Shortly afterwards – for in fact, His Grace could be dressed and out of the door far more swiftly than he pretended – he was to be seen strolling gently in the direction of The Brambles.
A message had proved to be unnecessary, as Mr and Miss Fellowes had gone out for one of their occasional long walks. They had invited Constance to go with them but she had chosen to remain at home, pleading letters that needed writing. She had not wanted to spend a whole day with her uncle and aunt. Her feelings were still too raw to risk that kind of exposure.
She could not stop thinking about Max. To enter the drawing room of the cottage brought back memories of the visit that he had paid them when he and Abdas had dined. Walking to the sea only reminded her of how he had held her as she had attempted to use the telescope. She could not bear to look in the direction of Beacon Tower. To divert her thoughts, she walked into the garden to pick some flowers, but as she came back inside with her basket, she paused on the threshold, remembering how he had bade her farewell there, on the night when she was sure that her love was returned. ‘Fool!’ she said out loud, as she went in search of a vase, then had to reassure Mrs Dobbs, who looked at her in some surprise.
She had only just filled her vase with water, when she heard the door knocker, followed by the maid’s footsteps. ‘Leave those to me, and go and attend to your visitor, Miss Constance,’ said Mrs Dobbs.
Constance was not anticipating a call, and the last person that she had expected to see was the real Duke of Haslingfield; yet there he was, having been admitted to the drawing room. In contrast with Max, he looked nothing like a brute. Although there was certainly a good deal of the dandy about him, there was something about his slim, upright carriage and alert stance that spelled concealed strength and danger.
‘Miss Church,’ he murmured, bowing gracefully.
‘Your Grace.’ Constance’s curtsy was only just the right side of courteous. She had not forgotten that it had been this man’s mis-behaviour that had set in train all the events that brought about her broken heart.
Alistair’s lips twitched slightly. They stood staring at each other briefly before he said, ‘May I sit?’
Constance flushed. However she might feel about this man, he was the most powerful landowner in the vicinity and she had been less than hospitable. ‘Forgive me, Your Grace, my aunt and uncle are from home,’ she said. ‘Was it my uncle whom you wished to see?’
‘I should be glad to make his acquaintance; however, my business is with you,’ he replied.
‘With me?’ Constance’s voice came out as more of a squeak than she would have liked.
The duke inclined his head. ‘I feel that I was less than courteous when you called,’ he told her. ‘I would be glad if you would stroll up to Beacon Tower, so that I might be able to explain matters.’ When she did not answer him, he went on, ‘Max is not there, if that is what concerns you.’
Mention of Max unlocked her anger, and with it, her tongue. ‘I cannot imagine what you might have to tell me concerning your libertine career or that of your spendthrift cousin that would interest me in the slightest,’ she said forthrightly, adding ‘Your Grace’ impertinently on the end.
‘By my “spendthrift cousin” I assume you mean Captain Max of the Lady Marion,’ Alistair murmured. He looked across at Constance, who was staring at him, her anger forgotten. ‘Yes, I thought that would get your attention,’ he added, half to himself. He glanced around the room. ‘Might I pour for you, Miss Church?’ he asked, indicating a wine decanter on a table by the window with an elegant gesture of one white hand. ‘You look a little … distraite.’
She looked, not at the decanter, but at his hand, and captured the fleeting memory that had eluded her before. ‘The ring,’ she gasped. ‘You were Field!’
His smile disappeared. ‘Come, Miss Church; let us go to Beacon Tower.’
She raised her chin. ‘And if I won’t come?’
His hand hovered over the pocket of his coat in which he carried a small pistol. ‘I’m afraid that I will really have to insist,’ he said, as his smile returned.
‘You are certain that you do not require my presence?’ Abdas asked. The Grayleighs had all been up when Max arrived; indeed, Mr Grayleigh and his future son-in-law had been at work already, and had had to be summoned from the fields, where they were moving the bull. Evidently the farmer had discovered the African’s ways with animals, and was employing them to best advantage.
Max shook his head, smiling. ‘I can see that you are well settled here, and have no desire to drag you away,’ he said. ‘For my part, I must visit my mother and my sister, then I’ll get back to sea.’
‘You must be sure to come to our wedding,’ Melinda insisted.
‘Of course he must; for I want no one else to stand up with me,’ said Abdas.
‘I will do my best,’ Max replied, smiling slightly. In normal circumstances, he would have moved heaven and earth to oblige his friend; on this occasion, he wasn’t so sure. Constance, he knew, would be at the wedding. How would he endure it if, as he suspected, she was by then Mrs Snelson?
After taking some refreshment with the family and staying for as long as courtesy demanded, he took his leave. Abdas walked out with him to his horse. ‘My friend, why not make your peace with her?’ he said as Max put his foot in the stirrup.
‘She has made it quite plain that she will not forgive me,’ Max replied. ‘Besides, she has cast her lot in with Snelson.’
By this time, Melinda had come out to join them. ‘Mr Snelson?’ she echoed. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Miss Grayleigh, she told me so herself,’ said Max.
‘Forgive me for sounding dubious, but I am her closest friend,’ Melinda replied. ‘I really think that if she had affianced herself to Mr Snelson, I would have been one of the first to know.’
Max frowned. ‘Yes, perhaps,’ he agreed. ‘All the same.’
As he was speaking, they heard the sound of hoofbeats approaching at speed, and moments later, a large bay horse entered the yard with Barnes on his back. The valet looked highly agitated. ‘Thank God I caught you, sir,’ he said. ‘You must come back with me at once.’
‘What is it, man?’ Max asked him.
‘It’s Miss Constance; she’s in mortal danger,’ the valet replied.
‘From whom?’ The valet stared at him for a long moment, and Max lost some of his colour. ‘My God,’ he said, remembering the conversation that he had had with Alistair. Foolishly, he had supposed that with the end of this particular adventure, the need for secrecy would be over. He had forgotten that his cousin’s life and those of others often depended on successful subterfuge. Although this would, please God, be the last adventure of the kind for him, it would not be for Alistair. Without hesitation, he dug his heels into his horse’s sides and set off, the valet in pursuit.
‘Abdas,’ said Melinda, her eyes large with worry.
‘We’ll go after them,’ he assured her, running to harness the gig.
Chapter Twenty-four
‘Where has the bastard taken her?’ Max asked grimly as they rode.
‘He was going to bring her to Beacon Tower,’ the valet replied, his bay keeping pace with Filigree.
‘I’ll bet he was,’ Max ground out. Max had no illusions about Alistair. The duke was fond enough of his cousin in his cold-hearted way. Since Constance had cast her lot in with Snelson, however, he would see no reason to spare her for Max’s sake. Presumably, Mr and Miss Fellowes would have been lured away on some pretext. Alistair, cunning fox that he was, would make sure that no one saw him take Constance to Beacon Tower. There would be a hue and cry when she failed to return. Later, no doubt, she would be found at the foot of the cliffs, apparently the victim of a tragic accident.
On arriving at Beacon Tower, Max threw himself off his horse, thrusting the reins at Barnes, and ran in through the front door, which, strangely enough, was slightly open. Where would Alistair have taken her?
Almost as if the ot
her man had read his mind, a voice called out, ‘In here, Max. I assume those distinctive footsteps are yours?’ Following the direction of the voice, Max entered the book room, to find his cousin standing next to the fireplace, his boot on the fender, his arm along the mantelpiece. ‘Subtlety really isn’t your strong suit, is it, my dear fellow?’
‘Where the hell is she and what have you done with her?’ Max asked, his feet apart, his fists clenched.
‘I rest my case,’ Alistair murmured. ‘However, I’m at a loss to understand the reason for your hasty return.’
‘I told you,’ Max replied, taking another step towards his cousin. ‘What have you done with Constance? If you’ve harmed a hair of her head, by God I’ll—’
‘Pray do not do such violence to your feelings. I am persuaded that it must be bad for your constitution.’
‘If you don’t tell me in the next five seconds, I shall do violence to your constitution,’ Max declared furiously.
Alistair sighed. ‘Oh, very well,’ he murmured. ‘She is unharmed. Really, my dear fellow, I am at a loss to understand why you should be so concerned. After all, you told me that she has plighted her troth to another.’
‘She might be engaged to another man, but I happen to be in love with her,’ Max answered. ‘And if it hadn’t been for falling in with your schemes, I wouldn’t have been obliged to fill her ears with untruths which destroyed her faith in me.’
‘If it hadn’t been for my schemes, you would never have met her,’ Alistair pointed out. He paused. ‘She is not and never has been engaged to Snelson, and she now knows the truth about your masquerade. Really, coz, she knows far too much for someone who is not a member of the family. It’s high time you attended to that, I think.’
‘Not engaged?’ Max echoed, homing in on what seemed to him to be the most significant piece of information. Slowly, hope began to dawn in the expression on his face. ‘Alistair, where is she?’
His cousin smiled. ‘You know, I may be old-fashioned, but I have always understood that a lady prefers to have a declaration from a man when he is in the same room as she is, rather than hearing it shouted from next door.’ He nodded towards the door which led into the drawing room overlooking the sea.
Max entered the room to find Constance standing in the centre of it, looking in his direction. His anxiety had been extreme. Part of him had believed that Alistair would never hurt Constance. Unfortunately, another part of him, knowing his cousin’s ruthless streak, had feared that he might indeed have found a way to dispose of her. Now, seeing her safe and sound, he felt momentarily deprived of speech and the use of his limbs.
Constance had been untroubled by such fears. She remembered the moment when Alistair had taken out his pistol in order to demonstrate to her the seriousness of the mission on which he had been engaged. They had then walked to Beacon Hill where the duke had told her as much as he could about the exchange that he had persuaded Max to make. She had listened, her feelings swaying between disappointment in herself at her lack of faith in Max, and a similar feeling towards him for not trusting her enough to tell her the truth.
Both had things that they wanted to say. Any need or desire for talk disappeared, however, as each caught sight of the other. Apologies or explanations would have to wait as he ran to meet her, and caught her up in an embrace which she returned with equal fervour.
‘I thought I’d lost you,’ he said, his voice not quite steady.
‘Oh, so did I,’ she replied with fervour.
‘Constance, I must tell you—’ he began.
‘It’s all right; your cousin has told me everything,’ she assured him.
‘Thank God.’ Then their lips met in a long kiss filled with tenderness and with passion too. Their last kiss had been one of farewell. This was much more by nature of a beginning, with misunderstanding put behind them.
‘Tell me truly, did he hurt you?’ he said eventually, holding her a little away from him and looking into her face. ‘If he has done so—’
‘No indeed, he didn’t,’ Constance replied, returning his gaze directly. ‘He brought me back here so that he could tell me the real reason for your masquerade. But how do you come to be here? I thought that you had left for London.’
‘And imagined that I was going to take part in more reckless gambling, no doubt,’ he suggested provocatively.
‘I didn’t know what to think,’ she confessed. ‘You said that you would come for me on the night when the magistrate came, and then you disappeared. When I went up to Beacon Hill, I was confronted with a completely different duke.’
‘I had to go straight off to London to deliver Alistair’s papers. I was hoping that he would tell you all about our exchange then; instead, he spun you that tale about excessive gambling.’
‘He was not aware at the time that you … that I—’ Her voice faded away.
‘That you were the love of my life?’ Max suggested, pulling her close to him once more. ‘No, he would not know that, because I hurried off on his errand before we had a chance to talk.’
‘So why did you come back today?’ Constance asked him.
‘I’d left Beacon Hill, and had just stopped off at the Grayleighs to say goodbye to Abdas. Barnes came galloping up with a story of how Alistair intended to kill you because you knew too much.’
She gasped. ‘You could not really have supposed that he would do such a thing.’
Max hesitated before replying. This was not the moment to disclose quite how ruthless his cousin might be if pressed. ‘He would not care how much he frightened you if he could only get his way,’ he answered eventually.
‘He was very kind, and ready to explain everything to me. Oh Max, I have been accusing you of being a dandy brute, and all the time you were engaged upon the defence of your country!’
Max shook his head. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘Alistair was the one putting himself in danger. I was just peacocking about in fine clothes and using a title that wasn’t mine.’
‘I thought that you were an aristocrat of the worst kind; rude, arrogant, heartless and idle. I didn’t like you at all at first.’
‘The dandy-brute duke; I remember,’ he said with a smile. ‘The only trouble was, I wasn’t very good at staying in role.’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘You were always much more of a buccaneer; and the more that you revealed your real character, the more intrigued I became.’
He took her hand and drew her over to the window, then held her with her back against his chest, so that they could both look out to sea. This was how they had stood on the night when she had come to warn him about the magistrate.
‘Will you enjoy coming buccaneering with me?’ he asked her, his arms wrapped around her.
‘Is this an improper suggestion?’ she asked him, looking teasingly over her shoulder.
‘Certainly not,’ he replied indignantly.
‘Oh. I wasn’t sure,’ she returned, looking away.
He released her, turned her to face him, and went down on one knee. ‘Damn it, Constance, you have just heard me say that I love you to distraction. I’ve never given much thought to marriage before; now, I can’t think of anything else. Say you’ll marry me, Constance. I have no home to offer you, save the Lady Marion, but I have sufficient to—’
She did not allow him to finish. Taking his face between her hands, she bent over and kissed him on the lips. ‘Oh, yes please,’ she said. ‘Captain Max,’ she added softly. ‘It suits you.’ In reply, he stood up once more, pulled her into his arms, lowered his head and kissed her as ruthlessly as the buccaneer that she had always known him to be.
‘I love you, Max,’ she said, as soon as she was able.
‘Even though you have now discovered that I am not a duke and that I do not have lands and a vast fortune at my disposal?’
‘That is a disappointment, naturally,’ Constance replied with mock seriousness. ‘I am not quite sure how I will become reconciled to it.’
‘Perhaps with m
ore kisses like these?’ Max suggested, claiming her mouth again.
Eventually, he led her over to the doorway and into the book room, where Alistair had been joined by Abdas and Melinda.
‘She said yes,’ said Max, grinning, as Constance ran over to embrace Melinda.
‘Thank heaven for that,’ the duke replied. ‘I’ve already ordered champagne and glasses. I think that you’ve left me just enough unbroken ones for a toast.’
Mr and Miss Fellowes were delighted to receive the news of the proposal, and at once gave the happy couple their blessing. Bearing his stepfather’s advice in mind, Max took the earliest opportunity to escort Constance to meet his mother and sister, who were both very happy with his choice. ‘Perhaps he will be less at sea, now,’ said Lady Prince hopefully. Privately, Constance doubted whether Max would ever want to spend a great deal of time away from the sea, although he had assured her that this need not be the case. He had taken to the North Norfolk coast, and as Constance had no family other than Mr and Miss Fellowes, they both decided that they would look for a property in that area.
As soon as Constance and Melinda had had a chance to put their heads together, they decided upon a double wedding. His Grace of Haslingfield offered Beacon Tower for their use for the wedding breakfast. After a brief stay there he had moved to his principal residence near Cambridge. No one expected him to visit again for some considerable time.
‘A pity,’ the rector remarked to Mr Fellowes as they were playing chess one evening. ‘It was so good for the neighbourhood to have the house occupied.’
After the wedding, Abdas planned to take his new wife to his own estate in Hampshire. The duke had offered Haslingfield to Max and Constance for their honeymoon whilst he remained at Beacon Tower. Later, as the celebrations were still going on, however, the duke appeared dressed for travelling and took Max on one side. ‘There’s been a change of plan,’ he said, handing his cousin a sealed packet. ‘I’m taking the carriage, and you remain here. This is for you. Don’t open it until I’ve gone; and be happy.’
Imperfect Pretence Page 24
