A Wager for Love Read online

  His peace was rudely shattered as the coach stopped with a jolt that all but flung him off the seat and across the carriage. Outside, the shrill whinnying of the horses and angry voices of the grooms mingled in the evening air.

  Realising that he was unhurt apart from the odd bruise or so, Richard got to his feet, dusted down his fine new coat and stepped from the carriage, his face unusually grim. If anything had happened to his horses. . . He could not afford delays, night was already drawing on and he had no desire to find himself at the mercy of some highwayman.

  "What is the matter? Why have we stopped?"

  The irate coachman came towards him, the reins of a horse held loosely in one hand and the other firmly gripping the arm of a small slim person. Peering through the gloom Richard saw to his surprise that it was a girl, and to all appearances a very young girl.

  "Begging your pardon, My Lord, but this ‘ere young person came galloping down the road right in front of us. Fair upset the horse, you know how she is ..." The look he bestowed upon his captive was anything but kindly.

  Richard sighed, nodding his head sympathetically, his eyes fixed on the girl who appeared to be enveloped in a long dark cloak of ancient vintage, only a small heart-shaped face and one or two dusky ringlets gleaming in the dim light. Signs of recent tears were still plain upon the culprit's face, adding to her general air of disarray, and two beseeching pansy-brown eyes clung to his face.

  He coughed a little nervously and turned to the irate coachman. "Well never mind. I take it there’s no actual damage?"

  "No, My Lord, just a broken trace. I suppose we can have fit fixed fairly quickly, but it will mean some delay to your journey." he added, with another dark look at the young person.

  Gravely Richard eyed the girl in front of him, noting for the first time that she was clutching a worn portmanteau. The coachman evidently not too satisfied with his young master's apparent unconcern, broke in, "This 'ere young person whats caused all the botheration, your Lordship. I reckons as how she is running off or some such thing. T'aint right for a girl to be jaunting about the countryside at this time of night." he added, with a scowl in the girl’s direction.

  The girl, who until this point had been silent, responded indignantly, "I’m not running away."

  And Richard. looking closely at her for the first time, realised that she was not, as he had first thought, about thirteen but nearer to seventeen or even eighteen.

  "What are you doing here, then, if you’re not running away?" he asked her. his interest caught despite his own problems, for young ladies of good family, which it was obvious she was, did not wander about on their own. Now that he could study her properly he saw that her cloak was exceedingly muddy about the hem, and the ringlets he had noticed earlier, all untidy.

  She gave Richard a considering look, and then apparently satisfied, said candidly, "Well I’m not really running off, that is . . . Well . . . "

  Listening to this Richard became increasingly uneasy, and when she finished in a burst of honesty by saying, "Well I have to, you see, otherwise I shall have to marry Mr. Walthrope and I shan’t no matter what grandfather says. For he is odious. He’s forty if he’s a day, and besides he wears an old-fashioned wig and all he can think about is farming . . ."

  Richard felt his heart sink. Wondering what to do, he glanced up and, perceiving the interested stares of his entourage, took her by the arm and led her off, saying firmly, "But what about your parents? They will be worried about you." Richard knew very little about the habits of young ladies but common sense told him that she must have left her home without anyone’s knowledge.

  "Oh my parents are dead." She shrugged carelessly, adding, "I live over there with my grandfather, Sir Gervase Markham."

  "But your governess? Your maid?" persisted the hapless Richard, "Surely they will be worrying?"

  The girl, recovering her spirits a little, tossed back her head, the hood falling back to reveal an entrancing little face, framed by a quantity of dark curls. "My governess! She is asleep. She always falls asleep after dinner."

  Seeing his dismay, she added, "That's why I had to do it now, you see. So I could get away before she knew. I have put a bolster in my bed," she added with relish. "It will be hours, probably morning, before they discover I have gone. My grandfather has the gout. It makes him ill-tempered."

  Before Richard could give vent to his feelings, she continued sorrowfully, "I had it all planned, you see. The London Coach stops at the Green Man and I wanted to catch it."

  Richard began to feel relieved. Doubtless she had relatives in London and was on her way to them. However, one thing still puzzled him.

  "Well, why aren't you at the coaching house then?"

  His relief was short lived. "Oh the landlord knows my grandfather, and he would be sure to send him some message. No, I was hoping to stop the mail on the main road, but it was further than I thought."

  Richard, feeling himself sinking deeper and deeper into the morass, asked severely, "And when you get to London, what then?"

  The clear brown eyes regarded him without a trace of concern, "Oh I shall get a position as an abigail or some such thing. just like a Romance."

  Horrified, Richard was lost for words. He cudgeled his brains in vain for sonic way to make this child, for despite her years she was nothing more, realise the folly of the course she contemplated. This girl let loose in London. It was not to be borne. He thought of the fates that could and probably would befall her. At the very best some rich titled man might take her under his protection, Lord knows she

  was pretty enough. At the worst . .. He frowned grimly. Charles had pointed out to him the stews of St. Giles.

  For a moment he contemplated the alternatives open to him, whilst his new-found companion looked up at him hopefully. It had been her experience thus far in life that young, and indeed for that matter old, gentlemen were flatteringly ready to render her what assistance they could. Richard, however, was oblivious to the hopeful look in her eyes. He bitterly regretted his involvement in what instinct told him was going to be a pretty coil, but he could scarcely leave the girl on the public highway‑and there was his sister to think of. He could, of course, restore her to her grandfather, but even if he could persuade her to accompany him, he had no desire to face a gouty country squire of uncertain

  temper at this time or the evening. No, there was only one thing for it. He was not far from SaItaire’s house now, she would have to accompany him there, when hopefully he could hand her into his sister’s care. It was gradually being borne in upon Richard that unless he took an extremely firm stand, Miss Kitty (for she had vouchsaved him her name), was going to prove exceedingly tiresome.

  He turned to face her, his voice stern. "I am on my way to visit my sister at Marlham Place

  , and I shall take you with me, unless you prefer me to return you to your own home?"

  "You mean you won’t put me in the way of the London Mail?" she asked aggrieved.

  "Certainly not," replied Richard with new authority, "It would be most improper. Once you get to London, anything could happen to you," he threatened darkly.

  "What?" enquired Kitty ingenuously.

  But Richard, his mind on the girls adorning the bagnios in Covent Garden and the manner in which the Abbesses collected their prey, merely sighed, his mouth tight. "WelI which is it to be?" he asked. "I cannot leave you here, and your grandfather . . ."

  "Oh no," broke in Kitty hastily, "It would be most unwise of you to see him. He might think you were trying to elope with me."

  "What?" Richard was aghast. "Elope with you. Lud, and why should he think so indeed?"

  "Oh, when I was in Bath at the seminary, there was an ensign there who wanted to elope with me, but grandfather stopped us," she confided artlessly.

  Richard viewed her with increasing suspicion. His knowledge of young ladies’ seminaries was scanty in truth, but he did not think that meetings with young and probably impecunious ensigns were part
of the curricula. He pushed a weary hand over his face. What folly had he entered into? Still it was too late to repine now.

  Trying desperately to maintain his grip on the situation. he started again. "This inn you mentioned, the Green Man, where is it?"

  To his horror, this seemingly innocuous comment had the effect of making his young charge fling her arms round his neck, sobbing, "Oh no, please do not take me there."

  What with her sobs and wild entreaties not to hand her over to the mercy of the innkeeper, and the interested stares of his men, Richard was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. He withdrew a large handkerchief from his pocket, and disengaged Kitty's arms from his person, feeling that the situation was rapidly assuming all the attributes of one of Congreve’s farces.

  "Now, now," he palliated hurriedly, "l merely wish to send my man with a note. You cannot disappear from sight without so much as a word you know."

  "Why not?" responded the young lady sweetly.

  "Well, your grandfather would be worried for one thing," floundered Richard desperately. "Now never fear, I shall tell him I am taking you to my sister."

  With a heroic attempt to sum up the whole strange situation in a few succinct sentences, Richard penned a letter and handed it to one of his grooms. "Deliver this to the Green Man, and ask one of their people to see it reaches Sir Gervase Markham."

  "In the morning," interrupted Kitty, with a sidelong glance at Richard.

  "Aye, all right, in the morning," amended Richard, his heart sinking.

  The horses were champing nervously, and the coachman was eyeing him with impatience. He handed Miss Kitty into the carriage, climbed in himself, and leaning out of the window, instructed the grooms to start the carriage again. Sinking back against the cushions he eyed his damsel in distress, wearily, feeling suddenly a good deal older than his twenty-one years.

  An hour or so later, during which Kitty had chattered non-stop, they drew up at an imposing gatehouse, only to find the gates firmly locked. Richard bit back a curse, whilst Kitty turned to face him her eyes alight with triumph. "See, I told you how it would be. There is no-one here. Now you will have to take me to London."

  "Damn, I won’t," cried Richard with asperity. "If-there is no-one here, then there is nothing else for it but to return you to your grandfather. If you think I am going to career all over the countryside with a wench not yet out, well you can think again, because I ain’t, and I tell you that straight."

  Pouting a little at this ungentlemanly response, any further comments she was about to make were lost, as the lodge door opened and a small sharp-visaged man shuffled to the gates.

  "Now then, what’s all this ‘ere commotion. Can’t have you kicking up a dust here you know. This ‘ere’s an Earl’s residence, that's what, and the Earl, 'e don't like dusts kicking up ‘e don't."

  "The Earl is in residence then?" cut in Richard eagerly. The man stared at him suspiciously, "And what if he is. what business is it of yours, I asks myself?"

  "He has my sister with him, that’s what," Richard replied out of temper.

  ·

  "Oh ho, has he now. Run orf with 'er, 'as he. And you’ve come charging down here to rescue her. Well, my fine cock. I tell you straight, the Earl won’t like you interfering, not one little bit, 'e wont," leered the gatekeeper. "And who might I ask is this you ‘ave with you? Another sister. I expects," he asked with deep sarcasm.

  Richard, striving to maintain control of his temper, already much exacerbated, and seeing the questions trembling on Kitty’s lips, leant forward. "I have reason to believe my sister and the Earl have recently been married, although what possible business it is of yours, I cannot conjecture. "

  "No more can I," broke in another voice, causing Richard to swing round. A man on horseback loomed up from the shadows. "Really, Johnson, I vow I agree with Richard here, you forget yourself, and now please open the gates for my brother-in-law, and please try to refrain from conducting vulgar brawls on my driveway."

  It was difficult to see who was the most astonished. Richard or the unfortunate Johnson, who, with his mouth agape, ran to do the Earl’s bidding.

  Richard, his colour a little high, instructed his coachman to drive on, fuming a little. What infernal luck to be caught at such a disadvantage. All too aware of Kitty's speculative eyes on his face and the Earl’s sardonic expression, he bit back the questions on his own lips. Surely he would soon be able to see Lavinia and get to the truth of the matter.

  The Earl, edging his horse a little nearer to the coach, leaned forward, murmuring softly to Richard, "Most wise of you, brother. Save your questions until later."

  Poor Richard flushed anew. The man ‘s eyes were far too sharp. Richard vaguely recognised the Earl as being one of the persons who had been witness to his defeat at the hands of Ordley, and of course from Charles he knew him to be Ordley's cousin, but as to how he had come to marry Lavinia and in such haste he still could not comprehend. He shook his head wearily, recalling snatches of Kitty’s conversation. She had called the Earl a sad rake, and told him that the countryside hummed with tales of the wild goings on of the Earl. Well, he certainly looked the part.

  They were nearing the house now, traversing a drive flanked with fine elms, but Richard was in no mood to appreciate the beauties of nature, the trees turned to luminous silver by the moon. Kitty, who under the Earl ‘s forbidding eye had fallen silent, allowed Richard to assist her to alight and

  followed the two men towards the house, looking round her with interest. She had heard much of the Earl, and his wicked reputation, and was finding this, her first sight of his home somewhat disappointing. A Gothic castle, something in the fashion of the Romances she got from the Circulating Library, would have been much more in keeping with her ideas of a dissolute rake, or perhaps even better a crumbling ruin, but not this immaculate Tudor building, with its air of quiet elegance.

  At length, seated in a comfortable salon, Kitty supplied with Ratafia and sweet biscuits and Richard with canary, the Earl viewed his two visitors. "Well, your sister will be with us in a few minutes, but perhaps you would be good enough to explain what brings you here, and, of course, introduce me to your charming companion."

  Faced with the actuality of the Earl, Richard found all his self-confidence slipping away. How could he possibly challenge this man? Would he be sitting here so casually drinking wine and smiling pleasantly if he had in fact pressed Lavinia into a marriage she did not wish for? Surely not. . . Realising that the Earl was still waiting, Richard hurriedly collected himself.

  "Oh, yes, of course, may I present Miss . . ." There was an agonised pause whilst he realised he could not remember Kitty’s last name. Cursing himself for being all kinds of a fool, Richard bit his lip.

  "So." The EarI's drawl became a trifle more pronounced, his eyebrow raised a fraction higher, "And perhaps you would be good enough to explain to me how she comes to be in your company unescorted?"

  Indignantly Richard turned to him. "I didn’t make off with the chit, if that is what you are thinking."

  "My dear Richard, I take it you have no rooted aversion to my using your christian name? Good. I never thought for one moment that you had made off with the young lady. Indeed I suspect the boot might well be on the other foot."

  A tell-tale flush ran up Miss Kitty's face, and the Earl bent down, apparently lost in deep contemplation of his immaculate clocked hose. "No doubt you have some reason for bringing her here, and no doubt I shall hear of it in the fullness of time. However, I only trust that some irate parent or guardian is not about to descend upon me. Too fatiguing!"

  Richard, catching a vagrant smile in the Earl's eyes, found himself warming to his new relative. Obviously a gentleman of perspicacity. Hurriedly, he started to tell him the story, and so intent was he upon explaining the whole that he missed the occasional twitching of his brother-in-law’s lips.

  "So, you see. I thought the best thing to do would be to bring her to my sister," he finishe
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