The Earl Next Door (17 page)

‘’e as gone to rescue Adèle.’

The sound of the clock ticking on the mantelpiece could be heard. A bird trilled just outside the window. Far off, Trudie dropped something in the kitchen.

And then, as Marianne took in what Henri had just said, everything began to fall into place: Kit’s supposed gambling debts, when Kit had never gambled in his life; his unexplained absence; his apparent indifference over the fate of  Adèle . . . yes, it all fell into place. ‘But my father . . .’ she asked curiously. ‘Why did Kit tell him – us – that he had been gambling? It doesn’t make sense.’

‘
Oui
, Mademoiselle, it does. Because your father would not ’ave given Kit the money ’e needed to mount an expedition if ’e ’ad told ’im what it was really for. ’e would not ’ave wanted ’is only son to risk ’is life.’

Marianne let out a long sigh. ‘That’s true. So Kit has gone to
France
. He hasn’t lost a fortune in gambling and loose living. He has gone to rescue Adèle.’

Her face lit; and then fell. In a way, she wished he had been gambling. Because going to
France
was dangerous . . .

Seeing her expression, Henri nodded. ‘
Oui.
It is dangerous, what Kit does, but what will you?’ He gave a Gallic shrug. ‘Your brother, ’e is in love.’

‘I thought so.’ Marianne sat deep in thought, trying to reconcile herself to what Kit had done. ‘But . . . ’ She looked up at Henri.  ‘That doesn’t explain your place in all this.’

‘Me, I ’elp Kit. And so does Kit’s good friend Luke. We ’elp ’im to set up the expedition and then we come down ’ere, Luke renting the Billingsdale estate so that ’e can put out to sea if ’e needs to go over to France and ’elp Kit, and me pretending to be ’is chef – only, me, I get my leg caught in a mantrap, and Luke, ’e say, Miss Marianne, she needs ’elp with the estate. You stay with ’er, Henri. Watch over ’er. ’elp ’er, until ’er brother is safe. So we watch and we wait, and when Kit ’e returns to
England
, we will ’elp ’im land unseen on Mr Billingsdale’s beach.’

‘So that’s why Luke was on the rocks, looking out to sea.’ Marianne nodded as yet another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

‘
Oui
. ’e waits for news from your brother, and whilst ’e waits, every day ’e looks out to sea.’

‘So Luke . . . ’ said Marianne.

‘’e is ere to ’elp your brother; to ’elp ’im land safely, or to set out for
France
and look for ’im if  ’e does not return.’

Marianne gazed deep into the fire, taking it all in.

'Then, the rumours about him leading Kit astray . . . '

'Were just that. Rumours. They spend a lot of time together. Then it is given out that Kit 'as run up gambling debts. It is not like 'im, so the blame is put on Luke's shoulders.' He gave a wry smile. 'Luke, 'e is a good friend to Kit, but 'e 'as a wild reputation. And now, Miss Marianne, you ’ave another cup of tea? Henri, ’e pours it for you. You ’ave ’ad a shock.’

Marianne took the tea gratefully. But as she put the porcelain cup to her lips she could not help wondering what now would become of her relationship with Luke.

‘Is that everything?’ asked Marianne, as Trudie folded the last of her clothes into an old and battered trunk.

‘It is. It’s a pity you won’t have any new frocks to wear,’ said Trudie. ‘Lord Ravensford’s seen all of these.’

‘And so has everyone else,’ Marianne pointed out.

She was pleased that Trudie had not asked her too much about her change of plan regarding the weekend party. What conclusions Trudie had drawn she did not know, but fortunately the redoubtable housekeeper had for once decided that least said was soonest mended, and Marianne was soon in the coach and heading on her way. She had made arrangements for her father to be visited by the rector in her absence, and was confident that Papa would not miss her. He thought of little but his grievances these days; grievances that, had he but known it, were not real.

She had considered telling him the truth, that Kit had gone to
France
, but had decided against it. In his present state he would worry about it, and as he could not do anything about it his worrying would be pointless. And so she had left him under the illusion that Kit had fled in disgrace; nonetheless hoping that, if all went well, she would soon be able to tell him the truth.

As the carriage bowled along the country roads she felt pleased with her decision to attend the party. Now that she knew Lord Ravensford was a friend of her brother’s it would have been churlish of her to stay away; even though spending two nights beneath his roof, after what had passed between them in the country lane, was going to be difficult.

What were his feelings for her? she wondered. There was a strong streak of protectiveness, she now realised, but that was most probably occasioned by the fact that she was Kit’s sister. That, no doubt, was why he had been so concerned about her running the estate, and why he had offered to help her. But beyond that, how far did his feelings go? She did not know. His passion was real, that much she knew; but then, passion was no more than the embodiment of physical attraction; and physical attraction fell far short of the feelings Marianne was beginning to realise she had for Luke.

The carriage made a detour to collect Miss Stock, and by the time Marianne and the rector’s sister arrived at the Manor the party was already under way. Figgs looked surprised to see her; a surprise that was echoed on Luke’s face when Marianne was announced and walked into the drawing-room. But nevertheless he came forward to greet her, albeit with a quizzical look on his face.

‘Miss Travis, how delightful you could make it,’ drawled Mrs Kilkenny from her place by the mantelpiece. Her words dripped with insincerity.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Jennifer Cosgrove enthusiastically. ‘Lord Ravensford wasn’t sure whether you’d be coming or not. He said he thought you might be having problems with your father. It’s such a shame your papa's health is so bad.’

‘Dear me, yes,’ said Miss Stock sympathetically. ‘Such a trial for him! And such a shame for dear Marianne. She cannot always call her time her own.’

‘But for the weekend it is ours,’ said Lord Ravensford, looking at her curiously.

Was he pleased to see her? She thought he was. His hands, as they touched hers, conveyed an unmistakable warmth.

Accepting the explanation he had given to his guests for his doubts about her ability to attend – after their encounter in the country lane it seemed he had thought she would stay away – Marianne greeted everyone politely.

‘We were just about to have some music,’ said Mr Cosgrove enthusiastically. ‘Mrs Kilkenny was going to sing for us.’

‘I’m not sure . . . ’ Mrs Kilkenny began, with a shrewd look at Marianne; thinking, no doubt, that it may not be wise to retreat to the pianoforte now that Miss Travis had arrived.

‘But I insist.’ Lord Ravensford’s voice was polite, but brooked no argument, and the guests, laughing and chattering, went through to the music room.

‘I believe you’ll find it’s a fine instrument,’ said Lord Ravensford, as Mrs Kilkenny sat down to play.

If Mrs Kilkenny had been afraid of him neglecting her she need not have worried. Lord Ravensford was very attentive, turning over the pages of her music and standing slightly behind her with a look of rapt attention on his face.

Marianne did her best to appear composed, but she was finding it hard. So his feelings had, after all, been nothing more than a desire to protect her, laced with a passion which, being so profoundly masculine, he no doubt felt towards every female.

She felt her spirits sink. The evening dragged. Lord Ravensford laughed and flirted with the elegant Mrs Kilkenny, whilst Marianne did her best to take an interest in her fellow guests, but she was not sorry when it was time to retire. As she climbed the stairs to her bed chamber, her candle in hand, the last thing she heard was Mrs Kilkenny’s musical laugh as Lord Ravensford charmed her yet again.

Was I wrong to come? Marianne asked herself the next morning, as, throwing back the green damask curtains, she saw Lord Ravensford walking along the terrace arm in arm with Mrs Kilkenny.

But no, it would have been childish of her to stay away. Now that she knew Lord Ravensford to be Kit’s friend she could not be at outs with him and besides, it would have caused comment if she had failed to attend. Her father’s querulous nature might have been given as an excuse, but her absence would have caused comment nonetheless.

Even so, it was going to be difficult for her to be in his company for the rest of the weekend; particularly as he was so blatantly pursuing Mrs Kilkenny.

It surprised her just how much it hurt. Of course, she had known all along that he was anything but a gentleman. Even Trudie, who had at first encouraged her to see him as a suitor, had said hesitantly to Marianne only the day before, “Some men are best not taken seriously, Miss Marianne. They don’t have it in them to be faithful. They like all women too much to settle for one.”

But Marianne had still been surprised and hurt at how quickly he had taken up with Mrs Kilkenny, and how he seemed to be flaunting the woman in her face. She realised now that she had been a fool to think that what had passed between them in the country lane had been driven by anything but lust.

She admitted to herself that, after everything that had happened between them, she had thought there had been more to it than that; that the episode had also been driven by the friendship and the strong rapport they shared, two unconventional people being drawn to each other by a compelling force.

Certainly for her it had been the result of a much deeper feeling, an emotional attachment which, seeing his pursuit of Mrs Kilkenny, she dare not acknowledge. But to him it had been nothing more than the natural reaction of a lusty man, and if she had any sense she would school herself to forget it.

But how to forget the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her; the most exhilarating, disturbing and exciting moments of her life?

A knock at the door gave a welcome break from her thoughts and Nell, Mrs Cosgrove’s maid, came in.

‘Mrs Cosgrove’s compliments, miss, and would you like some help to dress?’

Marianne thanked Nell, and with the help of the maid was soon ready to go downstairs. The morning was to be spent riding. Marianne, in common with the rest of the guests, had her own mare at the Manor, brought over tethered to the carriage the previous day. The morning was bright, and Marianne was looking forward to the ride. At least out in the open she would be able to avoid Lord Ravensford without seeming to do so, and be spared the sight of him paying court to Mrs Kilkenny.

Hardly had the ride begun, however, when Lord Ravensford hung back on his black stallion and made the magnificent beast fall into step beside Marianne’s mare. The other guests had found their own preferred surfaces and speed, and whilst some were cantering along the grass others were walking their horses at a sedate pace along the gravel paths.

‘You decided to come,’ said Lord Ravensford, looking magnificent in a green coat, snowy white stock and tight cream breeches. He gave her a sideways glance, the early morning shadows casting sharp angles on his face. ‘I thought you wouldn’t.’

‘I . . . think I owe you an apology,’ said Marianne quietly.

He looked at her enquiringly.