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Authors: Joan Smith

Tags: #Regency Romance

Madcap Miss (22 page)

BOOK: Madcap Miss
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The unwonted turmoil caused a twinge in her chest. Wayward girls were the devil of a nuisance, though she had no use for any other kind. Could she handle Gussie in Scotland? MacTavish was forever cautioning her against undue excitement. But of what good was life without it?

Grace had no opportunity to garner up her creature comforts before she was shown up into the sprawling attic of Willowcrest. The attic, a vast unpartitioned expanse with sharply slanting walls, was hot and close. Rectangles of light from the windows showed dust motes suspended in the air, but beyond these patches, the room was forbiddingly dark.

Her first act was to look for a means of escape. The butler had locked the one door to the story below. It must be a window, then. She ran from one to the other, examining them, noticing with dismay that they had actually been nailed closed, with long, sturdy nails, to prevent banging or drafts.

There was just one that had been secured with wooden pegs, perhaps to permit access to the roof below. She jiggled the pegs out without much trouble and slid the window up. She leaned out, gasping for fresh air.

There was no immediate danger of falling the several stories to the ground, for the gabled window was only one story higher than the roof below. The major difficulty was that if she hopped down to the roof, she had no means of regaining the attic, and she was not at all sure that being stranded on an open roof in the baking sun would be better than being inside. No tree was close enough to permit descent by that means, or even to provide shade.

There was nothing to do but await Whewett

s return. To pass the time she had a look at the attic

s contents. Ancient gowns and jackets smelling of camphor and dust beneath their coverings held little appeal. Chairs with one leg broken, lamps with a cracked chimney or base, blackened iron pots, and odd pieces of lumber provided slim prospect of entertainment.

Before long she was back at the window, trying to decide how to contact Whewett and warn him of what had happened before he entered the house. She could see the stable from here; she must take up a vigil at the window and call to him as he came home. He had left three hours ago. He would not be much longer.

She clambered to the window ledge and sat with her legs dangling outside to wait for him. From her perch, the countryside looked like a patchwork quilt done in shades of green, with an occasional house, barn, or road to relieve the monotony.

In less than thirty minutes she spotted Whewett approaching the house. He was with Daugherty and Bronfman. She waved her hand wildly, but the men were talking and did not chance to glance up at the window. Desperate to draw his attention, she jumped, down to the next roof and hurried to the edge, calling as loudly as she dared when they drew near. The three men looked all about and finally discovered her, leaning over the edge of the roof.


Good God, she

ll fall and kill herself!

Bronfman exclaimed.

Whewett just looked, speechless.


Papa, I must speak to you
at once,

Grace called. She waved at the other men with a sheepish smile.

Grandma locked me in the attic,

she said.


You gentlemen run along inside. I shall be in presently,

Whewett said.

It will be best not to mention this to Lady Healy,

he added.

They spoke some joking words of agreement and left. Whewett looked up and called,

Stand back from the edge of that roof before you fall and break your neck!


The worst thing, Whewett. She has found out about yesterday. Mrs. Townsend has been here.


What does she know?

Grace briefly outlined her ruse.

Don

t spoil it,

she warned.

She is livid with you, too. She is threatening to use her cane on us.

His jaw tensed, and his voice lashed like a whip.

Did she touch you?


No!


Stay there. I

ll be right up. And get away from that edge.

Whewett disappeared. In less than a minute he strode briskly into the Purple Saloon, where Lady Healy sat with Daugherty and Bronfman.

I

ll have the keys to the attic,

he said, extending a hand peremptorily.


I

ll speak to you later, Master Jackanapes,

she replied.


The keys, Lady Healy.
Now!

The word was a bark.

The dame

s notions of propriety did not permit squabbling in front of the lower orders. She could bring Whewett to heel more satisfactorily later.

The butler has

em.

Whewett stalked into the hallway and got the keys. He mounted the stairs two at a time, wrenched open the attic door and continued his swift ascent into the attic. In his warm condition the heat hit him like the blast from a furnace. He uttered one of those expletives that lurk at the bottom of all men

s vocabularies, then ran to the window. Grace stood beneath him on the roof, looking up, and wondering how she was to get back inside.

Whewett!

she exclaimed in relief.


Are you all right?

He had his foot on the windowsill, prepared to join her.


Don

t jump!

she shrieked.

We

ll never get back inside. Can you help me up?


That woman is insane! It

s hot as hades up here. You

ll be prostrate with the heat. Here, give me your hands.

He got a firm grip on her wrists and began lifting her up. With the poor leverage the window allowed, however, it was impossible to haul her more than six inches off the roof.


You

re pulling my arms out of their sockets,

she complained. He released his grip immediately. The suddenness of the release sent her sinking on her knees. In a split second there was a thump beside her as Whewett landed on the roof.


Are you all right, Grace?

he asked, leaning down to help her up. She saw the fear and anger in his eyes and heard the rough edge of concern in his voice.


My skipping ankle has had another wrench,

she said with a cringe as she tried to put her weight on it. His hands, around her waist from helping her up, enfolded her, pulling her against him, where her head nestled against his chest.

The strength and protection of his arms were welcome after her ordeal. She was ambushed by the temptation to stay there forever, safe from the ugly present and worse future. For a moment she relaxed. She felt one hand move to her head, stroking her hair in a caressing way that went beyond mere comforting, and felt flustered.

She pulled her head back and discovered a peculiar expression on his face

a softening of the harsh lines just seen.

You shouldn

t have jumped, Whewett. We

ll never get back in now,

she said breathlessly.


Are you all right? Did she hurt you? How

s the ankle?

Grace detached herself from his arms and tried her weight on it. He held her hand for support.

It will be all right.


How long were you locked up here?


About an hour. You must remember to tell her--


An hour! Good God! I

m telling her the truth. This is ridiculous, locking you in attics, as though you were an unruly child, and threatening to whip you.


Us,

she corrected.

You are for the thorn stick, too, for allowing me to behave so badly.

She related at more length the story she had told Lady Healy.


We

re marching straight down there and telling her the truth,

he said, lifting his chin in a determined way. Then he looked about him, gradually realizing that he was not able to do anything of the sort.

As soon as I figure out how we are to get down from here,

he added.


Now don

t be rash, Whewett. We have been through too much to throw it all to the winds now. Think of Augusta

s fortune.


To hell with Augusta

s fortune. We don

t need the money. It is a luxury. How
dare
she treat you like this! As though you were a
—”


Yes, but so far as she knows, I
am
a child. She hasn

t an inkling of the truth. It will only be for another day or so. Is Daugherty going to buy the estate?


Yes, it will take him a day to get the cash assembled, and meanwhile we

ll have the mortgage papers drawn up.


Well then, we can stick it for one more day.

Whewett smiled a rueful smile, shaking his head.

I

m damnably sorry about this, Grace. What an unconscionable way I have treated you. Allowed her to treat you, I mean. I feel wretched about it. I

ll make it up to you,

he promised, placing his hands on her wrists.


The price has been agreed upon. I am not a rack-rent.


The initial offer did not include incarceration in a stifling attic and threats of violence.


Or starvation,

she added wanly.


She didn

t feed you?

he demanded with a kindling eye.


Not a bite, and I am likewise to be robbed of dinner. But she

s only pretending to be angry. She wanted to laugh.


You shall have dinner and luncheon. You are my daughter! She has no right
—”


Better make sure she means to let you have a crumb before you start making threats. I must advise you, Whewett, you are in even deeper disgrace than myself.


How could she believe me so foolish as to let my daughter carry on like that?

he asked, hardly able to credit it.


She found that easier to credit than that you had a lightskirt stashed away. I guess she hasn

t heard about Doll. But you are only my dupe, you know. I always could wind you round my thumb.

He squeezed her fingers.

Poor Gussie.


It wasn

t so bad. I knew she wouldn

t really hurt me.


I didn

t mean you. I meant my daughter. She would no more pull off a stunt like this than she

d grow fins and take to the deep blue seas.


But you cannot throw away her rightful inheritance. You must swallow your pride and see this through. And you must stick up for me, too. I am really very hungry, Whewett.

He accepted her advice and was struck most forcibly by her courage and tenacity, especially as her own reward was so trifling.

Not to worry. You are ill

prostrated from the heat in this oven. I shall enforce my rights as your father.

Grace congratulated him with a pert smile.

That

s a good boy, Papa.

Even as he looked, her smile faded. He followed the line of her glance and saw the butler sticking his head out the window.


Can I help yez, milord?

the man asked, displaying none of the curiosity he must surely be feeling.


Yes, will you toss us out a ladder, please.


I

ll have to go to the shed and fetch it.


Do it, then,

Whewett said in an impatient voice not normally used to servants. The head disappeared.


It

s not his fault,

Grace pointed out.


I know perfectly well whose fault it is. I
said
I

m sorry,

he answered rather sharply. He shook his head, running his fingers along the furrows of his brow.

I
am
sorry, Grace.


Oh, stop apologizing,

she scolded.


You don

t seem to realize the position I have placed you in. Townsend

s mother is now broadcasting your name the length and breadth of the country as my

whatever,

he finished with an ambiguous flutter of his hand.

BOOK: Madcap Miss
2.2Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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