Scandalous Innocent (8 page)

‘Oh, dear,’ said Mrs Overshott. ‘Which gown will you change into?’

Phoebe thought it was a rather odd question to ask, but easy enough to answer. ‘Oh, the old faded blue cambric without stays. What did you and Sir Leo talk about?’

‘Mostly about his house. I was hoping we might take a detour through Richmond so that we can drive past and take a look, but if you’re too—’

‘No, we can do that,’ Phoebe said quickly. ‘It’s not much out of our way. Did he tell you where it is?’

‘One of those on the river’s edge, on the Petersham road.’

From Petersham and Ham, the road branched; the lower branch was the older track that followed the river bank, the upper one, made more recently, went on over the hill and down again into the village of Richmond via a drier route. Sam Coachman had by this time already turned on to the lower road but, because his mistress had closed her eyes, her chaperon being careful to say nothing that might open them again, they were approaching the first cottages in Richmond before Phoebe felt the coach slow down and bounce to a stop. Its occupants were jerked upright before a pair of black wrought-iron gates that enclosed a cobbled courtyard with a large redbrick house beyond, though the details were unclear.

‘Where are we?’ Phoebe said. ‘Is this the house? How did Sam know…?’ Puzzled and rather disorientated, she leaned out of the open window but, in doing so, found herself face-to-face with the man who, without her knowledge, had ridden behind them all the way from Ham. Sir Leo Hawkynne. His abrupt opening of the coach door, with all her weight leaning on it, might have precipitated a very undignified fall on to the ground had Sir Leo not caught her, scooped her out of the coach into his arms, and swung her round towards the magically opening gates, followed by his obedient horse.

‘No!’ she cried. ‘What are you…Molly…my shoes… put me
down,
sir!’

Her wriggles and protests, beating fists and kicking feet had not the slightest effect on her progress, nor did Mrs Overshott follow her through the gates with either shoes or assistance. The gates clanged shut, the coach lumbered away and Phoebe was carried, squealing with rage, through the wide front porch into the cool entrance hall where the scent of pinewood shavings and paint still lingered in the air.

‘Welcome to Ferry House,’ said Sir Leo, lowering his guest’s feet to the tiled floor. ‘Not quite what I had in mind for your first visit, but I’m all in favour of bringing plans forward, if need be.’

‘This is
monstrous!’
Phoebe growled. ‘What do you think you’re doing, sir?’

Placing himself between her and the door, Sir Leo made a barrier too great for her to pass, though her first thoughts were naturally to escape. Which he knew. ‘It was what you said at Ham that gave me the idea,’ he said.

‘I said nothing about abduction, Sir Leo. Of that I’m quite sure.’

‘No, but about dragging you off to my cave, wee lass. Now
that
was inspired. You wanted to take a look round, so now you can. See? Is it not a fine place?’

‘It may be the finest place in all Richmond, sir, but I’m not staying to find out. I want to go home. I want my coach. And I want my companion. Why has Mrs Overshott left me here? Is she being abducted too?’

‘No, she’s gone to get you some clothes. You’ll be staying here a while.’

‘I shall be doing no such thing,’ she cried, looking round wildly for a way out, ‘even if I have to walk to Mortlake in my stockinged feet.’

The manservant who had been nearby to open gates and doors had disappeared like a ghost and, although the hall was light and in no way oppressive with new pine panelling and sparkling chandelier, Phoebe was in no mood to accept her confinement without making a great deal of fuss about it. Never before had anyone physically manhandled her into a place she didn’t want to go, and the awful fear of being kept away from her dear familiar possessions, her own four walls, servants and especially Molly, was quite unacceptable. There was fury in her eyes as she whirled round to face him. ‘Sir Leo,’ she said, ‘this may be a game to you, but to me it is not, I can assure you. You cannot keep me here. Now, open that door and let me out.
Immediately.’

But before she could see what he was about, Sir Leo had caught her waving arms and pinioned them behind her back out of harm’s way, enclosing her like a warm envelope with her face buried in the white linen ruffles of his shirt. Her howls of anger became croaks followed by a torrent of unladylike oaths and epithets she’d learnt at Court, screeched into his neckband, venomously and with gusto, spiced with every grudge she had held against him over the years as well as many others wholly undeserved. A lesser man would have wilted under her tongue-lashing.

A few moments of this, and she realised from the vibrations in his chest that he was talking to her. ‘Yes, sweet lass…hush now…you’re quite right, I
am
all of those things and more. But in one thing you exaggerate. I have never carried a woman off by force until now.’

‘You never…had…a house…until now…did you? You great ugly
lout!’

‘Well, no, but that’s not the reason. The truth is, I’ve never wanted to. I’ve waited far too long to get you to myself, Mistress Phoebe Laker, and if this is the only way, then so be it. I’ll have no more damned interference from the Ham House family to pull us apart or push us together. There’s been far too much of that silly nonsense in the last couple of weeks.’

‘You’ve been talking to Mrs Overshott. You
have,
haven’t you? You decided this together, today, conspiring about
my
future. Betrayed by the woman I trusted with my life. Oh, how
could
she do this? Let me go, damn you!’

‘No, I won’t. Hush, lass. Easy now. Just listen to me, will you? Mrs Overshott agrees with me that we need to find out about each other without help. Alone. You know next to nothing about me, and you’re certainly not going to discover anything with the kind of help you’ve been getting, are you? So now it’s time to do things my way.’

‘I don’t
want
to know anything about you, and I don’t want to do anything your way. Not
this
way. How d’you think it’s going to look for an unmarried gentlewoman to stay alone with a man, without even her companion or her maid? You were the one, remember, to be so scathing about my unconventional ways in the past, so how exactly is your plan going to help my marriage prospects? Is it your aim to cause another scandal? To ruin me completely? Ah, yes, now it begins to make some sense. I suppose you can hardly wait to gallop off back to Court to tell them all about how Mistress Laker—’

‘Enough!’ His method of stopping the tirade was highly effective and, even with whalebone stays jabbing into her and her wrists aching in his grasp, Phoebe’s train of thought was so sidelined that, when he gave her a chance to breathe, those irritants faded against the tender rapture of his kiss.

But he was right; she knew so little about him, and men were capable of such duplicity in their dealings with women, whether at Court or outside it. He had already backed away from his first acrimonious victory, leaving her bewildered and angry. True, he had seen through her own vengeful ploy, but that was no excuse. Men were not supposed to disarm women so easily when there were so few weapons to fight with. If a woman could not use her conduct as a weapon, what else was there?

‘Now
will
you listen to me, termagant? Your Mrs Overshott will be here in an hour with a trunk full of your belongings, and your maid, too. They will have rooms near yours, and you will be staying here with me for however long it takes to make you mine. No more protests, if you please.’

Her lips held the warm imprint of his mouth upon hers, and her mind strayed into other dangerous territory. ‘What do you mean, to make me yours? You said I was free,’ she whispered.

‘I know what I said.’ Carefully, he released her wrists and held her arms as she swayed unsteadily. ‘Come through here into the parlour. You need to sit.’

The difficult day, the unrelenting heat, her emotions and furious responses suddenly began to take their toll of her, and she was glad to be supported for the few steps into an adjoining room lined with colourful tapestries and carved wainscoting. Her shoeless feet made no sound on the polished oak floor. A large leaded window had a cushioned seat across its width, and one of the casements had been opened wide to let in the scents from the garden beyond. She made her way towards the light to sit next to the open window, breathing in the aroma of cut grass and wallflowers. This, she thought, could not be the garden still in a mess, for the low box hedges were neatly clipped, and white roses spilled over the high brick wall to meet a bank of foxgloves and blue monkshood.

When she turned again to the room, a tray of pretty blue-and-white Chinese tea dishes had been placed upon the table, steaming with clear pale liquid, a plate of tiny biscuits beside them. It was fragrant and soothing and, as she took her first sips, the surface rippled in time with her trembling. Without doubt, it was the most bizarre situation she had ever been in, and one she had no idea how to handle. The fencing had been a contest for which she had put in place contingency plans against her failure, but this was different, for although she had wanted to know more about Sir Leo’s true intentions, she had never expected to be informed so soon and in so bold a fashion. Or had she misunderstood him?

Shakily, she replaced her dish on the tray. ‘What did you mean,’ she repeated, ‘to make me yours? Have you brought me here to dishonour me? Is this supposed to be the easy way nowadays? To abduct a woman
before
gaining her consent?’

‘The easy way. Oh, dear, shall I ever be allowed to forget that, I wonder?’ he murmured. Taking a biscuit, he put it whole into his mouth, picked up a low upholstered stool and, placing it below her, took her feet and put them on it. ‘You are the most remarkable woman,’ he said, munching. ‘Even when you’re dog-tired to the point of exhaustion, your tongue is as sharp as a dirk. D’ye hone it every morning, mistress?’

She glared at him, refusing to answer his jibe.

‘Well, now,’ he said, sitting at the opposite end of the window-seat, ‘it’s like this. I recall saying that I would not wed any woman who was as set against the match as you, but your Mrs Overshott, wise woman that she is, kindly pointed out to me that, so far, I’ve given you very little opportunity to feel any different. Have I? No. So, since no polite invitation from me is likely to get you here before I have to go off again on my duties, Mrs Overshott agreed that I don’t have a day to lose. Besides, the Duchess’s son is not going to leave you in peace, and her two daughters are not going to leave
me
in peace, either. So it’s best if we both make ourselves scarce, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, I
see,’
Phoebe said, as if the light had suddenly dawned. ‘So it’s all about fitting me somewhere into your busy timetable to see if you can change my mind in…how many days…or is it
hours
before you must go? It’s no wonder you’re in such a tearing hurry, Sir Leo.’

‘I’ve already given you the answer to that, lass, if only you’d listen instead of galloping off on your high horse. However long it takes, is what I said. And, no, you need not get all in a pother about it. I do not intend to ravish you while you’re a guest in my house. In fact, I shall not lay a finger on you until you say you want me to.’

‘Mmm. So I could be here for quite some time, then.’

‘You
will
be here for some time, Mistress Laker, one way or another. You’re going to marry me and this will be your home. There are still some finishing touches to be made, but I hoped you’d help me with those.’

Her expression was highly sceptical, to say the least, eyes half-closed, head tilted just too far back, her glance sliding off his face with barely controlled derision. ‘Hah!’ she breathed, tonelessly. ‘Thank you for the tea, Sir Leo. Perhaps I should come to see your house another day when you’re feeling better.’ She stood up and gave her skirts a gentle shake. ‘These rapid changes of mind can be so confusing, can’t they? What will it be next, I wonder? Tch! I can hardly keep up.’

‘Phoebe.’

She sighed, but made no move to go. His gentle use of her name came like a caress, deep and velvety-soft, tinged with sadness and regret for the misunderstandings that held them in this tangle. To carry her off in this manner was a strange way to smooth out the problems of the past three years. Nor was it the way to woo a woman. Or so she’d thought only that afternoon. Strangely, however, she had heard something in his tone, felt the urgent desire in his kisses, even the anger too, but different from the victory-kiss after the contest. And when he had sat beside her, unquestionably to be her protector, she had never felt safer or more cherished. Even now, despite the noisy protestations, the thought of being constantly in the care of such a man felt like sailing into harbour after a particularly lengthy storm.

‘Phoebe,’ he said again, ‘come to me.’ Holding out a hand, palm upwards, he waited for her eyes to signal her intentions, moving up from boots to breeches to buckle to chest, where they lingered, then up to his mouth and finally to his eyes, looking above all things for honesty.

They were brown and openly desirous but, more than that, Phoebe saw what she believed was something like love. Sighing, she closed her eyes and, in that brief moment, he was before her, holding her by the shoulders and tilting his head to look deeply into her face. ‘Phoebe, I mean you no harm. You’ve never been afraid of the unconventional, have you? Neither have I. But what I have in mind is not for gossip-fodder, in case that’s what you thought, lass. It’s to make up for lost time after a foolish, callous, jealous remark that I made wounded your pride. I’ve regretted it ever since, not only for the life that was lost but for the damage it’s done to you, too. Now I have to make things right between us. I
have
to, lass, for there’s never been a moment when I haven’t wanted you for my wife. Like you, I thought that contest at Ham might help to settle things, but you…’