by Louise Allen
‘Guy, I cannot marry you.’ The words were forced from between stiff lips, but she had to try to convince him, not let him go through a night believing she would accept him.
‘I understand.’ He went to check Hector’s girth, then to hold the stirrup for her. ‘Come, up you get before you are too chilled to sit a horse. Do you need a leg up?’
‘No. What do you mean, you understand?’ Bemused, Hester took the reins, then winced.
‘Damn, I had forgotten your hands. Here.’ Guy removed two handkerchiefs from his coat pockets and wrapped them tenderly around each palm. ‘My valet believes a gentleman can never have too many clean handkerchiefs.’
Hester settled into the saddle and gathered the reins in her swathed hands. ‘You have not answered my question.’
Guy reached down, picked up the lantern, blew out the light and fixed it to his saddlebow. ‘I know why you feel you cannot marry me. It is of no matter; I do not regard it and neither should you. Now, come, home before Miss Prudhome sends the village constable and a search party.’
He knew? Hester rode automatically, her mind reeling. How could he know? Then she remembered him saying he would put investigations in train into the Nugents’ finances and debts. At the same time he must have had her own background looked into. So he had known for days about the scandal and her role in John’s life. But what did he know? The truth or the rumour?
Hester tried not to look at Guy’s shadowy figure as he rode, one hand relaxed on his thigh, his back erect, his breath clouding the freezing air. But she could not keep her eyes off him and the heat of his kisses glowed as though she had a hot brick snuggled under her shawl.
He loves me, he wants me, wants to marry me, even though he knows about John. Hector plodded on and Hester let herself slip into a sort of contented doze on his broad back. Where will we be married? Will his family like me? His sister sounds formidable. I will be a countess, of all the improbable things. A little gasp of laughter escaped Hester’s lips.
‘What are you laughing about, my love? You are home, come now, let me help you down.’ She let herself slip down into Guy’s arms. Her legs really did not want to support her, it was so safe and right to be held close against his chest. ‘Come on…’ she could hear the amusement in his voice ‘…you are asleep on your feet, but we need to get Jethro out here to look after Hector and I need to distract my footman who most certainly must not see you coming home at this hour wearing breeches!’
‘My lord, is she with you?’ The back door swung open and Jethro came out, lantern in hand. ‘There you are, Miss Hester! Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick, Miss Prudhome’s had the vapours and Susan was all set to send for the village constable.’
‘Miss Hester is quite safe, Ackland, although I think the sooner she’s in her bed the better. Where is my man?’
Hester found herself pushed gently into Susan’s arms as the maid appeared from behind Jethro, clucking with mingled anxiety and scolding. ‘You’re frozen, Miss Hester! You come along in, I’ve got the water on the range for a nice bath.’
Stumbling, Hester let herself be led inside, vaguely aware that Jethro was explaining that he’d sent a message to Parrott to keep the footman away. ‘Didn’t want him seeing Miss Hester coming back dressed like that, my lord.’
Susan pressed her down into a chair by the fire and went to heft a jug of water off the range. ‘You just sit there a minute while I fill your bath. I don’t know, what goings-on…’ she muttered on her way out into the hall. By the time she had lugged three jugs upstairs Hester was hearing the scolding through a warm mist of exhaustion, but she roused herself to smile sleepily at Guy when he came into the kitchen with Jethro on his heels.
He lifted her out of the chair as easily as though she were a child and carried her through the hall. ‘I seem to be making a habit of this, sweetheart,’ he murmured and she turned her head into the angle of his neck with a soft sigh of agreement. ‘And I have no doubt I’ll be chased out of your bedchamber just as briskly this time. Which is a pity.’ He lowered his voice and whispered, ‘Just when I would like to stay.’
Maria met them at the bedchamber door with the predicted outraged cluckings. ‘How could you allow her to do this sort of thing, my lord?’ she demanded.
Guy negotiated the steaming hip bath in the middle of the floor and lowered Hester on to the chaise. ‘If you have any suggestions for controlling Miss Lattimer, I would be most glad to hear them, ma’am. I have so far failed to discover anything that stops her doing precisely what she wants, the minute it occurs to her. Meanwhile, might I point out that her hands require cleaning and the application of some salve.’
Guy dropped to one knee beside Hester and took her hands gently in his. ‘I will send the footman over; they are overdue with the six roses.’
Hester shook her head. ‘No, they were here, propped against my door and tied with black ribbon. I have not had a chance to tell you.’
His lips set into a hard line and Hester shivered, grateful that she had not done anything to earn his enmity. ‘I must go tomorrow and collect my sister. I should be back by evening at the latest, my love.’ Heedless of the gasp of outrage from behind him, he kissed Hester rapidly on the lips, then stood. ‘Ladies, I bid you goodnight.’
There was a long silence as the sound of his booted feet echoed up from the hail, then, ‘He kissed you, he called you his love! Miss Hester, are you going to marry Lord Buckland?’
‘I am certainly not going to enter into any other sort of relationship with him,’ Hester roused herself sufficiently to retort. ‘Susan, please help me with these clothes or I declare I am going to fall into that bath fully clad.’
‘But… does he know?’ Miss Prudhome, who had been clutching the bedpost in shocked silence, finally found her voice.
‘About the colonel? Apparently he does. Oh, that is so good.’ Hester sank into the warm water, not even wincing as her grazed hands were submerged. ‘So very good.’
Guy walked the short distance to the Old Manor, reins loosely grasped in one hand. ‘Of all the cackhanded ways of proposing marriage, that just about takes the biscuit,’ he remarked to the big horse which twitched one ear in response. ‘Seems to have worked, though.’ He realised he was smiling in what was no doubt a thoroughly fatuous manner and got his face under control before his groom saw him.
He handed over the reins to the man and turned on his heel to look up at the lighted bedroom window in the Moon House. His imagination conjured up the image of a naked Hester, warm and sleepy, soaping herself languorously in the hip bath before the crackling fire. Despite the cold and his own weariness the thought was powerfully arousing and he stood for a moment, his eyes fixed on the window, letting the cold sap the heat from his body before going in.
Parrott was waiting, his face expressionless. Guy wondered, not for the first time, what he would have to do to crack that composure. ‘Send James over to the Moon House if you will, Parrott.’
‘Yes, my lord. The study fire is lit and I have put the decanters out. Was there anything else you require, my lord?’
‘No, thank you, Parrott.’ Nothing that I can have tonight, at least. ‘Was there something else?’ It was unlike Parrott to lurk, but that was the only description Guy could apply to his butler.
‘I was only wondering, my lord, if you will pardon the liberty, whether your lordship was intending to make any changes to the household in the light of…’ The man hesitated and Guy watched, fascinated by the phenomenon of Parrott lost for a word. The butler regained his poise. ‘Recent events, my lord.’
‘You refer to my imminent marriage, I collect?’
‘Yes, my lord. Permit me to offer my congratulations, my lord.’
‘And permit me to offer mine on your perspicacity, Parrott. You are the first to know of this and I would be obliged if you would keep it secret for the time being.’
Parrott inclined his head majestically and removed himself, leaving Guy to wonder just how tra
nsparent he was being. He poured himself a glass of brandy and settled in the leather chair before the fire. No, it would not do to have talk of this marriage bandied about until he had overcome Hester’s scruples. Of course she was reluctant, he knew she would be sensitive to what she might expect people to say about the daughter of a country gentleman-soldier marrying an earl.
But it made not the slightest difference to him. He loved her and that was more than enough. But he must move carefully, secure Georgy’s support and, once he had that, introduce Hester to various relations whom he had confidence would welcome her into the family. Not for anything would he have his Hester feel slighted or uncomfortable in her new role.
His Hester. He felt the grin curve his lips again and then let it slowly fade as he thought of the Nugents. The locket was still in his pocket and he pulled it out, letting it spin in the firelight. He already had a score to settle with that family, one that was near fifty years old. Now he had another to add to it. Lewis Nugent was going to discover that delving into the past would bring him not treasure, but the vengeance of a man who was more than capable of protecting his own.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
An entire day at least to fill without Guy. Twenty-four hours without seeing him, without being held in his arms, without hearing that deep, flexible voice change from teasing to loving in the space of a breath.
Could he really love her? It seemed that he could and with enough passion to ignore her spotted past, ignore her relatively humble origins and make her his countess. Was it possible to be this happy and yet sit quite still, quite quiet and eat one’s breakfast just as one did every morning? Hester glanced across the table at Maria, who was attempting to read the Buckinghamshire Gazette while disguising the fact that she was sending anxious glances at her employer.
‘What is it, Maria?’ Hester asked, suppressing a smile.
‘His lordship has truly made you an offer?’ She put down the newspaper and sighed gustily. ‘It is wonderful.’
‘He has indeed, and I agree, it is so wonderful I feel I must pinch myself to ensure I am waking not dreaming. I only hope I meet with the approval of his sister, Lady Broome, who sounds most formidable. She is spending Christmas with Lord Buckland, you know.’
Miss Prudhome appeared daunted. ‘I do hope she will consider me a suitable chaperon for you. Oh, and what about gowns? Do you have the right gowns, for you are sure to be attending many social events in the next few weeks now, surely?’
‘I suppose so.’ Hester bit her underlip in thought. ‘I expect Guy will wish to introduce me to various relations.’ She was feeling as daunted as Maria looked. ‘I think my gowns will pass muster, but I must purchase new gloves and stockings, some more evening slippers, perhaps a fur tippet-why, all manner of things, now I think of it. And I have done nothing about Christmas presents or the party we are to hold. And I am short of ready cash. Maria, I think we must make an expedition to Aylesbury tomorrow to make the acquaintance of my new bank manager and to do our shopping.’
Maria frowned. ‘More roses are due then. Should we leave Susan and Jethro?’
‘I am really becoming quite bored with those dratted roses,’ Hester exclaimed, cutting into a piece of toast with some vigour. ‘Now we know who is behind them, they no longer have any mystery. I suppose the best thing is just to give the Nugents easy access to the house so they can deposit them-it will be four this time. On the other hand, I do not want them thinking they have the run of the place. Let me think.’
Hester brooded while Maria flicked through the pages of the paper, exclaiming from time to time over snippets of news or advertisements. ‘It says here that three murderers are to be hanged from the balcony of the Town Hall next Tuesday and their bodies cut down and anatomised! How frightful. Signor Olivetti, famed silhouette artist, wishes it to be known that he has established a studio in Aylesbury. A new silk warehouse advertises the fashionable and elegant silks at a price to please the most discerning lady. Oh dear, look at this, a child has lost his puppy and the parents advertise for its safe return.’
‘I know! Jethro!’
Jethro appeared, green baize apron wrapped firmly round his skinny midriff, one of Hester’s few pieces of good silver in his hand. ‘Yes, Miss Hester?’
‘Did you not say that Hector needed shoeing?’ Jethro nodded. ‘Very well, can you take him tomorrow, and Susan can go with you and do the marketing. Miss Prudhome and I are going into Aylesbury and I think it would be convenient to give the ghost the opportunity of an empty house to deposit the day’s roses without too much trouble.’
‘How will they know?’
‘I intend calling in and enquiring kindly if I can carry out any little commission for Miss Nugent whilst I am in Aylesbury. I will let drop what you are doing while I am about it.’
‘Driving what, Miss Hester?’
‘Oh, how foolish! I never thought. Well, there is nothing for it, Jethro, you will have to go over and ask Parrott if I might borrow a horse. His lordship must have something suitable for a gig, surely?’
‘Very well, Miss Hester.’
He returned ten minutes later, looking uncommonly flushed. ‘Mr Parrott says that, on his lordship’s behalf, he could not possibly lend us a horse for the gig as his lordship would not like you driving yourself all that way. He says he will have his lordship’s second carriage and a team sent round at ten tomorrow morning, Miss Hester, with two grooms and a footman.’ Jethro grinned. ‘I wish I could learn the way he has of talking, Miss Hester. He said he hopes he knows what is due to your consequence, even if I do not!’
‘Well! My consequence indeed!’
‘Perhaps he knows,’ Miss Prudhome ventured.
‘Mr Parrott knows everything, so I expect he knows about that,’ Jethro opined firmly, taking himself off to the kitchen to tell Susan the news.
Feeling very fine indeed, Hester found some amusement next morning at the expression on the face of the butler at the Hall when he saw the carriage, and even more at the hastily concealed expressions of surprise on Lewis and Sarah’s faces as she swept in, all smiles and chatter.
‘…so I thought, if you are perhaps not feeling quite yourself still, Miss Nugent, that there might be some small commission I might perform for you in Aylesbury. Embroidery silks, rouge, that sort of thing. Is it not kind of his lordship to lend me a carriage? I foolishly forgot that Jethro has to take the cob to the smithy this morning and Susan has to go marketing, so you may imagine what a boon the loan of a footman is as well.’
Five minutes later she remarked to Maria, ‘That was a very fat and obvious fly to cast in front of a trout, but I do not think they suspect I know what they are up to. Now, let us look over our lists and think how to make the best of our time.’
Hester eased her hands cautiously out of her tight gloves, smoothed down the lint that protected her grazed palms and took out her tablets and pencil. ‘It is a lowering thought, Maria, but shopping for presents and fripperies is a delightful way to make one forget almost everything.’
Not that any amount of list writing could drive the thought of Guy from her mind-or the worry of what to buy him for Christmas. What did a young lady buy an earl? What did one buy a man doubtless too rich to want for anything? It was too late to embroider slippers, which was one of the few unexceptional items she had once been told would be allowable as a gift to a man. Not that she could imagine Guy wearing slippers.
Her smile of pure mischief at the thought of him sitting before the fire, pretending to be at ease in a pair of embroidered slippers, faded as the picture led her imagination further, deeper, into much more disturbing byways. Guy with bare feet, Guy wearing an exotic dressing gown of heavy silk- and nothing else.
Hester felt her cheeks burning and fanned herself surreptitiously with her pocket notebook. He was so very male, frighteningly so for a young lady with no experience whatsoever, and the demanding passion of his kisses on the downs and in the barn that night promised something far beyond her expe
rience. But not, she realised, her cheeks burning hotter, beyond her desiring. Her body responded now when she thought of him, recalled his caresses. It was as though she was aware of every inch of bare skin where it touched her clothes, of her breasts, strangely heavier and fuller, of an ache deep in her abdomen.
‘This is a comfort,’ Maria remarked, jolting her out of her heated imaginings. ‘I was dreading the journey in a closed carriage, but this is nothing like that frightful post chaise. You will live in such luxury-there are so many advantages to this marriage.’
‘Indeed, yes,’ Hester agreed, resolutely suppressing the thought of some of them.
They arrived back from their expedition weary, satisfied and more than grateful for the attentions of the footman who had stoically marched behind them all day, gradually vanishing under a mountain of shopping.
Hester felt the day had gone well. The bank manager had been attentive; she had distracted Maria long enough to buy her a fine Paisley shawl for Christmas; a pretty dimity dress length and three yards of lace were wrapped up for Susan and she had even managed to find a copy of the book of household management that Jethro coveted.
But her idea for a present for Guy was inspired, she felt, touching the hard package in her reticule that contained a silhouette of her profile, expertly cut by Signor Olivetti.
As for stockings, gloves and slippers, she could not help but feel she had been somewhat extravagant; but, as Maria pointed out, it would not do to present an off appearance and embarrass Guy when she met his relatives.
Susan and Jethro reported a quiet day after their return from the forge. A bunch of four roses had been duly found, although it had taken some searching, Susan reported. ‘They were in one of the clothes presses in your dressing room. It’s taken me an age to get all that nasty crumbly dead leaf out of the linen.’
