An Escapade and an Engagement (19 page)

He felt her tense. ‘Yes,’ he said, relaxing his hold on her
ever so slightly. ‘All those times you climbed out of windows to meet with your
Harry, I suppose.’

He had to rein himself in—and reminding himself she was still
nursing a broken heart because of Harry was one sure way to do it. Though it was
utterly delicious to feel her in his arms, now was not the time to let passion
get the better of him.

She was not ready for moonlight kisses in the library.
Especially not when they were both half-naked and he was growing steadily more
aroused by the minute. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed, but
somehow he managed to step back and let his arms drop to his side.

‘Come
on,
Richard!’ she urged him
when he just stood motionless.

He clenched his fists. Lord, what would she do if she
discovered how things really stood? He
had
to bring
his arousal under control.

‘You need to get back to your room and get some clothes on.
Some boots on,’ she corrected herself. ‘And chase after her and stop her before
it’s too late.’

He didn’t want to put his clothes back on. He wanted to take
them off. And hers, too.

‘Lady Jayne…’ he grated. Now was the perfect time to tell her
the truth. The bit that concerned Milly, at any rate. ‘I don’t really care if
she has run off with Lord Halstead—’ he began.

‘You don’t mean that! Richard, you mustn’t give up on her! How
will you ever live with yourself if you stand back and let her throw herself
away like this?’

She seized hold of one of his clenched fists with both her
hands.

‘Don’t you understand? She is not going to
marry
Lord Halstead. She… Oh, Richard, don’t you see what will
happen when he gets tired of her? She’ll miss all the…what she calls
fun
she says she’s been having with him, and she’ll go
out and get another…protector. And then another, and another.’

Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears.

‘But she doesn’t mean it. She isn’t a bad person. She’s just so
angry and upset tonight that all she can think about is if she can’t have you
then why shouldn’t she have cream horses and pretty clothes? Oh, Richard, you
have to save her from making a mistake she will regret for the rest of her
life.’

That was when it struck him that not all her distress was on
his account. She was really upset at the thought Milly was making a mistake she
would regret once her temper had cooled. A wry grimace twisted his mouth. If she
were a man she’d already be down at the stables, saddling a horse and riding out
after her. Once her friendship was given, she was loyal to the bitter end. And
she would think less of anyone who demonstrated less than her own total
commitment. Less of
him
if he stood back and did
nothing to prevent Milly sinking into a life of vice.

‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I must stop her.’ Adding silently,
For your sake.

‘I
knew
that if only you could put
aside your anger you would do the right thing. You always do.’

She was looking up at him as though he was some kind
of…hero.

Even after she’d been betrayed by all the men in her life so
far, she trusted him. She had complete faith in his ability to snatch Milly back
from the abyss.

He felt ten feet tall. Because she believed in him.

‘Very well,’ he said, raising her hands to his mouth and
kissing each one. ‘Tell me where she has gone and I will go after her.’

Her whole body sagged with relief. ‘She told me Lord Halstead
would be waiting for her on the lane that goes up to The Workings. But she was
on foot and carrying a bag. I’m sure you will be able to catch up with her.’

‘Come on, then,’ he said, grabbing her hand and heading for the
door.

‘Wh-where are you taking me?’

‘Up to my room, for now.’

‘Oh, there is no need for that. Just get after Milly.’

‘As if I would leave you down here on your own—in the state
you’re in.’

He could hardly believe she would think he’d do that. What did
she take him for? But one glance at her, and the way she was looking at him, was
sufficient to reassure him. It wasn’t that she expected little from
him,
in particular, in the way of courtesy. That
outlook had been drummed into her by the way everyone in her life had treated
her so far. She simply did not expect
anyone
to care
what became of her.

He felt a pang go through him. Lord, but he knew what that felt
like.

He put his loaded pistol down on the table just inside the door
when they reached his rooms, and led Lady Jayne to an armchair by the fire.

‘Sit there while I fetch you a blanket.’

When he returned from his bedchamber she had drawn her knees
right up to her chest and wrapped her arms round herself. But she was still
shivering.

As he draped the blanket round her shoulders he noticed a
bloodstain on her nightgown.

‘You have cut your knee. And your poor feet,’ he said, looking
at the state of them. ‘I should tend to your hurts. And get you some
brandy…’

‘Never mind me,’ she said, grabbing the edges of the blanket
and tugging them tight to her chin. ‘I shall be all right. Just get after them.
Hurry, Richard, hurry!’

Even now, she spared not a thought for herself. God, how he
wanted to kiss her. But if he allowed himself to weaken now, while they were
both wearing so little clothing, who knew where it would end?

Besides, by this time he’d come to the conclusion that she was
right. It was essential for him to catch Milly and put a halt to her schemes.
Otherwise, in the morning, everyone would hear that one of the young ladies—or
at least a person they had all assumed was a lady’s companion—had run off with
one of the gentlemen. And it wouldn’t stop there. Once the guests dispersed the
scandal would be all over Town. It was just the sort of salacious gossip that
people loved to spread: an apparent innocent seduced by a much older,
experienced man at the house party where Lord Ledbury proposed to Lady Jayne
Chilcott. And not just any innocent, but the girl who’d come as companion to
Lady Jayne. And then how long would it be before someone unearthed the
fascinating tidbit that Lord Ledbury had known said innocent even longer than
he’d known Lady Jayne? That he’d set her up in her own house, and given her an
allowance?

It was the very scenario he’d been fighting to prevent ever
since he’d introduced the girls to each other.

He would never forgive himself if it came to that.

‘Help yourself to a drink, then,’ he said gruffly, waving his
arm at the table that held a decanter and glasses. ‘While I go and get some
boots on.’

By the time he returned to his sitting room, booted and half
buttoned into his army greatcoat, Lady Jayne was sitting curled up in the
armchair again, sipping a generous measure of brandy.

He went over and tugged the blanket back up round her shoulders
snugly.

‘I will be as quick as I can,’ he told her. ‘Just sit tight and
keep warm. When I get back we’ll see about cleaning up your cuts and scrapes and
work out how to get you back to your room without anyone discovering you have
ever been out of it.’

Then, because he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he bent
down, seized her face between his hands, and kissed her hard—full on the
lips.

‘What did you do that for?’ she gasped.

She looked puzzled, and a bit surprised, but not the least bit
angry. Which filled him with elation. And hope.

‘Because you are a darling,’ he said, gently tracing the curve
of her cheek with his forefinger. ‘We shall have to have a serious talk when I
get back. But in the meantime…’ he bent and kissed her again ‘…behave
yourself.’

And then he turned and left. Picking up his pistol on his way
out.

Lady Jayne sat there in a daze. He had kissed her. Twice. And
called her a darling. She could still feel the imprint of his lips upon hers.
And the echo of his hands cupping her face. A lovely, fuzzy warmth began to
spread through her veins.

Only to come shivering to a halt when she recalled him adjuring
her to
behave herself.

He might be grateful to her for alerting him to Milly’s flight,
but he still only saw her as… Well, the best she could hope for was a friend.
And he had not been able to resist saying something about her behaviour. He’d
even brought up that dreadful episode when she had snuck out of Lady Penrose’s
house to meet Harry. The horrid, shaky feeling she’d had ever since she had
fallen off the roof became a surge of real nausea.

She downed the rest of the brandy, then set the empty glass
down on the floor by the chair with a snap.

Minutes ticked past.

It was awfully quiet, sitting up by the fire, in the middle of
the night. She wondered where Richard was. Whether he’d caught up with them yet.
And whether he’d shot Lord Halstead with that pistol he’d snatched up as he went
out through the door. And whether Milly was flinging herself on his chest and
weeping with gratitude…

She pulled her thoughts away from their reunion. Only to become
increasingly aware of all the physical discomforts she’d told Richard did not
matter. Her nightgown had absorbed a lot of rainwater when she’d slid down the
wet tiles, so that in spite of the blanket round her shoulders she just couldn’t
get warm. Her knee hurt. As did the palms of her hands and her shoulders in the
aftermath of hanging from the guttering. And her feet were filthy.

She’d feel much better if only she could have a wash and get
into some clean, dry nightwear, rather than sitting here feeling sorry for
herself because Richard had done exactly as she’d asked. Left her here alone,
soaked, freezing and hurt, to go chasing after Milly.

But she could not go back to her room. Milly had locked her
out.

No, she hadn’t, though. She had locked her
in.
She had turned the key in the outside of the door. If she could
just find her way back to the suite she would be able to get back in and, as
Richard had said, nobody would be any the wiser.

Hitching the blanket round her shoulders, she tiptoed across
the room and peeped out of the door through which Richard had gone. The corridor
outside was pitch-black. Nobody would venture along here without a candle. And
if she were to see any glimmer of light she could run and hide, surely?

She went and fetched a candle from Richard’s bedroom. She felt
a pang of guilt when she noted a mess of broken glass on his dressing table,
where the stone she had flung had shattered the mirror. She also couldn’t help
noticing that his bed had not been slept in. He must have been getting ready for
bed when she’d thrown the stone through his window. Which was why his shirt had
been undone. Her mind flashed back to the sight of him, standing in the library
doorway, barefoot and half dressed. And then her eyes fell to the rumpled
coverlet of his bed. Had he been sitting just there, undoing his shirt, when her
pebble flew through the window?

She backed hastily away from the bed, took the lighted candle
from Richard’s nightstand, and marched determinedly out of his suite of
rooms.

If she turned to the left and walked until she came to the end
of his side of the house, then turned left again, that would take her to the
front of the house, where her own suite was situated.

The candlelight cast huge wavering shadows before her as she
crept stealthily along the deserted corridors. How on earth did burglars have
the nerve to creep through people’s houses in the dead of night? By the time she
reached the familiar sight of the door to the suite she had shared with Milly
her heart was banging so hard against her ribs it was making her whole body
shake.

She slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief to think nobody
had seen her, walked across to her room and stretched out her hand to unlock her
door. But there was no key in the lock. Milly must have removed it for some
reason, and she had not noticed because she had been making so much noise
pounding on the door, demanding her release. With a sense of frustration she
shook the handle, but it was no use.

There was nothing for it. She would have to go back to
Richard’s room and wait for him to return. It was what he’d asked her to do in
the first place. If only she’d just stayed put!

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she peered out
into the darkened corridor. If only she’d just done as he’d requested, nobody
would have known she was even out of bed. Richard would have got a spare key
from somewhere and got her back to her room discreetly. But now, because she
thought she knew best, she had doubled the risk of discovery by venturing along
this same set of corridors twice over.

The nearer she got to Richard’s room, the more nervous she
became. She might have been able to explain away getting caught near her own
room, but not all the way on the other side of the house.

When she finally reached the sanctuary of his suite she was
shaking so badly there was nothing for it but to make straight for the brandy
decanter. She sloshed a generous measure into the glass she’d used before, then
sank onto the chair, draping the blanket she had left there round her
shoulders—more for comfort than anything. Then she took a large gulp of the
drink she’d poured, hoping the warmth that burned down her throat and into her
stomach would soon radiate out through her limbs and help her stop shaking, as
it had before.

Oh, what could be taking him so long? She peered at the clock
on the mantelpiece. It was very blurry. She rubbed her eyes, but still could not
make out the time. It was too dark in here. And her eyes did not seem to be able
to focus on anything properly. And she was so tired.

She curled her legs up on the chair and tried to wedge her head
against its high back, but it was very uncomfortable. It had not been so bad
when she was moving about, but now she was sitting still she couldn’t stop
thinking about how cold and wet she was.