Intriguing Lady Read online

  “Ah! Indeed, mademoiselle. She is beautiful. But, unfortunately, she is like the rare butterfly, whose name I forget, that feeds only on the leaves of milkweed.”

  “But I thought milkweed was poisonous to insects,” Roberta commented, surprised by the venom in Marie’s voice.

  “As is her soul,” Marie responded firmly. “I have seen what she has done to many of the young men here. But that is not our concern. Sir Nicholas is a determined man and refused to heed my warnings.” She retrieved Roberta’s empty plate and bustled to the door. “I will bring you some fresh coffee now, oui?”

  Roberta nodded, sorry that Marie’s confidences had ended. She would have liked to have heard more of the beauty Sir Nicholas had risked his life to see. There was something about the story that bothered her. Her first impression of Sir Nicholas had been that he was a forceful person but not foolhardy. And surely only a foolhardy man would have persisted in conducting an illicit liaison with the comte’s sister.

  Her reverie was rudely interrupted by the sounds of someone banging loudly on the outer door of the inn. The noise echoed down the corridor, bringing her to her feet in haste. It was a noise only a thoughtless person would make so early in the day, a person who cared not at all for anyone else’s desire to sleep. She was about to open the parlor door and find out the cause of the commotion, when Marie appeared.

  “Oh! Mademoiselle, please stay here,” she whispered in great agitation. “It’s the comte. Henri will see what he wants.”

  “Indeed? I think I want to see this comte for myself,” Roberta responded with spirit. “Anyone who displays such bad manners deserves to be rebuked.”

  “Non—non—Please don’t go,” Marie said as she tried unsuccessfully to block the doorway. “Sir Nicholas would not like it, I’m sure.”

  “Nonsense, Marie. You stay here if you wish, but I’m not going to. This is the first piece of excitement that has come my way in the longest time, and I refuse to turn my back on it.”

  She swept past Marie and reached the corridor just as Henri withdrew the last bolt from the front door. She stood back in the shadows as he swung the heavy oak door open, and she was able to get a clear look at the comte.

  He was very tall and distinguished. His thick black hair, swept backward in a style similar to Sir Nicholas’s, was caught at his nape by a black ribbon. His brows, black and menacing, were pulled together in a frown, and in his left hand a riding crop was raised as if he were readying himself to pound the door again. His dress was all black except for the white relief of his stock, which fell in careful folds over his riding jacket. Even the three rings on his fingers were black. Roberta shuddered. He was not a man she would care to cross.

  He glowered down at Henri and appeared to consider him for the longest time, in much the same way a bird would consider a worm. Henri stood his ground, and Roberta was impressed by this show of defiance.

  “Bonjour, Monsieur le Comte,” Henri said pleasantly. “Do we have the pleasure of serving you breakfast this morning?”

  “Mon dieu!” the comte said, his teeth clenched. “You know why I’m here. Do not make the mistake of thinking me a fool. I know you are harboring the Englishman. The one my men injured last night as he fled my sister’s boudoir. Take me to him immediately.”

  Henri shrugged his shoulders, and Roberta imagined the bewildered look he must be presenting. “I’m afraid I don’t understand you, Monsieur le Comte. We have no one of that description staying here. You must be mistaken.”

  The comte brought his riding crop down savagely on the doorpost. “I will not bear with your lies, you idiot. Stand back and let me search this place myself.” He pushed past Henri and strode toward the stairs.

  Roberta glimpsed the dismay on Henri’s face as he swung around and tried to stop the comte. She quickly emerged from her hiding place.

  “Ah! There you are, Henri,” she said, ignoring the comte, who had his foot on the first stair. “My father would like you to help ready him for our journey. But”—she turned slowly and acknowledged the comte’s presence by inclining her head graciously in his direction—“if you are busy, I shall tell him to have patience.”

  She moved toward the comte, forcing him to retreat. He bowed low, and she dimpled her cheeks in an engaging smile.

  “Thank you,” she said. “You know how it is with old people. They do so hate to be kept waiting.”

  “Of course, mademoiselle,” the comte replied, his voice softening perceptibly. “I hope I didn’t disturb his rest just now, with my loud knocking. I didn’t know Henri had any other guests last night apart from my friend.”

  Roberta raised her finely arched brow at this remark and then laughed, a low, melodious sound that filled the hallway.

  “’Pon rep!” she exclaimed. “And I thought we had the inn to ourselves. Had I known that we shared it with such a boisterous party, I would have found something quieter.” Her smile took the sting from her words. “Excuse me,” she continued. “Please do not let me keep you.” She made a small curtsy and walked slowly up the stairs.

  The comte stared at her retreating back as she entered Sir Nicholas’s room.

  “Papa,” he heard her say, “a very nice man is most apologetic lest his noisy arrival disturbed you. Henri will be here directly, and then we can be on our way.” The door closed.

  “You have no objections, I trust, Henri, if I look into the other rooms?”

  Henri shook his head. “No, it is as I said, Monsieur le Comte. It is just the young lady, her father, and a woman companion staying here. I beg that you don’t burst into the old lady’s room. She will not take kindly to such an intrusion; of that I can assure you.”

  The comte hesitated and looked up the stairs. The barely audible voices of two people engaged in conversation filtered down. He turned and faced Henri squarely.

  “If you have lied to me, my friend,” he snarled, “and it comes to my attention that you have been harboring this fugitive, you will pay dearly.”

  A pained expression flitted across Henri’s face. “Would I dare to misinform you, Monsieur le Comte? But please, don’t take my word. Have a look around the inn.”

  “No, you fool, I don’t want to bear with the ravings of an aging English lady. Just remember, you will suffer if I find out you have lied to me.”

  He stormed out, slamming the door behind him, and Henri stood where he was until Marie joined him.

  “Mon dieu, Henri,” she cried. “What will become of us if he should ever discover the truth?” She clung to him for support. “I told you I wanted no part of Sir Nicholas’s liaison with that woman. No one interferes with the comte’s family without suffering.”

  “Now, Marie,” Henri admonished gently, “this is not the time to draw back. Sir Nicholas is a good man, and we have promised to help him. Take heart from Mlle. Rushforth’s attitude. What a magnificent drama she played! You should have seen how quickly she tamed the comte. Come, let us congratulate her.”

  When they reached Sir Nicholas’s room, they found the door locked. Before Henri could knock, they heard Roberta’s voice, raised in scolding tones.

  “She must think we are the comte,” Henri whispered admiringly. “Hear the exasperation in her voice. I begin to feel confident that Sir Nicholas will manage his escape to England after all.”

  Henri knocked on the door and identified himself. The key was turned, and Roberta peered out cautiously.

  “Has that dreadful man gone?” she whispered.

  Marie nodded. “Henri told him that your companion was likely to throw a hysterical fit if he disturbed her, so he decided against searching our inn. Oh! Mademoiselle Rushforth, how can we ever thank you enough for what you did?” She stretched up and kissed Roberta on the cheek.

  Roberta hugged the little Frenchwoman and laughed in delight. “I haven’t enjoyed myself so much in an age,” she said. She stepped back and opened the door wide. “Come in,” she said.

  Sir Nicholas was still in bed. Three p
illows were propping him up in a sitting position, and in his right hand was a small pistol.

  “You can put that murderous thing down,” Roberta said as Henri and Marie entered. “Your inquisitive friend has gone.”

  “But you are wrong to assume that you have nothing more to fear,” Henri cautioned. “The comte is a dangerous man and is used to having his own way. I’m afraid for you, mademoiselle. He took you in great liking.”

  But Roberta was not to be frightened. “There is nothing he can do to me,” she declared. “Why, if he tried to waylay me, it would cause a diplomatic furor. My uncle would see to that.”

  “I think Henri has overstated the case,” Sir Nicholas replied calmly, frowning at the innkeeper. “However, I think it in our best interests to depart immediately, although, if we are to give any credence to your story, Miss Rushforth, we can hardly dash along pell-mell to Calais. I will instruct your coachman to drive at a sedate pace, so that if any of the comte’s men are watching the turnpikes, we will not arouse their suspicions.”

  “I will tell Williams,” Roberta retorted, annoyed by his presumptuous attitude. “He does not take kindly to receiving orders from strangers. In fact, if you have no objections, Sir Nicholas, I will have to tell him who you really are, else he might refuse to take you up in our carriage. He’s an old man, and a mite set in his ways.”

  “He’s as stubborn as they come,” Henri concurred, “but he’ll not give any secrets away. You can trust him, Sir Nicholas.”

  Sir Nicholas shrugged. “’Twould seem I have no choice,” he said with seeming nonchalance. “Appeal to his patriotic senses, I beg you, Miss Rushforth, if he shows any signs of refusing.”

  “He won’t,” Roberta replied with more conviction than she felt. “I will arrange things to everyone’s satisfaction. Perhaps, Henri, you could help age Sir Nicholas.” She stood back and critically surveyed the gentleman. “I think by at least twenty years, don’t you? He must look old enough to be my father, in case we are stopped. And, Marie, would you be kind enough to prepare us a hamper of food? I fear it would be unwise for us to stop more often than we must.”

  Sir Nicholas smiled his appreciation at these arrangements and watched Roberta with approval as she left the room.

  “I do believe I’m going to enjoy the next few days,” he murmured as Henri helped him out of bed. “She’s a remarkable lady, isn’t she, Henri?”

  He might not have been so cheerful had he been privy to Roberta’s conversation with Mrs. Ashley. That good lady, having spent a sleepless night, was in no mood to listen to Roberta’s request that she ready herself for an immediate departure.

  “I’m not feeling very well, Roberta,” she complained. She did, indeed, look pale. “I had no sleep at all, for just as I was dozing off, a great hullabaloo started, with some mad Frenchman banging on the door as if he were intent on bringing it down. That, on top of the events of last night, is too much for my delicate constitution to tolerate.”

  “I know, Ashley, but I’m afraid we have no alternative. We have to leave for Calais this morning. It is too dangerous for Sir Nicholas to spend another hour here. That madman you referred to was the comte.” She refrained from mentioning her part in the earlier drama.

  “Really, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley protested faintly. “You mustn’t get yourself embroiled in this. Lord Bromley will be very, very angry.”

  “He would be angry if he heard that we refused to help an Englishman,” she responded. “Come along, Ashley,” she urged. “It will only be for a few days, just until we are safely aboard the packet to Dover. Sir Nicholas won’t need our help once he is on English soil.”

  “You can hardly abandon him then,” Mrs. Ashley argued illogically. “He’s injured. He may still need our assistance.”

  “Then you agree?” Roberta asked, and when Mrs. Ashley nodded, she hugged her. “Thank you. I don’t care what Sir Nicholas’s reason is for escaping; I’m just glad we can be of use, for I found the comte to be a bully.”

  Mrs. Ashley fixed a penetrating stare on Roberta. “When did you meet him?” she asked shrewdly.

  “Only in a manner of speaking,” Roberta answered quickly. “I overheard him shouting at Henri. He sounded highly intolerant.”

  “And what did he look like?” There was a lively curiosity to Mrs. Ashley’s voice that surprised Roberta.

  “Satanic!” she replied, and then inclined her head thoughtfully. “Why do you ask?”

  “I have the strangest feeling that we haven’t seen the last of him. No matter. And has Williams agreed to another passenger?”

  “Yes. I had to use a little more persuasion than with you, Ashley. He is willing enough now, though.”

  She recalled the conversation she had had with her coachman a little while back. It had been an odd one. Williams had only relented when she had mentioned Sir Nicholas by name. Indeed, now that she thought about it, she was certain Williams had recognized the name.

  She would ask her uncle about it when she arrived in England. If anyone knew anything, he would, and she couldn’t deny that she was developing an interest in Sir Nicholas.

  Chapter 4

  Roberta watched Williams from the open doorway of the inn as he checked to see if the horses were properly harnessed. It was always a pleasure to witness his strong, capable hands working in such an expert way.

  “Does everything pass muster, Williams?” she called out.

  He straightened up and nodded. “I’m about finished here,” he replied. “I’ll just go upstairs and see if I can be of any use there. Sommat tells me Henri could use a bit of help.”

  Roberta laughed. “Papa is not that infirm,” she said, finding it difficult to believe that Sir Nicholas would accept the helping hands of two men well into their fifties. He would look far too undignified, and that, she felt, wouldn’t suit his arrogant soul one whit. “But you had best go and check Henri’s handiwork,” she added softly as Williams passed her. “I left him in charge of aging Sir Nicholas. Don’t forget, he is supposed to be my father.”

  “Very good, Miss Roberta. I’ll do as you suggest.”

  Roberta retreated to the parlor to wait. She had long since finished readying herself for the journey, and all she had left to do was put on her bonnet. It was perched on the back of one of the settles, and she eyed it now in delight. It was a gay little thing, all netting, feathers and flowers. She had almost decided against buying it, because it had been expensive, but she was glad now that she had. It suited her present adventurous mood to perfection. She ran her finger down one of the feathers just as Mrs. Ashley joined her.

  “Surely you’re not going to wear that, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley exclaimed. “It would be such a shame if you ruined it before we got to England.”

  “I can’t imagine why you think I’ll spoil it, Ashley. After all, I shall be sitting in the carriage all day. Anyway, it suits my present mood.”

  “But you’ll only draw attention to yourself,” Mrs. Ashley said, shaking her head. “And that, I should think, would have been the last thing you wished to do, on account of our extra passenger.”

  “Nonsense, Ashley. That’s the very thing I’m striving for. If we are stopped by the comte or any of his men, I don’t want them to look at anyone but me. Now, don’t worry,” she added hastily as a worried look settled on Mrs. Ashley’s face. “We probably won’t encounter anybody, but it is better to be prepared.” She broke off as she heard a noise outside and turned toward the door. “Ah! That must be Sir Nicholas.”

  She placed her bonnet on a side table, then walked into the corridor and watched with amusement as Sir Nicholas made his way slowly down the stairs. He was flanked by Williams and Henri and, in a voice she didn’t recognize, was testily issuing orders to Williams for fresh hot bricks to be placed in the carriage.

  “You can never trust these damned Frenchies to do the right thing, Williams,” he said with a fine disregard for Henri’s feelings. “They have no idea about creature comforts, except when it
comes to filling their bellies with wine.”

  The change in Sir Nicholas was miraculous, and Roberta marveled at the transformation. His shoulders, seemingly bowed with age, forced him into a low stoop. A clever stance, she thought approvingly, for it made him appear to be a good six inches shorter than his natural height. He leaned heavily on a silver cane, which he grasped with his left hand. His right arm rested on his lower back. There was no trace of his copper hair. It was now white, as were his brows. Deep lines were carved in his cheeks, and more hugged the corners of his eyes and mouth. His clothes she recognized immediately as those belonging to Williams. He looked very much as though he were an eccentric old man who gave no thought to his appearance.

  When he finally reached the bottom stair, Roberta clapped in delight. Sir Nicholas stood up and made an elegant leg. His eyes, the only feature she recognized, were brimming with laughter. Then the sound of someone entering the inn caused him to bend over again, and in a querulous voice he ordered her to his side. She complied quickly and placed herself protectively at his right elbow.

  “You’ve kept me waiting long enough, Roberta,” he said for the benefit of the visitor. “And where is that woman Ashley? I hope she is not still complaining about the noise that awoke us all this morning.”

  “Papa, please don’t work yourself up so. Ashley has been ready for the longest time. See, here she is now. Come, Ashley,” Roberta continued quickly as she caught sight of the stranger, who now stood in the corridor, effectively blocking their exit. “Papa is anxious to make Bethune by nightfall.”

  She led the way down the passageway, relinquishing her position at Sir Nicholas’s side to Williams. Mrs. Ashley brought up the rear with Henri. As Roberta drew level with the man, she stared at him haughtily, and when he made no attempt to move, she waved her hand in an imperious gesture.

  “If you will excuse us, sir,” she said, and breathed a sigh of relief when at last he stood back. She passed him without so much as a nod, and when she judged that Williams and Sir Nicholas would be level with him, turned back. “My bonnet!” she cried. “I forgot my bonnet!”