Читать книгу Pursued For The Viscount's Vengeance - Sarah Mallory - Страница 11
ОглавлениеGil stood before the looking glass, putting the finishing touches to his neckcloth. It was Thursday and he was going to the assembly at the Red Lion. He was going to see Deborah Meltham. A tingle of pleasurable anticipation rippled through him at the thought and his fingers fumbled the knot. Confound it, this was not intended to be an enjoyable encounter! With a muttered oath, he tore off the crumpled muslin and began again with a fresh cravat.
It is not too late to change your plans.
No. There was no other way. The law could not help him and killing Randolph Meltham would be too easy, the scoundrel must suffer as Gil had suffered. As his mother was still suffering at the loss of two of her children. Gil’s conscience might try to appeal to his finer feelings, but he reminded himself that he had none. Not any more, he thought bitterly. Years of warfare had seen to that. But he had to admit that if there was a way to have his revenge without involving Deborah Meltham, he would choose it.
He tucked away the ends of his cravat and stood back to survey the result. Perfect. As was his plan. He was a soldier and once resolved on a course of action he must stick to it. Whatever the consequences.
* * *
He delayed his arrival at the Red Lion until there was only a trickle of latecomers entering the rooms. He saw Deborah immediately. She was standing on the far side of the room, talking to the Gomershams. He suspected she had been watching for him, for as soon as he walked in she looked up. Even from this distance the pleasure in her face when she saw him was clear.
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
He fought off the thought by reminding himself that it was his sister who was lying in the family tomb. His brother who had been slaughtered trying to defend her honour. He crossed the room, but it took time to reach her—first there were new acquaintances to be acknowledged, greetings to be made. At last he was there, standing so close he could see the pulse beating at her throat and smell the fresh, flowery perfume that she wore. She had not yet looked up at him, but she knew he was there, for there was a faint blush mantling her cheek and one hand had crept up to her shoulder in the same nervous gesture he had noticed on previous meetings.
He said, ‘I came, you see.’
She looked up then and her shy smile hit him like an iron fist in the chest, winding him. He realised with a shock that he would find it only too easy to woo her. Beside them, Sir Geoffrey was chuckling loudly.
‘Well, well, sir, you have not come here to talk with the likes of me tonight. I do not doubt you are here to dance, so off you go now with your pretty partner.’
Deborah was laughing and blushing at the same time and as Gil led her on to the dance floor he thought he had never seen her so animated. Even the gown, covering her from neck to toe, and her neatly coiled hair did not detract from it. It was no hardship to suggest they remain on the floor for a second dance.
When she did not answer, his fingers went instinctively to his cheek. Immediately her face softened and she put up a hand to draw his away.
‘It is not so very bad, you know,’ she said gently. ‘And it is not the reason I hesitated. There has been talk, you see. After we danced together twice at the charity ball.’
‘But it is perfectly acceptable to stand up for two dances, Miss Meltham.’
She glanced down at her hand, still held firmly in his grasp.
‘People here are not accustomed to seeing me dance with anyone save my brother, or our close neighbours.’
‘They should be pleased to see you enjoying yourself.’ His fingers tightened around hers. ‘There is only one question for you to answer, do you want to dance again with me?’
She looked at him, a smile lilting on her full red lips. ‘Yes, sir, I would like to, very much.’
‘You are not merely feeling sorry for me?’
‘Not at all.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘Lady Gomersham told me that at the last assembly any number of ladies were asking for an introduction to you.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Some women find scars fascinating.’
‘That is where gentlemen have the advantage,’ she replied as they took their places in the set. He saw her hand briefly touch her shoulder. ‘For them a scar is a badge of honour, to be worn with pride and no one would think ill of them. It is a very different matter for a woman.’
He was surprised at the note of bitterness that had crept into her voice. He wanted to know why, but the music struck up. Deborah was smiling again and the moment for confidences was lost.
* * *
They danced together for their two dances, then Gil stood aside. Unlike the previous assembly, when he had seen her retreat to the benches and refuse to dance with anyone save her brother, this time she accepted another partner with seeming pleasure. Indeed, she was looking so pretty he was not at all surprised that gentlemen were lining up to dance with her and at the break he had to act quickly to ensure he could escort her into supper.
‘Is your brother not here this evening?’ he asked as she tucked her dainty hand into his arm.
‘No.’ A faint shadow crossed her face. ‘He is indisposed this evening. I came here with Sir Geoffrey and his party.’
Contempt stirred. The fellow was probably too drunk to attend. No one was willing to speak out of turn against the young Lord Kirkster, but Harris had gleaned enough from the taproom gossip for Gil to be sure that the man was far too fond of his drink. When he had called at the house Gil had noticed the unmistakable smell of wine in the drawing room, the ring marks of carelessly placed glasses on the sideboard, and Deborah’s demeanour suggested she knew of her brother’s weakness. Did she also know he was a callous seducer?
They had reached the supper room and Gil pushed aside his dark thoughts as he escorted his partner to a small table where they might converse uninterrupted. It was time for him to charm her into submission.
* * *
The Gomershams’ carriage dropped Deborah at her door and once she had ascertained that her brother was not waiting up for her, she almost flew up the stairs to her room. It was as much as she could do not to be impatient with her maid as she helped her to undress, for all Deb wanted to do was to slip between the sheets and blow out her candle. Not to sleep, but to be alone and go over the events of the evening again and again.
She could not recall the last time she had enjoyed herself so much. She had forgotten what it was like to dance with a gentleman, certainly she had never danced with anyone like Mr Victor. He made her feel like a princess. His conversation at supper had been sensible and intelligent. He had made no attempt to flirt with her and she was very thankful for that, because she would have had to check any attempt at intimacy. Instead they had talked of, oh, she had no idea now, but it had ranged from books and art to music and travel.
How the evening had flown. And then he had stood up with her for two more dances. Perhaps she should not have allowed it, perhaps it might cause talk in Fallbridge, but it was worth it. For a few hours she had felt like a normal young woman again. She had forgotten Randolph—she had even forgotten her first love, the man who had blighted her life for ever. Forgotten everything except the joy of being admired by a handsome man.
Deborah turned in the bed and snuggled her cheek against her hand, unable to prevent a smile growing inside her. He was very handsome, despite the scar on his face. When he looked at her it was as if she was the only woman in the room. Restlessly she shifted again until she was lying flat on her back and gazing at the far wall, where the moonlight glinted on the polished brass of the candleholder. Her spirits were still soaring and she wanted to hold on to the feeling, to stay awake all night and go over every look, every word they had exchanged and bury them deep in her memory for ever.
* * *
She could not remember falling asleep, but when she opened her eyes it was morning and the sun was pouring in through the unshuttered window. The feeling of well-being remained. Never had the sun shone so brightly, never had she heard the birds singing to joyously. Smiling, Deborah slipped out of bed and rang for her maid, eager to enjoy every moment of this beautiful day.
Deborah decided to walk to Gomersham Lodge and thank Lady Gomersham for taking her to the assembly. The visit was not strictly necessary, a polite note would have done as well, but Deborah felt too restless to stay at home. Randolph had come downstairs, bleary eyed and complaining of a headache, but it was clear she could do little for him, so she left him to the tender administrations of his butler and sallied forth into the sunshine.
Fallbridge was bustling with life and Deborah greeted her acquaintances with a cheery smile. If she was disappointed that she did not see a certain person in the town she would not admit it, even to herself. Just because one danced a few times with a gentleman and went into supper with him did not mean they were anything more than acquaintances, as she explained when Lady Gomersham quizzed her on her conquest.
‘Mr Victor seems a very pleasant man, Deborah, and if he is keen to settle in Fallbridge, who knows...’
‘My dear ma’am, we know nothing about him,’ Deb protested, laughing.
‘True, but he is staying at the George, which is not cheap, and Sir Geoffrey thinks he is a very good sort of man. I could ask him to make enquiries, if you wish.’
‘No, no, I pray you will not do that,’ said Deb, hastily. ‘I assure you, I have no interest in the gentleman at all.’
If her hostess did not quite believe her, Deb was thankful that she was too polite to say so.
‘Well, I was pleased to see you enjoying yourself last evening, as I am sure all your friends were,’ was all Lady Gomersham said, nodding so that her greying curls danced around the edges of her lace cap. ‘You spend too much time worrying about that brother of yours.’
‘But there is no one else to worry about him,’ Deb argued, a small cloud dimming her sunny spirits when she thought of Randolph.
‘Lord Kirkster is a grown man now, my dear. You should look to your own happiness.’
The look on the older woman’s face said as clearly as words that she thought Deborah should not allow the chance of getting a husband to slip through her grasp. But Deborah would never marry without love and she was determined not to risk her heart again. Once was quite enough. Just the memory of it made it necessary for her to repress a shudder.
‘I am perfectly happy, ma’am, thank you.’
And she was, Deb told herself as she took her leave. She loved her brother deeply, and she had promised Mama she would look after him. There could be no happiness if she did not honour that promise.
She thought again of the assembly, of dancing with the stranger. No, not a stranger, not any more, but she would not allow herself to be carried away by daydreams. The elation she had felt last night was the fleeting sort and she knew better than to make too much of it.
However, when she turned into the High Street and saw Mr Victor striding towards her she could not help a little kick of excitement and a quickening of the pulse. They could not avoid one another, even if they wished to do so. He stopped and tipped his hat.
‘Miss Meltham.’
The warm smile in his eyes sent her heart skittering in her chest and she felt so breathless it was a struggle to greet him.
‘Are you running errands this morning?’ he asked her.
‘I called upon Lady Gomersham and now I am going home.’
‘Then I will escort you, if you will allow me.’
Instinct warned Deborah to make some excuse, but she ignored it. She inclined her head in tacit acquiescence and he turned to walk beside her.
What harm can it do? she reasoned. They were merely walking together; they were not even touching.
But, oh, how she wanted to touch him! How she wanted to rest her hand on his sleeve and feel the strength of his arm, as she had done last night. But the conduct permissible in the ballroom would be frowned upon in the public street, so she had to be content to walk beside him.
The streets were busy and it seemed to Deborah that all her friends and acquaintances were out of doors, smiling and nodding when they saw her. She returned their smiles, knowing that gossip would be rife by the morning.
‘You are very well known in Fallbridge, Miss Meltham.’
‘It is my home, sir.’
‘But you have a house in Liverpool, too, do you not? I should have thought that would have been your preference. After our conversation over supper the other night I know your lively mind enjoys the arts and theatre.’
She did not reply and he asked her what had influenced her to live in this small market town. She considered her words carefully before answering.
‘When Randolph and I were children our time was divided between here and the house in Liverpool. Mama loved Fallbridge, but Papa still had some interest in the shipping company that our grandfather started and was obliged to be in Liverpool for several months of each year. We always went with him. It was very different from Fallbridge and we did not have the freedom of the country, but the house was so large Ran and I could spend hours playing hide and seek, from the attics to the cellars.’ She laughed. ‘I have no doubt the servants thought us a veritable nuisance!’
‘It sounds like a very happy childhood.’
‘It was.’ She stopped, swallowing a sigh as she wished it was possible to return to those carefree days.
‘And now you live alone with your brother?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded.
‘And your mother?’
‘She died just a year after Papa. She had been in poor health for a long time.’
‘I am very sorry. Who—?’
He broke off and she looked up at him, brows raised.
‘Yes? What were you going to ask, sir?’
‘Forgive me if I am impertinent, but did you not need a chaperon, if your mother was so ill?’
‘A widowed aunt had lived with us for years and continued to do so for a while after Mama died. Now, of course, I have Randolph.’
She said no more. He did not need to know Ran had insisted they live alone, that he was too ashamed to have anyone other than Deborah know of his addictions.
Mama had always planned for Deb to make her come-out in London under her aunt’s aegis and they would take Ran with them. But that had been postponed because of Papa’s ill health and when he died Deb had given up her dreams of a glittering presentation. By then Ran was already drinking and gambling to excess and she had been afraid to expose him to the temptations of the capital. She had always hoped that at Oxford he would make new, more sober friends and grow out of his excesses. A vain hope, she realised now.
‘And now you live here most of the year.’
‘Yes.’ Should she say more? ‘You may think it odd that a young man like my brother would choose to live in such a small out-of-the-way place. Randolph suffers from, from ill health. It is better that we live quietly.’
‘I see.’
There was such a wealth of sympathy in the two words that Deb was tempted to tell him everything, to unburden herself of the cares and worries that beset her. But, no. He was little more than a stranger, after all, and Randolph did not like her discussing family matters.
‘Your brother is lucky to have such a devoted sister.’
‘Anyone would do as much.’ She added lightly, ‘And Fallbridge really is a very agreeable town. We have everything we need here for entertainment. The countryside is very fine, there is some hunting to be had in the season. And we are not ten miles from the coast.’
‘Yes, I have noticed you have the benefit of bracing sea air,’ he commented as the wind made a sudden snatch at his hat.
Deb laughed. ‘Very bracing!’
She put a hand up to her face. Several wisps of hair had escaped and were curling about her face. She tried to tuck them back under her bonnet.
‘No, don’t do that.’ Her fingers stilled. He added softly, ‘It suits you.’
Her cheeks flamed and she walked on quickly, unable to think of a suitable reply.
‘Do you know,’ he continued, in a conversational tone, ‘I have made myself familiar with the local rides around here, but I have not yet been to the coast.’ He stopped and turned to face her. ‘Do you ride, Miss Meltham?’
She should walk on, but her feet had stopped, too.
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Do you have a groom to accompany you? If so, there could be no impropriety if we were to take a little trip together. Will you not take pity upon a poor stranger and ride out with him?’
Deborah hesitated. They would be gone from breakfast until dinner. It was unthinkable. She determined to say no, but then she looked up to find him smiling down at her and she could not speak at all.
‘Say you will come with me,’ he murmured. ‘I promise I will look after you.’
Physically, perhaps, but that was not what was worrying her. Deb was aware of her growing attachment to Mr Victor. It would be wiser not to see too much of him. And yet...
Ran was engaged to go shooting with Sir Geoffrey and a party of friends at the beginning of the week. They would make an early start and he would dine at Gomersham Lodge, so Deborah would have the day to herself.
‘I might be free on Monday,’ she said slowly.
His smile deepened. ‘Monday it is, then. I shall call for you.’
She shook her head, suddenly panicked. ‘I do not know; it is not certain I shall be able to come.’
‘Then you may send word to me at the George.’ He hesitated. ‘Will you not take my arm for the remainder of the journey? No one would take it amiss, I am sure, for the wind is much stronger now we are clear of the town and I am afraid it might blow you away.’
* * *
What was she doing?
Deborah handed her cloak to Speke, but instead of going upstairs she went into the morning room and ran to the window, just in time to see her escort striding out of the drive. When he was no longer in sight she turned away with a sigh. He was handsome, kind and gentlemanlike.
And dangerous.
She shook her head, as if to clear the doubts. It was not really dangerous, it was only a ride, after all. She would take her groom, who could be relied upon to look after her. She would enjoy a day’s riding in agreeable company. It was nothing more than that.
Having made her decision, Deb went off in search of her brother, but by the time she went to bed she had still not told him of her forthcoming excursion, and as she drifted off to sleep she knew she would not disclose it to him. Not until after the event.
* * *
Monday morning dawned to a heavy mist, but by the time Gil reached Kirkster House it had burned off and the day promised to be fine. As he trotted up the drive he saw Deborah Meltham riding out of the stables on a neat bay mare, a groom following at a respectful distance behind her. She was wearing a dark green riding habit and her hair was firmly clipped back beneath the matching hat, but the severity of her outfit only enhanced her trim figure.
She was looking serious as she came up to him and he said without preamble, ‘Are you having second thoughts, Miss Meltham?’
The way her green eyes flew to his face told him he was right. Part of him hoped she would tell him she had changed her mind, that she would not go with him, but he knew he would be bitterly disappointed if she did that and not just because it would be a setback to his plans.
She leaned forward to pat the bay’s neck. ‘We go out rarely now, so it will be good take Bramble for an airing.’
She had not really answered his question, but he let that go. He turned his horse and came alongside her.
‘Is she fast?’ he asked, nodding at the mare.
‘Fast enough,’ she said and Gil noticed the sober look had been replaced by a definite twinkle. ‘We ride cross country most of the way, so you shall see for yourself.’
They turned west from the gates of the drive and headed away from the town. He was at pains to set her at her ease and within a very short time Deborah was chatting to him as if they had known one another for years.
* * *
It did not take long for him to learn that Deborah was an accomplished horsewoman and when they reached a stretch of open ground it seemed the most natural thing in the world to set the horses racing. The chestnut gelding had the advantage of size and strength over the mare, but for most of the way they were neck and neck, Gil just pulling away for the last few hundred yards. When he reached the hedge that separated them from the lane he drew rein and waited by the gate for Deb to come up to him. When she did, her cheeks were flushed and her smile was as wide as the sky. He could not help grinning back.
‘Did you enjoy that?’
‘Very much.’ She watched him as he manoeuvred his horse around to come alongside her and said, ‘You do not need to do that.’
‘Do what?’
‘I have noticed that you keep to the left of me, so I do not have to look at the scar on your face. I am not offended or repulsed by it, Mr Victor, believe me.’
She was smiling at him, nothing but warmth and kindness in her green eyes, and he felt something stirring inside of him, as if there was a chink in the armour he had built around his heart. She had touched softer feelings that he had kept buried for years.
‘Gil,’ he said suddenly. ‘Call me Gil.’
‘But your name is James.’ Her brows drew together. ‘You are James Victor, are you not?’
He was already cursing himself for inviting her to use that familiar name. He had not intended to allow her such intimacy, but he was not so much in control as he should be in her presence. He would need to be more careful.
‘Gil is what my family and close friends call me,’ he said, recovering quickly. ‘I should be honoured if you would use it, too.’
‘I cannot. It would not be seemly.’
She turned the mare and went ahead of him on to the lane, but he knew it was more than a physical distance. She had withdrawn from him. He brought his horse alongside her and began to talk of mundane matters until their previous rapport was re-established, and after that he was careful to say nothing more that might upset the easy camaraderie.
Gil knew he had been at fault. When they had raced across the turf he had forgotten his ulterior motive in befriending Deb Meltham. He found himself wishing that they could just be friends, that he had not set himself upon this path. But he had chosen his route and he could not change it now. He must approach it like any other military operation. Sometimes one’s duty was unpleasant, yet it must be done. But it was difficult, when she looked at him with those large trusting eyes and all he wanted to do was to protect her. He hardened his heart. She would be hurt, there was no help for it. In any battle there were casualties, it was the nature of war.
