Nicola Cornick (4 page)

Whatever reply Miss Frensham might have given was drowned out by a sudden noise outside the inn. Alicia moved across to the grimy window to try to see what was happening but the rain was lashing down so violently now that it was too dark to see anything at all. A moment later the doorbell pealed sharply. Alicia and Miss Frensham exchanged a look and Miss Frensham stifled another moan. This was the worst thing that could befall them, alone and unprotected in a seedy alehouse—she had temporarily forgotten the dubious protection available from the Marquis—with goodness only knew what kind of disreputable travellers about to burst in on them.

‘Who could possibly be out on such a night? Oh, Lady Carberry, I fear we shall be ravished in our beds—or worse!’

Alicia forbore to point out that they did not even have any beds in which to be ravished, for she did not think this would help. In silence they waited. Once more it was an extraordinarily long time before they heard the sound of the landlord’s reluctant footsteps and the drawing back of the squeaky bolt. There was a swift, decisive but indistinguishable altercation in the corridor, and suddenly the parlour door was thrown open and the room appeared to be full of people, all talking at once.

The landlord was in full flow, involved in a heated exchange with a large and forceful lady. A portly, middle-aged gentleman was also present, talking and gesticulating wildly. Just as matters appeared to be getting out of hand, the lady made a dismissive gesture and accosted Alicia across the room.

‘So it
was
your carriage, Lady Carberry! I thought I recognised it, and obliged John to stop here to see if there was aught we could do to help!’ She was a plump, comfortable-looking woman of middling years and she shook the nerveless Miss Frensham by the hand with the warmth of an old friend, before turning back to Alicia with a quick look of concern.

‘My dears, are either of you hurt in any way? Lady Carberry, you are looking a trifle pale, if you will forgive me! Can we be of service to you?’ She cast an unfavourable look around the room. ‘Indeed, you cannot possibly stay here! John, tell them they must not stay!’

‘Indeed, my dear ma’am, you cannot stay here!’ her husband echoed obligingly.

The landlord, who had at last lit the candles and started to make up
the fire, glared at them, but Mrs Henley ignored him with superb indifference. As the wife of the local squire she considered all village matters to be her business and made no secret of the fact that she thought the Crown and Anchor inn a disgrace in terms of hospitality. She repeated her offer of help energetically and it was a moment before Alicia could get a word in.

‘We are well enough, thank you, ma’am,’ Alicia replied, with a smile, when at last the flow of words had ceased. ‘Neither Miss Frensham nor I too much the worse for our accident, but I am afraid that she may have taken a chill.’

Mrs Henley had just turned back to Miss Frensham with an exclamation of alarm and sympathy that had that lady shrinking back in her chair, when the parlour door opened again and James Mullineaux strode in. He seemed unperturbed to find the room so full of visitors and strolled forward with easy charm to make their acquaintance.

After a swift glance at Alicia, who was standing stubbornly silent, Miss Frensham struggled to her feet and made the introductions in a failing voice.

‘Mrs Henley, this is the Marquis of Mullineaux, who was so good as to assist us after the accident.’ She ignored Alicia’s snort of disgust and ploughed on. ‘My lord, may I make you known to the Squire and Mrs Henley, who have stopped to offer us their help?’

Mrs Henley’s shrewd brown eyes opened a little wider as she registered Mullineaux’s name, but she was too well-bred to show curiosity. She also noted that Alicia’s mouth was set in lines of obstinate dislike, and that, for his part, Mullineaux viewed her with no less antagonism. She became even more interested as Mullineaux launched into an easy explanation of the presence of so ill-assorted a group in such a small village on such a bad night. No inquisitive questions were required on her part whatsoever, for Mullineaux seemed determined to make the details of their unfortunate encounter crystal-clear in order to avoid the suspicion that he and Alicia had intended to meet.

Alicia stood listening to his admirably factual explanation of their accident with growing irritation. He showed nothing but the most impersonal concern for Miss Frensham’s welfare and none whatsoever for her own. Mrs Henley missed none of the nuances, and, watching Alicia covertly, concluded that there was a very interesting by-play going on between the two of them.

‘And so, ma’am, sir, if you would be so good as to recommend a more reputable hostelry, I should have no further worries about the
safety of these ladies,’ Mullineaux finished smoothly. ‘I, alas, am fixed here for the night as my cattle are chilled to the bone and it is now too late for me to continue my journey. However, I am sure that the landlord could muster a gig to convey the ladies a short distance.’

‘Lord Mullineaux is anxious to be rid of us, ma’am,’ Alicia said with so much honey in her tone that Mrs Henley was barely able to suppress a smile. ‘We are a sad burden on him.’ She looked down at Miss Frensham drooping in her chair and added silkily, ‘There is one aspect of Lord Mullineaux’s commendable speech with which I would disagree, however. It does not seem to me desirable to subject Miss Frensham to the rigours of another uncomfortable journey. I am sure we shall do very well here.’

There was a flash of irritation in Mullineaux’s eyes and as he drew breath for a scathing remark Mrs Henley hastened into the breach, much as Miss Frensham had done earlier.

‘I will not hear of you putting up at this or any other inn tonight, Lady Carberry,’ she said decisively. ‘Ottery Manor is but a short distance from here and I am happy to convey you both there immediately as our guests. Nonsense.’ She cut across Alicia’s protests decisively. ‘It will be a pleasure!’ She turned courteously to Mullineaux. ‘You are also most welcome to join us at the Manor, Lord Mullineaux!’

Alicia watched with malicious pleasure as Mullineaux tried to think of a way to decline without giving offence. She knew full well that only his dislike for her was prompting him to stay at the inn and refuse Mrs Henley’s invitation.

‘Alas, ma’am,’ Mullineaux was saying with every evidence of sincere regret, ‘I would be honoured to accept were it not for the fact that I must continue my journey at first light. I would not wish to inconvenience you in any way, and I am sure I shall do very well here.’

He could not be persuaded otherwise and eventually Mrs Henley accepted his refusal with resignation, not in the least fooled as to the reason for it. Bowing to them all but Alicia, who got the curtest of nods, Mullineaux went out to bespeak his lonely supper.

A smile twitched Mrs Henley’s lips. She had never met the Marquis of Mullineaux before, but rumour certainly had not lied about him. He was without doubt a very attractive man and a formidably determined one. It was also beyond doubt that Lord Mullineaux wanted nothing more to do with Lady Carberry and viewed this whole incident as a profound nuisance. Meanwhile Lady Carberry herself, unaccustomed to being disliked, resented such cavalier treatment and could be very pro
vocative when she chose. Lady Carberry was not spoilt, Mrs Henley reflected fairly, but it was unusual for men not to fall at her feet. Even the squire, who had never given Mrs Henley a moment’s worry in twenty-five years of marriage, was gawping like a foolish schoolboy, ready to leap to Alicia’s aid if required.

Alicia was looking particularly lovely in the candlelight, with her hair drying in tangled curls and the fire bringing a glow of colour to her almost translucent complexion. But clearly James Mullineaux was immune and, remembering the past history of Alicia and the Marquis, Mrs Henley could not really be surprised at it.

She had heard all the slanderous talk—the hastily arranged marriage to the grossly libidinous George Carberry, the sudden death of the bridegroom on the wedding night—from over-excitement, so the wags said—the bitter denunciation by James Mullineaux of his former betrothed, the wild tales that had circulated in the clubs…Alicia Carberry’s name had been dragged through the mud so thoroughly that it had been thought she would never recover.

Mrs Henley had always had her own theory about the hastily arranged marriage to George Carberry. She gave no credence to any of the wilder tales about Alicia, but suspected that the Carberry match had been forced on her by her father. In the county of Somerset, Bertram Broseley’s ruthless dealings were known at first hand, from the money he had made from the slave trade to the hard-driven land deals which had enabled him to expand his own estate immeasurably. Broseley was quite the most unpleasant man of Mrs Henley’s acquaintance, and she was sure he would not scruple to use his own children as a business asset.

Time could bring about great changes, Mrs Henley reflected. The enormous social power of the Dowager Countess of Stansfield had been brought into play to help rebuild her granddaughter’s place in Society, and after a while those who had been disposed to censure Alicia had seen only a rich and beautiful widow who had made an improvident marriage. Seven years had passed in which the lovely Lady Carberry had been courted by Society’s most eligible bachelors, but had shown no sign of remarrying.

Mrs Henley frowned slightly, drawing on her gloves. Mullineaux’s return from Ireland would whet the appetites of even the most jaded of society’s gossips, she thought, with a certain degree of speculative interest. He was a vastly handsome man with a certain reputation as far as women were concerned, and there would be any number willing to
put it to the test. And then there was the delicate matter of his future relationship with Lady Carberry. This unexpected meeting must have been embarrassing for both of them, and no doubt the fur would fly in the future. It was going to be a very interesting Season.

The door closed behind Mullineaux and Mrs Henley turned her warm smile upon Alicia, who was still looking a little dubious at foisting both herself and Miss Frensham unexpectedly on the Henleys’ hospitality.

‘I have guests already, Lady Carberry, and shall be happy to augment the party,’ Mrs Henley reassured her comfortably. ‘However, therein lies the only problem—my visitors are in the carriage outside, neglected shamefully, I know, but I hope they will forgive me! However, it means that I have room to take up only one more person at present. So perhaps—’ she turned to Miss Frensham ‘—if you do not mind waiting, dear ma’am, I will take Lady Carberry to the Manor now, and send the coach back for you directly.’

Miss Frensham, who had been in a feverish doze in her chair, started to agree, but Alicia interrupted quickly. ‘By your leave, ma’am, Miss Frensham has been exposed to the rain for longer than I, and is of frailer disposition. I should be happier if you could take her up first and return for me.’

Mrs Henley and Miss Frensham exchanged a look. Miss Frensham stood up shakily.

‘It would be most singular, my love, to leave you here alone,’ she observed carefully, worry reflected in her grey eyes. ‘I am grateful for your consideration, but I will do very well here for a little longer. Perhaps—’ her face brightened ‘—we could both wait, ma’am, if you will be so good as to send the carriage back for us when you have delivered your guests.’

It would have been the best plan, but Alicia was so used to taking decisions that she hardly hesitated.

‘Stuff and nonsense, Emmy—you are shivering with ague,’ she said strongly. ‘You must get into the warmth as soon as possible. As for the proprieties—for I take it that is what concerns you—I doubt Lord Mullineaux will even return before the carriage comes back to collect me, and even if he does the landlady may stand my chaperon for five minutes! I beg you, ma’am—’ she turned to Mrs Henley ‘—do not let us delay you any longer!’

Mrs Henley nodded. ‘Very well, it shall be as you wish, Lady Carberry! Come, ma’am—’ she took Miss Frensham’s arm ‘—we will have
you right in no time! I have a herbal mixture which is sovereign against the ague!’

So it was settled, and, whatever her private qualms, a secretly grateful Miss Frensham went out to the carriage.

T
en minutes later, James Mullineaux re-entered the parlour from the direction of the stables, whistling under his breath.

Whistling! How very pleased he must be to be rid of us! Alicia thought crossly. Nevertheless, there was a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach as she contemplated having to deal with him without Miss Frensham’s soothing presence, and she smoothed the material of her dress down in an unconsciously nervous gesture.

Mullineaux stopped dead on seeing Alicia sitting alone before the fire and a swift frown descended on his brow. His dark hair was ruffled from the wind and he brought with him from outside the scents of fresh air and leather. The casual shooting jacket fitted his broad shoulders to advantage and despite the events of the previous hour his buckskins were clean and fitted to perfection. Only his topboots indicated that he had spent some time wading through the mud outside. Realising suddenly that she was staring, Alicia removed her gaze to his face and surprised there a look which could only be described as antagonistic. Her nerves tightened.

‘What’s this? I understood you to have gone to the Manor with Mrs Henley!’ There was a dangerous control in the Marquis’s quiet voice.

‘Miss Frensham has gone with Mrs Henley,’ Alicia said, with more composure than she was feeling. ‘There was only room for one in the carriage and Miss Frensham has, I think, already started to develop a chill. The carriage will return for me shortly, my lord.’

Mullineaux appeared to be having difficulty in grasping what she was saying. He ran a hand through his dishevelled black hair, which only served to make him look even more attractive. Alicia noticed, and
chided herself for being so susceptible. Unfortunately it seemed all too possible to find someone physically attractive whilst simultaneously disliking them intensely.

‘You have sent Miss Frensham on ahead and stayed here alone?’ Mullineaux repeated, carefully expressionless, looking at Alicia with something approaching incredulity. He crossed the room and turned to face her, his back to the fire.

Alicia, feeling intimidated and determined not to show it, rose to her feet. She met his eyes squarely. ‘That is correct, my lord. Miss Frensham is not feeling at all well and it seemed only right that she should be taken to shelter immediately!’

The astonishment in Mullineaux’s dark eyes was turning swiftly to anger. ‘It may have been the right thing to do, but it was hardly wise!’

Feeling her own temper rising, Alicia decided to be deliberately obtuse. He really knew how to bring out the worst in her. ‘Why, whatever can you mean, my lord?’ she enquired coolly.

Mullineaux looked exasperated. ‘I cannot believe you so naive as to fail to understand me! It would be unexceptionable for a lady of advanced years to be alone here with me. It is rather more singular for you to choose to stay here unchaperoned!’

He was, of course, quite correct. As a widow Alicia had a certain latitude of behaviour allowed to her that was denied unmarried girls, but even so she could not expect to retain her reputation for virtue by spending time alone with a man in an isolated inn. Given the circumstances of their previous relationship it was particularly unfortunate. Alicia mentally acknowledged this, but she was scarcely going to give Mullineaux the satisfaction of agreeing with him. She shrugged with every appearance of nonchalance.

‘Oh, I do not have such a slavish regard for the conventions! You refine too much upon this, my lord!’

‘I see.’ His expression was contemptuous. ‘I can only assume that your reputation was lost so long ago that it is of little consequence to you. Or perhaps—’ he looked at her thoughtfully ‘—you deliberately contrived to stay here with me?’

Alicia had inherited her grandmother’s temper along with the red hair. Normally it lay fairly well-buried, but now she could feel her control slipping away rapidly. Damn his presumptuousness! ‘What a very good opinion you must have of your own attractions, Lord Mullineaux!’ she said scathingly. ‘Alas, I must disillusion you. There is no basis for your arrogance—I scarce chose to stay here in order to be
with you! And you may acquit me of any attempt to compromise you! I assure you, you are quite safe with me!’

‘Thank you for your reassurances, madam,’ Mullineaux snapped. ‘It is gratifying to know that you are more concerned for my reputation than for your own! I suppose I should not be surprised by your comments. Seven years ago you made it abundantly clear that you did not wish for my company. At least you are consistent!’

Even as he spoke, half of Mullineaux’s mind was marvelling at the speed with which they had jettisoned polite convention and slipped into conflict. He was well aware that Alicia had been deliberately trying to provoke him all afternoon and that she had succeeded in getting under his guard very easily. Her unwanted company was a complication he could well have done without. His anger was intensified by the discovery that he was hardly indifferent to her. He might reasonably have expected the passage of seven years to have weakened, if not destroyed, any appeal she had once held for him. It was infuriating that this was not so.

Alicia herself was both angry and confused by their mutual antipathy. Whilst it would have been impossible to imagine that they could ever be on friendly terms, this instinctive antagonism was difficult to deal with. An icy reserve would have been more her usual style, but, shaken out of her habitual cool composure, she was unable to get back onto the sort of footing with Mullineaux that might at least have enabled them to preserve the minimum of cold civility. Whilst she struggled to regain lost ground, Mullineaux pushed them further into conflict.

‘You say that I am safe from your attentions, ma’am.’ He gave her a dispassionate look that was so indicative of scorn it brought the colour up into Alicia’s face. ‘Have you considered that you may not be safe from mine? Behaviour such as your own is an open invitation!’

‘It might be construed as such by a man of your stamp!’ Alicia pushed the heavy waves of burnished hair away from her face with a hand that was shaking. ‘You never could believe yourself resistible, could you, Mullineaux?’

The tone of this extraordinary conversation could only degenerate further.

‘I had heard that you were enjoying to the full the licence your widowed state allows you!’ Mullineaux took a step towards her. ‘It is what I would have expected. And it ill becomes you to play the innocent now, Lady Carberry. Had I realised that all candidates for your hand in marriage had to be old, rich and degenerate I should never have troubled
you with my attentions! Not,’ he added coolly, ‘that it is marriage that is on my mind at the moment—far from it! But now that I understand you better, perhaps we could find a more interesting way of passing our time here?’

Alicia whitened. Her own comments had been provocative, but she was shocked by the ruthless cruelty of his response. He evidently considered her to have lost every shred of reputation and to be fair game for his advances. She had been in society long enough to recognise that she had tested his precarious self-control to the limit by the attitude she had assumed. He could not know that her apparent lack of regard for the conventions was mere bravado. In fact, she had reinforced his own prejudices by her wanton disregard for propriety. She struggled to regain some lost ground before it was too late.

‘Your comments are both inaccurate and discourteous, sir! Pray do not make arrogant assumptions when your knowledge is so incomplete! Added to which, I find that strictures on behaviour come somewhat strangely from you! A man who abandons his responsibilities for seven years for the pursuit of pleasure is not in a strong position to criticise the behaviour of others!’

‘Pray do not make arrogant assumptions, madam!’ Mullineaux said, through his teeth. His look of scorn swept over her comprehensively, from copper curls to kid slippers. He did not even hesitate. ‘At least I have never sold myself for a fortune!’

Even as he was speaking, he knew that he had gone too far, but her false protestations of innocence had infuriated him, and her comments on his own behaviour had touched a raw nerve. The tension that had been building between them from the very first moment had reached such an intensity that it had to defuse itself somehow.

As for Alicia, she was conscious only of her anger and resentment building with searing intensity. She wanted only to hurt him for the pain he had so carelessly inflicted. She raised her hand to strike him, but Mullineaux read her intentions quickly enough to prevent it finding its mark. He caught her wrist in an unbreakable grip. Their eyes locked in furious confrontation.

And then it happened. Mullineaux’s hand slid from wrist to elbow in a caress that made Alicia shiver, but no longer with nerves. It had always been like this—like recognised like and reacted instinctively, and the conflict between them gave the attraction an edge that had not previously existed. Rational thought was suspended as he drew her
closer. She could not tear her gaze away from his, realising that whatever it was that drove her also had him in its compulsive grip.

A corner of Alicia’s mind acknowledged that in another second he would kiss her and she would not be able to resist, would not want to resist, and then God alone knew what might happen….

The door of the parlour opened and the landlord entered. Mullineaux dropped Alicia’s wrist and stepped back unhurriedly, and the landlord smirked meaningfully in their direction.

‘Road’s flooded over by Ottery Down,’ he said with gloomy relish. ‘Ain’t no ways they’ll get a carriage through there from the Manor.’ He peered out of the parlour window at the dark sky. ‘Still rainin’ too,’ he remarked with obvious satisfaction. His gaze darted from James Mullineaux to Alicia and back again. ‘Reckon you’ll be needin’ that room, sir!’

‘Make that two rooms, please, landlord,’ Alicia said hastily, and turned away from both the landlord’s knowing leer and James Mullineaux’s too penetrating gaze. She felt sick and shaken with reaction after what had just passed between them. Her injured wrist had started to ache badly and she put the other hand up to it, wincing as she touched it. It was nothing to the pain she felt inside. How could they have quarrelled so horribly when they had only just met again? And then for her to almost fall straight into his arms as though she were as promiscuous as he suspected her! And the final and all too predictable disaster of them being stranded together…Everything in the world felt so irrevocably wrong that Alicia was sure it could never be right again.

James Mullineaux did not appear similarly disturbed. The driven quality of a moment before had left him and he seemed once more the cold, remote stranger. He put up a hand to halt the landlord as he was leaving the room.

‘Bring me some bandages, if you please,’ he instructed quietly, then, at the landlord’s look of dumbstruck amazement, he added with an edge of sarcasm, ‘You do have such a thing in the house, I presume?’

‘A horse bandage is the best I’ve got,’ the landlord said churlishly. ‘Will that do for your Honour?’

Alicia could have sworn that Mullineaux nearly smiled. ‘That will have to do,’ he said. He caught her look of mingled surprise and hostility, and added expressionlessly, ‘Your wrist clearly pains you. You will do better with it bandaged up until you can see a doctor.’

His consideration had the effect of making Alicia feel even worse. It would have been more in character, she thought numbly, for him to
tear her off a strip for her folly in causing this whole disaster. She hoped fervently that she would soon awake from this nightmare but it seemed unlikely.

James Mullineaux was standing before the fire watching her with an incalculable expression she found most disconcerting. He did not say a word about their recent argument or about the coil they now found themselves in, no doubt believing that the facts spoke for themselves. Perversely, Alicia wished he would say something, anything, to break that intolerable silence. She did not wish to feel beholden to him.

‘Thank you for your thoughtfulness,’ she said, trying not to sound ungracious, ‘but surely the landlady could tend to my wrist?’

Mullineaux raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘I have not even seen evidence that there is a landlady, let alone assessed her ability to minister to the sick! If my help is so repugnant to you, you will just have to suffer the pain! Make your choice!’

Alicia’s face flamed. For once she floundered for words.

‘I did not mean…I did not say…I am grateful to you for your offer of help, but—’

‘The landlord is returning with the bandage,’ Mullineaux interrupted her laconically. ‘You had better make up your mind! What’s it to be? Common-sense or pride?’

Alicia acquiesced with ill grace. Somehow he had made her feel like a gauche schoolgirl, and an unappreciative one at that. She sat down and watched him untie the bandage, extending her arm unwillingly, as though his touch would burn her. Her wrist showed faint marks of bruising and was already beginning to swell. Mullineaux probed it gently, looking up as Alicia could not avoid a small gasp of pain.

‘Not broken, I think,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘but a nasty sprain. If you will bear with me a little longer whilst I bind it up, that should ease the discomfort.’

His long, tanned fingers were deft and gentle as he bandaged the wrist with impersonal skill. To her horror, Alicia found her throat had closed with tears—tears which she was determined not to shed. She looked down at his bent head as he knelt next to her chair. The candlelight turned his dark hair the blue of a raven’s wing and cast the exaggerated shadow of his eyelashes along the line of his cheek. Alicia was swept by a physical longing so intense it hurt her. All the feelings she had buried deep had been exposed in the most sudden and cruel way possible. She wanted to throw herself into his arms and cry away all the pain and misery of the last seven years.