To Win the Lady (24 page)

He looked
Richard up and down with contempt. ‘As for you, I collect the Viscount turned
you out of his house. Something to do with your stepmother, wasn’t it?’

Richard
scrambled to his feet and dealt his lordship a blow to the chin that sent him
sprawling against Dawson, who stepped back, allowing him to slide to the
ground.

‘Get up!’
Richard commanded. ‘Get up and put up your guard.’

The man rose to
his knees and Richard stood with feet apart and fists clenched, ready to knock
him down again, but Lord Barbour, knowing that pugilism was one of Richard’s
sports, was so slow in taking up the challenge that Georgie was able to run
between them.

‘No, Richard,
you’ll kill him!’ She grabbed his upraised arm, forgetting her chemise was
torn. It fell open and she hurriedly pulled it together again. ‘Please don’t
make matters worse.’

The red rage
subsided and he turned to put his arm about her shoulders. ‘No, you are right,
he is not worth it.’ To Lord Barbour he said, ‘Go now, before I change my
mind.’

His lordship
scrambled to his feet and made his way to the door, where Fanny stood with
mouth agape. She moved aside to allow the two men through. On the threshold
Lord Barbour turned. ‘I shall see you at Tyburn in two weeks, Major. If you are
not there, your wager will be lost along with your reputation. I advise you to
take very good care of yourself until then.’ Then he was gone to find the horse
he had hidden in the lane, closely followed by Dawson to make sure he went.

Richard ordered
Fanny to make up a soothing draught for her mistress, then shut the door and
went back to Georgie, who was standing in the middle of the room clutching her
torn clothing.

The whole
incident had passed in a matter of minutes, but it had taken so much out of her
- the physical struggle, the mental anguish, the emotion and relief when
Richard had rescued her - that she felt drained. The room seemed to spin and
her knees buckled. He was across the floor in seconds, picking her up and
carrying her back to the sofa, where he put her down very gently. He did not
take his eyes off her face and for a long time they looked at each other, their
emotions too heightened for them to speak. He tried to smile, to reassure her,
but found he could not.

Bending his
head, he kissed her very gently on the lips. It was a butterfly touch,
undemanding and all the sweeter for that, and she found herself weeping. He
moved his head back so that he could look at her and was overwhelmed with love
and tenderness. He lifted a finger and stroked the tears from her pale cheek.
She shivered at his touch, wanting him so desperately.

‘What are we
going to do?’ she whispered.

‘I think we
should call Fanny to put you to bed.’ His voice was a croak.

She smiled weakly
but he did not move. ‘I meant about...’ She stopped. What did she mean? That
she loved him and his kiss had told her that he was not entirely indifferent to
her? Or was he simply trying to comfort her? She gulped. ‘About that devil. Can
he ruin us?’

‘Only if we let
him.’

‘No one will
believe the truth, will they?’

‘Of course they
will.’ But he did not sound at all convinced.

‘I have ruined
everything for Felicity.’

‘You have done nothing
wrong, my dear. It is that blackguard...’ His jaw tightened and his fists
clenched involuntarily when he thought of what might have happened.

‘If he goes
back to London and spreads his evil, we are done for.’

‘You don’t want
to marry him, do you?’

‘It is the last
thing I want.’ She shuddered. ‘It was because I refused that he tried to... But
he might just as well have done, for that is how Society will view it. And now
you and I are alone.’

‘Then marry
me.’

She scrambled
into a sitting position and stared at him in astonishment. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Marry me. It
would answer the gossips.’

‘Indeed it
would not,’ she said so quickly that he was taken aback. Just because he had
rescued her from a terrible fate, and she had lain in his arms, that was no
reason to take advantage of her. She had been weak, but that was all over; now
she felt surprisingly strong and abrasive. ‘I am surprised at you, Major
Baverstock, for suggesting such a thing. Have you no feelings for my sister? Or
any consideration for me either?’

‘It was
consideration for you which made me speak. And I doubt your sister will have
me, after all.’

‘Nonsense!’ she
said, entirely misunderstanding him. ‘My sister will not believe his lordship’s
evil gossip; she is far too sensible. If you go to her, explain exactly what
happened here, she will understand.’

‘Go to her?’
His hopes, so high a moment before, were dashed. ‘As if nothing had changed?’

‘Nothing has
changed, Major.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I am indebted to you for your help, but
you must go now.’

It was in his
mind to protest that it was dark outside and a journey of some fifteen miles
across somewhat rough country in a curricle would be hazardous, but he
hurriedly decided against that; such ploys would put him on a par with Lord
Barbour in her eyes. And he must have been mistaken in his reading of the
expression in her eyes a few moments ago. It was gratitude, not love, and he
had been a blind fool, blinded by his own feelings for her, and clumsy too.
Instead of extricating himself he had thrown himself even deeper into the mire.

He rose stiffly
and, taking her hand, bowed over it. ‘Goodnight, Miss Paget.’ And with that he
strode to the door and flung it open.

Out in the hall
Fanny was holding a glass containing some thick dark liquid and relating her
version of events to Mrs Thorogood, who had only just returned, in a fine stew
at not being able to find her beloved mistress, and who now, knowing she was
safe, was leading forth at great length at having been sent on a wild-goose
chase. They both turned towards him as he came out of the room.

‘Go to your
mistress,’ he said. ‘She has had more than one great shock today.’ Then he left
by the front door without another word and climbed into his curricle.

Georgie heard
the carriage wheels on the gravel growing fainter and fainter and knew he had
gone. She had half risen from her seat, perhaps to go after him, but now she
sank back and, putting her head in her hands, sobbed as if her heart were cleft
in two.

‘There, there,
Miss Georgie,’ Fanny said, offering her the glass containing some horrible
concoction she had made up. ‘Drink this up and you’ll feel better. That
horrible Lord Barbour has gone; he won’t trouble you again. It was a good thing
the Major was still here.’

‘Yes,’ Georgie
agreed, taking the glass and looking up at her maid with red-rimmed eyes. ‘But
how did it come about?’

‘I didn’t know
his lordship was in the house, truly I didn’t. To be sure I heard the doorbell
but I knew Mrs Thorogood would answer it and I was busy in your room, sorting
your clothes. I took a torn skirt up to my room to mend and didn’t hear a thing
more until I finished it and was bringing it back to hang in the wardrobe. I
thought I heard voices in the drawing-room and I wondered who was there; I
hadn’t heard you come back, you see. I saw your hat on the chair in the hall
and went down to fetch it and put it away. Then I heard you shouting and a man
answering. I knew something was wrong and ran out to the stables to find Mr
Dawson. The Major was just leaving. Oh, how glad I am he was there. I dread to
think...’

‘Then we will
not think,’ Georgie said crisply, once more in command of herself. ‘I think I
shall go up to bed.’

She stood up
and was surprised to find that she could walk quite steadily. Fanny rushed to
her aid, but she waved her away. ‘You see what a tough old bird I am, Fanny.’

Fanny did not
believe her and continued to hover behind her as she made her way upstairs,
following her into her room and helping her undress. ‘Now there’s more mending
and pressing,’ she grumbled, but it was only meant to cheer her mistress. ‘I’ve
only just finished setting all to rights after the last little adventure. Seems
to me, Miss Georgie, you attract adventure like a magnet.’

‘I do, don’t I?
But burn those clothes; I shall never wear them again.’

‘But there’s
nothing wrong with them that can’t be repaired.’

‘Do as I say. I
cannot bear to touch them after...’

‘Yes, Miss
Georgie, of course.’ Fanny did not think her mistress was as tough as she
pretended to be. And she must be worried by his lordship’s threats as he left.
‘Don’t you worry, my pretty,’ she said softly, using an endearment she had used
when Georgie was a child, as she tucked her between the sheets. ‘That man can’t
hurt you, not when me and Mrs Thorogood are ready to swear you were never alone
with him. Nor with the Major neither.’

‘You mustn’t
perjure yourself for me,’ Georgie murmured, drowsy now that the
sleeping-draught was taking effect.

Fanny smiled as
she bundled up the discarded clothes, ready to obey Georgie’s orders to burn
them. Her servants would lie for her, of course they would, and they would kill
for her if they had to. ‘Go to sleep,’ she said, creeping from the room.

Georgie slept
but as soon as she opened her eyes the following morning she relived the whole
incident, every detail, every gesture, every word that had been said. In the
cool light of a summer morning, with the sun shining and the birds twittering
outside her window, it seemed as though it must have been a terrible nightmare.
Had Lord Barbour really come here and tried to rape her? Had Richard really
rescued her? Had she lain in his arms half naked and not even cared because it
was so comforting to be held by him? Had she cried his name? Had he really
suggested she should marry him to avert a scandal over her good name at the
expense of Felicity’s?

That was the
hardest to bear, because in any other circumstances she would have been
overjoyed at the prospect of having him for a husband, but not like this. She
was beginning to wonder whether he was a suitable spouse for her sister if his
affections could so easily change direction. But what to do about it she did
not know. If only there were someone to ask. She could write to her aunt, of
course, but what could she say? I don’t think Felicity should marry Richard
Baverstock, after all? What reason could she give that sounded reasonable
enough for her aunt not to think she had taken leave of her senses? Besides,
Mrs Bertram was due to leave the country any day now and it would be unfair to
trouble her. She had to cope alone.

Coping, to
Georgie, meant work and as soon as this decision was reached she jumped out of
bed and dressed in her old comfortable shirt and breeches and went down to the
kitchen. Mrs Thorogood bade her good morning but made no other comment as her
mistress sat at the kitchen table to eat toast and drink chocolate. She watched
her eat and cleared away after she had gone out to the yard. ‘She’s got over it
remarkable well,’ she told Fanny when the maid came down searching for her
mistress. ‘Gone out riding, I’ll be bound. And after that she’ll get back to
work. To be sure there’s nothing like it for curing a broken heart.’

‘You reckon her
heart is broken?’

‘Yes, don’t
you?’

‘Maybe, but I
think we should keep our thoughts to ourselves.’

‘Well, I’m sure
I’m not one to prattle,’ Mrs Thorogood said stiffly. ‘I mind me own business.’

Georgie herself
would have agreed with her servants; her heart was broken, but no one but those
two would have known it as she settled down into her old routine, caring for
her beloved horses. She was the same practical down-to-earth woman she had been
before her trip to London, but her problems had not gone away. There were too
few customers and her overheads were overwhelming.

Lord Barbour
had known that, of course. With a man in control, the customers would come, for
there was nothing wrong with the stock. Perhaps she ought to have made a
greater push to find a husband as soon as possible after her father died, but
it was too late now. Lord Barbour would spread his evil gossip and those few
customers she did have would cease to patronise her. She would be obliged to
sell, and sell at a ridiculously low price.

But it had not
come to that yet. She was a fighter and she would go on fighting. She had the
money from the two horses she had sold to Lord Dullingham and that would help
pay wages for a few weeks more. And there was that race. It was going to cost
quite a bit in extra hay, oats and wages, for she needed extra men to look
after them. The race was becoming as important to her as it was to Major
Baverstock, though for different reasons.

Next time he
came, she would tell him he could have Warrior. But would there be a next time?
Would he simply send her curt messages about what he wanted done? Would he
assume his horses were ready without coming to check for himself? She knew him
too well to believe that; he would want to oversee every detail himself. She
would have to meet him, talk to him, and pretend nothing was wrong between
them.