Angel's Touch (2 page)

‘
But you did catch her, after all,’ Verity
said admiringly. ‘You
did
s
o well.’

‘
Course I caught her,’ scoffed the child. ‘I am near seven
myself, you know. And I am a boy.’

‘
Of
course you are. How silly of me. I beg your pardon,’ apologised
Verity hastily. ‘But then why did you not take Peggy back at
once?’

The
boy flushed and looked away. ‘I—I
should’ve
,
I know. But—but I thought p’raps it would teach her a lesson.
Kittle, I mean. If—if she thought she had lost Peggy for a
bit.’

‘
Ah,
I see,’ Verity nodded understandingly. ‘I dare say you were right.
She must have had a severe fright.’

‘
Yes,’ agreed the boy dubiously, looking shamefaced. ‘Only I—I
don’t know the woods well. I’m not allowed in them mostly. ’Cause
of poachers, you know.’

‘
But
you do manage to spend some time in them, for all that,’ she
suggested with a twinkle.

He
reddened again. ‘Well, yes. But not enough to—to know them as I’d
like, and—and. . .’

‘
And
the long and the short of it is that you missed your bearings and
became lost. And who shall blame you for that? Gracious, what a
misadventure. I think, though, we should get Peggy back home as
fast as we are able, don’t you?’

‘
Yes, but they’ll come for us soon, I
think,’ the boy announced, with an unconcern that, together with
his self-possessed air and his very grown-up manner, spoke more
eloquently than his clothes of a privileged background. ‘That’s why
I made for the road. They are bound to come looking this way, for
this is all
our
land. We are out of the ’state grounds here,
though.’

Even
as he spoke there came the sound of many hoofs, and Verity turned
in time to see several horsemen approaching from behind the coach.
She noticed as well old Lady Crossens’ gaunt features peering out
at her, and urged the groom to run back and reassure her that she
would rejoin her in a moment. But the groom was mindful of her
ladyship’s orders.

‘
For
heaven’s sake, Dogget,’ she had uttered distractedly, ‘get after
her and fetch her back. And mind she comes to no harm, for she is
in my care, and if I must face dear Grace and the Vicar with the
tale of a vanished daughter, I shall likely go off in an
apoplexy.’

He
chose therefore to remain stalwart by Miss Lambourn’s side until it
should please his mistress’s oddly behaved young guest to recover
her sanity and get back into the coach.

There was no time for
Verity to persuade the groom to do as she asked, or to call out a
reassurance to the old lady, for the horsemen were upon them,
reining in and dismounting in a flurry of exclamatory comment.

‘
Good God, my lord, what a dance you have led us,’ called a
slim, youthful individual with a gentlemanly air.

‘
You
have her safe, me lord,’ came from a thick-set man in fine livery.
‘God be praised!’

‘
Your lordship had best come quick. Fat’s in the fire now, and
no mistake.’

The last words,
muttered by a lad with the look of a stablehand, who had flung off
his horse the first and was closest to the boy, were accompanied by
a significant jerk of the head.

Verity, following the direction of his gaze, saw that a
phaeton had drawn up a few yards away. It was driven by a slight
young man, who turned a lean countenance set in lines of severity
upon the errant children, and handed his reins to the middle-aged
groom who sat beside him.

The
group about her fell silent, and Verity watched with interest as
the man descended, slowly and with apparent difficulty, from the
phaeton into the road. The groom handed him a cane and as he
advanced towards them, a pair of dark angry eyes fixed
intimidatingly on the boy, it was to be seen that he walked with a
pronounced limp, seeming to drag his hip over a stiff right
leg.

No one spoke as he
came up, and the boy met that menacing eye with a look of sullen
apprehension in his own.

‘
Well, Braxted?’ the young man demanded in a quietly
controlled tone. ‘Have you anything to say for
yourself?’

The
boy’s eyes, big and blue like his sister’s, flashed momentarily,
and then sank. He compressed his lips firmly together and
steadfastly regarded the ground. But Verity saw his small hands
tighten on the shoulders of his little sister, whose arms still
clung about him.

Peggy let out a squealing protest which drew all eyes. The
young man looked at the gentlemanlike member of the entourage of
three.

‘
Inskip,’ he said quietly. The man addressed immediately
leaned down and prised the infant’s hands from about her brother’s
person. The boy instantly let her go and stepped back a pace. The
little girl was swung up as the man in authority added, ‘Take her
to the phaeton. Hoff may hold her. I will not be above a
moment.’

The other nodded
briefly, and went off with Peggy. The other men took the
opportunity to retreat a step or two. Verity could not blame them.
There was such a heavy charge of held-in fury emanating from the
authoritative young man that it was almost tangible. She found it
uncomfortable, and oddly inapposite. For he looked so insignificant
a man.

He
was quietly, if respectably dressed in a green frock-coat over
buckskin breeches and top-boots, cravat neatly though
unimaginatively knotted, and a plain, round-brimmed beaver over a
quantity of rich brown locks drawn back and tied in the nape of his
neck. His features were good, though marked, young as he was, with
lines of suffering that ran down to a well-shaped mouth,
tight-lipped at this moment, and a resolute chin. It was his eyes,
so dark as to be almost black, that were his most striking
attribute, attractive even as they burned with the anger that he
turned back on the boy.

‘
Well, Braxted?’ he repeated, in a voice that was not the less
threatening for its quiet control. ‘Your pranks are one thing, and
to be discussed between us at some more convenient time. But to be
involving your little sister in them goes beyond the line of what
may be tolerated.’

He paused, but the
boy, though he raised his blue orbs to stare defiantly up into that
smouldering gaze, had nothing to say.

‘
I
trust,’ continued the man softly, ‘I make myself plain?’

‘
Yes, sir,’ the boy asserted gruffly.

‘
Upon my word!’ Verity exclaimed, entering the lists as the
implications of this speech burst in upon her. ‘And I trust, sir,’
she said, rounding on the young man in righteous indignation, ‘that
you will take the trouble to enquire more particularly into this
affair before you inflict the dreadful punishment that I suspect to
be in your mind.’

Taken aback, the young
man jerked round to face her. He almost tripped up in his clumsy
haste and had to support himself with his cane. The liveried
servant behind him sprang forward to his assistance, but he waved
him away without a backward glance. It was evident that he had not
even noticed Verity standing there, but the look of surprise was
swiftly succeeded by one of scarcely veiled annoyance.

‘
And
what, ma’am,’ he demanded icily, ‘has this affair in any way to do
with you?’

‘
I will tell you,’ Verity declared at once,
not in the least deterred by his manner. ‘I happen to be in
possession of the true facts of the matter, having come upon the
scene a few moments before yourself. I would have supposed, sir,
that anyone with the least degree of common sense must perceive at
once that the boy is far too protective of his sister to be likely
to implicate her in any pranks he might play. And in this instance,
as you would have known had you troubled yourself to
ask
the child
before
flinging
accusations at his head in that—that
brutish
fashion, there was no
prank
in the
case.’

Then, without giving her astonished auditor an opportunity to
open his mouth, Miss Lambourn dropped down to the boy’s level and
grasped him urgently by the shoulders.

‘
My dear young friend, do, I beg of
you,
think
for a
moment. I dare say it is all very brave and
manly
for you to take the blame for
something which is in no way your fault, but you cannot have
thought the question through. Only consider. Another time you may
not be at hand to see the danger, and what if the nurse should be
so careless when you are not by to dash so gallantly to the rescue?
Then you would have cause to blame yourself indeed. For by your
keeping silent, you know, the nurse will
never
be corrected, for I cannot
think that she will confess her fault.’

The
boy Braxted looked much struck by this, and, grasping his hands and
smiling coaxingly at him, Verity added, ‘What good can it possibly
do for you meekly to accept a punishment which you have done
nothing to deserve? Indeed, only misery can come from such a gross
injustice. To you, perhaps to your sister and the nurse. And
indeed—’ with a fleeting glance up at the stern countenance above
her ‘—to your mentor himself. I wish,
dear
friend, you will think better
of it and tell him
everything.’

Braxted now also cast
a quick look up at the young man standing silently by. He noted
that the features had relaxed, and the dark eyes had lost their
fire. His stiffness melted and he grinned suddenly.

‘
Well, I will, then. I like to have a friend like
you.’

Verity smiled and pressed his hands before releasing them. ‘I
am glad. I hope we may meet again.’

She
rose and turned to look again at the young man. Like Braxted, she
saw that the anger had vanished from his eyes, to be replaced by a
gleam which she strongly suspected to be of amusement. An amusement
she deprecated, for his conduct had been disgraceful. Then he
spoke, and his words disarmed her.

‘
It
is apparent that I owe you both apology and thanks,’ he said,
adding with an ironic little bow, ‘I have certainly been put very
firmly in my place.’

Verity bit her lip on
a laugh, her outrage dissipating fast. The implication was not lost
on her. There was no doubt she had been extremely uncivil.

‘
I
have to beg your pardon, sir.’

‘
Pray don’t,’ he pleaded, and Verity thought there was a
lurking twinkle in the black depths of his eyes. ‘You have done me
a signal service—albeit unwittingly, for I do not flatter myself
that such was your intention—and I am only sorry that I cannot stay
to express my thanks more suitably. You see, I must get Margaret
home.’

‘
Margaret?’ repeated Verity, vexed to feel herself blushing at
the implied rebuke. How unhandsome of him when she had already
apologised.

‘
Peggy, he means,’ chimed in Braxted.

‘
Oh,
yes, of course. Do go at once,’ Verity said, thankful for the
excuse that would afford instant relief from embarrassment, and
feeling rather guilty for forgetting the infant’s needs while
championing the boy Braxted.

But
when she looked up at the phaeton she saw that Peggy seemed quite
contented in the competent arms of the middle-aged groom who
managed both to nurse her and hold the horses without apparent
difficulty. It crossed Verity’s mind that perhaps the child was
more often to be found in the arms of servants than in those of her
own mother. She had certainly called in her distress for ‘Tittoo’,
her nurse Kittle, rather than for ‘Mamma’.

There was no time for
further speculation, however, for the young man, having muttered
some words of farewell that she scarcely heard, was already
climbing laboriously into the phaeton, while Braxted hopped nimbly
up to take his own place, squeezing in between the groom and his
father.

His
father
?
Verity supposed he must have that identity. Though he did not
behave in the least like a father should. Admittedly, he had owned
himself at fault, but his attitude to the children had been far
from loving. And then, too, though everyone had addressed Braxted
as ‘my lord’, none had offered a similar courtesy to the young man.
Perhaps he was merely Braxted’s tutor. He certainly acted more in
the manner of a schoolmaster than of a father, she thought, with
severe disapprobation.

‘
You
may tell me your tale on the way, Braxted,’ she heard him say to
the boy as the phaeton started forward, in a tone that lent
credibility to her last theory. Especially as the childish treble
did not pipe up in response as it ought to have done at a parent’s
bidding. At least not to Verity’s ears. Or perhaps it had been
drowned by the clatter of the horses’ hoofs, she thought, trying to
be charitable.

To
the obvious relief of Lady Crossens’ groom, who had been hovering
on the fringes of the group all this while, she began to walk back
to where the old coach stood waiting. The groom hurried ahead of
her to let down the steps and hold open the door.

The phaeton and its
accompanying horses were already lost to sight as Miss Lambourn,
apologising to the groom for keeping him waiting all this time,
climbed into the coach. She was greeted by the querulous voice of
her patroness.