Читать книгу Lady Olivia And The Infamous Rake - Janice Preston, Janice Preston - Страница 11

Chapter Three

‘Enough!’ He faced the lad who was taunting Olivia by waving her mask above his head, its ribbons dangling and dancing. He held out one hand. ‘I’ll take that.’

The lad exchanged looks with his friends. ‘And who might you be? The little tart gave it me as a tro—Argh...’

Hugo’s fingers tightened around the youth’s throat, causing his eyes to bulge.

‘I said... I. Will. Take. That.’

A ragged but muted cheer sounded from some of the onlookers as Hugo continued to hold the youth high, by the neck, allowing just the tips of his toes to scrape the ground. It took no time for the lad to capitulate. He thrust the mask into Hugo’s face. Hugo took it, releasing him, and, as her tormentor slumped to the ground, Hugo faced Olivia. She was shaking, her eyes suspiciously luminous, but she held herself straight, her nose in the air, as she accepted the mask, tied it back in place and pulled her hood over her head.

‘Thank you.’ She began to walk away.

For God’s sake! Where does she think she is going?

With two strides he caught up with her and grabbed her by the arm, spinning her around to face him. She wrenched her arm free.

‘Leave me alone.’

‘How do you mean to get home?’

‘I shall find my brother.’

‘And if you don’t? And if you get accosted again? The next men might not be inclined to leave it at teasing.’

She elevated her nose. Again. Really, she was beyond hoity. He was almost inclined to leave her to it, if she was this stubborn.

Almost.

‘I shall escort you home.’

She was slowly but surely backing away from him. With a growl that originated deep, deep inside him, Hugo followed her and grabbed her arm again.

‘Let go of me.’

Those amazing eyes of hers shot icy slivers at him. What would they look like, fired with passion rather than fury? Would they—? He batted those errant thoughts aside. She was eighteen years old...had only just made her debut in society.

‘With what will you pay a jarvey to drive you home, Lady Olivia?’

He used her name deliberately, so she would know he recognised her. Her eyes flared.

‘You have no money, or you would have paid Clevedon,’ he reminded her.

She gasped at that, her worry palpable. ‘D-does Lord Clevedon know it was me? What if he tells my father?’

‘No. He does not know.’ The urge to soothe her took him unawares. Besides, there was no point in her fretting when he knew damned well Clevedon would never tell her father about tonight.

‘So, how will you get home if you don’t find your brother?’ he went on, ruthlessly. ‘Will you pay your fare with your bracelet?’

He raised her arm and the jewels caught the light, winking ice and fire.

‘Or maybe an eardrop?’

He slid his hand under her hood, skimming the satin-soft skin of her neck, and found her earlobe, tugging at it gently. Her breath quickened, her bosom heaving, and he snatched his hand away before he gave in to his instincts...the ones clamouring at him to haul her into his arms and to kiss some sense into her. He grasped her wrist. Firmly.

‘You’re coming with me,’ he rasped out and began to stride in the direction of the water gate, towing her along behind him.

‘Wh-where are you taking me?’

The fear in her voice had him slamming to a halt. He clenched his jaw.

‘Home,’ he gritted out. ‘And, before you ask, yes...your home.’

‘I... I won’t go without my brother.’

‘Your brother? Well, and where is he?’ Hugo flung his arm wide, almost knocking a passing gentleman’s hat from his head. ‘If he is supposed to be looking out for you tonight, he’s making a poor fist of it, that’s all I can say. I am not spending all night searching for your ramshackle brother when he clearly doesn’t give a da—hoot that he’s left you on your own in among this sort of crowd. I’m taking you home. Then I can return to my own plans for the evening.’

With that, he whirled around and set off again, his hand still clamped around her wrist.

He did not dare to slow his stride—she would only argue again. The sooner he delivered the troublesome minx home, the sooner he could forget all about her and her risk-taking, and her luminous, hypnotic eyes that reminded him of the moon and were fringed by the thickest, darkest, longest lashes he had ever seen.

Temptress eyes.

They soon reached Vauxhall Stairs and the water gate. A boat was already waiting and they embarked, along with several other passengers, some of whom Hugo knew. He nodded a greeting, but then pointedly directed his gaze across the river to discourage conversation. If any of them should recognise Olivia...his stomach clenched. She would be well and truly compromised and there was no way he ever intended to wed, not after the wretched example of his parents’ union.

‘But what—?’

‘Be quiet,’ he growled, glaring down into those wide eyes that glittered at him from behind her mask. ‘We’ll talk later.’

He ignored her loud puff of exasperation, concentrating instead on the dark ripples of the Thames slipping past the boat as the oarsmen strained to reach the opposite bank.

They disembarked, still in silence. Olivia stumbled and Hugo steadied her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

‘Oops,’ she said, stifling a giggle.

She straightened and pulled away from him, but her progress was erratic as she made for a waiting hackney. Hardly surprising, given the number of times he had refilled her glass—and her readiness to drain it every time. Hugo instructed the jarvey to take them to Grosvenor Square, where Beauchamp House—the Duke of Cheriton’s London residence—was located, then he handed Olivia up the step and climbed in behind her.

‘Why did you stop me from speaking in the boat?’ Her voice quivered with indignation. ‘Who are you to tell me what to do?’

Hugo shifted on the seat so he was half-facing her, and folded his arms across his chest.

‘I am the man who is saving you from the results of your own folly.’

She pushed back her hood and tore off her mask. ‘Hmmph. Some saviour you are. I should not be alone with you like this. It is scandalous.’

Her pert little nose was in the air again—she really was the most infuriating wench he had ever met.

‘More scandalous than you getting drunk and wandering around Vauxhall unescorted?’

‘I am not drunk. And I am masked. No one could recognise me. I know your reputation, Lord Hugo Alastair. You are the sort of man my aunt always warns me about. Well, you need not think you may take advantage of me, for I shall fight you and scream very loudly if you try to touch me.’

Her words might be full of bravado, but Hugo did not miss the way she shrank back into the corner of the hackney as she spoke them and the intermittent illumination from the street lamps as they passed revealed her hands gripping one another so tightly they shook.

He sighed. ‘I have no intention of touching you, Lady Olivia. I prefer my ladies willing. And experienced.’

Her eyes flashed at that but, thankfully, she remained silent.

‘I was impressed by your vocabulary back there,’ he said. Talking would, surely, help take her mind from their situation. And his. ‘Where did you learn such insults?’

‘Shakespeare,’ she replied, haughtily. ‘I am surprised you did not recognise them. I presume you did study his works at school?’

Impertinent little... He swallowed his irritation. ‘I did. Although I believe it is sodden-witted lords, not knaves.’

She glared at him. ‘Why would I call them lords? I was insulting them.’

‘They are not the typical words one might expect from a young lady.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve heard Alex use them.’

Her brother again: Lord Alexander Beauchamp...younger son of the Duke of Cheriton and as wild as they come. Although what his excuse might be, with such a decent and supportive father, unlike Hugo’s—

He clamped down on that memory there and then. He would not allow himself to remember his childhood or his brutal father. It was shut up tight in a dark corner of his memory—a corner he refused to revisit.

‘Your brother should have more sense than to utter such words in your hearing.’

‘You sound just like Dominic. That’s what he always says. But Alex...you do not understand. Alex is...’

Her smooth forehead furrowed as she chewed her full bottom lip. Hugo waited, loath to say anything that might distract her from the confidence he sensed she was about to share. Her earlier tension had gone, to be replaced by agitation. Her hands now writhed in her lap. Hugo was certain he was not the cause this time. This was connected to her brother.

‘Alex has always been troubled,’ she said, eventually, her voice subdued. ‘He... I do not understand why, but he has always had a difficult relationship with Papa. Ever since...’ Her voice dropped to a near whisper and Hugo got the impression she had almost forgotten his presence. Then she drew in a hasty breath, and straightened. ‘Well, never mind that. The family look out for him. That is all.’

The family. Did she realise how fortunate she was to have such a tightly knit family to support her? And yet the silly chit risked disgrace and worse by this foolhardy escapade.

‘Your father will not be happy when he learns of your antics tonight.’

Her gaze flew to his. ‘No. You cannot tell Papa.’ She grabbed his hands. ‘Please. You cannot.’

‘He needs to know the danger your brother put you in.’

Hugo marvelled at the words coming from his mouth. Him...the wildest and most reckless of them all...ready to test any boundary for the sake of having fun. And now here he was, attempting to imbue some common sense into a troublesome young lady like Lady Olivia Beauchamp.

‘Please. Do not tell Papa. Not for my sake, but for Alex’s.’ Her eyes searched his. ‘Please?’ Her hands tightened their grip.

He locked in the words ‘persuade me’. Reined back his sudden urge to seize her mouth, taste her lips. He extricated his hands from hers, suddenly uncomfortable...too viscerally aware of her nearness, the way she gazed up at him with parted lips. And those eyes...

He twisted to look out of the window. Piccadilly. They would soon reach Grosvenor Square.

‘Why should I care about protecting your brother?’

‘Alex...he is difficult, I know. He drinks. He gambles. He fights. But he is unhappy. At least, everyone else thinks he is upset by what happened. I believe he’s angry. But I do not understand why.’

It was the second time she had said that. Curiosity stirred within Hugo...what had happened in the Beauchamps’ past? He made a mental note to quiz his mother.

‘The only thing that takes him away from all those...those vices is horses. He adores horses and they adore him. He has an almost magical connection with them. Give him an untameable horse and he will gentle it until it follows him around like a puppy.’

‘That does not explain why I should not tell your father.’

‘But you cannot. Not when Alex finally has a chance to settle down...when he has the chance to have something of his own that will make him content.’ She chewed at her lip again. ‘It is not yet common knowledge, but Papa has purchased Sir William Rockbeare’s estate in Buckinghamshire. Do you know Sir William?’

‘I know of him.’ Everyone knew Rockbeare’s cattle were the best riding and carriage horses in the country. ‘I heard he’d sold up.’

‘Well, Alex got into trouble while Papa was away in Buckinghamshire. And Papa told him if he could stay out of trouble for the rest of the Season, then he could move to Foxbourne and run the stud and training stables. If he proves himself, in a few years Papa will sign the estate and all the horses over to him. Do you not see?’

She sat forward, her silver gaze intent upon his, sending strange impulses quivering through him. Not the impulse to seize and to take this time, but...the desire to protect. He frowned, dragging his attention away from his feelings and back to her words. Too much thought about his feelings always made him fidgety and out of sorts. That’s why he was usually careful to avoid such namby-pamby nonsense.

‘It is a wonderful chance for Alex and he wants it sooo much, and he has been trying so hard to keep out of trouble and if Papa finds out about tonight...’ She hung her head. ‘It was all my fault.’ He caught the sound of a tiny sniff. ‘I won a bet and Alex lost which meant he had no choice but to take me to Vauxhall. But it was not a fair bet. I knew I could not lose, because Uncle Vernon had already agreed to allow me to drive his blacks in the Park, but Alex didn’t know that, and he thought it a safe bet because Vernon never allows anyone to drive his blacks.’

Hugo frowned, trying to make sense of her jumbled tale. ‘Then why did your uncle allow you to drive his blacks?’

He knew the pair she meant and he knew how proud and protective her uncle, Lord Vernon Beauchamp, was of them.

‘Because I tricked him. He upset Aunt Cecily—he was teasing her and she was in a snit with him, but he needed her to do him a favour because Lady Slough was pursuing him relentlessly, he said—’

‘Lady Slough?’ An image of the lady in question—short, stout, fifty if she was a day—formed in Hugo’s head. ‘Lady Slough was pursuing your uncle?’

Lord Vernon Beauchamp was one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton—much sought after and very popular with the ladies.

‘Well, not for herself, of course.’ She tutted. Hugo could barely contain a chuckle. She really was an entertaining miss—an unexpected mixture of naivety and shrewdness. ‘For her daughter. Anyway, Uncle Vernon needed my Aunt Cecily to seat him as far away from Lady Slough and Amelia as possible when they came to dinner—’

‘But...why would they be invited to dinner?’

‘Because Lady Slough is my stepmama’s aunt—even though she used to disown Stepmama but now she is toadying up to Stepmama for all she is worth—and she really believes Uncle Vernon will marry her spotty daughter. Which he won’t, I can tell you, because Uncle Vernon will never get married, he says.’

Hugo had every sympathy with that point of view.

‘Anyway, I was telling you all about my bet with Alex...so, Uncle Vernon begged me to persuade Aunt Cecily not to sit Lady Slough or Amelia next to him—because she threatened to do exactly that—and I said I would persuade her, but that he would owe me a favour. And he said, Anything. And then, the next day, when I reminded him he tried to wriggle out of it, but Papa was a witness and told Uncle Vernon he should be more careful about making such vague promises. So Vernon had already agreed, but Alex didn’t know...and Dominic is right! I am a horrid, manipulative creature.’

‘Dominic?’ It was the second time she had mentioned this Dominic.

‘Avon.’

‘Of course.’ Dominic, Lord Avon, was Olivia’s eldest brother and heir to the Dukedom. ‘So you don’t get on with Avon?’

She pouted. ‘Well, I do. He is nice enough when he’s not teasing me. But he does take himself and his position as Papa’s heir exceedingly serious. He is opposite to Alex. Poor Alex.’ She slumped back into the corner. ‘I shall never forgive myself if he loses the chance to have Foxbourne because of me.’

‘Why do you care so much?’

She stared. ‘He’s my brother. Of course I care. I love him.’

Envy stirred. Everyone knew the Beauchamps were a close family. What must it be like, to have complete and utter faith and trust in your own father? Hugo had never known such security, even though his mother had tried her best to protect him and Lucas, his older brother, from their violent father. Neither of them had returned to Rothley Hall, the family estate up in Northumberland, after they left university. Lucas had made his home in London and Hugo had spent more time with Lucas than at Oxford, finding his elder brother’s life of excess and debauchery much more exciting than a life of study. They had been wild years—until Lucas had been betrayed by the woman he loved and a man he thought his friend and had left London abruptly, a bitter man. Later, following their father’s death, Lucas had become the Marquis of Rothley and led the life of a joyless recluse.

Since then, Hugo had been on his own, continuing with all those same rakish excesses and vices until this past year or so, when that way of life had begun to pall, almost without him realising it. He had even—God help him—invested some of his recent winnings in government bonds. That was the influence of Sir Horace Todmorden, his new stepfather, whose seemingly unshakeable faith in Hugo was beginning to change him.

‘What are you thinking about? You look...sad.’

The soft query jerked him from his thoughts. ‘Nothing.’ Then, at her crestfallen expression, he gentled his voice. ‘I was thinking about my father and how fortunate you are in yours.’

Her hand covered his. ‘You must miss him dreadfully.’

‘Hardly.’ He huffed a laugh. ‘He was a brute.’

‘Oh.’ Her fine, dark brows drew together as she withdrew her hand. ‘But...you still have other family, do you not?’

‘My mother and my brother, Rothley.’

He’d said enough. She could have no real interest in his family. Once he had delivered her home, their paths were unlikely to cross very often. But their conversation had stirred hope within him, for not only had Mama married Sir Horace last year, but Lucas, too, had now wed. He and Mary, his new wife, and Mary’s two young children, would arrive in London very soon for a prolonged visit. And then...pleasure glowed deep inside at the thought that, maybe, he would finally be part of a close-knit family himself.

He shook all thoughts of his family from his head as the hackney rocked to a halt.

‘We’re here.’ Hugo glanced up at Beauchamp House. Belatedly, he realised he should have instructed the jarvey to stop around the corner. ‘Put that mask back on and pull up your hood.’

Olivia stared at him, an unfathomable expression on her face before, with yet another pout, tying her mask in place. Hugo jumped from the hackney. The front door of the house now stood open, a footman silhouetted within the frame. Hugo waved him away.

‘Wrong address,’ he called.

The man raised his hand in acknowledgement and retreated into the house, closing the door behind him. Hugo leaned back inside the carriage.

‘How did you intend to get back inside?’

‘Around the back. There’s a window... Alex makes sure it’s unlocked whenever he goes out at night and doesn’t want anyone to know.’

‘And he told his younger sister about it?’

‘No. Nobody ever tells me anything. But I usually find out anyway.’

The hint of pride in her tone made him smile. Again, he thought of her as an odd mixture of naivety and intuition, but that didn’t mean she was up to snuff when dealing with the darker aspects of life...or of society, for that matter. He held out his hand and she took it to climb down to the pavement. Without volition, his fingers closed around hers and he had to force himself to release her.

‘Wait for me,’ he said to the jarvey. ‘I won’t be long.’ Then to Olivia, he said, ‘Come. Show me. But if your father appears, I’m off.’

‘Papa’s away,’ she replied. ‘He and my stepmother left yesterday, with her grandfather. They’re going to Birmingham to collect his belongings, although...’ She frowned. ‘I think they’re meeting Uncle Vernon somewhere first. He wrote to Papa, only Papa would only tell me it was nothing to worry about.’

Yet again, Hugo found himself biting back a smile—this time at her disgruntled tone. She clearly prided herself on knowing everything that was going on within her family. They had reached the corner and turned into a side street. There was a low bark, the click of claws on the pavement, and an enormous dog launched itself at Olivia. Hugo’s heart thundered as he threw his arms around its neck, dragging it away.

‘Hector!’ A tall, slender man, supporting himself on a crutch, lurched towards them.

‘Hector!’ Far from being petrified, Olivia’s squeal was one of delight.

The dog squirmed, its tail waving, as Hugo held it fast.

‘You know this monster?’ he panted.

‘Of course I do. It’s Hector. My stepmother’s dog and...oh! F-F-Freddie.’

The man had reached them and, with a ferocious scowl at Hugo, he reached out and tugged the hood from Olivia’s head.

‘What do you think you are doing?’ He kept his voice low as he scanned the surrounding street. ‘And who the de—who on earth are you?’