by M C Beaton
“Not now,” he said in a low voice. “Just remember that being illegitimate has its advantages. It’s rather like being poor. It helps you to tell your friends from your enemies.”
Emily’s heart sank. For one glorious moment she had thought he had been telling the truth about her birth. He had sounded so convincing.
But he teased her and told jokes and made her eat a little, until, to her great relief, he said he would take her home. “I have an open carriage and I will leave you on your doorstep, so there is no need for Lady Bailey to worry about us. It is a good thing my mama is not present. She is the only woman who can see through my lies. I shall scrawl a note to Lady Bailey, and that will save us from the perils of the ballroom. Oh, here she is!”
Emily started to perform the introduction, but Lady Bailey interrupted her. “I know Storm of old. I am grateful to you, my lord, for your work this evening.” She turned to Emily.
“Do not think too harshly of young Wayne-Viking. Any man would have behaved the same way faced with such a piece of scandalous gossip.”
“Lord Storm did not,” said Emily in a low voice.
“Oh, well, Storm’s different. He never cared a fig for what the world thought.”
“Before you blacken my character further, ma’am,” said Lord Storm, “I am escorting Emily home in an open carriage, and I shall only go with her as far as the street door, so you need not trouble—”
“Oh, run along,” said Lady Bailey ungraciously. “I think I have had just about all I can bear. I was so looking forward to telling my brother that Miss Winters was suitably engaged.”
“Come, Miss Winters,” said Lord Storm. “It is a pleasant night for a drive. Do you have a cloak?”
“Just my shawl. It will take me a minute to fetch it.”
Lord Storm waited at the entrance to the Pump Room for Emily. The Misses Kipling came scampering up. “Dear Lord Storm,” cooed Fanny. “Was it not monstrous of Sir Peregrine to leave his diamonds to a dog?”
“Monstrous,” he agreed. “But dogs do not live forever, and no doubt the jackals will have them soon enough.”
“Oooh, awful man,” muttered Fanny. “Come along, Betty. The gentlemen are waiting.”
Lord Storm smiled at their retreating backs.
Emily felt it was all strangely familiar to be perched up beside him as he drew on his gloves and took the reins. The cool breeze of the earlier evening had died, leaving the air warm and still and scented with lime and lilac.
She glanced sideways under her lashes at his strong profile and firm chin. Oh, if only he were not such a rake and cared for her a little! Not that she was in love with him. But she wished he were not quite so indifferent to her.
As if conscious of her gaze, he turned his head and looked at her, and she quickly looked away. The wind from the movement of the carriage was whipping her underdress against her legs, outlining their long shape. He felt his pulses beginning to race. There was a full moon shining above, and the whole peaceful night seemed spread out before them. Down a cobbled side street, a linkboy trotted in the distance like a wayward star.
They seemed to be the only people out and about, the clip-clop of the pair of matched bays sending back echoes from the silent houses on either side of the street. They swung down away from Somerset Square.
“Where are we going?” asked Emily in a hushed voice. The night was so quiet that it made any normal level of speech sound like a shout.
“Just to look at the countryside under the moon, Miss Winters. The fresh air will make you sleepy, and you need a good night’s sleep after your ordeal.”
She felt she should protest, but there was a strange feeling of being safe with him, isolated with him, moving through an empty moonlit dream world.
In a short time, the town was left behind and they took the Corsham road. From the quarries of Corsham had come the marvelous stone that had made Bath a golden city. The huge moon rode high above the crescent of hills surrounding Bath and turned the chalky road into a winding white ribbon.
There was a sound of rushing water. “A waterfall,” he said quietly. “But not frozen this time.” Storm gently reined in his horses.
So he remembered too, thought Emily.
How quiet it was with only the sound of the rushing water. The moon slid behind a cloud. The darkness seemed secret, warm, intimate.
The horses tossed their silky manes and shuffled, and then were still.
Slowly the cloud edged away from the moon, and his eyes were silver as he looked down at her, and his fingers gleamed white as he reached out his hand and turned her face up to his.
Emily let out a little sigh of submission, her breath as warm and sweet as the night air. He muttered something and released her chin.
“Shall we walk for a little, Miss Winters?” he said lightly. “And then I shall take you home.”
Emily nodded bleakly, fighting against a wave of disappointment, a realization that this man had known so many women, had had so much experience. What was so earthshaking and devastating to her was play to him.
He jumped down and came around to her side of the carriage and held up his arms to help her down.
Well, he had meant to behave. But as she bent forward in the moonlight, he saw the deep valley between two perfect breasts, and then she fell down into his arms and he clasped her tightly.
His arms seemed full of woman, breasts pressed against his chest, long slim legs against his legs, hair tumbling down, dark midnight hair, hair clean and scented with lavender water, eyes gazing up into his, mouth bewildered and soft and pleading….
He trapped her mouth under his, and the night went whirling away. He seemed to be losing himself in her. Their bodies were fused together, melting together, dying of passion. He could feel her hardening nipples through the fine stuff of her gown.
He had to have her, had to… had to… had to…
“Dear God!” he muttered savagely, as he dragged his mouth away. “Let me take you home instantly. Miss Winters, I beg of you, you must not entice gentlemen so. We are only human, after all.”
He tried to laugh, but his voice was ragged.
Emily stood rigid, her arms hanging at her side. Of course, that was all it was. She was a woman and all too willing. She was offering herself to him on a plate.
“Yes, please take me home,” she said in a thin voice.
The drive home was fast and urgent and bumpy and noisy. Gone was the magic of the night. Emily knew she had discovered something awful about herself, and her mind kept thrusting whatever it was away.
He set her down at Somerset Square, lifting her down impersonally this time and holding her well away from him.
Emily muttered goodnight and scurried into the house. All she wanted to do was to escape to the privacy of her room and hide under the bedclothes.
A small figure detached itself from a settle in the hall at her entrance.
“Why, Jimmy!” exclaimed Emily. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Me and Duke thought we would see you was home all right,” muttered the boy, touching his forelock.
“Thank you, Jimmy, but you must go to bed now.” Emily made a sudden decision. “I must take Duke to Manley Court tomorrow, Jimmy. I am leaving Bath.”
“Leaving Bath?” gasped the boy. Emily was too weary to note the effect of her words. Jimmy’s face had turned very white.
“Yes, as early in the morning as I can manage. Goodnight, Jimmy.” With that, Emily bolted up the stairs.
She tried to fight down the realization that was dawning on her, but it would not be kept at bay. It broke over her head as soon as she had closed the door of her room behind her.
“I love him,” she said on a sob. “I must get away from him. He will surely break my heart if I stay here.”
Perhaps it might have comforted her a little had she known that Lord Storm stayed out in the street in front of the house for quite a long time after she had left, staring at the shining paintwork of Lady
Bailey’s front door.
Downstairs in the hall, Jimmy hugged Duke fiercely. It never dawned on him that Emily expected him to accompany her to Manley Court. He thought Duke, the only thing he had ever loved and who loved him back equally, was going to be taken away from him. Duke scampered away from Jimmy a little and then, as if to try to cheer the boy up, stood on his hind legs and waltzed slowly around while great hot tears fell down Jimmy’s face.
“I trained you good, Duke boy,” sobbed Jimmy. “You’re good enough for a circus, that you are. You’re good enough for Astley’s, darn me if you hain’t.”
And then he slowly wiped the tears away and scrubbed his nose with his cuff. Somewhere inside his brain a little seed of hope began to take root.
Chapter 6
“Gone!” said Emily in a dazed way. “What o’clock is it?”
“’Tis eleven o’clock o’ the morning,” wailed the housemaid who had burst into Emily’s room. “We just discovered that Jimmy and the dog is nowheres. Jimmy’s bed wasn’t slept in, neither. We didn’t want to worry you, miss, but we only found out after we all started comparing notes, so to speak, and Lord Bellamy’s coachman, what was bringing his lordship home at four o’clock, says he saw the boy carrying a bundle a-walking down the street with the dog at his heels.”
“Get my clothes! Get my maid!” cried Emily. “Those wretched Manleys have paid Jimmy. Where is Lady Bailey?”
“Gone in person to report the matter to the magistrate.”
Emily hurtled downstairs a bare ten minutes later and nearly collided with Lord Storm, who had just been admitted by Dayton.
Emily forgot she loved him and wanted to escape from him. Ignoring Dayton’s scandalized face, she seized his lordship by the hand, dragged him into the drawing room, and slammed the door.
“You’ve got to help me,” she said, clutching hold of his lapels. “Jimmy’s run off with Duke. One of those terrible Manleys must have paid him to murder the dog. I know they did!”
“Gently,” he said. “You are ruining a perfectly good coat. Now calm down. Come over here and sit down on this sofa next to me, take a deep breath, count to ten, and begin.”
But all he could get from Emily was the same thing over and over again. Jimmy had taken Duke. Jimmy had been paid by the Manleys to murder Duke.
He took her hands in his and said gently, “We must take a little time and think before we rush around accusing anyone. There would be no point in the Manleys paying Jimmy to take the dog away. Duke has to be seen to be dead before they inherit anything. Also, it would be very risky to rely on the discretion of a mere boy. Now, when was the last time you saw Jimmy?”
Emily stared at him wide-eyed. “Last night,” she said slowly. “It was last night just after you left me. He was sitting in the hall waiting for me.”
“And what did he say?”
Emily frowned. “Nothing much. It was quite touching, really. He said something about waiting up to see that I was safely home.”
“And then?” prompted Lord Storm. “What did you say?”
“Nothing much. I told him to go to bed.”
“And that was all?”
Emily suddenly blushed and withdrew her hands from his. “I said I was leaving in the morning for Manley Court and… and taking Duke with me.”
“And did you say anything about taking Jimmy too?”
“No. I assumed he would know that naturally he would be coming too.”
“And does the boy care for the dog?”
“Oh, very much. It is marvelous to see them together.”
“Then there is your answer,” he said, standing up. “Jimmy thought he would lose his position—mark you, it is a great rise in social status for a knife boy. He also thought he was losing the dog.”
“Perhaps he has relatives,” said Emily eagerly. She rang the bell and waited impatiently until Dayton entered the room. “Dayton! Has Jimmy a mother or father or relatives in Bath that he might go to?”
“No, miss,” said the butler. “Jimmy was hired from the workhouse. He’s a foundling.”
“Thank you, Dayton,” said Lord Storm. “That will be all.”
When the butler had left the room, he turned to Emily. “I think I should search for Jimmy. I have my carriage, and—”
“Please take me with you,” begged Emily. “I can show you some of the places where he played with Duke. And… and… I could not rest. I should go mad with worry, waiting here. A foundling! Poor boy. Poor Jimmy, poor Duke. We are all unwanted in our way.”
It was on the tip of Lord Storm’s tongue to say impulsively, “You are wanted by me.” But his immense pride kept him quiet, for one could say such a thing only to a girl one intended to marry.
Instead he said, “Make ready quickly, then. I have my racing curricle outside. Hurry! I will wait for you.”
Emily fairly ran from the room and reappeared only a short time later attired in a lavender wool carriage dress, very simple, very fitting, and very straight, buttoned from neck to hem with tiny raised buttons. She had a Lavinia hat tied firmly over her black curls.
Once outside, Lord Storm helped Emily into his curricle after dismissing his groom so that the man could search the streets for Jimmy on foot.
The day was stifling and hot, and despite her anxiety and distress, Emily could not help wishing she had put on a lighter dress. The leaves of the trees hung motionless in the heavy air, and clouds of dust rose up behind them as they moved slowly along, searching to right and left, stopping occasionally to ask some wayfarer if he had seen a boy with a dog.
Two promising leads sent them racing off through the countryside, lurching down a network of intricate lanes, only in each case to find neither boy nor dog was the one they wanted.
Lord Storm looked remarkably cool despite the heat. He was wearing a bottle-green single-breasted coat with plated buttons, a gold-and-red-striped waistcoat, and leather breeches with brown top boots. His cravat fell in snowy folds at his throat His strong hands were steady on the reins.
At last he turned to her and slowed his horses to a trot. “I do not think we are going to find him this way, racing haphazardly around the countryside.”
The sky above was becoming increasingly hazy and the air increasingly sticky and humid. Emily had stopped fanning herself, since even that small exertion made her perspire.
“I think we should find a hostelry; maybe some refreshment will help us think of something,” he went on, setting his horses to a canter.
They soon reached a small village and stopped at a wayside inn. The inn parlor proved to be dark and smelly, and so Lord Storm suggested they sit at a rickety table in the weedy inn garden. Emily sipped bitter, watery lemonade and looked at an enormous hedge of thistles bordering the inn garden, wondering why the landlord did not take the scythe to them.
“Now,” said Lord Storm, “tell me everything you know about Jimmy.”
“Hardly anything.” Emily sighed. “I asked Lady Bailey’s footman, John, if he would like to earn extra wages guarding Duke, and when he refused, I asked him if one of the other servants would do it. He produced Jimmy, the knife boy. I thought Jimmy too young, but the dog took an immediate liking to the boy. And Jimmy adores Duke, there’s no question of that. Why, the tricks he could make that dog do! He even taught Duke how to dance on his hind legs.”
Lord Storm put down his glass. “You might have hit on the answer.”
“What answer? I mean… what…?”
“Why! If I were a young boy with no money and no family but had this dog who could dance, the first place I would head for is some sort of fair to sell my services.”
Emily looked at him in dawning surprise. “That must be it!” she cried. “Where do we begin to look?”
“Wait here,” he said. “I will see if the landlord has a local newspaper.”
After some moments, he returned with the paper and spread it out on the table while Emily watched him anxiously.
“There is one at Cryff
eham,” he said. “That is not far from here, I believe. Now, don’t look so excited. It’s a long way for a boy to walk. We shall probably find nothing but the usual mummery of fat women and two-headed babies.”
As they neared Cryffeham, the horses beginning to tire, exhausted with the heat and the miles of travel, they heard the faint sounds of bustle and music.
The fair was being held in a field outside the small town. It looked gay and pretty from a distance, but as they neared, they could see it was a very ramshackle affair with a few tawdry sideshows and a grass ring in the center cleared for cattle shows, ferret chasing, and various feats of strength.
“I must find a posting house soon and rest the horses,” said Lord Storm. “But let us search the fair first.”
He threw the reins to a small boy and tossed a coin to him, saying they would not be long. They made their way across the dusty grass toward the sideshows, automatically gravitating to the one that was drawing the biggest crowd.
But it was not a dancing dog being billed but a new droll called “The Cruelty of Atreus”—“the scene wherein Thyestes eats his own children is to be performed by the famous Mr. Psalmanazar, lately arrived from Formosa, the whole supper being set to kettle drums.”
“Unless Jimmy has volunteered to be eaten, we shall not find him here,” said Lord Storm. “Let us try some of the other booths.”
They walked along, reading the boards. There was everything but a dancing dog. There was even “a bovine curiosity or double cow,” which had “given uncommon satisfaction to the several learned bodies by whom it has hitherto been seen,” and “a surprising young mermaid, taken on the shores of Aguapulca.”
The sky grew very dark overhead, and from a distance a faint rumble of thunder sounded over the noise and music of the fair. Emily’s skin prickled under her wool gown. She was beginning to feel very hungry, having left home without even any breakfast.
Her head began to swim, and she loosened the satin ribbons of her bonnet. “You are feeling faint?” asked Lord Storm anxiously. “Let us leave the search until tomorrow.”
“There’s a knot of people over there,” said Emily. “Let’s look.”
