A Proper Companion (30 page)

"I believe it was Faversham."

"That scoundrel!" she exclaimed. Looking around
furtively, she lowered her voice again. "Will you kill him?"

Robert smiled and cupped her cheek. "I'd like to,
though I'll try not to. But, so help me, if he's laid one finger on
her ..."

"Well, well, my lord. What's all this?" Augusta
asked in a sweet voice as she entered the hall, obviously drawn by
the increasing commotion. She was trailed by both her parents. Lady
Windhurst looked ready to explode with anger. Lord Windhurst simply
looked confused.

Damnation. This was all he needed. Robert braced
himself for a scene, all the while desperate to make his departure.
The carriage was already almost an hour ahead of him. He had to get
out of here!

Trying to keep his impatience in check, he said,
"I'm sorry, Augusta, but I must leave. We'll discuss it later."

Augusta looked frankly astonished. "You mean you're
leaving the ball?
Our
ball? But you can't! What will people
think?" Her voice had risen to a shrill pitch which reminded him of
nothing so much as her mother.

"Look, Augusta," Robert said, his anger and
frustration increasing as precious minutes ticked away, "a woman
under the protection of my own roof has been abducted. It is my
place to go after her. Her life may be in danger."

"Then send someone else!" she wailed in
uncharacteristic agitation.

The inappropriate thought briefly crossed Robert's
mind that he was at last seeing the fire beneath Augusta's ice. He
had apparently pushed her to the limit. But he no longer cared.

"You don't have to be the one to go," she continued.
"Send someone else." She looked around frantically. "Lord
Sedgewick, for example."

Robert's eyes followed her to the frowning
Sedgewick, whose presence he'd forgotten. He must have been waiting
down here the whole time. "No," he said, turning back to Augusta,
pulling on his gloves. "It is my place to go, and I am leaving now.
I suggest you step aside and let me be on my way before wasting any
more of my time."

He turned his back on Augusta and made a move toward
the entrance.

"I will not be publicly humiliated, my lord," she
said to his retreating back. "If you leave our ball to chase after
that woman, then I shall be forced to call off the engagement."

A collective gasp was heard from the gathered crowd.
An audible groan followed, which could only have been Lady
Windhurst's.

Robert slowly turned back to face Augusta, looked
her in the eye, and arched one brow. "Well, then," he said, "I
shall expect to see such an announcement in tomorrow's papers."

Augusta started, and her hand flew to her mouth. She
glared at him wide-eyed for a moment, then turned on her heel and
rushed away. Lady Windhurst gave him a furious look and went after
her daughter. Lord Windhurst ran his hands through his bushy hair,
shook his head, and followed.

Robert caught his grandmother's eye. The full impact
of what had just taken place struck him in that moment as he
watched his grandmother trying valiantly to stifle a grin. By God,
he was free! He was actually free from that blasted engagement! He
flashed the dowager a brilliant smile and made once again for the
door, now more anxious than ever to find Emily. He hadn't moved two
feet when his grandmother's sharp voice stopped him once again.

"Robert!"

He sighed and turned around. Would they never let
him be gone? The dowager cocked her head toward a figure coming
down the hall. It was his cousin Ted. True to form, he must have
been spending his time in the library rather than in the ballroom.
Robert looked back at his grandmother and nodded briefly. He
understood.

'Ted!" Robert shouted.

His cousin stopped in his tracks. He took in
Robert's attire and said, "What's this, Rob? You going out?"

"Yes, but first I'd like a word with you." He
steered Ted back toward the library.

"Sure thing, Rob. What's going on? Has something
happened?"

"Actually, quite a lot has happened." He closed the
library door. Ted indicated a chair, but Robert shook his head. "No
time, Cousin. You see. Miss Townsend has been abducted."

"Good lord!"

"And I'm on my way to try to rescue her. But what
has also happened, you see, is that... well... Miss Windhurst and I
have decided we would not suit."

"Not suit? You mean—"

"We've called off the engagement."

"By Jove!"

Robert placed a hand on Ted's shoulder. "In fact, I
suspect that Augusta is not in the best of spirits just now. She
could probably use some comforting. Perhaps a friendly shoulder to
cry on?"

The face of the normally reserved marquess broke
into a huge smile. He reached over and clapped his cousin on the
back. "You're a right one, Rob," he said. "Thank you." He cast an
uncertain look at Robert "Do you think she would ..." He blushed
and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Go to her, Ted."

"Yes. Yes, I'll do that," he said with a distracted
look on his face. Suddenly his eyes lit up, and he smiled broadly.
"Yes!" He bolted out the door and down the hall.

Robert smiled and shook his head. Well, at least
something was turning out right this night. Ted would have his true
love, Augusta would replace one broken engagement with an even
loftier connection, and Lady Windhurst would have a marchioness for
a daughter.

Now, if he could only set his own affairs in order.
He must get to Emily!

Robert hurried once again toward the front entrance.
The hall was almost empty now, the spectacle having ended. But
Sedgewick was lounging against the banister, wearing his evening
cloak, apparently waiting for Robert.

"Sedge?"

"I really think I should go with you, Rob. We could
take my curricle."

"Thanks, Sedge, but I'll make better time alone on a
horse."

As Robert made to leave, Sedgewick placed a firm
hand on his arm to stop him. "Rob, I think I should go. Surely you
are aware of my ... my interest in Emily. Miss Townsend, that
is."

Robert raised his brows in question.

"If you must know," Sedgewick said, "I had actually
planned to ask for her hand tonight."

Robert looked hard at his friend. "Do you love her,
Sedge?"

"Come on, Rob! You know I don't go in for that sort
of schoolgirl nonsense. Miss Townsend and I are both mature,
sensible adults who enjoy each other's company. She is also, as you
have no doubt noticed, a very attractive woman. And I am quite fond
of her, as it happens. I think we'll rub along nicely."

"No, you won't."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You won't rub along nicely because you're not going
to marry her."

It was Sedgewick's turn to raise his brows in
question.

"You see, my friend," Robert said, "I intend to
marry her myself."

"You
what
?"

"Despite your sentiments on the subject," Robert
said, "I seem to have fallen in love with her. If I am ever allowed
to leave here and bring her back, I intend to marry her."

"Ah." Sedgewick rocked on his heels. "Ah."

"I'm sorry, old man. If you had loved her, it would
have been different."

"You know," Sedgewick said, smiling weakly, "there
were times when I suspected that there was something between the
two of you. A look I would catch now and then. But I thought
nothing of it since you were tied to Miss Windhurst."

"And now I am not."

"Just so." Sedgewick looked at Robert, and the
famous grin slowly spread across his face. "I suppose I should
gracefully step aside, then?"

"It would be best, my friend," Robert said,
returning his smile. "Otherwise, I'm afraid I'd have to kill
you."

"In that case, consider me gone."

Both men threw back their heads and laughed.

"Now," Robert said, "may I finally be on my
way?"

"Of course. Good luck, Rob."

'Thank you, Sedge. For everything."

Robert retrieved his hat from a very impatient
Claypool, dashed down the front steps, quickly mounted his horse,
and headed off into the night.

Hugh, Viscount Faversham, called out for the
coachman to stop when they had reached a small inn at Hendron. He
would have preferred to put a few more miles between himself and
London, but he did not want to chance Emily reviving before they
stopped for the night. He wanted her unconscious and unable to cry
out or otherwise draw attention.

Hugh wrapped Emily tightly in the plain wool cloak,
careful to completely cover her evening dress, and lifted her limp
body into his arms. He carried her to the entrance to the taproom
and called out for the innkeeper. A stout, ruddy-faced man
approached and eyed Hugh skeptically.

"Quickly, man, I need a room for the night. My wife
has taken ill."

The innkeeper peered down at the brown wool burden
in Hugh's arms. Hugh clasped her more tightly to his chest and put
on what he hoped was a look of deep concern.

"Aye," the innkeeper said, "we have a room for you.
Not our best, mind. Another gentleman has already bespoken the
largest room with a private parlor. But I can give you a decent
bedchamber, anyway." He turned and shouted for his wife.

A plump, rosy-cheeked woman of indeterminate age
rushed into the taproom. She took one look at Hugh and said, "Oh,
dear. What's this, now?" When her husband explained that the woman
was ill, she turned and reached out a hand toward Emily. "Poor
love," she said, "I'll just help you upstairs with her. Then
mayhaps she could use one of my possets? I can just pop down and
make one up right quick like and bring it up to you before the cat
can lick her ear. Poor dear will be right as a trivet in no time."
As the woman spoke, she moved as if to pull the cloak's hood back
from Emily's face.

Hugh flinched, clutched Emily more tightly, and
stepped back. "You are too kind," he said. "But all she really
needs is a soft bed and a good night's rest. It would be best if
she were not disturbed."

"Whatever you say, sir," the woman said in the
resigned voice of one used to the strange ways of the Quality.
"Follow me."

She led Hugh up two flights of stairs and down
several short hallways before stopping at a door at the end of a
narrow corridor. Hugh's burden was becoming increasingly heavy, and
he thought his arms might break if he didn't put Emily down soon.
Nevertheless, he was glad for a room so removed from the main part
of the inn. He needed complete privacy for what he had in mind.

After fumbling with an enormous ring of keys, the
landlady finally opened the door and invited Hugh to enter with a
nod of her head. She made as if to follow, but Hugh gave her a
piercing glare. "Wait there," he said. After he carefully placed
Emily on the bed, keeping her covered, he turned once again toward
the door, flexing his arms to alleviate the stiffness.

"I thank you, madam, for your concern, but my wife
and I would prefer complete privacy, if you don't mind. I will see
to her myself." He held out his hand for the key.

The landlady cocked her head to one side and gazed
at Hugh through narrowed eyes. Then she shrugged and placed the key
in his hand. "You just call, now, if you need anything," she said
as she took a candlestick from a nearby hall table. She lit it from
her own candle and handed it to Hugh before she headed down the
hall.

Hugh closed the door, then leaned against it and
heaved a sigh of profound relief. He had no desire for the
innkeeper's wife to note that Emily was dressed in a ball gown
beneath the plain cloak. He would go down a bit later and retrieve
a small valise he had tucked in the boot of the carriage in which
he had packed a change of clothes for himself and a simple muslin
gown for Emily. He hadn't thought to bring any kind of bonnet, but
he could probably purchase one along the way.

For the moment, at least while Emily was
unconscious, he felt safe. Everything was going according to plan.
His father was right, of course. This was the only way. Hugh would
have to marry Emily in order to keep her inheritance in the family.
Hugh realized that Emily had no great affection for him. In fact,
he suspected that she despised him. There was no way she would
agree to marry him—especially not when that Sedgewick fellow seemed
close to the sticking point.

No, this was the only way. He would have to
compromise her completely, he thought with a smile.

He walked to the bed and pulled the cloak away from
Emily's face. This part of the plan was going to be a pleasure, he
thought as he stroked Emily's cheek with the back of his hand. When
he thought of all the fusby-faced females whom he might have been
forced to seduce, he shook his head in wonder at the good fortune
that gave him such a beauty for a cousin. He would have preferred a
younger woman, of course—someone more biddable. But there were
other advantages to a mature woman, he thought as he pulled the
cloak completely away and gazed down at the soft curves revealed by
the clinging silk of the ball gown.

Hugh was tempted to undress Emily at that moment and
complete her ruin. He sat down on the bed and ran a possessive hand
along the length of her body, sucking in his breath as he lingered
over the curve of her full breasts and hips.

But, no, he thought as he pulled his hand away with
some effort. He would prefer her to be conscious when he took her.
He wanted to feel her struggling beneath him, unable to resist his
greater strength. He wanted this haughty bitch to squirm under his
dominance.

Then, of course, she would have no choice but to
marry him.

He laughed as he rose from the bed. He tossed his
hat and greatcoat on a nearby chair. He added coal to the grate
from a scuttle near the hearth, thinking that he would prefer to
accomplish this night's work in a warm room. He found a spill, lit
it with the candle, and stoked the coal into a small blaze. He
guessed that Emily would sleep for probably another hour. The drug
he had used on the cloth held to her mouth would have only kept her
unconscious for a short time, and so he had also forced a large
dose of laudanum down her throat. She was sure to sleep a while
longer, and he wanted to be the first thing she saw when she awoke.
But there was certainly nothing to do in this small room for the
next hour or so. He might as well head down to the taproom and have
a pint or two while he waited.