The Fugitive Heiress (28 page)

“I confess a certain curiosity about that bit myself,” asserted Lord Thomas sternly.

“Don’t blame the boys, my lord.” Tiffany spoke quickly, pleadingly, but with a weather eye on Dambroke. “There was nothing for them to notice. The carriage pulled up and, as I ran down the steps from the garden gate, the door was flung open and the steps let down from within. I just hopped in before either of the boys could move to help me. Like a lamb to the slaughter,” she added bitterly. “James—Mr. Lawrence, that is—grabbed me and bundled me onto the floor in a blanket before I could even scream. Then he complained that he had no place to put his feet!”

“By God!” Varling turned angrily toward Lawrence, hands clenched into ominous fists. The men on the bench shrank away involuntarily.

“Tony!” Dambroke called sharply. “None of that, if you please. I want him well enough to travel. He’s got a journey ahead of him.” Reluctantly, the captain subsided.

Now that Dambroke had laid his pistols aside and stopped the irate captain midstride, Mr. Lawrence began to recover himself. He straightened up on the bench, though he seemed to lack the temerity to rise. “Journey, my lord?” There was just a touch of insolence in the tone.

“Yes, journey, Lawrence,” returned his lordship harshly. “You may consider yourself lucky that I choose to avoid scandal. My primary, albeit selfish, inclination was to school you to better conduct with a horsewhip before giving you over to the nearest magistrate. Instead, I choose to be lenient, provided you show some sense in the matter. I realize my sister led you to believe that she held a tenderness for you.”

“I
never
did!” interrupted Tiffany in accents of mingled indignation and loathing.

“You did, my love,” Varling reproved gently.

“Did I, Tony?” He nodded, and Tiffany desisted at once, her whole attitude sobering as she turned to Lawrence. “I must apologize then, sir. I never meant to do so.”

Lawrence was taken aback by her frank gesture but no more so, Catheryn noted, than the earl. Casting a startled look at his sister and one a bit more speculative at his friend, Dambroke continued, “I don’t care where you take yourself, Lawrence, so long as you put distance—great distance—between us. I’d heartily recommend volunteering for duty in America, if I thought the military would want you.”

“Seems to me, you’re asking a great deal, my lord,” sneered Lawrence. “Seems to me, you ought to be willing to pay a bit to keep me away from London. I could tell a tale there, right enough.”

“You won’t attempt such a foolhardy course if you value your life, Lawrence.” Varling’s voice was icier than Catheryn would have believed possible, and Dambroke looked about to add a comment of his own, when Edmund spoke up in his grave and measured way.

“If you’ll pardon the obtrusion, Mr. Lawrence, there would be, if I may so speculate, little benefaction to yourself through such a course as you propose. It would not avail, sir. There is insufficient evidence to substantiate your … uh … tale. In short, sir, no one would believe you.”

Duff, the erstwhile coachman, listened with awe. “Gawd damn,” he breathed. “Do he yammer like that alla time? I never ’eard the like afore.”

Lord Thomas recognized a kindred spirit of sorts. “He does indeed,” he answered, not without a little pride. “Good as a play, ain’t he? My sister’s going to marry him, you know,” he confided in low tones. “Bound to improve her vocabulary out of all reason, don’t you think?” Duff only looked at him, and the byplay was forgotten when Catheryn picked up the thread of Edmund’s argument.

“He’s right, you know, Mr. Lawrence. Against the word of their lordships and Captain Varling, not to mention myself and Lady Tiffany—”

“And Maggie,” added Varling, now grinning.

“Maggie!”

“Aye,” answered Dambroke, watching her through narrowed eyes. “She’s at the Park. The disobedient chit followed them from London, Tony said. Like a damned puppy!”

“Oh, good for Maggie!” applauded Miss Westering. “But you must see now, Mr. Lawrence. Lady Margaret can say that she was with the Lady Tiffany from the outset if necessary. And I daresay Lady Dambroke will arrive in the morning as well, with the duchess perhaps, and my aunt and uncle Caston,” she added, getting carried away.

Dambroke waved her to silence and spoke pointedly to the rapidly deflating Lawrence. “All these arguments are impressive, my friends, but since the question will not arise, they are unnecessary. When I mentioned the military earlier, sir, I spoke facetiously. But I promise that if I so much as lay eyes upon you at any time in the future—and I shall make it my business to lay eyes upon you, if you cause distress to me or mine—I shall volunteer your services to his majesty’s Navy by making a gift of your person to the nearest interested press gang!”

Lawrence blanched and Catheryn knew it was with good reason. Only about one-third of the crews aboard British naval vessels were regular sailors, due for the most part to the appalling conditions below decks. Many came from workhouses and debtors’ prisons. Some were even hardened criminals, allowed to volunteer simply because there were so few volunteers from the regular civilian population. In order to make up crews of a proper number, brutal press gangs worked the coastal villages and towns, waylaying the unwary and “pressing” them to shipboard duty. Wages were low, if paid at all, discipline was maintained with the bo’sun’s cat, and food consisted of jerked beef and hardtack. Duff and Uncle Jig looked green around the gills and Lawrence slumped, clearly having no doubt that Dambroke or, for that matter, Lord Thomas or Varling wielded sufficient power to “arrange” his impressment, should the notion seem auspicious.

“Where will I go? How will I live?”

But Colby had had enough. “No business of ours, now, is it? You be grateful to get away in one piece, my lad. Abducting heiresses ain’t no small thing, you know.” He glanced at Dambroke. “Be dawn before we get back, my lord. Do we use his carriage or take Lady Tiffany and the lad up with us?”

Dambroke cast an eye over the exhausted pair and opted after a bare moment’s thought for the carriage. “Tripler will be wanting his cattle, in any case. Team at the Running Bull yours, Lawrence?”

Lawrence shook his head. “Hired cattle,” he muttered. “Rig, too.” He offered no protest to the earl’s decision. The starch seemed to have gone out of him entirely and he stayed where he was, nursing his injured hand. Since he had used his neckcloth to bind it, he was disheveled as well as defeated. Duff and Uncle Jig continued to eye the others warily, but neither offered comment.

Colby and Caston went to bring the horses to the door, and Teddy remained sleepily in his place; but Tiffany stood up at last, moving her wrists and fingers experimentally. The blanket slid off one shoulder and she made a startled grab for it, but Captain Varling took it from her firmly.

Catheryn and Dambroke stared at the costume thus revealed in all its splendor. Tiffany had chosen to appear at the ball as Athena and, despite her ordeal, Catheryn thought she looked magnificent. Her costume was a classical, sleeveless chiton of white silk, banded beneath the breasts and around the ribs with gold cording. The simple gown was caught at one shoulder with a jeweled clasp, and she wore a gold band around her slender throat with matching bracelets high on each arm. Her raven hair was pulled back and swept up to fall in light ringlets, laced with gold thread, from the crown of her head to her neck. Gold corded sandals completed a costume that, though a bit daring perhaps, was hardly indecent and thoroughly becoming.

“I’ve an extra cloak tied to my saddle, lass,” Varling said gently, breaking the spell. “I’ll fetch it.” Tiffany smiled gratefully and then cast an apprehensive glance at her brother. Hearing her quickly indrawn breath, Varling paused and followed her glance. Catheryn knew from the look on Dambroke’s face that Tiffany would face an unpleasant interview before she was much older. She didn’t know whether the costume or something else was responsible, but she was not surprised to see Varling hesitate with a puzzled look at his friend. “Dickon?” The earl turned his gaze upon him without altering his grim expression. “Lord, man, you look like a thundercloud.” Varling spoke with forced cheer. He paused, tugging unconsciously at a sidewhisker, as he looked first at Tiffany, then Catheryn, then back at Dambroke. “This isn’t the way I’d planned it, believe me, but I promised Maggie I’d keep you from eating them … well, Tiff and Catheryn—Miss Westering—and I suppose she meant Teddy, too, and….” He floundered.

After a pregnant pause, Varling regrouped his forces and began again. “I’m doing this badly, I know, but if I’m to have any right to defend her … that is, them … that is, to debate the matter uppermost in your mind, my lord….” He floundered more, stumbling over his words in a most uncharacteristic fashion, as Dambroke’s continued silence seemed to make it more and more difficult for him to explain himself. The others simply stared at him. “I want … that is, I’d be honored … oh, damn it, Dickon! I want to marry Tiffany! If you approve, of course, and if she will have me, that is,” he added with a near panic-stricken look at his beloved. She was staring like the others and with her mouth open in a most unladylike way, but the fight in her eyes put to rest whatever doubt anyone may have had on the subject.

The earl frowned. “You want to what?”

“Marry her. Take her to wife. Make her Lady Tiffany Varling. Someday Lady Stanthorpe, of course, but much later I hope. Oh, Dickon, I know I’m out of line. This is neither the time nor the place. You’re thinking that much, certainly, and you’re right! But I want her, my lord. I can handle her—keep her out of mischief, that is,” he corrected hastily with a sidelong look at Tiffany. “She minds me, Dickon. I don’t know why, but she does.” Catheryn stifled an involuntary chuckle, but her ladyship merely held her breath. Colby and Caston, choosing that moment to return, remained silent, sensing dramatics.

“Why now, Tony?” Dambroke drawled, his eye on Catheryn. She knew he had not missed her chuckle.

“Because you look like the very devil, my lord, like you want to crack their heads together, hers and Miss Westering’s. I want the right to defend her. I-I love her.” His voice trailed off self-consciously when he became aware of the general interest of his audience. In the ensuing pause, Duff was heard to confide to Uncle Jig that the big cove was right, sure enough.

“Good as a play they are.”

Dambroke glanced at them. “You are right about one thing, Tony. This is not the time or place to discuss the matter.” The tension in the room was abated somewhat during the captain’s odd proposal, but it began to deepen again when Dambroke eyed first one set of culprits, then the other. He ignored the three on the bench after that brief glance and turned back to Varling. “Whatever you think, I have a good many questions to ask each of them about this night’s work, and I will want straight answers, I promise you. But Teddy is nearly asleep and ought to be got home as soon as possible. He and I already have an appointment to discuss certain other matters. This episode can merely be included.” A small squirm on the settle betrayed that, despite closed eyes, Teddy was still awake and listening. Dambroke turned his attention to the ladies.

“As for Tiffany….” She stiffened, watching him intently. “Though I naturally have a question or two to put to her privately, I doubt she will be in dire enough straits to require your defense, whatever your future plans may be.” Varling and Tiffany looked at each other, hope springing to their eyes. “Your protection,” Dambroke went on grimly, “might better be offered to Miss Westering. Her actions tonight compounded by threefold any error made by either Tiffany or Teddy, not to mention the fact that she put herself in grave danger. I shall have a good deal to say to her presently, I assure you, and there are several questions I intend to ask that I daresay she would as lief not hear at all.”

Catheryn was certain he was right. She had enjoyed the little scene between Varling and the earl quite as much as Duff had, but now she found herself the uncomfortable cynosure of all eyes. A guilty thought that much of this evening’s activity would have been avoided had she gone to Dambroke in the first place, instead of attempting to protect Teddy from his wrath, only made matters worse. She was tired. She could feel blood flooding her cheeks and, finally, she took refuge in dignity.

“I’m certain you will have much to say, my lord, but I pray you will wait until we have all had some sleep and that you will choose a more private place.” Her voice trembled slightly, though she fought to stay calm. “As to your questions, you may ask them whenever you like. If they are pertinent, I shall answer them willingly, of course, but you have no right to cross-question me, you know.”

It was almost as though she had pushed a button of some sort. She knew he had been keeping a tight rein on himself and that he, too, was tired, but she was as astonished as everyone else when his quick temper snapped. “So you’ll be the judge of whether my questions are pertinent, will you? And refuse to answer them if they are not, I suppose!” He advanced upon her in a manner much more threatening than any displayed earlier by Lawrence. “You’d question my rights, Catheryn? Well….” He seized her shoulders, shaking her, his grip bruising the tender skin. “By God, my girl, I won’t have it! You’ll answer whatever I choose to ask or rue the day! Just remember that once we’re married I’ll have the right to cross-question you any time the mood strikes me. For that matter, I’ll damned well have the right to beat you soundly if I don’t like your answers! How will you like that, my girl!”

A sudden and deathlike silence fell upon the taproom. Varling and Caston, both looking as though they thought Catheryn truly would need their protection, had moved a step or two in her direction when Dambroke began to shake her. Now they stopped, shocked to stillness. Tiffany’s hand flew to her mouth, and Teddy came wide awake. Lord Thomas grinned with unholy glee, while the three men on the bench merely looked at each other in bewilderment. Dambroke seemed to realize immediately that, as a proposal of marriage, his words left a great deal to be desired. He dropped his hands helplessly and, for the moment, was speechless.