The Dangerous Lord Darrington (25 page)

‘I think that is very wise,’ agreed the earl. ‘Of course we will respect your wishes. However, in the long term—’

‘That need not worry you,’ broke in his host. ‘We are leaving for America shortly. We have had enough of this god-forsaken land. I have no doubt that it will not be long before the discontent in France spreads to these shores—’ He broke off, glancing up as a gig trotted past the window. ‘Ah, here is our man, now. We shall soon have this matter neatly tied up.’

An hour later Beth and the earl were driving away from Bourne Park, Madame de Beaune’s deposition tucked securely into Beth’s reticule.

‘I cannot believe we have it at last,’ she murmured, unable to suppress a smile. ‘I cannot wait to get back to Simon to tell him.’ She glanced at the earl, saying shyly, ‘Are you willing to escort me back to Yorkshire, sir? I would be very grateful…’

‘Of course. My travelling chariot is at your disposal.’

‘How soon can we be away?’ she asked him. ‘Could we leave tomorrow morning?’

He looked down at her, his brows raised. ‘If we go directly to town now, then that is possible. But you will wish to see Spalding first, and leave Madame’s deposition with him…’

‘No!’ She clutched her reticule to her breast. ‘You will recall he told us he was going out of town and I am loath to leave Madame’s letter with a clerk, or to wait around for Mr Spalding to return. I will leave a note for him, but I shall take the letter to Simon. We will then go together to our own J.P., Sir John Marton, in Thirsk.’

He shrugged. ‘Very well, if that is what you wish.’

‘It is, and I wish to get back to Malpass as soon as possible.’

He was silent for a few moments, calculating the journey times. ‘It is gone noon now, so we shall not be in town before dark. It will be very tiring. Are you sure you want to do this?’

‘I am, sir.’

‘Then we need not stop at the White Bear. We will go directly to Bramshott and pick up Holt. Once I have my own team in harness we will be able to make much better time.’

The curricle swept on, mile after mile. The earl had nursed his horses, but even so by the time they reached Bramshott they were heavily lathered with sweat and blowing noisily. They stopped only long enough for the team to be changed before setting off again with Holt in the rumble seat. Beth sat beside Guy, rigidly upright, her eyes fixed on the road. The piece of paper in her reticule seemed to call to her and she clutched her bag tightly in her lap. She was carrying Simon’s freedom. The autumn day drew to a close and Beth was thankful for the rug across her knees, which helped to fend off the chill evening air. They travelled mainly in silence; even if she had not been lost in her own thoughts Beth would have been reluctant to distract the earl, whose gaze remained steadily on the road ahead as he guided his team. They dined on the road, a hasty meal that Beth would happily have for-gone, but Guy insisted.

‘You need to keep up your strength, ma’am, especially if you mean to travel again tomorrow.’

They had finished dining and were facing each other across the small table, the evening sun streaming in through a window and making candles unnecessary. Beth looked closely at him, observing the lines of strain about his eyes.

‘I am being very selfish, sir. After all, I need to do nothing but sit beside you—would you like to rest a little longer?’

‘No, I am as anxious as you to get back. I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed.’

Guy was watching her as he spoke, and the look she saw in his eyes combined with his words to conjure an image of them lying naked together, a tangle of pale limbs in the moonlight. Beth sat back, pressing her hands to her hot cheeks.

She said distractedly, ‘I have not yet thought how I am going to explain all this to Miles.’

‘Ah, yes. Radworth. I had forgotten about him.’ Guy poured the remains of the wine into their two glasses.

She wrapped her arms about herself, shivering a little. ‘I am still not sure why I could not tell Miles about coming to London.’

‘You do not trust him.’

Beth sat forwards and reached for her wine glass, staring into its blood-red depths.

‘I thought I did. He has done nothing to make me think ill of him.’ She pressed her fist against her heart. ‘But there is something in here that urges caution.’

‘What a pity it did not urge you to be more cautious when he asked you to marry him. Why did you accept?’

‘I think,’ she said slowly, ‘I think I was lonely. I was a widow, Simon was drowned…Grandmama and Sophie were dependent upon me.’ A wry smile tugged at one side of her mouth. ‘At six and twenty I thought myself past the age of falling in love. I could see a time when I would be alone.’ She looked up and met his eyes. ‘A bleak prospect.’

For a long moment they did not speak. She could not read his expression, but was thankful she could detect no pity in his look. That would have been unbearable.

‘Bleak indeed,’ he murmured, draining his glass. ‘Shall we go?’

Chapter Sixteen

T
he long twilight had set in as they sped on through the towns and villages towards London. Beth watched the world shrink as darkness closed in around them. She moved a little closer to Guy, allowing her head to rest against his conveniently placed shoulder and for the last few miles of the journey she sank into a deep, exhausted slumber.

She woke up only when the curricle drew to a halt outside Darrington House and she heard the earl calling her name. She opened her eyes to find him smiling down at her.

‘Oh, dear, I beg your pardon,’ she muttered, yawning. ‘I meant to keep you company during the drive!’

‘It is no matter, we made the journey safely.’ He came round to lift her down, his hands lingering on her waist, holding her to him. ‘Just in time. It is beginning to rain. Let us go inside.’

Burley was at the door to greet them, declaring that there was a cheerful fire in the morning room.

‘Good, we will go in. And bring a bottle of wine, Burley.’

Beth hung back. ‘I should like to retire…’

‘Not yet.’ Guy’s grip on her arm tightened. ‘I would be grateful for a few more moments of your time, Mrs Forrester.’

Silently she accompanied him to the morning room and sat down by the fire while Burley bustled in with wine and glasses.

Guy stood at the edge of the hearth, staring down into the flames. Even after Burley had gone out he did not speak.

Beth said gently, ‘It is very late…’

‘I know, but all the way back to town I have been thinking, and I want to tell you—about Clarice and my…crimes.’

Her breath caught in her throat. Did she really want to know everything about this man? He might tell her things about him she did not wish to know, he might tell her he was still in love with Clarice. It would be better to keep her distance.

Too late for that.

‘Very well,’ she said quietly. ‘I will hear you.’

‘Thank you.’ He sat down opposite, but did not speak immediately. His brow was furrowed—was he trying to think what to say to her, how to vindicate himself? No, she did not believe that. He was steeling himself for an explanation that would cause him pain.

‘Guy,’ she said softly, ‘you need not do this.’

He looked up. ‘I must.’ He rose and began to pace about the room. ‘Ten years ago… No. I have to go back further than that. Twelve years ago, my estimable father died and I became earl. I had just returned from the grand tour, I was five-and-twenty, inexperienced in women and politics, but I was an enthusiastic admirer of Chatham—I, too, believed we could disarm the American colonies with generosity, rather than pursue a course of aggression and taxation that could only lead to war. I was happy to work with Chatham, meeting with Dr Franklin and discussing terms for reconciliation, but the mood of the people was against us. It was at this time that I met Clarice Bellington. She was young and beautiful. I admit I was captivated. I allowed myself to be distracted—after all, it was clear that the Opposition could not win the argument over America and war was inevitable. Clarice’s family moved on the edge of government circles and were violently opposed to Chatham’s attempts at reconciliation. She told me she did not share her parents’ views. As we became better acquainted I found—I
thought
—we had many interests and ideas in common. I thought her then quite…perfect.

‘I asked for her hand and was accepted, despite the differing views between our families.’ His lip curled. ‘What parents would hold out against an earldom and a fortune? We became betrothed, I was fêted by her family and friends—it was a coup for them to bring the Darrington name and fortune into the ranks of those ranged against Chatham. True, I never made any secret of my support for the old lord, but neither did I speak out, nor did I distance myself from those in Clarice’s family who openly wanted war with America. Clarice revelled in the role of political hostess—her status as my future wife allowed her to cultivate the society of great men—Sandwich, Gower and the like. She enjoyed the political dinners and I…I indulged her.

‘Then private letters began to be quoted in notices and broadsheets. They concerned the transactions between the King and German princes for the hire of mercenaries to fight for us. Oh, it did not put lives at risk, but it embarrassed the government. And it was serious enough to be considered treason.’ He paused. ‘It was believed that Clarice was involved, but before she could be questioned she left me and fled to France. Only then did I begin to see her association with me in a different light. Through me she could move in higher, more important government circles. And before you have to ask me, yes, we were lovers, but she was sleeping in beds far more important than mine.’

In the heavy silence that followed Beth searched for some words of comfort to offer him. At last she said lamely, ‘You were well rid of her, then.’

‘Aye.’ He sat down opposite her, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forwards and stared into the fire. ‘But the damage was done. We were betrothed, and of the two I was known to be the more sympathetic to the Americans. It was even suggested that I had encouraged her.’ His jaw tightened. ‘I was implicated by association and became an embarrassment to those in Opposition. Perhaps I should have stayed, bluffed it out, shown myself a loyal subject. My close friends knew the truth and believed in me, but they had their own careers to consider and dared not defend me too openly. Chatham sent me a note of support. If he had been in town to advise me, perhaps I could have stayed, but he was very ill by that time and confined to his house. So I retired from public life, took my broken heart and disgraced name back to Wylderbeck Hall.’

‘But surely the blame should have been laid squarely at Clarice’s door?’

He gave her a pitying look. ‘The men responsible for losing the letters were hardly likely to admit that they had been duped by a woman. If she had stayed in England, of course it would have been different, but once she disappeared the matter was hushed up. Those guilty of indiscretions kept their good name and their government posts while I, whose only fault was to fall in love with a beautiful woman, was thought at best a fool, at worst a traitor.’

‘And you loved her.’

‘Yes.’

Beth’s heart ached for the young man so pitifully deceived, but a small worm of jealousy still gnawed at her peace.

‘And now?’ she forced herself to ask. ‘Do you still…love her? It would be quite understandable if you were angry with her, after the way she hurt you,’ she rushed on, ‘but that does not mean you are over her.’

‘Oh, I am well and true over Clarice.’ He pulled her to her feet.

‘But you have never married…’

‘Do you blame me for being cautious?’ he murmured, drawing her closer. His voice was deep and warm, wrapping about her like a blanket. He put his fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to look up. The fire she saw in his eyes robbed her of speech. His mouth found hers; she gave herself up to the fierce, yearning passion that burned through her body, a passion that blazed all the brighter because she had been fighting it down for so long. Guy had bared his soul to her and she wanted to console him, to cocoon him in love and wash away the last traces of pain inflicted by another woman.

Their embrace was long, hot and passionate. Beth gave him kiss for kiss, tongues tangling in an ancient ritual that drew on Beth’s very soul. When at last it ended they were both gasping for breath. Guy kept his hold on her and began nibbling at her ear, the sensation making her swoon with pleasure.

‘Tell me to stop now,’ he muttered, his lips moving from her ear to her throat, the light butterfly kisses causing even more havoc with her senses. ‘Order me to stop and I will ring for Mrs Burley to take you to your room.’

‘And if I do not?’ The words came out on a sighing breath, all she could manage as he continued to kiss her throat.

Guy raised his head, his eyes glinting down at her. ‘If you do not,’ he murmured, his voice enveloping her like the softest satin, ‘if you do not stop me, then I am going to carry you upstairs to my room and cover every inch of your beautiful body with kisses.’

‘Oh.’ Beth gave a soft cry. ‘Oh, Guy. Yes,
please
.’

She saw the triumph flare in his eyes. He swept her up in his arms and headed for the door.

Beth buried her face in his shoulder. Breathing deeply, she could smell his very male scent beneath the more familiar scent of wool and the soap from his snowy-white linen. She marvelled at how easily he carried her, the morning room door causing him to pause only a moment, then they were crossing the empty hall and up the stairs, their path lit only by the dim glow of candles. She did not raise her head until he negotiated another door. She heard him kick it shut behind them and looked up to see that they were in a large, high-ceilinged chamber dominated by a huge tester bed hung with richly embroidered hangings gleaming blue and gold in the firelight. There were no candles alight in the room, but they were unnecessary.