VIscount Besieged (13 page)

‘
She
wishes me to come now?’

‘
Immediately.’ Then, apparently realising the infelicitous
nature of this remark before Isadora’s guest, he added on a
stammer, ‘At least—I mean, that is, if—if it ain’t
inconvenient.’

Her curiosity
now thoroughly aroused, Isadora abandoned Mr Syderstone with some
appropriate words of excuse and went off on Edmund’s
arm.

‘
Edmund, what is all this?’ she demanded as soon as they were
out of earshot. ‘And don’t tell me again that Harriet desires my
advice, because—’

‘
I
will reveal all, but not here,’ he said in a tone of ill-suppressed
urgency, fairly pulling her along around the side of the house
towards the back. ‘Let us get to the stables first.’

Mystified,
Isadora allowed herself to be hurried around the house in the
direction of the stable-block, all sorts of speculations arising in
her mind.

‘
Harriet is not ill, is she?’

‘
No,
nothing of that sort.’

But as they came
within sight of the stables she frowned. ‘But where is your
carriage?’

‘
I
didn’t come in my carriage,’ Edmund responded. ‘I rode.’

Indeed, Isadora
could now see his horse tethered near the mounting-block. He was,
besides, attired in a blue frock-coat and buckskins, his boots a
trifle dusty from the roads.

‘
But
Edmund,’ she protested, ‘I am not dressed for riding. Besides, I
have only just eaten.’

‘
It’s
all right. We’re not going home.’

Isadora looked round at his set young features. ‘Then
what—?’

‘
Wait, I pray you!’

He halted at the stables and, bidding her again to
wait, quickly went inside. Isadora could barely contain her
impatience when he came back out a moment later.

‘
Edmund, what are you doing?’

‘
Making sure no one is there.’

‘
Of
course no one is there,’ Isadora responded in an exasperated way.
‘Totteridge has gone to eat his breakfast and smoke a pipe, I dare
say. While as for the boys, if they have dealt with Juliet and
Titian, they are free until feeding-time. What is the matter with
you, Edmund?’

‘
I
will tell you,’ Edmund promised. ‘Only come inside for a
moment.’

‘
In
the stables? Are you mad?’

‘
I
must be alone with you. If you please, Dora.’

Shrugging,
Isadora allowed him to drag her into the comparative shadow of the
harness-room. This was a low-ceilinged apartment abutting the
stalls, its rows of benches against the three walls decked with the
debris of grooming—brushes and cloths, sacking and saddle-soap,
along with a bit and bridle in the process of being mended. Livery
jackets jostled for position on the wall-pegs between saddles and
stirrups and reins looped carelessly over wooden bars. Here, as in
the rest of the house, a general air of disorder
prevailed.

Isadora,
naturally enough, noticed nothing amiss. Beyond holding her
petticoats a little away from the straw-strewn floor, she paid no
heed to her surroundings. Her attention was all for Edmund
Witheridge’s extraordinary air of suppressed excitement.

‘
Well?’ she demanded.

Edmund
swallowed, squared his shoulders, and set his jaw.

‘
Dora, Harriet has told me all!’ he announced
dramatically.

‘
Oh,
fudge,’ groaned Isadora, guessing now the purport of all this
determined mystery.

‘
Dora, you shall not marry Roborough!’

The commanding
tone did not impress Isadora.

‘
Well, I could have told you that. Really, Edmund, your conduct
is absurd.’

His pose of
knight-errant collapsed. Flushing darkly, he stuttered, ‘You c-call
it absurd that I have come to—to rescue you from the importunities
of one who—who—’

‘
Edmund, I do not know what Harriet has said to you, but I
assure you I am suffering no importunities.’

‘
But
you are in the power of a stranger.’

‘
I am
nothing of the kind. If you must know, Roborough has offered me no
sort of annoyance—except provocation to my temper.’

‘
Aha!’ Edmund pounced, seizing her by the shoulders. ‘He has
angered you. Harriet said so.’

‘
Yes,
he has,’ agreed Isadora with asperity, ‘but so are you just at this
moment, Edmund. I wish you will stop being so foolish. Release me
at once!’

‘
But
I’m offering for you, Dora,’ protested the young man on a note of
desperation, tightening his hold in spite of her
command.

‘
Don’t be stupid,’ Isadora said shortly, dropping her hold on
her skirts so that she might push at his chest.

‘
It’s
not stupid. I want you to marry me.’

‘
Well, I’m not going to. Pray think a little. Your mama would
have an apoplexy if I agreed to marry you.’

‘
Hang
Mama! I love you, Dora!’

‘
No,
you don’t,’ Isadora contradicted, trying to pull away. ‘Now let me
go!’

She had expected
to cow him into obedience, for he was weaker than she in spirit.
But not, it transpired, in body. Edmund, too impassioned to heed
her, pulled her closer and attempted to kiss her.

Isadora,
furious, wrenched herself away and dealt him a stinging
slap.

‘
How
dare you, Edmund? What in the world has come over you to conduct
yourself in such a brutal fashion?’

But Edmund, who
had started back with one hand flying to his cheek, was looking
past her, an expression of intense horror on his face.

Isadora turned
quickly—and froze. Standing just inside the stable doorway, blandly
surveying the scene, was Roborough.

Chapter Five

Hot with
embarrassment, Isadora found herself unable to utter a word. Her
mind was all chaos. Had he seen? How much had he heard? Why, oh,
why did he have to walk in just at that precise moment? It was
typical of the man. What would he think of her?

But Roborough’s
face gave nothing away. And his voice, when he spoke—the first to
break the seemingly unending silence—was as cool as
ever.

‘
You
must be Mr Witheridge,’ he said calmly, addressing himself to
Edmund, and adding, much to that young gentleman’s evident
discomfiture, ‘No doubt you are just leaving.’

‘
Leaving?’ Edmund gasped out. ‘No, I—’

‘
Don’t let me detain you,’ pursued the viscount in the
pleasantest of tones. ‘I will look forward to meeting you on
another occasion.’

There could be
no mistaking his message. Isadora, seeing Edmund redden under this
comprehensive dismissal, however politely phrased, almost felt
sorry for him. But, reflecting what the viscount must have
seen
,
she was easily able to refrain from pity. This was all
Edmund’s fault, and Roborough was the last person she would have
wished to catch her out in such a compromising
situation.

Edmund looked at
her, the expression in his eyes compound of entreaty and apology.
Isadora understood. He was not going to admit his fault before
Roborough, but he recognised himself to be at fault. She swallowed
her resentment and spoke as calmly as she could.

‘
We
will talk some other time, Edmund.’

Obviously
reluctant, Edmund glanced again at the viscount, who smiled
slightly and pointedly stepped aside, leaving the doorway free.
Isadora saw the young man’s lips compress tight shut. Then, without
another word, he marched out.

Isadora was left
wondering what to say. This was the first opportunity she’d had
since overhearing Roborough’s plans to speak to him alone. She
ought to demand an explanation. Only her position was, to say the
least, invidious. Here he had caught her in the embrace of the very
person Thornbury had no doubt told him was her suitor. Now he must
either believe her willing, or realise that he must think of
something else—depending upon how much he had seen and
heard.

Willing she
was—to murder rather than marry Edmund. For how could she take up a
righteously indignant stance against Roborough after this? Indeed,
she could not even look at him, much less confront him with his
iniquitous plot. Instead, she fell to lifting her black muslin
petticoats a little to check whether they had acquired any dirt or
straw.

‘
No,
it is hardly the ideal garment for a stable,’ came Roborough’s
amused tones.

Isadora’s eyes
flew up. Was he laughing at her? She could see no trace of laughter
in his features.

He raised his
brows enquiringly at her fierce look, but all he said was, ‘I am
glad you are in here, though, for I hope you may be able to advise
me.’

‘
Advise you?’ What in the world was the man at?

‘
Yes,’ he said, and, turning in a leisurely way, just as if
nothing untoward had occurred, he wafted a hand towards the stalls.
‘I was hoping to ask your head groom if he could select a mount for
me. But you, Isadora, are even better placed to tell me which horse
I may ride.’

‘
May?’ echoed Isadora with an ironic inflexion. ‘You do not
need anyone’s permission.’

‘
Needing and seeking are two very different things,’ he
responded easily.

‘
Ah
yes. I had forgot your determination to make yourself agreeable at
all costs.’

‘
Not
to you. I have quite abandoned any hope of that.’

Isadora was
betrayed into a laugh. She met his gaze and saw that the warmth of
his tone had spread to his eyes. Her pulse quickened—inexplicably,
for what had she to be nervous of in his presence? Except that he
had seen Edmund…

The thought
blanked. What had he seen? Whatever it was, whether it ruined his
plans or not, he had delicacy enough to refrain from embarrassing
her further. For that at least she must be grateful. Unconsciously
she smiled at him.

‘
You
are mistaken. There are moments when I do find you
agreeable.’

His brows rose.
‘There are? Good God, Isadora, you overwhelm me!’

‘
I
wish you will not be so absurd. It cannot matter a jot to you
whether I find you agreeable or not.’

‘
Can’t it?’ he countered, the light eyes holding
hers.

Isadora’s breath
caught. She eyed him uncertainly. What in the world did that mean?
Nothing, in all probability. He was a teasing wretch and he wanted
only to set her at a disadvantage by saying absurd
things.

Amusement crept
into his gaze as he read the puzzlement in her countenance. Was it
so impossible for her to conceive of his desire only to be on
friendly terms? How long was she going to persist in this
determination to regard him as a usurping enemy? It would serve
them all a deal better if he could find a way to reach her. To
allay her suspicions. To make her see him for what he was, and not
what she imagined him to be. Keep it light, he told himself. Keep
it easy.

‘
Come, let us settle this business of a suitable horse,’ he
said, turning away from her. The bait hooked.

‘
There is only one suitable for a man of your weight,’ Isadora
told him, following him towards the stalls.

‘
Titian?’ he guessed, turning to her. He added as she nodded,
‘I was hoping you would say so.’

Isadora halted. ‘Then why did you not ask to ride him in the
first place?’

‘
Because I am not so insensitive,’ responded Roborough
calmly. ‘He
was
your father’s horse.’

The sharp pang
took Isadora unawares. She gasped in air, clutching one hand to her
chest. A sobbing breath left her lips, and as the unexpected tears
pricked at her eyes she felt her flailing fingers clasped in a firm
hold. She clutched the hand thankfully, hardly knowing whose
proffered help this must be. His voice was soothing.

‘
Steady, now, steady.’

Isadora
recovered in a moment. She found that Roborough had led her back to
the centre of the harness-room, away from the horses. She looked up
into his face, and the concern she read there quite startled her.
Meeting his eyes, her own gaze became fixed. The strangest
sensation passed through her, as of a current of warmth that seemed
to flow from her fingers where they were in contact with his.
Confused, she drew them away, and the contact broke.

‘
All
right?’ he asked softly.

‘
Yes,
th—thank you,’ she responded, faltering a trifle. ‘I—I don’t know
why it hit me like that. Papa had not in fact ridden Titian for
near two years before—’ She stopped abruptly.

‘
Before his death,’ Roborough finished for her.

She glanced at
him again, conscious of a drop inside her chest, for he had spoken
in a hard voice.

He must have
read her reaction for he grimaced. ‘Yes, I know that is harsh. But
it does not do to avoid the word, Isadora. You will become
accustomed.’