“Thank heavens for that!” Roberta murmured with mock gravity. “How did it end? Did I acquiesce or send him on his way?”
“Noooo…Sir Nicholas arrived and saw in a trice what was wrong. He intervened successfully.” Roberta grimaced at this, and Mrs. Ashley shook her head. “I didn’t think you would approve of that. Anyway, he introduced you to Mr. Davenport’s wife, Lady Anita, and that put an end to Mr. Davenport’s game.”
“Is that all?” Roberta inquired, disappointed by the anticlimactic ending.
Mrs. Ashley pursed her lips primly and nodded, but Roberta’s suspicions were roused when Mrs. Ashley refused to look at her.
“I believe you’re holding something back, Ashley,” she accused. “Did Sir Nicholas come to fisticuffs with Stephen?”
“Nothing like that,” Mrs. Ashley replied firmly. “The ending wasn’t very pleasant, though, and not worth repeating.”
“But you must tell me. You simply can’t leave me up in the air about it, for that would be most unfair.”
“Oh, dear! I don’t want to, for you know my dreams often become reality.”
“That is why I insist you divulge the ending, Ashley. Forewarned is to be forearmed.” She kept her voice light, for she could see that Mrs. Ashley was shaken.
“Well…I omitted to mention that the comte was also involved. He was behind Mr. Davenport’s hounding of you. He wanted Sir Nicholas to intervene, you see, so that Mr. Davenport would be forced to challenge Sir Nicholas to a duel. I know it doesn’t make much sense, Roberta, but dreams are abstract.”
“Did Stephen challenge Sir Nicholas?” Roberta asked, frowning at this unexpected twist. “It all seems very foolhardy and unnecessary.”
“I—I was woken before I discovered,” Mrs. Ashley said hastily, quite unequal to the task of relating the last gory scene, where Stephen lay in a pool of blood. “Anyway, it was an absurd flight of fancy,” she added as Roberta looked at her in disbelief, “brought about, I’m sure, because of my dislike of Mr. Davenport and the comte, and eating too much rich food last night. I wish I hadn’t told you of it now, for I can see I have distressed you.”
“Nonsense, Ashley. I’m intrigued, that’s all.”
“Now that I’ve related my little story, why don’t you tell me what you wanted to see me about originally?”
“I had thought to persuade you to come for a stroll with me, but I just remembered I have a few letters to write,” Roberta said, suddenly deciding that she should warn Sir Nicholas of the possible danger he faced from Stephen. “Excuse me, dear Ashley, and forgive me for interrupting your dalliance with Mr. Burns.”
*
Much later in the afternoon, long after Roberta had abandoned her attempt to write Sir Nicholas, she impulsively decided to call at his lodgings. She wanted to thank him, anyway, for protecting her from Mrs. Ashley’s disapproval last night. The trouble with writing about Mrs. Ashley’s dream was finding the right words to convey the possible threat it held. Very few people of her acquaintance really believed that dreams actually could predict the future, even though they all seemed to revel in hearing stories of this type of clairvoyance. Indeed, she might well have held the same skepticism had she not known Mrs. Ashley.
Over the years, Mrs. Ashley had proven to be uncannily accurate in her prophecies, and they had all come to her in her dreams.
But Sir Nicholas, Roberta knew, would be more skeptical than anyone else. He certainly wouldn’t put any credence in anything she wrote, so she would just have to tell him personally.
She summoned Polly and asked her to order the carriage for immediate use and to ready herself for an outing.
“We won’t be long, Polly, but I need your presence to lend me countenance.”
Mystified, Polly nodded, and reappeared ten minutes later with the news that Lord Bromley’s carriage was waiting for them.
When Roberta gave Williams her intended destination, he growled his disapproval, saying that it was unseemly for young ladies to visit the lodgings of gentlemen.
“Polly will be with me,” Roberta said with some exasperation. “I will be quite safe.”
Williams closed the coach door reluctantly, and Roberta sat back, trying to suppress the misgivings about her intended visit. She paid scant attention to Polly, who sat hunched over in her seat, and consequently failed to notice how agitated her maid had suddenly become.
“I know it’s not my place to say anything, Miss Roberta,” Polly burst out finally, “but I don’t think Lord Bromley or Mrs. Ashley would approve of what you’re doing. Please let Williams take a message to Sir Nicholas.”
Roberta looked at her maid in amazement. “Polly!” she exclaimed. “How dare you! You are quite right when you say it’s not your place to say anything. I will forget your impertinence this time, but don’t ever let me hear you speak so again.”
Polly, quite overcome by these harsh words, started to cry. “I’m ever so sorry, Miss Roberta, really I am,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me of late. But, you see, the thing is… Oh, dear! Would you mind very much if I stayed in the carriage while you got about your business? I just can’t face ’im, not now…” She broke off as her flood of tears made it impossible for her to continue.
Roberta, mistakenly thinking Polly was referring to Sir Nicholas, looked at her maid in bewilderment until, with a flash of intuition, she guessed why Polly was so hysterical. Then a cold fury enveloped her as she envisaged Sir Nicholas propositioning her maid.
“There, there, Polly,” she said in an effort to comfort the girl. “You have nothing to worry about. What has he done to cause you so much distress?”
“No…no…nothing, Miss Roberta,” Polly wailed. “’E—’e thought to enjoy ’imself at my expense, and I wouldn’t ’ave any of it. I’m a good girl, really, I am, and if my mother knew what ’e had suggested, she would ’ave turned in ’er grave.”
“The monster!” Roberta snapped, her eyes flashing angrily. “How dare he? I’ll settle all this for you, Polly, and you’ll never be bothered by him again. How dare he be so presumptuous as to make improper overtures to you!” she repeated. “I’ll make him rue the day he ever dared to do such a thing.”
“Please, Miss Roberta,” Polly wailed, “don’t ’urt ’im, whatever you do. I—I wouldn’t be in such a state if I didn’t care for ’im so. But the very idea of ’aving to see ’im again after ’ow we parted, unnerved me.”
The carriage came to a halt before Roberta could respond, and, giving Polly a curt command not to move an inch, she opened the door and was on the pavement before Williams could help her.
“Wait for me,” she ordered the hapless Williams, all thought of the original purpose of her visit erased from her mind. “I will not be more than five minutes.”
She sounded the knocker with a heavy hand, and the door was immediately opened by Jenkins.
“I demand that you take me to Sir Nicholas immediately,” she said, brushing past him. Jenkins closed the door with exaggerated slowness.
“I am not certain he is at home,” he said. “If you would care to leave your card, Miss Rushforth, I will tell Sir Nicholas that you called.” His wooden smile concealed the surprise he felt at Roberta’s extraordinary behavior.
“As I have no intention of leaving until I have seen Sir Nicholas, you will be well advised to inform him I am here,” she said, removing each finger from her glove with short, deliberate tugs.
Jenkins shrugged in resignation and moved away, but not before Roberta glimpsed the smile that was beginning to spread across his face. Her anger deepened at this display of insolence, and by the time he returned with the news that Sir Nicholas was willing to receive her, her temper had reached its breaking point.
“If you’ll step this way, Miss Rushforth,” he said, “Sir Nicholas is in his study.”
She followed Jenkins quickly and waited for him to withdraw before beginning her tirade. “Sir,” she said in righteous tones, “I have borne much from
you since you insinuated your way into my life, appearing in my bedroom in the dead of night, involving me with a French comte of despicable character and forcing my companion and me to undertake a journey fraught with danger. Then I knew you to be a man of questionable moral conduct, and later I suspected you of committing serious crimes against the state. But when you betrayed the trust my uncle placed in you, by having the audacity to propose a liaison of the basest kind with my personal servant, then, sir, you earned my deepest contempt. No matter what I think of the comte,” she concluded, trembling with indignation, “he was correct last night when he called you a man without honor.”
Sir Nicholas’s reaction was not at all what Roberta expected. His raised eyebrow suggested his surprise at her attack, but the quirk of his lips expressed an amusement that infuriated her all the more. When she saw his smile widen, she became so incensed that she stepped over to him and slapped her gloves across his cheek.
“I refuse to allow you to make fun of me this time,” she declared, watching with mixed feelings of satisfaction and dismay as a large red welt appeared on his face. “Unless you give me your word that you will immediately cease your pursuit of my maid, I will inform my uncle.”
Sir Nicholas threw back his head and laughed. “My dear Miss Rushforth,” he gasped, “I don’t know where you got the idea that I’ve been hounding your maid, but I hasten to reassure you that you have been wrongly informed. Why, I don’t even know the girl’s name. Now, please, I beg you, take a deep breath to calm your nerves and tell me exactly what has caused your agitated state.”
Roberta stared at him, aghast. She could not mistake the sincerity of his words and was mortified by her mistake. “I—I—Oh, dear! I—I must have misunderstood Polly. When she heard we were to visit you, she said she couldn’t bear to face you. In fact, she begged me not to come, because she was so upset by the prospect of seeing you again.”
“Aha! The charming Polly. Are you quite sure she mentioned me by name?” he inquired, his eyes dancing with laughter.
Roberta shook her head. “I assumed it was you she meant. Who else could it be?”
“One of my servants, perhaps?” he suggested quietly. As that possibility had not occurred to her, she felt renewed humiliation at the obviousness of his suggestion. It had become a habit, she conceded to herself ruefully, to believe the worst of him.
“I hope you will accept my apologies,” she said lamely. “I can’t think why I acted so rashly on such circumstantial evidence.”
“It’s quite all right, Miss Rushforth,” Sir Nicholas said gallantly. “Please don’t be so abject. It doesn’t suit you!”
“But I am truly sorry, Sir Nicholas, and quite ashamed of myself. If you will tell me which of your servants she was referring to, I will speak with him immediately.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. I know whom Polly meant, and you must believe me when I say that his affection for her is genuine. If my household were run on ordinary lines, I know he would marry her. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, and he doesn’t feel that he can offer your Polly a life she would enjoy. Whatever transpired between them is their affair, and I don’t think either of us should interfere.”
Roberta was surprised by the understanding note in his voice and found herself agreeing with his advice. “It’s a pity, nonetheless,” she added, “that they can’t be given the chance to find happiness with each other.”
“I did offer my man employment at Stanway, but he refused.”
“You mean so that he could marry Polly? Then why did he decline the offer?”
“On my account, I’m afraid. He has been with me a long time and will not be persuaded that I can dispense with his services. He’s right, of course, for not only is he a trusted servant; he’s my protector as well.”
“Poor Polly!” Roberta exclaimed. “It’s awful how shabbily life treats the lower classes.”
“I don’t think you need repine, Miss Rushforth. We all get over life’s disappointments eventually. Polly can be thankful she has a comfortable position, a charming mistress and a warm bed every night.”
“I suppose so. Most women, though, dream of other fulfillments. No matter; as you say, she will recover,” she added hastily, not wanting to discuss those “other fulfillments” with Sir Nicholas.
“Now that we have agreed upon that, perhaps you will tell me what prompted you to visit me in the first place,” he said. “Has the comte been bothering you again?”
“No, I don’t see him until the morning. Actually, I came to speak with you because I didn’t think you would have taken anything I wrote on the subject seriously.”
“Pray continue. You have aroused my interest.”
“Well,” Roberta began awkwardly, for now that she had to address herself to the dream, she felt silly. “It’s Mrs. Ashley and her prophetic dreams. You see…”
“She had one that involved me?” he prompted helpfully.
“Yes. I realize that you might instinctively reject any suggestion of prophecy, but I felt I should warn you. Mrs. Ashley dreamt that Stephen Davenport challenged you to a duel. The comte put Stephen up to it. Mrs. Ashley is convinced that the comte will do everything in his power to harm you.”
“I must thank you for the warning. Although, if we are to be honest with each other, we both know that has been the comte’s intention since we met in France.”
Roberta nodded unhappily. “But I don’t think I really believed it until Mrs. Ashley recounted her dream.”
“Why do you think your uncle was so reluctant to involve you in this affair?” he asked gently. “The comte is a very dangerous individual and seeks only one thing—the destruction of England. It’s my task to see he doesn’t succeed.”
“Then I’m sure he won’t,” Roberta replied with simple honesty. “I’m sorry I interrupted your evening. I realize now that you are abundantly aware of the constant danger facing you.” She started for the door.
“Miss Rushforth…Roberta.” His warm voice arrested her progress, and she turned to face him. “I appreciate your concern more than you realize. I’m afraid that, because of the nature of my work, I haven’t allowed myself the luxury of having friends—except for your uncle, of course. I know what I’m doing is right, but it sometimes becomes lonely. Consequently, I live for the moment, because for me, there may be no tomorrow.”
Roberta was filled with compassion for him. She knew vaguely how he felt, for she had suffered a similar feeling of isolation in Switzerland. She walked toward him slowly, smiling sympathetically. When she reached him, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Won’t you accept me as a friend as well?” she asked in a whisper. “I would never betray you.”
He put his arms about her slender waist and crushed her to him.
“Dammit, dear Roberta,” he responded hoarsely, “the trouble is I want more than your friendship.”
She looked up at him quizzically and in a detached manner noticed a small scar above his right brow. She touched it gently.
“How did you get that?” she asked.
“I fell off my horse when I was four, and struck my head on a stone. I remember I had a headache for days after.”
“It must have been dreadfully painful to have created such a lasting impression,” she whispered sympathetically.
“It doesn’t compare with the pain I feel now,” he said and touched her nose lightly.
Roberta held her breath. She suddenly felt extraordinarily vulnerable. She sensed his need for her yet was uncertain what he wanted, or what he meant by the pain he was suffering at the present.
“Forgive me, my dear,” he said, “but there is something I must do.”
His arms tightened about her, and he brought his mouth down on hers. She melted in his embrace, unable to fight the desires his kiss awakened. She felt his tongue probing the inner softness of her mouth. She responded, tentatively at first, and then with increased passion when she realized how pleasurable it was to touch his t
ongue with hers. When he broke away to kiss her behind her ear, she pressed herself against him. Her finger instinctively sought the nape of his neck, and she massaged it lightly.
His hands roamed her body, moving slowly down from her shoulders to the small of her back. He traced the contours of her slightly rounded hips, bringing her to unimagined heights of ecstasy as he did so. Again she responded, and he groaned with pleasure.
When her legs started to tremble, he lowered her gently onto the sofa. She lay unresisting and pulled his face down to hers. They kissed again, slowly this time, savoring the intimacy of the moment. Suddenly she became aware of his hand on her breasts, and she shivered with delight. Then, before she knew what had happened, he moved away.
He stared at her for what seemed to be an eternity, then his cynical laugh penetrated her dazed mind. Before she could stop him, he stood up.
“Lord only knows what madness seized me, Roberta,” he said. “I hope you will believe me when I say it will never happen again.” He reached down and helped her to her feet. “You’d best straighten your clothes, my dear, before we are interrupted.” He smiled ruefully and moved to the sideboard to pour himself a large drink.
Roberta felt a profound sense of disappointment and sadness at his words, not the shame and embarrassment she expected. “Oh, my dear Nicholas, what a futile waste it all seems,” she said as she readjusted her dress. “If you won’t accept anything else from me, will you at least agree to accept my friendship?” she asked, unable to leave him on such a desolate note.
Sir Nicholas nodded. “Of course,” he said with a smile. “Don’t look so forlorn, my dear Roberta,” he added, “else my resolve will weaken. You will be thankful, one day, that I found my self-control in time.”
She laughed shakily and departed quickly, her mind as well as body in complete turmoil.
It was a long time before Sir Nicholas moved. The smell of Roberta’s perfume had pervaded the air, and he felt her presence keenly. He filled his glass again and drank deeply.
He had thought himself above falling in love, yet by the time he had downed his sixth brandy, he finally acknowledged he wanted to marry Roberta Rushforth. He laughed derisively at this thought.
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