A Wager for Love (9 page)

Startled by this new show of force, Charles objected, “We can’t leave today, Richard. You must recollect that we promised to dine with my brother, and then there’s Lady Summerton’s drum.”

It soon became obvious that nothing he could say would change his hot-headed young friend’s mind. For several minutes Charles persevered, explaining the inadvisability of such a course and begging Richard to give it further thought, but all to no avail. There was a set look about Richard’s mouth that several persons would have had no difficulty in recognising as the Davenham trait of. stubbornness.

There was no help to be gained from Lady Elizabeth either. Having spent the most miserable evening of her life, wondering what dreadful fate had befallen her cousin and worrying distractedly what to tell Richard (for she held out no hope oh the highwayman keeping his word and advising Richard himself), she had at last given in to her maid’s pleadings and swallowed a few drops of laudanum in water, and was at that very moment heavily and deeply asleep.

Richard, having taken a stand, could not be coaxed or persuaded to change his mind, and Charles decided to do what he always did in times of crisis-seek the advice of his brother. Taking his leave of the now extremely unhappy Richard, he pondered a little on the problem, but could find no solution. In his own heart of hearts he had no doubt that Saltaire had abducted the chit, although prudence made him retrain from confiding his suspicions to Richard. Still, he thought to himself, Ware would know what ought to be done. Devilish astute was old Ware. Comforted by this thought Charles sped his footsteps in the direction of Albermarle Street.

Handing his hat to the footman, Charles addressed him with all the familiarity of one who has been known to the household since he was in short coats. “My brother, James, is he in? I have a matter of great importance to discuss with him.”

“Indeed, Master Charles, he is in the study. I take it that it is no … That is I trust …”

Comprehension suddenly dawning and momentarily diverted, Charles eyed the footman “What? Oh no, James,” he reassured him, “Nothing like that, I ain’t in River Tick or Jew King’s hands.”

“I am most relieved to hear it, Master Charles.”

With scant respect for his brother’s dignity, Charles burst into the room. “WeIl, brother, and here is a pretty mess, Saltaire has run off with Arnedale’s sister. and Arnedale is swearing he will go after them-worried in case the chit has been forced to the match.”

Lord Ware, used to the exigencies of the youngest member of his family, put down his paper and surveyed him mildly. “Unfortunate, I agree. I already knew that Saltaire had married the girl.”

Stopped in mid breath, Charles sank down into a chair. “Lud, Ware, can’t tell you anything. How comes it about that you do know anyway?” he complained, a startled expression on his face.

Correctly interpreting his thoughts, Lord Ware smiled slightly, “No, Charles, I didn’t have a hand in it if that’s what you’re thinking.” He picked up a piece of notepaper, waving it before his brother’s bemused eyes, “I was the recipient of a letter from Saltaire this morning.”

With Charles complaining indignantly that he had never for one moment supposed his brother to be involved, it was some time before Lord Ware was able to return to the subject of Richard. “I take it the boy is determined to follow them.”

“Oh aye,” returned his brother gloomily, “When I left he was on the point of sending round to his stables. Mind, I did try to put the matter right …”

“Oh?” Lord Ware surveyed him expectantly.

“Told him that it was probably a love match,” confided Charles, well pleased with himself.

“A love match?” reiterated his brother faintly. “Er, how did Richard take that?”

Charles shrugged. “I fancy he would like to believe it.”

“Umm.” Lord Ware watched his brother thoughtfully, “I think we shall have to take a short trip to the country, Charles, if only to save the young man’s skin. Saltaire doesn’t take too kindly to interference, although it’s too late for him to do anything now.”

“He thinks to challenge Saltaire,” scoffed Charles. “Never fear though, I told him how it would be; Saltaire will spit him as easily as can be.” He shuddered a little, “I tell you, Ware, I wouldn’t like to face Saltaire across the length of a sword.”

“Charles, you amaze me, I almost begin to think there may be some hope for you at last. Some smatterings of intelligence …”

“The devil, brother,” replied that young gentleman with an injured air. “Surely you never thought I would be foolish enough to pick a quarrel with SaItaire.”

There was a moment’s silence broken by Lord Ware saying, “I only hope that by the time he reaches them, young Richard has had time to reconsider.”

Charles nodded gloomily. “Aye, and the worst of it is that Richard don’t even know yet whether the girl went willingly or not.”

Lord Ware kept his thoughts on this particular matter to himself.

At last, having listened as patiently as he could to numerous dire warnings and pessimistic forecasts from his coachman, Richard was on his way in the smart new carriage delivered only a few days before, his valises strapped on the back. It was already well into the afternoon, and by the time they had travelled for a few hours, Richard, lulled by the gentle motion of the coach and the rigours of the previous evening, started to fall into a light doze, pondering quite unsuccessfully on the mystery of his sister’s marriage to the Earl of Saltaire. Whilst even he could not totally overlook the fact that everything pointed to the Earl having abducted Lavinia, and marrying her out of hand, so great was his admiration for the older man that he was reluctant to believe such a thing of him, despite his reputation. As Lavinia’s brother he owed it to her to discover the truth, much as he disliked the thought of his coming interview with the Earl, especially now that his initial dread had begun to fade, being replaced by a feeling of distinct unease at the thought of facing such a very grand personage. However, firmly telling himself that nothing could be gained by idle speculation, his natural optimism soon reasserted itself, and before too long he was nearly convinced that his initial fear had been totally unfounded-nearly but not quite-some lingering unease made him rather anxious to see his sister for himself, but happily his anxieties were not grave enough to keep him awake and soon he was sunk in slumber.

His peace was rudely shattered as the coach stopped with a jolt that all but flung him off the seat and across the carriage. Outside, the shrill whinnying of the horses and angry voices of the grooms mingled in the evening air.

Realising that he was unhurt apart from the odd bruise or so, Richard got to his feet, dusted down his fine new coat and stepped from the carriage, his face unusually grim. If anything had happened to his horses… He could not afford delays, night was already drawing on and he had no desire to find himself at the mercy of some highwayman.

“What is the matter? Why have we stopped?”

The irate coachman came towards him, the reins of a horse held loosely in one hand and the other firmly gripping the arm of a small slim person. Peering through the gloom Richard saw to his surprise that it was a girl, and to all appearances a very young girl.

“Begging your pardon, My Lord, but this ‘ere young person came galloping down the road right in front of us. Fair upset the horse, you know how she is …” The look he bestowed upon his captive was anything but kindly.

Richard sighed, nodding his head sympathetically, his eyes fixed on the girl who appeared to be enveloped in a long dark cloak of ancient vintage, only a small heart-shaped face and one or two dusky ringlets gleaming in the dim light. Signs of recent tears were still plain upon the culprit’s face, adding to her general air of disarray, and two beseeching pansy-brown eyes clung to his face.

He coughed a little nervously and turned to the irate coachman. “Well never mind. I take it there’s no actual damage?”

“No, My Lord, just a broken trace. I suppose we can have fit fixed fairly quickly, but it will mean some delay to your journey.” he added, with another dark look at the young person.

Gravely Richard eyed the girl in front of him, noting for the first time that she was clutching a worn portmanteau. The coachman evidently not too satisfied with his young master’s apparent unconcern, broke in, “This ‘ere young person whats caused all the botheration, your Lordship. I reckons as how she is running off or some such thing. T’aint right for a girl to be jaunting about the countryside at this time of night.” he added, with a scowl in the girl’s direction.

The girl, who until this point had been silent, responded indignantly, “I’m not running away.”

And Richard. looking closely at her for the first time, realised that she was not, as he had first thought, about thirteen but nearer to seventeen or even eighteen.

“What are you doing here, then, if you’re not running away?” he asked her. his interest caught despite his own problems, for young ladies of good family, which it was obvious she was, did not wander about on their own. Now that he could study her properly he saw that her cloak was exceedingly muddy about the hem, and the ringlets he had noticed earlier, all untidy.

She gave Richard a considering look, and then apparently satisfied, said candidly, “Well I’m not really running off, that is … Well … “

Listening to this Richard became increasingly uneasy, and when she finished in a burst of honesty by saying, “Well I have to, you see, otherwise I shall have to marry Mr. Walthrope and I shan’t no matter what grandfather says. For he is odious. He’s forty if he’s a day, and besides he wears an old-fashioned wig and all he can think about is farming …”

Richard felt his heart sink. Wondering what to do, he glanced up and, perceiving the interested stares of his entourage, took her by the arm and led her off, saying firmly, “But what about your parents? They will be worried about you.” Richard knew very little about the habits of young ladies but common sense told him that she must have left her home without anyone’s knowledge.

“Oh my parents are dead.” She shrugged carelessly, adding, “I live over there with my grandfather, Sir Gervase Markham.”

“But your governess? Your maid?” persisted the hapless Richard, “Surely they will be worrying?”

The girl, recovering her spirits a little, tossed back her head, the hood falling back to reveal an entrancing little face, framed by a quantity of dark curls. “My governess! She is asleep. She always falls asleep after dinner.”

Seeing his dismay, she added, “That’s why I had to do it now, you see. So I could get away before she knew. I have put a bolster in my bed,” she added with relish. “It will be hours, probably morning, before they discover I have gone. My grandfather has the gout. It makes him ill-tempered.”

Before Richard could give vent to his feelings, she continued sorrowfully, “I had it all planned, you see. The London Coach stops at the Green Man and I wanted to catch it.”

Richard began to feel relieved. Doubtless she had relatives in London and was on her way to them. However, one thing still puzzled him.

“Well, why aren’t you at the coaching house then?”

His relief was short lived. “Oh the landlord knows my grandfather, and he would be sure to send him some message. No, I was hoping to stop the mail on the main road, but it was further than I thought.”

Richard, feeling himself sinking deeper and deeper into the morass, asked severely, “And when you get to London, what then?”

The clear brown eyes regarded him without a trace of concern, “Oh I shall get a position as an abigail or some such thing. just like a Romance.”

Horrified, Richard was lost for words. He cudgeled his brains in vain for sonic way to make this child, for despite her years she was nothing more, realise the folly of the course she contemplated. This girl let loose in London. It was not to be borne. He thought of the fates that could and probably would befall her. At the very best some rich titled man might take her under his protection, Lord knows she

was pretty enough. At the worst… He frowned grimly. Charles had pointed out to him the stews of St. Giles.

For a moment he contemplated the alternatives open to him, whilst his new-found companion looked up at him hopefully. It had been her experience thus far in life that young, and indeed for that matter old, gentlemen were flatteringly ready to render her what assistance they could. Richard, however, was oblivious to the hopeful look in her eyes. He bitterly regretted his involvement in what instinct told him was going to be a pretty coil, but he could scarcely leave the girl on the public highway-and there was his sister to think of. He could, of course, restore her to her grandfather, but even if he could persuade her to accompany him, he had no desire to face a gouty country squire of uncertain

temper at this time or the evening. No, there was only one thing for it. He was not far from SaItaire’s house now, she would have to accompany him there, when hopefully he could hand her into his sister’s care. It was gradually being borne in upon Richard that unless he took an extremely firm stand, Miss Kitty (for she had vouchsaved him her name), was going to prove exceedingly tiresome.

He turned to face her, his voice stern. “I am on my way to visit my sister at Marlham Place, and I shall take you with me, unless you prefer me to return you to your own home?”

“You mean you won’t put me in the way of the London Mail?” she asked aggrieved.

“Certainly not,” replied Richard with new authority, “It would be most improper. Once you get to London, anything could happen to you,” he threatened darkly.

“What?” enquired Kitty ingenuously.

But Richard, his mind on the girls adorning the bagnios in Covent Garden and the manner in which the Abbesses collected their prey, merely sighed, his mouth tight. “WelI which is it to be?” he asked. “I cannot leave you here, and your grandfather …”

“Oh no,” broke in Kitty hastily, “It would be most unwise of you to see him. He might think you were trying to elope with me.”

“What?” Richard was aghast. “Elope with you. Lud, and why should he think so indeed?”