‘Natural affinity, I suppose,’ he said softly. He touched her hand again, the lightest of touches. ‘’I shall always be happy to speak with you on any matter you choose, Lady Wycherley.’
‘Annis!’
Annis tore her gaze away from Adam and swung round abruptly. Charles Lafoy had returned to the box and he looked to be in a very bad temper. Annis suspected that this was due in part to the Misses Crossley, who were chattering like a pair of magpies as Sibella ushered them back to their seats, but it was also indubitably the result of finding her deep in conversation with Adam Ashwick. To her own annoyance, she felt herself blush.
Adam got to his feet in unhurried fashion. There was a mocking glint in his eye. ‘Evening, Lafoy. Granger, Mrs Granger, it is a pleasure to see you again…’ He bowed to Sibella before turning back to Annis. There was a decided twinkle in that cool grey gaze now. ‘I have enjoyed consorting with the enemy, ma’am. We must do it again some time…’
‘Good night, my lord,’ Annis said repressively.
Adam smiled at her and withdrew.
Sibella sighed, a little wistfully. ‘Oh, he is as charming as they said he was…’
Charles slid into Adam’s vacated seat. ‘Annis, what the devil were you about, flirting with Ashwick of all people?’
Annis kept her own voice low. ‘I am sure that one may greet an acquaintance without fear of censure, Charles. As you know, I never flirt.’
‘Yes, but Ashwick!’ Charles ran a hand through his fair hair. ‘He is a loose fish. Gambling, drinking, women…’
‘Show me a man who isn’t,’ Annis murmured. ‘Or one who has not indulged at some point in his life.’
Charles looked disapproving. ‘You might at least have some regard for my own situation, if nothing else! Ingram cannot approve—’
‘Fortunately I do not have to be governed by Mr Ingram’s approval.’ Annis smoothed her skirts and threw her cousin a warning glance. ‘You refine too much upon this, Charles. Lord Ashwick is a neighbour and was only doing the pretty. Now, the second act is about to start. May we call a truce?’
The rest of the show was quite spoilt for Annis, who hated to quarrel with either of her cousins. The Death of Captain Cook proved to be a melodramatic tale of tragedy that was ruined anyway by Fanny and Lucy Crossley chattering incessantly. Charles stared ahead with a frown on his handsome brow, completely ignoring the play. When Annis followed his gaze she saw that he was looking across at the Ashwick box, but he was looking not at Adam but rather at the serene countenance of Della Tilney, illuminated by the pale candlelight. When he noticed Annis’s regard, Charles immediately looked away.
It was a subdued group that assembled in the foyer to take their coaches home. Fanny and Lucy Crossley were quite worn out with flirtation and gossip, Sibella, who was increasing, looked fatigued and leaned heavily on David’s arm, and Charles was still preserving an abstracted silence. As Annis shepherded the girls up into the coach, she spotted a closed carriage pulling away from the side entrance to the theatre. The light from the coach lamps fell briefly on Margot Mardyn’s pretty little face before she twitched the curtain back into place. Annis felt flat and cross at the same time. No doubt Miss Mardyn was being spirited away to join Adam Ashwick somewhere. It was just like a man, Annis thought irritably, to be escorting his mother and sister out of the front door of the theatre whilst whisking his chère amie discreetly out of the back. It should not have mattered to her, but unfortunately she found that it did.
Chapter Three
The morrow brought an invitation for Fanny and Lucy to spend a couple of days with their friend, Clara Anstey, under the auspices of her mother, Sibella’s bosom-bow Lady Anstey. Given this unexpected break from her chaperonage duties, Annis decided to borrow Charles’s carriage and make the journey out into the Dales to visit Starbeck. She had every intention of spending a few weeks there once Fanny and Lucy were off her hands, for she had no engagements until she returned to London for the Little Season. However, an advance visit to Starbeck would prove doubly useful; Annis wanted to assess the state of the house before she discussed its future with Charles, and she also wished to see what would be needed to make the house habitable for her stay.
It promised to be a hot day. The wind had dropped and the sun was already high above the Washburn valley. The grey stone villages dozed in the sunshine and higher up, the heather clad moors shimmered in a heat haze.
They stopped at one of Samuel Ingram’s new tollgates on the Skipton road. At present it was simply a wooden hut and a chain across the road, but a group of men were working conspicuously hard on the construction of a neat stone house beside the road. Their factor, a bare-headed young man whose chestnut hair gleamed bright in the sunlight, was standing close by and keeping a wary eye on them. Annis recognised him as Samuel Ingram’s agent at Linforth, Ellis Benson. Ingram tended to surround himself with the impecunious sons of the gentry, Annis thought wryly. Perhaps it was some manifestation of snobbery that he, a self-made man and son of a lighthouse-keeper, should employ those whose birth was so much better than his own.
Ellis saw her and his grim expression lightened in a smile as he lifted a hand in greeting. The tollkeeper came shuffling out of the hut to take their money and Annis leaned out of the window, recognising him as the former schoolmaster of Starbeck village.
‘Mr Castle! How are you, sir?’
The tollkeeper raised one hand to shade his eyes from the sun. His parchment-grey face crinkled into genuine pleasure.
‘Miss Annis! Well, I’ll be…I am very well, ma’am. And you?’
Annis opened the carriage door and let the steps down. The sun felt hot on her face and she could feel the warmth of the road beneath her feet. She tilted the brim of her bonnet to shield her face, feeling grateful that today she had abandoned her chaperon’s turbans for a straw hat and a light blue muslin gown.
‘I am well, thank you, Mr Castle.’ Annis shook hands with tollkeeper. ‘I am back in Harrogate for the summer, you know, and shall be staying at Starbeck next month. But you…’ Annis gestured to the tollhouse. ‘What happened to the school, Mr Castle?’
A strange expression crossed the tollkeeper’s face and for a moment Annis could have sworn it was guilt.
‘I can’t do both, Miss Annis. Besides, Mr Ingram pays me well to take the tolls for him. Nine shillings a week I’m making here.’ He shuffled, turning back to the coachman. ‘That’s ninepence for a carriage and pair, if you please.’
There was a clatter of wheels on the track behind them and then a horse and cart drew up on the road beside the carriage. The carter and his mate jumped down and started to unhitch the horse from between the shaft. A richly pungent smell of dung filled the air. Mr Castle, who had been about to move the chain from across the road so that Annis’ carriage could pass, gave an exclamation and hurried across to the cart.
‘Now see here, Jem Marchant, you can’t do that!’
The carter pushed his hat back from his brow and scratched his head. ‘Do what, Mr Castle?’
‘You can’t unhitch the horse. Horse and cart is fivepence together.’ Castle looked at the cart. ‘Sixpence, as you’ve got narrow wheels.’
‘Horse and cart are only thruppence apart!’ the carter returned triumphantly. ‘None of us can afford to pay Mr Ingram’s prices. Daylight robbery, so it is.’
The aroma of manure was almost enough to make Annis scramble back into the carriage and put the window up, but she suddenly caught sight of what looked like a pile of bricks hidden beneath the manure and leaned over for a closer look. The carter’s accomplice gave her a wink and shovelled some more dung over to hide it. Castle walked around the back of the cart and looked suspiciously at the load.
‘What’ve you got here?’
‘What does it look like?’ The carter started to lead the horse towards the tollgate, tipping his hat to Annis as he went. ‘Mornin’, ma’am.’
‘Good morning,’ Annis returned. A small crowd of village
rs was gathering now to see what was going on, appearing from the fields and lanes as though drawn by some mysterious silent message. A few came running up the path from Eynhallow village to see what was happening, whilst the farm workers abandoned their tools and hastened over to the tollbooth. It seemed to Annis as though they were scenting trouble and had come to watch.
The workmen, meanwhile, were leaning on their spades, the carter’s mate was grinning, hands on hips, and Ellis Benson looked as though he thought he should intervene to support the tollkeeper, but really did not want to get involved. The carter unhooked the chain from across the road and urged the horse through.
‘Tell you what, Harry Castle, you’ve made yourselves no friends taking coin from that Ingram. Bloody thief, that man is.’
Castle was sweating, the beads of perspiration running down his face.
‘I’m only trying to make an honest shilling from an honest day’s work, unlike you, Jem Marchant! What you got under that manure, then? Something you should be paying for, I’ll warrant!’
‘Why don’t you look then, nosy?’ The carter’s mate stuck his chest out aggressively. ‘Don’t like to get your hands dirty, do you?’ He spat out the straw he was chewing with deliberate insult in the direction of the builders. ‘Incomers!’ he said with disgust. ‘Ingram ’as to bring men in and pay them over the odds to do his dirty work for ’im.’
A growl went through the ranks of the assembled workmen. Despite the hot sunlight the atmosphere seemed suddenly chill. The workmen were shuffling and looking as though they would like to use their spades on the carter and his mate, and only a sharp word from Benson held them back. The villagers were also angry, swaying like corn with the wind coming up. Annis realised that at any moment the whole situation could go up like a tinderbox.
She backed towards the carriage, wishing now that she had not got down in the first place. The movement drew the attention of the carter’s burly mate.
‘Ain’t that Mr Lafoy’s carriage?’ He looked at Annis with sudden suspicion. ‘They’re all ’ere today, ain’t they? All Ingram’s vultures.’ He took a menacing step towards Annis.
‘Now just a minute,’ Castle said, the sweat dripping off his chin as he looked anxiously from Annis to the crowd, ‘this is Lady Wycherley from Starbeck, and no enemy of yourn. She may be a Lafoy, but she’s got nothing to do with Ingram.’
It was enough to give the carter’s mate pause. He tugged his forelock a little bashfully. ‘Beg pardon, ma’am. Dare say you cannot help being Mr Lafoy’s cousin.’
‘Not really,’ Annis said. ‘It was something I was born with.’
The carter tied his horse to a fence post and came bustling up. He thrust his face close to Annis’s own. ‘All the same, ma’am, you tell that Mr Lafoy that we don’t like turncoats up here in the valley. If he shows his face around here, he’ll be sorry—’
Ellis Benson started forward, obliged to intervene at last. ‘How dare you threaten Lady Wycherley, man—’
It was the spark that set light to the tinder. Within a second it seemed to Annis that the fists were flying as the villagers pelted Ingram’s workmen with stones and the carter and his mate set about Benson and Castle with gusto. Annis sidestepped the carter’s wildly swinging right fist and tried to gain the shelter of the carriage, but just as she reached it a stone hit the Lafoy crest on the bodywork beside her head and splintered into pieces. Annis felt a sharp sting along her cheekbone and put up a hand in astonishment. Her fingers came away with blood on them.
There was a drumming of hooves on the road and the dust swirled up. Annis spun around. An arm went about her waist, scooping her off her feet, and the next moment she was on the saddlebow of a huge bay stallion, whose rider brought the dancing creature sharply under control with a single flick of the reins. The whole experience, so quick and so sudden, literally took her breath away; looking down from what seemed a great height, she realised that it had had a similar effect on the carter and his mate. Both had dropped their fists and were gaping up at her rescuer as though the hand of God had intervened.
‘What the devil is going on here?’ Adam Ashwick’s incisive tones cut across the fight and brought all the men there to their senses. They fell apart from each other, panting heavily, hanging their heads, dropping the stones and shovels that had served them as weapons. Castle put up his sleeve to staunch the blood running from a cut on his forehead. Benson, who seemed to have had the best of the fight owing to a promising amateur career in pugilism, straightened up and pushed the hair back from his forehead.
‘Lord Ashwick!’
‘Benson.’ Adam’s tone was menacing. ‘I do not believe that your employer pays you to come to fisticuffs on the king’s highway?’
Benson’s glance turned to Annis. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Ashwick. I was attempting to defend Lady Wycherley.’
‘Very commendable of you, Benson.’ There was amusement now in Adam Ashwick’s tone. ‘You may safely leave Lady Wycherley’s defence to me now.’
Annis felt his breath stir her hair. She tried to turn to look at him, but he was holding her too tight and too close, with one arm still about her waist and the other holding the reins, and effectively trapping her in front of him. His chest was hard against her back and Annis could feel the beat of his heart. She kept very still.
‘Yes, my lord.’ Benson sketched a bow to Annis and turned away to marshal his workmen, and Adam reined in the chestnut stallion, which was tossing its head skittishly at the crowd. He raised his voice again.
‘Get back to work, all of you! Don’t you have better things to do than stand around here causing trouble?’
‘No, my lord!’ someone shouted. ‘This is as good as a play, and cheaper!’
There was a rumble of laughter. The tension was dissipating now and the crowd started to chatter and melt away. Annis felt Adam’s arms relax a little about her, but he showed no signs of letting her go. He looked down at the hapless carter and his mate.
‘As for you, Marchant, and you, Pierce, I should haul you before the magistrates for breach of the peace!’
The carter looked sheepish. ‘No harm done, m’lord. Apologies, my lady. We never meant to hurt you.’
‘Pay your toll and get going,’ Adam said abruptly. He turned his head and spoke in Annis’s ear.
‘And now, Lady Wycherley, what the deuce are you doing here?’
Annis turned in his arms and found that his face was very close to hers. There was a frown between his brows and his gaze was very stern. At such close quarters Annis could see his features in perfect detail. His eyes, so cool and grey, were fringed by thick black lashes. There was a crease down one cheek that deepened when he smiled. His skin had a golden sheen and there was a trace of stubble darkening his jaw and chin. It felt odd to be so close to him. Odd in an entirely pleasurable way. Annis felt warm and a little light-headed. Her body softened almost imperceptibly against Adam’s and, as his arms tightened about her again, she saw a flash of desire mirrored in his eyes, hot, sudden, shocking.
‘What are you doing here?’ Adam repeated, very softly.
Annis straightened up hastily.
‘I was paying my toll, my lord,’ she said acerbically. ‘As one does.’
Adam’s gaze went from her flushed face to the carriage, and back again. ‘You are here alone?’
Annis was starting to feel guilty as well as flustered. It made her more annoyed. ‘No. I am not alone. I have my coachman and groom.’
‘Lafoy’s coachman—and Lafoy’s coach.’
Annis sighed sharply. ‘As you see, my lord. Would you let me down, if you please? Whilst I appreciate your intervention, I should like to continue to Starbeck now.’
Adam shook his head. ‘Presently. I would like to speak with you first, if you please.’
Annis opened her eyes wide. ‘Here?’
‘Why not?’ Adam gave her a crooked smile. ‘I find I rather like…our current situation.’
Annis was not in a posit
ion to argue. Adam drew rein alongside the coach and leaned across to address the shaken coachman.
‘Drive up to the first crossroads. It leads to Eynhallow and you should have no trouble there. I shall bring Lady Wycherley along in a moment.’ He pulled the horse back and raised his whip in salutation as the coach lurched ahead of them, following the cart up the track. Then he tossed a coin to the tollkeeper and swung down from the saddle, holding his arms out to help Annis dismount.
Annis was both disconcerted and annoyed that she had no other choice but to accept his aid. It was a long way down to the ground and she had no desire to turn her ankle by trying to jump. She placed her hands lightly on Adam’s shoulders and slid down, feeling his arms close about her again to steady her. For a second his cheek brushed hers, his dark hair soft against her skin, then he stepped back and released her gently.
‘You are importunate, my lord,’ Annis snapped, thoroughly ruffled now, ‘both in the way you…you picked me up and the way you set me down!’
Adam raised a quizzical brow. He looped the horse’s reins over his arm. ‘I beg your pardon if I disturbed you, Lady Wycherley.’
Annis turned slightly away and smoothed her skirts down in self-conscious fashion. Adam had disturbed her—very much—but she did not want to admit it. After a moment she was able to regain her composure and fall into step with him on the sun-baked road. The echo of the carriage wheels was dying away up the track and the builders had returned to their work on the tollhouse, and there was no sound but for the birds in the trees and the faint bleating of the sheep in the fields.
‘You are not too shaken, I hope, Lady Wycherley,’ Adam asked, casting her a look of concern. ‘I doubt that they would have hurt you—you simply became caught in the crossfire.’
‘I know.’ Annis put her fingers to her cheek again. The bleeding had stopped, but it felt a little sore. ‘I suppose I was ungracious just now, my lord, and I should thank you for your prompt action. It was kind of you to come to my rescue.’
The Chaperon Bride (Harlequin Historical) Page 5