The Highwayman (14 page)

“Yes,” she said quietly. “As do I.”

As though he had not heard her, he continued, “Which is all the more reason why I should not have encouraged you to go against those rules.”

“Oh, no,” she told him truthfully, “you cannot take all the blame. I am not a child to be so easily led. You could not have influenced me had I not— But if you fear discovery, perhaps you should go now.”

“Not just yet. I doubt that anyone will learn of this meeting if we are careful, and I have yet to tell you what I came to say. Are you willing to listen to my version of what happened all those years ago?”

Suddenly recalling Agatha’s saying that there was more than one way to see a thing, Jane reconsidered. Though the evidence against him seemed quite overwhelming, perhaps he would be able to exonerate himself. Besides, his words recalled to her the fact that all this was rather ancient history; he could not have been much more than a youth at the time.

With those thoughts, hope rose in her breast, and she found that she was not only willing, but ridiculously eager to hear his version of the story.

However, she managed to keep her voice and expression calm as she replied, “Of course. I hope I am not so closed-minded that I would refuse such a request.”

He smiled and murmured, “Good girl,” before saying, “When I asked you to meet with me tonight, I had meant to tell the tale then. If you were to learn the truth about me—and I knew that sooner or later you must—I preferred that you hear it from me. I suppose I should have told you sooner, but...” He stopped, walked a few steps away, then abruptly came back. “Damnation, I am finding this more difficult than I thought, and it may take some time.”

Jane merely nodded, and St. Clair sat down on the edge of her bed. He was silent for a while, but finally he began to speak. “After I came down from Oxford, I was quite mad for purchasing a pair of colours and going off to war, but, as I was the only son, my father naturally opposed that notion. I, of course, did not see it as natural at the time. I could not even conceive of being killed. At that age, one tends to think of oneself as immortal, I suppose. Even so, I had a cousin who was next in line for the title, so it was not as if he had no other heir.

“My father and I quarreled bitterly, which was not unusual for us, and I took myself off to London, where I set up my bachelor’s establishment and went my length to put my father’s back up at every opportunity.”

He smiled faintly. “Oh, I thought I was quite the buck, top-of-the-trees, awake on every suit. And, oddly enough, I was, in most cases. Or perhaps I had a guardian angel looking over my shoulder. At least I managed to avoid most of the pitfalls awaiting young greenhorns on their own in London for the first time. But I found that I was not awake in all cases.”

He fell silent again. Jane waited for him to continue, but she was no longer quite so tense. She could so easily see him as the young man he described, disappointed in his desire to go to war, then going off to London to prove himself. She was smiling slightly at this picture of him when he spoke again.

“One day I received a visit from a young lady whom I’d known all my life, although I had not seen her for several years. She was a year or two older than I, but we’d grown up together on neighbouring estates, and I had always considered her a friend. She told me that she was being forced into marriage with a man who was old enough to be her grandfather. He was not only physically repulsive to her, but she feared him because she’d heard rumours of his cruelty to his first wife. She pleaded with me to save her.”

“But,” interrupted Jane, “were her parents the sort who would do that to their daughter? I know such things used to be quite common, but it sounds very gothic in this day and age.”

“Yes, and I would not have thought her parents capable of such insensitivity. They had always doted upon her, in fact. But I had heard that her father was in dun territory, and her story was very convincing. In addition, she was clearly distraught. In any case, she had already ruined herself by running away from home and by coming to a bachelor’s rooms alone, and so there was only one thing I could see to do. I agreed to elope with her.”

Jane could not agree that elopement had been the best solution, but she could certainly understand why he might have thought so at the time. Nevertheless, she began to feel rather tense again.

She had been hoping that he would deny the whole story, but so far, his version, although more detailed, did not diverge overmuch from Mrs. Micklethorp’s. He had admitted to running off with the girl, and she dreaded hearing that the rest was also true.

He must have felt or sensed the change in her, for he lifted a brow in enquiry.

“I am not certain that I wish to hear the remainder of this,” she said, only half meaning it.

“A pity,” he answered grimly. “But you agreed to listen, and you shall hear it.” He studied her silently for a moment, then asked, “What is it that has you flying into the boughs? The elopement? I know it is quite scandalous, but it would have been forgotten in time.”

“Would it?” she asked, surprising even herself with the amount of bitterness she felt as she was suddenly reminded of her mother’s elopement and its repercussions.

“Why are you reacting this way?”

He sounded genuinely puzzled, and Jane bit her lip as she considered his question.
Was
she reacting excessively? After a few minutes of inner struggle, she was forced to admit that she might be.

Shaking her head, she said, “It is nothing. I fear I am not very rational when it comes to— But you were quite young at the time, were you not? And you must have been caught before you could marry—at least, you didn’t marry her, did you?”

“Oh, no,” he answered sardonically.

“I am surprised that her parents did not simply condone your marriage once they caught up with you. That way, the scandal would have been forgotten more quickly, or even prevented entirely. But I suppose the other man was much wealthier than you.” Jane sighed and shook her head again. “I would not have thought, however, that he would still want the poor girl after that. What happened? Were they able to keep word of the elopement from him until after they were wed?”

St. Clair gave the most cynical laugh Jane had ever heard. “My dear, you have not heard the worst. We were not caught at all. It was I who took her back to her parents and told them I wished them joy of her.”

“Good God!” exclaimed Jane, turning pale and staring at him. She was certain now that he was not going to deny any part of the tale, and she imagined the worst. Still, she felt she must know it all before she could judge him. She leaned towards him and asked, “What happened?”

Her attention caught up in his story, Jane had forgotten to hold the sheet up before her, and now St. Clair tore his gaze from where the soft lawn of her gown clearly showed the shape of her breasts. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yes, well, to continue my story, the journey from London to Gretna Green is a long one, and I soon discovered that I did not know the young lady nearly so well as I had thought. She turned out to be the Devil’s own daughter, and before we’d gone halfway, we were at daggers drawn.

“Finally, one night, in the midst of screaming invective at me, she let it be known how she had taken me in. Everything she had told me was a lie. There was no forced marriage to a repulsive old man. In truth, she had run away because she’d been intimate with the head groom and was now carrying his child. She had hit upon me as a likely candidate to be the babe’s father. That was when I took her home to her parents.

“Of course she thought she had me well and truly trapped, and when she found just how mistaken she was, she took her revenge by insisting to her parents that I was, indeed, the father. Needless to say, they believed her.”

“Oh dear,” said Jane. She knew that sounded woefully inadequate, but she was so relieved she scarcely knew what she was saying.

He laughed. “Indeed. Overnight, I found myself an outcast from Society as well as disowned by my father.”

“And I suppose you were too full of pride to try to defend yourself,” she said quietly.

“What! And further damage the lady’s reputation? But to be truthful, I did try to explain the matter to my father, though I might just as well have saved my breath. When even
he
believed that I had ravished the girl, got her with child, and refused to marry her, I decided that he and Society could go to the Devil. I caught the first ship leaving port, which happened to be bound for America.”

For all his flippancy, she knew how hurt he must have been, and also that he would not welcome any expression of sympathy. Instead, she said, “Well! I do not blame you in the least.”

“Ah, but had I been a true gentleman—and I am the first to admit that I am not—I would have married her and made the best of it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps, but had you done so, you both would have ended by being utterly miserable, and I doubt there
was
a best to be made of it. I feel sorry for the girl, but she brought her own troubles upon herself and should not have attempted to drag you into it. No, had I been in your shoes, I would not have married her, either. And only think of the marvelous adventures which you would not otherwise have had.”

“Oh, Jane,” he said, the laughter back in his eyes, “you are a pearl beyond price.”

“And you are an outrageous flatterer,” she retorted.

He only shook his head, and after a few minutes, she said, “I suppose you should be going. It must be very late.”

“Not yet,” he said, and put his hand on her arm as though she were the one needing to be detained. “I have told you my sorry tale, and now I am curious about yours. Why is it that you can accept what most people consider the unforgivable about me, yet you flew into the boughs when I first mentioned elopement? That is what set you off, is it not?”

Jane stared down at her hands, wishing that she had not aroused his curiosity by behaving so foolishly earlier. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but, as I said, I am not very rational on that subject.”

He said nothing, but was obviously waiting for her to continue.

With a deep sigh, she said, “It was not so much the mention of your elopement which set me off, but your remark that it would eventually be forgotten. You see, my mother eloped with another man so I, too, know what it is to be in the midst of a scandal. And I have learned that where scandal is concerned, Society can have a very long memory indeed.’’

“Ah,” was all he said.

Jane straightened, and lifted her chin, deciding that since she had come this far, she might as well tell him the whole. “My father ranted and raved, calling her all manner of horrible names...well, she had always been rather frivolous and fun-loving and a trifle careless of propriety. In any event, I made up my mind, that day, to be all that she was not. I thought that if no one could say that I was like her in any way, I could somehow protect myself, and my father would— But he only became more reclusive and irascible. By the time I realized that it was not going to make a difference, being the proper Miss Lockwood had become a way of life for me.”

She suddenly gave a forced little laugh. “Do you know, I have never spoken of this before. Not even with Agatha.”

“Why? It might have been better for you if you had.”

“I suppose because it was too painful and I was too ashamed.” She tried to sound detached but could not entirely keep the remembered anguish from her voice.

“Now what is this?” he asked. “Why should you feel shame for what your mother did?”

With a lightness she did not feel, she said, “Oh, it is silly, I know, but I have always felt that if I had been more what she wished for in a daughter—prettier or perhaps more lovable—she would not have left.”

“My foolish girl,” he said, holding her by the shoulders and giving her a small shake, “that is the greatest piece of nonsense I have ever heard. It seems to me that if anyone was to blame, other than your mother, it was your father. He sounds as if he was a very disagreeable man, and the two of them mismatched.”

Jane stared at him for a moment, wondering why such a reasonable explanation for her mother’s defection had never occurred to her. But then, she had always been too busy blaming herself to have seen such an obvious truth. One should not think ill of the dead, but to say that her father had been disagreeable was understating the matter.

With a small laugh, she said, “Do you know, I believe you are right. You were right about something else, too. I do feel much better for having spoken of this.”

“Exactly so!” he said with a grin.

In truth, Jane felt as light as a feather, as though a great weight had suddenly been lifted from her. And, without thinking, she impulsively scrambled to her knees, threw her arms about his neck, and said fervently, “Thank you!”

Afterwards, she could not have related the exact progression of events, but she did remember that his arms had tightened around her, and then she was lying back on the bed with St. Clair beside her, his mouth descending towards hers. And all those fluttering sensations were back in her chest and stomach, but she no longer thought of them as the least bit unpleasant.

Far from protesting, she raised her own head eagerly to meet him—and their noses bumped.

With a small huff of laughter, be said, “Tilt your head a little, sweetheart.”

She did, and his mouth moulded to hers perfectly. She was enjoying it very much and was only a little surprised when his tongue began teasing the seam of her lips, but she was more than willing to enjoy that, too. And when he raised his head slightly and murmured, “Open your mouth for me, dearest,” she did so without a thought for propriety.

In fact, Jane was thinking very little. All her awareness was of the wonderful, marvelous sensations he was creating in her body with his mouth and hands. She felt as though she had made a momentous discovery, and if she thought at all, it was to wonder if anyone else had ever experienced this astounding thing. And if they had, why had it been kept such a secret?

As he kissed her, his right hand had been caressing her arm and shoulder. Now it moved to her side and slid slowly down to her hip before moving upwards again with that same tantalizing slowness. It stopped just below her breast, and Jane held her breath, knowing that she wanted him to touch her there more than anything in the world.