A knock on the door diverted her attention. A few seconds later Marcus entered the room. For a moment he surveyed her keenly, his gaze taking in every detail of her appearance, from the dark curls tumbled about her shoulders to the small bare feet just visible below the hem of the blanket. Then he grinned.
‘Good morning. You’re looking much better.’
‘I feel much better,’ she replied, very much aware of the sudden acceleration of her heartbeat.
‘I’ve brought you these.’ He held up the garments on his arm. ‘They’re not exactly in the first style, but they’re all I could get hold of. They’re more or less your size, I think.’
The grey eyes rested on her critically and she was conscious of warm colour rising from her neck.
‘Thank you,’ she replied.
He laid the clothes over the back of a chair and crossed the intervening space, taking her in his arms and following the gesture with a lingering kiss. Then he looked down into her face.
‘Are you hungry?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. I’ve ordered some breakfast downstairs. Then, when we’ve eaten, we’ll go home.’
‘Oh, Marcus, I thought yesterday that I would never see you or Netherclough again.’
He smiled. ‘I’m not so easy to get rid of. Nor would I let another man steal you away from me.’
‘I was so afraid.’
He drew her close to his breast, letting his lips brush her hair. ‘There is no need to be afraid, my darling. I won’t let him hurt you again.’
Thinking of the narrowness of her escape and of the consequences if she had failed, Claire shuddered. Marcus felt that tremor and frowned, vowing silently that nothing should hurt her again if he could prevent it.
When eventually he left her she dressed hurriedly in the borrowed garments. As he had said, they were hardly stylish but they were at least clean and serviceable. Then she arranged her hair as best she could. Having made herself as presentable as possible under the circumstances, she made her way downstairs. A servant directed her to a small private breakfast parlour.
Marcus had been looking out of the window, but turned when he heard the door open, and then smiled. Feeling oddly self-conscious, she allowed him to lead her to the table and ply her with ham and eggs and hot coffee. Only when they had finished eating did he bring the conversation round to the events of the previous evening.
Claire gave him a summary of all that had taken place. He listened without interruption, only his expression revealing the anger he felt. Only the part about her eventual escape brought a smile to his lips.
‘You’re as courageous as you are beautiful,’ he said.
She could detect not the least trace of mockery in his tone and the look in the grey eyes reflected only sincerity.
‘It wasn’t bravery,’ she replied. ‘Only self-preservation.’
‘Your uncle should be horsewhipped. He may yet be if we ever meet.’
Claire paled. ‘He will come after me, I know it.’
‘Let him. It will avail him nothing. He will not lay hands on you ever again, I swear it.’
Unaccountably a lump formed in her throat.
‘Don’t be afraid, Claire.’
‘I’m not—now.’
‘If I had been there, this whole sorry business would never have happened.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ she replied. ‘Just bad timing, that’s all.’ She paused. ‘But you have not told me your story yet. What happened last night? Did your plan work?’
‘Yes. The Luddite group is finished. In that neck of the woods anyway.’
She listened intently and in mounting horror as he outlined what had taken place. It was almost inconceivable that a man in Wraxall’s position should stoop to such baseness, and she could feel no pity for his impending fate.
‘So your brother is avenged,’ she said. ‘And you have fulfilled your promise.’
He nodded. ‘Yes. It’s a strange feeling in many ways, and a relief too that it is over.’ He paused. ‘Now I can think about the future, our future. I want to build something worthwhile, Claire, and that will only be possible with you beside me.’
Her heart leapt, both for the tone of the words and the intensity of his expression. ‘We will build a future together, Marcus. A wonderful future. I know it.’
He raised her hand to his lips. ‘You do me a greater honour than I deserve.’
‘Let’s look forward, not back.’ She smiled up at him. ‘After all, there is so much to look forward to.’
Chapter Sixteen
Marcus was just about to hand her into the curricle when another carriage pulled up outside the inn. She recognised it in a moment, and the familiar figure that got out. Her cheeks paled.
‘My uncle,’ she murmured.
Marcus, following the direction of her gaze, frowned and laid a hand over hers, but before he had time to say anything, Davenport’s gaze came to rest on the handsome racing curricle and the tall, elegantly clad man beside it. For a second or two he didn’t recognise his niece in the young woman with him. Then he saw her and his expression lit with triumph. Claire swallowed hard. Moments later her uncle was crossing the intervening space. She glanced from him to Marcus, who seemed not to be in the least perturbed, but merely watched as Davenport strode towards them. Having reached the curricle, he threw a cold glance at his niece and then another at her companion.
‘Forgive me, sir,’ he said, ‘but I must ask you to hand that young woman into my custody.’
Marcus raised an eyebrow and raked Davenport from head to toe with a haughty look. ‘And who might you be, sir?’
‘I am Hector Davenport and the girl is my niece.’
He was favoured with the briefest of bows. ‘Lord Destermere, at your service.’
For a second Davenport didn’t move. His cold eyes registered surprise, but he recovered at once and bestowed on the other a thin smile.
‘Your servant, my lord. May I say how much I regret the trouble that you have been put to by this wayward wretch?’
‘Your niece has been no trouble. On the contrary.’
‘You are generous, my lord.’
‘Not in the least. My only concern is that you should have caused the lady to be removed from my house in such an underhand manner.’
‘It was necessary, my lord.’
‘Indeed?’
‘You have been grievously imposed upon. I do not know what tale the girl has told you in order to trick her way into your house, but she is as devious as she is headstrong.’
The Viscount’s grey eyes grew colder. ‘Devious? How so?’
‘She left home some months ago, without my knowledge or permission.’
‘Ah, she ran away? Why would she do that, I wonder?’
Davenport’s cheeks reddened a little. ‘She is a disobedient and ungrateful girl. A most advantageous match had been arranged for her but she, in a fit of contrariness, saw fit to go against the judgement of her elders and betters.’
Marcus shook his head. ‘Dear me, I can hardly credit it.’
Claire threw him a speaking look, which he affected not to notice. Evidently, though, her uncle took the words at face value.
‘It is indeed difficult to grasp the extent of such wilful folly,’ he continued. ‘The girl has put me to a good deal of trouble, but now that I have found her again, I shall take her off your hands.’
‘As you did yesterday,’ replied Marcus.
‘She gave me the slip yesterday, but she will not do so again, I assure you. I shall have the knot tied by tomorrow night.’
‘And what has the lady to say to this?’ asked Marcus, glancing at Claire. ‘It seems from her behaviour that she still does not desire this marriage.’
‘I will never agree to it,’ she replied.
Marcus looked at Davenport. ‘There you have it. It looks to me to be a hopeless case. The lady does not wish to marry your choice of husband.’
Davenport stared, as though he could not believe hi
s ears. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘In fact,’ Marcus went on, ‘I don’t wish her to either. You see, I intend to marry her myself.’
‘You intend…’
‘That’s right, and she has done me the honour of accepting my proposal.’
Davenport’s face suffused with colour when he saw the smile that passed between the other two and he controlled himself with a visible effort. ‘Your ruse will not work, my lord. I am the girl’s legal guardian and until she comes of age she is mine to dispose of as I see fit.’
Claire, who had been listening to the exchange in mounting concern, felt her stomach give a strange lurch as another realisation struck her. Then a smile lifted the corners of her lips and she turned to Marcus.
‘What is the date today?’
‘The thirtieth, why?’
‘It’s my birthday!’
Marcus grinned and turned to her uncle. ‘It looks as though your guardianship has just lapsed, sir.’
For a moment there was an awful silence in which Davenport surveyed them in impotent wrath.
‘Very well, then, you have made your choice, Claire. I’m done with you. I wash my hands of you.’
‘Is that a promise, Uncle?’
‘Wicked, ungrateful wretch!’
Seeing him raise his hand, Claire shut her eyes instinctively, anticipating the blow. However, it never reached her for the fist was arrested in mid-air by a grip of iron and held there. In utter astonishment Davenport found himself looking into a pair of cold grey eyes.
‘I have always disliked men who abuse women,’ said Marcus, ‘and you, sir, are one of the most contemptible examples of the species. The only reason I don’t thrash you as you deserve is out of consideration for the lady, who I know would dislike a public scene.’ He paused, lowering his voice. ‘But understand this—if you ever lay a hand on her again, I’ll kill you.’
Looking at that flinty expression, Davenport was left in no doubt that he meant it. His face, red before, went pale, but he vouchsafed no answer. Marcus’s lip curled, but he released his hold.
‘Get out.’
Pausing only to cast upon them a look of loathing, Davenport turned on his heel and strode back to his carriage. He flung in and slammed the door. Moments later the vehicle was drawing away. As Claire watched him go, she was conscious of a huge weight being lifted off her shoulders. She glanced up at Marcus, who was still staring wrathfully after the departing carriage.
‘God help me,’ he said, ‘I have never wanted to knock a man down half so much in my life.’
‘He’s not worth the effort,’ she replied.
‘No, you’re right. All the same it would have given me immense satisfaction.’ He turned and folded her in his arms. ‘His tyranny over you is at an end.’ Then he grinned. ‘Mine, however, is only just beginning.’
‘I believe I shall be better able to withstand yours.’
‘Can you really bear the thought of a lifetime of me, to say nothing of my wretched temper?’
‘There is no one else I would rather share my life with.’
‘The sentiment is returned.’ Then another thought occurred to him. ‘I haven’t even wished you a happy birthday yet.’ His mouth descended on hers in a long and lingering kiss that set her heart thumping. Then he looked into her face. ‘What would you like as a present?’
‘I already have what I want.’
‘It seems a poor reward to me,’ he replied.
Dashed poor, agreed Greville. Have to do better than that, Bro.
Marcus grinned. ‘How about a diamond ring?’
Claire returned the smile. ‘All right, I’m persuaded.’
‘I hope it’s going to be this easy to get my own way after we’re married.’
‘Don’t count on it.’
‘I was afraid you’d say that.’
Clasping her fingers in his, he helped her into the curricle and then climbed up beside her, taking hold of the reins and the whip. Then he glanced down at his companion.
‘Home, my lady?’ he asked.
‘Home, my lord,’ she replied.
*
ISBN: 9781459226234
Copyright © 2009 by Joanna Fulford
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The Wayward Governess Page 24
