Parfit Knight (7 page)

‘Perhaps,’ she
agreed dubiously. ‘He’ll certainly do so during the summer months
but he may prefer to winter at the London house.’

‘Is that where
he is now?’

‘Yes. He’s
enjoying his first real taste of society and furthering his
acquaintance with Mistress Dacre.’

The grey-green
eyes flew suddenly wide. ‘Mistress Dacre? Viscount Linton’s
daughter?’

‘Why, yes. Do
you know her?’

‘Not at all.’
His lordship’s voice held a strangely desperate note. ‘Your brother
is not, by any chance, the gentleman betrothed to Mistress Dacre,
is he?’

‘Yes. How did
you know?’ she asked, baffled. And then, brightening, ‘Oh. Can it
be that you’ve met Philip?’

‘Oh Lord!’
gasped the Marquis, dropping his head into his hands. ‘I am afraid
… I’m very much afraid that I have. Unfortunately.’

And he
dissolved into helpless, sobbing laughter.

Rosalind awoke
to a sense of drowsy well-being, so pleasant that it seemed
unnecessary to locate its source. For a few minutes, she lay
relaxed in that limbo between sleeping and waking, savouring the
moment’s nameless content. Then it shifted, gradually becoming a
sharp-edged tingling awareness so that she sat up, suddenly alert,
as she recognised its cause.

Excitement
rippled through her veins and set the nerves vibrating beneath her
skin, producing a tiny shiver of mingled fear and delight. A part
of her that had not stirred for a very long time stretched its
cramped muscles and began to wake, luring her from the safe harbour
of her cultivated, hard-won tranquillity and setting her adrift in
the alien, almost forgotten seas of hope and doubt. Painfully, like
one rousing from a prolonged state of catalepsy, she investigated
each new sensation and greeted it with apprehensive pleasure until
she found again the things so long mislaid; the bitter-sweet joys
of youth and anticipation.

A bubble of
happiness welled up and she clasped her arms around her knees as if
to hug it close. Against all expectation, she had found a sort of
kindred spirit; someone whose mind ran with hers in laughter and
companionship and who, effortlessly as breathing, had reminded her
that, if she wished him to forget her blindness, she must first
forget it herself.

It was strange.
For twelve years she had been surrounded with a wall of protective
consideration that never alluded to her handicap. She’d been loved,
cherished and guarded with well-intentioned sympathy, shielded from
every unkind wind and word; yet, despite all the devotion lavished
upon her, she suddenly realised that she had never before felt that
anyone truly understood. Never, that is, until last night.

Unable to be
still any longer, she reached out an impatient hand for the small
silver clock that stood beside her bed. Flicking open the glass,
her fingers told her that it was twenty minutes after seven; still
early then, but not as early as the midnight-like quiet had led her
to suppose. Charged with compulsive energy, Rosalind slid out of
bed, dragged a taffeta robe over her night-gown and pulled the bell
for her maid.

Nancy found her
mistress eager to dress, determined to breakfast downstairs and in
a mood that was by turn fussy and distrait. All three were unusual
but Nancy was not surprised by any of them. She had caught only a
fleeting glimpse of the Marquis – but it was her opinion that, if
his ways only half-matched his looks, no girl could be blamed for
losing her head a little. It was just a pity, Nancy had confided to
Mrs Reed, that Miss Rose couldn’t see him for herself. ‘And him so
fine in black velvet all silver-laced, with his hair shining like
the best gilt plate. And what’s more, that one’s a proper man – not
one of your dandified fops. He’s handsome and elegant alright, but
I reckon there’s some muscle underneath that – ‘ At which point Mrs
Reed had boxed her ears.

Had Nancy but
known it, Rosalind had not yet spared a single thought for his
lordship’s attractions or the lack of them – had not even wondered
what he looked like. There seemed no need. She knew the timbre of
his voice and the light, cool clasp of his fingers on hers; and
that, oddly, was enough.

‘Nancy – is it
still snowing?’ she asked urgently.

Nancy grinned.
‘Yes, Miss Rose. Has been all night by the look of it. And it’s
drifted too. You can’t hardly see the front steps.’

Rosalind drew a
long breath, tried hard not to feel quite so pleased and failed. A
faint flush stained her cheeks and her eyes held a curious gleam.
Nancy surveyed her benevolently. Blind or not, it was only right
and proper than anyone as pretty and sweet-natured as her mistress
should have a beau.

In fact, far
from planning to enslave the Marquis, Rosalind was busily hatching
dark schemes to make him explain exactly what had been so hilarious
about his meeting with her brother. Naturally, she had asked him
last night – when he finally stopped laughing long enough for her
to make herself heard – but he had steadfastly refused to tell her.
Breathless and still hiccupping faintly, he had simply said that he
doubted if she would appreciate the jest. And when she threatened
to ask Philip himself, his lordship had dissolved afresh and
managed to indicate that he doubted Lord Philip would appreciate it
either. It was all extremely provoking and Rosalind was determined
to get to the bottom of it.

She sat down on
the end of the bed and curled her feet up beneath her.

‘What shall I
wear today, Nancy?’

The maid threw
open the clothes-press and began to enumerate its contents.

‘There’s the
yellow cambric.’

‘No. I wore
amber last night and it’s too similar. What else?’

‘The pink
dimity?’

‘No. I always
suspect that it makes me look like a milk-maid.’

Nancy laughed.
‘Well, what about the embroidered muslin?’

Rosalind
thought for a moment, then shook her head regretfully. ‘It’s too
thin. I’ll freeze to death.’

The maid chewed
one finger-nail and looked frowningly along the rack. Then her face
brightened and she pounced.

‘That’s the
one! You’ve never worn it and it would be a terrible shame to waste
it on the rector.’ And to herself she added, ‘And if you don’t
knock his lordship’s eyes out in this, he ain’t the man I take him
for!’

*

While Rosalind
thought she was making an early start, the Marquis had made an even
earlier one. Roused by a reluctant Saunders at four in the morning,
he had dozed fitfully in a chair at Chard’s bedside until just
before six when the wounded man had woken in a state of high fever.
For the next hour, his lordship was kept very busy indeed … but
since, like any other healthy young man, he knew very little of
illness and what to expect, he soon became rather harassed. With
some difficulty he managed to tip a measure of the doctor’s potion
down Chard’s throat but when even this failed to make any
noticeable improvement, he felt somewhat at a loss and knew a
craven desire to admit defeat and call his valet. Fortunately, at
that moment, the door opened and Mrs Reed walked in.

‘Oh thank God!’
said the Marquis devoutly. ‘He’s become acutely feverish and I
don’t know what the devil to do to relieve him.’

‘Well, sir, you
can begin by moderating your language,’ replied Nurse tartly, in
much the tone of one addressing a nine-year-old. ‘And what you’re
doing here when you should be in your bed, I just don’t know.
Gentlemen don’t belong in a sick-room at any time and as for you
trying to nurse your coachman – well, it’s neither right nor proper
and so I tell you!’

Laughter
stirred remotely in the grey-green eyes.

‘Chard has been
in my service for a long time,’ he explained meekly. ‘And I thought
it only fair to let my valet rest for a few hours.’

‘That’s all
very well, sir. But what you
should
have done was to have
him call me.’

It was with a
good deal of difficulty that Lord Amberley refrained from replying
that he wasn’t that brass-faced, Instead, he gave his singularly
charming smile and said, ‘Well, I own that I would like to have
done so – and that it would undoubtedly have been better for poor
Chard. But having put you all to so much trouble already, I was
loath to inconvenience you further.’

Mrs Reed thawed
a little. ‘As to that, my lord, it’s no trouble at all. And far
better to have called me than to come yourself – and you with no
more idea of what to do than Miss Rosalind’s parrot.’

The Marquis
noted with due appreciation that he had finally been accorded his
rank and filed the rest for future use. ‘Very true. And I willingly
admit that I was never more glad to see anyone in my life.’

She cast an
expert eye over the restless coachman and nodded decisively.

‘Well, now you
can go away and leave him to me, my lord. This is no more than I
expected and I know just what will quiet him so there’s no call for
you to worry. And I don’t need you – indeed, you’ll be no more use
than ornament, if you’ll pardon me saying so. Besides,’ she
finished, eyeing him critically, ‘you’ll be wanting to shave, I’ll
be bound.’

A shave was
indeed Lord Amberley’s most pressing requirement and, after that, a
change of clothes, his sojourn at Chard’s bedside having left him
feeling distinctly crumpled. He accomplished both in record time,
once again without the aid of his valet, and then went briskly
downstairs to discover what chance there was of travelling at least
as far as the inn.

One glance
through the window was sufficient to dissuade him from opening the
door and going out. The wind was driving the snow hard against the
house and the drift was already some four feet deep. The Marquis
cursed softly and turned round to meet Lawson’s impassive
regard.

‘Have you any
idea how bad conditions are likely to be on the road?’ he
asked.

The butler
bowed. ‘My lord, I sent a groom out an hour ago to investigate and
he is of the opinion that no coach could travel as much as half a
mile in safety. And the road to Hadham Cross is almost certainly
impassable.’

Amberley folded
his arms and raised one quizzical brow. ‘And what’s
your
opinion?’

‘That he is
right, my lord.’

‘I see. So
we’re snowbound and I’m stuck here indefinitely. Doesn’t that worry
you, Lawson?’

Lawson’s
stolidity did not waver by so much as a hair’s breadth. ‘No, my
lord.’

‘Then it
should.’ His lordship abandoned subtlety and faced the butler with
a hint of grimness. ‘In the absence of her brother, it is up to you
to protect both Mistress Vernon’s good name and her peace of mind.
For aught you know to the contrary, I might be capable of either
rape or seduction.’

‘Yes, my
lord.’

‘Devil take it,
man – is that all you can say?’

A dry smile
touched Lawson’s mouth. ‘No, my lord. It is not. Have I your
lordship’s permission to be quite frank?’

‘Please do,’
invited the Marquis sardonically. ‘I should be glad of it.’

‘Thank you, my
lord.’ He bowed. ‘The case is quite simple, sir. If I believed you
in any way likely to cause distress to Mistress Rosalind, I should
naturally contrive your speedy departure – no matter what the
weather. As it is, I’m satisfied that your lordship’s honour is to
be relied upon.’

His lordship
bowed ironically. ‘I thank you.’

‘No need for
that, sir,’ demurred Lawson politely. ‘Allow me to inform you that
- should you give me reason to revise my opinion - I shall have no
compunction in ejecting you from the premises forthwith. Even, if
necessary, by force.’

Amberley
grinned suddenly. ‘Oh – you think you could, do you?’

‘Yes, my lord.
Though not, perhaps, without calling up reinforcements.’

‘Allow me to
tell you that there’s no perhaps about it!’ retorted the Marquis,
amused. ‘Very well. I’ll admit that your mistress is safe with me
but the mere fact of my presence here is enough to compromise her –
and I’ve no mind to it.’

‘My lord, what
is not known can do no harm. That which keeps you here will keep
others away and there is no one in this house who will gossip. We
are all too much devoted to Mistress Rosalind’s interests.’ Lawson
hesitated as though debating the wisdom of his next words and then
said carefully, ‘And in truth, sir, I would be pleased to see you
stay.’

‘Would you
indeed!’ The Marquis was somewhat startled. ‘Why?’

‘Because I like
to hear Miss Rose laugh,’ replied the butler simply, ‘and, prior to
your arrival here, I’d forgotten how rarely she does so. Not,’ he
added quickly, ‘that she’s ever anything but cheerful, you
understand – far from it. But seeing her last night I suddenly
realised that for all her smiles and teasing, there has been
something missing.’

‘And you think
that I can supply it?’ asked Amberley sceptically.

‘My lord, I
know you can for I’ve seen you do it.’

The elegant
shoulders lifted in a tiny, careless shrug. ‘What you’ve seen is no
more than simple companionship.’

Lawson
permitted himself a small smile. ‘Yes, my lord. Just so.’ For a
moment he looked steadily into the light, frowning gaze and then
made a slight bow.

‘Good morning,
my lord,’ said Rosalind from the curve of the stair. ‘You are very
early. I had expected to be before you.’

The Marquis
flashed a quizzical glance at Lawson, then turned to confront a
vision in cornflower quilted taffeta. Framing creamy skin, against
which lay one long, glossy ringlet, the gown’s deep, square
neckline was trimmed with tiny seed-pearls and its wide skirt was
looped back to reveal a grey satin petticoat; lace foamed at her
elbows, more pearls encircled her slender throat … and the glow in
her eyes was breathtaking. For a second, Amberley was stunned
afresh by how beautiful she was … and then he smiled because it
wasn’t possible to do anything else.