A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3)

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘You were a child. You didn’t see them together or know what was agreed between them.’

  He turned again and took her upper arms in a vice-like grip, pushing her against the wall and pinning her there with the weight of his body. His breath peppered her face and she felt scalded by the searing anger in his eyes. The man was truly deranged, and she was terrified. Why, oh why, had Maud been taken unwell and why had she not brought someone else with her? It would, she knew, only have postponed the inevitable, but still…

  He had already persuaded her to like and trust him, and more time would have enabled him to consolidate that situation. He should not have acted so precipitously. But if he had not, she might have been taken in completely by his performance and begged Luke to let her marry him. Maud’s indisposition had definitely worked in her favour, she concluded, just as long as she could extricate herself from this situation, which seemed far from certain. She was dealing with a resentful and unbalanced individual, accustomed to getting his own way.

  ‘If you think brute strength will get you anywhere, then you quite mistake the matter,’ she said, her voice sounding commendably calm. ‘I cannot abide men who use their superior strength to coerce females.’

  He tried to kiss her—a situation that she had half hoped might arise a half-hour previously—but she was now repelled by the prospect and turned her face aside.

  ‘Accept my proposal, along with my assurance that I am fond of you and will do my very best to make you happy. Convince your brother that we are in love and I will not shame your family name by telling what I know.’

  She snorted her disapproval. ‘Never!’

  ‘Well then, you leave me with no choice.’

  He pulled her away from the wall and threw her onto a daybed. Surely he would not…But the evil look in his eye made his intentions abundantly clear. Where was Lucy? But of course, there had been no visitor. That’s why the maid had looked so sullen when delivering that bogus message. This had all been so carefully orchestrated that Mary hadn’t suspected a thing. And now her virtue would be taken by a villain with a grudge to bear against her family.

  She fought him like a wildcat as he lowered his heavy body over hers, but her struggles made not the slightest difference. She screamed, but knew no one would come to her rescue.

  *

  Flora spent the early part of the afternoon with the countess, who seemed to have recovered some of her strength.

  ‘Sorry to have been gone for so long. I had some private business to attend to.’

  ‘You look preoccupied, child.’ The countess frowned myopically at Flora. ‘Have you been crying? Who on earth has upset you? Surely not that tiresome father of yours again.’

  ‘In a manner of speaking.’

  Flora felt a burning need to unburden herself. Aware that her charge was extremely astute and would likely give her sound advice devoid of emotion, she found herself relating all the particulars of Mr Farthingale’s visit and his astonishing revelations.

  ‘I like the sound of your grandmother,’ she said, when Flora ran out of words.

  ‘The two of you would have got along well.’

  ‘And you have inherited your grandmother’s second sight, have you?’

  Flora waggled a hand from side to side. ‘Perhaps,’ she prevaricated, aware that Luke didn’t believe it and that he wouldn’t want his grandmother to get ideas in that regard. ‘I’m not sure. It’s all rather confusing.’

  The countess sent her a sapient look, clearly not deceived. ‘Well, miss, you’ve had a shock, there’s no denying it, but you have your independence now if you want it.’ She patted Flora’s hand, as close as she would ever come to showing sympathy. ‘Shall I be rid of you at last?’

  ‘Heavens, no. You would be miserable without me.’

  ‘Ha! Much you know.’ But the old lady looked reassured by Flora’s statement.

  ‘Have you looked through the papers yet?’

  ‘No. Well just briefly. It’s all too much to take in. I need time to adjust. There are books, handwritten by both my grandparents, recording séances and situations, a lot of situations, where they used their talents to help people. And a few letters, too.’ Flora sent her charge a guilty look. ‘I confess to being a little overwhelmed by it all. But I need to know why Grandmamma considered herself to be my father’s conscience.’

  ‘You’d be well advised to search those papers for records of events at around the time of your grandfather’s death. There, I suspect, you will find your answers.’

  ‘Yes, thank you for your advice. I shall do exactly that.’

  ‘Don’t fret so, pet.’ The old lady again rested a gnarled hand over Flora’s. ‘There is nothing your father can do to harm you now.’

  Since the countess did not know about the threat to her family’s reputation, she had no reason to think otherwise.

  Sandwell interrupted them. ‘Excuse me, Miss Latimer, but we wondered if you could use your skills in the still room to help poor Maud.’

  ‘Maud?’ Flora frowned. ‘Ah yes, Lady Mary’s maid. What is wrong with her?’

  ‘She has her monthlies and the cramps something awful.’

  ‘Well yes, of course. The poor girl. If you sit with her ladyship I can…Just a minute.’ Flora’s expression darkened. ‘Lady Mary has gone out and Maud is supposed to have gone with her.’

  Sandwell shook her head. ‘Don’t know anything about that. Maud is most definitely up in the servants’ quarters.’

  Flora got to her feet, trying not to let her panic show. What the devil had Mary been thinking? ‘Stay here, Sandwell. I shall see what I can do.’

  But instead of going to Maud’s aid, Flora headed straight for Luke’s library. She tried not to feel guilty about her behaviour just before she had left it a couple of hours earlier. Once the attorney taken his leave and the full impact of her situation struck home, the outpouring of pent-up emotion had been so unexpected that she’d failed to contain it. She felt the swelling of her grandparents love from beyond the grave. The only type of genuine affection she had ever known. The comfort she felt when she learned that it had not died with them had been almost too much for her to endure. She was accustomed to keeping her feelings under wraps and remaining firm in the face of her father’s increasingly frantic efforts to retain control of her every waking moment.

  But now, finally, all her emotions had bubbled to the surface and she had sobbed on Luke’s shoulder, soaking his shirt with her tears. He had closed his arms around her, smoothing her back with gentle sweeps of his capable hands, until the flood turned to a trickle and then the tears dried up altogether. She had tried to apologise but he had waved aside her excuses, probably thinking that she was weak and over-sensitive. Probably highly sceptical about all the revelations too, given his lack of belief in the afterlife.

  Then their eyes had locked and, still in his arms, she felt them tighten around her and had been certain that he would kiss her. She lifted one hand and daringly ran her fingers through his hair, wanton and unashamedly carnal.

  In the end he sighed, muttered something unintelligible beneath his breath and released her. He had probably sensed the nature of her thoughts and was disgusted by her presumption. He had shown her nothing but kindness and consideration, and had allowed her to weep all over him like a leaky watering can, and she had almost exploited that situation. She would have done so, had he not remained in possession of his senses. Mortified, she quickly averted her gaze and assured him that she was in control of herself again. He looked unconvinced, but she had left the room clutching the precious bundle of papers beneath her arm before he could press the issue.

  Flora had scurried off to her chamber, cheeks burning with humiliation, in urgent need of solitude. The compulsion to explain her lapse, to apologise for it and to assure him it would never happen again if their relationship could return to its former easy footing, had to be suppressed. There was nothing she could possibly say that wouldn’t make matters worse, so she
had run away before she made a complete fool of herself.

  Now she had to face him again, but the situation was too potentially serious to worry about her own feelings. Mary’s welfare was all that signified. She tapped at the door and entered at his bidding.

  ‘Flora I…’ He rose from behind his desk and approached her. ‘Good God, whatever’s happened? Your look worried out of your head. Come and sit down and tell me.’

  ‘It’s Mary,’ Flora replied breathlessly. ‘Her maid has been taken ill and I have just found out that she went on the excursion without her.’

  ‘Damnation!’ Luke stood, his expression thunderous. ‘Excuse the language, but I had a bad feeling about this from the start. I should never have agreed to let her go.’

  Flora twisted her fingers together, consumed by guilt. ‘It’s all my fault. I suggested that you should, and then I was so taken up with my own affairs today that I didn’t even go and check on her.’

  ‘She is not your responsibility, and anyway it doesn’t matter where the blame lies. It’s what we do now that signifies.’

  ‘She has been gone above two hours. Closer to three.’ Flora’s expression reflected his concern as she bent to greet Romulus. ‘In this weather the view will be completely obscured, so she should be home by now.’

  ‘Quite, so it begs the question…’

  They both looked up when the door flew open and Paul dashed through it, clutching a telegram. ‘I’ve just had news from Horse Guards regarding Redfern,’ he said, looking furious. ‘Redfern was not injured during the course of battle. That scar on his face was incurred when he picked a quarrel with another officer. He was in danger of being court-marshalled since witnesses all agreed that the dispute was entirely of his making. A quarrel over a woman, apparently. Anyway, his brother stepped in, using his influence. Redfern was permitted to quietly resign his commission and nothing more was done about it.’

  ‘The countess is convinced that his limp is feigned,’ Flora said, recovering from the shock first.

  ‘It is,’ Paul said derisively. ‘He’s no damned hero.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Flora asked, having quickly explained to Paul the situation with Maud. ‘They should have returned by now.’

  ‘They must have taken Mary back to Arnold’s house,’ Luke said, his expression thunderous as he headed for the door. ‘Come on, Paul. We’d best go and bring my sister home.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Paul was the most even-tempered of souls, well aware that anger hampered rational thought and seldom solved anything. Few things riled him. But today a simmering rage filtered through his bloodstream in virulent waves. It was reminiscent of his reaction when he learned that Archie hadn’t been able to keep away from Magda Simpson despite the personal sacrifices that Paul had made to protect his friend’s reputation. He had sensed that Redfern wasn’t what he appeared to be. He should have warned Mary. He’d almost done so on several occasions, but held back for fear that he might appear over-protective—a complaint that she often voiced against all her brothers, especially Luke. He watched Luke now as he sprang into action, issuing orders for horses to be saddled and a curricle to be brought round.

  ‘She will be all right.’

  Flora’s soft words, her confident smile and manner in which she gently touched his hand in a gesture of sympathy was almost Paul’s undoing. Flora, who held a similar place in this household to his own, understood his worries better than most. She had noticed what had slipped past Luke’s attention, which was that he, Paul, was a fair way to being in love with Mary. He had been ever since she reached maturity and her own uniquely independent character had emerged.

  Flora had encouraged Mary to be herself and not to feel fettered by society’s expectations and restrictions. She had supported Mary’s decision to eschew a season because she disliked being the centre of attention and would prefer not to go through the rigmarole. Paul knew that much because Mary had told him how pleased she was to have a female close to her own age in whom she could confide.

  But Paul was a realist. Even if he had not sacrificed his education in order to preserve Archie’s reputation, and despite the fact that he was a gentleman in his own right, he knew that he would still have had to make his own way in the world. And he doubted that he would have found a position that suited him as well as this one—or rewarded him so handsomely for his efforts either. He and Luke were as close as they had ever been and Paul was treated as a member of the family. Be that as it may, he would never be in a position to offer for Mary and keep her in the style to which she was accustomed. He was sure that broaching the subject with Luke would drive a wedge between them that could never be bridged. To say nothing of seeing Paul unemployed.

  And so Paul had kept his feelings to himself. But that did not mean that he wouldn’t protect the lady who filled his thoughts and roused his passions with his dying breath. That was something that he could and would do for her.

  He tapped his foot impatiently as they reached the mews and waited for their horses to be brought out. Sam had answered Luke’s summons, and Paul naturally assumed that he himself would be delegated as the curricle’s driver while Luke and Sam rode ahead and rescued Mary. He understood that they needed a conveyance in which to bring Mary home but damn it, he wanted to plant Redfern a facer—he, himself, personally—for attempting to take liberties with the sweetest girl on God’s green earth.

  He tried to convince himself that Redfern would not have fulfilled his objectives and that they would be in time to rescue her. Otherwise, he would not be answerable for his actions. He screwed up his fists, threw back his head and let rip with a string of silent expletives that did little to calm his frazzled nerves.

  ‘Come along, Paul.’

  Luke, already astride a restless Onyx, sent Paul a curious look. It seemed that Sam had been assigned to curricle-driving duties after all. Without giving Luke an opportunity to change his mind, Paul swung into his saddle and trotted from the yard in Luke’s wake, both men wearing identically resolute expressions.

  The two friends covered the distance to Arnold’s residence at a swift pace, cutting across fields and skirting the village for fear of being held up there. Onyx’s long stride ate up the ground, churning up mud that splattered both horse and rider. Paul’s gelding, itself no slouch, managed to keep pace. Wind whipped across Paul’s face, tugging at the brim of his hat, and a light rain had started to fall, blurring his vision. Romulus, oblivious to the conditions, loped along beside them, never seeming to tire.

  ‘What if we miss them on the road?’ Paul asked, when they briefly slowed to a walk to negotiate a narrow path. ‘It is just possible, I suppose, that we’ve done Redfern an injustice and he is in the process of returning Mary home unscathed.’

  ‘Sam will have to take the road with the curricle.’ Luke’s expression remained carved in stone. ‘If he encounters them, I have told him to transfer Mary to the curricle and then send someone after us so that we are made aware.’

  Paul nodded. Of course Luke would have thought of that. Ordinarily, Paul would have got there before him and made similar suggestions, but these were far from ordinary circumstances. He forgave himself for being distracted since the prospect of Mary being manhandled by that pathetic excuse for a man filled him with a towering rage that made rational thought impossible.

  He and Luke didn’t speak again until they reached Arnold’s house an hour later. Paul hadn’t been there before and was surprised by its modest proportions.

  ‘Smaller than I expected,’ Luke remarked, rubbing the side of his face with a gloved hand to dislodge a lump of dried mud that had splattered across it.

  ‘Not what you would have expected Lucy Redfern to settle for,’ Paul agreed. ‘No wonder she feels so resentful.’

  ‘She made her choices,’ Luke replied with a marked lack of sympathy.

  They rode to the side of the house and, finding the stable yard devoid of human presence, left their horses in two empty stalls. With
Romulus leading the way, his muddy tail flapping, they then knocked at the front door.

  ‘Where is your mistress?’ Luke asked, barging past the maid who answered it.

  ‘Sir, you can’t…’

  ‘Luke!’ Lucy rushed into the entrance hall, her face paling at the sight of him.

  ‘Where is my sister?’

  ‘She’s…I was just about to…’

  She sent an uncertain glance towards the back of the house. Luke and Paul almost knocked her from her feet as they both strode in the direction of a conservatory. Romulus put his nose to the ground and barked.

  ‘She’s perfectly safe, I assure you.’

  Lucy spoke in a loud voice, as though attempting to warn Redfern of their arrival. Luke scowled when he discovered that the door had been locked from the outside. Why had Mary been locked in—and more to the point, who had done the locking? Not Redfern, if he was inside with Mary. That only left Lucy. Of all the conniving…

  Luke and Paul shared a murderous glance and Paul felt his heart plummet. Frantic and infuriated cries sounded from the conservatory as Luke kicked the door open hard enough to send it crashing against the wall. Romulus dashed in ahead of them. Redfern had thrown Mary onto a couch and she was struggling to fight him off. Paul watched her take advantage of the distraction they had caused and bring up her knee, hitting him hard in the groin. Good girl! Redfern screamed like a girl but didn’t release her.

  ‘No use fighting, my little wildcat. You’ll only increase my desire for you if you continue to resist, and that will make it worse for you.’

  He was so intent upon what he was doing that, incredibly, he hadn’t even glanced up to seek the course of the noise that had temporarily distracted him. Paul made him aware of their presence by growling louder than Romulus, grabbing the back of his collar, and physically pulling him off Mary. Far from appearing contrite at the interruption, Redfern simply gave an insolent smile.

  ‘Wait your turn,’ he said, smirking at Paul.