Amanda Scott (49 page)

Melissa batted her lashes again, then curved the corners of her mouth into a slow, responding smile, hoping that if she looked a mess, she looked a seductive mess. She straightened and glanced obliquely at Robert, assuring herself that his attention was on the opposite doorway, before she allowed herself a grimace of distaste for the benefit of the watching man. He stirred responsively, and just as it looked as if he might stand up, she tugged on the hand grasping her arm.

“Mr. Yarborne,” she said quietly, “I ought to tell you that the man at that table is a friend of Vexford’s. He knows me, and will not for a moment believe I am your sister. I should infinitely prefer to avoid making the sort of scene that might lead to gossip in London, but he does look as if he means to approach us. If you hustle me into the hall, I am sure he will follow, and he may well say something to the landlord that will lead to your discredit.”

Robert glanced at the man in such a way that the stranger sat back down rather hurriedly. “He won’t trouble us,” he said in a grim undertone. “You just keep silent.”

“Very well,” she said docilely, “but it can do you no good to have him inquiring about Lady Vexford’s whereabouts if you have bamboozled the landlord into believing I am your runaway sister. You might recall that Vexford frequently stays here when he is in Newmarket, so he is known to them. His temper is legendary in these parts, I believe.”

“Then perhaps I had better call for a carriage at once.”

“Well, you may certainly do that, but I should think it would be better to allay Mr. Amory’s curiosity before it grows. If we were to sit down at that other table and order breakfast, instead of retiring to a private parlor, he may assume that I am traveling with relatives, and won’t be stirred to ask the landlord any questions about us.”

“And I am expected to believe that you will not speak to him, I suppose,” he said in an undertone laced with irony.

“Certainly not, if he does not speak to me first. I am not so forward in my manner as that, and I scarcely know the man. He has been presented to me, but he is not of our class, of course, so if he does more than bow in passing, I shall be amazed. If I were to go straight into the inn, however, he would doubtless think Vexford himself is a guest here, and inquire after his whereabouts,” she added, pleased with this excellent embellishment.

It convinced him, for he gestured toward a table near the window, saying, “Lakey, we want coffee and a proper breakfast. See to it.”

“Aye, master,” the man responded in a tone that revealed his deep disapproval of this change in plan.

Melissa took the seat nearest the window, arranging her skirts and trying surreptitiously to smooth her hair, all the while aware that the stranger was watching her. “Have I got smut on my face?” she asked in a voice that she knew would carry across the room.

“You have.” To her astonishment, Robert chuckled and said in a carrying voice. “That will teach you to ride full speed at a gate, my dear, when you cannot see what lies on the other side.”

So indignant at having her horsemanship mocked that she forgot her plan for a moment, she exclaimed, “As if I would ever do such a foolish thing!”

“Just bad luck then,” he retorted in a tone that told anyone who was listening that he was humoring her.

Recollecting herself in an instant, Melissa looked down at her hands, then shot a furtive look at the stranger from beneath her lashes. He was still watching, clearly intrigued. The second stranger shoved his empty plate away and stood up, coffee mug in hand, to stride across the room toward the hallway, shouting for more coffee. Lakey had gone in the same direction, looking for a waiter.

Melissa flicked a come-hither look at her target, but this time Robert saw what she was about and reached across to grab her hand, his grip crushing her fingers together so sharply that she winced. Caressingly, he said, “Oh, my dear, I believe you did injure yourself. We’ll find the landlord’s wife, shall we? She will know just what to do for you.” As he began to get to his feet, he leaned nearer, adding in a menacing tone that only she could hear, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll come quietly, or you’ll very soon get that scene you want to avoid.”

Submissively, she got to her feet, murmuring, “Yes, sir.” But when he reached to take her arm again, she leaned away as if to catch up her skirt with her other hand. Swiftly, she sent a beseeching look at the stranger, who got to his feet again and took a step toward them.

“Oh, Mr. Amory,” she said, hurrying toward him before Robert could stop her, “I did not recognize you at first, sir. You must forgive me, but you know I’ve only met you a time or two with Nicholas.” Turning back to Robert, she went on glibly, “You need not leave the table, sir. Mr. Amory will be more than pleased to take me to the landlord’s wife whilst we exchange compliments and chat about Nicholas. Won’t you,
dear
Mr. Amory?”

“To be sure, lass, I’d be pleased to do whatever you’ve a mind to.”

“There, you see, Robert,” she said, chuckling. “You have been complaining about what a charge I have been to you ever since Nicholas placed me in your care—first by falling off my horse, and now by finding that I require help simply to care for my arm. You must make me look after myself now, mustn’t he, Mr. Amory?”

“Whatever you say, lass.”

Robert looked eye to eye with the stranger, who was the same height and a few stones heavier. Melissa held her breath. “I’ll look after her,” Robert said.

“No need to stir yourself about, young man. I’ll take the lady where she wants to go.” His flat tone made it clear that he intended for Melissa to make the choice.

She placed her hand on his arm. “You are much too kind, sir, but I do promise you that I shall not be such a charge to you as I have been to Mr. Yarborne.”

“No trouble at all, lass, and how is old Nick keeping himself these days?” He grinned, and Melissa grinned back at him, grateful to have such a willing conspirator but hoping he would not prove difficult to be rid of later.

“Oh, Nick is fine, sir. I’ll tell you all about him.”

Leaving Robert with his mouth open, she went with her newfound friend, wondering what on earth she would do next to keep from falling right back into Robert’s clutches. A glance over her shoulder as she left the coffee room showed her that at least he was not going to challenge the man again, for he stood gaping. When they met Lakey just inside the corridor, and saw his surprise and then dawning awareness that she had got away, she hoped she had nothing more to worry about.

Lakey went past them into the coffee room, whereupon Melissa stopped and turned to her curious rescuer. “Thank you so much for helping me get away from those men,” she said. “If you could just see me safely to the landlord now, I will ask him to order a chaise to take me back to London. I know you haven’t the least notion of what you have done, but you have earned my eternal gratitude.”

“Dramatic as ever, my dear Melissa,” declared a hatefully familiar voice. Her rescuer, whose large person blocked her view of the coffee-room doorway, turned in surprise, then stepped away without a word, to reveal Lord Yarborne, looking extremely haughty and precise to a pin. He had apparently come through the coffee room almost immediately after they had left it. Inclining his head to the stranger, he said, “I understand that my darling daughter has been playing her tricks again. She has led us a merry dance, I promise you, but she will soon learn that she has run her course at last.”

M
ELISSA DREW HERSELF UP
to her full height and faced Yarborne. “I think,” she said, “that it is you who have run your course, not I.”

“If you look about you, my dear,” he said evenly, “you will see that your erstwhile knight errant has fled. He was scarcely worthy of you.”

“He served his purpose,” she said, ignoring her thumping heart. At the moment they were alone in the short corridor leading from the coffee room, past the foot of the stairs, to the entrance hall, but she was certain that Yarborne’s reinforcements could not be far behind. Backing slowly toward the hall, she said, “I hope you don’t think you can terrorize me here in the inn, sir, for I warn you, I am not so easily intimidated.”

“No,” he agreed, “you have altered a good deal from the wilted flower that Geoffrey Seacourt dragged into Little Hell a month ago, have you not? You are now more worthy of a good man, my dear.”

“I am not yours, however.”

“As to that, we have much to discuss, so if you will come upstairs quietly with me now, we will talk about what is to be done next. I cannot imagine that you want to have such a discussion here in the hall where anyone might hear us. You must want as much as I do to avoid any scandal that might arise from this.”

“I don’t want to discuss anything with you,” she said flatly, “and I certainly do not want to go anywhere with you. Much as I should dislike creating a scene, I will not hesitate to scream for the landlord, sir, so keep your hands off me.”

He did not speak, and his expression remained wooden. She had just begun to hope she had confounded him when a hand clapped over her mouth and an arm clamped tightly around her waist, lifting her bodily from the floor.

Melissa opened her mouth and bit down hard.

Her captor gasped with pain, but struggled to hold her.

“Take her upstairs quickly,” Yarborne snapped. “You’ve bungled badly, so the least you can do is to act with dispatch now. And you, Lakey, watch that rear door. We don’t want to be interrupted.”

“It is not the rear door you should fear, Yarborne. Your destiny lies before you.” At the sound of Nick’s quiet voice so near at hand, Melissa expelled a sigh of relief. “Put down my wife, you scurrilous piece of dung, and do it gently,” he added in an even more gentle but much more terrifying tone.

She had felt Robert’s arms stiffen—for surely they were his—but slowly he set her on her feet again and took his hand away from her mouth. Slipping quickly from between the Yarbornes, she stepped past Robert toward Nick, her anxious gaze meeting his as she did. She saw at once that he directed none of his anger at her. There was even a flash of warm relief in his eyes, and something else less easily defined. She observed that he had not come alone. Oliver and—to her astonishment—Ulcombe stood behind him, each looking nearly as grim as Nick did. Lakey was there, too, having evidently hurried through the inn yard from the coffee room with Robert, to trap her between themselves and Yarborne. But Lakey, like everyone else, watched Nick.

Nick looked back at Yarborne. “Shall we step outside?” he said in that same gentle tone. There was little expression on Yarborne’s face, and he did not speak. He watched Nick warily, but his glance flicked more than once toward Ulcombe.

Robert said tauntingly, “You don’t frighten us, Vexford.”

“Then you are a bigger fool than I thought,” Nick said, grabbing him by the front of his coat. Without appearing to exert himself in the least, he propelled him through the front door into the yard. A moment later, Robert lay flat on his back in the dirt, rubbing his jaw. Nick brushed his hands together and turned back toward Yarborne, who had followed him outside with the others.

Standing beside Ulcombe on the uppermost of the two steps leading to the front door, Yarborne held his ground. He fingered his cravat, looked haughtily down at Nick, and said, “Surely, my dear Vexford, you would never employ such rough and ready tactics against a man old enough to be your father.”

“He
wouldn’t,” Ulcombe muttered, and with a quickness almost equal to Nick’s, and a single hard blow to the jaw, he sent Yarborne sprawling on his backside in the yard beside Robert.

“Oh, good show, Father,” Oliver exclaimed. Standing over the fallen pair, he added, “Just try getting up, Rigger, if you want more of the same. I’d like nothing better than to give you a good taste of home-brewed, myself.”

Robert looked daggers at him but made no attempt to get up. It was otherwise with Yarborne. He got shakily to his feet, brushed himself off, and looked ruefully at Ulcombe, saying, “I don’t suppose it will serve any useful purpose at this point to assure you that I came here expressly to put an end to what was clearly a half-witted scheme, or to point out that Lady Vexford left London voluntarily.”

“It would not,” Nick snapped before Ulcombe could speak. “According to what we’ve learned from Oliver, your precious son did much to instigate her flight, Yarborne, and I don’t doubt for a minute that he got the notion to do so from you.”

“I own I said certain things to him that may have led him to believe I wanted her. In view of an unfortunate habit he displays of acting without due preparation, that was unwise.” Flicking a glare at his son, he added, “He deserved his punishment.”

“Then you deserved yours as well, Yarborne, for you can scarcely deny that he learned his pretty maneuvering from you.”

“But I do deny it. I am never so ham-handed. Moreover, I assure you, that having learned how resourceful your wife can be, I would never have depended upon her being so easily led by the nose that—”

“By God—”

“Wait, Nick,” Ulcombe said quickly. He turned a harsh gaze upon Yarborne, and Melissa saw at once where Nick had inherited his temper. “Before you say more that you will regret, Yarborne, allow me to point out the very pertinent fact that your credibility has been severely damaged by this affair.”

Yarborne flushed but said evenly, “I agree that my son acted with both haste and recklessness. He has not yet learned subtlety of manner or address, but what’s done is done, and you can’t want a noise made of it, so what do you propose to do?”

Ulcombe gestured toward Nick, who said, “That will depend on you, Yarborne. I won’t pretend we would welcome scandal over this, but there will not be any if you are sensible. You have outworn your welcome in London. Since your talents, and those of your scurvy son, might be better appreciated on the Continent, I suggest that you remove there at once.”

“But why should I want to conciliate you to such an extent?” Yarborne asked.

“Because your alternate choice is prison, sir. Your son is guilty of abducting my wife, and if you did not aid him in that endeavor, you still had a part in it. Your other crimes are less easily proved. By using your great wealth to insinuate yourself into the uppermost ranks of London’s
beau monde,
you succeeded where most would have failed, even to the extent of penetrating the hallowed precincts of Almack’s. But it is clear now that your wealth derives entirely from the Billingsgate Club, and I need not tell you what will happen when word of that gets out. Nor need I mention how your reputation will suffer when it is suggested that your success is due to tactics like those employed at your ladies’ supper. Yes, I see by your expression that I am right about that. Well, sir, add to all that the fact that both of you were in league to extort money from my father by entrapping Oliver in your schemes, and I think your race is run.”