‘You and your friend are quite far from home, I believe,’ remarked Lady Arabella.
‘Yes, Davies has a hunting lodge at Highridge. I am staying there as his guest.’
‘You must consider yourself a guest here,’ came the gracious reply, ‘until your friend is fit enough to return to Highridge.’
‘No!’ Beth coloured, and added quickly. ‘What I mean is, surely there can be no need for Lord Darrington to stay. We can look after Mr Davies perfectly well.’
‘But I should like to remain with my friend, if Lady Arabella permits,’ the earl responded.
‘But it is only a few miles to Highridge, and I am sure you would be much more comfortable there.’
‘Nonsense, it is more than ten miles.’ replied Lady Arabella. ‘Lord Darrington must stay here, if he wishes. We have room to spare.’
‘But…but we do not have so many staff—certainly not as many as an earl is accustomed to.’
‘Oh, this earl is not at all high in the instep, I assure you,’ came the mild reply. ‘And I am quite undemanding.’
Again that amused glint in his eyes. Beth found it quite infuriating.
‘To have you in the house as well as an invalid will create a great deal of extra work, no matter how undemanding you may be,’ she ground out.
‘I shall send to Highridge for Davies’s valet to join us,’ replied the earl, smiling in a way that made Beth long to hit him. ‘He will be able to nurse his master and look after my very minor requirements. And I am sure that some of the other staff from Highridge would come, too, if they could be of use.’
‘There is not the least need for anyone to come,’ retorted Lady Arabella briskly. ‘Really, Elizabeth, you are behaving very oddly this evening. My lord, I assure you we have sufficient servants to deal with everything that is required. You catch us at a disadvantage today because I gave some of my people permission to go to the market, leaving only a couple of maids and one footman to attend us. I have no doubt the rest are all returned now, but by all means bring your friend’s manservant—and your own, for that matter, if you wish—we will find room for them all.’
‘Since you do not object, ma’am, I shall summon Peters, who is Mr Davies’s valet, and Holt, my groom. I shall not require my own man to attend me, although I will ask him to pack up my clothes and send them over.’
‘That will be perfectly acceptable, my lord,’ Lady Arabella responded regally, her frowning gaze fixed upon Beth. ‘As the daughter of a marquess,’ she said pointedly, ‘I think I may be expected to know how to entertain an earl.’
‘Yes, Grandmama.’ Beth looked down at her plate and acknowledged herself beaten. ‘I beg your pardon.’
Guy said little for the remainder of the meal; when Lady Arabella announced that the ladies would retire to the drawing room and leave him to enjoy a glass of brandy alone, he bent his mind once more to Beth Forrester’s outburst. She had been quite determined that he should not stay. It could only be that she was uneasy with his presence. They lived very isolated here, but perhaps she was aware of his dubious reputation. Perhaps he should not have teased her so. Certainly it had been wrong of him to keep her talking alone in the bedroom, but she was a married woman, or at least a widow, not an ingenuous schoolgirl. He sipped at his brandy. One thing was certain, he wanted to remain at Malpass Priory at least until he knew that Davey was recovering well. He would apologise to Mrs Forrester and assure her that he would in future be the model of propriety. That should ease her mind.
Having made his resolve, Guy drained his glass and made his way to the drawing room, where he was disappointed to find only Lady Arabella waiting for him, the younger ladies having retired. However, she assured him that his room had been prepared and beckoned to the hovering footman to show him the way. With an inward smile Guy bowed over the beringed hand held out to him and prepared to leave. He had been dismissed for the evening.
Chapter Three
Martin the footman showed Guy to his room, a comfortable chamber that bore all the signs of having been a gentleman’s bedroom.
‘Was this Mr Forrester’s room?’ he enquired, glancing around him.
‘No, my lord, this was Mr Simon’s room,’ offered the footman. ‘My lady wouldn’t have anything changed in here after she heard he was drowned and you will find the press still full of his clothes. But Mr Simon was much smaller than your lordship, so the mistress has searched out one o’ Mr Forrester’s nightgowns for you. And Mrs Forrester said to tell you that your own clothes will be brought to you in the morning.’
Nodding, Guy dismissed the servant. He removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair, glad to be free of the restriction about his shoulders. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was not yet midnight and, despite the excitement of the day, he did not feel sleepy. He prowled around the room, inspecting the sporting prints upon the walls and idly flicking through the few books that were stacked carelessly on the mantelshelf. The room had a cluttered, lived-in look, as if its master was expected to return at any time. The only exception to this was the dressing table, which was bare of the brushes and combs that one would expect to find in a gentleman’s room. He supposed that Simon Wakeford had taken these items with him when he went travelling and they would have been lost at sea. He felt a sudden sympathy for Beth Forrester. His own brother, Nick, was a sailor and Guy could well imagine the pain of losing him. How much worse must it be for a widow, left to shoulder the burdens of running this old house and at the same time looking after her grandmother and her younger sister?
‘Not that it is any of your business,’ he told himself, coming back to the fire and throwing himself down into the chair. ‘She has made it very plain that you are here on sufferance, so do not waste your sympathy where it is not wanted.’
He began to unbutton his waistcoat, but stopped when he heard a faint cry break the silence. Before he undressed he should look in on Davey and make sure he was comfortable. Picking up his bedroom candle, he let himself quietly out of the room. The borrowed shoes he had worn at supper were too loose to walk without tapping noisily on the polished boards of the corridor and he left them behind, padding silently through the darkened house until he came to the door at the top of the stairs.
There was a faint line of light beneath the door and as he entered the room he saw that a single lamp glowed on a side table, illuminating the curtained bed, but leaving the corners of the room in deep shadow. A movement beside the fire brought him to a stand.
‘Mrs Forrester!’ She rose as he whispered her name, the dim light muting her fiery hair to a deep auburn. He continued, ‘I heard someone cry out and thought perhaps he might be…’
Guy waved towards the figure in the bed. She looked discomposed and took a step as if she would leave the room, then thought better of it.
‘Mr Davies has not moved,’ she said quietly. ‘It must have been a peacock, or some night creature that you heard, my lord. The night time is full of noises.’
He nodded. ‘Of course. But why are you here, ma’am?’
‘Doctor Compton suggested someone should sit with your friend tonight,’ she said softly.
‘But he did not mean you, ma’am.’
She spread her hands. ‘I wanted to be sure he was comfortable. Besides, the servants need to be fresh for their duties in the morning.’
‘And you do not?’ He placed his candle on the mantelshelf before turning his attention to the figure in the bed. ‘How is he?’
‘Still sleeping. He grows a little restless now and again, but nothing serious.’ She added with a thread of humour in her voice, ‘It is very tedious keeping watch over a sleeping man.’
‘Then may I sit with you for a while?’
‘Oh, no—that is, I did not mean to imply…’ Beth trailed off, disturbed lest he should think she had been hinting for him to stay.
‘Of course not, but surely a little company would be welcome to while away the long night hours.’
Bet
h could not deny it. With a little nod she resumed her seat beside the fire and motioned him to a chair opposite, her eyes dwelling for a while on his stockinged feet.
‘Ah. I did not wish to wake the household by clumping along in those court shoes.’
‘I did not hear you approach; that is unusual for this house—the building is very old, you see. It is full of rattling doors and creaking boards.’
‘I was aware of that as I came along the landing earlier this evening. A person with a more fevered imagination might well have thought there were spirits abroad.’
‘The wind does howl through the corridors and rattle the locks.’ She was glad of the opportunity to explain away any noises he might hear in the night. ‘Some guests think they hear voices, others declare the Priory to be haunted. All nonsense, of course. I hope you will ignore any strange sounds, my lord, and remain comfortably in your bed.’
‘You may be sure I shall, madam.’
They lapsed into silence. After a few moments the earl said slowly, ‘I am glad of this opportunity to speak to you, Mrs Forrester. We have given you a great deal of extra work, I fear.’
‘Think nothing of it, my lord.’
‘But you were very much against my remaining here overnight.’
‘Oh, no! It was… I mean—if I was ungracious, my lord, I beg your pardon.’
‘There is no need. I quite understand, given the circumstances.’
Startled, Beth looked up. What did he know, what had he guessed?
‘My lord?’
‘To have me walk in, wearing your late husband’s clothes. I should have realised how distressing my appearance must be to you.’
‘Oh.’ She breathed again, relieved. ‘I have been a widow for nigh on six years, sir. I barely remember that suit of clothes. Besides, you are nothing like my husband.’ Beth wished she had not spoken. Would he think she was trying to flirt with him? She added hastily, ‘I mean, sir, that Mr Forrester was a very good man.’
‘As I am not?’
‘I have no idea!’ she retorted, flustered.
He laughed at her. ‘I beg your pardon, madam. I could not resist the opportunity to tease you.’
Beth pressed her lips together, determined not to respond, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks and was aware that in other circumstances she would quite enjoy his teasing.
She was thankful when a groan from the bed claimed their attention. Mr Davies was stirring. He was muttering incoherently and Beth picked up a cloth and dipped it into the small bowl on the bedside table.
‘Lavender water,’ she explained as she gently wiped the patient’s brow. ‘It is very soothing.’
However, on this occasion it did not calm Mr Davies, who continued to mutter and began to move restlessly in the bed.
‘Perhaps you should leave him to me?’ suggested Lord Darrington as the injured man cried out and began to curse when the movement tore at his cracked ribs.
‘My dear sir, I am no schoolroom miss! I have heard much worse from my husband and my brother, I assure you. We must give him some laudanum,’ she decided. ‘Can you support his shoulders, my lord?’
The earl proved himself surprisingly useful in a sickroom, using his strength to gently raise his friend while Beth administered the drug. He continued to hold him up while Beth turned the pillows and straightened the covers. Soon Mr Davies was growing calmer again as the laudanum began to take effect and Beth could return to her seat. She wondered if the earl might retire now, but instead he sat down again. Neither of them spoke, yet the silence was not uncomfortable. It was surprisingly companionable sitting together, listening to the steady, rhythmic breathing of the man in the bed and Beth did not wish to break the spell. Her eyelids drooped and she dozed.
It was some time later that Beth woke and noticed that the earl’s bedside candle had burned itself out and the fire was reduced to glowing ash. She reached for the poker, but the earl forestalled her.
‘Allow me.’
She sat back in her chair and watched him as he knelt before the fire, stirring up the embers before building it up with small logs from the basket. He was still wearing the embroidered waistcoat she had found for him. The strings had been pulled tight across the back to make it fit and the white sleeves of his shirt billowed out, accentuating the wide shoulders that she knew lay beneath the soft linen. His movements were quick and assured and he soon coaxed the fire into a blaze. Beth gazed at his face as he sat back on his heels and regarded his handiwork. He had a handsome profile, she decided. The straight nose and sculpted lips would not have looked amiss on a Greek statue, although the heavy black brows and the line of his jaw were a little too strong to be called classical.
He turned his head at that moment and she found herself unable to look away, her gaze locked with his rather hard grey eyes. A presentiment of danger swept over her. She had become far too complacent; it was the middle of the night and they were the only beings awake in this twilight world. Her throat dried. There was a distant cock crow somewhere outside the window.
‘The servants will be stirring soon.’ Her voice sounded strained. ‘Perhaps you should retire, my lord.’ His brows rose and she went on, ‘I know one should not listen to gossip, but I am well aware of your reputation, my lord. We subscribe to the London Intelligencer…’
‘Ah. That explains a great deal.’
She heard the dry note in his voice and added quickly, ‘I am aware that much of what they write is untrue. No one knows better than I—however, it is not wise to be alone.’
‘But we are not—we have Davies here as our chaperon, after all.’
A twinkle of amusement banished the harsh look in his eyes and she found herself responding with a smile.
‘So we have, my lord. But there are some hours yet until breakfast and you should get some rest. You need not be anxious for me,’ she added quickly. ‘My maid is coming to relieve me shortly.’
‘Then if there is nothing else I can do for you, I shall return to my room.’ He stood up.
Intimidated by him towering over her, Beth rose, but even when she drew herself up her eyes were only level with his mouth. She was momentarily distracted by the curve of his lips and the tiny lines on each side of his mouth, indicative of laughter. An entertaining companion. The thought occurred to Beth and was instantly dismissed. She had no time for such luxuries.
‘Thank you, my lord, for your assistance.’
‘It was my pleasure, ma’am.’
With a slight bow he left the room. As soon as the door closed Beth was aware of a chill of loneliness wrapping itself around her.
Chapter Four
Lady Arabella did not believe in the modern notion of nuncheon and it was usually close to noon before she left her apartments to break her fast. By that time Beth had normally been up for hours and busy with her household duties, but after a night keeping watch in the sickroom she had slept the early morning away and was roused by her maid coming to tell her that Dr Compton had arrived to see his patient.
The hour was therefore quite advanced by the time Beth made her way to the breakfast table. Lord Darrington was already there and appeared to be upon the very best of terms with his hostess. They were bandying names unfamiliar to Beth as she came in and she heard her grandmother sigh.
‘Of course I never go to town now and most of my old friends have passed on, so I am no longer in touch with the world.’
‘Nonsense, Grandmama,’ said Beth bracingly. ‘Sophia and I read the London papers to you every day!’
‘Including the Intelligencer?’ murmured Guy.
Beth avoided his laughing eyes.
‘But that is hardly the same,’ stated Lady Arabella. ‘I was telling Darrington he should go to town more.’
‘London holds no charms for me,’ said the earl apologetically. He was dressed once more in his fine wool riding jacket and tightly fitting buckskins, but all traces of mud and dirt had been removed.
‘I am pleased Mrs Robinson ma
naged to clean your clothes for you,’ said Beth as he rose and held out a chair for her.
‘Yes. They were delivered up to me earlier this morning. Please thank your housekeeper for me. However, I shall be happier once Holt has arrived with my baggage. I would prefer to wear something a little more formal—and my own!—before I sit down to dinner again.’
Beth refused to respond to his charming smile.
‘There is not the least need for you to put yourself to the inconvenience of staying another night—’
‘That is enough, Elizabeth.’ Lady Arabella’s voice cut across the table. ‘I have invited Lord Darrington to stay with us for as long as he wishes.’
‘But our household cannot be what the earl is accustomed to,’ objected Beth.
Lady Arabella silenced her with the wave of her hand and turned again to the earl.
‘My granddaughter appears to think we are not good enough for you, Darrington. I do not know why. The Wakefords can trace their line back before the Conqueror and my own family rose to prominence in the time of good King Hal. Your own title, I believe, was not created until the time of Charles the Second.’
The earl nodded. ‘That is correct, ma’am. I am a veritable upstart.’
‘That is not what I meant at all,’ protested Beth, flustered. ‘I was…concerned for your comfort, sir.’
His sceptical look brought the colour flooding to her cheeks and she was pleased when Sophie arrived to create a diversion. Her young sister was prettily polite to their guest and enquired solicitously after his friend’s health.
‘I have not yet seen him this morning, Miss Wakeford, but I believe he is comfortable.’ The earl looked an enquiry at Beth, who nodded. He continued, ‘I am much in Mrs Forrester’s debt. She attended Mr Davies throughout the night.’
‘Ah, then that accounts for her crotchets this morning,’ remarked Lady Arabella with no little satisfaction.
The Dangerous Lord Darrington Page 3