‘No.’ James shook his head. ‘Just watch and wait.’
Sure enough the bloodied champion rallied, delivered a fierce left hook to the underside of the challenger’s chin and followed it by planting a facer that laid him out cold. James knew he wouldn’t get up, despite the crowd’s raucous encouragement. They were not ready for the entertainment to end but the challenger had nothing left to give. James watched Mannering’s shoulders slump, proving that he’d just got himself in even deeper with Covington and that more forgeries would soon flood the market as a consequence. James felt almost sorry for him. He must realise he was being exploited, but he was addicted to gambling and probably couldn’t resist the temptation. James had seen men like him before. It didn’t excuse his behaviour, but did explain it. When it came down to it, people did what they had to do in order to survive.
‘They couldn’t let Mannering win and be in a position to discharge his debt to Covington, or whoever holds his vowels,’ James explained. ‘They probably let him win occasionally, then turn the screw as they did tonight.’
Marc nodded. ‘Give him hope and next time, perhaps…’
‘Precisely so. I don’t know who disgusts me more, Mannering or Covington and his ilk.’ James’s party joined the throng leaving the barn. ‘Keep Covington in your sights,’ he said as they shuffled slowly forward, listening to snippets of conversation as they did so. No one took any notice of them, more concerned about discussing the fight and agreeing upon what the challenger ought to have done to retain the upper hand.
‘Damn it, we’re too late,’ Marc said, slapping his thigh in frustration.
Covington and his party must have slipped away as soon as the fight ended. In all the confusion, James’s attention had been momentarily diverted at the vital time. Now, all they could do was watch impotently as Covington’s carriage bowled away at a fast pace.
By the time James reclaimed his horse, it would be long gone.
Chapter Thirteen
‘Let go of me!’
Susie, infuriated by Tobias’s assumption that she required rescuing, was determined to stand her ground. The fact that she actually had needed assistance was beside the point. She struggled like the devil but his vice-like grip on her elbow didn’t loosen, obliging her to match her stride to his or risk being dragged along behind him, drawing even more attention to herself. Screaming would get her nowhere. Her cries for help would never be heard above the din coming from the barn. Worse yet, she was sure that any potential saviour would not be filled with honourable intentions when he realised she was the only female amongst this horde of rabid men. Even the lightskirts, she belatedly realised, had avoided the gathering.
At least she was sure that Tobias, furious though he was, wouldn’t go so far as to violate her.
Fairly sure.
She had never seen him one-tenth as angry as he appeared to be with her at that moment. This was a very different side to his character and she felt as if she no longer knew him. An aura of malevolence clung to him like a second skin, giving her a glimpse of the ruthless renegade he had once been. She shuddered, gave up fighting and followed meekly in his wake, even though she was feeling anything but meek. Still, sometimes, being a helpless female acted to her advantage.
Tobias she could manage, once his temper cooled and he could be persuaded to see reason. He was still employed by her father and presumably would like that situation to continue. He could hardly tattle upon her without revealing that he himself was at this illegal gathering as one of its instigators. Be that as it may, she owed him no explanations for her presence at it and did not appreciate this rather crude demonstration of brute strength any more than she valued his arrogant assumption that he knew what was best for her.
Tobias eventually stopped striding along and thrust her onto a small track between the trees that dulled the sound from the barn to the extent that they could hear themselves think. He stopped so abruptly and released her so unexpectedly that she stumbled and her back collided painfully with the trunk of a tree. He tried to steady her but she batted his hand away.
‘Don’t touch me!’
‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded to know.
Susie’s fear gave way to indignation. How dare he cross-question her when she had caught him involved in arranging an illegal fight!
‘You are the one with the explaining to do,’ she replied with a lofty toss of her head, rubbing her elbow where he had held it so tightly, thinking she would have a bruise. ‘When Papa hears what has been going on this evening, you can wish your appointment as his steward goodbye.’
Tobias raised an arrogant brow, disconcertingly unconcerned about the imminent demise of his livelihood. ‘Then you leave me with no choice but to tell him about your habit of visiting single gentlemen’s establishments unescorted,’ he replied, the angry edge to his voice at direct variance with his casual stance.
‘What!’ Susie’s mouth dropped open. ‘To what do you refer?’ she asked, knowing perfectly well.
‘Don’t pretend to misunderstand me.’ He leaned one hand against the tree directly above her head and looked down at her through dark, angry eyes. ‘I expected better of you. Thought you…well, never mind. Clearly I got it wrong and you are no different to all the others.’
His scathing tone and the disappointment in his expression caused her to forget that he had no right to sit in judgement upon her. She desperately wanted to set him straight—to explain that she had a legitimate reason to call upon James. She could see how it must look to him. Even so, anger briefly surged through her. Did he really think she would stoop so low, that she was so desperate to attract James’s interest that she would agree to a liaison?
Of all the damnable luck! She had been so careful not to be observed, yet Tobias had seen her anyway. But he had kept silent—until now. She wondered what he had planned to do with the knowledge he held against her. Was he intending to keep it in reserve as a bargaining tool? Given the dubious nature of his activities she supposed it was sensible of him to collect tradable information. No one could deny that he was awake on every suit. She understood better now how he’d managed to survive for so long as a fugitive.
Obviously, she couldn’t tell Papa about his involvement with the fight or he would repay that disservice by reporting upon her activities. If that happened James would probably feel the need to propose marriage in a misguided effort to save her reputation and she couldn’t live with herself if that happened. She glanced at Tobias, wondering how she could have ever admired such a master manipulator. From what she had heard about his father, they were cut from the same mould. And yet such a man would become steward at Pemberley. It was arguably the most influential position on such a significant estate and one which Tobias would undoubtedly exploit for his own advantage. Thanks to her own carelessness, there was nothing Susie could do to prevent his succession to that role.
But Marc and Spence were another matter. Oh God, they were in that barn with James! They would have observed Tobias and Marc, who had never completely trusted him, wouldn’t hesitate to tell Papa of his involvement. Susie would have to find a way to dissuade him, otherwise her own situation was bound to come to light.
She snapped out of her depressing reverie when she felt the full force of Tobias’s blistering gaze boring into her face. He tapped the fingers of the hand still resting against the tree trunk with impatience. He was waiting for her to respond to his question, to explain why she had visited James, as though he had every right in the world to ask her. Unfortunately he held all the aces, they both knew it, and he could ask her anything he damned well pleased. But that didn’t mean that she would bow to his bullying tactics, graciously or otherwise. Attack, she firmly believed, was the best form of defence.
‘My visit would not have been necessary if I hadn’t been foolish enough to confide Mr Tyrell’s true reason for being in the area to you,’ she replied in an aloof tone she seldom employed with anyone. ‘I trusted you, fool that I am.’
‘You think…you imagine I am involved with the forger?’
He sounded so shocked that she briefly believed him. Very briefly, and then only because a small part of her still desperately wanted him to be innocent. But the strength of his malevolent expression convinced her otherwise. He was a dangerous man at the best of times, one whom it would be unwise to cross, but she had never had cause to feel afraid of him before.
‘What else am I supposed to think?’ she shot back at him. ‘Given your association with Bairstow. And Bevan.’
He was silent for a long moment, and she could see that her knowledge of that association had shocked him. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to reveal that she’d known about it at this point. They were alone here and she was at his complete mercy. Desperate men were unpredictable and yet, perversely, she didn’t feel in danger, just angry and upset. Tobias sighed, grabbed her arm again and pulled her away from the tree. She winced when his fingers connected with the sore flesh of her upper arm. He noticed and immediately loosened his hold.
‘Where did you leave your horse? I will escort you home.’
‘I don’t need your escort.’
‘It wasn’t a suggestion, Susie.’
He had never addressed her so informally before and now was not the time to take him to task for being presumptuous. A loud roar erupted from inside the barn, distracting and startling her.
‘You are missing the fun,’ she said scathingly.
He shook his head. ‘Come.’
With no other choice available to her, she told him where she had left Morris. She would never admit it in a million years but the prospect of not undertaking the ride home alone was a huge relief. They made a brief detour so that Tobias could collect his own horse, which he led with one hand, the other still grasping Susie’s elbow slightly more gently with the other.
‘You can’t let me go. I won’t run away.’
He sent her a look that was hard for her to interpret—a combination of exasperation and amusement—but didn’t release his hold on her. When they reached Morris’s position he let out a prolonged sigh. Then, without warning, he swept her from the ground and lifted her into his own horse’s saddle.
‘That will be more comfortable for you,’ he said.
He vaulted onto Morris’s back and led the way from the clearing, giving her no opportunity to argue. He had no qualms about taking the shorter route and did so with a confidence that she reluctantly admired. He appeared to be able to see in the dark, or perhaps it was familiarity with the route that made him seem so self-assured. Either way, they made the journey without exchanging more than a dozen words, and then only to point out hazards baring their way.
When they arrived back at Pemberley Tobias took charge of the horses and told her to go into the house. He seemed preoccupied and didn’t ask how she intended to gain access since ordinarily all the doors would have been locked at such an hour.
‘Meet me in the morning and we will talk,’ he said curtly. ‘In the meantime, I would advise against saying or doing anything rash since you are not in possession of all the facts.’
‘Nor, Mr Porter, are you.’
‘Which is why we need to discuss matters when we are both in more receptive frames of mind.’
‘Very well. I suppose I have no choice.’
‘None whatsoever.’
He told her when and where they would meet and bid her a curt goodnight.
‘Well really…’
Susie walked away from him without looking back and let herself quietly into the house. The footman on night duty was absent from his post. Susie was grateful for his lackadaisical approach to his duties since it enabled her to reach her room without encountering anyone. She breathed an audible sigh of relief as she stripped off her boyish apparel and replaced it with a cool lawn nightgown. She ran a brush through her tangled hair, rapidly braided it and stifled a yawn, on the verge of tears. Tears of relief to have arrived home unharmed, or tears of dismay at the proof she now held regarding Tobias’s culpability? Susie was unable to decide.
Her hands shook as she turned back the covers. Her bed had never seemed more inviting yet she slept badly…which is to say barely at all. So many conflicting thoughts whirled around inside her head that repose was next to impossible. Tobias seemed furious with her, and yet he was the one in the wrong. Such hubris! She could, she reluctantly conceded, see how it must have looked to him when he saw her go to James’s home unescorted. Even so, she thought he understood her character better than that and resented the fact that he had branded her a jade without at least asking her if she had a legitimate reason for making that call.
If Tobias’s involvement in the mill came to light and he was dismissed from his position at Pemberley as a consequence, she now knew that he had not left his questionable activities entirely behind and could make a living by other means. Susie, on the other hand, would be a severe disappointment to her parents if Tobias couldn’t be persuaded to keep what he knew to himself. Somehow she would have to convince him not to speak out, no matter what concessions he required from her in return for his silence. I will keep your secret if you keep mine. Except it wouldn’t be that easy, of course. There was the small matter of her brothers having seen Tobias in the thick of things at the fight.
She tossed and turned and repeatedly thumped her pillows without finding a comfortable position, looking for answers that eluded her.
Susie stirred with the dawn, determined to make Tobias explain himself first. In other words, she would go on the offensive and decide how best to defend her own actions when she had heard the reasons for his.
ᴥᴥᴥ
Tobias was fit to be tied. He turned Morris back out and stabled his own horse, unable to recall the last time he had so comprehensively lost his temper. Susie Darcy had that effect on him. There was just something about her that he connected with on a level over which he had absolutely no control. She was everything that was good and pure, the antithesis of all he had known during his formative years and the catalyst for his determination to improve himself by sticking to the straight and narrow.
But now she too had proven to possess feet of clay. It was beyond disappointing.
She was the last person he had expected to see at that ill-advised and hastily convened mill, and he still couldn’t decide how she had come to be there. Or why. Or how she had even known about it, come to that. He had wanted to ask her but he’d been too furious, too disappointed in her, to listen to her pathetic excuses. Besides, the need to get her away from that horde before she was recognised trumped all other considerations.
He made his way to his cottage, deep in thought. She must have overheard him and Bairstow talking in the gardens that morning. He ought to have considered that possibility when agreeing to meet the man at Pemberley. Not that he’d been in a position to decline. Bairstow called the shots—or had, until now. He had overlooked the possibility that Susie might take one of her solitary strolls in the grounds before breaking her fast. He had watched her do so on numerous occasions, usually but not always managing to resist accidently crossing her path and falling into conversation with her.
‘Damn it!’
He entered his sitting room and poured himself a large measure of brandy, downing it in two swallows and welcoming the fiery burn as the liquid slid down his throat. He refilled his glass, sat beside the dwindling fire and sipped the second brandy more slowly, trying to make sense of what had happened that evening. That Susie would disguise herself and ride alone at night to that location showed courage, determination and downright foolhardiness. What the devil had she been thinking? Was she really so enamoured of Tyrell that she would take such ridiculous risks? Jealousy gripped him, having a detrimental effect upon his mercurial temper. He might not be able to have Susie himself but he wasn’t ready to see her give herself to anyone else quite yet—especially not in the brazen fashion she had with Tyrell that morning.
‘Fool, Porter,’ he muttered, knocki
ng back the rest of his drink and heading for his bed.
He was up with the dawn, tired yet less angry and more resigned to the inevitable. He had always known that Susie was forbidden fruit. His father’s history prevented a more lasting connection, even if the disparity in their respective situations did not. He was now ready to listen to her explanation, and to make a few admissions of his own. She could be as stubborn as him, and he couldn’t expect her to be forthright if he didn’t return the favour. He was accustomed to playing his cards close to his chest, to never placing too much trust in anyone else. A cove was more likely to stay alive if he relied on his own wits.
But now everything had changed. Susie was so strong-willed that if he didn’t share everything with her and find a way to rein her in, she would likely do something even more foolhardy than she had the previous evening.
He was waiting when she reached the glade where they had agreed to meet. She wore a gown of blue sprigged muslin that he had often seen before, a shawl draped around her shoulders. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, suggesting she had slept no better than he had. The remnants of his anger drained away when he saw that her eyes were also red-rimmed and puffy and that fatigue had drained all colour from her delicate features.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, leading her by the arm to a bench. When she flinched to his touch he immediately released her. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘Bruised from where you manhandled me last night.’
She spoke abstractedly, no anger in her tone. Tobias wanted to tell her that was nothing to how she would have felt if the mob had got to her, but saw little point in emphasising what must be obvious, even to her. That realisation probably accounted for the fact that she’d been crying. He glanced at her as she seated herself on the rustic bench and gazed off into the distance. He would wager five guineas that she couldn’t have said, if asked, what she actually saw to hold her attention. Her desolation drove away any lingering doubts about the need for candidness. He cleared his throat and spoke first.
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