The Lord and the Wayward Lady

by Louise Allen

  ‘I know,’ the earl confessed, and Marcus almost smiled at the gasp of surprise from Nell.

  ‘It was an accident,’ Marcus said, clarifying it for Hal. ‘I was following her, frightened her. And then I used that as a weapon to make her come here.’

  ‘So—’ the earl frowned ‘—Nell is stalked by our mysterious enemy, who must have exerted some time and trouble to trace her. She is sent with the silken rope, thus making her appear to be part of the conspiracy, then hounded by you and blackmailed into coming here. Do I have that correctly?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Marcus held the grey eyes. ‘I thought her in danger—and a danger to us. And you will both have to forgive me, but I put our family’s safety first.’

  ‘I forgive you,’ his father said dryly. ‘You will have to discuss absolution with Nell.’

  ‘We have nothing to discuss.’ She looked at him. ‘Nothing at all. I quite understand Marcus’s feelings.’ The look she directed at him said quite plainly that she placed no value on his declaration of love. He could hardly blame her. ‘Please, let me go home now.’

  What would she do now, if he went down on one knee and proposed in front of his father and Hal? Would she believe him then? For a crazy moment Marcus considered it. But she was distressed and angry, and if she said ‘no’ now, he sensed it would be irrevocable.

  ‘I offered to buy a business in a good area, something Nell could run. It would be a partnership,’ he said instead, and felt her relax a trifle. Yes, she had been afraid he would make some kind of declaration.

  ‘Would you like that?’ his father asked her. ‘I wanted to help your mother, but she vanished before I could try. It has always been a grief to me.’

  ‘Thank you.’ From somewhere, Nell found enough polite enthusiasm to reply. ‘That would be wonderful.’ And it would be. Comfort, respectability, control of her own destiny. A few weeks ago, she could have hoped for nothing better. It was the answer to her prayers.

  And beside her sat the answer to her dreams, and he had said he loved her. He had said it still half-suspecting her. He had said it as though it had been dragged out of him, as though he was ashamed of himself for loving the child of a traitor and a murderer, a woman fallen so far below her true station in life. Do you think I want to fall in love with a milliner? he had demanded. Which meant both that it could well be true and that it was an impossible basis for a relationship.

  Marcus could not marry her, even if he really did love her. The scandal would be terrible. She had no understanding of polite Society, of how the mills of gossip worked, but she could imagine the impact such a match would make.

  She could never ask it of him, even if this fog of mystery and danger was no longer hanging over them. And she would not be his mistress, even though she ached for him, because to live every moment waiting for him to marry another, as he must, would be hell, pure and simple.

  The men were talking, their voices a distant hum in her head. There was so much to come to terms with, so much to try to understand since that shot had rung out and shattered the fragile peace.

  ‘Nell?’

  She looked up and saw them all watching her. ‘I am sorry. I was not attending.’

  ‘Understandable,’ Marcus said. ‘We were agreeing that you cannot go back to London alone, not with this mystery still unsolved. Whoever is behind this does not bear you any goodwill, that is plain. At the very least, they do not care what happens to you.

  ‘Come back with us when we return and we will decide on what kind of shop you want, set it up, employ staff, find you a maid. That will all take some time.’

  ‘And if we never find who is behind all this?’

  ‘Then your establishment will include a bodyguard,’ Marcus said flatly. ‘For as long as necessary.’

  I don’t want a bodyguard, I want you, she thought, folding her hands tightly together to stop herself touching him, clinging to his hand. ‘What will you tell the others? Lady Narborough may not want me here when she knows who I am.’

  ‘She played with you as a baby, she would not spurn you now,’ the earl said, smiling at her. ‘I will tell her, but not the girls. Just now I told them that someone from the past, when I was working for the government, has returned with a grudge against me. There is no need to rake up more of that old tragedy than we need. It is sufficient to put them on their guard.’

  ‘I see,’ Nell murmured. ‘Thank you.’ Their voices seemed to come from a long way away. She felt numb, cold, tired and knew that beneath the numbness lay deep sadness, like water rushing beneath thick ice. They got up, leaving her. She was aware of the movement, of the door opening and closing, but she stayed in her chair, watching the leaping flames in the gate.

  ‘Nell?’

  ‘Oh!’ She spun round, heart in her mouth. ‘I thought you had all gone.’

  ‘No.’ Marcus smiled a little and came to lean an elbow on the mantle, looking down at her. At least he isn’t frowning, she thought vaguely, wondering why he was still there. ‘I do not think that telling a lady that you love her in the midst of a blazing row is very…sensible.’

  ‘No,’ she agreed. ‘It is not. Do you believe me now? Do you trust me?’

  ‘Yes. I believe you and I trust you. And, Nell, I do love you.’ She had never seen him so serious without that endearing frown. Almost, she could let herself believe him.

  ‘And whatever you do about that—except ignore it—will cause a scandal,’ she observed dispassionately, fighting the need to throw herself into his arms. ‘You cannot marry me. That would be shocking, especially with two sisters on the Marriage Mart. And if you made me your mistress and anyone found out who I was, then that would be almost as bad. Your loyalty might be called into question—to the Crown and to your father.’

  ‘Anyone questioning my loyalty will find themselves looking down the barrel of a pistol at dawn.’ His right hand flexed as he said it, and Nell shivered.

  ‘Wonderful, you will be killed because of me,’ she said.

  ‘I am an excellent shot,’ he countered. ‘What I aim at, I hit.’

  ‘Oh well, that is all right then,’ she retorted. ‘Do I stay behind to explain to your family why you have had to flee abroad having killed your man?’

  ‘Has anyone told you how infuriating you can be?’ Marcus demanded, coming upright in a sudden burst of temper.

  ‘Yes, you,’ Nell said, trying not to dwell on how magnificent he looked, towering over her, dark eyes blazing. ‘And I am not being infuriating now, merely right. You, on the other hand, are unused to anyone gainsaying you and are not, I have to point out, taking it very well.’

  ‘Then tell me how you feel, Nell.’ Marcus dropped to one knee with a suddenness that startled her. ‘Tell me how you feel about me. About us.’ He caught her hands in his. In the strong grip, she could feel a pulse thudding. Hers or his, she could not tell.

  I love you, I love you… She only had to say it and all her good resolutions would be for nothing. He would not let her go and the outcome—whatever it was—could not be happy. Not for them, not for his family.

  ‘I desire you,’ she said, making herself meet his eyes. ‘I find, when you touch me, that morals and proper behaviour seem to count as nothing. You kiss me and I go up in flames—and that is wrong and cannot last. And you make me weak.’ She laughed—shakily, it was true—but her amusement brought a flash of answering humour into his eyes.

  ‘Good,’ Marcus said, his voice husky, leaning in to her.

  ‘Not weak like that.’ Nell swayed back, away from his wicked, tempting mouth. ‘I am an independent woman. I must stand by myself, not come to lean on a man. You are too big,’ she complained, feeling suddenly tired and querulous. ‘I just want to sit back and let you fight my battles, and that will not do.’

  ‘Nell, you have agreed to let us help you,’ Marcus began. He was stroking the soft skin on the inside of her wrist. Nell closed her eyes for a moment, imagining his mouth there.

  ‘And I am very grateful a
nd fully intend it to be a business relationship,’ she said with as much firmness as she could manage. ‘I cannot be a dependent.’

  ‘I am not asking you to be a dependent, Nell, I am asking you to—’

  ‘No! No,’ she repeated, more gently. ‘Do not say anything that we will surely regret as soon as it is said. I will stay with your family until I can set up my business, and I am so grateful for that, I cannot properly express it.’

  Marcus sat back on his heels and shook his head at her, frowning. ‘And then, every Quarter Day,’ she persisted, ‘I will meet with your man of business and we will discuss profit and loss. I hope to be able to return you a respectable sum for your investment. And when your friends lament the amount their mistresses cost them in millinery and haberdashery, you will tell them of an elegant establishment you know where, if not exactly dagger cheap, one may find a stylish bonnet at a keen price.’

  ‘And you will be content?’

  ‘Of course. I will be too busy for foolish daydreams about…passion. And so will you be.’

  ‘I see.’ Marcus got to his feet. ‘How very practical you are, Nell. You pour a positive bucketful of cold water over heated dreams.’

  ‘That is how it has to be.’ Nell managed a smile. ‘I cannot afford dreams.’

  ‘I would give them to you if I could,’ Marcus said, and for a moment the tenderness in his eyes was almost more than she could bear.

  ‘I know,’ she managed, the smile still intact.

  He stooped and she did not try and avoid his mouth, or the gentle touch of his hand as he cradled the back of her head and held her for his kiss. It would be the last time, the last dream.

  She would remember every detail, she told herself as his mouth moved over hers with possessive tenderness. The taste of him, the texture of his skin as she laid her palm against his cheek, the scent of him, the leashed power under her other hand where the muscles of his arm clenched with the effort he was making to hold back, the sweep of his eyelashes as she opened her own eyes to look into his face.

  And then those thick dark lashes lifted and he broke the kiss.

  ‘Wise Nell,’ he murmured. And was gone.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For that day, and the next, a strange calm lay over Stanegate Court. Hal and Marcus rode out, deployed the keepers and the grounds staff on patrols and searches, and found nothing.

  The Gypsies had moved, the keepers told him, only ashes and hoof marks to show where they had been. ‘And wagon wheels,’ Randall the head keeper reported. ‘Not like their usual tilt carts, something bigger.’ He shrugged. ‘Gone now anyway, my lord.’

  Marcus doubted it. Moved, certainly, but the Romany tribe was still around somewhere. ‘A pity,’ he said. ‘They have sharp eyes; they might have seen someone.’

  He was restless, urgent for action, frustrated by the dark man’s ability to melt like a ghost into the woods. And Nell’s presence in the house did not help. He wanted her more with each passing day and she, it seemed, might want his lovemaking, but not his love.

  ‘Are you going to marry Nell?’ Hal asked as they sat on their horses on Beacon Hill, scanning the hillsides for some betraying trickle of smoke.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Ah, the scandal,’ his brother said. ‘No doubt you are wise. You are the heir, after all.’

  ‘I have not put it to the touch; she will not allow me to ask.’

  Hal’s gasp of astonishment would have been flattering if it was not followed by a snort of laughter. ‘Sensible woman.’

  ‘Indeed?’

  ‘Don’t poker up with me, Marc. She wants to be independent.’

  ‘She was independent and on the edge of poverty. I fail to see the virtue of independence for a woman under those circumstances.’

  ‘And now she will be independent and comfortable. Secure. And she does not have to listen to scandalmongers dragging her father’s sins out to be picked over, or have you issuing challenges left right and centre whenever you think she’s been slighted.’ Hal turned up the collar of his caped coat against the wind. ‘And she can take a lover if she wishes, when she is ready to.’

  Corinth tossed his head as the bit jabbed his mouth. Marcus forced his hand to relax. ‘I’ll not bother with the challenge if you touch on that subject again,’ he said flatly. ‘I’ll just knock your teeth out.’

  ‘You can try,’ Hal said, equally calmly. ‘Just remember, I’ve been fighting for my life recently, not in Gentleman Jackson’s boxing salon.’

  ‘Believe me,’ Marcus said, looking out over the bleak expanse of the snow-covered Vale of Aylesbury, ‘I would kill for Nell. But not you, little brother.’ He set his spurs to the big grey’s sides and galloped off along the ridge, hearing the thunder of Hal’s hunter behind him, trying to forget everything in the sting of the wind and the feel of the surging muscles under him.

  Mid-morning on the second day, Nell found herself alone in the small drawing room with Diana Price. The companion was reading what looked very like a book of sermons, but put it to one side as Nell came in and sat on the other side of the fireplace. She was, Nell thought, almost supernaturally calm, collected and proper. Her energetic skating had been the nearest Nell had seen to her letting go and enjoying herself. It was a relief, somehow, to be curious about someone else and not be constantly staring inwards at her own preoccupations.

  ‘Do you mind me asking,’ she said, stretching out a hand to the fire, ‘but how did you come to be a lady’s companion? My sister was one—she may still be, for all I know—and I was thinking about her, wondering what the life is like.’ Diana looked up sharply, and Nell hastened to add, ‘I do not want you to say anything about your employers, naturally.’

  ‘One’s employers make all the difference,’ Diana said dryly. ‘With considerate, intelligent people such as the Carlows, the position is very congenial. With a stupid or tyrannical employer, it can be hell, I believe.’ She bit her lip, as though undecided whether to say more; then, almost as if it were dragged out of her, she added, ‘My father lost everything gambling. In one night he was, effectively, ruined by—’ She broke off, staring into the flames.

  ‘Please, say no more. It must be most distressing,’ Nell said, feeling quite dreadful that her probing had touched such a raw nerve.

  Diana shook her head as though trying to clear it, looked at Nell and seemed to reach a decision. ‘He was ruined by a card sharp. A man so young, so innocent looking, my father had no idea of his danger. By morning he had lost everything—our house, his money…everything. Papa never recovered, his health was shattered. I thank God that Mama did not live to see it. He moved North and took what work he could. Somehow he managed to keep out of debtors’ prison, but I had no option but to seek employment.’

  ‘I am so sorry,’ Nell said warmly. ‘And I am so glad you found a happy position here.’

  ‘We have one thing in common,’ Diana said, her eyes fixed on Nell’s face as though she was searching it. ‘We have both been ruined by a feckless young man. You would not have been in the position you were, had your brother not deserted you.’

  ‘Oh, no! Nathan did not desert us, I am sure of that.’ Distressed, Nell got to her feet and began to pace. ‘I do not know what happened to him—and I fear the worst—yet surely I would know if my own brother had died? He was getting into bad company, that I do know. Suddenly there was money—not regularly, but more than I could account for by him taking odd jobs of work. He would not tell us where it was coming from, yet when I challenged him he swore he was not stealing.’

  Diana Price made a sound so like a snort of disbelief that Nell turned in surprise. The other woman was on her feet, gathering up her book and handkerchief. She gave Nell a thin smile. ‘I like you, Miss…Wardale. Despite everything.’

  The door closed behind her, leaving Nell puzzled and uneasy in the quiet room.

  Nell watched Marcus, as she had throughout dinner. He was brooding, but not, she sensed, about her. As Lady Narborough rose
after dinner, Marcus came to himself with a start, almost late on his feet as the women got up.

  ‘Nell, Hal, Father—there is something I would like to discuss. Mama, can you spare Nell for half an hour?’

  ‘If she does not object to your port,’ his mother said with a smile.

  ‘Thank you, Watson, that will be all.’ The earl waited for the room to clear. ‘Would you care for a glass of ratafia, my dear?’

  ‘Might I try port?’ Nell asked. ‘I never have.’ The room seemed suddenly overwhelmingly masculine with the silver and porcelain cleared, the white linen removed, just the glasses and the decanters and a bowl of nuts on the polished board.

  ‘I have been trying to remember back,’ Marcus said, cracking nuts in his fingers as his father poured the deep ruby liquid into her glass. ‘I was nine years old, young enough for none of it to make much sense, old enough to be able to escape being whisked off to the nursery every time an adult conversation took place. I seem to recall a lot of time spent behind the curtains in the window seat.’

  ‘I have told you all that occurred,’ the earl said with a frown. ‘What you recall as a child cannot add to that.’

  ‘But this is something that has never been mentioned since. Not to me, at least. It sounds melodramatic, but was there something about a curse? I have this vague memory of a Gypsy’s curse.’

  Lord Narborough set down his wine glass with a snap. ‘That nonsense.’

  ‘These woods are a haunt of Gypsies, yet they have suddenly vanished. Nell’s dark man might be a Romany.’ Nell looked from one man to the other. Hal appeared sceptical, the earl uncomfortable. Marcus caught her eye and held it, a silent conversation she could not, dare not, try to understand.

  ‘There was something,’ Lord Narborough said at length. ‘Kit Hebden—Lord Framlingham—took a Gypsy woman as a lover, had a son by him. Amanda, his own wife, seemed barren, so he brought the baby home, forced her to rear it.’

  ‘Tactless,’ Hal remarked.