My Lord Highwayman

by Valerie King

  Abigail chuckled and moved back down the hall. “I must fetch a branch of candles from the antechamber. The drawing room is unusually dim, but then, you must be aware of that.”

  Treyford, who was walking beside her, laughed. “Lavant cannot persuade Stockleigh to do otherwise.”

  “So I have been given to understand.” Retrieving the branch of candles, she retraced her steps, moving slowly in order to keep the flames from going out. Treyford followed behind as together they made their way back to the drawing room.

  “So you met our notorious highwayman Sunday night,” he said over her shoulder.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “I hope he did not importune you,” he stated casually.

  Abigail felt her cheeks warm suddenly. She turned back to him, meeting his gaze. “He did,” she whispered. “Quite unforgivable, or at least it would have been except that I found myself quite mesmerized, but why I am telling you this I cannot say.” She was a little shocked at having confided in him.

  “And I am glad you did, for now you do not seem so formidable to me.”

  “Do I truly seem formidable, or are you just teasing me?”

  He smiled at her so warmly that her heart skipped not one but several beats. He slipped by her in order to open the door to the drawing room.

  When she passed through, he murmured, “Formidable, indeed.”

  “Confound that Stockleigh,” Lavant bellowed when he caught sight of the branch of lit tapers she carried in hand. “The cursed fellow will not light keep this chamber well-enough lit, or any of my rooms, though I plague him relentlessly about it. Yes, yes. Put it there, on the mantel.” He was busily cracking walnuts and popping the bits into his mouth.

  Abigail settled the candelabrum carefully to the side of the largest of his wife’s paintings. “I believe this is my favorite, Mr. Lavant. Your wife had a marvelous eye for detail and color.”

  She heard him sigh. “She most certainly did, but very little discernment of character, else she would never have wed me.” He cracked another walnut. “So, where the devil have you been, Trey. I was about to send for the hunting dogs, but I see Miss Chailey found you quickly enough.”

  Miss Lavant yawned, not for the first time.

  Abigail exchanged a look and a smile with Treyford, then took up her place beside Miss Lavant. She was aware that her student was looking decidedly fagged and suggested quietly that she might retire if she wished for it. Miss Lavant did not hesitate. She rose to her feet, and after stretching a little, and yawning yet once more, bid her ‘Uncle Trey’ a pleasant good night. After kissing her father on the cheek, she quit the chamber.

  Abigail, on the other hand, was not in the least fatigued, and when Treyford requested a game of backgammon, she accepted readily. Mr. Lavant remained in his chair, spreading open a well-used novel by the author of Waverley on his knees, sipping a glass of port now and then and continuing to crack the walnuts.

  Abigail, who enjoyed a good game, entered with enthusiasm into the competition and was soon rolling the dice heartily. Treyford was equally as spirited, and before long they were laughing as old friends might. An hour slipped by and then another.

  When the clock chimed eleven, Treyford leaned back in his chair abruptly. “Is the hour so advanced? Well, I must say, you are a most enjoyable opponent.”

  “And I return the compliment most heartily,” she responded grandly.

  He laughed and rose to his feet. “Do but look,” he said. “For all our enjoyment of the game, we still succeeded in sending Lavant to his slumbers.”

  “How he slept I cannot imagine, when we were exclaiming over nearly every roll of the dice.”

  He glanced at her and his expression grew quite soft. “Thank you for this evening, Miss Chailey. If you continue in this fashion, I might change my opinion of governesses.”

  “Not likely,” she stated, smiling broadly.

  “So you will not continue in this fashion?”

  “That is not what I meant. I was referring to the fact that I sincerely doubt you will alter your opinion about ladies engaged in my profession. You are, after all, nearly forty, and it is my experience that by such a time, gentlemen are quite fixed in all their convictions.”

  At that, he bent down to her, placing his palms on the table in front of her so that he looked directly into her eyes. “Do you know what a provoking, challenging creature you are?”

  His expression was full of laughter, otherwise she might have been taken aback. “My father would have been pleased to hear you say so. He was forever telling me not to be a simpering miss, to speak my thoughts, and to counter prejudice where I found it.”

  His gaze drifted quite oddly to her lips. “He taught his daughter well, for you have countered me delightfully all evening.”

  Abigail could not tear her gaze from his face, nor from the hungry expression she saw in every handsome feature. For a lady to be desired, even by a man who had a poor opinion of her profession, was a heady experience, one that set her heart to thrumming in her chest all over again.

  She found it difficult to breathe. He leaned closer still and her lips parted in anticipation. Did he intend to kiss her? Was she really going to permit him to do so? How wise would that be? A second more . . .

  A loud snort suddenly erupted from Mr. Lavant’s chair. He awoke from his gentle slumbers. “Take the salt to the cellars,” he cried out, his eyes round and wild-looking.

  Abigail turned away to hide her laughter. Treyford rose up and said, “You’ve been dreaming, old chap.”

  “Good God. So I have. About salt, I suppose. I fear I must ask Mrs. Nympton if we’ve a sufficient supply. I cannot imagine why I should be dreaming of it otherwise.”

  Treyford moved away from the table, and Abigail rose to her feet as well. The moment was gone, but there remained in her limbs a certain trembling. Treyford turned toward her and extended his hand to her. “Thank you for the game,” he said, a crooked smile on his lips. “I enjoyed it exceedingly.”

  “As did I,” she responded, grasping his hand firmly. She liked the way her hand felt clasped in his. She repressed a sigh. He said his good-byes, and within a few minutes of his carriage being brought around, he was gone.

  Abigail would have retired to her bedchamber, but Mr. Lavant called out to her. “You may not leave just yet, Miss Chailey. First I must know if you intend to tumble in love with my dear friend.”

  Five

  Two days later, Abigail was dressed in a summery gown of blue silk with the ribbons of her straw hat tied jauntily beneath her right ear. She was leaving Oak Hill for the first time since her arrival, having made an engagement to pay a call upon Mr. Clark in order to introduce herself to the good vicar of Oakmont.

  As she walked in the direction of the rectory, she recalled Mr. Lavant’s singular question: Do you intend to tumble in love with Treyford?

  She had shared a glass of brandy with her employer that evening but avoided answering the question until he pressed her. She pointed out to him that whatever Treyford’s accomplishments—and according to Lavant, these were many—because he was ostracized from Three Rivers Cross society, he was scarcely fit to be the husband of any lady. Mr. Lavant, surprisingly, agreed with her. If she withheld the truth that she was strongly drawn to Treyford, even to the point that she had almost allowed him to kiss her once the backgammon game had drawn to a conclusion, it hardly mattered. Whatever Treyford’s appeal, she could not risk loving him because he could not give her what she desired most.

  Thoughts of Treyford inevitably led her to remembering her encounter with the highwayman. She realized he was rarely far from her thoughts, as though some part of him lived within her already, and had from the moment she placed her lips on his.

  Was he to be her destiny? Had fate decreed that he stop her coach instead of Lady Waldron’s?

  She had asked Mr. Lavant many things about the highwayman and had learned that it was believed he resided in Plymouth and that it was highly pos
sible that Mr. Clark knew him personally. The most astonishing fact of all was that what the highwayman stole from his wealthy victims he gave to Mr. Clark toward the completion of the orphanage.

  When she asked Mr. Lavant if he disapproved of the highwayman’s methods for helping Mr. Clark complete the orphanage, his answer had given her much to contemplate.

  “As to that,” he had said, “I have tried not to be too judgmental. If anything, some of our neighbors have been served with their own sauce. There is, to my way of thinking, no reason why the orphanage should not have been built years ago. It is much needed, and if a highwayman must come along to see the task done, then so be it.” It would seem the highwayman did not rob any of the local gentry who were known to have made steady contributions to the orphanage.

  Abigail had concluded that the man was a philanthropist. She said as much, which made Lavant chuckle, for the notion was ridiculous. How was it possible for a thief to be a philanthropist?

  The only aspect of her conversation with her employer that had disturbed Abigail was that she had relented and finally told him that she had been betrothed to Geoffrey Ferrers. Mr. Lavant had been shocked, for Geoffrey was one of the wealthiest men in the kingdom.

  He had teased her mercilessly. “I cannot credit you jilted him,” he said. “No wonder you were reluctant to tell me his name the day of your arrival. I vow I should have turned you from the door for exhibiting such rampant foolishness had I known.”

  When he had further exclaimed that he could hardly wait to tell Treyford, she had begged him to keep the information to himself, for she feared she would become an object of far more curiosity than she could ever wish for. He agreed, most kindly, to respect her wishes for privacy in the matter.

  Once he became accustomed to the identity of her former betrothed, he then desired to know why she had jilted so extraordinary a suitor. She had told him of Geoffrey’s disinterest in his family and in society in general and in her own desire to be intimately connected to a community. He had listened attentively and nodded wisely. “I see,” he had murmured, “the same reason you intend to keep Treyford at bay.”

  She had only smiled and afterward confessed she was in need of her bed.

  Now, as she walked briskly along the lane, her skirts gathered up to keep the hem from becoming soiled, she wondered if she would indeed have to keep Treyford at bay or whether he had truly been intent on kissing her at all. Whatever the case, she realized she was happy to be at Oak Hill, the majority of her effort turned toward helping her new pupil.

  She had left Miss Lavant practicing her pianoforte. Not that Abigail had great hopes that her charge would last above five minutes at the rosewood instrument once she was certain her governess had disappeared down the lane, but at least she had gone through all her scales and was now working on her arpeggios. Mr. Lavant had assured her he was greatly encouraged, for his daughter had not devoted herself this much to the pianoforte since Miss Fursden passed so many years before.

  Abigail was not so sanguine about her student’s progress. Since her arrival, she had been determined to bring Miss Lavant to a place of study and discipline, but the young lady was remarkably headstrong and could be led only in brief fits and starts. She had resigned herself to the struggle to the degree that she had not yet determined how she might help Miss Lavant see the value of applying herself to learning and to knowledge. She hoped she would quickly discover the proper motivation for her, but as yet, Miss Lavant was unmoved by praise, threats, or lectures on the value of such things.

  Regardless of her frustrations, however, she could not be too downcast. The day was beautiful and an early morning shower had cleared all the dust from the foliage of the lanes, yet had not lasted long enough to turn the roads into muddy byways. The effect was such that the leaves sparkled and the nearby fields of corn glittered in the strong July sunlight.

  An hour later, she let down the skirts of her blue silk gown over her dusty petticoat and strolled up the front walk of the charming thatched vicarage. A maid opened the door to her and escorted her to the parlor in which a thoughtful man of an age with Treyford rose to his feet and bowed to her. “I was gratified to have received your note, Miss Chailey. Both Mr. Lavant and Lord Treyford have spoken your praises to me, so I must say I am delighted to make your acquaintance.”

  “How kind you are,” she said. “Though I must confess I am a little surprised that these gentlemen would compliment me. Mr. Lavant delights in teasing me relentlessly and Lord Treyford, as you must know, has a very low opinion of governesses.”

  Mr. Clark smiled. “How quickly you ran to the heart of each man. Regardless, they both had many fine things to say about you.”

  “I remain astonished,” she returned.

  “Won’t you sit down? You must be fatigued, for I saw you arrived without benefit of a carriage. I know Mr. Lavant well enough that the decision was not his. Whatever his faults, he is generous and kind and would never have withheld his coach from you.”

  “Of course he did not, nor did he hesitate to scoff soundly at my desire to walk. Yet, on such a day as this, why would I desire anything else? I enjoy the benefits of exercise and very soon intend to begin an exploration of the nearby moors.”

  “You are an adventurous young woman.”

  The conversation moved in a variety of directions, encompassing a recounting of the principal families surrounding Three Rivers Cross, the most recent weddings to have taken place, of which there were a spate in June, and the progress of the orphanage, a project nearer to Mr. Clark’s heart than anything else. “For I was orphaned myself at a young age,” he said, “not yet eight, with no family connections to rely on for either myself or my younger siblings.”

  Abigail shared her own experience, and together they agreed that a properly maintained facility such as they both had enjoyed was of huge benefit to children bereft of their parents.

  “I do not believe,” Mr. Clark mused, “that there would be nearly so much abuse as one hears of in London, such as the chimney sweeps endure, were there more orphanages about, at least of the variety you and I were part of.”

  “I could not agree with you more. I was wondering, however, how you feel about the means by which your orphanage is being built?”

  “So you have heard of our highwayman and his playing at Robin Rood?”

  She nodded.

  “Answering your question is a trifle difficult,” he responded. “Though I shall try—ah, there you are, Marie.”

  The maid arrived bearing the tea service, and the remainder of his answer was let rest until both Abigail and Mr. Clark were sipping the bitter, refreshing beverage.

  Mr. Clark addressed her concern. “In order to respond to your query, I must tell you a little of the history of the building. I had always wanted such a facility in our vale, for one hears of tragedy so frequently, and any number of children left to their own devices without support of family. When I presented my ideas to Sir Walter Boxgrove, Lord Adling, Mr. Ramsey, and Sir Christopher Waldron, I had every hope that my plans would be adopted rapidly and that with enthusiasm. I was never more shocked than when the leaders of our society, in complete accord, refused to countenance any such institution.”

  “Why would they do so?” Abigail asked, bemused. “From what I understand, this part of Devonshire is quite populated and could benefit from any number of charitable endeavors.”

  “You and I are of a mind, I can see that at once. However, I believe the circumstances of their refusal to help me had its roots in two completely separate causes. First, it had already become known that Lord Treyford had promised to fund a full quarter of the costs of the building himself. His generous commitment immediately set several families against further involvement. I daresay by now you are well aware of the attitudes prevalent in the vale toward him.”

  “Very much so, for I met Lady Waldron upon my arrival here.”

  He sipped his tea, his brow wrinkled in some distress. “I blame myself. I ought
to have put a stop to all this nonsense a long time ago, but I truly believed the storm would pass. But that was fifteen years ago when I had such thoughts. Then, as now, I would have had no inconsiderable amount of difficulty in placing myself against Lady Waldron. She is quite formidable and has been able to keep the flame of her grievances alive with a mere puff of wind now and then. Really, it is quite remarkable. I vow had she conceived of the idea of building an orphanage, it would have been built in a day.”

  Abigail thought of her conversation with Lady Waldron and felt decidedly uneasy. Why had she found it necessary to launch into Lord Treyford’s history before they had even formed a proper friendship? She now thought it likely Lady Waldron had had only one intention upon their first meeting—to blow a puff of wind in her direction.

  To Mr. Clark, however, she addressed what was for her the more pertinent issue at hand. “What I do not comprehend, Mr. Clark, is why Lord Treyford has never made an effort to become reconciled to the society about Three Rivers Cross. I can understand such reluctance at nineteen or twenty, but he is a man fully grown. Surely, there was something he could have done these many years and more to rectify the situation.”

  Mr. Clark frowned. “I cannot say. When one has been given the cut direct by every principal family in one’s neighborhood, I am not certain what an individual can do to alter the situation.”

  “You cannot convince me he was helpless to act. I have conversed with him at length and have perceived he is a man of considerable ability so that I am become persuaded his pride alone prevents him from truly being known and received by the families in the vale.”

  “You think him proud?”

  “Yes, as it happens, I do. Why else would he have permitted these families, who are so set against him, to continue in the belief that he was uninjured in the duel? I am convinced that were he to make the truth known, there would be many who might reconsider his part in the scandal so many years ago.”