She jumped when the gong rang again.
“The fireworks!”
Once more, the patrons poured from the booths and from the shadowy walks, heading for a small arena surrounded by lawns. Smiling indulgently, Lucilla allowed Jeremy and George to tug her to her feet. Sophie rose uncertainly, glancing about. Ned offered Clarissa his arm; together with Toby they joined the exodus. Jack was nowhere to be seen.
“There you are, m’dear.” Horatio materialized outside the booth. “Come along now or you’ll miss the fun.”
Sophie stared at him, her heart sinking all the way to her slippers. Hadn’t Jack asked? Why wasn’t he here? Did that mean…? Forcing her shaking limbs to function, she picked up her half-cape. Swinging it about her shoulders, she left the booth.
Horatio offered her his arm. They started to stroll slowly in the wake of the others, now far ahead. But instead of joining his family, Horatio stopped in the shadows, well to the rear of the crowd.
“Now, my dear Sophie, I understand you have had some reservations about Jack’s financial situation.”
Slowly, Sophie turned to face her uncle, her heart thudding in her throat. She held herself proudly, a silent prayer on her lips.
Apparently oblivious, Horatio rattled on. “It really was quite remiss of him, I agree. He should have told you much earlier. But you’ll have to excuse him—not but what, with his experience, you might have expected a little more than the usual impulsive rush. But men in love, you know, tend to forget such minor matters as money.” Smiling genially, he patted Sophie’s hand.
Sophie drew in a slow, deep breath. “Uncle, are you telling me that Jack is truly wealthy? That he doesn’t need to marry a rich bride?”
Horatio’s grey eyes twinkled. “Let’s just say that for him, expectations alone will be a more than sufficient dower.”
A golden rocket burst in a flurry of brilliant stars, gilding Sophie’s face. Her eyes shone, reflecting the glory.
“Oh, Uncle!” Sophie flung her arms about Horatio’s neck.
Horatio chuckled and reciprocated her, then gently turned her. “Come, let’s join the festivities.”
Sophie was only too ready to do so. She peered into the darkness, eagerly searching the crowd every time another rocket lit up the scene. They found Lucilla and the boys in the front ranks. The boys pounced on Horatio, bombarding him with questions.
Then a large wheel lit up the night, hissing and spitting as the force of the rockets tied to its spokes whirled it round. In the midst of the crowd, Sophie stood very still, her face slowly draining of expression. The steadier illumination confirmed beyond doubt that Jack, Ned and Toby were not present. Neither was Clarissa.
The memory of Gurnard’s plan rushed into Sophie’s mind, thrusting all other considerations aside. This was the time Toby was to have taken Clarissa to meet the dastardly captain. Yet Ned had been with them—he wouldn’t let any harm come to Clarissa. But where were they? If Jack, Ned and Toby had gone to warn off the captain, where was Clarissa?
Sophie blinked in the glare of a set of coloured flares; elation, guilt and sheer frustration poured through her in a dizzying wave.
Horatio would know. She looked to where her uncle stood, Lucilla beside him, George’s hand in his. Jeremy was throwing questions at his father in a never-ending stream. There was no possibility of speaking to Horatio without alerting Lucilla and, potentially worse, the boys.
Everything was probably all right; Jack would surely have the matter in hand.
But maybe Jack was elsewhere, ignorant of Gurnard’s threat? Perhaps Toby and Ned had decided to handle it on their own? And Clarissa had followed?
Sophie turned and quietly made her way back through the crowd.
The majority of the patrons were viewing the fireworks, leaving the walks sparsely populated. Here and there, a couple or a small group still wandered, having seen the fireworks too many times. But the crush of revellers that had filled the walks earlier had given way to empty shadows.
Just beyond the booths, Sophie slowed. The Dark Walk, with the Temple of Diana, lay furthest afield, the narrowest and most heavily shaded of the Gardens’ promenades. And the most secluded.
Grimacing, Sophie halted. It would be the height of folly to risk the length of the Dark Walk at night, alone. But if she went back up the Grand Wall, wide and well lit, she could take a side path across to the Dark Walk, emerging just a little above the Temple. It was longer, but she was far more certain to reach her goal by that route.
Clutching her cape about her, she turned and hurried up the Grand Walk.
At the Temple of Diana, deep in the shadows of the Dark Walk, Jack waited with Toby, concealed in thick bushes by the temple’s side. A small structure in the Ionic style, the temple was little more than a decorative gazebo. The surrounding bushes had grown close over the years, filling the side arches until the space within resembled a room with green walls.
Jack peered through the shadows. Toby had delivered Clarissa to the temple at the appointed time. Ned had earlier hidden himself on the other side of the main archway, awaiting his moment of glory. Gurnard, however, was late.
The scrunch of heavy footsteps on gravel brought Jack’s head up. Out on the path, the figure of a man came into view, heading purposefully towards the temple. He made no attempt to conceal his approach; a guardsman’s red cape was thrown over one shoulder.
“Here he comes,” hissed Toby.
They waited, frozen in the shadows, as Gurnard climbed the short flight of steps and disappeared into the temple.
“So far so good,” Jack whispered.
Inside the temple, however, all was not going as either they, or Captain Gurnard, had planned.
Clarissa, delivered by a strangely serious Toby to the dim temple with a promise that her most ardent suitor—Ned, of course—would shortly join her, had entered the shadowy hall with high hopes. It was clear that Sophie would shortly receive the offer she desired; Clarissa, having expended considerable effort in encouraging Ned, expected that he would, tonight, at least take a more definite step in his wooing of her. With any luck, he might kiss her. Why else had he asked her here?
As the minutes ticked by, she had fallen to pacing, hands clasped behind her, her brow furrowed as she wondered how fast she could urge things along. A marriage in September, assuming Sophie did not opt for a long betrothal, seemed a distinct possibility.
She had reached this point in her cogitations when firm footsteps approached and ascended to the temple.
Starry-eyed, Clarissa turned.
And beheld the unmistakable outline of Captain Gurnard.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, not the least bit pleased at the prospect of having her tryst with Ned interrupted or—even worse—postponed.
Terrance Gurnard blinked. “Why, I’m here to meet you, my dear.”
“I’m afraid, sir, that my time this evening is spoken for.” If nothing else, Clarissa was Lucilla’s daughter. She delivered the captain’s dismissal with an affronted dignity that would have done justice to royalty.
For a moment, Gurnard was bewildered. Where was the youthful, wide-eyed innocent he had arranged to meet? Then he shook himself. The hoity young miss was just playing hard to get. “Nonsense, my dear,” he purred, advancing on Clarissa. “We all know you’re besotted with me. But fear not, for I’m equally besotted with you.”
Even in the dimness, Gurnard could not misinterpret the icy rigidity that laid hold of Clarissa’s slim frame. She drew herself up and, somehow, succeeded in looking down her nose at him. “My dear Captain, I believe you have lost your wits.” The cool incisiveness in her tone bit deep. “If you will but consider, the notion that I, with suitors such as Mr. Ascombe, could consider you, who have nought but your uniform to commend you, is highly insulting, sir!”
Rocked by the strident vehemence in her tone, Gurnard blinked. Then he sneered. “You were ready enough to encourage me to dangle after you—do you deny it?” Abruptly,
he closed the gap between them. He did not have all night to accomplish what he must.
“That was because you were being useful.” Clarissa, her own considerable temper in orbit, continued with undisguised relish, “Useful in ensuring that Mr. Ascombe’s attention did not wander.”
“Useful, was I?” Gurnard ground out. “In that case, my dear, you’ll have to pay the piper.” Roughly, he grasped her arms, intending to pull her to him.
Used to wrestling with her brothers, Clarissa anticipated the move enough to wrench one arm free. “Let me go, sir!”
Her furious shriek jolted Ned from the dazed stupor into which he had fallen. He shot up the steps, only just remembering their plan in time to change his automatic. “Unhand her, you fiend!” to a relatively normal, if slightly strangled, “Clarissa?”
He saw her immediately, one arm held by Gurnard. With an heroic effort, assisted by the calming effects of the cold rage that poured through him, Ned strolled lazily forward. “There you are, m’dear. I apologize for my tardiness, but I was held up.” Commandingly, he held out his hand to Clarissa, his gaze, coldly challenging, fixed on Gurnard’s face.
In order to take her hand, Clarissa chose to use the arm Gurnard was holding. She did so without in any way acknowledging Gurnard’s grasp, much less his presence.
The action snapped Gurnard’s patience. He had no time to play games, nor to brook interference of any sort. He waited until, as Clarissa’s fingers slipped into Ned’s palm, Ned glanced at her. Then he attacked.
And was immediately sent to grass—or marble, as was the case—by a punishing left jab.
In the bushes to the side, Jack allowed the battle-ready tension that had instantly gripped him to fade. “He said his left jab was coming along.”
Inside the temple, Ned frowned, attempting to shield Clarissa from the sight of the captain stretched out on the marble floor. “I’m sorry, Clary. Not the sort of thing one should do in front of a lady, I know. You aren’t feeling faint or anything, are you?”
“Good heavens, no!” Clarissa, eyes alight, both hands clutching one of Ned’s forearms, peered around him at the captain’s prone form. Satisfied that the captain was, at last temporarily, beyond further punishment, she turned her glowing eyes on Ned. “That was marvellous, Ned! How thrillingly heroic. You rescued me!”
And with that, Clarissa promptly hurled herself into her knight errant’s arms.
The watchers in the bushes heard Ned mutter something that sounded like a weak disclaimer but his heart was clearly not in it. Then came silence.
Jack sighed and relaxed, looking up into the night sky, considering, with a certain rakish satisfaction, the prospect of the immediate future. Beside him, Toby shifted restlessly.
Then they heard Ned’s voice, and Clarissa’s replying; the pair turned, still hand in hand, Clarissa’s head against Ned’s shoulder, and made slowly for the steps.
“We’ll follow,” Jack said. “They may be almost betrothed but they’re not betrothed yet.”
They followed Clarissa and Ned at a distance; it was questionable whether either was aware of their presence.
When they reached the booth, it was to find Horatio beaming benevolently, and Ned standing, proud but a trifle hesitant, as Clarissa poured the details of her rescue into her mother’s ear. Jeremy’s and George’s eyes were wide as they drank it all in. Seeing Jack, Lucilla smiled and asked, “Where’s Sophie?”
Ned and Clarissa looked blank.
Toby blinked.
Jack froze—and looked at Horatio.
Suddenly serious, Horatio frowned. “I spoke with her, then we joined Lucilla and the boys. At the end of the fireworks display, Sophie had disappeared. I thought she was with you.”
“She must have gone to the temple,” Toby said, genuinely horrified.
“Gurnard’s still there,” Ned pointed out.
“I’ll find her.” Jack kept his expression impassive, despite the emotions roiling within. He exchanged a look with Horatio, who nodded. Striding to the door, Jack spared a glance for Lucilla. “Don’t worry,” he said. The smile that accompanied the words held a certain grim resolution.
Somewhat subdued, the rest of the party settled to listen to the last of the music.
“You know,” Lucilla murmured as Horatio took the seat beside her. “I’m really not sure we’ve done the right thing.”
“How so?”
“Well, I’m quite sure Sophie can handle Captain Gurnard. But can she handle Jack Lester?”
Horatio smiled and patted her hand. “I’m sure she’ll contrive.”
ON GAINING the Dark Walk, Sophie paused to catch her breath. Peering through the shadows, she could just make out the distant glimmer of the temple’s white pillars, set back in a small grove. The path leading to the water-gate lay nearby; somewhere beyond the temple lay one of the less-used street gates.
Dragging in a deep breath, Sophie quit the shadows. There was no one about. Her soft slippers made little sound on the gravel as she neared the temple steps. Standing at the bottom, she peered in but could see nothing but shadows. Surely Clarissa could not be inside?
For a full minute, she vacillated, then, holding her cape close about her, Sophie mounted the steps. If there was no one inside, it couldn’t hurt to look.
The shadows within enveloped her. Sophie glanced about, then stifled a shriek as a dark shape loomed beside her.
“Well, well, well. Come to look for your cousin, I take it?”
As the shape resolved itself into Captain Gurnard, Sophie gave an almost imperceptible gasp. Straightening, she nodded. “But as she isn’t here—”
“You’ll do just as well.”
The captain wrapped one hand about Sophie’s arm.
Instinctively, she tried to pull away. “Unhand me, sir! What on earth do you believe can come of this?”
“Money, my dear Miss Winterton. Lots of money.”
Sophie remembered his scheme. “You appear to have overlooked something, Captain. I am not an heiress.”
“No,” Gurnard acknowledged. “You’re something even better. You’re the woman Lester’s got his eye on.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sophie carefully tested the captain’s hold.
“It means,” Gurnard sneered, convincing her his grip was unbreakable by shaking her, “that Lester will pay and pay handsomely to have you returned to him. And he’ll pay even more to ensure you’re…unharmed, shall we say?”
Sophie recoiled as Gurnard thrust his face close to hers. “It seems Lester’s windfall is to be my gain.” With an abrupt laugh, he turned and dragged her towards the door. “Come on.”
Dredging up every ounce of her courage, Sophie went rigid and pulled back. Her full weight served only to slow the captain, but it was enough to make him turn with a snarl.
Sophie lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “There is, as I said, something you appear to have overlooked, Captain. I am not going to marry Mr. Lester.”
“Gammon,” said Gurnard, and tugged her on.
“But I’m not!” Sophie placed her free hand over her heart. “I swear on my mother’s grave that Mr. Lester has not asked for my hand.”
“It’s not my fault if he’s backward.” They had almost reached the top of the steps.
Sophie lost her temper. “You imbecile! I’m trying to make it plain to you that I am not going to marry Jack Lester!”
Gurnard stopped and turned to her, fury in every line of his large frame. “You,” he began, pointing a finger at her.
“Should learn to accept Fate graciously.”
There was a split second of silence, then Gurnard turned.
Only to meet a left jab that had a great deal more power behind it than the one he’d met earlier.
The result was the same. The captain’s head hit the marble with a resounding thump.
Sophie glared down at him, prostrate at her feet. “Of all the unmitigated scoundrels,” she began.
Jack shook his
head and sighed. “Are you and your cousin so lost to all sensibility that you can’t even swoon at the sight of violence?”
Sophie blinked at him, then humphed. “If you must know, I’m feeling quite violent myself. Did you know he intended to—”
“I heard.” Jack reached for her and drew her to him. “But you don’t need to worry about him any more.”
Sophie readily went into his arms. “But shouldn’t we—”
“It’s already taken care of.” Jack looked down at Gurnard, then prodded him with the toe of his boot. His victim groaned. “I sincerely hope you’re listening, Gurnard, for I’m only going to say this once. I’ve had a word with an acquaintance of mine, the Earl of Melcham. He was most upset to hear of the method you’d selected to raise the wind. He doesn’t approve—not at all. And I’m sure you know what happens to those of whom Melcham disapproves.”
There was a stunned silence, then Gurnard groaned again.
Grimly satisfied, Jack turned Sophie towards the steps. “And now, my dear, I think it’s time we left.” Tucking her hand in his arm, he led her down onto the gravelled walk.
Sophie went readily, her mind seething with questions. “What happened to Clarissa? Did she go to the temple?”
Jack glanced down at her. “She did.”
Sophie glared at him. “What happened?”
Jack smiled and told her, adding that Horatio had approved their scheme. “If Clarissa had simply not shown up, Gurnard would have assumed she’d been prevented from doing so, not that she wouldn’t go to meet him. He’d have tried again to get her alone, and perhaps we wouldn’t have learned of his intentions in time to foil him. It was best to make the situation as clear as possible.”
“But what if he turns to some other young lady?”
“He won’t have time. As of tomorrow, courtesy of Melcham, to whom Gurnard is deeply in debt, the captain will have entirely too much on his mind to think of persuading any other young lady to his rescue.”
Sophie pondered his revelations, her feet following his lead. “So Ned floored the captain?”
“He seems to have floored Clarissa as well.” Jack’s lips curved in fond reminiscence. He slanted a glance at Sophie. “We all thought the opportunity too good to miss to advance Ned’s standing with your cousin.”
Stephanie Laurens Rogues' Reform Bundle Page 54