The Rambunctious Lady Royston (31 page)

"I altered this gown while Mrs. Halsey was resting," Amanda said in exasperation at his dull wits, for she had thought she'd already been perfectly clear about the thing. "It has done the trick quite well, I think. I also believe you may have helped me considerably in parading me onto the dance floor, for which I thank you. It is, I suppose, only due to the enormity of your consequence that I have not as yet been thrown out onto the street in disgrace. But you see, my stepfather demands that I marry well, thus affording him a fat marriage settlement and a wealthy son-in-law to pay his way for the rest of his life. I refused, naturally, and he threatened to sell Tempest unless I obeyed him."

"Tempest. That would be the horse. How could I have forgotten? Please, go on. But for the moment, if you please, concentrate on why you are here tonight."

"If you wouldn't persist in interrupting me, I could. Now, to continue. Unless you have something else to say? Very well. Please try to follow along as best you can, all right? I made myself a spectacle tonight to make certain no one will offer for me, and to embarrass my stepfather so that he cannot possibly show his face in town for the rest of the Season. If he can be embarrassed, that is, which I rather highly doubt. I'll return to my stepfather's house now and gather my belongings for my escape to Fox Chase. Once there," she concluded, feeling well satisfied with both herself and her plan, "I shall saddle Tempest and disappear into oblivion."

She sighed deeply and rather happily, and made to rise, the heroine on her way to a glorious, most courageous exit. "Now that your insatiable curiosity is assuaged, may I please retire without the fear that you will straightaway tackle me and hold me down to keep me here?"

She sat down again quickly at Jared's hard, most ungentlemanly tug on her arm. "Of all the preposterous, cork-headed, totally juvenile and unworkable schemes I have heard, yours, young lady, has got to carry off the palm."

"Oh, is that so?" Amanda shot back at him, wishing he didn't look half so competent, and that she didn't suddenly feel at least a third less sure of herself and her brilliant plan.

"Yes, Miss Boynton, that's damn well so. Now look, you idiotic little brat, it's already too late to do anything about your foolhardiness in appearing here tonight, but it isn't too late to salvage something from the wreckage. Gather up Miss Halsey, go home, throw yourself on your stepfather's mercy, and he can take you to Fox Chase to live down your shame. Your appearance tonight will be a nine-days' wonder, with a new scandal to replace it within a fortnight, and by next season you can make your debut with no fear of reprisal."

Amanda was incensed. "You
dolt
. Have you heard nothing I've said? My stepfather wishes to
sell
me into a marriage I neither want nor need. Oh, he may have hoped for a title as well as a fortune, which is why he begged for the voucher to Almacks, but now that I've disgraced him? Ha! By the end of the week he'll have simply sold me to the highest bidder. Don't you understand? There
is
no turning back for me."

Jared shrugged, still largely unimpressed with her logic. "I still really don't understand all this anger. So you'll have your marriage arranged for you. It's no different with the hundred or so young misses you see here tonight. You have an added attraction in that you're an exceedingly fine-looking specimen. You would have had your choice of mates if you'd behaved yourself. Why, I imagine even your lack of fortune wouldn't have dissuaded more than the most penny-pinched among the gentlemen of my acquaintance."

Her eyes narrowed, freezing into hard, golden chips. "You're despicable," she ground out, her voice heavy with loathing. "You're
all
despicable! When I marry it will be for love, as it was for my parents. It most assuredly won't be on orders from my stepfather or according to the mercenary rules of society."

"Ah, I see it now. You're one of those hopelessly romantic females, aren't you? I should have guessed as much. Young women often are, although my Aunt Agatha has taken this fairy tale notion with her into her old age, unfortunately. All of that to one side for the moment, however, and if I might be so bold as to dare to inject at least a modicum of sanity into this absurd conversation—what was to have kept you from falling head over ears in love during the Season? Besides, you may find—as I have—that love is a highly overrated emotion."

"Obviously you have never been witness to a great love as I have. And, in any event, I would not subject anyone I loved to the avarice of my stepfather." She glared at him in great disgust. "How could you suppose such a thing?"

Jared raised his hands in mock fear. "I submit, I submit, please don't attack me. I will even bow in reverence before the gods of pure, romantic love if necessary. But, if you're sincere in your plans—and I'm most pessimistically confident you are—just how do you plan to escape your stepfather's avaricious clutches? I doubt you would make good time in the carriage with the die-away Mrs. Halsey by your side."

"Don't be ridiculous," Amanda snapped. "At least not more than you can help. She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, saying, "I travel alone."

Jared smiled. "Ah, it becomes clearer. You're going to travel on the public coach."

"At least you're consistent, my lord. Consistently incorrect, that is. I intend to hire a chaise and drive myself," Amanda admitted, not without some pride.

"In truth?" Jared leered at her. "You did mention something about disappearing into—what was that you said? Ah, yes—
oblivion
yet this evening. And of course you're right, you can't afford to wait until morning to make your escape, because by then Mrs. Halsey will have already made her report to dear Peregrine. And where do you propose to find such a conveyance for hire in the middle of the night?"

"I shall simply walk until I find a conveyance for hire," she answered, with all the reasonableness of a green as grass female fresh from the country.

Jared couldn't remember the last time he had enjoyed a conversation so much. "And what about the footpads?" he questioned, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"Footpads?" That single word seemed to have robbed Amanda's formerly confident tone of much of its conviction.

"Yes, you rather adorable simpleton, footpads. Thieves, robbers, no-goods who would slit your pretty throat for a penny. And a young female alone on the streets? Ah, my dear girl, you would wish all they would do is murder you. This isn't the country where you know everyone and everyone knows you. This is London, Miss Boynton, where even strong men take care to travel in groups after dark."

Amanda's face fell, and her next words came out in a most endearing squeak. "Oh, I see. Footpads."

Jared leaned over and bracingly patted her gloved hand, showing his commiseration with her dilemma. "But cheer up, my dear, it's not to worry. You'll doubtless be picked up by the Watch before the footpads spy you out. I hear our local guardhouses are one experience to be missed, however."

She pushed his hand away and stood up, all in a single, defiant motion. "Oh, do shut up. I won't listen to you anymore. I should never have confided in you. And I wouldn't have, except that you took unfair advantage of me by speaking kindly about my father. You know, now that I think on it, for all your smiles and friendly conversation—you really aren't a very nice man."

She turned from him and took a few quick steps in her companion's direction, then turned again and flashed him her bewitching smile. "Oh, I almost forgot. Thank you so much for the dance, my lord. It will be something to tell my grandchildren." And then, with an imperious toss of her head, she was gone.

Jared watched until she and her companion had taken their leave of the Assembly, Amanda walking proudly ahead of the trailing Mrs. Halsey and acting as if her sojourn at Almacks had been a unmitigated boring interlude not worth another moment's extension. He then approached his aunt and had her gathered into her carriage before she could so much as utter a word.

Lady Agatha Chezwick, much to her nephew's amusement, made up for this lack throughout the journey back to Jared's town house in Half Moon Street, launching into a litany of questions and complaints even before he could give the coachman the signal to move off.

"Who on earth was that atrocious female, Jared? Sally Jersey was positively
livid
with rage, and was just preparing to demand she retire when the chit finally had the good sense to take herself off. Not that you didn't do your best to hold her there—I saw your hand on her arm, you know. How improper!"

She punctuated her next words by rapping her ivory-stick fan on his forearm. "And Sally was as ready to bounce you, too, young man. She's furious with you for standing up with that horrid girl. Simply
furious
! Whyever did you do such an outrageous thing?" She shook her gray head in dismay. "Never mind answering that. You did it precisely because it was outrageous! Why, oh,
why
did I force you to come with me tonight? I should have known you could find mischief anywhere, even Almacks. And don't just sit there smiling, Nephew. I ask you again—who
was
that person?"

Lady Chezwick was famous for her monologues and it seemed this one would be no exception, if her nephew let her get the bit firmly between her teeth, as she had only just begun her tirade. Jared took his cue when she finally had to stop for breath and broke in quietly, "Her name is Amanda Boynton, my dear, beleaguered Aunt. Sir Roger Boynton's daughter, from Fox Chase."

Lady Chezwick sniffed. "Her name does not signify." She drew herself up on the velvet squabs of the coach, her small body rigid with righteous anger. "She offended the entire Social World tonight and you—
you
helped her. I felt ready to sink when you stood up with her. And then to sit and chatter away together like old friends? Why, Honoria thought she must be a relative of ours. Are you dead to all shame, Jared?"

"Curse the woman. Honoria Appleton was always a snoop and a gossip. Pay her no mind, Aunt, I implore you. And don't blame me for conversing with the girl. She amused me."

"Amused you?
Amused
you! How very droll, I'm sure. If you need diversion so badly, Nephew, go to Drury Lane. I hear they are putting on a splendid farce this week. But to make a mockery of Almacks? Oh, how
could
you?"

"It was really quite simple, Aunt. I begged her companion for an introduction, asked the girl to stand up with me in the next set, and
voilá
, the deed was done," Jared supplied cheerfully.

"Do not try my patience, Nephew," his aunt returned hotly, punishing her nephew's arm with one more reprimanding blow, this one sufficiently forceful as to break two sticks of her fan. She looked at the now useless thing, sniffed, and tossed it to the floor of the coach. "What are you going to do now?
Please
tell me you're not going to see that shameless creature again. Or are you under the hatches and need an early inheritance from your loving aunt, who will be sent to an early grave by any such scheme?"

A slow smile lit Jared's face, making his eyes twinkle in the darkness of the coach. "See her, Aggie? Why, I am going to do a great deal more than simply see her. In fact, surprised as I am myself to say it, I actually do believe I may just be forced to marry the brat."

The words were barely out of his mouth when, for the second time in a single evening, Lord Storm found himself in the position of having to administer aid to a fainting female.

. . .

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