The Outrageous Debutante (20 page)

And recognised a face amidst the mêlée. Lewis Bates, Lord Westbourne’s head groom. A man who had always impressed Lord Nicholas with his good sense and calm demeanour—or at least in his dealings with Westbourne’s well-bred and highly strung hunters. Nicholas found himself praying that the same
good sense and moderation might be prevailed upon in this crucially dangerous situation.

‘Bates!’ he shouted. ‘Lewis Bates!’ He pressed his horse against the tide of violent humanity, over to the man’s side. ‘What in God’s name are you doing? What are you about?’ Nicholas took hold of a fistful of woollen shawl and shook the man, dragging him closer. ‘Two unarmed women? They’re no danger or threat to your livelihoods. You do your cause more harm than good, man.’

‘You don’t know the half of it, m’ lord.’ Bates snarled his answer.

‘Perhaps not. But this is no way to gain a sympathetic ear. Have sense, man. What will it bring you if they are injured? Only condemnation and a bad name. Who’ll listen to you then?’

Bates squinted up with narrowed eyes, whiskers and a weatherbeaten complexion incongruous beneath the grubby cotton bonnet.

‘Lord Westbourne, damn him to hell, is laying ‘em off. They’re out for blood, m’lord.’

‘I can see that. And a liberal helping of ale has removed any sense they may have had. But they’ll listen to you. For God’s sake, Bates …’

The man looked at his lordship, considering his words. The outcome of the ugly incident hung in the balance.

‘Your quarrel is with Westbourne, Lewis. Not with chance travellers who have been my guests.’

It tipped the balance.

‘Aye. Reckon you’re right. As a landlord, you’re better’n most.’ Bates raised the shotgun and fired into the air, then leapt back on to the oak stump, agile in spite of the hampering skirts. The loud explosion at close quarters once more brought the proceedings to a halt, just as The Zephyr, her composure finally deserting her, pulled free from her captor and bolted down the road, back in the direction of Aymestry.

‘It’s my lord Faringdon, lads.’ Bates’s voice rolled over the restive gathering. ‘We have no quarrel with him.’

‘They’re all landlords. They’re all rich on our backs.’ A short,
stocky man, younger that most, pushed back his shawl and glowered up at Bates. ‘Why should we treat him any different? Or them?’ He swung his arm to indicate their erstwhile captives.

‘Not all are as bad as Westbourne, Sam.’

‘Are you in league with them, then? Are the landlords paying you?’ Sensing defeat, Sam’s features registered thwarted anger. He spat his disgust into the dust at his feet. ‘And who says you’re our spokesman?’

‘I do. As for being in league with the landlords—don’t be a damned fool, Sam Dyer.’

‘I don’t like it!’ Dyer would not let go, like a terrier with a rat.

‘Neither do I. But you’ll do as I say.’

Their eyes met, a challenge until the younger man backed down with a snarl and a muttered oath.

‘As his lordship says,’ Bates addressed the men who now waited uncertainly, ‘better that we don’t antagonise the whole countryside, lads.’

‘Why not? What have we to lose? We’ve nothing left as it is.’ A voice from behind Sam Dyer expressed the desperation of all present.

‘We may need friends. Them as’ll stand up and speak for us.’

‘It’ll not look good if you harm two women.’ Lord Nicholas added the weight of his argument, his eyes fixed on Thea where she stood, completely unmoving and apparently unaware in the centre of the group.

‘Keep out of this, my lord, and go while you still can,’ Bates hissed in a low voice. ‘Not your concern.’

‘As JP it is my concern.’ Nicholas would not turn and run from the confrontation. He allowed his eyes to travel the crowd before him, the expressions ranging from fury to drunken exhilaration to careworn despair. ‘And you can be sure that I will see justice done. For the landlords. And also for you.’ His firm gaze, which took in the throng, holding every pair of eyes that stared back, was both a challenge and a promise. Would they resist his authority? Or would they accept his word for honest dealings with the law? ‘But it is not justice to rob and hinder innocent travellers.’

‘Not now, my lord.’ Bates’s quiet voice came from behind him. ‘Not now. I suggest you leave. We’ll not hinder you. And you should forget what you’ve seen here this day.’

Nicholas saw the sense of it. They were outnumbered and the mutterings were still ugly with suppressed violence. Bates might have deflected their anger, but for how long? He nodded in recognition of his debt. ‘I owe you, Lewis.’

‘I’ll remind you of it, my lord.’

The crowd withdrew into a little group. Still sullen. Still angry and silently threatening, but willing to accept the logic of Bates’s argument as Lord Nicholas and the travellers made their preparations for departure. The grey, severely lame from an uncontrolled stumble on the boulder-strewn path, was rescued by Mat and led gently back. Dacre, suffering the after-effects of a number of hard blows to his back and shoulders, regained his composure with gruff thanks to his lordship, and went to help Mistress Drew. She was lifted to her feet with a damaged arm and painful temple where the stone had struck. It might have broken the skin, but not her spirit. Having been lifted on to her horse, she insisted that she was quite all right and could ride on without aid. Better to look to Mistress Thea. She glowered at the band of
women
who, she announced in loud accents, should know better than to attack helpless females. She would have gone to Thea’s side, but Nicholas shook his head. Furness looped her reins with his and led her away before she could say more to antagonise the still-hostile labourers.

And Thea? When Lord Nicholas finally made his way to her side, she simply stood in the road in a paralysed state of shock. Eyes glassy and unfocused, skin pale and clammy, she appeared not to recognise her rescuer when he took her arm and gently led her toward his horse. He mounted.

‘I’ll take her. She is not fit to ride alone. If you will lift her …’

Dacre steadied his mistress in his arms and lifted her, allowing his lordship to take her and settle her in the saddle before him. She made no response other than a little sigh as she allowed her head to rest against his shoulder. But her whole body was tense
and rigid, as if held in check against some unseen enemy. And although he spoke, soft words of comfort and reassurance, she made no response. In the end he simply held her, one arm firm about her waist, aware of nothing but the rapid beat of her heart against him, as a helpless bird would flutter for its freedom from a trap.

And on that journey back to Aymestry Manor, in a blinding revelation, Lord Nicholas Faringdon knew that all he had ever wanted in life, all he had dreamed of, lay at that moment in his arms, held tight and safe against the world, her hands clutched in the material of his riding coat. He could do nothing but take her back to Aymestry. He had persuaded himself that Theodora should have no place in his life. He had made that decision. But now, for better or worse, fate had determined that he have no choice in the matter.

At Aymestry Manor, Lord Nicholas sent servants scurrying with brisk and practical instructions that hid the depth of anger and fear which still rode him. Jed was ordered into the house at a run to warn Mrs Grant of the urgent needs of their guests. The little grey, limping and distressed from a severely strained fetlock, was dispatched to a vacant stall in the stables with orders to one of the stable lads to prepare and apply a hot poultice to reduce the swelling in the injured leg.

Mistress Drew was helped from her horse by Furness, who took it upon himself to escort her into the house. There she was immediately taken under the wing of Mrs Grant, ushered up to her bedchamber with promises of tea and a sympathetic ear. A housemaid was sent for hot water and bandages. A bottle of spirits. And Mrs Grant assured the lady that Furness could set a broken limb as well as any doctor, as she would soon see for herself. In a little while, the pain would be eased and then all Mistress Drew would have to do would be rest and allow the bone to knit. There was no need for her to concern herself over Miss Thea’s well-being. They would take good care of her. Just the shock of
the events. The young lady would soon feel more the thing and Mistress Drew could visit her as soon as she wished. What was the world coming to, that law-abiding citizens were not free to travel the king’s highway without fear for their property and their lives from men who should know better … The Maidens, indeed! The sound of Mrs Grant’s soothing voice disappeared into the echoes of the upper landing.

Meanwhile Lord Nicholas carried Thea into the entrance hall where he gently stood her on her feet and allowed his arms to fall from around her. She still appeared strangely disoriented and clung to his arm with rigid fingers. Her face was unduly pale with a slight sheen of sweat on her brow and upper lip. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered light and fast. When she raised her head to take in her surroundings, her eyes still lacked focus and she appeared not to recognise where she was.

‘I … I’m sorry. I don’t …’ She gazed at him as if unsure of his identity. ‘I don’t quite remember …’

Nicholas frowned. Shock at the attack, yes. But this was more than could be expected. What had happened to cause her such distress? He made a rapid decision. ‘Elspeth.’ He summoned one of the hovering maids. ‘Fetch tea and a bottle of brandy. Hot water and towels. Bring them up to Miss Thea’s room. She needs to rest.’

‘No …’ Thea’s reply was strained, hesitant, quite unlike her usual firm voice and manner. ‘I shall be quite well if I can just sit … Poor Agnes needs more care than I … I must see her …’

‘You will rest.’

‘But I …’

Ignoring her reluctance, and with a suppressed oath at his inability to deal effectively with this situation, Nicholas simply swept her up into his arms again, up the staircase and into the room that she had previously occupied. There he lowered her feet to the floor, noting that any resistance had disappeared. She frowned a little as if unsure what she should do next, so, with a typical masterful demonstration, he made the decision for her and began to unbutton the velvet jacket of her riding habit and ease
it down her arms. She allowed him to do so, standing before him as lifeless as a doll. Eyeing the lace ruff at the high neckline, he contemplated dealing with the tiny pearl buttons. No. He would not. But he unpinned the diamond-and-sapphire brooch at her neck and laid it on the dressing table. Then, with gentle sensitivity, he took her by the hand and led her to the bed where he pushed her to sit. When she obeyed, he knelt before her to pull off her soft riding boots, all the while keeping up a steady stream of comment in a calm voice, notwithstanding her wordless acceptance of all his actions, however intimate they might be. The little grey would soon recover—it was a sprain only and she would be sound enough. Furness was a worker of miracles. Mistress Drew would no doubt find cause to complain, but Furness would have her put to rights. A man of great skill, with horses and humans. They could stay comfortably at Aymestry under Mrs Grant’s care. He would dispatch a message to her cousin in Tenbury that very hour, that she would not worry, and perhaps send clothes and other necessities back for the ladies. The dangers were over. She was quite safe here.

Thea did not answer, but sat and watched him with utmost concentration.

As soon as Nicholas had removed her boots, he sat beside her and lifted her inert hands from her lap. He found them cold, shockingly so in the warmth of the room and despite the perspiration on her face, as if all the blood had retreated from the surface of her skin. He enfolded them to warm them between his own.

At that she looked up at him. Bloodless lips parted, eyes wide and anxious.

‘I have to thank you.’ Her voice caught. ‘I think … I think that you saved our lives.’

‘Nothing so momentous.’ He tried to reassure with a smile and a gentle pressure on her fingers. ‘But it was a timely intervention. You were unlucky to be there at the moment that the Maidens fired the ricks.’ Despite the lack of comprehension in her gaze, he continued to explain, hoping that the sound of his voice and the calm that enveloped them in the sunny room would help
to restore her composure. ‘I had your little party followed—to be certain of your safe-passage to Tenbury. When one of my grooms saw the dangers he rode back. So I was able to be there before more damage could be done.’

‘Yes …’ Her eyes continued to search his face as if for enlightenment. ‘I am sorry to be such a trouble to you. To return here when you did not wish me to do so …’

And Theodora promptly startled both of them when she pulled her hands free of him, covered her face with her hands and disintegrated into tearful sobs.

Nicholas had no choice. He did the only thing any man could do faced with such distress. He drew her into his arms and let her cry against his chest, holding her close, his cheek resting gently against the crown of her head. Saying nothing, but just holding her and allowing her to sob out all the fear. She seemed so fragile, so vulnerable. All he wanted to do was protect her, hold her, keep her unknown fears, whatever they might be, at bay. There was nothing that he could find to say to her in this situation as, without doubt, she was not receptive to any words of comfort. So he simply kept silence, submerging an urgent need to pour out his own love and his desire to protect her for ever. That was not what she would wish to hear.

Gradually her sobs quietened. Only then did he ease her away. With a hand beneath her chin, he made her lift her face and used his handkerchief to wipe away her tears, when Elspeth arrived with another of the Aymestry maids and a loaded tray.

Nicholas stood, admitting to some relief. Oh, he would have stayed and held her in his arms for ever if she had need of him. But she needed a woman’s ministrations more and would not thank him for lingering. It would be too humiliating for her when she came to her senses, realising that he had seen her when her distress had overcome her pride and reduced her to such desolation in his arms.