Talbot’s frown dissolved at Mapleton’s final words, and he broke into whoops of laughter. “Thank you so much, Max, for explaining the thing so clearly,” he laughed. “I suppose Geordan does think I am terribly slow-witted about women.”
“He certainly does,” Mapleton answered, his eyes filled with amusement. “And wants terribly for you to marry and provide a Rutlidge heir, though from what I have seen these past few days, he may be well on his way to fulfilling that agenda himself. You must excuse me, Tony. I have an appointment to keep shortly. Yes, by the way, you may solicit Amelia’s hand, and I should be most happy to hear that she has accepted you.” With that Lord Mapleton bowed informally and left the room.
“GEORDIE, I cannot,” Lydia protested in a whisper. “What if someone should discover us?”
“But they will n-not. It will n-not work if you are going to be h-hen-hearted about it, Lydie. I know you c-can do it,” replied the earl in an equally quiet whisper. “We will s-sneak out the b-back door and no one will even n-notice we are g-gone. Everyone is b-busy.”
“Oh, I do not know,” Miss Clinton moaned indecisively to herself. “I have never done such a thing in my life.”
“B-But you would l-like to.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “I should like to very much. And the rain has almost stopped. Oh, give them to me,” she sighed with some agitation. “You wait right here, Geordan, and warn me if there is anyone coming—especially if it is my sister.”
The earl nodded and took up a position outside the bedchamber that the two Misses Clinton shared. He had changed from his morning wear into his old buff leather riding breeches, a cambric shirt and a military-cut black tunic that he had worn since his eighteenth birthday. The black kidskin gloves on his hands were missing two fingertips, but that bothered him not at all. His auburn curls were in disarray and his eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation as he waited with his shoulder lodged against the doorframe.
When finally the door was again opened, he blinked curiously at the figure that appeared and then, grabbing Lydia’s hand, led her quickly and quietly down the servant’s stairway and out into the stable yard. Looking carefully about before entering, he tugged her into the stables and hurriedly saddled Mouse. Then he helped Lydia, dressed in his own riding clothes, up onto the beast’s back and, reassuring both horse and rider, led them out of the stables and off into the cover of the trees without being seen. Once beyond sight of any of the stable hands or anyone in the house, he handed Lydia the reins and swung up behind her. “I do n-not know how anyone c-can ride the w-way ladies do,” he declared softly in her ear. “It is very d-dangerous. B-But you will not n-need to worry half so m-much now you are astride.” So saying, he took the reins into his own hand, placed an arm firmly around Miss Clinton’s waist and set a faintly shying Mouse into a canter.
LORD MAPLETON, finding his lady deep in conversation with the countess and the dowager in the Westerley library, called to her from the doorway. She went to him immediately, recognizing a look in his eyes she had seen many times before. “What is it?” she asked quietly. “Max, you are not called back to London?”
“No, no, I must simply take a short walk now the rain has stopped. I have promised to meet someone, Kate, and I dare not be late to the meeting place.”
“Meet someone? Who? Max, whatever is going on?”
“Nothing, Catherine. Only a bit of business. But I think I should not leave without telling you that Talbot has asked to try his luck with Amy. I assented. I hope you are not against it?”
“Tony? Tony and Amy? Oh, Max, I think it would be a wonderful match. They are so like and so different all at once. They will be very good for each other.”
“Yes, well, so I thought myself. You will tell her, will you not? And that she has our permission to accept if she desires. Of course, if she does not, that will write the end to it.”
“Of course, but she will not decline, Max. She has come to love him. I can see it in her eyes when she studies him.”
“You can? Well, I wish sometimes I knew more about women than I do, but I suppose it is much too late to learn now. Tell her then, so she is not caught off guard, and I will see you well before dinner, my love.” He gave her a tender kiss on the cheek and strolled off down the hall.
MR. ANTHONY ANDREW TALBOT, his boots slipping somewhat on the muddied path, was already halfway to the earl’s cave. His mind was not centred, however, on the meeting ahead of him. He carried in his right hand his father’s duelling pistols, encased in fine-grained leather and well-protected from the weather, but his mind was on a sweet face with laughing green eyes and very kissable lips. He had not stopped to take is leave of her, hoping she would be inclined to think his absence little more than that of a host attending to another guest’s entertainment. He should have asked her to marry him immediately upon receiving Max’s permission, but he could not bring himself to do so.
Although he had no misapprehension about his ability with a pistol and his determination to avenge his father, still, one never knew what the outcome of what such a meeting might be. This man Justice was an unknown quantity to him, and he had not the least idea what sort of duellist the wretch was. But it would need to be pistols. That he knew, for there were no other weapons available at Westerley except for Geordan’s crossbow, and duels were not accomplished with crossbows. Nor was he willing to allow Justice to put off the meeting to another day. His mind was perfectly made up on that point. The man was to be given an honourable means to defend himself, but he would not be given any opportunity to escape Talbot’s wrath.
He stopped for a moment on the trail, thinking he heard a horse neigh, then shook his head when the sound did not come again. “Imagining things,” he told himself, and resumed his trek uphill. If I do not die this afternoon, Amelia, he thought, I will spend the rest of my life loving you. I promise. But I cannot let my father’s murder go unavenged. That I cannot do.
AMELIA, having glanced up from the billiard table in the midst of a game with David, had seen Talbot stroll determinedly across the stable yard, a box that any fool would know contained duelling pistols from Sterling’s neatly tucked under his arm. She excused herself and swept up the stairs to her bedchamber, where she slipped hurriedly into a pair of sturdy half-boots and her pelisse. Cautiously she made her way to the servants’ stairs, hurried down them, and out the back door.
Tony was already out of sight, but the path he had taken was clear, and she set out to follow him. What he could be doing wandering around with duelling pistols tucked beneath his arm she could not imagine. Perhaps he was going off somewhere to practice his shooting. In that case, she would simply tell him she had decided to go for a stroll and had come upon him quite by accident. And perhaps he would let her shoot with him. He would be surprised, she knew, by how good a shot she actually was, and she would enjoy his company as well as his competition. Though it seemed odd, when she thought about it, that he should take out his pistols without inviting any of the other gentlemen to accompany him. One rarely saw a gentleman shooting alone at Manton’s, and she could not conceive that it would be any different in the country. It occurred to her, of course, that Talbot’s solitary expedition might have more sober implications, but she could not imagine if that were so, who he had gone to meet. Certainly it could be none of the gentlemen at Westerley. And besides, she thought, one does not meet on the duelling ground at three o’clock in the afternoon, for goodness sake, or without a second. There are rules for duelling, and traditions. One meets early in the morning and each of the men is supported by a second, and there is almost always a doctor present. No, he was not on his way to a duel, but she was curious enough to want to know exactly where he was bound.
“OH, Geordie, it is wonderful!” exclaimed Miss Lydia upon her entrance into his cave.
“Y-Yes,” the earl agreed with his lopsided grin, lighting every lantern and candle in the chamber. “I am g-going to put the s-statue of Mouse here,” he said, making a s
pace atop the bureau. “And I am g-going to keep my new b-books in the bedchamber. And maybe Tony will c-come and read them to me.”
“I will read them to you, Geordie, if you like,” Lydia offered. “It is the very least I can do in return for all you have taught me.”
“B-But I have n-not taught you anything y-yet,” the earl protested. “Only n-not to be frightened of Mouse.”
“I know,” smiled Lydia, “and that is something no one but you could have done. I have always been afraid of horses. But now I have come to like Mouse, I shall not be afraid of the others.”
Geordan looked at her with an amazed pride in himself, and she laughed at him. “Yes,” she giggled, “you should be proud. You have just about worked a miracle. And soon I shall make you proud of me by riding just as well as my sister and Miss Mapleton.”
“I am proud of you j-just for trying,” the earl declared knowingly. “T-Trying is the hardest p-part.” The latch on the door jiggled then, and the two looked wonderingly at each other.
“Oh, I cannot let anyone see me in your clothes, Geordie,” Lydia whispered, taking his arm. “What will we do?”
The earl, with a finger to his lips, hurried her to the tapestry, swung it aside, and then let it fall behind them.
Lord Mapleton entered the lighted chamber and stood for a moment looking about him. He noticed the tapestry moving slightly, but after calling out Talbot’s name and receiving no answer, assumed that the breeze from his opening the door had set it in motion. “Must have stepped out for a moment,” Max muttered beneath his breath. He assumed that Tony had arrived before him at the meeting place because the lanterns and candles had all been lit. With a worried shrug, he sat down in one of the armchairs with his back to the door, and waited.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MR. TALBOT reached the cave five minutes after Mapleton’s arrival. He blinked in surprised to find the place already lit and gazed around cautiously. “Come in an’ close the door, lad,” a gruff voice urged. “I ain’t goin’ ta harm ye. I ain’t no ruffian lyin’ in wait.”
Unable to see the man, but realizing he must be sitting in the armchair with its back to the entrance, Tony stepped into the chamber and closed the door. He set the duelling pistols down on one of the side tables. “You want your ring, I suppose,” he sighed, searching through his pockets.
“Yes, I would appreciate having it back.”
Talbots head jerked up at the difference in the voice. “Max?” he gasped. “Who, where is the man I was speaking to?”
“Ri’ here, laddie,” Mapleton replied. “Ye gi’ me that trinket an’ we’ll have that discussion ye’re so set on.”
Talbot’s amazed expression faded slowly into a brooding frown as Mapleton’s hand extended palm up toward him. “The ring, please, Tony. Now.”
Talbot placed it into Mapleton’s palm, and he slipped it onto his finger.
“But you cannot possibly be…”
“Justice? I beg to differ. I have been Justice Halloran Bedford for nearly thirty years now.”
“I cannot believe this!” Tony shouted, both hands clenching in frustration. “I have just spent an eternity in the study asking you for your daughter’s hand and then have rushed up a muddy hillside to challenge you to a duel.”
“A duel?” Mapleton asked softly. “But why, Tony? What is it you think I have done?”
“You know very well what!”
“Perhaps, but if you have come here to kill me, I think I ought to hear the reason from your own lips, don’t you?”
In the adjoining chamber Lydia gave a little gasp and Geordan, his eyes gone a steely grey, put his finger against her lips and led her to the cot, where the gentlemen’s conversation would reach them just as well through the connecting fireplace.
AMELIA, even in half-boots, was having difficulty with the path. The mud squelched beneath her feet and sent her slipping every few yards. She was not nearly so heavy as her father or Mr. Talbot, and so her feet did not slip through the mud and into the solid ground again to give her steady purchase. The drizzle was beginning again besides, and she had to stop the bring the hood of her mantle up over her curls. She looked around her, hoping not to see another path that Tony might have taken, and sighed in relief that there was none. Once again she set herself towards the crest of the hill, determined to find him.
Below her, in Westerley, a muffled alarm had gone out, reaching the countess, Lady Mapleton, and the dowager. The earl, it appeared, was nowhere to be found, and Mouse was missing from the stables. “Which would not in the least be alarming,” murmured the countess, “except that Martin has not gone with him, and Miss Lydia Clinton seems to have disappeared as well. Geordan has locked the puppies in the box stall with Dab. He has made them a very comfortable bed in the hay, but I cannot think he would abandon them without good reason.”
“And you think Miss Lydia the good reason, Cicely?” Lady Mapleton asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, I would not put it past Geord to have taken her somewhere to meet some animal or other, but Mouse is missing. And if they did not ride out together but went for a stroll instead, then why is Mouse not in his stall? I have asked Simpson to send Tony to me, but he cannot be found either.”
“Perhaps all three have gone off together,” Lady Mapleton suggested. “That would be perfectly unexceptional.”
“Yes, but Tony’s mare remains in the stable, and if he has gone off with Geord, would he not have ridden, since it appears Geordan has taken Mouse?”
“Exceptionally queer,” muttered the dowager, deep in thought. “Well, but I know precisely how Geordan may be found.”
“You do, Aunt Theckla?” asked Cecily and Catherine together.
“Turn those puppies loose. Their noses are excellent, and they have been following at his heels since last night. They will want to find him.”
“I shall don my bonnet and cape and be off,” declared the countess, bending to give the dowager a hug.
“And I shall accompany you,” Lady Mapleton said. “No one will find anything suspicious in two ladies tramping about the hillside with the puppies. And is Miss Lydia and Geord have gone off alone, I shall personally give that young lady a trimming, and you will have a talk with Geordan, agreed?”
“Agreed,” nodded the countess. “I am afraid I have never actually told Geordie that it is improper to go jaunting about the countryside with a charming young woman and no chaperone. Somehow, the subject never arose between us.”
“No,” smiled Catherine, tying her bonnet beneath her chin. “I should think not. But he is growing up, Cecily. You must get James or Tony to explain some things to him, I think.”
MISS LYDIA’S face began to grow very pale as she listened to Tony’s voice. “You murdered my father, sir. Killed him in an ambush of some kind. And you shall be made to pay for it.”
“Gibberish,” Max responded, wondering as he had for the last three days whether he was capable of talking Tony out of this. “Your father and I were good friends, Talbot. Why should I wish to harm him in any way?”
“I do not know, Mapleton,” replied Tony icily. “You tell me.”
“There is nothing to tell.”
“Are you not the Justice my father wrote about in his journals, then?”
Max shook his head slowly from side to side. “Bloody gudgeon. I should have known he would write everything down. He never could keep his pen from paper.”
“And did he not go to meet you at the Hasslington Tollbridge the night he died?”
“Yes,” muttered Max, “he did do that but he did not reach me. The storm slowed him. At least, I thought that to be the case. When he did not reach the gatehouse by a quarter past the appointed hour, I went back down the road to search for him.”
“And you found him already dead?”
“No, Tony, I found him fighting for his life. I went to his aid, but he had been mortally wounded, and I could not save him.”
“You lie, Max,” Tony whispere
d hoarsely. “They found him the next morning. No one went to his aid. Had you been there, why did you not go for the authorities? Why is there no record of your presence at the scene? You lured him to that place, and if you did not kill him yourself, you hired some ruffians to do it.”
“No, you do not understand, Tony.”
“Then make me understand, my lord. For what reason did you summon my father? Why bring him north in the midst of bad weather at such an ungodly hour of the night?”
Lord Mapleton stood, shoved both hands into his pockets, and stared down at the floor. Then, with a slight shrug, he moved his gaze back to Tony’s face. “I cannot say. I give you my word that I did neither kill your father nor arrange for his murder. Will you not accept my word on it?”
“No,” Talbot growled. “You called no one, did nothing! Why? Why keep your presence a secret if you were so very innocent?”
Receiving no answer whatsoever, Tony tugged the gloves from his hands and swung them toward Max’s cheek. Max’s arm swung powerfully upward, crashing into Talbot’s wrist and knocking the blow and the gloves aside. Furious, Tony’s left fist landed with a crack against Mapleton’s ribs. The older man stumbled backward, gasping. Tony moved forward, his right fist pounding into Mapleton’s jaw, his left jabbing into his lordship’s stomach. Max backed against the cave wall, groaned with each blow, but forced himself not to return one of them. Tony raised his right again and felt his arm jerked backward and away from the man. A sharp, pointed boot toe cracked into his shinbone.
“Stop! You leave my papa alone!” yelled Miss Mapleton, her mantle dripping, her face flushed, and her nails digging into Talbot’s coat sleeve. “What are you doing? Are you mad? Get away from him! You brute! You villain!” She came between them, her small fists clenched and punching Tony’s stomach. He attempted to grab both her arms and set her aside without hurting her. She brought her foot crashing down with all her might upon his instep.
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