Knight For A Lady (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 3) Page 8

  What if she feigned a relapse? Claimed to be too ill to leave her chamber? But for how long could she do so? And she could by no means trust that he would not find a way to enter there.

  Edith shivered at the thought, turning in the bed and curling up as if she must protect her person from assault. Anyone of sense would suppose it to be a foolish thought, impossible that a man could enter a private bedchamber and not be detected. Yet he had done so at the Academy with a dozen girls and several teachers on the premises. If one of the youngest pupils had not entered and run to Mrs Vinson, he would have succeeded.

  Here, when her uncle was out, she had only Mrs Tuffin, busy in the kitchen. Lord Kilshaw’s snooping before he presented himself had shown him the back entrance to the hall was kept unlocked. Unless she remained incarcerated in her own chamber all day long, Edith had no means of stopping his entry there, short of a guard at her chamber door.

  That thought led her back to Lord Hetherington. She’d toyed with the notion of sending to him, but she shrank even more from explaining her predicament to a virtual stranger. If she could not tell her uncle, how should she open her lips to a man whose company she found enlivening?

  True, he had offered his services. Nay, more. He had more or less commanded her to send to him should her Nemesis turn up in the village. But he did not know to what depths of degradation she had so nearly been dragged. Edith knew she could not bring herself to reveal the full sordid story.

  With daylight, her fears abated. She determined to conquer them and confront him herself. She must convince him once and for all that his pursuit was useless. She would never consent to become his mistress.

  Thus determined, she forced down as much of the hearty breakfast provided by Mrs Tuffin as she could manage, showing her uncle a dutiful front when he asked if she was willing at least to walk with Lord Kilshaw today.

  “Certainly, sir. I will take a turn about the green with him.”

  “Not the garden?”

  “I prefer to be in sight of the villagers, Uncle.”

  He frowned. “You will set them all talking.”

  “I’m sure they are already talking. I doubt Lord Kilshaw’s arrival went unnoticed.”

  He laughed at that. “True. Well, you must do as you think best, my dear. I am pleased you are prepared to give the fellow a chance.”

  Edith took refuge in her coffee, the food she’d eaten turning to lead in her clenching stomach.

  “I must go, my dear. It’s almost time for choir practice and I must not be late when I insist upon the boys arriving on the dot.” He rose and came around to pat her shoulder. “You will tell me all about it over luncheon.”

  She agreed to it and watched him leave the little dining parlour, jaunty and utterly unconcerned, having no notion of the danger in which she stood. Edith almost called him back, but she closed her lips. Even had she the courage to tell him the truth, there was no time now.

  Leaving the remainder of her meal untouched, she followed her uncle out and crossed the hall to the family room, there to pace as she waited, rehearsing what she must say. The peal of the front doorbell froze her blood. She heard Mrs Tuffin’s footsteps and the low muttering grumble she invariably indulged in when disturbed at her morning labours.

  Struggling to control her fright, Edith grabbed the hat she’d brought down and left in here and went to the mirror over the fireplace. Setting it on her head, she fumbled as she tried to tie the bow with trembling fingers. She heard the rumble of a male voice and Mrs Tuffin’s reply.

  “I’ll see if she’s free, my lord.”

  The bow was lopsided but it would have to do. Edith turned to the door as the housekeeper’s footsteps came back up the hall. She appeared in the open aperture.

  “It’s Lord Hetherington, Miss Ede. He says he wants a word.”

  Relief sent Edith reeling and she collapsed into the nearest chair, her hand at her bosom which rose and fell with her short breaths.

  Mrs Tuffin came tutting over. “Dearie me, Miss Ede, whatever is the matter now?”

  Edith threw out a hand. “It’s nothing. I will be well presently.” She drew a long breath and looked up to find Lord Hetherington standing in the doorway, regarding her with a furrowed brow. “My lord! I was not expecting…”

  The housekeeper bustled across. “Come you in, sir. I’ll be within call if she needs me.”

  Lord Hetherington came to stand over her. “I appear to have startled you. What is the matter?”

  Edith knew not how to answer. She longed to tell him, convinced in his powerful presence that he was more than capable of dealing with her Nemesis. But it would not do. At any moment Lord Kilshaw would arrive and she would be undone.

  “I’m going out, sir. My — my escort will be here shortly.”

  He drew back. “Escort? I see.”

  He eyed her for a moment and Edith felt an uncomfortable warmth creeping into her cheeks. She forced herself to speak with a calmness she was far from feeling.

  “Did you — did you wish to see me for anything in particular?”

  Puzzlement showed in his gaze. “I wished to assure myself you had not been again incommoded.”

  “Incommoded?” Stupid! She knew exactly what he meant. Her brain refused to function properly.

  “Miss Westacott, be plain with me. This man you spoke of, has he been here?”

  The harsh note penetrated. She looked up and met his eyes. The words formed before she could stop them. “He is coming to take me for a walk.”

  Lord Hetherington shifted, setting one hand on the mantel and keeping his eyes on her face. “You are not afraid?”

  Edith drew a breath. “I believe I can manage him.”

  “That does not answer me.”

  “I can’t answer you!”

  His face changed. “You are afraid! No, don’t trouble to deny it, I can see it in your face. Who is he? What does he want from you?”

  She shook her head, unable to speak for the sudden prick at her eyes, the thickness in her throat. The doorbell pealed again and she jumped in her seat.

  “Damnation! If that’s the fellow —”

  Edith pushed herself up from the chair, only half aware of reaching out to him, urgency driving her. “You must go! Please go! Leave the back way and go through the gate. He must not see you!”

  His hand had grasped hers strongly and the pressure gave her strength.

  “Why not? If he menaces you, isn’t it better he should know you have a protector?”

  “No! I don’t wish him to know anything about me more than he does already. I beg of you, my lord, let it alone! If you knew…” Her voice died as once again she heard Mrs Tuffin’s muttering as she went to answer the door. “Go! Go, please!”

  He released her. “Very well, if you insist. But I am not satisfied, Edith, so don’t think it.”

  A moment later he was gone and she heard the back door open and close. She no longer knew why she’d insisted on him going. Somehow the thought of the two men meeting — the one as thoughtful as the other was villainous — was anathema. She felt tainted by association with Lord Kilshaw, and could not bear Lord Hetherington to see her in his company.

  Irrational? Probably. But at least his coming had given her the needed strength. She no longer felt as vulnerable and her determination was fixed. She would herself be rid of the menace. Without further delay, she walked into the hall and held out her hand to the man awaiting her. “How do you do, my lord? We have a lovely day for our walk, do you not think?”

  He looked taken aback by her manner and Edith felt emboldened.

  “Shall we go?”

  He bowed and opened the door for her. She stepped out into the sunshine and trod along the path to the front gate.

  “Allow me, Miss Westacott.”

  His air of gallantry was accompanied by one of those hateful leers. Did he suppose he’d won? He would soon learn his mistake.

  Edith took his proffered arm and allowed him to lead her onto th
e green, wondering if Lord Hetherington had managed to escape out of sight somewhere. The thought that he might still be in the vicinity was comforting in spite of all.

  “I had hoped for a better degree of privacy, my dear Edith.”

  The oily tone made her skin crawl. She moved a little apart from him as she walked. “I did not give you permission to use my name, sir.”

  “Then give it now. These missish airs do not become you.”

  His voice had hardened and Edith’s false manner of politeness faltered.

  “Nothing you wish for me becomes me! I am not what you think me.”

  He drew her closer and his free fingers squeezed her arm. “I think you inordinately beautiful. You will adorn any house and I have one ready for you.”

  Indignation welled. “The pretty little house you offered me before? Do you suppose such a prospect can tempt me to sin?”

  “A harsh name, my dear, for a life of ease and comfort. You know well that I will lavish upon you anything your heart desires. You will want for nothing, I promise you.”

  An inward shudder shook her. “And when you tire of me, my lord? What then?”

  “You will not find me ungenerous, Edith.”

  Fury surged up and she glanced at the handsome profile at her side. “You have not even the grace to pretend you could desire me forever.”

  “I’ve never pretended with you, my dear, you know that.”

  “No, I don’t know, sir. You led me on for weeks. Only by the veriest accident did I discover that your wife is still alive.”

  He sighed out deeply as if in sorrow, but Edith was not fooled. She had long ago understood his utter selfishness.

  “Alas, my poor Charlotte! Can you truly wonder at my seeking relief otherwhere?”

  “The only thing I wonder at, sir, is your disgraceful lack of feeling. Pray don’t pretend to devotion to your ailing wife, for I have enough common sense to recognise the truth.”

  He smiled, no trace of remorse or consciousness in his voice. “My daughters are prattlers. But they adore Miss Westacott.”

  “And would no doubt be delighted to find me your mistress? How can you, sir? Do you present your innocent girls to every whore who comes in your orbit?”

  The sarcastic note had no effect on him whatsoever. “Only to you, my dear Edith. Have I not promised you will supplant my poor Charlotte in everything but name?”

  “I wonder you don’t rid yourself of her and be done with the problem for good.”

  “But that would not look well, my dear, and one must keep up appearances.”

  Her insides curled with disgust. “Why trouble yourself? I cannot imagine, my lord, that the gentlemen with whom you associate are unacquainted with your true character.”

  He laughed in the mocking way he had, and Edith felt her words were wasted.

  “Do you know, my dear, I believe I might keep you forever after all. It is a pity I cannot marry you, for the thought of taming your bold spirit is one that inflames me.”

  Taming it? Crushing it rather. But Edith knew not what to say. Not even insults deterred him. She had more than once wondered if her recalcitrance was a spur to his desire, and now she could not doubt it. What horrors might she not endure should she succumb? Was the ravishment of her person not the worst of it, as she had supposed?

  “What is in your mind, my dear Edith, to keep you so silent? Have you thought better of your determination to resist me?”

  The reverse, if anything. If she’d been menaced before, she was now deathly afraid. The sinister implications of her realisation played in her mind. She’d anticipated seduction. She had not bargained for the violence of rape and torture. The image of his attempted violation when she lay helpless and ill came back to her. Edith wrenched her hand from his arm and faced him.

  “I’ve been so blind! I believed you when you spoke words of ardour and yearning. But you are evil, my lord Kilshaw, through and through!”

  “But such heat, Miss Westacott? You wrong me, indeed you do. If it were in my power, my intentions towards you would be pure and honourable.”

  Edith snapped back. “Yes, let us speak of your power, for I will never put myself within its reach. I would die first!”

  The handsome features twisted, a sneer growing in the curling mouth. “When did I ever say you had a choice, Miss Westacott?”

  She stared at him, only half believing what she heard. “You cannot force me.”

  “Can I not?”

  The quiet confidence was worse than a threat. Despair engulfed her. “But why? Why do you want me so badly? What have I that you cannot find elsewhere?”

  He took her hands in his, holding them in a hard grasp, but his tone returned to the sensuality she loathed. “Because you are beautiful, desirable and the challenge is irresistible.” The curl revived at his lip. “And though you may call yourself a lady, your position makes you attainable without provoking a scandal. It’s a rare combination, my dear.”

  Edith released herself, turned from him and began to walk again, shock and hurt riding her bosom. Aware of him keeping pace beside her, she sought in vain for words that would not come. She’d vowed to make him realise once and for all that he had no chance with her. Now she could think of nothing with which to convince him. The arrogance of his suppositions, his utter inability to consider anything but his own desires, his own pleasures, both confused and horrified her.

  “I do not understand you. How can you persist in the face of my hatred? When you have damned yourself in my eyes forever?”

  “Your feelings towards me will change in time.”

  The complacent note infuriated her, rising above the numbing of the belittlement she felt at his complete disregard for her feelings and wishes.

  “They will never change. I loathe you to the depths of my being!”

  The mocking laughter sounded in her ears like the note of nightmare. Would nothing make an impression upon him? She felt doomed.

  “Miss Westacott!”

  That very different voice, coming out of the blue, brought her head up. “Lord Hetherington!”

  He was walking towards them across the green. Edith threw a harried glance at her companion and found chagrin in his face. Triumph lit her bosom. Now they would see.

  Chapter Ten

  Niall eyed the gentleman at Edith’s side with a mixture of suspicion and dismay. He had hardly expected the fellow to be one of these comely specimens over whom females were ready to swoon. Nor had he thought to find a man of mature years. This fellow must be forty if he was a day.

  He wasted no time. “Will you not introduce me, Miss Westacott?”

  Her colour was fluctuating, her dismay obvious and there was a tremor in her voice.

  “Lord Kilshaw, Lord Hetherington.”

  Before Niall could speak, the other gave a slight bow, his manner suave as silk. “Hetherington? Ah, was there not a tragic event in these parts?”

  “My cousin and his family.” Niall eyed him. “You must forgive me, sir, if I fail to place you. I have only lately returned from the wars and have little acquaintance with my fellow peers.”

  He received a long look and Niall hoped his military background might give Lord Kilshaw pause. Even recognise he was not an easy man to cross.

  But Edith cut in, her eyes signalling a plea. “Lord Kilshaw’s estates are near Bath. His daughters were in the Academy where I was teaching, you must know.”

  Did she wish him to understand there was more behind her words? It could hardly be typical for a father of girls under a school teacher’s care to be pursuing their preceptress, even if she had been ill.

  A singularly charming smile was bent upon Edith, and Niall had no difficulty in imagining how she might be attracted to such a man.

  “And what an excellent teacher you were, my dear Miss Westacott. My girls miss her dreadfully, sir.”

  Niall met the man’s eyes as he turned, confusion wreathing his brain. Was this a prospective suitor? Had he read Edith’s re
action wrong? Had she been merely distrait at the thought of his coming? No, it was more than that. She had been in the suspense of fear, not anticipation.

  “What brings you to this out of the way place, sir?”

  The smile held something of mockery and Niall’s senses came alert.

  “But Miss Westacott, my dear Hetherington, what else?”

  Niall shot a glance at Edith. She looked far from gratified. Her lips were tightly compressed, her cheeks blanching.

  “I see.” Niall inclined his head. “I am de trop, perhaps?”

  “My dear fellow, I should not dream of saying so, but my time is limited and Miss Westacott can spare me only half an hour.”

  There could be no mistaking his message. Nothing could be further from Niall’s wishes than to leave Edith alone in the man’s company. Yet he could not help recalling her urgent efforts to ensure the two men did not meet. He’d thwarted her in that. He glanced at her, trying to tell whether she wished him gone. Edith kept her gaze lowered. There was nothing for him to do but retire for now.

  “Miss Westacott, your servant.” She nodded without looking up. Niall directed a nod at her companion. “Kilshaw. I trust we may meet again before your departure.”

  The smile came again and Niall was conscious of dislike.

  “It is very possible.”

  What the devil did that mean? He said no more, but turned smartly away and headed for the tavern, aware of the man’s eyes following him. He hated leaving the fellow in command of the field when the thread of suspicion was weaving through his brain. Kilshaw was precisely the sort of man around whom females tended to flock. Niall had seen it often enough in personable fellow officers. Never a target himself, he’d been amused to see how women simpered and fluttered in the presence of such fellows. Somewhat in the manner of Miss Burloyne towards him. But Niall knew better than to suppose that his person had such an effect. His acquired title was to blame for that.

  But Edith had never shown the slightest interest in his title. Instead, she’d teased and talked her way into his favour. Not that such had been her intention. She shied off from any suggestion of gallantry. Was Kilshaw the reason?