surprising amount of information, more than she could have gleaned from Madame de Beaune’s letter—and before you fire up at me, I do not think that she learned any of it from Sophie!’

‘And do you know now who is her accomplice?’

‘No, but I have my suspicions. I fear this matter is not purely about the money. Forgive me,’ he said quickly, when Davey opened his mouth to speak, ‘I have a plan, but it depends upon total secrecy and I will not divulge it to anyone, even you. But believe me when I say I am relieved that you are staying at the Priory.’ He stopped. ‘I have not asked you about your leg, my friend.’

Davey shrugged. ‘It is healing slowly. As you see, I can manage well enough with a stick now.’

‘But perhaps that is far enough for today.’ Guy turned and they began to walk back towards his horse. ‘I am going away for a couple of days. Watch over Beth for me while I am gone, Davey.’

‘Where are you going?’

Guy shook his head.

‘It is better that no one knows. But I intend to return in time for the Fentonby Assembly.’ They had reached his horse and Guy turned and gripped Davey’s hand. ‘I will be back as soon as I can.’

‘Do you have a message for Mrs Forrester?’ asked Davey as Guy scrambled up into the saddle.

‘Would she receive it?’ Even in the deepening gloom he read the answer in Davey’s face and said bitterly, ‘No, of course she will not, but I shall leave one anyway. Tell her—if you can make her listen—tell her to keep faith with me a little longer.’

Beth looked at the shining gown spread out on the bed. The kingfisher-blue silk gleamed in the candlelight. It was her newest gown, the only one she had bought since her father’s death that did not signal mourning.

Less than ever did she want to wear bright colours, but she had promised Miles she would dress appropriately for the Fentonby Assembly and the formal celebration of their betrothal. Miles had told her that, once they were married, he would be able to help Simon. He did not say how, but she clung to that hope. Only the day before he had dissuaded her from making Clarice an offer for the deposition.

They had been on their way back from Thirsk after visiting Simon, and Beth had been desperately trying to think of ways to raise the money.

‘Sophie and I could sell our jewels, then there are the Malpass diamonds and the silver from the house—’

‘My dear.’ Miles raised his hand, saying gently, ‘You forget. The contents of the Priory are not yours to sell now.’

She shook her head, saying impatiently, ‘Oh, I know I have signed the contracts in readiness for our marriage, Miles, but surely, to save Simon—’

‘My dear, saving your brother is uppermost in my thoughts. We shall attend the Fentonby Assembly tomorrow night, I shall be at your side and this Mrs Cordonnier will realise she has me to deal with.’

Dear Miles. Beth could not think that Clarice would be at all impressed, unless Miles was willing to pay her the money she wanted. However, there had been no further demands so she could only hope that Miles was right. She put on the kingfisher-blue gown and allowed Tilly to put up her hair with a single, glistening ringlet hanging over her bare shoulder. All the local families would be at Thirsk tonight, ready with insincere condolences over the fate of her brother and equally false congratulations for her forthcoming wedding. She disliked being the object of so much gossip, but it could not be avoided and Miles insisted this show of solidarity would be beneficial to Simon. Beth could only be thankful that Sophie was going to be there to support her.

She picked up her wrap and made her way to the great hall.

‘Grandmama!’ Her surprised exclamation echoed to the rafters, but did not discompose Lady Arabella.

‘I have decided I shall come with you,’ the old lady announced, rising from her chair beside the fire. ‘We will show them that the Wakefords have nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘No indeed, ma’am.’

‘Does Grandmama not look well?’ demanded Sophie.

Beth gazed with affection at her grandmother, admiring the severe black gown, high to the neck with white lace ruffles at the sleeves and worn with a black silk apron. She had a black-lace cap over her white hair and was wearing diamonds, a family heirloom consisting of an aigrette that was pinned into the lace cap, dainty ear-drops, a diamond collar and a wide bracelet clasped over the top of one of Lady Arabella’s black gloves. The pieces had been passed down through the years; although Sophie might consider the enamelled gold setting adorned with diamonds and sapphires to be out of date and too conspicuous to be worn with the fashionable light muslins, there was no denying that they looked magnificent against Lady Arabella’s black silk.

‘She looks exceedingly well! But are you sure you want to come with us, Grandmama? It is some time since you ventured out…’

‘Then it is high time I did,’ retorted Lady Arabella. ‘Besides, this might be the last time I shall wear the Malpass diamonds. I have no doubt Miles Radworth will claim them for his own as soon as you are wed. No need to look so shocked,’ she added, smiling grimly at Beth’s startled face. ‘I am well aware that he has tied up the settlements to his advantage.’

‘Grandmama, the arrangements are perfectly usual for a marriage contract,’ said Beth gently.

‘Hmmph!’

Sophie reached out to touch the old lady’s arm. ‘Do you not
like
Miles, Grandmama?’

‘As a matter of fact I do not,’ came the blunt reply. ‘What’s that line from Shakespeare that always comes to mind when I see him? “He has a lean and hungry look.” Ah, Mr Davies, there you are. Well, now we are all ready, shall we go?’

The George was Fentonby’s largest coaching inn and the Assembly Rooms had been added some thirty years ago. They were generally proclaimed to rival anything in York or Bath. Beth had rarely visited them, despite the fact that Lady Arabella had been one of the chief subscribers when they were built. Many of the great families had moved away from the area and those that were left preferred the more genteel society of Thirsk, so the rooms had been left to the enjoyment of the wealthy tradesmen and farmers. However, news had spread through the town that Mrs Forrester would be attending to celebrate her betrothal and it was with a sinking heart that Beth observed the number of carriages drawn up at the entrance as they turned into the High Street.

‘The world and his wife are here!’

‘We expected that,’ said Sophie. ‘Mrs Robinson told me the news of your betrothal was all over the town.’

‘It is going to be a sad crush,’ stated Lady Arabella, ‘I suppose we must resign ourselves to it.’ She leaned forwards, peering through the glass. ‘Is that Sir John Marton and his wife? And I see Lord Embleton’s carriage. Well, at least there will be some of our acquaintances there.’

The carriage pulled up at the entrance to the Assembly Rooms and the ladies waited while Mr Davies alighted and turned back to hand them out. Since he still needed the support of his walking sick, Davey gave his free arm to Lady Arabella, leaving Beth and Sophie to follow behind. As Beth had suspected, the rooms were very crowded and their progress into the ballroom was slow. Lady Arabella’s appearance caused even more delay, since so many people wanted to talk to her. Beth was pleased by their attentions to her grandmother, not least because it meant that she could slip into the room in Lady Arabella’s shadow. The press of people and confusion immediately inside the door gave Beth the opportunity to study the assembled company. She spotted Miles on the far side of the room, but made no attempt to attract his attention, for her eyes were drawn to the tall figure of Lord Darrington, who had just come out of the card room. His plain dark coat was no different from many of the younger gentlemen present, but his upright stance and athletic figure commanded attention. His brown hair gleamed in the candlelight and she watched him surveying the crowd, idly swinging his quizzing glass between his long fingers. Davey had told her the earl intended to be present and she had resolved not to pay him the least heed, but she could not tear her eyes from him. At that moment he turned his head, as if aware of her eyes upon him. Quickly she looked away.

‘Mrs Forrester, are you ill?’ Davey’s voice was full of concern.

‘It is nothing, sir, really.’ But she realised with dismay that he had followed her glance.

‘Ah, I see. Madam—’

‘Please,’ she said quietly, ‘do not try to defend the earl! I will not listen to you.’

‘I cannot defend him,’ he replied. ‘I have no more idea than you what he is about, but I would beg you, ma’am, to believe he is not your enemy. Have faith in him.’

‘Impossible,’ she said bitterly.

Sophie came up to them. ‘Let us find seats,’ she suggested brightly. ‘Grandmama will want a chair, as will you, Edwin. Your leg is not yet healed enough for dancing.’

‘True, and very annoying…’ he grinned at her ‘…because I would have liked to stand up with you.’

They went off and Beth was left alone. She was aware of a moment of loneliness. Nonsense, of course, because she was well acquainted with most of those present and once Miles realised she had arrived he would keep her at his side for the rest of the night. She moved around the room, greeting one acquaintance, then another, her skin prickling because she knew the earl was watching her from the side of the room. It seemed that every time she raised her head he was at the edge of her vision. If he drew closer, she moved in the opposite direction. She saw him talking to Sir John Marton and judged it safe to return to her grandmother, but her progress was delayed as her acquaintance came up, eager to offer their congratulations, so that by the time she drew nearer to Lady Arabella Guy was there, laughing at something Davey was saying. Determined not to allow him to spoil her evening, she slipped away again. At every opportunity she smiled more widely and laughed more loudly, to show that she really did not care that he was present.

Miles came up. She schooled her features into a smile.

‘You are looking very grand,’ she greeted him, her eyes taking in his elegant powdered wig and dove-grey velvet coat. ‘I vow you look fine enough for a royal drawing room!’