Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (13 page)

Speechless, Charley choked back a sudden, unexpected bubble of laughter, but she was glad when he showed the good sense not to pursue the topic. Instead, they talked about the weather and the capricious habits of the sea until Letty rejoined them and took back Jeremiah, tucking him under her cloak again. Soon afterward, they came within sight of Tuscombe Park House, and Matois bade them good-day.

“I like him,” Letty said, waving as he rode off, trailed by the faithful Sebastian.

Charley liked him, too. She found herself, in fact, oddly attracted to him. He was the first male she could call to mind who had talked to her as if she were his equal. He could be uncivil and much too blunt of manner, but he did not treat her like a child or a half-wit. He listened when she spoke, and he seemed to value her opinions. What a pity, she thought, that she would most likely never see him again.

Antony glanced back a few minutes later, not knowing if he hoped Miss Tarrant would do the same or not. When she did not, he sighed, recognizing his disappointment.

He had never met a woman like her. She stirred his senses every time she smiled, and when she snapped, he wanted to soothe her and make her smile again. To be sure, at present, she had little enough to smile about. He could not decide whether her eyes were more beautiful when they glinted with anger, or when contemplation turned them into deep mysterious, aquamarine pools.

Sebastian had dashed on ahead. Then, apparently noting that Antony had not increased his pace, the dog dashed back again as if to inquire about the delay.

“I am doubtless as much a fool as you are,” Antony said.

The dog’s ears perked up at the sound of his voice.

“I am not learning things as quickly as I had hoped,” Antony murmured.

The dog yipped, clearly believing Antony had invited an opinion.

“Thank you for your concern,” Antony said. “Lord knows, nothing else has helped. I’ve sent them damn all in my reports, and time is passing. Nor will my action today help the cause. Doubtless my master will think me as great a fool as I think you.”

The dog barked again and dashed off after a rabbit.

Speaking now to himself, a habit developed during years of relative solitude for sorting out his thoughts, Antony went on, “Damn these Cornishmen. Michael refuses to trust me, but I cannot blame him for that. Indeed, he remains a mystery, too, for he reveals little about himself, and while the others think I am one of their French compatriots, I can hardly inquire into details of Michael’s identity or background. Nor can I go about prating of assassinations. They would instantly become suspicious, and rightly so. Today’s business will make matters worse. Giving way to fundamental instinct is always foolish. I must take care that I don’t ruin all on a quixotic whim.”

“Cousin Charley!”

The note of warning in Letty’s voice caused Charley first to look at her, then to follow the direction of her gaze to the stable yard.

Alfred Tarrant stood by the stable door with Rockland, feet apart and arms crossed over his chest, watching them. His posture was enough to tell her he was angry. When they got near enough to see the expression on his face, she knew it was more than anger. Alfred was furious.

He leapt forward when they reached the yard and grabbed Shadow Dancer’s bridle, as if he feared she would ride away again.

Charley accepted Rockland’s aid to dismount, and seeing Teddy come from the stable, she gestured to him to take the horses.

Alfred scarcely waited for her feet to touch the ground before he demanded to know where she had been. “What the devil do you mean by going off without so much as a word to anyone, and staying away the better part of the afternoon?”

“If you do not mind, Cousin,” Charley said, stripping off her gloves, “I would prefer that you have the goodness to wait until we go inside before you ring a peal over my head. I do not relish hearing my affairs shouted out in the stable yard.”

“Now, look here, young woman. I’ll say what I want wherever I want to say it, and the sooner you learn to obey my orders, the better it will be for you.”

“I am not a child, Cousin. I am four-and-twenty, and I have been giving orders on this estate since I learned to talk. You would do better to recall that you are the newcomer here, and learn to seek advice from those who can help you learn your way. Now, if you will excuse me, I want a word with Teddy before I go inside.”

“No.”

She had already begun to turn away, but that single flat word jerked her around to stare at him. “
What
did you say?”

“I said
no,
and you had better learn the meaning of the word. Indeed, unless you mean to beg some other relative to take you in and provide your food and shelter, you had best accept me as master here, and right quickly. Moreover, my dear Charlotte, I will expect you to earn your keep. In my opinion, you have been sadly spoilt, but we can soon rectify that, believe me.”

“You are not master here yet,” she reminded him between gritted teeth.

“I think you will find that the servants do not share that belief. I have given orders that you are not to take out any horse without my permission. Nor will young Letty. It don’t suit my notions of propriety for girls under my care to go careering over the countryside without so much as a groom to look after them. You’ll both go to bed without supper for that, and if you attempt to join the family, no food will be served to you. You may not be a child, Miss Charlotte Tarrant, but you will soon learn that you have no more influence than any other female beneath my roof. And, lest you think to try your will against mine, let me make plain to you what will happen. Any servant foolish enough to obey your orders instead of mine will find himself without a position or a character when I take control, and so I have told them, one and all.”

Stunned, suddenly seeing herself in Cousin Ethelinda’s role, albeit serving the cold and haughty Edythe rather than Lady St. Merryn, Charley stood gaping at him for several shattered moments before she gathered her wits. Then, turning to Rockland, she said urgently, “See here, sir, do you still want to marry me?”

Though he had clearly been an uncomfortable witness to Alfred’s fury, he looked utterly astonished now.

“Well, do you,” she demanded, “or has all your talk of undying love for me been nothing but stupid prattle?”

“Good God,” he exclaimed? “of course, I want to marry you! It is the dearest wish of my life. If I am stunned, it is because I had given up hope.”

“Then hope does indeed spring eternal,” she said bitterly, “for I mean to marry you just as quickly as you can get a license.”

Alfred said testily, “You’ve got a full year of mourning ahead of you, my girl, before I will consent to any marriage.”

“I don’t require your consent,” Charley snapped. “I am of age, and you are not my guardian or my trustee. And know this, Alfred Tarrant. I would throw myself off the highest cliff in Cornwall before I would let myself dwindle into a poor relation dependent upon you for bed and board. Rockland, if you love me, get that license at once, but arrange for a very discreet ceremony.”

“To be sure, my treasure.” He looked pale and still disconcerted, as if he were unsure of what to do next. But if he expected to embrace her or discuss their plans at length, he soon discovered his error, for his betrothed turned on her heel and strode angrily toward the house, with Letty running to keep up with her.

Charley sent the child to her room, then went to visit the housekeeper. Mrs. Medrose shook her head when she saw her, and said, “Oh, my dear, what a pass we’ve come to! I hope you won’t countermand his orders, for I couldn’t gainsay you. Mr. Tarrant’s made it clear that it’s worth our places to disobey him.”

“Never mind,” Charley said with a sigh. “I won’t ask you to take my part, but he’s ordered Letty to forgo her supper, too, and she just had the bad luck to be with me. If you can see that she gets some bread and meat, or some fruit at least, I’ll be grateful.”

“I can do that, and gladly, for I doubt if Mr. Tarrant will inquire about the child. But as to you, my dear …”

“Did he discover that Kerra brought food to me earlier today?”

“No, thank the fates, but I dare not let her do it again.”

“Well, I won’t starve overnight,” Charley said, taking leave of her and going up the servants’ stair to her bedchamber.

Not until she had shut herself in and flung herself onto her bed did she give thought to what she had done and wonder what had possessed her to do it, deciding at last that simple pride was to blame. Just the thought, at present, of writing to anyone in her family to reveal her wretched circumstances, let alone beg them to take her in, made her feel sick. Anywhere she went, if not at once then certainly in time, she would become that despised member of the household, the poor relation. Better marriage any day, to
anyone,
than that. Rockland would not be so bad, she thought. He was already in the habit of catering to her wishes, so she could be fairly certain he would not become a domineering husband. Why then, she wondered, did the prospect depress her so?

She kept to her room the following day, not wanting to see anyone, and despite its being Sunday, Alfred made no objection, allowing her meals to be served there. Monday morning she went down to breakfast at her usual time, and exerted herself to be polite to him. He was just finishing his meal and seemed to find nothing unusual in her behavior, taking her apparent submission as his due. She did not ride, however. She refused to request his permission, and since he had left her little to do in the house, that day and the week that followed passed with depressing slowness. She had all she could do at first to keep memories of the past from intruding.

Rockland, though frequently repeating his intention to obtain a special license, used first the poor weather and then an incipient cold as excuses to delay his search. Charley suspected that he had no real wish to marry, that his protestations sprouted from habit, but she could not bring herself to release him from their hasty betrothal.

To avoid painful memories, she busied herself with Letty, and read whenever she could, forcing herself to concentrate. She encountered some opposition from Alfred, who did not approve of females reading the
Times,
but she resolved that by asking Medrose to keep the newspaper for her after Alfred had read it. She also sorted through her clothes, insisting that Kerra dye one dress after another until the maid begged her to stop.

“All your gowns will be death black, Miss Charley. ’Tis a shame, it is!”

“They’ll be out of fashion when the year is out,” Charley said.

“Not all,” Kerra protested. “Come six months, you can wear the dark ones.”

Finding it too difficult to argue, Charley agreed. She felt as if the morning fog that had become almost a daily visitor to south Cornwall had closed around her, even indoors. Yet sunlight, when it appeared, scarcely affected her. Her thoughts seemed vague and purposeless. She could not work up the energy to press Rockland about the license. Even Letty’s comments generally failed to amuse her, and she found sitting with her grandmother and Miss Davies more trying than anything else.

The following Saturday afternoon, after a full week without riding, she forced herself to walk briskly around the entire garden for exercise, avoiding everyone else until they gathered in the drawing room in the late afternoon. Elizabeth and Edythe were polite, if distant, but Rockland, joining them and sitting near Alfred, told Charley that he had learned the whereabouts of a bishop at last. “Not only can he provide a special license,” he said, “but I daresay he’ll be willing to marry us as well.”

“Excellent,” Charley said. “You must speak with him at once, sir, tomorrow.”

“I can hardly go hunting the fellow on a Sunday,” he protested. “Moreover, he’s dashed busy at present, making preparations to consecrate the new cathedral. Still and all,” he added with a wary look, “I’ll do what I can.”

With ponderous humor, Alfred said, “I hope you mean to lay down the law to this puss, Rockland. She’ll soon have you living under the cat’s paw if you don’t.”

Rockland smiled and seemed about to reply when Medrose flung open the doors and announced in his most stately tone, “Sir Antony Foxearth-Tarrant, madam.”

On the words, a very English gentleman dressed in the highest kick of masculine fashion stepped into the room. He made a profound leg. Then, straightening, he raised a gold-rimmed quizzing glass to one light blue eye and surveyed the company.

“Dear me,” he drawled, looking mildly astonished, “am I related to
all
of you?”

“Who the devil are you, sir?” Alfred demanded, leaping to his feet.

“Why, my dear Alfred, you cannot have been attending, for that excellent fellow, the butler, announced my name quite clearly just now. Even if you have decided to forget my existence, you of all people must recognize my name.” He paused, then added gently, “I am just awfully sorry to spoil your amusing charade, little man, but I
am
the sixth Earl of St. Merryn, and I’ve come to claim my estates. You will no doubt, in due course, derive some small amusement from introducing me to your neighbors and what few friends you may have as the long-lost heir.”

N
O ONE STIRRED FOR
a full minute. When the newcomer raised his quizzing glass again, and turned it toward Charley, she automatically lifted her chin at the impertinence. The glass remained fixed on her.

In the aristocratic accents of a man with Eton and Oxford behind him, the gentleman said, “Upon my word, but you are a beauty, my dear. May I know which of my relations you might be?”

“I am Charlotte Tarrant,” she replied stiffly, looking at him more searchingly.

His dark hair had been masterfully cut and arranged in an elegant, swept-back style. His stiffly starched shirt points and exquisitely tied cravat forced his chin to an unnatural height, making him appear to look down his nose at all he surveyed unless he bent slightly at the waist.

His attire was suitable for a royal drawing room. The well-cut black pantaloons and frock coat clearly had been tailored in London by a master. His linen was snowy white, his shoes polished to perfection, and the gold signet ring on the third finger of his right hand looked expensive. Moreover, as Charley noted, his clothing revealed rather than concealed a muscular, well-built body.