The Wicked Baron

by Sarah Mallory

  Carlotta waited for a few moments, steadied herself with a few deep breaths, then went to join him. She found him standing before the empty fireplace, one arm resting along the mantelpiece. He was dressed for driving in an olive green frock coat, buckskins and top boots with a pair of York tan driving gloves clasped in one hand. She thought idly how well the country style suited him and noted how the summer sun had lightened his brown hair to a honey-gold. As she entered the room, he turned and bent a frowning gaze upon her, but although he looked serious, she was relieved that there was no sign of the savage anger she had seen in his face in their recent meetings.

  ‘Will you sit down, my lord?’

  ‘What is it you want, madam? I came here in my curricle, and I do not like to keep my horses standing any longer than necessary.’

  His harsh tone made her heart sink; it was not a promising start. She moved to a chair and sat down. She must not allow his incivility to upset her.

  ‘Thank you, sir, for coming here so promptly.’

  He shrugged. ‘You summoned me.’

  ‘I asked you here,’ she corrected him, holding her temper under a tight rein, ‘because I want to—to call a truce.’ The sardonic lift of his eyebrow brought a flush to her cheek. ‘It will be difficult to avoid each other at Malberry, my lord, and—um—I have no wish to cause embarrassment to your brother or any of his guests.’

  His lip curled. ‘I see no embarrassment, except for you, Miss Rivington.’

  ‘Pray do not be so foolish,’ she retorted. ‘Think for a moment how difficult it would be for your brother, as host, if you exposed me.’

  He moved closer, towering over her. ‘Very well then, tell me why you want this…truce?’

  She looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. He was watching her intently and his scrutiny disturbed her.

  ‘I have told you I want no unpleasantness—’

  ‘You have told me nothing that would warrant you writing to me, demanding to see me.’

  The brittle curb on her temper snapped. Her fingers curled tightly in her lap. ‘Very well—if you want the truth, you shall have it. My uncle expects me to receive an offer of marriage while we are at Malberry.’

  So there it was.

  Luke caught his breath, winded, as if he had received a blow to the stomach. He kept his hands at his sides, but could not prevent them balling into fists. ‘Oh? Who could be the lucky man, I wonder? Woollatt?’ He gave a savage laugh. ‘I take your silence for confirmation, Miss Rivington. So, you have brought your rich suitor up to scratch.’

  She winced visibly at his sneering tone and paused a moment before continuing. ‘Of course, if he is serious in his regard for me, then I must tell him the truth, but I would like to be the judge of when it is the right time, not you. I would therefore be…grateful if you would give me your word to say nothing that might j-jeopardise the situation.’

  She kept her head lowered. He could not see her eyes, but her scarlet cheeks betrayed her. In the silence that followed her words, Luke could hear only the steady tick, tick of the long case clock as she waited for his answer.

  ‘No.’

  Her head shot up. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said no. I will make you no such promises.’

  She stared at him. He turned away from those haunting brown eyes, knowing that if he met her troubled look his own defences would crumble and he might admit that he would do nothing to cause her more pain. Then he would be lost. He summoned up his anger. He was justified to feel it; by heaven, she had almost brought him to his knees! He had been on the verge of offering her more than he had offered any woman before. Thank heaven he had discovered her true nature before committing himself. ‘What have I ever done to make you hate me so?’ She spoke so quietly he could hardly hear her. ‘I admit I was angry with you when we met again in town, but that was understandable after you had left me so cruelly last summer.’

  ‘I left you, as you put it, so that you could be launched into society. And I must say you seem to have taken to it admirably.’

  ‘I had precious little choice in the matter, since you had already quit Malberry.’

  ‘Aye, and thank God I made good my escape.’

  She jumped up, white-faced, only her eyes burning with anger as she glared at him. ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Heaven knows what I might have done, had I stayed.’

  ‘You had no intention of staying,’ she flung at him. ‘Admit it; I was a mere distraction, something to pass the time while you were buried in the country.’

  ‘And you would know about distractions, would you not? You have enjoyed enough of them yourself!’

  Her lip curled. ‘You have made several hasty judgements about me, sir, but I have done nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘No? I saw you with my own eyes, flirting with Woollatt in Vauxhall Gardens.’

  ‘Yes, when you were parading that…that doxy on your arm! Can you blame me for wanting to punish you?’

  He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Punish me? What in hell’s name have I ever done to you?’

  ‘You abandoned me!’

  Carlotta had not meant to say that. The words were wrenched from her, a despairing cry torn from her heart, where she had carried her unhappiness in secret for so many months. Angry at her own weakness, she dashed her hand across her eyes.

  ‘How foolish of me to try to reason with you,’ she said bitterly. ‘I would be obliged now if you would leave me.’

  ‘Have no fear, madam, I am going!’

  He was turning towards the door when it opened and an anxious-looking footman came in.

  ‘A letter for you, miss. Come express it has, from Malberry.’

  Carlotta was still reeling from her outburst and looked at him blankly for a moment until the implications of the words penetrated her mind.

  ‘Malberry?’ She almost snatched the letter and quickly broke the seal, her fingers shaking. Luke had not left the room. He was standing by the door, tugging on his gloves, but she ignored him as she read the short note. The words seemed to jump on the page.

  ‘It—it is my father. He is hurt, badly hurt…attacked. Mama wants me to come at once…’

  Her throat dried. She looked across at Luke. Thoughts tumbled through her head but she could not make sense of them. He was watching her, his face grim.

  ‘Fetch your wrap,’ he said quietly. ‘I will drive you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  There was no surprise, no hesitation, only the knowledge that she had needed him and he had not failed her.

  Pausing only to fetch her cloak and bonnet and to scribble a hasty note for her aunt, Carlotta climbed into the curricle. She did not speak as Luke threaded his way through the busy streets, her brain too shocked to think coherently, but as they left the town behind she unfolded the letter and read it again.

  ‘I do not understand—who would want to hurt Papa? Why would someone do this? I cannot think—’

  ‘Hush.’ His hand closed over hers. ‘Do not torture yourself with conjecture.’

  ‘You are right. I must wait until we reach Malberry; Mama will explain.’

  He squeezed her fingers. ‘Try not to worry.’

  A stretch of open road allowed Luke to push his team on, thundering towards a turnpike.

  ‘Billy, sound the yard of tin,’ he ordered briskly. ‘We have no time to lose here.’

  They were through in seconds.

  ‘We are making good time,’ remarked Luke. He glanced at the stiff little figure beside him. ‘It won’t be long now.’

  She did not reply, merely stared straight ahead, her hands clenched together in her lap. Luke found the silence between them uncomfortable. Unbearable.

  ‘I did come,’ he said shortly. ‘That day in Malberry. I did come to your house, but…the earl was there before me.’

  Luke shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He remembered how nervous he had been, wishing he had brought his valet with him and something finer to wear than his b
rown country frock coat—not the ideal dress for a gentleman about to make a proposal of marriage.

  ‘I was outside the window when Broxted said he wanted to take you to town. It was your birthright, Carlotta. I could not deny you your chance.’

  Broxted’s words echoed again through his head with painful clarity. Carlotta should come back with us now and take her rightful place in society. We would treat her as our own, give her every luxury—I will even settle upon her the portion that should have been yours, dear sister. Carlotta will have the opportunity to make a good marriage—nay, an excellent match—as befits the granddaughter of an earl.

  ‘So you went away again.’ Carlotta’s quiet statement sliced into his heart.

  ‘Yes. I’m…sorry.’

  He cursed himself for the inadequacy of his words. Should he tell her how much it had cost him to ride away that day? How he had thrown himself into the improvements at Darvell Manor in his efforts to forget her? He glanced at her again. No. She was unmoved by his apology. It was too late.

  Chapter Ten

  They swept into Malberry High Street less than three hours after leaving Berkeley Square.

  ‘I’d wager there ain’t a cove living who could beat that,’ remarked Billy as the curricle pulled up.

  Carlotta barely heard him. As soon as the curricle stopped she began to climb down; by the time Lord Darvell had given his instructions to his groom, she was at the door, pushing past the maid and running up the stairs.

  ‘Mama, Mama!’

  Mrs Durini appeared on the landing and Carlotta threw herself into her arms.

  ‘How is Papa? What happened? Where is he?’

  ‘Carlotta! Gently, gently, my love.’ Her mother hugged her fiercely. ‘How glad I am that you are here, and so quickly!’

  ‘Of course. Your note—’

  ‘Oh dear, did I frighten you? I should have waited to write to you, but I was in such a panic, and for a few hours the doctor thought—but that was last night. Today your papa is much better and Dr Johnson is confident he will make a good recovery.’

  ‘May I see him?’

  ‘He is resting now, but you may come in.’

  Nodding, she led Carlotta into the bedroom where her father was lying in the middle of the large bed. The sheets were pulled up to his chin, but one side of his face was misshapen and heavily bruised, the purple-and-red blotches an alarming contrast to the white bed linen.

  Carlotta put her fist into her mouth to stifle a cry of anguish and sank down beside her father.

  ‘He is sleeping,’ said her mother softly. ‘The doctor has given him a draught and says he must rest as much as he can.’

  Carlotta reached out her hand to touch his swollen cheek. ‘Who could have done this?’

  She felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Come downstairs, love. Bessie shall sit with him while I tell you what I know.’

  Carlotta followed her down the stairs, clinging to the rail as her knees threatened to give way. They went into the little parlour, where Luke was waiting for them.

  ‘I hope you will forgive the intrusion, Mrs Durini,’ he said. ‘The door was open…’

  ‘This is Lord Darvell, Mama. He brought me here.’

  Her mother moved forward, hands outstretched in welcome. ‘Then you have my heartfelt gratitude, my lord,’ she said. ‘I dared not hope Carlotta could be here so soon.’

  He bowed. ‘I was with Miss Rivington when your letter arrived. It was the least I could do. May I enquire how your husband goes on?’

  ‘He is recovering, sir. He suffered a serious beating around his head and shoulders, but we are hopeful that there will be no lasting damage.’

  ‘Mama,’ said Carlotta, ‘will you tell me what happened?’

  Mrs Durini hesitated, and Luke said quickly, ‘Pray allow me to stay, ma’am. I may be able to help.’

  With a nod Mrs Durini sank onto the sofa, drawing Carlotta down beside her.

  ‘Giovanni was working late at the Court last night and he was set upon as he returned…Footpads. They were lying in wait for him as he crossed the stile. If it had not been for Jack he might have been—’ She broke off to wipe her eyes with one corner of her apron. ‘Jack—our m-manservant, my lord—was throwing rubbish on the midden when he heard Giovanni cry out. Jack went to find him and—and the attacker ran off.’

  ‘Attacker. There was only one?’ asked Luke, frowning.

  ‘Jack saw only one.’

  ‘And did he get a clear look at him?’

  ‘N-no. It was too dark.’

  ‘What is it, my lord?’ said Carlotta quickly. ‘What do you suspect?’

  ‘How many people use that path and the stile?’ he countered.

  ‘The servants from the Court, when they come to the village,’ said Mrs Durini.

  ‘How often would that be, once or twice each day?’

  ‘Possibly. It will be more when the master and his guests arrive.’

  Carlotta fixed him with an anxious gaze. ‘Lu—Lord Darvell?’

  He hesitated. ‘It seems an odd place for footpads to lie in wait.’

  As his words sank in, Carlotta felt the chill running down her spine. ‘You think they were waiting for Papa?’

  Her mother gave a smothered gasp. ‘No, it cannot be! Giovanni has no enemies.’

  ‘You are sure of that?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course I am sure. He is very well liked here in Malberry.’

  ‘Be that as it may, if you will permit me, I shall set my groom to make enquiries in the village—perhaps a stranger has been seen here. Can you think of anyone who might harbour a grudge?’

  ‘My father is an honest man,’ replied Carlotta, holding her head up. ‘He pays his debts and has never cheated anyone.’

  He regarded her steadily. ‘I believe you, but until we get to the bottom of this matter, it would be as well for you to take extra care.’

  ‘We shall do so, my lord.’ Carlotta nodded at him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, my lord, and thank you again for bringing my daughter to me so quickly. But I have offered you no refreshment, let me—’

  Luke held up his hand. ‘No, I will not trouble you, ma’am.’ He rose. ‘My groom is waiting for me at the George—I am going on to the Court, but I shall call again tomorrow, if I may.’

  His words dispelled the anxiety that had been growing within Carlotta.

  ‘You are not going back to Town?’

  ‘No.’ His look and the little smile that accompanied it warmed her. ‘I shall stay at the Court now until James arrives.’

  ‘And you will be very welcome to call here at any time, my lord,’ put in Mrs Durini.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. Miss Rivington, it now occurs to me—we came here in such a hurry, would you like me to send Billy back to town tonight for your clothes…?’

  ‘Thank you, sir, but I would not have you put to such trouble; I have sufficient gowns here.’ Carlotta gave a little smile. ‘They may not be fashionable, but they are perfectly adequate.’

  Her mother nodded. ‘Indeed they are, my love, for you will not be venturing out of doors while you are here.’ She glanced towards the ceiling, as if anxious to get back to her husband. ‘Well, my lord, we must not keep you longer. Until tomorrow, then. Carlotta, since Bessie is still upstairs, perhaps you will show his lordship out?’

  Carlotta picked up his hat and handed it to him, then led the way back into the little passage. At the door she turned to him, suddenly shy. ‘My lord, I—’

  He put one finger against her lips. ‘I will call again in the morning.’ He looked at her, his hazel eyes warm with concern. ‘Unless you would like me to stay…?’

  The idea made Carlotta’s insides tie themselves in knots. She would like nothing more than to have him stay with her for ever, but that was not what he meant. She summoned a smile. ‘Thank you, sir, but we shall manage. We will check that all the doors and windows are locked, and Jack shall sleep with a thick sta
ff beside him.’

  ‘Make sure he does,’ he said, giving her a faint smile. ‘Goodnight, cara.’

  Carlotta returned to the sitting room to find her mama looking out of the window, watching Lord Darvell’s retreating form.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘what a very kind gentleman he is, to be sure. And is he related to Mr Ainslowe, who owns the Court?’

  ‘His brother, Mama.’ She flushed at the speculative gleam in her mother’s eyes.

  ‘Ah. And is he the rich suitor your aunt has mentioned in her letters?’

  Carlotta’s blush deepened. ‘Lord Darvell has no fortune; Uncle Broxted considers him a wastrel.’

  ‘Well, that is a pity, for he seems a most pleasant gentleman, and uncommon kind to bring you all this way.’ She sighed. ‘But there, it would do no good for you to throw yourself away on a handsome face, my dear. Your prospects are so much better now.’

  It was strange, after the luxuries of Broxted House, to be waking up again in the tiny bedroom of her parents’ cottage. It took Carlotta several moments to collect her thoughts and separate dreams from reality. Despite knowing that her father lay injured in the next room, she felt none of the anxiety and distress that had filled her days in London. Lying very still, listening to the birdsong outside her window, Carlotta thought about the calm sense of well-being that enveloped her. The answer came to her in the form of a memory, a pair of hazel eyes smiling warmly at her. She was no longer at odds with Luke. Something had changed yesterday when she had received the letter from Malberry. Instinctively, in her need she had turned to Luke for help and he had answered her mute appeal without hesitation. And he had called her cara—dear one. Her heart singing, Carlotta slipped out of bed and scrambled into her clothes. Luke had promised to call again this morning!

  As soon as she was dressed Carlotta went to see her father. It was clear that her mother had kept an all-night vigil at his bedside and Carlotta immediately took her place and sent her off to rest. There was little to do, for her father was sleeping quietly, but she knew her mother would not be easy unless someone was keeping watch. An hour dragged by; sitting in the quiet bedroom, Carlotta thought back to the journey to Malberry, riding beside Luke in his curricle. She had been so anxious for her father that she had given little thought to Luke’s explanation that he had come to the cottage, but had turned away again when he heard her uncle’s plans for her.