Twixt Two Equal Armies (27 page)

So, he found himself walking back again with a glass in hand. She was standing just where he had left her: by the open doors with her back turned to the room, which he took as an encouraging sign that she was not desperate to escape him or his assistance. She looked oddly relieved when he returned, but she appeared so agitated and restless standing beside him that he then began to suspect she must share his misgivings. He once again cast a glance into the salon through the opened windows to find some other means of relief for her obvious distress.

“Lord Baugham, please stay for a moment,” she suddenly blurted out. “I have not had the opportunity to thank you for coming to my aid.” With a little smile she added, “As you can imagine I do not often find myself at a loss for words, and I am more grateful than I can say that you were not.”

She cleared her throat.

“And . . . ” Her voice was unsteady but she pressed on regardless, “among those words were some that were very kind to me yet, at least in your case, quite undeserved. You praised my judgement to Mr Pembroke, and we both know that in my dealings with you, that quality, on occasion, has been sorely lacking. I am sorry that this has been so, please forgive my impertinent behaviour.”

Looking up to him earnestly, she then asked a question obviously most important to her. “Please . . . please do not believe the vile things that he said about me.”

With that plea, her thin veneer of composure cracked. She turned away as tears she could not control began to stream down her face.

I
T WAS A SURPRISING MOVE
on her part in his lordship’s eyes, one that left him dumfounded. Added to the shock of such unexpected behaviour was his own intense discomfort, because there were few things that made him more ill at ease than a woman crying. Somehow he had the presence of mind to hand her a handkerchief and quietly guide her further out to the garden without finding a single comforting word to offer her. They sat just beyond the windows, protected by the darkness of the night. There they would be safe from prying eyes since the dancing continued and the room was filled with music and laughter and steps on the floor. Her shoulders shook quietly and she seemed so alone and vulnerable and utterly desperate. Still he had nothing to say, but his position was very quickly becoming unbearable.

“Oh please, Miss Tournier” he shot to his feet when his discomfort became too acute. “Please do not cry! Oh, this is terrible. I am so sorry. Please, is there nothing I can do?” She shook her head and buried her face and quietly sobbed more deeply into the white fabric of his handkerchief. Baugham got up in a violent movement and started pacing.

“Please, Miss Tournier, I know we have not always seen eye to eye, but I would never wish to see you in such pain. I beg of you, disregard Mr Pembroke. I certainly do. He is his own worst enemy and no one could be of any doubt of his character once they spend more than ten minutes in his presence. I know all the blame and fault must lie with him and whatever the accusation is he makes must be groundless. And so must anyone who knows you and your family. Of course I pay no importance whatsoever to his words. To do so would never cross my mind. Please do not distress yourself or ever doubt that.”

She seemed to have calmed down a little and was silently drying her eyes, stealing what looked like incredulous glances at his restless movements. In the dark it was impossible to see her face clearly or hear if she was still softly sobbing. Baugham drew a breath and ran his hand through his hair.

“That villain, that fiend! You do realise that I shall now have to run my sword through him after all? It will be a pleasure, I promise you, but I need to assure myself that you will be well before that. Please?”

He stopped in front of her. When she turned her face toward him again, Lord Baugham was surprised to find her smiling.

“Thank you for your kind offer,” she said, with a slight sniffling giggle. “I so wish I could take you up on it, but such a man is not worth the trouble you would bring down on yourself for the deed.”

Looking down at her lap as she folded his handkerchief over and over, in a quieter voice she continued. “And thank you for your kind words just now . . . and for not believing him.”

She straightened her shoulders and he could see her struggle to keep a cheerful expression on her face.

“I am really quite well now if you wish to go back to the party.”

Baugham was so relieved that the tears were over he let a grin spread on his face and settled himself opposite her on the balustrade, crossing his arms.

“I am glad to see you have recovered so well, Miss Tournier. You know, Mr Pembroke is likely to encounter stiff opposition from me if he ever hopes to repeat his performance. I will henceforth jealously protect my interests, for I am quite certain it is
my
unique privilege to be uncivil and rude to you. I am so very good at it, after all, and will not readily share it with pompous amateurs.”

This time her smile was less strained, although her big, dark eyes were still soft with recently shed tears.

“I am quite content to bestow to you the sole right to behave rudely and uncivil towards me,” she replied, “but only if I am given that same right in return. I believe we have both shown our skill and determination to excel in that area, we should both be rewarded, don’t you think?”

“It would be an honour to be insulted by you at regular intervals, Miss Tournier. I absolutely accept your proposal!”

She smiled and sipped her wine. Despite the chill in the air and his earlier reservations, he found he was rather comfortable out there in the quiet, away from the increasingly boisterous crowd inside the house. But, he realised, they really should be getting back. It was not wise for her to stay away so long after a scene that had surely been witnessed by others. He stood up and reached out his hand to her, giving his most brilliant smile, hoping his charm would work on her reluctance this once at least.

“Now, my dear Miss Tournier! No more Mr Pembroke and no more skulking around in the shadows, hiding the brightest jewel of the evening. It has been my experience in life that good name and position will very often hide maggots and rot, whereas a diamond will shine in any gutter if you only let yourself see it.”

Her face might be indiscernible in the dark, but her voice betrayed good-natured surprise.

“Are you saying I am in the gutter, my lord?”

“No, not at all,” he laughed. “Surely not even I would dare slur our host’s dwelling like that, but as Chinese generals have known for over two thousand years: all warfare is based on deception. So even if you do not feel it to be tempting, you must trust me on this — you need to dance!”

To his surprise, she accepted his offered hand, stood and accompanied him back into the house. As they walked, she turned a genuine smile upon him.

“I
will
trust you on this. Though I must say I am a trifle disappointed in you. You missed a prime opportunity to insult me just now.”

He did not even give her a glance, but his blue eyes sparkled as he surveyed the room to find a conspicuous enough place in the dancing line to fulfil his goal for her.

“Oh, there will be others, Miss Tournier. Plenty of others . . . ”

She removed her shawl and draped it on the back of a chair, the old dress all but forgotten. Taking his arm again she allowed herself to be led to the dance.

“I quite depend upon it, my lord.”

O
NCE THE DANCE ENDED, THERE
was not much left of the despondent, sobbing and shaking woman he had helped out on the terrace a little while before and Lord Baugham was very much grateful to her for that. She had done very well, holding her head high in almost childish defiance which, he found to his amusement, he had liked very much. Also, she had not once let her eyes stray outside the dance and had shown quite a graceful turn. He could now very well see that his stubbornness and even liberal actions on that lady’s behalf had paid off. Her cheeks were glowing and she looked radiant and happy from her turn on the dance floor as he led her away again.

His train of thought was interrupted when his partner’s attention turned from him to her soft and laughing cousin, cheerfully approaching her and exclaiming the obvious.

“There you are, Holly!” Miss Bennet said. “Did I not tell you that you would enjoy yourself this evening? Such lively music! Such fine dancing!”

Baugham let Miss Tournier’s arm slip out of his before he heard Darcy’s voice behind him.

“Miss Tournier,” he was addressing her with a twinkle in his eye, “I think I must thank you for being a lovely enough incentive to cause my friend to break his annoying isolation from local society sooner than my nagging ever could have done. He had all but sworn to me he would not dance this evening, and now he has! Twice! With you! It leaves me quite hopeful, because I, for one, have never met anyone who knew less of what, or who, surrounds his home.”

Baugham gave him a look and a theatrical sigh of resignation.

“Quality before quantity, Darcy,” he said. “Do you really want to argue with me on that?”

“Not at all, my friend, but I should still like to see you become more involved in . . . ” Darcy glanced toward Miss Bennet, who was leaning in close to her cousin, laughing and speaking animatedly. “Perhaps Miss Tournier could provide you with a few, useful introductions?”

Darcy was so obviously seeking to turn Miss Bennet’s attention away from her cousin and onto himself again, that Baugham turned back to Miss Tournier and smiled. He had no particular wish to become acquainted with anyone else, but Darcy’s challenge was less than subtle so he played the friend and offered her his arm. Miss Tournier smiled, too, and allowed him to lead her away.

“
I
THINK,” HIS LORDSHIP SAID
as they slowly made their way across the room, “you really must forgive me, but as much as I am loath to disappoint the expectations of my friend, I find that currently I have no interest in soliciting any company in addition to what I already have found.”

For no discernable reason Holly felt a slight flush rise in her cheeks, but his lordship chatted on, apparently not expecting any reply.

“But there is a confession that goes along with this stubbornness, which I hope will excuse me in your eyes, lest you think me devoid of all polish or politeness, or hopelessly taciturn and hermitic, in choosing to go through an evening with as few introductions as possible! You see, Scotland never sees my social side. I have a very complicated life in London. And elsewhere. The reason I come here is because I love Clyne and I love my freedom and my solitude and for various reasons, I do not care to share or expose my sentiments to a wider circle. I am afraid I cannot explain it better. I meant it when I said that I do not encourage social connections when I am here. It disserves my affection for this place and its importance to me. I have a house in London and an estate in Cheshire. Both of them are useful, but I have a home at Clyne. And that is necessary. I trust I can rely on your understanding?”

Holly felt slightly ashamed of the way she had so blithely held Lord Baugham’s attachments and feelings for Clyne in contempt, as well as a bit confused at Lord Baugham’s confession, and she could not help feeling curious about what sort of “complications” his life in London held. It was not her place, however, to pry and she thought she should at least acknowledge his right to love the area as much as she did. After this night’s events, she hardly owed him any less.

“I think I understand your feelings for this place, my lord. I must confess that for all the years I spent in Edinburgh, I never lost my yearning to be here . . . home. And, despite everything, I am very happy to be home now, I
hope
for good.”

“So then, there is nothing that could persuade you to leave? That is, if I am not being presumptuous in my questioning, you would want to stay at Rosefarm? Always?”

“Oh, I do not mean that I would never wish to travel. I have an extensive list of places I wish to see, however unlikely the possibility is, but, my home and my heart are right here in this village and at Rosefarm.”

“I see. Quite understandable. I thought perhaps the memory of your father might induce you to confess to a partiality for other places as well.”

Holly smiled a little sadly.

“Well Paris, of course, is at the top of my list. When I was a little girl, my Papa would tell me stories of how beautiful and how magical it was. The museums, the gardens, the salons . . . someday . . . ” She turned to him. “Have you ever seen Paris, Lord Baugham?”

He intently fixed her eyes with his and was quiet for too long a time.

“No,” he finally said. “It has not been possible to do so in very many years, as you know.”

He realised they had walked the whole length of the room and ended up on the opposite side without speaking to a single person beside each other. They paused by the windows and Baugham faced her, smiling.

“I see I have had the good fortune to stumble upon the one inhabitant of my neighbourhood whose company cannot be bettered. I was right: apparently there is no one in the entire room who can satisfy me better than what I already have found of my own accord. I must regard myself as a very skilful and very lucky man at the same time then.”