To Be Seduced (7 page)

With the main room clean, she considered starting on the bedchamber. Remembering her body’s reaction to Richard’s lovemaking, she decided instead to go through the papers covering a table in the corner.

Before long, she learned why he had been driven to kidnap her. Besides hundreds of pounds’ worth of bills, she found lists of gambling losses and thousands of pounds’ worth of repairs to his Yorkshire estate. He had not paid Lane in seven months, nor his rent for the last two. He had avoided debtors’ prison only by frequently changing addresses.

She shook her head. This would not do at all. Finding a piece of clean paper, she dipped a quill into the inkstand. Midday came and went as she patiently wrote out columns of figures and added them up.

When her belly growled for the third time in as many minutes, she stretched and got up for a dinner of bread and cold meat. Remembering Lane patiently sitting below, she carried some down to him.

When she returned, she eyed the paper-covered writing table with distaste. She had not fully assessed the entire amount of Richard’s debts, but she knew not whether to feel relieved or discouraged. He undoubtedly needed to marry her to save himself from ruin, but she wondered if the man knew the value of a shilling.

Thinking to ponder the quandary while keeping her hands busy, she hesitantly entered Richard’s bedchamber. She scarcely remembered her father, and had no memory of his masculine haunts.

She need not have been intimidated. The furniture was as rundown as that in the outer room. A sturdy four-poster bed dominated the room, festooned with dusty hangings of an indeterminate design. Along one wall stood a clothes press, partially open. Inside she saw his store of clothing, neatly arranged. A small table sat by the bed. The handsomest piece in the room was a chest of modern design, with two drawers under the main compartment.

However, the rest of the room looked as chaotic as the outer one had been. She tsked at the unmade bed, the empty wineglasses and papers strewn about.

Bethany sorted through the litter and piled it in the doorway for washing or removal. In the smaller room, she finished easily. Thinking next to change the bed linens, she lifted the lid of the chest, hoping to find clean sheets and pillowcases. She remembered reading a note of money owed to a laundress for washing some. To her relief, a clean set lay folded inside. Scooping them out, she closed the lid and examined the bed once more.

A shove on the mattress proved it to be heavy and stiff. Changing the sheets on such an ungainly piece of furniture would challenge two women. By herself, Bethany knew she would be covered in sweat before the job was done.

After a long moment, she furtively undressed down to her shift, carefully folding the new dress and placing it in the clothes press. Just in case, she shut the door to the front room before commencing her struggle with the cumbersome mattress.

The old sheets came off reasonably easily, and she bundled them up and put them outside the bedchamber’s door before closing it again. Perhaps she could coax the laundress to wash them by promising payment upon her marriage. Placing the clean ones on in their stead proved as difficult as she had expected. In the end, with much grunting and grumbling, she succeeded.

Blowing several escaped strands of hair from her face with a loud “Whuff!,” she flopped back on the bed to catch her breath before smoothing the coverlet back up.

She considered it a matter of most unfortunate timing that Richard chose that moment to open the door.

He had spent a difficult hour with the trustee of the Dallison fortune. Mr. George Armitage turned out to have known the late Mr. Dallison. He possessed a suspicious nature and a dislike of moral depravity. He expressed doubt when Lord Harcourt informed him of the young lady’s presence in London and outrage at his claim to have spent two nights alone with her.

In the face of such disbelief, Richard invited the gaunt banker to accompany him back to his rooms and speak to Mistress Dallison himself.

Mr. Armitage accepted the young nobleman’s implicit dare, his supercilious air proclaiming that he was about to unmasque a hoax. The two tromped along in cold silence. The presence of the large and rough-looking Lane in the hallway shook the man’s assurance. Richard sailed up to his lodgings with the banker in his wake.

Bowing the man in before him, he followed, only to experience his own momentary shock at finding the room empty. Perceiving the litter and the bundle of sheets by the door to the bedchamber, he languidly stepped over them and opened it. As he hoped, Mr. Armitage’s eyes widened at the linens.

“Bethany?” He stopped short at the sight of her lying nearly naked in his unmade bed. ’Twas one he quite fancied, having imagined something similar over the last two nights. Although in his visions she did not gape at him in shock. He could not keep the grin off his face. “What an enchanting surprise!”

She scrambled to her knees and grabbed the coverlet to shield herself from his appreciative view. With a shriek of outrage, she dove toward the small table beside his bed.

Before he knew it, his heavy shaving mug whistled past his ears, followed by a volume of Ovid. Hastily backing out, he slammed the door behind him. He looked sheepishly at Mr. Armitage. “I don’t believe Mistress Dallison is receiving visitors just at this time.”

Just behind him, the scrawny banker stood holding his hand to his chest in the manner of one suffering from severe heart palpitations. His appalled gaze took in the shaving mug and the book.

“You, sir, are an unmitigated scoundrel,” he puffed. He looked so agitated that Richard nearly offered him Bethany’s vinaigrette.

The worthy man staggered past Richard and knocked on the door, only to hear Bethany furiously castigate him.

“Madam, my name is George Armitage. I am known in the City as a decent man, and I am prepared to offer you whatever aid you need to escape the hands of this reprobate.”

The flow of invective stopped. Richard felt faint at the prospect of the wretched girl taking advantage of the offer and slipping through his fingers.

“I shall be out directly.” Bethany’s voice sounded unexpectedly composed. Richard braced himself and waited. She was going to do something.

The door opened wide a few minutes later, providing a full view of the disheveled bed. Bethany had dressed but could not fasten the laces on the back of her bodice tightly. Her kerchief was nowhere to be found. Tendrils of hair flew about her face as she threw herself on the banker’s bony chest.

Her fiancé wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled.

“Thank goodness you’re here, sir! Lord Harcourt is the most vile beast!” She buried her head on his shoulder. He bade her calm herself, gingerly patting her back.

Richard gritted his teeth at the girl’s playacting, but the other man appeared to be completely taken in. A blast of anger erupted when she raised her head once more, begging the other man to rescue her. “Have done, you stupid chit! You’ve hardly suffered any lasting harm at my hands.”

His lack of remorse nearly sent the banker into an apoplexy. Struggling for breath, he looked pointedly from the bed to the half-dressed girl before returning his gaze to Richard’s face. “No harm, sir? Mistress Dallison is nearly in hysterics from your brutality.”

He turned to Bethany. “I recognized you at once, my child. You bear a strong resemblance to your father.” He held her away from him to look her in the face. “Now, you must tell me the truth. Has this man…” He swallowed once or twice before he forced out the question. “Has this man defiled you?”

Her wail drowned out Richard’s protests. “I cannot speak of it, sir! Abducted from my home and forced to spend two nights in his company—it was horrible.”

Mr. Armitage staggered to the high-backed bench and collapsed. “The worst news possible. There’s no hope for it, then. You must marry him unless the man your mother chose will take you in your ruined state.”

“No, absolutely not.” She spoke quickly. “I—I could not foist myself on a decent man like Mr. Ilkston in these circumstances.” Richard looked at her sharply as she continued. “But Lord Harcourt only marries me for my money! He has barely been able to feed me these last two days.”

“A bad business all the way around.” Mr. Armitage’s mournful tones indicated his sympathy. “This miscreant could be arraigned for his crime, yes. But you would still spend the rest of your life outside the bounds of decent society, dear child.” He shook his head. “Repugnant as it must be, marriage to Lord Harcourt is your only choice.”

With a great sigh, he announced that he would send a letter of credit that very day and, recalling Bethany’s comments on Richard’s poverty, even pressed upon her his own purse for their immediate use.

Contemptuously declining Richard’s offer to see him down to the hallway below, he took his leave, shaking his head sadly.

Richard and Bethany looked at the closed door for several seconds before he turned to her. “My father brought me up never to lay a hand on a woman for any reason, Mistress Dallison.” He spoke in measured tones. “But after this episode I do not think he would blame me if I took you over my knee. I shall have to marry you to save my own reputation.”

“Pish. You shall have your letter of credit and we have coin enough to last us a few days.” Bethany dismissed his comment while counting out the contents of the leather purse. “Why, he’s given us several pounds. How kind of him—we should invite him to the wedding.”

“Which, to preserve both our reputations, should take place at the earliest opportunity.” Despite himself, Richard burst out laughing. “Have you always been this duplicitous?”

“I merely stated the facts, sir! ’Twas not my fault Mr. Armitage leaped to conclusions.” Her lofty tone could not hide the laughter in her own voice.

“‘Horrible’?” Richard’s voice lowered to velvet softness.

He watched her face flame with embarrassment, but she rallied and retorted, “I referred to the coach.” She cleared her throat. “My own behavior was disgraceful.”

Looking down at herself, she realized her state of undress and bolted into the bedchamber.

He watched her flee. He pointed out that she might need help lacing up her bodice, chuckling again when she responded with an outraged, “Oh!”

Later that afternoon, Bethany walked on Richard’s arm toward Saint Bride’s parish in search of Mr. Jeremiah Barker, late of Stanworth. Although she had his direction, she had no idea how they would ever find his house in the city’s congestion. Unlike the newer district of shops they had visited that morning, the streets they now traversed crossed each other in a meaningless jumble of alleys and odd corners. Overhangs from the upper stories of the houses on either side cut off the winter sun, adding a gloomy atmosphere to the chill afternoon.

She clung to him in the crowd of passersby, while trying to keep the skirts of her new dress out of the dirt. To her relief, he walked steadily along, unfazed by the confusion. His upright bearing as well as the rapier at his side intimidated the less desirable elements of the crowd.

She noted his dress with approval. Unlike the beribboned gentlemen she had seen mincing along with the assistance of their tall walking sticks, his coat and waistcoat were simply cut from a handsome woolen cloth. A fashionable lawn cravat falling in snowy folds ornamented the front of his coat under the black cape fastened over his shoulders. He wore jackboots instead of shoes to protect his feet from the unpaved streets, the supple leather hugging his long legs.

Used to strolling along country lanes to the village, Bethany thought the way to Saint Bride’s everlasting. She had not thought a city could sprawl as London did. Finally, Richard spied the church itself. After making enquiries at a bookseller’s, they learned the exact route to Mr. Barker’s house.

Soon she stood before the painted door of a half-timbered house a few blocks from the church while Richard waited behind her. She gave their names to the maid who answered her knock, and they were ushered into a small paneled parlour. She had scarcely removed her cape before Mr. Barker hurried into the room, closely followed by his wife.

A smallish older couple, dressed in plain gray, they beamed with delight at seeing her. Mr. Barker’s bright blue eyes gave the impression that he missed very little going on around him despite his years. His wife, more placid in manner, appeared to be equally alert.

“Bethany!” He greeted her warmly, taking in her appearance from head to toe. “I could scarce believe my ears when our Jane said you were here. What brings you? And in the company of a peer, no less.” Those shrewd eyes rested on Richard appraisingly as he turned to make him welcome.

His wife stepped forward to embrace her. “First things first, dearest. We should allow our guests to sit down while Jane brings in some refreshment.” She seated herself on the plain settle by the fire and drew her husband down to sit beside her. Richard gallantly offered a dark oak chair to Bethany and seated himself in its mate.

The Barkers made small talk for a time, asking after families in the Stanworth neighborhood and speaking of their life in London. Presently the maid entered, bearing a large charger holding tankards and a pitcher along with some mincemeat pies. She served them and left. The old couple now focused their sharp gazes on their guests, giving the impression of two sparrows about to commence an inquisition.

“Now Bethany, you’ve gone and gotten yourself into a scrape again, haven’t you?” Mr. Barker spoke sternly, but not unkindly. “Suppose you tell me what it is, and how it involves this young man.”

The girl took a breath, considering how best to answer. She had spent no little time pondering how she would explain her sudden wish to marry a man her mother obviously had not approved. Before she could speak, Richard jumped in.

“I had the pleasure of meeting Mistress Dallison while visiting my relatives in Stanworth last summer,” he replied smoothly. “I found myself drawn to her at the time, but did not realize until recently how very important she has become to my continued happiness. Thus I recently returned to the village in hopes of procuring her hand in marriage.”