Читать книгу The Louise Allen Collection - Louise Allen - Страница 27

‘Charlton!’ Decima tried to push past Adam to where her brother lay sprawled on the floor, blood coming from his mouth, which was opening and closing like that of a landed carp. Beyond him Pru was helping Starling to his feet, only to be pushed away by the outraged butler.

‘Stay there, Miss Ross,’ Adam said curtly. He strode forward, took Charlton by the arm and dragged him to his feet and into the drawing room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Charlton began to gobble with fury as Adam swung round to face him. ‘I am sure Miss Ross can do without being further exposed to the impertinent stares of the servants.’

‘How dare you!’ Charlton dug in his pocket and produced a vast white handkerchief, which he clapped to his face. Decima realised his nose had begun to bleed. ‘I find you ravishing my sister and you have the gall to assault me, sir! I will have the law upon you—’

‘For defending the good name of a lady who had just been grievously slandered? I will not repeat the phrase that you used to blacken Miss Ross’s character, Lord Carmichael, but no gentleman could stand by and hear a lady so insulted.’

‘I am her brother, damn you!’

‘Then you should be even more sensitive to the lady’s honour, and I would further remind you that she is still present and ask you to moderate your language.’

Adam was managing to sound quite ridiculously pompous, Decima realised, marvelling that he could turn the compromising situation around so that it seemed Charlton was in the wrong. But this was a nightmare—at any moment the Freshfords could return, doubtless half the household was already gathered in the hall, and, idiot though he was, Charlton was her brother.

‘Naturally, it is regrettable that Miss Ross’s attendant should have stepped outside the room for a moment—’

‘Moment? Moment?’ Charlton’s voice was thickening with his nosebleed. ‘My sister was unchaperoned, left alone with a rake! I will see that feckless slut of a so-called maidservant dismissed without a character—’

‘You will do no such thing!’ Decima interjected hotly. Neither man paid her the slightest attention.

‘Are you calling me a rake, Lord Carmichael?’ Adam enquired dangerously. ‘I can hardly call you out over remarks made to your own sister, tempting though it is, but I will have no hesitation in doing so if you blacken my character. Name your friends, my lord.’

‘No!’ Decima pushed past Adam and stood between the two men, unsure which of them was making her the more angry, or why, under the anger, she was feeling quite so excited and disturbed. ‘Stop it, both of you! Charlton, there was not the slightest impropriety in what you just witnessed. Lord Weston, I am in no need of your protection from my own brother, I thank you. I think you should leave. Now.’

From outside the door she could hear the sound of new arrivals on the scene. Starling’s voice was quivering with outrage, she was aware of Pru’s indignant tones and over it all Henry’s firm voice demanding to know what the devil was going on in his front hall.

Decima took a deep breath, stepped around Charlton and threw the door open. Embarrassing though this was, it was better than the risk that it would all end in a fight, either here or on the duelling ground. Under other circumstances Henry’s stunned expression would have been amusing.

‘Sir Henry,’ she said, cutting across all three men, ‘there has been a regrettable misunderstanding. My brother requires some medical attention. Lord Weston is just leaving.’

Adam was regarding her with dangerously slitted eyes. ‘I have no intention—’

‘Of staying, yes, I know, excellent.’ She stared back, willing herself to meet his eyes and not to show any of the emotions that were churning inside her. ‘Please give my regards to Miss Channing. I believe Starling has your hat, my lord.’

There was a long, dangerous silence, then Adam turned to Sir Henry and said, ‘I apologise for being the cause of a certain degree of disturbance amongst your household. Miss Ross, I give you good day.’

As the front door closed behind him Decima pressed a furious Charlton down into an armchair. ‘Henry, I can only apologise. Might I presume to call your housekeeper to see what can be done about my brother’s nosebleed?’

The sound of a throat being tactfully cleared made them turn. It was Henry’s valet. ‘Staples apprised me that the gentleman might require some assistance, sir,’ he said smoothly, as though bleeding and seething barons were a commonplace occurrence in his master’s household. ‘If you would care to accompany me, my lord, I am sure I can make you more comfortable.’ Charlton appeared mollified by the attention and allowed himself to be helped solicitously to his feet. ‘Should I send to your own valet for fresh linen, sir?’

‘Yes, yes, do that.’ On the threshold Charlton emerged from the shelter of his handkerchief to glower at Decima. ‘Dessy, I expect you to be packed ready to accompany me home.’ He stomped out.

‘Good God, Decima!’ Henry took her by the arm and almost dragged her down to sit on the sofa beside him. ‘What is going on? I leave you laid upon your bed with the headache and come back to find Starling threatening to hand in his notice, your maid demanding that I go in and rescue you and your brother bleeding all over Mama’s favourite carpet.’

‘I gave Olivia some advice, which I meant for the best, and she acted upon it rather overenthusiastically,’ Decima admitted. Now all the excitement was over, she was feeling more than a little queasy, and guiltily aware that under it all there was the thrill of seeing Adam stand up to defend her. ‘Adam was angry with me, we were discussing it and Charlton arrived. Pru wasn’t in the room and I think Starling was somewhat put out, so he let Charlton in and we were sitting on the sofa and he put two and two together and said things he should not and Adam hit him.’

‘Oh, lord.’ Henry regarded her blankly. ‘It has all the ingredients of a farce, has it not? Luckily Mama and Caro are not back yet. I’ll try and soothe Starling before they do return. Were they on the point of calling each other out?’

‘Adam called Charlton out for calling him a rake. I think he realised he could hardly call out my own brother for insulting me.’

‘He probably is a rake,’ Henry pointed out, reasonably.

‘Well, I expect he doesn’t want to be, now he is betrothed.’ She sighed. Adam had looked magnificent as he squared up to Charlton, and the fact that any well-brought-up lady should have had the vapours at the sight of fisticuffs did nothing to diminish the thrill that the memory evoked.

‘Are you going to go back with Charlton?’

‘No.’ Decima shook her head. ‘No, I will call tomorrow and apologise when we are all calmer. But I’m not going to allow my life to be dictated by my family, however much I have to admit Charlton has justification this time.’

Charlton’s final departure was fraught enough to send Decima back to her room shaking with emotion. Pru regarded her anxiously. ‘I’m sorry if I caused that, Miss Decima, but I thought you’d want to see his lordship.’

‘You meant well, Pru, but I am afraid you must go and apologise to Mr Starling. He was very put out, and I cannot stay here if we are going to upset Lady Freshford’s upper servants.’

‘Yes, Miss Decima.’ Pru hesitated. ‘About his lordship…are you…I mean, is he…? Will it be all right, Miss Decima? He isn’t really going to marry Miss Channing, is he?’

‘Of course he is, Pru!’ Decima swung round from her seat at the dressing table where she had been attempting to redress her hair. ‘Whatever makes you think he might not?’

‘Jethro says he doesn’t love her.’ Pru was scuffing her toe in the carpet.

‘That is not a consideration when the aristocracy marry,’ Decima said repressively, trying to believe it. ‘Making a suitable match is what matters.’

‘Oh. When will you be seeing him again?’ Pru seemed to pull herself together, took the hairbrush from Decima and started to tease out her curls.

‘When?’ Decima was conscious of a strange, sinking feeling. Dreadful as the last few hours had been, underlying them had been the guilty delight of being with Adam, the revelation that he would defend her honour, physically if need be—even the reprehensible pleasure of knowing that she could stir strong emotions in him. ‘I think that it would not be wise to see him again, unless I cannot help but encounter him socially.’ As she thought it through, the illicit excitement ebbed away, leaving her feeling more than a little uneasy.

Charlton was head of the household, her brother, and, however infuriating he was, she had to believe that he had her best interests at heart. He had castigated her for behaviour that, looking back at it, was indeed fast. She had swung from being a shy mouse to behaving with unbecoming freedom which ill-befitted a single lady. Probably she had given Adam a disgust of her. Dismally, Decima blinked back a tear.

Adam strode into the mews yard to find Bates perched on a mounting block, mending a length of driving trace. ‘Saddle Fox.’

‘He’s at exercise, my lord.’ Bates sawed off the end of the waxed thread he was using, folded his clasp knife and shoved it back into his pocket. ‘I told the lad to ride out with Ajax and take Fox on the leading rein, seeing as you said you wouldn’t be riding today.’ He shook out the leather and eyed it critically, apparently paying not the slightest attention to the thunderous expression on his master’s face.

‘How long since?’ Adam ground out. He’d wanted to ride Fox—fight him—as the only way he could think of to expend the aggression that was burning through him. You did not shout at servants, you did not aim a kick at the cat, and you certainly did not go anywhere near your meek fiancée, not when what you wanted was to land another blow on the nose of a pompous, bacon-faced addle plot, and as for his sister—

‘The lad left not ten minutes ago, my lord,’ Bates said placidly. ‘I told him to give them a good workout, so he’ll be at least another hour, I’d say.’ He put aside the trace and picked up another strip of leather and a punch. ‘Is Miss Ross well, my lord?’

‘Miss Ross is perfectly well, thank you, Bates.’ Adam managed not to grind it out through clenched teeth. He tugged off his gloves, filled with an uncharacteristic indecision about what to do next—other than to go back to Decima and tell her he loved her. She would probably box his ears, and he wasn’t sure he would blame her if she did. It was beginning to sink in that if he couldn’t make his peace with her, then his entire strategy for ending his sham of an engagement was in pieces.

‘What?’ Bates had been asking something. He swung round to face the groom.

‘Been in a bit of a mill, have you, my lord?’ Bates nodded towards Adam’s right hand. He looked at it, surprised to find that the knuckles were raw and grazed. ‘You’ll need to put a bit of something on that afore long, stop it scarring. How’s the other fellow?’

‘The other fellow happens to be Miss Ross’s brother.’ Adam felt the anger drain out of him, leaving him tired and depressed. Of course she didn’t love him. Why should she? He had flirted with her, damn near seduced her, gone off and become entangled with another woman and now he was brawling with her brother.

‘Tsk.’ Bates clicked his tongue in disapproval. ‘Not a very good move, my lord.’ He shifted along the mounting block to give Adam room to sit down. ‘Ladies like being rescued from villains, goes without saying, but decking their own family, now that’s quite another kettle of fish.’ He drove a bradawl through the leather, squinted at the resulting hole and threaded his needle. ‘What did she say?’

‘She threw me out.’

‘Ah.’ Bates knotted the twine. ‘What are you going to do now, my lord? I’d be all a mort if I was you.’

‘That just about sums it up.’ Adam took off his hat and sat turning it round in his hands.

‘Don’t reckon she’ll have you now, not unless you can mend a few bridges.’

‘Quite.’ Adam blinked and focused on what Bates was saying. He should have known that the groom could read him like a book, but he could hardly admit the truth of what he was implying. Not yet. ‘I am engaged to marry Miss Channing. Not Miss Ross.’

‘Well, you are now,’ Bates observed cynically. ‘Best see what you can do about getting back on terms, my lord.’

Adam gathered the shreds of his dignity and stood up. ‘And how is your courtship faring, Bates?’

‘She’s a proper handful is Pru, and a right unaccountable piece,’ Bates observed. ‘But I’m not complaining—I’m only trying to court one woman at a time.’

Clear early spring sunshine cheered Decima as she returned, chastened and emotionally bruised, from a morning visit to her brother and sister-in-law the next day. But at least that unpleasant duty had been performed, and, due apparently to Hermione’s pleading, she was not going to be cast off and disowned. Provided, that is, she avoided Lord Weston’s contaminating presence like the plague.

She confided something of this to Pru as the carriage rattled back to the Freshfords’ house. ‘So I believe I must take great care, which is going to be difficult as I have no wish to have Miss Channing think I am cutting her,’ she concluded.

‘Oh.’ Pru stared at her, wide-eyed. ‘Then you couldn’t talk to his lordship about something?’

‘Only the merest commonplaces in passing. Why?’ Pru was looking positively dismayed. Now she looked back on the morning, the girl had seemed somewhat subdued ever since she had helped Decima dress.

‘It’s just that Jethro doesn’t think he’ll be able to have that cottage after all. In fact, he thinks he might lose his place if he marries me.’ Pru sniffed bravely ‘It’s a good position, he’s been there for years. I can’t ask him to give it up.’

‘When did this change of heart occur?’ Decima demanded. ‘You were quite happy yesterday.’

‘Jethro told me last night. He’s proper upset, but he said it wouldn’t do to carry on courting, not if he was about to lose his place. He said his lordship was on the high ropes when he came back yesterday. It’s all my fault,’ she concluded dismally. ‘If I hadn’t told his lordship you were at home yesterday, none of this would have happened.’

‘I don’t believe he could be so petty,’ Decima exclaimed. ‘Does he hope to wound me by spoiling things for you, or is he simply so top lofty that he cannot bear to be thwarted?’ She reached up and jerked on the check string. ‘We’ll see about that!’ The coachman’s face appeared at the window. ‘James, drive at once to Lord Weston’s house. He must learn he cannot have everything he wants. Pru, if he remains adamant I will offer Bates a place. I have been intending to increase my stables, perhaps take breeding more seriously. I shall need an experienced groom.’

The detour was short. As Decima stepped down, she saw movement against the study window. So, Adam was at home. ‘I shall be a few minutes. Please go down to the mews if you wish, Pru.’

Adam’s butler greeted her with a respectful bow, which was cut short when he saw she was without a companion. ‘Good morning, madam. I regret that Lord Weston is not at home.’

‘I believe he will be to me,’ Decima retorted with a smile. ‘Do not trouble to announce me.’ She slipped past the astonished butler before he could move and was twisting the study door handle by the time he had turned.

‘Madam!’

Then she was inside the room, facing Adam, who dropped the newspaper he was holding onto the desk and stared at her. ‘Decima!’ He took a long stride towards her before she overcame the shock of sensual pleasure that always struck her whenever she saw him.

She threw up her hands. ‘Don’t you Decima me! How could you, Adam? I would not have believed it of you.’

He stopped abruptly and ran his hand through his hair. It needed trimming, she saw, wishing she could follow his hand with her own, tangle their fingers together in the thick, dark hair. Feeling like that did nothing to soothe her temper.

‘Look, I can see why you are angry, but you have to admit, the provocation was strong.’

‘There is some inconvenience to you, my lord, and you regard it as provocation? That it is enough justification to excuse your action?’

‘I should hardly call it inconvenience.’ He gestured towards a chair. ‘Decima, please sit down and let us discuss this. I must confess I was thinking about you, puzzling about how I could mend fences again.’

‘A simple word to Bates would have done it, I would have thought.’ Decima moved away, trying to focus on a small group of Meissen figures on the mantleshelf to avoid looking at him.

‘You feel I use our servants as go-betweens?’ He seemed puzzled.

‘An apology would have put things to rights, I should imagine?’ Decima reached out a finger and lightly touched the sweeping skirts of one little figure. It was exquisite. If she concentrated on that she could keep herself detached from this quarrel, put it onto an impersonal level where the pain would not reach her. ‘Pru is very upset.’

‘Pru?’ He seemed genuinely confused. Could he be so indifferent or uncaring about his servants that he did not realise the hurt he had inflicted on Pru and Bates? ‘Oh, you mean that her interference yesterday led to that scene. You are fortunate that you have a maid who is so attached to your interests and so conscientious.’

‘It is Pru’s interests I am concerned with, not mine.’ Decima turned sharply to face him. ‘And Bates’s, of course.’

‘Bates?’ Adam laid a hand on her arm and frowned. ‘Decima, are we completely at cross-purposes? Why are you here?’

If she stood on tiptoe she could brush her lips against his, curl her arms around his neck and be held close to him. She was aware of his cologne, of the faint smell of woollen broadcloth that had been recently pressed with a hot iron, of the scent of clean, warm man. Her eyelids felt heavy and it was as much as she could do not to sway towards him.

‘I am here because you have broken Pru’s heart and I am very, very angry with you.’ Decima’s voice shook slightly and she struggled for control. ‘And disappointed.’

‘I have done nothing to Pru! What the devil is this about? Decima, I’m trying to apologise for hitting your infuriating brother yesterday. I wish I’d done it harder, but I upset you, so now I have to wish I’d never done it at all.’

‘But you told Bates he couldn’t have the cottage! He and Pru think he would lose his place if they marry—and to do that just because I asked you to go yesterday—that is so unfair.’ Decima freed her arm and moved back a little so she could watch Adam’s face without the distracting closeness. ‘Of course you should not have hit Charlton, and he was quite within his rights to be angry, finding us like that. He is pompous and overbearing, but he is my brother. What else could I do but tell you to leave? What if Olivia had come to hear of it? She still might.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘But to take it out on poor Pru—I could not believe you would do such a thing.’

Adam’s expression had run from puzzlement, through enlightenment to rueful amusement. ‘It’s not funny,’ Decima snapped.

‘I agree. I was mocking myself. Do you know, I had been existing under the illusion that I was in control of my life, my household, my destiny, and now I find that I am merely the plaything of my staff. Did Pru tell you in so many words that I had withdrawn the offer of the cottage, or that I had forbidden Bates to marry her?’

‘No…’ Decima wrinkled her brow in an effort to recall the exact words. ‘No, not exactly. She said that Jethro—Bates—did not think he would be able to have the cottage after all, and he might lose his place and you were—what was it?—oh, yes, on the high ropes.’

‘Decima, my love, has it occurred to you that we are both being manipulated by our servants? Pru and Bates obviously decided that we had quarrelled and that we were unlikely to get back on speaking terms again without a powerful incentive.’

‘You mean they are matchmaking? But…but…You are engaged! What did you call me?’

There was a tap at the door and the butler was inside before Adam could speak. Decima blinked at the man. Knocking at all, let alone sliding into rooms looking decidedly shifty, was not the sort of behaviour one expected of a top-flight butler.

‘My lord, Mrs Channing’s barouche has just driven up.’

‘Hell. Thank you, Dalrymple, I am sure you can make quite a business of taking the ladies’ things and showing them into the salon.’

The butler allowed himself a grimace. ‘I have never yet succeeded in ushering Mrs Channing anywhere she does not wish to go. She is aware that you normally spend some time in the study in the morning. If the lady would care to come with me, it would be safer—’ He broke off at the sound of the knocker, then they all froze. Someone was opening it and there was the sound of voices.

‘Peters—I believed him to be in the kitchens.’ Dalrymple lowered his voice. ‘I can hardly open this door and go out now…’

‘Stall.’ Adam seized Decima’s wrist and pulled her towards a cupboard door in the alcove beside the fireplace. ‘There should be room.’

Decima found herself squeezed into a space that seemed to be half filled with books and boxes. With the pressure of Adam’s body against hers she wriggled onto a shelf, managing to perch on the narrow ledge, her face squashed against his shirt front, her knees pressed into his thighs.

The door shut behind them, apparently with Dalrymple’s full weight against it, for Adam was pushed even harder against her. Then a familiar voice penetrated the panels.

‘There you are, Dalrymple. Where is Lord Weston?’