Читать книгу Regency Silk & Scandal eBook Bundle Volumes 1-4 - Louise Allen, Christine Merrill - Страница 23

‘Checkmate.’ Lord Narborough sat back and Nell laughed.

‘Oh dear, I fear I am never going to get the hang of this game, even with Mr Carlow’s assistance. Congratulations, my lord.’

‘He’s never beaten me yet,’ the earl said smugly. ‘So you learn from me, Miss Latham, not Hal.’

Still chuckling at Hal’s snort of affronted pride, Nell glanced round for Marcus. He was watching her, unsmiling, almost grim. That frown was back and his eyes were darker than she had ever seen them. Darker than when he had accused her of trying to frighten his father to death. Darker even than they had been as he had lain over her, their breath mingling in the cold air, and he rejected her.

The bitter argument was still unresolved. He still desired her, still wished to make her his mistress, even though he knew he should not. And she, wanton that she was, still wanted him. If he had offered a carte blanche again, then she would have accepted it, Nell admitted to herself. It was the only way to have a part of him for her own, his body if not his heart.

But that hard, hot stare seemed to brand her as she sat there. What had she done so very wrong that he should look at her like that? Laughed and found pleasure in his father’s company? Flirted a very little with his charming brother?

Dog in the manger, Nell thought. You do not want me, but no one else can even be my friend.

‘Nell, will you come and talk about the party Hal wants us to hold?’ Verity called.

‘I—I am a little tired, Verity. Would you mind very much if we spoke of it tomorrow?’ Verity’s face fell and Nell had a strong suspicion that she would do what she often did and come round in her nightgown and wrapper to curl up at the foot of the bed for what she called a chat, but was usually a lengthy interrogation about the life of a milliner, which appeared to fascinate her.

Nell gathered up her things, made her goodnights and finally turned to face Marcus. He was still standing by the window, still watching her with what she could only interpret as dislike.

Two could play at that game. Nell lifted her chin and returned a stare of freezing disdain as she swept out of the door. Outside, she leaned back against it, shaken. He had seemed so gentle, almost teasing her over the chess game—until Hal had come over to join them. Perhaps he did not want her corrupting his brother.

‘Miss Latham?’

‘Oh. Watson. A moment’s abstraction.’ She smiled at the butler and went swiftly up the stairs. With Miriam dismissed, she turned the key in the lock; she really did not feel she could cope with Verity tonight.

Nell folded away the last of her father’s letters and tied the ribbon. There was nothing more there to add to what she already knew, nothing in her mother’s diary either, just despair and the death of hope.

She locked the writing slope and set it back on the table. The clock on the mantle showed five minutes to midnight. Time to sleep, if she could.

The tap on the door stopped her as she began to climb into bed. ‘Verity, I’m sorry, but I am too sleepy to talk,’ she called.

The tap came again, the handle turned. Nell sighed and went to the door. ‘Verity—’

‘It is Marcus. I need to talk to you.’

‘At this hour? In my room? I very much doubt talking is what you have in mind,’ she said, snatching her hand back from the door handle. ‘Go away.’

‘Nell, for Heaven’s sake, stop sulking and let me in.’

‘Sulking! I am doing nothing of the sort.’ Nell heard her voice rise and got a grip on her temper. ‘You are a complete hypocrite, Marcus Carlow, glowering at me for talking to your brother then accusing me of sulking,’ she hissed at the crack in the door. ‘I don’t like you, I don’t want you—’

There was a loud thump on the door panels that sent her jumping back in alarm. ‘Nell!’

‘Will you stop shouting! Do you want the entire household here? Do you want to shame me in front of your sisters? Go away!’

Silence. Then, ‘You really are the most infuriating woman I have ever met,’ Marcus Carlow said. It must have been the muffling effect of the door, but she could have sworn he was smiling as he spoke. ‘Good night, Nell.’

‘Infuriating? Me?’ But there was only silence. Nell turned the key in the lock and flung open the door, spoiling for a fight. The passage was empty save for half a suit of armour on a pillar. ‘Oh!’ The temptation to slam the door was almost overwhelming. Nell closed it with care, locked it and stalked back to bed.

What do you do, she wondered an hour later as she punched her pillow in an effort to find a position where she might finally sleep, when you fall in love with a man whom you want to shake in exasperation almost as much as you want to kiss him?

‘The lake is frozen, so Potter tells me,’ Marcus remarked as he tackled a large and bloody beefsteak.

Nell averted her eyes from both the man and his idea of a reasonable breakfast and addressed herself to her toast and preserves. She was finding it very difficult to ignore Marcus while at the same time not give the appearance of doing so.

‘We could skate,’ he continued. ‘Potter says the ice is bearing—he and two of the other under-gamekeepers were on it last night.’

‘Oh, yes!’ Honoria was predictably enthusiastic. ‘We can all go and take a picnic and have a brazier, just like we used to do.’

‘I didn’t know there was a lake,’ Nell remarked.

‘It is more of a long, large pond,’ Lord Narborough explained. ‘It was made by damming the river to create a head of water for the mill lower down. Most of the streams around here are shallow, but they feed the Woodbourne and it has a reasonable depth.’

‘We crossed one of the tributary streams when Nell and I were riding,’ Marcus said.

She saw Hal looked up at the use of her first name. ‘So we did, my lord,’ she said with a little emphasis on the title. Hal’s lips twitched.

Unaware of the byplay, Lord Narborough tossed down his napkin and beamed. ‘A good idea. The sun is out, the frost is hard. Watson, tell the kitchen that we require a luncheon hamper and have the footmen take the brazier and so forth down to the lake.’

‘George,’ Lady Narborough began, then looked round the table at her enthusiastic family and smiled. ‘Oh, very well. The exercise will do us all good, I daresay. You have some stout boots, Miss Latham?’

‘I will just watch,’ Nell demurred. ‘I have never skated.’

‘You will love it. Please try, Nell,’ Verity cajoled, despite Nell’s firm refusals.

She was still saying no when they reached the lakeside an hour later. This was obviously a well-rehearsed excursion, with muffled-up footmen in galoshes throwing oilskin rugs over fallen trees for seats, a brazier and kitchen staff clustered around it making ready for hot drinks and luncheon. The staff seemed to be enjoying it as much as the family and it was hard, in the middle of so much laughter, to keep refusing to join in.

Nell stood by the edge, well wrapped up, watching while Lord Narborough executed intricate reverse steps with his wife, Hal whirled a shrieking Honoria in circles and Marcus fastened Verity’s skates.

Diana strapped on her own skates with a practised air just as Lord Narborough delivered his breathless wife back to the edge. ‘Miss Price?’

They stuck out for the centre, collecting Verity as they went. Nell tried not to feel envious. It looked such fun, so effortless. Marcus came up, as sure on his skates as he was on firm land. ‘Nell?’ She fought the urge to turn away and take refuge by the brazier.

‘I do not skate, my lord,’ she said politely, conscious of Lady Narborough not so very far away.

‘Nell, I want to make up.’ Marcus was smiling ruefully at her when she finally made herself meet his eyes.

‘Really?’ She began to walk along the edge while he skated slowly beside her. ‘After glowering at me last night and then hammering on my door for an argument? Do you assume I am going to corrupt your brother?’

‘Hal? Good God, no! Quite the reverse, I am sure. Hal is the most appalling flirt; I would not want your heart wounded, Nell.’

Would you not? she thought, wondering what he would say if she told him that she feared he had already broken it. ‘And that makes you scowl?’

‘Was I so fierce? I am sorry, Nell. My thoughts last night were not easy. I had some hard thinking to do.’

‘You seem more cheerful this morning,’ she ventured. ‘Have you made up your mind what you will do about your problems?’

‘One of them, yes.’ He came to a halt on the ice. ‘I am looking for the right moment to do something about that. How to tackle our dark antagonist is still eluding me.’

‘These woods are too big to hunt him in,’ she said, looking up at the forested slopes. ‘Could you set a trap? Take away the patrolling gamekeepers, be a little careless with a window left ajar?’

‘If it were only Hal, my father and I, that is exactly what we would do. With a houseful of women, no. But I refuse to allow him to spoil our fun. Come and put skates on, Nell. I will teach you.’

‘I’ll fall down,’ she protested, allowing herself to be led back.

‘Where’s your spirit?’ Marcus demanded, grinning at her. ‘You ride a horse; this is much closer to the ground, even if you do fall.’

‘Even? Oh, all right,’ Nell capitulated. It seemed she had misjudged his mood last night and the dark, brooding gaze was not the outer sign of his feelings about her.

She sat on a tree stump and let him strap the skates over her boots, one hand steadying her foot while the other secured the lashings. Through the sturdy boots his touch could be nothing but chaste, yet there was still the memory of those same fingers trailing wicked delight up her legs, up her inner thighs, up to the most…

‘Did you say something?’ Marcus looked up and Nell shook her head. She must have gasped. His dark head bent to the task again and she fought the impulse to thread her own fingers into the thick, waving hair.

‘You should wear a hat,’ she scolded. ‘You’ll catch your death of cold.’

His answering grin as he helped her to her feet gave her a sudden glimpse of what he must have looked like as a boy, his bare head ruffled, his eyes sparkling with mischief. If they had lain together yesterday, then she might be carrying his child now. A son with his father’s grey eyes.

‘Nell?’

‘Um? Oh, I’m sorry.’ Her state of abstraction had carried her the few steps onto the ice without her realizing. ‘Oh!’ Her feet wanted to go in opposite directions. Nell grabbed the front of Marcus’s coat and hung on. It was impossible to move.

‘Stand up straight,’ he said patiently, untangling her. ‘And put your feet like this and hold my arm.’

Nell’s feet shot out and she sat down with a thud. ‘Ouch!’

‘Up.’ Marcus hauled her to her feet. ‘Try again.’

After half an hour of skids, slides and inelegant landings on her bottom, Nell found she could stand up and move each foot forward in turn. ‘Look! I’m skating!’ Hal swooped past, laughing at her, and she grinned back. ‘I wish I could go fast like that.’

‘All right.’ Marcus moved behind her, put his hands at her waist and pushed. ‘Here we go, you move your feet too.’

And she was skating, laughing out loud, waving to Lord Narborough, who had Honoria on one arm and Verity on the other. Behind her, Marcus’s body was strong and warm, sheltering her, supporting her, keeping her safe. She turned her head and smiled up at him. ‘I love this!’

His eyes widened, his smooth pace faltered just a fraction and Nell lost her footing. Her feet shot out in front of her and she went down like a stone, landing virtually on Marcus’s feet. There was a sharp crack, echoing around the valley. He stumbled, but she was too close for a recovery, and they ended up in a laughing heap on the ice.

In a moment they were surrounded by the other skaters, helping them to their feet. ‘What was that noise, just as we fell?’ Marcus demanded, dusting ice powder off his coat. He looked around at the pond. ‘It isn’t breaking up, is it?’

Diana Price flew towards them from the far end of the little lake like a racer, her face white. ‘A gunshot!’ She came to a halt, her skates kicking up a shower of frozen fragments. ‘I felt the bullet go past me, just as you went down. Someone is shooting from the woods.’

The men, without a word being exchanged, encircled the women, hurrying them off the ice. ‘There!’ Marcus, tearing off the bindings of his skates without looking, was scanning the woods. ‘By that dead oak.’

‘I see him.’ Hal was already free of the encumbering blades and running hard for the carriage. Nell saw him pull a shotgun out from beneath the driver’s box, slinging it over his shoulder on the run as Marcus joined him.

‘Into the carriage, everyone.’ Lord Narborough was snapping orders, shepherding the servants into their brake. ‘Leave everything.’

Crammed into the carriage, they jostled together as the coachman whipped the horses into a skidding canter on the icy track. He pulled up as the carriage came out of the woods and Hal and Marcus jumped up, one on each step, clinging to the door frames on either side.

‘Gone,’ Marcus said through the open window. ‘There were hoof prints, then he was into the deep wood. The ground’s too hard and there is no snow in there. We lost him.’

Nell kept her eyes on Marcus as the carriage bounced and swayed its way back to the house. He looked grimly angry. She could imagine his frustration, chasing a ghost, his actions tied by the need to protect a houseful of women.

This campaign of persecution was moving beyond mere attempts to frighten and disturb. She had no idea whether that shot had missed on purpose or whether they had all been fortunate, but someone could have been killed.

As she went up the steps in the wake of Lady Narborough she realized, with a sort of calm fatalism, that she could keep her secret no longer.

‘George,’ Lady Narborough said as they stood in the drawing room, dripping onto the fine carpet. ‘What is going on?’

Nell saw Marcus meet his father’s eye and nod. Yes, the time had come. As his father began to explain, she touched Marcus’s arm. ‘I need to speak to you.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes,’ she murmured, drawing him aside. ‘Your father will tell the others what he feels they should know, will he not?’

‘Very well.’ He led her out of the drawing room, across the Great Hall to the small panelled room she remembered. ‘What is it, Nell?’ Marcus shut the door and leaned one shoulder against it. ‘There is no need to be afraid; he cannot get us in here.’

‘I am not afraid. Not of that.’ She found she was standing almost to attention as though she were in the dock of a court. Her hands were trembling. Nell clasped them tightly, raised her chin. ‘My real name is not Nell Latham. I was Lady Helena Wardale.’

He did not speak for a long moment, but he pushed away from the door and stood, quite still, staring at her across the six foot of space that separated them. Finally he said, ‘Younger daughter of the Earl of Leybourne.’

‘Yes.’

‘You knew what that rope signified.’ It was not a question.

‘Yes.’

‘You delivered it. You were in my father’s room when someone broke into it to bring another rope—and yet you said nothing.’ He sounded as coldly calm as a lawyer setting out the case for the prosecution, as though this meant nothing to him but an academic exercise injustice.

‘Yes.’

‘Is Salterton your lover?’

‘No!’

‘Your brother, then?’

‘No. Nathan may be dead, for all I know.’ I will not cry, she told herself fiercely, biting her lower lip in the hope the pain would steady her.

‘You have every reason to hate my father, this family. You were the instrument of his heart attack, you shot me. You have lived under our roof for weeks. My mother and sisters treated you as a friend. And all the while we worried and speculated and you said nothing.’

‘I never lied to you. Latham is the name I have used since I was a child. It is my name now.’

‘And if we had known all along who you were—can’t you see how important that could be?’ His calm cracked suddenly in an explosion of movement that took him across the intervening space to stand before her. When she had first met him, she had thought him too big and too male to be close to. Now she fought the instinct to flinch away and he saw the fear in her eyes.

‘I won’t hit you, Nell. I’m not like your mysterious friend. I don’t make war on women, even treacherous ones.’

‘I am not a traitor!’ she flared back at him. ‘All I knew was that my mother brought me up to hate the name Carlow and now I have read my father’s letters, her diary, I can see why. I did not know Lord Narborough’s family name when I brought the parcel.

‘Yes, I believe he betrayed my father, his friend, but now I have met your father I can see that he only acted out of conscience and he is suffering for it. He was wrong, so wrong, but he acted honestly and I forgive him.’

‘That’s magnanimous of you,’ Marcus said, his eyes narrowed on her face. ‘You can hardly take the moral high ground on this. Your father was a traitor and a murderer and an adulterer into the bargain.’

Nell slapped his face before she even knew she was going to do it. The blow jarred her wrist, the sound shocked her. He grabbed her wrists one-handed, the fragile bones shackled in one big fist. ‘Let me go!’ She kicked out and was jerked hard against his chest, then tried to bite as he took not the slightest notice of her boots cracking against his shins.

With his free hand he took her chin, pushing it up until she had to open her mouth and stop biting. ‘You hell cat! Stop this, Nell. I don’t want you to get hurt.’

‘You are quite safe, I don’t have my pistol,’ she panted, twisting in his grip. But it was futile; he was too strong. Nell stopped struggling.

It took them both a minute to steady their breathing. Nell stood quiescent in Marcus’s hold, wondering why all she could read in his eyes was grief. But that had to be wrong. After all, she had proved over and over that she did not understand him.

‘If you had nothing to do with this, it is stretching coincidence too far to think you were an accidental choice to deliver the rope,’ he said at last, his voice flat. ‘How do you explain that?’

‘I cannot. Who hates both our families? It seems incredible, yet it is happening. But, Marcus, someone who is obsessed enough to be doing all this could have tracked me down, given time and money, if they knew the name we took after my father’s death. I give you my word, I do not know why they are attacking your family. But I knew, once I discovered who you were and read Papa’s letters, that you would never believe me. You wanted me to tell you my secrets, but I knew how it would be—listen to yourself.

‘Then why tell me now?’ he demanded.

‘Someone could have been killed on the lake today. I had to give you my pieces of the puzzle.’

‘I wish I could believe that you know nothing.’ There was sincerity in the deep voice, but she was hurting too much to credit it.

‘Do you?’ Nell jerked her hands again and this time he let his own drop away. ‘Why should you care? All you want from me is to have me in your bed, under you—and at that just once, a notch on your bedpost.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘No. Damn it, Nell, I love you.’ And before she could stammer out a reply, Marcus dragged her into his arms, crushed his mouth down over hers and kissed her.