Page 9 of Escape of the Scoundrel (Escape #1)
I t was more than relief that caused her involuntary smile. She was pleased to see him. “I’m still thinking about it,” she replied to his question. “Good morning, my lord.”
“Good morning, Miss Cole. We must stop meeting like this.”
“Don’t be silly. I have never met you in a wood before.”
“Well be sure you never do so again.”
“You know, I never expected you to be quite so self-deprecating.”
“I’m not,” he said in apparent surprise. “I’m warning you of the dangers of solitary walks.”
“I was brought up in the country,” she said scornfully.
“Well, don’t let me keep you.”
“Are you going back for breakfast?”
“They don’t even begin breakfast until eleven.”
“Well, you may walk with me if you like and tell me what you think of my new idea.”
For an instant, he hesitated, and she realized she must seem horribly forward.
“Although you wouldn’t possibly be interested,” she added hastily. “I shall leave you to your own walk.”
“No, don’t,” he said, falling into step beside her. “What are you up to now?”
“Well, originally I thought I would be a governess while the children went away to school.”
“Why do you want to be a governess?”
“To feed myself and pay the school fees.”
A frown flickered on his brow.
“From my salary,” she said by way of explanation.
“My dear girl, how far do you imagine a governess’s pay stretches?”
“Well, I don’t precisely know. Is it not enough?” She felt curiously deflated.
“No,” he said flatly.
“Oh well, it doesn’t really matter, for I have thought of a better plan. I could not take the children with me if I was a governess, but if I taught at a school instead, then perhaps the children could stay and be educated at that school. It still leaves Alex alone, of course, but I’m sure I’ll come up with something. What do you think?”
He was looking at her rather oddly. “I think you should get your family’s lawyers to force your cousin Randolph to pay. I am presuming your fortune is left in trust for you.”
She frowned. How did he know about Randolph? The children, or even Lady Grandison, must have been talking to him. She might have felt ashamed, except his manner was so accepting of the situation and he was clearly on her side.
“I never heard of any lawyers,” she said honestly. “Randolph has everything.”
“But you must be housed and educated.”
She wrinkled her nose. “We don’t like being housed by Randolph. I’m convinced the winter cold and the hard work has made Lily ill. We have to look after ourselves.” She frowned. “But you know, Lady Bab made the same mistake as you. She seems to think we are much richer than we are. Oh!”
He paused when she did, his hand holding back a tree branch from her path. “What enlightenment have you received?”
“All those young men,” she said, trying not to laugh. “ That is why they were suddenly so attentive! They think I’m an heiress too... Well that is a relief.”
“You are pleased to be the object of fortune hunters?”
“Oh no, it’s just I was afraid they had recognized me from the Duck and Spoon and were playing some kind of trick.” She walked past him.
Letting the branch go, he strode along beside her. He drew in a breath. “I suppose this is really where I should apologize for kissing you.”
It was so unexpected, she could not prevent the heat burning up to her ears. At least she managed to mutter. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. I know you didn’t mean it. I expect you were foxed.”
“Oh, I was,” he said, and in spite of everything, disappointment crept into her heart. “I would otherwise have been more circumspect. Sobriety might have stopped me kissing you, though it wouldn’t have stopped me wanting to.”
“It wouldn’t?” Her whole face seemed to be on fire. “I might be flattered, only I expect one woman is much like another to men in their cups egging each other on.”
A breath of laughter escaped him. “Do you never accept a compliment?”
“I’m not perfectly sure I received one. And in any case, neither do you.”
“Oh, I never receive any.”
“Then I will tell you, you are a kind and honourable man.”
“I am not,” he said, as though revolted.
She laughed. “Then why are you helping Bab? Why did you give us your room at the inn? Along with the means to keep everyone else out?”
The heavy eyelids lifted, revealing his startling, beautiful eyes. For an instant, neither of them seemed to breathe. “I forget.”
“No you don’t. Why do you pretend to be unpleasant?”
“My dear child, I am unpleasant.”
“No you’re not, though you seem to work quite hard at appearing so. And neither am I a child.”
“True,” he agreed. “Does that mean I can kiss you again?”
“No,” she said, frowning. “Not like that.”
“Like what then?” he mocked.
“You have to mean it,” she blurted.
He stared at her. “Mean what? What do you think I meant the last time?”
“I think you meant to show the others you could immediately do what they were working up to, thereby annoying them and proving your own reputation at the same time.”
His lips curled and he moved on. “There, you see. I am unpleasant.”
His voice was mockingly victorious and yet there was some bitter truth there, too. She wanted to take his hand, hug him. But he was not a little boy to be so easily soothed.
What happened to you? At least she did not say that aloud, for she was sure he would merely walk away and never speak to her again.
“You can’t be,” she said mildly. “The children like you. If they didn’t, they would have warned me last night before you got anywhere near Illsworth’s room.”
“I hate to imagine what song that would have necessitated.”
Harriet laughed but felt obliged to defend her little sister. “It’s hard to sing while pelting along a corridor at full tilt.”
“I shall test the theory some time when I am alone and very, very bored.”
“If you expect to be bored abroad, why are you going?”
“I am preparing for all eventualities. My goal is obviously not to be bored.”
“You are escaping from boredom?” she said carefully.
“Present company excepted.”
“There is no need to be polite on my account.”
His lips twisted. “Curiously enough, I am not.”
***
T HE THOUGHT WAS SOMETHING of a blinding revelation to Sanderly. Not just that she didn’t bore him—that, after all, was insultingly faint praise—but he enjoyed her company. If he hadn’t, he would have walked on this morning without letting himself be seen. He would not have sought her out last night when he suspected her of doing Bab’s dirty work. Hell and the devil confound it, he probably wouldn’t have come to Grand Court at all if he hadn’t known she would be here.
A twinge of guilt twisted through him. He owed Bab more than that. He would have sailed without even saying goodbye, leaving her to face her marital crisis alone. Oh, he had made sure she would always be taken care of financially, that all the family homes were at her disposal whenever she wanted or needed them. But that was not being her brother.
How far had he fallen in his petulance against society? Bab had never shunned him, never deserved to be ignored, even for marrying against his advice. For some reason, it had taken this girl, a complete stranger, to make that clear to him. He had become in reality what he had pretended to be in his defensive, all-consuming jest.
And yet there had to be something of himself left. This girl didn’t give two hoots for his reputation. Nor for his title or riches, or sensual pleasures—although he was only too aware of the desire to introduce her to the latter. He amused her. She treated him as a friend when he had done nothing to deserve that honour.
Even now, she was chattering on, asking him questions about his journey. With difficulty, he dredged up some off-hand answer, but she only persevered, and he found himself talking about the wonders he had glimpsed in his military travels, and his promise to himself to go back to explore one day, about all he had learned in reading and talking to people who had explored further south than the north African coast.
Her wide eyes sparkled with interest. She asked questions and drank in his answers as though his enthusiasm was infectious.
And that was when the insidious thought hit him. That his journey would be more fun with her. That his life...
Woah! Genuinely terrified, he whipped around suddenly, increasing his pace to escape her suddenly intolerable company.
“Is it breakfast time?” she asked in amusement.
“If it isn’t, it should be.”
“I had better make sure the children are in order and that Lily doesn’t get up while my back is turned.”
“Do you never do anything for yourself?” he asked, unreasonably irritated. “Does your whole life revolve around those children?”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” she said cheerfully.
Which explained her fascination with his conversation. “Then your chances of doing anything remotely to your taste are negligible.”
She did not wilt, or quarrel. She only cast him a quick, clear look, a faint frown tugging at her pretty brow. “Why are you angry?”
“I am never angry,” he drawled.
“Yes, you are. I think it is all anger.”
Intolerable. Humiliating. Impossible. “Deluded child...” Relief was in sight. They were almost out of the woods and he could send her away with the excuse of her reputation. And never speak to her again. Which meant there were things he had to say now.
“Involve Grandison and the lawyers in your inheritance. Something is very wrong about your cousin’s behaviour. And avoid Illsworth like the plague. Never be alone with him or give him any advantage. Now run along before anyone suspects I have ruined you.”
He strode away from her, heading back into the wood in the vague direction of the stables, carrying with him his last sight of her wide eyes, surprised and hurt and...
Who the devil cares? he asked himself savagely. I don’t. The sooner I get away from here the better .
An hour later, he was throwing his clothes into bags when a peremptory knock heralded the invasion of his sister.
“Oh, Snake, the most...” She broke off, taking in the scene before her. “What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“But—but where are you going?”
“Harwich,” he said patiently. “In the first instance.”
“But...but you don’t even know now when the next ship will sail where you want to go, let alone whether you may book passage on it. I thought you had given up the idea.”
“I postponed it—at considerable inconvenience and cost, I might add—in order to do what you asked of me. Having done so, I feel entitled to the reward of departure.”
“But James is still cool, because I laughed with Cedric yesterday evening, and I still don’t have my pin!”
“Tell James. He clearly does not want to lose your affections, so you might as well be honest. It’s only a cravat pin.”
“It is a love token! Or at least it was. Why was I such a fool?”
“Look, Illsworth doesn’t have it. Whether stolen or pawned, it’s not coming back to haunt you. Things get lost all the time.”
“Yes, but it might. Harriet and I worked out that he could have had the pin about his person while—” She broke off, eyeing Sanderly with a touch of guilt.
“While she searched his room. If it hadn’t been for her family look-outs, he would have caught her there.”
“Oh, don’t, Snake. I feel so horrible about it already. I just could not keep him there any longer, short of hanging onto his arm and that would hardly have gone down well with James!”
“Or me,” Sanderly said austerely. “The point is—”
“Oh, I know what the point is,” she interrupted. “You needn’t lecture me in that odiously self-righteous manner when Alicia Eldridge practically sits on your lap in public.”
“Shocking, is it not? Some women just court notoriety. Stay away from Illsworth.”
“Stay away from Mrs. Eldridge,” Bab retorted. “She’s poisonous.” She laughed. “From a snake-bite no doubt.”
“Leave it, Bab,” he said irritably. “I needed a reason to be here when I had already declined, and that reason should not be the marital idiocy of my sister.”
Bab’s jaw dropped. “Oh, Snake.” She sat down on the bed. “Only it’s not very kind to Mrs. Eldridge, is it?”
He shrugged. “She understands the game better than most. And if it makes you feel better, I haven’t laid a finger on her for months. Nor do I intend to.”
“You should tell her, not me.”
“I did. I daresay her wrath will become another reason for my fleeing the country.”
“Then don’t go. Don’t let them drive you out of your own seat, your own country.”
Sanderly dropped his hairbrushes into the top of the bag. “My dear Bab, wherever did you get the notion that anyone at all influences what I choose to do?”
“God knows,” she said bitterly, springing to her feet once more. “Must have been from the sweet little boy you used to be. Goodbye, Snake. Enjoy your journey.”
“Enjoy yours,” he said to her retreating back.
The door slammed, which gave him no satisfaction. After all, he had just alienated the last member of his family who tolerated him. His last sibling. His last tie with his parents and Hugo and their shared past.
Without warning, he swung up his right foot and kicked his bag off the bed. It flew across the room, emptying its contents with a clatter and landed upside down beneath the window.
***
B REAKFASTING IN HER bedchamber with the children, Harriet was impressed to see them in clothes that not only almost fitted them but looked good as new. Admittedly, they were a trifle old-fashioned, but the children didn’t care for that. On the contrary, even Alex seemed rather proud.
“How smart you look!” Harriet exclaimed.
“Her ladyship kept things from every stage of her own children’s growing up,” said Mildred, who had escorted them to the room to learn Harriet’s wishes. “It’s good to see them being used.”
Harriet hoped her godmother would not miss them. “I expect we’ll go out for the morning,” she told the maid.
“Me too,” Lily said eagerly.
“We’ll try you out first,” Harriet said, which turned out to be a good if worrying decision. For Lily, having walked three times around the bedchamber in her dressing gown, sank back onto the bed with tears in her eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry, Lil, it will take time,” Harriet said, putting her arm around her. “Have a good rest this morning, and then perhaps in the afternoon you will be up to getting dressed and sitting in the garden.” Only, it was a long way to the garden...
“I could give you a piggyback,” Alex said cheerfully, which at least led to insults and banter while Harriet urged Lily back into bed, where she soon fell asleep.
She accompanied the other children outside to the grounds, where they played hide and seek in the maze and then tried pall-mall on the lawn. It was here that Lady Grandison found them, beaming to see them in such high spirits.
“Lily is still very tired,” Harriet told her.
“I’ll send for Dr. Bagshott. I daresay he has a tonic of some kind that will help. But it seems to me you have all been shabbily treated by Randolph Cole. To call it no worse.”
“Do you know who my parents’ solicitor is?”
Lady Grandison blinked. “No, but Sir John might. We’ll speak to him later. Now, my dear, about your plans to become a governess....”
Harriet sighed. “They won’t work, will they? Even if anyone would employ me, I would not earn nearly enough to send any of them to school.”
“I don’t believe you would,” Lady Grandison said, with rather obvious relief.
“I was thinking a better plan would be to teach in a school. They might not care there that I cannot read music properly—I daresay they will have enough teachers who can. And I expect I could keep the girls with me, even if it used up all my salary. Which still leaves Alex. Would it be awful of me to ask Sir John for a loan to send Alex to school? It would not need to be Eton or Harrow, and I could easily pay him back as soon as I am five-and-twenty.”
“That is one plan, and I daresay Sir John would go along with it,” Lady Grandison said cautiously. “But perhaps you should not rush into anything just yet? Consider that you might wish to be married instead.”
“I don’t,” Harriet said in surprise.
“Whyever not?”
“Well, consider being married to Cousin Randolph, for example. There would be no escape then!”
“No, but you need not marry Randolph. In fact, I would counsel strongly against it! You are a very charming and beautiful girl. Any number of men will wish to marry you, so you might, you know, take your pick. Then you may be happy as well as financially comfortable, and your husband will keep Randolph in line.”
Harriet gazed at her with some respect. “You have thought it all out.”
“Well, I could not quite like the idea of you going for a governess, not even for a few years. I feel this is a much more comfortable plan. There are many eligible gentlemen at Grand Court just now, and then there are several other parties elsewhere before the spring when I can give you a proper Season. Which is always what your dear mother and I planned.”
“But that would mean months of us living off you! And you know, ma’am, I find I do not like to be...dependent.”
Lady Grandison sighed and took her arm. “It is a fact of life, my dear, that females are always dependent on men to some degree. Particularly females of our station in life. At least this way, you get to choose which man to be dependent upon, and that is no small thing, believe me. You see how it worked out for you parents, and for Sir John and me. And there need be no worry about the children or a home for them with you until they fly the nest.”
“That is true. But I cannot think anyone would want me as a wife. I am far too managing and outspoken and—”
“Don’t be silly, child. I could name five men who are already courting you.”
Harriet laughed. “Only because they somehow acquired the idea that I am wealthy!”
Lady Grandison blushed. “You are not poor. I merely exaggerated a trifle, just to obtain you a little attention to start you off. I don’t mean you should necessarily marry Dolt or Fool, I mean Poole, although they are actually well bred enough. I would not have Wriggley, though. But they have served their purpose. More serious men have noticed your popularity and therefore you. Sir Ralph and Mr. Thornton, for example. I’m sure even Sanderly was watching you in the drawing room before he vanished.”
“Was he?” Harriet was surprised but did not like the wistfulness in her own voice.
“Not that I would wish him on you,” her godmother said hastily. “Not quite the thing for all he’s an earl. But—”
“What does society have against Lord Sanderly?” she asked bluntly. “Lots of gentlemen are rakes or just rude. Why do they pick on him?”
“Oh, it all started with him being cashiered from the army. No one really knows why —or, actually, whether he was cashiered or resigned. But either way, it was dishonourably. Either he was a cheat, or a traitor, or struck a general, or all three. Anyway, he came home in disgrace to take up his late brother’s place as earl. He pays little attention to the ton, making very erratic appearances to bankrupt the foolish at dice or flaunt lovers in front of their husband’s noses.”
“Why do men play him if he cheats? Why does he have lovers if he so awful? Why did you invite him?”
Lady Grandison began to look a little flustered, patting her hair and walking a little faster. “One must respect the title, and the old earl... I didn’t think he’d accept, and he didn’t. Only then he changed his mind. But you must see it brings a little cachet if someone refuses every other hostess and then attends my party.”
“Even if he cheats and rakes his way around it?”
“My dear,” Lady Grandison said in shocked tones. “I don’t believe he has. Besides, he still means to flee the country. My maid said he was packing.”
“Today?” Harriet’s dismay was quite out of proportion to her acquaintance with Sanderly. And she had not hidden it. Her godmother’s shrewd gaze lingered on her face with mingled alarm and pity.
“You must not even look in that quarter. I agree he can be charming when he chooses, and he can certainly reduce the room to tears of laughter—though I did prefer his humour before it grew quite so barbed...”
“I am not looking in any quarter,” Harriet said hastily. “I just feel a lot of people who criticize him are like pots calling the kettle black. None of it is my concern. I like Sir Ralph, though his eyes are terribly sad. What is his story?”
“Crossed in love, I believe,” Lady Grandison said, “or so his mother once told me. But he is not at all melancholic in his manner and you could do a great deal worse...”
Harriet let her chatter, glad to have distracted her. In fact, she had no intention of marrying anyone...although perhaps she really should consider it? Her godmother was right that marriage would open the way to her own money and provide a home and security for the children. Those were no small things. Was it selfish of her to long for independence and freedom?
At any rate, she rather thought she had been na?ve about the freedoms of a poorly paid governess, and it was quite possible that a school teacher would have less yet. No wonder people married for money and convenience.
Could I ? She let a line of all the single gentlemen she had ever met drift through her mind. When she tried to imagine them sitting by the fireside with her, walking with her, even dancing with her, she could not do it.
And then, without warning, she remembered Sanderly’s insolent kiss. And before she could avoid it, she envisioned him lying beside her in bed, his blue eyes blazing as he took her into his arms, and her whole being melted in a torrent of half-understood desires.
Oh dear God, what does this mean?