The Outrageous Debutante (36 page)

‘Stop.’

By some miracle her voice carried in a slight lull in the general pandemonium. Dyer looked up, torch held high, across the space that separated them.

‘Do that and I fire.’ The blanket falling from her shoulders to the floor, she held the pistol in both hands and aimed it at his chest.

Dyer halted. Looked at her in amazement. And laughed in terrible mockery—but he lowered the torch.

‘A real woman, lads.’ He waved to draw the attention of his associates. ‘No false skirts here. Get her. Or she blows my head off!’ Before Thea could respond or even be aware of those around her in the shifting shadows, the pistol was knocked from her hand to the ground and she was seized from both sides in a rough grasp.

The panic rose within her chest. She could hear her own heartbeat thundering in her ears. Her breathing became tight and difficult.

But surrender she would not.

She struggled furiously, resisted every effort to restrain her. Surprised her captors into letting her go free, with jeers and amused comment, now that they had possession of the pistol. A mere woman who could do no harm. Instantly she dashed across the courtyard toward Dyer, who still held the torch in close proximity to the walls and a pile of straw that would provide superior tinder. What she would do she had no idea. But she could
not stand by and watch him burn down Nicholas’s home. Dyer caught her by the arm.

‘Oh, no, you don’t.’

‘Take your hands off me!’

‘So his lordship is using women to defend his rights now, is he? And a pretty one too.’ The grin was sly in the flickering light. ‘How does he pay you? In kisses?’ He ran his hand down her arm in a terrible intimacy and leered. ‘Perhaps you would be willing to kiss me, my lady. If you want me to set you free.’

‘Let go! You cannot stop me. I will not let those animals burn to death.’ She fought furiously, digging her nails into his hands. ‘You disgust me—you have no quarrel with the Faringdon estate. To stop me you will have to either kill me or tie me up!’ She brought the edge of her heel down heavily on to his instep, so that he grunted with pain. And looked at her with reluctant admiration. The gilded hair impossibly ruffled. The stylish gown soiled and singed beyond recognition as a creation of Bond Street. Her face smeared with soot, but determination writ clearly on every feature.

‘Well, now. A firebrand. Which shall it be then, my lady, a bullet or a rope? It matters little to me.’

‘Neither.’ The cool voice cut through the heat of the situation. ‘I suggest that you take your filthy hands from the lady.’

There in the courtyard stood Lord Nicholas Faringdon, pistol raised and aimed, with far more precision than Thea’s earlier attempt, most dangerously at Dyer’s head.

‘Well, my lord. We did not expect to see you here this night. Come to watch your pretty house burn?’ Dyer grinned, gestured at the dire results of his work, full of confident bluster. ‘We will be glad to accommodate you.’ But he gripped the torch firmly as he kept a wary eye on the icy rage that emanated from the motionless figure before him. Lord Nicholas was never to be underestimated.

‘Let her go!’ Lord Nicholas snarled. Ignored the blatant threat to his property. ‘Or, by God, you may be sure that I shall not miss if you give me cause to fire.’

Thea found herself instantly released. Without a glance at the
two men she set about her self-imposed task, running back towards the stable door where a foal was engaged in a full panic, refusing to follow its mother. Grabbing its mane, she pulled and cajoled until it consented to escape into the safety of the darkness after the mare.

The two men faced each other. ‘If you shoot me, my lord, it will not save your precious buildings. They’ll still go up in flames. As all landlords should, damn their black souls to hell!’

‘But you will be in hell first.’

‘Would you shoot an unarmed man?’ Dyer challenged. ‘A man who is fighting for a wage to put bread into the mouths of his family?’

‘Perhaps not.’ Lord Faringdon seemed to give the matter some consideration. ‘But you will pay for this night’s work.’

A split-second decision, Nicholas leapt the distance between them, fast and sure, a short left jab to Dyer’s ribs, followed by a powerful straight right to his jaw. The man fell to the floor, dropping the torch, as if struck by a blow from a heavy club. When he struggled to regain his feet, his lordship hauled him to his feet and hit him again.

This time he lay still. Until Nicholas, not wasting any further words, dragged him to his feet and summoned two of his lads to take him up to the house, with instructions to lock him in the cellar. Then he was free to turn back to the disaster unfolding before him. To assess the damage and the possibility that the manor house in its entirety would be nothing but a blackened shell by the morning.

The flames still leapt with crackling intensity. Horses were still being brought out. Nicholas strode forward to relieve one of the smaller lads of a recalcitrant stallion. Although the rest of the Maidens had suddenly melted away with the obvious defeat of their leader, their work had been done with terrible efficiency. The walls well lit, flames encroaching onto the roof. Water was still being ferried in a chain, but it was a desperate race against time. Surely the house would catch.

Then the rain began. The threat that had been evident throughout
the evening came to their rescue when they least expected it, drenching everyone and everything. Damping down the flames. Nature achieving what they could never have done alone. They stood and watched, in mingled horror and relief, the results of the night’s attack.

‘Master Furness.’ Nicholas turned to his head groom who emerged from the smoke-blackened inferno to stand beside him. ‘Be so kind as to get those burning walls pulled down to stop the spread of the flames. Keep damping down those not yet burning. And pray that the rain continues.’

‘Thea. Look at you. You should not have risked yourself.’ Nicholas pulled her from the soaking mire of the stableyard into the shadows of the dovecote. The doves whirled in silent panic in the dark above their head. ‘Are you hurt in any way? You should not—’ He bit down on the terror and fury that had gripped him since he saw her in Samuel Dyer’s ungentle grip, and drew an unsteady hand over her wet hair in a rough caress.

‘We saved them.’ Thea found herself holding on to the sleeve of his coat as if her life depended on it. ‘The horses—they are all alive, I think. And The Zephyr. I don’t know about your people.’ Her eyes were wide, her breathing disordered, her clothing beyond repair. But there was no hint of panic about her. Only a wild sense of achievement that they had thwarted the Maidens.

‘Thea …’ The wet and soot and grime did not matter. His eyes sought her features as if he could not quite believe that she stood safe and unharmed before him. The dangers had been so great. Ignoring her squeak of surprise, he dragged her into his arms and captured her mouth with his in a kiss as hot and fierce as the flames themselves, marvelling at the strength and courage that she had shown. It was an insistent demand, pressing her close from breast to thigh, a unity against those who would threaten and destroy. Thea responded with equal fervour. Faced with possible death and certain destruction, with weakness and surrender, she had stood firm. Here in his arms was life and power—and, she was certain, forgiveness.

Nicholas could not get enough of her. He held on, oblivious to wet and discomfort.

Then sense reasserted itself, the demands and problems of the moment taking precedence, to release her from his close embrace, yet sliding his hands to encompass her wrists, unable to let her go.

‘Thank God you are alive.’ He touched his lips to her forehead, a tender blessing.

‘And you.’ Thea spread her hands, fingers wide, against his chest, needing the muscular solidity of him, the firm beat of his heart against her palms.

‘The danger was yours. I saw you.’

‘And you saved me.’

Their eyes held in the dark, their fingers linked at last.

‘I did not panic.’ As Thea realised her achievement, her breath caught on a sob. But there was no place for tears. ‘I wanted to. I wanted to flee. But I did not.’

‘I know. You have all my admiration. I cannot say it.’ What a marvellous woman she was. How he loved her.

‘I think the rain has saved us.’ A soft laugh shook her when Thea became aware of the heavy drops pattering on her head and running down her smoke-smeared face.

‘Yes. But now you must go.’

‘No.’ Her fingers tightened, preventing any separation. ‘I will stay with you.’

Nicholas shook his head, gentle but firm. ‘Go to Burford, Thea. There is little you can do here now and I have to know that you are safe. I will send someone with you. Take my horse.’ When she would still have resisted, he made a plea from the heart. ‘Go to Burford for my sake, if not for your own. I could not bear it if you were hurt now.’

‘I don’t—’

‘Don’t argue. It will be easier for me if you are not here in all this debris. You have done enough this day.’

‘Very well.’ She accepted the force of it. She would achieve nothing through dissension.

For a brief moment Nicholas held her close, to imprint her on his mind and body—then led her to his horse, suddenly aware of the shivers that began to attack her in her thin gown now that the dangers which had driven her were finally past. Taking off his own coat, he pushed her arms into the sleeves even as she objected. ‘You are cold. You will need this on the journey.’ The warmth from his body enveloped her, to soothe and comfort as if his arms were still around her. He helped her to mount before summoning two of the stable lads. His instructions were brief and plain.

‘Take Miss Thea to Burford Hall, Sim. Take care of her. Do you understand? Any danger, anything at all that gives you cause for unease, don’t fear to use the pistols. And shoot to kill.’

‘Yes, my lord.’ Sim was already mounted, the pistols stowed away. ‘The lady will come to no harm.’

Nicholas watched her go. Watched her turn to look back once, her face a pale blur, before swallowed up in the rain-sodden darkness. So much to say. So little chance to say it. But tomorrow he would.

For now, he walked back into the stableyard to see how much of his property had survived the vicious attack of the Maidens.

Later, much later, once he was certain that all at Aymestry was secure, Nicholas arrived back at Burford Hall. Waiting for him in the entrance hall, in a borrowed lace bedrobe, was Theodora.

‘You should have gone to bed.’ He spoke softly, the great house silent around them.

‘I could not—not until I knew that you were safe.’

He shrugged out of his coat, grimacing at the discomfort, to stand before her, grimy, smoke blackened, wet to the skin from the rain that was still falling. His clothes were in ruin, his hands and face hopelessly smeared. ‘I am not fit, Thea—’ He halted, as if words failed him.

‘Is the house safe? And your people?’

‘Yes. The rain was a blessing. Some cuts and bruises. A sore head or two. Singed hair and eyebrows, I expect. But no lives were lost.’

‘And the horses?’

‘Yes.’

Exhaustion was imprinted on every engraved line on his face.

‘What of the Maidens?’

‘Dispersed for the moment. Samuel Dyer is spending tonight locked in one of the store rooms off the stables here, with a guard!’ The muscles along his jaw clenched. ‘I will deal with him tomorrow.’

‘And you, my lord?’ Despite all that had passed between them, Thea found it impossible to reach out to touch him. Even though she needed to convince herself that he was here and he was safe.

He managed a smile. ‘I took no harm.’

The gulf between them appeared to Thea to be as wide as ever. It was not the time to say the words in her mind, but she could wait no longer.

‘I am so sorry. I did not mean to lie, but I did not tell you the truth. I never meant to hurt you. I had to come here to tell you that.’

‘I know. You have an excellent champion in Sarah.’ A weary smile touched his mouth. ‘She argued your case most persuasively. And left me in no doubt of her opinion of me!’

‘I do not know Edward Baxendale. But I now know the depths of which he is capable. I understand the pain and the hurt he brought to you.’

‘Thea …’ Nicholas ran his hands through his dishevelled hair with a sigh. ‘I have my own apologies to make.’

‘You are exhausted.’ At last she touched his arm lightly.

‘Yes. But I should thank you. You saved my home and the bloodstock from certain destruction. I cannot find the words to express my gratitude—or not tonight, in any event.’

‘I could do no other.’

‘I saw you face Sam Dyer. I shall not forget it.’

She shook her head. ‘You need rest. Go to bed, my lord.’

‘I will take your advice.’ Yet he could still find the grace to take possession of her hand and raise it to his lips. Then walked slowly to the stairs.

‘Good night, Thea. Tomorrow we will talk.’

Which left Thea curiously dissatisfied. But she held to that moment in the stableyard when he had snatched her away from the noise and the chaos for one long moment. Had held her and kissed her as if he would never let her go.

O
n the following morning Sarah sat at a leisurely breakfast in one of the parlours, allowing her mind to drift with possibilities for the future. Nicholas would claim the bride he so clearly needed. Soon—she rubbed the crumbs from her fingers with an inner delight—she could return to London and her darling John. A little frown settled to mar her brow. For then a decision would have to be made over what she should do next. Stay in London or return to New York. Sarah did not know. If she stayed, there would be the problem of where she would live and how she would find financial security for herself and her son … But she would not think of that yet.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Nicholas, who entered the room to take a seat at the opposite side of the table with a groan in acknowledgement of his aching muscles.

‘I feel as if I have not slept this sennight.’

Sarah studied the faint prints of exhaustion beneath his eyes, the lines bracketing his mouth, but also saw the absence of tension in his arms and shoulders. Cleansed of all the soot and grime from the previous night, he looked remarkably at ease despite some evidence of singed hair at one temple. Sarah smiled across at him, her own anxieties dispersed, then rose to pour coffee when he sank into a chair, placing the cup before him, fighting
a need to take him in her arms and offer comfort as she would her son. Instead she seated herself again, elbows on the table, chin propped on her hands to hear the news. ‘I heard a brief account of the events, when Thea returned. Is the damage very great?’