The Ruby Pendant (10 page)

`But...we are
not...'

`That is soon
remedied. You have only to say yes to make me the happiest of men.'

She took her
eyes from the road to look at him. He was gazing down at her with every
appearance of sincerity, his glance flickering over her face from eyes to lips
to the top of her head and a throat which had suddenly become dry.

`Mr Martindale!'
She affected surprise, which was dishonest of her and made her ashamed of
herself. It had to come sooner or later and she should have had her answer
ready. But after that first exclamation she found herself unable to speak. Her
mind was filled with the image of another man, a tall, enigmatic man whose dark
eyes seemed to see into the very core of her and yet had missed the most
important thing of all; her love for him.,

`You must have
known I would ask you,' he went on. `I have only delayed for propriety's sake.'

`I hardly know
you,' she said, finding her tongue at last. 'And you know nothing of me.'

`Are we not
cousins?'

`Yes, but that
makes no difference. We are strangers to one another.'

`Miss
Martindale - Juliette - I have spent several weeks trying to remedy that. You
have to admit I have been most attentive. Everyone expects an announcement...'

`Do you think I
am swayed by what everyone expects?' she demanded sharply.

`No, that was
stupid of me. But your mama has been kind enough to look favourably on my
suit.'

`And Papa'?'

`I am not so
sanguine as to imagine he favours me wholeheartedly, but no doubt he will be
guided by her ladyship; after all, ladies know best when it comes to such
matters, don't you think?' He will come about. He has not forbidden you to see
me, has he?'

`No, he would
not. He has said I must make up my own mind.'

`And have you?'

`No. I cannot.'
And that was certainly true.

`Cannot marry
me or cannot make up your mind?'

`I meant I will
make no decision until I am sure of my feelings. And of yours.'

`If you need
more time, of course you may have it,' he said, so complacently she felt like
striking him. 'But I beg of you, do not delay too long, there are arrangements
to make, things to be done. I had planned a journey abroad in a few weeks'
time, but if you do me the honour of accepting me, it will not be necessary.'

`Have you
spoken to Papa about this?'

`No, but I will
do so as soon as you tell me you wish it.'

`I do not wish
it, not yet,' she said, relinquishing the reins to him.

He appeared to
accept that and smiled. 'Shall we go a little faster? This pace is too slow for
these cattle; they are bred for speed, you know.'

`I am not sure
it is...'

Before she
could finish, he had whipped up the beasts and the walk changed to a trot that
took them away from the main carriageway on to a little-used road. From a trot
they moved to a canter, from a canter to a full gallop. The horses were fresh
and obviously needed the exercise; they fairly flew over the ground, bumping
her up and down in the high seat.

It was
exhilarating and she had to admit she was enjoying the sensation of speed and
the control he had over the horses. Folly it had been to come, folly it was to
encourage him, but she was in no mood to be sensible. She clutched at her
bonnet to stop it flying off and turned in her seat to see Thomas, struggling
to keep up with them. It was unfair on the poor groom who was undoubtedly
terrified; if she was thrown out and killed or injured, he knew he would be blamed.
`Mr Martindale!' she cried. 'Please slow down, this instant.'

`You are
afraid?'

`No, but my
groom is.'

He laughed and
the whip cracked again. 'I think I shall carry you off, then the decision will
be taken out of your hands - the tattlers would see to that.'

`I beg of you,
no!' She was truly frightened now.

He turned to
look at her, then pulled the horses back to a walk, still laughing. 'No, it
will not serve, will it? I must be patient.'

`I do believe
you are a little mad,' she said, looking behind them. Thomas was once more in
attendance, though his horse was blowing badly.

`Mad for you,
my dear Juliette,' he said, turning to rejoin the promenade of carriages and
resume their stately progress. She was convinced that everyone had seen them go
and was busy with conjecture.

`Now you are
being absurd,' she said. 'And I do not remember giving you permission to use my
first name.'

`But we are
family already, soon to be even closer...'

His arrogance
left her almost speechless. She should never have come, she should have known
he would take it for granted that she would welcome a proposal. It infuriated
her. `Mr Martindale, I never met such a conceited, overbearing man as you are.
What makes you think I would consider such a proposal, if proposal it was meant
to be? It was more an insult.'

His eyes
flickered over her face, as if considering a rejoinder and then he smiled. 'I
beg pardon. Please put it down to over eagerness on my part. I will not err
again.'

Not wishing to
give him a. put-down in so public a place, she did not answer but sat stiffly
beside him, not speaking, until Philip Devonshire appeared beside the rail and
put her composure completely to flight.

His horse was
standing quite still, but its lathered neck told them that it had recently been
galloping. 'Miss Martindale, good day,' he said, then leaning forward,
presented her with her own parasol. 'I do believe you dropped this.'

She stared at
it. 'Yes, but where did you find it...?' James understood how it had happened.
Philip had been following them and seen the parasol fall from the carriage.
'Look here, Devonshire,' he said. 'Can you not see you are not wanted? If you
follow us once more, I shall be obliged to call you out. It is
insupportable...'

`Why should I
follow you?' Philip queried. 'I was out for a ride and saw the parasol on the
ground. I recognised it as the one Miss Martindale was using at the picnic.'

`Oh, please do
not quarrel on my account,' she said, accepting her property, but annoyed to
think Mr Devonshire had witnessed what had happened. 'It is quite unnecessary.
Thank you; Mr Devonshire.'

Philip bowed
and took his leave, leaving a bad-tempered James to take her home.

Two days later,
when Lady Carstairs and Lucinda called at Mount Street, Juliette was dismayed
to learn that there were strong rumours that Mr Martindale and Mr Devonshire
had quarrelled violently and a duel was to be fought.

This piece of
information was conveyed to her as the two girls sat in Juliette's bedroom,
talking about the gowns they were going to wear for her fancy dress ball the
following week. Lucinda was to be escorted by Arthur Boreton who, not
particularly handsome himself, had decided that there was more to a wife than a
pretty face, and offered for her. Lucinda's joy was only matched by her mama's,
who had been beginning to think she was unmarriageable.

`I do believe
they are fighting over you.' Lucinda, whose appetite for romance was fed on
novelettes borrowed from the lending library, was deeply thrilled. `How
romantical!'

`It isn't at
all,' Juliette said, dismayed that James had been rash enough to carry out his
threat. She had thought it was all bluster, meant to impress her. 'it is
foolish in the extreme, besides being unlawful. If they are caught, there will
be the most dreadful fuss. They could go to prison.'

`Fustian! Who
do you suppose is going to get up at the crack of dawn to arrest them? It will
all be over before any justice of the peace can be roused from his bed.'

`But supposing
they kill each other?' Her mind was in a turmoil, picturing the scene so
vividly, the two men, their jackets discarded, standing facing each other with
loaded pistols, or perhaps drawn swords, prepared to kill or die. It was
horrible, barbaric. It could not be over her, it just could not. She was not
worth fighting over. 'Are you sure you have not made a mistake?'

`No, Arthur
told me. He is to be Mr Martindale's second.'

`When? And
where? Tell me quickly.'

Lucinda
shrugged. 'I do, not know. Arthur would not say.'

`Then you must
find out. It must be stopped.'

`You are making
a deal of fuss,' Lucinda said, peering into her friend's face. 'Which one are
you concerned about? I thought at first it might be Mr Devonshire, but you have
seen more of Mr Martindale this last week.'

`Neither. Both.
Oh, don't you see, how impossible it is?'

`I think Mr
Devonshire is the most handsome, but he has a brooding look about him, as if he
were weighed down with troubles. But I suppose he would be, having no fortune
but what he can make for himself, considerable though it seems to be. On the
other hand, Mr Martindale is so amusing, so galant. You may insult him to your
heart's content and he never minds it.'

`That's because
he is too insensitive to mind.'

`Oh.' Lucinda
was silent for all of thirty seconds before she added, 'It is Mr Devonshire you
favour then?'

`No it is not,'
she snapped. It was as if her friend had touched a raw nerve. 'Oh, I do wish
you would not refine upon it, Lucinda. I am too worried to play silly games.'

`I am very
sorry, I am sure. I would not have told you about it if I had known you would
be so crotchety about it.'

`Oh, Lucinda, I
am not cross with you, it is those stupid, headstrong men who have angered me.
Please forgive me.'

`Of course.'
Lucinda was nothing if not good-natured. `But what are you going to do?'

`I don't know,
but I must do something. Do you think you could persuade Mr Boreton to tell you
the details?'

`I will try.'

`Send me a note
when you know when and where it is to be. Make sure whoever you send has
instructions to hand it to me personally. I do not think Mama should know of
this.' She paused, realising there were other ways that Lady Martindale might
learn of a duel. 'Does your mama know?'

`I don't know.
I shouldn't think so.'

`We had better
go down and join them or they will wonder what we are up to.'

They stood up,
straightened their muslin skirts and went down to join their mothers who were
so absorbed in their plans for the ball and the things which had to be done in
preparation they had hardly missed them. But Juliette could not stop thinking
about the duel and was so silent after their visitors had left, her mother
declared she must he sickening for something.

Two days later, Juliette was woken in the early hours by
someone throwing stones at the window of her bedchamber. She lay for a moment,
unable to tell what had wakened her, until the sharp patter came again. She
rose, padded in bare feet across to the window and threw up the sash.

Lucinda,
dressed in a riding habit, was standing on the flower bed below her, about to
gather up another handful of stones. 'What on earth are you at?' Juliette
called down to her.

`Come on,'
Lucinda hissed in a loud whisper. 'Get dressed and come down. Or we shall miss
it. Arthur left about half an hour ago.'

`Do you know
where?'

`Hampstead
Heath. Hurry, we have to be there by dawn. I left my horse tethered to the
gate.'

`I'll meet you
at the kitchen door.'

Juliette pulled
her riding habit from her wardrobe, found underwear and stockings and scrambled
into them. A quick comb through her hair, her riding hat jammed on top and two
minutes later she was creeping down the stairs with her boots in her hand.
Lucinda was waiting outside the kitchen door, where Juliette stopped to put on
her footwear. Then together they ran across the yard to the stables and saddled
Juliette's mare.

Five minutes
later they were on their way, walking their horses between the houses, half
afraid to breathe and ready to jump at the least sound. There were gas lamps at
intervals along the main streets and flambeaux at the doors of some of the big
houses, left to light the late-night reveller home, but as they moved away from
the better-class districts, the lights became fewer, the shadows longer and
deeper, making their flesh creep.

They had not
been going very long before Juliette wished she had not been so foolhardy as to
come. Anything could happen; they could be beset by footpads, murdered,
abducted, become lost. If she had been sensible she would have told her father
of the duel and left him to deal with it. At the very least, she should have
confided in Thomas and asked him to accompany them. But Thomas would never have
agreed.

`Are you sure
you know the way?' she asked her companion, still whispering.

`Yes, I have
done it any number of times. We come this way when we travel north by coach.'

`Not in the
middle of the night. Not on horseback.'