Unexpected Danger

by Lisa E. Pugh

  “Good afternoon, miss.”

  He watched her stomp out of the house and slam the door behind her. A moment later, he heard the car engine start and the tires squeal on the drive. With a cringe and a sigh, he headed for the drawing room.

  No one was there. In truth, he was not surprised to find it empty. Something serious had obviously happened between the young couple—something that would not let either party remain where they were.

  Brenlaw marveled at how quickly tides could turn in a relationship. One minute the couple is singing silly songs together. The next they go their separate ways, hurt and insulted.

  His master had accused Miss Taylor of deceit and iniquity. The young woman was facing down the whole village to visit him. What could she have said or done to deserve, in his lordship’s mind, such slander?

  She didn’t deserve such calumny. Brenlaw would swear to that on a stack of Bibles. He’d seen enough of the woman’s character to be sure of that. Then what happened?

  The answer came to him in a flash. The Tobias temper happened. It was the only answer that fit. His lordship would never accuse her of such things in cold blood.

  Brenlaw had seen the current earl’s father release his verbal wrath on servants, workers, and his own son often enough. Even Brenlaw received his share of insults from the late earl. When you worked for the Tobiases, you needed a tough skin.

  After their tempers cooled, both Lord Yawrons would seek out those they unjustly offended and apologize. They always did what they could to mend the relationships. They were both good men in their way. The current earl had some of his mother’s milder qualities, but when he did reach his limit, he tended to go for the throat verbally.

  What was the young fool thinking to go at his friend like that? Had he been thinking? The catalyst must have been shocking to spark such anger. Knowing the family, it was bound to involve his pride. Given his history, it probably concerned his face.

  Brenlaw had to repair the damage his master had so foolishly and recklessly created. First, however, he had to deal with the culprit and bring the boy to his senses. Setting his jaw, Brenlaw straightened his jacket and continued through to the gardens.

  Chapter 17

  As Brenlaw emerged from the house, he witnessed his bareheaded lord and master attacking the terrace’s low bush border with his cane. The young man struck repeatedly, swinging his walking stick as if trying to crop the top off the hedge. He was muttering harshly to himself.

  Approaching, Brenlaw heard a mixture of invective his master had not used for a long time. Most of it was aimed at Miss Taylor, but some insulted his own stupidity at trusting her. None of the language was pleasant.

  The situation was more serious than the servant had thought. There had been a serious breach in trust. He must defuse the anger before his master would listen to reason.

  “Why are you abusing those bushes, my lord?” Brenlaw asked mildly. “Have they grossly insulted you? I do not believe they are the guilty party.”

  Lord Yawron stopped his assault but did not turn around. He was breathing heavily, still seething. “They were convenient.”

  “And better than laying a hand on the person with whom you are truly upset?”

  “I’d never hurt Magg… Miss Taylor.” The earl tilted his head slightly. “Just out of curiosity, why do you ask?”

  “Women are notorious for being the most frustrating creatures, my lord. Bushes, not so much. I naturally assumed it was with her that you were angry, rather than those plants.”

  His keenly watchful eyes belied his casual tone. His master was furious. Feeling insulted, Miss Taylor flew out of the house like a ball shot from a cannon. The servant knew that he need only wait for an explanation.

  Regaining some of his poise, the earl replied, “Yes, women are very frustrating, Brenlaw, but I’m not sure how you knew I was here.”

  “The drawing room was empty, my lord.”

  The young man’s head tilted slightly, his curiosity piqued. “That doesn’t mean anything, surely.”

  “And, as the lady in question has just left the house in some haste, I presumed to suppose that the two of you had a verbal altercation.” As always, his overly formal tone conveyed his opinion better than any dressing-down could ever do.

  His lordship laughed sardonically. “Yes, we had a ‘verbal altercation.’ She asked to see my face after obtaining a promise from me that I'd do anything she asked.”

  “That explains the Salome reference, but not the serpent one.”

  “What?” Lord Yawron spun around, leaving his weapon impaled in the bush. Pointing at his servant, he asked, “What did she say, exactly?”

  “She informed me that she ‘had quite enough insults for one day.’ And if your lordship wished to speak to her, ‘the serpent Salome will be in her cottage the rest of the afternoon.’ ”

  “Oh God!” His lordship covered his face with both hands. Then, dropping them to his side, he declared, “Brenlaw, I'm an idiot.”

  “As you say, my lord.”

  “You aren’t going to argue, then?” He asked with a wry smile and a cocked brow.

  Without changing his expression beyond a sharp look in his eyes, Brenlaw replied, “Far be it from me to contradict your lordship.”

  “That’s a new stance for you, Brenlaw.”

  Brenlaw smiled dryly. “Indeed, my lord.”

  “Come along. Let’s go inside. This noonday sun is blinding. Let's leave it to the mad dogs of India.”

  Returning to the drawing room, the earl sat on the couch and signaled his servant to take the seat in front of the fire. With a bow, Brenlaw obeyed. His lordship sighed, leaned back, and looked at his loyal butler. The other man gazed back at him attentively, giving nothing away of his own feelings.

  After a pause, Lord Yawron interlaced his fingers and remarked, “I fouled up again, I take it?”

  “Indeed, my lord.” The smile was absent this time from Brenlaw’s face, letting a little of his frustration show.

  He may be a mere servant to others. To his master, he was also a confidant, of sorts, with far more latitude in behavior than was usually allowed. Right at that moment, he planned to use his special position to set his lordship straight about a few things. Chiefly, he wanted to drive home how lucky the young man was to have a woman like Miss Taylor in his life. Then he was going to help his master clean up this mess.

  He sat and watched his employer a moment. “May I make an observation, my lord?”

  The earl sighed and ran a distracted hand through his hair. “Yes, Brenlaw, go ahead.”

  “I understand that you have known Miss Taylor only a few weeks. Yet it seemed to the staff here—myself included—that you and she were getting along rather well.”

  “We were, Brenlaw, we were.”

  “Then in the normal course of things, one could assume that she would be allowed to see your face at some point.”

  His lordship flinched at the idea and muttered, “Yes, one could suppose that.”

  “So why did you imply that she in some way acted ignobly towards you by asking? Was there some agreement that the subject or the question was taboo?”

  “No,” the earl admitted with a low grumble, visibly gritting his teeth.

  “Then I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

  The young man shrugged. “She never seemed interested in seeing my face before. I suppose I convinced myself that the issue would never come up because our friendship was beyond something so common as physical appearance.”

  “If I may say so, that was an unwise self-deception, my lord.”

  “I know. It was more about what I hoped for than my honest expectation. Yet, I persuaded myself that it was so.”

  “I see. So when you responded in such a severe way to her petition, were you truly angry at her?”

  “Absolutely.” The nobleman’s gaze flashed at the word.

  Brenlaw could see his lord had been furious and hurt—and horrified. Panic had made him rec
kless while terror propelled his rage. In that one instant, he was ready to attack any perceived threat to him, even if that threat was the one person who could save him from a barren and lonely existence.

  A blink and the fire faded. Lord Yawron cringed. “Yes, in that first instant. Her request shocked me. As you say, I unreasonably assumed she’d never ask it. I realized at that moment that I was trapped by my own gallantry. I felt that she laid a snare, trusting in my courtesy to provide an opening for the inquiry.”

  Brenlaw stared, his eyebrows raised. “You thought she was only biding her time until you couldn’t say no without damaging your honor?”

  “Something like that.” Resting his upper arm against the back of the sofa, he turned his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t thinking rationally.”

  “I won’t comment on that.”

  His lordship shot him a glare. “By saying that, you very clearly have.”

  Brenlaw merely smiled slightly with an inclination of his head. The young man had his flaws, but he was sharp as a well-honed blade. He understood exactly what his servant was trying to say.

  Lord Yawron huffed out a breath. It was undoubtedly difficult for him to admit how deeply he messed up and why. However, his lordship was nothing if not honest with himself and others.

  Shaking his head, the young man acknowledged, “The truth is I didn’t want to lift my cowl. I didn’t want to risk rejection. I had no wish to be stared at, perhaps with disgust. More than anything, I didn't want to see pity in anyone's eyes, especially hers. And I resented her for forcing my hand on the matter.”

  Brenlaw let out a slow breath. “Christopher!”

  “I know.” He gestured vaguely in the air, his expression miserable. “I have no excuse.”

  “Do you wish to fix this?”

  “Yes.” The young man winced and sighed with a bitter smile. “If I can.”

  “If you wish to heal this friendship at all, you know what will be required?”

  “Yes, I must apologize.”

  “I’m afraid you may have to do more than that.”

  The earl froze. “How bad is it?”

  “Having missed the relevant moments, I can only tell you what I saw. She gripped her handbag as if it were an animal that might get away. Her eyes and cheeks were wet. She went past me swiftly, and her tires probably left permanent marks on our front drive. This was a woman insulted, upset, and angry. She won't be easily mollified.”

  “You could go to her, apologize for me, and explain that I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “Yes, my lord, I could. But would she listen to me? I’m a servant under orders to say whatever you wish. Perhaps more importantly, I am not the person she is angry with. I’m afraid she’s far too upset to tolerate a go-between.”

  “Ah.”

  “I wish to be perfectly clear about this, my lord. She’s not going to accept mere pretty phrases and a dozen flowers as sufficient compensation for your behavior. She was truly and deeply offended by what you said. You accused her of deceit and betrayal when she's braved the whole village all this time to remain your friend.” Seeing the earl flinch, he added, “You realize, she may insist, as part of your apology, that you fulfill her original petition, don't you?”

  His lordship scowled. “What?”

  “You may have to remove your hood. Perhaps you should do it even before you say a word. She might see that as a true sign of repentance.”

  “I suppose.” The earl bit his lip for a moment. Then he declared, “It seems I shall have to go. I can't leave things as they are. It’s too important. She can't go on believing I hold her in such low esteem. I must fix this. Have someone lay out my riding clothes, will you, Brenlaw?”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  Despite the butler’s solemn response, his heart was singing. His master had found someone for whom he would risk his pride and the stares of others. For a man of his employer’s station, there were few stronger statements of love than willingly putting himself at risk to be ridiculed, pitied, or spurned by those beneath his class. Brenlaw knew that, unlike his lordship’s former fiancée, this woman deserved such devotion.

  Chapter 18

  Margaret arrived at her home after a wild, tear-filled drive. She pulled her car into the parking area in the back. Her head dropped onto the steering wheel as she struggled to calm her pounding heart. She panted and gulped air, her mind in chaos.

  How could he say that to her—accuse her like that? She withstood the gossip mill and faced down the whole village for him. She endured the insults and ostracism, the narrowed eyes and rejection. And now to lose the respect of the man she had lost her reputation over? It was just too much!

  When her breathing had steadied and her muscles unlocked, she got out of the car and stomped to her house. She yanked the backdoor open and slammed it shut behind her. She strode to the front of the house.

  As she crossed the foyer to the stairs, something caught her attention. On the floor was another note from her mysterious persecutor. Perfect!

  Ripping the envelope open, she read:

  “Saw you last night.

  Are you frightened?

  Good!

  Take heed of my warnings.

  This is your last chance.”

  “Oh hell!” she swore. This time, the letter was simply thrown in the trash. She had undergone enough emotional excitement for one day. She wanted to bathe and change her clothes before going to Lara’s house for some moral support.

  Lara Raimond rubbed her eyes and sighed. She had experienced a rough morning at her parents' school. The children were particularly fractious today. Perhaps the excellent weather made them restless. Perhaps it was the continuing search for young Donald Markum, who had slipped out of his house the last night of the storm and had not returned home.

  Now she sat beside a pile of essays she must review. Her parents could not help. They had joined the hunt for the lost child as soon as school let out.

  She found Margaret's message when she arrived home. With everything that was going on, she was only too glad her friend was not expecting contact before the evening. It would probably take her that long to correct these compositions on the Napoleonic Wars.

  The sound of horses clip-clopping swiftly down the street distracted her from her work. Curious and eager for any excuse to forestall her daunting task, she jumped up and rushed to the window. She glanced down and saw two horses trotting below her.

  She squinted against the bright sunlight. One of the riders was Mr. Brenlaw. The other was obscured in a dark riding cloak and hood, but Lara had no doubt who he was.

  Realization struck her so hard she sat down with a thud. She had actually seen Lord Yawron! The myth and bogeyman from her childhood had just passed by her house. What could have lured him from his sanctuary when nothing else had? The answer was obvious: Margaret.

  Well, this is a first, the girl thought, baffled. His lordship himself is riding through town. They’re going toward Mags’ house. What does he want? It must be something serious to have him out in public like this. I hope she’ll be all right.

  Margaret dozed in a chair by the fire. She had switched into a loose blue frock and brushed out her styled hair with sharp strokes, trying to eliminate all signs of the disaster her morning had become. She had washed her face, cleaning the touches of makeup from her skin. Finally exhausted in mind, body, and spirit, she had curled in her favorite armchair with a bit of light reading. It was not long before she was asleep.

  After some time, there was a knock at the front door. She sighed and shifted in her seat. The summons echoed through the house again. She stirred from her slumber, thankfully refreshed but irritated all the same. Stretching, she got up and strolled to the foyer. As her hand went to the latch, her visitor began to pound on the door.

  “Margaret Taylor, open this door at once!” It was Teresa Houseman. As she hammered, the door shook on its hinges. “You pretentious bitch, answer me!”

&n
bsp; The sheer ferocity of action and language made Margaret pull back from the door. She stood there, stunned. What the hell?

  The assaults, both physical and verbal, continued. “You whore, you slut, you upstart! I know you’re in there, Margaret. I saw you come home—from being with him no doubt. Let me in! I’ll break down this door if I have to. Do you hear me?”

  The wood barrier bounced in its frame as the person on the other side threw her weight against it. Terrified, Margaret dashed through the house and out the back door. Jumping into her car, she slammed it into gear and raced onto the road.

  Hearing the screech of the tires, Teresa ran to the side of the house. She was just in time to see the car tearing away. Swinging her arm defiantly, she swore. “The little hellcat! Well, Miss Margaret Taylor, I’ll get you. I swear it!”

  Glancing behind her, Margaret saw Teresa’s furious expression and raised fist, but she could not hear what the woman said.

  From the look on her face, that’s just as well, Margaret thought. One thing’s for certain, Teresa hates me now. Lord only knows why.

  A few other things were now very clear; the author of the abusive letters she had been receiving was Teresa herself. And the woman was quite insane.

  Heading as far away from the front of her house and Teresa as she could go, Margaret shook her head and frowned. She forced her mind to think and mumbled to herself, “Well, Margaret, where do we go now? I can’t go to Lara’s or anywhere in the village. That’s too close and no place for a confrontation. I don’t want to risk Lara’s life as well.

  “I could go to the police.” She paused. “Will they believe me? I’m a stranger here, and Teresa is well respected. She obviously can lie glibly. If I accused her of this, she'll put on an innocent expression and act confused. I’d sound like the raving lunatic, not her.” She cursed vividly.

  “Are they even at the office? There was something big happening when I went there this morning. I can’t risk trying to track the Inspector down. It would take too long. Likewise, I can’t go tearing around London trying to find a safe haven. The London police certainly won’t believe me, and it’s out of their jurisdiction anyway.”