‘For all I’d succeeded in escaping the building, I was still in their clutches, and you were very courageous to tackle the man who held me. He’s a veritable ox.’ Clarissa steered the conversation towards Richard’s intervention in order to save her blushes.
‘Lucky to catch him unawares you mean,’ chuckled Leighton. ‘I’ve watched Ben Fisher at work in the ring. He’s only a novice, but if he keeps his nose clean, he’s a real prospect for the future. I’d never have caught him out if he’d been in training. Drink and the devil have done for more young fighters than ever their opponents did.’
‘But you displayed all the skill of a professional yourself. I’m sure I never expected you to fell him so completely, though Caroline told me you boxed at Cribb’s Parlour. I’m not sure what or where that is,’ she admitted, ‘but I dare say it’s a very low place where no female of any sensitivity would ever be seen. Why do you go?’
‘So I can tackle men like Ben Fisher, of course,’ he replied, with a deprecating laugh. ‘Come, we’re here. Let me help you down.’
‘You’re not going to demand satisfaction from Stephen, are you?’ Clarissa couldn’t help notice that Leighton’s countenance had set itself into a more serious vein again.
‘A duel. God, no. I can’t think why you, or anyone else for that matter, should believe my consequence would be improved by forcing a quarrel on a young greenhorn, and the son of a cleric, moreover.’
The walk through the park was short, and since it wasn’t spoiled by any sign of Dalwinton’s men, in a very short while they were beating noisily on the filthy and unassuming entrance to Stephen and Marianne’s apartment. Stephen himself admitted them with some trepidation, for he was inclined to be over-set by the arrival of his rival on the doorstep, and took good care to shield Marianne from her erstwhile swain.
‘I should understand it if you wish to seek satisfaction of me, sir,’ he began, all stiff and formal.
‘Be a surprise to me if I did,’ Leighton dismissed him with a nod and caught Marianne’s hand to bring it to his lips in a polite salute. ‘By the way,’ he began to address Stephen again immediately to save Marianne’s blushes, for she was every bit as nervous at meeting Leighton as her suitor. ‘I spoke to some people I know at Horse Guards, and they have your promotions in hand.’
‘My promotions?’
‘I felicitate you, sir. You’ll return to your regiment a full blown captain.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Stephen stammered, unable to take in his good fortune, or the previously odious Lord Leighton’s affability.
‘No need to thank me. They had the reports on your actions in front of them. They painted a picture of a damned fine soldier. I did no more than assure them of my patronage.’
‘It’s more than I deserve.’ Stephen looked at the man he’d thought to hate and had the grace to admit his mistake. ‘You must think … Marianne … Well, sir, none of this whole damned mess is of her making.’
‘I doubt that,’ returned Leighton cryptically. ‘Nor do I doubt you deserve your captaincy or I shouldn’t have exerted myself in your favour. For all it would look damned bad if my brother-in-law were to remain a mere ensign when I’d been lionizing his exploits so high.’ He clapped the lad on the back. ‘I was appointed staff officer to Wellington himself during my service in Spain, and watched far too many brave and resourceful officers of limited means lose out on the promotion they deserved.’
‘I’m not your brother-in-law, sir.’ The young man pointed out the flaw in Leighton’s argument.
‘No, not yet, but I assume you intend to offer for Marianne.’
‘Of course, sir, but only if you were to set her free.’ Stephen stared hopefully at the viscount.
‘Damned if I see the need for all this waiting on my pleasure,’ Leighton returned testily. ‘Marianne and I have never been formally betrothed, and I can assure you I didn’t give her a second’s thought while I dallied with her sister.’
Clarissa gasped at his effrontery and rapped his arm with her reticule.
‘And neither did she,’ he added, with a complete lack of shame and some degree of truthfulness.
‘Richard.’ Clarissa could only blush and look outraged, mortified that her sister was staring at her open-mouthed with astonishment.
‘I’ll undertake to return this very afternoon and convey Marianne to her Aunt Constance, where she’ll stay until the day of our betrothal,’ he went on masterfully, ignoring the bloom on his beloved’s face. ‘We won’t reach Bedfordshire until late tonight, but that’s of no consequence to the matter in hand.’ Leighton had taken control with a vengeance and Stephen could do no more than stammer.
‘But—’
‘Since most of society still believe Marianne and I are the ones to be betrothed,’ Leighton ruthless dismissed Stephen’s objections, ‘it can hardly be thought improper for her to be seen in my company, especially if her maidservant is in attendance on her.’
‘Sophie? Where is she?’ Clarissa broke in.
‘The last time I saw her, she was attempting to hide in the bushes on the edge of the park, my dear.’ Leighton patted her hand reassuringly, another indication not lost on her sister.
‘Before we leave, however, Stephen and I have an appointment with a magistrate. That official has, I hope, prepared a special licence for your marriage, but he must hand it over to you in person.’ He bowed slightly towards the young couple. ‘You have my felicitations.’
‘But—’
‘I took the liberty of informing the War Office of your upcoming nuptuals, and received their permission also.’ He took an official-looking document out of one capacious pocket and passed it over to the young officer. ‘I should report to your commanding officer as soon as you return to your regiment,’ he advised. ‘Tell him there were exceptional circumstances involved that made it impossible to seek his approval, as would be the norm.’
‘But how can we hope to marry if I’m stuck out in Bedfordshire and Stephen remains here?’ Marianne made her first attempt at mutiny.
‘I’ll contrive that much, never fear.’ Leighton looked so certain they all believed him. ‘Just as I’ll contrive to marry Clarissa.’
‘Couldn’t I be the one to remain with Aunt Eleanor?’ Marianne made a final plea to remain in London, closer to her future husband.
‘No. I need Clarissa close by.’ Leighton spoke with such an authority, they all felt bound to abide by it. ‘Stephen will, of course, be welcome to stay at my house until such time as he has to return to his regiment.’ He turned to Marianne. ‘You too, once you’ve tied the knot. Now, if you’re ready sir, we’ll attend to our appointment at the magistrate’s office.’
‘I’m amazed you managed to arrange it so quickly,’ Stephen blurted out.
‘One of the few advantages of being at the head of a large and influential family,’ returned Leighton dismissively. ‘There’s always someone on hand to help me obtain whatever I require.’
Once the men had left on their mission, Marianne turned to Clarissa, perplexed.
‘I have you to thank,’ she told her sister warmly, ‘though how you did it, I can’t tell.’ She flung her arms around Clarissa and began to sob on her shoulder. ‘I’m so happy, but what of you?’
‘Why, it seems I’m to be married too.’
‘To Lord Leighton.’ Marianne couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice, and nor could Clarissa keep her countenance straight.
‘Of course,’ she cried. ‘Didn’t he say he’d contrive.’
‘Oh, Clarissa, you poor thing,’ Marianne blurted out. ‘I’ll be free to spend my life with a man I truly love, but you? No, I can’t let you waste your life by remaining silent. I once thought as you, that marriage to such a great man was all a woman could desire, but I was wrong. I’ve found true love at last, and so must you, however long the search.’
‘I’ve found all I wish in Richard,’ laughed Clarissa. ‘He’s truly the one I’ll love for ever.’
‘Well, he’s not qui
te so top lofty as once I thought him. But love?’ She stared at her sister nonplussed. ‘Do you truly mean it?’
CHAPTER TWENTY
A Scoundrel is Put to Flight
Thanks to their early start, and a swift conclusion to Stephen’s business with the magistrates, it still lacked an hour to midday when Richard and Clarissa eventually emerged from the front door of the run-down hovel in which Stephen and Marianne had their apartment.
‘Beware Dalwinton, guv’nor.’ Teddy’s less than genteel voice hissed out the words in a quiet undertone.
Leighton hesitated for no more than a moment while he took in the situation. Both Teddy and Tom were crouched awkwardly amongst the bushes that edged the property, and behind them, sitting cross-legged on the ground, was Marianne’s maidservant, Sophie. Further off, across the muddy street, stood a small gang of toughs headed by Lord Dalwinton, evidently waiting to bar their exit. To Clarissa’s dread it also included the young giant she knew only as Ben, Jem, apparently the owner of the building she’d burnt to the ground, an obviously bandaged Marston, Dalwinton’s valet and a couple of nondescript characters holding makeshift, but no less deadly for that, cudgels.
‘Do they know you’re here?’
‘I don’t fancy so.’ Teddy kept his voice at a whisper. ‘Sophie spotted them first off, way over the far end of the park, and came to warn us. On my life, I didn’t even know she was out there. Considering your situation I thought it best if we slipped across quick like, so I reckon they still believe they’ve got you trapped.’
‘Stay where you are,’ Leighton warned the groom, mouthing his words in a tone that was low and yet quite distinct. Then he turned to Clarissa, who’d been watching the welcome committee with a worried frown. ‘You’d better make your way back to Marianne with Sophie; you’ll be safer in the house.’
‘No, Richard. This situation is as much my doing as yours. We’ll confront them together.’ Clarissa set her face, displaying a confidence she most certainly did not feel.
Leighton pursed his lips and looked as though he’d insist. Then just as suddenly he changed his mind. ‘I haven’t got time to argue,’ he told her shortly. ‘If we hesitate much longer they’ll think we’re frightened of them, or even suspect we’re not alone. Come if you like, but stay behind me.’
He stepped forward, deliberately facing down their foes, who lounged truculently into the road to bar their way. Then, before Dalwinton had a chance to speak, took charge of the situation.
‘Ben Fisher,’ he began in a loud voice, seizing the initiative with both hands. ‘I thought you were a fighter, not a fool to get mixed up in a business like this. If word gets out, as it undoubtedly will, your career’s at an end. You don’t need me to tell you that.’
He’d struck them at their weakest point as became obvious when the young giant began to hang his head and shuffle his feet like a naughty boy caught out by a particularly strict schoolteacher.
‘Get off now and I’ll think no more of it.’ Leighton struck again while the iron was hot. Ben was by far the most dangerous of their adversaries and it was important to nullify him.
‘Stay where you are, Fisher.’ Lord Dalwinton sounded like a strangled cat, caught on the hop by his declared enemy’s tactics. ‘He can’t hurt you where he’s going.’
‘Get yourself back into fighting condition and find an honest manager to guide you,’ Leighton continued to advise the young boxer. ‘Your current one’s a poor judge of character and he’s more likely to see you in Hell, than fighting for the championship.’
‘Go easy, Ben,’ Jem chimed in, when his young protégé showed signs of retreating as Leighton had advised. Then he turned his wrath on the viscount. ‘Your damned woman’s burned my business into ashes,’ he complained. ‘Aye, and she’s injured my good friend Marston too. I’ll set the magistrates on the filthy bitch, you see if I don’t.’
‘It’s my humble opinion,’ chuckled Leighton, cheerily dismissing the improbable threat, ‘that the circumstances surrounding the way the lady was being held in your attics in the first place may weigh unfairly with the magistrates’ sense of justice. In brief, my lad, you’re likely to find yourself experiencing life in Newgate Gaol, most probably, for the all too short period necessary to await your turn to dangle at the end of a rope.’
‘You damned gentry, you’re all alike,’ Jem grumbled, with scant regard for the facts of the situation. ‘The scales of justice never settles down on our side, and that’s the truth.’ He turned and stared at Ben, who’d taken advantage of his momentary loss of concentration to sidle away from the confrontation.
‘Ben, lad,’ he pleaded urgently, ‘don’t allow the gentleman to sweet talk you so. I’ll see you fighting Cribb himself if you stays. with me. That cove, he don’t know what he’s talking about, turning you against me. Ain’t I always been honest with you, acting just like your own father ought?’ He began to slink off in the wake of the young fighter, still arguing his case.
‘Damn you, Leighton.’ Lord Dalwinton recovered his poise at last and motioned the remaining toughs forward. ‘Those two dolts leaving us doesn’t change a thing. I’ve caught you at a disadvantage; you’re hardly likely to win in a rough-house over such odds and then there’s the safety of the lady at your side to consider. Admit the whole of your sordid deception and take the consequences, or I’ll take her in lieu. There’s no lack of places I can hold her fast, and I’ll enjoy extracting the truth from her pretty lips.’
‘It’s a pity to disillusion you, my lord,’ mocked Leighton and made a sign to his groom.
To the other’s surprise, Teddy slipped out of the bushes levelling a pair of horse pistols on his noble target, nonetheless murderous-looking for all of their age. Tom stood at his shoulder, an ancient blunderbuss, almost as large as himself, held at the ready. Sophie appeared too, wielding a thick, knotted branch of oak in the manner of a weapon.
Dalwinton’s underlings began to look decidedly nervous and even the loyal Marston edged back perceptibly.
‘You’re a pack of damned cowards, all of you.’ Dalwinton tried to urge them forward, but they were having none of it.
‘You didn’t tell us we’d be up against the quality,’ one of them complained. ‘Nor guns neither.’
‘I don’t find no pleasure in mixing with swells.’ Another took up the clarion call from a position at his companion’s shoulder. And a moment later all of them were backing off fast, looking to follow the example set by their former comrades, who had disappeared into the park still arguing.
‘Good of you to meet us in such a private place.’ Leighton stepped forward to greet Lord Dalwinton, completely ignoring the valet, Marston, who was looking very uncomfortable since the tide of affairs had changed. ‘Otherwise I should have instituted a search which may have resulted in a public exchange of views. So much more polite to discuss matters in private, don’t you think?’
‘Matters? What matters?’
‘Your domicile,’ replied Leighton easily. ‘I don’t think breathing English air will be healthy for you for a very long time ahead.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Yes.’ Leighton didn’t think it necessary to wrap up his dirty laundry. ‘If your conduct in this affair becomes known, no decent host or hostess will ever include you in their invitations and, if my word is to be believed, many of your less decent friends will cut you too.’
‘Damn you, Leighton. I still don’t know what you’re planning to foist on the ton, but you can’t tell me you want it nosed about. You’re too proud of your family’s good name to risk fouling it with any funny business.’
‘Word is already out on the streets that Miss Meredew was attacked by a vicious gang and had to resort to a bold stratagem to escape her captors,’ Leighton told him with a shrug. ‘It wouldn’t take more than a hint or two dropped here and there to implicate you in the plot.’ He nodded towards the valet. ‘I dare say some of the more perspicacious may already have noted the evidence pr
ovided by Marston’s burns.’
‘Impossible,’ returned the malicious nobleman. ‘You haven’t had time to spread any such rumour.’
‘On the contrary, I deliberately rose early and took the time to do so,’ replied Leighton, elated that the shot had hit home. ‘If your involvement in such shenanigans became common knowledge …’ His voice trailed off and he allowed the threat to ride on the wind.
‘I see no reason why I should flee the country,’ blustered Dalwinton, still convinced of Leighton’s complicity in some secret plan of his own. ‘I can live without the sedate entertainments offered by your so-called decent hosts. As for the others, my reputation is already less than stainless; I don’t think my role in abducting such an obvious charlatan will cause it to be thought any more iniquitous.’ He attempted a weak laugh as though to gather his courage. ‘Your own position is by far the worse.’
‘You will leave the country within the week,’ insisted Leighton, his voice hard as iron, ‘unless you wish me to put an end to your miserable life.’ He’d stripped off his gloves while they’d been talking and, taking them in one hand, he sliced them hard across his opponent’s face.
Dalwinton staggered back from the unexpected blow, his countenance flushed scarlet by a rage he could barely hold under control. For a moment the raw emotions played transparently across his face and Clarissa, sheltering behind her lover, felt certain he’d take advantage of Leighton’s offer by demanding immediate satisfaction.
‘Damn you, sir,’ he cried out, suddenly realizing what calling out his remorseless opponent would mean. ‘I won’t fight you, Leighton. I can’t, not if you’re determined to take our quarrel to the death.’ He laughed then, suddenly more confident of his ground. ‘No, you wouldn’t dare kill me, else you’d have to flee the country yourself.’
‘I’d kill you in an instant,’ Leighton ground out the ominous threat. ‘For insulting the lady I love, if nothing else.’
‘I won’t call you out then,’ repeated Dalwinton steadfastly. That he’d been frightened into believing the threats delivered by his relentless nemesis was evident to everyone present, and Leighton’s whole attitude pressed home the point. ‘You’re a crack shot and so everyone knows. A master with the blade too.’
A Fraudulent Betrothal Page 18