Knight For A Lady (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 3) Page 11

  Edith’s control slipped and the tears would not be contained. She found herself enveloped in her uncle’s pudgy embrace, relief and tenderness warring with a sneaking despair that Niall had not been similarly disposed to believe in her innocence.

  Her uncle released her and stood back, popping his eyeglasses back on his nose. “I think we would both be the better for a restorative. I am sure Mrs Tuffin will have coffee on the stove. The good woman knows to be prepared. Go and ask her to serve us in the back parlour, my dear, and I will be with you in a jiffy.”

  Edith gave him a tremulous smile. “I will do so. But one thing more.” She hesitated. She must say this, but felt a little diffident. Would it involve her in too much explanation? Her uncle’s instant look of apprehension decided her.

  “Don’t try to spare me, Ede.”

  “Oh, no, it is nothing untoward. Just that … Lord Hetherington has pledged me his aid.”

  “Lord Hetherington? Good heavens! I trust he is not concealing a wife about him too?”

  Edith let out a laugh. “Not that I know of, sir. No, of course he is not.”

  A frown appeared. “Do you tell me he knows of this?”

  Edith saw that only candour would serve her now. “Lord Kilshaw was kind enough to inform him, since he apparently took him for a rival in my affections.”

  The vicar threw up a hand. “You need say no more. I have the fellow’s measure now.”

  The suppressed anger in her uncle’s voice distressed her.

  “I only wanted you to know because — because if anything were to happen to me, you may call upon him.”

  “But what in the world could happen to you, my dear Ede? No, no, you need be perfectly at ease. Once he has heard what I intend to say to him, Lord Kilshaw will not importune you further.”

  His confidence was touching, if misplaced. But Edith could say no more without imparting the entirety of the villain’s conversation, and that she would not do. Her uncle was sufficiently discomforted already.

  She left him and headed for the kitchen, feeling somewhat deflated, if relieved at the outcome of the dreaded interview. The feeling did not last, however, as she began to fret over what Lord Kilshaw might do once he realised she had thwarted his design of hoaxing the vicar. Her uncle, speaking of ordinary things over the coffee they shared in the comfort of the family room, had no real idea of the determination driving her Nemesis.

  Uncle Lionel supposed he would retreat, chastened, like one of his parishioners after he’d been obliged to deliver a scold. But then the villagers adored him, just as she had learned to do. He was a fond and judicious guide to his flock, invariably understanding, always kind, and inclined to believe in the goodness of his fellow man. This simple trust was apt to make them feel worse for having transgressed and acted as a better deterrent than any threat of brimstone and fire in the afterlife.

  Which was why Edith had been so reluctant to disillusion him when he’d accepted Lord Kilshaw in the light in which he presented himself. She was obliged to admit she had underestimated Uncle Lionel’s large gift of compassion and his fierce loyalty. While it could not but touch her to the heart, his assurances failed to appease the demon of apprehension. He had no concept of the depths of degradation down to which her Nemesis wished to drag her. And Edith would not enlighten him.

  She remained in her bedchamber when her uncle received Lord Kilshaw in the parlour upon the following morning. Expecting loud voices and an argument, she listened at her own door. But beyond a murmur of voices, nothing untoward occurred.

  Presently she heard the front door open and close. Leaving her bedchamber, she crept along the passage and, kneeling on the window seat, peeped out of the casement that overlooked the front garden.

  Lord Kilshaw had just gone through the gate and was striding off to where his curricle awaited him a short way down the lane, a groom at the horses’ heads. Then he had not intended to attempt to get her alone on this occasion. She watched him jump up into the vehicle and take the reins. The curricle began to move and the groom swung himself up behind. Edith watched it out of sight and then ran down the stairs.

  Her uncle was still in the parlour. He greeted her with a smile. “All is well, my dear Ede.”

  “Was he angry? Did he try to poison you against me?”

  “Nothing of the sort. I must admit I was surprised, and felt a little sorry for the fellow, despite his reprehensible conduct.”

  Edith’s heart sank. The conniving dissembler! “What did he say to you?”

  “He admitted his fault at once. He confessed he knew he had no right to pursue you and claimed to be driven by his intense regard for you.”

  A sick feeling entered Edith’s stomach. Regard? He had no more regard for her than a snake!

  “You may be sure I set him straight. I advised him to return to his wife, who clearly needs his support, and instructed him to put all thought of you from his mind.”

  “And he accepted it?” Edith tried to keep the scepticism from her voice and her uncle seemed not to pick up on it.

  “To be sure, my dear. He knew the game was up. He promised he would not trouble you again.”

  The villain had played her uncle like a violin. She could hear him saying it, hiding his wolfish intent behind a penitent air. Oh, he was the devil incarnate!

  “I told you he was plausible, sir.”

  A frown creased his forehead. “You don’t believe him sincere?”

  “No, I do not.”

  Her uncle sighed. “Well, perhaps you are right. Let us give him the benefit of the doubt. If he does not leave the area within the day, I shall take it upon myself to hasten his departure.”

  Edith said no more. Her uncle was too trusting. Lord Kilshaw had no intention of leaving without her.

  For a while she toyed with the notion of sending to Lord Hetherington, but she refrained, having no real expectation of his being able to secure her safety. But by the end of the day she saw there were at least three stout men, armed with staves, loitering at different points of the green. Were these Niall’s guards?

  For the first time in days, Edith allowed herself to hope.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Try as he would Niall could not keep his attention focused on the matters demanding it. While Edith remained in danger, his mind played constantly on the possible ways Kilshaw might use to secure her to himself. That, and any further means he could employ to keep her safe.

  He’d taken such measures as he might without raising alarm in the village, confiding only in Eddows who knew the men of the estate. He had told him as little as possible, but did not doubt his agent was able to read between the lines.

  “It would be less conspicuous, my lord, if you were to alert certain men already resident in Itchington Bishops. I know of three or four who might suit.”

  “Can we rely upon their discretion?”

  “Oh, I think so, my lord. You will find few men unwilling to do whatever they may for the Reverend Westacott, and Miss Westacott is his niece.”

  Niall’s brows rose. “He is highly esteemed?”

  “Esteemed, admired and an object of devotion, my lord. Our vicar has a generous heart.”

  This intelligence encouraged Niall to feel more optimistic. If his parishioners had Westacott’s interests at heart, so much the better.

  “This is excellent, Eddows. Let us go and rout them out together.”

  His agent’s lips pursed. “If I may make the suggestion, my lord, I dare say it would be better if you did not appear in the matter yourself.”

  “Why?”

  “I imagine you don’t wish to excite gossip in the village?”

  “Damnation! Yes, of course you are right. That’s the last thing I want. I dare say Lord Kilshaw’s presence and his visits to the vicarage have not gone unnoticed.”

  “Nor his seeking you out at the tavern, my lord.”

  This admission caused Niall to let out an exasperated snort. “You mean you already know all about
it?”

  A prim little smile appeared on the fellow’s mouth. “I am indebted to your lordship for a more accurate account.”

  “Good God, it’s worse than the camp whisperers!”

  “Villages, my lord, are in general hotbeds of gossip, since daily life is invariably dull. Anything that disturbs the general run must be of interest to your neighbours.”

  Niall had to laugh. “In that case, I must suppose myself to have been closely scrutinised?”

  “Only for the first weeks, my lord. They have become accustomed to you.”

  “And I’ve given them food enough for gossip already, I suppose,” Niall said on a grim note, recalling his various encounters with Edith and the ladies from Tazewell Manor.

  His agent chose not to answer this, which was answer enough. Well, it could not be helped. He was not going to risk Edith’s safety for fear of his movements affording interest to the curious.

  “Summon the men to me here, Eddows. I prefer to interview them myself and ensure they understand what I need from them.”

  “Yes, I think that is wise, my lord, for it will be supposed you wish to employ them on estate business.”

  The arrangement was put in hand within the day, much to Niall’s satisfaction. The four fellows chosen by Eddows were stout young farm workers well known in the village, all of whom had apparently proved their pugilistic prowess in battles against the neighbouring and rival village of Long Itchington. To which Niall now turned his attention.

  “Lord Kilshaw is staying at The Fox and Goose in Long Itchington, Eddows. I would wish to put a man there who may take note of his movements.”

  They were riding towards one of the outlying farms upon the following morning, and Niall’s mind was more at rest for knowing the men he’d briefed would be at their posts.

  His agent looked across. “It is in hand, my lord. I took the liberty of setting my son to the task.”

  “Good God, what would I do without you, Eddows? An excellent beginning to his career in my service. He won’t mind kicking his heels?”

  A rare grin came from the agent. “Peter had no objection to spending his days idling in a tavern.”

  Niall burst out laughing. “I trust he may remain sober enough to keep his eye on our quarry.”

  “No fear of that, my lord. He reports that Lord Kilshaw drove towards Itchington Bishops yesterday morning and returned within the hour.”

  Cold gripped Niall’s breast. “With Miss Westacott?”

  “He was alone, my lord. And in a foul temper.”

  Then Edith must have told her uncle the truth. Relief swept through Niall and as quickly dissipated. No more than Edith did he believe Kilshaw meant to abandon his purpose. But at least he must have been denied access to the vicarage. That he was angered when he went back to The Fox and Goose suggested as much.

  “And he has not made any move since?”

  “No, my lord, he is still there.”

  Plotting, no doubt. Restless, Niall unconsciously urged his horse to a faster pace. What was he doing wasting his time in this fashion when that villain was weaving schemes in his den?

  “My lord!” Niall looked back and saw that Eddows had reined in. “You are going the wrong way!”

  Pulling up, Niall turned his horse and trotted him towards the agent. On the spur of the moment, he made up his mind. “Are they expecting us, Eddows?”

  “No, my lord.” The agent eyed him. “You wish to abandon the scheme?”

  “I should not, I know, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate.”

  “Why don’t we ride instead into Itchington Bishops, my lord? You may satisfy yourself that Miss Westacott is safe and I can make a couple of calls in the village.”

  “You’re a good fellow, Eddows.”

  The agent led the way back a short distance to a crossroads and took a narrow lane, signposted to Itchington, from which Niall could soon see the church spire in the distance. He parted from his agent outside the smithy where he left his horse and crossed the green to the vicarage, noting the strategic placement of his guards. He nodded at the one closest and clicked open the gate. He was halfway up the path when the door opened and the Reverend Westacott’s cheery countenance appeared.

  “My lord Hetherington! Come in, sir, come in.”

  Niall wasted few words in greeting, moving directly to his purpose. “How is Miss Westacott? I gather she has enlightened you as to Lord Kilshaw’s true character?”

  The vicar tutted as he ushered Niall into the front parlour. “A most reprehensible undertaking. I was never more shocked. My poor Ede to be subjected to such impertinence! It is too bad.”

  There was no Edith in the parlour and Niall felt his chest go hollow.

  “Where is she?”

  “She is resting, my lord. If this affair has not set her recovery back, we may count ourselves fortunate.”

  The reverend gentleman’s concern was evidently heartfelt but Niall could not be satisfied.

  “When did you last see your niece, sir?”

  The vicar stared up at him with popping eyes. “You are not suggesting —? Good heavens! But we were together at breakfast. Surely not, sir? With these fellows you have set about the place?”

  Surprised, Niall eyed him. “How did you know I did so?”

  “My dear sir, what else was I to think? At first I could not imagine why young Davey and Mark were loitering here instead of labouring where they ought, but a moment’s reflection gave me the picture. Besides, my Ede warned me you had pledged yourself to her support, for which I thank you most heartily.”

  Embarrassed to receive the beaming look of gratitude, Niall at once disclaimed. “It’s little enough and I must hope it will serve.”

  The Reverend Westacott opened expansive arms. “When you have thoroughly covered the ground, sir? They are good lads and I think we may rely upon their vigilance.”

  That might be so, but Niall could not withstand a discomfiting sensation of apprehension in spite of all. Without a sight of Edith, he felt altogether distrustful of her safety.

  “How long has she been in her chamber, if that is where she is?”

  He saw from the man’s sudden change of expression that his persistence was causing consternation in the vicar.

  “Goodness gracious, my lord, what are you implying? It’s been an hour, perhaps a little more.” The vicar started for the door. “Wait here, sir!”

  He did as he was bid, hearing the vicar’s step on the stairs and wishing he had the right to run up himself. The thought sent him pacing to the mantel as if he must prevent his feet from making the move, so strong was the urge. Nothing short of marriage could give him that right.

  Niall felt as if his head was exploding. Marriage! Why had he not thought of it at once? If he made Edith his wife, Kilshaw could not touch her. No man would dare make away with a fellow peer’s spouse for fear of scandal. Besides, if he had her under his eye, in his own home, he could guard her himself. He’d keep her safe. She need never fear anything again. And he would cherish her as she deserved.

  To his shock and dismay, Niall found himself trembling. The truth hit him with stunning force. He wanted her! He was as bad as that villain.

  The thought had no sooner entered his mind than he dismissed it. No, he was nothing like Kilshaw. Of course he desired Edith. But it went deeper with him. How in the world had he lost his heart, so rapidly and so completely?

  The instant the realisation came, Niall sobered on the thought of Edith’s feelings. He could not flatter himself she returned his regard. She had shown enjoyment in his company — before the arrival of Kilshaw at least. But was there anything more?

  A treacherous voice crept in. In this extremity, did it matter? If it would serve to secure her safety once and for all, it was selfish to be requiring a like feeling on her part as a pre-requisite to marriage. Or was that a convenient excuse?

  “Lord Hetherington?”

  He swung round, warmth flooding into his face as he cau
ght sight of Edith standing in the parlour doorway.

  “Miss Westacott!”

  She was here. She had not been spirited away. Niall wanted to cross the room and sweep her into his arms and hold her safe. But the vicar was bobbing about behind her, and in any event he had no right to enfold her in any sort of embrace.

  Her smile, as she moved into the room, cut a swathe in his chest.

  “I have to thank you, sir, for my guards.” A gesture towards the window encompassed the men he’d set in place. “My uncle says you will not be satisfied without a sight of me.”

  Niall drew a taut breath. “I did not mean for you to get up from your bed.” He took a step towards her and gestured at the chaise longue. “Won’t you lie here instead?”

  “Yes, Ede, do you take your ease,” bustled the vicar, coming in behind her. “His lordship may remain with you while I run a few errands — if that suits with you, my lord?”

  Niall nodded, his eyes on Edith as she took a seat on the chaise. “I am quite at leisure, sir.”

  Edith’s brows rose. “What, when you rode in with Mr Eddows? He will be wild with me for keeping you.”

  “Not at all. We abandoned our plans for the day so that I might come to see for myself that all was well with you.”

  He took in that she looked a deal more composed than when they’d last met and was glad of it. A faint colour had risen in her cheeks at his words and Niall nourished a tiny hope.

  “There now, my dear Ede, you have a fine protector in my place. I will alert Mrs Tuffin on my way out.”

  He bustled off and Niall caught another smile from Edith.

  “I trust you are ready for the coffee and pastries that will make their inevitable appearance.”

  Niall laughed, his unease in her presence dissipating as he took the chair near the chaise longue. “I dare say I can endure it.” He recalled her earlier words and did not hesitate. “How did you know I rode in with Eddows?”