The Cinderella Debutante (18 page)

Lord Sneyd rose slowly from his chair, but Mr Pottingham ignored both of them and went to Lucy. “Miss Sinclair, I am surprised to find you here with your sister and without a chaperone! How has this come about?”

“Your arrival is fortuitous, sir,” said Lucy, relieved but still unaccountably nervous. “These
gentlemen
saw fit to abduct us in the most despicable manner from Vauxhall because Lord Sneyd plans to fly to Scotland to marry Belinda against her wishes. I cannot imagine what has brought you to this place at this moment, but whatever the reasons, you have my heartfelt thanks.”

Mr Pottingham’s cheeks grew crimson. He strode over to Sneyd, a pugnacious set to his chin. “You are more of a scoundrel than I gave you credit for thus far!”

The object of his anger was unruffled. “You forget you are in the minority, Pottingham,” said Lord Sneyd in a silky voice. “Sir Oswald and I have no quarrel with you. If you leave at once, forgetting what you have seen, there will be no reason to suffer any
discomfort
.”

The idea of violence was unpalatable to Mr Pottingham, but his sense of injustice was aroused. He showed no sign of retreating.

“If you think I would leave these ladies here, alone, with a creature of your morals, you are mistaken! Your threats don’t frighten me. You will face the punishment you so richly deserve,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Such a pity you cannot leave matters which do not concern you well alone. Ah well, you leave me no choice—” In one movement, Lord Sneyd withdrew a small pistol from his pocket and took aim at Mr Pottingham.

Lucy, for whom events were acquiring a dreamlike quality, acted instinctively and grabbed Sneyd’s wrist as he squeezed the trigger. The deafening report of a shot filled the room, and for a heartbeat there was silence before Mr Pottingham sank to the floor.

Belinda screamed and Sir Oswald shouted, “Damn you, Julius, have you run mad?”

Lucy and Sir Oswald crouched over Mr Pottingham while Belinda began to sob and declared she felt faint at the sight of blood. Lord Sneyd looked on unmoved. The landlord came in to enquire what the devil was going on in his best parlour to be told curtly by Sneyd to mind his business if he too did not wish to be shot at. He scurried away at once.

Sir Oswald helped Lucy heave Mr Pottingham into a chair, and she examined the wound through the remnants of his ruined and bloody coat sleeve. The bullet had torn through the fleshy part of his arm. Binding the wound to stem the bleeding, she tried to reassure a half-conscious Mr Pottingham that he was not mortally injured. Then she whispered urgently to Sir Oswald, who was kneeling beside her.

“If you have any kind feelings left in you, fetch some brandy! It is a flesh wound only but matters could have been much worse if your companion’s aim had not been diverted.”

Sir Oswald swallowed hard. “The fellow’s out of his mind! I swear I never knew matters might come to this – he is insensible with rage. He must have only intended to wound Pottingham.”

“On the contrary, I had every intention of killing him,” admitted his lordship, overhearing this exchange, “and if that chit had not interfered again, I would have succeeded. I am weary of her meddling – perhaps I should make you a present of her, Hen. Not to your usual tastes but she could prove amusing to some of your friends. That idiot,” he indicated his groaning victim, “is now indisposed and matters may continue as planned.”

His mask of civility had now completely disappeared. He had just shot a man in cold blood, with murderous intent, and yet he showed no emotion. Lucy realized it was a waste of time to appeal to his conscience; he did not have one.

Outside there were more voices and Lord Sneyd straightened his neckcloth. He spoke to Belinda who was still sobbing. “It sounds as if our carriage is ready so we will leave now. I want to reach Scotland as soon as possible.”

The door flew open again and this time Lord Devlyn strode in, whip still in hand, his driving cloak liberally splattered with mud and his expression savage. Lucy’s heart leapt with joy.

“By God, Devlyn, I thought you would never arrive!” cried Sir Oswald.

“It appears my arrival is timely, nevertheless. Are you and your sister unhurt, Miss Sinclair?” There was an urgent note in his voice.

She nodded. “We are both shocked and Belinda has suffered great distress but Mr Pottingham’s intervention prevented anything worse befalling us.”

Relief swept over his face. “Then your presence here is very welcome, Pottingham. But how is this – are you injured?”

Mr Pottingham, white-faced and sipping brandy, lifted his uninjured arm to point at his assailant. “A flesh wound only, thankfully. That fiend had the audacity and dishonour to draw a pistol on an unarmed man! He intended to kill me and only Miss Sinclair’s prompt action foiled him. He shall feel the full force of the law, not only for the injuries to me, but for his treatment of these two ladies.”

“I see. His conduct grows more iniquitous by the hour.” Devlyn stripped off his gloves and advanced menacingly.

For the first time, Lord Sneyd looked uncertain. He began to edge closer to the door, but before he could reach it, the crack of a whip rang out like a second gunshot. With a cry of rage mingled with pain, Sneyd staggered and clutched his face before slumping into a chair.

Lucy watched as blood oozed between his fingers and dripped onto his cravat. With unerring accuracy, a lash of Devlyn’s whip had opened up a deep gash across Sneyd’s cheek. He stared at Devlyn and Sir Oswald with brooding malevolence.

“Damn you, Hen,” he spat out, “you have betrayed me!”

“Sir Oswald had the sense to inform me of your intentions,” said Lord Devlyn. “I deplore his involvement but in doing so he has mitigated any punishment he will receive for his earlier complicity.”

There was another confusion of voices before Toby hurried in with Gil and George.

“What’s been happening here?”

“Ah, Toby. I presume you have seen to the arrangements with the ostlers?” asked Devlyn. “Pray come and join our little gathering.”

“Good grief!” murmured Mr Pottingham, bemused by yet more arrivals. “What brings them here, Devlyn?”

“I journeyed here with Lord Ashe and we had the good fortune to meet Mr. Fernihough and Mr. Armytage. They were heading for Yorkshire but were eager to accompany us once they heard the reason for our journey.”

George looked at Mr Pottingham’s injured arm. “Looks as if that fellow has been winged and I’ve a fair notion who’s to blame.”

“Sneyd shot Mr Pottingham just before we arrived,” explained Devlyn.

“I knew it!” declared Gil. “Never liked the fellow – rotten to the core and a coward to boot.”

“You’ve overstepped the mark this time, Sneyd,” said Toby. “Never understand how you thought you’d get away it. Bound to fail.”

Sneyd was unrepentant. “My situation is such that I had nothing to lose,” he sneered.

“You were never going to succeed. An associate of mine has been following your steps and reporting back to me.” Devlyn glanced at Lucy, answering her look of surprise with a smile. “My tiger has been a useful source of information and Sir Oswald’s note served only to bring me here faster than I would have otherwise have managed.”

“By God, I thought I was being followed the day I visited Honoria!” muttered Sneyd.

“So you had the fellow tailed all this time?” cried Toby. “No wonder Jem was nowhere to be seen recently.”

George shook his head in astonishment. “But even if Sneyd is cleaned-out, what the devil made him contemplate this? Nearly everyone has debts – hardly fashionable to be without them.”

“His debts are considerable even by London standards.” Devlyn named a sum, which made Gil whistle in disbelief. “He continued to gamble heavily and he found himself in the clutches of a moneylender. He was forced to negotiate a loan from Sylvester at extortionate interest. Eventually it became imperative that some of the monies he owed were re-paid.”

“Sylvester? I am aware of that name” Mr Pottingham had recovered some colour and was listening. “His methods of obtaining settlement are unscrupulous so I hear.”

Devlyn nodded. “Indeed. And being unable to see any legitimate way out of his difficulties, Sneyd settled on this plan.” He turned to the brooding, hunched figure of Lord Sneyd. “But having arrived at this point, we must settle your fate.”

He glared at Devlyn. “What have you in mind? You are too prudish to travel outside the law for retribution.”

“The law cannot be allowed to intrude on this occasion – it is too slow and cumbersome. Besides, neither lady must be subjected to gossip.”

Sneyd shifted in his seat, fear in his eyes. The crimson stain on his neckcloth was growing as the gash on his cheek continued to drip blood, seeping through the handkerchief he held against it.

“But the fellow’s a bad lot!” argued Toby. “You can’t just allow him to hide in the country for a while.”

“No, I have made other arrangements.”

“Dear me, do you sink to organising a lynch mob, Devlyn?” asked Sneyd, his mouth crooking into a ghastly smile.

“I considered it,” he replied coolly. “Gil and George, you will accompany Lord Sneyd to Dover where there is a passage booked on
The Talbot
on the dawn crossing to Calais. Ensure that he does not disembark before the ship leaves port.” Turning to Sneyd, he said, “You will travel to the continent where you will remain. If you attempt to return to England, I will find you and I will kill you. With regard to your debts, for my own reasons I have dispatched my tiger to settle the outstanding capital. I have, er, persuaded Sylvester to forgo any interest. These terms are far more generous than you deserve and I suggest you leave before I have the opportunity to reconsider.”

Lord Sneyd could not argue; the outcome had proved better than he could hope for after Devlyn arrived with that murderous look on his face. With his debt to the moneylender settled, he could at least travel without looking over his shoulder. His situation in England was now untenable. There was no option but to agree. He gave a curt nod, collected his hat and cloak and made to leave, offering Sir Oswald a final, defiant glance.

Gil and George turned to follow, but Devlyn demanded that they stop. He removed the pistol from Lord Sneyd’s pocket, and handed it to George, saying,

“Use it if your prisoner attempts to argue.”

“Thank goodness that’s sorted,” said Toby as the door closed behind them, “I hope you’ve dealt with the fellow strongly enough, Dev.”

“He will carry my mark always, a permanent reminder that my threats are not empty ones. He’s a coward but he has enough sense to appreciate the leniency he has been granted.”

“It is a pity he will not appear in court and in general I abhor criminals escaping due punishment, but that would cause further distress to these ladies which I cannot condone,” reasoned Mr Pottingham.

“And what is to become of me?” asked Belinda in a small voice.

“My dear Belinda, you will be taken back to London by Lord Ashe,” said Devlyn. “No doubt your mother is anxiously awaiting your return. Lady Gainsford has provided her carriage and after the shocking treatment you have suffered, you should return home at once. No news of what you have endured will emerge. Lady Gainsford is to pay a visit to Mrs Wimpole so you need not fear any details coming from that quarter.”

“It is for the best,” said Lucy. “Mama must be sick with worry by now and your safe return will put her mind at ease.”

Belinda looked up. “But what about you? Are you not to accompany us?”

“I can’t leave until I’ve ensured Mr Pottingham is comfortable and, if necessary, wait until a surgeon arrives to inspect his wound. It is the least I can do to repay him.”

“Excellent creature!” said Mr Pottingham, deeply moved. “I also implore you, Miss Belinda, to return to London immediately – no hint of scandal must attach itself to your family’s good name.”

Belinda needed no further convincing. True to her nature, the unpleasant events of recent hours were receding now the danger had passed. “Oh, very well. I am exhausted and we have Lady Bellingham’s card party tomorrow evening.” She glanced at Devlyn from under her lashes. “Will you be attending, my lord?”

“That depends on how quickly I complete matters here,” he said, shooting Toby a speaking look.

“Come Miss Sinclair, let us restore you to your Mama,” said Toby. “Can’t have your complexion ruined by flying across the county at the dead of night.”

“I had not considered that,” confessed Belinda, unaware of his irony. As they left she was demanding he take her on a visit to the Tower of London.

Lucy felt suddenly very weary. She moved to stand near the fireplace, lifting a shaking hand to push back strands of hair that had come loose.

Devlyn spoke in a low voice to Sir Oswald. “Leave now, Henlow. You have my gratitude – if matters had turned out differently, I would not have dealt with you or Sneyd as leniently. It might be advisable to spend some time at your property in Northumberland. The air in London will not be beneficial to your health for a while yet.”

Sir Oswald followed the direction of his gaze and gave a start of surprise as though a thought blinding in its novelty had occurred to him.

“So that’s how the ground lies,” he muttered. “My compliments on your choice. And I had already planned to be absent from town for the next few months.” He slipped away, unnoticed by Mr Pottingham, who had struggled to his feet to clasp Lucy’s hand.

“Miss Sinclair, this evening has caused you great distress. As well as protecting your sister, you have saved my life, a deed that enhances your already outstanding qualities.” He heaved a sigh. ”But I am tired and must ask your permission to retire.”

“Please, let me ask the landlord to fetch a surgeon,” urged Lucy. “My dressing may not be sufficient and—“

“No, no. I prefer to take some broth in my room and go to bed. It is only a flesh wound and although it is painful, suffering can be beneficial if one is prepared to endure it. Besides, I don’t trust medical persons from these rustic surroundings; the possibility of fever will be greater. I’ll consult with Baillie when I return. It is unfortunate that I shall not be able to reveal the genuine reason for my injury and thereby my part in that monster’s downfall. Instead I shall claim it to be a hunting accident. Lord Devlyn will escort you safely home since I am unable to but if my doctor permits, I will call upon you tomorrow so that we may conclude the matter we discussed before I left. It will be a happy day for us both.” He kissed her hand before adding, “Do not trouble to procure a surgeon, Devlyn; I would much prefer you to escort Miss Sinclair home.”