The Dashing Miss Fairchild (25 page)

"Gracious!'’ Lady Kingsmill replied behind her fan, watching with narrowed eyes as the man in question led that determined miss through a sedate minuet. “I fancy I need not tell you what that means. He must be considered ruthless. You have made a dangerous enemy, my dear. You must realize that for him, the stakes are enormously high. Promise me that you will depend upon Mr. Talbot to see you through this ordeal. He is one you can trust with your life."

"I daresay Mr. Talbot has had quite enough of rescuing me from the brier patches I find myself in. Witness the injury he sustained to his arm.'’ Clare turned to see Richard wending his way to her side. Was that concern or pity for her in his eyes? Most likely he thought her past praying for, yet quite well enough for amusement. Or was she being unfair to him?

Yet she could never forget his expression when faced with what propriety dictated regarding their involvement. What bleak despair had shone from his eyes as they climbed up the footpath from the canal; the green had turned almost black. Her pride insisted she attain more regard than this if entering a marriage. She desired an abiding love.

She behaved like a silly schoolgirl plucking petals from a daisy. Did he love her, did he not? For all her years, she felt vulnerable, unsure of herself.

"Sorry. There is a crush near the refreshment table. Here, drink this. I fancy you still have need of it."

Talbot handed her a glass of ratafia, observing closely until she had consumed most of it before speaking again. “The thing we must decide now is what we do next."

"I say that you deliberately lure the man on,” inserted Lady Kingsmill in a confiding tone.

"It seems we have done that, ma'am, and look what happened. Mr. Talbot nearly was killed.'’ A shiver darted down Clare's spine at the very thought.

Nothing could be decided during the ball. To preserve an outward appearance of normality, both Clare and Mr. Talbot felt required to dance.

When Sir Henry Berney sought Clare, she couldn't help but glance in Richard's direction. Her eyes gleaming, she went off to the dance floor in better spirits. He seemed most annoyed; she could only hope it was because she danced the waltz with Sir Henry.

The third dance he had so audaciously demanded, Clare insisted they sit out. “I will not offer any more food for the tabbies to devour. It seems to me they have had quite enough on their plates as it is."

He had agreed with a swiftness that she found disconcerting. He might have protested just a little, she thought with total irrationality. She led him to Lady Kingsmill's side, preventing any private conversation for the moment.

The hour was late before Richard brought her to the house in the Royal Crescent. He dismissed Bennison with but a lift of a brow.

"It is too late to think now, Mr. Talbot. If we are to plan, I fear you had best appear in the morning when my brain is better able to function.” Clare gave him a rueful smile while she edged her way to the stairs. “I shall look forward to deciding our best strategy then.” She pretended to yawn, fearing, yet desiring to be alone with him. What if he assumed that horrid expression again? The very thought proved more than she could bear. She turned away, preparing to make her way up the steps to her room.

"Not yet. You cannot look like an angel, then elude me.” He reached out to touch her arm, stopping her in her flight.

She spun about, a half smile quivering on her lips. “You dare say that after demanding three dances with me? The gossips shall have a wonderful time debating the meaning of that, I am bound, even if we managed to sit one of them out by Lady Kingsmill. Outrageous man!"

He slowly drew her into his arms, cradling her gently close to him. “Let them talk. We shall show them soon enough.” He tilted her face up to his, covered her lips with his own, and drew the sweetness from her to strengthen his resolve. He must have her, and have her he would. A taste was not nearly enough to satisfy his craving.

Yielding, forgetting all about the particular dreadful expression that so depressed her when she considered it, Clare returned his kiss with fervent ardor. Her passion kindled, she quite succumbed to his charm and expertise, melting against him in spite of all her resolve to the contrary.

"Well, I daresay you have sunk quite below what is acceptable, dear Clare! That I should see such licentious behavior in the very house where I reside. I never!” Venetia stood just inside the door, her body fairly quivering with indignation.

Focusing on her houseguest, Clare blinked, then hastily withdrew from Richard's arms. “Good evening, Venetia. I see you managed to get yourself home in safety. Please go up and I shall join you directly.'’ The polite words were spoken firmly, with a thread of steel through them.

Venetia sputtered, tossing a dark look at Mr. Talbot, then glaring at Clare. When neither of them added anything to the sternly worded request, she flounced up the stairs in high dudgeon.

Richard swiftly reached out to touch Clare's face, stroking it lightly with a gentle finger. “Do not allow her to vex you, my dear. If my suspicions are correct, this will all be over before long."

Clare glanced up the stairs where she knew Venetia waited, then back to his precious face again. “Over? I daresay you are right. Nothing lasts forever, or so I've been told.” She shivered, then backed away from him, turning and running up the stairs as quickly as possible.

Richard stood a moment, watching her fluid, graceful movements. She was quicksilver, and just as elusive. What had flashed into her mind before she left him? Nothing good. Blast that Godwin woman. He had a score to settle with her. He could not permit her to cut up Clare's peace as she did. Clare was too kind, too tolerant and caring to do what had to be done. But he would see to it. He shut the door behind him, approving that Bennison had silently appeared to lock up for the night.

Upstairs, Clare entered the drawing room with a dangerous light in her eyes. Unfortunately, Venetia failed to take note of that militant gleam.

"I believe you were invited here to be my guest and companion. Is that not true?” Clare said in the most dulcet of tones.

Venetia fiddled with the tassel of her fan. “Yes.” Raising her face, she bestowed a defiant look at Clare. “However, you need someone to point out the pitfalls of the path you choose."

"At no time was anything said about your being my chaperon? Or the guardian of my morals?” At Venetia's reluctant nod, Clare continued, “I shall warn you only once. If there is a repeat of tonight's manners, I shall request you to leave. Is that clear?"

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Clare spun about and marched to her room, shutting her door firmly behind her with a decisive snap.

What had he meant by his behavior tonight? she wondered as she dropped her fan and reticule on the dresser. Her hopes had grown with each touch, each kiss, until she knew she was dangerously close to commitment.

Priddy entered, yawning hugely as she crossed to assist her mistress. Thankful her maid was in a silent mood, Clare allowed her to help her from her gown and put things away, then brush her hair before she said, “Get to bed, Priddy. I shall see you in the morning, I trust."

Once the door was closed again, Clare slipped on her dressing gown and wandered to the window to stare out into the night. Linkboys could be seen here and there escorting people home from the ball and other entertainments. The lights bobbed up and down, reminding her of demented glowworms.

"It will all be over soon, he said. Does he refer to the plot against Baby William and Lady Millsham? Or does he mean the attraction between us? I vow he must be the most aggravating man alive.” With this off her chest, she found her way to her bed and slid beneath the covers positive that she would not sleep a wink.

Not so. The next thing she knew, Priddy entered with her morning chocolate. A glimmer of sun filtered through clouds to cheer the day.

"Good! You slept late. The ball must have been prodigiously wonderful. Baskets of flowers came for you this morning. Mr. Talbot and Sir Henry for two. Another with a sealed note.” Priddy sniffed her disapproval at any gentleman who would spoil her pleasure.

Clare drank her chocolate, wondering why she felt gloomy in spite of the reasonably pleasant day outside. Then she recalled what had happened before going to bed.

"Is Miss Godwin up yet?"

"That one? I should say so. She went out for a morning walk. At the moment, I believe she is in the dining room attacking her breakfast. Nothing wrong with her appetite."

"I must speak with her.” Precisely what she might say, Clare had not decided. Her own guilt at her conduct had been partly responsible for her angry words of last night. She had lashed out at Venetia with good cause, and yet had she not been blameworthy as well? Scandalous behavior, indeed, for one who had always been held up as an example for proper manners.

Arrayed in a favorite gown of jonquil muslin with a fetching ruff at her neck, Clare skimmed down the steps positive she looked more serene than she felt.

At the door to the dining room, she paused. Venetia sat before a plate showing the remains of an excellent breakfast. Did that perhaps mean that the scene of last night had not affected her as deeply as Clare?

"About last night...” Clare gathered the words for an apology. She feared she had been too harsh on Venetia. There could be no mistake about Clare's guilt, nor her own feelings of blame in all that happened. Chagrined, she had lost sight of that last night, in Richard's arms while being soundly kissed. Before she could commence her apology, Venetia stood up, advancing upon Clare with an air of righteous pique.

"I have considered it at great length, dear Clare. I feel it my duty to keep you from a highly improper liaison with Mr. Talbot. What do you know of him, pray tell? He is a practiced seducer, that is plain. Something tells me that I do not know the whole of it. But consider this, my dear, you made that call on Millsham Hall together. You visited his mother—and did he propose anything honorable? No. You traipsed off with him to Marlborough, then remained at the inn overnight when collecting Lady Millsham. All in all, my dear, you are hardly the proper lady I thought you to be.” She waggled her finger beneath Clare's nose, while not bothering to veil her distaste for such sordid behavior.

The list of social wrongs had Clare gasping with outrage. How well it was that Venetia knew nothing of the canal trip in the narrow boat. She would have had a spasm!

While the basic facts were true, surely Clare had a right to expect that her houseguest would have more faith in her virtue. Small thanks she won for risking life and limb to restore a young peer to his rightful place! She was about to counter with a few home truths, when a deep voice from behind her cut through the air.

"I believe you have said more than enough, Miss Godwin.'’ Richard Talbot stepped into the dining room, drawing close to Clare as though to protect her from further insults. “It is past time that you take yourself off from here. Today!” he barked in a voice accustomed to giving orders to those who jumped to obey him.

Venetia looked to Clare, quite as though she expected her hostess to rise to her defense. When Clare stood in silent anger, Venetia flounced from the room, tossing her napkin in a crumpled heap on the floor. “Well! If that is the thanks I get for trying to salvage dear Clare's reputation from the likes of you, I have no desire to remain in this benighted house."

But something happened on her way to the stairs. She paused, her shoulders slumping a shade. It occurred to her that her family had forbidden her to darken their doors again, that her Aunt Peasely had been so thoughtless as to die, and she was now quite alone. Turning to face Clare again, she said in a shaken voice, “But I have no place to go. Besides, you cannot live here alone. It would be vastly improper."

Fearing that she would forgive the harpy, Richard stepped in front of Clare to shield her from that look of entreaty. His stern face offered no change of heart to Venetia. “I should have thought that might have manifested itself before you launched into your tirade against a woman who is as good, kind, and gentle as you are spiteful. Pack your things. Something tells the that a shelter will turn up that you had not considered. Remember that Lady Millsham resides here now, and as a widow with spotless reputation, she will do well enough for a chaperon even though young. Besides, it is entirely possible that Miss Fairchild will have little need for such a one before long."

Absorbing that cold, nasty smile, Venetia whirled about and marched up the stairs with her dignity barely intact.

Listening to the orders flung to one of the maids from her now departing guest, Clare turned upon Richard. “I fear that was ill done of you, sir. I cannot think as to where she will go, for she has scarcely a feather to fly with. I wonder if there is anyone in her family who will relent and take her back."

"I've no doubt but what she alienated the lot of them.” Richard studied the closed expression on Clare's face, wondering if he had angered her. Yet he had found it impossible to contain his ire when he heard that ... that shrew speak as she did. For her to say such drivel to a fine lady like Clare Fairchild was beyond belief.

"I felt sorry for her.” Clare wandered across the hall to the study, her appetite totally gone for even a bite of breakfast.

"You will not change your mind."

"That sounds remarkably like an order, sir. You have no right to give such in my house.” She tore her eyes from him, strolling to the window overlooking the green while wondering what he had meant about the business of her not requiring a chaperon much longer. She turned at a rustle by the door.

"Good morning, Miss Fairchild, Mr. Talbot. I have decided that I cannot tolerate being cooped up in the house another minute. What with the upheaval in Miss Godwin's room, I suspect the baby will never nap. I intend to take him for a breath of air.” There was a hesitancy in her statement not missed by Clare or Richard.

"Let me have Priddy bring down my pelisse, and I shall join you.” Clare walked over to pull the rope for her maid.