The Tyrant (47 page)
Authors: Patricia Veryan
“Yes,” he said, grinning at her despite a split lip. “Andâoh, God, Phoebe ⦠it was worth every ⦠second!”
He thought he told her how much he loved her, but could not be sure. He dragged his failing body on until he could reach her shoe. The last thing he remembered was kissing it.â¦
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Lady Martha Ramsay tiptoed into the bedchamber, stopped abruptly, and hurried to the bed. Her eldest granddaughter lay there, giggling like a schoolgirl, and clutching a letter to her breast.
Lady Martha smiled at the lovely, happy face, and for the hundredth time sent up a quick, grateful prayer.
Sinclair came in, Belinda behind him. “Is she weeping?” he asked anxiously.
Belinda said, “Mr. Carruthers has turned up his toes. Dead as a mackerel, is what it is!”
Running to join them, Julia said, “Belinda, you little beast! She's laughing! Phoebeâhow wonderful it is to see you so happy!”
Phoebe sat up. “Thank you, dear.” Her glowing eyes embraced them all. “My
very
dears,” she amended. “How are my bruises today?” Belinda ran for the mirror, and while they all chorused eager assurances that the evidences of the battle were almost faded away, she peered at herself. “It will do,” she said judicially. “Sin, are you off somewhere? You look very grand.”
He glanced down at his new blue coat and answered shyly, “Well, erâas a matter of fact, I'm going to Glendenning Abbey with Jeff. Old Bowers-Malden thought Jeff might like to see the place, since he's so interested in architecture, so Tio's driving us down.”
Phoebe said, “I thought Lord Horatio was terrified of his noble sire.”
“I suppose he is, in a way. I must say the old boy was very nice to me, though. Phoebe, you'd not believe how pleased Meredith was when Jeff told him what he really wants to do. Proud as a peacock! And cannot do enough to help.”
“How
is
âMr. Carruthers?” enquired Phoebe demurely.
“Fine as fivepence! ButâI gave you his letter. Doesn't he sayâ”
“Nothing about himself, which is very typical. Was he ⦠did he seemâ”
“He was laughing like a gondolier when we left.”
Phoebe blinked. “He was? Why?”
“Oh, it's that fellow Otton. It seems he made Meredith pay before he would help him, andâ”
“Disgraceful!” said my lady. “Perhaps his grandfather is right about him after all!”
“And he had just sent Merry back his bank draft with the most crazy letter, saying he is thrown into despair because he finds he values Merry's friendship more than the money, and is convinced he is a candidate for Bedlam. He said the only thing that consoles him is that he stole something from the âtreasure,' so perhaps his villainy is not wholly ruined.”
Phoebe laughed. “Poor fellow. His faith in himself is quite shaken, I am sure. Well, have a nice time, Sin.”
He thanked her and headed for the door. “You'll forgive me if I rush off? I don't want to offend the Earl. You'd not credit it, but he's most frightfully interested in bats. I think I may do some reading on them at University.⦔ He waved and went out, closing the door with a bang.
“Bats!” snorted Julia, sitting on the end of the bed. “If you ask me, he's so smart today because he's hoping to see Glendenning's little sister!”
Belinda, more single-minded, asked, “Phoebeâwhy were you laughing? Isn't that Mr. Carruthers's handwriting? Oooh!” she pounced on the small, flat case. “A present! May I look?” It was opened, even as she spoke.
Phoebe said a redundant “You may. But it's not in there.” She held out her wrist, and they crowded around to inspect and admire.
The bracelet was of intertwined gold ropes, and in the centre a flat oval on which was a beautifully enamelled broadsword, a dainty rose lying across it.
“It is part of the Carruthers crest,” said Phoebe, touching the red rose with one gentle fingertip.
“Oh, it's lovely,” said Julia. “And he sends you a rose every day! So romantic.”
“What does he have to say?” asked my lady.
Phoebe took up the letter again and gazed at it, her eyes very tender. “If you will all swear not to tell, I'll read it. Well⦔ She blushed. “Some of it.”
They all settled down on the bed in eager anticipation.
“My dear Miss Ramsay,”
Phoebe began,
“I am glad to know you are feeling well again. I have managed, my adored
âEr, well, I'll skip the next few lines. Let's see.⦠Ah!
Our courtship was never really that, was it? And if ever a lady deserved the most ardent courtship a clumsy tyrant can manage, you are that lady. I therefore mean to come and court you, best beloved, so soon as the scandal has died down a little. And also, because I want to allow you time to stop and consider, and to be very sure of your own heart. Lord knows, I am not worthy of you, but I don't want to win you because you have a foolish notion of gratitude, or being indebted, or some such fustian.
“I hope you will accept the small gift, and even if you should decide against accepting the man who sends it, wear it in remembrance of some wonderful hours amongst the many that were less than wonderful.
“Yours, et cetera,
Carruthers.”
She looked up, her great eyes twinkling.
The four ladies looked at one another.
“âMy Dear
Miss Ramsay
â¦?'” murmured Julia.
“Men!” said Belinda.
“Men!” they echoed, and giggled together as ladies will when they connive to the downfall of some hapless male.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Fred Boles gazed up at lofty vaulted ceiling and massy walls and pursed his lips. “Seems like an awful great waste to me, sir.”
The shadows gone from around his eyes and the sling from his arm, Carruthers said with a grin, “My contribution to the heritage of England. We all owe her a great deal, you know. You go to your lunch, Fred, but let me know when my brother returns, will you? Think I'll wander around the old place for a bit.”
Boles nodded and went off, smiling to himself because the master was back to his old self; was, in fact, happier than he'd ever seen him, as though the burdens he carried on his broad shoulders had been immeasurably lightened. “Love!” he muttered, rolling his eyes at the sunny heavens. “Cor!”
Left alone, Carruthers strolled the length of the Great Hall, lost in thought. She must have received his letter yesterday. Would she accept the bracelet? More to the point, would she accept
him
? He frowned, the glow fading from his eyes. She was so
very
beautiful. If she had been merely pretty, or even rather plain, he might stand a better chance. The gentlemen had fairly flocked around her at the Pineridge Summer Ball. Just because he had shared those hectic ten days with her and had been able (thank God!) to circumvent Brooks Lambert's vicious schemes did not give him the right to expect she would choose him. There were so many men who were better-looking, more adept in the art of flattery, andâhe smiled wrylyâpoetry.â¦
He walked down to the outer hall and stood contemplating with unseeing eyes the square of light on the floor that shone from the hole in the ceiling through which invaders had been doused with boiling pitch. He gave a startled gasp as something shot through that aperture to bounce off his head. A rosebud lay at his feet, a dewdrop on one of the leaves gleaming like a diamond. Staring at it, his breath was snatched away.
In trembling eagerness, he jerked his head up and beheld an upside-down but lovely face, framed by the crumbling opening; great eyes soft with love, ruddy lips curving to a tender smile, glorious hair unpowdered and hanging in a red-gold cloud about her.
He breathed, “Phoebe!” and was running madly to the broken old steps and sprinting along the narrow upper passage.
Phoebe had intended to wait, dazzling him with her white gown and long hair (just like the Lady Clemency's), and the red rose she held. But she was overpowered and began to run too, arms outstretched. His heart bursting, Carruthers caught her to him and held her crushed against his chest, his cheek pressed to the cool, silky tresses, his eyes closed in an ecstasy of bliss. He could scarcely endure to break that embrace, even to kiss her, but he managed it, drawing back at last, dazed with delight, when she murmured that she really must breathe, and that ribs had their uses.
He looked down at her loveliness and knew that if she had refused him he would have been lost in the dark for as long as he lived. In a voice husky with emotion, he said, “You little wretch! You have spoiled all my plans to court you.”
“I couldn't wait,” she said simply, snuggling her face into his cravat.
He kissed the top of her head. “How did you know I was out here?”
“Your mama told me. We're all here, my love. The whole lot of us came. And I think I have never seen Mrs. Carruthers look so happy.”
“Nor her son so bewitched.⦠Phoebe, my love, my lifeâwill you marry me?”
She leaned back her head and looked up at him. “With pride and joy, and all the love thatâ”
He gave a wild shout and snatched her to his heart.
After a while, they wandered out of the old Keep, Meredith's arm tight around her and her glowing head against his shoulder. Phoebe paused on the drawbridge to glance back at the great pile. “Darling, shall you really rebuild it?”
He ran a finger along his jaw line. “I'd rather thought to raze it. Dreadful waste of land, andâ”
“You wicked liar,” she told him fondly.
He chuckled, looking down at her, a clear blue flame in his eyes that made her pulses leap madly.
Justice came padding up, tail wagging. Satan jumped over the wall, dealt the hound a swat, tore under his stomach, and raced off sideways. Justice gave his humans a long-suffering look.
Meredith patted his head. “We're all bedevilled, old fellow,” he said. “You by a Satanic feline. Me by⦔ He paused, his dancing gaze turning to Phoebe.
“By what, sir?” she demanded with mock outrage.
Had the convex wing across the courtyard been a ship, it must have tilted down, so many beaming individuals crowded every window, watching the lovers.
Very aware of the audience, Meredith did not answer, bending to Phoebe, his eyes igniting her soul. She lifted her face eagerly, but when he sought her lips, she whipped the rose between her teeth.
Laughing, he removed the obstruction. “My adorable ⦠little shrew,” he whispered.
Phoebe slid both arms around his neck, and with his lips a breath away, murmured, “Beloved ⦠Tyrant⦔
The sun shone benignly on them and drew sparkles from the dewdrops on the blossom that lay at their feet. A great red rose.
Patricia Veryan
was born in England and moved to the United States following World War II. The author of several critically acclaimed Georgian and Regency series, including the Sanguinet Saga, she now lives in Kirkland, Washington. You can sign up for email updates
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Previous novels by
Patricia Veryan
JOURNEY TO ENCHANTMENT
PRACTICE TO DECEIVE
SANGUINET'S CROWN
THE WAGERED WIDOW
THE NOBLEST FRAILTY
MARRIED PAST REDEMPTION
FEATHER CASTLES
SOME BRIEF FOLLY
NANETTE
MISTRESS OF WILLOWVALE
LOVE'S DUET
THE LORD AND THE GYPSY
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Contents
Previous novels by Patricia Veryan
THE TYRANT
. Copyright © 1987 by Patricia Veryan. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
