Born into the private establishment of privilege and exclusivity, Lord Francis Randolph had a formidable reputation with an authoritative air of breeding, command and an unconscious swagger of arrogance which spoke of generations of influence, superiority and advantage. Jane had no wish to meet him again any more than he would want to meet her. But the concern she felt for Miriam putting her in this impossible position had put her out of temper and she was in no mood to be charitable. The Randolphs had always ignored the Deightons, moved by the desire to remove all connection with a family of Papists.
Tall, virile, undeniably magnetic, Francis Randolph suddenly appeared. He was exactly as she remembered. He had an air about him that most women would find irresistible. His thick black hair drawn back to his nape gleamed in the light from the chandeliers and his eyes, even in the midst of so much darkness, were compelling and so dark a blue they might almost have been black. His nose was slightly crooked and his mouth much too wide, but these flaws only served to heighten his inordinate good looks, giving him a rakish air. He was lean, his muscular physique admirably shown off by a dark blue velvet suit cut to emphasise his broad shoulders and slender waist. His waistcoat was pearl-grey and his neckcloth of pristine white silk nestled beneath his chin.
A man like Francis Randolph would undoubtedly have a string of women, beautiful and expensive women. He had a temper, she had heard, and he wasn’t at all pleased at having his evening of frivolous entertainment interrupted. He looked at her for a moment, as though debating whether or not to allow her an audience.
In that moment they both assessed the other’s relative strengths and weaknesses. Those hard eyes took in every detail from her head to her toes with slow deliberation. She didn’t know, now that she was here, what kind of reaction she had expected from him. She watched as his eyes hardened—the last thing she had expected was a welcome. Few people could withstand the blast of determination from Lord Randolph’s eyes, but Jane did not flicker an eyelid.
‘I beg your pardon for imposing myself on you like this. Thank you for seeing me, Lord Randolph. I am Jane Deighton...’
With narrowed eyes, alert and watchful, he looked into the stormy eyes of his uninvited visitor as if she were not entitled to his consideration. ‘I am well aware of who you are, Miss Deighton. We have met—you remember the circumstances of our last meeting?’
‘I do indeed.’
‘And your recovery was quick, I trust, with no after-effects?’
‘I was incapacitated for at least a week, but I got over it.’
His bold blue eyes which passed over her convinced her he was aware of the heated flush that suddenly heated her body beneath the folds of her dress. She quickly pulled herself together and raised her head in that determined way of hers, not in the slightest concerned with his arrogant, knowing smile.
‘I do not recall inviting you here tonight.’
Her eyebrows lifted. ‘Do I look as if I have been invited?’
His gaze flicked over her, a slight smile twitched the corners of his mouth and a wicked light shone in his eye, as though her arrival was an amusing diversion. He shook his head. ‘Not in the slightest.’
‘I always was impetuous,’ she retorted, holding his gaze.
‘My footman informs me you have come on an urgent matter. What is it that brings you into the camp of the enemy with such urgency, Miss Deighton?’
‘I have come here on a matter of great importance. As a matter of fact, it cannot wait. Time is of the essence.’ There was not even the faintest tremor in her voice. She willed her heart to stop pounding, willed the waves of panic to recede. She could sense that he was wary, that his guard had dropped just a little, but his steady gaze told her he was not going to make it easy for her.
‘I am intrigued. Of what help could I possibly be to you?’
‘I would like to speak to you—in private, if I may.’ Her eyes slid to the blonde-haired woman hovering like a limpet at his side, her gown of lavender satin embroidered with delicate violet bows emphasising the full swell of her breasts above the tight bodice. There was a certain smugness stamped on her, a confidence that came from the knowledge of her own beauty and importance. Jane was cruelly aware of that golden creature and how graceless and unsophisticated she must appear by contrast. She really should have combed her hair and put on a decent dress before coming to Redmires. She suddenly wanted to slide out of sight, to remove herself from the scene.
Lord Randolph looked at her and then he stepped aside. ‘Very well. I suppose I can spare you five minutes. Come into the study. We can talk there.’
She watched his face as he turned to the woman vying for his attention with what Jane thought to be desperate coquetry, which, she suspected, both bored and displeased him.
‘Excuse us, Margaret. Go in to supper and I will join you shortly. This shouldn’t take long,’ he said, casting Jane a meaningful glance.
Margaret shot Jane a venomous look and walked away.
As Jane followed him across the hall she had a glimpse into the rooms beyond and a clear view of the people within. He opened the door next to a room where a group of men sat intently round a table where a game of cards was in progress and she had no trouble recognising several of her more affluent neighbours, neighbours who shunned them because of her father’s adherence to the Stuart cause. Some of their Protestant neighbours were friendly enough, others not so friendly, who made their daily lives difficult by barring access to their land, which was a nuisance when they needed to pass through on their way to market at Corbridge or Newcastle.
Lord Randolph held the door open until she had passed through and then closed it, shutting out the sounds of merriment. The fire crackled pleasantly, filling the room with a cosy warmth and casting a rosy orange glow. An elderly man in full wig sat at a desk, his head bent over his work. He looked up when they entered and putting down his quill got up. She recognised him as Mr Berkley, Lord Randolph’s steward, a kindly, good natured man. She often saw him when he rode by and, on occasion, he would come to Beckwith Manor to partake of Bessie’s muffins and to pass the time of day with Sam.
‘Ah—Miss Deighton,’ he said with a slight inclination of his head, smiling broadly. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you. Excuse me. I’ll leave you to your business when I’ve gathered up my papers.’
‘It’s nice to see you, Mr Berkley. I trust you and Mrs Berkley are well?’
‘We’re absolutely fine. I’ll tell her you asked about her.’
When the door had closed behind Berkley, Lord Randolph went over to the hearth, giving a log a shove with his foot, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. Turning to face her, he stood with his legs apart, hands on hips, looking at her with a hardness in his eyes. She sensed a toughness beneath the exterior, a subtle ruthlessness in those taut cheekbones and the curve of his mouth, and felt he could be more dangerous than anyone she had ever met. Yes, he exuded an aura of power, of strength and authority, but a languid sexuality smouldered beneath the surface. She gazed at him wholly unmoved and it seemed to taunt him.
‘What can I do for you, Miss Deighton? May I ask what it is that’s got you all fired up. You want something from me and you must want it badly for you to seek me out like this.’
‘I do. The devil drives where the devil must, Lord Randolph,’ she said, feeling that the devil was certainly driving her when she had to ask this man for anything.
‘State your case quickly. As you see, I have guests.’
‘Yes, I do see,’ Jane said icily, finding it difficult to keep her temper under control, but knowing she must if she wanted him to hear her out. He had not invited her to sit down and she knew he was deliberately keeping her on tenterhooks until she told him the reason for her visit. His manner told her he had no time to waste on pleasantries; he was busy with his own concerns. She would be better served to state her case and be on her way.
‘
It concerns my sister and your brother.’
He looked at her in genuine astonishment. ‘Andrew?’ He sighed, his expression changing to exasperation, resting his arm on the mantelpiece. ‘What has he been up to?’
‘He’s absconded with my sister.’
‘I think you will find that you are mistaken. Andrew left for the south this morning. As far as I am aware he was alone.’ He spoke with sharpened authority, but his voice had wavered.
‘He left with my sister.’
He lifted an eyebrow. ‘And you are sure of that, are you? My brother left for Newcastle early this morning to pick up the post from Edinburgh to London.’
‘I know. I told you. My sister was with him.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘They were seen in the post together, heading south. Your precious brother has run away with her,’ she said, enunciating each word, as though she were addressing a child. ‘In short, Lord Randolph, they have eloped.’
Lord Randolph faltered, beginning to see the truth behind her words. His surprise was as genuine as his annoyance. ‘Eloped?’ His voice sharpened. ‘Good Lord! And you are certain of this?’
‘Yes. Miriam was staying overnight with our aunt outside Newcastle, so I knew nothing about it until I returned from Corbridge earlier. She sent a note. Unfortunately I did not receive it until it was too late to stop her.’ Taking it from her pocket, she opened it out. ‘Allow me to read you the contents. She writes that she is leaving with Andrew Randolph, that they are running away. They are in love and cannot live without each other. They are to be married in London. She adds that she is very happy and for me not to worry.’ She gave him the note so he could verify the contents. he scanned the missive and handed it back to her. Shoving the note back in her pocket, she faced him.
‘The damned fool,’ he growled, raking his hair back from his forehead.
‘Now you will be in no doubt that they have run off together. Naturally I am furious—as would my father be, were he here and not—’
‘In France,’ he finished for her scathingly. ‘I know perfectly well where your father is, Miss Deighton, and why—or maybe he is in Scotland, drumming up support to aid the Pretender in regaining the throne for the Stuarts. I know the Earl of Mar has sailed from London to Aberdeenshire for a council of war, so I think you can guarantee your father will not be far away.’
Tension filled the air between them and a dangerous hostility in the face of Francis Randolph’s contempt and bitter condemnation for her father and all the Catholics who were prepared to lose everything in their struggle to place a Catholic king on the English throne. People like Francis Randolph, Jane knew, considered the Catholics of Northumberland to be a different species from his own, whose force of nature threatened the law-abiding civilisation of England and Scotland, that they conformed to no patterns of behaviour but their own.
‘If that is indeed so, I have no knowledge of it. Because of this and that other matter which continues to fester between our families, I am sure you will understand why there can never be any connection between the Deightons and the Randolphs. It is clear my sister and your brother have not considered the consequences of their actions. They would be monumental. It is imperative I find them before they do anything foolish.’
‘And what will you do?’
Her eyes hardened with intent. ‘Go after them, of course. What else should I do? She is my sister. I will attempt to deal with the consequences of what she and that conniving, silver-tongued scamp of a brother of yours have done. His actions are wholly reprehensible.’
‘I agree with you absolutely.’
‘I imagine a union between them would be as distasteful to you as it is to me,’ she retorted. ‘When I find them and bring my sister home—and please God she is as virtuous as she was when she left—then I will count on you to take your brother in hand and keep him away from her.’
Her words both goaded and amused him. He smiled a curious half-smile, one corner of his mouth curling up. The dark blue eyes were mocking, but there was a hardness in them now and she couldn’t help but feel a curious unease. Her every instinct told her she must remain calm and aloof. She must not let him suspect the panic that had swept over her when told her sister had run off with Andrew Randolph, a panic so strong she had felt her knees must surely give way beneath her.
‘I have not come here to ask for your help. I am here to ask for your co-operation. A marriage between our families is not to be considered. I know you share my concern.’
A pair of hard blue eyes regarded her dispassionately. ‘I do—although all my life I have harboured the delusion that all young ladies yearn to snare wealthy husbands—and despite Andrew still living at Redmires, he is wealthy in his own right. I am amazed that you have such strong objections to my family’s suitability, for our breeding is flawless and we are better connected than most.’
‘I do not dispute that, Lord Randolph, that your family’s credentials are impeccable, but wealth and an illustrious name does not give a man the right to do as he pleases and to do it with impunity.’
‘I beg to differ. Andrew is twenty-two years old. He does not need me to hold his hand.’
‘Then I, too, beg to differ, Lord Randolph. What my sister has is far too precious to squander on a man who is unworthy to receive it.’
A mildly tolerant smile touched his handsome visage, but the glint in his deep blue eyes was as hard as steel. ‘You have made it quite plain that you have a low opinion of my brother, Miss Deighton.’
‘I do. His constant trailing after Miriam of late like a lovesick calf has not endeared him to me in the slightest.’
‘Really? This is news to me. Yes, he is what you say—a silver-tongued scamp, but easily influenced and never vicious. If it will put your mind at ease, Andrew has left Redmires to make his life in London. I didn’t have the faintest idea that he knew your sister. I have other matters that concern me—but where are my manners?’ he said, pushing his long frame away from the mantelpiece and moving close to her, his gaze capturing hers. ‘You will have some refreshment?’
Jane gazed up at him. Those glowing eyes burned into hers, suffusing her with a growing aura or warmth she could not explain. Immediately she took a step back. ‘No—thank you. I apologise for imposing, but you must understand my concern.’
‘Of course I do. I, too, am concerned and your sister must be brought back. If you get to London, how will you go about locating her?’
‘That is what I have come to ask you. It is difficult to see how pursuit can be made until I have precise information about where your brother has taken her. I am sure you will know his destination. I would like to have caught up with them before they reached London. It is hopeless, I know, but I refuse to let go of that slim ray of hope. If not, I must know where to look when I get to London.’
‘I imagine Andrew will have taken her to our mother.’
Shocked and surprised, Jane stared at him. ‘Lady Randolph? I—I am surprised. I do not imagine there will be a welcome for my sister in your mother’s house.’
‘Perhaps not, since your father was responsible for the death of her husband—my father. My brother is his own master, Miss Deighton. Your sister has clearly gone with him of her own accord.’
‘She is just seventeen years old.’
‘And I agree that the young fools have to be found before it is too late.’
‘What will you do?’’
‘They leave me with no choice but to go after them myself. I must thank you for bringing the matter to my notice so promptly.’
‘You will take me with you?’
‘Certainly not. You must stay here. I will do my utmost to locate them. All you will be is a hindrance. I want neither you nor your company on the journey.’
Fire sprang to Jane’s eyes. She clenched her hands tightly in the folds of her skirt and took
a deliberate pace closer to him. ‘Do as you like, Lord Randolph, but do you really think I will remain here while my sister is in danger? Do you think I would trust you to bring her back safely? I think not. I imagine you casting her off and forcing her to fend for herself. She has no money and will have taken very little with her for her comfort. For all we know she may have come to harm—should that be the case, then, when she is found, she will have need of me.’
‘Let me assure you that I would do nothing so callous as to abandon her. You have every right to be upset and concerned about her—but you are not going with me.’
Jane’s chilled contempt met him face to face, then, tossing her head, she turned from him and stalked towards the door. ‘Very well. I certainly have no desire to accompany a man on a journey when he has no desire to have me along.’
‘Where in God’s name are you going?’
Jane felt a wave of desperation as she strove for control. ‘After them. Do you think I don’t know how difficult it will be? It is mad and perhaps it is impossible since I do not know where to look once I reach London—having no idea where Lady Randolph lives,’ she replied, her eyes bright with anger as she turned and threw a look back at him. ‘But I have to try. If you will not help me, then I must help myself, because I swear that if there is the slightest chance of finding my sister I will walk all the way to London if necessary.’
Stepping out into the hall, she closed the door behind her. Thankfully it was empty, everyone having retired to the supper room. A great wave of disappointment and anger filled her heart. She thought of the past days. Her sister, always light-hearted and gay, had been aglow and as excited as a small child with mischief in store. Looking back, she thought there had been a difference in her of late. Jane should have been suspicious then, but had chosen to ignore it. Tired of Miriam’s restlessness and putting it down to her high spirits, she had sent her off to stay with Aunt Emily. A steely determination had replaced the worry and anger that had assailed her on learning of Miriam’s foolishness. It was still there, locked tightly inside, but she wasn’t going to let it deter her from going after her and bringing her home.
Captivating the Cynical Earl Page 26