The spinster and the wastrel (18 page)

Bundled warmly inside the carriage heading home, Lucille asked Annette, "Why did you refuse Sir Gerard?"

Although Annette wanted to avoid the question, she knew there would be no peace until she answered. "You heard him. I could not trust he would allow my school to continue."

"You think he would close it? He did not appear to think that way."

Annette felt the need to defend herself. "No, but he did not approve of my teaching."

"He suggested hiring a teacher," Lucille reminded her.

'True, but I like teaching. I like presenting the lessons to the children. I want to be a part of their lives."

"So you settled for the substitute of your students for your own children." The carriage bounced over a deep rut in the road, causing Lucille to gasp before continuing, "You can't teach forever. Hiring someone was a good idea."

"At least the children are mine now, if only for a little while."

Lucille would not relent in her probing. "But they aren't. When school is over, they go home to their parents.

You could have had your own. So what is the true reason you refused him?"

Annette looked out the window, pretending to see the view in the darkness outside. "I told you before he does not love me. I will not marry without love."

"I think you are afraid to discover if he does love you. Why? Do you love him?"

The question filled the night, demanding a response. She remembered his kisses and the way he always managed to confound her suppositions. Such things should irritate her, but she found them to be charming. Was that love?

"I do not know," Annette whispered.

The carriage rattled home in silence.

(2/iaptez &weleve

Sir Gerard let Silver Shadow pick his way along the rutted, wet lane. Earlier this afternoon he had enjoyed a fast canter across his lands. He had hoped the vigorous ride would dispel the clouds of mental fog that covered days.

It had not worked.

Since Annette's rejection of his proposal nearly two weeks ago, the world appeared bleak to his gaze. Glancing around at the early March countryside, he saw only empty branches and dead leaves and grasses covering the muddy ground. The high hedges hemmed him in along this path to Hathaway Hall. Behind them birds chirped and fluttered about their business. He knew a hidden spring stirred, but the effects of winter overlaid his heart. The new season seemed to taunt him with its hope. Spring would not bloom for him.

When would he see her again? She had not gone to the last Assembly, and he had missed church on Sunday. They would meet again. Upper Brampton's society was too small for them to avoid each other forever. He wished

some excuse existed for calling on her, but as of yet none had occurred to him.

Silver Shadow rounded a curve, and Sir Gerard spotted two men standing before him. Dressed in dirty clothes and wearing heavy coats, they looked unsavory.

He expected them to step aside. Instead, they moved closer to block the center of the lane. Sir Gerard reined in his horse. Silver Shadow nickered and sidestepped nervously. They were probably out-of-work miners or drovers. Such men could be dangerous.

He looked back. A third man stood there. Sir Gerard remained alert in the saddle. "Move aside, there," he commanded the two before him.

One man stepped forward to grasp Silver Shadow's bridle. Leering up, he displayed several missing teeth from his yellowed collection. "Be ye Sir Gerard Montfort?"

"Release my horse," he demanded. He tugged at the reins, but the man's grip did not break.

"I asked ye a question," the man said. His companions moved to either side of the baronet. Silver Shadow shifted edgily.

Sir Gerard felt the unease grow within him. "I told you to let go of my horse."

"Ye be right uncivil," the leader complained. "I want to know if ye be Sir Gerard Montfort?"

"What do you want?"

"So ye be him. I thought so." The man nodded in satisfaction. "We have a message for ye."

A frisson of cold, which had nothing to do with the weather, shivered down Sir Gerard's spine. "A message? From whom?"

"Seize him, boys!"

Rough hands grabbed his arms and legs to pull him

from his mount. Sir Gerard kicked Silver Shadow's sides in an effort to break through. Trapped and frightened, the horse screamed and tried to rear.

Sir Gerard began to slide backwards. He fought to stay astride. One of the horse's hooves hit an attacker's leg. The man cursed and fell to his knees, but did not let go of the reins.

Then Sir Gerard was hauled from his horse. He would have fallen to the ground, except for the tight grip two of the men retained on his arms. Freed from the crowd, Silver Shadow galloped for home and his stall.

Breathing heavily, the leader stepped back. "The message is from Mortimer Wallace. He don't like it when he ain't paid."

Sir Gerard tried unsuccessfully to break free. "Wallace was paid what I owed him."

The man shook his head. "He says ye be a week overdue. He wants his money back."

"I do not owe it to him." With difficulty, Sir Gerard swallowed his angry words and tried another tack. "Let's be reasonable about this. Money is the whole issue here."

"I be a reasonable man. What did you have in mind?"

"Bill here's a thinker," the man on his right commented.

Sir Gerard attempted to use his vaunted charm. In a conversational tone that did not display his inner tension, he said, "Well, Bill, I have a proposition for you. Wallace hired you, so you work for money."

"Who don't?" the leader grumbled.

The men's grip did not loosen, but Sir Gerard sensed that they were listening. "I am quite willing to pay all three of you to ride off, and we pretend this meeting never happened."

Bill eyed his prisoner with suspicion. "How can ye pay us if ye don't have no money for Wallace?"

"I never said I do not have any money. Only that I do not owe any to that money-lender." He watched Bill closely. Would his gamble to escape succeed?

Bill shook his head. "Ye are good, sir. I'll grant ye that. Ye almost convinced me. But Wallace, he pays us regular. Ye would likely turn us over to the magistrate."

"No, I won't," Sir Gerard promised in desperation.

It was too late.

The first blow struck him in the stomach, forcing the air from his lungs. The next hit his cheek with a loud crack. He struggled to free himself. The fists continued to assail him, until his knees buckled. He let his weight sag against his captors' arms. He prayed, Let it be over soon.

"Now, Jack it is very important that you behave correctly towards the baronet," Annette admonished the boy sitting beside her in the landau.

"I will, Miss Courtney," he assured her for probably the tenth time.

She knew Jack would conduct himself properly. After all, it was his academic ability and respectful behavior that had originally led her to ask Sir Gerard to help her protege. In the month since, no offers had come Jack's way. It was high time to remind the baronet.

As she drove along the drive towards Hathaway Hall, she admitted to herself Jack was not her only reason for visiting. She wanted to see Sir Gerard again.

She had turned down his proposal, but he was not so easily banished from her memory. The contradictions within him intrigued her. She liked order in her world. So why did someone who confused her still attract her? Per-

haps by seeing him again, she could understand why she could not forget him.

The rattle of the landau and the clomp of her horse's hooves on the wet road blocked any sounds of nature. When her carriage turned a curve, the sight before her caused her to gasp with astonishment, even as she pulled back on the reins.

Two men supported Sir Gerard between them, while a third hit him. The baronet's head drooped. He made no effort to struggle.

In a flash, Annette dropped the reins and jumped down from the landau. "Stop it! What are you doing?"

With his fist still cocked, the man turned to her. "Ye stay out of this, ma'am."

"I most certainly will not."

She saw him hit Sir Gerard again, and she forgot everything except that she could not allow this beating to continue. From the landau, she snatched up her driving whip. She seldom used it on her horse, never being in that much of a hurry to arrive at her destination. Yet she had no compunction about attacking the men before her.

The first strike of the whip landed soundly on the man's back. With a curse, he faced her. "This be our business. Ye stay out of it."

Annette's answer was another crack, this time at his legs. The man jumped back too late to avoid the whip's sting.

"Get her," he growled.

The others released Sir Gerard, who dropped into the mud and lay still. Her heart stopped within her at his piteous condition, but she could not attend to him. Standing beside the horse's head, she watched the three men

spread out before her. A fast swing of the whip at their legs kept them a respectable distance away.

"You men get out of here," she commanded with the authority of years of ordering others to do her bidding.

"Ye wanted to be involved in our business, so we'll let ye."

She snaked the whip at the man on the right. He leaped backwards, slipped in the wet mud, and fell. Another crack kept him from rising. Two remained.

At that moment Jack appeared behind the assailant on her left. Her student held a thick branch obviously snatched from the forest ground. With a satisfying thump, he brought it down on the man's head. The attacker fell as if chopped by an ax. Jack gave him no chance to stand up and whacked him about the head and shoulders.

The sudden loss of his support caused the leader in the middle to pause. He glanced at his companions at his feet and then at Sir Gerard, who was struggling to sit up. "We're off. We're done here anyways."

Holding the whip ready, Annette watched him step back. She allowed the man in the mud to get up. Jack moved away from his target, but held his branch like the ax he was more familiar with.

Stumbling and swearing, the men regrouped themselves safely out of reach. The leader looked as if he might reconsider leaving. Annette gave a sharp crack with the whip to send them on their way.

She waited until they were out of sight before she turned her attention to Sir Gerard. She dropped the whip by his side and ordered, "Jack, keep a watch out for them in case they come back."

The baronet was sitting up, but there was a dazed look on his battered face. From a cut at his temple, a thin line

of blood snaked down his cheek. His skin was beginning to swell and turn purple.

She was glad she had used her whip on his attackers. Fiercely glad. Kneeling beside him, she asked, "How badly did they hurt you?"

"I'm still alive ... I think."

The fact that he could still attempt humor after what he had just been through made her giggle with an edge of hysteria. She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve to dab at the blood on his face, but her hand shook. Reaction was setting in.

He took her hand in his. "That was a foolish thing you did."

She read the gratitude and admiration in his swelling eyes and was even more discomfited. "I was so surprised I did not know what to do," she babbled. "I did not even think." She freed her hand to tend to him.

"I am grateful—Ow!" he exclaimed when she pressed the handkerchief too hard against one of his wounds.

"I'm sorry." She pulled her hand back from his face. "Who were those men? What did they want?"

"They were from Wallace, the money-lender," he explained at her puzzled look. "He and I had a difference of opinion about some money he claims I owe."

"But I paid that."

"Only the first installment. He is demanding the balance to be paid off. I refused. I will pay the second installment when due." He laughed bitterly, winced, and touched his cut lip. "This is the result."

"The magistrate will hear about this," she declared. "That money-lender should be jailed."

"I don't think it will be Wallace who ends up behind

The Spinster and the Wastrel 173

bars. A man like him has more incarnations than the Devil. Only his hirelings will suffer."

Looking at his battered face, Annette felt her heart clench. If she had not driven by when she did ...

With difficulty, she tore her gaze away from him. "We need to get you taken care of. Can you make it into my landau?"

"I would rather ride than walk back to Hathaway Hall." He began to struggle to his feet.

Annette stood to help him up, but now it was her own legs that wobbled beneath her. "Three of them," she said. "There were three of them."

She swayed as the fear of what she had done overtook her. How could she even have considered taking on so many men?

Sir Gerard grasped her about the shoulders to steady her. "You are the bravest woman I know, Annette. With gratitude and admiration, I salute you."

He kissed her. Because his lips were swollen, his touch was light against her mouth. It only lasted a brief moment. A salute just like he stated, but it was as if it sparked an explosion of realization within her.

She loved him.

Seeing him hurt made her understand how much she could have lost. Despite his infuriating manners, despite his gambling background, and despite his interference in her school, she loved him. Or perhaps because of all those reasons. She did not know, and now was not the time to ponder it.

He needed her help.

She could no longer refuse him anything.

Somehow, with Jack's support, she managed to get the

baronet into the landau. He filled more than half of the seat.

With a rueful smile, she told the boy, "There is no room for you. I am afraid you will have to walk home."

Jack nodded in understanding. In the fight, he had lost his cap and now his brown hair stood up like stalks of wheat.

Sir Gerard said, "Introduce me to this brave lad who helped us."

"This is my student, Jack Farmer. I was intending to present him to you this afternoon."

"I wish we could have met under more favorable circumstances," Sir Gerard said.