John stood leaning against the wall, one eyebrow quirked. “I do hope you haven’t killed that poor unfortunate boy.” He studied Linnet’s flushed face.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She lifted her chin defensively.
John leaned forward and stooped to retrieve the black shoe that Charles had left behind when he fell. Holding it up, he examined it critically. “Oh come now, this is hardly Cinderella’s slipper, is it? I watched the whole thing, Linnet. You didn’t think I would let my future wife disappear out onto a balcony with another man and not keep a close watch on the pair of you? You pushed him over the side… oh yes, you did!” He wagged his finger at her as she shook her head in denial. “I saw you do it!"
Linnet spun away from him, vexed, giving a snort of derision. Oh, why couldn’t the wretched man go away and leave her in peace? Ignoring John, she peered over the balustrade down into the darkness, calling in a loud whisper. “Charlie, Charles, are you all right? CHARLIE CAN YOU HEAR ME? Perhaps, Mr. Foster, you would be good enough to shout? Your voice will carry better than mine.”
John stayed where he was. “I have no intention of leaning over that wall and ending up as the erstwhile Lord Charles did.”
She instantly whipped about to face him. “What do you know about it? Absolutely nothing, and I don’t know where you acquired the idea that I would consent to marry you! Since you are here, let me put you straight once and for all, Mr. Foster. I would not marry you if you were the last man on this earth! Is that clear enough for you? You may finish whatever business you have with my father and return to those uncivilised Colonies that spawned you, but until that happy day, leave me in peace!”
He stepped close and grasped her by her shoulders, shaking her once for emphasis. His slate-coloured eyes bored into her wide-eyed pools of green and her face turned mulish as she glowered up at him, defiantly. She shoved her hands up between them, attempting to push him off, but he was having none of it.
“Let go of me, you arrogant swine!”
His grip tightened, his fingers digging in to her tender flesh as he yanked her into his arms, crushing her tight against his chest. His mouth came down hard upon hers, he intended kissing her thoroughly.
Her reaction, when he finally released her, appeared sluggish. She was paralysed with shock, frozen, obviously amazed by his audacity. She struggled to be free of him and succeeded in kicking him in the shins, followed by a stamp upon his foot but he didn’t flinch. Instead he pulled her back into his firm embrace, arms tight about her. Perhaps because he held her fast and she couldn’t pull away, she relaxed into him.
Then, without warning, he released her. She staggered backward, befuddled and unbalanced by his sudden withdrawal. Startled, she stared up into his face, noticing his tightly clenched jaw and disapproving expression. “J-John?” Her faltering voice sounded breathless, he realised she was panting and watched as she placed her hand over her heart to slow her breathing.
“So you like a kiss, my girl?” he drawled with acid sweetness. “Did Charles not come up trumps tonight… hmm? You thought that I might do as the consolation prize perhaps?” He raised a sardonic brow.
She looked bewildered, hurt and confused by his sarcasm. She lashed out with her foot, catching him a painful blow on the shin then, raising her fist, she cracked him hard across his jaw. Spinning, she flew inside through the door, dashing back into the ballroom.
John stood stunned for a moment, then, turning, he rested his forehead on the edge of the cool stonework of the balustrade. Putting his arms up on either side of his head, he closed his eyes. God, he had been so wrong! How could he have mistaken her ardour for that of a wanton? Indeed, her passionate response had been a real surprise to him, and now that he had so wounded her feelings, it would be well-nigh impossible to court the chit! Damn her pride—damn his! He grinned ruefully, rubbing the side of his face. He’d got rather more than he’d bargained for, certainly not a maiden’s chaste slap. He’d had lesser blows in taverns back home!
Linnet, meanwhile, had made her way down into the garden. She slipped through the warm, moist heat of the conservatory, out into the cool spring air.
“Charles, where are you? Are you all right?” she called softly.
She walked along the gravel pathway that wound between dark hedges and led to the pond beneath the balcony. The pale moon cast eerie shadows in front of her, the gaps in the hedges loomed dark and menacing. She shivered, glancing nervously from side to side. At last she came to the pond, the black waters glinting still and oily in the moonlight, but there was no sign of Charles anywhere. Linnet wondered whether the pond were deep enough for poor Charles to have drowned. Gingerly, she reached down, placing her hand into the cold dark water. Shivering, she leaned further forward on tiptoes, her feet on the very edge of the pond. She was unprepared for the sudden shove in the middle of her back. She fell, landing face first in the shallow water.
Coughing and spluttering, she surfaced, gasping with shock. She half swam and half stumbled to the edge of the pond, her hair falling in a sodden mass over her face so that she could hardly see. A strong arm reached for her and pulled her out onto the path. She grasped hold of what she realised was a body as wet and as cold as her own. “Charles?”
“Yes, you hellion, it’s me!” he hissed venomously.
“Oh, Charlie, I’m so very sorry, really I am! I suppose I deserve the fright you gave me but Charlie… really, look at me!”
Charles did as she asked, then he began to chuckle. “You look awful, Linny, but you deserve that… and worse. You could have killed me, you little witch!”
Linnet was relieved he was laughing and seemed unhurt. “I did know there was a pond there but not actually how deep it was. I was so afraid you’d drowned! Oh, my blessed temper, I don’t wonder you’d rather marry Nancy,” she wailed.
Charles slipped his arm about her shoulders and gave a squeeze. “Linny, I am sorry about our misunderstanding. I honestly thought Nancy had spoken to you of our mothers’ plans for the match.”
Nancy had, but instead Linnet had chosen to think that Nancy was warning her off a gentleman she fancied. Not for a moment had Linnet believed that Nancy was telling her the truth. After all, they’d both known Charles for years; they were all playmates as children. They had met up many times throughout the intervening years, mainly at social occasions. Then Charles had gone on the grand tour and she had not seen him again until he’d been invited to her coming out ball. At their re-acquaintance, she’d been enamoured of him immediately.
He had grown into a very pretty but vain young man, his character weak; he was very much in awe of his domineering mama. Linnet was captivated by his blond, foppish, fashionable good looks. She’d ignored Nancy’s proprietary air and set her cap at him, flirting outrageously, claiming dances with him whenever she could. Charles, who remembered Linnet and their escapades as children, took her interest as renewal of a childhood friendship but nothing more. He now felt wretched at the awful mix up and at his own lack of perception. He looked at her standing in the moonlight, her lovely green dress soaked and dripping in a ruin around her. Her usually pale hair looked dark as it hung in rat-tails, covered in green slime that trailed over her shoulders. She looked frozen.
“Come, Linnet, we can use your coach to travel home. We will drop you at Lavenstock Hall, after which I shall go onto my house, change my clothes, and then return to the ball. I will seek out your father to explain that you were feeling unwell and have withdrawn home.” Charles, pleased with his plan, walked briskly away down the gravel pathway in the opposite direction to the house. “Come along, the stable yard is this way, there is a gate to where the coaches stand, follow me!”
Linnet was by this time too cold to argue. Besides, the plan seemed to be a good one and she certainly had no intention of returning to the ball in her present condition. They crept across the stable yard. Yellow light shone out from the groom’s quarters above the stables but all was quiet and no one s
aw them. Opening the gate, they edged along in the shadow of the wall, taking care that the coachmen should not see them. Linnet spotted her father’s coach. “It’s over there, Charlie! The large dark green one, you can see my father’s crest on the side.”
“Wait here,” Charles whispered. “I’ll check inside and see if your man is there.”
Luckily, Charles found Davis the coachman happily snoozing inside. Not a social sort, he preferred not to join the other coachmen for a chat and a jar of ale. If Davis was surprised to see his mistress dripping wet, accompanied by a young man in the same condition, well, it really was not his place to comment. He pulled himself up onto the driver’s seat, grumbling acerbically as he did so. As soon as they were inside the coach, Charles wrapped a plaid rug over Linnet’s knees. He bade Davis to drive them back to Lavenstock Hall.
However, just as Charles had settled onto the seat, the door of the coach was flung wide and John Foster leapt inside. He pulled down the window then bellowed up to Davis, “Hold hard there, man, I will tell you when to drive on!”
Davis tutted, he grumbled but obediently held the horses in check.
“Well!” John looked at each of them in turn, “You two look a sorry sight, I must say!” He settled himself comfortably onto the seat next to Linnet, who flounced as far away from him as the plaid blanket would allow.
“You!” she spat furiously. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Linnet was extremely agitated by this unexpected turn of events. Her plan to put Charles into an uncompromising position so that he had no choice but to marry her was going swimmingly up to the point when John had arrived.
“Let’s just say I feared for young Charles’s safety, my dear. Well now, how cosy we are! Setting off to Gretna Green perhaps? I must say you have chosen a most interesting fashion to wear for your wedding, not so much Lady Greensleeves as Lady of the Lake!” John grinned. Covering his fury, he leaned back against the seat and made himself comfortable.
“You insufferable prig, answer my question! What in Hades are you doing here, following me again?” Linnet sneered as she pushed her wet hair back from her face. Leaning forward, she glared venomously at John.
Her intensely green eyes flashed dangerously. John recognised the warning signs of a temper tantrum, so he responded mildly. “I thought I had answered your question, Miss, uh, I apologise… Lady Wainwright. I followed you from the garden because I was concerned for Lord Charles’s safety. After all, you did push him off a balcony!”
Charles hurriedly interjected, “Yes, but as you see, sir, I have had my revenge!” He gestured towards the bedraggled and dripping Linnet. “We are friends again now, are we not, Linny? I am sorry, but who are you again?” Charles was having trouble keeping up with this evening’s strange events.
“So, you have had your revenge, but what of mine?” John asked.
“Yours, sir? I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.” It appeared that events were becoming rather too complicated for Charles.
“Let me enlighten you, Lord Charles. After you plunged from the balcony this evening, I came upon this young lady leaning over the balcony, shouting for a ‘Charles.’ I assume that you are said Charles, and not some other poor unfortunate my fiancée has plunged into the pool tonight?”
Linnet spluttered with outrage as Charles first shook then nodded his head. It was obvious to John that he was having difficulty following the tale. John continued, “I was not pleased to hear my fiancée calling out after another gentleman. I took the opportunity to remind her of our betrothal which was arranged this very afternoon by her father, Sir Edward Wainwright, whereupon… I kissed her. This young, um, lady, brutally attacked me! Allow me to show you the bruising to my face?”
John tilted his head so the light caught the darkening bruise adorning his cheekbone.
“What?” Linnet shrieked, staring at him in disbelief. “This is complete and utter nonsense! I cannot believe I am hearing this-this tissue of lies! How dare you distort what happened tonight! Have you forgotten that I rejected you outright, that there is no engagement?” Obviously incensed, she leapt up then, hitting her head on the coach roof, she dropped straight back down into her seat again. Rubbing her head, she glowered at John. His lip twitched.
Meanwhile, Charles was feeling rather tired and incredibly confused. His head hurt and he thought perhaps he may have banged it during his fall from the balcony. He was finding it difficult to follow the present chain of events. In desperation, he clung to what had just been revealed by John.
“Sir, can it be true?” he asked in a bemused tone. “Sir Edward Wainwright approves your suit and supports your match?”
John looked Charles in the eye. “Yes, I assure you that Sir Edward Wainwright himself arranged our match and will soon announce our betrothal. Tell me, young man, do you feel you have prior claim on Miss—Lady—Wainwright’s affections?”
Charles was horrified. “Good Lord, no, sir, I had no idea that Linnet was about to become betrothed! Please let me assure you that this evening’s circumstances are entirely innocent. Linnet’s er, integrity should not in any way be held in question. Although her reputation…”
Here he faltered and mopped his brow with a wet handkerchief pulled from his sodden waistcoat. Gad, what an awkward situation this was, to be sure. If the American was indeed betrothed to Linnet, then at least he would be free to seek the restful charms of Nancy, which was what he had originally planned before this evening’s fiasco. The scandal that seemed only a step away in this present compromising situation could possibly be averted if one of them was engaged to Linnet. Charles was under no illusion that found alone and in their present bedraggled state, he would be honour-bound to offer for Linnet should John decide, in view of present circumstances, to break their betrothal. Charles realised after tonight’s escapade that life with Linnet as his wife would be little better, if not much worse, than life with his mother. He was a rather weak man who hated confrontation and felt contented in the company of the mild-mannered and frivolous Nancy. Whenever he complained about his Mamma’s high-handedness to Nancy, she would soothe and restore his good humour. Life with Linnet as his wife would be as stressful as living with his mother had been.
Here, then, was Mr. Foster, offering him a splendid solution to his problem, and he was going to do his damndest to accept this olive branch and escape the melodrama Linnet Wainwright was enacting.
Lord Charles’s musings were interrupted by a howl of incredulous rage from Linnet. “I am not betrothed to you, you imbecile! Charles, you have to believe me—he is lying!”
Charles and John snapped in unison, “Be quiet, Linnet!”
John suddenly held out his hand to Charles. “I accept your assurances as a gentleman of honour that nothing unseemly has occurred here tonight. I will endeavour to keep this evening’s scandalous events between ourselves but that is on the understanding that you undertake not to see my fiancée alone again.”
Both men ignored yet another spluttering yelp. Charles shook John’s proffered hand and readily agreed. “I suggest that I leave the pair of you alone to make your arrangements while I find an alternative way home. I congratulate you both on your engagement and wish you good night!” So saying, he hastily opened the coach door and leapt out into the darkness. He could hear Linnet pleading with him the whole way through his pretty speech, but he focused solely on John and ignored Linnet completely. As he squelched away, leaving behind the drama, he counted himself lucky to be leaving this mess totally unscathed and unencumbered by an unwanted fiancée!
John was extremely satisfied by the way things had turned out. Linnet’s lack of decorum had placed her in a position where she would have no choice but to accept his proposal of marriage, and when she had calmed down sufficiently, she would realise that this was indeed the case.
Linnet was incensed at Charles’s sudden departure and pulled down the carriage window, calling after him, “Charlie! Oh, Charles, do come back!”
She tried to stand up and follow him but the plaid rug caught around her legs and she ended up sprawled across the seat of the coach. John reached over and hauled the wet, seething, angry girl upright. He moved to sit beside her and she immediately begun to berate him for ruining her chances with Charles.
John laid his fingers gently against her lips. “Hush now, and just listen to me, young lady. You are going to marry me. You really have no choice in the matter, for if you refuse me, your reputation will be ruined. Lord Charles is very much afraid that if I do not marry you, he will have to, and he so obviously does not wish to!” He held up his hand for silence as she vehemently protested. “Yes, I am very much aware that such was your intention, my girl, but as you see, Lord Charles…” John paused and suddenly leant forward, pushing open the door to the coach which, in his hurry to leave, Charles had left slightly ajar.
It swung open, revealing Davis the coachman standing with his ear pressed to the door, eavesdropping. Caught red-handed, he stepped back, his face flushed. “Sir, er, shall you want to leave now?” he stammered.
“Yes,” John replied smoothly. “Drive us back then return for Sir Edward. I shall pen a note for you to take to him on your return which will explain the situation.” He calmly leaned over and tugged the door fully closed.
He then pulled the curtains across at both windows. “That will prevent draughts and any other eavesdroppers. I am sure that you saw Davis’s face, my dear? This juicy titbit of gossip will be talked of in all the best drawing rooms before the week is out. Accept our betrothal, for you really have no other choice.”
His grey eyes flicked over her, taking in her bedraggled appearance. “Come, let me see to you. Look at you, completely drenched. Move over here, closer to me.”
He watched as her eyes filled with foreboding. She shuffled across the seat away from him. She pulled the rug up under her chin, staring warily over it with narrowed eyes while failing to suppress her shivering.
Her Match, Her Mate, Her Master Page 4