by Jan Jones
Lord Rothwell. Caroline jerked alert. He had said he would call on her after the race. She needed to get home and change. Picking up speed, she heard the sound of hoofbeats behind her. She cursed under her breath, thinking it must be one of Rutland’s bailiffs, come to tell her she was trespassing. She would have to do her shy, stammering act again and hope the man didn’t look too closely under the tears and the dirt.
“Imbecile girl!”
That was not one of his grace’s bailiffs. Caroline’s heart pitter-pattered.
“Dammit, Caroline, will you stop while I’m trying to scold you.”
“Don’t shout. You’ll set her off again,” she said as a brown gelding came alongside. Her words set up a train of thought in the back of her mind.
“Then by all means dismount,” said Alexander, dangerously polite.
“Whoa, girl.” Caroline guided Solange to a small copse and slid off, using a branch for support as she looped the reins over it. Not for the world would she admit that her legs might not hold her up.
Alexander tethered Chieftain to the same tree. She had never appreciated before quite how tall he was, how imposing he appeared in his caped greatcoat, just how thunderously his eyebrows could draw together...
“God in Heaven, I thought I’d lost you,” he said, and crushed her to his lips.
...just how strong he was, just how safe his arms felt, just how much she wanted this moment to go on for ever.
But it couldn’t. “Alexander,” she managed to say, “you’re strangling me.”
He loosened his arms, but didn’t let go, which was fortunate because she would certainly have fallen. Instead, with hands that didn’t appear to belong to her any more than her legs did, she pulled at the stock around her neck.
“Let me,” he said, and then, with a shaky laugh, “Dammit, I can’t stand.”
He couldn’t stand either? Did that mean...? Did that mean...?
Caroline’s thoughts were in a whirl. She stared at him as they half-staggered, half-fell to a convenient tree stump. For ever afterwards, she would never be quite sure how she came to land on Alexander’s lap. Her cap had fallen off during their embrace. Now she felt the pins in her hair working loose as Alexander undid the knot in her neckcloth.
“What did you think you were doing?” he asked.
“Making myself look like a man,” she said meekly.
This earned her a gentle slap on her posterior. “Not the neck-cloth, which I have to say my eight-year-old nephew could tie better than you. What did you think you were doing riding Solange?”
“She won’t let anyone else on her back,” said Caroline. Again something flashed across her mind, something she knew was important, but which she couldn’t for the life of her attend to whilst sitting on Alexander’s lap dressed in breeches.
“There,” he said, unwinding a couple of yards of Harry’s borrowed linen.
Caroline found she could breathe again. “Oh, wonderful,” she said with real gratitude. “How ever do gentlemen wear those things all the time?”
“Practice.” He settled her more comfortably and put his arms around her, then kissed her long and comprehensively. “Caroline, could you not have told me? I thought we had become better friends than for you to go along with your brother’s deception.”
Friends? Was that all this was? Did friends cause each other’s knees to tremble? Did friends spend quite so long with their lips locked together?
“It wasn’t Harry’s deception, it was mine,” she said. “A thousand guineas may not be a large sum to you, but it is to us. I have my pride, Alexander.”
“Pride is one thing. Putting yourself in danger is quite another.”
“Nonsense. There should not have been any danger. Yes, Solange is nervous with noise and crowds, but she has been a perfectly well-behaved, nice horse with me even with those distractions. I have been riding her both astride and side-saddle ever since you first brought her to Penfold Lodge.”
His arms tightened around her. “You could have been killed,” he said into her hair.
Ah. Not just friends, then. Caroline’s bones turned to honey and she moved her mouth blindly to meet his. “I did not think so,” she said when the kiss ended. “I was more worried about being unmasked. And not winning.” She took a deep breath. “Which I didn’t, since I failed to weigh in. We will arrange for the money to be paid to you tomorrow.”
Alexander cursed the money in language that until now Caroline had thought to be the prerogative of stable-hands and grooms. “It was a private match,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I declared myself happy with the result in front of half Newmarket. A great many of my friends will even now be discussing how best to have me committed.”
“Oh, Alexander.” In the ensuing interlude, the rest of Caroline’s hair pins gave up the struggle.
“You are delectable,” he said, running his hand with delicious promise over her hip and leg, “but you are shivering and I don’t believe I am in much better shape myself. Let us get you and your horse safely back to Penfold Lodge.”
“And will you stay and eat with us?”
“Very willingly.” He found both their hats, eased hers on whilst she twisted her hair on top of her head to conceal it, then lifted her bodily into the saddle. “Provided you wash your face first.”
“And clad myself as a young lady again. I know.”
His hand trailed lingeringly down the tightly-fitting breeches. “If you must.”
Caroline felt herself blush. Still, if he found her delectable looking as dreadful as she did now, it augured reasonably well for the future.
They were not very far from the road. Solange turned left eagerly, wanting her stable. “See,” said Caroline, “she knows she’s going home. The men will wonder what has become of me. I should have been back long since. I was putting off telling them about the race and losing all that money.”
Alexander reached across and squeezed her hand. “You will not have to worry about that ever again.”
They trotted on. Caroline was too full of feelings for words and, from the silence, Alexander was presumably in a like state. As they got near home, though, they heard shouting in the road.
Caroline frowned. “That sounds like Harry. Oh, no. Now what can be amiss?”
“Whatever it is, you must not be seen,” said Alexander, and Caroline thrilled at his possessive tone. “Can you get up to the stable and into the house without being spotted?”
“Easily. I’ll slip off and walk Solange up through the archway so that her flank hides me. I can get in through the side door and change.”
Alexander nodded. “Do that. I will distract everyone here.” They came cautiously around the corner to find an entire crowd in the road outside Penfold Lodge. “Good God,” he said. “Go.”
Caroline went.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What the devil goes on here?” called Alex in an authoritative voice.
He might well ask. There were coaches and curricles drawn up outside the house and an unconscionable number of people milling around in the usually quiet road. Indeed, milling seemed to be the operative word, judging by one gentleman just getting up from the dirt and another squaring up to him before battle was rejoined. Alex found he was becoming extremely cross. He wanted to be with Caroline, exploring the lovely, wondrous thing that was happening between them. These people, whatever they were doing, were stopping him.
At his shout, one of the onlookers detached himself. It was Flood, the Penfold Lodge head groom. “Did you find her, milord?” he asked in a barely audible rumble as he took Alex’s reins.
Alex dismounted. “She’s at the stable now,” he replied in a similar mutter. “You should never have let her ride. What’s all this?”
Flood snorted. “Your fine friend with an eye to what’s Mr Harry’s. I’ll leave them to tell you. If you can stop Mr Harry a-killing of him, that is.” He turned and led Chieftain up to the yard.
Alex strode for
ward, grabbing the nearest combatant by the collar. It proved to be Harry Fortune, missing his hat, with his cheek grazed, his fists clenched, his eyes glittering, and his coat all over dust from the road.
“Well done, Alex,” said his opponent, darting towards them. “Hold still and I’ll break that pretty nose for him. See how the lady likes her plebeian paramour then.”
Giles? Alex was dumfounded. What the deuce was occurring?
Harry twisted out of Alex’s grip. “Oh will you? We’ll see about that.”
“Desist, both of you,” roared Alex. He became aware of another altercation, in the doorway this time. Louisa Taylor, with knots of blue ribbons fluttering on her dress, was struggling with her stout, evidently distressed father.
“No, Papa, I will not go indoors. What do I care if fighting is not for a lady’s eyes? If Harry is hurt, I am going to tend him and no other.”
“No one is going to be hurt,” said Alex forcefully. Sweet heaven, it was a veritable circus. He swept the bystanders a glance. Apart from the Penfold Lodge servants they were completely unknown to him. “I regret to inform you all that the entertainment is over,” he announced. “I would have one of the gentlemen pass a hat around, but they appear to have both lost them. I suggest you depart about your business, and everybody concerned in this matter remove inside where we can discuss any grievances in a civilised manner.”
The onlookers grumbled at the end of such a promising mill and drifted away. Most of the servants reluctantly remembered their duties, but a couple stayed in place.
“No,” said Harry Fortune between gritted teeth.
“I beg your pardon?” said Alex.
“No, I will not have Mr d’Arblay set so much as a toe inside my house.”
“Are you going to tell me why?” On the doorstep, he saw Miss Taylor had been joined by Caroline, washed and hastily dressed in her pink gown with a cherry ribbon in her hair. Despite the gravity of the situation, he felt his spirits lift.
Harry did not relax his stance for an instant. “Certainly I will tell you. It is far from secret. Indeed, I would like the whole world to know what sort of hell-born scum Mr d’Arblay is.”
“No, Harry, let me explain to Lord Rothwell. I was the person primarily concerned, after all.” Louisa hurried down the path, shaking off her father, determined to have her say.
Giles brushed at his clothes. “All a misunderstanding, Alex,” he said leisurely, just as if he was not sporting a split lip and an incipient black eye. “Finished on the Heath, are you? Bound for Cheveley now? I’ll tell you about it on the way.”
Across their heads, Alex met Caroline’s eyes. “I don’t think so, Giles,” he said with deliberation. He saw the tension leave her. She smiled, just for him, telling him she had perfect faith, now and for ever more, that he would be scrupulously honourable. He smiled back, feeling like a lion, and king of all the world.
“We were waiting for news of the race,” said Louisa, rushing into speech, “watching the window to the street as you can imagine, when there was a tremendous clattering of horses and Mr d’Arblay’s curricle pulled up.”
Alex tried to move Caroline from the forefront of his mind and concentrate on her friend instead. He remembered seeing Giles driving hell-for-leather away from the Heath. His glance at that gentleman was met with an indifferent shrug. It was unlike him to keep silent, but possibly he felt out-numbered. The two Penfold Lodge footmen who had remained were standing near him as watchful as cats at a mousehole.
“He jumped down,” continued Louisa, “shouting at his groom to hold the horses, and then hammered on the door.”
Alex flicked a look at the curricle.
“No, that is one of Harry’s men,” said Louisa. “Mr d’Arblay’s groom left the horses and ran away when Harry hit him, calling out that Mr d’Arblay hadn’t heard the last of this and he’d collect what was owed later. Jessop, I think he’s called.”
This became ever more interesting. Why would Fortune have hit Jessop as well as laying into Giles? And how could Giles owe money to a groom? “Pray continue, Miss Taylor,” said Alex gravely.
Louisa clasped and unclasped her hands, obviously agitated. She took a deep breath. “Mr d’Arblay said... he said Papa had had a seizure at the races and that he - Mr d’Arblay - had straight away volunteered to collect me and take me to him. And... and I would have gone, but I didn’t quite see why Harry wouldn’t have come for me. And I’m sorry, Papa, but even though Mr d’Arblay said there wasn’t a moment to lose and you were calling for me and I wasn’t to waste time putting on my warm cloak or my outdoor shoes or fetching my reticule, I... it just didn’t feel right that it wasn’t Harry. And I started to say as much - but not very well because I was so worried and muddled and confused - and Mr d’Arblay took my wrist and pulled me down the path. And I looked up to pray ask him to stop, and his groom was laughing.”
She pressed her lips together, working to regain control. Harry made an animal-sounding snarl. Alex could hardly fault him; he felt utter revulsion at whatever Giles had become. Caroline walked down the path and gripped her friend’s hand in solidarity.
Louisa met Alex’s eyes. “And... and I think he knew that I wasn’t going to go with him, because he pulled harder, really hurting, and said that Papa might be dying and that I must go and that he - Mr d’Arblay - had admired and revered me from the moment he first saw me and he knew I wasn’t the sort of brave daughter who would ever let her father down. He was much stronger than I was, but I was so frightened and I was still holding back but slipping on the path because I only had indoor shoes on, and then...” She stopped and looked with utter adoration at Harry Fortune. “And then Harry came.”
“Bringing with him a very much alive papa,” said that gentleman grimly.
Louisa let go of Caroline’s hand and went towards her beloved. “Harry flew off the curricle seat,” she said. “Mr d’Arblay’s groom tried to trip him up, but Harry hit him without even thinking about it and then dragged Mr d’Arblay off me.” She buried her face in Harry’s shirt, the rest of her words muffled. “I was so scared, but he made it all right.”
Harry’s arms came around her. “Hush, love, you won’t ever be scared again. I promise.”
“Very touching,” said Giles in a bored tone. “My felicitations. One can see why you leapt to conclusions, of course, but I assure you I was never so delighted in my life to see Alderman Taylor in the curricle. Really sir, the likeness to that other poor gentleman who collapsed on the Heath is remarkable.”
“You always did tell shocking tarradiddles, Giles,” said a clear voice.
Alex’s head whipped around. With the crowd departed he was now able to distinguish the crest on the one coach still drawn up by the side of the road. A crest he knew very well indeed. “Mama,” he said in resignation. “It needed only this.”
“But he did, darling, you know he did. Right from a boy,” said the duchess, stepping down, with the aid of a footman, to join them. “I fear I have been a sad failure as his godmother. Are you very wealthy, my dear?” she asked Louisa.
“She is. Or she would be with the right settlement,” said Alderman Taylor, advancing in his turn and making a low bow to the duchess. “Abduction, young Fortune called it, and it’s not so very far from the truth by what I’m hearing.” He poked Giles in the chest. “I’m disappointed in you, young man. Fine feathers aren’t the only things that make fine birds, you know. Castle indeed. I should have gone by what my book said about your family seat. Lack of care’s in the blood, when all’s said and done.”
Louisa raised a lovely, tear-stained face to her father. “Harry’s family has always worked hard, Papa,” she said tremulously. “And Harry was only wild for a very little while because he thought he would never be able to marry me.”
Fortune kept his arm around her and looked the alderman full in the eyes. “Which I am more than ever determined to do now, sir, whether you cut her off or not. It’s not gentlemanly, but I’ll fight anyone you
care to name to keep Louisa safe.”
“No more talk of violence in front of my daughter, if you please. It’s high time you and I went indoors for a chat. It may be the done thing in Newmarket to discuss business in the street, but it isn’t where I come from and I daresay it’s not what her grace is used to either.”
“No indeed,” said the duchess. “I believe a tray of tea would not go amiss, don’t you think? I did call to find out about the race. I suppose somebody knows the outcome?”
“I will come inside in a moment,” said Harry. He looked steadily at Alex, almost challenging him to do the right thing.
Alex felt his gut clench. This was it. “Well, Giles?” he asked.
Giles raised an eyebrow as if surprised to be addressed. “I was mistaken. I apologise for the distress I have caused. I assure you that it was most inadvertently done.” He surveyed his clothes ruefully and turned towards his curricle. “Fortune won the bet, ma’am. Daresay I’ll see you later, Alex.”
It was another defining moment. Alex had been having a lot of these just recently. He knew, beyond all doubt, that his oldest friend had just tried to forcibly abduct Louisa Taylor in order to get hold of her dowry. He also knew Giles had offered a civilised, face-saving way for everyone to gloss over the events of the afternoon. But some time over the last day, or week, or month, Alex had changed.
“Why did you do it, Giles?” he asked quietly.
Yes! Caroline almost jumped in the air with delight. She met the duchess’s eyes to see triumph in them too. She had been so afraid of this confrontation, so afraid Alexander would let his boyhood friend leave Penfold Lodge unchallenged. It was what four-dozen gentlemen out of fifty would do.
She watched as Giles d’Arblay registered Alexander’s implacability. His eyes travelled dispassionately over the audience. It was astonishing how the veneer of charm had simply evaporated from the man. “Not in front of the assembled masses, I think. Dine with me tonight.”
No, willed Caroline. Say no.
“No,” said Alexander. “But we can walk apart now, if you wish.”