“Are you cold?” he asked with mock solicitude. “I shall light the fire Mavis has conscientiously laid. But first I want the rest of your clothes off. Do I need to fetch the bonnet?”
Alicia removed the remainder of her clothing with shaking hands. She did not know where to look when she stood there naked. Tackar walked around her, touching her nipples, her waist, her thighs. “Beautiful. Better than I had imagined even.”
He left her standing there and went leisurely to light the fire and the candles in the room. When the fire was going well, which seemed to Alicia to take an inordinate amount of time under his unskilled hands, he turned to her and said, “Get on the bed.” His eyes followed her eagerly as she obeyed his instruction, and he rose to join her.
A voice from the doorway said with cold fury, “Stay away from her, Tackar.” Alicia knew the mortification of being fully exposed to Lord Stronbert’s view when Tackar sprang away with an oath. But the marquis kept his eyes on the man opposite him. “I have your daughter safe, Lady Coombs. Get under the covers. I will send her to you.”
Alicia crawled under the covers and hid her head in a pillow before giving way to the shuddering sobs which wracked her. Even then she was aware of Stronbert’s voice. “You will meet me in the morning, Tackar. Seven o’clock at your oak. If you do not arrive, then you had best spend the rest of your miserable life outside of England, for I will find you. Now get out.”
Tackar could not understand how his plans had gone awry, but he did not stay to find out. There was murder in the marquis’s eyes, and Tackar had a healthy respect for his own skin if for no one else’s. He sneered with bravado at his opponent, who stepped aside to let him pass and followed him down the stairs. Alicia heard the door slam but it was some time before she heard steps on the stairs again. She was unable to lift her head until she heard her daughter’s voice whisper softly, “It is all right now, Mama. Here, I have brought you a glass of brandy. Lord Stronbert will see that Mr. Tackar goes away, and then he is sending for Lady Gorham to come to us.”
Alicia turned then and surveyed her daughter’s tear-stained, exhausted face. “Oh, my love, he did not harm you, did he?”
Silent tears streamed down Felicia’s face, but she shook her head mutely. The two women sat on the bed for a long while holding each other and murmuring comforting sounds, while their tears exhausted themselves. Eventually Alicia spoke. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Haltingly Felicia told of the letter and of her meeting with Tackar. She did not hold back anything and her mother ached for her and comforted her. “He meant to have you too, after all. How did Lord Stronbert find you?”
“He was coming from the Tooker farm when he caught a glimpse of Tackar. It made him suspicious that Tackar turned his head away and that he was leading the mare I hire from the inn sometimes. There was still daylight then and he began to ride along the lane calling for me. When I heard my name I tried to answer, but with the rag in my mouth it was useless. I felt so helpless.” Her tears began to flow again. When she could finally speak, she whispered, “He had dismounted where he saw the sapling torn from the ground and I could tell that he was close from his voice. I beat against the shed with my feet, over and over, and then he was there.
“Oh, Mama, I had been so afraid. I was afraid for you but mostly I was afraid for me. I could not stand his hands on me. I wanted to die. When Lord Stronbert released me, I could not talk. When I tried, there were only sounds, and he held me and he kept running his hands over my hair as you do when I am upset and saying, ‘Go ahead and cry, Felicia. It will help you.’ And I was not afraid of him, for he held me like you do and then I cried. It was more like screaming, really. Or an animal caught in a trap. And I was ashamed for him to hear me like that but he kept saying, ‘Good girl.’”
She drew a shuddering breath. “When I could talk again I told him we must come to you. I am so sorry I could not talk before, Mama. We could have been here much sooner. But Lord Stronbert said we were in time.” Her eyes anxiously questioned her mother.
“Yes, love, you were in time.”
“Lord Stronbert made me wait in the drawing room in the dark. But I did not mind so much, except that I wanted to be with you. When the door slammed he came in to me and lit the candles and told me you were all right. But he sounded so strange that I was afraid for you. He told me to be brave and take some brandy up to you and that he would send Lady Gorham if his messenger could get there before they left for the ball. When he is sure Mr. Tackar is gone, he will wait in the drawing room.”
Alicia sipped at the brandy her daughter offered her again and motioned for Felicia to have some too. “It’s like drinking fire!” the girl exclaimed.
“Yes.” Alicia smiled faintly. “But it helps put some starch in you when you feel like a limp rag. Have a little more.”
Felicia did as she was bid and the color returned to her cheeks. “Shall I get you your dressing gown, Mama?”
“No, my clothing.” When Felicia made to bring her the outfit which had been discarded on the floor, she shuddered and said, “Those are to be burned. All of them.” At Felicia’s anxious look she said softly, “I could not wear them again. They would remind me.” 0f my humiliation and my terror, she thought. Of the degradation and helplessness. I will kill another man before I let him touch me, she vowed. Aloud she said calmly, “Choose something from the wardrobe, love.”
Felicia busied herself at the wash basin while her mother began to dress. When she was called, she helped to complete her mother’s toilette. “Would you like to go to bed now?” Alicia asked softly. “You have had a very difficult time.”
“No, Mama. I do not want to be alone yet,” Felicia admitted. Her mother took her in her arms and held her until the sounds of a carriage stopping outside were succeeded by the murmur of voices in the drawing room.
“I must go down now,” Alicia said gently. “Come with me a moment and then you and Lady Gorham can come up while I speak with Lord Stronbert.”
The two women descended the stairs slowly and were met at the parlor door by a shaken Lady Gorham. She silently gathered Alicia into her arms and murmured, “My poor dear.”
Alicia noted the ball gown she wore and said, “You are very kind to come, Charlotte. Would you take Felicia upstairs while I have a word with Lord Stronbert?”
“Of course, love.” Lady Gorham, pleased that Alicia had finally used her name, then hugged Felicia to her and after a moment led the girl back up the stairs, murmuring gently.
Alicia walked into the well-lit room to find the marquis gazing out into the night through the pulled-back draperies. He turned slowly at the sound of her entry, but did not move toward her. “You should not be up,” he said kindly.
“It was necessary that I speak with you,” she replied. Her attempt to meet his eyes was not entirely successful.
“Let us be seated, then,” he suggested. He drew the two winged chairs in front of the fire he had lit in the grate. When Alicia had seated herself, he did so and kept his gaze on the leaping flames.
“I want you to know,” Alicia began hesitantly, “that I can never thank you enough for what you did for my daughter and myself today. Not just rescuing her, but...helping her to cry out her fear and shame and distress. I think she will be able to handle it better because of that.”
“Would that I could do the same for you.”
“I am older and I have been married,” she replied stiffly. “It is not the same for me.”
“When you first came to Tetterton I saw Tackar accost you in the High Street.”
“And you thought that what Mr. Parker said was true?”
“No, Lady Coombs, quite the opposite. That is why when I saw him leading the mare I was worried. He is an unprincipled villain.”
“Yes, that is the other thing I have to speak with you about. I realize that in your anger you have challenged him. I cannot allow you to take such a risk because of his behavior toward my daughter and myself. He is benea
th your dignity and you have a family to think of.”
“I will meet him, Lady Coombs.” His tone reminded her of those words spoken in the bedroom.
“He killed my husband in a duel. I will not have him kill you, too. It is none of your affair.”
“I have challenged him, and I will meet him.”
Alicia turned from the fire to face him. “I cannot be responsible for another death.” Silently tears rolled down her ashen cheeks to be brushed furiously away by an impatient hand. Stronbert handed her a handkerchief, careful not to touch her as he did so. She wiped away the tears and blew her nose.
“You will not be responsible for my death, or for his. You were not responsible for your husband’s.”
“You do not know!”
“Then tell me,” he urged gently.
“I cannot!”
“You think Tackar dueled your husband because of you?” When Alicia did not answer he said, “Perhaps you think you unwittingly encouraged him.”
“Never! I have always held the man in contempt!”
“Then there is no reason to think that you had anything to do with their meeting,” he said reasonably.
Alicia set her chin firmly. “You are right, of course, Lord Stronbert.”
“I have no wish to force your confidence, Lady Coombs. I could hope that it would be given freely, for nothing you tell me will go any further.”
“It would do no good to tell you, my lord.”
“You should tell someone. It was but a moment ago that you told me what good it did Felicia to let loose her emotions. Can you not see that the same applies to you? I would be honored to stand your friend.”
“You are a man!” she cried accusingly.
A slow grin curved his lips. “Too true. But do not take that too much to heart. I am also a son, a father, a brother.”
“I told my brother,” she whispered.
“About Tackar?”
“Yes, and he wanted to kill him, too. I would not let him. I cannot let you.”
“And what protection did you think your brother could offer you? He does not live nearby, I expect.”
“No, he lives in Oxford. It was for Felicia’s sake that I told him—in case she should have to go to him.” Her voice was so faint that he had to concentrate to hear her. Suddenly she said more clearly, “I do not want anyone else to know what happened today.”
“Are you upset that I had Lady Gorham come?”
“Oh, no. She is my dear friend and I could have asked for no one better. But I should be mortified if all those people at the Court were to know about it. You will not tell them,” she begged.
“I shall not spread the story about, but it might be wise if I spoke a little with Rowland. Felicia is like to be skittish with him and he could inadvertently cause her distress.”
Alicia considered this carefully. “You may be right. I shall leave it to your judgment,” she said seriously.
He would have liked to tease her about this, but knew the moment was not right. He replied with due gravity, “I promise to broach the matter delicately. Now you really ought to get some rest, Lady Coombs. I shall spend the night here but I will be gone early. You can provide a bed for Lady Gorham?”
“Yes, I will share with Felicia. There is no need for you to stay,” she said uncertainly.
“There is every need for me to stay,” he replied with finality. “Go upstairs now and try to relax.”
“How can I relax when you are intent on fighting that creature?” she blurted.
“Your concern for my well-being is flattering, Lady Coombs.” He dropped his jesting tone when she flushed. “I am not unfamiliar with pistols, ma’am. You will allow me to handle this matter in my own fashion, if you please.”
Alicia was not proof against that steely tone. She bowed her head in acquiescence. “I will bid you good night, my lord. And godspeed.” Her sad eyes rested on him for a moment, and then she was gone.
Chapter Eleven
Lord Stronbert did not pass a particularly restful night. The sofa was far too short for his lanky form, and he found the floor confoundedly hard. It was not these matters that disturbed him most, however. Several times during the night he had heard stifled, heart-rending sobs from the floor above him and he longed to have the right to share in the comforting of the girl. For he was sure it was Felicia and not her mother who was sobbing, though he knew Lady Coombs was suffering silently. He had never known before the rage which had swept over him when he found Tackar with her, that defenseless naked body being attacked. The deep-seated fear of men that he had already sensed in Lady Coombs had been strongly, violently reinforced for her and might never be overcome.
There was a light tap on the drawing room window at six. The footman from Lady Gorham’s carriage had been sent home with a message to Stronbert’s valet to present himself with his dueling pistol case at that hour. Stronbert silently rose to let in the valet, who had a change of clothing for him in addition to the pistol case. The valet eyed Stronbert warily. “And who might you be meeting at this hour?” he asked with acerbity.
“My dear fellow, it is none of your business. And no one else’s. You are to be there only to prevent any dishonorable attack. Help me into this coat, will you?”
Alicia had spent a disturbed night and heard the movement downstairs when the valet arrived. She quickly donned her clothing and crept to the window in time to see Stronbert leave. There was nothing in his bearing to suggest that he was out for more than an early morning ride; he sat his horse with his usual casual elegance. But there was that ominous case which the valet carried to remind her of his destination. A sound between a sob and a sigh escaped her, and she returned to the bed to see that Felicia was sleeping, before going downstairs. She had the remains of that grotesque meal to remove before the others awoke.
* * * *
Stronbert turned to the valet and asked, “Did you hear if the group that went to Tosley Hall enjoyed themselves?”
“Your lady mother’s dresser said milady was proper annoyed with you that you didn’t attend, and that you drew Lady Gorham off as well. But the young folks seemed pleased. Sounds as though half the county was there. Though I did hear some comments on Lady Wickham’s nip-cheese ways from Mr. Clinton. Not enough to drink, I gather.”
“And was there speculation at the court as to why Lady Gorham and I were absent?”
“Not as much as you’d expect. Lady Gorham said very little, I gather. Just that she must needs go to Lady Coombs. Some thought a death in the widow’s family, others thought an accident to Miss Coombs.” The valet pressed his lips together disapprovingly.
“Hmm. I shall suggest the latter to Lady Coombs, and you will support me if necessary, will you not?”
“As you wish, sir.”
They continued their ride in silence. Stronbert had chosen to arrive well before seven, as he had no intention of being taken at a disadvantage by the unprincipled Mr. Tackar. The sun was bright but the air was freezing, and the frost on the ground promised slippery footing. Stronbert scouted for a likely spot, deciding on a reasonably flat stretch of ground not far from the shed. When he returned to the oak he could see Tackar and his man driving toward him in a phaeton as garishly colorful as any he had seen.
Tackar’s ordinary air of self-confidence was slightly shattered, but the vindictiveness he felt gave him dutch courage. He had soundly whipped his valet, though the miscarriage of the plan had been through no fault of his. Mavis had indeed arrived at her parents’ home without stopping and had not been allowed to ride back in the dark owing to the concern of her family.
Stronbert watched Tackar’s approach grimly. The man’s insolent air made Stronbert want to strangle the suave popinjay with his own hands. Stronbert’s valet, James, had taken the pistols from the case for the purpose of loading them. He blew gently through the muzzle to carry away any loose dust collected in the barrel and ascertained that the touchhole in each was clear. One at a time he put the hammer a
t half cock and stopped it; then poured in from a measure the quantity of powder required. The ball he rammed gently in place with a piece of the finest kid glove leather, and he kept his thumb on the touchhole so that no powder might escape. James knew this art to a nicety and informed Lord Stronbert when the pistols were ready.
“You may practice with each of them, Tackar, and choose your weapon,” he said coldly.
Tackar took sight on a fence post some fifteen yards distant and his shot was successful. He smirked as he raised the other pistol and fired again, another hit.
“Are you satisfied?”
“Yes. They are nicely balanced weapons. I shall use this one,” Tackar replied, retaining the one with which he had just shot.
When James had reloaded the pistols, Tackar watching him closely, the adversaries stationed themselves fifteen yards apart and positioned themselves right sides forward. Tackar had fought three previous duels: once, in Sir Frederick’s case, having killed his opponent, and in both other cases having wounded his adversaries. Stronbert had never been called upon to settle a matter of honor before, but he stood steadily, easily facing Tackar. James had thoughtfully provided him with a black coat, had even changed the buttons to black during the night. Tackar was darkly dressed as well, as he had been the previous day, but his buttons glittered in the morning sunlight.
James, sick at heart, stood ready to drop a handkerchief. The two men raised their pistols and aimed. As the flutter of white descended, the marquis pulled the trigger, moving only his knuckle joint so that the motion should not disturb the muscles of his hand and arm and shake the pistol. The two shots roared almost simultaneously. Stronbert felt Tackar’s ball graze along his shoulders and pass on. Tackar fell.
James automatically hastened to his employer, but Stronbert waved him to where Tackar had fallen and followed more slowly himself. Tackar had received the ball under his right arm and it had lodged in him. He was alive but very pale.
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