by Amanda Scott
“Goodness me,” said the marchioness, raising her lorgnette again, “are you the gel everyone’s been in such a furor over, then? The one with the black eunuchs to guard her door?”
Zara nodded, her dark eyes wide with astonishment. “You, too, have read about me, then, my lady?”
“On, indeed, for all the London papers are delivered to the manor, you know. Well, then, if you have indeed run off without leave, we must do our possible to see you safe at home again, mustn’t we?”
“If you please, ma’am.” Zara continued to regard the marchioness much, Brittany thought, as though she were some exotic animal who had got into the room by error.
Cheriton nodded to Lord Toby to shut the French doors, then said in the same crisp, decisive tone he had used earlier, “We are going to return this young woman to her home, and we must do it with as little fanfare as possible. Therefore we need a carriage—yours, I think, Toby, since it is most likely close by, is it not?”
“Of course,” Lord Toby told him, his brows slightly raised. “One might wish to leave, after all, and to be kept waiting for one’s carriage would not be desirable.”
Faringdon snorted. “Ever practical, ain’t you, Toby? The fact that you have to dole out extortionate vails to all and sundry to effect that small convenience for yourself don’t matter a whit, I daresay.”
“Why, no,” agreed Toby, surprised. “Why should it? My carriage is at your disposal, Cherry, so long as you don’t expect me to go shouting for it through the streets. It is not immediately at the door, after all.”
“No, no, just send for it to be brought round as you would ordinarily do. You are going to convey my mother to another party, I believe. Will that suffice, Mama? Then you may come back to rejoin your friends without occasioning remark.”
“How thoughtful of you, dear boy, to consider that I might wish to return,” murmured the marchioness with a mischievous gleam in her bright-blue eyes.
Somewhat to Brittany’s surprise, Cheriton paid her no heed other than to say, “I think it would be as well for you to leave at once, taking Zara out the way you came in. The others can then accompany you on horseback if we can get them mounted and away without making it look like a cavalry exercise.”
“I can arrange that, I believe,” said Ravenwood. “My word counts for something in the ducal stables, and we need only four horses, after all. Wish I’d known you meant us to exert ourselves like this, however, my lad. Can’t think this rig will hold up well to equestrian exercise, but needs must when the devil drives.” He winked at Brittany.
She smiled back, thinking for the first time that there might be something to her sister Cicely’s comments about him. There was none of the lazy manner she was so accustomed to hearing in his speech. Indeed, his attitude was as calmly matter-of-fact as Cheriton’s.
Faringdon, on the point of leaving with the others, turned back to say briskly to Alicia, “There can be no argument now, of course, my dear. You must remain here. Indeed, your absence from the ballroom will be noticed at any moment now, when someone will come in search of you.”
Alicia was already nodding her agreement when there came a light tap at the door to the gallery and the handle began to turn. Everyone froze, scarcely daring to breathe, until Sally Lynsted put her face round the door and said brightly, “I am looking for … Oh, there you are—”
Before she could finish her sentence, her husband grabbed her arm and hauled her inside, nudging the door shut again with his foot. “Dash it all, Sal,” he said grimly, “one day you’ll be the death of us both. Whatever do you mean by popping in where you’re not wanted?”
“Well, I like that, Davy Lynsted, when you just disappear in the midst of a ball, abducted by bandits, for all I know. Why, you should just see the ugly specimen hovering about out there in the corridor. He certainly doesn’t look like the sort one would expect at one of your mama’s balls, Tani.” As her husband began taking her to task again, Sally peered curiously around the room, paying his words not the least heed. “Oh, do hush, Davy,” she said at last. “Is this another party, or are you lot up to mischief again, begging your pardon, ma’am,” she added, smiling at the marchioness.
“No need,” replied that lady, grinning. “I’m in the thick of the plot myself, and delighted, I’m sure.”
“Don’t tell me to hush,” Sir David said, bending to speak in his wife’s ear but not bothering to lower his voice much to do so. “What business have you got, I should like to know, wandering the halls of this great house by yourself—especially if there are ugly specimens hovering about. Just exactly where is this fellow, anyway?”
“Never mind that, Davy,” said Cheriton, shaking his head. “He’s the very man we want to keep our eyes upon, so don’t go chasing him off, I beg of you.”
“Wasn’t going to chase him off,” retorted Lynsted. “Was dashed well going to hand him his head on a platter for frightening my wife.”
“Well, you can’t do that, either. He’s part of an ambassadorial entourage, and Prinny won’t thank you for messing about with him. Not on such grounds as those, anyway. I hope to render him harmless before the night is done, but ’tis more important to get this lady back where she belongs than it is to teach Fahd his place.”
“Well, Sally ain’t going with us,” Lynsted said, “and I don’t want her out where that fellow can molest her, either.”
“Don’t fret yourself into a lather,” Cheriton said crisply. “I had wondered how we might send the Lady Alicia back to the ballroom without subjecting her to annoyance from Fahd, and Sally is our perfect solution.”
“Well, I am here,” Brittany pointed out, surprised.
Cheriton shook his head again. “You forget, my dear, you are to be our decoy. Mama,” he added, turning to the marchioness, “you will take charge of Zara at once, if you please, and go with Toby, who will see to your every comfort. Once you reach Berkeley Square, I depend upon your not insignificant resources when it comes to dealing with the ambassador. Will he be at home, Zara?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” she replied, clearly glad to be of assistance to him. “His habits are most settled, and Tuesday nights he remains at home. There are sometimes visitors, but customarily my master attends to matters of business for which he has had no time during the rest of the week.”
“That is so,” Alicia put in. “I remember that bit from the papers. Mama was put out because it meant he would not attend our ball, though he did attend Lady Castlereagh’s, but by the time she learned about his habit, it was too late to change the date without being put to a great deal of trouble.”
Cheriton nodded, turning to the dowager again. “Your purpose, ma’am, is to convince him that his fair Circassian has come to no hurt through her escapade, that she has done nothing to damage his reputation or her own. In point of fact, you are to convince him that no one knows of her daring who will speak of it, so long as she remains safe in his charge. If he proves obstinate, Mama, merely point out to him that we are aware of the charade he organized to deceive the ladies who were invited to meet Zara. A little gentle blackmail—you will know how to turn the trick.”
“Oh, I rather think I shall enjoy our discussion,” said the marchioness, smiling broadly. She turned to Zara, who was regarding her anxiously. “Do not fret, child. We cannot promise to protect you altogether from his wrath, but I daresay we can make him listen to whatever you wish to tell him.”
“That will be enough, I believe,” Zara said quietly, her body relaxing visibly. “He is kind, my master, and will listen to me so long as Fahd does not speak to him first and fill his mind with false impressions.”
“Then we must deal with Fahd,” Cheriton said. “Lady Brittany, you will, if you please, take Zara’s shawl and put it over your head as though to disguise yourself. Lady Alicia, you will go with Sally back to the ballroom. The rest of you, take yourselves off.”
A moment later, Brittany was alone with the marquess. “Do you really think he will believe me to
be Zara, sir?”
“He will believe what he wishes to believe,” said Cheriton firmly. “People do.” He regarded her searchingly for a long moment, adjusted her shawl so as to cover her hair, which was more golden than Zara’s, and to shadow her face, then smiled ruefully. “I have assumed that you will do as I tell you, but I never really asked you if you are afraid. Are you?”
“No, sir,” she replied simply. “Nor shall I be, with you by my side.”
“Well, I shall not remain at your side, you know. That would defeat our purpose. I wish Fahd to confront you, and I doubt he will do so if I am too near. Otherwise, he would have entered this room and demanded that Zara be given into his charge. That he has not done so argues that he is not so certain of his influence as he would have her believe him to be. He will wait, I think, until he believes you to be unprotected.”
“But I will not be unprotected.”
“No.”
He went to the door then and made a great show of looking out into the dimly lit corridor, then beckoned to her to follow him. Pulling the shawl a little more over her face and bowing her head submissively as she had seen Zara do, she moved silently in his wake, hoping she looked even half as graceful as the lovely Circassian did when she moved. Cheriton put his arm around her as though to shelter her and also to urge her to greater speed. He kept looking around, and she nearly giggled at the look of urgent anxiety upon his countenance. As though she had made a sound, his arm tightened briefly and she looked up through her lashes at him again. The frown was more apparent than ever, and she lowered her glance immediately.
Cheriton guided her down the corridor and through the green baize door leading to the nether regions of the great house. It was but a matter of some moments after that that they emerged in the kitchen yard where there was a gate leading to the mews containing the ducal stables.
“Wait here for me,” muttered Cheriton in a low but carrying voice. “I do not wish his grace’s servants to catch a glimpse of you, but I cannot take you through the streets of London on foot, and my own carriage might be miles from here. I shall have to order one from the duke’s stable. I will be but a moment, and no one has followed us. You are quite safe, ma’am.”
Brittany shrank back against the hedge separating the mews road from the kitchen garden. She hoped it looked as though she was attempting to hide herself and not, as was the real case, as though she was attempting to make herself look two inches shorter and ten pounds lighter. She need not have worried, however. No sooner had Cheriton’s form merged with the shadows than a heavy hand clamped down upon her arm and another swept from behind her head to cover her mouth.
The harsh words muttered into her ear were unintelligible for the simple reason that she did not understand the language in which they were spoken. Nonetheless, she had little difficulty comprehending the threat they conveyed and began to struggle in near panic, for it suddenly occurred to her that the best way for Fahd to eliminate the Circassian’s influence over their master would be to murder her. What better place for such an act than a dark shadowy hedgerow behind a mansion blocks from the ambassadorial residence? As his hand clutched harder at her mouth, she became certain that he meant to suffocate her. Where was Cheriton?
The harsh voice muttered again in that strange tongue, and the strong arms shook her as though she had been no more than a life-size rag doll. The hand on her arm moved across her breast, clamping her to his body like a vise, but the intimate touch of his hands on her body was as a match to the flame of Brittany’s temper. Fear disappeared altogether as raging fury took its place.
His hand shifted against her mouth, and she heeded no further cue. Her lips and teeth parted long enough for the soft padding on his palm to come within reach, then her teeth snapped together as hard as she could clench them. A high-pitched screech was her reward, but the sound was cut off almost immediately, and she felt panic rising within her. Now he would murder her for sure.
However, even as the thought passed through her mind, the grip across her chest eased, then disappeared, and the body pressing tightly against her own was suddenly not there. Before she could quite take in the fact that Cheriton had come upon them so silently that even she, who had been listening for his approach, had not heard him, there was a crack of bone against bone and her erstwhile assailant went down like a sapling felled by a lightning bolt. Her eyes had adjusted completely to the starlight overhead, and she saw Cheriton rub his knuckles as he moved quickly toward her.
“Are you all right?” he demanded.
“Of course,” she replied, keeping her voice steady with an effort. “I knew you would come.”
“And so you were not frightened in the least.” There was mockery in his tone as he came nearer. His hand rested gently upon her shoulder and he looked down into her face. The shawl had fallen away and she knew he could see her clearly as she tilted her face up to his. “He might have hurt you badly before I could get to you,” he murmured, drawing a line with one finger along her cheek to the point of her jaw.
Her breath stopped in her throat at his touch, but she managed to smile at him. “I thought he would throttle me,” she confessed, her voice sounding unnaturally guttural to her own ears, “but in truth, sir, there was little time for fear before you interceded.”
His hand moved from her shoulder to caress the back of her neck. Then, as though he could not help himself, he drew her nearer and lowered his lips to meet hers. Brittany responded to the kiss eagerly. It was as if she had been waiting for this moment for weeks. His lips were soft at first as they touched hers, but when her own moved in response, his grew firmer, more demanding. His arms came around her, drawing her close, and her body thrilled to his touch. For several moments, she forgot that they were not quite alone in the world. A groan from near the hedge recalled them both to their surroundings.
As he set her back on her heels and moved to attend to Fahd, Cheriton smiled at her. “You were very brave, my dear. I was proud of you.”
She stared at his back, savoring the words. He had never said that she was beautiful or charming or even that her attire was becoming—none of those things that men said so easily to women every day. But that fact somehow made the words he had just spoken mean more to her than all the other compliments she had had in her entire life.
Cheriton bent down and hauled the still-groaning Fahd to his feet. Giving him a shake, he demanded in a furious tone, “What do you mean by accosting the Lady Brittany Leighton in such a fashion, lout?”
Trying to free himself, Fahd replied, “’Tis not a lady, fool, ’tis a mere scrap of a female who was where she had no business to be. You will let me go at once or suffer the consequences of your folly. Do you know who I am?”
“I know you,” Cheriton said grimly, “but I think you had best take a better look at the young lady upon whom you put your filthy hands. I mean to lodge a formal complaint of your behavior with your master, so ’tis best you know just what you have done. Do you not know the Duke of Malmesbury’s daughter when you see her?”
Fahd gasped, for Brittany, the shawl now draped over her elbows, had moved into the light where he could see her more clearly. The fear on his face astonished her. “No,” he murmured wretchedly, “it cannot be. I saw her.”
“You accosted this lady,” Cheriton repeated. “Your master will not be pleased, for her father is an important man in this country and you had no business at all to be in his house.”
“I saw Zara,” Fahd repeated. “I came to the house because I discovered at last whose was the crest on the door of the carriage that was drawn up before that wretched modiste’s establishment, and when the girl was to be found nowhere else, I determined to seek her here. I knew no one would pay me any heed in such a crush as this, and I was able to pass directly into the ballroom. But she saw me, and now you have played a fearsome trick upon me, sir, but it will not answer. My master knows where my loyalty lies. He will listen to me. Hiding his concubine from him will do your country’
s relations with mine no good at all. I will see to it.”
“You do that,” Cheriton recommended. “But for now, get yourself gone, man, before I forget that I’m a gentleman and treat you as you deserve to be treated. Do not make the mistake, however, of believing that my words are naught but the stirrings of air. I will lodge that complaint, so you had best do your possible to make yourself popular with your master before I speak to him.”
Fahd drew breath between his teeth, but he said nothing more, merely brushing himself off and turning away. Brittany released a long sigh as Cheriton put his arm round her shoulder again.
“Will you really speak to his master?” she asked.
“I will, and I will make it clear that Fahd has behaved very badly, though I doubt it will be necessary. Their customs are quite different from our own, you know. I think if Fahd reflects upon this matter before he takes himself home, he will realize his best course is to disappear while he can still do so. Of course,” he added in a musing tone, “I might simply hale Fahd before your father instead and tell him the fellow accosted you. That might prove interesting.”
“You would not!” She stared at him in dismay. “Cheriton, if Papa had so much as an inkling of what has been going on in this house … Oh, you are making game of me, pray say that is what you are doing!”
“Am I, my dear?” And he drew her into his arms again.
15
RATHER MORE CONFUSED THAN ever, Brittany allowed Cheriton to escort her back into the house, where they discovered that under cover of all the normal coming and going of guests even Brittany had not been missed by anyone other than her sister Arabella. That young lady, however, came rushing up to them the moment she saw them enter the ballroom.
“What is going forward?” she demanded in a lowered tone, glancing over her shoulder even as she spoke to assure herself that they would not be overheard.
Brittany forced a smile and shook her head. “Whatever gave you the notion that something was—”