‘Yes, poor Carlotta is looking quite worn out with all the excitement,’ observed Adele.
Carlota seized her chance.
‘Indeed, I am a little tired, Mrs Ainslowe. I think if you will excuse me now I would like to retire.’
‘Of course we will excuse you.’ Adele patted her hands, smiling at her. ‘We must put the bloom back into your cheeks before your fiancé returns, must we not?’
Carlotta forced herself to smile at this, and with a little curtsy she moved towards the door.
‘Poor love, would you like me to come with you?’
‘No, thank you, Aunt, there is no need to disturb yourself. I shall be quite well if I can only lie down.’
Carlotta slipped out of the room and leaned against the closed door. She let out a long sigh of relief. Lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her and her bones ached with the effort she was making to smile at everyone. The company was keeping country hours at Malberry Court and the daylight had not yet faded. However, a gloom was settling over the north-facing hall, making the glow of candles coming from a side room all the more noticeable. It was Mr Ainslowe’s study. The door stood ajar, allowing the light to spill out on to the tiled floor of the hall. She heard voices and glanced in through the half-open door. With a gasp she stopped, staring. Luke was talking earnestly with his brother, but, as if aware of her presence, he looked up and saw her. There was no escape, so Carlotta moved forward, blurting out the words that were in her head. ‘I thought you had gone!’
James opened the door wider. ‘Come in, Miss Rivington.’
She walked into the study, keeping her eyes upon Luke. He looked very grim, but then he had looked no different when she had seen him in the ante-room that morning.
‘I thought you had left for town,’ she said again. She looked at his muddy boots and dirty coat. ‘Have you been riding all day?’
‘No, not exactly,’ he said. ‘I have this minute come back from the village. There was an attack last night, on your parents’ house. A fire—but do not be alarmed,’ he added quickly, ‘they are unhurt.’
Carlotta glanced anxiously at James.
‘You need not worry, Miss Rivington, Luke has told me your history. As yet no one knows that he has returned. The rest of the gentlemen are still at their brandy. They are not aware why I was called away from the dining room.’
She hardly heard him, but turned back to Luke.
‘What of the maid, and Jack?’
‘Both safe.’
‘Thank heaven. What happened?’
‘Someone piled wood and bracken against the back door and set fire to it, but the dog’s barking woke the servants in time to put the flames out before anyone was hurt. Half the house is damaged, but it is not irreparable.’ A faint smile tugged at his mouth. ‘That is why I am so filthy, I have been helping your father to salvage what he could from the wreckage and move it into the undamaged part of the house. There is room for the servants to sleep there, but I have taken your parents to the George.’
Carlotta put her hand to her throat as she looked at the two men. ‘But who would do this? I mean—coming so soon after the attack upon Papa…’
James hesitated.
Luke said quietly, ‘I think we should tell Miss Rivington the truth, brother.’
The silence was unnerving. Carlotta forced herself to speak. ‘Thank you. Yes, if you please. Do you know who—who would do this?’
‘No,’ said James gravely, ‘but there was something. Whoever started the fire left a message painted on the wall of the house.’
‘A message?’
‘Two words,’ said Luke, watching her. ‘Leave now.’
‘I—don’t understand.’
‘Someone wants your parents to quit Malberry.’
‘B-but why?’
‘That is what I have been asking Signor Durini.’ Luke regarded her sombrely. ‘Perhaps you can help us?’
She shook her head, frowning. ‘I have no idea why anyone—it is preposterous. Papa has no enemies.’
‘It would appear that he does,’ Luke corrected her gently.
‘But who could it be?’ she challenged him. ‘Why would someone want him to leave here?’
James looked uncomfortable. He glanced at his brother, then said diffidently, ‘Forgive me, Miss Rivington, but it would be less embarrassing for Lord Broxted if your parents were not living quite so close.’
She stared at him. ‘You cannot think my uncle capable of this!’
‘Since he brought you to town, he has been careful to keep your parentage a secret,’ Luke reminded her.
‘Yes, but only because he is afraid any eligible suitors will be discouraged.’
‘Any man who truly cares for you will not care a button that your mother married an artist,’ muttered Luke.
‘Yes, that is what my uncle thinks,’ she said eagerly. ‘He has always said that once a man shows a true regard for me he will explain everything. He would have told Mr Woollatt if he had not been in such haste to get away this morning.’ She fixed her eyes upon James, pleading silently with him to understand.
‘Broxted is very conscious of his own importance,’ murmured Luke, ‘but I do not think him capable of this.’
Carlotta gave an emphatic shake of her head. ‘No, of course not.’
‘But if that is not the reason for the attacks, what is?’ asked James.
‘Until we find that out, we must do something to protect the Durinis.’ Luke looked at his brother. ‘Well, James?’
‘I shall move them to my Leicestershire estate. The gatehouse there is empty. Then we will spread the word that they have fled we know not where.’ He turned back to Carlotta. ‘You may rest easy, Miss Rivington. I shall look after your parents.’
‘Thank you, sir. You are very good. How soon will they leave?’
‘As soon as they can be packed and ready. Tomorrow, I hope.’
‘I must go and see them—’
‘No! It is too dangerous.’
Luke’s vehemence startled her. She began to protest until James said gently, ‘It would be best if you did not visit them, Miss Rivington. Few people here know your background—to own it now might put you in danger, too.’
‘But I could visit them after dark. They would not be asleep. Mama never retires before midnight, and sometimes Papa works through the night—’
‘And do you truly believe it would relieve their worries to think of you wandering abroad at night? No, be guided by me, it is best that you do not see them.’ James raised his head, listening. ‘I hear voices. The gentlemen are on their way to the drawing room, and I think we should join them—that is, you and I should join them, Miss Rivington, Luke must go upstairs and change. He is not fit to be seen.’ He held out his arm to her.
‘I—I was about to retire,’ she confessed.
‘If that is what you wish. However, we could tell everyone that you overheard the news and are too disturbed to sleep, if you go now, you may be obliged to hear the story several times over in the morning.’
‘Very well, sir, you have persuaded me. And it is the truth that I could not rest now.’ She laid her fingers on his sleeve. ‘Will you tell them everything that has occurred?’
‘Only that someone tried to set fire to my artist’s house. The rest shall be our secret. You may wish to confide in your aunt and uncle, of course, and with your permission I should like to tell Adele that you are Signor Durini’s daughter, but you may be assured it will go no further.’
‘Yes, of course.’
He patted her hand. ‘Very good. Now, shall we go in?’
Carlotta lay on her bed and counted the chimes from the clock tower on the stables. Eleven o’clock. It was time. She dragged her cloak around her and went to the door. The landing was deserted, but she knew that some of the guests might still be downstairs. She strained to listen for footsteps, but all she could hear was the thudding of her own heart. It was only a few yards from her bedchamber to the backstairs,
but it would not do to be discovered creeping out of the house so late at night. Nothing stirred. Carefully she closed her bedroom door and flew across the landing to the backstairs. Her soft kid boots made no noise on the wooden treads, but she was fearful that a creaking stair might betray her. By the time she reached the door leading out into the garden, her nerves were stretched to breaking point and when a dark figure detached itself from the bushes beside her she almost fainted. She turned to flee, but even as she drew breath to scream a pair of strong arms wrapped about her and a hand was clamped over her mouth.
‘I have been waiting for you.’
Carlotta stopped struggling. The hand was removed from her face and she swung around.
‘Luke,’ she hissed. ‘What are you doing here?’
He looked down at her, his face in deep shadow.
‘I told you, I was waiting for you. I knew you would go to see your parents, with or without consent. I saw it in your face when James forbade you to go.’
‘He did not forbid it, he merely advised.’
‘And your uncle? I assume he knows the truth now about the attack.’
‘Yes, I explained it all to him and to my aunt when we retired. They were deeply shocked.’
‘And did they condone this night-time escapade?’ He waited. ‘Well?’
‘I did not tell them,’ she replied in a small voice.
‘I thought as much.’
‘How did you know I would be here?
He reached up and cupped her chin with his hand. Gently he ran his thumb across her bottom lip. Despite her anxiety, the familiar flame of desire stirred at his touch.
‘I have seen that obstinate look before—it was a simple matter to ascertain the nearest way out of the house from your chamber.’
‘I suppose you will insist that I return.’
She heard him laugh softly. He pulled her hand on to his arm.
‘No, but I insist you let me accompany you.’
Relief flooded through her. ‘Thank you!’
‘Save your thanks until we are safely indoors once again,’ he muttered. ‘And pull your hood up to cover your face. That’s better. We will take the longer path, through the trees to the far side of the lake. I would not expect anyone to be looking out of the window at this time of night, but we will take no risks.’
After the attacks upon her father, Carlotta had not been looking forward to walking through the dark grounds of Malberry Court, but with Luke beside her she was no longer afraid. They left the shelter of the walled garden and followed the path around the perimeter of the park. They walked in silence with only the occasional screech of a fox or hooting owl to disturb the peace.
When they reached the stile, Carlotta glanced around her anxiously, knowing that this was where her father had been attacked. The trees and lush undergrowth made the area particularly dark, and she was glad to have Luke’s comforting presence as they made their way past her parents’ house, one side of it blackened and damaged. The gaping black holes where the windows had been made her shudder, and she was pleased that Luke hurried her on towards the George, where lights still blazed from the taproom despite the lateness of the hour. He led her under the arch, but at the doorway he stopped, pushing her behind him.
‘Wait here. I will make sure there is no one on the stairs…Good, it’s clear. Come along.’
Carlotta could hear voices and laughter coming from the taproom. The smell of stale cabbage and onions permeated the dark corridor. Taking her hand, Luke led her up the narrow staircase and along a dimly lit passage, stopping at the end to knock on a solid door. A bolt scraped back, the door opened, and Carlotta fell into her father’s arms.
Carlotta sat between her mother and father, looking from one to the other to assure herself that they were safe while they explained what had happened.
‘It is not so very bad.’ Her father shrugged. ‘We lost some clothes, a few pots and pans—’
‘A few pots and pans!’ cried Mrs Durini, ‘My whole kitchen was destroyed.’
Signor Durini threw up his hands. ‘Hah, of what importance is a kitchen?’
‘Of great importance, if you want to eat,’ returned his wife, drily. ‘Not only that, the flames reached the room above it, where most of my gowns were stored.’
‘I shall buy you more gowns, cara. But if it had reached my pittura, or the miniatura, now that would have been serious. As it is, Signor Ainslowe has said he will send his carriage tomorrow morning to take us to another, safer house, and we can continue to work there. Signor Ainslowe says the final two temples can be completed some other time, he has enough for now.’ He squeezed Carlotta’s hand. ‘So you must not worry about us, Carla. In fact, I think we should celebrate our good fortune! I shall fetch a bottle of wine, if our landlord is not abed!’
‘I’ll go with you,’ said Luke.
‘Papa is remarkably calm about all this,’ said Carlotta as the two men left the room.
‘Your father is an artist. He lives for his painting. Besides, Lord Darvell and his brother have promised to help us, and they are good men, I think. Although I cannot condone his lordship bringing you here tonight, and so late.’
‘It was my idea, Mama.’
‘Well, you should not have come, my love. It is not safe.’
Carlotta put up her chin. ‘I had to come; I could not let you go away without seeing for myself that you were unharmed. Please do not be angry with me.’
‘Of course not, my love.’ Mrs Durini smiled fondly at her. ‘And you have something to tell us, too, have you not?’ She lifted Carlotta’s hand, turning it so that the ring on her finger glinted in the candlelight.
Carlotta’s cheeks grew warm. ‘Yes, Mama. I—I am betrothed.’
‘Oh, my dear, that is wonderful! To…?’
‘M-Mr Woollatt.’
Mrs Durini blinked. ‘Mr Woollatt? The man your aunt mentioned in her letters, the rich suitor?’
‘Yes, Mama. The very rich suitor.’
‘Then why are you with…?’
‘Lord Darvell is m-my friend,’ Carlotta replied, flushing.
Mrs Durini frowned. She took Carlotta by the shoulders and pulled her round to face her. ‘My love, listen to me. A young lady cannot have male friends, especially when she is betrothed. People will talk.’
‘Let them; I do not care what they say!’
‘Of course you do not, but your fiancé might well care.’
‘Please do not worry, Mama. Luke only came with me to protect me; no one knows we are here, and we shall be careful to make sure we are not seen as we go back through the park.’
Her mother did not look very reassured. ‘We will have no more than one glass of wine together, cara, then you must go home as quickly as possible. Do not tarry. Promise me.’
‘Of course, Mama, but there is no danger, Luke is with me.’
She pulled Carlotta into her arms and hugged her tightly. ‘Oh, my sweet child,’ she murmured, ‘there is every danger!’
‘Well, are you happy now you have seen your parents?’
Carlotta and Luke were walking back through the park, their path through the trees dappled with moonlight.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Then what is worrying you, Carlotta?’
She looked up quickly, but Luke’s face was in shadow.
‘Is it so obvious?’
‘It is to me.’
She sighed. ‘Mama says…I must…She says you cannot be my friend.’
‘She is right. That is why I was going to leave Malberry today.’
‘Then why did you return?’
‘Because I could not leave knowing you might be in danger.’
A bubble of happiness began to grow inside her; she reached out for him. ‘So you do care.’
‘Yes.’
He squeezed her hand, and the fragile little bubble burst as Carlotta felt Mr Woollatt’s ring pressing into her fingers.
The gibbous moon was high above them, sailing through the clo
uds, serene and untroubled. Luke had a sudden impulse to throw back his head and howl, letting out his despair and frustration.
‘It is too late. I would to heaven I had declared myself.’ He was not aware that he had spoken aloud until he heard Carlotta’s heavy sigh.
‘My uncle would not have countenanced it, he—he deplores your loose ways. Besides, Mr Woollatt is far richer than you, is he not?’
Luke hesitated. Should he tell her how much he loved her? What good would it do now? If she broke off the engagement to Woollatt, she would be labelled a jilt and lose her place in society—her rightful place and one that she had known for such a short time. He could not do that to her—and if he did, would she not come to hate him for it? He forced himself to speak lightly.
‘Yes, Woollatt is a much better man than I am, in all ways.’
The little hand in his trembled. He stopped. Something about the stance of the slender figure beside him stabbed at his heart. Her hood had fallen back, but she stood with her face averted. He took her shoulders and pulled her into a patch of moonlight. Still she would not look at him and he cupped her chin with his hand, tilting her face up. As she raised her eyes to look at him, he saw that they were glistening with tears.
‘Ah, love, don’t cry.’ The words were wrenched from him. He folded her in his arms, felt the stiff little body resist for a moment before collapsing against him, sobbing piteously.
He held her, crooning softly and caressing her hair, hating her pain, but at the same time revelling in the closeness, the feel of her leaning against him, dependent upon him for comfort. Desire stirred; her nearness was arousing him, but he tried to ignore it. He rested his cheek on her hair, breathing in the fresh, flowery scent. If only this could go on for ever, if they did not have to face the morning. If only…
He realised she had stopped crying and was standing passively within his arms, her head resting against his chest. He loosened his hold and reached into his pocket.
‘Here,’ he said, holding up a handkerchief. ‘I would rather you wiped your eyes on this than my shirt front.’
The Wicked Baron Page 17
