Mayhem in Bath (12 page)

“And I crave yours, sir, for I have said some monstrous things as well.”

“Then we will begin again, mm?” He smiled.

She flushed, and fidgeted with her reticule. How pleasant it was to converse with him like this. And how much he improved when he smiled.

“Have you been to Bath before. Miss Peach?” he asked.

“Yes, occasionally. I’m actually from London, and have only lived in the country for about eighteen months.”

“I don’t recollect ever encountering you in London.”

She smiled a little ruefully. “Perhaps because I didn’t move in your exalted circles. Sir Dominic. My father was the banker, Mr. Septimus Peach, and I fear he wished to save me from wicked aristocrats.”

Dominic’s eyes lightened. “So you’re
that
Miss Peach! As it happens, your father was my banker, and I’m pleased to say that my title did not prevent us from enjoying an excellent association. I was deeply saddened to hear of his demise. And his wife’s, of course. I... I mean, your mother...”

Polly bit her lip in an effort not to cry.

Dominic shifted uncomfortably. Er…what possessed you to live out in the wild sticks of Somerset?”

“I am my uncle’s ward, and he decreed I must live with him. I’m obliged to obey him until I’m twenty-three, when according to my parents’ will, I can set up a household of my own, provided I find a suitable lady companion to keep watch over me. I’m only twenty now, so there is some time to go.”

“But at twenty-three you’ll secure the necessary companion and flee back to the delights of the capital?”

“Unless I have been dragged in manacles to the altar before then,” she said with feeling.

Dominic was increasingly intrigued. “Am I to understand your uncle has put forward a bridegroom for whom you do not care?”

“Yes. Lord Benjamin Beddem, for whose temporary absence in London I am duly grateful.”

Dominic had to smother a smile. “Lady Georgiana’s brother, eh?” he murmured a little mischievously.

Polly stared at him. “Are you jesting?”

“I fear not.”

“That shallow, designing creature is a
Beddem?”
Georgiana as a sister-in-law was almost as unpalatable a prospect as Lord Benjamin as a husband!

“Please do not criticize her, Miss Peach.”

She searched his face, inexplicably hurt to realize how deep his affections for Lady Georgiana went. “But how can you possibly like her, Sir Dominic?” she asked a trifle too candidly. “She’s quite the most blatant schemer I’ve encountered! Everything she does is with an eye to her own personal advancement.”

“I would prefer not to hear any more of your opinion, Miss Peach,” he said warningly.

Polly looked quickly out of the window. He was right to reprimand her, for she really didn’t know Lady Georgiana well enough to presume to speak out. But that didn’t mean she was wrong about the lady! Lord Benjamin’s sister had a character that was odious in the extreme, and her clearly indicated ambitions showed her to be little more than a highborn adventuress!

After a moment Dominic resumed the conversation as if Georgiana had never been mentioned. “You and Lord Benjamin, eh? A marriage truly made in heaven.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she replied, more than a little miffed that he should find it amusing.

“Forgive me, it’s just that Beddem’s search for a fortune is very well known in society, and if he snaps you up, he’ll undoubtedly solve his problems, but at the same time he’ll acquire a far from meek wife.”

She looked crossly at him. “Is that all you can say of me? That I’ll be a far from meek wife?”

He studied her. “No, I can also say that you have a sharp tongue, to say nothing of a hot temper and inclination to mulishness. On the brighter side, I have to admit that you are also refreshingly spirited, and very pretty indeed.”

He was twitting her, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help being needled by his criticism. “Now let us consider you, Sir Dominic. When I look at you, I see someone who possesses a sharp tongue and hot temper to match mine, who considers himself of better breeding than almost everyone except the royal family—probably of them as well, come to think of it—and who flatters himself that he is one of the most stylish men of his generation. On the brighter side, I think you are very handsome, and can probably be exceedingly charming when you choose.”

He smiled. “Remind me never to repeat the mistake of seeming to criticize you, Miss Peach. Tell me, will you be attending any of the other social occasions arranged for the period of the Duke and Duchess of York’s stay in Bath? The Halloween festivities at Sydney Gardens Vauxhall, for instance?”

“My uncle and Lord Benjamin will be attending, but I will not.”
I
hope I will have left Bath by then!

“At least you must be attending the ball tomorrow night?”

“Yes.”

“Then I trust you will reserve a measure for me?”

The request took her by surprise. “You are prepared to risk partnering me? Are you not afraid my reticule will come to life and strike you? Or that my wrist favor may untie itself and fix prettily in your hair?”

He laughed. “I am more than prepared for such possible hazards.”

“Then I will gladly reserve a measure for you.”

“A
ländler
would be most agreeable.”

“If that is what you wish, then of course.”

He changed the subject. “What do you think really happened with your parasol? We know that neither of us committed the crime, so who did?”

“I’ve already said I don’t know,” she replied uncomfortably.

“Yes, you do know, Miss Peach. It’s written all over you,” he said quietly.

“I assure you you’re wrong,” she replied, meeting his eyes squarely. She wasn’t about to confess to knowing a brownie! If she did, he’d revise his opinion concerning her sanity.

Another heavy silence fell. By now the carnage had almost reached Bath, and in the crowded streets it was possible to detect the riotous passage of the runaway horses. Sedan chairs had been abandoned by their carriers, sometimes with unfortunate passengers still inside; the display outside a fishmonger’s shop had been knocked over, and carriages and carts had been damaged against the high pavements as they tried to avoid the oncoming stampede.

Polly gazed at it all with renewed dismay. Bodkin had certainly given vent to his fury today, for he’d left a trail of devastation wherever he went. Oh, how she prayed his need for sweet comfort would take him to Zuder’s skylight tonight, so that he’d see her note. Surely
then
he’d give her a chance to explain both her innocence and that of Uncle Hordwell? It wouldn’t help him to find Nutmeg again, but at least he’d stop being angry, and might come home, where he belonged.

While she was pondering this hope, Bodkin and his equine team had just arrived on the sloping common in front of Royal Crescent, where the horses lost interest in flight and halted to graze. Gratified to have caused such a huge amount of trouble at the review, the brownie jumped down, then hastened up toward Dominic’s house, at the door of which Ragwort was beckoning excitedly.

“Come quickly. Bodkin, for I think I may have happened upon something.”

“Have you found Nutmeg?” Bodkin cried, seizing his arms excitedly.                 .

“Not exactly. Oh, come on inside and you’ll see for yourself.” The door opened as a footman came out, having recognized Dominic’s horse on the common, and the two brownies slipped inside.

Minutes later, Polly’s carriage halted outside 1 Royal Crescent. She wasn’t at all surprised to see the horses; indeed she half expected it, for Bodkin was bound to ride back here. Where had the mischievous little scoundrel gone now? Oh, once she found him, she was going to give him a piece of her mind second to none! His conveniently long tail wouldn’t only be tied in one knot, but in as many as she could manage!

The carriage halted, and as Dominic alighted, he saw the footman leading his horse off the grass. “Thank goodness for that—I thought I’d never see my best mount again,” he said.

Polly smiled. “Well, that’s one blessing.”

“So it seems.” He turned to her. “Thank you for being bold enough to offer to convey me.”

“I trust for your sake that Lady Georgiana doesn’t find out.”

“I hardly think she will believe us to be embarking on a liaison.”

“I was alluding to her dislike for me,” Polly replied, and then gave him a slightly indignant look. “Anyway, why shouldn’t she suspect us of a liaison? What makes it so impossible a thought?”

“I meant only that I’ve made my love for her so very clear that she would think it unlikely that I’d seek consolation elsewhere just yet.”

“It would do the horrid
chienne
good, maybe it would even make her as jealous of me as you are of Lord Algernon. I don’t know what she sees in him, unless it be his title and expectations.”

Dominic gave her a thoughtful look. “Maybe you’re right, and she would benefit from a little such food for thought. And maybe Lord Benjamin would be a little deterred if he thought you were bestowing favorable smiles upon me.”

“Unfortunately, no one has witnessed our escapade, except my coachman and your footman, and I doubt if either Lady Georgiana or Lord Benjamin would pay heed to a mere servant.”

“No, but they’d pay heed to an incorrigible old gossip like the Marquis de Torkalotte.”

“Who?”

“The elderly French gentleman strolling along the pavement behind you. He’s a close family friend of the entire Beddem family, including the duke himself.”

She glanced around and saw an elderly gentleman of flamboyant but rather old-fashioned appearance. Powdered, patched, and bewigged, he was returning to his elegant house in the Circus after an afternoon perambulation. Polly was puzzled. “But what is there for him to tell anyone? All we’re doing is standing here in civil conversation. He doesn’t know we traveled together in the carriage. We could simply have met as I alighted on my own.”

“Oh, I think we can give him something to broadcast,” Dominic said, and before Polly realized what was happening, he’d pulled her into his arms. He pressed her close, his parted lips upon hers in a kiss that was really quite shocking. His fingers wound warmly into the hair at the nape of her neck, and his mouth teased hers in a way she’d never experienced before. The kiss continued as the Marquis de Torkalotte strolled past, his head pulled around on a string as he goggled at the astonishing scene.

As soon as the Frenchman was out of earshot, Dominic drew back. “There, I fancy that was scandalous enough to spread all over town, don’t you?”

Polly’s face was crimson with mortification and with aroused emotions she would have preferred had remained asleep. “How dare you!” she breathed, and dealt him a slap on the other cheek to the one Georgiana had struck earlier. “There, a matching pair, I believe!” she declared, then turned to hurry into the house.

Dominic gazed after her, his expression hard to decipher, then he walked quickly toward his own house. Polly peeped out around the dining room curtain, and as he vanished from sight, she leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed. Her lips still seemed to burn from his kiss, and she knew that in spite of the circumstances, she had found those few intimate seconds quite me most exciting imaginable. Strange new feelings now whirled unstoppably through her, and she was conscious of a delicious ache she knew only he could soothe.
Oh, Devil take him!
He was arrogant, presumptuous, selfish, and unkind, but oh, how easy it would be to love him!

Chapter 15

Bodkin and Ragwort knew nothing of the startling developments on the pavement outside 1 Royal Crescent. Ragwort had led Bodkin up to Dominic’s bedroom, where he pointed out something wedged between the carpet and the dado. It was something that was visible only to brownies, the buckle from a brownie’s belt. Ragwort prodded it with his foot “That doesn’t belong to anyone
I
know,” he declared.

Bodkin gazed at it. Was it Nutmeg’s? He didn’t know! For the life of him, he suddenly couldn’t remember what her belt had been like.

Ragwort glanced at him. “Well? Do you recognize it?”

“No,” Bodkin replied sorrowfully. “It might be hers, but then again it might not. My mind is a blank.”

Ragwort sighed. “Well, it’s the only clue of any sort that one of our kind has been here. I’ve even asked Giles if he knows anything.”

“Giles?”

“My footman friend at number one. I wondered if he’d overheard anything strange between Mr. Horditall and Lord Benjamin, but he hasn’t. If it weren’t for you, no one here would know a brownie named Nutmeg even existed.”

“Oh, she exists. She’s wonderful, and I love her with all my heart.” Bodkin sighed as he inspected the buckle again. “Maybe it belonged to the last brownie who looked after the house. Caraway, wasn’t that her name?”

Ragwort nodded and colored a little. “Yes, it was her name, but this isn’t her buckle.”

Bodkin raised an eyebrow. “You seem very sure of that”

“I am.”

“What happened between you and Caraway?”

Ragwort’s face was now the color of beetroot “It’s none of your business. Bodkin,
Nutmeg’s
the one we’re concerned with now.” He poked the buckle again with his foot “So you can’t tell if this is hers?”

Bodkin picked it up and turned it over carefully in his hand. “It
might
be, Ragwort. Oh, I’m in such a state over her that I can’t remember anything.”

“Well, let’s assume it’s hers. Its presence means she’s been here, and if that’s so, maybe she still is. Although where, I really don’t know. I hunted high and low while you were at Claverton Down. By the way, did you get up to some good mischief?”

“Oh, yes.” Bodkin relayed his pranks.

“You actually brought the review to a standstill?” Ragwort was impressed.

“Yes, although I wasn’t able to make as much trouble for Miss Polly as I’d hoped.”

“I still can’t believe she’s part of it,” Ragwort said.

“Oh, she is. Why else would she be all smiles with Hordwell? Look, I don’t want to talk about Miss Polly. Let’s get back to Nutmeg. Have you tried calling her?”