Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 04] (25 page)

“We shall view the pelargoniums next,” Mrs. Linford said to Letty and Miss Abby, consulting her program. That settled, she added with approval, “The recent showers have proven most beneficial to the turf and flower beds of these gardens.”

“Oh, yes indeed,” Miss Abby agreed. “The lawns look as smooth as velvet and are quite green, which makes the flower beds look amazingly colorful. Why, every hue and tint of nature must be represented here today. Quite relieving to the eyes, is it not, Letty, my dear, after living in a grey-and-white metropolis?”

Letty agreed that it was all very pleasant. The two old ladies had been behaving strangely ever since she had picked them up in her carriage. They kept up a stream of pointless conversation, flitting from topic to topic like bees buzzing from blossom to blossom in search of nectar.

Upon her arrival in Upper Brook Street, when she had asked politely how they were, Mrs. Linford had said, “Perfectly well; shall we go now?”

Miss Abby had colored up to her eyebrows, saying that she thought she always felt well, except when she didn’t. When she went on to provide examples to support the odd statement, Mrs. Linford made no effort for once to silence her.

Letty thought perhaps she had embarrassed them a trifle by showing up the previous evening with Liza in tow, so she did not press them further. Nor did she think it prudent to ask after Liza just then.

In the carriage and since their arrival at the gardens, she had been listening to their errant discourse with just half an ear, but they did not seem to mind that she offered no more than a vague comment from time to time.

The scene before them was delightfully animated. Despite a lack of sunshine, the flowers were lovely and the crowd cheerful, stirred to gaiety by the music of military bands placed strategically throughout the gardens. Not only had many members of the beau monde assembled for the afternoon at Chiswick, but also a great number of much more common folk.

Elderly ladies and gentlemen occupied benches and chairs alongside the paths, while younger, more active visitors promenaded to and fro. The gay costumes of the ladies formed a striking but pleasing contrast to the deep-emerald-green grass and the variegated foliage of the trees, adding to the general effect.

Huge marquees and tents dotted the lawns to afford shelter in the event of rain, which continued to threaten but so far had not manifested itself.

Mrs. Linford had declared the exhibits first-rate, and even to Letty’s untrained eye, the fruits, flowers, and plants that had won prizes appeared to be of surpassing beauty and rarity. However, the throng of people was so thick and varied in class that she had not been able to recognize more than a few of the men and women of fashion and rank who were present.

She did not realize that she was looking for anyone in particular until she saw Raventhorpe. The instant she clapped eyes on him, her heart leapt, but at nearly the same moment she saw the expression on his face. A chill raced up her spine.

“Just look at this,” Mrs. Linford said, briefly reclaiming her attention. “They’ve given Mr. Cock the large silver medal again. Mr. Gaines has won only the Knightian, but in my opinion, his pink pelargonium is superior to Mr. Cock’s red.”

Miss Abby said, “Do you really think so, Miranda? Perhaps Mr. Gaines will fare better with his heartsease.”

Their voices faded from Letty’s consciousness as she watched Raventhorpe’s approach. She had not felt much surprise when Ned failed to appear at noon as promised, having assumed that he had chosen to study instead. Now, though, seeing Raventhorpe’s face, she was as certain of what must have happened as if she had witnessed it herself. Ned had, as her brothers would have said, peached on her. Clearly he had told Raventhorpe exactly what had happened at Hawker’s Wharf, and now here was Raventhorpe, intending to ring a peal over her.

A sudden impulse to flee astonished her, and she fought it, telling herself that she had nothing to fear from him. Her self did not seem to listen, though, and the closer he came, the stronger the urge grew to run away.

“Good gracious, there’s Justin,” Miss Abby exclaimed. “He never told us he meant to come here today, did he? I wonder if he’s brought Sally with him.”

“If he has,” Mrs. Linford said dryly, “he seems to have mislaid her. It is just as well, too, since he looks black as thunder again. This is my fault, I’m afraid, Letitia. Something else happened that we ought to have told—”

“Oh, no, ma’am, don’t blame yourself,” Letty said. “He has no doubt heard about my adventure yesterday, when I went to fetch Liza home.”

“Adventure? What adventure? You told us only that you found her, and after I scolded her for running off so foolishly, she ran straight up to her bedchamber.”

Letty had told them as little as she thought she could get away with, but that seemed to be the least of her worries now. She did not even have a chance to reply, for Raventhorpe was upon them.

“I want a word with you,” he said curtly. “Privately.”

“Indeed, sir,” she replied with forced calm. “I do not know how you can accomplish that amidst all these people. Perhaps another time—”

“Now,” he snapped. “We’ll find—”

“Really, Justin, you should guard your tone, sir,” Mrs. Linford said. “One does not address a lady so rudely. You astonish me.

“Do I, ma’am? I doubt that. You have known me all my life, after all. You need not suffer my presence long, however, if you will excuse us both.”

“I cannot leave your aunts,” Letty said, gathering her wits. “I promised to lend them my escort for the afternoon, and in this mixed crowd, I do not think it is safe for them to—”

“No one will molest them,” he interjected grimly. “I won’t keep you long.”

“Just long enough to murder me,” she muttered.

“If that is true, it is no more than you deserve,” he retorted.

Miss Abby gave a squeal. “You don’t mean that, Justin!”

Ignoring her, he glared at Letty. “Are you coming?”

“You haven’t said where you want to take me,” she pointed out. “I won’t leave these grounds without your aunts, and we can scarcely be private here.”

Mrs. Linford said austerely, “It is not at all suitable for you to speak to her privately here or anywhere else, Justin.”

“Do not speak to me of ‘suitable,’ Aunt Miranda. We’ll go behind that big tent yonder,” he said to Letty. “It backs up to the garden wall, and it is sufficiently large to afford us at least a few moments’ privacy. That is all I shall require.”

Both elderly ladies began to protest again, but Letty, interpreting the expression on his face to mean that he was likely to pick her up and carry her if she did not go peacefully, said, “I’ll go with him. He won’t strangle me, you know.”

He reached for her then, and it was all she could do not to jump back, but although he grasped her upper arm much like a schoolmaster might grasp an unruly student, his grip would leave no bruises.

The crowd might have disappeared in smoke for all the attention he paid it, and when she tried to dig in her heels, his grip tightened painfully.

“Sir, please, I said I’ll go with you. Need you drag me like this? You will draw the attention of everyone we pass.”

In reply, he reached for her hand and pulled it through the crook of his arm.

Since it forced her to walk closer to him, she was not certain it was an improvement, but at least no one seemed to be paying them much heed.

Moments later, they were alone behind the tent. Looking doubtfully at the quivering wall of canvas next to them, she said, “Do you think anyone is inside?”

“I don’t care if they are.”

“I don’t suppose you do, but I do. The last thing I need is to have it noised about at court that you rang a peal over me at a public fete.”

“Is that what you think I’m going to do?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Now, see here, my girl—”

“Your
girl!
You
see here, Raventhorpe. You have no authority over me, so—”

“By God, authority has nothing to do with it,” he snapped, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a shake. “You are going to listen to me, because what you did yesterday was foolish beyond permission. How you dared—”

“Don’t speak to me of daring,” she retorted, wrenching away from him. “And keep your hands to yourself, sir.”

“Or what? Have you got your pistol handy? Would you shoot me, too?”

“If you know about that, your brother must have told you everything,” she said bitterly. “Did he miss keeping commons so that he could rush off to Sellafield House and tell you the whole tale? I thought he would honor my confidence, but clearly I misjudged him.”

“You’ve misjudged many things, Letitia, but not Ned. I was in his chambers when he returned from seeing you to your coach. I forced him to tell me.”

“Poor Ned.” She met Raventhorpe’s steady gaze, and something tightened inside her. One moment she wanted to hit him; the next, to appease him. Awareness of that contradiction did not still the tremors in her spine, but it lowered their tempo. “I hope you were not too harsh with him, sir,” she said quietly. “He was kind to me.”

“What the devil were you doing in Boverie Street?” His voice sounded strained, but she knew that he was still angry. Before she could reply, he added, “No, don’t try to answer that. I don’t want to hear how you managed to persuade yourself to do such a daft thing. Tell me this instead. Why did you go alone?”

“Whom should I have taken with me?” she demanded. “Jenifry was out.”

“Anyone. No one. You should not have gone! Why did you not send for me? Did you think I would not care about danger threatening Liza?”

”I thought that by the time I found you—or anyone else, for that matter—and managed to explain, Liza might be dead or gone where we could never find her.”

The look in his eyes had changed, softened, and his eyelids drooped as if he would hide his feelings. Still, his tone was stern when he said, “You knew where she was. You had only to tell someone, a policeman, a constable, me, anyone. Instead, you hailed a common hack and hared off to a district where no lady ought to set foot at all, let alone by herself. That you were not murdered or robbed is a miracle. You are a fool, Letitia, and—”

“By heaven, that’s enough,” she snapped. “I was never in the least danger. May I remind you, sir, not only that I had my pistol but that I was able to rescue Liza easily and get away.” Ignoring a twitching conscience that reminded her it had not been so easy as that, she stood her ground, hands on hips now, glaring at him.

He glared back.

Letty licked suddenly-dry lips. She could feel her heart pounding. Indeed, she could almost hear it, and that despite the noise of the bands and the crowds beyond the tent. She was conscious only of her thudding heart and of Justin, as if they were alone in a world wholly separated from the Royal Horticultural Society fete.

The silence between them lengthened until her nerves began to tingle. She could think of nothing to say, and she could not seem to look away from him.

His lips tightened to a thin line. Then he said in that horrid, grim tone, “The truth is, Letitia, that you got away from that place through pure luck. Your pistol might easily have been taken from you. Had that happened, you would have been at that villain’s mercy to be raped, murdered, or sold right along with Liza. Your coachman did desert you, so had the Inns of Court not been near at hand—”

“But they
were
near,” she said, her voice rising uncontrollably. “To preach of possibilities that never occurred is infamous, my lord.”

“That will do!”

“Oh, no, it won’t! I’ll thank you to remember that I have got a brain, sir. Moreover, I’ve probably had more experience than you have with neighborhoods like that one. I don’t need your advice or counsel now, nor did I need them before I went in search of Liza.”

“You haven’t got the brains of a goose,” he retorted, “and what you
need,
my girl, is to be put over someone’s knee and taught to use what little sense you do have. That your father didn’t do it long ago gives me a mighty poor opinion of him.”

“Does it?” Her temper flashed. “Does it, my lord?”

He glared at her. “It does.”

“Well, if you think beating a woman is the way to tame her, you don’t have even as much sense as God gave that goose. You’re a barbarian, Raventhorpe, like most men! And, like most men—”

“Be quiet, Letitia.” He reached for her. “I shouldn’t have—”

Inside her, something snapped. Without a thought for consequence, or indeed for anything, her hand flashed back and she slapped him.

Remorse swept over her before his hands clamped hard on her shoulders again. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “I’ve never done such a thing before to anyone! I don’t know what came over me. What a horrid thing to do! I won’t blame you in the least if you shake me again, but truly—”

“Be quiet,” he repeated gruffly.

“But—”

Pulling her hard against himself, he kissed her.

Even as the impulse to fight him stirred, it melted and vanished. His lips were warm and demanding against hers, and her body came alive with new and quite different sensations.

His hands slid from her shoulders, moving around to her back and waist.

She leaned against him, savoring the muscular warmth of his body beneath the soft wool of his coat. No one had ever held her so, enveloped her so, or stirred her senses the way this man did. She forgot her anger, forgot everything but his touch and the heat of his lips against hers.

She kissed him back hungrily, and a few minutes later, when she relaxed a little, allowing his tongue to slip between her lips, she welcomed the new feelings that swept through her, wondering at his daring but glad of it.

“My goodness me, whatever are you doing, the pair of you?”

The squeal of words and the familiar voice startled Letty, and she would have jumped away from him had his arms not tightened around her. He straightened, still holding her, his very touch calming her so that she was able to turn and face Susan Devon-Poole with her dignity at least appearing to be intact.

Coolly Raventhorpe said, “Did you want something, Miss Devon-Poole?”