A Regency Invitation to the House Party of the Season (15 page)

And she must do it now, before the shooting party returned. She rose, smoothing her skirts automatically. Then she walked smartly down the stairs to the floor below and tapped softly on the door to Marcus’s prison.

‘Who is it?’

‘It is I, Dent,’ she said. ‘It is Amy,’ she added, more softly. She heard the key turning in the lock. ‘Do not open the door,’ she said quickly. ‘You never know who may come upon us.’

She knew it would be easier to tell him her disappointing news if she did not have to look into his face. She waited until she heard the key turn once more. ‘I have come to tell you…Forgive me, sir, I have failed you. I have searched, but I have found nothing.’ She stopped, waiting for some kind of response. There was total silence behind the heavy door. ‘But there is just one chance,’ she went on, trying to sound more confident than she felt. ‘If there is proof, he may have it on his person. I will search again as soon as he is gone down to dinner.’

‘No!’ Marcus’s cry was a mixture of fury and exasperation. ‘For God’s sake, Amy, take no more risks!’

The anxiety in his voice made her heart turn over. He was truly concerned about what might happen to her. It was only a friendly concern, no doubt, but it made her feel…cherished. ‘I will return as soon as I can, to tell you what I have found,’ she said quietly.

‘No, don’t come here again. Not once the shooting party has returned. It is too dangerous.’

‘How else am I to tell you—?’ She stopped at the sound of Marcus’s heavy sigh.

‘You are incorrigible, Amy Devereaux. Where will I find you? Let me be the one to take the risks. I will come to you.’

‘You cannot. The only way to my room is by the servants’ stair. You would be seen.’

‘Somewhere else, then,’ he said sharply. ‘I swear I will not speak to you if you come back here.’

‘Well, I—Perhaps we could meet on the roof? The servants are not permitted to go up there. And there is no access from the servants’ quarters to the staircase.’ She heard a low laugh from the other side of the door.

‘It sounds like an ideal spot for an assignation. Are you sure you dare to meet me in such a place?’

Amy was not in the mood for teasing. What was he about? His very life could be at stake. ‘I will not fail you,’ she said seriously. ‘Wait for me on the roof. After the dinner hour. I will come to you as soon as I can.’

Miss Saunders was still reading to the ladies when Amy arrived back on the roof. She did read beautifully, in a low, melodious voice. Amy paused to listen, halfway up the stairs. No one would know she was there. Just for a moment, she wanted to forget all this interminable intrigue, to forget about her missing brother, to forget the dangers surrounding Marcus Sinclair. Listening to that lovely voice reading Shakespeare’s sonnets, Amy could pretend that she was a lady again, and everything was normal.

But it was not normal.

The sound of men’s voices drifted up to her. Someone was coming. Amy scuttled up the stairs on to the roof and hurried across to the Countess.

Sarah glanced in the direction of Miss Saunders. Lady Quinlan was listening. Miss Lyndhurst’s eyes were closed and her head had fallen forward a little. Eliza Ebdon was standing apart, looking thoroughly bored. Sarah whispered, ‘Look concerned, Amy. I want them to believe I am scolding you.’

Amy bowed her head meekly and laced her fingers together.

‘Did you find anything?’

‘No. Nothing at all. Perhaps there is nothing to find.’

‘I think you may have been looking in the wrong place, Amy dear. That child I saw…that grubby little urchin. He gave William a paper. I am sure of it.’

Amy looked up in surprise, just as Miss Saunders began the next sonnet.
‘Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments…’

‘Amy! Remember you are being scolded.’ Sarah started to wag her finger. ‘William kept looking round, to make sure no one was watching him. I am sure it is something important. Why else would he speak to a filthy child? He—Why, you are returned early, my lord!’

The Earl of Mardon and Major Lyndhurst were striding out on to the roof. Miss Lyndhurst sat up with a convulsive start and put her hands to her lace cap. Miss Saunders abruptly stopped reading and busied herself with putting her book into her bag, her cheap bonnet hiding her face from view.

Sarah crossed to meet her husband, who lifted her hand and gallantly kissed her fingers. She wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Fie, my lord! But you are in no fit state to wait on ladies!’

The Earl laughed. ‘Did I not warn you, Anthony? In your haste, you have given my wife cause to upbraid me.’

Lady Quinlan giggled. ‘Do I take it that my husband is returned also?’

‘Aye. But he said he would prefer to rid himself of the dirt of the chase before attending on the ladies. He will be in his bedchamber, I imagine.’

‘I should think so, indeed,’ snapped Miss Lyndhurst, looking daggers at the Major.

Lady Quinlan rose and strolled elegantly across to the cupola. ‘It is really much too hot up here.’ She folded her parasol. ‘I think I shall go downstairs into the cool for a while. Pray excuse me.’

The Earl and his wife exchanged a knowing glance, but neither spoke.

Major Lyndhurst seemed to have noticed nothing. He walked across to the chair that Lady Quinlan had vacated and moved it a little closer to the companion. Sitting down, he said, ‘Pray do not allow me to interrupt your reading, Miss Saunders. How does it continue?
“Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove.”
Admirable sentiments, are they not?’

Miss Saunders bent to her bag once more and began to rummage around in it. She had gone very pale. It seemed that she could not find her book.

The Major reached out a hand. ‘May I help you, ma’am?’ Although Miss Saunders was now clutching the bag tightly, he seemed to be about to remove it from her grasp when Miss Lyndhurst’s cane struck him full across the knuckles.

‘That’s quite enough of that, Anthony Lyndhurst. No proper gentleman would ever pry into a lady’s bag. I cannot think what has come over you.’

The Major tried to ignore her. ‘Miss Saunders, may I invite you to—?’

Miss Lyndhurst got up from her chair in a remarkably sprightly fashion. ‘Miss Saunders, please have the goodness to go below and lay out my evening gown. I have no need of you here for the present.’

Miss Saunders rose gracefully to her feet and gathered up her bag and her parasol. ‘As you wish, ma’am.’

The Major offered her his arm. ‘Let me help you downstairs with your bag, Miss Saunders.’

‘Pray do not trouble yourself, Anthony,’ Miss Lyndhurst said sharply. ‘Miss Saunders is perfectly well able to descend two pairs of stairs without your assistance. I, on the other hand, would welcome the use of your arm for a turn around this rooftop of yours. I have been waiting all afternoon for a gentleman’s company. Come. You may point out all the landmarks to me as we go.’

To Amy’s surprise, the Major said not a word, though his neck had gone rather red. Perhaps he dared not speak, lest he insult the old lady. He simply bowed and offered his arm.

‘Thank you, Anthony,’ Miss Lyndhurst said with a bright smile. She waved her ear trumpet in the general direction of the lake. ‘Interesting stretch of water, that. Do you take many trout?’

Marcus heard footsteps in the bedchamber and the sound of the key in the lock. He held his breath. Was this the moment?

The door swung open. ‘I dare say you’ll be wanting a bite to eat, Mr Marcus?’

Timms! ‘Is it to be my last, Timms, before I’m consigned to bread and water?’

‘I don’t know about that, sir. The Major’s not been…er…quite himself today. Drank a deal too much brandy last night. Must have had something on his mind, I suppose.’ Timms looked sideways at Marcus. ‘I can’t imagine what it might have been.’

Marcus gave a bark of laughter. ‘You are an old villain, Timms. Am I to conclude that the Major has a sore head today?’

‘That’s not for me to say, sir.’

‘How was his shooting?’

‘Ah…’ Timms hesitated. ‘Well, to be frank, Mr Marcus, the Major’s eye was not in today. Not up to his usual standard.’

Marcus grinned. Poor Anthony. If he had been overindulging in brandy, he probably had a terrible head. And that would account for his having slept through Amy’s visit to the dressing room. If only Marcus had known. He could have saved them both a deal of anxiety.

‘So, what happens now, Timms? My trial was postponed last evening. Does it continue tonight?’

‘I don’t know, Mr Marcus. Truly I don’t. But the Major was planning to talk to his lordship about it. That I do know.’

‘You mean Lord Mardon?’

‘Aye, sir. Hasn’t done so yet, I don’t think. His lordship will take it mighty serious, us hiding a fugitive.’

Marcus tried to look grave. But that was not how he felt. John was an upright, level-headed man. He would make sure Anthony’s temper did not rule him. With John involved, Marcus would get a fair hearing. Whatever might happen afterwards.

He squared his shoulders and raised his eyebrows at the valet. ‘Can’t imagine what happened to those promised victuals. Why, a man could die of starvation in this room!’

B
y the time Amy reached the foot of the spiral staircase, it was very late, much later than she had intended. She removed her spectacles and put them in her pocket. Carefully shielding her candle, she started up. Would Marcus be there? Would he have waited so long?

There was no one in the cupola. The circular benches were empty. He had not trusted her enough to wait.

She paused on the top step with her hand on the metal rail. She had to find him, to tell him.

‘Amy!’ His shadow filled the open door to the roof. Without another word, he reached for her hand and pulled her through into the warm night air, closing the door behind them. She saw that he had taken some of the long leather cushions from the benches in the cupola to serve as a seat. There was a clear impression of his body on them. He had been lying full length, waiting for her.

He blew out her flickering candle and put the candleholder down. ‘We have no need of feeble candles. Look above you. The sky is full of stars.’

Amy sank on to the makeshift seat and glanced up. The heavens looked enormous tonight, and so very clear.
There was much more light than she would have expected.

‘I have it,’ she whispered urgently.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I have the proof you need. Here.’ She took the paper from her sleeve and pressed it into his hand.

He unfolded it. ‘I cannot read a word by this light,’ he said impatiently.

‘You should have allowed me my candle, sir.’

‘Amy, this is no time for exercising your wit on me. Tell me. What does it say? And where did you find it?’

‘Some grubby child delivered it to Mr Lyndhurst-Flint during the shoot today. The note does not actually bear his name, but I found it in the inside pocket of his shooting jacket.’ She ignored Marcus’s furious intake of breath. ‘There was no risk, I promise. It was the work of but a moment to steal it. It is a demand for money owed. For the attack on Frobisher. It says that, unless the money is paid, the writer will ensure that Mr Marcus Sinclair learns all the facts about the attack on Frobisher. It warns that Mr Marcus Sinclair is deadly both with the sword and with the pistol.’

‘Ah.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘So that was why William was so desperate to borrow that money. He needed it to pay the man he had hired to carry out the attack on Frobisher. You are right, Amy. This note is clearly intended as a reminder of debts outstanding. The writer must be somewhere nearby, waiting his chance. If William does not pay up, his accomplice will betray him.’

‘And this note gives us proof that your cousin is guilty of the attack.’

‘Yes. No. Damnation! If William’s name is not on the note, it gives us no proof at all against him.’

‘But we do have proof. I found it in his pocket. I can tell the Major so.’

‘Amy, you cannot.’ He sat down beside her. He was very close now. ‘William would surely deny it. Anthony could never take the word of a servant against the word of a member of the family.’

‘But he would take the word of a lady, would he not?’

‘You cannot tell him who you are. It would be folly.’

She frowned up into his eyes. ‘Major Lyndhurst has to know the truth. If that is the only way, I shall do it.’

Marcus shook his head and let out a long sigh. ‘Yes, I do believe you would. If I needed any more proof that you are not like other young ladies, my beautiful idiot, you have just provided it. You are one in a million, Amy Devereaux. And you will
not
betray yourself to Anthony. I insist on having your word on that. We will find another way.’ He pushed the note into his pocket and cupped her face with both hands. ‘Your word, Amy?’

‘
Is
there another way?’ she said in a small voice.

He smiled faintly. ‘I will not be diverted, you know. There must be a way. And we will find it.’ He smoothed his thumbs back and forth across her cheeks. ‘I shall not let you go until I have your promise…even if I have to wait all night.’ He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her answer.

‘You are a tyrant, Marcus Sinclair.’

‘No doubt. But, on this, I mean what I say. You will not ruin your reputation to save me. Promise me, Amy.’

‘I—’

‘Please, Amy.’

She could not deny him any more. Not when he asked in that voice. ‘Very well. You have my word.’

He smiled with relief and dropped his hands.

Amy felt bereft. She tried to smile at him. ‘Is it true?’

‘Is what true?’

‘Are you deadly?’

‘Compared with William? Yes, I imagine I probably am. Unlike the rest of us, William never served in the army.’

‘Will you call him out?’

Marcus rose and began to pace. He raked a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t know. He is my cousin. And John’s brother. But—’ Marcus turned back to Amy. Taking both her hands, he pulled her to her feet. ‘Enough of that, my dear Miss Devereaux. If this note is as clear as you say, then at least it will prove to Anthony that I am no cowardly assailant.’

‘That matters a very great deal to you, does it not?’ she asked softly.

‘Yes. Yes, it does. Anthony Lyndhurst is my closest friend. The thought that he no longer trusts me…’

‘But why did he not believe you? You say he is your friend. It makes no sense.’

‘We quarrelled.’

‘Over this?’

‘No,’ Marcus said harshly. ‘I do not wish to speak of it.’

Amy said nothing. She could feel the tension in Marcus’s fingers. Without thinking, she began to rub her thumbs gently across his palms.

His deep groan found an echo in the pit of her stomach, as if they were connected by a taut, singing wire.

‘Oh, God! Amy!’ He pulled her roughly into his arms and began to kiss her hungrily.

She did not try to resist. She knew that she had been waiting her whole life for this moment. She loved this man. And he loved her. She had saved him. And now
she was to have her reward. He was hers! There was no need to hold back any longer. She gave herself up to the moment.

The kiss went on and on.

Marcus was aching to possess this wonderful, impossible woman. She was truly one in a million. And the more he kissed her, teasing and tasting her lips and her tongue, the more he was certain that she was a true lady, and innocent. She had never been kissed like this before, but she was responding to him, following his lead with astonishing passion. If he wanted to possess her completely, she would not try to stop him. It was for him to stop. And he must.

He tore his mouth from hers. ‘Amy, this is madness!’

‘Why?’

Her response surprised him into a gasp of astonished laughter. ‘Oh, Lord preserve me from unbiddable women! It is madness, my dearest girl, because you are a single lady, and I am a man, and because we are alone together, unchaperoned, in the middle of the night! How much worse could it be?’

With a satisfied smile, she wound her arms round his neck. ‘Since I am ruined merely by being here, I think perhaps I should enjoy my ruin to the full.’

He groaned. Here was yet more proof of her innocence. She could not know what she was suggesting, or what she was doing to him. He could not hold out much longer. He must stop her. Now.

He took her arms from his neck, first one, and then the other. ‘Amy, my dear girl, we must not do this. You are a lady. And I am still a fugitive.’ At the sight of the sudden hurt in her eyes, he touched her face briefly with a fingertip. ‘I want you very much and I—But I am not worthy of you. You must see that.’

It was as if he had struck her. She flung away from him, wrapping her arms around her upper body and hugging herself like an abandoned child. ‘Who are you, sir, to decide who is, or is not, worthy? You demean yourself. And me. You say you are a fugitive. But we both know that is no longer so. The proof I have brought may not be enough to satisfy the magistrate of your cousin’s guilt, but you may be sure that it will exonerate you.’ She shook her head vehemently. She was lashing herself into even greater fury. ‘Marcus Sinclair will fly free, as he has always done, to seduce the ladies and then abandon them. No doubt you enjoy the sight of women falling at your feet.’

‘Amy—’ He stretched out his hands and came towards her.

‘Enough, sir. Keep your distance. I am a fool, I admit. I have shamed myself. No doubt Amy Devereaux’s behaviour will soon be the talk of the London clubs. I wish you joy of it!’ She dashed away a furious tear, before turning abruptly and bolting for the cupola.

There was pain in every line of her body.

Marcus moved swiftly to put himself between Amy and her escape route. He would not let her go like this—burning with shame and self-hatred. She had done nothing wrong. Her only fault had been to trust a fugitive with herself.

Faced with the barrier of his large body, she did not scream or faint. Instead, she glared at him. ‘I will thank you to stand aside, sir. You have already humiliated me quite enough.’

‘No, Amy. I will not let you leave until I make you understand. It is not that I—I am not the hard-hearted seducer you think me. If I were, would I have turned you down? I do have…feelings for you. I beg you will
believe that. But I am in no position to do anything about them. I only wish I could.’

‘Do you, indeed?’ Her tone dripped sarcasm. She was trying to appear strong. But her whole body looked defeated.

What had he done to her?

‘Amy, pray forgive me. It was not my intention to hurt you.’

‘No, of course not,’ she snapped. ‘I have helped you to prove your innocence. And now you choose to spurn me. You have not even told me what you have done with Ned.’

Marcus seized her by the shoulders. ‘Damn Ned! Your brother is perfectly safe. In the cellar of the North Lodge. By all accounts, he is enjoying his captivity, playing cards all day, and drinking himself under the table every night.’

Amy gasped and turned even paler.

‘Amy, I am not spurning you. I am trying to save you from becoming entangled with a man whose reputation is in tatters. And who may yet end up in gaol.’ He allowed his fingers to bite into her shoulders. ‘That is not a price that I would ask you to pay.’

She raised her head and gazed at him. For a moment, Marcus fancied he saw tears in her eyes. He dismissed it. It must be a trick of the light.

‘It is a price that I would pay,’ she said simply. ‘If you were to ask it of me.’

She stood there in front of him. Small, helpless, and unresisting. And yet she was as strong as steel. And as true!

Marcus could not fight it any more. He wrapped his arms round her and pulled her into the shelter of his body. ‘Amy. Oh, Amy. I have tried to drive you away,
but you will not go. Stubborn wench! You know what I feel for you. I am certain that you do. I have tried to resist, for both our sakes, but against you, I am totally lost.’

She looked up at him with a very wobbly smile. He was not mistaken about the tears. Not this time.

‘You are an idiot, Marcus Sinclair.’

‘And you, Amy Devereaux, are quite the most wonderful woman I have ever met. I am madly—hopelessly—in love with you. What on earth are we to do?’

‘I have not the least idea.’ She snuggled into his warmth, dislodging her cap. It drifted to the ground, unheeded. ‘But you must become a free man again. Your innocence must be proved, beyond doubt. I am sure we can find a way of achieving that. Perhaps, if we work at it…’ She put her arms round his neck once more. It felt exactly right. ‘Perhaps if we work at it,’ she said again, ‘we shall find a solution.’

In that moment, Marcus made a decision. With the little they had, he could brazen it out. He must not accuse William, for that would risk alienating William’s brother, John. Marcus needed John’s support. With the powerful Earl of Mardon at his side, Marcus would be safe from arrest. Probably. There would be rumours, no doubt, about Marcus’s black past, but he could ignore them. Anthony had survived worse, by withdrawing to Lyndhurst Chase. Marcus could do the same, if need be. Was that enough to offer Amy?

She was nestling in his arms as if she had always belonged there. She did belong there.

‘I have the solution.’

‘Marcus, that is wonderful. Tell me!’

‘I shall have to marry you out of hand.’

‘What has marriage got to say to anything? It will not
prove that you—Oh!’ Even by starlight, Marcus could see that she was blushing. And her eyes were ablaze.

‘Marriage will solve one—no, two—of my most pressing problems, my dear Miss Devereaux. First, it will require you to do as I say. You do recall, I hope, that part of the wedding vows is a promise by the bride to love, honour and
obey
?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘And, second, I cannot live without you, my dearest love. I want you by my side, Amy. Now. Always. I want to be able to make love to you slowly—very slowly—without fear of interruption. This…er…balmy interlude under the stars has a certain magic, I grant you, but it lacks…permanence. I need you to be mine.’ He raised her hand to his lips and, still holding her gaze, dropped a kiss on her fingers. ‘Will you?’

‘Certainly not!’

‘Amy!’

‘I have no intention of receiving a proposal of marriage in a gown that resembles a sack and a cap that would be better used for straining curds.’

He grinned at her. She was fully herself again—strong, quick-witted, outrageous, and absolutely adorable. ‘At the risk of interrupting your litany of complaint, ma’am, may I take this opportunity of reminding you that you are not actually wearing the offending item?’ He pushed his fingers into the heavy mass of her hair and shook it out over her shoulders.

‘Be serious, Marcus!’ She tried to bat his hand away, but he held her firmly and dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

‘I am being serious,’ he said. ‘I was never more so. This is a proposal of marriage that I am making, you know.’

‘And I am refusing it,’ she said flatly.

Marcus began to nibble the lobe of her ear. ‘Are you?’ he said, rather indistinctly.

‘Mmm.’ She groaned a little. ‘Yes. I am. For the present.’

‘Ah. I see. And later?’ With a single fluid movement, he picked her up in his arms. When he carried her back to the cushions and laid her down, she made no move to resist him.