Love's Tangle Page 12

  Gabriel looked gloomily through the windows of the bailiff’s office—there was nothing for it, he would have to leave for Brighton and soon. He appeared to have lost all self-control. He could not stay away from Elinor and when he was with her, he could not resist the compulsion to hold her as close as he possibly could. He had never felt such overwhelming desire for any woman. He had called her a witch that night in the cellar and he’d been right. The spell she exerted on him was getting stronger all the time and now he was well and truly caught in her web. She had not spun it deliberately, had not set out to entrap him, but her very lack of guile increased her fascination.

  And she was equally tempted, he was certain. It was an impossible situation that could lead only to disaster and a dreadful repetition of her mother’s fate. He must leave Allingham and stay away until his infatuation had dulled. It was inconvenient certainly, for he had been working hard on estate business and looking forward to seeing his efforts rewarded, looking forward to proving that she was right to have faith in him. There he went again, bringing everything back to Elinor. He needed a mind shift and his friends in Brighton would provide it. But the thought of them—Hayward, Weatherby, Letitia Vine—made his soul shiver. He had not seen or heard of them this last month and not missed them for a minute. On the contrary, his days had been filled with a new and satisfying purpose but his nights…his nights had been filled with a longing he could not assuage.

  He must go, there was no other way. The devil was that he must delay his departure for a few days. He had an appointment with one of Joffey’s henchmen, a Mr. Henderson, the day after tomorrow. The wooden bridge over the lake, it seemed, was about to fall into the water and the bailiff had been urgent in persuading his master to substitute an iron construction. The bridge had stood for at least two hundred years and Gabriel suspected that rebuilding it was simply another way for Joffey to relieve him of his money. But he couldn’t take the chance. He would leave for Brighton the day after seeing Henderson. Surely he could manage to keep out of her way for that short time.

  ****

  Elinor rose early the next morning and made her way to the library. Until she received a response to her application, she must busy herself in whatever way she could, though of late cataloguing the room’s contents had lost its sparkle. She spread out her notebooks, sharpened her pens and hitched up her skirts. A small ladder stood ready for use. She climbed its steps, meaning to begin at the top shelf of a new section, always the most difficult, but as she grasped the first of the heavy volumes, she glanced through the window to the landscape beyond. A breeze had sprung up and sent the trees dancing and restless. She could almost hear the sigh of their leaves and she wanted to be there, walking beneath them, as far away from the house as possible, as far away from the duke as possible.

  In less than half an hour, she had changed into more respectable attire and was making for the western boundary of the Claremont estate. It was the most easily reached and beyond its fences, she had spied an enticing tree-shaded path which she was sure would lead to a river, for she had seen glimpses of glittering water in the distance. Allingham possessed a lake and fountains but a river was alive. It would blow away the megrims and keep her mind from constantly wandering into dangerous territory. The weather continued overcast but once out of the house and on the path leading away from the west wing, her spirits improved. Thirty minutes’ walk found her through the furthest field gate and leaving Claremont land.

  The shaded path was perhaps a little too shaded on such a cloudy day but the woods on either side were delightful. Bluebells had bloomed and faded but red campion had taken their place and their perfume filled the air. The path was much longer than she had supposed but distances were deceiving and she was sure she would come upon the river before too long. In fact it took another hour of walking and by then she was concerned to see the grey clouds turn to a stormy slate and to feel the first few drops of rain on her face. It won’t be much, she told herself. July had been exceptionally dry and this day would be no different.

  She walked along the river bank, watching the water’s swirling circles chase each other downstream. A few more raindrops fell, a little heavier this time. She had drawn opposite a bundle of reeds, intricately twisted and plaited. It was a nest and as she watched, a kingfisher came in to land and stalked his way around the surrounding muddy platform. He had seen her from the sky and had not liked her intrusion. She would turn here, she decided, and leave him in peace. But just as she began to retrace her steps, an enormous crack of thunder directly overhead alarmed both her and the bird. The kingfisher rose in the air, its bright blue feathers shining against the dark sky. A jagged flash of lightning followed. Her pulse quickened uncomfortably. She was a long way from home and she would find little shelter by the river.

  She hurried back along the bank, intent on finding a place that might provide at least a partial shield from the rain. The storm was worryingly loud and increasing in volume all the time, the lightning constant now, illuminating the surrounding darkness like the stage of a theatre. She had almost reached the point where river and woodland paths met when a great fork of light pierced the sky and hurtled to earth, crashing into the trees ahead and stripping leaves and bark from a tall elm just yards in front of her. A large branch cracked loudly and fell to the ground, effectively blocking her path back through the woods. Elinor stood paralyzed; it had missed her by inches. She tried to gather her wits but she was so thoroughly shocked that she found herself motionless in the torrential rain. In the distance she thought she heard a noise—was that the sound of galloping hooves? Then a voice calling to her.

  Gabriel cleared the fallen branch with feet to spare and pulled his horse to a sharp halt. He slid to the ground as thunder cracked and crashed over their heads. The mare’s eyes were rolling wildly and before he could seize the reins, she had bolted into the distance. He cursed and grabbed at Elinor’s arm, pulling her roughly through the deluge and along the river bank in the opposite direction from where she’d walked. He was moving so fast that she found it difficult to breathe and impossible to protect her beautiful skirts from the quagmire. She was about to tell him what she thought of this treatment when she saw what he intended. From out of the deep gloom a clearing emerged and in the clearing a small hut, dilapidated but once a place of shelter for woodsmen. It would provide refuge for as long as the storm continued. The terrified mare, she saw, had already found safety beneath its rough overhang.

  The duke had not spoken a word as they’d fought their way along the river path but once he’d banged the door of the hut behind them, he burst out, “What possessed you to walk this distance and on such a day?”

  “I could hardly know I would encounter the worst storm for months,” she retorted, bewildered by his tone.

  “A glance at the sky should have been sufficient. And why wander so far from the Hall?”

  “It was an adventure.”

  “I can see that,” he said caustically. “An adventure that might have cost you your life.”

  “I think you exaggerate.”

  “Do I? That branch barely missed you. And God knows what else will come down before the storm is through. You are fortunate I’ve spent the morning visiting the most distant of farms and it was only on a whim I decided to return this way.”

  Had he been escaping, too, she wondered, but escaping from her? If so, he’d had his plans overturned and that might explain his sudden anger. “I suppose I should have known what to expect,” he was muttering. “The river lies on my neighbor’s land and you were trespassing—again!”

  An impulse she hardly understood prompted her to confrontation. “You seem unduly concerned with trespassing.”

  His mouth hardened into an uncompromising line. “If I am, it is because your flouting of the proprieties shows an utter lack of consideration for others.”

  The squabble had sprung out of nowhere but Elinor did not hold back. “I had forgot, Your Grace, that you inhabit such a high
moral ground yourself, you are fully entitled to judge others!”

  She turned away, looking through the dirt-encrusted window at the tempest beyond. They were quarrelling badly and she knew it had to do with more than transgressing in a storm. One endless minute followed another until the duke broke the impasse.

  “Do you always walk alone?

  “Yes,” she answered curtly.

  “And why is that? Would it not be better to take a companion? Alice, for instance?”

  “I find my own company preferable.”

  “Am I then to apologize for mine?”

  For the first time in their encounter she felt a little ashamed. She was after all safe from the storm. “Indeed no. I am indebted to you for my rescue,” she managed.

  “That must have been difficult to confess.” He smiled, and the tension that had been so acute between them dissolved a little.

  She felt his dark blue eyes on her—they were almost navy in their intensity—but she was determined to keep aloof. What she should feel for him was gratitude, she told herself, gratitude for rescuing her from this foolish walk, for providing a home, for helping her uncover the secrets of her birth.

  “A penny for them?”

  “I was thinking how grateful I am to you.”

  When he looked astonished, she continued, “It was generous of you to believe in me, to believe in my connection to Allingham. And most generous of you to make me welcome.”

  “What else would I do?”

  “I can think of much. I might even now be walking back to Bath!”

  “In your grey mouse dress?”

  “It had much to commend it.”

  “What precisely?”

  “It was hard wearing,” she said defensively, “and appropriate.”

  His gaze traveled slowly over her form. “I find what you are wearing today far more appropriate.” She looked down at the gown of orange blossom silk and became sharply aware that the rain had molded it to her figure, showing only too well every one of her womanly curves.

  The conversation stuttered to a close and they waited once more in uncomfortable silence for the rain to abate. The tumbledown building was chilly and she was wet to the skin; she tried to remain impassive but could not repress the shivers growing greater by the minute. He looked across at her shuddering form and stripped off his riding jacket.

  “Allow me,” and before she could stop him, he had draped the coat gently around her shoulders. She heard the steady beat of his heart close to hers. Without thinking, it seemed, he moved his hands upwards from her shoulders and softly cradled her head, smoothing back the damp cloud of hair framing the pale oval of her face.

  “I am sorry if I was discourteous.”

  “It is of no matter,” she protested, willing him to let her go, willing him to hold her.

  “I am an awkward man when it comes to modest maidens. Let us be friends again,” and he gently brushed her cheek with his lips, feathering the edge of her mouth as he did so. She felt the slow dissolve again somewhere deep in her body.

  “Of course I haven’t met many maidens,” he attempted to joke, “they tend to be fairly thin on the ground in the Regent’s company.”

  “Then you should visit Bath. They are plentiful there,” she joked back in an effort to cover her confusion.

  He glanced down at her, his expression almost tender. “I should like to visit, if only to discover more of your history. Did your mother tell you nothing?”

  “Virtually nothing. I could only ever be sure of one thing and that was her name, Grainne Milford. Now that it seems she never married, I can continue to use the name and know it is rightfully mine.”

  “It matters that much to you?”

  “It would matter to you, if you had never been sure from where you sprung.”

  “You’re right, of course. Grainne,” he mused, “it is a lovely name and has to be Irish. Do you know anything of your Irish relatives?”

  Her pulse had mercifully slackened and the conversation become unexceptional. “Hardly anything. One of our customers made it her business to consult the Peerage and told me once that my mother must be the youngest daughter of an Irish peer, but she could have been mistaken.”

  “No,” he said slowly. “I don’t think so.” He was thinking hard. “Milford? I recall there was an Irishman of that name—in the Royal Horse Artillery, I believe. The Irish breed the finest horses. He hailed from Lismore. That could well be your mother’s ancestral seat.”

  “Perhaps, but I have no intention of crossing the Irish Sea to find out.”

  “Don’t tell me the spirited Miss Milford can be defeated by a stretch of water,” he teased.

  “No, indeed, I would travel there if I wanted, but I don’t.”

  “Because?”

  “Because my mother fled Ireland to escape her family. I don’t know her reasons but I suspect her father wished to sell her to the highest bidder. She was very beautiful. She was also adamant that she would never return to Ireland, and I have no wish to visit the family or their estate—they mean nothing to me.”

  “Yet Allingham does?”

  “Yes, it does. A great deal. It is where I discovered who I really am. If I had no other reason to love it, that would be sufficient.”

  “Then you will not be thinking of leaving us just yet?”

  She took time to adjust the drying folds of her gown before she answered. “I must leave. Our agreement was that I stayed until I’d had time to consider my future.”

  “And have you considered?”

  “I have applied for a post in Malmesbury.”

  Standing with his back to the door, his powerful body seemed to block her departure. “What kind of post?” he asked belligerently.

  “I hope to go as governess.”

  “As governess—as drudge, do you not mean? A drudge at twenty pounds per annum.”

  “Twenty five pounds,” she corrected. “It is a most superior household.” Her wide mouth broke into a smile but he did not respond. Instead he grabbed her hands and clasped them hard. “You do not have to work, Elinor,” he said fiercely, “Allingham will keep you in comfort.”

  “That is most generous but I must work. It would not suit me to be without employment. Surely you understand, you were yourself a soldier.”

  “But no longer.” He let her hands drop and walked towards the window, staring out at the trees contorting themselves in the wind. “Stay here,” he said urgently. “Stay at Allingham and help me run the estate.”

  “I cannot do that!” she said dazedly.

  Gabriel was looking as dazed as she. His words seemed to have shocked him as much as Elinor and he had evidently not known they were coming. He began to pace up and down the small hut and after a dozen turns, walked back to the window and peered through its grimy glass. “The rain appears to have eased at last,” he said tightly. “I think we should attempt our return, do you not?”

  Once outside, he called the mare from her shelter and offered Elinor his hand to mount. She knew she should refuse to go with him but her legs were so weary she felt unable to walk another step. She allowed herself to be thrown into the saddle and in a second Gabriel had leapt up behind her and was nudging the horse forward, away from the blocked lane and towards open fields. His arms at first cradled her in a loose embrace but gradually the mare’s gentle rocking melded their figures closer and closer together. At each new field he was forced to bend in order to unlatch the gate and she could feel his form lean into hers, hard and taut. She felt flushed, disturbed, her emotions hopelessly out of control—this was the very reason she should have refused the ride. It was as though she traveled in a dream, unaware of her surroundings and fixed only on the touch of his body. Unconscious of the miles passing, she was astonished to find they had arrived back on Allingham land and were journeying up the Hall’s long, winding drive.

  He helped her dismount but did not look at her. Turning away to gather up the reins, he said over his shoulder, “You h
ave only a short walk from here. My advice would be a hot bath and warm clothes.” And without another word he strode towards the stables.

  ****

  “Was that Gabriel I saw you with?”

  Taken aback, she turned to face Roland. She tried to look welcoming but his first words made it difficult. “I think you must know it was,” she said sharply.

  He looked ruffled by her tone. “I have no wish to upset you, Elinor,” he protested. “My only desire is to protect.”

  She was not disarmed. She did not wish for protection, least of all from Roland Frant. There was no stopping him though. “I am sure my cousin can be the most charming of companions,” he was saying, “but he can also be the most dangerous—at least for a girl such as yourself.”

  The hairs on her neck bristled to attention. “What exactly do you mean—a girl such as myself?”

  He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “Well, my dear, your story is a little irregular, wouldn’t you say? In cases such as yours, it is wise to be particularly careful of even the smallest breath of scandal.”

  Her face registered growing anger but he ignored the storm signs. “I’m not saying you would encourage such a thing but Gabriel is arrogant and unthinking. He is used to women falling down before him and thinks of nothing but his own pleasure. He could easily ruin your prospects without a second thought.”

  “My prospects, as you term them, are my own affair, Roland. But since you are so concerned, let me reassure you that I feel nothing more for the duke than grateful friendship. And however he may act with other women, I am sure I need have no fear for myself.”

  He bridled. “Let us hope you are right. I had no intention of causing distress but I would be lacking in my duty if I did not warn you.”

  “You have and now let it lie. If you will excuse me, I must return to the house.”

  She left him looking slightly absurd in the middle of the carriageway and thought she had probably made an enemy, but he had infuriated her with his insinuations and she had been unable to mask her feelings. What upset her most, though, was that he had spoken a truth she did not wish to acknowledge.