Guy hesitated. Perhaps Lady Arabella had been taken ill, or one of the servants. It was none of his business, after all, and they would not thank him for his interference. But perhaps it was Davey—he hoped Peters would wake him if that was the case, but Guy could not be sure. Snatching up his bedroom candle, he opened the door and stepped out.
The passage was empty and silent. Moonlight filtered in through the mullioned windows at each end of the corridor, creating grey patterns on the floor. To his left the passage led to Davey’s room and the stairs down to the great hall, to his right it continued the length of the old building, then turned and provided access to the rest of the house. Guy walked towards Davey’s room. There was no bead of light from beneath the door, no sound save the sighing of the wind outside. As Guy stood, indecisive, a sudden cold draught hit his back. He might have put it down to imagination if his candle had not blown out. He turned. The cold had passed, as if a door somewhere in the house had been opened briefly.
Guy put down the candlestick. There was sufficient moonlight pouring in through the windows to light his way. He padded along the corridor in his stockinged feet, the only noise he made came from a creaking board. When he reached the end wall he hesitated. Mrs Forrester had led him this way to her own room, so he knew the passage led away into the Tudor wing of the house with the family’s apartments. He had no business here, but he was curious to know who might be about in the house in the middle of the night. Treading carefully, he made his way through moonlit passageways, past a series of doors in the polished-oak panelling until he rounded a corner and saw the dark rails of a narrow staircase before him. That would lead up to the servants’ quarters and down to the kitchens. His ears caught the soft sound of a footstep and at the same time a faint glow appeared in the stairwell as someone began to ascend from the basement. Quickly Guy drew back out of sight. It was most likely a servant, who could continue up the staircase to the bedchambers above. He strained to listen, heard the lightest footfall, the slight creak of a board, barely had time to note the approaching glow before a figure came around the corner and stopped with a small shriek of terror to find him blocking the way. Guy had the advantage of knowing someone was approaching, but he was surprised to find himself gazing into the terrified face of Beth Forrester.
‘Do not be afraid.’ Guy reached out and took the lamp from her shaking hand, holding it up so that she might recognise him. ‘I heard noises and thought I might be of assistance.’
She was shaking so much that he put out his free hand and caught her arm, feeling her trembling beneath the thin sleeve. She had changed her silk evening gown for a more serviceable closed robe in some dark colour. Her hair, free of lace and feathers, hung in a thick braid over one shoulder, gleaming in the lamplight like a trail of fire.
‘I suppose I am allowed to wander where I will in my own house!’ she retorted in a fierce whisper, pulling her arm free.
‘Could you not ring for a servant?’
She was regaining control. Guy noted that her large, dark eyes were no longer dilated with terror, although her look was still guarded.
‘It is not my habit to rouse my maid from her bed when I am perfectly capable of finding my way to the kitchen.’
She’s hiding something, thought Guy. Was there a man, perhaps? An assignation with someone other than her fiancé? He thought not. He hoped not. She had roused his admiration with the calm way she had dealt with Davey’s injury and, despite her coolness towards himself, Guy had thought her honest and honourable.
But he had been wrong about a woman before and it had cost him dear. He allowed his eyes to travel over her again. Would a woman go to meet her lover wearing such a homely gown? True, the soft wool clung to her figure, accentuating her tiny waist and the soft swell of her breasts, but its long sleeves and high neck looked almost Quakerish. What he had first thought was a pattern around her skirts at a second glance was seen to be dust. He frowned.
‘Where have you been, Mrs Forrester?’
‘That,’ she said haughtily, ‘is none of your business. Now, if you will please give me the lamp, I will show you back to your room.’
‘Surely I should be escorting you.’
Her eyes flashed scornfully, but she said sweetly, ‘But I wish to assure myself that you find your way safely back to your room, my lord.’
‘Are you afraid I might discover your horrid secret?’
Her eyes flew to his face and he was startled to see the stark terror in their depths again. He stepped closer.
‘My dear Mrs Forrester, pray do not look so alarmed. I was jesting.’
He noted the pale cheeks, the way the tip of her tongue ran nervously across her full bottom lip. Only a few inches separated them. He had to steel himself not to reach out and pull her to him. Her eyes were locked on his. They were cocooned in the lamplight and for a long moment neither spoke. Guy did not even breathe.
Oh, heavens, what is happening to me? The thought screamed in Beth’s head while her eyes remained fixed on the earl. His blue-grey eyes, hard as granite, held her transfixed. Even in his stockinged feet he towered over her, like a bird of prey hovering over its victim. Yet she was not frightened. Instead she felt an irrational desire to close the gap between them, to cling to the earl and allow him to take the cares of the world from her shoulders.
No! With enormous effort Beth tore her eyes away. The impression that they were imprisoned together in a bubble of lamplight was merely an illusion and she must break free of it. She must stay strong and keep her own council.
She swallowed, cleared her throat and said huskily, ‘Thank you, but I am not alarmed.’ She added in a stronger voice, ‘Neither am I in the mood for funning.’
She reached for the lamp, her hand trembling as her fingers brushed the earl’s. She held the lamp aloft and led the way back through the darkened house. The earl walked beside her, his long, lazy stride easily keeping up. Neither spoke until they reached Guy’s bedchamber, where a faint shaft of light spilled out from the open door.
‘It is never wise to leave your bedside candles burning unattended, Lord Darrington.’
‘I hope I shall not have cause to do so again.’
‘You had no cause to do so tonight.’
In the doorway he turned to face her and they stood, irresolute, as if neither of them wished to bring the moment to an end. But Beth knew that was mere foolishness. Lord Darrington had received only the barest civility from her while he had been at the Priory and must be longing to return to more hospitable surroundings. For her part, the sooner the earl took himself and his friend back to Highridge the better.
Beth put up her chin and, bidding the earl a chilly goodnight, she turned and hurried back to her own room.
Chapter Six
‘Elizabeth, my love, you are looking haggard this morning. Far too pale.’
Lady Arabella’s greeting as Beth took her place at the breakfast table was direct and to the point. Beth ignored the earl sitting opposite her. It really was of no consequence to her that he was looking as if he had spent an undisturbed night with an army of servants to shave and dress him.
‘I did not sleep well, Grandmama.’
‘I think I know the reason for that.’
Lord Darrington’s remark brought Beth’s eyes to his face, her heart plummeting, then soaring to her throat, almost choking her as she waited fearfully for him to continue. He held her eyes for a long moment.
‘It was the wind,’ he said blandly. ‘It was rattling the window for most of the night.’
The suffocating fear was replaced by anger. He was teasing her! He met her furious glare with a look of pure innocence.
‘Would that be it, Mrs Forrester?’
Relieved laughter trembled in her throat at his impudence. ‘Yes, my lord,’ she said unsteadily. ‘I think you must be right.’
‘If the blustery wind kept you awake, I am sorry for it, my lord,’ declared Lady Arabella. ‘I cannot think it would affect Beth, howev
er. She has lived here long enough to grow accustomed to it.’
‘Thankfully it does not appear to have disturbed everyone,’ said Beth quickly. ‘I saw Peters on my way downstairs and he told me Mr Davies passed a very peaceful night.’ She threw a quick look towards the earl. ‘I am hopeful Dr Compton will declare him fit to travel today.’
Sophie came in at that moment, hurrying towards the table, words of apology tumbling from her lips.
‘Grandmama, I beg your pardon for being late, I have been helping Mr Davies with his breakfast—’
Beth almost spilled her coffee at this artless speech. ‘Sophie! There was no need for that, especially now that Peters is here.’
‘I know, Beth, but I heard the most dreadful clatter as I passed his room and the door was open so I peeped in, just to ask how Mr Davies went on, and I could see that his valet was having difficulty because his master had thrown his spoon across the room.’ She twinkled. ‘I fear poor Mr Davies is quite uncomfortable, you see. He told me his wrist hurt far too much for him to feed himself.’
‘Couldn’t hurt that much if he could hurl his spoon at his valet,’ remarked the earl.
‘I fear the pain from his injuries had made him short-tempered,’ said Sophie innocently. ‘So I offered to help him with his porridge. He was very grateful, I assure you.’
‘I am sure he was,’ murmured Beth. She suspected that few gentlemen would object to being attended by a pretty young lady and she had to admit that Sophie was looking particularly fetching this morning in her yellow muslin gown and with her soft brown hair curling around an open, smiling face.
‘I have no objection to Sophie visiting the sickroom,’ pronounced Lady Arabella. ‘It is not as though Mr Davies is infectious and I am sure the sight of her will raise his spirits. But I must insist that she does not do so unaccompanied.’
‘No, indeed, Grandmama,’ Sophie assured her earnestly. ‘Peters was in attendance all the time. And I should like to help—perhaps I may read to Mr Davies later…’
‘Let us wait to see what Dr Compton says when he calls this afternoon,’ put in Beth quickly.
‘Well, I do not see that he will object,’ returned Sophie. ‘And since Grandmama approves, I shall go back to sit with Mr Davies when I have broken my fast. Peters is going to let me know when he has made his master presentable, for Mr Davies insists upon being shaved before I visit him again.’
Sophie applied herself to her breakfast, unaware of the effect of her words upon her sister.
‘It does appear that Davies is vastly improved this morning,’ murmured the earl as he helped himself to another slice of cold beef.
Beth did not reply. She hoped he was improved enough to leave the Priory. She had cares enough without adding a blossoming love affair between her sister and the invalid.
She was just emerging from the wine cellar when Kepwith announced that Dr Compton had arrived.
‘The earl was waiting for him on the drive, madam,’ the butler informed her. ‘He has taken him up to the sickroom.’
‘Has he indeed?’ declared Beth, angrily shaking the dust from her skirts. ‘And who gave him the right to do that?’
Kepwith bent a fatherly eye upon her. ‘Now, Miss Elizabeth, you know the doctor never stands upon ceremony in this house and would have gone up anyway.’
‘That is not the point,’ she declared, stripping off her apron and hurrying to the stairs.
She entered the sickroom just as the doctor was pulling the bedclothes back up over the patient.
‘Well, now, things are mending very nicely indeed,’ he declared. ‘Your ribs will be sore for a few weeks, I dare say but I think if you are careful there is no reason why you shouldn’t sit out of bed…’
‘Does that mean Mr Davies could manage a carriage ride?’ asked Beth hopefully.
‘To take him home, you mean?’ replied the doctor. ‘Well, I don’t see any reason why…’ his jovial gaze went past Beth and after an infinitesimal pause he continued ‘…why he shouldn’t be fit enough to travel in a—um—a week or so.’
Beth swung round. The earl was standing behind her, his countenance impassive.
‘I thought, Doctor, that you said Mr Davies was much improved,’ she said suspiciously.
‘He is, my dear Mrs Forrester, but one cannot be too careful with a fracture such as this.’
‘It is still as sore as the very devil,’ added the patient, giving Beth a soulful look.
‘But I am informed the earl’s travelling carriage is very comfortable,’ Beth persisted. ‘And I am sure we can find mountains of cushions to protect Mr Davies’s leg.’
‘Out of the question,’ returned the earl. ‘I could not go against the doctor’s advice.’
‘No, it would not be wise.’ Doctor Compton shook his head. ‘Let us give it another week and I will call again.’
‘A week!’ cried Beth, dismayed.
‘Well, there is little point in my calling before that. Time is the great healer, madam!’ He picked up his bag. ‘You may send for me if there is any change, but if not I shall call again in a se’ennight.’
With a cheerful word of farewell the doctor went out and Beth followed him, closing the door upon the two gentlemen.
‘If I were a more sensitive soul,’ remarked Davey in thoughtful tones, ‘I should think our hostess was wishing me at Jericho.’
Guy grinned at him. ‘Not you, Davey, it is I she wishes to see gone from the Priory.’
‘And I thought you shared the sentiment. Why, man, only yesterday you were saying how much you wanted to leave.’
‘That was yesterday.’
‘Well, I must say it suits me very well to stay, especially if Miss Sophie is here to entertain me.’ He looked up at Guy, an added glow in his blue eyes. ‘Is she not an angel?’
‘She must be if she could persuade you to eat porridge!’
‘Yes, well, it isn’t so very bad, you know, especially when served up by Miss Sophie.’
‘She will provide you with a very pleasant diversion,’ laughed Guy.
‘But that does not explain your change of heart,’ Davey persisted. ‘I made sure the old sawbones was going to say I was ready to go home, then he caught your eye and changed his mind.’
‘There is some mystery here, Davey, and I am intrigued.’ Briefly he told Davey about meeting Beth in the corridor.
‘So she has a lover,’ said Davey, shrugging. ‘That is not so unusual.’
‘No, I don’t think that is it,’ said Guy slowly. ‘When I discovered her last night she looked truly terrified. And little things do not add up, such as telling me she is making poultices for a lame mare when the groom knows nothing about it, and strange noises in the middle of the night.’
‘Perhaps she keeps her husband locked up in the dungeons,’ declared Davey, his lips twitching. ‘I fear you have been reading too many Gothic novels, my friend. Perhaps you should accept the fact that Mrs Forrester is not enamoured of the great Lord Darrington.’
‘I am not such a coxcomb,’ protested Guy. ‘No, there is some mystery here and I want to get to the bottom of it.’
Beth soon realised that she was the only member of the household who was unhappy at the doctor’s verdict. Lady Arabella declared herself delighted to have company at the Priory, especially since the earl was content to while away an hour or two each evening playing backgammon with her. Beth was disappointed that Sophie did not share her anxieties. Although she did not neglect any of her duties, Sophie spent all her spare time with Mr Davies, entertaining him with card games and word puzzles or reading to him. After two days of this behaviour Beth tried to remonstrate with her, pointing out that all the time she spent with Mr Davies left the earl with nothing to do but to wander about the Priory.
‘I have hinted to him that he might as well go home and leave Mr Davies to us, but he will not.’ She twisted her hands together. ‘I fear he suspects something.’
‘Oh, nonsense, you are in a panic over nothing,’
replied Sophie. They were alone in the library and she was running her fingers along the spines of the books, searching for a title.
‘He is forever asking questions.’
‘He is merely taking an interest, as any guest would. Besides, he will not trouble us today. He has gone out riding and is not expected to return until dinnertime.’ Sophie pulled out a book. ‘Vathek—I wonder if Mr Davies would like Mr Beckford’s novel?’
Beth regarded her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. ‘I do not think it matters, as long as you are the one reading it.’
‘No, I am sure that is not true,’ said Sophie, blushing a little. ‘He…he is a very pleasant gentleman, do you not think so?’
‘Excessively,’ declared Beth. ‘But he must do without you for a little while, because I am expecting Miles to call this afternoon and I will not be able to read to Grandmama, so I will be obliged if you will do so. And I need you to make up another poultice.’
Sophie’s expression immediately became anxious. ‘Could we not take Dr Compton into our confidence?’
‘No, I dare not do that. We must keep our secret as long as we can. Besides, I do not think he is so bad as he was and I hope, with careful nursing, we will bring him through.’
Sophie gripped her hands. ‘You know I am only too happy to help where I can. I will go down for an hour before I read to Grandmama. But you will not object if I read a little to Mr Davies after that?’
Having given her assurances, Beth watched her sister dance out of the room. To be sure, the idea of a burgeoning romance between Sophie and Mr Davies was a little worrying, but it was good to see Sophie smiling again, despite all the anxiety that hung over them.
Perversely, when Miles Radworth called and showed every inclination to sympathise with her for having Mr Davies and the earl with her for at least another week, Beth found herself making light of the matter.
The Dangerous Lord Darrington Page 6