Lady Allerton's Wager (12 page)

Beth held her breath. ‘Such as?’

‘Well…’ Marcus looked thoughtful. ‘With autumn so far advanced you might reconsider a sea voyage. Then we could escort you home to Mostyn for Christmas—’

Beth wrenched her hand from his. ‘Oh, I understand your motives very well, my lord! You wish to persuade me to give up my quest! Well, I have already told you I shall not! Nor have I forgotten the slighting way you spoke to me when last we met! You are the last person whose escort I should accept on any journey, I assure you!’

She whisked past him and took the path up the hill towards the High Street, trying to hurry without the indignity of slipping on the cobbles. She was all too aware of Marcus’s step close behind, his hand steadying her when she nearly lost her footing on some damp leaves, as she had known she would. By the time she reached the road, her cheeks were flushed with exertion and she felt hot, bothered and cross. Marcus, in contrast, was sauntering beside her, looking cool and infuriatingly amused.

Beth stalked across the road, narrowly missed being crushed by a cart that was clattering between the market stalls, and shot in at the door of the Castle and Ball with the intention of sweeping Charlotte up and driving off immediately. As she paused briefly in the corridor, she heard Charlotte’s voice and pushed open the door of the private parlour.

Charlotte and Justin Trevithick were seated at the table partaking of luncheon. There were two other places set and an array of cold meats, cakes and fruit on dishes before them. As Beth burst through the door, Charlotte looked up and smiled at her. She looked pink and pretty and turned her glowing face to her cousin.

‘Beth! And Lord Trevithick! Pray join us for some luncheon!’ She drew out the chair beside her and smiled at Beth. ‘The most excellent news, Beth! Mr Trevithick and his cousin are to escort us for the rest of the journey! What do you think of that?’

‘This is ridiculous!’ Beth grumbled, leaning back against the carriage’s comfortable green velvet cushions and glaring out of the window at the passing scenery. ‘How can we possibly be involved in a race to claim Fairhaven Island if we are accepting the escort of the very gentlemen we wish to outrun? Really, Charlotte! I never heard anything so foolish!’

Charlotte surveyed her placidly. She suddenly seemed much happier and Beth sighed inwardly with resignation. Charlotte did not have the temperament for risk or competition and now that she had the Earl and, more importantly, Justin Trevithick, to take care of all arrangements, she was much more comfortable.

‘I do not see why we needed to become involved
in a silly race in the first place,’ Charlotte said comfortably. ‘Everything will be so much better now!’

Beth wriggled crossly. ‘Certainly it will, for unless we can shake off the Earl we shall not be going to Fairhaven at all and shall end by going quietly home!’ She looked out of the window, saw Marcus pull alongside on a raking black hunter, and hastily looked away. She wished that she had selected a book to pass the time, but it was such a lovely day that she had wanted to look out at the view. Unfortunately, the view seemed to consist of Marcus most of the time.

Justin Trevithick had taken the reins of the curricle for the time being and Marcus had chosen to ride. It was impossible for Beth not to observe that he had a magnificent seat on the horse and that he rode with an authority and elegance that was instinctive. She turned her gaze away from him and concentrated rather fiercely on the pretty Wiltshire scenery. Even though most of the trees had lost their leaves by now, it was still an attractive scene. It was a fresh day with a pale blue sky and the countryside shone in the weak warmth of the sun. It had not rained for several weeks, so the road was dry and the going good. The cows grazed in the fields and they rolled through several villages where the children played at the cottage gates. Charlotte dozed on the seat opposite. Beth reflected that she was the only one who seemed to be sitting underneath a private rain cloud.

They passed another tollbooth and drew up at the next inn to change the horses. Marcus appeared at the carriage door.

‘Lady Allerton, it is such a fine day that I wondered if you would care to drive with me? I am leaving the hunter here—it belongs to the Castle and Ball any
way, and Justin is happy to take a turn in the carriage. What do you say?’

‘Oh, do let Lord Trevithick take you up, Beth!’ Charlotte said, before Beth could decline. ‘You know you would prefer to be out in the fresh air and you are well wrapped up.’

This was true, but Beth could not help wondering how much Charlotte’s eagerness owed to the prospect of spending some time with Justin. Marcus was holding out a hand to help her descend from the carriage and appeared to have taken her acquiescence for granted. Beth could not be bothered to argue, at least not for the time being.

They had some steaming hot coffee to warm them, but Charlotte declined a hot brick for her feet, saying that the day was mild enough for it not to be required. Nevertheless, when Marcus handed Beth up into the curricle, he was solicitous for her comfort, wrapping a blanket around her and ensuring that she had scarf, gloves and hat to keep her warm. Soon after they set off Beth realised that there was a great difference from travelling in the carriage; the speed was exhilarating, but it did generate a breeze, and because there was no shelter in the curricle it was considerably colder.

They had gone several miles when Marcus broke the silence and turned to her with a smile. ‘I hope you are enjoying the journey, Lady Allerton! If you are too cold you need only to say, and I shall hand you up into the carriage again.’

Beth turned her glowing face to his. ‘Oh, no, indeed, this is most enjoyable!’ She looked around. ‘Everything is so much more immediate, somehow, when
one is in the open air! And Wiltshire is such a very pretty county…’

‘It is,’ Marcus agreed gravely. ‘Do you know this area at all, Lady Allerton?’

‘Oh, no, for I have travelled little and then only on the way to London and back.’ Beth looked with lively interest at some curiously shaped little hills that lay close to the road.

‘Only look! What odd-shaped mounds! I believe that these must be the mysterious barrows and hills that I have read about! They date from…oh, thousands of years ago! Is that not intriguing!’

Marcus laughed. ‘It seems that history must be your subject, Lady Allerton! Was it an interest that you shared with your late husband?’

Beth turned her face away. For some reason she felt vulnerable when she spoke to Marcus about her marriage to Frank Allerton. It was as though no matter how little she said, Marcus could always see what lay beneath her superficial answers. Not that she had anything to hide, she told herself sharply. Her marriage had been no worse and no better than many others, May and December perhaps, but developing into mutual respect, if not love.

‘Oh, Frank had little interest in the arts,’ she said lightly, ‘whilst I had no aptitude for mathematics or the sciences!’

‘Complementary interests can be stimulating, however,’ Marcus observed. ‘There is much to talk about.’

‘I suppose there could be.’ Beth knew she sounded uncertain and for some reason honesty prompted her to add, ‘Frank was too wrapped up in his studies to have much time to discuss matters with me.’

‘Did you not find that disappointing?’ Marcus en
quired. Although Beth was not looking at him, she sensed that he was watching her rather than the road.

‘Not particularly. A lady does not expect…’ She glanced at him and her voice trailed away at the look in his eyes, for she was sure that she could see pity there.

‘Surely it is reasonable—desirable—to hope for a certain sharing of interests? Life would be damnably lonely otherwise.’

Beth felt a strange pang inside her. She
had
been lonely at Allerton during the long weeks when Frank was absent, and even when he had been at home they had shared nothing more than an undemanding companionship. Marcus’s words had given her a sudden glimpse of a different world, an existence where ideas were discussed and shared, giving mutual enjoyment. It was the sort of relationship that Charlotte had once described, something far beyond Beth’s experience. Suddenly she felt as lonely as she had ever done at Allerton and she tried to cover it with a light laugh.

‘Your ideas are somewhat unconventional, my lord! I can think of any number of married ladies and gentlemen who would be appalled by your suggestion that they speak to each other!’

Marcus smiled. ‘Perhaps I ask a lot of the lady I would marry…An elegant and informed mind as well as gentleness, wit and charm! Am I then unlikely to find such a paragon?’

‘Impossible!’ Beth looked away. Marcus’s references to his future wife made her feel peculiarly out of sorts.

‘And since Sir Francis’s death have you not felt inclined to remarry, Lady Allerton?’ Marcus per
sisted. ‘Doubtless you must have met plenty of gentlemen eager to persuade you?’

Beth shrugged, trying to hide her discomfort. ‘Oh, I have no inclination to wed! I have my home and my cousins and plenty to interest me! What else could I want?’

It was a rhetorical question, but Beth wished she had not asked it when Marcus answered quite seriously.

‘Companionship? Love?’ His voice dropped. ‘Passion?’

Beth shifted a little. ‘Oh, love and passion are the most ephemeral and unreliable of things!’ she said, with what she hoped was a worldly-wise air. ‘I do not look for happiness there! Besides, I believe my nature must be cold—’

She saw Marcus raise his eyebrows in disbelief and almost immediately regretted her words. The memory of the kisses that they had shared seemed burnt on her mind. She looked about quickly for a distraction.

‘What town is this that we approach, my lord? Can we be in Trowbridge already?’

They chatted easily until they reached the next stop, when Marcus insisted that, as darkness was falling, Beth should resume her place in the carriage to avoid becoming cold. She did not demur, changed places with Justin, and an hour later they arrived at the King’s Arms in Shepton Mallet.

The King’s Arms was much smaller than the inn in Marlborough, but it was a handsome building, clean and well cared for. Beth saw Charlotte nodding her approval as Justin escorted her inside, but then Beth thought Charlotte was wont to approve everything at the moment. Beth herself found that her ear
lier good mood had vanished as they settled into their room. She had wanted to press on to Wells, but Marcus decreed that they had gone far enough; she wanted to set off bright and early the next day whilst Marcus had already observed cheerfully that there was no hurry to be away in the morning.

During dinner, the other three chatted whilst Beth sat quietly and mulled over the frustrations of the situation. She could see no way of shaking off Marcus and Justin and getting ahead of them again, but on the other hand it seemed nonsensical to accept their escort all the way to Fairhaven. Such a course of action could never result in her claiming the island, for she would be there as Marcus’s guest and not as the new owner. That was assuming that they had not worn down her resistance in the meantime, of course—Beth was determined that not even the combined persuasion of the other three would persuade her to go tamely home to Mostyn Hall.

She had to admit that Marcus had outmanoeuvred her, but only for the time being. She would think of a plan to escape him, of that she was quite determined.

The idea came to her after dinner, whilst she and Charlotte were waiting for the gentlemen to rejoin them to partake of tea. Charlotte had been asking idly how it was that Marcus and Justin had caught up with them so quickly and Beth had explained that they had travelled through the night. And whilst she was speaking she had suddenly thought that if Marcus could do that, so too could she…All that was required was that Fowler, the coachman, should be ready—and should keep the secret.

Beth had considered asking Charlotte to come with her and had reluctantly rejected the idea. Her cousin was so much happier now that she had Justin Trevithick’s escort and Beth knew that she would kick up such a fuss at the plan that it would not be worth mentioning. It was in no way desirable to plan to travel alone, without either escort or companion, but Beth argued to herself that she would be able to reach the coast the following day, take ship for Fairhaven, and that would be that. She would have Fowler to protect her and plenty of money to ease her passage, and Marcus would not find out until it was far too late. The plan was perfect.

Before retiring, she went out to stables to apprise her coachman of the new arrangements and the need for secrecy. Fowler had been in the Mostyn family for many years and was accustomed to receiving orders unquestioningly, but even he commented that it was a powerful bad idea to be travelling at night in winter, and it took a lot of persuasion on Beth’s part to convince him. Eventually he went off to the tack room, muttering under his breath, and Beth crept back inside the inn intending to sit out the night until two of the clock.

Although it was not yet late, Beth could discern a certain change of atmosphere in the inn. The gentility that had been so apparent during the early evening had now vanished. Earlier the corridors had been cleanly swept and bright with lamplight. Now they were gloomy and full of smoke, the stale smell of beer hung in the air and the sound of loud voices and coarse laughter, both male and female, roared from the bar. Beth scuttled in from the courtyard and made for the stairs, taking care to keep in the shadows, for
she was not sure where Marcus was now and she had a particular reason for not wishing to draw attention to herself.

She had only ascended three steps, however, before she saw the shadow at the turn of the stair and checked as a man came down towards her. Her heart sank. Naturally it had to be Marcus Trevithick. It really seemed that there was no escaping him.

Marcus and Justin had evidently settled down in privacy to enjoy their port, for Beth registered that Marcus had discarded his jacket and loosened his stock. The pristine whiteness of his shirt seemed only to emphasise the bronze of his face and the unreadable darkness of his eyes. Beth felt her heart start to race as a mixture of guilt and some other more disturbing emotion stirred within her. She swallowed hard. She considered trying to slip past Marcus without having to stop for tiresome explanations, but knew it was a vain hope. Sure enough, as they drew level, Marcus put out a hand to block her escape up the stairs.