Читать книгу The Louise Allen Collection: The Viscount's Betrothal / The Society Catch - Louise Allen - Страница 39

Joanna stirred, yawned without opening her eyes and snuggled down into the bed again. She felt completely drained, she realised, sleepily beginning to wake up, but that was no wonder after such a dreadful night made hideous with nightmares. How had she imagined such appalling creatures? That clergyman, his sinister sister, their unspeakable plans for her…but her imagination had at least conjured up Giles to rescue her.

Then a cold, queasy hand gripped her stomach and she woke fully, remembering the day before, realising that it was all true, that it was no nightmare. ‘Giles!’ Joanna scrambled up against the pillows, searching the room with wide, frightened eyes, but it was not the shabby, dark room with its barred window. This was an airy, pretty chamber with delicate furniture, white muslin curtains stirring gently at an open window and a bowl of tumbling roses on the sill.

The door opened and a smiling lady looked in. ‘Are you all right, my dear? I am Mrs Gedding and this is my home. You are quite safe here.’ She came further into the room and Joanna saw she was a motherly-looking person with an air of commonsense kindness about her. She relaxed back against the pillows, her panic ebbing. ‘My husband is the squire and a magistrate, and he and your young man are off dealing with those dreadful people,’ she added reassuringly.

‘My young man? Oh, you mean Giles? Oh, no, he is not…I mean…’ Joanna was afraid she was blushing and when she saw the twinkle in Mrs Gedding’s eyes she was sure of it. ‘He is a friend of the family,’ she added hastily, then realised with a shock that she had no idea how it was that Giles had saved her. How on earth had he come to be there? It had seemed so right, so perfect that it was the man she loved who had rescued her from that nightmare that it had never occurred to her to question it.

She recalled, as though from a long time ago, her fierce anger with her captors and Giles’s calm handling of her fears. ‘Are they, the Thoroughgoods, I mean…?’

‘Off to Peterborough gaol last night,’ her hostess said firmly. ‘Two armed constables with them in a locked carriage. They’ll be out of harm’s way now, and there they’ll stay until Quarter Sessions. The Colonel and my husband have gone back to the house today to search it for more evidence and to see if they can set an ambush for that Milo Thomas you told the Colonel about.’

She smoothed the bedcovers and watched Joanna for a moment, her head on one side like an inquisitive robin. ‘You’ll do better knowing all there is to know, I can tell. Some people don’t want to know, other people need to. You’ve got too much imagination to be sheltered with half-truths. The Colonel told us how brave you were. Now, would you like a bath and some breakfast? Or would you like to talk to me about anything?’

Joanna smiled back. In the absence of Giles’s arms around her, she could not have felt more secure than she did with this frank, friendly lady. She hugged the comment about Giles’s opinion to herself and considered the question. ‘Not at the moment, thank you,’ she said. ‘I asked Giles about why, and that sort of thing. That was what I could not understand. Why? And what made men like that? He explained it all.’

‘Did he, indeed!’ Mrs Gedding’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Well, he is an extraordinary young man if he could do that without turning a hair.’

‘I think I could talk to Giles about anything,’ Joanna said thoughtfully, then remembered exactly what they had been discussing and smiled faintly. ‘He is very kind—and brave,’ she added. ‘I expect he had rather have faced a cavalry charge!’

Mrs Gedding smiled back. ‘Bath and breakfast? I have no idea what has happened to your luggage; probably it is still at the Thoroughgoods’ house. Even the most thoughtful and courageous man may be relied upon to forget such essentials as clean undergarments and tooth powder in a crisis. Never mind, my younger daughter’s things are here—she is staying with her married sister, and she will not mind at all if you borrow whatever you need.’

A bath and clean, pretty clothes restored Joanna’s spirits and she sat down to breakfast ravenously hungry. ‘I do beg your pardon, ma’am,’ she apologised when she realised she had finished the entire plate of toast, ‘but I have eaten hardly anything since I left home but a meat pie at Biggleswade, and that made me ill.’

‘Ah, yes, your home.’ Mrs Gedding refilled her tea cup. ‘The Colonel has written to your parents, and I have added a note. I have left the package open, so if you would like to add something of your own we will get it sealed up and off to Peterborough to catch the post as soon as may be.’

‘Oh. Yes. Thank you.’ Joanna bit her lip. She had meant to be with Georgy at least two days ago, with a reassuring message on its way to London as soon as she arrived—without any direction for finding her, of course. ‘I should never have done it,’ she blurted out, suddenly acutely conscious of the anxiety she must have caused. ‘I was so miserable and confused. I cannot imagine what you must think of me.’

‘That you were very unhappy, Joanna dear, and not thinking very clearly,’ Mrs Gedding said prosaically. ‘We all do stupid and thoughtless things at least once in our lives. Now, in his letter the Colonel has explained a little of what has happened—not the worst of it, naturally—and has told your parents that he must stay a day or so until the evidence is all collected together and you have rested. I have promised your mama that I will look after you and that we will find you a suitable chaperon before you travel back to London. All that remains for you to do is to rest and get stronger. But write your note first.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ Joanna said meekly. The letter was hard to compose. In the end she managed a few lines to say how sorry she was, and that she was quite safe and that Mrs Gedding was very kind. But it was more than she was capable of to apologise for running away before Lord Clifton called to make his offer. The ink was blotted here and there with large teardrops, but she did not want to ask for more good notepaper and she hoped Mama would recognise tears of real regret.

Her hostess was bustling about with lists when she brought her the note. When it was sealed with the others and the groom dispatched with it, she asked politely if there was anything she could do to help.

‘It won’t do you any good to sit and brood, will it, my dear? No, I did not think it would. But you must not exert yourself too much yet.’ Mrs Gedding thought for a while then said, ‘I know, pot-pourri. Come along.’

Joanna found herself shown out into the back garden, a basket over her arm and a pair of scissors in her hand. ‘Oh, how beautiful!’

The garden was a mass of roses, of old-fashioned flowers, of weeping trees and winding paths scythed through the grass. The scent was magical and almost took her breath away.

‘I love it,’ said Mrs Gedding simply. ‘It has taken me twenty years to make it look as though it just happened by accident. Not many people appreciate it.’

‘It is Sleeping Beauty’s garden,’ Joanna declared. ‘Is there a turret hidden in the midst of it?’

‘No, but that is an excellent idea. I must ask Mr Gedding to have one built as a summer house. Now, my dear, the sun has dried the dew off the roses, so if you will be so good as to start picking heads from the ones that are just open, they will be perfect for drying.’

Joanna spent an idyllic morning exploring the garden. The maid brought out a chair and a rug and some larger baskets and she wandered up and down the paths, snipping rose heads into her basket, smelling the other scented bushes, thinking about the perfect place to position Sleeping Beauty’s turret. Occasionally she would tip her basket into the bigger one by the chair and sit and rest for a little.

Mrs Gedding came out with some lemonade and they talked of their families and the contrast between village and town life, then her hostess went back inside and Joanna sat, surrounded by her baskets brimming with roses, and finally let herself think about the previous day.

She probed her memory like someone exploring a sore tooth, very cautiously, wincing as she realised just how careless and gullible she had been and what dreadful danger she had escaped. Giles’s words of praise were balm to her self-esteem, but her conscience continued to prick her when she thought of her parents’ anxiety.

And how, of all the miracles, had it been Giles who had found her? On the thought he appeared from the back door, carrying a chair and a folding table, the maid with a loaded tray behind him.

‘Hello.’ Joanna’s heart gave a sudden, hard thud and she found that all she could do was to smile back at him. ‘Mrs Gedding thought we might like to picnic out here. The Squire has come back to arrange for a clerk to assist us this afternoon: there is so much paper we are unearthing that we are going to have to get it listed and ordered before we can start to make sense of it all, let alone mount a court case.’ He set down the chair and unfolded the table. ‘May I sit down?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, I am sorry, my wits are gone a-wandering.’ He looked exactly as she remembered him from London. This morning she had been half-afraid that it was all a delusion and it wasn’t the real Giles. Now, sitting beside him, watching the dappled shade from the tree cast patterns over his dark blond hair and returning the smile that crinkled the corners of his grey eyes, she knew he was real and a ridiculous, hopeless wave of love swept over her.

‘Gi…Colonel Gregory…’

‘Giles will do very well, Joanna.’ He leaned forward and poured two glasses of lemonade. ‘How are you today?’

‘Much better than I deserve,’ she replied ruefully. ‘I cannot thank you enough. I was praying for a miracle, and there you were! But I do not understand how you came to find me.’

‘Well, your father is laid up with gout and your mama hurried round to the Tasboroughs’ town house in a fine state of alarm, as you might expect, hoping that Alex would be there. But, of course, she had not stopped to think about Hebe’s condition. Fortunately I was staying and I knew Alex would not want to leave his wife, so I offered to hunt you down. You gave me a fair run for my money.’ He lifted a plate and offered it to her. ‘Ham? A slice of bread and butter? Or I think that is a slice of raised pie…’

‘Ham and bread, please.’ Joanna cut up her food, thinking over what Giles had said. ‘Hebe is well?’

‘Oh, perfectly, but she doesn’t rest as much as she should, and I put the idea into Alex’s head that she is expecting twins, so you can imagine the state he is in. I should imagine he and your mama between them are exercising Hebe’s powers to calm and reassure to the utmost.’

Joanna digested this information, decided she could not possibly ask why Giles thought Hebe was expecting twins and said, ‘How lucky you were still in London. I thought I heard someone say you had gone to see your father. Is the General well?’

Giles shrugged and Joanna saw the anxiety in his eyes, although he kept his voice light when he said, ‘Not entirely. He does too much, will not admit he is not in the best of health and drives my mother distracted.’

‘But you came back to town despite that?’ Joanna bit her lip, wondering if she had overstepped the mark and was being intrusively curious, but Giles did not appear to find her question impertinent.

‘We had a blazing row and he disinherited me,’ he said with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

‘Oh, Giles! How dreadful!’ Joanna’s bread and butter dropped to the plate unheeded as she stared at him. ‘But why on earth?’

‘I told him I intend to sell out. Oh, and there is the question of my marriage, of course.’

‘Giles, you should not jest about it,’ Joanna said, shaken to the core. ‘Of course you are not going to sell out. Why, you are going to be a general—’

‘Not you, too!’ He got up and took two angry strides across the grass, then turned back with a shake of the head. ‘I am sorry, Joanna, I did not mean to shout at you. My father is a sick man who is not getting any younger. He needs my help and support with the estate, even if he won’t admit it. And we are at peace now: I do not want to spend the rest of my career as a peacetime soldier, always on parade, or worse, putting down industrial unrest in the north of England. I did not join the army to ride down starving mill workers or hungry farm labourers.’

Joanna put a hand on his arm as he sat down again, his lips tight, his eyes shadowed. ‘I am sorry. That was very stupid and thoughtless of me. Of course, you must do what is best for your family. But has he truly disinherited you?’

Giles smiled, this time with real humour. ‘He doesn’t mean it. He will be regretting it now, although I doubt if he is regretting the strip he tore off me and the lecture I got on doing my duty and settling down with a conformable, suitable wife!’

Joanna took a drink of lemonade as the best way of hiding her reaction. So, the old general did not consider Lady Suzanne a suitable wife. Why ever not? She seemed eminently eligible to Joanna, but perhaps he thought her too flighty to make his son a good match. A faint glimmer of hope stirred in her breast. Would Giles heed his father? Would the General’s opinions make him reconsider?

But, no, surely if he loved Suzanne he would not give her up, and much as it hurt, Joanna would not want him, too. She could only think less of him if he was the sort of man who could turn from true love under pressure.

‘You are looking very serious,’ he said after a moment. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Much better, truly,’ Joanna reassured him. ‘I was just worried about you and your father. Now you are even further away, and it is all my fault. What if he wants to contact you and make peace?’

Giles laughed. ‘My mama, who packed me off back to town to indulge in a course of carefully calculated dissipation, assured me it would be at least two weeks before he would admit to any regrets in the matter and another two after that to digest the rumours of my behaviour, which my assorted well-meaning aunts would send back.’

‘Dissipation? But what…?’

‘The plan, according to Mama, is that he will summon me back in order to engage me in some salutary hard work and will then get accustomed to having the prodigal around and will be reconciled to my assisting with the estate.’

‘Goodness,’ Joanna said rather blankly. ‘Do you think it will work?’

‘Mama has been winding my father around her little finger for thirty-five years and I have never known her wrong yet.’

‘Yes, but you are hardly engaging in dissipation, are you? What sort of dissipation, anyway?’

‘Cards, horses, um…’

‘Um?’

‘I do seem to be having the most improper conversations with you, Miss Fulgrave! Wicked widows and fast matrons is what my outrageous mama had in mind, I think.’

‘More than one mistress at once?’ Joanna asked, trying to imagine her own mother recommending such a course of action to William in fifteen years’ time and failing utterly. ‘Isn’t that terribly expensive and complicated?’

‘As I have never had more than one at a time I have no idea. Expensive, certainly. But complicated?’

‘I shouldn’t imagine they would take very kindly to sharing you,’ Joanna said, frowning over the practicalities. ‘You would have to keep them apart and remember what you had said to each… Have you had many?’

Giles sank his head in his hands with a groan. ‘Oh lord, what have I let myself say! Your mama would have fits if she knew. Yes, I have had mistresses, in Portugal and in Spain, and only one at a time, and we parted very amicably in every case, before you ask! And, no, I am not going to tell you about any of them.’

‘I am sorry,’ Joanna said penitently. ‘I did not mean to put you to the blush, but I feel that I can ask you about things that no one else will explain. I mean, it is obvious that lots of men in society have mistresses, and even I can guess that some ladies are, well…not entirely faithful to their husbands. But no one ever says anything about it and it seems a bit late to find out after one is married.’

‘I cannot imagine,’ Giles said, putting one hand over hers and squeezing it reassuringly, ‘that any husband of yours would contemplate setting up a mistress for one second. Especially this mysterious suitor you are so imprudently fleeing from. He seems most devoted!’

Joanna ignored the reference to Lord Clifton, for she was fighting the urge to curl her fingers into his and return the pressure. Somehow it hadn’t hurt to know there had been other women in his life: she had expected it, the man was not a monk. But being so close to him, his kindness, almost overset her.

‘I don’t expect to marry,’ she said, attempting to laugh it off and freeing her hand to reach for an apple, ‘so it really doesn’t arise. I meant, it was a bit late for young ladies in general to find out about that sort of thing.’

‘Not marry? Why ever not?’ Giles took the apple from her hand, picked up a knife and began to peel it, the ribbon of red skin curling over his hand.

Joanna shrugged, trying not to look at his long fingers dexterously wielding the knife. What would it be like to be caressed by them? She shivered. ‘My mysterious suitor, as you term him, is not someone whose regard I return—in fact, I dislike him excessively. My affections are engaged elsewhere, but the man I love, loves someone else.’

‘Is that what upset you at the Duchess’s ball?’ He handed her back the apple. ‘You found out about it?’

‘Mmm.’ Goodness, how had she let herself talk about this?

‘But just because one man has let you down, it doesn’t mean you should give up on the entire sex,’ Giles said, watching her with a frown between his straight brows. ‘There are many other men—the one who is attempting to make you an offer, for example. Are you sure you know him well enough to have formed such a negative impression?’

‘Quite sure! I dislike the way he looks at me—and he tried to blackmail me after I had got into a scrape.’ She caught his quizzical expression and nodded, ‘Yes, that night at Vauxhall. And, yes, it is Rufus Carstairs, I suppose you have already guessed. But as for marrying someone I do not love—how can you say that?’ Joanna was hurt and surprised that he could fail to understand. ‘If the lady you love spurned you, could you just shrug and walk away and think “I’ll find someone else”? Of course you could not, not if it were true love! I will never feel like this about anyone else, and I will not marry anyone I don’t love.

‘Imagine being tied to someone you did not hold in the deepest affection! I know some unfortunate women find themselves having to accept distasteful suitors, or men have to make duty marriages to restore their family fortunes, and I truly pity all of them. I would rather remain a spinster than marry anyone other than…him. And,’ she added vehemently, ‘I cannot like or trust Lord Clifton.’

Giles appeared taken aback by her vehemence, but, although he had raised his eyebrows on hearing who her suitor was, he said nothing, so she asked, ‘Will you obey your father in the question of your marriage?’

‘No!’ he retorted hotly. ‘I will not!’

‘You see? In matters of the heart, feelings run very deep.’

He regarded her thoughtfully over the rim of his glass. ‘You are sure that this unfortunate experience has not made the entire business of marriage distasteful to you?’

‘Oh, no,’ Joanna looked directly into his concerned grey eyes and smiled ruefully. ‘Oh, no, not if it were marriage to the man I love.’