Vintage Love (200 page)

Read Vintage Love Online

Authors: Clarissa Ross

Tags: #romance, #classic

The door opened, and Ben Weston stood there stripped to the waist as he had been that other night. A mocking smile played on his lips. “So you’ve come!”

“I came to say I’m sorry,” she apologized.

“You should be,” he said. “The shades are properly drawn tonight so we cannot be spied on.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated abjectly.

His manner changed. “You were curious, weren’t you?”

She felt her cheeks burn and her knees seemed weak as water. “Please, may I go now!”

“Had you ever seen a naked man and woman before?” he asked tensely.

Her head was down. “No,” she said in a low voice.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Joy,” he said tautly. “It’s time you learned the way of a man and a maid! I will not harm you!” And he took her in his arms and hugged her to his nakedness.

“Let me go!” she cried, struggling.

But it was too late. He was ripping her dress from her shoulders and baring her young body. She fought and he somehow kept on until she was nude. She sobbed as he went about making her his.

CHAPTER 2

Joy was sobbing for help when the door of the cottage was flung open by an enraged James. It was apparent that her younger brother had been drinking heavily, and was in a dangerous mood. Halting in the doorway he stared at Ben Weston in contempt, and in a low, menacing tone said, “Scoundrel!”

Ben used her naked body as a shield. He scrambled to pick up his breeches, and let her go as he struggled to put them on. She ran to a corner of the room, still sobbing and trembling.

Ben advanced to her brother, saying, “James! Be sensible! She came here asking for it!”

“Liar! Damned liar!” James shouted and then he sprang at the half-clad Ben.

The two men rolled on the cottage floor in fierce struggle. Joy reached for some of her torn clothing, and managed to put on a slip and part of her ripped dress, so that she was no longer naked.

James was the stronger and angrier of the two. Ben Weston could not match him. Once the nearly whipped Ben found a nearby chair, and brought it down on the head and shoulders of James. For a moment Joy thought it was over! She screamed in fear! But James only staggered a little, shook his head like a stunned animal, and with a loud cry resumed the grim battle.

It finally ended with Ben Weston stretched out on the floor, his upper body a bleeding messy pulp. His face was battered badly, his nose broken, and his eyes were puffed and nearly closed from cuts around them. Through his broken lips, he begged, “Let me be!”

James had not escaped damage. His cheek was badly cut and one eyes closed. His clothing was torn in many places. “My friend!” he said with disgust. “My trusted friend!” And he kicked Ben’s bleeding torso.

“No more,” Ben Weston whimpered, and squirmed on the floor like an injured serpent.

“I’m taking my sister out of here,” James said. “I’ll give you thirty minutes to gather your things. A carriage will take you to the post road. But only to the post road! What happens to you after that is your own business! If you elect to remain here I swear I’ll come back and kill you!”

Her brother took her by the arm and led her out of the cottage. When they were a distance away, he found his voice and told her, “You must forget all that happened tonight!”

“Yes,” she said weakly, leaning on him for support as they walked.

“Nancy came to me,” he said. “And not a moment too soon. She told me the whole story and how Jenny forced you into going to the cottage.”

“She said he’d harm me if I didn’t go.”

“Jenny will pay for that. She also will not spend another night on the estate! She was sending you to Weston as a sacrifice. I blame myself for bringing him here and exposing you to such evil.”

“What will you tell mother and father?”

“Part of the truth,” he said. “I’ll tell them about Jenny and Weston and their goings-on in the cabin. That is reason enough to send them away. You need not be brought into it.”

“Where is Nancy?” she asked brokenly.

“In the bedroom you share,” her younger brother said. “I will smuggle you up there by the side stairs. No one will see us. Forget all about this evil business and no harm will be done.”

She gave him a grateful look. “Roger has always been my favorite brother. But tonight you have taken his place.”

James had his arm around her. “I’m a poor sort of hero, little sister. I brought this Devil here!” And he saw her into the house and up the side stairs.

Sir Richard pontificated loud and long about the many shortcomings of Ben Weston at breakfast the next morning. Both Joy and Nancy kept their heads down, and concentrated on their porridge as the white-haired man ranted on.

Sir Richard glared at James finally and said, “I blame you for the whole thing!”

James sighed. “I was wrong. I admit it.”

Older brother Roger complained, “Did you have to fight him like some pub brawler? He was our guest. You might have asked him to leave without attacking him.”

James gave Roger a grim look. “He deserved a beating.”

His mother said angrily, “I do not blame you, James. He corrupted Jenny. It is not easy to find a trained servant these days. I spent a deal of time instructing the girl!”

James told her, “Beneath all her veneer she remained common baggage. The house is well rid of her.”

Sir Richard tugged at his white mustache. “From what the coachman said the fellow was barely able to walk to the carriage with his valise. The carriage left him on the post road as you instructed. So he must either have had to wait for a coach to come by or walked to the nearest lodging. He’d never get to the inn at Guildford.”

James said, “I sent Jenny to Guildford. I didn’t want them to meet.”

His father frowned. “I only hope that bounder Weston doesn’t try to launch a lawsuit against us. He was our guest and you attacked him, James. We could have difficulty in the courts trying to prove that Jenny was the innocent you were defending. They’d be much more likely to think her a willing partner to it all.”

James said quietly, “He will not act against us.”

Sir Richard raised his white eyebrows. “I trust your optimism will be justified.”

When breakfast was over the two girls went outside. James was about to take a carriage to London. He paused for a moment to take them aside.

In a sober manner, he said, “I want you two girls to behave! No more spying on people!”

“I promise, James,” Joy said sincerely.

He said. “I might not be able to protect you next time.”

Nancy said, “We’re ever so grateful to you.”

He smiled. “See that you prove it by behaving.” He kissed them both and stepped into the carriage. The girls stood watching after it as it vanished. James had become their hero!

Joy’s life returned to an uneventful pattern. Miss Kendall returned, and paid strict care to instructing her charge in the ways of a demure and socially acceptable young woman. Much of her hoyden ways vanished after her episode with Ben Weston. Joy became serious. Shortly after the family returned to London Joy lost her closest friend, for Nancy was sent to live with an aunt in Scotland. The two tearfully promised to write each other regularly, and for a while they did. Then the letters stopped as each became occupied with new interests and people.

Time passed and Joy became occupied with her studies and learning to become a proper young lady. The experiences in Surrey became less vivid in her mind. London was an exciting place full of new happenings every day. Her brothers were in and out of the mansion at Berkeley Square with stories of the town. There had been insistent rumors that King William was in poor health, but the official bulletins gave no hints.

Then, several months later, came a tragedy. Roger, her older brother, was killed in a riding accident. His proud neck was broken at once in a fall. She and James wept for their lost sibling, and saw their father and mother visibly age. It seemed the family would never recover from the shock.

James, at once, became the only living son and heir to the title. He reformed a great deal. While he occasionally gambled and drank too much, he was no longer the reckless young man he once had been.

Joy’s father turned to her more than in the past. He took her into his study one day to say, “Your mother has a cold manner. She grieves much for Roger, but she still loves you. Believe that. I am an old man to be your father. Now I have only James and you. You have always been my great pride. And that has not changed.”

“Thank you, father,” she said, her arm tenderly around him.

He sighed. “You are high-spirited, like the women of my family. There was one, my cousin, had an affair with Byron. I suppose half the women in England claimed to have affairs with him. But my cousin did love him. It is said that Byron always spoke of her with wistfulness. He mentioned her to a friend of mine shortly before he went to his death in Greece.”

“I’m glad you believe in me, father,” she said.

“I do,” he said. “Because you have the character that females of the Canby line have always shown. Your children will be the hope of my line.”

“Better count on James, too,” she said.

“I do,” he agreed. “But I think you will be the one to plant discipline and be a good influence on James’s children as well as your own.”

She hugged him. “Darling father!”

He coughed embarrassedly. “Don’t tell your mother about this talk!”

“I won’t,” she promised.

He nodded, “Now I must return to my work on the Indian papers. I must doff the role of father to become a crusty old member of the House!”

To everyone’s surprise, Miss Kendall decided to retire. Joy’s father hired a governess. Joy was delighted to discover the woman was a young widow — pretty, with lovely, black hair and eyes, and a command of French. She was only twenty; Joy was seventeen. The two became more like warm friends and companions than student and governess.

The young woman’s name was Hilda Garred, and her husband had been a schoolmaster who died of consumption. It seemed a plague of the illness had hit London. Joy made progress with her studies under the lovely, young widow, and did especially well in her French. Her parents were pleased.

One morning James sent word from London that he was bringing Sir George Nason down to Surrey for a few days of shooting. Sir Richard sputtered at the news, and paced up and down the living room before Lady Susan, and before Joy and Hilda, seated discreetly at the room’s far end.

“I’ll wager James is in the fellow’s debt,” his father said, tugging at his mustache. “The chap comes from good blood, but that’s where it ends. He’s known to be as great a blackguard as exists in London!”

“Surely no worse than that awful Ben Weston,” Lady Susan recalled, reviving Joy’s bitter memories of that long ago event.

Sir Richard said, “He is rather a different type of rotter. Weston was much more common. The trouble is that James is bringing him here at a time when we have most of the county invited here for a party.”

“We’ll simply have to make the best of it,” Lady Susan told him.

Shortly after noon on Friday, a carriage arrived with James and his guest. Hilda and Joy had been out riding, and were still in their riding habits as they greeted the newcomers. James jumped down from the carriage, resplendent in a gray-checked suit and gray tophat. He kissed Joy and said, “I want you to meet my good friend, Sir George Nason.”

Sir George Nason descended from the carriage and smiled at her. He was handsome, but a bit too pretty for a man. He wore a brown outfit, and now he doffed his brown tophat and bowed, “Lady Joy. I have heard much about you. But reality outdoes the descriptions!”

She laughed. “You are well practiced in flattery, Sir George.”

James said, “May I also introduce Hilda Garred, friend and companion to my sister.”

George smiled and extended his hand to Hilda. “Friend and companion! A delightful companion. Your beauty is only outshone by Lady Joy’s.”

Hilda’s black eyes twinkled. “Has it not been said that beauty lies in behaviour rather than appearance?”

George took this in good part. “I see you have a keen wit, Mrs. Garred.”

James said, “I told George so much about you both he insisted on coming down this weekend.”

Joy said, “I have heard much about you, Sir George.”

“All scandalous lies!” he assured her. “You’ve been riding? Is it a favorite sport?”

“Yes,” she said. “Hilda and I go out every morning.”

“Excellent,” the young man said. “Perhaps James can fit me with clothes and I can join you one morning.”

“I can manage that easily,” James said. And he told the visitor, “Now you must come and meet my parents. Then you can go to your room and freshen up.”

With George and James safely inside, the two girls went for a stroll in the gardens. Hilda idly swung her riding crop and asked, “What’s your opinion of him?”

Joy said, “He’s handsome, charming, and corrupt.”

“I agree on all three points. But his features are a bit fine for a male. I can’t say I like the way his eyes devoured you.”

“I can manage him.”

“I won’t be able to help much if he really sets out to woo you,” the young widow warned her.

“I’ll do my best to keep the overwhelming Sir George busy on the dance floor.”

“That would be the safe thing,” Hilda agreed.

Joy and Hilda dressed for the party. Already the lively fiddles could be heard far below in the ballroom. Hilda snapped up the back of the blue silk gown with a revealing bosom which Joy was wearing. Hilda had a darker dress of purple, with a less daring neckline. Joy had her hair coiled at the ears, and some tiny blue flowers in the coils.

Hilda stood back. “You look too pretty!”

Joy tapped her with her fan. “I shall depend on you to dance with George at least a few times.”

“I can’t unless he asks me!”

“I’ll see to that,” she promised.

The two went downstairs. Sir Richard had not exaggerated. Half the county was indeed attending the party. Carriages drew up in a long line at the door of the mansion, and ladies and gentlemen in their finery stepped out of the vehicles, and went to the doorway to be greeted by Sir Richard, Lady Susan, Lady Joy, and James.

Other books

Shards of Glass by Arianne Richmonde
Angel of Death by Ben Cheetham
The French Prize by James L. Nelson
Vaccinated by Paul A. Offit
Dead Letter by Jonathan Valin
The Broken Ones by Stephen M. Irwin
Dead Man's Time by Peter James