Читать книгу A Scoundrel of Consequence - Хелен Диксон, Хелен Диксон, Helen Dickson - Страница 9

Seated in his carriage taking him back to Grosvenor Square, the anger caused by Miss Greenwood’s censure to his character continued to burn inside William. Normally he would have smiled and shrugged such comments off as being of no consequence, whereas this time the self-confident, invulnerable Lord Lampard, who always treated women with amused tolerance, had been driven to walk away from Miss Greenwood because she had artlessly spoken the truth.

The wager he had made with Charles against his better judgement bothered him, and his conscience that he thought long since dead chose that moment to resurrect itself. Realising the enormity of what he’d done, already he was regretting it. He had taken the wager to seduce and dishonour a woman he had found to be full of goodness, trusting and candid, with a combination of wisdom and naïveté and undeniably lovely. Miss Greenwood was above a mere dalliance. May God forgive him. It was madness, and he hated himself with a virulence that nearly knocked the breath out of him.

For the first time in a long time, he had met a woman without guile. Her young innocent face passed before his mind’s eye, a face of much seriousness, a ripe, opulent beauty that made his blood stir hotly. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined anyone like Miss Greenwood. What an enchanting creature she was, artlessly sophisticated, part-angel, part-spitfire. For some peculiar reason that was quite beyond him, it mattered to him what she thought of him.

By the time his carriage drew up outside his residence, his anger had abated and his stomach clenched at the unmannerly way in which he had left her. He had decided not to pursue Miss Greenwood. She would be in no danger from him. There was no room in his life for women like her—not even her blue-green eyes, her face of an angel and a body to rival that of Venus, would make him change his mind.

To hell with Grisham and his wager, he thought as he shoved open the carriage door and stepped down into the street. It was off. He could have the damned horse.

The following morning Cassandra left for Kensington, leaving Emma to spend the rest of the day with Aunt Elizabeth, who, according to Emma, was to indulge her young charge in her favourite pastime of shopping. Not having retired until the early hours, Aunt Elizabeth had not surfaced from her bed so Cassandra had to take Emma’s word for this—although she had no reason to doubt what she said, for Emma spent a good deal of her time at Monkton House being pampered by Aunt Elizabeth.

When Cassandra bade her sister farewell, she thought how pale Emma looked. There was also a strange, vague look in her eyes that told Cassandra her mind was on other things. She did not pay any heed to it just then, but she would have reason to remember it later.

Cassandra and her mother had just finished their evening meal when a flustered and highly distraught Lady Monkton arrived.

‘Oh, my dears, something quite dreadful has occurred—something so dreadful I don’t know how I am ever going to tell you.’

Concerned, Cassandra immediately went to her, anxiously studying the worried lines on her face. ‘Dear Aunt Elizabeth,’ she said, taking her hand, ‘you are upset. Come and sit down.’

When her ample body was comfortably ensconced in a large winged chair, Lady Monkton snapped open her ivory fan and began to agitate the air close to her face. ‘What I have to tell you will come as such a shock to you. I wonder how to break it.’

Instinct told Cassandra that her aunt’s distressed state had something to do with Emma. ‘It’s Emma, isn’t it? Tell us quickly, Aunt Elizabeth.’

‘It’s not good news, is it, Elizabeth?’ Harriet whispered, her hand clutching the collar of her dress at her throat.

‘She’s—she’s gone—run away—eloped—with Edward Lampard.’

‘Run away?’ Harriet recoiled, her voice incredulous. ‘Oh, dear God.’ She sat down, her colour gone, her eyes haunted.

Incensed, at first Cassandra couldn’t form a coherent thought. Not until she looked up and saw her mother’s pale face beneath her lace-and-ribbon cap did she collect her scattered wits.

Deeply shocked, reaching for Cassandra’s hand, Harriet stared at her cousin. Her mother was a strong woman, renowned for her ability to maintain her composure even in times of stress, and through her work at the institute accustomed to hard work. Having dealt with the grief and heartache she had suffered on the death of her beloved James, she had thought she could deal with most things, but Emma’s unpardonable, inconsiderate and shocking behaviour had come as a hard blow.

‘Believe me when I tell you that I had no inclination she would do this,’ Lady Monkton said in a broken voice, dabbing at her moist eyes with her handkerchief, ‘and I am so sorry. I hold myself entirely responsible. Oh, I know she is fond of that young man—flattered by the attention he showers on her—what eighteen-year-old wouldn’t be? He is handsome and exciting—first cousin to Lord William Lampard, whose lineage is impeccable. Their fathers were directly descended from one of England’s oldest families, as was Lord Lampard’s mother.’

‘Yes—the ideal man for her to become acquainted with after she has made her début,’ Harriet said quietly. ‘But not at this time. I do so want her to meet other eligible young men before she settles down to marriage. Oh, the stupid girl. I knew Edward Lampard had drawn her attention, but I had no idea she had any partiality for him. Why could she not have waited? But patience never was one of Emma’s good points. None of this is your fault, Elizabeth.’

‘You are too kind, Harriet, but how could this have happened?’ Lady Monkton wailed. ‘All my hopes, all my plans—and then she elopes.’ She shook her head dejectedly. ‘I just can’t believe it.’

‘You have shown Emma nothing but kindness, doing all that could reasonably be expected of you—always steadfast and reliable. Since James died, you have been such a great comfort to me and made a real difference to all our lives—especially Emma’s. For that I shall be eternally grateful. No, Elizabeth, I do not blame you—only my silly, wilful, Emma, and myself. I spend so much of my time at the institute that I failed to see what she was up to.’

‘Ungrateful, foolish girl,’ Cassandra retorted, seething, mentally berating her sister. ‘I always said her forward behaviour would bring her grief. I knew how she felt about Edward Lampard and I tried talking to her, but where that young man is concerned she will not be reasoned with. Still, I never dreamt she would do something like this.’

‘I truly believed Emma had returned home with you, Cassandra. It wasn’t until one of the maids was tidying her room and came upon a note left on her dressing table that I became aware of what she had done.’ Plunging her hand into her reticule, Lady Monkton produced the note.

Cassandra took it and scanned what was written in her sister’s untidy handwriting. Her mind seized what Emma had done and her blood ran cold. ‘She writes that she is leaving London, that she is running away with Edward Lampard. They are in love and cannot live without each other. They are to be married in Scotland.’ The missive was signed with a flourishing, Emma.

‘But where in Scotland can she have gone?’ Harriet asked.

‘Gretna Green, I would say,’ her cousin answered, ‘that is the first changing post over the border. The marriage of a minor without parental consent is illegal in England, but there is no such barrier in Scotland—and it does seem to be fashionable and romantic for young people to elope to Gretna Green at this time.’

‘That young man must have arranged everything,’ Harriet said. ‘Emma wouldn’t know how. Dear God in heaven, Cassandra! What are we to do? We must get her back before it’s too late—before—before he…’

‘There’s only one thing we can do, Mama. I’ll go and see Captain Lampard. If he knows about this, then he may already be halfway to Scotland in pursuit. My guess is that he doesn’t. Edward wouldn’t want him giving chase. If he decides to go after them, I’ll go with him.’

Her mother was appalled. ‘But—you can’t go calling on a gentleman, Cassandra, and most certainly you cannot go all the way to Scotland. I forbid it.’

‘Mama, this is no time to concern ourselves with such trivial matters. In this case I have no qualms about going against the rules of protocol. Emma’s reputation is at stake so not a word of this must get out, otherwise she will never be able to show her face in society. Please don’t worry. I’ll bring her back.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Lady Monkton volunteered, trying to rise out of her chair. A pained expression crossed her features and her hand went to her chest. ‘Oh, dear. My dyspepsia’s beginning to trouble me again.’

‘Please don’t worry yourself,’ Cassandra said, her jaw set as she stuffed Emma’s note into her pocket. ‘Stay and take care of Mama. I’ll have a stomach powder and a glass of warm milk sent in.’

Harriet went to her daughter. ‘Cassandra, when you see Captain Lampard, promise me you will watch that temper of yours. I know what you are like when roused.’

‘I can’t help it. I know what these hellraking lordlings can be like and I will not be patronised.’

Hurrying to her room, she quickly put some items of clothing she would need for a long journey—of short duration, she hoped—into a bag and within minutes she was in the carriage and heading for Grosvenor Square.

When Cassandra arrived outside Captain Lampard’s London residence, she hardly noticed the grandeur of the house. Telling Clem to await further instructions, when she was admitted she couldn’t fail to take in the breathtaking splendour.

William wasn’t in the best of tempers and in no mood to be charitable or accommodating when Siddons flung open the door to the huge green-and-gold salon to announce a visitor. It was eight o’clock in the evening and Edward had been expected at the Military Academy at ten o’clock that morning, but the youth had mysteriously disappeared at nine o’clock and had not been seen since. William was at a side table, about to pour himself a calming glass of port when he was interrupted.

‘I beg your pardon, my lord,’ Siddons said, usually stiff and unflappable, but now looking extremely harassed, ‘but this young lady insists on seeing you. I told her she would have to be announced, but she would not wait.’

With narrowed eyes, William looked beyond his butler into the stormy eyes of his uninvited visitor. ‘Thank you, Siddons. It’s all right. Miss Greenwood and I are acquainted, so you can leave us.’

‘His lordship knows why I am here.’

‘I do not recall inviting you.’

‘I always was impetuous,’ Cassandra retorted, striding purposefully past Siddons without taking her eyes off Captain Lampard, the man she considered to be the source of all her family’s woes. His tall frame was clad in impeccably tailored light grey trousers and a white shirt and neckcloth at his throat. She didn’t stop until she was just inches away.

William’s eyes, glittering like hard metal, narrowed even more. At close range he saw the burning, spitting rage that fairly sizzled in her wide, clear eyes. ‘Miss Greenwood,’ he said when Siddons had closed the door, ‘if you are here to collect the donation I promised, you are wasting your time. It was delivered to the institute first thing this morning.’

Thrown off track, Cassandra stared at him in stupefied amazement. ‘Donation?’ She moved a little closer. ‘I did not come here for that. Do you think that’s my only concern? Money?’

His lip curled derisively. ‘What else? If it isn’t money, then what is it that’s got you all fired up and ready to explode?’

‘My sister.’

‘Blast your sister.’

‘My sentiments entirely, Captain Lampard. She is the problem and I am having to deal with the consequences of what she and that conniving, smooth-talking cad of a cousin of yours have done.’

William could hardly believe his ears. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I am here to ask you why you did not heed my warning. Was it too much to ask that you take your cousin in hand and keep him away from my sister?’

Something unpleasant began to uncurl inside William. ‘What are you saying?’

‘Your precious cousin has run away with her. They have eloped—gone to Scotland,’ she informed him coldly, enunciating each word she uttered. ‘More than likely to Gretna Green, where all young romantics flee to get married.’

William faltered. His surprise was genuine. He thought he could not have heard her correctly. ‘Eloped?’ His voice sharpened. ‘Good God! Are you mad?’

‘Mad? No, I am not mad, Captain Lampard. I am furious—as is my mother. She is quite beside herself with worry. Where is your lecherous cousin? Do you know?’

William shook his head. ‘No, I confess I do not, and it is hardly my fault if your sister is too much for you to handle.’ Surprise and fury made him brutal.

‘Why, you conceited, unmitigated boor,’ Cassandra fumed, her anger full bodied and fortifying. ‘If I could stop her doing anything, I wouldn’t be here.’

‘And your mother, does she know you are here?’

‘She knows I came here to speak to you. Since your cousin resides in your house, you are to a certain extent responsible for his actions.’

‘And how do you know they have eloped? Have you proof of this?’ William demanded.

‘Emma left a note. Here.’ She pulled the paper from her pocket and thrust it at him. ‘Read it. See for yourself, and then tell me what you intend to do about it.’

Quickly William scanned the missive, which was concise and to the point, leaving him in no doubt that his cousin had indeed run off to Scotland to wed Emma Greenwood.

‘The damned fool,’ he growled, raking his hair back from his forehead. ‘How long have they been gone?’

‘Since nine o’clock this morning.’

‘Eleven hours start. How are they travelling?’

‘We don’t know that.’

‘Lady Monkton’s carriage?’

‘No.’

‘Then they must have hired one. Knowing I would give chase, to make good their escape, Edward will have hired a coach and four, which will mean a faster journey.’

‘And frightfully expensive. No wonder only the very rich can afford to elope to Gretna Green,’ Cassandra retorted drily. ‘Are you going after them?’

‘The young fools leave me with no choice.’

‘Then you’ll take me with you?’

William had turned to the door, ready to stride out to the stable yard to order his carriage to be made ready at once, but her voice halted him and he spoke quietly as he turned to answer her question. ‘No. All you will be is a hindrance. I want neither you nor your company.’

Cassandra’s face whitened, but she would not give way. She took a deliberate pace closer to him. ‘Do you really think I will let you go alone? Do you think I would trust you to bring my sister back safely? Oh, no, I think not. For all any of us know she may have come to harm; should that be the case, then, when she is found she will have need of me.’

‘I know you’re upset,’ William said, trying to moderate his tone to placate her, but there was a thrust to her jaw that told him she was ready to fight. She had an untamed quality running in dangerous undercurrents just beneath the surface that warned him to be wary. ‘You have every right to be, but you are not going with me.’

Cassandra’s chilled contempt met him face to face, and then, tossing her head, she turned from him and stalked towards the door. ‘Very well. I certainly have no desire to accompany a man on a journey when he has no desire to have me along.’

William strode after her. ‘Where, in heaven’s name, are you going?’

‘After them. I’ll take Aunt Elizabeth’s carriage.’

‘I can appreciate your concern, but you cannot embark on this mad escapade alone.’

‘Oh, no?’

His arm shot out, his fingers closing cruelly on her upper arm, spinning her round to face him. ‘You little idiot,’ he seethed. ‘Allow me to advise you to forget this foolish notion.’

‘Advice? If I wanted advice, you would be the last person on earth I would ask,’ Cassandra retorted, a flush of anger having spread over her cheeks and icy fire smouldering in the depths of her eyes. ‘This is my business, as well as yours. How are you to stop me going after them? You must surely know by now that I do as I please. Now kindly release my arm before I scream the place down.’

William felt the situation slipping rapidly from his grasp. Whatever he threw at her she had an answer. Despite his intense anger—directed at her and his irresponsible cousin, and also at himself for not having heeded Miss Greenwood’s warning—he did not have the mental capacity or the right to forbid her to journey to Scotland alone. Releasing her arm, he stepped back.

‘You beast. How dare you lay your hands on me?’ she fumed, glaring at him and rubbing her arm.

‘Miss Greenwood, you are being quite unreasonable.’

‘Unreasonable? Because I am worried about my sister? You, Captain Lampard, are the one who’s being unreasonable.’

‘If you go tearing off to Scotland, what about your institute? Are you not needed there?’

‘I am always needed, but there are others to do the work in my absence.’

‘Then consider the impropriety of travelling alone with me to Scotland. What will your mother have to say?’

‘Mama is so upset about Emma absconding that she won’t care as long as she is returned—unmarried.’

‘I cannot believe that any parent in their right mind would let their daughter venture forth alone on the road to Scotland. Don’t you care how much scandal it will cause?’

‘My reputation is the last thing on my mind just now. I don’t care that it’s not the done thing for a young woman to go careering off with a single man unescorted. Nor do I care about the scandal that will be sure to ensue. Do you, Captain Lampard?’

Her question was thrown down as a challenge, one he could not ignore. For the first time he looked at what she was wearing. Attired in a sapphire-blue travelling costume and matching hat perched at a tantalising angle atop her coiffured hair, it occurred to him that she was dressed for travelling.

Cassandra watched him studying her as if seeing her for the first time. She held her breath expectantly, letting it out with relief when he put his hands up in surrender.

‘Very well, we will go together. I’ll order the carriage and perhaps you should call at your home to collect a few things you will need for the journey.’

‘There’s no need. I came prepared.’

William’s eyes shot to the leather bag by the door and then back to her. For a moment he looked blank. He simply stared at her, then he shook his head as if trying to clear it. ‘Why, you scheming minx!’

Planting her hands on her slim hips, calmly drumming her fingers, her smile was sublime. ‘Aren’t I just—I’m rebellious, too, in case you haven’t noticed.’

‘You knew I’d agree for you to accompany me.’

‘Oh, yes, Captain Lampard. I was certain of it.’

Despite his fury, William experienced a mixture of disbelief, amusement and admiration as he gazed down at the exquisite young beauty who had skilfully managed to manipulate him into doing something he didn’t want to do. He laughed out loud, the tension falling from him like a silken shroud.

‘Miss Greenwood, you are incorrigible.’

‘Yes, I know. Do you mind?’

He laughed some more. ‘Not a bit. In fact, I suddenly find myself looking forward to our journey together. The company will be most welcome. It will be interesting to see which of us will have expired before the journey’s end.’

‘Oh, you never know, Captain Lampard—perhaps we’ll be getting on so well by the time we reach Gretna Green, we too might recite our vows over the anvil.’

‘I doubt it, Miss Greenwood. I really do.’

‘So do I. Now, shall we go? I think enough time has been wasted.’

William’s emotions veered from fury to mirth as he followed her out of the house, thinking Cassandra Greenwood to be the most provoking, insufferable female he had ever had the misfortune to meet. The idea of being bested by a twenty-year-old female in his own house was unthinkable and humiliating. In the course of twenty-four hours, she had gone out of her way to anger him and incur his displeasure with a rebellion and impertinence that both infuriated and exhilarated him.

She was also captivating and alluring, with the kind of face and body that stirred his blood. A reluctant smile curved his lips as his eyes focused on the impudent sway of her skirts. Despite his decision not to have anything more to do with her, her sudden appearance at his home had changed everything. She was a challenge, a challenge he couldn’t resist, and the fact that she was determined to stand against him only spiced his interest.

Ensconced in Captain Lampard’s sleek, well-sprung travelling coach drawn by four splendid bay horses and with two armed grooms in the driver’s seat, they were soon heading up the Great North Road. Fortunately, the roads were dry and relatively quiet, so they should make good time.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ William had said when he had assisted her into the spacious conveyance, the very height of luxury. ‘Apart from the stops we make to change the horses, we’ll travel throughout the night.’

She cast an apprehensive glance at him as he climbed in, but much to her relief he seated himself across from her. As he caught her gaze a slow smile touched his lips.

‘It’s safer if I sit here. I fear the nearness of you will destroy all my good intentions.’

‘Then I can only hope that your good intentions will continue all the way to Scotland, Lord Lampard,’ she replied archly.

Leaning back, they made themselves comfortable against the cushions. William stretched his long legs out in front of him, wondering how he was going to endure the journey. He wasn’t made of stone, and the delectable young woman was so lovely she’d tempt any man who was alone with her for five minutes.

One of his legs almost touched Cassandra’s own. Silently he dared his companion to object, watching her as one might observe a dew-laden flower, awed by its fragile beauty. Cassandra’s dark lashes fluttered downward self-consciously as he continued to watch her, uneasy with his boldness and his close proximity in the confines of the coach. Too masculine, his potent virility made her feel entirely too vulnerable. Furtively she glanced at the offending lean and muscular limb, casually moving further into the corner to avoid contact.

Watching her from beneath lowered lids, William made no effort to move away, and grinned lazily when she spread a thick fur rug over her knees.

After they had travelled some distance in silence, the thought came to Cassandra that if she wanted to survive this journey with her sanity intact, they must have some conversation. It was dark outside and the lanterns’ rays bathed the inside of the coach in a soft, golden light. She felt a sudden stillness envelope them. Vividly aware of the confined intimacy, she was overwhelmingly conscious of the man facing her.