Читать книгу Convenient Proposal To The Lady - Julia Justiss - Страница 12

Chapter Four

Three days later, Alyssa walked in the early morning sunlight towards the clearing where, as promised, she’d been meeting Mr Tawny. She’d begun looking forward to those encounters far more than she should—the novelty of conversing with an intelligent man who listened to her opinions and observations as she reported on the progress of Denbry’s wooing; the delight of making him laugh as she described the timid, yet increasingly adoring behaviour that must be exasperating the Earl almost beyond bearing.

And then there was that sensual awareness in his eyes as he watched her; the zing of attraction that made her pulses leap when she saw him and kept her awake at night, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. Be possessed by him.

In turning her back on marriage, she was likely shutting away passion as well—before she’d ever had a chance to fully taste its pleasures. Pleasures that what he’d admitted about himself, and what she sensed every time she was near him, said he’d be able to deliver in full measure.

Sadly, their meetings would end before she had a chance to decide if it was worth the risk of pursuing that attraction. Yesterday, Lord Denbry had finally revealed his plan for the elopement he’d several times hinted at and last night was to have been the rendezvous.

With a smile, she wondered how he had reacted when, instead of her ardent self, he received at the inn the note she’d had delivered.

She doubted he’d return today to confront her—what could he possibly say, in front of her mother and the assembled guests? And she’d certainly not agree to any more cosy walks alone in the garden! Most likely, after cursing her soundly, he’d availed himself of the horses and carriage and set off—wherever it was dissolute young men like him set off to assuage their frustrations.

Intent on watching the drive for signs of Mr Tawny, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her until a branch snapped close by. Alarmed, she whirled around—but it was only Mr Rossiter, who’d ceased approaching her, once his charismatic friend had begun monopolising her time—though his hopeful gaze still followed her.

Relieved that she wasn’t facing a potentially nasty interview with a furious Lord Denbry, she said, ‘Mr Rossiter! What brings you out so early?’

‘You do,’ he replied, giving her a shy smile. If she hadn’t known he’d been involved in the wager, she might almost have been charmed by it. ‘Your maid, Molly, told me you liked to come out early to sketch.’

‘I don’t wish to be uncivil, but she should also have told you I prefer to sketch alone.’

‘Oh, sorry—I didn’t intend to bother you. I—I guess Denbry did enough of that. Quite a joke you played on him.’

‘He told you about it?’ she asked, surprised that the Earl had confessed his come-uppance to anyone.

‘Yes. He was furious when he arrived back last night, but after telling Quinlen and me about it, realised that remaining so could only make him look ridiculous. We had a great good laugh. You needn’t worry that he intends to confront you; he decided it would be better to pen you a note of apology and take himself off quietly.’

The gaze he fixed on her seemed so open and genuine. But she mustn’t forget he was one of Denbry’s friends. She would be foolish to relax her guard.

She’d feel a lot better if she could induce him to return to the house before Mr Tawny arrived. This would probably be her last meeting with that fascinating gentleman; she didn’t want an uninvited intruder watching, imposing restraints over what should be their private victory celebration.

Then a far more unpleasant realisation struck her. At present, Denbry had no reason not to believe she’d foiled the elopement all on her own. But if Rossiter were still lingering when Mr Tawny arrived, he would almost certainly conclude that Tawny had warned her about the plot—and inform Denbry. Which might well cause Tawny problems with the disgruntled conspirators.

She didn’t want to repay his generosity by making him some rather nasty enemies.

‘I hope, now he’s gone, I might claim more of your time?’ Rossiter was saying, giving her that tentative smile. ‘I would like to get to know you better.’

‘That’s kind of you—but later, please? This morning light will be gone soon. Again, at the risk of seeming impolite, I work better alone.’

‘Of course. Before I go, won’t you have some of this?’ From a bag slung over his shoulder, he produced a jar. ‘The morning being chilly, I got the kitchen to make up some coffee for us. Surely you can spare the time to have a cup.’

‘Very well.’ Eager to get rid of him, she waited impatiently as he poured out some coffee, then drank hers quickly down, despite it being cloyingly sweet. ‘Very warming, thank you,’ she said, offering back the cup.

‘Another one?’

‘No, that was quite enough. I’m anxious to begin,’ she reminded pointedly.

‘I’ll just gather these up and be on my way, then. Until later, Lady Alyssa.’

Quickly she handed over the cup, gathered her supplies and made a show of walking from the glen, intending to return once Rossiter was out of sight.

As she stepped down the pathway, she stumbled over the uneven ground and had more difficulty than she should righting herself. Her hands felt unusually warm, her tongue thick, her head woozy.

And then Rossiter was behind her. ‘Is something amiss, Lady Alyssa?’

‘I—I feel suddenly so...strange.’

‘Let me help you,’ he said and reached out to steady her.

An instant later, he pulled her into his arms and slapped a rag over her nose and mouth. For a moment, she flailed against him, but her arms and legs seemed clumsy, unable to obey her commands. And then her head started to whirl and dizziness claimed her.

A few moments later, Alyssa’s vision cleared, but the weakness in her limbs continued, while her tongue seemed too thick for speech. With the rag wrapped around her mouth and nose, she had to take quick, shallow breaths to keep the blackness from overwhelming her again.

Her feeble efforts at resistance did not prevent Rossiter from carrying her down the lane, where around the next bend a coach waited. So it was to be forced elopement after all, she thought, still too weak for the ripple of anger running through her to give her the strength to prevent it.

Rest now and marshal your resources for later. She sank back limply against the seat, pretending to faint again. She was too angry to bandy words with Rossiter and, knowing how carefully schemed this was, there was little chance she’d be able to talk him out of it anyway.

* * *

She dozed off in truth, not waking until the jolting coach halted. They must have reached the inn, she thought muzzily. Now would be the time to make her escape. But a tentative moving of her limbs showed her she was still too impaired to fight off her abductor.