Valentine's Day (7 page)

Valentine said, “I do not understand, Sir Richard. If this is some kind of a joke, it is in very poor taste. I have no intention of remaining here. It would be most improper for me to spend the night away from town and in your company; it would be scandalous indeed.”

“Ah, you always were an intelligent girl and quick on the uptake. That is my intention, sweet Valentine. There will be no way to conceal the fact that you will have spent the night here alone in my company. Do not look so alarmed; I do not intend to rape you. This is not a setting for seduction but simply a practical way of arranging matters in the most beneficial manner. I intend to marry you. No, I am not in love with you, and I never was. It is the beauty of your fortune that attracts me, not the comeliness of your person. And as to that, I have to tell you that you no longer have the bloom you had when first we met. Never mind—I daresay we shall deal together as well as any other couple, once you learn not to try and assert your will against me, and I am sure I shall be able to rid you of that habit once we are wed.”

Valentine caught the note of menace in his voice. She could not believe she had been such a fool. She knew Sir Richard was not to be trusted, so why had she believed him when he had mentioned the Everetts, who were doubtless still in Calcutta? If Lord Marbeck had not spoken to her about Sir Richard, and she had not felt that in some way she was hitting back at him by venturing on this outing with Sir Richard, she would not now be in this impossible position. She had no one to blame but herself.

“There are no servants in the house, so I suggest you busy yourself by making the place a trifle more habitable,” he said. “I have brought some supplies with me in the curricle, so we will not starve, and it is only a question of hours before your ruin is accomplished. Do not imagine it can be hushed up: I have taken care to make sure we were seen leaving town together, and Lady Amelia will deny that she ever said she would accompany us.”

Chapter Thirteen

D
ouble treachery! How much Valentine wished she had refused to go on this excursion. Even now she could be at an exhibition of paintings with Lady Mountjoy, safely in London, and not here in this impossible situation.

The day had started in brilliant sunshine, but the heat had become more oppressive, and now dark clouds began to mass on the skyline. “We shall have thunder before the night is out,” Sir Richard said. “Now I shall leave you to your devices while I go to the stables. Do not try to escape, for there is nowhere for you to go. Those few cottages in the hamlet we drove through all belong to tenants of mine, and you would find no succour were you to manage to walk that far; although, given the shoes you have on, that does not seem very likely. Besides, I shall lock the front door, and you will notice that all the lower windows are barred.”

Valentine had to get away from here. She had no idea where she was or in which direction London lay, although she could probably remember the road back to that hamlet. But what if what he had said were true? What if the cottages were all inhabited by tenants who would shut their doors on her? Could people behave like that? She supposed they could if their livelihoods depended upon it. They would do nothing to incur Sir Richard’s displeasure.

She ran up the stairs, avoiding a broken step, and reached the first floor. She went into the drawing room. It must once have been a gracious room, but now the curtains were faded and in shreds, and the furniture shabby and moth-eaten. She crossed to the windows and looked out across an overgrown lawn. The room faced the other way from the stables. Ha, Sir Richard did not know her as well as he thought he did. A tall magnolia tree grew against the brick wall, and she thought that she might well be able to swing herself out of the window and into its branches. She raised the sash, wincing at every squeak it made, and when there was space enough, she slid out on to the sill. From there she stretched her feet toward the magnolia. Her heart thumped, for there was quite a gap, but she thrust herself out and reached her goal. Moments later, she was climbing down the tree, and she jumped the last few feet to the ground.

Now there was nothing for it but to run, and she set off round the corner of the house before bolting down the drive. Sir Richard might see her, and even if he hadn’t, he would guess the way she would go. She needed to cut across the lawns and get away from the house and the drive. A house in such disrepair would surely not have its hedges or fences or walls in a state to bar her escape. How long would it be before Sir Richard came after her? Her case seemed desperate; she only had light sandals on her feet, and in any case could not hope to outrun a man of Sir Richard’s height and fitness.

Valentine heard a shout from the house. She had no time at all; he would be after her at once, and she shuddered to think of the consequences. It would put him in a temper, and the stories of his violence came back to her. She would have to fear not only for her virtue, but for her physical safety. Spurred on by this prospect, she ran as hard as she could, and coming to a hedge, managed to scramble through to find herself in an open field. By now the sky, heavily overcast, was darkening fast, and big splashes of rain were falling on her shoulders.

She looked around and saw, on the other side of the field, a horse tugging peacefully at the grass. She must not run; she didn’t want to frighten the creature. So she walked steadily toward it, making hissing sounds as she went. The horse raised its head and looked at her. Then it ambled over to her, interested and curious. She held its soft muzzle and patted its neck and then, wrapping its mane around her hand and thanking God that it wasn’t hogged, she swung herself onto its back. She could hear shouts; not only was Sir Richard coming after her, but that wretched groom as well.

She dug her heels into the horse’s sides, and it broke into a trot, then a canter. Thank goodness it was a riding horse and not some lumbering farm animal. With some trepidation, she set it to the hedge on the other side of the field. The horse cleared it easily, landed, and cantered on. By now the rain was coming down heavily, and the sky was slashed with lightning. A crash of thunder made the horse shy, and she nearly came off but managed to cling on. Her dress was soaked through, and the horse’s back was slippery from the rain, but as she tightened her calves to grip the horse’s sides, there was another immense crack of thunder. The startled horse bolted; she could do nothing but hold on for dear life.

Chapter Fourteen

B
ack in London, Lady Amelia was busy making mischief. She attended the exhibition of paintings, and her eyes lit up at the sight of so many people who could be trusted to spread such a scandalous story. She whispered to a friend that she was surprised not to see Miss Welburn here, nor indeed Sir Richard, known as a connoisseur of paintings. “But I do believe they were seen driving out of town together in Sir Richard’s curricle, doubtless on some expedition of pleasure.” She knew that such seeds, deftly planted, would need no further attention.

Once back home, she was incautious enough to invite her favourite brother into her sitting room, where she told him the whole scheme. He laughed heartily and declared it an excellent joke. “And tonight is the Kinghams’ ball, the biggest of the season, and it will soon be noticed that they are not there. Now you are to tell me all the details—I do so relish this kind of intrigue, and I love to see an heiress brought low.”

Lady Amelia gave him an exact account of her discussions with Sir Richard and just what was planned, taking no account of the fact that her maid was in the room, all ears.

Sent out on an errand shortly afterwards, the girl met Valentine’s maid, Jenny, and recounted the whole affair to her. Jenny scampered back to Mountjoy House, took a deep breath, and said she must speak to Lady Mountjoy. Eliza listened with growing dismay. She knew that Valentine had planned to drive out with Sir Richard to visit friends from India, but she had said that Lady Amelia would be with them. She thanked Jenny and immediately sat down at her desk to write a note to Mountjoy. She sealed it and rang for a footman. “Thomas, take a hackney cab and take this note to the House of Lords right now. You must find Lord Mountjoy and deliver it into his own hands, and let no lackey or official prevent you from doing so. It is extremely urgent and a matter of the greatest importance.”

Thomas took the letter that was handed to him, said, “Very good, my lady,” and was gone. He was an energetic young man, and this kind of mission, with its sense of excitement, appealed to him. He was also a young man of resourcefulness, and once arrived at the Houses of Parliament, it didn’t take him long to be ushered into the library, where he found Lord Mountjoy in conversation with Lord Marbeck.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt you, my lord, but there is an urgent letter from Lady Mountjoy for you.”

Lord Mountjoy said in a concerned voice, “Is Lady Mountjoy all right?”

“Oh, perfectly, my lord. But she said it is a matter of the utmost importance.”

Lord Mountjoy had broken the seal and was reading Eliza’s note. His face darkened. “This is an utter disgrace. Damn the man, what a scoundrel he is.”

Lord Marbeck, said, “What is the matter? Can I be of assistance?”

“It’s the most damnable thing—it seems that that Sir Richard has run away with Valentine.”

Lord Marbeck said in an icy voice, “In which case there does not seem to be much that can be done about it. An elopement, I collect?”

“Don’t be such a damn fool, she has more sense than to elope with that man; no, no, it is a plot he has, a devilish scheme to force her into marriage. Of course her fortune is his object, he cares nothing for her, although there may be an element of revenge in all this.”

He handed the note to Marbeck, whose face took on a look of fury as he read it. “How long have they been gone? Sir Richard’s manor house is quite close to London, some thirty or forty minutes’ ride. Lady Mountjoy has written that the plan was for them to take a circuitous route so the journey would last much longer and make her think she had no chance of escaping from his clutches and returning to London.”

Lord Mountjoy said, “Yes, but it will take longer than that in this weather.” He glanced at the note again. “The intention is to take her not to the manor, where of course there will be servants and so on, but to the Dower House, which is empty and boarded up. Curse the man! I’m due to speak in the Chamber in half an hour, and now I shall have to hand my speech over to some idiot who will make a complete mess of it. But there is no alternative. She must be got out of that man’s clutches before it is too late.”

Lord Marbeck said, “Leave it to me. I will go.”

“No, no, she is my responsibility.”

“It’s not a question of responsibility,” Lord Marbeck said.

“I am grateful for the offer, but—”

“It’s not a matter of gratitude either, Mountjoy. Since I intend to marry Miss Welburn, it is very much my affair.” With that, he was gone, leaving Thomas staring, and Lord Mountjoy, after a moment’s stunned silence, bursting into laughter.

“Go back to Lady Mountjoy, Thomas, and tell her that Lord Marbeck has everything in hand.”

Chapter Fifteen

T
he storm had grown in size and ferocity. The wind had got up, and hardly knowing what she was about or where she was going but determined not to let Sir Richard catch her, Valentine crouched low on the pounding horse’s back, her hands clasped around its neck.

She nearly fell off as the horse leaped a gate, but it was beginning to tire now. They were galloping along a lane, and Valentine had no idea if she was riding away from the house or if she had gone full circle and was even now approaching Sir Richard’s house again. The horse, quietened by the tall hedges on either side of the lane, slowed to a canter, then a trot, and finally a walk, flanks heaving. Valentine drew herself upright and stroked its sodden, steaming neck.

“What a pair of drowned rats we are,” Valentine said to the horse. And then, to her horror, she heard the sound of approaching hooves. Sir Richard must have mounted one of the carriage horses to chase her across country. What a piece of bad luck that her horse had not careered off in a different direction.

She grabbed the mane again and kicked the tired horse into action, but it had hardly broken into a trot before the pursuing horseman was upon her. She turned furious eyes on the rider, and it took a moment for her to realize this was not Sir Richard.

“Lord Marbeck! How came you here?”

He reined in, slid down from his horse, and stood looking up at her. “You make a habit of getting soaked, Miss Welburn. Can I be of assistance?”

There was a smile in his eyes and in his voice, and as his eyes ran over her bedraggled form, she looked down at herself. Her muslin dress clung to her body and her muddied skirts were looped high, exposing stockinged legs up to her thighs.

She knew she should feel ashamed, but she simply allowed herself to be lifted down from the horse and into Lord Marbeck’s arms.

Eyes met eyes, mouths and tongues joined together, body pressed against body. The raging storm vanished from their consciousness as time stood still.

Finally, a nudge from the horse brought her back to her senses. “I have to tell you why I am here. Sir Richard—” she began.

“I know. You don’t have to tell me anything. I was wrong not to trust you; it was unforgivable for me to take you to task for your friendship with Sir Richard. I would not have done so had my reason not been quelled by the feelings I had for you.”

“Are you apologising to me, Lord Marbeck?”

“Never,” he said, and stopped her reply with another ruthless kiss.

About the Author

Elizabeth Aston is a full-time writer who aims to entertain and enchant. She presently lives in Oxford, England, where she went to university. Aston was born in Chile, lived in India and Italy, and loves to travel when she’s not busy with her next story. Two grown-up children act as her keenest critics, a visiting cat provides feline company, and the Gothic-style apartment block where she lives is full of fascinating neighbours for when she feels like people-watching.