To Win the Lady

by Mary Nichols

  Moving surprisingly swiftly, he darted to cut off her escape and dragged her back into the room, so infuriated that he could not contain himself. He ripped her jacket from her, tore at her blouse and chemise, exposing her breasts. The sight of them inflamed him further and he bent down to kiss them, fumbling behind her for the ties of her skirt. She bit the lobe of his ear as hard as she could.

  ‘Bitch!’ he screeched, slapping her face with the back of his hand and making her head rock.

  She opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could. He put a hand over her mouth and dragged her back to the sofa. ‘You want a fight, miss, then you shall have it.’ He tossed her on to the sofa and threw himself on top of her, struggling to lift her skirts. He was heavy, too heavy. She squirmed beneath him, crying and begging. All pride had gone now; there was nothing left but to appeal to his mercy. But he had none. His mouth was roaming all over her neck and breasts, his hands were kneading her thighs, forcing them apart. There was nothing she could do. She managed to free one hand and thrust it upwards, but there was nothing to get hold of; she grasped the empty air. It was the end for her and she wished sincerely that she might die.

  Chapter Eight

  Richard had driven the curricle round the house to the stables in order to talk to Dawson about the arrangements for the race and was pleased to see the groom’s craggy features break into a broad smile at the prospect of being involved. It was a capital rig and he assured the Major that he knew Miss Georgie very well and though she might grumble she was not really a crosspatch and when the time came would enter into the spirit of the thing and be as keen as anyone on it. He’d lay odds she’d come round about Warrior too and the Major would be able to count on having the stallion. ‘She knows it won’t do her stables a ha’porth of harm to put up the horses for the winner,’ he said. ‘And you will win, won’t you, sir?’

  Richard smiled. ‘Naturally I will. There are two horses coming from Newmarket the day after tomorrow. Miss Paget has agreed to bring them up to scratch. You’ll watch out for them?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  They spoke for several minutes about the training of the horses and the positioning of the men and as Richard turned to leave Dawson asked, ‘What did you think of Bright Star, Major? Do you think she’s a goer?’

  ‘Undoubtedly. We’ve entered her for a race at Newmarket next week with Manfred up. She should get through the first heats, at least.’ He climbed into the curricle and picked up the reins. ‘I must be going if I am to get home before it is too dark to see. Goodnight to you, Mr Dawson.’ He flicked the reins to turn the vehicle in the yard.

  ‘Did it to a whisker,’ Tom said, watching in admiration.

  The curricle was just about to leave the yard when Fanny came running from the house in great distress. ‘Help her!’ she cried. ‘Help her! Miss Georgie, she’s in trouble...’

  Richard had scrambled down at the first sight of the distraught maid and without waiting for explanations rushed into the house and through the kitchen. He paused in the hall, wondering which way to go, and then he heard the pitiful cries. In a second he had crossed the floor and thrown open the drawing-room door. It crashed back against the wall, startling the man who lay sprawled on the sofa. In two strides Richard was upon him. With one hand he pulled him upright by the collar of his coat and with the other crashed a fist into his face. The man sank to his knees on the floor, bleeding from the nose, just as Dawson arrived.

  ‘Throw him out,’ Richard commanded, and turned his attention to Georgie, sitting down beside her on the sofa and taking her in his arms. ‘Hush, my love,’ he said, stroking the hair gently from her face as she sobbed in his arms. ‘Hush now. He won’t trouble you again.’ Gently he pulled her torn blouse across to try and cover her and held her close to him, shielding her nakedness from the two men.

  Dawson strode across the room, so incensed that he would have attacked Lord Barbour, peer of the realm or not, if Richard had not looked over Georgie’s head and seen his fury in his eyes. ‘I said, throw him out, man, no more.’

  ‘Not until he gets what he deserves.’ The stable-master raised a fist but surprisingly Lord Barbour stood his ground, watching Richard and Georgie.

  ‘What a pretty picture,’ he sneered, taking a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiping blood from his nose. ‘I see it now. That is why she was so stiff-rumped with me; the wench had other irons in the fire. Does your sister know about it, my dear Georgiana?’

  Richard started up, intending he knew not what, but Georgie pulled on his sleeve. ‘No, Richard, he is not worth it. Let him go. He can’t harm us.’

  ‘Can’t I? Zounds! We shall see about that.’ Dawson was tugging on his arm, but he was resisting strenuously. `All London shall know of your duplicity. I came here, with the permission of your uncle, to propose to you, and find you not alone in the house, chaperoned by servants, as everyone supposed you to be, but in the arms of a lover. Everyone says what a prodigious good sister you are, always putting Felicity before yourself; what will they say when they learn that, far from that, you have been deceiving her, entertaining this. . this thatch-gallows? No one will want to know either of you, least of all your families. Not only you but your sister, Miss Paget, will be ruined by the scandal.’

  He looked Richard up and down with contempt. ‘As for you, I collect the Viscount turned you out of his house. Something to do with your stepmother, wasn’t it?’

  Richard scrambled to his feet and dealt his lordship a blow to the chin that sent him sprawling against Dawson, who stepped back, allowing him to slide to the ground.

  ‘Get up!’ Richard commanded. ‘Get up and put up your guard.’

  The man rose to his knees and Richard stood with feet apart and fists clenched, ready to knock him down again, but Lord Barbour, knowing that pugilism was one of Richard’s sports, was so slow in taking up the challenge that Georgie was able to run between them.

  ‘No, Richard, you’ll kill him!’ She grabbed his upraised arm, forgetting her chemise was torn. It fell open and she hurriedly pulled it together again. ‘Please don’t make matters worse.’

  The red rage subsided and he turned to put his arm about her shoulders. ‘No, you are right, he is not worth it.’ To Lord Barbour he said, ‘Go now, before I change my mind.’

  His lordship scrambled to his feet and made his way to the door, where Fanny stood with mouth agape. She moved aside to allow the two men through. On the threshold Lord Barbour turned. ‘I shall see you at Tyburn in two weeks, Major. If you are not there, your wager will be lost along with your reputation. I advise you to take very good care of yourself until then.’ Then he was gone to find the horse he had hidden in the lane, closely followed by Dawson to make sure he went.

  Richard ordered Fanny to make up a soothing draught for her mistress, then shut the door and went back to Georgie, who was standing in the middle of the room clutching her torn clothing.

  The whole incident had passed in a matter of minutes, but it had taken so much out of her - the physical struggle, the mental anguish, the emotion and relief when Richard had rescued her - that she felt drained. The room seemed to spin and her knees buckled. He was across the floor in seconds, picking her up and carrying her back to the sofa, where he put her down very gently. He did not take his eyes off her face and for a long time they looked at each other, their emotions too heightened for them to speak. He tried to smile, to reassure her, but found he could not.

  Bending his head, he kissed her very gently on the lips. It was a butterfly touch, undemanding and all the sweeter for that, and she found herself weeping. He moved his head back so that he could look at her and was overwhelmed with love and tenderness. He lifted a finger and stroked the tears from her pale cheek. She shivered at his touch, wanting him so desperately.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ she whispered.

  ‘I think we should call Fanny to put you to bed.’ His voice was a croak.

  She smiled weakly but he did not move. ‘I
meant about...’ She stopped. What did she mean? That she loved him and his kiss had told her that he was not entirely indifferent to her? Or was he simply trying to comfort her? She gulped. ‘About that devil. Can he ruin us?’

  ‘Only if we let him.’

  ‘No one will believe the truth, will they?’

  ‘Of course they will.’ But he did not sound at all convinced.

  ‘I have ruined everything for Felicity.’

  ‘You have done nothing wrong, my dear. It is that blackguard...’ His jaw tightened and his fists clenched involuntarily when he thought of what might have happened.

  ‘If he goes back to London and spreads his evil, we are done for.’

  ‘You don’t want to marry him, do you?’

  ‘It is the last thing I want.’ She shuddered. ‘It was because I refused that he tried to... But he might just as well have done, for that is how Society will view it. And now you and I are alone.’

  ‘Then marry me.’

  She scrambled into a sitting position and stared at him in astonishment. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Marry me. It would answer the gossips.’

  ‘Indeed it would not,’ she said so quickly that he was taken aback. Just because he had rescued her from a terrible fate, and she had lain in his arms, that was no reason to take advantage of her. She had been weak, but that was all over; now she felt surprisingly strong and abrasive. ‘I am surprised at you, Major Baverstock, for suggesting such a thing. Have you no feelings for my sister? Or any consideration for me either?’

  ‘It was consideration for you which made me speak. And I doubt your sister will have me, after all.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ she said, entirely misunderstanding him. ‘My sister will not believe his lordship’s evil gossip; she is far too sensible. If you go to her, explain exactly what happened here, she will understand.’

  ‘Go to her?’ His hopes, so high a moment before, were dashed. ‘As if nothing had changed?’

  ‘Nothing has changed, Major.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I am indebted to you for your help, but you must go now.’

  It was in his mind to protest that it was dark outside and a journey of some fifteen miles across somewhat rough country in a curricle would be hazardous, but he hurriedly decided against that; such ploys would put him on a par with Lord Barbour in her eyes. And he must have been mistaken in his reading of the expression in her eyes a few moments ago. It was gratitude, not love, and he had been a blind fool, blinded by his own feelings for her, and clumsy too. Instead of extricating himself he had thrown himself even deeper into the mire.

  He rose stiffly and, taking her hand, bowed over it. ‘Goodnight, Miss Paget.’ And with that he strode to the door and flung it open.

  Out in the hall Fanny was holding a glass containing some thick dark liquid and relating her version of events to Mrs Thorogood, who had only just returned, in a fine stew at not being able to find her beloved mistress, and who now, knowing she was safe, was leading forth at great length at having been sent on a wild-goose chase. They both turned towards him as he came out of the room.

  ‘Go to your mistress,’ he said. ‘She has had more than one great shock today.’ Then he left by the front door without another word and climbed into his curricle.

  Georgie heard the carriage wheels on the gravel growing fainter and fainter and knew he had gone. She had half risen from her seat, perhaps to go after him, but now she sank back and, putting her head in her hands, sobbed as if her heart were cleft in two.

  ‘There, there, Miss Georgie,’ Fanny said, offering her the glass containing some horrible concoction she had made up. ‘Drink this up and you’ll feel better. That horrible Lord Barbour has gone; he won’t trouble you again. It was a good thing the Major was still here.’

  ‘Yes,’ Georgie agreed, taking the glass and looking up at her maid with red-rimmed eyes. ‘But how did it come about?’

  ‘I didn’t know his lordship was in the house, truly I didn’t. To be sure I heard the doorbell but I knew Mrs Thorogood would answer it and I was busy in your room, sorting your clothes. I took a torn skirt up to my room to mend and didn’t hear a thing more until I finished it and was bringing it back to hang in the wardrobe. I thought I heard voices in the drawing-room and I wondered who was there; I hadn’t heard you come back, you see. I saw your hat on the chair in the hall and went down to fetch it and put it away. Then I heard you shouting and a man answering. I knew something was wrong and ran out to the stables to find Mr Dawson. The Major was just leaving. Oh, how glad I am he was there. I dread to think...’

  ‘Then we will not think,’ Georgie said crisply, once more in command of herself. ‘I think I shall go up to bed.’

  She stood up and was surprised to find that she could walk quite steadily. Fanny rushed to her aid, but she waved her away. ‘You see what a tough old bird I am, Fanny.’

  Fanny did not believe her and continued to hover behind her as she made her way upstairs, following her into her room and helping her undress. ‘Now there’s more mending and pressing,’ she grumbled, but it was only meant to cheer her mistress. ‘I’ve only just finished setting all to rights after the last little adventure. Seems to me, Miss Georgie, you attract adventure like a magnet.’

  ‘I do, don’t I? But burn those clothes; I shall never wear them again.’

  ‘But there’s nothing wrong with them that can’t be repaired.’

  ‘Do as I say. I cannot bear to touch them after...’

  ‘Yes, Miss Georgie, of course.’ Fanny did not think her mistress was as tough as she pretended to be. And she must be worried by his lordship’s threats as he left. ‘Don’t you worry, my pretty,’ she said softly, using an endearment she had used when Georgie was a child, as she tucked her between the sheets. ‘That man can’t hurt you, not when me and Mrs Thorogood are ready to swear you were never alone with him. Nor with the Major neither.’

  ‘You mustn’t perjure yourself for me,’ Georgie murmured, drowsy now that the sleeping-draught was taking effect.

  Fanny smiled as she bundled up the discarded clothes, ready to obey Georgie’s orders to burn them. Her servants would lie for her, of course they would, and they would kill for her if they had to. ‘Go to sleep,’ she said, creeping from the room.

  Georgie slept but as soon as she opened her eyes the following morning she relived the whole incident, every detail, every gesture, every word that had been said. In the cool light of a summer morning, with the sun shining and the birds twittering outside her window, it seemed as though it must have been a terrible nightmare. Had Lord Barbour really come here and tried to rape her? Had Richard really rescued her? Had she lain in his arms half naked and not even cared because it was so comforting to be held by him? Had she cried his name? Had he really suggested she should marry him to avert a scandal over her good name at the expense of Felicity’s?

  That was the hardest to bear, because in any other circumstances she would have been overjoyed at the prospect of having him for a husband, but not like this. She was beginning to wonder whether he was a suitable spouse for her sister if his affections could so easily change direction. But what to do about it she did not know. If only there were someone to ask. She could write to her aunt, of course, but what could she say? I don’t think Felicity should marry Richard Baverstock, after all? What reason could she give that sounded reasonable enough for her aunt not to think she had taken leave of her senses? Besides, Mrs Bertram was due to leave the country any day now and it would be unfair to trouble her. She had to cope alone.

  Coping, to Georgie, meant work and as soon as this decision was reached she jumped out of bed and dressed in her old comfortable shirt and breeches and went down to the kitchen. Mrs Thorogood bade her good morning but made no other comment as her mistress sat at the kitchen table to eat toast and drink chocolate. She watched her eat and cleared away after she had gone out to the yard. ‘She’s got over it remarkable well,’ she told Fanny when the maid came down searching for her mistre
ss. ‘Gone out riding, I’ll be bound. And after that she’ll get back to work. To be sure there’s nothing like it for curing a broken heart.’

  ‘You reckon her heart is broken?’

  ‘Yes, don’t you?’

  ‘Maybe, but I think we should keep our thoughts to ourselves.’

  ‘Well, I’m sure I’m not one to prattle,’ Mrs Thorogood said stiffly. ‘I mind me own business.’

  Georgie herself would have agreed with her servants; her heart was broken, but no one but those two would have known it as she settled down into her old routine, caring for her beloved horses. She was the same practical down-to-earth woman she had been before her trip to London, but her problems had not gone away. There were too few customers and her overheads were overwhelming.

  Lord Barbour had known that, of course. With a man in control, the customers would come, for there was nothing wrong with the stock. Perhaps she ought to have made a greater push to find a husband as soon as possible after her father died, but it was too late now. Lord Barbour would spread his evil gossip and those few customers she did have would cease to patronise her. She would be obliged to sell, and sell at a ridiculously low price.

  But it had not come to that yet. She was a fighter and she would go on fighting. She had the money from the two horses she had sold to Lord Dullingham and that would help pay wages for a few weeks more. And there was that race. It was going to cost quite a bit in extra hay, oats and wages, for she needed extra men to look after them. The race was becoming as important to her as it was to Major Baverstock, though for different reasons.

  Next time he came, she would tell him he could have Warrior. But would there be a next time? Would he simply send her curt messages about what he wanted done? Would he assume his horses were ready without coming to check for himself? She knew him too well to believe that; he would want to oversee every detail himself. She would have to meet him, talk to him, and pretend nothing was wrong between them.