The Rogue's Reluctant Rose (21 page)

At the mention of Charlotte’s mother, a blind rage descended over Chestleton. He could take her accusations against his character in every other regard, he undoubtedly deserved every shred of his dissolute reputation, but in this he would have his say.

Before she could escape in a flurry of skirts and dark hair, Chestleton crossed to her in two strides of his powerful legs, grasping her arm in a steely grip and spinning her to face him. She would hear him or be damned!

Her eyes flashed into his, furious and shocked, and for a moment he thought he saw fear flicker in the blue depths and hated himself. He knew he was behaving like a beast. No gentleman would ever handle a lady so roughly, and yet this particular lady knew just what to say to make him lose all sense of propriety.

Araminta, however, was prepared to take none of it. As he opened his mouth to speak, her free arm flashed like lightning, and a loud crack sounded in the hallway. He felt a stinging sensation on his right cheek and released her in surprise.

“How dare you handle me! I won’t listen to another word of your lies. Never go near me again, sir, or I shall make a public complaint.” With that she turned away from him and was gone, while he stood staring after her, reeling from the shock. It was a few minutes before he moved to follow her.

***

Once back in her rooms, Araminta wasted no time in locking the door, and then moving a bedside cabinet and writing desk to block it. She knew he would follow her. That done, she stood still for a moment, arms hanging limply at her sides and staring at the door. She was shaking, and she felt suddenly cold. How had things come to a head so quickly, when it had started out as such a promising and happy day?

Throwing herself on the bed and pulling the warm quilt around her delicate, trembling shoulders, Araminta allowed her silent tears to turn to agonised sobs as she cried her heart out into her pillow.

As she had expected, it was not long before Chestleton was at her door, twisting the handle and alternately apologising, pleading with her to open the door and let him in, and ordering her to obey him. He was loud and insistent, and Araminta did her best to block out his voice, which had until so recently sent tremors of delight through her with every word. She could hear the ragged, desolate note in his voice, and it twisted her heart to hear him in so much pain, but she was resolute, although it took all of her self-control to keep reminding herself that he was a shameless rake and that it was all a front put on to let him back into her good graces. She wondered if he meant to spend the rest of the day and all night outside her door.

With mortification, she wondered what the servants would think. Mrs Kingston had been in the room with him, and though she had had the decorum not to come out, Araminta had no doubt that she had heard the whole. With the way Chestleton was shouting, she had no doubt that the entire house now knew. But her embarrassment was lost in the heartbreak that kept pouring out of her with every sob.

She heard Mrs Becker’s soft voice outside the door, gently telling Chestleton to let Araminta be for a while, that he was certain to be upsetting her even more with such wild behaviour. Chestleton growled something in reply, though it was too low for Araminta to be able to make out.

Eventually, too exhausted to cry anymore, she drifted into a restless sleep. Her last thought was a fervent wish that she were at home in Fanshawe hall, or that she could cry in her dear aunt’s arms. But most of all, she thought longingly of two months ago, before she had ever met the Marquis of Chestleton.

***

When Araminta woke at last, it was much later and it had grown dark. She felt confused and lightheaded as she stirred, remembering the events that had transpired earlier. She lay for a moment, listening to the night. The house was silent. She wondered if Chestleton had gone from her door, or if he was still waiting for her out there. It took a lot of effort to force herself up from the bed, when she wanted nothing more than to hide beneath the covers. The room was dark and chilly around her — no servant had come in to light a small fire or the candles.

With hands that were still shaking, she fiddled with the previous night’s half-burned candle, which was still on her bedside table, and lit it.

Picking it up and moving to draw the curtains, she suddenly felt a clear sense of purpose. Setting the candle on a near-by stool, she took a look at herself in the cheval glass.

Araminta was momentarily taken aback at her reflection. Her hair had escaped its careful dressing and was wildly framing her pale face. Her pretty dress was crumpled from having been slept in, and a part of the hem was torn where she had been worrying it the previous night. Her face was gaunt and sallow, swollen red eyes accentuated by the dark smudges beneath them.

She valiantly tried not to think about what had transpired to wreak such havoc on her person. Instead, Araminta determined that she would focus all her efforts on what needed to be done immediately.

She moved to the basin, pouring some water into it from the nearby jug and scrubbing her face clean, trying to ignore the coldness of the water. When she had wiped her face dry with a cloth, she proceeded to remove the pins and ribbons that still clung to her hair, before taking a brush to it. This was no easy task and she found herself wincing as the brush snared on every tangle.

As she worked, Araminta carefully listened to any suspicious noises outside her door, trying to determine if she was alone at last. She did her best to fix her hair again, into an unassuming chignon, before flinging off her dress and proceeding to the closet. Harriet had thought to send a clean shift and a travelling dress that would do for riding, and Araminta wasted no time changing her garments and lacing up her riding boots.

She did not spare much thought for her possessions, knowing that they could be sent for later, and nor particularly caring if they were. Pinning a plain grey felt hat to her dark curls, she retrieved a shawl, gloves and her cloak, which had been cleaned after her last riding debacle. Araminta knew that her arrival home, at such an hour and unescorted, would raise enough questions without her arriving looking as if she had just escaped from Bedlam. She was glad that no one but Harriet and the old family retainers would witness such an impropriety.

When she was ready, Araminta pulled her barricade away from the door and, as quietly as she could, turned the key and pulled the door slowly open, glancing into the gloom. The candles had been doused and there was no one in the hall. Perhaps they had decided that it was best to leave her alone after all.

Araminta debated over taking the candle, afraid to draw attention to herself, but there was equal danger in getting lost in the dark or stumbling into furniture and causing a ruckus. In the end. she decided to bring it. Quietly slipping out of the room, she was careful to tread softly as she descended to the ground floor.

Araminta wasted no time by lingering too long in any of the corridors or galleries of the old house, afraid that she might be caught by a servant. She left the house by a servants’ side door, blew out her candle and hurried towards the stables.

It was dark in the garden, and she tried to keep to the shadows. Despite the nearly overwhelming urge to be gone from there, Araminta could not help stopping on the lawns and looking up at the window that she knew belonged to Chestleton’s study. A faint light, as if of a single candle, could be seen through the glass. She supposed he could not sleep either.

Araminta’s heart twisted painfully in her chest as she watched the candle light flicker for a few moments, so lonely in the dark house. She chided herself for following that line of thought and sternly reminded herself not to cry. As she watched the lit window from the dark garden below, she realised that, though he was a blackguard and scoundrel, though he had broken her heart into a thousand pieces, and though she hated him more than she ever thought possible, she would love him for the rest of her life. And she never wanted to see him again.

Forcing herself to look away, she followed the familiar path to the stables, carefully picking her way in the dark. Unable to see properly in the gloom, she ran into somebody, and with a cry of surprise went sprawling on the path.

“Watch where you’re going, you jackanapes!” barked the other person indignantly.

Araminta, who had been frozen with the fear of certain discovery, felt her tension dissolve into a profound sense of relief as she recognised the irritated voice of Robert, the groom.

“Robert? Oh, don’t be cross with me, I beg. I didn’t see you in all this gloom,” she said in a low voice, although she could hear a note of hysteria there, something between a laugh and a sob.

“Miss Barrington? What are you doing here?” he cried in surprise, before moving forward to help her in her attempt to rise. Brushing off her dress, Araminta quickly got herself in hand.

“Yes. But lower your voice, or someone will hear,” she chided gently. “I am so glad that I met you — I did not know how else I meant to get on. Robert, I must leave this house, tonight, and I need your help.”

The urgency in her voice must have startled him, for it was a moment before he replied. “Leave? Tonight? But what has happened? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, Robert, it’s nothing like that,” she quickly assured him, knowing that expediency was needed above all else. “There has been a… Misunderstanding. And I must get home before someone notices that I have gone and tries to stop me. Please, Robert. I cannot ask anyone else.”

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she could see him nod determinedly. “Very well, Miss Barrington, if you say that you must, then you must, though I’ll be coming with you. I won’t hear of you riding alone in the dark, and my Lucy would surely have my sorry hide if she heard of it.”

Araminta considered his kind offer. She very much wanted to take him up on it, because she still felt shaken and emotional and she was afraid that she was upset enough to get lost in the dark. But she knew the lands well, and even in the dark there was little chance of such an outcome. She also knew that, though Robert and his wife were employed by Lord Dillwood, and Chestleton could not dismiss them himself, the man had a foul temper, and she was sure he could cause them trouble with Lord Dillwood if he found out Robert had helped her escape. Robert and his wife had always been good to her, and she could not bear for them to suffer on her behalf.

“Thank you, Robert. You cannot know how I appreciate your offer. You and Lucy have always been very kind. But I could not forgive myself if helping me were to cause you any trouble, and so I will not hear of you going with me. You need not worry. I shall be just fine — I know these lands better than anyone and I shall take the shortest route home.”

Robert could hear the compelling note in her voice, and muttered a reluctant agreement.

“As you will, Miss Barrington, but mark me, I don’t like this idea of yours. Now, what will you have me do to help you on your way?”

Araminta’s face broke into a smile of relief, though Robert was unable to see it in the gloom, because she had turned her face away to stare determinedly in the direction of the stables.

“I need to take Nightstar out, Robert. He is the large black stallion. Only I cannot take the chance of anyone coming upon me if I were to saddle him myself.”

“Of course not, Miss. And you are not to be doing any saddling. Not to worry, I know Nightstar, and I will bring him out to you. The head groom’s house is right by the stables and his wife has the ears of a fox.”

Araminta saw the sense in this and nodded.

“Yes, perhaps that would be best. I shall wait here for you. Please be as quick and quiet as you can.”

“Aye, Miss. I won’t let you down.” With those words, the young groom disappeared into the deeper shadows down the path, as quietly as he had promised.

As she stood by herself in the darkness, Araminta suppressed the urge to shiver, though it was not very cold. She felt anxious that at any moment someone would come out and discover her. The guilty feeling of doing something clandestine hung over her, and held none of the excitement which was always ascribed to such endeavours in novels and plays. She was also worried about getting back to Fanshawe Hall alone, at so late an hour, though she sternly forbade herself to entertain any such thoughts. There was no other way.

She was every moment aware of the empty, gaping feeling within her. If this was how love felt, then the poets didn’t know the first thing about it, she decided.

***

Though only minutes had passed since Robert had left her waiting in the garden, to Araminta it felt as if a whole lifetime had gone by. A rustling in a flower bed directly in front of her startled her out of her thoughts, making her jump, but it was only a mouse, darting out and away.

Impatient and restless, she couldn’t wait to be off and draw her sorry adventure to its conclusion. She had just about decided that she surely wouldn’t survive another moment of waiting and wondering if something had gone wrong, when Robert appeared as quietly as he had gone.

Araminta would have started again, if he hadn’t called her name urgently in a half-whisper.

“We must hurry, Miss Barrington. I have Nightstar saddled and ready, but we must hurry before someone stumbles across him.”

They hurried over to the paddock, where Nightstar was dancing slightly in place, as if sensing the urgency that hung over his mistress. It was lighter here, and she was afraid that she might be spotted from the head groom’s windows. The horse gave a whinny of greeting and Araminta moved forward to stroke his nose affectionately, murmuring to him.

“He’s a fine horse, Miss Barrington: didn’t give me a moment’s trouble when I was putting on his tack. Very quiet, too.”

“Yes, he’s very fine manners. I daresay a finer horse I shall never see,” agreed Araminta, smiling affectionately. “And now we had better be going.”

Robert nodded, though he still looked displeased at letting a young lady ride off into the night all alone.

“I’ll give you a leg up, Miss Barrington,” the groom said, helping her mount. Seated safely atop Nightstar, Araminta smiled down at Robert.