‘I wish to speak to Fred, is he about?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘No, my lady. He just left for the smithy with Billy; two carriage horses needed shoes. They’ll be back before dark.’
Did Thomas have contact with the local free-traders? Should she risk involving him? The matter was taken from her hands.
‘Ah! Lady Allegra! I saw you disappear into the stable yard and was intrigued.’ She remained silent, her face impassive. Tremayne continued apparently unbothered by her lack of civility. ‘It’s rather late to be contemplating a drive, but if you have urgent business please allow me to escort you.’ He stopped, waiting expectantly for her response. Even Thomas was watching, his head cocked, wanting to see what she would say.
Through tight lips she replied, ‘I wish to speak to a member of staff but as he is not here, I shall continue my constitutional.’ She nodded ‘Thank you, Thomas. Please ask Fred to come and see me when he returns.’ Allegra tilted her nose in the air and stalked off, giving Tremayne the cut direct.
Allegra would have had to be as deaf as a trunk maker not to hear her name roared across the lawn. How vulgar to shout in such a way! Believing this breach of etiquette now put her on the moral high ground she halted, turning slowly and stood, commendably patient but strangely nervous, waiting for Tremayne to reach her.
His expression was ominous, his intentions obvious. Too late she decided to relinquish her precarious position and assume a more conciliatory mode.
‘Lady Allegra,’ he stopped a scant arm’s-length from her, his breathing agitated but his voice steady. ‘Lady Allegra,’ he repeated softly, ‘I believe, pray correct me if I am mistaken, that you failed to answer my question.’
Thoroughly unnerved and reduced to incoherence by his unnecessary proximity, Allegra clutched her hands to her chest and stepped back. Maybe she would be able to marshal her scattered wits and find her voice if the distance between them was greater.
As she retreated, he followed, unmoved by her distress. Soft footed he prowled after her, determined to get his answer. Answer? She had forgotten his question. She stopped so abruptly he cannoned into her, knocking the remaining breath from her lungs.
She swayed backwards, her arms flailing wildly, and her fingers finally lodged in the froth of his stock. She hung on, hoping his substantial weight would be enough keep her on her feet and thus save them both from an unpleasant and undignified tumble.
They teetered, back and forth, as Tremayne fought for his balance and his breath. Regaining both he raised his hands and placed them, none to gently, over hers.
‘Let go, you’re throttling me. I promise you’re not going to fall.’
Allegra was unable to respond. Her fingers remained claw-like at his throat and lightly he prised them from their stranglehold. Her heart pounded unpleasantly and her vision remained blurred. Nothing seemed to make sense. Finally she registered the fact Tremayne was holding her hands captive in his; that she was far too close to his solid flesh for comfort or indeed, decency.
‘Lady Allegra, look at me.’ His voice was soft and she could not refuse. ‘That’s better. If you are fully recovered I’m going to release you now.’ She nodded, still too shocked to speak. ‘There, I apologize for my appalling clumsiness. It could have had us both over.’
‘No, sir; it was entirely my fault.’ Her words, once unstopped from her throat gushed out. ‘I should not have been so uncivil. I should have answered your kind offer. I am not usually so rag-mannered, I do assure you.’
As she spoke she had not dared to raise the eyes but now she did. ‘Good heavens! Whatever has happened to your neck cloth, Mr Tremayne?’ Her puzzled enquiry, for some inexplicable reason, reduced him to whoops of laughter. Although flustered, and not a little embarrassed at such a display in public, she did not withdraw.
After several noisy minutes he wiped his eyes and grinned down at her. ‘My dear girl, you did this to me! You mangled my stock and ruined my valet’s assiduous efforts to turn me out as a gentleman.’
‘I did it? Are you sure, sir? I have no recollection of…’ her voice trailed away as she remembered grasping something crisp, but pliable, to prevent her fall. She felt the colour travel swiftly from her toes to the crown of her head.
‘Quite so. I do assure you, Lady Allegra, that your misguided attempt at strangulation shall not be a bone of contention between us in the future.’
‘Strangulation?’ She shook her head in frustration and stepped back to give him a fulminating stare. ‘This is not a matter for merriment, sir. A real gentleman would not have mentioned it.’
All traces of humour vanished and he was once again the autocratic, overbearing stranger, the one she was to be forced to marry if she did not take steps to prevent it. She would not apologize a second time. Being forced to do so once was more than enough. From the depths of her silk-lined
bonnet she glared back at him, daring him to retaliate.
The impact of his formal bow was somewhat reduced by the flapping ends of his destroyed neck-cloth. ‘If you have no wish of my services as an escort I’ll bid you good afternoon, Lady Allegra. No doubt we’ll meet at dinner.’ He did not make it sound as though he relished the prospect. ‘Dinner will be at seven o’clock in future. I have no intention of keeping country hours.’
It would be pointless to protest that dinner was always served five o’ clock at the Priory. He was now the owner and he could choose when and where they were to eat. She inclined her head a barely discernible fraction, but did not honour him with a reply.
Whatever time he wished to dine, she would eat in her rooms at five o’clock as usual and she would suggest Richard dined with the officers at Weeley. Even without Captain Pledger as his escort, there were sure to be several gentlemen who would be only too pleased to vouch for him.
Allegra pushed away her tray, the turbot with lobster and cucumbers in white sauce barely touched. ‘I am going downstairs. I sincerely hope that man will be elsewhere. I have no desire to see him again today.’
‘Very well, my lady. Will you be requiring anything else to eat tonight?’ Abbot stared pointedly at the untouched food.
‘Have some bread and cheese, and a slice of Cook’s plum cake sent up for supper.’
Allegra reached out and selected a carefully peeled and cored slice of pineapple, fresh from the orangery. ‘I shall eat this before I go out, but you must send the rest back.’
She stood by the window and saw her brother striding off towards the stables. He turned and waved knowing intuitively she was watching him. Smiling, she returned the gesture glad she had persuaded him to dine elsewhere. She had intended to confront him with his duplicity; ask him why he was pretending to be enamoured of the girl when he was constrained to marry her by the document he had signed. He had been so exhilarated, so excited and apparently, in spite of the evidence against it, so besotted with his future wife she hadn’t the heart to destroy his happiness, however ephemeral it might prove to be.
His affections could not possibly be genuine, not after such a short passage of time. This was, no doubt, another of his starts. She smiled as she recalled him, a year ago, professing his undying love for a comely serving girl at the local hostelry, but he had soon got over that.
Demelza Tremayne was not a village girl, she was a lady. His account of their embrace had been shocking, but as long as this was not repeated, it should not have caused any lasting harm. At least this was one subject on which she and Tremayne were in agreement. Richard and Demelza must be chaperoned by herself, or Miss Murrell, at all times.
If this miss-match was to be prevented she would have to arrange for it to fail. Richard would, naturally, be grateful once he was free of his obligation and could resume his carefree bachelor existence.
The pineapple, although juicy and sweet, no longer interested her. She cast the uneaten part onto the tray and wiped her fingers. She glanced at the clock, a little before six, with luck the Tremaynes and Miss Murrell would be safe in thei
r rooms dressing for dinner. Still in her walking dress, she stole through the long corridors and down the plain wooden stairway preoccupied by thoughts of how she was going to explain her outrageous plan to Fred.
Even if the solution to her dilemma was to remove Tremayne from the vicinity she should not
ask an under-groom, however loyal, to arrange for him to be kidnapped and sent to France in the care of the local smugglers.
Chapter Nine
London, May 1812
The ballroom was a crush, hardly surprising for one of the last fashionable occasions of the
season. Lord and Lady Harborough always held their ball in the middle of May, as a grand finale, before the ton began to retire to their country estates for the summer.
Captain Gideon Pledger, in scarlet regimentals, attracted several simpering smiles from hopeful debutantes as he threaded his way through the crowd that skirted all the main reception rooms, but
he ignored them.
He had been summoned to Horse Guards that morning where he had been told he was to report for duty in June. On his return to his lodgings in Albemarle Street that afternoon he had found a letter from a brother officer stationed at Weeley. The news it contained had not been happy.
Witherton, it appeared, was now betrothed to the Tremayne chit and the wedding set to take place in August. He had no objection to this; marrying a cit’s daughter to restore one’s fortune was perfectly acceptable. It had been the second item that had raised his choler and sent him into the stuffy, overcrowded Harborough residence to seek out the one person who could possibly help him.
Lady Oliver was, as expected, surrounded by a bevy of hopeful would be protectors. The captain had anticipated this and had his note written. He signalled to a passing footman and watched his missive being carried across the room.
The recipient read it and glanced up, nodding in his direction. Message understood. He shouldered his way through the crowd towards the open French doors that led out onto the terrace. The warm May evening meant overheated dancers could parade outside to cool down before returning to the fray. Here they could stroll, unremarked, but remain private.
He did not have to wait long before his quarry arrived. His eyes narrowed in appreciation. She was a beauty; rounded in all the right places. She did nothing for him. His night time fantasies were still filled with images of a tall, golden girl removed, for ever, from his reach. She was to marry that rich bastard, Tremayne.
He bowed and offered his arm to Lady Oliver and she took it. He did not speak until they were safely away from the press of people around the doors.
‘Thank you for responding so promptly to my note, Lady Oliver.’
‘Is it true, Captain Pledger? Tremayne is to marry Witherton’s sister?’
‘Yes, it is a fact. There is to be a double celebration on the twelfth of August. They are all but lost to us now.’ Her fingers clenched on his arm. ‘But I have a proposition to put if you are prepared to listen.’
‘Go on. It will do no harm to hear what you suggest.’
They paused by the balustrade under the flickering light of several flambeaux. To a casual observer they were a couple, talking quietly, whilst admiring the vista of lawn and inhaling the centre of the jasmine and honeysuckle that rioted over the stone walls.
‘Allegra shall not marry that man. If I cannot have her, then no one shall.
‘What do you propose? Are you intending to murder her?’ Her brittle laughter shattered the night air.
‘That’s exactly what I propose.’ She recoiled. He gripped harder and prevented her escape. ‘Come now, my lady, what is she to you? Merely an obstacle in the way of what you most desire. With her removal Tremayne will return to you. You’ll have what you want.’
His informant had told him how desperately she wanted Tremayne back - but murder? Had she the stomach for that?
‘Is there no other way?’
‘This will be the easiest. You’ll not be personally involved. You need to know nothing of the matter until it’s over. All I require from you is the wherewithal to finance it. My pockets are to let.’
‘But she is so young and—’
He interrupted her, his voice hard. ‘She’s a cold-hearted, proud bitch. The world will not miss her, I can assure you. Are you part of this or not?’
She was obviously undecided. ‘I am not sure.’
He dropped her arm and stepped away, shrugging. ‘No matter. I can as well dispatch both as one.’
‘Not Jago? Oh no, you cannot. I thought I hated him for his callous rejection but I find I still love him. I don’t want him dead.’
His mouth curled in an empty smile. ‘In that case, help me, and I will spare him.’
He was giving her no choice. If sacrificing an unknown girl in exchange for her lover was the price, then she would have to pay it.
‘Very well. How much do you require for this unpleasant venture?’
He named a sum that made her gasp. ‘That much?’
‘Loyalty doesn’t come cheap, my lady. I must select my accomplices carefully.’
‘I shall have the money ready for you by the end of next week. I’ll have to sell some jewellery in order to raise such a large amount.’
‘There’s no immediate urgency. I’ll send my man round; there’s no need for us to meet again. When the matter’s completed, believe me, the whole world will be talking of it.’
Pledger bowed and sauntered off, to vanish back into the brightly lit reception room leaving Lady Oliver outside to compose herself. It would not do for her to appear discommoded by her stroll. The town tabbies’ censorious eyes were ever watchful.
He lurked in the shadows to watch. When she swept back in to rejoin the party her smile was radiant, her eyes sparkled and her ruby red ball-gown swirled enticingly around her neatly turned ankles. As the circle of admirers enveloped her once more he nodded and turned to enter the room set aside for hardened gamblers.
He felt lucky. He had snared Lady Oliver with consummate ease and anticipated being able to dip into that particular honey-pot again and again. Blackmail was always a lucrative business. A man must, after all, provide for himself the wherewithal for luxuries by whatever means he could.
St Osyth Priory
‘Are you run mad, Allegra? What are you thinking of?’ Richard viewed his sister with horror. I’ve no wish to break off my betrothal to Demelza. I love her. No, do not poker up like that, my dear girl, I’m speaking the truth.’
‘That is flummery, Richard. You are marrying the girl to line your pockets. You signed a similar document to mine so you cannot pull the wool over my eyes with your protestations of true love.’
‘That was six weeks ago. Things have changed. Good God, Allegra, you must see how it is between us now? It’s you who have been making yourself as disagreeable as possible. I tell you, if you were my intended, I would tan your backside and bring you smartly into line.’
She shrugged, indifferent. ‘Anyway that scheme has failed dismally. Whatever I have tried he has remained unmoved.’ She shivered a little as she recalled the final encounter. She had known then, what she had suspected all along, that Tremayne was not a man to be trifled with.
He had threatened to turn off, one by one, all the Priory pensioners if she continued with her campaign of incivility. Unless she behaved as she ought she had no doubt he would carry out his threat. She could not allow that and abandoned her first plan and treated him with due cordiality. With that he appeared content.
She returned to the matter under discussion. ‘Am I to take it that you do not wish me to tell Demelza about your gambling and the string of ladybirds you kept in Colchester and Town? You do not wish me to try and give her a disgust of you?’
‘Absolutely not! Such knowledge isn’t suitable for a young girl. I’ve mended my ways, you know I have. I’m a reformed man.’
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Visiting the officers’ mess at Weeley and returning in your cups is reformed, is it?’
>
Richard grinned. ‘I said I’d given up women and gaming, not drinking. Come on, Sis, a man must be allowed to retain one vice, surely?’
‘Ah - but one can so easily lead to another, Richard. Before you realize you could be back in Colchester, or London, indulging in every imaginable form of debauchery.’ She was struggling to keep her lips from quivering. Her brother rose so easily to the bait.
‘Dammit all, Allegra, I’m not a rakehell!’ he replied testily. Her gurgle of laughter finally
alerted him.
*
The sound of their laughter travelled along the hollow, dark panelled corridor, from the morning room to the study where Jago was, as usual, working on a pressing business matter. His austere features softened but his eyes were sad. Why did he only hear Allegra’s happiness from a distance? These past few days she had been civility itself, her manners impeccable, but she rarely smiled and never laughed when in his company.
He was beginning to have grave doubts about the wisdom of forcing her to the altar. Should he withdraw his offer? Give back the Priory and put his massive expenditure down to experience?
Endure a failed business deal for the first time in his life?
He stood up, slamming his chair back, his face determined. He would not give up; this was a matter of principle. Jago Tremayne never lost. He would have to approach the problem from a different angle. He had, so far, given her free rein, made no demands. From now on things would be on his terms. What she would not yield freely, he would take. His accounts could wait - Allegra’s education could not.
He strode towards the morning room eager to begin his campaign. Two blond heads turned as one; two pairs of gentian-blue eyes rounded in surprise, but only one mouth curved in a welcoming smile.
‘Good morning, sir; I was about to seek you out. I wish to inform you Demelza and I are going over to Great Bentley. There’s a fair on the green today and Lady Arabella Grierson, who resides in the hall, has invited us to spend the day with them.’
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