Journey to Enchantment (10 page)

She glared at him. “Not very successfully.”

“It was fatiguing,” he admitted, sighing and putting back his head. “But when a lady screams, what is a gentleman to do?”

Hortense, mesmerized by her niece's expression, took warning. “Exactly so, Captain Geoffrey,” she babbled. “So you, ah, have Scots blood, do you?”

“Oh, yes,” Miss Clandon said brightly. “The Montgomerys were—” She checked suddenly. Her cousin was starting to nod and had not glanced at her, but his hand, Prudence noted, was hidden by the sweep of Miss Clandon's skirts and he could very easily have given her garment a warning tug. “That is to say,” the girl continued, “Geoffrey's mama's people were originally from Edinburgh.”

“Why, how very nice,” said Hortense. “Captain, you never mentioned— Oh, he has dropped asleep, poor boy.”

Miss Clandon bent over her cousin, then said, smiling, “He looks so much better than the last time I saw him. This Highland air must agree with him.”

Prudence's memory gave a jolt. She said, “Clandon! I remember now. Lord Briley told us it was the Clandons who rescued the Captain after he was wounded.”

“Why, then, you must be the girl his lordship escorted up here to Castle Court,” exclaimed Hortense. “How silly of me not to put two and two together, but for some reason I had thought he referred to a little girl—a child, I mean.”

Miss Clandon, who had begun to look worried, said quickly that it was all very proper. “Some friends of my father were sailing on the same vessel, and the lady saw to it that everything was, er, as it should be.”

Prudence smiled sweetly. Hortense again rushed into the breach. “Oh, well, of course, we never thought— That is to say, his lordship is so, er, I wonder if I should not have one of the servants take poor Captain Delacourt to his room now. I expect you have things to talk about, Miss Clandon, but—”

“Oh, I'll just run along wi' Geoffrey,” said the girl blithely. “We're more like brother and sister, you know, and never ones to stand on ceremony. Unless you object, ma'am? He has a parlour, you were telling me, but if you think it not convenable…?”

Hortense, inwardly reeling, said she thought it would be quite proper since Miss Clandon was so attached to her cousin. So long as her abigail went with her, of course. Miss Clandon curtseyed to the ladies and thanked them demurely for having taken such excellent care of “dear Geoffrey.” A footman came in answer to the bell, and the invalid, Miss Clandon tripping along beside the chair, was wheeled gently from the room.

“Her
abigail?
” said Prudence as the door closed behind them. “Why would she bring her maid, I wonder?”

“Well, dear, since she's to stay overnight, at least, I expect Lady—”

“Papa did not tell me Miss Clandon was coming, nor that she would overnight with us!” Scowling, Prudence sat beside her aunt and muttered, “I wonder what kind of tale they fobbed him off with.”

Hortense, whose sensibilities were not yet recovered, said feebly, “She does seem rather fast, I must admit. But if they grew up together…”

“You surely did not believe that twaddle, ma'am? I doot there's a worrud o' truth in the whole dish! And if Mr. Clandon—if there
is
any such person—had friends coming up on the ship, why would he entreat Lord Thaddeus to escort his daughter?”

“W-well, I— They might have— Prudence, you never think that girl is— Oh, I
cannot
believe his lordship would have brought his lightskirt to this house, or that the Captain would perpetuate the—”

“The lies?” Prudence said baldly. “Aunty Mac, that man is an English spy sent here to try and trap Little Willie Mayhew and likely Ligun Doone as well!”

Hortense whitened and gave a faint shriek. “Oh, never say so! Are you sure? It does not seem—
He
does not look— He is so very—”

“Evil! A liar and a rare villain, and a very dangerous man. I fancy that dandy, Lord Thaddeus Briley, is in cahoots with him, which is a pity because I'll own I like the gentleman.”

“Well, so do I,” said Hortense. “And, really, dear, I cannot believe … Heaven help us if it is truth!”

“Aye. But I decided to do a wee bit helping on my own. I was up in the acacia tree, using Robbie's spy-glass to peep into Delacourt's room, when the wretch caught me.”

“Yes, so he said. But, Prue, however did you manage to climb up in your petticoats?”

“Well, I did,” said Prudence. “It was difficult, I'll admit, and horrid coming down, but then I was stung, and that wicked Englishman was so bold as to—” Flustered, she broke off, her face flaming again.

“To—what?” asked Hortense, hopefully.

“Tae kiss me. F-fair on me bosom,” divulged Prudence, stammering.

Scarves flew in all directions as Hortense sprang to her feet. “The wicked rascal! Oh—you're making it all up! He never did. How
could
he?”

“By pretending to swoon, and taking advantage when I stooped tae aid him. Laugh then, Aunty Mac. But the mon's a viper, I warn ye!”

Hortense's funny bone had been tickled, however, and she went off into whoops while Prudence's warnings and dire prophecies were to no avail until, infuriated, she stormed, “For why would ye think I
say
all this? D'ye really think I'd be sae daft as tae make it all up, then?”

Wiping her eyes with one of her wisps, Hortense said, still chuckling, “Oh, my love, do you think me blind? I've seen the looks that pass between you. Prue, dear little Prue, be honest with yourself. You have fallen under the Captain's spell no less than the rest of us. Perchance a good deal more. And because you feel shame for that tender emotion, you fight it with all your strength and seek to impugn him only to allay your own conscience. Dearest, will you not—”

“Now may the guid Lord
deliver
us,” snarled Prudence and, for once losing all patience with this loved but infuriating lady, she rushed from the room and ran, raging, up the stairs.

“They're all daft,” she advised the door of her bedchamber as she slammed it shut. For some perverse reason, Kitty's words returned to shock her into a moment of immobility. ‘… he'll likely die on us, for the steel pierced his lung…' Recovering, she snorted, “Haggis feathers! The mon's no more dying than am I! He wasnae too ill tae hold me tight and…” And again, memory was her undoing. Once more she could see his pale, ardent face, the dizzying tenderness in those too beautiful dark eyes. She threw her hands to suddenly hot cheeks. “No, you don't! Ye'll no make
me
one o' your victims!”

“Are ye no feeling verra well, Miss Prue?” Kitty hurried in from the parlour, anxiety written large on her comely features.

“Thank goodness you're here. The very person I must warn. Oh, I do
pray
you've said nothing of Little Willie to Captain Delacourt?”

“Of course not, miss.” The abigail grinned cheerily. “Nor was there the need tae speak o' the business, thank the good Lord!”

“What? Have you had news, then?”

“From Willie's brother, miss. He's safe away! Can ye credit it? He was hiding, but the troopers were coming for them. Willie wouldnae believe it until Ligun Doone hisself came tae warn them aw, and somehow spirited 'em away. Och, but I'm that joyful, I could weep!”

“Ligun Doone,” whispered Prudence. “Ye'll no send
his
brave head tae the block, evil brute!”

Transfixed, Kitty whimpered, “Miss! How could ye think sae horrid a thing o' me?”

“Not you. Captain Delacourt.”

“Captain … but—he's a helpless invalid, and can scarce leave his chair but what he falls doon.”

“Stuff! He was well enough to ride oot on Lord Briley's black mare on Wednesday!”

Kitty stared, then burst into laughter. “Och, awie, I thought fer a minute ye meant it! As if the puir wee lad could—”

“Go,” snarled Prudence, her teeth gnashing as she flung a dramatically dismissing hand in the general direction of the window.

“Where, miss?” asked Kitty, looking, bewildered, to the open casement.

“I do not
care! Go!
You silly, muling little besom! Get ye gone before I
strangle
you!”

Kitty fled.

V

Prudence's flashes of temper were never of long duration, and when Kitty crept in cautiously an hour later, she was hugged and her forgiveness begged. While the abigail readied her for the evening, however, Prudence was unwontedly quiet. Kitty smiled dreamily, attributing Miss Prue's erratic behaviour to the pangs of love. She would have been shocked had she known her young mistress had wrenched her concentration from the abandoned behaviour of a certain blond hussy, and was now reviewing the first skirmishes in a grim if undeclared war.

Her attempt to place Geoffrey Delacourt under surveillance by way of the acacia tree could only, thought Prudence, be relegated to the status of unmitigated disaster. There were other methods, however. A touch more chancy, but not to be ruled out because of that fact.

Womanlike, her first step in the new campaign was to make herself as attractive as possible. (Which had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that Miss Clandon had brought several bandboxes and a large portmanteau with her!) Prudence spent some considerable time making her selection and at length chose a gown of cream brocade, threaded with pink and worn over flattened panniers that were so wide she almost had to turn sideways when going through a doorway. She asked that Kitty be especially creative in dressing and powdering her hair, and was most pleased with the result. Her curls were drawn back from her face, piled high on her head, and held in place by pearl clasps. Little tendrils swooped beside her ears, and a pair of simple pearl earrings added just the right touch of elegance. She wore no other jewels, allowing her flawless skin and the soft swell of her breasts to speak for themselves. Kitty handed her a delicate fan with carven ivory sticks and she was off to collect her aunt.

Hortense looked very well in a
robe battante
of sea-green taffeta worn over hoops rounded in the English style. Her thick auburn locks were only lightly sprinkled with silver, and tonight she did not wear powder but had a Spanish comb placed atop her high coiffure, the comb being a gift from the same gentleman who had presented her with Señorita. A fine veil of black lace was draped over the comb, and Prudence brought blushes to her aunt's cheeks by remarking upon what a very handsome woman she was and asking how long she meant to keep Sir Matthew Garry and Mr. MacKie waiting before she favoured one of them with her hand. The truth was that although both gentlemen enjoyed flirting with the lady, neither had actually offered, nor was Hortense sure that she would like to exchange her placidly ordered life so as to take on the responsibilities that went with marriage. Nonetheless, she was pleased, and returned the compliment by exclaiming over her niece's tiny waistline. “Good gracious, Prue. However shall you eat anything?” she asked.

“I doubt I can,” Prudence admitted. “But I believe Lord Briley is to join us tonight, and I want to look my best.”

Incredulous, Hortense asked, “Have you a
tendre
for the young man? La, but I never thought you would aspire to a title. Least of all an English title.”

Prudence laughed, not at the idea of becoming a nobleman's bride, but because that notion was so far from her actual intent.

Miss Clandon was not ready when they stopped to call for her. The girl's hair was charmingly dressed and already powdered, but she clutched a wrapper around her and mourned that her maid was still repairing a flounce on her gown that had been torn when it was carried from the coach. She refused their offer to wait, saying with her sunny smile that she would feel guilty did she delay them and if they permitted, she would find her way downstairs in a very short time.

MacTavish was alone in the gold saloon, reading. Lord Briley had not yet put in an appearance and although Captain Delacourt meant to join them, he intended to rest until just before dinner as this time he was determined to last through the meal. MacTavish complimented the ladies upon their looks and poured them each a glass of ratafia. They were engaged in a low-voiced discussion regarding the escape of Little Willie Mayhew when the stiffly formal English butler startled them by announcing “Colonel Archibald Cunningham.”

The Colonel came into the room with many professions of regret for disturbing their evening. He made his bow to the ladies and said that there were some “funny fellas” hanging about the town, and since he'd had business this way, he had stopped to warn them. “Shouldn't wonder if they're bounty hunters,” he said, accepting the glass of wine offered by his host. “Beastly lot. They can smell a rebel, and there's been one sighted nearby. Might be wise for you ladies to have an armed escort when you drive out.”

“For protection against the fugitive or the bounty hunters?” asked Prudence, opening her eyes in a blue, innocent stare and fluttering her fan.

“Both, ma'am,” he replied without a second's hesitation. “The rebel is like to show little mercy if he finds you've an English officer billeted here, and the bounty hunters, being several steps below your average animal, know of no such word as mercy.”

Hortense uttered a nervous exclamation, and the Colonel went on to point out that Lakepoint was “devilish isolated” and to offer to post a guard about the estate.

“Heaven forfend!” exclaimed MacTavish. “I can envision few things less appetizing than to dwell in the midst of an armed camp!”

“And I can envision nothing worse than for my presence to cause these good people distress,” drawled Delacourt from the door.

Prudence glanced around quickly. Lockerbie was wheeling the chair into the room. The Captain wore a coat of bottle-green velvet trimmed with paler green embroidery down the front openings and on the cuffs of the great sleeves. His dark hair was unpowdered and tied back with a green riband. He bowed gracefully to her, kissed her aunt's hand, and shook hands with his superior officer.