Angel's Touch (19 page)

‘
Oh,
no,’ Verity said quickly. ‘It is only—’

‘
Say
no more. I comprehend perfectly and I would not for the world
embarrass you.’ He smiled and pressed the hand he still held.
‘Quainton shall take you home.’ Abruptly his hand tightened on
hers. ‘My God, if I had not forgot.’

‘
What is it?’ she asked, made a little anxious by his
manner.

‘
Wait one moment.’

He limped quickly to
his coach and leaned inside. As he came back towards her again,
Verity saw that he held a package in his free hand.

‘
What in the world. . .?’ she began.

‘
You
cannot now refuse it,’ he said, a gleam in his black eyes as he
pressed the package into her hands. ‘A memento, Miss Lambourn.
Until we meet again.’

Verity looked up at him, a smile of mischief hovering on her
lips. ‘Not those wretched boxes?’

‘
The
very same,’ he said softly. ‘And God bless them, say I, for they
brought us closer.’

‘
Th-thank you,’ Verity managed, her fingers around the package
trembling while her eyes spoke her feelings more clearly than any
words.

Henry read them, and grasped both her wrists. ‘Verity! I
can’t speak my mind here, but I hope—I believe— Oh, God, Miss
Lambourn, I shall see you again very soon. I
must
see you. Somehow I shall
contrive it.’

Then, before she had a chance to speak further, he released
her, turned and was calling to his cousin. There was hardly time
for a conventional farewell before the phaeton was bowling back
along the road to the spa town, but, although Mr Quainton kept up
his usual stream of small talk, Verity answered him quite at
random. She was not even listening. Her thoughts were wholly
occupied with that last disjointed speech from Henry Haverigg,
which argued much more than a simple desire to see her again.
Breathless against the hammering of her heart, she heard his voice
over and over again.
I
can’t speak my mind here. . . I must see
you
. There had been a wealth of meaning in
those words. Might it be—did she dare to hope that he,
too—?

Afraid to put her thoughts into words, she found instead as
she turned the package over and over in her hands that his name
kept revolving in her mind.
Henry, Henry,
Henry
. But it was as Henry Haverigg she
thought of him, she realised with a start. Not as the Marquis of
Salmesbury. It had been Henry Haverigg who had intruded into her
life. That he was also a marquis was almost incidental. Except, of
course, that he
was
the marquis. That he lived in some huge house, among who knew
how many servants, in a vast estate, no doubt peopled by such
minions as her father was to Lady Crossens in the village of
Tetheridge.

An impossible vision
of herself in such a milieu presented itself to her mind, and was
at once superimposed by a creature with a shadowed face who haunted
the heart and memory of the Marquis of Salmesbury.

But
not Henry Haverigg. No, not Henry, she begged silently. Only it was
Henry Haverigg who was scarred and lacerated by that vision. How
could she, ordinary Verity Lambourn, hope to oust it?

A
profound depression settled on her spirits, and it was with an
effort that she roused herself to bid farewell to Mr Leonard
Quainton at the door of her lodging. She found Lady Crossens
chatting to Mrs Polegate as both ladies partook of tea and cakes,
and was glad that she’d had the forethought to dart into her
bedroom to take off her bonnet before entering the parlour. She did
not want to be obliged to explain away the nest of boxes reposing
in the package on her dressing-table.

‘
Oh, you are back,’ remarked the visitor
unnecessarily, her eyes darting past Verity to the door as if she
sought her escort there. ‘Mr Quainton did not come up with you?
What a pity. Not extremely wealthy, of course, but
most
eligible, as I have
been at pains to assure dear Emilia.’

‘
Maria, be quiet,’ snapped Lady Crossens, quite exasperated.
‘Sit down, child, and have some tea. I will ring for another
cup.’

‘
Oh,
no, thank you, ma’am,’ Verity said, sinking into a chair beside
her. ‘But what are you doing at home?’

‘
Oh,
she has not been out all day,’ exclaimed the widow. ‘Poor dear
Emilia is not feeling at all the thing. I have been trying to
persuade her to have the doctor, but—’

‘
Maria!’ said Lady Crossens warningly.

But
Verity turned horrified eyes on her patroness. ‘Oh, ma’am, why did
you not tell me? I should not have left you alone.’

‘
Pho, child. What could you have done? Besides, Maria has been
with me, the good creature.’

‘
Oh, yes, and we have enjoyed
such
a delightful cose,’
chimed in Mrs Polegate.

‘
I am so glad you stayed with her, dear
ma’am,’ Verity said warmly. ‘And how do
you
do?’

‘
Never mind me,’ said the irrepressible widow impatiently.
‘How was your day? Did you like High Rocks? Who was of the
party?’

‘
She
can only answer one question at a time, Maria,’ said her ladyship
drily.

‘
Oh, I know, but I am
so
eager to hear it all,’ fluttered
her friend, fixing Verity with an eye alight with
anticipation.

‘
It—it was a very pleasant day, ma’am,’ Verity managed, though
her cheeks were tinged with colour as she thought of all that had
passed.

‘
And
was the marquis there?’

‘
Maria!’

‘
Yes, he was,’ Verity admitted, wondering how she was to avoid
revealing the actual composition of the party.

Fortunately, Mrs
Polegate appeared to be quite satisfied with the presence of
Salmesbury himself, confining her flood of questions to his
appearance and demeanour, and his conversation.

‘
He—he is a very amiable man,’ Verity said lamely. ‘Quite
unlike what I had been led to expect.’

The
widow was disappointed. ‘Was there no air of melancholy about him,
then?’

‘
None that I could see,’ said Verity truthfully.

‘
Pish! Would you have him wear his heart upon his sleeve,
Maria? You may depend upon it that his breeding would preclude such
a display of emotion. More to the point, did you find Mr Quainton
agreeable, child?’

‘
Oh,
yes, quite,’ Verity said, with a marked lack of
enthusiasm.

Lady Crossens looked
at her rather hard, while Mrs Polegate broke into a sentimental
diatribe about young persons falling in love on just such an outing
as dear Miss Lambourn had enjoyed.

At
length Verity managed to turn the subject back to her patroness’s
health, and was relieved to learn that the day’s rest had very much
improved it. She excused herself at last on the score of cleansing
the dust from her person and dressing for dinner. But once alone
and free to indulge her thoughts, she found her mind numb, so that
she had difficulty even in recalling what had been said that day,
though the pale features of Henry Haverigg, with his gleaming black
eyes, swam in and out of her thoughts.

She
discovered, over the next day or so, that her caution had been
justified. Mrs Polegate’s tongue was not the only one to wag. Sir
John Frinton even went so far as to slyly twit her on her new
conquest.

‘
Ah, me. The perennial fate of such an
ancient
prétendant
as myself. Cast aside by the explosion of
youth.’

‘
If
you will pardon the liberty, sir, you talk a great deal of
nonsense.’

Sir
John laughed gently. ‘But then I have had many years of
practice.’

‘
That I do not doubt.’

‘
Nevertheless, I am not so sure that this young popinjay is
the man destined to steal you from me.’

Verity’s startled eyes flew to his. ‘What—what do you
mean?’

Sir
John’s lips quivered on that tantalising smile. ‘Miss Lambourn, I
am neither so blind nor so gullible as the majority of our dear
neighbours.’ He grinned as the dismay spread over her features.
‘Fear not, my dear, I shall not betray you. In fact, you may
command my services at any time, should circumstances so arrange
themselves that you stand in need of help.’

‘
Th-thank you,’ stuttered Verity, dazed. ‘You are very
good.’

‘
I am very
old
,’ he contradicted with a wink,
‘else I should not so imperil my own interests.’

Verity was obliged to
laugh. But she found it increasingly harder to smile as the days
wore on with no word and no sign of the Marquis of Salmesbury.
Admiring the boxes of Tunbridge Ware in secret had become her
solace, as she recalled how he had said they were a memento until
they should meet again. But they were no substitute for his
presence, and she began to believe that she had misunderstood his
urgent words. Surely if he wanted so much to see her, and speak his
mind—oh, Lord, what was it he wanted to say?—he would have found a
way by now? It was almost four whole days since that hurried
parting on Monday.

For
the first time, she could see the date of the end of this adventure
at Tunbridge Wells looming large, though it was still over a week
away. For they were to start for Tetheridge in their fifth week to
allow for Lady Crossens’ slow method of travel. Her patroness was
so clearly feeling the strain on her delicate health that there
could be little hope that she might postpone their departure.
Suppose the marquis failed to contact her before that time? She
would go away from here, never to see him again. This melancholy
idea possessed her mind to such a degree that she found it hard
indeed to concentrate on the action going forward on the stage when
she accompanied her patroness to the theatre that night.

Mrs
Baker’s company were performing
The School
for Scandal,
a piece which appeared to
afford the rest of the Wellsian audience with food for much
laughter. In Miss Lambourn’s present mood, she found little to
divert her in the antics of Lady Teazle and her companions.
Besides, the crowded theatre was insufferably hot. She felt quite
faint, and at last turned to murmur to Lady Crossens.

‘
The
heat is intolerable, ma’am. Do you object to it if I walk in the
corridor a little?’

The old lady, who was
much enjoying the play, merely nodded her assent, and Verity
slipped thankfully and unobtrusively out of the box. Closing the
door softly behind her, she took a couple of paces forward,
vigorously plying her fan, when a shadow loomed up before her and
she almost screamed.

‘
Don’t be alarmed, Miss Lambourn,’ said a familiar voice
quietly. ‘It is only I.’

Wordlessly, she
reached out, and the Marquis of Salmesbury took her hand in a
strong clasp.

Chapter
Eight

‘
I
had not dared to hope I might catch you alone,’ Henry said softly,
drawing her a step or two closer to one of the wall-sconces so that
a number of candles threw light over them both. ‘I was going to
wait for the first interval and waylay your party then.’

‘
But
what are you doing here?’ Verity asked foolishly, unaware that her
fingers clung still to his.

‘
Can
you ask? I had to see you.’

‘
But
to meet in such a way,’ Verity exclaimed, pulling away and tugging
her hand free. ‘If anyone were to see us!’

‘
Don’t distress yourself. I shall not keep
you above a moment.’ His eyes travelled over her features. A smile
lifted the corners of his mouth, and he whispered, ‘Though I
confess I should wish to do so—
forever.’

‘
What?’ Verity said faintly, unable to believe that she had
heard him correctly.

‘
Never mind.’ He spoke hastily, even a trifle curtly. ‘This is
hardly the time or the place to discuss such matters. Miss
Lambourn, I must see you. Not like this. Openly, so that we may be
free to talk. There is so much I want to say to you. I beg you,
appoint a day when I may come to visit you, correctly and.
freely—’

‘
But I cannot,’ she broke in. ‘You must know
what it is like here. Nothing—but
nothing
occurs in the town but
everyone is instantly aware of it.’

‘
No
one knew of our earlier meetings, however.’

‘
Yes, but you were not known then. I was
questioned, believe me, but I turned it off.
Now
,
however—’

‘
Very well, then,’ he interrupted impatiently, ‘you must come
to me.’

‘
But, Mr Haverigg—I mean, my lord—’

‘
Don’t
call me
that,’ he ordered tersely. ‘I am not “my lord” to you.’ He seized
one of her hands and held it tightly. ‘Am I?
Am I,
Verity?’