The Cinderella Debutante (17 page)

Hauling his horses to a halt outside his town house, he barked several orders at his groom and strode inside, tearing off his gloves.

“My lord!” His butler had hurried into the hall to collect the hat and gloves thrust towards him. “Lady Gainsford is awaiting your return in the library.”

“Make my apologies to her ladyship,” he replied curtly. “I am engaged to deal with an urgent matter and have no time to—”

“Wait, Alexander!”

Lady Gainsford stood in the doorway, her keen gaze taking in Alex’s purposeful manner and thunderous expression. “I believe we have the same problem claiming our attention. Spare me a moment only.”

“Very well, but our conversation must be brief – I shall be leaving again directly.”

They went into the library, but not before Alex demanded that Jem be brought to him on the instant he returned and that a message be dispatched to Lord Ashe at White’s.

Once behind closed doors, Lady Gainsford removed Lucy’s letter from her reticule and passed it to him, saying, “From your demeanour, I assume you are already in some way aware of Lucy’s plans. The girl has decided to be idiotically noble and restrain her step-sister. You will see that she suspects some foul play but could think of no way to prevent it other than to accompany Belinda. If only she had confided in me! Honoria Wimpole is the most vulgar, designing creature.”

He read what Lucy had written. “By God, then Lucy
has
gone to Vauxhall too – I feared as much.” Grim-faced, he handed the note back. “It is worse than you know. A short while ago I received word from Sir Oswald Henlow giving me details of Sneyd’s plans. I have no time to lose. Because she has accompanied Belinda, Lucy may already have suffered at that wretch’s hands but I swear if he has harmed her in any way, I will make him regret it!”

***

As the chaise sped along, Lucy tried to think clearly. She would need all her wits to deal with this; there was little hope help would come in time from Lady Gainsford.

She didn’t know their direction, but suspected they were headed out of London. The sounds of the city had died away. When she peeked out through one of the blinds to check for landmarks, a muffled outrider ordered her to put her head back inside unless she wanted to lose it.

Belinda, who had been hysterical when they had been thrown into the coach, now wept steadily.

“W-who could be callous enough to inflict this anguish on me?” she cried, between gulping sobs. “What reason could they have when not a single cruel word or gesture has passed my lips since coming to London?”

Lucy didn’t answer these questions; even now Belinda could not see where the blame lay for their abduction but his identity would become obvious soon enough. “It is no use crying over what has already happened,” she urged. “They cannot travel much further at this pace without a change of horses so let us decide if there is anything we can do when we reach the posting inn.”

“How can I decide when my nerves are at breaking point?” sobbed Belinda. “You will have to manage without my help. You are always much better in a crisis and I shall rely on your judgment.”

“If you had done so before we would not be in this mess now,” retorted Lucy.

This led to another paroxysm of weeping which Lucy ignored. She hadn’t the time or inclination to comfort Belinda. Their situation was desperate and they were unlikely to escape unscathed. She had already examined the inside of the carriage in the hope of finding something she could use in any escape. There was nothing. It seemed to be a hired carriage as it had none of the refinements usually found on a private chaise.

At least she had a little money in her reticule, hopefully enough to purchase their passage back to London if they could get away. Unable to do anything more, Lucy sat back against the squabs, swaying along with the carriage as it jolted and lurched towards its destination.

***

Sometime later, the chaise began to slow and sounds of activity grew outside. Straining her ears, Lucy guessed that they had arrived at a coaching inn, judging by the shouts of the ostlers. She shook Belinda, who had cried herself to sleep, and whispered for her to stay quiet.

A conversation was taking place outside. Suddenly the door was wrenched open and the light from nearby buildings spilled in. The outrider who had spoken to Lucy earlier ordered them to go inside. Taking Belinda’s hand, Lucy climbed out, crossed the inn courtyard and walked through the door he had pointed to.

It led to a pleasant parlour with a cheerful fire burning in the grate. Food and wine had been placed on a table by the window. The sound of muted voices and laughter came from behind another door on the far side of the room. Lucy ushered Belinda into the chair by the fire. There would be no chance of escape if she fainted.

The other door opened and Lucy looked up. Lord Sneyd strode in, followed by Sir Oswald. Ignoring the fierce beating of her heart, Lucy spoke loudly, each word dripping with disgust. She hoped someone in the other room might hear.

“Sir, I neither know nor care what reasons you have for abducting us in this abominable fashion, but I demand our immediate release. Your methods are despicable; no gentleman worthy of the name would employ such means on two respectable women. If you bring this to an end now, you will perhaps be able to salvage what little reputation you still possess. Direct me to the landlord so that I may arrange our safe return to London.”

Belinda leaned forward so she could see who Lucy was talking to. She seemed unable to speak, only moving her lips to form a soundless “O” of astonishment.

“A brave speech,” said Lord Sneyd, his opaque eyes gleaming in the firelight, “but useless. How unfortunate that you have meddled when I only required your sister’s company.”

“And what do you want from me?” asked Belinda warily.

His gaze flicked over her. “Quite simple. Your hand in marriage and I will go to whatever lengths are necessary to achieve that.”

Belinda seemed genuinely astonished at this reply. “But I might have accepted your offer in any case!” she said angrily, rising from her chair and marching over to him. “Why did abduct me in this absurd manner? I daresay it is all a stupid joke and you have done it for a wager or some equally pathetic reason. Take me home at once! I shall never marry you now, you foolish man, however much you implore me.”

His response was as unexpected as it was brutal; he covered the distance between them in a single stride and struck Belinda a sharp blow across her face, causing her to stagger backwards. Lucy clenched her hands into fists, but remained silent, willing her step-sister not antagonize their captor further.

She need not have worried; Belinda’s shock was complete; all thoughts of her abduction being carried out for a wager had vanished. She realized he was in deadly earnest. Her hand went up to her reddened cheek as she regarded him with an expression of horror mingled with repugnance.

Rage blazed in his eyes. “Do not anger me further or next time your punishment will be punitive. There will be no more bartering regarding our marriage
.
We will stay here until the horses have been changed and you have taken some refreshment, and then we will depart for Gretna.”

“You shan’t make me!” Belinda covered her face and wept.

His lips twisted in a parody of a smile. “Indeed? Seems to me you have no choice. Your eagerness to become my bride is overwhelming. I shall enjoy our wedding night; by then your hatred of me will add interest to the proceedings.”

“You’ll be shunned for good for this night’s work,” said Lucy.

Sneyd eyed her with disdain. “Oh, I think not. Our flight shall be described as a romantic elopement, forced upon the unhappy couple by Lady Sinclair’s refusal to allow the match. In time it will be forgotten and I will be welcomed back because of my wealth and your stepmother’s reluctance to disclose the truth.”

“And you, Sir Oswald, what is your part in this crime? Have you also no shame, to be manipulated and used by this
gentleman
?” demanded Lucy, turning to the figure in the shadows.

Sir Oswald wiped his brow and glanced towards the door.

“Hen is always ready to do my bidding. He will not betray me and has played his part well this evening, as did Honoria Wimpole.”

“So she was acting under your instruction – I had already guessed as much.”

“Of course, although it cost me a pretty penny.” He grimaced. “Honoria enjoys the finer things in life and the box at Vauxhall was one of her requests, in addition to the considerable sum I was obliged to hand over for her services. She always was an expensive luxury, but the outcome has been worth the price. From now on, there will be no need to outrun my creditors.” He turned back to Belinda, who was shaking violently. “My love,” he drawled sarcastically, “come to the table and have some refreshment. We have a long journey before us and I’ll not have a sick female on my hands.”

She did not look at him, but flung her reply over her shoulder. “If I touch any food I will be sick.”

He shrugged. “Very well, play the martyr if you must but I warn to you take some wine for my temper is already vindictive towards you and the ceremony will be easier if my bride is able to stand unaided.”

A scratching at the door made Sir Oswald jump. It swung open, allowing the noise from the taproom to drift in. A heavily-set man entered, carrying ham and a cold pie which he placed on the table. He addressed Lord Sneyd while glancing curiously at Lucy and Belinda.

“Will there be anything else?” he asked.

“Nothing. And I do not wish to be disturbed again unless it is to be told the carriage is ready.”

As the man turned to leave, Lucy hurried over and placed a hand on his arm. “Are you the landlord?” she asked urgently. “Please help us – this man is holding my sister and me against our will and we need to return to London at once.”

The landlord gave only a brief shake of his head. Lord Sneyd watched the scene with interest then forked a piece of cold pie onto his plate before remarking,

“You are wasting your time. Ellis, too, has been well paid for this evening, and he will follow my instructions and no one else’s.”

Ellis hurried away and shut the door.

Sneyd cast a contemptuous look towards Sir Oswald. He was still standing near the doorway. “And why the devil are you so jumpy, Hen? Your task is complete so you can relax and enjoy some of this excellent fare.” He took a glass of wine across to Belinda, who recoiled at his approach. He smirked and thrust the glass towards her, saying bluntly, “Drink this or by God, I’ll force it down your throat if I have to!”

Retribution and Resolution

Mr Pottingham was trying to arrange the hire of a private parlour. It had been a trying day; his business in Leicestershire completed, he had journeyed south, only for his carriage to damage a wheel in a ditch. He had been obliged to walk two miles to The Red Lion to find a meal and a bed for the night, and arrange for his chaise to be repaired.

The landlady, after listening to his story, had little sympathy. She informed him that another party had already engaged the only private room.

“—and if you be wanting food, sir,” she continued, “there’s only cold chicken and soup left and you’ll be having to eat it either here or in your room, begging your pardon.”

Mr Pottingham struggled to keep his patience. “You do not seem to understand me, madam. I refuse to eat a meal in these noisy surroundings. The food you have described will be perfectly sufficient, thank you, but I need a private room to dine in and I am willing to pay handsomely for it. Perhaps the current occupants would be willing to share their parlour with a weary gentleman traveler who requires nothing more than a half-hour of quiet for dining?”

The landlady’s eyes gleamed at the mention of possible reward, but she remained doubtful. “Don’t think they would want to share – they asked not to be disturbed. My husband has gone in there now,” she jerked her thumb in the direction of an open door, “to take in the last of the ham and he weren’t sure about whether he should enter at all, so particular were they about not being interrupted. They won’t want any strangers poking their noses in asking to eat dinner.”

“Perhaps you would allow me to be the judge of that—” Mr Pottingham stopped. Through the doorway the sound of familiar voices had reached him. His jaw dropped in disbelief. He prided himself on his calm, deliberate nature, but he was stunned to hear the voices of Lord Sneyd and Lucy Sinclair in the private parlour of a coaching inn late at night. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but his sense of propriety was deeply wounded. It seemed he had misjudged the character of the woman he had offered marriage to.

In spite of the incriminating circumstances, it did not take him long to conclude that something must be awry – Miss Sinclair, of all people, would not spend time alone with Lord Sneyd. And she would surely never willingly come to this place at this hour. His anger began to subside, to be replaced by a sense of chivalry and burning curiosity. Both demanded that he investigate further. He strained his ears, but could hear no more conversation as the landlord came out, muttering under his breath about the strange ways of the quality. His wife, wiping her hands on her apron, spoke to him as he closed the parlour door.

“This gentleman wants to know if the people in there would mind sharing with him while he dines—”

“There is no need to explain further, madam,” interjected Mr Pottingham. “I find I am already acquainted with the occupants of your parlour. I shall take it upon myself to intrude – I am sure they will have no objections.” Brushing aside the protestations of the landlord and his wife, he strode to the door.

To say Lucy was surprised to see Mr Pottingham was only one of the emotions she felt; shock, elation, and then concern rushed though her as she observed him in the doorway, eyeing the scene before him with astonishment.

“
You!
” protested Sir Oswald, looking even more shocked and disappointed than Mr Pottingham.