“How will you finance the journey without his help?”
Jeremy’s courage failed at confessing the role Alyssa had unknowingly played in securing the money for him. “Have no worry, I have all the blunt that we will need,” he hastily assured her. “You must come with us. Sarah is too frightened to go without you, and she will be forced to marry that cruel old man. It will be the death of her. Do you want to be responsible for putting her in her grave?”
Jeremy embroidered on this theme a dozen different ways, but his former betrothed remained adamantly opposed to making the journey. He departed in defeat after a final assurance to Alyssa that she was little better than Sarah’s murderer.
But Jeremy’s despair was short lived. Within ten minutes of leaving Alyssa, he hit upon a new idea. He would pretend that they were to pick her up after Sarah. Once that young lady was safely inside the post-chaise, he would order it out of London at top speed. By the time Sarah, who in Jeremy’s opinion was rather slow-topped, grasped what was happening, they would be well on their way.
His next visit was to Hugh Page. Jeremy would have to be careful not to arouse Mr Page’s suspicions, for he was a sharp “un. But that gentleman handed over the money immediately without a single question. Because Mr Page knew where the best of everything could be had in London, Jeremy said casually, “A friend of mine who does not have his own equipage wishes to take a young lady and her mother, whom he desires to impress, for a drive in the country. He asked me where to go in London to hire a post-chaise and prime cattle to draw it. I was at a loss, but I thought perhaps you might know.”
“Only place to go is Marsh’s,” Mr Page replied so promptly one would almost have thought he had been expecting the question. “Best in town, and the owner won’t swindle your... friend.”
Jeremy quickly discovered that Hugh Page, as always, was right. Marsh’s offered the swiftest of chaises and even swifter cattle to draw them. The proprietor, Mr Marsh, proved to be a jovial, talkative gentleman who soon had Jeremy confiding both the destination and the route of his journey. The youth was very glad that he took Mr Marsh into his confidence, for it turned out that the proprietor was intimately acquainted with the Great North Road
, knowing all the best inns and posting-houses and every danger spot between London and Gretna Green.
When Jeremy at last departed, he was silently thanking Mr Page for having recommended such an excellent fellow.
A half-hour later, that excellent fellow was thanking Mr Page in person for the generous reward he had just received for relaying Jeremy’s travel plans. There was, Mr Page assured Mr Marsh, even greater largesse awaiting him if he would carry out but one more small task when Jeremy collected his post-chaise and four that night.
After Jeremy’s departure, Alyssa paced the floor of her bedchamber with a tormented conscience. Although she was opposed on principle to anything so ramshackle as a runaway marriage, she was as convinced as Jeremy that the only hope for Sarah and George lay in elopement. Alyssa was equally convinced that if meek, spineless Sarah was forced to marry that evil Stokes, he would mistreat her horribly and her life would be very short indeed. The revolting scene between Stokes and poor Sarah that Alyssa had witnessed the previous night at Drury Lane
haunted her so that finally she acknowledged that she could not live with herself unless she did everything possible to help Sarah. If that meant Alyssa would have to accompany the eloping couple to Gretna Green, so be it.
Fortunately Mrs Raff and Rosina were going to Vauxhall that night, so Alyssa would be able to slip away without their knowing of her departure. She would leave her mama a note that she had gone to nurse Charlotte Hagar, who was ill, and most likely would be there several days. Since Alyssa’s nursing skills were in much demand, her mother would not find this strange.
Having made her decision, Alyssa sat down immediately, penned a brief note to Jeremy, and had it sent round by hand to Grosvenor Square
.
When Jeremy arrived home late that afternoon, tired and irritable after hours spent in arranging the details of the elopement, the note awaited him. Breaking the wafer and unfolding the sheet, he read:
J:
Where and when should I await you for the journey?
A.
Jeremy gave silent thanks that Alyssa had changed her mind. Although he would have gone forward with the elopement by duping Sarah, he had been dreading the scene that would precipitate. It would be so much easier if Alyssa accompanied them. He refolded the sheet and ordered that a footman be summoned to deliver a note by hand that he would have ready in a very few minutes.
As he dashed up the stairs two at a time, he did not notice that his father, standing in the shadows of the book-room, had been a silent witness to his arrival.
Sitting down at his writing table, Jeremy hastily scribbled a message to Alyssa telling her that he would pick her up at 9:00 p.m. sharp at the opposite end of her street from the Charlie’s box. Then he added, “I know it will be a long journey, but do not bring more than a single portmanteau with you. Do not be late, for...”
The door opened and his father entered. Jeremy was so startled that he nearly upset the inkpot in his haste to thrust both Alyssa’s message and his reply under a letter that he had received the previous day from his sister, Ellen, in Bath.
Carlyle, to Jeremy’s relief, gave no indication of noticing either his son’s jerky movements or his discomfort. Instead, he said placidly, “I have come to see the necklace.”
Jeremy, his mind entirely focused on the note he had just hidden, echoed blankly, “The necklace?”
“Your present to Alyssa.”
“Oh, that necklace,” Jeremy said, his mind whirling desperately in an effort to come up with some plausible excuse for not having it. “I—I am afraid that there was a problem with its clasp. It had to be repaired. I will not have it until tomorrow.”
“A broken clasp! I am shocked that a reputable jeweller would have overlooked such a thing. Whom are you dealing with?”
Jeremy, who was unacquainted with London jewellers, gulped and said airily, “The place in Bond Street
.”
“I know of several jewellers in Bond Street
, some less reputable than others. What is the name of the firm?”
Beads of sweat appeared on Jeremy’s upper lip. “I have a dreadful memory for names. I fear that I cannot recall it.”
This sounded ridiculous, even to his own ears, but his father only said, “There is a charming pair of diamond earrings among the Carlyle jewels. I thought if they went well with the necklace, you might add them to your gift. Let me show them to you.” The duke rummaged in vain for a moment in the pockets of his coat. “Good God, what have I done with them! Quickly, Jeremy, go into my dressing-room and see if I laid them there.”
The boy rose to obey his father. When he left the room, Carlyle strode over to the writing table, lifted lie letter from Ellen, and looked at the two notes beneath it. There was no surprise in his hard, glittering eyes as he read them, only a peculiar twist to his mouth. When Jeremy returned, the duke was again standing by the door.
“I could not find them,” Jeremy said.
The duke held out his hand palm-up. In it rested a pair of large, tear-shaped diamond earrings. “I only this moment found them in a different pocket. Will they match the necklace?”
Jeremy scarcely glanced at the lovely earrings before saying nervously, “No, no, they would not match at all! But I appreciate your offering them to me.”
The duke seemed surprised by his son’s response. “It has been my experience that a lover cannot give a lady too many jewels, but the decision is yours.” He returned the earrings to his pocket. “I wish you to accompany me on my ride in the park tomorrow, Jeremy.”
The marquess blenched, stammering. “I—-I forgot to tell you that Winston Bentley invited me to the house party that he is having in Sussex, and I have decided to go. In fact, we leave tonight.”
&
nbsp; “But my dear boy, I distinctly remember you telling me what dreadful bores you found the Bentleys.”
His father’s memory was quite accurate, and Jeremy grew even paler. “But so many interesting people have been invited, and Sussex is beautiful at this time of year.”
“But if you are going to Sussex tonight, how will you pick up your gift to Miss Raff tomorrow?” his father asked reasonably.
Jeremy’s white face turned crimson. “I forgot about that. I—I... It shall have to wait until I return.”
“How unfortunate for Miss Raff,” the duke said as he walked to the door, where he paused to say, “Have a pleasant trip to, ah, Sussex.”
Jeremy wiped the perspiration from his forehead, grabbed his note to Alyssa from beneath Ellen’s letter, and concluded the sentence that he had been writing when his father had come in: “Do not be late, for we must pick up Sarah promptly at nine-thirty. If we do not, we run the risk of her being caught. I dare not wait for you if you are not where you should be.”
Chapter 16
Mrs Raff and Rosina departed shortly after eight that night for Vauxhall. As soon as the door closed behind them, Alyssa began hasty preparations for her trip to Gretna Green. She could not begin to squeeze enough for a journey of the length she was about to undertake into the single portmanteau that Jeremy said he would permit her. She considered carefully what she must take and decided upon two muslin gowns and a riding-habit with half-boots, the latter in case their post-chaise should break down upon the road, forcing them to take to horses.
Then she composed a note to her mother, saying that she had gone to nurse Charlotte, who had been stricken with an influenza so contagious that the entire Hagar household, including all the servants, was abed with it. That would keep Mrs Raff, who shunned even slightly ill people for fear she might catch their disease, from going to Charlotte’s to enquire about her daughter.
At eight minutes to nine, Alyssa, wishing she had never heard of Sarah Turner or George Braden, pulled her travelling-cloak from the wardrobe and reluctantly put it on. As she did so, her eye fell upon the case on the floor of the wardrobe in which she kept her medicinal remedies. Both Rosina and her mother knew that Alyssa never went to tend a sick person without carrying that case. To leave it behind might arouse their suspicions about her absence and where she had gone. Despite Jeremy’s prohibition of more than one piece of baggage, she would have to take the case. Grabbing it up, she concealed both it and the portmanteau beneath her travelling-cloak, slipped down the steps, and out into the narrow street.
To her relief, it was empty of pedestrians. She cast a wary glance at the Charlie’s box on the corner but saw no sign of movement about it. Its occupant was a fat, lazy man who seldom stirred out of the box and was more often asleep at his post than awake. It was a rare night when his voice was heard calling the hour after 11:00 p.m. Although Alyssa hoped that he would not notice her, she was relieved that he was near enough that should some evil footpad come upon her, she could scream for his help. Not that she could count on his rendering any.
Taking a deep breath to calm her taut nerves, she hurried up the street to the corner at the far end, where she shrank into the shadows, hoping that no passersby would notice her. Her anxiety was increasing by the minute, and she prayed that Jeremy would not be late.
Far in the distance, Alyssa heard the sound of a church clock beginning to toll the hour. Suddenly it was drowned out by the loud clatter of galloping hooves and carriage wheels on the cobblestones. A black post-chaise, heavy curtains drawn across its windows, rushed towards her.
She stepped out of the shadows. The carriage slowed, and its door was flung open. Its lamps had not been lit, and its interior was as black as the bottom of a well. As the vehicle shuddered to a stop, she could see nothing within but an arm reaching out of the door to her.
A voice so muffled that she could hardly make out its words called, “Hurry, Alyssa.”
A pair of hands grabbed the portmanteau and case from her, tossed them into the carriage, then unceremoniously seized her in a steely grip and pulled her inside. The coach started up again so abruptly that she fell across a pair of muscular thighs. She would have been jolted to the floor had not a strong, Ungentle hand been clamped about her waist, pinioning her to the lap across which she had fallen. She heard the door slam shut as the chaise picked up speed.
She was so dazed and breathless from her precipitous entrance into the carriage that it was a moment before she began to comprehend that something was dreadfully wrong. Fear prickled along her backbone as she lay sprawled, face-down, across a lap to which she was pinned by a hard hold. “Jeremy?” she quavered, certain that it was not his grip that held her captive, for he would never have handled her so roughly.
The only answer she received was a powerful pair of hands lifting her easily and pushing her into the leather seat, so that she was trapped between the side of the post-chaise and her mysterious companion’s hard body. The interior of the vehicle was still black as tar. She sensed rather than saw that she and the man beside her were the post-chaise’s only occupants. Thoroughly frightened, she opened her mouth to scream, but a hand hastily closed over it, trapping the sound in her throat.
Alyssa had never been so terrified in her life. Frantically, she tried to fight her captor, but he was far too strong and easily kept her pinned in the corner.
The post-chaise, which by now was travelling at a wicked pace, swung recklessly round a corner. The heavy curtains across the window swung apart, and light from the windows of the houses they were whipping past, fell on the face of her abductor.
It was Carlyle.
A strange mixture of relief and excitement coursed through Alyssa as she recognised him, but that gave way to fear as she saw the hard, hating look in his eyes. Clearly he would like nothing better than to strangle her.
Seeing the emotions in her eyes as she recognised him, he lifted his hand from her mouth.
“You,” she gasped.
“Yes, I! You evil sorceress!”
His contempt flayed like a whip. She tried to shrink from him, but she was already wedged tightly against the side of the coach. “Where is Jeremy?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Preparing for his elopement to Gretna Green.”
“Oh, God,” she gasped. No doubt Jeremy was even now waiting outside her mother’s house for her to appear. His note had warned not to be late or she would jeopardise poor Sarah’s escape from her uncle’s house. How long would Jeremy wait for Alyssa before he would go on to get Sarah? And would timid Sarah agree to the journey without Alyssa’s chaperonage? “You must take me back at once!” she cried desperately. “You are ruining everything!”
“That, my beautiful barque of frailty, is exactly what I intend. How happy it makes me that Jeremy’s lying, faithless bride won’t be waiting for him when he comes for her.”
Alyssa gasped as she comprehended how totally the duke had misinterpreted the situation. “You don’t understand! I’m...”
“Oh, I understand all too well!” he broke in bitterly. “Let me congratulate you, Miss Raff. I never thought that I would ever again permit myself to be deceived by a conniving petticoat, but you very nearly succeeded. I was fool enough to believe the lies that you so convincingly told me yesterday. “I swear to you that I will not elope with Jeremy”.” Carlyle’s soft voice cruelly mimicked the reassuring sincerity with which she had spoken those words to him. “How you must have laughed at me for being such a flat as to believe that! You evil witch! You planned it all, didn’t you? You sought to trick me into relaxing my vigil over Jeremy.”
Alyssa could only stare at him, aghast. His words, so contemptuous of both her and himself, made her feel physically ill. “No, you...”
“You lying doxy! Not only did you lie to me, but you prevailed upon my son to do so, too.”
Alyssa could not see Carlyle’s face clearly in the darkness of the carriage but she could feel his fury in the rigidity of his bo
dy on the seat next to her. Had Jeremy told his father this morning that he was crying off his betrothal and Carlyle had thought it a lie?
“Fortunately for Jeremy and unfortunately for you,” Carlyle continued, “he lacks your enormous talent as a liar. I saw through his silly tale at once. You will never see Gretna Green with my son.”
“For the love of God, let me explain!” Alyssa cried.
“Save your breath! I will never believe another word from those beautiful lips! You were right yesterday when you told me that I had wronged you. Indeed, I had! For believing that there was any decency or truth in that lovely, perfidious body of yours.”
Her heart breaking, Alyssa pleaded desperately, “You have got to listen to me before you ruin everything!”
“I cannot tell you what pleasure it gives me to “ruin everything”.” An iron thread in his soft voice sent a shiver down her spine. “My only regret is that I cannot ruin you as well! Unfortunately, Lord Eliot has robbed me of that pleasure. I shall have to settle for making you sufficiently infamous that no other innocent youth such as Jeremy will ever again fall into your matrimonial coils.”
A strangled cry of dismay and alarm escaped Alyssa’s throat as the post-chaise slowed, then clanked to a stop. Carlyle said coldly, “We change coaches here, but it will do you no good to create a scene. The men with this vehicle and my own servants are well paid to ignore any protests you might make. You will succeed only in embarrassing yourself.”
Alyssa knew that he was right. It would be futile for her to fight him. And foolish, too, for it would only increase his ire at her. So she contented herself with glaring at him as he stepped out and offered her his hand. She ignored it, descending from the post-chaise with as much hauteur as a queen. There was a small gleam of reluctant appreciation in Carlyle’s eyes as he watched her.
They were in a small clearing where a second carriage, built for speed and comfort, waited, its four horses pawing at the ground, impatient to be on their way. Its lamps had been lit, and in their pale light she noted the duke’s crest upon its door., Her portmanteau and case of medicinal remedies were transferred from the first vehicle. Without a word she climbed into the second equipage. The interior lamp had been lighted, and she saw that it was far more elegant than the first. The seats were of scarlet velvet, and the sides were lined with silk of the same colour. Alyssa sank wearily against the cushions. Carlyle settled on the seat beside her, the door closed, and they were once again alone together.
The Duke's Revenge Page 13