To Win the Lady (32 page)

‘Jenkins.’
There was something about his lordship’s bearing that made him add a belated,
‘Sir.’

‘Where’s
Gordon?’

‘Gordon is no
longer with us. If you give me your name I will announce you.’

Georgie thought
his lordship was about to explode. ‘I do not need to be announced in my own
house, man. Someone should have told you.’ He walked past the astonished man
and into the oak-panelled hall. ‘Where is my nephew? I assume it is he who
gives you your orders?’

The man looked
blank and Georgie, passing him, whispered, ‘That is Viscount Dullingham. Did
you not know?’

‘Don’t care who
he is. My orders are to admit no one but...’ He stopped and turned as if to
detain the irate Viscount but changed his mind and shrugged.

There was a
gust of laughter from one of the rooms. His lordship strode towards it, but
before he reached it the door was opened and a maidservant came out carrying a
tray. Georgie, who had followed, could just see a long polished table at which
two men were seated over the remains of a meal. The one who faced the door was,
she assumed, William Baverstock. There was a slight resemblance to Richard in
the shape of the head and the well-defined brows, but there it ended. This man
was thin and his features pasty, as if he never saw the sun. The other occupant
of the room had his back to the door, but Georgie recognised his staccato way
of speaking. ‘Heard a carriage. Must be my man and the wench.’

‘Twelve hours
late. I sincerely hope, for your sake, he has done his job well.’ Mr Baverstock
was clearly displeased and then he looked up and his expression changed to
shocked incredulity.

His companion,
noticing this, swivelled round to see Viscount Dullingham framed in the doorway
and, behind him, the furious figure of Georgie. His mouth dropped open, but he
recovered himself swiftly. ‘My lord, this is indeed a pleasure. When William invited
me, I had no idea you were to be present too. And goodness me, Miss Paget, how
delightful!’

Lord Dullingham
turned to look at Georgie. She was trembling with fear - or was it rage?
Knowing something of what had happened between them, he could understand if it
was both. ‘My dear,’ he said softly, ‘I will deal with this.’ He looked past
her to where the servant who had opened the door was hovering. ‘Show the ladies
to the drawing-room,’ he said. ‘Then have rooms prepared for them.’

The servant looked
at William Baverstock, who said, ‘Go on, man, you heard his lordship.’ He
smiled at his uncle. ‘Sir, if you had let me know, we could have been in a fit
state to receive you.’

Georgie heard
his lordship growl, ‘What have you done with Gordon?’ before he closed the
door.

She turned to
take her aunt’s arm and together they followed the servant into a
well-furnished though untidy drawing-room. There was a tray containing a teapot
and a single used cup and a discarded Lady’s Magazine on one of the tables, but
she decided it would be imprudent to ask the servant who the lady might be.

Half an hour
later, tea and a light meal having been consumed, Jenkins reappeared to show
them to their rooms. After locking her door, Georgie took off her dress and
petticoat and lay down in her underclothes. Ten minutes later, despite her
determination to the contrary, sheer exhaustion sent her to sleep.

She awoke very
early; it was barely light enough to see; something had disturbed her, though
what it was she could not have said. Everywhere was quiet, but there was no
question of going back to sleep. Her thoughts were in a tumult. What was Lord
Barbour doing here? Had he come as soon as the race was over or had he not
completed it? If that were so, had Richard won it by default? She could not
imagine Lord Barbour conceding it so easily, especially when he had had such a
lead over his opponent after the incident at Baldock. Had something happened to
prevent Richard finishing? If so, where was he? Where was Captain Melford? And
where, oh, where was Felicity?

She got up and
went to the window. Somewhere out there were the two people she loved most in
the world and she wished she had second sight and could pin-point their
whereabouts exactly. Her room looked down on a very extensive stable-block,
which was not surprising considering the house was used as a hunting base. Her
aunt’s dilapidated coach stood next to a spanking curricle - Mr Baverstock’s
presumably. But it was growing light and she was anxious to be on the road; she
dressed and went to wake Mrs Bertram.

Ten minutes
later they went downstairs, to find Lord Dullingham already at breakfast. His
riding coat had been cleaned and he looked calm and refreshed. He rose to greet
them. ‘Good morning, ladies. I am afraid the new butler took to his heels last
night, but please help yourself to some breakfast while I go and order the
carriage, then we can be on our way. I have sent a man ahead to make sure there
are fresh horses for us.’

Georgie longed
to ask him what had happened the previous night, but judged that it might be
considered an impertinence, and besides, everything seemed so normal. The sun
was shining and the birds singing in the eaves and there was no sign of Mr
Baverstock and Lord Barbour. She began to wonder if she had dreamed them.

Half an hour
later they were back in the coach. Georgie, glancing up at the house as her
aunt settled herself, saw a girl’s face pressed against a window on the upper
floor. She looked as though she was trying to open it, but a hand appeared from
behind her and pulled her back into the room.

‘I saw
something - someone,’ she said to Lord Dullingham, who was giving last-minute
instructions to Dawson. ‘At that window.’ She pointed. ‘A young woman.’

He stopped with
his hand on the door. ‘A servant perhaps?’

‘I don’t think
so. I knew there was someone else here last night - there was a tea-tray in the
drawing-room - and knowing Lord Barbour as I do... Oh, my lord, supposing he
has someone else here, keeping her against her will? I only caught a very quick
glimpse, but...’

‘Wait here.’

He strode back
into the house, but she could not sit still and wait for whatever was to come;
ignoring her aunt’s protests, she hurried after him.

He bounded up the
stairs, stopped outside a door and knocked. There was a little cry from inside,
quickly silenced. He tried the door but it was locked. He turned and ran
downstairs again, returning with a pistol in each hand. The noise as he shot
the lock off the door almost deafened Georgie. The broken door swung open. A
woman screamed, a man growled and sprang forward, toppling his lordship to the
ground, where they struggled for possession of the second gun. But Georgie had
no eyes for them; she was looking at Felicity, sitting on the bed, tears
streaming down her face, a paper-white face blotched with weeping.

She ran to put
her arms around her. ‘It’s all right, love. You are safe now.’ But this only
made her sister cry the more. It was no good asking her what had happened; the
poor girl was too distraught to speak coherently. All Georgie could do was hold
her and murmur soothing words of comfort. But she did not feel as tranquil as
she sounded; there was a red rage inside her which threatened to explode. Lord
Barbour! And her darling sister. And they had nearly ridden away and left her
there. It was too horrible to contemplate.

He was still
struggling with Lord Dullingham, trading blow for blow. The bed-hangings were
ripped, ornaments sent crashing, a tray which must have contained Felicity’s
breakfast was overturned and broken crockery added to the hazards. William
Baverstock, hearing the commotion, had arrived on the scene and stood in the
doorway looking down at the men with an expression of superior disdain. Behind
him, panting for breath, was her aunt.

‘Do something!’
Georgie shouted at him. ‘Do something before someone is killed.’

He smiled and
picked up the unfired pistol, then touched Lord Barbour with the toe of his
boot. ‘Get up, man.’

His lordship
obeyed, pulling his torn jacket about him. ‘You never said he was a pugilist,’
he said, rubbing his bruised chin.

Georgie was
furious. ‘Lord Barbour attacked Viscount Dullingham. Lock him up and send for a
constable.’

‘Why should I
do that? As I see it, my uncle fired at him without the least provocation; Lord
Barbour was only defending himself. And your honour.’ The man’s cruel smile
sent shivers down her spine. Could he really be related to Richard?.’

‘My honour?’
She was mystified.

‘Lord Barbour
is your salvation, didn’t you know that? If you want to hold your head up in
Society, that is.’

She looked at
Felicity, who had stopped crying and was staring at him with wide, frightened
eyes. ‘He promised he would take me to York...’ The thought of who was waiting
for her in that city reduced her to tears again.

‘Oh, for pity’s
sake dry your eyes, girl,’ William said impatiently as Mrs Bertram went to help
his lordship. ‘I cannot abide watering-pots and you’ve got nothing to cry over.
No one has hurt you, have they?’ And when she did not answer he repeated, ‘Have
they? No one touched you. Tell this suspicious sister of yours your virtue is
intact.’ He smiled suddenly. ‘Or as intact as it can be, all things
considered.’

Felicity looked
up at her sister and smiled weakly. ‘They didn’t touch me, truly they didn’t.
But what am I to do? No one will believe it and there’s John...’ She stopped
suddenly and her pale face became suffused with colour.

‘You are right,
no one will believe it,’ Lord Barbour said. ‘But your dear sister knows the
remedy.’

Georgie stared
at him for several seconds while her mind whirled. That odious man had not
given up his quest for her, or more accurately his quest for Rowan Park. And
because his first attempt to have his way had failed he was making use of
Felicity. But how had she come into his clutches? And why bring her here? He
could not have anticipated Lord Dullingham’s arrival.

He must have
known what she was thinking because he grinned. ‘Jem was supposed to bring you
here after he had disposed of a certain encumbrance...’

‘That’s
enough!’ commanded William Baverstock sharply. ‘I think you should go. You have
outstayed your welcome.’

Lord Barbour
looked at him as if he had gone mad. ‘What did you say?’

‘I said, take
yourself off. I wonder why I ever trusted such a bumbling fool as you are. Go,
while you can.’

They looked at
each other for several seconds, but the pistol in Mr Baverstock’s hand decided
his lordship. Uttering oaths which put all three women to the blush, he flung
himself out of the room.

William looked
at the two girls, the injured Viscount and Mrs Bertram, who was hovering
uncertainly in the doorway, and laughed. ‘I’ll leave you all to sort yourselves
out, but don’t try to leave.’ Then he too left the room.

Mrs Bertram ran
to the girls, who were sitting white-faced and silent on the edge of the bed,
while Lord Dullingham hauled himself to his feet and sank into a chair. He was
breathing heavily and knew the struggle had not helped his heart condition. He
fumbled in his pocket for the pills his doctor had given him and took one.

Georgie turned
to Felicity. ‘Do you think you can tell us what happened now?’

‘I am so
ashamed. I thought... I couldn’t...’

‘Lord Barbour,
of all people!’ Mrs Bertram put in. ‘How could you? You knew he was dangling
after your sister.’

‘Aunt Harriet!’
Georgie was shocked. ‘You surely did not think Felicity came here of her own
free will?’

‘Oh, but I
did!’ Felicity said. ‘He said he would make all right with you and would take
me to York, but he didn’t...’ She began to weep again.

Georgie handed
her a handkerchief. ‘Please, dearest, calm yourself and tell us exactly what
happened, right from the beginning. You were going to elope with Captain
Melford, isn’t that so?’

‘Yes, but how
did you know?’

‘I guessed. Now,
what was the plan? You must have had one. You did not go to Lord Barbour for
help, did you?’

‘No, of course
not.’ She shuddered. ‘Juliette helped me. She told her mother I had the
headache so I could leave while they were all having dinner. It was the night
before the race.’

‘I thought
Juliette and Captain Melford...’

‘No, she looks
on him as a childhood playmate. She hopes to persuade her mother to let her
marry Freddie Forsythe.’

‘So you left
during dinner and then what?’

‘Juliette said
not to go by way of the Great North Road because it would be all at sixes and
sevens with people taking their stations to watch the race and someone might
recognise me. In any case all the seats were taken. I took a coach to Bedford.
The coachman assured me I should still be in York by the time the race ended.’

‘All by
yourself? Weren’t you frightened?’

‘Oh, yes, but
once I’d left I had to go through with it and I kept thinking of John at the
other end.’

‘Captain
Melford was going to wait for you in York?’