My Wayward Lady (18 page)
"You certainly are," she replied frostily. Somewhat mollified by his apologetic air she sank back into the saddle. Lord Chalfont chuckled uneasily. "All I meant to say is that if half the stories one hears about him are true. Sir Neville is an out-and-out blackguard who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. You are a woman of infinite resource and indomitable courage, but I think even you will admit that alone you are no match for him."
A barely perceptible nod acknowledged this remark.
"Very well then. Since I am the only person who is privy to your secret I think it only fitting that I should help you deal with Sir Neville," Adrian concluded hastily, eyeing her carefully to judge her reaction.
She appeared to take it under consideration for some minutes and then, frowning thoughtfully, she agreed with a 165
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resigned sigh. "I suppose you are right, but I would so much rather call him out"
The marquess gave a crack of laughter. "I know you would, but you are in enough of a bumble broth as it is. No, the only solution is for you to let me help you."
"But how?"
"At the moment, I am not entirely certain," he admitted,
"but rest assured, I shall think of something. I shall take care of him; I promise you that. Now let us enjoy the day by ceasing this discussion of such a vile person." Harriet felt reassured, though she could not say why. After all, Lord Chalfont had not even come up with a rational plan to deal with the threat of Sir Neville, but even his promise to look into it made her feel safer, and she was able to relax and appreciate the beauty of the day as he had ordered her to. This sense of security was short-lived, however, as the very next day, just as she was about to climb the steps to Mrs. Lovington's, a man detached himself from the shadows of the doorway next to the Temple of Venus. It was Sir Neville.
Too surprised to react, Harriet stood transfixed, hands clenched at her sides, an expression of rigid disdain hardening her ordinarily sunny countenance.
"You may look down on me all you like, my fine lady," the man sneered, "but you will soon change your tune. That haughty air of yours will do you little good when the whole world learns that you have been spending your days at a bawdy house."
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Harriet drew herself up to her full height. "As if I give a rap for the opinion of the world. Leave me, sirrah."
"Have care what you say to me, young lady. You may not care what the world thinks of you, but your sister does, and she will not thank you for ruining her chance of becoming the Countess of Sandford." He grinned evilly. "I see you had not thought of that. Do not underestimate me. I have made it my business to learn about you and your family, Lady Harriet, and there is very little I do not know."
"What is it? What do you want? I have money. It will take me some time to procure it, but—"
"Money! Ha! You underestimate me, my dear. I have all the money I could possibly want. What I need is a wife—a young attractive wife, a wife who is welcomed in the highest circles of the
ton."
By now Sir Neville had moved so close to Harriet that she could smell the liquor on his breath. Oh why had she let Rose hurry into Mrs. Lovington's ahead of her? If only the jarvey in the waiting hackney would come to investigate, but she dared not cry out for it would only make matters worse. What a truly disgusting man he was!
Harriet's fury overcame her surprise and fear at the man's bold accosting of her. "You are mistaken, sir," she replied coldly. "I would not even give you the time of day, much less entertain such a ridiculous notion. I bid you good morning." And turning on her heel, she marched up the steps and into the Temple of Venus.
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Once the door had shut behind her, Harriet stopped and sagged against it, holding onto the knob for support until she could regain her composure. Her breath was coming in ragged gasps and she was trembling all over. She could not remember a time when she had been so completely shaken. The scoundrel! How dare he threaten her? Why she would—
Harriet took a deep, steadying breath. What would she do?
What could she do without revealing her secret? At the moment only Rose and Lord Chalfont were privy to it and she certainly intended to keep it that way at all costs. Lord Chalfont. In her distress, Harriet had completely forgotten his offer of assistance. Now the thought of him steadied her as she recalled the look of concern on his face. His vow to deal with Sir Neville had an oddly calming effect, enough so that she was able to enter the schoolroom and greet Kitty, Fanny, Violet, Bessie, and the others with a tolerable degree of equanimity.
It was not the best of lessons, but Harriet managed to get through it by sheer force of will, completely unaware of the covertly curious looks directed at her from time to time by her pupils. Their vivacious instructress was unwontedly quiet and serious this morning—a state of affairs that provoked considerable comment the minute the door closed behind her.
"Fairly blue-deviled, she was," Fanny remarked, shaking her head in puzzlement. "It is not like her in the least, her usually being so gay and all."
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"Perhaps she misses the marquess," Violet, who had continued to insist that the Marquess of Kidderham and Miss Harriet would make a match of it, suggested slyly.
"Oh, Violet, do get off that silly hobbyhorse," Bessie snapped. "I have told you times out of mind that the marquess has been promised to Miss De Villiers since she was born."
"But he likes our Miss Harriet." Violet refused to be daunted.
"And where is his lordship?" Fanny wondered aloud. "It is not like him to be absent on a Tuesday. Something must be amiss."
"Whatever it is, it is none of our affair," Bessie concluded firmly. "Now let us go over the lesson before we forget everything we learned today."
The discussion was effectively silenced, but not forgotten. And while they did focus on their lessons, the girls devoted only half of their concentration to the matters at hand, allowing the other half to indulge in an orgy of speculation concerning Miss Harriet and the marquess. Meanwhile the marquess, who had a very good reason for not being at Mrs. Lovington's, had emerged from White's where he had spent Harriet's accustomed lesson time engaged in desultory conversation until the moment she was most likely to be climbing into her hackney when he sauntered down Saint James's. Keeping a weather eye out for anyone else who might be demonstrating an unusual interest in the carriage or its occupants, he strolled along with the air of a man absorbed entirely by his own thoughts. 169
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Adrian disliked missing the opportunity to see Harriet at Mrs. Lovington's, but his instincts, sharpened by years spent in a hostile countryside and coupled with his intense mistrust of Sir Neville, warned him to keep an eye on her. Difficult as it had been-for him to forgo the chance to see her, it was far more important that he discover whether or not she was being watched or threatened in any way. Fletcher was an unscrupulous knave with very little to lose. The veiled comments he had made to Harriet at the theater were likely to be followed by more concrete and unpleasant demands. The more Adrian thought over the entire situation as Harriet had described it to him, the more convinced he had become that she needed looking after. He had resolved to take this task upon himself for the moment until he could find someone reliable enough to replace him. Unfortunately, as he had made his way toward Saint James's earlier that morning, he had been hailed by a long-lost acquaintance from the Peninsula and thus been detained long enough to miss Harriet's unpleasant encounter with Sir Neville. As he observed the notable lack of interest being exhibited in the hackney's progress he was congratulating himself on his forethought while wondering if his concern for Harriet had not made him overreact. By the time the carriage had reached Bond Street, Adrian, on foot and thus unimpeded by traffic had caught up with them.
One look at Harriet's set white face as she emerged from the carriage convinced him that something was amiss and he hurried over, doffing his glossy beaver. "Good day. Lady Harriet." He greeted her politely, publicly, the social smile 170
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plastered to his face while he murmured urgently under his breath, "What on earth has occurred to upset you so?" Harriet responded in an uncharacteristically bright voice,
"Good day, my lord." And then, in hastily lowered tones she added, "I cannot tell you here. Tomorrow in the park." Pinning a brilliant smile on her own countenance, she nodded to him and disappeared into Madame Celeste's shop before Adrian could catch his breath, leaving him with nothing to do but proceed along Bond Street in the same direction in which he had been following her. He kept to an aimless course with the greatest of effort, for in truth, he wished to rush after her and demand to know what was going on. However, the selfdiscipline that came after years in the army paid off and he managed to present to passersby an image of utmost boredom and unconcern.
He was obliged to maintain this facade with as much patience as he could muster until the next morning when he saw Harriet galloping across Hyde Park at her customary breakneck speed.
"You look as though all the demons of hell are at your heels," he remarked as he caught up with her.
"No, just one—Sir Neville Fletcher." Harriet's voice dripped with disdain, but Adrian, attuned as he was to her every gesture, detected a note of panic underneath. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward to scan her face.
"What? Has he annoyed you further?"
. "He, he..." With a shaking hand, Harriet brushed back a few copper wisps that were escaping from underneath her bonnet. Doing her best to rid her voice of all emotion and in 171
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the fewest words possible, she related the incident that had occurred in front of the Temple of Venus the day before. Lord Chalfont sat silent, his eyes never wavering from her face as she spoke. He made no comment until she had completely finished, then burst out, "That scoundrel! He should be hung for this, at the very least."
"Oh, no," Harriet protested. The marquess' angry frown was so thunderous that for a moment she could not help thinking he might do just that. "You must not. Think of the scandal."
"I am thinking of it, or believe me, I would have done something like that long ago. But things have gone far enough; I do believe it is time you told your family. They are the ones to put an end to this villainy. I have no right to threaten him with prosecution, but they do."
"No." Harriet leaned over to lay a pleading hand on his sleeve. "Papa has not the least notion of how to deal with anything and Charlie will work himself into such a tearing passion that he would very likely do himself a mischief. I could not sacrifice him to save myself. With your help I shall think of something." She pressed her hand to a forehead already aching from a sleepless night spent racking her brain for a solution.
"So I am to be the sacrifice, am I?" Lord Chalfont spoke in a rallying tone as he strove to divert her mind to less dire thoughts.
Harriet looked up in dismay. "Oh, I do not ... I would never
... I mean, I just need you to help me to think best what to do. I would never—"
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"Do not fly into the boughs. I was merely funning. Of course I intend to do more than offer you advice, and I would consider it a great honor if you were to allow me to sacrifice myself for you, Lady Harriet."
The rallying note was gone now and there was no mistaking the depth of sincerity in his voice. Harriet stared at him. Gone too was the teasing glint in the eyes that gazed down into hers, with a wealth of sympathy and understanding that quite took her breath away. This was no idle response of the well brought up gentleman, Harriet realized with a shock. Lord Chalfont was actually prepared to back up his words with actions.
No one that Harriet had ever met had offered such a thing. Certainly none of the ineffectual young men of the
ton
or her preoccupied father, and not even Charlie who, though he paid more attention to her welfare than most people did, was easily distracted.
Unaccountable tears stung Harriet's eyes as she smiled mistily at Adrian. "Why—why, thank you. Of course it will not come to that, but I am grateful for your offer just the same." Then, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer, she laughed uncomfortably, "But I must be going. Absentminded as my Aunt Almeria is, she would notice it if I were not to appear at the breakfast table."
With that she prepared to dig her heels into Brutus, but was stopped in mid-flight by Lord Chalfont who leaned over and grabbed her reins. "You must promise to let me do what I can to take care of you."
"But what can you do?"
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"A man with a reputation as unsavory as Sir Neville's must have secrets he does not wish known. At the moment he is able to cling to the edges of society because the only whisperings against him are the merest innuendos. Given hard cold examples of his nefarious ways, society would disown him in an instant. I mean to discover those examples and threaten him with exposure, or worse, if he does not promise to leave you alone."
Judging from Adrian's murderous expression Harriet thought that the
or worse
seemed far more likely to overcome Sir Neville than exposure and social ruin. "I should be—I mean I wish I ... oh, do be careful," she pleaded. Then glancing around her at the growing number of riders who had entered the park by now, she concluded, "I truly must be going."