‘I will, of course, if you will remove yourself from my room. I would hate to think what Stephen would say were he to find you here—’
‘Oh, stop blathering, do,’ she interrupted. ‘I will wait downstairs, of course, but in the meantime, you had better read this.’
She flung a small packet on to the bed and stormed out.
A chill stole round his heart when he opened the packet, and his ring fell on to the quilt. He wasted no time in joining Em in the library.
‘Well, what did she say? Why has she done it?’ Em snatched the crumpled note from Jasper’s nerveless fingers. ‘Well, there’s less in this than there was in mine.’ She looked up at him. ‘What are we going to do?’
Jasper gripped her shoulders and shook her. ‘Don’t you have any idea where she may have gone?’
‘No.’ Em shook her head. ‘None.’
At that moment, Lensborough’s butler opened the door and Stephen strode in.
‘You.’ He glared at Em, then at Jasper, who hastily removed his hands from her shoulders. ‘What are you doing here? At this hour? With Lensborough in his dressing gown?’
‘Oh, take a damper.’ She shoved Hester’s note into his chest. ‘At least he went home to his own bed.’ Her eyes raked his dishevelled appearance. He was still wearing evening dress, but his normally elegantly styled hair was now tousled, as though someone had spent hours running their fingers through it.
‘Read the note, Stephen.’ Jasper’s voice was harsh, his face grim. ‘It is from Hester. She’s flown the coop.’
‘Why?’ Stephen scanned the note, unable to disguise his relief that Em had a valid excuse for being in Jasper’s rooms, in his arms.
Jasper stared moodily down at his slippers. ‘I should have seen it coming. She never wanted to marry me in the first place. I backed her into a corner. And ever since we’ve been in London my mother has manipulated her for her own spiteful ends. I only wonder she has put up with it all as long as she has.’
‘You mean, you’re going to let her go?’
Jasper straightened up. ‘Never.’
‘Has she much of a head start? Em, do you know where she has gone?’
‘She can’t have left more than a couple of hours ago. I couldn’t get to sleep, you see, after…’ Em’s face went bright pink, and she risked a shy smile at Stephen.
He crossed the room, taking her hands in his, saying, ‘Nor me, but go on.’
‘I thought I would make myself some hot milk. I didn’t want to wake the maid. And on the way past Hester’s room, I saw a light under the door. I wondered if she might like a drink to help her sleep, too, so I went in, found both notes, and came straight here.’
‘The content of Miss Dean’s note suggests she intended leaving London altogether,’ Jasper added.
‘Then I’ll go straight to the coaching offices and see what information I can gather, while you get some clothes on and prepare for the chase.’ Stephen grinned.
He was back before Jasper had finished the coffee and rolls his butler insisted he take ‘to set him up for his early morning ride.’
‘Found her trail. First place I looked. She got on the High Flyer, bound for Edinburgh, that left the Saracen’s Head at eight o’clock.’
Jasper frowned. ‘She’s going back to Yorkshire.’ What kind of state could she be in to put herself through the ordeal of travelling on the stage, alone, when the journey south had all but killed her?
‘Come on, man.’ Stephen clapped him on the shoulder. ‘We can catch her before she even gets to Baldock on a pair of your horses.’
‘And then what?’ He tossed his napkin on to the table. ‘Shall I drag her out of the coach in the yard? Or accost her in the public coffee room and demand an explanation? For the entertainment of every idle loafer within hearing?’
Hester would show no discretion when it came to defending herself, no matter who might be watching. ‘She won’t come quietly, believe me.’ He only hoped she had not armed herself with a hat pin before leaving his mother’s house. ‘This is going to be nothing short of a forced abduction. And I give you fair warning, she can fight like a wildcat when she is cornered. Are you sure you want to come with me?’
Stephen’s eyes lit up. ‘This is going to be the biggest scandal to hit the ton this Season. Shouldn’t wonder if it will be talked about for years. The merciless marquis abducting his reluctant bride. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘Isn’t there any way you could keep it quiet?’ Em laid her hand on Stephen’s forearm. ‘It’s all very well for you to laugh, but Hester will never be able to hold her head up in public again.’
‘Oh, all right.’ He chucked her under her chin. ‘We’ll disguise ourselves as highwaymen and hold up the coach on Finchley Common. Kidnap her.’
‘How will that help?’
‘Because she is travelling under an assumed name.’ He grinned. ‘Emily Dean. So, as long as you show your face somewhere in public today, when the news of the kidnap of a girl called Emily from the Edinburgh stage gets out, nobody will connect it with any one of us.’
‘Oh, but surely…’ She turned towards Lord Lensborough, thinking he would never demean himself by sinking to such a course of action. But he was already on his feet.
‘Nero and Jupiter are already saddled and waiting in the mews. Miss Dean, a footman will escort you home. You will tell my mother exactly what has happened so far. We must get Hester back to London before anyone finds out she has gone. Put it about that she is not receiving callers—come up with some excuse.’
‘Nobody will be surprised to find Brook Street in an uproar today—’Em grinned ‘—not after what Stephen did at the ball last night.’
‘Glad to be of service.’ Stephen laughed.
* * *
Travelling on the public stage was a far cry from the luxury Hester had found in Jasper’s coach, but she did not feel in the least bit nervous. Only cold. Cold to the marrow. She wondered that being squashed between a fat lady and a thin one did not have the effect of warming her, but only made her uncomfortable.
Every jab from the thin woman’s elbows as they bounced over a pothole reminded her forcibly of some aspect of the life she had forfeited. How she would have enjoyed seeing how Jasper ran his racing stables. How she would have liked being mistress of the many houses he owned, and being patroness of the various charities that had sought her. Of how she had stood poised on the threshold of unlooked-for happiness, only to have the door slammed in her face.
Most of all, she would regret never becoming a mother. She had always loved children, even the raggedy urchins who swarmed round her in the tan, attempting to pick her pockets. She had dreaded submitting to the procedure by which she would have become a mother, but with Jasper…She heaved a sigh. Would it really have been so bad? If she could have persuaded him to keep his arms about her while he went about it, if she could have focused on his face…She shook her head. It was useless to speculate on that now. She would never have her own children, and that was that. She would never meet another man like Jasper. And nobody else could ever tempt her to consider matrimony again.
Man’s nature being what it was, however, there would never be a lack of unwanted, neglected children on whom she could lavish her time and money. She would just have to—
A shot rang out and the coach juddered to a halt, flinging the thin lady into the lap of an American gentleman sitting opposite.
‘Stand and deliver!’ a hoarse voice rang out.
The thin lady screamed.
‘Never fear,’ the American drawled, putting her firmly back into her seat and reaching under his own for a case from which he took a pair of wicked-looking pistols. ‘I never travel anywhere without these.’
‘Are they loaded?’ Hester asked.
‘And primed,’ he said with pride.
‘Then kindly stop waving them about,’ she snapped. ‘Especially not in my direction.’
As if having her hopes dashed was not bad enou
gh, Hester was now trapped in a coach with a maniac who was as likely to blow her head off as get a bullet anywhere near the highwaymen, who were most probably ex-soldiers with years of experience with firearms. She leaned across the fat woman and pulled the window down.
‘…just high spirits,’ she heard the coachman shout. ‘But you gents have had your little bit of fun, so move out of my way. I have a schedule to keep.’
‘And for the last time, I tell you to make your passengers get out so that we may rob them.’
Hester stiffened. The robber’s voice sounded familiar. But it couldn’t be. She stuck her head out of the window.
‘Any fool can see you’re not on the High Toby,’ she heard the coachman say. ‘Just look at those horses. Too distinctive by half. Plain, neat, nondescript bays is what you should have used, nor you shouldn’t be waving silver-mounted Mantons in my face neither. Horse pistols is what real villains use.’
‘Enough. I admit we may not have got all the details right, but we are in deadly earnest. I have reason to suspect there is a lady on that coach who must return to London with me at once.’
Hester shrank back into her seat. It was Jasper! And, by the sound of it, in a towering rage.
‘Like that, is it?’ She could still hear the argument drifting in through the open window. ‘Well, what I say is, if the lady’s come to her senses, and wants to go home, good luck to her. I’ve seen enough innocent country girls lured up to Lunnon and ruined by the likes of you.’
The American eyed Hester’s reaction with glee. ‘Never fear,’ he repeated, ‘I’ll shoot the villain before he can lay a finger on you,’ and thrust the pistols out of the window.
‘He’s not a villain,’ Hester shouted, scrambling to her feet. ‘He’s my betrothed. Don’t shoot him, don’t shoot him.’ Knocking the pistols to the floor, Hester flung herself out of the carriage.
‘It’s all right, coachman,’ she shouted. ‘I will go with him.’
The moment her feet hit the ground, Jasper wheeled his horse in her direction. His eyes glittering through the slits in the mask that covered his face, he leaned down and scooped her off the road and on to the saddle in front of him.
The thin lady tossed her bag out behind her, while the American shut the door with an audible snigger.
With a laugh, Stephen moved out of the road and the coach lumbered off, passengers craning their necks to watch as the so-called highwaymen cantered into the cover of the trees with their prize.
‘I’ll leave you two love-birds to sort out your differences, then.’ Stephen saluted, and turned Jupiter back in the direction of London.
Jasper kept Nero facing into the trees, riding until they were well away from the main road before stopping in a small clearing.
‘You got me out of the coach,’ Hester said, ‘because I did not want anyone shot. But you cannot make me go back to London with you.’
Hester flinched at the raw fury that blazed from his eyes as he pulled down the mask.
‘All right, I suppose you could carry me back to London, but you c…cannot force me to marry you.’
‘You think not?’
Something thrilled through her at the sensual menace she detected in those three quietly spoken words. He could do to her exactly what Lionel had threatened. Her pulse rate soared, yet part of her brain registered that she did not feel the slightest bit of the sick terror that Lionel inspired.
‘Jasper,’ she gasped, seizing the lapels of his coat. She felt as if she was drowning in the black depths of his eyes. She couldn’t get her breath.
His mouth swooped down to capture hers, and pain lanced through her. She could never be his. She must not let him think she would yield. With a despairing cry, she wrenched her head round so that his kiss landed on her cheek.
With a feral growl, Jasper swung himself out of the saddle, pulling her down into his arms where he rained a barrage of scalding kisses on her cheeks, her ears, her neck; however she turned her head, he managed to brand some area of exposed skin with the heat of his passion.
Hester whimpered. If he carried on like this much longer, she would not be able to keep her arms rigidly at her sides. She clenched her fists on the almost overwhelming need to cling to him.
He pulled away from her so abruptly that she staggered back against the tree beneath which they stood. Her legs gave out from under her and she sank down into the leaf mould that littered the floor of the copse as he turned away from her.
‘I thought,’ he growled as he attached Nero’s reins to a hazel bush, ‘that you had overcome your aversion to me.’
‘I had…I did…I…’ Looking at the stiff set of his back, she knew she had wounded his pride. She couldn’t bear it. None of this was his fault.
‘I…love you!’
He whirled round, his fury redoubled. ‘So much that you refuse to marry me. You shrink away from my kisses, when last night…’ He took a faltering step towards her. ‘Did I frighten you last night? Was I too ardent? Is that why you bolted?’
She shook her head. She couldn’t let him think he was in any way to blame, but to tell him the awful truth…She buried her face in her hands. This was going to destroy her, but he had to hear it from her own lips. She owed him that much.
‘You have done nothing wrong. It is me. That is, it is Lionel…’
‘Has he been bothering you again? When? Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Last night.’ She lifted her face from her raised knees. ‘Somehow he got into Walton House. He found me…he…’
Jasper closed the space between them in two powerful strides and crouched down beside her. He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her distress, for she was quivering from head to toe, but was afraid more manhandling would only add to it.
‘He said that if I did not pay him five thousand pounds he would make sure everybody knows that I am not the paragon of virtue your mother proclaims you are going to marry. You would be a laughing stock. I could not let him do that to you.’
Jasper relaxed. She had been more concerned for his reputation than her own when Lionel had attempted to abduct her. Even now she seemed to think what happened that day could somehow damage him.
‘I rescued you before he could carry through on his threats, Hester. Nothing happened. If he starts spreading rumours about that day, he will ruin only himself and make me look like a romantic hero.’
‘This isn’t about that.’ Her voice was flat, her eyes bleak. ‘It is about before.’
‘Before?’ A dreadful chill slithered down Jasper’s spine.
‘When we were children. He was a schoolfriend of Gerard’s, and a relative of Em’s, so he had the run of The Holme and the village during vacations. He was a horrid little boy. The sort who thought it great fun to drop beetles down the back of my dress or tip me out of the boat into the thickest patch of pond slime.’
Her eyes seemed huge in her pale face, and curiously blank as she continued, ‘Gerard wouldn’t listen when I complained. Said there was nothing more despicable than a tale bearer. Said he wouldn’t let me go out with them if I did not try to get along with his friend. And since Lionel never did anything untoward when anyone was watching, it was always my word against his. So we waged our secret war out of Gerard’s sight. The last time he came to stay, they were about seventeen, and I was just thirteen. He…’ she gulped ‘…he changed his tactics that summer. Instead of dropping beetles down my dress and pulling my hair, he would grab me when I least expected it, and kiss me. Horrible, wet, slimy kisses.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘And Gerard…well, I hardly saw him at all. Most nights he would sneak out of the house after dark and go to the tavern, then lie abed till late nursing a sore head. One night I crept into Lionel’s room and put a jar of slugs and snails that I had spent the afternoon collecting into his bed. All the wet, slimy repulsive things…’
Revulsion was coursing through Jasper’s veins as Hester’s tale unfolded, but he dare not interrupt. It was already costing her dearly t
o speak of her unhappiness.
‘He came to my room. He was in his nightshirt and furious and drunk. I was pleased at how angry I’d made him. He said he wasn’t going to spend the night picking snails out of his sheets. He said I must do it. I laughed and said make me. He swore, and yanked the covers off my bed. I grabbed them and we fought for a bit. I didn’t scream. This was between us, nobody else, just the way it had always been.
‘Suddenly he stopped. He was kneeling over me. And he said I could do what I liked, but he was sleeping right there, on clean sheets. And he just flopped down, and shut his eyes, and started to snore. Went out like a light. And I, well, it was my bed, and there was plenty of room, and I didn’t see why I should give it up, so I just pulled up the covers and went to sleep myself.
‘It’s no use telling me I shouldn’t have done it. I know that now. The point is, I didn’t know it then. At school, we often got in together when it was really cold, and I had no notion of the difference between sharing a bed with another schoolgirl, and a young man.’
Jasper clenched his fists. She might not have known, but Lionel, at that age, most certainly did. Being drunk was no excuse. He had committed an unforgivable offence against his friend’s innocent little sister.
‘During the night we somehow curled up together. When I woke, I had my back to him and his arms were round me. It felt—I’m so sorry, Jasper—it was nice.’ Her face was bright red, but she lifted her chin defiantly.
‘My parents used to cuddle me when I was little, but since their death, nobody had held me. It felt like that. I felt warm, and cherished.’
Her voice turned bitter. ‘Until he woke up. Then it changed. His hands were everywhere. He said now I was growing into a woman, I was getting woman’s desires. He said I was a whore in the making and that my brother would be ashamed of me if he ever heard how I’d lured him into my bed. That one day I would get what I deserved.
‘I was confused by his words, but they made me feel ashamed, and dirty. I knew I had done something wrong, but I didn’t understand what it was.’
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