A Noble Man

by Anne Ashley

  "Is it by gad!" The name meant absolutely nothing to Marcus. "Well, Benjamin Rudgely will not be your groom for very much longer if he continues to conduct himself in such a fashion," he warned. "A menial cannot go round flooring his betters and expect to retain his position."

  Sophia couldn't understand why, but she took great exception to having her new groom labelled a menial and was not slow to voice her displeasure. "Furthermore, Marcus, I shall not hear of Ben being dismissed because of this morning's unfortunate occurrence. You saw yourself what happened."

  "I saw, right enough," he confirmed, as they returned to the horses, "but I cannot understand for the life of me why it should have occurred."

  "It happened because I was foolish enough to pay Crawley attention last night. I certainly didn't invite him to come riding with me this morning," she hurriedly assured him, accepting his help to get into the saddle, and easily detecting the reproachful glint in his dark eyes as he mounted his own fine bay, "but evidently he must have supposed that his presence would not be unwelcome. I was trying to think of some delicate way of informing him that rakes were not to my taste when Ben suddenly appeared."

  She decided to be fair and give Sir Lucius the benefit of the doubt. "I don't suppose for a moment that Crawley would contemplate a seduction scene here in the park, but I cannot deny that I was very glad that Ben was with me. And now, Marcus, all I wish to do is forget the whole unfortunate episode."

  He looked as if he was about to say something in response, but then, evidently, thought better of it, and they rode towards the park gates in silence, until Sophia asked him when he had arrived in town.

  "Late yesterday evening. I'm staying with my friend Lawrence Petersham. We'll be here for a few days, and then we're travelling to his country home in Hampshire to do a spot of shooting and fishing."

  Disappointed, but not unduly surprised, Sophia cast her brother a thoughtful glance. Marcus never attempted to make use of the town house in Berkeley Square when the Earl was in residence, preferring instead to put up at a hotel or stay with friends. During the past few years his visits to Jaffrey House had been less frequent too, and she could not help feeling that as long as he continued to avoid their father's company whenever possible, any resentment he might continue to harbour with regard to the ill-treatment he considered his mother had received at the Earl's hands would continue to fester deep inside.

  As the Earl had always flatly refused to discuss anything about his first marriage, and the Countess, loyal to the last, had not betrayed his trust by divulging any of the details, Sophia had never been in possession of all the facts and she doubted very much that Marcus had either.

  Childhood memories began to filter through her mind, and she recalled vividly that lovely summer day, almost eleven years ago, when she had peered out of one of the upper-floor windows at Jaffrey House and had spotted her brother heading across the park in the direction of Steepwood Abbey. The grounds especially had always held a certain fascination for him, and he had frequently gone there to be private with his thoughts.

  Sophia herself had never been similarly drawn to either the Abbey or its grounds, not even as a child. Many eerie stories about the place had been passed down through the centuries. In more recent years the Marquis of Sywell's debauched activities had been sufficient to dissuade most young females from venturing there alone, and Sophia, not always the most obedient of children, had for once adhered to her parents' strict command and had never once attempted to venture into the Abbey grounds on her own. Having her elder brother's protection, however, had made a visit perfectly in order, and she had not hesitated on that long-ago summer's day in escaping from her governess in order to follow him.

  Marcus, having been something of a taciturn youth, had not been best pleased to discover his young sister racing across the park in his direction. When she had finally reached his side, he had made his feelings brutally clear by ordering her to return home in no uncertain terms and, her nature being what it was, she had flatly refused. A heated argument had ensued, which had culminated in Marcus saying some rather unkind things about their father, and she retaliating by flying at him, small fists making contact with any part of his anatomy she could reach, while screaming insults about his mother. Marcus had swiftly captured her flailing arms, and when eventually she had grown calmer they had made a pact: never again would he say unkind things about their father and in return Sophia had promised never to pass a derogatory remark about his mother.

  During the ensuing years they had both kept to the bargain. Sophia had no intention of breaking her promise now by informing him that she considered his continued avoidance of their father's company very foolish, and merely voiced the hope that she would be seeing something of him during his short sojourn in town.

  "I should imagine that highly likely," he announced, and then promptly lessened her delight by adding, "It's quite obvious that you need someone to keep an eye on you, my girl."

  Sophia could feel her occasionally ungovernable temper begin to stir. She was still feeling very guilty, but steadfastly refused to be held entirely responsible for what had occurred. "I shall take leave to inform you, Marcus, that I neither desire nor require your services as a chaperon," she hissed, putting him in mind of a pettish kitten. "I should go on a great deal better if the male members of my family ceased to meddle in my affairs."

  "Ha!" Marcus barked, not slow to understand. "So Father's been laying down the law, has he? High time too!"

  "I might have expected some such tactless response from you!" she retorted, thoroughly nettled now. "I only hope that when you finally decide that it's time for you to settle down and marry he'll lay down the law in your choice of partner too!"

  "So, that's the way of it, is it?" Wicked though his smile undoubtedly was, it did contain a trace of sympathy. "Come on, Sophie, be fair," he urged gently. "I would be the first to admit that I haven't always agreed with everything he's ever done or said, but I'm sure Father has only your best interests at heart. The last thing he would want is for you to fall prey to some fortune-hunter."

  "I'm not a complete widgeon, Marcus. I do realise that. What you and Papa fail to realise, however, is that I'm no longer a child, and am quite capable of making the reasoned choice when it comes to selecting a husband."

  He seemed decidedly unconvinced, as his next words proved. "You may consider yourself up to snuff, my girl, but I'm afraid your behaviour this morning rather refutes that. No female in her right mind would ever offer a man of Crawley's stamp a h'a'porth of encouragement."

  They had by this time reached Berkeley Square, and Sophia, not waiting for assistance, slipped down from the saddle. The fact that there was more than an element of truth in what he had just said only succeeded in annoying her further, and she could not resist wiping away his smugly satisfied smile by announcing, "You may be certain of one thing, Marcus, a green girl I still might be on occasions, but not so foolish as ever to become tied for life to an overbearing, arrogant bore such as you!"

  Half amused, half annoyed by what he considered a totally inaccurate assessment of his character, Marcus walked the horses round to the mews. His little sister, it seemed, had not yet learned to curb that temper of hers, nor had she completely abandoned her wilful ways.

  "What she needs, of course, is a firm hand. I sincerely hope her future husband will be a man who won't be afraid to school her when necessary," he muttered, with a certain grim satisfaction, only half aware that he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

  "The right sort of man could handle her easily enough, sir," an amused voice remarked.

  "You may be right, but I for one will pity the poor devil, whoever he may be," Marcus responded, automatically handing over the reins to the new groom. "She can be an unruly little madam when the mood takes her."

  "Can't say I'm surprised. It's quite obvious she was spoilt as a child. The Earl's fault, I suspect."

  "There you have the right of it! If he had been firmer in his dealin
gs with Sophie years ago, she wouldn't have turned out to be such a—" Marcus caught himself up abruptly, suddenly realising to whom he was speaking, and cast Ben a frowning glance. "I'd advise you to keep your opinions to yourself, my man!" he snapped, but was unable to prevent a smile as he stalked into the house. Impertinent the groom might be, but he was certainly no fool and already had Sophia's measure.

  He discovered his father alone in the library, and as he had certain details he wished to discuss concerning the estate he managed in the north, it suited his purpose admirably to spend some time alone with the Earl.

  Without any display of real warmth on either side, they greeted each other cordially enough. For his part, his lordship certainly wished it could be otherwise, that he could freely exhibit the deep affection in which he held his eldest son, but he doubted very much that Marcus would appreciate any display of emotion. And who could blame him for that? His lordship most certainly did not, for he was very well aware that if he had been more open about his disastrous first marriage, if he had not tried to spare Marcus more hurt by steadfastly refusing to tell him the truth about his mother, he himself would not have figured all these years as the villain of the piece in his son's eyes.

  Well, perhaps it was too late now to attempt to set the record straight, he thought, handing his son a glass of wine, but if the opportunity ever arose in the future, he would not allow the chance to try to win his son's affection slip through his fingers. In the meantime he must be content with the respect Marcus always showed, and returned the compliment by listening intently to his son's proposed plans for the northern estate.

  After nodding his head in agreement, and informing Marcus to put into effect the changes he wished to make, his lordship expected his son to bring the interview to a close. When he made no attempt to leave, and furthermore went over to the decanter to refill his glass, he knew at once that his son must have some other topic he wished to discuss, and waited patiently for him to resume his seat.

  Marcus took a fortifying sip of the rich red liquid, while casting his father an uneasy glance above the rim of his glass. "I'm no tale-bearer, sir, as I hope you know, nor am I one to interfere in something which really is none of my concern, but I think it only right that you are aware of something that happened in the park earlier, as it concerns Sophia. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say an incident involving one of your servants."

  Marcus could see at once that he had his father's full attention. "My friend Petersham is wishing to sell his bay, and as I'm in need of a new hack I decided to put the horse through its places. Quite by chance I came upon Sophie in a quiet area of the park. She was in the company of Sir Lucius Crawley."

  His lordship was not best pleased to learn this and wasn't slow to betray the fact. "The devil she was!"

  "She informed me that she didn't arrange to meet Crawley there," Marcus assured him. It was not his intention to cause trouble for his sister, merely to put the Earl on his guard. "And I believe her, sir. Sophia may have her faults, but she's certainly no liar. I honestly believe that she doesn't even like Crawley."

  The Earl grunted. "That wasn't the impression I gained last night. The little minx danced with him twice. And I suspect it was simply because she knew I wouldn't approve."

  Marcus could not help smiling at this. His father might have turned seventy, but there was absolutely nothing lacking in his upper storey. "I think you may possibly be right. Anyway, getting back to what I have to tell you, I arrived on the scene in time to see Crawley raise his crop to your new stable-hand, and to see the groom floor the Baronet with one flush hit to the jaw."

  "Did he, by gad!" There was more than just a hint of excitement in the Earl's grey eyes.

  "Believe me, sir, I couldn't help but admire the way he did it myself. I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that he's done some sparring in his time. There was no bluster about it. Excellent science!" The glint of admiration in Marcus's dark eyes faded. "Still, I'm not suggesting for a moment that he should have done it, though I have to say he reacted in self-defence."

  The Earl looked across at his son steadily. "Are you suggesting that I should dismiss him because of the incident?"

  "No, sir. I'm not." A further wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "He may be an insolent dog, but he was only doing his duty by guarding Sophia. I understand he hasn't been with you for very long, but unless I much mistake the matter he already has my sister's measure. She would not find it easy to escape from him, and I believe he'd always guard her well."

  "I respect your judgement," his lordship responded softly, "and find that very reassuring to hear." He regarded his son in silence for a moment, and noted the look of concern that remained in his eyes. "So what precisely is troubling you, Marcus?"

  "I'm not certain. I don't suppose for a moment that Crawley will bring charges of assault against the groom, not when there were witnesses to the incident, and he would probably be made to look a fool. But he's a vindictive devil... And I just didn't care for that look in his eyes before he left."

  Chapter Six

  Marcus was by no means the only one to have noticed that malevolent gleam in a pair of hard, blue eyes. Benedict had not been slow to recognise that vengeful glint either and, given Sir Lucius's somewhat unsavoury character, had well expected the Baronet, at the very least, to write to the Earl of Yardley complaining bitterly, and demanding the instant dismissal of the perpetrator of the attack upon him. When, however, several days had passed and he had not even received the mildest reprimand for his behaviour in the park, Benedict began to wonder whether Sir Lucius might not be quite the black-hearted rogue he had been painted. Then something occurred to restore his former opinion of the malicious Baronet.

  He had been taking one of his lordship's fine coach-horses to the blacksmith when he had first suspected that he had become the object of attention. Turning suddenly, he had caught sight of a thickset individual in a frieze coat darting down a side alley. Then, as he had sat himself down on a rough wooden bench outside the smithy, waiting for the horse to be shod, he had glimpsed the same scoundrel across the street, staring directly at the blacksmith's premises. Later that same day he had noticed him yet again loitering near the entrance to the mews; only this time he had a companion with him of equally villainous appearance.

  There was little doubt in Benedict's mind that he was being watched, and his movements noted, so the following evening when Trapp, in a surprisingly sociable mood, suddenly suggested that he might like to accompany him to The Red Lion inn, and enjoy a tankard or two of ale, Benedict accepted the unexpected invitation eagerly, realising that it would offer the opportunity to confirm beyond doubt that he was, indeed, the object of someone's interest.

  Dusk had almost fallen when he and Trapp left their room above the stable, but even so there remained sufficient light for Benedict to be fairly certain that there were no shadowy figures lurking in the mews. It was impossible to tell whether someone was dogging their footsteps when they turned on to the main street and walked in an easterly direction towards the tavern favoured by a great number of grooms and coach-drivers. London never slept, certainly not at this time of year, and there were just too many people abroad to be sure whether he was once again being followed.

  As things turned out, it was the eagle-eyed Trapp who, once comfortably seated in the friendly inn, tankard of well-earned ale in his hand, first noticed that Benedict appeared to be the object of a certain someone's attention.

  "'Ere, lad," he remarked, after swallowing a mouthful of ale and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "that cove standing over there seems to be eyeing you quite a bit." He gestured towards an ill-favoured rascal leaning against the end of the counter. "I noticed he came in not long after us. A friend of yours, is he?"

  Benedict glanced across the tap in time to see the man turn his back towards them. Even though he could not see his face clearly, he felt certain in his own mind that it was neither of the two who had been skulk
ing at the entrance to the mews the day before, and was therefore able to say with total honesty that he'd never seen the fellow before in his life.

  Trapp appeared to lose interest, and changed the subject by remarking that Lady Sophia would be requiring Ben's services again in the morning. "That seems to have cheered you up, lad," he remarked, noting the gleam which just for one unguarded moment flickered in his companion's eyes.

  Benedict didn't attempt to deny it. "To be honest with you, Mr Trapp. I've found it a mite wearisome these past days with so little to do. I'm a man who likes to keep himself occupied."

  The head groom found nothing amiss with this attitude. "I know what you mean, lad. I'm of a similar bent m'self. Her ladyship gave up riding a horse a decade or more ago. His lordship will still climb into the saddle from time to time, but never when residing in town. It's only Lady Sophia that takes regular exercise. Still," he shrugged, "I suppose we oughtn't to complain. I can tell you now, while we remain in town, we won't get too many evenings like this one, when the family remains at home, so we'd best make the most of it."

  Benedict agreed, and in the normal course of events didn't doubt for a moment that he would have enjoyed this novel experience, for never before could he recall ever having spent an evening in a common tavern, supping ale, with only a groom for company. His pleasure in the occasion, however, was totally marred by the presence of the man leaning against the counter, who, he had noted by this time, had already glanced in his direction on several occasions.

  There wasn't a doubt in his mind now that he was certainly the object of someone's interest. The question was whose? Who would interest himself in the movements of a common groom? It was not beyond the realms of possibility of course that, while he had been out and about exercising one of the Earl of Yardley's fine horses, someone from his past, a friend perhaps, had penetrated his disguise. Surely, though, if that were the. case, it would be a simple matter for this friend to approach him directly. Why have him watched? he asked himself, peering down at his tankard before fortifying himself from its contents. No, there was more to it than that, instinct told him, something distinctly sinister.