Intriguing Lady (7 page)

“That was as rough a trip as I’ve ever ’ad,” he said. “I expect Mrs. Ashley is glad it’s over.”

Roberta turned guiltily. She really hadn’t given a thought to Mrs. Ashley’s discomfort, for she had devoted all her energy to the problems Sir Nicholas presented. “I expect so, Williams,” she replied. “She never has liked sea voyages. I take it you didn’t suffer unduly?”

“Nay, not me, Miss Roberta. Matter of fact, I rather enjoyed the battle we had with the elements. I looked in
on…oh…
your papa just a short while ago, and he’s all ready for the journey to London.”

“You mean he wants to join us?” she exclaimed. “I—I thought he would have preferred to make his own arrangements, and travel alone.”

Williams looked about cautiously before mumbling, “It was his suggestion, Miss Roberta. He thought it for the best on account of the comte being on board. It would look very strange if you were seen going off without your father,” he said.

Roberta nodded in satisfaction, pleased that this hurdle had been jumped without trouble.

“Sir Nicholas even asked if it would be possible to make Reigate by dusk,” Williams added, “for he knows of a very good inn there where we could spend the night.”

“And can we?” she inquired, fingering the piece of paper in her pocket. She wondered if Sir Nicholas had noticed it was missing yet.

“With the fresh team that should be awaiting us, I’m sure of it. I’ll just give them their heads.”

“Good. Now, as for getting ashore, we will wait for you in Papa’s cabin, and when you have the carriage ready, you can fetch us. The captain won’t mind our lingering if you make it worth his while, will he?”

“I’ve already taken care of that, Miss Roberta. Your father gave the necessary funds.” He tipped his tricorn and left Roberta in deep thought.

“It would seem that Sir Nicholas and I think along the same lines,” she said. “Now I am forced to wonder why he wants to go to Reigate.”

The answer to that was obvious when they arrived at the inn. The landlord, after Sir Nicholas had spoken quietly in his ear, greeted the party warmly.

“An old and trustworthy friend,” Sir Nicholas said when Roberta asked what it was all about. “He’ll take very good care of us, and I can promise you an excellent meal. People come from miles around to enjoy the hospitality he offers.”

“A safe haven, indeed,” Roberta remarked cryptically, and bustled off to her room, with Mrs. Ashley close behind.

The food was every bit as good as Sir Nicholas had promised, and by the time the last covers had been removed and the sweet wine drunk, there was a general feeling of good humor between them. Even Mrs. Ashley had unbent and had shown a remarkable friendliness toward Sir Nicholas.

If she only knew the truth of it, Roberta thought as they made their way from the private dining room to their respective bedrooms, she would be acting quite differently towards him. But it suited her plan for Mrs. Ashley to behave that way, for it would help lull Sir Nicholas into a false sense of security.

There was a long public passageway to negotiate between the dining room and the stairs, and as Roberta had been the one to open the door, she was, in effect, leading the party to bed. She passed one room whose door was slightly ajar, and with casual curiosity peeped in. Several men were seated around a large oval table, and she could see someone’s hand dealing cards.

“It would appear that it is not only the food that attracts people here,” she remarked as Sir Nicholas joined her. “Do they play for very high stakes?”

“Sometimes,” he answered as he closed the door. “I have seen men lose large fortunes at that table.”

Roberta shook her head in bafflement. “I have never understood what drives men to gamble all on the turn of a card.”

“Women do as well,” Sir Nicholas returned with a grin, although with his falsely aged face it looked more like a grimace. “There was one in particular, I remember—don’t turn now,” he continued as he hunched his shoulders slightly; “the comte is coming up behind you—disgusting performance, Roberta,” he said, his voice rising angrily, “and one I wish you had witnessed. It would have taught you a lesson.”

“Quite so, Papa,” she said blithely, taking a few steps toward Sir Nicholas’s right side. “Only, as I have never been tempted to gamble, I am at a loss to understand quite what lesson I would have learned by seeing this woman lose a fortune.”

“That’s not the point, Roberta,” he grumbled as he leaned further over his cane. “You never know when temptation will come your way.”

Mrs. Ashley looked curiously at the two of them and shrugged her shoulders. She had seen the stranger approaching and assumed they were enacting the scene for his benefit. Filled as she was with several glasses of wine, she decided to add further credence to their performance.

“Come, come, Roberta,” she chided. “Leave your father in peace. You know you shouldn’t agitate him just before bedtime.” She brushed past them, tut-tutting, and continued past the comte, raising her eyebrows in seeming exasperation. “I never knew a more argumentative family,” she sighed mournfully, and mounted the stairs. She thought she had seen the man nod in sympathy, and as she let herself into her bedroom, she felt well pleased by her performance.

“With your cheeseparing ways, Papa,” Roberta continued crossly, “even if temptation did cross my path, I wouldn’t have the means to be more than a bystander. Anyway, Ashley is quite right. You mustn’t work yourself up into such a state so late in the evening. I’ll see you to your door. Williams will be there to help you undress.” She turned and started in surprise as the comte stepped in front of her. “You!” she gasped. “Ahem! Good evening. I had not expected to see you again.”

The comte smiled, but Roberta noticed that his eyes remained hard and cold. “Mademoiselle Rushforth,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it, “I hope you have forgiven me.”

“Roberta!” Sir Nicholas snapped. “Who is this man? Why is he fondling you in such a fashion?”

The comte seemed unmoved by Sir Nicholas’s questions, but Roberta, looking utterly adorable in her apparent confusion, quickly withdrew her hand. “It’s—it’s the gentleman I met on the boat,” she said, and then, grinning sheepishly at the comte, added, “Please excuse Papa. He’s an advocate of plain speaking, which sometimes can be quite embarrassing.”

The comte bowed. “Then I will not add to your distress, mademoiselle. I bid you good night and hope that I will have the pleasure of meeting you again in London.” He retreated up the passageway and watched through narrowed eyes as Roberta and Sir Nicholas made their way up the stairs. When they were finally out of sight, he snapped his fingers and a liveried servant appeared. “Find out where this Mlle. Rushforth resides,” he commanded, and without a backward glance, pushed open the door to the gaming room and took his place at the table.

“What has he done that forces him to ask for your forgiveness?” Sir Nicholas demanded abruptly when he deemed that they were safely out of the comte’s hearing.

Roberta blushed and looked to the floor.
“I…ah…
that really is none of your business,” she answered, “but if it interests you, he tried to kiss me.”

“Did he, by George!” Sir Nicholas exclaimed. “He must be very taken by you, Miss Rushforth, for I have never known him to indulge in such an unlikely flirtation before. Unless, of course, you encouraged him.”

“Encouraged him!” Roberta sputtered, recalling how revolted she had felt by the comte’s wet kiss. “How dare you even insinuate such a thing!”

Sir Nicholas laughed, but without mirth. “My apologies. I spoke without thinking. However, I beg you, please heed my warnings. He is a dangerous man to cross.”

“I thank you for reminding me of that fact,” she responded coldly. “And if anything untoward happens to me, I will not forget that you were the one responsible for my meeting him.” She lifted her head arrogantly and entered her room, slamming the door hard behind her. “How dare he be so patronizing!” she fumed. “And so free with his advice?” It was about time someone exposed him for what he was, and it would be her pleasure to do so.

She undressed quickly and, tossing her clothes and her copy of the coded list haphazardly onto a chair, climbed wearily into bed. She thought sleep would elude her, but within seconds, her eyelids closed. As sleep overtook her, she remembered that she hadn’t returned the paper to Sir Nicholas.

It was a dream, the recurring dream: she was being waltzed around the beeswaxed floor of Almack’s by Stephen. She was only vaguely aware of the envious glances leveled at them by those young ladies who were not permitted to stand up for such an intimate dance, for her entire being was thrilling to Stephen’s touch. They moved as one, swaying gracefully in perfect time to the music. Round and round they went, dipping, swirling, turning tirelessly.

Even so, her heart was heavy. There would be no tomorrow for her. After tonight, when she had told him that she wouldn’t marry him, it would all be over, and she would never see him again.

She studied his face with tear-clouded eyes, etching every line in her mind. His eyes were half closed, and he smiled down at her lazily. She felt his arms tighten about her, and in a moment of total abandonment, she pressed herself closer to him.

“Happy, my darling girl?” he asked, his lips against her ear.

“Yes, yes,” she cried incoherently. “I don’t want this dance to end, ever.”

But it did end, and it was with great reluctance that they parted and went in search of some liquid refreshment.

“Follow me,” Stephen whispered after he had procured two glasses of lemonade, and in a trancelike state she did. He led her to a sparsely furnished antechamber and closed the door quietly. He placed the glasses on a small table and strode over to her. They looked at each other wordlessly, and then he caught her in an embrace. He kissed her on both eyes, her nose, her throat, and finally allowed his mouth to touch hers. She clung to him, momentarily forgetting what she had resolved to do, and allowed his tongue to part her lips. A wonderfully warm sensation coursed through her body. It came to an abrupt end when a fit of coughing overtook her.

“Are you all right, my darling?” he asked, concerned.

She pulled away from him and sat down. She was trembling from head to toe as she shook her head. “I cannot see you again, Stephen, ever,” she whispered.

*

She moved restlessly in her sleep and brought a hand to her face as though to ward off something unpleasant. A faint noise penetrated her half-conscious state, and in a trice she was awake, the dream forgotten. She lay still, letting the silence of the night wash over her, and was finally rewarded by hearing someone move stealthily across the carpet. She had no idea of that person’s direction or intent, but she feared it was the comte.

A dangerous man, Sir Nicholas had warned, used to taking what he wanted. Well, the comte had made no secret of the fact that he desired her, and she was equally determined not to be taken.

In one swift movement calculated to surprise the intruder, she reached out for the flint and candle that reposed on her bed table and kindled the wick. She sat up and held the feeble light aloft in both hands and moved it in an unsteady arc about the room. The flickering flame danced, creating shadows within shadows, and she was forced to wonder whether or not she had imagined any noise at all.

Slowly, she put the candle down on the commode and sank back against the pillows, her breathing irregular. She stared first at the door, and then at the wardrobe that held her traveling gown at the far end of the room. She squinted,
thinki
n
g
at first that it was a trick of the light that produced the soft bulge to the side of the wardrobe, and then sat upright, rigid with fear, as the bulge moved.

“Papa?” she questioned, her voice no more than a whimper.

The bulge took shape as it detached itself from its hiding place, and Roberta, whose eyes were now accustomed to the half-light, could see that her second guess had been correct.

“Sir Nicholas!”

“And I had so hoped, Miss Rushforth, that I wouldn’t disturb your sleep,” he mocked, making her a half-bow.

“What on earth are you doing in my room at this time of night?” she gasped. “I demand an explanation for this unwarranted intrusion.” She grabbed the bedclothes and held them high to her chin.

“Claiming my property,” Sir Nicholas answered smoothly. “I believe you took a piece of paper from my cabin last night, and I want it back.”

“You talk in riddles,” she said defiantly.

“I don’t mean to be obtuse,” he answered as he moved closer to her bed.

“I will scream if you come any closer,” Roberta warned him. “I think you had better go before I call for help.”

His answer was to step right up to her. She watched his catlike movements in fascination and was taken completely by surprise when he bent down and brushed her lips with his.

“How dare you!” she exclaimed angrily, and brought a hand across his cheek in a resounding smack, heedless of the fact that her action had caused the bedclothes to slip to her waist.

“My dear Miss Rushforth, I have no intention of leaving this room without that piece of paper.” He sat down beside her and twirled one of her short curls around his index finger. “Just tell me where you have hidden it, and I will leave you in peace.”

As he spoke, his hand moved from her hair to her shoulder and gripped it with an intensity that hurt.