The Danbury Scandals (3 page)

She blinked and
a tear slid slowly down her cheek. Gently, he brushed it away.

‘I think it’s
gone now,’ she murmured, but, try as she might, she could not banish the tears,
nor could she stifle the little sob which escaped her. If only he would go
away; she did not like anyone to see her in such a weak state. She tried to
turn from him, but found herself, once again, imprisoned against his chest.

‘
Ma pauvre
,’
he murmured. ‘What have they been doing to you?’

‘N... nothing.’
Held securely in his arms, she felt warm and protected and, at that moment,
there was nothing she needed more. No one, since her mother’s death, had attempted
to embrace her; neither the Reverend Mr Cudlipp nor his strait-laced wife would
even have considered an affectionate hug let alone a kiss. No one had told her
they cared for her. Not that he had said anything of the sort, nor did she
expect it but, with her head lying snugly against his shoulder, it was a
delicious self-indulgence to dream.

‘Nothing?’

Tears blurred
her vision as he took her chin in his big hand and tilted her face up to him.
‘Nothing? No one has even taken the tiniest liberty?’

‘What do you
mean?’

‘This.’ Before
she could protest, he had bent his head and was kissing her in a way which sent
a tremor of delicious anticipation through her body. It was like nothing she
had ever experienced before and she did not understand it. Unversed in the ways
of flirtation, she allowed it to continue.

Suddenly coming
to her senses, she wrenched herself out of his grasp and stood breathlessly
facing him, like a young fawn catching the scent of the hunt and ready to bolt,
he later described it. It was her expressive violet eyes which gave her away;
they were wide and bright with a kind of knowing innocence. She was every inch
a woman, but she still had an aura of childhood about her, seemed untouched by
the tawdry world of those who lived in that great house, and yet she had come
from there. But perhaps she was not one of them, and, if that were so he had
committed an unforgivable sin. He put out a hand to her, intending nothing but
to reassure her, but she misunderstood him and tried to push past him, tripping
over a tree root in her haste. He caught her as she fell.

‘A thousand
pardons,
ma’amselle,
’ he said, steadying her. ‘But I am not a man to
resist temptation, and when it is overwhelming...’

It was really
much too late to pretend to any
hauteur
, but the whole encounter was
getting out of hand. She lifted her chin and faced him squarely. ‘Please allow
me to pass, Mr...’

‘Daw,’ he
finished for her. ‘Jack Daw.’

She stared at
him for a moment and then laughed shakily. ‘I don’t believe you. I don’t
believe anyone could be given such a preposterous name. You’ve made it up.’

He laughed,
throwing back his fine head so that she was aware of the strong arch of his
neck and the breadth of his chest. ‘I assure you, that is the name I am known
by.’

‘What are you
doing here? Are you a French spy?’

‘Do you think I
would tell you if I were?’

‘No, I suppose
not,’ she admitted. ‘At first I thought you were a poacher or a gypsy, but you
are not like any gypsy I have ever met.’

‘And have you
met many gypsies?’ he asked, with a smile and a lifting of his brows which made
the little scar more obvious. ‘I would never have guessed.’

‘No, of course
not.’

‘Nor French
spies?’

‘Now you are
laughing at me. It is very uncivil of you.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He
was chuckling openly now. ‘But you would hardly expect a gypsy or a spy to deal
in civilities.’

‘Who are you,
then? What are you doing here?’

‘You are an
inquisitive young lady, are you not? What is it they say - "Curiosity
killed the cat"? Beware of too much curiosity.’

Being curious
about other people was one way to stop Maryanne thinking of her own
bewilderment and insecurity, but suddenly it all came flooding back. A tear
slid down her cheek, followed by another and then another and she, who, until
today, had prided herself on her self-control, could do nothing to stop them.

He smiled and
handed her his handkerchief. ‘More dust?’

‘I... no.
Please let me pass.’

‘If you tell me
where you were going in such haste.’

‘To
Portsmouth,’ she said suddenly. ‘To visit my uncle.’

‘Without bonnet
or cloak? I know that spring has come but we are not yet at high summer. And
how were you expecting to arrive there?’

‘By stage,’ she
said, saying the first thing that came into her head. ‘From the village inn.’

‘Forgive me, my
dear Miss Paynter, if I do not believe you. Why are you so desperate you must
run away? Have they been unkind to you?’

‘Who?’

He jerked his
head in the direction of the big house. `The people up there. The Danburys.’

‘What do you
know of them?’

‘Very little,’
he said laconically. ‘But they seem to have a talent for making people unhappy.
The man you came with in the coach, who was he?’

‘Came with? How
do you know how I came?’

‘I saw you
arrive. Tell me, was that the Duke of Wiltshire?’

‘No, it was his
cousin, Viscount Danbury.’

‘So that was
Lord Danbury.’

Something in
his tone made her look up sharply. ‘Why are you so interested?’

He pretended
indifference, though she was not deceived. ‘If he made you cry...’

‘It wasn’t him,
it was...’ She stopped, uncomfortably reminded of the conversation she had
overheard. She forced herself to speak brightly. ‘It was my own foolishness and
nothing that need concern you.’

‘Oh, but it
does,’ he said softly. ‘When I saw you in that coach, you looked so...’ He
paused. ‘So anxious, big troubled eyes and furrowed brow. You know, you should
not frown, it spoils your looks.’

‘You are
insufferable,’ she said, frustration making her forget her tears. ‘What do you
know of him, or me, or anything at all?’

‘I know you are
unhappy,’ he said softly. ‘And it distresses me to see someone so young and
beautiful in tears.’

‘If I am in
tears it is because I am so angry,’ she said.

‘With me?’ he
asked softly.

‘No, no, not
with you,’ she said, then laughed. ‘Though I don’t know why not. You are not
behaving like a gentleman.’

‘Perhaps it’s
because gypsies and poachers are not gentlemen,’ he said. ‘And I am loath to
part with you.’

‘Mr Daw, if
that is your name, I have had outside of enough to contend with today and I
would beg you not to add to it. Take your hand from my arm and allow me to
pass.’

He laughed.
‘Now I know you are a duchess! No one else would be so toplofty.’

She laughed in
spite of herself. ‘Where did you learn that word?’

‘At my mother’s
knee; she was...’ He seemed to falter before going on. ‘She was English.’

Her laughter
faded. ‘Was?’

‘She died.’ He
spoke flatly, but she saw the pain behind his brown eyes.

‘I am sorry.’

‘It was a long
time ago now.’ He paused, as if mentally brushing himself down. ‘Would you like
me to take you to Portsmouth? I could, you know.’

‘Certainly
not!’ she said sharply.

‘But you do not
want to go back to the house? Why not?’

‘I... I was
confused. I didn’t know why I had been brought here, and things were said...’

‘To you?’

‘No, something
I overheard, but it’s of no consequence.’

‘It most
certainly is, if it was bad enough to make you run away.’

‘I was not
running away and it is unkind of you to remind me...’

‘I beg your
pardon.’ He smiled. ‘But I’ll wager you are no coward, so why not go back and
face them? Stand up to them, don’t let them see you are afraid.’

‘I’m not
afraid, I wish only to be left in peace.’

‘Peace,’ he
said softly. ‘You do not wish it any more than I do.’ He took her arm and
turned to walk beside her.

She did not
know what to do. Neither his words nor actions were those she would have
expected a gypsy to use, nor, for that matter, a gentleman, and she was
thoroughly nervous. Although he seemed to be relaxed, there was a certain
tension about his shoulders and the way he held his head, as if he was watching
for something or someone, and needed to be constantly alert. Occasionally his
right hand strayed to the handle of the small dagger held in his belt, as if to
reassure himself it was still there.

When they
reached the edge of the wood, he stopped. ‘Better you go on alone,’ he said. ‘I
don’t want to cause you more grief. I would be obliged if you told no one of
our meeting.’

‘Why not? Have
you something to hide?’

‘Not at all,’
he said blandly. ‘But it would hardly do, would it? We have been alone for some
time and I believe the English are decidedly strait-laced on such matters.’

She smiled a
little wanly, dreading what his lordship would have to say on her return.
‘Goodbye, Mr Daw.’

He bowed and
kissed her hand. ‘
Au revoir
, little wood nymph.’

She had to face
the future. She took a deep breath and set out across the grass towards the
house. She did not look back but somehow she knew he was standing in the shadow
of the trees, watching her. Was he hiding? And, if so, from whom? She refused
to believe his name was really Jack Daw and she doubted he was a gypsy; she had
a feeling that he was dangerous to know and she had better try to forget him.
It would be difficult while the memory of that kiss lingered but it would fade
as time passed, just as childhood recollections faded; happiness and misery
both received the same treatment from Father Time.

Her hope of
returning to the room she had left without being seen was dashed when she saw
Caroline standing in the hall, dressed for outdoors and tapping her foot
impatiently on the floor. She whirled towards Maryanne. ‘Just where do you
think you’ve been?’

‘I went for a
walk.’

‘You know, of
course, that you have missed luncheon and delayed our departure. Papa would not
leave without you.’

‘I am sorry. I
missed my way. Where is his lordship?’

‘Gone looking
for you and decidedly cross. One does not keep a Viscount waiting.’

‘I have said
I’m sorry, Miss Danbury. If I had not been kept waiting myself, I would not
have gone out...’

‘Such
impudence! Who do you think you are?’ She turned as Lord Danbury came in
through the front door. ‘She’s back, Papa, and has the effrontery to say we
kept her waiting.’

‘So we did,’
his lordship said calmly, then to Maryanne, ‘You must forgive us, my aunt was
taken suddenly worse.’

‘Oh, I am
sorry.’

‘It was the
excitement, I think, but she is comfortable again now and we can all return to
Beckford. Where is Mark?’

‘Gone to the
stables,’ Caroline told him. ‘He don’t trust his precious rig to His Grace’s
grooms.’

His lordship
smiled at Maryanne, trying to put her at her ease. ‘Caroline came with her
brother in his curricle, she enjoys being frightened to death by his driving.
Our coach may be slow and cumbersome, but at least one can have a civilised
conversation in it, and I want to have a long talk to you.’ Hearing the rumble
of the vehicle at the door, he smiled at Maryanne and beckoned to the footman
to help her on with her cloak. ‘Come, my dear.’

Maryanne,
taking a deep breath to calm herself, followed him out of the front door and
into the coach and in a few minutes Castle Cedars had been left behind and the
horses were trotting at a sedate pace along the roads they had traversed that
morning. Maryanne, sitting with her hands clasped nervously in her lap, found
herself going over the last two days in her mind. Everything about the Danburys
seemed to be cloaked in mystery, even down to trespassers and gypsies who were
not really gypsies at all, and men with accents which disappeared when they had
something serious to say. And she was part of it, part of part of something she
did not understand. She turned to his lordship. ‘You said we would talk...’

Chapter
Two

Lord Danbury
smiled, trying to put Maryanne at her ease. ‘I must apologise for keeping you
waiting so long for an explanation, but it all depended on what the Dowager
said when she saw you. I did not doubt she would acknowledge you, but...’

‘I am not who I
seem, is that it?’ Maryanne said; that much she had been able to surmise. ‘But
if you are going to scandalise my mother, then I do not wish to hear it.’

‘Scandalise
your dear mother! Oh, no, Maryanne, that is the last thing I would do.’