By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Clarice and Lady Alice had joined the party in the front entrance.
‘I just want to make sure Mr Fox is sent safely on his way,’ Lady Alice said.
David threw the empty travel bag at Thaxter. ‘You certainly travel light,’ he said.
The look he received in return put a spring in his step for the rest of the day.
It was only when they were out in front of the Hall and close to the carriage that Thaxter finally allowed his displeasure at being forced to leave known.
David had taken his gaze from his prisoner for only a second when Thaxter made his move. Without warning he let out a roar and lunged violently towards Clarice, fists flying. Fortunately, she was further away then he realised and David was able to put his body between them before Thaxter could reach her.
He smashed a fist into Thaxter’s face without restraint. Thaxter fell backwards, sprawled on the ground, his hands held to his bloodied face.
Clarice raced to a spot several feet away and picked up a small object. Returning to David’s side, she handed it to him.
‘This was in his hand; what is it?’ she said.
He looked down at the small sharp blade and knew exactly what it was. It matched the wound he had received at the boxing saloon.
The click of a pistol caught his attention.
Lady Alice stood pointing a pistol at Thaxter as he struggled to his knees.
‘I shall put you out in the street the day I inherit the title, you old hag,’ he said, and spat blood at her feet. Clutching one of the wheels of the travel coach, he dragged himself upright.
The dowager countess snorted. ‘Perhaps I should just shoot you here and now and save us both a lot of trouble. I have lived at the Hall for over forty years and I doubt if the local magistrate could find a single man among these good people who would bear witness to my crime.’
David strode over to Lady Alice and held out his hand. She let down the cock of the pistol and handed it to him. She shrugged her shoulders.
‘Well, it would have solved a lot of our problems. His younger brother is a war hero; I expect he would make a better heir.’
David shook his head. No-one would be committing murder on his watch.
‘I think it is time for you to leave, Mr Fox,’ he said.
‘Oi! Where is my money?’ the weasel man cried. He picked up Thaxter’s empty travel bag and waved it in his face.
‘I don’t have it,’ Thaxter bit back.
For a small man the debt collector packed a powerful punch. For the second time in a matter of minutes Thaxter found himself on his knees in the gravel of the driveway. When the man produced a horsewhip and looked set to lash his hapless debtor, David stepped forward.
‘Enough! Take your business with this gentleman elsewhere.’
‘On yer feet, Fox. You have until we get back to London to come up with the money you owe. After that . . .’
He brandished the horsewhip toward David and smiled tightly. Thaxter Fox was in for a very long and unpleasant journey back to London.
They watched as the coach headed down the long driveway and disappeared over the hill. Lady Alice, having retrieved her pistol, went back inside to check on their travel arrangements. David turned to Clarice and took her hand.
‘Are you ready to leave? You did seem out of sorts at breakfast.’
She shook her head. Once she got into the coach, there would be no time to talk privately with him. To tell him the truth.
‘I need to talk to you,’ she replied.
He nodded.
She led him across the drive and up the small path leading toward the dell. With her heart pounding as loud as a cannon in her ears, she struggled to hold back her tears.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked, glancing back at where they had come. ‘Whatever you need to tell me, we are well and truly out of anyone’s earshot.’
She continued walking. ‘Only a little way further.’ If things ended badly between them, the familiar surrounds of the churchyard would at least give her some comfort.
When they arrived in front of the small stone chapel, Clarice released David’s hand and walked over to her mother’s grave.
Mama, I have to do this. I have to tell him. I cannot offer him only half my heart.
David came to her side and brushed a tender kiss on her cheek. He looked at the headstone and sighed.
‘She was a lovely woman, your mother. She was always kind to me,’ he said.
Clarice nodded and took a step back; she couldn’t bear for him to be this near. The scent of his cologne enticed her to say nothing, to let things be. To claim him with a lie.
‘If you decide that you no longer wish to marry me after what I say, I shall understand. It would be easy enough for me not to tell you the truth and to go on with our plans, but I couldn’t do that to you. You have bared your soul to me; now it is my turn. The only thing I ask is that you keep this secret between us, that you never speak of it to anyone. And I mean anyone.’
She watched him as he silently studied her.
‘If you were unable to fight that rogue off, if he did force himself upon you, I shall still marry you,’ he replied. In his eyes the truth of his conviction shone.
You don’t deserve this pain.
She shook her head and with hands clasped together, turned to face the headstone.
‘Elizabeth Langham was my mother, but as for my sire, he is not Henry Langham,’ she said.
The wind rustled the grass and the nearby ash tree cracked as it moved in the breeze. A shadow passed over the grass as David came between her and the sun.
‘Go on,’ he murmured.
A warm, powerful hand lifted her chin and she looked into his eyes.
‘I received a letter when I turned nineteen, informing me I had been left a substantial inheritance. The details it contained left me with no option but to confront my mother as to my true parentage. When I showed her the letter she became hysterical. Crying and tearing at her clothes like a woman possessed. It was truly the most awful thing I have ever seen.’
Tears rolled freely down her face. When David tried to wipe them away, she stopped him.
‘We screamed at each other. I said the most horrible of things to her before I finally fled the room and ran to the stairs. And then, because of me, she fell down the stairs . . .’
Clarice buried her face in her hands. David pulled her firmly into his arms and wrapped them around her. The wind dropped and then stilled. Clarice was silent in David’s arms for what seemed an eternity.
‘That’s odd,’ he finally remarked.
Clarice lifted her head. ‘What is?’
‘That bird. It’s a snow bunting; they are native to the peaks of Scotland, and I’ve never seen one in England. Scottish folklore tells that they are the soul of a departed one.’
She looked at the bird on a nearby branch. It was studying them both. Her breath caught in her throat.
Please, please.
‘It appears to have taken up residence in the dell,’ she replied. Now was not the time to tell him that she thought of the bird as her mother returned in spirit.
‘David?’ she said turning back to him. Other than to make mention of an ornithological aberration, he had said nothing of her secret.
‘I love you,’ he whispered.
His lips descended and met her mouth as his name escaped her lips. Softly, teasingly, he kissed her bottom lip over and over. Heat flared within her. Their tongues began their now-familiar dance. Hands cupped under her ears, David held Clarice’s face as he deepened the kiss.
Locked deep in his embrace, she silently chided herself. His answer was not to be found in the long speech she had expected him to give, it was in his passionate claiming of her. She slipped a hand inside the opening of his coat and laid it over his heart. They had years ahead of them to talk about her past, to dissect the minutiae of events. He had given his response and that was all that mattered.
He released her lips.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
She looked confused. ‘Why are you thanking me?’
‘Because you trusted me with your secret.’
In the hands of others it could be used to destroy her. If the truth was ever known she would be ostracised from society, her father branded a liar.
‘You don’t think any less of me?’
David harrumphed. ‘Why should I? Your mother’s death was an accident; she slipped on the stairs. It was no-one’s fault. And as for your birth, you are Langham’s daughter and always will be. No-one can prove otherwise. While I am humbled beyond words that you have shared this knowledge with me, it changes nothing.’
She nodded. ‘I confided in Lady Alice not long after we arrived here, but I have never made mention of the letter to Papa.’
‘Will you tell him now?’
‘I’m not sure. As things stand between us at this moment, revealing it to him could shatter our relationship forever. He is the only father I have ever known; I couldn’t bear to lose him.’
David brushed a wayward curl behind her ear and kissed her forehead. Considering everything that had happened, she would not have blamed him if he did tell her to throw the truth in her father’s face.
‘Of course he is still your father. He has raised you as his own, given you his name and with it legitimacy. Unless he brings it up himself, you should never make mention of it. Let the memories of your years as a family stay intact. He deserves your loyalty.’
Clarice rose up on her toes and kissed David. ‘I love you.’
‘About time,’ he said, chuckling.
Clarice took David inside the small chapel and they sat for a time, hand in hand in quiet reflection. After gathering some fresh flowers for Elizabeth’s grave, they kissed once more. Now, with an unbreakable bond, they would face their future together.
As they reached the top of the path leading back to the house, they heard the flutter of wings and saw the bird fly overhead.
‘Yes, very odd,’ David muttered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was late afternoon by the time their carriage pulled into the yard at Sharnbrook. David could not have been more relieved to see his new home.
Three days travelling with Clarice and her grandmother had been pleasant enough, but although he tried to distract himself by reading, he could not stop worrying over Clarice.
All those years she had spent with the guilt of her mother’s death, and he had not been able to comfort her. He wanted to blame someone, and vacillated between Lady Elizabeth and Lord Langham. The countess for having left Clarice at such a vulnerable point in her life, the earl for having kept David at bay.
I should have been there to help her. I could have eased her pain.
Clarice herself sat quietly in the carriage, saying little, staring out the window. She refused any offers of food or drink. Doubt began to creep into his mind. Was she having second thoughts?
When they stopped at the next town, he took her to one side.
‘You haven’t said anything all morning, Clarice; have I done something wrong?’
She took hold of his hand and gave him a weak smile.
‘You haven’t done anything wrong. I suffer terribly from travel sickness and it takes all my strength not to be ill. We have to keep moving, but until we reach Sharnbrook it is unlikely you’ll get much conversation from me.’
Relieved, he brushed a kiss on her cheek.
‘My youngest sister suffers from it too. Have you tried ginger sweets? Emma sucks on them while we are travelling and then sips ginger tea at night. It doesn’t cure her completely but at least she is not nauseous.’
‘I will try them,’ Clarice replied.
When they next stopped again in another town, David quickly found a local shop that stocked all manner of sweets and purchased several large bags. For the rest of the trip, Clarice sat sucking on ginger sweets, her face a little brighter. By the time they crossed into Bedfordshire, she was able to keep some food down and the spark had returned to her eyes.
As the carriage slowed to a halt at Sharnbrook Grange, she sat forward in her seat and pressed her face excitedly to the glass. ‘I shall remember this moment for the rest of my days. My very first glimpse of the Grange,’ she said with a smile.
David smiled tightly back at her. There were several large mountains left to climb before Clarice became a permanent fixture at Sharnbrook. ‘But not today; today is ours,’ he muttered as he climbed down from the coach.
When Lady Alice took her customary afternoon nap, David and Clarice were able to spend some precious time together. They walked through the yard, where he introduced her to various members of the household. David said nothing when he noticed his steward Bannister had changed from his trusty old brown jacket into a slightly less tired blue one.
When Clarice made mention of how she liked the colour of his jacket, Bannister turned a deep crimson and bowed a second time. David strangled a snort. A wicked glint appeared in Clarice’s eye before she mentioned that perhaps he should invest in such a fine piece of clothing. He raised an eyebrow. If his tailor in Bond Street saw him in such attire he would never be allowed to set foot in their premises again.
He took Clarice gently by the arm and steered her toward the path that led away from the house. ‘Are you perhaps interested in livestock, Lady Clarice? I could show you my new flock,’ he asked once they were away from the staff.
She giggled. ‘Why, thank you, Mr Radley; I have a lively interest in all manner of animals. Especially the two-legged variety native to the parish of St James.’
A clump of trees now hid them from view of the house. David pulled her roughly to him and kissed her.
Hard.
As their lips met, he felt the heat begin to rise within him. Lust, pure and unadulterated, coursed through his veins. He wanted her, ached for her. Feared he would go blind with desire before he could have her in his bed.
He was too busy dominating her mouth with his lips to realise that she had flipped open the middle button of his shirt. The sensation of Clarice’s bare fingers touching his chest caused him to gasp. She gave a wicked chuckle, before opening the next button.
He swallowed deeply and took hold of her wrist. ‘We are not that far from the house,’ he cautioned, before letting go.
She gave a mewl of disappointment, but refused to remove her hand. Slowly he found himself backed up against a nearby tree. The arch seducer was being played at his own game. Her nimble fingers squeezed one of his nipples and he laid his head back against the bark of the tree.
‘Clarice,’ he ground out.
‘Yes?’ she replied as her other hand moved down toward a far more dangerous place on his body.
He looked up and saw the clouds swirling overhead. The temptation to just stand there and let her have her way with him was deliciously enticing. He sighed as he reached down and took hold of one wandering hand.
‘Not here, my love.’
She huffed and removed her other hand.
David buttoned his shirt and pushed away from the tree. His heart pounded in his chest as he tried to think of something that would calm the raging erection in his trousers.
‘There was little point in bringing Lady Alice as chaperone if within an hour of our arrival you have lost your innocence. I will not ravish you out here in the wild,’ he said.
She scowled. ‘So when?’
He shook his head. ‘Patience, my love. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us.’
She shrugged her shoulders and pointed to the nearby field, which was now stocked with a fine head of sheep. ‘Come then, let me judge if your sheep are half as good as my father’s,’ she said, offering him her hand.
He took her hand. ‘Actually, I am rather pleased with the Southdowns. They arrived while you were in Norfolk. The ram I am yet to see.’
He looked down, surprised to feel a tremble in her hand.
‘Clarice?’
; ‘Thank you for saving me,’ she said, lowering her head.
The brave and sexy Clarice of a minute ago had disappeared. In her place stood a frightened, vulnerable young woman.
‘You saved yourself, as I understand,’ he replied, feeling an utter heel for having rejected her advances. She needed reassurance of where she stood with him, not a lecture on morals. He put a comforting arm around her.
‘Not just from that evil man. I don’t know if I could have done any of this if it hadn’t been for your letter. I read it over and over. When I think of how long you have loved me from afar, how you held on to those impossible dreams. You gave me the reasons and the strength to face my fears.’
He smiled at her, his heart swelling with pride.
‘Do you have the slightest notion as to how wonderful you are?’ he replied.
Lady Alice retired early that evening, leaving David and Clarice alone in the elegant drawing room. As the dowager countess left the room, David turned to Clarice.
‘I am not certain of the protocol here, as we are now left without a chaperone. Should I ask your maid to come and sit with us?’
She shook her head before crossing to the door and closing it behind her.
‘We need to talk,’ she said. She ignored the questioning lift of his eyebrows as she took a seat next to him on the couch.
‘Let me see if I have things straight in my mind. You won’t elope with me to Scotland because you want a big London wedding?’
He nodded.
‘But you won’t ruin me. That part I do not understand, especially when it is the key to ensuring that we have to marry.’
He sighed. ‘I won’t ruin you unless there is no other choice.’
Clarice threw up her arms. ‘So why did you bring me all the way to Bedford? I thought you said you were kidnapping me! If I understand it correctly, you should be ravishing me right now.’ She nodded toward the door. ‘Even my grandmother seems to have accepted the inevitability of us becoming lovers. Why can’t you?’
Eyes closed, she immediately began to chastise herself. Surely behaving like a shrew was not the way to get a man to seduce.
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