“Yes. That’s why I ran after her—to tell her. I could not have remained married to her after that. Afterwards I existed for a time in confusion and misery, despising myself and everyone else as I tried to close my mind to what had happened—to block out my bitter hatred of Charles Meredith. Mark was my only comfort.”
Louisa sighed sadly. She knew the rest. She remembered when she had been one of Alistair’s guests at Dunstan House, how she had observed him, and how his behaviour had puzzled her. He had looked at the company with cynical disdain, holding everyone in contempt, as if what Marianne and Charles Meredith had done between them had turned him against the whole human race. There was little wonder he had not batted an eye when poor James had lost everything he owned to him at cards that night at Lady Bricknell’s.
“You must not let what you felt for Marianne and your hatred for Charles Meredith fester and destroy in the future as it has done in the past. It is over. It is done. You must put the past behind you—along with the misery they both caused you.”
“Unfortunately, the past has a habit of catching up with one.”
“Sometimes, I know. But we are together now, Alistair—you, me and our children. Nothing can ever change that or come between us.”
Alistair studied her for a moment, seeing a face of such dazzling sweetness, understanding and love. He searched her eyes with a mixture of gentleness and gravity, a stirring of emotion swelling in his chest as he drew her closer, the intensity of the love he felt for her making him ache. It was the most profound moment of his life.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured hoarsely.
“Yes, you do.”
He nodded slowly, beginning to understand fully the wonderful thing that had happened to him. He touched her hair and her face with his lips as though trying to convince himself that she was real, and Louisa was so happy to be with him, that everything had been resolved between them, that she could think of nothing beyond that one glorious fact.
Chapter Fourteen
In the days that followed Louisa and Alistair could not bear to be apart as they discovered things about each other that were entirely new. They both had such strong views on everything and arguments flared easily, but they both agreed that a placid partnership would not have suited them, and they soon realised that it made the making up all the more passionate and exciting.
It was an idyllic time for them and their children, a time in which they were suspended in some kind of dream, reluctant to let the outside world into their lives. But it was inevitable that it would intrude some time, which it did when James, who was in town staying with Timothy, came to call on them and to be introduced to his niece.
“Have you been in town long?” Alistair asked him when he came upon him alone in the drawing room.
“No. I came two days ago to spend a little time with Amelia.”
“And to arrange the date for the wedding—am I right?” said Alistair with a merry gleam in his eyes.
James flushed slightly and smiled, looking a little bashful. “Yes. We are to be married at her home in Oxfordshire two months from now. I do hope you and Louisa will be able to attend.”
“We shall be delighted. I doubt you will be able to keep Louisa away. Tell me, James,” he said, pouring them both a glass of brandy, “do you not miss the London social scene?”
“No, sir. I am quite content at Bierlow—and I shall be more so when Amelia becomes my wife. I have not been drawn into a game of cards for over a year. You were my last partner and—after that unfortunate experience—I have no desire for another.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Alistair sat down, crossing one knee over the other as he studied Louisa’s brother, glad that he had seen the error of his ways and decided to settle down to a more sedate and sensible lifestyle—which meant less for Louisa to worry about. No doubt the delightful Amelia Hacket had much to do with that. “Have you seen your niece, James?”
“I certainly have,” James answered, with a beaming smile, having observed that marriage to Louisa and the birth of Constance had certainly made his brother-in-law less formidable and more approachable. “I have just come from the nursery.”
“And what do you think of her? Is she not the most beautiful baby you have ever seen?” he laughed.
“She is indeed. She is quite delightful—but then, any child who is fortunate enough to have Louisa for its mother would be.”
Alistair’s face became set in serious lines. “My sentiments entirely. Your sister is a truly remarkable woman, James. She has become very dear to me. That game of cards—which was so disastrous for yourself—turned out to be a blessing in disguise for me—my salvation, you might say. Out of your misfortune came the luckiest moment of my life,” he said quietly, his expression grave, which left James in no doubt as to the strong bond of love that had grown between Alistair and his sister.
Sophie left Julia at Richmond to spend a day or two with Louisa and Alistair, her excuse being that she wanted to spend some time with Mark and Constance, but deep down she knew that Dunstan House was a lot closer than Richmond to where Sir Charles Meredith lived whilst in London. She knew he was in town and longed to see him—and fully intended to, despite her promise to Alistair that she would cease to think of him any more.
She had come to London with Alistair in subdued mood, but once out of his sight her natural resilience had begun to reassert itself. Her young heart ached for Sir Charles, whom she was certain her brother had cruelly misjudged. She loved him and he loved her—had he not told her so at the garden party at his home in Wyndham, when they had managed to be alone and he had kissed her so tenderly? Alistair could beat her and starve her, but she would not give Sir Charles up.
Unable to stand the strain of not seeing Sir Charles, whilst knowing he was only a few streets away, on impulse she wrote him a letter, pouring her love and her misery out to him. She told him that she was staying at Dunstan House for a few days and confessed her desire to see him, begging him to meet her by the garden gate that opened onto the park at three o’clock the next day. She gave the sealed letter to a young scullery maid, slipping a coin into her hand with the promise of the same when she returned and reported its safe delivery into Sir Charles’s own hand, which she did an hour later. But Sir Charles sent a brief note in reply, telling her that he was unable to meet her at three o’clock and to make it seven o’clock instead.
In a fever of nervous tension and finding it difficult to conceal her excitement, Sophie waited, watching the hours of the clock tick slowly by until the appointed time—a clandestine meeting with Sir Charles a novel and exhilarating thought.
Sophie would not have been so ecstatic had she seen Sir Charles’s expression when he received her letter. His lips curved in a thin smile. Perfect, he thought, with grim satisfaction. This was going to be easier than he’d thought, and, with his highly developed hunting instinct and quick grasp of opportunity, he was unable to hide his jubilation.
He held Alistair Dunstan responsible for Marianne drowning in the river that night, and since then he had embarked on a personal crusade to avenge her death, to make Dunstan pay for what he had done. He had long since decided to use his sister—an alluring little minx—to achieve this, which was why he had been so attentive towards her and why he had gone out of his way to meet her at some of the mundane functions held at Wyndham—functions he would normally have avoided, considering them beneath him to attend.
He had succeeded with no difficulty whatsoever in making little Miss Dunstan his willing slave, although perhaps if she had known the full extent and reason for the intense hatred that existed between himself and her brother she might not have been so easily duped. And now here she was in London, offering to place herself willingly in his hands. At last his patience was about to pay off. How could he refuse?
He had not consciously planned when to take action against Lord Dunstan, but this was a chance he would seize with both hands. However, Sophie’s request that he meet her at t
hree o’clock, in broad daylight when the park was at its most thronged, was quite out of the question. He had already arranged to go to the White Hart Club across the river at Southwark later the following night, which was a regular gambling haunt of his. He’d had word that it was to be a big night, and, with fresh prize money, stakes would be running high—and also hopefully his luck, which he could do with, for his debts had snowballed recently.
And so he had written to Sophie telling her to meet him at seven o’clock in the park instead, confident in the knowledge that her desire to see him was so great she would move heaven and earth to be there. After all, there was no reason why he could not enjoy both the entertainment he’d planned and the delights of the exquisite Miss Dunstan afterwards in one of the private rooms upstairs, which offered comfort and privacy for those who wished to play more intimate games.
He smiled slowly. This was just the type of vengeance he had planned, and once accomplished he would sit back and gloat over the disgrace Sophie’s ruin would bring to Alistair Dunstan. His hatred and his purpose were as strong as they had ever been, stronger than his judgement if he did but know it. He did not pause to consider what judgement would be meted out on his own head by Alistair if he succeeded in ruining the innocent Sophie, thinking instead that there was something irresistibly satisfying in paying the arrogant Alistair Dunstan back in his own coin.
It was Louisa who noticed Sophie’s odd behaviour, but she thought little of it at first, her mind being on the evening to come. James and Timothy were to dine with them and were due to arrive at seven o’clock. When it was almost time she went in search of Sophie. She knocked on her bedroom door and entered, only to find it empty. Seeing a strong breeze blowing the curtains, so that they were in danger of knocking an assortment of ornaments off a chest of drawers, she crossed the room to close the window, glancing absently down into the garden and pausing when she saw a figure moving hurriedly among the flowerbeds towards the gate in the wall.
She frowned in puzzlement, recognising Sophie, despite her figure being cloaked and hooded. When she saw her slip through the gate and disappear into the park beyond she had a sudden feeling of alarm, realising that Sophie had been behaving strangely ever since she had arrived at Dunstan House two days ago. An inner sense told her that something was wrong. What was she up to? she wondered. Where on earth could she be going when she knew that James and Timothy, whom she had yet to meet, were due to arrive at any minute? Suddenly she had an awful thought, too awful to contemplate; had Sophie deceived them all and somehow arranged to meet Charles Meredith?
Alistair had told her that he had given his sister a sharp talking-to about Sir Charles, and explained some of his reasons as to why he disliked him so, but Louisa suspected that he had not told his sister enough to dispel her interest in that gentleman—her instinct telling her that, where Sophie’s affections were concerned, nothing had changed. Outwardly she gave everyone the impression that she had taken Alistair’s words seriously and no longer harboured any romantic thoughts about Sir Charles, but inside she remained as defiant as ever. When she had left Huntswood for London both Louisa and Alistair had been so absorbed with their own troubles that they had failed to notice that anything was wrong, but anyone who knew Sophie well would have been suspicious of her meek and obedient demeanour.
Quickly Louisa went after her, hurrying down the stairs and out into the garden and through the gate. The park was quiet, the sun beginning to sink, casting long shadows across the grass. She saw Sophie ahead of her and called her name as the door of a waiting, closed carriage swung open. Sophie paused for just a moment, but then an arm appeared from the carriage and grabbed her, pulling her inside. Again Louisa frantically called her name, running forward to try and stop the carriage, but it was useless, for it immediately sped off across the park.
Louisa stopped, her heart beginning to thunder, and she had the awful sense that she was experiencing a nightmare. The terrible truth that Sophie had run off with Sir Charles Meredith dawned on her—it was the only conclusion that she could draw. And how was she to tell Alistair?
She hurried back inside the house to find Alistair at that moment receiving James and Timothy who had just arrived. They all looked at her when she came rushing into the hall. Seeing how distraught she was, Alistair immediately strode towards her.
“Louisa! What’s amiss?”
Breathing hard, she reached out and gripped his arm, the words tumbling from her lips in a rush. “It’s Sophie, Alistair. She—she’s gone with Charles Meredith. Somehow she must have arranged to meet him in the park. You must stop them—go after her—before it’s too late.”
Every muscle in Alistair’s body went rigid as he gripped her arms. “What are you saying? She can’t have.”
“She has. I saw her. She left by the garden gate. I went after her and saw her climb into a carriage. I shouted to try and stop her—but she ignored me.”
“How can you be certain it was Meredith?”
“I just am,” she cried. “Who else could it have been?”
Alistair’s handsome, aggressive face became hard in that particular way Louisa knew so well. His eyes were filled with a mixture of rage, apprehension and dread—dread that Charles Meredith’s abduction of his sister had been well planned and that by the time he found her it would be too late.
“So—at last he shows his hand,” he said bitterly. “How dare he make Sophie the instrument of his vengeance? I’ll go after her,” he said, striding towards the door, realising that time was of the essence and ordering one of the footmen to go to the stables and have his horse saddled immediately—making it three when James and Timothy, who had come to Dunstan House in a carriage, insisted on accompanying him. He was in the grip of a violent rage when he turned once more to Louisa. “I do not intend letting Meredith destroy my sister because of all the real and imagined grievances he has for myself. Where the devil can he have taken her? Which direction was the carriage travelling in, Louisa? Did you see?”
“Towards Westminster, I think.” She moved quickly towards her husband, looking earnestly into his eyes, her face pale with anguish. “Please find her, Alistair. I do not fear Charles Meredith, but I am afraid of what he might do to Sophie, of the indignities she will be forced to suffer at his hands.”
In the grip of an unnamed terror, Alistair wouldn’t let himself even imagine what Meredith might be subjecting Sophie to. He caught Louisa up in his arms and embraced her fiercely before twisting from her.
In a fever of apprehension Louisa watched the three of them leave the house, praying they would find Sophie and bring her back safely. The longer she waited for them to return, the tighter her nerves stretched. She listened to the clock in the hall chime the hours away, waiting, listening for the sound of their horses returning in the street outside, dreading them returning without Sophie.
Three hours later they returned, having scoured all the streets around Westminster and beyond, but their efforts had come to nothing. They had even gone so far as to visit Charles Meredith’s house and had questioned the servants, who had told them that Sir Charles had left the house at six o’clock and was not expected to return until tomorrow or the day after.
Louisa was in despair when she looked with pain-filled eyes at Alistair’s drawn features as he paced back and forth across the room. She knew that what he was feeling was rage at his own inadequacy to know where to look, and pure madness and cold murder flared in his eyes.
“What about the watchmen and the constables?” she asked. “Have you questioned any of them?”
“Every one we came across.” Running his fingers through his hair, he took anxious paces to and fro. “Where the devil is she? How dare she go her own way—defy me in this outrageous manner? I expressly told her to stay away from Meredith.”
“Perhaps if you had told her more about why you and Sir Charles have been at loggerheads all these years she would have understood and not disobeyed you and continued to see him. You know I’
m right, Alistair. Won’t your pride allow you to admit it?” Louisa said, more sharply than she intended, but fear and worry had taken away all her inhibitions.
Alistair glared at her, throwing up his hands in exasperation, but he knew she was right. He should have explained more fully to Sophie about his disastrous marriage to Marianne, and his reason for hating Charles Meredith, but it was too late for self-recriminations now.
“Point taken, Louisa,” he snapped. “But I am not going to stand around arguing about that now.”
“Surely Sir Charles must be aware that he can be arrested for abduction?” said James, in an attempt to defuse the angry situation that was in danger of developing.
“He could, but it is clear that Sophie was not forcibly abducted. She went with him of her own volition, and, unless he harms her physically, there will be no case for him to answer—at least, not from the authorities. However, from myself is another matter. Have you checked her room, Louisa—questioned her maid as to whether or not any of her clothes are gone?”
“Yes, I thought of that. As far as she is aware nothing is missing, which indicates that she had no intention of leaving the house for long.”
“We now know that Meredith had other ideas. No doubt he had it all well planned,” growled Alistair.
Just when all seemed lost, Timothy threw just a glimmer of hope on the situation.
“Perhaps I might make a suggestion? It may come to nothing, I know, but it could be worth checking out.”
Everyone’s eyes turned towards him with avid interest, willing to listen to anything that might throw some light on where Charles Meredith could have taken Sophie.
“Sir Charles is known to frequent the White Hart Club across the river at Southwark. It is one of his favourite gambling haunts and the proprietor is a close friend of his. I also know that tonight, being Friday, is the most popular night of the week—a night Sir Charles never fails to attend when in town.”
An Innocent Proposal Page 29
