Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 03] (47 page)

Gideon replied suitably, but as he kept up his part in the desultory conversation that followed, he tried to think of a way to get Penthorpe to speak more plainly. He was nearly as sure as one person could be of another that Penthorpe had no real wish to marry Daintry and only insisted he did because of social constraints, but since Lady Susan was married and there was no acceptable way to oust Seacourt from the picture, he could scarcely appeal to Penthorpe to declare his true position on the score of thus being able to secure his own happiness.

At last, having thought of no better way, when Penthorpe paused to sip his wine, Gideon said bluntly, “Look here, Andy, you don’t really want to marry Daintry Tarrant, do you?”

Penthorpe choked and sputtered. Snatching a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket, he dabbed at his mouth and looked in dismay at the spots on his coat. “Look what you’ve made me do. Those spots will never come out, and my valet will yap at me like a damned lapdog. Of course I want to marry her. Haven’t I said so time and again. And even if I didn’t—Lord, Gideon, even if that were true, you certainly couldn’t expect me to admit it, so don’t go startling a fellow like that again, will you?”

Gideon sighed. “I had hoped we could be plain with each other, Andy, but if you think I cannot be trusted with your honest feelings in this matter, of course I will say no more.”

The door opened to admit the footman, responding to Gideon’s ring, and after Gideon had requested food to be served within the hour and the man had bowed his way out again, Penthorpe said sourly, “You see what comes of such nonsense. Suppose I’d been fool enough to say just then that I didn’t want to marry the wench—not that I said any such thing, mind,” he added, keeping a wary eye on the door. “But even if I were to own that I should be happy to hear that a certain Captain Hackum had been given notice to quit, what then? It ain’t going to happen, Gideon, and since it ain’t, my best chance at happiness lies along the path I’ve chosen. Well, don’t it?”

“I cannot think how.”

“But it’s as plain as a pikestaff! I can do nothing for her as things are, but as a member of her family, I’ll have a chance to see her occasionally, to offer her some slight protection.”

Holding his temper in check, Gideon said severely, “That’s a damned poor reason to marry Daintry, my friend.”

“Is it? I can’t think of a better one, and not only am I betrothed to the wench but St. Merryn means to see it through and I’d look like a dashed reprobate if I were the one to cry off.” He met Gideon’s stern gaze and said impatiently, “Oh, well, since we are being plain with each other, I’ll own that I’d change things if I could. I’ve spent hours plotting how to be rid of Seacourt. It even occurred to me that I might contrive matters so it looked as if the fellow had murdered me, and then once he had been hanged for it, I could reappear, hale and hearty, to ride off with his wife across my saddle bow. But that is the stuff of daydreams, old son, nothing more,” he added morosely.

Gideon chuckled. “With your luck, Andy, the dream would turn into a nightmare. Seacourt would get himself acquitted of the charge, and when you reappeared, he really would murder you. And he’d get off scot-free, too, because he could not be tried for the same murder twice, you know.”

“The law,” Penthorpe said with a sour look, “is chuck full of ridiculous notions, to my way of thinking.”

“Now, there you agree with your betrothed,” Gideon told him, remembering the scene in his father’s court with a certain fondness. “She holds a very low opinion of English laws. Told my father they were unfair to women, and though he did his best to persuade her otherwise by pointing out that women retain all sorts of rights under law and are even given license to run up debts, commit crimes, and bear bastard children for which their husbands are then held accountable, I doubt if he succeeded in convincing her that the law is at all fair to the weaker sex.”

“Stubborn wench,” Penthorpe muttered.

“You’ll have your hands full,” Gideon said.

“Anyone would, but look here, man, I’ve given my word, and that is all there is about it. Moreover, as I said, I’ve reasons of my own for desiring the marriage, and it’s not as if anyone else wants the wench. Good God, who would?”

Gideon held his peace. Time enough to confess that he wanted her himself when he knew that she would look kindly on his suit, and that her father could be convinced to accept a marriage between the two families. In the meantime, he changed the subject and did his best to cheer Penthorpe out of the dismals. They were finishing their meal when Clemons was shown in.

He followed the footman into the book room, prompting the man to say apologetically, “I beg your pardon, my lord, but he refused to remain in the hall. Said he had to put that parcel into your hands personally, and without delay.”

“You may go, Robert,” Gideon said, seeing that Clemons was fairly bursting to speak. “What is it, Clemons?” he demanded when the footman had gone. “Did your mistress send you? Surely, not just to return that package!”

“No, my lord,” Clemons said, pulling the letter from under the string and setting the package down on the table. “She wanted you to have this at once, sir.” He glanced at Penthorpe. “I don’t know if I ought to say more, my lord.”

“Don’t bite your tongue on my account, man,” Penthorpe said, getting to his feet. “I’ll leave you.”

Gideon waved him back. “Don’t go, Andy. This man is Daintry’s groom. Lord Penthorpe expects to marry your mistress, Clemons, so the sooner he knows what’s amiss now, the better.” As he spoke, Gideon broke the seal and unfolded Daintry’s note, finding another one tucked inside. He read hers first, then hastily read the other, his expression hardening as he read.

“What is it?” Penthorpe demanded.

Gideon glanced at Clemons, made his decision, and said crisply, “I am going to trust you to keep a still tongue in your head, Clemons, because I think we may need your help, but if I ever hear that you’ve mentioned a word—”

“I won’t, sir. I know how to keep mum.”

“Good man. Here, Andy, read these.”

Penthorpe read quickly, and for once he did not show the least inclination to procrastinate. Twenty minutes later both men had changed to riding clothes and armed themselves.

Gideon had ordered Clemons to see that their horses were saddled, and to saddle one for himself as well, since the one he had ridden from Tuscombe Park was, as he diffidently informed them, “blown pretty well to bits.” Clemons and Ned Shalton were both waiting for them when they entered the stable yard.

Shalton spoke before Clemons could do so. “Saw them asaddling your horse, Major, and had my own turned out as well. Whatever the fracas be, sir, I’m your man.”

“Right you are,” Gideon said, noting the holster fastened to Shalton’s saddle. “You might prove useful, Ned.” He glanced at the darkening sky and hoped the threatening rain would hold off.

“Where the devil are these caves she writes of?” Penthorpe shouted as the four men rode out of the yard at a lope.

“St. Merryn Bay, more than fifteen miles from here as the crow flies.” He was riding Shadow, who was fresh and easily good for a fifteen-mile point, and he was not concerned for Penthorpe or Shalton, whose mettle he had challenged many times over the years. Glancing at Clemons, he decided the groom would do well enough, too. By the look of him, he would get to his mistress if he had to run to her on his own two legs. Gideon realized he had reacted much as if he were riding into battle and wondered if he had good cause for the reaction. The sky overhead and the distant murmur of thunder reminded him of Waterloo.

“Can’t blame the child for running off,” Penthorpe said the first time they slowed the horses to a walk to rest them, “but Lady Susan must be well nigh dead from worry about her. Daintry must not delay a minute taking her home, if she does find her.”

“It won’t be that easy,” Gideon said, casting a warning look at Clemons, and at the same time recognizing the concerns that had been pricking at the back of his mind. “You saw what she wrote, that she fears to make matters worse if she simply takes the child home when she finds her. Seacourt is bound to be angry, no matter what excuse they can contrive for Melissa’s having left, and if worse comes to worst, and they encounter him before then, heaven knows what the man might do.”

Penthorpe grunted. “He’s bound to cut up stiff, all right, and it stands to reason she must be afraid of him. Just look what he did to her that night at the ball. I always thought he was cut from the same bolt as your brother was, but I’ll say this for Jack. He would never have bullied a defenseless female.”

“Much obliged to you,” Gideon said. He increased their pace, and they rode in silence except for an occasional exchange regarding their route until they came to the top of the cliff, where Gideon called a halt in order to search the shingle below. There was no sign of life.

“I’d have expected her to be on the watch for us,” he muttered. “And where are the horses?” Clemons said diffidently, “One o’ them caves is big enough for any number of horses, sir, and what with the sky looking like it’s going to spit any moment, chances are, they will have taken them inside. Miss Charley’s riding Victor, and she wouldn’t want to leave him outside when it looks like thunder and lightning.”

Gideon had hoped that the rain, having held off so far, would continue to do so until they found Daintry and the girls and got Melissa safely home again, but the thunder sounded nearer and the sky had darkened considerably. Looking at Clemons, he frowned and said, “Is Victor afraid of thunder?”

“Aye, sir. He near goes crazy.”

Briefly Gideon wondered if the only reason Daintry had sent for him was that she feared she would be unable to deal alone with two little girls and a terrified horse, but the thought was a fleeting one. Had that been her only reason, she would have taken men from her own stables with her.

Dismounting, he crouched down to examine the marks in the path leading down to the shingle, and when he straightened again, he was frowning thoughtfully. He turned back to the others.

In the cave, Daintry sat against one damp, chilly rock wall, holding hands with the little girls sitting on either side of her. The horses were bunched in an alcove nearby, and their captors—five in all—sat near the tiny fire, talking in low tones. She could tell there was dissension among them.

At first she had thought they must be smugglers, but when she had spoken that thought aloud, the leader of the men had laughed. Tucking the pistol he carried into his wide leather belt, he said, “Glory be, mum, that ain’t our lay. Honest men, we be, sure as check, but when the mines shut down, there warn’t nothing for it but for us to take our shillings where we finds ’em, and that’s the truth of it. Which ain’t to say that none among us ain’t never run with the free traders. Dewy there be an excellent spotsman, even a tubman from time to time when the dibs be out of tune, but don’t go pratin’ of such stuff,” he warned, encountering a fulminating look from his henchman. “He don’t like it known hereabouts.”

Daintry had followed his glance, and when the man by the fire realized she was looking at him, his expression changed to acute embarrassment and he looked quickly away, but not before she gasped with recognition. “Dewy Warleggan!” Her temper flared. “How dare you take us prisoner like this? Just you wait until Feok learns what you’ve done!”

Dewy muttered disgustedly, “I told you, Nicca. I—”

“No use pissin’ nettles, man,” the leader snapped, “and no more names! We was promised there’d be no scufflin’ over this business, and there won’t be.”

Charley said indignantly, “There will be big trouble when my papa and grandpapa find out what you did. They’ll cut out your liver and feed it to their dogs. Just you wait!”

“Won’t know nothing about it,” the man called Nicca growled.

“And just how do you mean to prevent that?” Daintry asked.

He put a finger to his lips. “No need tattlin’ before the nippers now, mum. What they don’t know won’t worrit ’em.”

“If you mean to say that we shan’t be able to tell anyone, I wish you will say so,” Daintry said, giving the little hands tucked in her own a hard squeeze. A muffled sob from Melissa was the only response, but Daintry saw Dewy Warleggan exchange a silent look with the leader before he turned away to the fire.

Nicca said, “Come darkmans, it’ll all come clear, but there ain’t no need for weepin’, I give you my word.”

“What’s darkmans?” Charley demanded. She was peering into the alcove where the horses had been put, and Daintry realized they were stirring nervously. One of them gave a nervous whinny.

Dewy Warleggan muttered, “Nightfall, miss.”

“No more argle-bargle,” Nicca snapped, glancing at the alcove, where there were sounds of yet more fidgeting.

“Did you hear thunder?” Charley whispered.

Daintry shook her head. Nicca, evidently thinking she had been cowed by his rebuke, went to join the others by the fire, and for what seemed to be a very long time, they grumbled and muttered amongst one another. Hoping that Dewy Warleggan and perhaps one other, a vocal man whose cant vocabulary made it impossible for her to understand him, might be pleading their cause, Daintry kept silent, moving only to ease stiffening muscles. Neither she nor the girls had been tied, and she wondered if perhaps they would find a chance to escape before nightfall. She could hear distant thunder now, and the horses moved restlessly. Victor whinnied again, and she glanced at Charley, but instead of pleading instantly for someone to calm her horse, Charley just kept watch on the alcove.

“He will be all right,” Daintry whispered, wishing she could make herself relax. It was a few moments before she realized that it was not just the present situation that was making her nervous but one from the past. The rolling thunder outside was having much the same effect on her that it had on Victor.

Finally, she could stand it no longer and said in a louder tone than she had meant to use, “Are you holding us for ransom?”

Her words startled more than one man by the fire, but no one spoke until Nicca said, “That’s as may be and no con—”