My Wayward Lady (23 page)
Harriet gazed at him in wonderment, the dark blue eyes wide and questioning. Adrian longed to pull her close again and kiss the worried look from her face, caress the parted lips with his own, but wisely he held back, sensing that the horror of Sir Neville's unwelcome attentions was still with her. 212
My Wayward Lady
by Evelyn Richardson
"But had we not better escape before, sir"—Harriet shuddered at the very thought of the man—"before he comes back? and what if he does not heed your threat and decides to return to London after all? He swore he would destroy me, you know."
"I know." The marquess' face was more grave than she had ever seen it as he took her hands in his. "But believe me, little one, he will not harm you now, and on that I pledge you my word. I have known many men of his type—brutes and bullies where the weak are concerned, but cowards when faced with determined resistance. And he knows well enough that should he ever so much as look at you again, I shall not only ruin him, I shall kill him."
Lord Chalfont spoke in the most conversational of tones, but the very casualness of it lent a deadly seriousness to his words. To the marquess, Sir Neville was of as little concern as any fox that had gotten among the chickens or a rat in the corner—a pest, that if it continued to harm, would be eliminated without a second thought.
Harriet shivered and once again was pulled into his arms. This was an entirely different Lord Chalfont and this new vision gave her pause. She had been introduced to the irreverent man about town. Gradually she had come to recognize that there was more to him than the wild libertine bent on his own amusement, and she had come to see that he was a man of principle, of ideals even; a man who reflected seriously on life and its purpose. Of course after all her brother's tales of Lord Chalfont's wartime exploits she should have known that the soldier existed underneath it all, 213
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but it still came as something of a shock to see the lips that were usually curled into an ironic smile set in an unyielding line and the eyes that had been so warm moments ago glinting as bright and hard as agate. The marquess seemed more like a grim stranger than the man who was forever teasing her, challenging her, trying to make her lose her countenance and her temper, or both.
"Relax, my poor girl. It shall not come to bloodshed, I promise you that. Undoubtedly the man is well on his way to the Channel by now." Just as quickly as the grim stranger had appeared, he was gone, and the marquess was tilting her chin to look deep into her eyes. "Promise me you will think no more of it?"
There was no avoiding the penetrating gaze. "I promise."
"Good. That's settled. And now I very much fear you are about to experience the most uncomfortable part of this entire adventure, which is to ride pillion until I can discover an inn where I may hire a carriage. I rather think we shall be forced to return to St. Albans before we find something because between here and the London road there is nothing but a wild stretch of heath. Now come along." The marquess helped her on with her pelisse and, still holding her with one protective arm, led her from the bedchamber, down the long dim halls, and out into the sunlight.
They met with no resistance; in fact, the entire place appeared to be so completely deserted that Harriet could almost believe the whole adventure had been a horrible nightmare except for the very real presence of Lord Chalfont. He held her so close that she could feel the comforting 214
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warmth of his hand and the strength of his fingers through her sarcenet pelisse and the thin muslin of her gown. Adrian's horse, trained to obedience by years in the Peninsula with his master, was waiting patiently for them in the gravel drive. "Now comes the difficult part." The marquess shot a teasing smile at Harriet. "You shall be forced to sit quietly in front of me while I guide us tamely to the nearest inn. It is far more comfortable than riding pillion, but still a trial for someone who is accustomed to riding her own horse, and at breakneck speed."
His attempt at humor won only the faintest answering smile from Harriet who was still far too shaken by the morning's events to think of anything else.
"What? No stinging retort? My dear Lady Harriet, you are more seriously discomposed than I had realized." A distinctly watery smile was her only reply and it wrung his heart to see the delicate mouth droop and the sprinkling of freckles across the pert little nose stand out in dark contrast against her still pale skin. Adrian looked deep into the eyes which were dark and troubled. "Come now; what's amiss? All's well that ends well."
"I know," Harriet sighed. "And I thank you for rescuing me, only ... only I should have been able to save myself. I should never have fallen for his stratagem. I should have looked first in the carriage before I got in. Oh, I have been wretchedly stupid."
Adrian longed to hold her close and kiss all her doubts away, to smooth her hair and comfort her, but he sensed that at the moment, she needed to have her confidence restored 215
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more than she needed to be consoled. He had seen the same thing often enough among his men after a particularly horrific battle and knew that a bracing tone was the most effective.
"Nonsense. You appeared to be defending yourself quite creditably when I arrived. As so often happens in war, reinforcements only hasten the inevitable. My presence did not save you as much as insure that you will arrive home soon enough that no one will be the wiser. Now up with you, and we shall be on our way." He tossed her up in the saddle as easily as if she were a small child, swung up behind her, and they trotted off down the drive without further incident. They rode in silence for some time along a road that appeared to be little used. Obviously Sir Neville was a most infrequent visitor to these parts, and the house lay far enough off the main roads that there was little through traffic. In spite of Lord Chalfont's reassuring words, Harriet could not help thinking as they rode along that it was most fortunate he had arrived when he did, for given the deserted location of the estate, it would have been a matter of considerable luck if, having managed to escape on her own, she could have made her way far enough to discover someone to render her assistance. In fact it was not until the tower of the abbey in St. Albans came into view that they saw anything much in the way of habitation.
Finally they drew up in a spinney not far from the abbey and a group of houses, at what looked to be the main crossroads. Adrian jumped down and helped Harriet to dismount. Setting her carefully on the ground he held her for longer than was customary, searching her face for signs of 216
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distress. Having satisfied himself that she seemed to have thoroughly recovered from her unpleasant escapade, he began to set forth his plans for her.
"On my way here I noted a posting inn not far ahead and observed that they had stables sufficient to supply us with a suitable conveyance. Loathe as I am to leave you here alone, I am even more unwilling to subject you to the possibility of scandal by having you appear at a posting inn in somewhat dubious circumstances. Even were I to claim that I am your brother, there is bound to be comment surrounding two people and one horse who appear out of nowhere. Now"—he turned to pull a pistol from his saddle—"I know both you and Charlie well enough to feel certain he has taught you to use one of these."
At last, an answering sparkle appeared in Harriet's eyes as she nodded.
"Very good. I leave this with you then, and I trust that you can remain hidden enough so that no one will be the wiser should they pass by."
Harriet nodded again.
"Good girl." Adrian dropped a light kiss on her forehead before swinging himself into the saddle and trotting in the direction of the crossroads.
Left alone, Harriet sank gratefully on a nearby log, the pistol slipping from her nerveless fingers. For some minutes she did not bother to retrieve it, but sat bemused, staring off in the direction Lord Chalfont had disappeared. Utterly worn out from the fear and anger that had kept her tensely alert from the moment she had been abducted, she could barely 217
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assimilate all that had happened to her. Once the marquess had arrived, she had allowed herself to follow his orders passively, trusting in his air of authority and command. What had come over her? It was not at all like her to give up control of a situation so easily. In fact, she could not remember one instance when she had not been directing others—doing all the thinking and acting for them.
I must be slipping into my dotage at a very young age to
turn into such a weak, biddable thing. I shall have to be
careful that I do not turn into a milk-and-water miss like
Alicia,
Harriet scolded herself. But deep in her heart she knew that it was not her courage and resolution that were slipping so much as that the marquess's superior capabilities had come to the fore. After all, he must have become accustomed to this sort of adventure on a regular basis when he was in the army.
I should be foolish not to allow him to offer
assistance in an area where he is so accomplished,
she comforted herself.
However, even the chagrin at being rescued by Lord Chalfont instead of saving herself was not the true issue upsetting her; it was something far more fundamental and disturbing than that, something that had been brought to light by that last butterfly kiss.
Except for wishing that she had been born a boy so she could enjoy the same adventurous life that Charlie enjoyed, Harriet had never given much thought to men and women and the relationships between them. At school she had scoffed at the girls who had sighed over the dancing master as fools who were swept away by a handsome face and a 218
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gallant manner. Equally silly, in her view, were the girls such as Alicia who viewed men as nothing more than a means of social advancement or escape from their families and the confining rules that governed the behavior of unmarried women. It was not until recently, when she encountered Lord Chalfont, that Harriet had begun to realize there was something else, another reason for the relationship between a man and a woman that had nothing to do with social conventions.
Of course being a country-bred girl who had seen animals mating every spring, she knew the facts of life. She even knew that men, in the grip of their passions, sought out such places as the Temple of Venus. What Harriet had not been so aware of was that women enjoyed these passions too, not, that is, until she had heard Mrs. Lovington's ladies commenting so favorably on the attractions of Lord Chalfont. Once she had heard them talking, she had found herself beginning to think of nothing else. There was something quite compelling about his dashing irreverence. His quick wit and his ready smile had exerted a dangerously seductive power over her even before he had come to her defense the first time against Sir Neville. It was then that she had become quite uncomfortably aware of his physical presence, the strength and agility of his well-muscled body. This had only become more apparent as he had held her in his arms on the dance floor and ridden with her in the park. In fact, she was unable to put those thoughts of him out of her head no matter how deep their intellectual conversations might be. 219
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Oddly enough, her visceral revulsion toward Sir Neville and the underlying implications of her abduction only served to throw her reactions to Lord Chalfont into stronger relief. The strength of his arms around her, the reassuring hardness of his body against hers, and the caress of his lips on her brow were all the more potent to a body whose senses had already been heightened by their violent reaction to Sir Neville. Harriet did not care to contemplate the implications of these revelations or to admit that she longed for more such moments with the marquess. For the time being all she wished to do was to close her eyes and recapture the amazing sensation of being held by him. The thought of his kiss quite took her breath away, making her feel oddly giddy, yet intensely alive.
Soon he would return, and having at last faced these feelings, she would then need to suppress them until later in the privacy of her bedchamber. But for now she could indulge herself to her heart's content.
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Harriet sank back against the meagerly padded seat cushions with a sigh of relief as though it were the most luxurious of traveling carriages. Lord Chalfont had reappeared in a very short time after he had left, helped her into the carriage, tied Trajan behind, climbed in beside her, and waved to the postboys who set them off at a slapping pace. There was silence for some time as both of them sat back and recovered from the stress of the last few hours. Finally laying a reassuring hand on hers. Lord Chalfont spoke. "I hope that you will not think it too interfering of me, but I took the liberty of sending a note to Charlie asking him to send word to Berkeley Square that he had taken you to the Egyptian Hall to see the paintings there. Yes"—he directed a wry grin at her—"I realize that it is highly unlikely that your brother would care about such things, but from what you have said, I gather that most of the members of your household are too preoccupied with their own affairs to question it. I have also instructed my man Richards to find your maid and convince her that all is well. I should not worry. He is most resourceful and should be able to reassure her as to your safety."
It was such a well-conceived plan that Harriet did not have the heart to mention to the marquess that Charlie, who had already taken her to the Egyptian Hall and pronounced it to be sadly overrated, would be unlikely to take her there again, so she merely nodded in approval.