Scandal and Miss Markham

by Janice Preston

  ‘Thank you,’ she said to the Gipsy. ‘What happened then?’ she asked Daniel.

  ‘Absalom’s people were camped by the river, not far from where he rescued me, and he took me to them to recover. I racked my brains about how I could bring Connor to justice... I needed proof the man calling himself Henry Mannington was actually Jasper Connor and that he had swindled our father. I also wondered who had been killed in the fire in which Connor had supposedly perished. I had written to the Duke about his cousin, but I did not have much hope he would respond.

  ‘And then I remembered Connor talking about the beauty of the Welsh coast, and about Aberystwyth, and I wondered if someone there might know him, or have information that might help. Sheer desperation drove me there, little believing what I would find.

  ‘Absalom agreed to watch Connor. He enlisted Annie’s help and then found out, through her uncle, that Connor was targeting the Americans and, later on, that a viscount was asking questions about Connor.’

  ‘But why didn’t Horwell tell me this when I asked if he knew you?’ Vernon asked.

  ‘Only I and my people knew that the man who had been swept away had not drowned, or that his name was Daniel Markham.’ It was the Gipsy who spoke. ‘Horwell never knew Daniel’s name, or that he was alive, or that Connor had anything to do with it.’

  ‘I swore them to secrecy,’ Daniel said. ‘My biggest fear was that Connor would find out I was still alive and disappear again.’

  He turned to Thea. ‘I did write to Mama. I would never have left you thinking the worst, even though I did not dare to tell you the truth.’ He paced the room again, stopping in front of her. ‘And I have been proved right, haven’t I? The minute my back was turned, you... Look at you!’

  He reached to grasp a handful of curls and Vernon tensed, ready to intervene but, with a groan, Daniel wrapped his arms around Thea and pulled her close.

  ‘What have you done to your beautiful hair? Foolish, impetuous woman.’

  Thea wriggled free. ‘Never mind that now, Daniel. It will grow again. What happened to your letter?’

  Daniel looked at Absalom, who shrugged.

  ‘I gave it to a passing group of Rom,’ he said. ‘They were heading north. They’ll have delivered it by now, I expect.’

  ‘Bickling made no mention it,’ Vernon said. ‘My groom,’ he added in response to Daniel’s querying look. ‘He came to Worcester from Stourwell Court three days ago.’

  Daniel grimaced. ‘Why would my mother mention a letter to a servant, particularly someone else’s servant? Anyway, when I arrived back in Worcester, with Mr Morgan and Gladys Connor, Absalom told me that you...’ he directed a hard stare at Vernon ‘...were staying at the Crown and had been asking about me, that you and the Temples were guests at this house party and that the Duke had arrived at the Crown. What I did not know was that you were the Duke’s brother and that your “nephew” was my sister, whom I thought safe at home with our parents.’

  ‘You must take the blame for your sister’s panic and her subsequent actions,’ Vernon retorted. ‘If you had been less secretive—’

  ‘And allowed this villain to get away with it? As soon as he had a sniff anyone knew the truth of his identity he would have vanished just as effectively as he did at Yarncott.’

  ‘Speaking of which... Leo, I cannot believe you decided to make those enquiries yourself.’

  ‘I confess to a certain amount of curiosity as to what convinced you to remain up here to search for a stranger.’ His gaze settled on Thea for a moment and his mouth twitched. ‘And, as Rosalind and I were escorting her grandfather to Birmingham, it was not too great a detour to travel via Oxford and Worcester.’

  ‘What news from Yarncott?’

  ‘I spoke with the former innkeeper and he confirmed that there were two guests at the inn the night it burned down: Jasper Connor and Henry Mannington. They evidently spent much of the evening playing cards and, from what he remembers, one man lost heavily to the other. He is unsure which, however...’ He stood up and walked across to where Jasper sat sullenly on the floor, still cradling his jaw. ‘Because after the fire—which began, incidentally, in Connor’s bedchamber—he at first thought it was Connor who had somehow survived. But then the man who escaped the fire told him he had muddled the two men and that he was, in fact, Henry Mannington.’ Leo leant down and took hold of Jasper’s chin, tilting his face and moving it from side to side. ‘There is a certain superficial likeness; it is not hard to understand why the innkeeper fell for your lies.’

  ‘Stop! You’re hurting!’

  Leo jerked his jaw again. ‘Dear me, how clumsy of me,’ he murmured before releasing it. ‘You may console yourself, Connor, that however painful your bruised jaw might be, it is as nothing compared to the agony of being burnt to death.’

  ‘He didn’t burn to death...he was already de—’

  Vernon crouched down in front of Jasper and grasped his neckcloth, twisting. ‘How did he die?’

  Jasper shrank from him. ‘I don’t know.’ He coughed and spluttered as Vernon tightened his grip. ‘He just did.’

  ‘In your bedchamber?’

  ‘No. Yes.’

  Holding the man’s terrified gaze, Vernon said, ‘Markham? Get the women out of here will you? We need a private chat with Jasper here.’

  Daniel began to usher the women, plus Mr Morgan, to the door. Thea broke ranks and rushed to crouch next to Vernon, glaring at Connor.

  ‘Tell them! You owe me that much. You are not going to wriggle out of this one...why make it harder for yourself?’

  Jasper, sheer terror in his eyes, nodded. Vernon released his neckcloth and regained his feet, pulling Thea up with him. He nodded at Leo, then towed Thea out of earshot.

  ‘You did not really believe I would use physical force on him, Thea?’

  She stuck her nose in the air. ‘I am sure I do not care what you do, Lord Vernon, but you cannot want Cordelia to think you capable of such barbaric behaviour.’

  ‘Cordelia?’

  She hunched her shoulder and pulled free of his grip. ‘Do not try to pretend. I saw you embracing her. Now, I want to hear what that villain has to say for himself.’ She took one pace towards where Leo continued to interrogate Jasper before spinning back to stare up at Vernon. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘No.’

  Her mouth opened in silent surprise.

  ‘Leo will fill in the details later.’ He reached out and fingered a curl that dangled provocatively over her ear. ‘You are my priority now.’

  * * *

  Vernon’s voice deepened as he spoke, raising a delicious shiver that danced across the surface of Thea’s skin. His green eyes darkened as they bored into hers, as though he could see deep, deep inside her and knew her every thought.

  Her every desire.

  Her pulse quickened and she tore her eyes from his, disconcerted by the immediate response of her treacherous body.

  Can I trust him? Is he playing a part?

  Would he uncomplainingly sacrifice his freedom and his future because he was a gentleman and she was hopelessly compromised? He had been embracing Cordelia—she could not mistake the evidence of her eyes. Her restless gaze swept the occupants of the room.

  Daniel: he had made his expectations of Vernon clear.

  Jasper: she had trusted him and he had jilted her, humiliated her and almost destroyed her family.

  The Duke: he, surely, would object to his brother marrying a woman so far beneath him?

  She caught the eye of Absalom Gray, standing apart, once more watching the proceedings without taking part. He knew his place. He knew where he belonged. The only surprise was that he had involved himself in Daniel’s affairs in the first place. Most of the gipsies Thea had met liked to keep themselves to themselves.

  Absalo
m’s eyes narrowed and Thea realised, with a start, that she had been staring at him. She felt the heat build in her cheeks and swung her gaze back to Vernon. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Not detaining her if she wished to go, but keeping that connection between them.

  ‘How can I be your priority?’ she said. ‘I have my duty to my family; you have your duty to yours.’

  His fingers tightened. ‘You cannot mean that. What about...?’ He put his lips to her ear. ‘What about the way I feel about you?’

  ‘What about Cordelia?’

  She watched him closely. His astonishment appeared genuine, then his brows drew together.

  ‘That is the second time you have mentioned her. Whatever you think you saw, you are wrong. I told you before, I have no interest in her: she is too young, too tall, and her hair...’ he spread his fingers and pushed them through her curls ‘...is far too boring. And besides...’ he curved his fingers around the back of her skull and pulled her closer even as he tilted her face to his ‘...she is not you.’

  Her lids lowered and her lips parted as desire coiled in the pit of her stomach.

  A loud cough interrupted them. Embarrassed, Thea pulled away. However many doubts her brain raised, it seemed her body held no qualms. Her feelings for Vernon were too complicated...she could not think straight, not with everyone here, and so she focused on the practicalities.

  She spoke to her grim-faced brother. ‘What about all the guests?’

  ‘That girl, the American, she’s gone to tell them their host has been taken ill. They will soon be gone. And then you and I, Sis, will be having a chat.’

  She went to him, lay her hand on his arm.

  ‘Not here,’ she whispered. ‘Not in front of the Duke.’ She glanced over her shoulder to where he still interrogated Jasper Connor, having hauled him up to sit on a chair. He scared her. She had never met anyone quite so high-born before.

  Except Vernon. He is of the same parentage, only younger. You are not scared of him.

  She brushed away that errant thought. Whatever happened, she did not want it to be here, in this house.

  ‘How did you get here?’ Daniel said.

  ‘On Star. She is in the stables.’

  She caught Daniel’s scowl as he eyed her legs. ‘You will return in the post-chaise with Mrs Connor and Mr Morgan.’

  ‘She will not.’ Vernon had joined them. ‘Thea will be with me, in my curricle. The Temples will need transport back to town, so they can go in the post-chaise. Leo?’

  Vernon’s brother looked around, raised a dark brow and sauntered across the room to join them, his silvery-grey gaze on Thea, making her feel like squirming. She firmed her lips and elevated her chin, and he smiled. She narrowed her eyes at him. He was as bad as Vernon.

  ‘You called?’ The Duke executed a mock bow.

  ‘How did you get here? Carriage?’

  ‘As it happens, no. I rode out from the Crown, in company with the charming but somewhat uncommunicative Mr Gray. And you will be pleased to hear that the ever-obliging Horwell is sending the constable out to take charge of Connor.’

  ‘Good. I wondered how we were to transport him back. Markham?’

  Daniel looked his query. ‘You may ride alongside my curricle if you so wish, but your sister is coming with me.’ He grasped Thea’s arm and started for the door. ‘We will see you all back at the Crown.’

  Thea hung back. ‘Do I not get a say?’

  Vernon looked at her. ‘No.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Thea huddled at one end of the curricle seat, her arms folded tightly across her chest, brooding. She was happy...she really was...that Daniel was safe but, at this moment in time, she wished she could consign all men—and, in particular, these two bristling, belligerent specimens—to Hades.

  Vernon handled the reins and his whip with relaxed skill, but his profile appeared to have been carved from rock and he had spoken not a word since handing her into the curricle at Crackthorpe Manor. Daniel, astride Bullet—who, she had learned, had been tracked and caught by the gipsies after Daniel’s rescue—and leading Star, rode beside the curricle, casting black looks at Vernon and Thea alike.

  So much for gratitude. You’d think he’d appreciate us coming to search for him.

  * * *

  Back at the Crown, Vernon handed his blacks over to Bickling and, holding Thea’s arm, he marched her into the inn. And stopped dead, cursing under his breath, as an attractive, finely dressed lady standing at the foot of the staircase turned and smiled.

  ‘Good afternoon, Vernon,’ she said. Her shining golden-brown hair was swept into a smooth chignon. ‘Did Leo find you?’

  Her words confirmed she was the Duchess. Thea swallowed nervously, tugging the peak of her cap lower over her eyes.

  Vernon’s fingers tightened around Thea’s upper arm. ‘He did and good afternoon to you, too, Rosalind. I understand you are escorting Mr Allen home to Birmingham?’

  The Duchess’s hand went to a silver locket that hung on a simple chain around her neck.

  ‘We are, although he is only going back to collect his belongings. I don’t know if Leo told you, but Grandpa has agreed to come and live with us at Cheriton Abbey. It is time he retired.’ Her gaze settled on Thea and her brows twitched. ‘Are you going to introduce us?’

  The front door of the inn opened behind them and a quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that Daniel had entered the Crown. Vernon, too, had seen Daniel and he tugged Thea closer to his side.

  ‘Not just at this moment, Rosalind,’ he said, as he manoeuvred Thea in the direction of their private parlour. ‘Please forgive me, but there is a matter that demands my urgent attention.’

  Thea did not dare look at the Duchess as Vernon towed her past. He threw open the door to the parlour but, before he could shut it, Daniel barged in behind them.

  ‘You are not needed, Markham,’ Vernon bit out. ‘Your sister and I have matters to discuss.’

  Daniel crossed his arms. ‘I go nowhere without Thea.’

  Vernon thrust Thea behind him as he faced Daniel, who cocked his head to one side. ‘Do you have a sister, Beauchamp?’

  Thea marvelled at Daniel’s bravery in confronting a member of the aristocracy even as she resented them both for taking control and talking about her as though she weren’t even there.

  ‘I do,’ Vernon growled. ‘What does—?’

  ‘Would you allow your sister to remain even one minute, unchaperoned, in the company of a man who had already thoroughly compromised her?’

  Vernon’s rigid back relaxed somewhat but, far from relieving her, that made Thea more nervous. Matters were tricky enough without Vernon and Daniel forming an alliance against her. She pushed past Vernon.

  ‘Neither of you has the right to allow me to do anything.’

  ‘Now, Thea—’

  ‘Do not “Now, Thea” me,’ she hissed at Daniel. ‘I—’

  He put his arm around her. ‘We only want what is best for you.’

  ‘You...both of you...seem to think me incapable of deciding what is best for myself,’ she said, wriggling to free herself. Daniel tightened his hold. ‘You are wrong,’ she hissed. ‘I have a brain. I can decide my own future.’

  ‘Markham?’

  She felt Daniel stiffen. ‘Beauchamp?’

  ‘Might we leave this discussion until later?’ Vernon moved forward and, somehow, Thea was free of Daniel’s grip and Vernon was ushering her towards the door. ‘Your sister is tired and she has suffered a huge shock. Allow her to rest. We can discuss this later.’

  Thea glanced back at Daniel, who looked as dumbfounded as she felt. How had Vernon managed to manipulate them so smoothly? He opened the door for Thea. She walked out of the room, but Vernon remained inside.

 
; ‘Go and sleep. I will see you at dinner.’

  ‘Promise me you will not fight with Daniel.’

  ‘I promise. Now, go.’ He shut the door.

  * * *

  At half past five that evening Vernon knocked on Thea’s bedchamber door. He heard a muffled ‘Come in’ and he opened the door. It had taken some doing, but he had persuaded Daniel Markham to allow him time to prove to Thea he was not marrying her because he ought to, but because he wanted to. It was the one thing the two men had agreed upon: Dorothea Markham could not be forced to do anything. She needed to make up her own mind.

  As he stepped through the door he blinked in surprise. Sitting at the dressing table, dressed in a pale primrose silk gown, was Thea, frowning ferociously above a mouthful of hairpins. Vernon closed the door behind him as she pulled another curl straight and jabbed a pin through it. The end sprang up again. Thea sighed and scooped the pins from her lips, scattering them across the top of the dressing table.

  ‘It is hopeless,’ she declared. Her eyes sheened. ‘It’s even harder than before to make them lie flat.’

  ‘But why do you want to flatten your curls?’ Vernon wandered over to stand behind her and skimmed his fingertips across her nape and along her shoulder to the edge of her neckline, watching the skin pucker in response to his touch. ‘They are beautiful. I love your curls.’

  Their eyes met in the mirror. ‘You do?’

  He fingered one curl and tugged it gently before releasing it to spring and bounce back into shape. ‘I do.’

  She sighed. ‘I will look an utter fright next to Cordelia and the Duchess.’

  He dipped his knees and brushed a kiss to the sensitive spot below her ear. ‘You will outshine the pair of them.’

  She stretched her head to one side, exposing more of her neck for him to nibble and kiss. She sighed, her lids fluttering closed, but before long her eyes sprang open again.

  ‘What will the Duchess say about me? Will she be very disapproving?’