‘Quite easily. You left a note for your aunt saying that you had to slip away from London because your life had become intolerable and that Benedict was travelling with you. What else was there to think but that you were escaping because you imagined—correctly—that you would both be deemed far too young to marry.’
‘Too right,’ Benedict exclaimed. ‘I’m certainly not in the petticoat stakes and never likely to be. I only came on this stupid journey because she mopped and mowed around me until I was driven frantic. I agreed just to keep her quiet.’
‘I did not mop and mow! And you could have refused, but you liked the idea of journeying to France—admit it!’
‘Not with you, that’s for sure. We’ve been stuck in this inn nigh on six hours and watched boat after boat set sail. But could I persuade her on to any of them?’ he appealed to his sister. ‘No, of course not. We have to wait until the sea is dead calm, would you believe.’
‘I, for one, am delighted that you decided the weather was too rough to cross the Channel.’ She turned towards the young girl, who was now near to tears.
‘Domino,’ she said gently, ‘if it wasn’t love for Benedict that drove you out of London, what was it?’
The girl looked frightened and said nothing.
‘Come, my dear, there must be a very pressing reason for you to take such drastic action. And your aunt will have to know. So if you don’t choose to tell me, at least prepare yourself to confide the whole story to Lady Blythe when we return.’
‘Return?! I cannot do that, Miss Tallis.’ Domino shrank even further into her chair, her hands twisting the already crumpled muslin of her dress.
‘You must. You cannot think to continue your journey now and I am here to take you home.’
‘But I must go on. I’m so sorry that you’ve been put to the trouble of following us and I understand that you will wish to return with Benedict, but I must continue.’
Christabel rose and went to the young girl, taking her hands in hers and holding them in a warm clasp.
‘I cannot allow you to do so, Domino, your reputation would be ruined. I’ve found you in time to prevent that disaster. Until we get back to London, I shall act as your chaperon. We can say that we’ve been travelling together from the outset and that will quash any rumours. I’m sure we can find a distant relative who lives nearby who has suddenly become very sick.’
She began to warm to her invention. ‘You promised Lady Blythe that you would pay them a last visit. Yes, that’s it. Naturally your aunt’s health is not strong enough for such a long journey, so I offered to accompany you. We can forget the part Benedict has played. For the purposes of our story, he never left London.’
‘That’s fine, write me out of the script,’ he complained bitterly.
His sister wheeled on him and said sharply, ‘As someone whose conduct has been grossly irresponsible, you should be glad to be written out.’
She turned again to Domino. ‘I’m staying at the Ship and have ordered rooms for both of us. You must pack your valise now and return with me there. Benedict can remain at the Pelican and in that way we should be able to counter any possible gossip that might seep out. First thing in the morning Stebbings will bring the carriage round to the Ship and we will all three travel back to London together.’
The girl looked defiant. ‘You don’t understand. I have to get to Spain. Paris is only the first stage of my journey.’
‘You’re going to Spain?’ Christabel looked astonished.
‘I was to visit my relatives in Madrid later this summer, but I intend now to arrive a little earlier.’
‘Does Lady Blythe know of this visit?’
‘Of course, my father has discussed plans with her.’
‘Then surely she is the person to arrange your travel and accompany you on the journey.’
‘That’s still weeks ahead. I cannot stay in London—I need to leave now.’
‘Why is it so important for you to leave town immediately?’ Christabel asked wonderingly.
The girl looked scared. ‘Tell her,’ Benedict advised. ‘She knows nearly everything anyway.’
In a small and halting voice Domino made her confession that she was badly indebted to Lord Moncaster and that he was intent on receiving payment in one form or another.
‘Threatened her, Bel,’ Benedict put in. ‘Tried to force her to go to his house on the night of Sophia’s ball. That’s his notion of her paying the debt.’
The tears began to course down Domino’s face as she remembered the terror she had felt at Lord Moncaster’s threats. Christabel crossed swiftly to the sobbing girl and put her arms around her.
‘He’s a scoundrel, my dear, but he has no power over you,’ she soothed. ‘You’re a minor and not responsible for gambling debts. There’s nothing he can do to reclaim the money and he knows that well.’
Domino abruptly stopped crying and gaped at her. ‘You mean that all this time I was in no danger.’
‘None. But you have not acted well.’
The reproof in her voice made the girl wince and she hung her head again. ‘I know,’ she managed to whisper.
‘Lord Veryan would be very disturbed if he knew of your conduct.’
Domino was puzzled at the introduction of Richard’s name, but said again, ‘I know.’
‘We will say nothing to him. He need never know what has occurred, but you must tell your aunt and beg her pardon, not just for such foolish behaviour, but for worrying her so much with this flight of yours.’
‘Is Aunt Loretta very angry?’ the girl ventured.
‘Not angry, just sick with worry. You haven’t been thinking very clearly. If you had told Lady Blythe the true situation, she would doubtless have rung a peal over you and been displeased for a while, but she would also have applauded your honesty and forgiven you very quickly. She would have paid Lord Moncaster what he’s owed and that would have been an end to it.’
‘Told you so, didn’t I?’ Benedict smirked. ‘Now perhaps you’ll give me credit for some sense.’
Domino was just about to cross swords again when Christabel decided that she’d had enough. She was very tired from the journey and the thought of having to repeat it on the morrow with two squabbling children in tow was not a happy one. Nor was she anticipating with any pleasure her mother’s and Lady Blythe’s likely welcome to this wayward little party.
‘You will accompany me back to the Ship, Domino,’ she said firmly. ‘We will order a late supper and you are invited to eat with us, Benedict, if you wish.
‘Otherwise, we will see you outside the inn at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. If you’re late, you will have to find your own way back to town.’
‘No need to get on your high ropes.’ He sniffed. He had never before known his elder sister to be so severe.
The image of Richard, never far from her thoughts, fuelled the anger she felt towards her brother and she lashed him with her tongue.
‘Your behaviour has been as reprehensible as Domino’s—more so, for you are older than she and have been on the town longer. No doubt Mama will have something to say to you when we reach Mount Street.’
He found this to be only too true. Mama had more than something to say and Benedict received the dressing down of his life from his usually mild-mannered parent. He was barely through the front door when his mother pounced, dragging him into the library and subjecting him to a lengthy and irate scolding. Lady Harriet had decided that her son had enjoyed more than sufficient holiday in the capital. He was to start on the long journey back to Cornwall in two days’ time and Stebbings would not be driving him. The groom had already been forced to undertake an unnecessary and fatiguing journey beyond his normal duties and Benedict could make his own way to Lamorna Place by stage and then carrier. His mother derived a degree of pleasure in relaying this information; it went some little way to recompensing her for the worry and fright she’d suffered.
Lady Harriet followed him out into the hall where Ch
ristabel was waiting, pale but composed, ready to suffer her share of parental wrath. She had directly disobeyed her mother in going alone to Dover, but she could not be sorry for it. Domino was returned safely to Lady Blythe’s care and no one else was the wiser. Certainly not Richard. He was at Madron and blissfully unaware of the drama that had been enacted.
Her mother turned back to the library and beckoned her to follow. Although it was early May, a fire burned brightly in the grate in an effort to conquer the wind and rain which battered at the windows. The unseasonable weather matched the gloom of the occasion, but her mother’s scolding appeared light.
‘I am delighted, Bel, that you are returned safely and that silly young girl is back with her aunt. But I cannot think it right that you involved yourself.’
‘I couldn’t let her plunge herself into a scandal.’ Her voice was as quiet as her mother’s and devoid of expression. ‘Of all people, I know how dreadful it is to face down gossip and innuendo. And it was Benedict who would have been largely responsible. Surely you would not have had that happen.’
‘Benedict is to return to Cornwall,’ her mother said, not answering her directly. ‘But what of you?’
‘What do you mean, Mama?’
‘You say that you travelled to Dover to protect the family’s honour and to save Domino from herself—that is understandable, given your own painful experience as a girl—but why else?’
‘Isn’t that enough?’ she challenged, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.
‘For most people, perhaps. But your emotions run deep, Christabel. You told me that you did not wish Richard Veryan to suffer another broken engagement. Why was that so important to you?’
A tell-tale blush suffused Christabel’s cheeks and she said hastily, ‘I believe him to deserve better. He is an honourable man and capable of true feeling.’
‘Ah!’ Her mother sighed. ‘As I thought. You are in love with him. What a perverse creature you are. Why could you not have loved him when you had the chance?’
The reproach went unanswered and Lady Harriet continued, ‘You are in love with him and he is betrothed, you say, to this green girl?’
She shook her head in disbelief, but, seeing her daughter’s wounded face, moved swiftly across the room and took her hands in a tender clasp.
‘Bel, what have you done? What will become of you?’
‘Whatever do you mean, Mama?’ The anguish in her mother’s voice made her step back in surprise.
‘I mean, my dear, that both the men who have figured so large in your life are now promised to others.’
She looked bewildered. ‘Both men?’
‘Both,’ her mother repeated heavily. ‘Sir Julian has asked permission to pay his addresses to Sophia.’
Chapter Nine
Richard rode along the headland. On one side of the twisting pathway stretched a patchwork of small fields, ancient granite walls and, in the distance, gently rolling hills. On the other and immediately below him the ocean thundered benignly, the sun glistening on the rocks and the spray thrusting ever higher up the cliff face. It was a glorious morning; for a short while, as he relaxed into the rhythm of the trotting horse, his mind was free of care. It had been an emotional homecoming. He’d arrived amid a torrential downpour but Lady Veryan had come running from the doorway as soon as she heard the noise of wheels on gravel. He’d hardly clambered down the carriage steps before she’d flung her arms around his neck, trembling with a mixture of happiness and sorrow. His father’s absence had hovered between them. Until that moment he’d not fully realised how frail she was and how desperate to see him. Guilt at delaying his homecoming had cast a large shadow over his arrival.
But this morning after five days at the Abbey and many hours together, life seemed a good deal brighter. He was home now and home for good. Lady Anne need worry no longer over the upkeep of house and land. Already he’d had several sessions with his father’s bailiff and acquainted himself with many of the problems and a few of the pleasures of a landed estate. This was surely one of its most agreeable delights: a solitary ride in the early morning sun, king and master of all he surveyed.
The seclusion was needed. His final farewell to Christabel had been torture. So many things left unsaid between them, so many feelings unexpressed. He’d intended a brief farewell, a mere clasp of the hand and a friendly smile, enough to tell her that she was free of him, free to make the life she wanted with Sir Julian. But all his judicious intentions had vanished like dew in a sunlit haze and the prudent words he’d prepared had died unregretted on his lips. She had looked magnificent, her beautiful form encased in a floating cloud of diaphanous gauze, her every movement sparkling in the light of diamonds. When the musicians had struck up for the waltz, he’d been unable to resist one last dance with her. It hadn’t lasted long. Once his arms were round her, he was again a lost man. The intended farewell had been abandoned and in its place that long, lingering kiss. He’d wanted it to go on for ever. Now, looking back, he wondered grimly how he’d ever torn himself away.
But he had and he was home and this morning was a gift from heaven. The physical ache of losing her must one day disappear. He’d lived without her for six years and would do so again. His old defence of suppressing all feeling was now forfeit, but surely he would cease to think of her so often once he knew her to be married.
‘Hey, there! Richard? Is that you?’
A faint voice calling in the distance penetrated his thoughts and he turned his head to see another rider beating his way up the headland towards him. The figure was familiar and for a moment his heart skipped a beat. Surely the Tallises had not come home already?
‘Ricky, it is you. I thought so.’ Benedict arrived in a pelter at his side. ‘A bang-up morning, hey? Hope you don’t mind my trespassing.’
Since the two families had always treated each other’s lands as their own, this was by way of being a pleasantry.
‘It’s good to see you, Benedict, if surprising. Why so far from London?’
‘I thought it was time I came home,’ Benedict began awkwardly. ‘I’ve been away a fair while and the old man was getting a bit Friday-faced. Started to demand that his son and heir return to the fold.’
‘I see. I imagined you were fixed in London for the Season.’
‘That was never the plan,’ the boy rejoined quickly. ‘I was only ever going to stay a few weeks. I’d had enough of town anyway—couldn’t wait to get back!’
Richard looked sceptically at his young companion, but said nothing and they rode on together in silence. Thinking that some further explanation was due, Benedict found himself continuing, ‘To tell you the truth, there was a spot of bother and London got too hot for me.’ He grinned engagingly.
‘That sounds a little more likely.’ Richard returned his smile. ‘What was it? Boxing the watch, gambling debts, a ladybird?’
Benedict flushed with annoyance. ‘She was hardly one of the muslin company, if that’s what you mean. Far too respectable, a chit of a girl, and I’m banished to Lamorna because of her.’ His earlier carefree air left him as he remembered his grievances against Domino.
‘I never thought of you as being in the petticoat line,’ Richard remarked smilingly.
‘I’m not! Most definitely I’m not. All I did was to try to help someone and look what happened.’
‘And dare I ask who it was that you tried to help?’
Benedict flushed again and realised he’d said too much, but it was too late to withdraw. ‘Actually you know her pretty well,’ he muttered. ‘It’s Domino de Silva.’
‘Domino! What trouble has she got herself in, for heaven’s sake? I thought her aunt well able to take care of her.’
‘There’d have to be a hundred aunts to keep her out of trouble. I can’t tell you what bother she was in, but believe me, it was stupid. Still, I’d better keep mum, lady’s honour, and all that rot.’
‘But why are you exiled from the pleasures of London?’
The younger man scowled at the thought of what he was missing. ‘The silly chit took it into her head to leave town on the quiet. She wanted an escort and guess who was witless enough to agree.’
Richard’s face was inscrutable. ‘And where were you to escort her?’
‘Supposedly Paris and from there she was going to travel on to Spain, but we never got any further than Dover.’
His companion looked at him enquiringly.
‘You wouldn’t believe her! Said she couldn’t cope with the sea unless it was dead calm. We must have seen half-a-dozen packet boats come and go and she couldn’t bring herself to board any of them. I told the silly goose that the weather wasn’t likely to improve and if she didn’t want to be caught in Dover, she should just close her eyes and walk. But would she listen? Huh!’
‘And did you get caught?’
‘Oh, yes, and a right shenanigan that was. My sister turned up and gave us a real bear-garden jaw. Then she took Domino back to her aunt and the long and the short of it was that I was ordered to pack my traps and leave London immediately.’
‘Sophia?’
‘Sophia?’
‘Your sister who discovered you in Dover.’
‘Of course not Sophia. Can you imagine?’
‘Miss Tallis, then?’ Richard looked bewildered. ‘Why would Miss Tallis come after you?’
‘God knows. She’s not usually interfering. She seemed very anxious about preventing a scandal.’
‘But Miss de Silva is hardly her concern.’
‘I suppose she thought I was her concern,’ he said carelessly, ‘although she seemed more worried about your reaction.’
‘To Domino’s flight?’
‘Yes, didn’t make much sense to me. I couldn’t work out why Bel was so upset. Or why she thought you’d be upset if you knew Domino had cut loose. There’s been a lot of chatter in the clubs, but I never thought you had any real interest there.’
Benedict looked interrogatively at the rider beside him, but Richard made no answer. His mind was busy reviewing the hints he’d been at pains to drop over the last few weeks. He might not have lied outright, but he had led Christabel to believe that he and Domino might be engaged. She would see Domino’s flight as a threat to their betrothal. She had intervened, but was that for the girl’s sake or for his? Whatever the case, it was based on a false premise.
The Earl Plays With Fire Page 17
