She would not allow herself to enjoy the novelty of having a man look after her every need. Instead, she chose to resent his calm assumption of authority.
‘Will we indeed, my lord?’ replied Beth sharply. ‘I am not at all sure that is what I wish to do!’
‘Now is not the time to be missish,’ he retorted as they drove into the square and pulled up outside the largest inn. ‘I doubt there is another town of any size between here and Southampton and even if you are not hungry, I am.’
Beth opened her mouth to reply and shut it again, realising the truth of his words. Lord Darrington grinned at her and flicked her cheek with a careless finger.
‘It galls you that I am right, does it not, Mrs Forrester?’ He did not give her time to answer, but jumped out of the curricle, handing the reins to a waiting ostler before coming around to hand her down. ‘And now you are angry with me,’ he remarked as she preceded him into the inn.
Beth pointedly ignored him. The landlord appeared and with much bowing and smiling he escorted them into a private parlour, where she listened in growing irritation as the earl bespoke rooms and gave orders for dinner to be served as soon as possible. Insufferable man, would it have hurt him to consult her on where they would stop, or the meal they would eat? She jerked apart the strings of her cloak and cast it over a chair, tossing her bonnet after it. She heard the landlord leave and the door close after him. A quick peep showed her that the earl had unbuttoned his greatcoat, but not removed it. He was standing by the door, watching her. She kept her back to him and after a moment she heard him sigh.
‘Believe me, I only have your welfare in mind, madam.’
‘I have no objection to taking dinner here,’ she replied frostily, ‘but I do object to your deciding what we shall do with no reference to me. And,’ she continued, her pent-up nerves finding some relief in anger, ‘I also object to being called missish! You would not treat me thus if I were a man! It is not that I am ungrateful for your services, my lord, but I find you arrogant, overbearing and determined to take charge—’
She broke off as the earl caught her arm and jerked her around to face him. They were standing chest to chest and when Beth looked up she was taken aback by the fire sparking in his eyes.
‘I am tired, hungry and in no mood for tantrums,’ he ground out.
‘Tantrums—!’
‘I said I would look after you as I would my own sister,’ he carried on relentlessly. ‘If she was to treat me to such a tirade, I would put her across my knee and spank her!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘In your case I am more temped to ravish you to within an inch of your life!’
The deepening glow in his hard eyes robbed her of breath. Nervously she licked her lips.
‘Y-you would not dare.’
His face was only inches from her own. He was slowly pulling her closer, his head so near now that when he spoke his ragged breath fanned her cheeks.
‘When you do that with your tongue it’s not what I would dare, madam, it’s what I can withstand.’
Her eyes widened, but she could not look away. Their bodies were almost touching and her heart was thumping so hard she thought he must feel it. The images his rough words had conjured sent tremors of excitement running through her, right down to her toes. Her senses were overwhelmed; she felt the heat of his body reaching out to her. It was all she could do not to tremble beneath his unyielding grip. She swallowed, watching his eyes slide to her throat, like a predator deciding where to take the first bite.
‘You cannot r-ravish me,’ she struggled to keep her voice steady. ‘I will not let you.’
He leaned even closer. ‘Your permission is not required.’
Beth swallowed. He was in earnest. She closed her eyes. He was going to take her. Here. Now.
And what shocked Beth most was that she wanted him to do it. She summoned up all her remaining will-power and forced herself to look at him.
‘That, my lord, would be the actions of a libertine.’ Her tone was strong, matter of fact.
‘You know my reputation, madam.’
His mouth as he murmured the words was so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. The temptation to give in was very great. She fought it down.
‘Yes, but I know you too well now to believe it.’ He raised his head. His grip on her slackened a little. ‘You would not force yourself upon me against my will.’
‘But would it be against your will?’ he countered.
She gave the tiniest shake of her head and slipped out of his grasp. ‘No, but it should be. It would be very wrong.’ Her head went up as she heard the rattle of dishes outside the door. ‘If I am not mistaken, here is the waiter with our dinner, my lord.’
She made her way to the table and waited for him to pull out a chair for her. When he did so she sat down, trying to convince herself she was relieved that danger had been averted.
They watched in silence as a waiter and serving maid laid covers on the table and spread out the dishes for their meal. The fading daylight made the room mercifully gloomy and when a boy arrived with a taper the earl twitched it from his hand.
‘I will see to the candles.’ Guy was amazed at how normal his voice was. ‘Leave everything on the table and we will serve ourselves. You need not return until we call you.’
The servants hurried away. Dazed, Guy looked at the taper, trying to think what he should do now. A glance at Beth showed that she was staring straight ahead of her, her breast rising and falling rapidly. She was more shaken by their encounter than she would have him believe. He walked around the room, lighting the candles.
‘I should have told him to put dinner back an hour.’ Guy tried to keep his tone light. ‘What unfortunate timing.’
‘No.’ Her voice was so low he had to strain his ears to catch her words. ‘No, I am glad we were interrupted before we could do anything we might regret.’
He was about to make a playful retort, but a glance at her face showed him that she was distraught. He said gently, ‘For my part I would not regret it.’
‘Perhaps not, but I am as good as married to another man.’ She said sadly, ‘I beg your pardon. I fear I have been a widow too long.’
Guy marvelled at her composure. Any other woman would be railing at him for trying to seduce her, but not Beth Forrester. She knew her own power as a woman.
‘You do not deny the attraction between us.’
She reached for a glass of water and he saw that her hand was not quite steady.
‘I can not deny it, but that does not mean we must give in to it.’
‘Because of Radworth?’
‘Yes. I have promised to marry him. Forsaking all others.’
‘But you are not yet married.’
‘The contracts are signed. We are as good as wed.’ She turned to look at him, anticipating his arguments. ‘Would you have me cast Miles aside for a momentary passion? Events have thrown us together, my lord. I have accepted your help to save my brother, but once that is done we will go back to our own worlds. It is doubtful we will ever see each other again.’
Her words fell upon Guy like icy water. She was right. The physical attraction was strong, but it would not last. How could he commit himself to a woman whose very existence had been unknown to him a few weeks ago? How could he ask her to give up a good marriage and the chance of lasting happiness for a few nights of lustful pleasure? He nodded.
‘You are very wise, Mrs Forrester. And very honourable.’
She shrugged. ‘I am merely being practical, my lord. Shall we eat?’
Beth could taste nothing. She was outwardly calm, but her body was aching with desire for the man opposite. She was grateful for his forbearance. He carved delicate slices of ham for her, poured the wine and talked on unexceptional topics that helped her to regain her equilibrium. She might have thought him insensitive, had she not seen the slight tremor in his fingers when their hands met on a dish, heard the occasional hesitation in his voice as he weighed his words to avoid
saying anything that might embarrass her.
Slowly the tension eased. She could talk to the earl, even look at him without blushing; when the landlord came in to make sure they had everything they needed, she was in command of herself enough to remember their quest.
‘I believe an acquaintance of mine lives in this area. A French lady.’ She gave the landlord a rueful smile. ‘Unfortunately we lost touch—she married a country gentleman and I am afraid I cannot recall his name…’
‘Ah, that could be Mrs Graveney, at Bourne Park.’
‘That sounds very like it,’ agreed Beth, trying not to sound too eager. ‘I would very much like to make her acquaintance again. Is the family in residence at the moment?’
‘Oh, aye, they rarely go away, save for the occasional visit to Bath to take the waters, Mr Graveney being prone to a touch of gout, you see.’
‘And just how far is it to Bourne Park?’ put in the earl.
The landlord scratched his head. ‘No more than three miles, sir, just off the Southampton road. Funny how things go,’ he remarked as he began to gather up their empty dishes. ‘I hired my gig to another lady this morning, who was wishful to go to Bourne Park.’
Beth’s eyes flew to the earl, excitement bubbling up within her.
‘That could be Mrs Graveney’s sister,’ she said brightly. ‘I know she was planning to visit very soon.’
‘Aye, that will be it.’ The landlord grinned at them. ‘Pity you didn’t arrive earlier, I think the poor lady would have been glad of your company—she seemed uncommon nervous to be travelling alone, her being foreign and her English not being that good.’
Beth could hardly contain herself until the man was out of the room again.
‘It can only be Madame de Beaune,’ she said excitedly, as soon as they were alone. ‘There is a moon tonight—if the landlord is right about the distance we could be there in an hour.’
‘Are you proposing to call upon a country gentleman at ten o’clock at night?’ The earl raised his brows. ‘He would not thank you for it.’
She put her hands together, prayer-like, and rested them against her mouth.
‘I know it,’ she said slowly, ‘but what if the attack at the White Bear was intended for the younger Madame, and not for her mother? What if the killer has followed her here? If anything else should happen…’
Beth knew she was pleading, but she was not ashamed of it. After a moment the earl nodded.
‘Very well. I will have the horses put to.’ He smiled at her. ‘Put on your cloak again, Mrs Forrester. We are going to Bourne Park.’
Driving in an open carriage at night was a new experience for Beth. They travelled through a world devoid of colour—everything was shades of grey in the dim light of the new moon. She kept her cloak pulled around her to protect against the chill air. They saw no other traffic and everything was still save for the occasional flight of a night bird, and once an owl swooped past on silent wings. The landlord’s directions proved accurate and some forty minutes later they found themselves at the gates of Bourne Lodge. The gates were closed and the drive curved away into a wall of trees so they could not see the house.
The earl handed the reins to Beth and jumped down. Beth watched him walk up to the gates and heard the rattle of a chain.
‘Locked.’ Even as he spoke there was a commotion in the park. Two snarling, barking shapes appeared out of the darkness and hurled themselves at the gates. The earl stepped away. ‘Guard dogs. Someone is protecting themselves.’ He glanced back at Beth, who was trying to calm the startled horses. ‘Can you handle them?’
‘Of course. They are not going to bolt with me.’ They had just grown quiet when a coarse shout from the park made the team throw up their heads again, snorting nervously.
‘Who goes there?’ She could just discern a man’s figure approaching the gates, his face a pale blur. As he came nearer the moonlight gleamed on the barrel of his shotgun. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘If this is Bourne Park, then we would like to see Mr Graveney,’ said the earl, raising his voice to make himself heard above the howling dogs.
‘Quiet, Samson, Ajax!’ The man cuffed the nearest dog and the noise subsided to a muted growl. ‘That’s as may be, but the master’s retired for the night and given orders that no one’s to be admitted.’
‘Very wise.’ The earl reached into his pocket and drew out a small silver case. There was a flash as he flicked it open. ‘Perhaps you would be so good as to give your master this card and tell him I shall call upon him in the morning.’
Beth was relieved to see that he kept his hands well back from the bars and the snapping jaws of the two dogs. Silently the man reached out and took the card.
‘Thank you.’ The earl tossed him a coin. ‘That is for your trouble. And there will be another for you if you are here to open the gates for us tomorrow morning—and those animals are chained up.’
‘That’s for the master to say,’ muttered the man, pocketing the coin and the card.
‘Of course.’ The earl climbed up beside Beth and took the reins from her. ‘But I think he will see us.’
With that he deftly turned the team and they trotted away.
‘I do not think we need fear for the lady’s safety tonight,’ he remarked as they sped back through the darkness.
‘I hope you are correct.’ She shuddered. ‘I would not like to enter the park with such dogs on the prowl.’
‘Nor I. But I am very hopeful that we have tracked down the elusive Madame de Beaune. There is nothing more to be done until the morning, so I suggest we go back to the inn for a cup of hot punch before we retire.’
Beth’s thoughts had been so taken up with finding Madame de Beaune that it was not until they were sitting by the fire in their private room that she began to feel self-conscious again in the earl’s company. They had discussed possible ways in which the murder at the White Bear might be connected with Simon, but nothing seemed to fit.
‘Perhaps we must accept that it was an unfortunate coincidence,’ remarked the earl as he leaned near the fire, stirring a small kettle of steaming punch.
‘I cannot believe it,’ replied Beth, frowning. ‘That someone should attack young Madame and steal her necklace, then two years later she should return to England and her mother-in-law is brutally murdered. There must be a connection.’
‘If not, then it is a sad indictment on our country.’ The earl paused to taste the punch. ‘There is one link we have not considered,’ he said, pouring more rum into the pot. Beth waited. ‘Miles Radworth.’
‘Miles?’ She laughed. ‘What has he to do with it?’
‘He was at the inn with your brother and the de Beaunes. Providential that he should turn up on the quay after the attack.’
‘Providential indeed,’ retorted Beth, her colour heightened. ‘He did his best to help Simon.’
‘Did he?’
The earl handed her a small mug of punch and she did not reply immediately. She considered his question while she inhaled the pungent aroma of the hot rum and lemons, thinking back over all Simon had told her.
‘Yes, he did,’ she said emphatically. ‘He told the constables they were making a mistake when they accused Simon and, after, he travelled all the way to Malpass to bring us news of Simon’s death.’
‘That is a lot of trouble to go to for a chance acquaintance.’
‘It speaks of a generosity that I cannot begin to match!’ she retorted. ‘When I think of how I have betrayed him…’
‘You have not betrayed Radworth,’ he replied curtly.
‘No, but I was sorely tempted.’
‘If there was no temptation, there would be little honour in resisting.’ He smiled at her over the rim of his cup. Hot, aching desire seared through her and she wondered how long her resistance could last when Guy was so close.
She kept her eyes lowered as she sipped at the hot, sweet liquid.
‘It is late and you
are tired,’ he said, putting down his cup. ‘Come, let me escort you to your room.’
She picked up her cloak and accompanied him through the gloomy passages. The candles burning in the wall sconces made their shadows dance beside them like clownish attendants. A helpful bootboy directed them to the second floor.
‘It appears we are next door to each other,’ murmured Guy, opening her door. She hung back as he walked in before her, returning moments later with a candlestick bearing a small stub of candle, which he proceeded to light from one of the lamps in the passageway. ‘Here.’ He handed her the candlestick. ‘Goodnight, Mrs Forrester.’
Beth retreated into her room, locking the door behind her. She heard the squeak of a hinge and footsteps in the room next to hers. That would be Guy. She leaned against the door, unable to stop herself from smiling. When had she begun to think of him as Guy and not the Earl of Darrington?
It was difficult to remember when he had stopped being an unwelcome guest and become so indispensable to her comfort. Somewhere deep inside a tiny flame of hope flickered. Perhaps, when all this was over, there might be a way…
No! Quickly she thrust the thought aside. She dared not even consider the future until Simon was safe. She moved away from the door to inspect her room by the light of her single candle. Dark panelling stretched from ceiling to floor, unalleviated by any decoration save a small mirror on one wall. A large canopied bed took up most of the floor and a small washstand occupied one corner. She was making her way around the bed towards the window when she saw a line of light at the base of one wall. As she drew closer the candlelight revealed a raised edge to the panelling and she noticed a handle and below it a dull metal lock and key…
She jumped back with a gasp as the panelled door swung open. Guy stood in the aperture, a solid, black figure outlined by the lighted room behind him.
‘If you planned this…’ she began, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
‘No, no, I assure you, I bespoke separate rooms for us.’ There was the hint of laughter in his voice. ‘I fear the landlord may have misunderstood me.’ He looked around. ‘Why have you not lit your candles?’
The Dangerous Lord Darrington Page 17