Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (32 page)

“Is that what you thought I ought to know?” she demanded, uncomfortably wondering if he could read her mind.

“What I thought you ought to know,” he said, “is that it is well nigh impossible to get a marriage annulled if it has been consummated.”

“Good mercy, would anyone dare to ask us if it had?”

“They would.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.”

“Oh.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he straightened, saying, “In view of that, I think we should be grateful that Letty came in when she did.”

“We should, indeed,” she said, wondering why she did not feel grateful. The truth was that, yet again, her wayward emotions threatened to overcome her. She wanted to cry. When Antony left her a few minutes later, that is precisely what she did, though she could not have given a single reason for her tears.

When she had dried her eyes and washed her face, she got ready to retire without ringing for Kerra. Then, blowing out her candles, and climbing into bed, she lay there, staring up into the darkness. The plain and simple fact was that, other than marriage itself, no acceptable scheme existed whereby women could learn firsthand about the delights or terrors of the conjugal bed. She wondered briefly what her mother had thought about such things, but her eyes only pricked again. Not wanting to dwell on the past, she pushed the uncomfortable thoughts ruthlessly aside.

She had not changed her mind about wanting an annulment, certainly; although, had Sir Antony been the man he presently claimed to be, and in love with her, she might, admittedly, have a few second thoughts. That, she decided, was only being honest. He intrigued her more than any other man she had met, but he did not love her. He did not even make a pretense of doing so, for she was certainly wise enough to know the difference between sexual attraction and love.

With horses, after all, there was no question of love. A stallion had only to catch a whiff of a mare in season to plunge into rut. Men were no different. She had frequently observed, during the various London Seasons in which she had taken part, that men required little more than slight encouragement from any passable female to fling themselves at her. Moreover, it was well known that men took their pleasures wherever they chanced to find them. She had presented an opportunity for Sir Antony, and he had very nearly taken advantage of it. That was all there was to the matter.

Having sorted this all out to her complete satisfaction, she settled back on her pillows and waited for sleep to overtake her. Long into the night she lay, pretending she was not listening with all her might for movement in the bedchamber next door.

When Kerra wakened her the following morning, she had no idea how long she had lain awake before dozing off. She knew only that she had not slept long enough.

“Go away,” she muttered, turning over. “I don’t want to get up for hours yet.”

With an unusually sympathetic note in her voice, Kerra said, “I beg your pardon, my lady, for I know the master kept you awake much later than usual, but you did say as how you was intending to ride into Lostwithiel this morning.”

“Aggh,” Charley moaned, burying her head under the pillow.

N
OT UNTIL HALF AN
hour later, while Kerra was straightening the short train of Charley’s riding habit, did Charley realize exactly in what manner the maid thought she had spent the night. Her sense of humor stirred, for she knew that by not ringing for Kerra to return, she had led her to believe Sir Antony had stayed all night.

Charley wondered if she ought to tell him, and if the news would make him laugh. Had she seen him at once, she might have mentioned it, but he was not in the breakfast room when she entered.

Deliciously enticing odors wafted from dishes set out on the sideboard, and as she examined their contents, a maid entered to see if she required anything more.

“Just tea, please,” Charley said, helping herself to some sliced ham, and eggs scrambled with onions and mushrooms. No sooner had she sat down and begun to eat than Letty bounced in, dressed for riding, with Sebastian at her heels.

The child went at once to fill her plate at the sideboard, saying over her shoulder, “Do we leave immediately after breakfast, Cousin Charley?”

“Letty, darling, did you think you were to go with me? I don’t think that would be a good idea this time.”

“But I want to see Jenifry! I liked her. I want to know that she is safe.”

“I’ll tell you as quickly as I know for myself that she is,” Charley said.

“But you let me go with you before.”

“That is not quite true. You followed without permission.”

“But you let me go.”

An unfamiliar, plaintive note had entered Letty’s voice, and Charley heard it with some dismay. Was this what her influence had achieved? Neither Daintry nor Gideon would thank her if the well-mannered child they had sent to England with her returned to them a spoiled and whining brat. She was about to utter a sharp reproof when Sir Antony entered the room. She said calmly instead, “I did let you go with me last time, darling, but in truth, I ought not to have done so. Indeed, were it not for Mr. Gabriel promising to provide me with a properly authoritative escort to deal with Michael Peryllys, I should hesitate to go, myself.”

“Or I to allow it,” Antony said, entering the room. “You won’t go alone, as it is.”

“But—”

“I am going with you,” he added, smiling. “That is why I stayed up till all hours. I had a letter to write, but Hodson will see it off, so I am at your disposal for the day.”

Letty carried her plate to the table, tossing a scrap of ham to Sebastian as she took her seat. Happily, she said, “That is wonderful news, sir. Now I can go, too.”

“No,” Antony said, as he examined the offerings on the sideboard.

“But I want to see Jenifry again.”

Her tone was wheedling but more acceptable than before, Charley noted thankfully. Although tempted to enter the conversation, she held her tongue, certain that Antony would prevail.

He said, “When we know what is going on in Lostwithiel, I will see what we can do about your seeing Jenifry again, but today you will not go with us. And before you say anything more, Letitia, let me add that although I have respect for the general excellence of your manners, your tone when you spoke to your cousin a moment ago was quite unacceptable. I shall not refine upon the point, however, because I am certain that I will never hear it again.”

“No, sir,” Letty said in a small voice. Although she did not hang her head, meeting his gaze directly, her manner was subdued.

Antony ladled oatmeal into a bowl and brought it to the table just as the maid returned with Charley’s tea. He said, “I’ll have some coffee, Daisy, please.” As she poured it for him, he said more cheerfully to Letty, “Perhaps you would like to ride to Tuscombe Park today to pay your respects to your grandmama and Lady Ophelia.”

Letty wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. Beside her chair, the dog thumped its tail in hopeful anticipation of more food. Dropping another morsel of ham, she said, “May I really ride all that distance alone, sir?”

“Not all alone, for you will have your groom. You must promise faithfully to obey him without question, too. Will you do that?”

“Yes, of course. You sound like Papa,” she added with her customary twinkle.

“Excellent,” Antony said, flicking a speaking look at Charley as he added, “You may be just as bored at Tuscombe Park as you would be here, of course.”

Letty chuckled. “Perhaps I will,” she said, “but I’ll enjoy the ride over and back very much. I can take Sebastian, but I expect I’d better not take Jeremiah.”

“Not unless you are prepared to leave him in the stable when you get there.”

“He doesn’t like that. I’ll just leave him here and play with him a bit more than usual when I get back, to make up for abandoning him.”

“That’s a good notion, darling,” Charley interjected. “Just take care to play with him outside when you do. When he enjoyed himself at Tuscombe Park House, if you recall, he ran up the curtains. Mrs. Medrose said later that he had damaged some of the fringe. It won’t do to let him destroy things here in Cousin Melissa’s house.”

“Mrs. Medrose fixed the fringe,” Letty said.

“So she did,” Charley agreed. “Very well then, enjoy your day and we’ll tell you all about ours when we get back.”

“We’ll return by way of Tuscombe Park, and meet you there,” Antony said, shooting Charley another speaking look. “It is time we paid our respects, too.”

They finished their breakfast quickly, and as Charley accompanied Antony to the stables a short time afterward, she found herself looking forward to the ride even more than she had before. Until Antony had declared his intention to go with her, she had looked ahead to the moment she would force Michael Peryllys to produce Jenifry. Now, like Letty, she looked forward more to the ride itself, and their return, than to the confrontation at Angelique’s.

They all left the stable yard together, Charley riding between Letty and Antony, their grooms trailing behind. The scent of the sea was strong, and the sunlight crisply brilliant where it spilled across the landscape from the east, painting white and golden highlights on the eastern sides of trees and shrubs along their way. Black-headed gulls wheeled above them, crying plaintively, and in the distance, over St. Merryn’s Bay, a kitti-wake banked wildly and cut a white-fringed wave with its wing tip. The air was crisp, with a light but sharp breeze that penetrated Charley’s habit coat, but after they had ridden for a while, she felt warmer and found the nip in the air invigorating.

Since Letty and Jeb were to take the cliff-top path, while Charley, Antony, and their grooms would follow the route Charley had taken on her previous trip, the two groups parted when they reached the main road. Content to walk the horses for a time, Charley and Antony rode without speaking, enjoying the soft morning air.

They had two hours of riding ahead of them, but before long Charley leaned forward and lightly spurred Dancer, urging the gelding to a trot, then to a canter. To her delight, Antony rode with her as if he had anticipated the impulse. When she drew rein again ten minutes later to allow their grooms to catch up, she was laughing. “I never intended to gallop,” she said. “It just felt so good that I wanted to go faster and faster.”

“Our horses can stand it,” he said with a smile that sent a surge of warmth through her. He was not riding Annabelle today but one of her bay hunters instead.

“Indeed they can,” she said, fondly patting Shadow Dancer’s neck. The black roan was not even breathing hard, though she had pushed it to its fastest pace. “Both of them are good for a twenty-mile point. On a road like this, I daresay they could easily run for an hour or two.”

He grinned. “It would not do for the haughty Sir Antony Foxearth to arrive in Lostwithiel looking as if he had been blown there by a gale.”

“Well, I am in no hurry. The day is too fine not to enjoy it.” He was looking fine, too, she thought. He had dressed more for displaying himself in Rotten Row, Hyde Park, than for a gallop across the Cornish moor. His exquisitely cut coat fit his broad shoulders and trim waist like a superfine glove, and his snowy white linen shirt and neckcloth were starched and ironed to perfection. Pale cream stockinet breeches molded to his thighs so well that each powerful muscle asserted itself as he rode, and his top boots shone like polished obsidian, their light turned-down tops a shade darker than his breeches. His left hand rested lightly on his thigh. He held the reins in his right, moving lightly and automatically, his gold signet ring occasionally flashing light from the sun.

When he glanced at her and caught her gaze upon him, she felt heat flood her cheeks, and said quickly, “Do you mean to be seen today at Angelique’s, sir? If Michael Peryllys is indeed leader of the coastal gang …” She saw no need to finish the sentence.

“There could be someone above Michael, but I’m as certain as I can be that Michael Peryllys is involved,” Antony said. “The Michael I’ve met professes to hail from St. Austell, but I never trusted that information, because Francis Oakes, the Lloyd’s man, doesn’t know of him, and he knows seamen from St. Ives to Polperro. It’s the inland folk, the ones who began as receivers, whom Oakes doesn’t know. Lloyd’s, after all, is less concerned with smuggling than with wrecking, and now that an organized gang has merged the two activities, the Lloyd’s people are as frustrated as the customs agents.”

“Such organization is unusual in Cornwall,” Charley said. “I know of only one other instance, when the mayor of St. Ives, Mr. John Knill, formed a gang of villainous smugglers. I remember Grandpapa ranting about it when I was fourteen or so. Knill was collector of customs at St. Ives, you see, as well as being mayor, so he held not one but two positions of trust. Everyone believed him to be a man of great public virtue and rectitude, but all the while he was in league with the very smugglers whom it was his duty to suppress. Many find the story difficult to believe even now, and say he was an innocent victim of the droll-tellers. It is true that they delight in weaving their tales around the name of any well-known local character, but nearly everyone with cause to know the truth believed without reservation that Knill was guilty. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the leader of the present coastal gang turned out to be Mr. Gabriel?”

She felt rather pleased with herself when Antony’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he laughed, for she had known he would find comical the notion of Gabriel as a smuggler. It pleased her to think she was beginning to anticipate his moods at last.

He said, “That would resolve my problem, wouldn’t it? I could simply drop Gabriel over a cliff, the gang would disintegrate without leadership, Wellington would be safe, and—” He broke off abruptly, looking at her, all trace of amusement gone.

His words had stirred a memory flash of a carriage careening off a cliff, but she pushed the mental image away, certain that he had not meant to remind her. She knew the moment his gaze met hers and he stopped speaking that he had read her thoughts and recognized his lack of tact. Rather than try to make him believe he had not upset her, she finished the sentence for him, saying bluntly, “And then we could get our marriage annulled and be done with all this, could we not?”