The reluctant cavalier (26 page)

"You will come with me," he said and brought the horses to a stop.

Annabella made herself stare into his eyes. "No, I will not. You will return me to Wentworth Abbey, to my mother. I am surprised that a man of your
reputed
virtue would try to force me into your house."

"And I am surprised that a woman of your sluttish habits would quibble at such an insignificant thing."

Her body jerked as if she had been slapped. Annabella stared at the Duke of Stratton, and anger rose hot within her. Perhaps she should not have allowed Parsifal to hold her hand so long in the garden—much less kiss her in the woods. But Parsifal was an honorable man; he had never forced her in anything, and would not, for he was fully conscious of his role as host. Perhaps she had not behaved as she ought, but as far as she knew, she had done nothing that should only be done after marriage.

"I do not know what you might have seen to say such a despicable thing, but I assure you, Mr. Wentworth is an honorable man and would not cause injury to my virtue," she said disdainfully.

"Really?" the duke said, taking her wrist in a hard grip. He still smiled slightly, coldly. "I suppose I shall see, once you are inside."

Fear shot through her, and she tried to pull away. "No! I will not go with you!" He seized her other arm, but she managed to struggle loose, and she pushed at him.

Clear anger now showed in the duke's eyes, then pain flashed and her head snapped back as he hit her. Her sight dimmed, and she closed her eyes. She tasted blood on the inside of her cheek, then felt herself being pulled down from the carriage, her legs scarcely supporting her.

"Peters, do take the carriage to the stables." She could hear the duke speak, his voice cordial, as if he were making a friendly call upon a neighbor.

There was a pause before the groom replied. "Yes . .. yes, Your Grace."

Annabella opened her eyes again and dared glance at the duke. He still smiled, and it was horrible to her. There seemed no emotion behind it; it was like the smile upon a waxwork, fixed in empty pleasantness. Had he smiled as he hit her? Perhaps.

He pushed her in front of him, and she stumbled. He seized her arm and held her up. "I did not think you were so clumsy, Miss Smith. I do not like clumsy women."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. I will not be afraid, she said to herself, gritting her teeth against the pain on the side of her face. "Then it is a good thing I have refused to marry you," she said.

His grip on her arm tightened painfully as they entered the house and went up the stairs. "No, Miss Smith. You will find it is not a good thing," he said. "It is not a good thing at all. Although, I suppose it might be for me, if you are a virgin still. One should not waste an opportunity, after all."

The nausea and dread that grew in her stomach made her knees weak, and she stumbled again.
Oh, please, dear God, it is not what it sounds like, he would not, oh please, he would not.
 

He opened the door, thrust her past it, and closed the door behind him. Annabella glanced about her and almost laughed hysterically. The chamber should have been grey and stark, without any decoration or color. But the walls were painted a clear yellow, and white curtains framed the window. The sun streamed in, making the room bright and mocking her fear. She gazed at the duke, who stared at her with emotionless eyes and that persistent smile. He pulled off his coat, folding it and carefully setting it on a chair. She backed away from him and swallowed hard. "Don't come near me."

"I would not, except that I must teach you a lesson—you must be punished. You see that, don't you?" Stratton said in a reasonable voice.

"No. No, I do not," Annabella said. She watched his expression carefully and certain he was mad. She felt increasingly ill from both anger and fear and pressed her lips together to suppress the rising nausea. She must be calm or , else she would not be able to think of a way to escape this place.

The duke frowned briefly. "But you must see it. You are not worthy of me. You deceived me into thinking you a pure woman, but you are not."

"I may have misbehaved, but I hardly think anyone can accuse me of being impure!" Annabella said hotly. "Why, all I have done is kiss Mr. Wentworth—that is all! I would never, never give up my virtue in that.. . that manner!"

Stratton looked at her sharply. "And in what manner is that?"

Annabella felt her face grow warm. "In ... in
that
way. You should not even be speaking of it to me."

"And you should not even know of it if you were truly as pure as I require a wife to be." He removed his waistcoat.

"If you must know, my mother told me of it, so that I would not fall into error out of ignorance." She held out her hands pleadingly. "Please, let me go. I promise you I shall not tell anyone of this, if you only let me go. I am sure you will find another young lady more worthy of your attentions. And if I am so unworthy, you cannot even wish to be with me; surely, you must see that."

He paused in his undressing and seemed to consider her words. "You have a point," he said. "And I am always open to reasonable argument, as you see. However, you did deceive me, you know. If you preferred another man, you should have said so from the beginning. But you did not. I do not
like
to be deceived, no, not at all."

"But I
wasn't
in love with anyone when you proposed. It was only afterward."

"Then you should have told me straightaway."

Annabella wanted to scream in her frustration, but kept her voice low. "I
did
tell you—just today!"

He shook his head. "Not early enough. I saw you together in the gardens; he held your hand much longer than necessary. And then there were those quite heated kisses in the woods. I saw you there, too, you know." He untied the neckcloth at his throat, and Annabella moved another step away from him. "It was quite wanton of you, and you should be punished for your sins."

"Don't, please don't," she said, hating the way her voice wavered. "I swear I shall scream."

"No one will hear you, for my servants are conveniently deaf when I wish them to be." He walked swiftly toward her, and she moved away, but found herself against one post of the bed. He caught her and pressed his body against hers, and put his hand to her breast, pulling down her bodice. She struggled, pushing against him. The nausea in the pit of her belly rose again, and she pressed her hand over her mouth.

"Please leave! I—I am afraid I am going to be ill."

"I think you are lying."

She gritted her teeth against the sour taste in her mouth. "No, I assure you, Your Grace, if you do not leave, I will most definitely give up my luncheon."

"Why should I believe you? You are only trying to escape me, I know."

Her stomach heaved, and she gave a moan, just barely holding back. The duke released her and moved hastily away, but gazed at her suspiciously.

"You had better not be pretending, or I shall make sure you suffer for it."

Annabella pressed her hand to her mouth for a moment, then looked at him angrily. "Believe me, Your Grace, I would much rather not have cause to feel so ill as I do now."

For one moment the duke looked indecisive, then moved to the clothes he had taken off so far and picked them up. "I will wait until you are not feeling so ill. But remember, Miss Smith, I will not wait long. You will not escape your punishment, I assure you. I advise you to calm yourself, and quickly." He left and shut the door, and she could hear him lock it.

Her knees could hold her up no longer. Annabella sank to the floor and put her hands over her eyes and let out a sob. If only her parents had not urged her to consider the duke! A hot anger against them rose in her, then quickly dissipated. No, they could not have known anything of his true character. They would not have considered him for a suitor, else. She could not blame them. If anything, the fault was her own, for not telling the duke immediately when she knew the course of her affections for giving in to her impulses and kissing Parsifal.

Parsifal.
If only he were here! His image, strong and steady, his honest eyes shining with love for her, rose in her mind. He was the Cavalier, she knew, but he said it was only the costume, that he had been playing a part. But, surely, that was not true. One did not carry acting to such lengths as saving ladies from assault. Did he not understand how brave he was? Why, even when he had stopped the cart from injuring the people in the village, he had denied any bravery on his part. He wore no costume then! Surely, he would come for her.

And then she realized a dreadful thing. He did not know she was in danger. He knew she had gone with the duke to tell him she'd refuse his proposal of marriage. There was nothing untoward in that—why should he suspect anything, or come to her aid? An hour would pass, and no one would think anything amiss. It would be two hours before anyone would worry about her, and then, no doubt, it would be too late.

Annabella rose to her feet, and she clenched her hands to still their trembling. She had to escape, and she had to do it by herself. She went to the window and looked out. An oak tree stood just outside, but it was not nearly close enough for her to climb—if she could climb it, that is. An image of Parsifal came to her, the way he so easily climbed the old oak in the Wentworth woods, and her hand went to the ring he had given her, which she had strung on a gold chain around her neck.

No, that way was no escape; she could not jump to the tree or climb it, and it was no use thinking of how Parsifal had done it. She turned resolutely from the window and gazed about the chamber. She needed to find
something
with which to escape. It was certain she would not do so through the door, for the duke had locked it. The only way was out the window. Her gaze fell on the bed .. . bedsheets.

Quickly, she stripped the sheets from the bed and began tying them together, as firmly as she could.

Parsifal threw his dry quill on the desk, rising from his chair, then pacing the floor of the library. Surely, it was time for Annabella to have returned from her drive with the Duke of Stratton. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. No, only five minutes had passed. A drive in the country usually took much longer than that.

He caught himself looking at the clock again and let out an exasperated breath. There was no use staying here when he was so restless. It'd be best if he went out of doors and enjoyed the day.

The bay horse was already saddled when he went to the stables; Geoffrey was there, and it seemed he was about to ride it. The horse shifted uneasily. Parsifal frowned.

"I wouldn't advise it, brother," he said. "That horse needs more training."

Geoffrey gazed at him and smiled with an ironic sweetness. "I think I know how to ride,
brother."
 

"He'll throw you, believe me."

"What, has he thrown you?"

"No, but he has tried."

For a moment Geoffrey looked uneasy, then he shrugged. "I'll try him anyway."

Parsifal shrugged as well. "Do not blame me if it happens."

His brother smiled sardonically. "I'll try my best not to."

Geoffrey led the horse out, and Parsifal could sense its uneasiness with an unfamiliar rider. He watched as Geoffrey mounted the horse, how the bay pranced about in a skittish manner. Parsifal leaned against a post of the stable and crossed his arms across his chest, smiling slightly. Geoffrey sometimes forced his horses to his will instead of guiding them.

Lord Grafton leaned forward, and the bay went into a canter, then a gallop. Parsifal shook his head. They were going toward a small stile, and he knew his brother was going to attempt it. With any other horse he'd not think twice about it, but Parsifal knew that the bay would either refuse to jump or unseat his rider—the horse did not trust Geoffrey enough to try the stile. Luckily, the stile was surrounded by soft dirt and grass. Parsifal pushed himself away from the post and walked toward them. He supposed he ought to be there just in case his brother suffered a worse injury than Parsifal thought Geoffrey might.

The horse sped toward the stile and then, just as Parsifal thought, the bay stopped short and shied. He could hear a loud curse form his brother, and grinned. The horse reared—no doubt Geoffrey had pulled on the reins inappropriately in his impatience—and at last the Earl of Grafton tumbled off.

If words had temperature, the air would have been seared by the curses that came from Geoffrey's lips. Parsifal grinned widely, but managed to control his expression when he finally came to his brother. Geoffrey sat in a sandy spot, pointedly ignoring the bay, which was contentedly cropping grass beside him. He glared at Parsifal.

"Very well! You told me so!" He rose and dusted himself off, and shot another irritated glance at Parsifal.

"Did I say that, brother?"

Geoffrey stared at him for an angry moment, then suddenly burst out laughing. "No, but you were thinking it, damn your eyes!"

Parsifal grinned. "How did you guess? You have become remarkably perceptive of late, I think."

His brother gave him a reluctant smile. "Hmph. And you have become less of a lap-dog of late. The lovely Miss Smith must have put some heart into you—or prodded you with that damnably sharp tongue of hers. And get that idiotic smile off your face. It makes you look like a sap-skull." His smile twisted. "I suppose that means the lady has agreed to marry you?"

"Yes ... and I'm lucky I'm of age so I don't need your approval." Parsifal went to the horse and took the reins.

Walking by his side, Geoffrey shook his head mockingly. "How you underestimate my nature, Parsifal! I am more generous than you know. My heart would have been moved by pity and certainly I would have consented."

"Thank you for seeing me as an object of pity."

"You mock, but it is so, brother. However, I would have reserved my pity for Miss Smith, rather than you."

"What's this? Can my dear brother actually think me a better prospect than our neighbor?" Parsifal shook his head in mock amazement, then peered intently at his brother. "Yes ... yes, it
is
you, Geoffrey. I thought for a moment it was someone else disguised as the Earl of Grafton."