An Improper Suitor (22 page)

He collapsed to the ground.

Benny crashed through the window, hurling himself at the falling Neave. They fell to the ground together.

Lionel was next. But he came slowly. He placed one leg over the window frame, then the other. As he swung his leg over the sill, a trickle of blood travelled down the wall below the frame.

There was plenty of time for him to observe that Neave was on the ground, with Benny struggling to rise up.

‘Thank God, Benny,’ said Lionel. ‘You got him.’

Lord Medlow appeared in the doorway, completely out of breath. He shut the door behind him. ‘You shan’t get away, Neave—’ He spotted Neave on the floor, with Benny on top of him. ‘Well done, Benedict,’ he said.

Benny rose and straightened his clothes. ‘Actually, I had nothing to do with it at all. It was all Miss Swifton’s doing.’

The two men’s eyes went to the poker in Julia’s hand.

‘Good God!’ said Lord Medlow. ‘I never thought I’d see the day when I would be bested by a female.’

Amelia’s head appeared through the window. ‘You got him!’ she said, beaming at Julia. ‘I knew you would do it as soon as I saw him heading for the window. Isn’t she wonderful?’ she asked the
assembled
company.

Lionel gave a groan and fell back on to the first armchair he could find. ‘Sorry, ladies. I know this is hardly polite—’

Julia flew across the room. ‘Someone fetch the doctor,’ she said, noticing in some distant part of her mind that she sounded like her grandmother. But she could not just let them stand around while Lionel bled to death. ‘And he needs to be bandaged.’

Lord Medlow opened the door and bellowed for the innkeeper. A flurry of movement brought a large, red-faced woman into the room, whom the innkeeper introduced as Mrs Taddle, his wife. She was followed by two maids carrying white sheets and water.

Lionel’s face had turned a pasty white, the colour of porridge. His lips were pressed close together, and Julia knew he was struggling not to cry out in pain. She slipped her fingers into his. ‘Hold on,’ she whispered, her face close to his. ‘You’ll be up and about in no time.’

His eyes opened and stared straight into hers. He made a feeble attempt to smile.

‘You can’t keep your hands away from me, can you?’ he murmured.

She smiled back. ‘And whose fault is that?’ she said, teasingly.

His smile widened, and he closed his eyes again. Mrs Taddle was cleaning the wound, inspecting it with experienced eyes. ‘It’s nought but a surface scratch,’ she said. ‘Nothing to worry about. The bullet’s
not lodged inside. He’s just lost a bit of blood. Makes ’em weak.’

She heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Are you certain?’ she asked.

‘As certain as I am my name’s Mary,’ she said, cheerfully. ‘My first husband was a soldier, God rest his soul,’ she said. ‘I followed the drum with him for three years. I know what a bad wound looks like, and this isn’t it.’

She raised her red face from her task to throw her a shrewd glance. ‘Don’t worry, lass,’ she said. ‘He’ll survive to marry you.’

Heat rushed to her face. She dropped his hand like a hot kettle and moved back. His eyes opened. They were full of laughter.

‘You should have told her you have already turned me down,’ he remarked.

Julia stepped away quickly. She cast a look around to see if any of the others had heard. Fortunately, no one paid them any attention.

Lord Medlow had left the room.

Benny was busy tying Neave’s hands and feet with a piece of cord the innkeeper had given him. A bruise on his chin was turning scarlet and purple.

Amelia sat in an armchair, staring down at Neave. Her neat gold curls were in disarray, and her whole body drooped. A very wilted flower.

Julia’s heart went out to her. Nobody had given her a thought. Her father had not even paused to talk to her or to ask her if she had been harmed in any way.

She could only imagine the pain and humiliation Amelia must be going through. All caused by Julia’s betrayal. She would never speak to Julia again, once she knew.

Julia brought a chair from the table and placed it next to Amelia’s. Amelia smiled up at her, a pale, thin smile. A large red mark stained her left cheek.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Julia. ‘About Neave.’ She wasn’t quite ready yet to tell Amelia the truth.

She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. She coloured and looked down at her hands. ‘I’m grateful to you for putting a stop to it. I was
unbelievably
foolish. I don’t know how I’ll ever look Papa in the face again.’

‘But Neave—’
‘Neave?’ She examined the prone figure on the ground. ‘It didn’t take long for me to find out I’d made a mistake.’ She settled back in her chair, clearly ready to give Julia an account of the whole ride.

Julia was tired. The events of the evening were beginning to take their toll. She would have preferred to wait until the next day to hear what Amelia had to say. But she had brought the situation upon her friend. Besides, she was curious to know what Neave had done to turn Amelia against him.

‘It wasn’t at all romantic,’ said Amelia, wrinkling her nose in
aversion.
‘He’d been drinking, and he’d brought a bottle of brandy with him. He kept taking sips of it, which wasn’t at all nice. I expected him to be poetic or
something.
But he wasn’t. Just sat there drinking.’

She paused, reliving her disillusionment. ‘Then he asked me if I’d brought the money. I’d brought everything I could, but I couldn’t lay my hands on any more because I didn’t want anyone to be suspicious.’ She looked towards the doorway from which her father had left. ‘I get a quarterly allowance, you know. But I’d spent a lot of it already on ribbons and hats and things. I don’t know what he
expected.’
She shook her head. ‘He opened my reticule and counted out the money, which took ages because he kept dropping it. When he finished he sort of snarled and tossed it straight at me. There were coins
everywhere.’

She made a gesture of disgust. ‘That’s when he changed completely. “You foolish chit,” he said. “How do you think we’re going to make it to the border?” And then he struck me, hard, against the jaw.’ Amelia put her hand to her bruise. ‘It
hurt.’
She paused and looked at Julia. ‘That had never happened to me. Nobody ever hit me, you know.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I scooped the coins up and threw them back at him. I told him he could have what money I had, but I wanted him to let me down. That instant. I didn’t want to marry him any more, you see.’

‘But he didn’t let you down.’

‘No, he didn’t. Instead, he fell on to his knees. He was
disguised,
you know, and smelled of drink, and I couldn’t open the carriage window because I was afraid someone would see me.’

‘But why did he kneel?’ Julia asked, a little bewildered by this turn
of events.

‘He said he was sorry for striking me, and he didn’t want to, but that he was so nervous with all this elopement business and now it was all for
nothing
because we didn’t have the money. Which by that time I was very glad of.’

‘Quite rightly so,’ said Julia.

‘Then he started to cry. He said he didn’t want to disappoint me, because he loved me. He’d never loved a woman in his life before. And now he’d made a hash of it, because he had to go and strike me and he was very sorry because he didn’t want to be like his father.’

‘His father?’

Amelia nodded. ‘He said his father beat him and shut him up for days in a cupboard. He made me very sorry for him. But I still didn’t want to marry him.’ She fingered the bruise again. ‘My jaw was
hurting,
you see.’

Julia did see, very well.

‘So I asked him again to let me down, but he said he couldn’t. He was sorry, but he couldn’t let me go. And besides, he needed the money desperately otherwise he was in dun territory and would be thrown into the Fleet Prison if he didn’t marry an heiress quickly. He’d borrowed so much on expectations of his father’s death, but his father made a sudden recovery. Of course, when he told me that, it only made matters much worse because I know now that Papa was right about him.’

She looked up at Julia. ‘So you see, I was never so glad in my life when I saw Papa open the door. I knew you were behind it, because I’d told no one else and, of course, you were there, standing at the window. I could have
hugged
you right then and there.’ She beamed at Julia. ‘But then I remembered he had a pistol, because he’d showed it to me, and I wanted to warn everyone. I was
terrified.
Before I knew it, things started to happen. And you knocked him down.’

Neave groaned, and began to stir.

Everyone immediately went on the alert.

He tried to raise himself, only to discover that he was tied up. ‘What the devil—’ His eyes landed on Amelia, who was closest to him. ‘What are they going to do to me?’ he asked.

Amelia looked down at him sadly. ‘I don’t know, Warren.’

‘Whatever they may say,’ he said, ‘I do love you.’

She nodded, ‘I know. But it wasn’t enough.’

There was a brief flare of something like torment in his eyes. Then his face contorted in anger. He struggled to sit up, hampered by his bonds. Throwing a murderous glance in Julia’s direction, he sneered, ‘You were behind this, you damned wh—’

Despite his weakened state, Lionel was upon him before he could complete the sentence.

Benny leapt up to hold him back as he was in imminent danger of loosening his bandage.

They collided, landing in a heap on top of Neave.

The door opened and Lord Neville appeared, accompanied by two large tanned men of threatening stance.

‘Get him off the floor,’ said Lord Medlow, eyeing the skirmish with distaste.

Lionel and Lord Benedict lifted Neave off the floor. Neave
struggled.
Lionel’s bandage began to unravel, and fresh blood spread into a round stain on the linen. Julia stepped forward to say something, but Lionel gave her a warning glance.

‘Now here is the situation,’ said Lord Medlow. ‘The way I see it, you have two choices. These two men here will be more than willing to weigh you down and drop you in the harbour. Left to my own devices, that would be my preference. But Lord Thorwynn and Lord Benedict don’t seem to favour that option, unless they’re forced to.’

He paused dramatically. Everyone waited.

‘The other possibility is that you agree to sign a confession, and we’ll put you on the first East Indiaman bound for Calcutta, with the proviso that you will never set foot again in England.’ Lord Medlow barely gave him a minute to decide. ‘The choice is yours, of course. Which will it be?’

‘What do you wish me to confess to?’ said Neave, sullenly.

‘Obviously we want to keep my daughter out of this. So we will simply have you write a letter to your uncle and your father stating that you were forced to flee England to escape your creditors, and other rather pressing embarrassments which you would rather not divulge, and that you will be seeking your fortune in India. I will need three copies, one of which I will retain, in case for some inexplicable
reason your uncle and your father never receive theirs. Do I have your word as a gentleman that if I have you untied you will not attempt to escape or harm anyone?’

‘You have it,’ said Neave.

Julia wondered if he still qualified as a gentleman in spite of
everything
. However, Neave himself seemed to think so, as he sat calmly at the table and wrote what Lord Medlow dictated without any
problems
.

When he finished, the two men took him away.

She very much hoped it would be the last they ever saw of him.

By the time the doctor arrived, it was almost morning. Because of Lionel’s injury, they all put up at the inn, with Amelia and Julia
sharing
a room, and Hannah sleeping in the dressing room in a truckle bed.

When Julia was sure everyone was asleep, she lit her candle and headed for Lionel’s room. She trod carefully, terrified of being
discovered,
or, what was just as bad, being waylaid by a drunken sailor.

She reached his room uneventfully. She stepped inside and leaned against the door, willing her racing heart to calm down. She approached the bed slowly.

‘Lionel,’ she said.

There was no answer.

The light of the candle fell on the bed. His face in the candlelight had an unhealthy whiteness to it that alarmed her, and his sleep was restless. All thoughts of sharing his bed disappeared. She felt his head to see if there was a fever, but it felt cool to the touch.

She hovered uncertainly. He could develop a fever during the night. However, at the moment, there was nothing she could do for him. There was, in fact, no point in lingering.

She would return in the morning to make certain nothing had gone wrong. Meanwhile, she needed to slip back into her chamber, before she was discovered.

So much for her second attempt at seduction.

Julia waited for the message. She waited all day. She did not leave the house, in case a message arrived during her absence. She waited all evening. She waited until midnight. But nothing came.

She waited for news of Lionel’s recovery.

She should not have left the inn at the East India Docks before making sure Lionel had not contracted a fever. But Lord Medlow had not given her much choice.

It seemed Julia had barely closed her eyes after her trip to Lionel’s bedroom, when Hannah was shaking her to inform her that the master needed to leave. When she was able to open her eyes and look at the clock, she discovered it was six o’clock in the morning.

With Hannah’s help, she made herself presentable. Amelia, not wanting to offend her father further, no doubt, had already dressed and gone downstairs.

She wanted to reassure herself about Lionel. But she could not visit Lionel’s room, and Lord Benedict was still asleep. So she left messages under both Lionel’s and Lord Benedict’s door requesting them to send a message immediately and tell her that all was well.

When Julia arrived in the private parlour downstairs, she found Lord Medlow and Amelia had already breakfasted.

‘No time to eat,’ said Lord Medlow, as soon as he saw her,
looking
pointedly at his watch piece. ‘Have to set a spanking pace. Won’t do to have my daughter’s absence noticed,’ he said. ‘The sooner we return, the better.’ Julia barely had time to grasp a bread
roll and hurry after him.

As night fell and she did not receive news, her concern turned to alarm.

She considered calling a hack to take her back to the inn where Lionel was staying. But it would be the height of folly for a lady to go to the East India Docks in the dead of night. Even escorted by servants.

She sent two of her footmen instead, with instructions to enquire after Lord Thorwynn. They returned a little after one o’clock, only to inform her that his lordship had been moved and was no longer at the inn. Mr Taddle, the landlord, had been away from the tap room when they left, and so they could not ask him anything about Lord Thorwynn’s condition.

She hesitated on the verge of sending a footman around to Lionel’s residence, but thought better of it. Apart from awakening the
household,
it would generate unnecessary apprehension if his servants discovered his injury. Word of it would inevitably reach Lady Thorwynn, who would fall into a nervous spasm. Besides, there was no guarantee at all that he and Lord Benedict had returned to Mayfair. They might simply have removed to a more comfortable inn. She would send round the next morning, a calm, innocuous enquiry that would not raise anyone’s suspicions.

She was to regret her decision. The moment she tried to fall asleep, restless nightmares assailed her. She became Lionel, tossing and
turning
in bed with fever, his rambling imagination plagued by images of objects crushing him, and pain lancing through his leg.

She would tear herself out from the nightmare. Awake, she would reassure herself that he was well, that Mrs Taddle knew what she was speaking of when she had told Julia the wound was clean. But the moment she drifted back into sleep the nightmares would resume and she would wake up again in alarm.

I don’t know what I’d do if I lose him.

She stayed awake for a long time, staring into the darkness, wondering how she would live her life if something happened to Lionel.

Finally, as dawn began to break, completely exhausted, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Julia groaned and tried to cover her head with the pillow.

‘Not today, Grannie. Why don’t you have the Cavalry Charge
without
me? For once?’

But Lady Bullfinch was ruthless. She pulled off the cover and tossed the pillow on the floor. ‘You know the rule. Nothing but
sickness
can keep us. That’s the rule of the Cavalry Charge.’

She groaned again. She knew she would pull her out of bed, if she didn’t get up. It had happened in the past, and no doubt would happen again.

Julia swung her legs over the side of the bed and put her bare feet on the carpeted floor.

‘I’m awake. No need to hover.’

Lady Bullfinch raised an eyebrow, satisfied herself that Julia would not lie down again, and left.

Before Julia could reach for the bell pull, her maid Bethany appeared.

‘Such a lovely day for a ride,’ she said, in a painfully cheery voice.

Resigned, Julia submitted to her ministrations, her eyes half closed.

Her aunt was there, as was Miranda. Obliged to be civil, she put on a friendly face, hiding the anxiety eating at her.

Nicholas had also come, but he was not allowed to race with the ladies.

He smiled. ‘I’ll be your spectator, cheering you on,’ he said. ‘Though I have not yet decided who I want to win. If I don’t support Grannie, she’ll slay me with a glance. If I don’t support Miranda, she will find all kinds of ways to avenge herself. If I don’t support my mother, she will call me an undutiful son. And of course, I want to support you, Cousin Julia, because we’re friends.’

Julia smiled. ‘Perhaps, in that case, it would be best to cheer
everyone.
That way you won’t lose favour with any of us.’

He laughed and fell back, leaving them to line up.

The horses snorted. Impatient, they strained to start moving. Poor Hamlet, who had not been given a good run for some time, could
hardly wait, his restlessness infecting her. She could not wait to return home to send notes to both Lionel’s residence, and Lord Benedict’s.

Surely one of them would have written, if he were well? The wound must have festered. With the bandage falling off during his struggle to hold up Neave, something must have gone wrong. Or perhaps the loss of blood had weakened him too much.

Their silence gnawed at her.

She should have refused to leave the inn.

‘Gooo forth!’ came the command and the horses set off, tearing down the course as if it were a racing track.

Despite Julia’s anxiety, the exhilaration of the race caught her, and she was able to set aside her fears, just for a moment, as she began to fly. As the world around her blurred, she put aside her apprehension and allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

Her cousin Miranda was ahead of her now. Julia felt a surge of admiration and pride in the little girl who was growing up into a lovely woman. Certainly Miranda was a superb horsewoman.

But she would not let her win.

She urged Hamlet forward. Always ready for a challenge, he extended his limbs and shot forward until the two horses were neck to neck.

Suddenly there was a shout.

Julia looked around, startled. She saw Amelia waving at her, saying something.

She waved back, quickly, not wanting Hamlet to slow, but Amelia kept waving, shouting something she couldn’t hear. As she drew closer, Julia realized that Amelia was not smiling.

Terror struck at her. Amelia must have heard something about Lionel.

She swerved off the path. Amelia gestured for Julia to follow her, and set out in a gallop. Julia, furious with the young girl for leading her on a chase, followed hard behind her.

‘Stop!’ she shouted to Amelia, but the girl ignored her.

Grimly, Julia followed. She realized that Amelia was taking her behind a copse of trees. No doubt the news she wished to impart would upset her, and she wanted to grant her some privacy.

But when she reached the copse, Amelia had disappeared. Julia searched the trees, but there was no sign of her.

She slowed down, puzzled.

Then she saw the form. A man lay on the ground, perfectly still. No doubt Amelia had returned to Rotten Row to find help.

She spurred Hamlet on. As she drew closer, he began to look
familiar
.

He stirred. Suddenly, very quickly, he sprang up, then fell down on to his knees.

It was Lionel.

Relief at seeing him made her so weak she swayed, almost falling off the horse. She trotted over, slowly, fighting to get her emotions under control.

But he wasn’t getting up. Was he hurt? He must have tried to come riding and fallen off his horse, weakened by his wound.

She hurried once again, furious, preparing to scold him for his stupidity in going riding when he had not yet recovered.

But as she approached he smiled up at her, one of those
devastatingly
charming smiles that made so many women swoon, including her. Especially her.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer day?’ he said. ‘Thou art more lovely and more temperate, Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
…’

He was feverish.

‘Come on, Lionel,’ she said gently. ‘If you can get yourself up on the horse behind me, I’ll take you home.’

But he did not move. He stayed on the grass, grinning at her.

‘You don’t like that one? It’s Shakespeare, you know. Never mind. I have a better one. Well, not better, but more original, at least:

She frowned and reached out with her hand, urging him softly, as she would a skittish horse. ‘Come on, I’ll pull you up,’ she said.

But he stayed there, kneeling in the grass. ‘I see. You weren’t impressed with that one. Let me try something else:

‘Stop!’ she said, horrified that someone might hear him.
He grinned. ‘Didn’t like that, either? Well I have more:

She began to laugh. She could not help it. ‘Lionel, please get up. You are clearly feverish. And the grass is staining your clothing. And your bandage is getting soaked.’  

He shook his head. ‘I won’t get up until you agree.’  

‘Agree to what?’ she said, exasperated.  

‘To marry me, of course,’ he said.  

It had been such an unusual morning, she decided she had heard him wrong. ‘Let’s talk about it later, somewhere civilized,’ she said, stalling, because she was not sure she heard him right, and besides, he could not be held accountable if he was feverish. ‘It’s no use trying to silence me,’ he said, ‘because you won’t.

He was smiling. But there was something else in his eyes. Something more. Something that found an echo deep inside her. A tiny seed of hope grew inside her, bursting open, filling her with strange elation.  

But she held back. She could not marry him. He would not be faithful to her.  

She regarded him as he kneeled there in the grass. He waited. There was doubt in his eyes, and fear. Fear that she would say no. His smile wavered.

‘Please, Julia,’ he said softly. ‘I love you. Marry me.’

Still she hesitated, though it broke her heart.

‘I’ll do everything I can to make you happy,’ he said.

She slid off the horse and went down on her knees beside him. ‘Lionel,’ she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. She wanted to believe him. ‘What about all those admirers of yours? What will you do with them?’

He grinned. ‘They’ll just have to find someone else.’ Then, seeing the grimness in her face, the laughter faded from his eyes.

‘There will never be anyone but you,’ he said, roughly. His words carried the weight of an oath. ‘There never has been anyone, since I met you.’

She could no longer doubt him. The harsh glimmer in his eyes told her it was the truth.

She threw her arms around him and pressed her lips to his.

A long, dizzying moment later, he pulled her gently away. ‘I take it that was a yes,’ he said, his voice unsteady.

‘Yes,’ she said hoarsely.

‘About time,’ said Lady Bullfinch, emerging from behind a tree. ‘That was one of the most drawn out and incoherent proposals I have ever witnessed.’

‘You shouldn’t be too hard on my boy,’ said Lady Thorwynn,
affectionately.
‘He hasn’t had much practice with proposals.’

Startled, Julia sprang to her feet, pulling up Lionel with her.

They were surrounded. Several figures on horseback had emerged from behind the trees. Her aunt Viola. Lady Gragspur, Lord Yarfolk, Nicholas, Miranda, Lord Benedict. And Amelia, who beamed wildly and jumped from her horse to embrace Julia tightly.

‘I’m so very glad you are going to marry Lord Thorwynn,’ she said, in Julia’s ear. ‘Now my mother will have to give up trying to marry him to
me.’

‘Where do you want to go for your honeymoon?’ he asked, as they sat side by side in Lady Bullfinch’s drawing room. ‘To the Continent? I know you once said you would like to see the Alps. Were you
serious
about it?’

Touched that he remembered her wish, she drew his face to her for
a kiss. She brushed her lips against his, savouring briefly the velvet softness of his. But when she started to move away he pulled her against him, so tightly she could hardly breathe. His mouth sought hers and their lips came together with a hunger that she thought would consume her, if it were not for the deep tenderness that rose to transform it. Of their own accord, her hands began their own
exploration
while his lips moved over her face and down the side of her throat.

She withdrew reluctantly from his grasp. ‘We have to stop,’ she murmured, her voice completely unsteady, her heart racing like a clock that had gone mad, ‘or before we know it, we’ll be half undressed on the carpet.’

He smiled lazily, ‘I don’t see what the objection can be,’ he said, his voice husky, his eyes darkened with need.

‘But—’ She faltered, gesturing with her hand to the door. ‘If they walk in on us—’