Once Bitten, Twice Shy (Choc Lit)

by Christina Courtenay

  ‘No, I’m not afraid.’ As she looked into his honey-coloured eyes, she knew this was the truth. She was absolutely certain he would never hurt her, although quite how she could be so sure, she had no idea.

  ‘Excellent, because I can assure you none of it is true. Well, only the part about me hating my wife. Elizabeth was a spoiled termagant and I was happy to be rid of her.’

  ‘I … should you be telling me this?’ Ianthe didn’t think it was the done thing to talk about one’s dead wife in such terms.

  ‘Yes. I feel nothing but the truth will do between us. I know you are as straightforward as I am, so I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending something that isn’t true.’

  Ianthe nodded. She appreciated him not underestimating her understanding. ‘Why did you marry her then?’ she asked, curiosity overtaking her scruples.

  ‘I was young and stupid. She was beautiful and an expert at deceit …’ He shrugged. ‘I never saw her true colours until it was much too late and just like Robert, I refused to listen to wiser counsel. It’s a common story.’

  ‘Yes, so I’ve heard.’ She couldn’t help glancing over to where Serena was seated with Lord Somerville and Wyckeham chuckled.

  ‘You’re thinking that poor Somerville is going to end up like that, aren’t you. Do you think we ought to rescue him?’

  ‘No, no, Serena’s not all bad. I’m sure once she is married she will make her chosen husband very happy. She’s just enjoying being the centre of attention at the moment.’

  ‘Hmm, well you know her best I suppose.’

  ‘Either way, it’s none of our business, is it?’

  He smiled again. ‘You’re right. I think he’ll have to learn the hard way, poor man. But never mind, let us return to our previous subject of discussion.’

  ‘Oh, yes, well …’ Ianthe felt the butterflies return with a vengeance.

  ‘What I was trying to ask you in the park before that fool Gervaise interrupted me,’ he continued, ‘was, if you were married to someone, would you mind spending most of the year in the country with him rather than in London?’

  ‘M-married?’ Ianthe felt relief flooding her. If he was only speaking metaphorically and mentioning marriage, he couldn’t be thinking of any other arrangements. ‘Oh, in that case I wouldn’t mind at all. I told you, I’m not enjoying town life much.’

  ‘Excellent. I’m only asking, because that’s the way I see it too and it’s not something I’m prepared to compromise on. I despise London society.’

  Ianthe waited for him to continue, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Was he saying what she thought he was?

  He made sure no one was looking their way, then leaned forward and took one of her hands in his. ‘So if I were to ask your father for your hand in marriage, you wouldn’t refuse me on the grounds that you’d miss out on the social whirl?’

  ‘N-no, certainly not,’ she managed to stammer out. ‘But you barely know me. I mean, how can you be certain that we’ll suit? We only met a few days ago.’ There were a dozen other questions whirling round her mind that she wanted to ask him, but dare not. Why her and not Serena? Was he really serious? Did he love her? She shook her head slightly to clear it. It was all too much to take in.

  ‘I know enough to realise we would suit very well, but I know you are very young and if you’d rather I waited a while and courted you properly, I will. Only, I feel the same way you do about these infernal balls and parties, and I’d rather not stay in London a moment longer than I must. I shall if you want me to, though.’

  ‘No! No, please, go ahead and … um, speak to my father. I mean, if you’re sure that’s what you would like.’

  ‘Is it what you want?’

  She looked into his eyes and saw a flash of desire which should have frightened her, but strangely enough didn’t. ‘Yes. Yes, I do.’ He may not have declared his undying love for her, but the prospect of spending the rest of her life with him, on whatever terms, was an opportunity she simply couldn’t pass on. She knew she would never want to marry anyone else in any case, now that she had met him.

  He held her gaze for another heartbeat before letting go of her hand. ‘Good, that’s settled then,’ he said. ‘I’ll be away for a week or so, but as soon as I return I’ll come and see you and we can make plans.’

  She couldn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded acquiescence and prayed that her father would give his consent.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A week and a half had gone by and there was no sign of Wyckeham. Ianthe had begun to think that perhaps she’d dreamed their entire conversation or if she hadn’t, he had thought better of such a crazy idea and changed his mind. Why would he want to marry me, anyway? she wondered. She had no dowry and not much else to recommend her either as she wasn’t an acknowledged beauty like her sister.

  When Serena suggested that she come along on an outing to Richmond Park, Ianthe decided she may as well. She had nothing else to do and if she stayed at home, she would only dwell on the marquess’s continued absence. As she came out of the house on the Wednesday and saw who their companions were, however, she almost had second thoughts. Gervaise and Lord Robert! But the two Misses Gardiner were present as well, and this reassured her somewhat. There was safety in numbers and as Serena was helped into Gervaise’s phaeton, she breathed a sigh of relief. If he was dazzled by her sister, like everyone else, she wouldn’t have to spend any time with him. Thank goodness!

  ‘Is it not a lovely day, Ianthe?’ Anne Gardiner enthused as Ianthe stepped into the second carriage, a more stately barouche, helped by Lord Robert who was an interesting shade of grey.

  ‘Indeed. The sun is very bright though, perhaps a trifle too much so for Lord Robert here?’ Ianthe couldn’t resist teasing the young man. It was very obvious that he’d had a late night and was suffering the consequences.

  He tried to smile, although it looked more like a grimace. ‘No doubt some fresh air will do me good. All these ballrooms and um … other establishments are so stuffy, you know.’

  He didn’t add much to the conversation on the way, however, but sat and stared fixedly at the road through the window, as if he was willing his breakfast to stay down. Ianthe almost felt sorry for him, but remembered Wyckeham’s words – the young man had to learn things the hard way.

  They had a pleasant enough afternoon and Gervaise could be entertaining when he set himself out to be. He regaled them with stories of his travels and mishaps on the Continent and the Misses Gardiner never stopped giggling. Even Lord Robert perked up after some lunch and a few glasses of champagne and Ianthe found that she didn’t have time to dwell on any distracting thoughts.

  ‘Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Ianthe?’ Gervaise had come up behind her as she stood by the edge of a pond later, throwing left over pieces of bread to some ducks.

  ‘Indeed, sir, it’s nice to be away from the hustle and bustle of London.’

  ‘I take it you are not a social butterfly like your sister?’

  Ianthe shook her head. ‘No, I’m afraid we don’t have much in common, as is probably obvious to most people.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ He looked her up and down in a disconcerting way. ‘You are both beautiful young ladies, albeit slightly different. One cannot help one’s disposition and if you prefer the company of books, then I’m sure that is not a crime. A lady as lovely as yourself should surely be allowed to spend her time doing whatever she wishes.’

  Ianthe felt uncomfortable with his fulsome compliments and wasn’t quite sure how to answer. In the end, she merely said, ‘Thank you, but I fear not everyone thinks that way.’

  They were interrupted by Serena, who as usual couldn’t bear to be excluded from any conversation, and Ianthe was happy to go back to the others. There was something about Gervaise Warwycke that made her uneasy and she now wished she hadn’t come.

  ‘I suppose we had better set out for home,’ Serena sighed. ‘We ladies will need time to make ourselves beautiful f
or tonight’s ball.’ Ianthe saw her glance flirtatiously at both Lord Robert and Gervaise, but Gervaise was the first to reply to this unsubtle fishing for a compliment.

  ‘Surely it won’t take you more than a few moments, Miss Templeton,’ he said. ‘Nature cannot be improved upon, you know.’

  Ianthe turned her head away in disgust.

  On their way back to the carriages, Serena suddenly stumbled and fell with a little shriek of pain. Gervaise and Lord Robert rushed to her side, as did the Misses Gardiner, before Ianthe had a chance to reach her.

  ‘Oh, my ankle! There was a rabbit hole, I didn’t see it,’ wailed Serena. ‘Stupid animals, must they be forever digging? Ah, no, don’t touch it!’ She batted away Lord Robert’s questing hands.

  ‘Please, Miss Templeton, let me have a look. I have some experience of these things,’ Gervaise said calmly.

  Serena nodded. ‘Oh, very well, if you must.’ Her bottom lip wobbled slightly and a tear trickled out of the corner of one eye. He felt her ankle under her skirts, obviously trying to probe as gently as he could, but she still winced.

  ‘Hmm, yes, it’s a bit swollen, but nothing broken I think. Probably just sprained. Allow me to carry you to the barouche. You mustn’t put any weight on it.’

  ‘If you say so.’ Serena held up her arms and he lifted her, staggering slightly under her weight, but refusing Lord Robert’s offer of help.

  It wasn’t until Serena was ensconced in the carriage with Lord Robert and the Misses Gardiner that Ianthe realised what this meant. She began to smell a rat.

  ‘You must ride with Mr Warwycke in his phaeton, Ianthe,’ Serena said imperiously. ‘I need my friends here with me, and dear Lord Robert will be a tower of strength.’

  Serena was playing the wounded martyr to the hilt, but Ianthe recognised it for what it was now – playacting. ‘I really don’t think—’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, Ianthe, we will be right behind you. There will be no impropriety. Please, I just want to go home.’ Serena managed to squeeze out a few more convincing tears and after sending her sister a narrowed glance, Ianthe gave up.

  ‘Oh, very well.’

  She allowed Gervaise to help her up on to the high seat of the phaeton, but tried to put as much distance between them as she could. He sent her an amused glance.

  ‘I don’t bite, you know, and I’m accounted quite a good whip.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Ianthe replied, then stared straight ahead while he set the horses in motion.

  They rode in silence for a while and Ianthe glanced back towards the barouche from time to time, to make sure it was keeping up with them. It was a slower conveyance, however, and with four passengers it wasn’t able to travel as fast as the phaeton, which began to draw ahead. After they rounded a sharp bend, Gervaise suddenly whipped his team into a gallop and they set off at a cracking pace. His tiger, the diminutive groom who perched on the back of the phaeton and usually jumped down to hold the horses’ heads whenever they stopped, had to hang on for dear life.

  ‘No, stop! What are you doing?’ Ianthe cried out, but he just threw her a triumphant smile and encouraged the horses to run even faster.

  ‘One should always travel quickly in a carriage such as this,’ he shouted, but she could barely hear him over the din of the horses’ hooves and the whooshing noise of the wind. She had to hold on to the side with both hands so the swaying motion didn’t throw her out altogether.

  Gervaise kept up this crazy pace for quite some time, until Ianthe thought the poor horses were going to expire, but then he suddenly turned sharply on to a smaller road, and soon a dilapidated inn came into view. There was no sign of the barouche, but then Ianthe hadn’t expected there to be. As they came to a halt outside the inn, Ianthe felt her stomach muscles clench in fear. There was no doubt Gervaise was up to something, and she was sure that whatever it was, she wasn’t going to like it.

  She swore to herself that if she ever set eyes on her sister again, she would make her pay for this.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘Come down from the carriage. We are going to have some refreshment before we continue our journey.’

  Ianthe gazed down at Gervaise’s outstretched hand and shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I’d rather stay where I am.’

  ‘It wasn’t a request,’ he said, his tone of voice menacing now. ‘Either you jump down by yourself or I’ll pull you. And I won’t be gentle, I can promise you that.’

  Ianthe glared at him but realised she had no choice. He wasn’t as big as the marquess by any means, but he was certainly stronger than her and she had no doubt he’d carry out his threat without any hesitation. A quick glance around showed her that there was no one in the vicinity whom she could call on for help, and perforce she must do his bidding. She gritted her teeth and jumped.

  Before she had time to remonstrate, he grabbed her hand in an iron grip and dragged her into the taproom of the inn. Ianthe recoiled at the musty smell inside, a combination of tobacco smoke, stale ale and food, and overwhelming body odour. Half a dozen men were lounging about, but no one paid much attention to them apart from the landlord, who came sidling up looking anxious to please.

  ‘A private parlour and be quick about it,’ Gervaise ordered.

  ‘Of course, sir, straight away. If you would follow me, please?’

  The slovenly man led them down a narrow corridor and into a tiny room at the back of the inn. It was shabbily furnished and smelled as if the window hadn’t been opened for years. Ianthe almost gagged and tried to turn in the doorway, but Gervaise didn’t let go of her arm and pulled her through with a vicious tug at her wrist.

  ‘Bring some victuals, please, landlord, and ale for myself and wine for the lady.’

  ‘I don’t want …’ Ianthe began, but Gervaise turned on her and the words died in her throat. There was such menace in his eyes, she physically recoiled from him and stumbled backwards. The back of her legs collided with a chair and she sat down abruptly.

  ‘That’s better,’ Gervaise muttered and slammed the door shut after the obsequious man.

  ‘What do you want with me?’ Ianthe whispered, although she feared she knew only too well. She couldn’t believe her own sister had colluded with such a man to engineer her downfall. There could be no doubt about it; she’d seen the triumphant glint in her sister’s eyes.

  ‘You’ll find out in due course. We’ll be staying here until it’s dark, but for now all you have to do is sit quietly and not make a fuss. Is that understood? If I hear so much as a tiny protest out of you or a cry for help, you’ll be very sorry.’

  Ianthe nodded. She understood exactly what he was saying and, for the moment, it behoved her to follow his orders. Meanwhile, she must try to find a way to escape. She simply couldn’t let this happen to her, not now there was so much at stake.

  ‘I’m going to the taproom for a while. You’re to stay in this room and not budge so much as an inch,’ Gervaise told her after they’d partaken of the tasteless meat pie and soggy vegetables brought by the landlord. Gervaise had grumbled about the fare but ate heartily nonetheless, whereas Ianthe only picked at it and left most of her portion on the plate.

  She didn’t reply, since she had every intention of trying to escape the minute he left the room, but he didn’t seem to notice. She soon found out why he had so carelessly left her on her own. When she opened the door a crack, she came face to face with Gervaise’s tiger, a small youth who nevertheless looked strong enough to catch her should she try to dart past. He grinned at her in a leering way that didn’t bode well.

  ‘Goin’ somewhere, are ye?’ he asked, and chuckled when Ianthe retreated back into the shabby parlour and slammed the door in his face.

  She paced the room, which was only about ten steps in either direction, muttering to herself. ‘Think, woman, think, there must be some way.’

  While she walked, she took stock of the room’s contents and her eyes alighted on the bottle of wine on the table which remain
ed largely untouched. It didn’t look like the sort of wine she normally drank and was no doubt vinegary, but an idea came to her and she began to smile to herself. Grabbing the bottle, she poured most of the contents on to the meagre fire, which was only spluttering anyway, and the rest into Gervaise’s empty ale tankard. That done, she went over to the door and opened it a crack once again.

  ‘Um, excuse me, but could you come and help me with the fire, please? It seems to have gone out,’ she said to the tiger, trying to look meek and downcast.

  ‘Fire? It’s bleedin’ summer!’ he replied. ‘Shouldn’t think as how you need it anyhow.’

  ‘But it’s awfully damp in here and I’m chilled to the bone,’ Ianthe insisted. ‘Mr Warwycke wouldn’t have any use for me if I was to become ill.’

  ‘Well, can’t you do it yerself?’

  ‘No, I don’t know how, you see. My maid usually does it for me.’

  ‘The Lord give me strength … Oh, very well,’ he grumbled and came into the room.

  Ianthe retreated so that she was standing behind the door as he came in, and the moment he had entered fully, she brought the bottle down on top of his head with as much force as she could muster. It shattered, making an awful racket which had her gasping with fear in case anyone should come running to see what was going on, but it had the desired effect. The tiger crumpled to the floor without a sound. Feeling guilty for hurting the poor youth, even though she’d had no choice, Ianthe bent down to make sure he was still alive. To her relief, there was a fairly strong pulse beating underneath his ear, so she knew he wasn’t badly wounded.

  Ianthe picked up her skirts and fled. She ran towards the back of the building, rather than the way they had come in, and found herself in a dirty kitchen where two women turned startled eyes on her. Ianthe put her finger to her mouth to keep them quiet, and whispered with a fake smile, ‘Shh, please, he likes it when he has to chase me a bit. Spices things up, you know. Don’t tell him which way I’ve gone or he’ll find me too quickly.’