‘You are right,’ she said at last. ‘One must be practical about these things.’
He looked relieved. ‘We should find a maid to go with you. Perhaps one of Lady Lochall’s servants.’
‘No, I would rather hire a local girl, once I am in France.’
‘Then at least take one of the maids with you to the coast.’
‘And have her travel back alone in these troubled times?’ She shuddered, remembering her own encounter with the redcoats. ‘It is too dangerous. No, if we go alone, we can travel faster. We both regret what occurred last night and that should be enough to ensure it does not happen again, should it not?’
She looked up, noting the faint crease in his brow and his unsmiling eyes as he made her a low bow.
‘I give you my word upon it, madam.’
His words sent her spirits plummeting even lower. It was an easy promise for him to keep, because he had never wanted to kiss her in the first place.
Chapter Seven
The maid coaxed one glossy curl to fall upon Madeleine’s bare shoulder and stepped back.
‘There, mistress. I am done.’
Madeleine studied the result in her looking glass and felt a little kick of pleasure. Tomson had found another gown for her, a cornflower-blue satin trimmed with blond lace, and she rose, smoothing her hands over the skirts with satisfaction. It had only been a couple of weeks since she had left Inverness, but it seemed such a long time since she had worn anything so fine. She was almost glad now that they had delayed their departure until the morning.
Lady Lochall had given her a silk wrap to put over her gown and once she had thrown this around her shoulders she went downstairs. As she descended to the hall she glimpsed a figure in Highland dress standing in the shadows by the door.
Assuming it was Lord Lochall, she went up to him, saying cheerfully, ‘Lady Lochall is not here yet, I see, which means I am not late—Oh! Gr—Mr Rathmore. I did not expect it to be you.’
‘Evidently,’ he replied. ‘Lochall persuaded me to change my mind and accompany you. The idea of kicking my heels here alone this evening did not appeal.’
‘I am glad of it.’
And she was. Maddie was genuinely pleased he was going with them, but even as she spoke he moved away from her, saying he must find the gloves Lord Lochall had looked out for him. She watched him stride away and felt her spirits dim a little. They had agreed the proprieties must be maintained and he was ensuring he was not alone with her. She sighed. So be it. She could expect nothing more.
* * *
Sumington Lodge was reached by a section of surprisingly good road that Lady Lochall explained was maintained by themselves and their neighbours for just such occasions as this. They were greeted cheerfully by their hosts, who swept Grant and Madeleine away for a round of introductions.
‘The Sumingtons are good people and the guests friendly enough,’ was Madeleine’s verdict, when at last she and Grant could move away from everyone.
‘And not at all inquisitive,’ he replied. ‘One could almost believe there had been no rising in the Highlands at all.’
‘Would you rather they asked difficult questions?’ she countered.
‘Not at all. I understand everyone is here to enjoy themselves. No one wishes to spoil the evening with doubts and suspicions about their fellow guests.’
‘About us, you mean.’ She was serious for a moment. ‘We are the only strangers here, even if we are under Lord Lochall’s aegis.’
A warning glance put Maddie on her guard and she looked around to see Mr Sumington bearing down upon them, his eldest son and daughter following close behind.
‘Well, well now, what is this? We cannot have you standing here when the dancing is about to begin! Here are Sukie and Douglas eager to partner you for the first reel.’
It was clear they would not be allowed to refuse, so Madeleine summoned up a smile and went off to do her duty.
* * *
For an hour Grant danced and smiled and said all that was proper, but all the time wishing he was anywhere other than in Sumington Lodge. His hosts had welcomed him cheerfully, brushing aside his apologies for turning up unannounced and declaring they were grateful for another guest to make up the numbers. Not that he was needed—the large room was quite full and he thought that Mr Sumington must be gratified by the response to his last-minute invitation.
He had allowed Lord Lochall to persuade him to come along with them, thinking it might help to ease the tension between himself and Madeleine, but when she had come down the stairs to join him in the hall, he had felt that familiar tug of attraction and had moved away before she could see it.
Now he was obliged to watch her laughing and smiling as she danced and he felt an irrational stab of jealousy that she was enjoying the company of other men when she was so ill at ease with him.
The music ended and he escorted his latest partner from the floor before wandering off to find the glass of wine he had left in one of the window embrasures. He should not have come. A good night’s sleep would had been much more advantageous to him, for they had an early start in the morning. Lord Lochall had suggested they make for one particular small east coast fishing village, where he was sure they would find a vessel to take them across the German Sea. He would need all his wits about him for the journey through country that was known to be patrolled by British soldiers. And he would need to maintain his cool reserve towards Miss Madeleine d’Evremont. She must be given no cause to think he harboured any warm feelings for her at all.
Which he did not. Not in the slightest. Last night he had succumbed to the natural temptation any hot-blooded male would feel when a pretty woman comes to his bedroom in a state of undress. Although in general, wilful, spoiled, hot-at-hand brunettes were not to his taste at all.
If ever he was to take a wife—and heaven knew he was in no position to even think of that at the present time!—if ever he was to consider marriage, he would choose a quiet, biddable girl with whom he could settle down to a life of peace and harmony. A fair-haired beauty, like the English cousins he had met in London a few years ago. Or even a redhead like his mother. His bride would have to be a gentle, kindly soul, a good mother to their children and a capable housekeeper. A lady of whom his parents would approve.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he did not notice Lady Lochall until she spoke his name. When he turned he saw that she had Madeleine with her, the two of them bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked from the dance.
‘Good heavens, I had forgotten how much energy is needed for a lively reel!’ exclaimed my lady, collapsing on to the window seat and fanning herself vigorously. Grant immediately offered to fetch some refreshment, but she declined.
‘Lochall is bringing us wine, I am sure he will be here directly. Madeleine, my dear, will you not sit down, are you not exhausted?’
Glancing at Madeleine, Grant thought he had rarely seen anyone looking less fatigued.
‘Not in the least, ma’am,’ she replied, a laugh in her voice. ‘It is a long time since I enjoyed an evening such as this. I find it quite refreshing!’
He could not help but smile at her enthusiasm. She was clearly enjoying herself. Her countenance was positively radiant and her blue eyes had new brilliancy, their colour enhanced by the lustre of the jewels and her shimmering gown.
‘The next is a strathspey,’ said Lady Lochall, as the fiddlers prepared to strike up again. ‘Have you been in the north long enough to learn the steps, Madeleine?’
‘Indeed I have, ma’am.’
‘Then you should tread a measure with Mr Rathmore.’
‘With me?’ he exclaimed, imagining Madeleine’s dismay at such an idea. But far from being horrified, she was turning to him, a shy smile on her lips.
‘Why, yes, sir, if you are willing.’
It was an olive branch and one he would ac
cept gladly. He offered his arm and led her out to join the set. It was a slower, more stately dance than the previous reels and he had time to appreciate his partner. She was a graceful dancer, gliding and skipping across the floor with her dusky curls gleaming and the candlelight twinkling from the sapphires at her ears and throat.
He decided she would not have looked out of place in the finest ballroom in the land. Or even at Court. With such a partner it was easy for Grant to forget for a while the violent horrors of the past few months and the perilous journey ahead of them. His only regret was that the dance was over too soon. As the last bars faded, he bowed to Madeleine and led her from the floor, acutely aware of her dainty hand on his arm, the whisper of her silken skirts as they brushed his legs.
‘I enjoyed that very much,’ she told him. ‘You dance well.’
‘Thank you. I am much out of practice.’ There had been little time for dancing in the past year.
‘No one would know it.’ She added, a note of teasing in her voice, ‘You are very gentlemanly tonight.’
‘In my borrowed finery.’
Maddie heard the bitter note in his voice and wished she could tell him how well he looked. She wanted to say that his lithe figure and air of assurance would mark him down as a gentleman even if he was dressed in rags. Instead she bit her lip. He would think she was flattering him, but it would be no more than the truth. In her opinion he was the most handsome man in the room. He wore no ornament and his auburn hair was held back in a simple ribbon, but, in the tartan jacket and small clothes that His Lordship’s valet had cobbled together for him, Grant Rathmore would not have looked amiss in the finest ballroom.
‘As am I wearing borrowed raiment,’ she said instead. ‘I am beholden to Lady Lochall for my costume.’
‘Even the jewels?’
‘No. Not the sapphires. They were a present from Papa for my coming of age, just over a year ago. It was one of the rare occasions when he was plump in the pocket and, so far, I have managed to get by without selling them.’
‘I hope you never have to sell them,’ he said. ‘They suit you. They match your eyes.’
Madeleine did not know how to reply. The dance had restored some of the former easiness that they had shared, but she knew it must not go any further. It would not do to allow the attraction she felt for this man to show itself again.
Thankfully, they had reached the window embrasure where Lady Lochall was waiting for them and a response was no longer required. She dropped Grant’s arm and stepped closer to my lady, who was full of compliments for their dancing. Maddie murmured her thanks, laughing away any suggestion that they made a splendid couple. She was about to change the subject when she realised Grant was gazing over her head across the crowded room.
‘A damned Dragoon. That’s torn it.’
His muttered words made her turn around and she saw their host approaching with a red-coated officer beside him. Fighting down her alarm, Maddie assumed a look of polite enquiry.
‘Now here is Captain Ormskirk arrived, to add to our numbers!’ declared Mr Sumington, in his genial manner.
Maddie studied the soldier while introductions were performed. He looked to be a serious young man, the lines about his eyes and a faint scar on his chin suggesting he was a seasoned officer, while a fresher cut on one cheek suggested he had been in action recently. She noted how his gaze sharpened when Grant was introduced.
‘Rathmore, you say?’
Maddie held her breath.
‘Aye, that’s it,’ declared Mr Sumington. ‘Rathmore of Ardvarrick.’
Grant inclined his head, looking completely at his ease. ‘You know my father, perhaps, the Laird?’
Laird! Maddie was obliged to hide her shock behind a bland smile. Was he bluffing? She thought not. Looking back, it all fitted—Lord Lochall’s demeanour once he knew Grant’s identity, his ease in polite company. Oh, good heavens! And she had treated him like a common servant!
Captain Ormskirk was staring at Grant, as if trying to recall some memory, and she held her breath, waiting for him to answer Grant’s question.
‘No,’ he said at last. ‘I have never heard of Ardvarrick.’
Their host laughed and continued to chatter.
‘The good Captain’s duties delayed him from being here sooner, but now he is arrived and ready to join in!’ Mr Sumington turned to Madeleine. ‘After watching your performance in the strathspey, Miss d’Evremont, he was eager to be presented to you.’
The Captain bowed to her. ‘Indeed, ma’am, I am honoured to make your acquaintance.’
‘You wish to dance perhaps, Captain?’ suggested Lady Lochall.
Madeleine realised the lady was trying to divert the soldier’s attention from Grant and she fixed what she hoped was an inviting smile upon her face.
The Captain bowed. ‘Alas, ma’am, I have a leg wound that has not yet healed and cannot dance. However, perhaps Miss d’Evremont would care to take supper with me?’
‘But you have only this minute arrived, sir!’
‘Yes, but I was obliged to miss my dinner to come here tonight.’ He held out his arm. ‘Shall we? I caught a glimpse of the refreshments set out in the dining room.’
Madeleine knew she could not refuse. She accepted graciously and moved away on his arm, to all appearances delighted to be singled out by the Captain of Dragoons.
‘You are related to the Lochalls, Miss d’Evremont?’ he asked as they negotiated their way around the edge of the room.
‘A friend of the family,’ she told him, drawing on the explanation they had all agreed before setting off this evening.
‘And do you make a long visit?’
‘That depends,’ she said cautiously. ‘Until it is safe to travel.’
‘Then you may be at Lochall House for some time, ma’am. With so many Jacobites on the run I would not advise anyone to venture far for the time being.’
He led her into the dining room which, with the majority of guests still dancing, was almost empty. They helped themselves from the dishes laid out on the sideboards and retired to a small table to sit down.
‘And the gentleman in your party. Mr... Rathmore. What do you know of him?’
‘Very little, I am afraid.’ She adopted a dismissive tone, as if she had no interest in her fellow house guest. ‘I believe his father and Lord Lochall are acquainted.’
She adroitly changed the subject and brought the conversation round to the Captain himself. By gentle questioning she kept him talking, discovering he was from Newcastle and the father of a young family. She was about to launch into more questions, confident that such a fruitful topic could keep them occupied for a long while, but the Captain forestalled her.
‘I think you have heard enough about me, ma’am. I would like to know a little more about you, now. D’Evremont. That is a French name?’
‘Yes. My father is French.’
‘And he is not with you?’
‘No.’ She decided that the truth would serve her best. Or at least, as close to the truth as she dared admit. ‘Papa is in France. I am on my way to join him.’
‘I see. As I have already said, ma’am, these are dangerous times to be travelling.’
‘They are dangerous times to be in Scotland, Captain.’
‘True. And does Mr Rathmore accompany you?’
‘Heavens, no!’ She laughed and opened her eyes at him. ‘Why on earth would you think that?’
‘A young lady should not be travelling alone.’
‘I have sufficient funds to hire an escort.’
‘Perhaps you would allow me to arrange that for you.’
She said quickly, ‘Thank you, but that will not be necessary.’
He sat back and looked at her.
‘You appear...wary of me, Miss d’Evremont.’
‘I will be fran
k with you, Captain. My last encounter with soldiers was not a pleasant experience.’
‘Then I must show you that we can behave like gentlemen.’ He raised his hand to a passing footman. ‘More wine?’
By the time they rose from the supper table Madeleine was still smiling, but she felt exhausted at the verbal game of cat and mouse. Other guests wandered in and out again, but Captain Ormskirk showed no signs of wishing to leave. She lightly turned aside his questions, diverted him with amusing but carefully modified anecdotes of her travels in Europe. Captain Ormskirk listened, laughed and appeared charmed by her company, but at length he threw down his napkin and rose from the table.
‘You are a most entertaining companion, Miss d’Evremont, but I think I have monopolised you long enough.’
She smiled up at him. ‘We have been sitting here a great deal longer than we ought, Captain. I feel quite guilty that I have kept you all to myself for so long. Pray do not wait for me, but off you go and talk to the other guests, sir. There really is no need to escort me back to my party.’
‘Oh, but there is,’ he said, drawing her hand on to his arm. ‘I cannot allow you to escape me quite so easily.’
The Captain spoke lightly, but Madeleine had the uneasy feeling that there was more to this than common politeness.
The fiddlers were playing a lively reel and Madeleine noticed that both Lord and Lady Lochall were on the dance floor. She pointed this out to the Captain and suggested she would wait there until the dance was concluded.
‘Ah, but I see the fourth member of your party is standing alone on the far side of the room,’ replied the Captain. ‘It would be polite to join him, don’t you agree?’
* * *
Across the room, Grant watched their approach and, as they drew near, he caught the warning glance Madeleine threw at him. It was unnecessary—he had been on his guard from the moment the Captain of Dragoons had appeared. Madeleine removed her hand from the Captain’s arm and stepped into the empty window bay, as if in search of a cooler spot.
Rescued by Her Highland Soldier Page 9