Meg Alexander

by The Gentlemans Demand

  ‘I was never questioned, Nicholas. There was no question of betrayal.’

  ‘We could not be sure of that.’

  Sophie disengaged herself from his embrace. ‘You said that there were other reasons,’ she challenged. ‘Will you go on? I’d like to know exactly why and when you decided to continue in this deception.’

  Hatton put his head in his hands. ‘Does it matter, Sophie? You say you love me. Isn’t that enough?’

  Sophie stared at him. ‘Of course it matters,’ she replied. ‘When I was a girl I married a man whose life was based upon deception, whether it was concerned with money or…or other women. I can’t allow it to happen to me again.’

  ‘I should have told you, my darling.’ Hatton’s face was a study in misery. ‘But I wanted to be sure that you loved me for myself alone.’

  ‘I see.’ Sophie might have turned to stone. ‘You felt that the prospect of wealth and a title might have persuaded me into marriage, however much I disliked you?’

  Hatton did not reply.

  ‘I suppose it is understandable.’ Now Sophie’s tone was cutting. ‘You must have been the catch of several London Seasons. How many match-making mamas have you managed to fend off, to say nothing of their hopeful daughters? It has given you a biased impression of the female sex.’

  Again he said nothing.

  ‘Will you please go now?’ she said in a high, clear voice. ‘We can have nothing more to say to each other. I was mistaken in you and, clearly, you do not know me at all.’

  Hatton attempted to take her hands. ‘Don’t send me away like this,’ he pleaded. ‘I love you, Sophie, and I thought you loved me.’

  ‘I thought so too, but now it is over. I won’t be misled again. Now you had best find Nancy. Harward intends to move his cargo tonight. You won’t wish for anything to go wrong.’

  ‘Don’t you mean anything else?’ His look was ghastly. ‘Sophie, please! I beg you to reconsider—’

  ‘No!’ She would not look at him. ‘There is nothing more to say.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Hatton went without another word, leaving Sophie numb with misery. Happiness had come so close, only to be snatched away again.

  She had loved Nicholas with all her heart, and she’d trusted him implicitly, only to be deceived once more.

  Had she been unreasonable? She thought not. She could understand his reasoning in part. Harward would have found no difficulty in forcing her to betray her lover’s true identity if his suspicions had been aroused. A threat to Kit would have been enough. Then his carefully planned operation would have failed, with dire consequences for her country.

  Worse, Nicholas would have been murdered out of hand, as others had been before him. As for herself and Kit? She understood Harward well enough to know that he would leave no witnesses. No one able to identify him would be left alive. He would not hesitate to order a wholesale massacre. Betrayal would not have saved her.

  She found that she was shaking with terror, but she made a supreme effort to regain her composure. What was done was done. She could not unsay the words which had hurt her lover so deeply. Nor did she wish to do so. Her own common sense told her that he had been right to hide his identity when they first met.

  What she could not forgive was his assumption that the prospect of wealth and a title would influence her decision to accept his offer of marriage.

  How could she have been so mistaken in him? Clearly, he didn’t know her at all. A moment’s thought would have reminded him that her first marriage had been to a penniless Revenue Officer. Then, she had not hesitated to put love before possessions.

  But Nicholas knew that the scars of that marriage were not yet completely healed. Perhaps he had believed that she would not care to repeat the experiment. The man is a fool, she thought with a spurt of anger. Surely he could have trusted her enough to believe that she loved him for himself alone.

  A little worm of doubt assailed her. Others had not done so. For years he had been the target of every match-making mama in London. He spoke of them with cold contempt, knowing the reasons for their overtures.

  Sophie felt very cold. Now she found that she was rocking back and forth, rubbing her arms in an effort to restore some warmth to her icy limbs. She needed to think and her thoughts were not encouraging.

  Was she behaving like some silly schoolgirl? She’d already admitted to herself that in some respects his decision to use an assumed name had been the right one. Why could she not accept it?

  She knew the answer well enough. She’d lived with deceit for too many years ever to wish to become a victim again, but she might have forgiven even that, once she knew a valid reason for it.

  What had shocked her to the core was the feeling that she and Nicholas were strangers to each other. She’d believed that they had grown so close, but his doubting her integrity had killed that belief.

  She could not know it, but he too was regretting his explanations to her. What demon had persuaded him to tell her of that final reason for hiding his identity? He’d known at once that it was a mistake. He’d seen the closed expression on her face, and who could wonder at it?

  Even to suggest that wealth and a title would sway a woman of character such as Sophie was an unforgivable insult. Well, it served him right. At the last, his pride had been his undoing. He’d wanted only to be honest with her. Instead, he’d driven her away.

  Now he cursed himself. For a time it had been sensible to conceal his identity from her, if only to ensure that his plans would not be put in danger. Now, when his quarry was almost in the trap, he should have trusted her.

  She had loved him enough to agree to become his wife, knowing almost nothing about him, he thought in anguish. Today, when she’d accepted him, he should have revealed that final secret. At this stage, no harm could come to her. Instead, she’d been forced to learn it from another. The agony of his loss was almost too much to bear.

  Then Matthew entered the room.

  ‘Have you found Nancy?’ Hatton asked.

  ‘No, sir. The men have searched the outbuildings and the wood, but there’s no sign of her.’

  ‘And indoors?’

  Matthew shook his head. ‘She could be anywhere. There are places enough to hide.’

  Hatton nodded his agreement. The inn had been used for years by the smuggling fraternity. Even he did not know the full extent of the alterations which he suspected had been made to the building. If the rooms were measured against each other and compared with the walls outside he would have wagered on discrepancies in those measurements. A man might disappear within the walls simply by pressing a certain section of the wooden panelling to give access to the space behind.

  ‘Nancy may have found such a place,’ he ordered. ‘She cannot stay concealed for long, so you must continue to keep watch. It’s important that we find her.’

  ‘And if we do?’

  ‘I think you should pass the word that no one must attempt to take her on their own. She has a gun, as you well know, and at this present time she can’t be held responsible for her actions. An accident now would mean disaster.’

  ‘So what must we do, sir?’

  ‘Go on looking. If you find her, keep her under observation. We mustn’t lose her again. I must away for a short time, but I’ll return as soon as possible.’

  Hatton picked up his gloves and his riding crop, flung his many-caped coat about his shoulders, and set off for the stables.

  Seated by the window of her bedchamber, Sophie watched him ride away. She felt that her heart was breaking. Was this the last that she would ever see of him? Without him her future seemed bleak indeed, but it had been her own decision. She would not, could not, change her mind. Fighting the overwhelming urge to open the window and call him back to her, she turned away.

  As she made her way down the stairs she became aware that the atmosphere within the inn had changed. There was a curious air of tension about the place.

  With every sense alert
she walked into the kitchen to find her fears confirmed. Bess and her daughter were very pale. Neither looked as if they had slept, and their eyes were haunted.

  Sophie sank into a chair. ‘Bess, I’d like some chocolate, if you please, and I think I might eat a roll.’

  Bess looked startled by this apparent return to normality, but she bestirred herself to do Sophie’s bidding. Then she flung her apron over her head and began to wail. Abby looked about to do the same.

  ‘Stop that at once!’ Sophie ordered. ‘What good will it serve? I had thought better of you.’

  Beth’s wails changed to gasping sobs. ‘We thought she’d murdered you,’ she whimpered. ‘When Mr Hatton could not rouse you we thought you must be poisoned, ma’am.’

  ‘What nonsense! Where would Nancy find the means to poison me? She hasn’t left the inn.’

  ‘There are certain plants—’

  ‘None of which can be found in winter, especially with snow upon the ground. Now, do be sensible, Bess. All that happened was that Nancy gave me the sedative intended for herself. It was a sleeping draught.’

  ‘Wicked creature! I don’t know how she durst do that.’

  ‘Nancy’s mind is sick. You know that well enough. Now, tell me exactly what happened yesterday. I have no recollection of it. At what hour did you find me?’

  ‘Mistress, it was late. We’d none of us closed our eyes. What with the orders to keep the shutters closed, and all the men on edge, we were afeared. It must have been in the early hours when Mr Hatton came to find you. He looked that worried…’

  Sophie eyed her servant coolly. Hatton’s worry was not for her, she imagined, but for the failure of his plans. At that hour he would have expected to be on his way to London, following Harward to his destination.

  ‘What then?’ she demanded.

  ‘Well, ma’am, he was like a man demented. He looked ready to kill us all for leaving you alone with Nancy, especially when he heard about the pistol.’

  ‘I hope you told him that it was my decision.’

  ‘He wouldn’t listen!’ Abby began to weep again. ‘I thought that he would strike me. He said…he said…’

  ‘Never mind what he said!’ Sophie answered briskly. ‘I have not suffered any harm. Now, listen to me carefully. Have you any idea where we might find Nancy?’

  Both women shook their heads.

  ‘I doubt if she’ll be out of doors,’ Sophie considered. ‘In this weather she would freeze to death.’

  Abby could not repress a scream. ‘Oh, Mistress Firle, don’t say that she’s still here?’ She turned to her mother. ‘I won’t stay!’ she cried in panic. ‘I want to go back to the village. My aunt will take me in.’

  ‘Abby, you are a fool!’ Sophie did not trouble to hide her anger. ‘You are in no danger. Has Nancy ever tried to harm you?’

  Wild-eyed with terror though she was, Abby shook her head.

  ‘She had opportunity enough,’ Sophie continued calmly. ‘She could have threatened you with the pistol, or even knocked you on the head, but she did neither.’

  ‘You say that, ma’am, begging your pardon, but my girl did not try to cross her.’ Bess came at once to her daughter’s defence.

  ‘Nor will she do so now. Good heavens, Bess, I’m not asking either of you to stand up to Nancy. All I ask is that you tell me if you catch sight of her.’

  Bess was growing calmer. Now she nodded her agreement. ‘Mr Hatton said the same, even to the men. Even so, ma’am, we can’t stay. I said as much to Matthew. We’d like to leave as soon as it’s convenient.’

  ‘It’s never likely to be convenient,’ Sophie told her in despair. ‘Oh, Bess, I had such faith in you! You and Matthew have supported me even in the worst of times. Will you leave me now?’

  ‘I’m sorry, ma’am!’ Bess was adamant. ‘I know that you promised us a share whenever you came to sell the inn, but our lives are more important than the money.’

  ‘You are in no danger,’ Sophie cried. ‘Mr Hatton must have told you—’

  ‘We don’t believe him, ma’am. Things are happening here which none of us can understand. The gentleman may be powerful, but maybe he ain’t a match for those agin him.’

  Sophie was silent. She could no longer argue. For one thing, she had been deceiving these good people for the past few weeks. If the inn was not hers to sell, she could not give them a share of the proceeds.

  She’d placed her faith in Hatton. He would not see them destitute, but now that she had broken with him she could no longer ask him for any favours on behalf of her servants.

  Her shoulders drooped. ‘You must do as you think best,’ she said at last. ‘Meantime, Bess, I suppose that we must think about provisions?’

  Bess would not meet her eyes. ‘We’ve enough and to spare for the present, ma’am. The men must be fed, but I doubt if we’ll get any passing trade.’

  She was wrong. At noon the door to the inn flew open and a noisy group of customers trooped indoors.

  Sophie recognised them at once. The skating party had returned, with Hatton’s cousins among them.

  With an effort, she forced a smile. ‘Do you skate again today?’ she asked.

  ‘No, ma’am.’ The young man known as Wentworth bowed politely and gave her an engaging grin. ‘Today we have brought some other of our friends. We are in search of sustenance…’

  ‘Oh, dear! My cook may be at a pass to feed you all. You are eight in number, are you not? Let us see what we can do…’

  Sophie hurried back into the kitchen. ‘Bess, must we give them bread and cheese?’ she asked.

  ‘No, ma’am!’ Bess was on her mettle at once. ‘In this weather that won’t do. The young gentlemen will be cold and hungry.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Give me an hour, Mistress Firle. They may pass the time with their wine or ale. Then we’ll give them something for their bellies.’

  She was as good as her word. Within the hour the company was sitting at table with expectant faces and Sophie was amused to see that Kit was among them, seated on a pile of cushions. He smiled at her, and then returned to a serious discussion with one of his companions on the merits of different fishing flies.

  Bess had excelled herself, perhaps ashamed of her decision to abandon Sophie in her hour of need. A creamy leek and potato soup was accompanied by crusty bread. It vanished like snow in summer. This was followed by a dish of trout cooked in wine and butter.

  Sophie had been surprised. ‘How did you keep this fish?’ she asked Bess. ‘We could not have bought it recently.’

  ‘It was packed in ice, ma’am, and then stored in the cellar. As long as the ice don’t melt, it won’t go off.’

  Bess busied herself with the final touches to the dish, pounding up a mixture of herbs, capers, anchovy fillets and garlic with mustard and the juice of lemons. Then she mixed together butter and flour. Removing the trout from the baking dish, she heated up the remaining liquor and added the flour and butter paste. When it thickened she threw in the herb mixture and poured it over the fish.

  Up to this moment Sophie believed that she had lost her appetite, but the delicious aroma was tempting. At Wentworth’s insistence she sat down beside him and tasted a mouthful of the dish.

  ‘You must pray that the Prince never visits you, ma’am,’ he told her with a smile. ‘Most certainly he would try to take your cook away.’

  ‘You are very kind, sir. Bess will be delighted by that compliment. I must hope that your appetite is not flagging. You are to have ham braised in Madeira wine to follow.’

  ‘Splendid!’ Wentworth looked about him. ‘Yet we are your only customers, Mistress Firle. Why is that? With food such as you provide I had thought that your tables would be filled each day.’

  ‘We had been closed for several weeks,’ Sophie told him briefly. Though Hatton had claimed to be his cousin, the young man did not appear to have been taken into his confidence. Was that claim yet another attempt to deceive her?

  She could be sure of nothing,
except that the very ground beneath her feet seemed to shift with every hour that passed.

  Then Hatton entered the room, nodding an acknowledgement to the assembled company. As he took a vacant chair, Kit slid down from his high perch and climbed upon his knee.

  The tiny gesture of affection was too much for Sophie. With a muttered excuse she rose to seek the sanctuary of the snug. Once there, she gazed out at the winter landscape with unseeing eyes, aware only of the anguish in her heart, and the ruin of all her hopes and dreams.

  She and Nicholas could have been so happy, especially as Kit adored him so. Then his arms were round her, his cheek resting against her hair. She must have left the door ajar as she hadn’t heard his quiet approach.

  For one unguarded moment she melted into his embrace, enveloped in the animal magnetism that was so particularly his own. Then she stiffened and pulled away.

  ‘My darling, won’t you reconsider?’ he pleaded. ‘Say that you forgive me…’

  Sophie turned to face him, aware that the agony in his eyes must match her own. ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ she told him quietly. ‘We were mistaken in each other, that is all.’

  ‘Will you throw away our happiness because of a few words spoken in haste?’

  ‘I hope I should not be so foolish,’ she said with dignity. Suddenly she felt very calm. ‘Let me try to make you understand. I have had time to think, and I believe that events have overtaken us. We have been thrown together in unusual circumstances. Perhaps it is no wonder that we have fallen victim to illusion.’

  ‘That isn’t true!’ he groaned.

  ‘Isn’t it? Have we not each seen in the other some ideal, to be found only in a world of fantasy? I don’t know you, Nicholas. Everything has happened much too fast. Even now, I do not know your name.’

  ‘There, at least, I did not lie to you,’ he muttered. ‘My given names are Crispin Nicholas. I am the Viscount Hatton.’

  ‘I thank you for your honesty.’ Sophie’s face was grave. ‘I can only wish you well, my lord.’ She held out her hand. ‘Let us not part in anger. I must thank you for many kindnesses.’