The Major and the Country Miss

by Dorothy Elbury

  Maitland took a step towards her, then stopped. ‘I dare say that it can be replaced,’ he said, his tone deliberately flat. Of all the places to find myself holed up with her, he was thinking, as he stared grimly out of the open doorway at the rain-swept landscape beyond. And, by the look of things, we could be here for hours!

  ‘Oh, no, I shouldn’t think so,’ came Georgianne’s reply as, with a sudden start, he realised that he had spoken his last thought out loud. ‘These summer storms seldom last more than a quarter of an hour or so—we have them regularly. It helps to clear the air, so I’m told.’

  She was trying her utmost to appear cheerful which, in the circumstances of feeling decidedly damp and dishevelled, was not easily achieved. But, since she was well aware that the pair’s enforced wetting had been brought about by her own stubborn refusal to either postpone or turn back from the ride across the heath, her conscience was beginning to trouble her. Added to which, it was becoming increasingly apparent that Maitland was not best pleased to have found himself in this situation—a situation which, as she was well aware, could easily be construed by those of a salacious turn of mind as being somewhat compromising! As the disquieting thought that her actions might have found disfavour with him filtered itself into her brain, a feeling of complete desolation came over, causing a sudden tremor to run through her body.

  ‘I’m really very sorry,’ she began, looking across at him, the beginnings of tears already glistening in her eyes but, before she could finish her sentence, a muttered expletive had slipped from his lips and, in two short strides, he was at her side where, enveloping her in his arms, he hugged her closely to his chest.

  ‘Good God, you’re shivering, you poor darling!’ he murmured, doing his utmost to ignore the tantalising scent of jasmine that nearly threatened to destroy his self-control. With their bodies separated by only a few thin layers of fabric, it was impossible to discern whether it was his own or Georgianne’s heart that was pounding so violently. Unable to prevent himself, he tightened his hold and buried his face into her perfumed tresses, his lips pressed against her brow.

  Georgianne who, until that moment, had been in something of a seventh heaven to find herself nestled so tenderly within the circle of Maitland’s arms, gradually became aware of the gentle movement of his lips against her skin, at which totally unanticipated turn of events, her eyes flew open in astonishment. Was it possible that he was actually going to kiss her? she wondered, in disbelieving awe. At which incredible notion her heart gave a wild jolt of combined joy and anticipation. Even Cedric Tatler, her erstwhile suitor, despite having declared his undying love for her, had never actually gone so far as to offer her more than a surreptitious peck on the cheek. Although she scarcely dared to take a breath, lest she ruined the spell, she tilted her head slightly, powerless to prevent either the expectant gleam that lit up her eyes or the hint of the smile that threatened to form.

  As he raised his head, Maitland’s questioning eyes sought hers and, even though he found it impossible to comprehend what he believed he saw in their depths, a shudder of longing ran through him. He let out a little groan and, without a second thought, he lowered his mouth to meet hers. Almost tentative, his kiss was sweetly gentle to begin with, for he was still sufficiently in command of his senses not to wish to alarm her. But then as, with a sudden leap of excitement, he became aware of Georgianne’s hands slowly creeping up around his neck, his desire mounted and the kiss deepened. His arms tightened compulsively as, pulling the provocative softness of her yielding curves to fit more snugly against his own taut masculinity, he lost himself completely in the magic of her eager response.

  Equally spellbound, Georgianne could hardly believe what was happening. Whilst it was true that she had hoped for another day or two of Maitland’s free-and- easy companionship, any real romantic involvement between the two of them had not entered the picture—it being totally out of the question, in any event. That she had fallen hopelessly in love with the man was beside the point, since he had given her no reason to suppose that he regarded her as anything more than his friend’s rather tiresome young relative. Putting aside the disquieting likelihood that it might well have been her own rather outrageous behaviour that had encouraged him into this precipitous course of action, she surrendered herself to the moment and returned his kiss with vigour.

  Very gradually, the full enormity of what was happening began to seep into Maitland’s brain until suddenly, as though a bucket of ice-cold water had been flung over him, he snapped to attention. With an odd guttural sound that was halfway between a sob and a groan, he uncoupled Georgianne’s hands from his neck and thrust himself away from her.

  ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry!’ he panted, staring down at her, his expression an odd mixture of self-revulsion and utter chagrin. ‘Catford will never forgive me!’

  Still reeling from the shock of the unexpected abandonment, it took Georgianne some little while to register his words. Catford? she thought, her brow furrowing in a puzzled frown.

  Taking a deep breath, having just experienced the most heady and fulfilling moments of her life, she was not yet entirely in control of her senses. Fumbling hopelessly with her top buttons in an effort to focus her mind, she blurted out, somewhat irritably, ‘I doubt that he is likely to find out, unless one or other of us feels obliged to inform him!’

  He spun round to face her, a questioning look in his eyes. ‘And you don’t intend to?’ he asked, rather too eagerly for Georgianne’s liking.

  Her heart plummeted and she was filled with a deep sense of humiliation. Whilst she was well aware of the close camaraderie that existed between Maitland and her cousin, she found it hard to believe that the two men confided every single one of their innermost secrets to each other and, as for what had actually happened— well, dammit, she thought, with an angry shrug, it was only a kiss! And, whilst it was true that, to her, it had been a truly heart-stopping experience, she was reasonably sure that it could not have affected Maitland to any similar degree. He was, after all, a man of the world and although it had not escaped her that he had, for a short while at least, shown rather a partiality for her friend, Stephanie—for whom that state of affairs was an almost everyday occurrence—Georgianne still could not find it in her heart to think him a philanderer.

  ‘It was only a kiss!’ she retorted, reaching for her still- damp stock and, with a slight grimace, winding it quickly around her neck. ‘Hardly a hanging matter, in my opinion. Why you would think that I should wish to mention the matter to anyone else, I simply cannot imagine!’

  Somewhat stunned to hear that Georgianne appeared to be perfectly content to dismiss what had just happened between them as having been of little account, Maitland, unable to conjure up a suitable reply, thought it best to remain silent. In point of fact, for one fleeting moment, he began to wonder whether it was possible that she actually made a habit of flirting with the friends of her prospective groom—a thought that he quickly dismissed as soon as it entered his head! Probably just a last grasp at freedom before she ties the knot, he persuaded himself, for he could not bear to think of her as perfidious. Nevertheless, if she had no intention of broadcasting the event about the place, then he would do as well to put it right out of his mind—if he could, that was! The recollection of her deliciously yielding lips pressed against his own was a memory that he would find nigh on impossible to forget!

  In an effort to distract his mind from the impious thoughts that persisted, he strode to the doorway to determine the state of the weather.

  ‘It seems that you were right,’ he said, turning back to Georgianne. ‘There’s a distinct lightening in the sky and the rain has eased off considerably. Another five minutes or so should do it.’

  ‘That’s good,’ she replied, in a purposefully noncommittal tone, as she continued to do up her jacket buttons. ‘Our poor horses will be glad to get back in the dry. They won’t have enjoyed being out there in all that rain.’

  ‘I dare say
they will have managed to find themselves a bit of shelter somewhere or other,’ he said, in an effort to reassure her. ‘Horses are usually pretty good at making the best of things, whatever the weather— a-hah! The rain has finally stopped, I see! I’ll just go and give your saddle a quick wipe and then we can be on our way.’

  Grabbing his jacket from its improvised hook, he shrugged himself into it and made his way round to the corner of the building where, as he had supposed, the two horses had managed to huddle together under the overhanging eaves of the thatch and were now quite contentedly cropping the wet grass at their feet.

  ‘Good lad!’ he said, giving Pegasus’s nose a swift pat then, pulling out his handkerchief, he proceeded to apply it vigorously to Brandy’s saddle. By which time, Georgianne had reached his side.

  ‘All ready to go?’ he asked, in as cheery a tone as he could muster.

  At her brief nod, he put his hands around her waist and, willing his mind to blank out everything but the job in hand, he tossed her up on to her saddle, steadying the mare’s head while her rider rearranged her skirt and settled herself into her seat.

  Then, without further ado, he leapt up on to his own mount, gathered up the reins and, with Georgianne at his heels, started to head back in the direction they had come.

  The ride back to the stableyard was completed in total silence. And, not in a breathless gallop as their outward journey had been, but in an unsatisfactory jog- trot, with each of them choosing to make his or her own way through the multitude of deep puddles that had collected in the hollows of the scrubland as a result of the storm.

  When, at last, they reached the Hall, an anxious- faced groom ran out to take Brandy’s head, while Georgianne let herself down on to the mounting-block.

  ‘We was all gettin’ a bit worried about you, miss,’ he confided, his young voice filled with concern. ‘His lordship has been talking about sending out a search party!’

  ‘Thank you, Dick,’ she replied, and although she was feeling singularly tired and depressed, she managed to give the lad what was intended to be a smile of reassurance. ‘Mr Maitland and I did manage to find shelter for the worst of it. I suppose I had better go and inform Lord Catford of our safe return.’ Then, turning to face Maitland, who had remained in his saddle, she asked, somewhat hesitantly, ‘Will you be free to ride again tomorrow morning, Mr Maitland?’

  For several moments he made no response, fighting with his conscience while every nerve in his body willed him to answer in the affirmative then, very reluctantly, he shook his head. ‘I think not, Miss Venables, if you will forgive me. I believe I shall be leaving in the next day or so and there are one or two matters that need my attention before I go.’

  She stepped closer, the distress in her eyes plain to see. ‘But you will still be attending my aunt’s ball tomorrow night, I trust?’

  It was only with considerable strength of will that Maitland managed to restrain himself from reaching out his hand to caress her cheek.

  ‘I shall certainly endeavour to put in an appearance,’ he replied. ‘If only to bid you all adieu!’

  As her eyes followed his progress out of the yard, Georgianne’s heart made a rapid descent into her boots. Gone, and without even a backward glance, she thought glumly, as she trudged towards the back porch, trying to console herself with the fact that, no matter how much she wished it to the contrary, it would all have come to nought in the end. Fighting back the tears that threatened, she reminded herself of the vow she had taken—to simply enjoy every moment of Will Maitland’s company while she could and then return to her normal way of life, hugging her precious secret to her heart. Now, due to a foolish indiscretion on her part, the whole affair had gone badly wrong! Even the still vivid memory of his kiss failed to jolt her out of her fit of the dismals, since Maitland had given her every reason to suppose that he deeply regretted the incident, even seeming to be more concerned with what his friend might think of his behaviour than of any feelings she might have on the matter!

  But then, with a determined toss of her head, she pulled off her boots, straightened her shoulders and padded across to the library where, according to his usual custom, Cat was sure to be ensconced with the morning papers. And, whilst her normal good sense was telling her that she would simply have to put the whole miserable business out of her mind and chalk it down to experience, her innermost self was pointing out that this course of action, in fact, looked likely to prove a great deal more heart-wrenching than she had originally supposed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Unable to face the prospect of returning to the Dun Cow where, after the previous evening’s social gathering, he knew that he was only too likely to find himself surrounded by hordes of noisy, rumbustious strangers, Maitland sought out a small inn some distance away from the little market town and ordered up a hefty breakfast.

  After just a few mouthfuls, however, he was obliged to push the plate away, the continual recoiling of his stomach, as the morning’s disastrous happenings played and replayed themselves in his mind, preventing him from doing justice to the landlady’s tasty offerings.

  If only he could get away right now, he thought to himself, he could no doubt find plenty to occupy his mind when he got back to Ravenhill, the family estate in Buckinghamshire. Or, perhaps, he could collect a few of his friends and spend a couple of weeks up at his hunting lodge in the Lake District, or maybe even pay a visit to London—it had been some months since he had spent any time in the capital.

  But then, as he well knew, none of these diversions would serve to cure him of this painful ache deep within his heart. Not only had he committed the cardinal sin of falling in love with a one-time comrade-in- arms’s betrothed, he had actually had the temerity to try to make love to her! And, despite Georgianne’s casual reference to it having been ‘only a kiss’, he knew better. For him, at least, it had been an earth-shattering, never-to-be-forgotten moment of unalloyed enchantment! Nevertheless, whilst he realised that putting in an appearance at Lady Letitia’s ball on the following evening was not something that he could, in all conscience, avoid, he could not, for the life of him, see how he was ever going to look Catford in the eye again!

  Sunk in the pit of his own sense of hopelessness, he failed to notice the passage of time until, jerked back to dismal reality by the noisy arrival of a group of excited and highly voluble individuals, he leaned back in his chair, stretched and got to his feet, anxious to leave as quickly as possible. His way, however, was blocked by one of the aforementioned individuals who, after raising his glass to him, exclaimed, ‘Great news, eh? Now we can all sleep safely in our beds again!’

  Maitland gave a puzzled frown. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he said, in the most courteous tone that he could muster, in his present frame of mind.

  ‘Good God, man!’ cried one of the man’s companions, turning from the bar in surprise. ‘You mean you haven’t heard? They’ve finally caught the slippery little devil!’

  ‘Slippery little devil?’ repeated Maitland, still perplexed, but then, as the man’s meaning suddenly dawned upon him, his face cleared and he gave an appreciative smile. ‘I take it that you are referring to the notorious highwayman? Caught him at last, have they?’

  The first man nodded. ‘Better than that!’ he crowed excitedly. ‘Dead as the proverbial doornail, he is! Young Jack Stamford—Squire Stamford’s lad, that is— whipped out his pistol and shot the beggar clean through the head!’

  ‘Good for him!’ said Maitland approvingly. ‘Have they managed to identify him—the highwayman, that is? There was some talk of him being a local man.’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ returned the man. ‘Turns out he was one of the stable hands at the Dun Cow—ideal base from which to plan such capers, if you want my opinion. The devil was an ex-army chap too, by all accounts!’

  He then went on at some length about what he had seen and what he had heard, but Maitland was no longer listening to him.

  An ex-army chap! Surely to God he ca
n’t be talking about Pete Andrews, he thought in dismay and, turning swiftly on his heel, he made for the door, rudely cutting off his would-be raconteur in mid-sentence.

  Having already paid his shot, he collected Pegasus and hurried back to the Dun Cow, where he found the stableyard, much as he had feared, swarming with a huge press of individuals, including a full troop of dragoons, complete with their mounts. Of Pete Andrews, there was no sign. Indeed, as Maitland very quickly realised, when he looked for someone to relieve him of his horse, there was not a single ostler or stable-hand to be found.

  Hurriedly looping Pegasus’s reins over a convenient hitching-post, he shouldered his way through the crowds of curious bystanders who had turned up—no doubt hoping to catch sight of the dead highwayman’s grisly remains, he thought grimly—and headed for the equally crowded taproom.

  Craning his head, he spotted his cousin Fenton, who was loudly giving forth to anyone who cared to listen that he was not at all sorry to hear of the fellow’s demise, since he himself had always known him to be a villain! ‘Why, only the other day,’ he declared, his face full of indignation, ‘the damned scoundrel knocked over a bucket of horse dung directly in my path and almost ruined a perfectly good pair of boots!’

  ‘Did you get the man’s name?’ demanded Maitland who, having eventually succeeded in reaching him, clutched at his arm with some urgency.

  Turning to see who was handling his best jacket with so little respect, his cousin exclaimed, ‘Oh, there you are, Will!’ Then, after drawing him to one side, he demanded, ‘Where on earth have you been all this time? The most amazing thing has happened! You know that chap who used to—’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard all about it,’ Maitland cut in curtly. ‘Do you happen to know what the fellow’s name is?’

  Fenton looked affronted. ‘’Course I know what his name is! Should’ve thought the whole town knows what his name is! Haven’t I just been telling you?’