It was too much. Before Luke could claim first refusal, Paul put years’ worth of pent up frustration into the punch that he landed on Redfern’s chin. The man fell to the floor, blood pouring from a split lip, but didn’t lose consciousness. Instead, he sat up, still smirking, and wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His jaw appeared to have taken on a new configuration, and he seemed unable to close his mouth properly.
‘Didn’t know you had it in you, Dalton,’ he muttered, spitting blood. ‘Damned nuisance, you turning up like that. If you’d had the goodness to leave it another ten minutes…’ He shrugged. ‘Shame that. She’s an enticing little piece.’
Paul refused to listen to the rantings of a degenerate—rantings intended to incite him further, no doubt. He grabbed Redfern by the hair, lifted him to his feet and punched him again, squarely in the face this time. He heard bone crunch as Redfern fell backwards into a chair, unconscious. He looked at him briefly, satisfied that a broken nose and jaw would give his scar a new air of menace and spoil the man’s looks forever, even after his face had mended. Then he went to Mary. He pulled her skirts down to cover her modesty, and crouched at her side, taking her trembling hands in his.
‘You came,’ she said softly. ‘I knew you would. That is, I hoped I would be missed and…’
‘Are you all right? Did he…’
She swallowed, tears streaming down her face, and shook her head. ‘No, but he would have if you hadn’t come. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong, too…’
She collapsed in tears and Paul held her in his arms for the first time, just as he had done so often in his imagination, soothing her like a child. The hands that had brought such vengeance down upon Redfern now stroked her hair tenderly. Luke, astonishingly, hadn’t interceded and appeared content to stand sentry over Redfern, who was groaning and showing signs of returning consciousness.
‘Hush, it will be all right. We’re here. I am here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, my sweet. Not ever,’ he told her in a soft and fiercely protective tone.
‘I was a fool. I should have cancelled when my maid fell ill.’
‘You were not to know.’
She wriggled out of his arms and smiled tentatively at Luke. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said contritely.
‘You are not to blame,’ Luke assured her. ‘Are you sure you’re unharmed?’
‘Just frightened half out of my wits.’
‘We’ll take you home. Sam’s on his way with the curricle.’
‘I want to know why, first,’ Mary said, lifting her chin and turning a tear-stained accusatory glance upon Lucy, who stood in the doorway looking furious yet oddly complacent. ‘What have I ever done to you, Lucy, to deserve such treatment? All I have ever been is your friend. Does my friendship mean so little to you?’
‘Don’t take it personally, my dear. It isn’t just you that I resent, but your entire family.’
Mary shook her head, dislodging a few errant curls. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Ask Luke. He knows.’
‘You have the advantage of me,’ Luke snapped disdainfully.
Lucy walked further into the conservatory, two spots of colour standing out against her otherwise pale skin. A beautiful hothouse flower denied an opportunity to flourish. Rain pelted down on the glass roof, but no one took any notice. Every eye in the room was on Lucy Arnold, including Redfern’s from his position in the armchair where he continued to nurse his injuries. So much for the hardened soldier, Paul thought derisively. A couple of punches had disabled him for real this time.
‘You are no better than your father,’ Lucy said, sneering at Luke. ‘He reneged on his promises, too.’
‘Careful,’ Luke warned in a deceptively mild tone. ‘I have not reneged on any promises, and certainly none made to you, since there have never been any. I would take care about bandying unsubstantiated accusations about if I were you.’
‘You led me to believe—’
‘I led you to believe nothing, Lucy. We were children. I am sorry if my being your friend led you to suppose that there was more to it than that on my side, but if that’s what you thought then you quite mistook the matter. We never once discussed our futures. I made you no promises, offered you no assurances.’
‘But our fathers, they agreed…’
Luke shrugged. ‘If they did, which I doubt at least insofar as my own father is concerned, then he never said a word to me on the matter.’
‘Well, of course you would say that.’ Lucy screwed up her features into a mask of disgust, playing the part of the victim she believed herself to be. ‘But I know the truth. I know how you used to look at me back then. It told its own story.’
Luke flapped a hand. ‘I admired your beauty, nothing more. If you thought otherwise, then you saw what you wanted to see, and are now embarrassing yourself.’
‘I thought you would want me still.’ Lucy lowered her voice to a sulky whine, sounding like a petulant child. ‘I was willing to be your mistress, Luke, to take as much of you as you were prepared to offer me, such is the power you wield over me.’
‘Is that why you resumed our friendship when you came home from the continent?’ Mary demanded, fire in her eyes. ‘It wasn’t me who interested you. You used me to get to Luke, hoping that I would fall for your heroic brother and solve his financial problems at the same time. You resent my family and hoped to gain revenge on the lot of us. And your revenge would have been complete indeed if I’d remained blind to your brother’s many faults.’ She wiped her brow with the back of her hand. ‘Thank the good lord that did not happen.’
‘I waited and waited for your proposal, Luke,’ Lucy said, ignoring Mary’s scathing put down. ‘I turned down a dozen eligible offers because I was convinced it was me you wanted and that you would propose when you felt ready to make the commitment. But you did not, and I was in danger of being left on the shelf. Me! The most eligible and pursued debutante of my season. It was intolerable. Beyond insulting.’
‘Unbelieveable,’ Luke said without an ounce of sympathy in his tone. ‘We cannot always expect to have what we want in this world, but since you have been spoiled and indulged your entire life, I don’t suppose you understand that.’
‘I accepted Arnold as a last resort, which is why you find me in this hovel when I deserve so much better.’ Despite Luke’s warning, Lucy seemed determined to air her grievances. ‘And yet you don’t even want me as a mistress and seem to prefer that mousy companion you employed to keep your senile grandmother in line.’ Lucy twirled around, her skirts almost tripping her as they tangled with her feet. ‘It’s utterly mortifying.’
‘I have already warned you to mind what you say,’ Luke said in a mordant tone. ‘Miss Latimer has nothing to do with any of this and I will not have her name brought into it.’
Mary widened her eyes, sharing a bewildered look with Paul at Luke’s staunch defence of Flora. Clearly, she had not seen what was clear to Paul, although it was one subject that he had not discussed with his friend. He didn’t know how to broach it.
Lucy shook her head. ‘I cannot understand it at all.’
‘You married Arnold, so make the best of it and put the past behind you. I am taking my sister home now and you will not be invited to Beranger Court again.’
‘My war hero of a brother is not good enough for your family either,’ Lucy cried, her voice shrill.
Paul harrumphed. ‘Your brother is no hero. Look at him.’ Paul resisted the urge to kick the man while he was down. ‘He got that scratch on his face scrapping with another officer and a court martial was only avoided because you brother used his influence.’
Mary gasped. Lucy hung her head. Redfern said nothing at all.
‘He told me he intended to take up a career in the law, which is when I first doubted him, although I hoped I was wrong,’ Mary said. ‘I knew that he doesn’t have a degree, so how could he possibly follow that career path? I concluded that he wanted to impress me by proving that
he had every intention of working for a living and was not simply after my fortune. Perhaps I wanted to believe it for a little while.’ She glanced up at Paul, who gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. ‘If he had taken more time, courted me more assiduously, I might have been persuaded to accept his proposal.’
‘He had no time,’ Paul replied. ‘He knew that we might check up on his background and couldn’t afford to take that risk. He needed matters to be resolved quickly. I assume he engineered this afternoon’s outing in order to propose.’ Mary nodded. ‘You declined and so he decided to force your hand in the basest manner possible.’ Paul shook his head. ‘You disgust me.’ he said to Redfern, reaching forward and shaking the man by the collar. Redfern’s jaw wobbled from side to side in the way jaws shouldn’t, and he howled.
‘Come along, Mary.’ Luke spoke softly and held out his hand. ‘We are leaving.’
‘You have conveniently avoided discussing the debt of honour that your father refused to repay to ours,’ Redfern said, finally getting to his feet and clutching his ribcage. He made no attempt to fight back or defend himself. Paul shook his head in disgust. He was perfectly willing to inflict himself upon a helpless female, but wasn’t prepared to take on a man of his own size. Somehow Paul was not surprised and now felt justified in a dislike that had been instinctive and not entirely fuelled by jealousy.
‘Show me your proof of this debt,’ Luke said, his brisk tone silk on steel.
‘Your family has insulted us in every possible way. Is that not proof enough?’ Redfern replied. ‘And then, before my father could demand payment, he met with an unfortunate accident during a shooting party. A party at which your father was present. A little convenient, don’t you think?’
A chilling silence followed Redfern’s statement.
‘I suggest you think very carefully before making such suggestions public,’ Luke told him, glowering with dislike at the miserable excuse for a man. ‘If any such rumblings reach my ears you can be sure that I can and will destroy your family by suing it for every last penny it possesses. I very much doubt if your brother, now the viscount, would feel too pleased about that. He at least is an honourable man who does not think himself hard done by. Nor does he harbour grudges that have no foundation in fact. I dare say Arnold will have something to say as well if the particulars come to light.’ Paul had the satisfaction of watching Lucy’s face drain of what little colour it possessed. ‘You might be dissatisfied with your marriage, but you entered into it with your eyes open. If Arnold casts you aside, I can assure you that your future will be far less comfortable.’
‘You are not being fair,’ Lucy said, adopting a more moderate tone.
‘Says the woman who coldly arranged for my sister’s virtue to be taken by force.’ Luke glowered at her. ‘You locked her in here with your brother, so don’t bother to deny it. Who else have you spoken to about these allegations?’ Luke directed the question to Redfern. Paul knew the answer but was curious to see if Redfern would admit to it. But Redfern simply smirked and shook his head.
‘Have it your way,’ Luke replied with a casual shrug. ‘But if society gossips, then I shall know who to blame and will carry out my threat and destroy you all. Never doubt it.’
‘There were other men present at that game. They know the truth,’ Redfern said lamely.
‘If there had been anything untoward, then rumours would have emerged before now. You’re clutching at straws in an effort to justify the unjustifiable. Give it up, or you will live to regret it.’
‘I cannot be held to account for what other men might say,’ Redfern said, smirking again.
‘On the contrary,’ Luke replied.
Sam burst into the room. ‘Are you all right, squirt?’ he asked Mary, concern etched in his expression.
‘I am unharmed,’ she assured her brother, permitting him to embrace her.
‘What the hell’s been going on?’ he asked, glowering at Redfern.
‘We will tell you when we get home,’ Luke replied. ‘Come along, it will be dark soon.’ Luke turned at the door and fixed Lucy and Redfern with a warning look. ‘Just remember what I have said since I do not make idle threats.’
Chapter Fourteen
Flora felt hugely relieved when she learned that Mary had been brought home unscathed—at least physically. She saw nothing of Luke, but Paul offered her a brief account of events.
‘It is much as I supposed then,’ Flora said. ‘Poor Mary. And poor Luke, too. It cannot be easy for him. I am sure he gave Lucy no encouragement, but I’m just as sure that he’ll be re-enacting his times alone with her when they were younger to make sure that he didn’t do or say anything that might have been misinterpreted.’
‘He will, but that’s Luke for you.’ Paul swallowed, looking uncomfortable. ‘He’s sometimes too honourable, too aware of his family’s expectations to make his own choices.’
‘What is it?’ Flora asked, when Paul fell into a brooding silence.
‘Mary pretends to be feeling no ill-effects after her ordeal, but she will need someone to confide in. Will you…’
‘Of course. I was about to go to her anyway.’ Flora paused. ‘She needs us both.’
Paul glanced away. ‘I cannot…I have my duties.’
‘Luke is not a tyrant. You need some time to yourself too. I’m sure he thinks you’ve earned it.’
‘I don’t want to impose. Mary already feels she has been exploited quite enough.’
Flora’s heart went out to Paul as she watched him struggle to deny his feelings. Feelings that had been suppressed for too long. ‘Not by you.’
‘No. Never that.’
‘Did Redfern mention how my father came to know about the supposed debt of honour?’
Paul shook his head. ‘Luke didn’t push him on it, because Redfern wanted to gloat and Luke wasn’t about to play into his conniving hands.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s important to you.’
Flora offered Paul a reassuring smile as she tamped down her frustration. ‘I still cannot think how his path crossed my father’s, or why he would take the trouble to tell him something so potentially damaging even when it did. How did he even know that I was employed here? I did not make his acquaintance until after the damage had been done.’
‘Mary might have mentioned you to Lucy. She is very attached to you, you know.’
‘Even so…’ Flora spread her hands.
‘Perhaps Lucy decided that she wanted you out of the way,’ Paul suggested.
‘Me?’ Flora sent Paul an astounded look. ‘What is any of this to do with me?’
‘Luke listens to your advice. Mary might have made some idle remark that gave Lucy cause to imagine she had a rival for his affections living beneath his very roof.’
Flora laughed aloud. ‘That’s absurd!’
Paul appeared amused by Flora’s forceful denial. ‘Or perhaps Lucy decided that you were too good an influence over Mary, and that she would be easier to manipulate if you were out of the picture.’
‘That is far more likely.’ Flora felt uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. ‘But now, if you will excuse me, I have best go and see if Mary needs anything.’
‘Of course.’
Flora found Mary sitting alone in front of the fire in her private sitting room, freshly bathed and wrapped in a robe. She glanced up when Flora put her head around the door, her expression vacant.
‘Am I disturbing you?’
Mary shook her head, and Flora noticed an errant tear running down her cheek. She opened her arms and Mary threw herself into them.
‘Oh, Flora! What a mess I have made of everything.’
‘None of this is your fault. I am just glad you are all right,’ she said.
‘I was a fool, and would only have had myself to blame if…well, if Luke and Paul had not arrived in time.’ Mary disentangled herself from Flora’s arms and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘I hear I have you to thank for th
at.’
‘Don’t cry,’ Flora said, leading her back to her chair in front of the fire and forcing her to sit. Mary complied with little persuasion. ‘Your family saved you, which is all that signifies.’
‘What is it about me that makes horrible fortune-hunters think I will be pathetically grateful for their attentions?’ she asked, her anger drying her tears.
‘Don’t let it put you off men, my love. They are not all dishonourable. You have just been unlucky. The same thing happened to Miranda, as you are aware. Some men—especially the handsome ones, I find—seem to think that their looks set them apart and that they can simply take what they want and…’
‘And we pathetic women should be grateful.’ Mary lifted her chin and harrumphed. ‘I have decided to take a vow of chastity. Men are simply not worth the trouble.’
Flora laughed. ‘You will feel differently once you have recovered from your ordeal.’
Mary sniffed. ‘Paul hit Redfern, you know.’
‘Paul?’ Flora smiled. ‘He did not tell me that, but it doesn’t surprise me. He is very protective of your interests.’
‘I didn’t realise quite how much I’ve come to depend upon him over the years,’ Mary remarked. She leaned her chin on her clenched fist and her elbow on her knee, her expression contemplative, as if she hadn’t really stopped to consider the nature of her relationship with Paul before now. ‘He is like another brother to me, but I can talk to him about things I would never tell my actual brothers without fear of a scolding. I rely upon his sound common sense.’
‘I am perfectly sure that you do,’ Flora replied, thinking that it wasn’t the time to point out that Paul certainly didn’t look upon himself as her surrogate brother. ‘You could do better than spend some time sketching with him over the next few days. It will relax you and help you recover from today’s ordeal. You have remarked often enough that Paul possesses the ability to make you laugh at life’s absurdities and that his company is not demanding.’
‘Yes, perhaps I shall do that. I need to thank him properly for what he did. I wasn’t quite myself when I left Lucy’s, and probably didn’t express my gratitude.’
A Sense of Misgiving (Perceptions Book 3) Page 21