Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (12 page)

“You were fools to have come here alone,” Matois said as he guided Annabelle in beside Charley’s horse. “Surely you must know about the wreck this morning. All manner of people have been clambering about on these cliffs.”

“We saw them,” Letty said. “We saw you rescue the dog, too, but we did not tell anyone that we knew you.”

“So you do have some sense.” He glanced at the dog, presently chasing a butterfly that flitted just beyond reach of its snapping teeth.

Charley said, “He seems to have adopted you.”

“Yes. He’s a lunatic, lean-witted fool, and I’m a relenting one. I call him Sebastian, after Viola’s shipwrecked twin in
Twelfth Night.”

She chuckled. Then, seeing him frown again, she said quickly, defensively, “I knew the scavengers would be gone by now. They don’t hang about after they’ve been wrecking, for fear the Lloyd’s agent or a customs rider will confiscate their booty.”

“Nonetheless, you were fools to ride down onto Devil’s Sand without so much as a groom to protect you,” he said bluntly. “And don’t try to cozen me into believing your father or grandfather allowed you to do such things. I won’t believe you.”

“A gentleman does not contradict a lady,” Letty murmured, astonishing Charley so much that she did not blurt out the annihilating retort that had leapt to her tongue.

Matois said, “Since I am no gentleman,
ma petite,
such strictures do not silence me. Even if your cousin happens to be accustomed to riding about on her own, she should not have brought you, not without more protection than she can provide.”

“We were in no danger,” Charley snapped. “I had my pistol, and as you saw, those men feared Jeremiah.” When Matois looked at her with much the same flintlike expression he had directed at the ruffians, she shifted uncomfortably. She knew she had been wrong to leave Teddy behind, and even more mistaken to have encouraged Letty to escape Jeb. She looked away, unable to meet that stern gaze any longer.

Gently, Matois said, “Just how many bullets does your pistol hold?”

“Two, but I have more in a pocket stitched to my saddle.”

“Excellent. I feel sure they would willingly have waited for you to reload.”

Charley bit her lower lip, then grimaced and tossed her head, saying, “How loathsome you are. I daresay you are quite right, however, at least in saying that I should not have let Letty accompany me. The truth is, however, that unrest has long been a fact of life in Cornwall. One either learns to deal with it, or one stays indoors, wrapped in cotton wool. I frequently ride alone, especially when I am in a temper, and have done since I was a child.”

Meeting his gaze again, and reading disbelief in his expression, she added ruefully, “You are right when you say Grandpapa and Papa did not approve, but in truth, they scarcely ever noticed my absences. On those rare occasions when Papa decided to act like a parent, I suffered the consequences, but being rare, they did not deter me for long. Papa’s attention span, where I was concerned, was short.” Pushing thoughts of her father to the nethermost region of her mind, she drew a breath, looked Matois in the eye, and said firmly, “I learned long ago to trust my pistol, my name, and my wits to protect me.”

“I see.” They were riding three abreast by then, and Jeremiah chose that moment to poke his head out again from Letty’s cloak. With scarcely a pause, the monkey jumped to Jean Matois’s saddle. As Matois shifted so the monkey could hunker down between his legs, its forepaws resting on the pommel, he said to Letty, “And your papa,
ma petite.
Does he also pay no heed to what you do?”

“No, sir. He would be vexed, I think, if he knew what we had done today.”

Charley, remembering times in the past when she had vexed Letty’s papa—or had been present when her Aunt Daintry had vexed him—experienced a sudden vision of Gideon Deverill that was not at all comforting. Worse was to come, however.

Letty said in a small voice, “Perhaps I had better not mention this particular incident when next I write to them at home.”

Taking a deep breath, Charley said, “Of course, you may tell them, darling. Just be sure you add that your Cousin Charley has at last learned the lesson your papa tried to teach her when she was just about your age. We will always take our grooms after this. You must be sure to say, too, just how Jeremiah frightened those men. That will make your papa laugh. Then, perhaps, he will not be so vexed.” Encountering a twinkle from Matois’s eyes, she grimaced rudely at him.

He chuckled. “Am I mistaken,
mon ange,
or do you have a healthier respect for
le père de la petite
than you had for your grandfather or your father?”

“Gideon has a way of making people mind him,” Charley said, smiling across him at Letty. “Your words, and Letty’s, made me remember that little fact just now, but I think even Gideon would admit that I am generally able to look after myself.”

“I am sure that you are.”

She looked at him, searching his expression for irony or mockery, but he seemed perfectly sincere. He caught her gaze and held it until she felt unaccustomed heat in her cheeks. Then he said thoughtfully, “You said a moment ago that you frequently ride off alone when you are in a temper.”

“I did say that.” She eyed him warily.

“Was that the case today?”

She looked straight ahead. “If you mean to tell me that people who act hastily and in an emotional dither are unlikely to use good judgment, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m not surprised. What a coxcomb you must think me to believe I would say such things to you, even if they were true.”

She looked at him again, but he met the look easily, and this time her sense of humor stirred. Smiling wryly, she said, “I suppose you think you are very clever.”

“Not at all. You have just proved that you are as intelligent and sensible as you claim to be. I have no need to tell you what you already know,
mon ange.
But that is not why I stirred these coals. I want to know why you were in a temper. I have heard, by the bye, that your grandfather died suddenly. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. The news of my father’s death, and my mother’s, proved too great a shock for him,” she added. “But if you know of his death, perhaps you also have heard that the new heir arrived yesterday.”

He did not respond at once, and for a moment she thought she had surprised him. But he said only, “I had not heard that. I merely wondered what fool would upset you after all you have so recently endured. You say he arrived yesterday?”

“Yes, and it’s not just one person but five. Mr. Alfred Tarrant brought his wife, Edythe, his two children, and his sister Elizabeth.”

Letty said, “The children are still in leading strings, sir, and not particularly amusing.” With a sigh, she added, “Most unfortunately, Cousin Edythe seems to think I ought to spend my time helping the nursery maid mind them.”

“Does she? So you do not approve of these interlopers either,
ma petite?”
Jeremiah sprawled across his upper thigh now, dozing.

Letty said, “It is not my business to approve or disapprove, sir. But I must say, I like Lord Rockland much better than any of the Norfolk Tarrants. Although,” she added thoughtfully, “Cousin Elizabeth seems pleasant enough, even if she does believe that men are all-knowing and that females must always look to them for guidance.”

“I collect that you do not believe that.”

Letty looked at Charley.

Thinking it an odd conversation to have with a man who wanted them to think him a French wrecker and smuggler, Charley said only, “The females in my family are more sensible than that. If we look to someone for guidance we do so because she, or he, is worthy to give advice.”

“And Mr. Alfred Tarrant does not fall into that category?”

“He does not.”

“If I am not being too inquisitive …”

“He put four extremely valuable hunters out into a field to make room for his commonplace hacks in the stable. His odious wife has ordered my grandmother—whose age alone ought to command more respect—to move out of the rooms she has occupied since she came to Tuscombe Park as a bride. Alfred Tarrant does not think a mere female capable of looking after
his
estates, nor is he willing even to discuss things with her that she knows more about than he does. And he expects me to be
grateful
to him for agreeing to provide a roof over my head!”

“But,
mon Dieu,
surely your father and grandfather provided for you!”

“Not a sou. Oh, no, I am mistaken. My grandfather very kindly left me three thousand pounds. There is just one small condition. Either I must be married at the time of his death, which I am not, or get married within a year thereafter.”

“I see.”

“Well, I do not! I can understand Papa’s thinking he would live a long time yet and have plenty of time to put his affairs in order, but I do think he ought to have made
some
provision for me. And Grandpapa had no excuse. Both of them, knew perfectly well that I do not intend to marry, although I must say, if the only alternative is to make my home with Cousin. Alfred and Edythe—” She broke off, giving herself a shake. “I cannot think why I am overflowing onto you like this. It is most improper.”

“I asked you,” he said simply. “I begin to see why you fled in a temper today.”

“In fairness, that was not due to Cousin Alfred but to Rockland,” she said.

“Just who the devil is this Rockland?”

“My most persistent suitor,” Charley said, smiling mischievously. “In truth, he is a fool, because I told him years ago that I won’t ever marry, but he is useful to have around, particularly in London. I frequently stay there for the Season with my great grandaunt, Lady Ophelia Balterley, but she is a bit past the age mark for gallivanting. Rockland is very good about organizing parties when I want to go to Astley’s, or to a play or concert, or some such thing.”

“I see. How far, precisely, is Lady Ophelia past the age mark?”

Letty said with a giggle, “Great-Aunt Ophelia is ninety, sir, but she doesn’t even require spectacles to read, and if one does not pay attention when she speaks, she bangs her stick on the floor. And she does not think well of men,” she added.

“Not even of this Rockland chap?”

Charley said, “Great-Aunt Ophelia finds him useful, too, I expect. At least, when she traveled to Scotland to visit my Aunt Susan—the one whose daughter owns the house on Seacourt Head—Rockland escorted her and attended to all the details.”

“If he’s so devilish considerate, how did he put you in a temper today?”

Charley hesitated. Up to that moment talking to him had seemed extraordinarily easy, but she had no wish to tell him about the scene with Elizabeth. Nor did she want to discuss that incident with Letty listening.

Their companion glanced at the child, who said instantly, “May I ride ahead? I don’t like to gallop when I’ve got Jeremiah. I’m afraid it will frighten him. But since you are holding him, sir, and since a wonderful straight stretch of road lies ahead that leads well away from the cliffs, may I gallop now, if I don’t ride out of your sight?”

Charley said, “Just beware rabbit holes, darling.”

Letty gave spur to her mount, and watching her, Matois said, “She’s a wonderful little horsewoman.”

Charley kept silent, expecting him to pick up the conversation where he had left it. Instead, after a brief pause, he said, “Tell me more about the house on the point. You say it belongs to one of your cousins, but it lies empty.”

“Seacourt House belongs to my Aunt Susan’s daughter, Melissa. She is a year younger than I am and lives with her husband and his family in Hampshire.”

“It seems a pity it’s unoccupied. The view is spectacular from up there.”

“It is a good view.” Her memories of that house not being particularly good ones, she fell silent again, waiting uncomfortably for him to repeat his earlier question, wondering what she would say to him.

He was watching Letty, but at last he said quietly, “Forgive my curiosity,
mon ange.
It has been a long while since I have spoken of private matters with anyone. I did not mean to intrude.”

“It was not an intrusion,” she said, relaxing. “I brought up the subject myself, after all. The truth is that when I flew into the boughs I was in the wrong. I don’t much like having to admit that to anyone.”

“You say it was this Rockland who put you in such a temper?”

She sighed. “He merely pointed out that I was acting like a shrew, and I took snuff. The fact is, I lost my temper with Elizabeth Tarrant over a trifle. It’s not like me to do such a thing, but the way she agrees with everything Cousin Alfred and Rockland say merely because they are men is utterly maddening. She told me that I must learn to submit to Alfred’s authority, and the fact is that if I find myself beholden to him for every groat I spend and every crumb I eat, she is quite right about that. However, I don’t think I can do it, and when she ran away in tears, and Rockland took me to task, and even said he would make my apologies for me—”

“Now that was wrong of him.”

Grateful for his understanding, she said eagerly, “I should say it was! He is
my
friend, after all, not hers. He should have sided with me.”

“He should have insisted that you apologize for yourself, and at once,
mon ange.
Where he sides is his business. Or do you count as your friends only those who agree with you?”

His words shocked her like a blast of ice water. Feeling sudden constriction in her throat, and a burning sensation in her eyes, she could neither look at him nor speak. He was forcing her to see herself more clearly than any mirror, however, and she did not like what she saw. He remained silent. At last, taking control of herself, she said, “Y-you must think me dreadfully arrogant and conceited.”

He did not answer at once, but when she braced herself to look at him again, he smiled. His voice was surprisingly gentle when he said, “Not arrogant, and certainly not conceited. I think only that St. Merryn and your father let you grow too hot of hand,
mon ange,
but the right hand on the bridle would gentle you soon enough.”