Intriguing Lady Page 4

  As she pushed her way back to the parlor, she was pleased to note that the stranger gave Sir Nicholas and Williams no more than a cursory look. His eyes were on her. She quickly donned her bonnet, and was still tying the strings as she emerged from the parlor. The man was standing where she had left him, but this time as she passed, he moved back of his own accord and bowed.

  “C’est magnifique, mademoiselle,” he murmured as she sailed by him for the second time.

  There was a further delay as Sir Nicholas sent Henri back three times to reheat the bricks. In a low voice that only Roberta, who was now seated next to him, could hear, Sir Nicholas explained that he had recognized the stranger as being one of the comte’s servants.

  “I don’t think it in our best interest to appear in any great haste to leave.”

  “At this rate, we will be lucky if we set out before noon,” Roberta quipped. “Take pity on Henri and accept the bricks he offers next time.”

  “As you wish, although I happen to think all that unaccustomed exercise is good for him.” He paused to clear his throat. “I haven’t thanked you yet for coming to my rescue just now. Your timing was perfect.”

  “Think nothing of it, Sir Nicholas,” she responded, a faint blush coloring her cheeks at his admiring tone. “I find I’m enjoying myself enormously. For the past six months, I have been forced to endure my own company, and I must confess, it has become prodigiously dreary.”

  Sir Nicholas looked at her in surprise and seemed about to ask why, when Mrs. Ashley claimed Roberta’s attention by moaning pitifully. Roberta quickly moved over and sat next to her companion. “What is it, Ashley?” she asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be all right once we are on our way, Roberta. It was that man, who made me feel all faint. The way he looked at you sent a shiver right down my spine.”

  “Demmed insolent cur,” Sir Nicholas growled. “That’s another fault with the French. They have no manners worth speaking of.” He stuck his head out of the open window and shouted for Henri, who was already scurrying across the courtyard with the offending bricks clasped tightly to his chest.

  Williams opened the door, and Henri’s face appeared. He looked up anxiously as he deftly placed the bricks around Sir Nicholas’s feet. “I am positive the comte sent his man here to check the validity of Mlle. Rushforth’s story,” he said softly. “He doesn’t suspect a thing. However, I think you had best not return for a while, Sir Nicholas. It would not be safe. The comte will have someone watching my inn for several weeks; of that you can be certain.”

  Roberta, straining to hear the conversation, caught only the last part and was intrigued. Sir Nicholas, however, merely growled and dismissed Henri brusquely.

  Henri’s face disappeared, the door was slammed shut, and they were on their way. Sir Nicholas shut his eyes and held his injured arm. Roberta could sense it hurt him and suggested he put his feet up on the seat and stretch out.

  “I think not, Miss Rushforth,” he answered. “If we are stopped, it might arouse suspicion. However, if you could contrive to push an extra cushion under this wretched arm of mine, that might ease the pain.”

  Henri had thoughtfully supplied plenty of pillows, and Roberta wedged a few of them about his injured limb. “I think that will absorb most of the jolts and bumps,” she said. “Does it throb dreadfully?”

  “Quite,” he replied, opening his eyes. “But if you sit across from me, the sight of that absurd confection atop your head will take my mind off it entirely.”

  Roberta laughed but did as he requested, while Mrs. Ashley clucked disapprovingly.

  They journeyed on in silence. Sir Nicholas dozed fitfully, and Mrs. Ashley busied herself with her tatting. Roberta tried to read, but couldn’t concentrate. Her mind, as if with a will of its own, kept wandering over the events of last night. Nothing made sense. She was still engaged in trying to pull Sir Nicholas’s story apart, when the carriage halted abruptly.

  Mrs. Ashley immediately dropped her half-finished doily on the floor and looked fearfully toward the window. Sir Nicholas opened his eyes and quickly hunched himself over, half turning his back to the window. Roberta picked up her book and made a great pretense of being deeply involved in its pages.

  A few moments later, a man dressed in military uniform rode up. He opened the door of the carriage, and the three occupants stared at him with varying degrees of outrage.

  “How dare you intrude on our privacy, young man! Close the door immediately,” Sir Nicholas roared. “I don’t know when I have been so rudely treated.”

  “There, there, Papa,” Roberta said, “I’m sure there must be a good reason for this stoppage.” She turned back toward the soldier and leaned forward slightly, enough to shield Sir Nicholas from any penetrating stare. “Can we help you, sir?” she inquired, and then repeated it in French when he looked confused, adding, “Have you lost something, perhaps?”

  The soldier, obviously enchanted by the picture she presented, smiled at her nervously. “I am so sorry to have intruded, mademoiselle. In truth, we are searching for a fugitive—a man some five and thirty years, with an injured right arm.”

  Roberta shook her head, her eyes wide with apparent fear. “Is he dangerous?” she asked, her voice breathless.

  “Desperate, ruthless even, so I have been told,” the young soldier answered. “But I doubt he will bother you. I’m sure he couldn’t have reached this far, but we have orders to stop everyone.”

  “Roberta,” Sir Nicholas interrupted impatiently, “whatever it is that you find of such great interest, I demand you cease your inquiries. I will not tolerate such ragged manners from anyone, and to be disturbed in the middle of my rest by some whippersnapper who can do no more than ogle you in the most disgusting fashion is outside of enough!”

  Roberta smiled her apologies at the young man. As he hadn’t understood a word, for Sir Nicholas had spoken in English, he returned her smile warmly. “You have seen no one of that description?” he asked.

  Roberta shook her head. “As you can see, we only have two men in our party. Williams, the coachman, and Papa, who suffers terribly from gout.”

  “Whither are you bound, mademoiselle?” he asked.

  “Calais. We are returning to England after spending the past six months in Switzerland.” She put her hand to her chest and coughed slightly. “I have been there for treatment.”

  A command from behind the soldier caused him to stiffen, and with obvious reluctance, he started to shut the door. “I hope you are fully recovered, mademoiselle,” he said, then slammed the door and galloped away.

  “Really, Roberta,” Mrs. Ashley said, “I’m appalled by your behavior. I would never have believed you were capable of conducting yourself so wantonly.” Her anger had seemingly chased away her previous fears.

  “But Ashley,” Roberta protested, trying hard not to laugh, “I was only trying to keep the young man’s attention from Sir Nicholas. I would never dream of behaving so flirtatiously in London.”

  Mrs. Ashley subsided into her corner and sighed. “I just hope Lord Bromley will understand and forgive me for being so gullible. I can’t imagine why I let you get embroiled in this farrago. There’s no saying where it will end.”

  “In England, Mrs. Ashley,” Sir Nicholas replied humorously, in an attempt to ease her distress. “That is, if my gout doesn’t flare up again.”

  “I can see I am wasting my time,” Mrs. Ashley snapped. “It is apparent that neither of you, Sir Nicholas, nor you, Roberta, are in the mood to acknowledge that every minute we spend on French soil is a dangerous one.” She sniffed loudly and resumed her tatting. The only indication of her extreme displeasure was the speed with which her fingers plied the shuttle.

  Roberta and Sir Nicholas exchanged bemused glances. “Tell me, Sir Nicholas,” Roberta said after a suitable pause, “what are you really escaping from?”

  “The comte’s anger,” he replied, suppressing a yawn with difficulty. “He is known to have an u
ngovernable temper.”

  “I find that hard to accept. I don’t believe an affair of the heart would cause such a pother.” She eyed him skeptically. “There must be something more than you’re telling.”

  “And what do you know of such affairs?” Sir Nicholas quizzed in a jocular fashion. “Nothing, I’m sure. A genteel lady would have been sheltered from such knowledge.” He spoke softly, and his voice only just carried to Roberta over the noise of the wheels.

  “Good heavens, Sir Nicholas!” Roberta exclaimed impatiently. “I’m not a maiden just out of the schoolroom. I have seen more Seasons than I care to admit, and am fully cognizant of the affairs that most of my married friends indulge in.”

  “Then you must also be aware that when one’s family honor has been besmirched, a man will go to great lengths to avenge it. Such is the case with the comte.”

  “Now I really do not comprehend why you are running away. I always understood such matters were settled by a duel.”

  “But the scandal, Miss Rushforth!” Sir Nicholas said in horrified tones. “If I killed the comte, as I surely would be forced to, I doubt I would ever get out of France. He is a man with enormous power in his country, even if he is not well liked. No, Miss Rushforth, ’tis the idea of being forced to languish in a French jail that is causing me to flee now.”

  Roberta leaned back and sighed. It seemed pointless, trying to prise the truth out of him. If he wanted to be thought a coward, that was his affair. She stole a glance at his profile and was annoyed to see that he was smiling at her.

  “Really, Sir Nicholas, you are displaying an offending lack of concern over your present predicament. I would have expected you to be abject in your demeanor and to show Mrs. Ashley and myself more gratitude for helping effect your cowardly escape.”

  Sir Nicholas’s smile broadened into a grin, which infuriated Roberta further.

  “Handicapped as I am, Miss Rushforth, I cannot show you how truly grateful I am. But, please, I beg you to accept my thanks. It is sincere, I do assure you.”

  Roberta refused to be mollified, and to show how out of patience she was with him, she turned away slightly. She felt certain that he was enjoying a huge joke at her expense, and she didn’t like it at all. Even Stephen had never dared goad her when her temper was roused. Dear, dear Stephen had known how to treat her. She felt the familiar constriction of her heart as she thought of him, and suddenly wondered what she was going to do when she met him again. A meeting would be inevitable when she resumed her place in Society, for they still shared many friends. She sighed again.

  Mrs. Ashley could tell at a glance that the bleakness of Roberta’s face was caused by thoughts of Stephen Davenport, but Sir Nicholas, who was not privy to the secrets of Roberta’s heart, could only speculate about her sudden change of mood. He swiftly concluded that she was regretting her hasty decision to aid him—one, he was certain, she had only taken to annoy Mrs. Ashley. If that were the case, then he would have to take care not to rile her further. It was imperative that he reach England as quickly as possible, and she offered him the only hope of achieving his goal.

  “Forgive me, Miss Rushforth,” he said contritely. “I don’t mean to seem evasive. You must put my reluctance to talk plainly of such matters down to my natural reticence in embroiling ladies of your station in my personal affairs. I find it difficult to discuss them and am afraid of causing you further offense.”

  Roberta inclined her head slightly, indicating that she accepted his apology. In truth, she was beginning to feel ashamed of her outburst. “My curiosity is to blame,” she replied, recalling how Stephen used to tease her about it and warn her that she would be termed a meddlesome busybody if she didn’t curb her inquiring mind. “Your business is no concern of mine, although, in my own defense, I would hazard a guess that you grew up without sisters.” She paused long enough for Sir Nicholas to acknowledge the truth of her statement and ask how she knew. “It is quite apparent that you have no real understanding of the fairer sex. Had you had even one sister, you would realize that all young girls delight in gossiping about the way their brothers kick up their heels and squander money in riotous living. They know a lot more than you would ever dream about the charms of the ballet girls, paramours and such, even if they choose to profess innocence.”

  “Indeed, Miss Rushforth!” he exclaimed, genuinely intrigued. “I would never have believed it. I don’t think I’ve ever directed a thought to what young ladies talk about. I suppose, unconsciously, I have always assumed that they were too involved in absorbing the intricacies of running a household in preparation for their marriages, to have the time to consider what their brothers were up to.”

  “An antiquated notion, Sir Nicholas,” Roberta responded. “Modern ladies are far better educated than their predecessors, and well read in Greek and Latin. And it is the classics, Sir Nicholas, that feed their imagination. There is little they don’t know of Roman orgies and Greek perversions, and they assume, rightly or wrongly, that if men indulged in such passions centuries ago, they still do today. Personally, I don’t believe all men are such hedonists. My uncle, for instance, and many of his friends and acquaintances, are serious-minded and concern themselves with the extreme poverty suffered by a large portion of the population in England. But”—she shrugged her shoulders—“that is a topic that most people shy away from, and certainly not one that is discussed in many drawing rooms today.”

  “I’m afraid my ignorance on that matter leaves me little else to say,” Sir Nicholas murmured, and closed his eyes as though he were too weary to continue the conversation. The truth was that he knew a lot more than Roberta. However, he’d best be prudent, and so maintained his silence. If he allowed himself to inform her just what was being done to ease the plight of the poor, and his involvement in these plans, it would lend a lie to the image of his being a roué that he had striven so hard to give.

  Roberta looked at him with disdain for a moment, and then resumed her study of the countryside. She should have known better than to try to conduct a serious conversation with a man of such rakish persuasions, she thought ruefully, and then followed his example and closed her eyes.

  She was soon fast asleep, and only woke when Williams stopped and announced that they had arrived at Bethune, where they were to spend the night.

  Chapter 5

  By the time the party was ensconced in the carriage the next morning, it was evident that Roberta’s ill humor concerning Sir Nicholas had evaporated. It appeared that her only concern was whether the comte was following them.

  “You appear to have a certain knowledge of his character, Sir Nicholas. Is it likely that he would give up his search for you so easily?” she inquired.

  “He has probably decided that he has a better chance of finding me if he watches every boat that leaves Calais, instead of searching every carriage that passes through Le Cateau bound for Calais.”

  “So we might not have seen the last of him, then?” she pressed.

  “Anything is possible, Miss Rushforth, but once we are aboard the packet, we can safely assume that he won’t bother us again.”

  “Then I pray we accomplish that without mishap,” Mrs. Ashley said fervently, “for I have no desire to meet this man.”

  Her prayers were answered late in the afternoon, for they boarded the boat without delay. Williams managed to persuade the captain to assign his party three of the best staterooms, and settled them in before he went off to superintend the unloading of the carriage.

  From her porthole, Roberta viewed the bustle on the quayside with interest. Young boys, staggering under the weight of large trunks, scurried up the gangplank, while the owners of the luggage stood about in small groups, waiting until the last possible moment to board. No one, it seemed to Roberta, was in a hurry to leave France. No one, that is, except Sir Nicholas.

  Strong male voices, shouting directions, penetrated the thin walls of her cabin, and finally she heard the noise of the heavy chain anchor being
weighed. The gangplank was drawn in, and all activity on the quayside seemed to stop. They were off at last, and she sighed in relief.

  Suddenly a loud shout broke the silence, and Roberta saw a man hidden under a black-and-gold cape of hideous design trying to attract the captain’s attention. Seconds later, the gangplank was lowered, and the man boarded. The packet then left the safety of the harbor and was soon plying its way over the choppy waters of the English Channel.

  Darkness had fallen by the time boredom drove Roberta from her cabin. Mrs. Ashley was prostrate on her bunk with seasickness, moaning her misery for anyone who cared to hear. There was nothing Roberta could do to help the poor woman, so she wandered up onto the top deck and held the rail for support. A full moon cast its luminous light over the boat. The North Star was bright, and she stared upward, trying to identify the constellations.

  “It is an awesome sight, mademoiselle, n’est ce pas?”

  The familiar voice of the comte caused a shock wave to ripple through her body, and she gripped the rail tightly. What a fool she had been to leave the safety of her cabin. And how stupid to think they had escaped him!

  “It is Mlle. Rushforth, isn’t it?” he continued smoothly, oblivious to the look of horror on her face. “I met you yesterday in Le Cateau.”

  Roberta nodded in a dreamlike fashion and wondered how he had discovered her name. She wanted to pinch herself to make certain she was awake and not suffering some terrible nightmare. But the awful reality of her situation was borne swiftly home when she felt him grip her elbow. His fingers were like a steel trap, and she suddenly felt as vulnerable as any caught animal.

  “Would you care for a stroll, perhaps?” he asked. “You might take a chill if you just stand in this cold wind. After your recent illness, I think that would not be advised.”

  “No—no, thank you, Monsieur le Comte. I—I have been away from my cabin too long as it is. Ashley and Papa will be worried.” She tried to pull her arm free, but his grasp was relentless.