Sylvia Andrew (14 page)

‘Let me look at you, Francesca.’

She lifted her head. He was as handsome as ever, but in
the dim light reflected from the windows of Carlton House he looked sombre, threatening even. The dark blue eyes were shadowed, the beautiful mouth set in harsh lines. A chill went down her spine and she shivered. His hold tightened.

‘Tell me what happened to put you in such a panic.’

‘I…I can’t. And I must not stay here like this. Please let me go, Marcus.’ He did not immediately release her and with a sudden flare of spirit she wrenched herself out of his arms and said angrily, ‘This won’t do! I must be mad! I don’t intend to escape from one seducer, merely to fall into the arms of another!’

‘Damn you, I’m no seducer!’ he said fiercely. ‘Of all the pig-headed, obstinate women—’

Francesca interrupted what promised to be a notable loss of temper by turning away to start back to the house, but she stopped short when she saw the tall figure of Lord Coker in the middle of the lawn. It was impossible to avoid discovery. Her pale blue dress was luminous in the darkness.

‘Well now, what have we here? The lovely Miss Beaudon, no less.’ The words were harmless enough but the tone was malevolent. ‘Running away was very foolish, my dear. It only arouses the hunter in every male. Or did you know that already, you witch? Did you expect me, perhaps? You have certainly chosen a delightfully secluded spot.’

Lord Coker advanced towards her, and Francesca felt caught in a snare, unable to move. ‘Shall we continue our highly interesting conversation, Miss Beaudon? Or shall we move on to other delights? Payment, let us say, for my injuries.’ His white teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled. ‘I promise you, I shan’t let you get away so easily this time.’

Marcus took a step forward, though he was still in shadow. The movement caught Lord Coker’s eye, and he said softly, ‘The devil! So it wasn’t modesty alone which caused you to flee my arms with such drastic determination, but an assig
nation in the garden. Well, well, well! The virtuous Miss Beaudon has more of her father in her than I thought!’

‘Coker!’ said Marcus curtly. Francesca put her hands to her cheeks. The confrontation she had feared was about to take place, and it was bound to prove disastrous for Marcus. Physically he was more than a match for his lordship, but he had nothing like Coker’s political power and influence.

‘What the devil—?’ Lord Coker stopped in his tracks and stared in surprise, not unmixed with annoyance, at the tall figure before him. His eye turned to Francesca, then back to Marcus. ‘I see! Not without protectors, you said. With some justification. No wonder you appeared so indifferent to my charms, my dear. This is a conquest any young lady would be pleased to flaunt.’ Turning to Marcus, he drawled, ‘I congratulate you on your turn of speed, my dear fellow. When was it you got back from Paris?’

‘A few hours ago,’ said Marcus curtly.

‘One wonders when you’ve found the time to fix your interest with Miss Beaudon here. But one quite sees why. She has little idea how to behave but she’s reasonably handsome—and so is her fortune…’

Marcus said softly, ‘I don’t think I understand what you mean, sir.’

Francesca was chilled by the menace in his voice.

The two men stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, then Lord Coker gave a laugh. ‘I meant no harm. You must forgive my very natural chagrin at being denied a chance of furthering my acquaintance with one of the most desirable young ladies in London. Especially at being cut out by a man who hardly needs Miss Beaudon’s…assets. You’re as rich as a Nabob yourself. But what a stir this will create! The Nonpareil indulging in secret meetings in the gardens of Carlton House!’

‘If I hear anything said linking Miss Beaudon’s name with mine, you will hear from me, Coker. So guard your tongue.’
This was said so peremptorily and so coldly that Francesca gasped and looked anxiously at Lord Coker. Had Marcus no sense? To address one of the the Regent’s favourites in such a manner was to court disaster. But to her complete bewilderment, instead of threatening Marcus, as she would have expected, Lord Coker remained silent. What was going on?

Marcus offered her his arm and continued, ‘Now I will finish what I was doing, which was to find Miss Beaudon and escort her back to her chaperon, before her absence from the ballroom is remarked on. As a close friend of her host, you will no doubt be shocked to hear that the behaviour of some villain or other forced her to seek refuge in the garden…Certainly the Prince would be furious at such an insult to a guest of his. Indeed, if he knew who the culprit was, he might even withdraw his favour from the fellow. Silence all round is called for, I believe.’

‘Quite!’ snapped Lord Coker.

‘Good. Now, you will excuse us, I am sure, Coker.’

‘I shan’t forget this, Carne!’ Then, with a lowering glance at Francesca, Lord Coker gave a cursory bow, turned on his heel and strode up towards the house.

Marcus watched him go. Then he looked at Francesca, who had withdrawn her arm from his and now stood staring at him, a frown on her face.

‘Did you wish me to challenge the fellow, Francesca? I’m sorry if I disappointed you, but I thought you would prefer to avoid the inevitable scandal if I did. Coker won’t harm you again.’

‘No, no! The matter is best forgotten. But…’

‘But what?’

‘Lord Coker called you Carne!’

‘Yes, he did. Why are you surprised? It is my title.’

‘B-but…That is impossible! Lydia talks of Lord Carne all the time! She cannot sing his praises loudly enough.’ The incredulity in Francesca’s voice was too much for Marcus.

He laughed out loud, then said solemnly, ‘You must make allowance for Lydia’s partiality. She adored her father and I was his friend. She will learn the truth in time.’

‘But it’s not only Lydia! Mrs Canfield…my father…all the rest. They all speak well of you! Indeed, they all admire you!’

‘Mrs Canfield cannot think more highly of me than I do of her. Your father…1 haven’t yet met him, I believe. And as for the rest…’ He shrugged his shoulders, and looked at Francesca with one eyebrow quirked. She was still shaking her head in disbelief.

His lips twitched and he went on gravely, ‘I assure you that I am Carne. I inherited the title somewhat unexpectedly a few years after we first met.’

‘But Lord Carne is rich, and you…you—’

‘I was poor. Quite right. I inherited wealth together with the title. One doesn’t normally mention such things, Francesca but, since we are talking so very openly, I will admit it—I am an extremely rich man. Rich as a Nabob, as Coker said.’

‘I…see. That would account for some of it, I suppose…’

Marcus sighed and said ruefully, ‘My popularity, you mean? I am sure you are right, though I know of no one else who would point that out with such brutal frankness. You don’t mince matters, do you?’

Francesca did not hear him. She was still struggling to come to terms with this startlingly new situation. ‘But it doesn’t account for the admiration of the rest. I have heard good people—people I respect—talking well of you, describing you as a man of character.’ She shook her head again in bewilderment. ‘I cannot understand it.’

Marcus found that he was enjoying himself immensely. His voice was unsteady as he replied gravely, ‘I can’t account for it myself. It is gratifying to hear of it, of course. But don’t worry, Francesca. I shan’t suffer from conceit—not while you are there to redress the balance.’

At this Francesca stiffened and said accusingly, ‘You are laughing at me, Lord Carne!’

He smiled and said, ‘Only a little. It is quite refreshing, believe me, to find a lady in London who does not hang on my every word, whether it makes sense or not. But it is time to take you back to Mrs Canfield. Coker won’t talk, at least not for a while, but others may notice you have been out of sight for too long. Shall we go back?’ He offered his arm again and, with some reluctance, Francesca took it.

As they walked slowly up the lawns to the house, Marcus said, ‘There must have been some considerable change in your fortunes, Francesca. Am I to understand that you and Lord Beaudon are now reconciled? He acknowledges you as his daughter?’

‘He never denied it. It was my aunt who…refused to believe that he had married her sister, and the neighbourhood, including the Witham Court set, took its lead from her. But she was…mistaken.’

‘Mistaken? I doubt that.’ Marcus flashed her a sceptical look, but she didn’t see. Her mind was in turmoil. She had to ask, even though the subject was painfully embarrassing. ‘Lord Carne, when you came to Shelwood…after my aunt had died…and…and offered for me…’

‘Yes?’ His tone was not encouraging, but she struggled on.

‘Were you as rich then?’

‘I told you. I inherited everything about four years ago. Why do you ask?’

Colour rose in Francesca’s cheeks. How could she explain, when she didn’t even know herself why it was so important?

He waited a moment, then drawled, ‘I am not asking whether you have changed your mind, Francesca. The moment for that is past. But would your answer have been kinder, if you had known I was rich? Would you have treated me differently?’

‘Of course I would!’

The look of cynicism on Marcus’ face increased, but Francesca did not see it. She was not only totally unaware of the effect her words had on him, she hardly noticed indeed what she was saying, absorbed as she was in her own thoughts. Her resentment, her anger, the manner in which she had rejected him, had all been based on the belief that he would be marrying her for her money. Now she had just discovered that she had made another mistake about him—a more disastrous mistake than any of the rest. Whatever his motives in coming to seek her out at Shelwood, acquiring her fortune had not been one of them.

She had not only been shamefully insulting, she had been grossly unjust to him. Though she could still hardly believe it, this man beside her, whom she had called a rake and fortune-hunter, a seducer and abductor, was in fact a polished leader of society, universally spoken of as a man of integrity and wealth. An offer of marriage from him must be regarded as a signal honour. Mrs Canfield had called him a target for all the matchmakers in London. ‘You have a better chance of marrying the man in the moon!’ her father had said.

But, in that case,
why
had he come to Shelwood? Had she been wrong about his feelings? Had he genuinely been in love with her all those years ago? And had his love been re-awakened when he saw her again on the road to Witham? Her eyes softened as she stole a glance at him, a tentative smile on her lips. But he did not respond. If anything, his face grew colder.

She took herself to task for idly dreaming the impossible. How could he possibly have fallen in love with her again? In her old clothes covered in mud and weeds after clambering out of that ditch, she had hardly represented any man’s ideal. He hadn’t behaved as if he admired her, and he certainly hadn’t spoken like a man in love when he had asked her to marry him. Indeed, she had had the impression that she had hurt his dignity, not his feelings, in refusing him.

But,
if it was not to gain a fortune, why had he come at all?
She
had
to know. She turned to ask him, but was astonished to see that he was, in fact, regarding her with an expression of tired cynicism.

‘Why…what are you…? Why are you looking at me like that, Lord Carne?’ she stammered.

‘I suppose I had hoped for something better.’

‘Better? What do you mean?’

‘You made your opinion of me perfectly plain when you refused me at Shelwood. I was surprised at your vehemence, but I accepted that you did not like me enough to marry me. I was disappointed to hear you say just now that, if you had known I was rich…But it’s of no consequence. I had thought you would be different, that’s all. Come, let me escort you to Mrs Canfield.’

The colour rose in Francesca’s cheeks, but, restraining her impulse to answer him angrily, she said in her coolest tones, ‘You think I would have accepted you had I known you were rich, whatever my opinion of your character?’

‘Have you not just said so?’

‘Indeed, no! You asked me if I would have
treated
you differently, had I known you were rich, Lord Carne, not whether my answer would have been different.’

‘Aren’t you splitting hairs?’

Francesca was losing the battle to stay calm. She said with a snap, ‘Do you find it so impossible to believe that any woman could refuse an offer from the great Lord Carne? Allow me to tell you, my lord, that I find you impossibly conceited!’

‘You have found me so many things in the past, Francesca, none of them flattering, that your insults now have very little power to offend me.’

His words reminded her that she owed him some apology. She took a deep breath and said formally, ‘I have behaved very badly on several occasions, I know, and I have been at
fault in jumping to conclusions about you. I now regret many of the things I have said, especially in the library at Shelwood, and I hope you will forgive me.’

He looked at her impassively, then nodded. ‘Let it all be forgotten.’

‘Not…not quite yet. There is something I still do not understand. I now know that your motives for coming to Shelwood were not what I thought. But…I am still puzzled. Why…why did you ask me to marry you after my aunt died?’ Francesca held her breath, as she waited for his reply. It was not immediately forthcoming, so she went on, ‘You did not appear to be in love with me—indeed, you said as much at the time.’