A Regency Invitation

by Nicola Cornick

  Her breath broke as she felt his hunger, hard against her in passionate demand. She answered the only way she could, tilting towards him in pliant supplication.

  He filled her, body, heart and soul until she overflowed, her love pouring from her in soft cries and searing pleasure. Until the world contracted to fiery need and she hung burning on the edge of desire. He took her spinning, tumbling, falling into flame, locked safely in his arms and heart.

  Chapter Eight

  Breakfast was an ordeal. She had absolutely no idea what it was that had the entire company avoiding her gaze and exchanging fleeting smirks and winks. Unless, of course, it was the fact that Anthony couldn’t take his eyes off her and kept yawning behind his napkin.

  She ate an enormous breakfast, shamelessly helping herself to everything in sight.

  Great-aunt Harriet sniffed as she set down her tea cup. ‘About time too,’ she announced trenchantly.

  ‘Time for what, Aunt Harriet?’ asked Anthony, a wary look in his eyes.

  ‘For Georgiana’s appetite to return, of course,’ she said, with a perfectly straight face. ‘One can only assume it has something to do with the…er…water here.’

  Mr Sinclair’s napkin had apparently vanished under the table again, since he disappeared with a very odd noise.

  Anthony, to Georgie’s disbelief, actually blushed. ‘Aunt Harriet?’

  She raised her brows. ‘Yes?’

  He shook his head and came to his feet. Silence fell and he went to the old lady, bent over and kissed her soundly. ‘Thank you. For being the most appallingly interfering, nosy old tabby of my acquaintance.’

  Mr Sinclair reappeared with an unconvincingly straight face.

  Aunt Harriet’s black eyes glimmered with suspicious moisture, but she poked Anthony with her ear trumpet and said crossly, ‘Get along with you! Save your kisses for your wife!’ Notwithstanding, she lifted one hand and patted him on the cheek. ‘You’ll do. Now finish your breakfast and attend to your guests. Aren’t the fireworks planned for tonight?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. In fact, I need to talk to Ufton about that now. The staff are to watch from the lawn if they care to.’ Glancing at Marcus, he said, ‘Can you give me a moment, Marcus? I’d like your advice on this, too.’

  Something about his voice caught Georgie’s attention.

  Mr Sinclair rose. ‘A pleasure, Anthony.’

  Lord Mardon broke in. ‘Anthony, is it correct that this stranger has not yet been apprehended?’

  To Georgie it looked as though Anthony’s jaw petrified. ‘That is correct, John.’

  ‘Then it would be better if the ladies still did not venture beyond the gardens without an escort. A male escort.’

  ‘Very much better,’ said Anthony tightly. ‘In fact, I’ll make that an order. None of you—’ his suddenly fierce gaze scorched Georgie ‘—should venture into the park or woodlands without one of us.’ He hesitated. ‘Indeed, Sarah should not go without John, Cassie without Quinlan, Miss Devereaux without Marcus. Or—’ he looked at her straightly ‘—Georgie without me.’

  Aunt Harriet glared at him. ‘And what about me? Hey?’

  His sudden grin softened the harsh lines of his face. ‘Take your ear trumpet, Aunt!’

  Anthony led Marcus out to the parterre and, in response to his cousin’s raised eyebrows, said, ‘I don’t want to be overheard.’

  ‘Obviously not,’ said Marcus. ‘But I should warn you—I don’t know anything about fireworks.’

  ‘I’ve set Timms to watching the woods for William from my bedchamber.’

  Marcus frowned. ‘Wouldn’t the cupola be better?’

  ‘Yes, but the servants aren’t allowed up there. And, if one of the others goes up there, it would cause too much comment. That footman waiting on William, for example—’

  ‘Point taken,’ growled Marcus, his fists clenching.

  Anthony blinked. Had he missed something? ‘Marcus?’

  With an obvious effort, Marcus controlled himself. ‘Never mind. It’s nothing to worry about. More to the point, have you considered what is likely to happen if William has shopped me? You could be seized for harbouring me.’

  Anthony grinned. ‘That will upset our dear cousin!’

  ‘Oh?’

  Too late Anthony realised where this was leading, and mentally kicked himself.

  Very reluctantly he came clean. ‘I told him before Waterloo that in the event of my death he would inherit twenty thousand. If my property is seized he’ll get nothing.’

  The air turned a little blue. ‘You damned idiot!’ continued Marcus. ‘What about the rest? You might not be as rich as Cassie, but there’s a good bit more than twenty thousand!’

  Oh, hell! ‘I left it in trust to Georgie and any child she might bear. Failing a child, Georgie has it in trust for her lifetime.’ With a bit of luck Marcus might not ask about the next heir.

  ‘And?’

  So much for luck. ‘Er…you. Followed by your heirs. And you’re also her principal trustee. Along with John.’

  Marcus gave him a level stare. ‘Thanks. A lot.’

  ‘Think nothing of it. The least I could do,’ said Anthony.

  Marcus swore again. Then, ‘You’ve realised that he must have taken Cassie’s ring? Probably hoping to buy Grant off.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Anthony.

  ‘What was all that about the pearls?’ asked Marcus.

  Anthony explained.

  Marcus stared. ‘Anthony—if you don’t break his neck, I will!’

  ‘You had your turn the other night,’ said Anthony. ‘It’s my turn now.’ He stared out across the gardens to the woods. His childhood home had been little better than a prison these past four years. He might be able to forgive what William had done to him, but for what he had done to Georgie—the grief and loneliness, the despair…His jaw clenched involuntarily.

  ‘I won’t protect him,’ he said shortly. ‘If we can find proof, or force a confession, he’ll either face a jury or leave the country. And I’ve sent to Newbury already for a lawyer to come and remake my will. But don’t mention that. Not even Georgie knows.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ growled Marcus. ‘When are you going to tell John what we suspect?’

  ‘This afternoon,’ said Anthony. ‘After our ride. He wants to try out that chestnut youngster I’ve been bringing on. Chances are William won’t want to come. He’ll probably take the opportunity to try and contact Grant. I told you, Timms saw William in Lynd. He may have sent a message to Grant from there, suggesting the woods as a meeting place. With Timms watching, we might have them. If Grant is fool enough to take the ring—’

  ‘Too recognisable,’ said Marcus instantly.

  Anthony nodded. ‘Exactly. If he were caught with it, nothing would save him from the noose. Too easy for William to shop him. I thought about searching William and his bedchamber, but—’

  ‘Not a chance in hell,’ interrupted Marcus. ‘He won’t make that mistake again!’

  Anthony wondered if he looked as puzzled as he felt. He had a sneaking suspicion that Marcus had been up to a great deal more than he was letting on. ‘Er…no. It won’t be in the house, anyway. I’ve put a watch on Grant. A man fitting that description is staying in that hedge tavern on the back road to Oxford. It’s easy enough to reach the Lyndhurst woods from there.’

  Marcus grimaced. ‘So we have to tell John. What about Quinlan?’

  Painfully, Anthony said, ‘In all honour, I have no choice but to tell him. He gave it to Cassie and it has been stolen in my house. I just wish I could spare John, that’s all. The least I can do is tell him privately.’

  Late in the afternoon Georgie slipped up to the cupola, wondering when Anthony and the other gentlemen would be back from their ride. Below her the gardens and woods stretched away, glowing in the golden light. And far away on the downs she could see four small riders that must be Anthony, Mr Sinclair, Lord Mardon and Lord Quinlan. Mr Lyndhurst-Flint had cried off the ride.
She frowned over that. She could have sworn that Anthony and Mr Sinclair exchanged a glance of satisfaction.

  Everything had been so much easier today. The preparations for the fireworks party were all in hand. Servants had been hard at work all afternoon, bringing everything needful up here. She had seen to that earlier, in response to Lady Mardon’s—no, Sarah’s gentle hint.

  The Countess had checked her almost forcibly, refusing to be addressed formally any longer. We are cousins. And Anthony is nearly as dear to me as John…We are all glad to see him happy again…

  Georgie sighed. Lady Quinlan might not be quite so happy. No, that was unfair. She was doubtless pleased that Anthony was happy, but understandably viewed the reason for his happiness with suspicion.

  ‘Cousin?’

  She looked up.

  Lady Quinlan stood before her. ‘Sarah said that I should find you up here. I have come to apologise. For my stupid meddling yesterday. Marcus and Anthony are furious with me. It was none of my business.’

  ‘Well, they shouldn’t be,’ said Georgie quietly. ‘You were right. Anthony would never have told me. And it is your business. You love Anthony too. Besides, I asked.’

  Lady Quinlan flushed. ‘You are very generous.’ She came over and sat down beside Georgie. ‘Do you know, I haven’t seen Anthony so happy in years. It is as though a cloud has lifted.’ She hesitated and then said, ‘He didn’t tell me very much, just that what happened between you was his own fault. Mostly. And that none of the blame was yours.’ A faint grin appeared. ‘He said that he’d been a damn fool, but that was no excuse for other members of the family to perpetuate the failing!’

  She grimaced. ‘And then as if that wasn’t enough, Marcus came and tore strips off me! So, I’m sorry. And I should like very much to be friends, if you have forgiven me. I did like “Miss Saunders”, you know!’

  As simple as that. Candid brown eyes smiled at her, offering friendship.

  Her heart lifting, Georgie said, ‘There is nothing to forgive, unless it will make you feel better. Tell me, what are these fireworks parties like?’

  Cassie giggled. ‘Oh, famous! There hasn’t been one here since I was a child, but they used to have them every summer. Only they have rather lapsed for one reason and another. First Anthony went to war and then his mother died. It will be lovely to have them again.’

  ‘Go on,’ urged Georgie, enthralled.

  Cassie obliged and half an hour sped by.

  ‘Oh, look!’ exclaimed Cassie. ‘Isn’t that Stella?’

  Georgie leaned over the balustrade to look. ‘Yes, it is. Whatever is she doing out? I thought Anthony didn’t like her going out by herself?’

  ‘He doesn’t,’ agreed Cassie. ‘He worries that she’ll get lost in the woods or fall in the lake now that she’s so blind.’

  ‘Well, she’s heading straight for the woods!’ said Georgie, concerned. Leaning over the balustrade, she cupped her hands to her mouth and called loudly. ‘Stella!’

  The old dog kept moving. Straight for the woods.

  ‘It’s no good calling,’ said Cassie, sounding just as concerned. ‘She’s deaf, remember.’

  Images came to Georgie. Stella, resting her grizzled muzzle on Anthony’s knee, pushing her nose under his elbow for a pat, sleeping as close to his chair as she could get. And Anthony, slipping the old dog scraps of bacon at breakfast, his hands gentle on the grizzled head, tugging the silky ears.

  ‘I’ll fetch her back,’ she said.

  Cassie’s head snapped around. ‘But…that man! Anthony said that none of us should leave the garden!’

  ‘Well, if I hurry, I won’t have to go far. She’s not moving very fast. Look.’

  ‘What about the servants?’ suggested Cassie. ‘Or you could wait for Anthony to return.’

  ‘The servants are all as busy as anything,’ argued Georgie. ‘And Anthony and the others won’t be back for ages.’ She indicated the tiny horses and riders out on the downs. ‘Stella could be anywhere by then.’

  ‘Then I’ll come with you,’ said Cassie.

  ‘No. You stay up here and you can call down and tell me which way she goes. That will make it quicker.’

  Cassie looked unconvinced. ‘I don’t like it. You shouldn’t go alone.’

  Stella was more than halfway to the woods. ‘I must go!’ said Georgie. ‘He adores Stella. I won’t be long. I promise.’

  ‘Hurry, then,’ said Cassie. ‘I’ll watch and tell you where she’s heading.

  Racing down the stairs, Georgie remembered Anthony’s grim face as he forbade any of the ladies to leave the gardens. But this was Stella. He wouldn’t want to lose Stella. Yet she hesitated.

  Her pistol. The one she had carried in the Peninsula when she and her mother had followed the drum. She hadn’t used it in years, but she knew exactly where it was and she was fairly sure that she could find a ball and charge in the gunroom.

  Ten minutes later she ran out into the garden and looked up at the cupola. Cassie was hanging over the balustrade.

  ‘I hoped you’d changed your mind!’ she called down.

  ‘No. Just fetching something! Which way?’

  ‘She went into the woods about fifty yards to the left of the main ride,’ called Cassie, pointing. ‘There’s a narrow path there that leads to the lake.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Georgie set off at a brisk walk. Five minutes brought her to the entrance to the path. She looked back. Cassie was still visible in the cupola. She waved. Cassie waved back. And pointed. Straight ahead.

  Taking a deep breath, Georgie entered the woods. In a moment the house was out of sight as the path twisted away among the trees. She hadn’t been into the woods before. They closed around her, but she shook off the feeling of unease. This was Lyndhurst Chase, Anthony’s home. Her home. Nevertheless, the loaded pistol in her pocket reassured her.

  Ten minutes later the woods thinned and water glimmered. The lake. She ran out of the trees and gasped. The dying sun gilded the water so that it fairly blazed with golden light. Best of all, there was Stella, sniffing happily in the reeds on the far side.

  She opened her mouth to call. And shut it again. Stella was deaf as well as blind. Instead Georgie set off around the lake. By the time she came up with the old setter, Stella had found something to roll in and Georgie wrinkled her nose as she drew near. ‘Stella!’ she said loudly.

  Startled, the dog looked around. In every direction but the right one.

  Smothering a grin, Georgie walked up to her and spoke again. ‘Come along, you smelly old darling. Before your master finds out where we are!’

  This time Stella seemed to realise where the voice had come from and came stiffly towards her, nosing at her hands. Gently, Georgie looped the cravat she had taken from Anthony’s drawer through Stella’s collar and tugged. The old dog followed readily, if slowly. Belatedly, Georgie realised that the walk home would be a great deal slower than coming out. She looked back to see if the house were visible.

  There it was, floating beyond the woods. And the tiny figure that must be Cassie. Georgie pointed to Stella and waved madly. Then she exaggeratedly mimed a very slow walk. The tiny figure waved back.

  Encouraged, Georgie set off around the lake again. And immediately realised that she had made a serious mistake. In her rush to secure Stella, she had failed to mark which path had brought her out of the woods. Muttering some very unladylike remarks under her breath, she looked at the various tracks leading back into the woods. It was impossible to tell.

  One appeared to lead straight back, but the track she had used had twisted around a great deal. And several other paths had intersected it. Under the trees it would be impossible to keep the house in sight. Well, the path had to come out somewhere. Perhaps on one of the main rides. At least she had found Stella. And if she stuck to the path, she couldn’t go too far wrong.

  Grimly Anthony watched as John swung away to stare out of the library window, his face drawn. Blast William, to hell and beyond. Th
ey had waited until returning from their ride to tell John privately. Quinlan had gone up to the cupola to find Cassie, but he would have to be told. As would the others.

  He waited.

  Finally, John turned to face him. ‘I’m sorry, Anthony. Marcus. This is my—’

  ‘The hell it’s your fault!’ exploded Anthony. ‘You’ve done everything possible for him!’

  John shook his head. ‘I couldn’t keep him from this,’ he said bitterly.

  ‘He made his own choices, John,’ said Marcus quietly, from his stance near the chimneypiece. ‘There was nothing you could do about that. The question remains—what to do now? As Anthony pointed out, there is no proof. Nothing that we could make stick.’

  John sighed. ‘Stubble it, Marcus. I know my own brother. Little though I like it, the whole thing rings true. Anthony may remember that I said the one time I’d known William to be beforehand with the world was after Waterloo. Which fits in with the theft of the pearls. There’s no other way he could have known they were missing if even you and I never knew.’

  The sad acceptance in his voice tore at Anthony. So much unhappiness because of William’s inability to accept his responsibilities and make a life for himself.

  Racing feet in the hall ended with the door bursting open. Cassie tumbled in, followed by Timms and Quinlan.

  Timms began. ‘Begging your pardon, Major—’

  ‘Georgie’s in the woods, looking for Stella,’ gasped Cassie.

  Anthony’s stomach congealed to solid ice as fear hammered through every vein. ‘Timms!’ he snapped.

  ‘Aye. Saw her I did. Mr William went in just before you all got back. I’d say he’s heading for that little hut in the clearing the gamekeepers use. There’s someone else there anyhow. Saw him go in a while back.’

  Cassie went white. ‘Anthony! I think Georgie missed her path back to the house! I saw her find Stella by the lake, but it didn’t look as though she took the same path back. She’ll go right past the hut!’