Dorothy Elbury

by The Viscount's Secret

  Her uncle nodded. ‘He is an out-and-out scoundrel,’ he said bitterly. ‘If it were not for the fact that he is your aunt’s relative, I would not allow him in the house. No female is safe within a mile of him.’ He eyed her uncertainly. ‘You are sure you are quite well, my dear? I am desperately sorry that this should have happened in my house. I was so glad to see you, and now I doubt you will ever wish to return. As if you didn’t have enough bad memories of the place!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Georgina smiled, beginning to recover her spirits. ‘Your reception was more than I could have hoped for and, until that—unfortunate episode, I was more than happy to be here. However…’ she pointed at the clock ‘…I really do have to leave. My sister will be wondering what has become of me and I did so want to keep my visit a secret until I had explained to Mama.’

  ‘I wish you will do me the favour of keeping your secret for just one more day, my dear,’ begged Sir Arthur, as he ushered her from the room. ‘And then, I promise you that all the explanations may be left to me. I shall attend your mama on Monday, without fail.’ He bent and kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘No more worries, my child. It will all be dealt with, I give you my word.’

  The old butler stepped smartly forward to attend to the front door and his face was wreathed in smiles as he watched Sir Arthur escort his niece to the gate.

  As she parted from her uncle, Georgina could not resist casting a quick glance at the upstairs windows of the house and was almost certain that the curtains had twitched in one of them. She wondered why her aunt had not come down to the salon to meet her but, as her mind suddenly conjured up the vision of the haughty sour-faced woman who had accompanied Sir Arthur to the Reverend Cunningham’s funeral, she was somehow relieved that she hadn’t been obliged to confront her. Especially in view of her odious relative!

  Shuddering, she determined to try to put the loathsome episode out of her mind and made her way back to the church as quickly as she could. However, before long, it became abundantly clear to her that the market must be nearing its close, for she was forced to step into the roadway more than once to avoid collision with a succession of heavily laden shoppers coming away from the square. Her heart sinking, she realised that Latimer, if he was still in the church, must have been waiting for well over an hour. Breathlessly she ran up the short path that led to the doorway but, immediately upon reaching the porch, she collided violently with a tall sandy-haired young gentleman, who was also about to enter the church.

  ‘Miss Cunningham! I beg your pardon!’

  It was none other than John Mansell, her father’s one-time curate, now incumbent of Compton Lacey’s small parish. His hands reached out to prevent her from losing her footing and he did not relinquish his grasp as his eyes eagerly met hers.

  ‘I did not expect to meet you here. I had not hoped to see you until tomorrow’s service.’ He gazed at her imploringly. ‘Have you news for me? I have heard nothing from you for more than two weeks.’

  Georgina clasped his hands in her own and, shaking her head, gave the young man a smile of deep sympathy. ‘I have heard nothing, Mr Mansell. I’m so sorry.’

  For the umpteenth time that afternoon, Latimer opened the church door and, from its dim interior, peered out into the sunlight, taking a moment or two to accustom himself to the sudden brightness. All at once he recoiled at the astonishing spectacle of Georgina blatantly holding hands with a strange young man and—devil take it—gazing moonstruck into his eyes!

  The pair separated and swung round in what Latimer took to be guilty shock as, with a thud, the heavy door closed behind him. His eyes travelled to Georgina’s face and beheld—what was it? His heart constricted. Panic? Fear? Dear God! Her lips were bruised! Only a fool could fail to recognise the cause of that soft rosy swelling. He clenched his jaw and waited for the inevitable excuses for her delay.

  ‘Mr Latimer!’ Her voice was breathless and husky. ‘How good of you to wait. I was afraid you had given me up.’ She gave a self-conscious half-laugh. ‘My errand took much longer than I expected. You must be very cross with me.’ He hardened his heart as her eyes sought his in anxious appeal.

  ‘Naturally I waited,’ he said flatly. ‘I gave you my promise.’

  She flushed and turned towards Mansell. ‘May I introduce our new friend Mr Latimer,’ she stammered, unable to bear the quelling look on Latimer’s face.

  Mansell bowed and smilingly proffered his hand. ‘John Mansell, sir, at your service.’

  ‘Mr Mansell was my father’s curate,’ interposed Georgina, doing her utmost to assume a light tone of voice. ‘We are all hoping that he will shortly be given the living.’

  Latimer briefly returned Mansell’s handshake.

  ‘I fear I shall have to hurry Miss Cunningham away,’ he said abruptly. ‘Her sister will be wondering what has kept us.’

  ‘But of course.’

  Somewhat taken aback at the older man’s unexpectedly haughty attitude, Mansell gave him a little bow and made for the church door, catching Georgina’s eye as he passed her.

  ‘I look forward to seeing you in the morning, Miss Cunningham.’

  Insolent swine, thought Latimer in a towering fury, as the vicar, with a puzzled glance in his direction, disappeared into the church.

  Georgina eyed him doubtfully. It was clear that he was very angry.

  ‘I’m so sorry I kept you waiting,’ she said in a small voice. ‘It was impossible to complete my—my business in a shorter time.’

  Latimer shrugged, his face grim. ‘Your business, as you call it, seems to have resulted in the considerable crushing of the back of your bonnet. I would advise you to try and rectify some of the creasing before we find your sister, otherwise she will think that I have attacked you!’

  To his consternation her face flushed crimson and her eyes filled with tears as, shoulders heaving, she turned quickly away from him.

  ‘Oh, God, no! Please, Miss Cunningham—Georgina, I beg of you!’ Latimer stepped forward and spun her round to face him then, conscious that they were in full view of any curious passers-by who might glance in their direction, he propelled her to the church door. ‘Come now—inside at once. You must sit down.’

  Still weeping softly, she allowed him to lead her into the church’s cool interior and help her into one of the rear pews. Latimer breathed a sigh of relief as he observed that the church was empty. Since there was no sign of Mansell, he presumed that the man must be in the vestry. Momentarily uncertain as to the best course of action, he stood silently for a few minutes to allow Georgina to compose herself.

  ‘Can you not tell me what it is that is troubling you so?’ he then asked gently, taking out his handkerchief and offering it to her. ‘You must believe that I will do whatever is within my power to assist you.’

  She took it and raised her tear-drenched face, her violet eyes huge and full of misery. With trembling lips she shook her head. ‘I cannot tell you. I have given my word. Please do not press me.’

  ‘That scoundrel has hurt you,’ he said grimly. ‘Why must you protect him?’

  ‘S-scoundrel?’ Georgina recoiled. How could he possibly know of her recent experience? ‘To wh-whom do you refer?’

  ‘That swine Mansell, of course,’ replied Latimer shortly. ‘It is clear that you have been with him. What has he done to cause you this distress?’

  Georgina leapt to her feet in amazement. ‘No, no—you mistake the matter, sir,’ she exclaimed in horror. ‘I bumped into Mr Mansell at the church door—I was hurrying because I was so late.’

  His eyes narrowed in disbelief. ‘You were holding hands— I saw you.’

  ‘He had stopped me falling and—and I had a message for him—at least…’ She stopped, her thoughts confused. ‘I cannot tell you,’ she repeated miserably, still twisting his handkerchief in her hands.

  He gave a short laugh. ‘A veritable mine of mystery, aren’t you?’

  Immediately stung at his sudden change of manner, her head shot up de
fiantly. ‘As indeed you are yourself, sir,’ she retorted, glaring at him. ‘I am not required to tell you my business. I asked you to wait and you were good enough to oblige. I have apologised for keeping you longer than I anticipated and—and—and—that is all I intend to say on the matter.’

  With that, she angrily ripped off her bonnet and proceeded to try and punch it into its original shape. At her action his anger dissipated and his eyes began to glint with laughter. With a sardonic smile on his face, he stretched out his hand, plucked the offending object out of her grasp and calmly set about restoring a semblance of order to its bedraggled brim. When he had achieved as much of his objective as was possible he gave a little bow and handed the bonnet back to her, his lips curving in amusement as she snatched it from him and thrust it on her head.

  ‘Allow me,’ he said softly, reaching towards her to adjust its crooked angle then, taking the ribbons in his hands, he proceeded to tie them into an exquisite bow. His fingers lingered for a moment on her cheek as he brushed a stray curl back into place and his cool grey eyes held a strangely hypnotic expression.

  Georgina found that she could not tear her own eyes away from his face. Such a strong jaw and such firm, well-shaped lips. She was instantly beset by the thought of how it might feel to have his lips pressing down on hers in the same ruthless way that Carstairs had used her and to have his arms hold her as tightly. A shiver of excitement ran through her and she felt a hot blush forming on her face as Latimer stepped away from her, his head on one side as he critically examined his handiwork.

  ‘Much better,’ he said, with satisfaction. ‘Shall we go?’

  Numbly she took the proffered arm and walked out into the late afternoon sunshine with him.

  To Katharine, the first hour that she had spent in the milliner’s shop had seemed to fly by as she set about satisfying her quest for the perfect bonnet and she had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the project, determined to try on Madame Suzette’s entire stock with as much waste of time as she could possibly manage, trusting on her sister to return as soon as her mission was complete. As the minutes dragged on, however, and as she became aware of a growing impatience in Radley’s manner, she became more and more agitated and found herself reduced to trying on the same hats for the second or even third time.

  ‘The one with the pink roses is very charming,’ he offered, his voice lacking conviction, for it had been clear to him from almost the start of this long-winded exercise that his opinion was being treated with scant attention. ‘Or that one with the huge brim and the blue ribbons—it becomes you most prettily.’

  ‘I’ll just try this little green shako again.’

  Madame lifted the little velvet hat from its stand and adjusted the cockade of red feathers.

  ‘Eet ees, of course, ze ’at for riding, as I ’ave said,’ she said, in weary deference. Business had not been brisk today and she was anxious not to lose what might be her only decent sale. ‘Madame ees a horsewoman?’

  Katharine flushed, catching her fiancé’s eye. ‘Not exactly—but it could be worn with a travelling cloak, could it not?’

  ‘Eet would be most—how do you say?—un peu exceptionnel—a leetle unusual,’ replied Madame, a little stiffly. ‘Mais bien sûr, if madame so chooses.’

  Radley, eventually becoming bored with the whole proceedings, stood up and wandered over to the window. He would gladly have purchased Katharine an entire cartload of bonnets if only she would make up her mind, but he was such an easygoing fellow that he indulgently supposed her indecisiveness must be due to her having to contain her disappointment over the missed wedding. He stared out absentmindedly at the market square, watching the few remaining stallholders bundling up their unsold goods, and shaking his head in despair as two scruffy urchins hurriedly rifled their way through the discarded heaps of damaged fruits and vegetables before the approaching street cleaner could send them packing. Suddenly, his eyes lit up as he spotted two figures hurrying across the square.

  ‘Gina and Latimer are here!’ he called to Katharine. ‘Perhaps your sister will help you make up your mind?’

  Katharine breathed a sigh of relief and, jumping to her feet, she instructed Madame to box up the yellow ruched bonnet, the shepherdess chipstraw and the leghorn with the blue satin ribbons. Marching to the doorway, she placed her hand on Radley’s arm and gave him the sweetest smile. ‘Dear Andrew,’ she said. ‘You have been so patient. Thank you for my lovely bonnets—I shall keep them carefully until we are married and you will be so proud when you take me out.’

  His arm circled her tightly and he bent and kissed her cheek. ‘I am proud of you now, my dove,’ he whispered huskily. ‘You shall have as many bonnets as you can wear once we are wed, I promise you.’

  Katharine laughed and put up her hand to stroke his face, just as Georgina and Latimer entered the shop. Turning eagerly, her eyes sought her sister’s. Georgina gave a brief nod but, in true sisterly fashion, Katharine sensed that all was not well and concluded that the mission had not been a total success. Her own joy evaporated as her attention was drawn to Georgina’s slightly dishevelled appearance, for her sister was usually as neat as a pin, but she forbore from making any comment.

  ‘What shall we do now?’ she asked brightly, turning once more to her fiancé, who was in the process of settling the milliner’s account, not being the sort of man who ran up bills if he could avoid it.

  ‘I left an order for refreshments at the inn,’ he replied, smiling down at her. ‘Just something light to tide us over—then we must get on home, for I think I smell rain in the air. Are you certain you are perfectly content with your choice?’

  ‘More than satisfied,’ Eyes shining, she squeezed his hand, whispering into his ear, ‘You are so very good to me, Andrew.’

  With Georgina and Latimer each endeavouring to exhibit a cheerful light-heartedness that neither of them really felt, the outing was finally brought to a more-or-less successful close with an excellent supper. However, it was a far more subdued atmosphere that hung over the occupants of the carriage as it made its return journey to Compton Lacey. Radley had instructed his driver to raise the hoods, for the air had grown sultry and unpleasantly humid and occasional ominous rumblings could be heard in the distance. Katharine was almost asleep, her head resting against Radley’s arm, her fingers entwined in his. Radley himself had his eyes closed and was lost in the constant daydream of his coming nuptials.

  Georgina was also abstracted, as she replayed the afternoon’s events over and over in her mind, wondering what steps her uncle intended to take to solve her family’s problems and increasingly nervous at the thought of his impending interview with her mother. She was still shaken at the memory of her unpleasant ordeal with the man Carstairs and concerned that any new relationship with her uncle might necessitate her having to meet him again. But, even as her mind dwelt on these knotty problems, her thoughts kept returning sadly to that turbulent confrontation in the church with Latimer, the aftermath of which had clearly destroyed their previous ability to engage in the somewhat provocative banter of earlier meetings. This easy-going camaraderie had been replaced with a cool politeness on his part and dreary monosyllabic replies on hers. She flicked a surreptitious glance at the man sitting alongside her and discovered, to her embarrassment, that he was gravely studying her. She flushed and quickly turned her head away.

  Latimer had been watching her for some time and had registered the series of emotions that had swept across her face and the hands, never still, nervously twisting and untwisting her purse strings. It seemed that she was struggling with a host of unsolvable problems. He could not help but feel a wave of sympathy for her and, in spite of his own private disappointment, he vowed that he would still do his best to help her, if he could. Besides which, he reasoned, he had already initiated a course of action from which it would be difficult to deviate and it would be just as well to complete that task, at least, before taking his leave. He could then claim that his ludicrous
little venture had not been a total failure—even if it was about to cost him a great deal of money!

  He caught her glance and registered the rosy cheeks as she turned away. Impetuously he put out his hand and covered hers. Startled, she raised her eyes to his, questioningly.

  ‘You told me I could be your friend,’ he said, his voice low. ‘As a friend, please allow me to help you. Can you not bring yourself to confide in me? A trouble shared, you know…’ His eyes regarded her anxiously.

  A smile trembled on her lips. ‘I do appreciate your concern—I really do—but I have reason to hope that my problems will all be resolved in just a few days.’ Then, with a weary sigh, she added, ‘It is just that today proved to be more eventful and more—taxing than I had bargained for. I am so very grateful for your help and forbearance. I give you my promise that, when the end result is finally clear, you will fully understand the reason for my reticence.’

  Just so long as it doesn’t involve one Mansell, thought Latimer grimly but, nevertheless, he gave her a smile of encouragement and gently squeezed her hand before withdrawing his own.

  The carriage drew up outside the front steps of the Cunninghams’ residence and Radley swiftly hopped out to assist his fiancée. Latimer, likewise, rose to help Georgina descend, but Radley motioned him to remain in his seat.

  ‘Stay there, old chap,’ he commanded, holding out his own hand to Georgina. ‘Just let me take these boxes inside and then we’ll be off. I’ll drop you at the cottage. There’s a storm brewing and Chalmers won’t want to keep the horses standing at this time of night.’

  He followed the two girls into the house, carefully balancing Katharine’s three hatboxes in his arms; in a very few moments he returned to his seat in the landau, whereupon his coachman urged the horses forward and they were once more on their way.

  ‘Enjoyable day, all told,’ he said, leaning back and folding his arms above his head in a leisurely fashion. ‘Can’t say I’m cut out for hat shopping, though.’ He grinned conspiratorially at his companion and raised his eyebrows. ‘You two were gone a devilish long time—and clearly not just sketching, if I’m any judge!’