At the Highwayman's Pleasure(35)

She did not regret giving herself to Ross. It had been her choice, her  decision. She was no young debutante to be ruined by it. She had money  of her own and even if a child should result from that one, glorious  coupling it would be a child born of love and her money would ensure it  did not suffer, even if Ross would not marry her.

She shifted uncomfortably, remembering the finality of that last kiss.  She could not believe Ross had meant to hurt her. The brutal manner of  his leaving had something to do with her father, she was sure of it.  Something to do with the kidnap. What plan had Phineas suggested to  Ross, and why would he not tell her?

* * *

She rose at her usual hour, little rested, but determined to find out  the truth. While she breakfasted a message was sent to the stables, and  she was soon trotting out of Allingford in a hired gig. The sun was  shining; birds were singing from the hedgerows. It was impossible for  Charity's spirits not to lift with such cheerful omens, yet when  Wheelston came in sight she was aware of a frisson of anxiety. The  building was as stark and forbidding as its owner. She drove directly to  the stables, where Jed's welcoming grin gave her some encouragement.  She handed over the reins to him and, upon enquiry, Jed told her the  master was in the house.

Squaring her shoulders, Charity made her way to the kitchen. A  grey-haired woman was kneading bread at the table, her white arms  covered in flour to the elbows.

‘And who might you be, walking in here bold as brass?' she demanded, startled.

Charity halted. She had forgotten the housekeeper.

‘You must be Mrs Cummings.' She gave the woman her most charming smile.  ‘I do beg your pardon for coming in this way. I am Mrs Weston, from  Allingford.'

‘The actress?' The woman's brows shot up and for once Charity was thankful for her current popularity.
                       
       
           



       
‘Yes, and I am come to see Ro-Mr Durden.'

‘Are you now? Well, the master went off to his study a few minutes ago. I'll go and see-'

‘No, please, there is no need,' said Charity quickly. ‘You are very busy and I know my way.'

Before the astonished woman could move, she swept across the room and  out into the hall. As she closed the kitchen door behind her a laugh  trembled upon her lips. Ross would have no easy task explaining this  visit to his housekeeper!

In the study Ross was seated at his desk with his back to her, but he  jumped up with an oath when he heard her quiet ‘good morning'. The face  he turned to her was pale and drawn, and there were dark circles beneath  his eyes that suggested that he, too, had spent a sleepless night. The  thought encouraged her, a little.

‘What the devil are you doing here? How did you get in?'

‘Through the kitchen,' she answered him, stripping off her gloves. ‘I  fear I have confirmed your housekeeper's worst fears about actresses. By  the by, I cannot think she did not notice that you had a visitor while  she was away-a female visitor. Did she quiz you about that?'

‘She knows better than to ask,' he said shortly. ‘I told you not to come. There is nothing here for you.'

His roughness flayed her and she responded bitterly.

‘Don't worry, I have not come to weep all over you and demand recompense for my lost virtue.'

The harsh look fled.

‘Charity, how can I-?'

‘Stop!' She put up her hand, knowing if he showed her any sympathy her  fragile control would crumble. ‘There is no more to be said about that. I  came here because I need to know the truth.'

She untied the strings of her cloak. Ross was still glaring at her and  she feared he might yet manhandle her out of the house. She was relieved  when he took the cloak and threw it over a chair.

‘What happened when you met my father to demand a ransom?'

‘I told you. He would not pay.' He would not meet her eyes.

‘But there is more, isn't there? He proposed some other plan, did he  not?' His silence and the grim set of his mouth sent a chill down her  back. ‘Did...did he suggest that you deliver me up to him?'

He strode towards the door. ‘You should go now-'

‘No. I am not leaving until you tell me what occurred. Do you think it too dreadful for me to contemplate?'

‘He is your father.'

‘Father?' Her lip curled in disdain. ‘He lost the right to that title when I was still a babe.'

Ross was at the door, but he turned back to her, a frowning question in  his eyes. She shook her head, quick, jerky movements that showed how  tense she was.

‘It was n-not so very bad, really. Not compared to the beatings and  being locked in the c-cupboard and s-seeing him destroy my mother and my  stepmother, bit by bit, with his petty tyranny.'

Her voice shook and the effort she was making not to break down tore at his heart. He said softly, ‘Tell me.'

She did not answer immediately but chewed her lip, a darkling, faraway  look on her face, as if she was recalling some unpleasant memory. At  last she raised her chin, resolutely meeting his eyes.

‘He cut off my hair. Mama used to call it my crowning glory. She would  spend hours, when I was a child, brushing it until it shone. She said it  was a gift from God.'

Ross looked at the honey-pale locks that gleamed beneath the frivolous  little bonnet, framing her face like a gilded halo. He remembered them  fanned out loose and abandoned over the pillow of the daybed, or running  heavy as silk between his fingers. His skin tingled at the memory, but  the sensation turned to a shiver as he stood, silent and unmoving while  the words tumbled out of her.

‘It was summer, such a hot day, and I thought nothing of letting the  sun dry my hair, but Phineas said I was being provocative. Shamelessly  immoral.' She wrapped her arms across her breasts, as if suddenly aware  of him. ‘I was fourteen years old and just beginning to think that I  might one day find a man-a kind, gentle man who would want me for a  wife. Someone to look after me.' She dropped her head. ‘There were  plenty of men at the sheep washing that day, but not one of them was  prepared to stand up against Phineas. He...he made them hold me down  while he cut my hair off with the sheep shears.'

Ross clenched his fists and raged silently at Phineas Weston. How could  anyone, especially a man of God, humiliate a child in such a way? She  had even then needed someone to protect her.                       
       
           



       

Charity pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose. A prosaic gesture  that made her seem even more vulnerable, but when she spoke again her  voice was stronger.

‘I vowed then that Phineas would never touch me again. I did not go  home-my stepmother was by then such a browbeaten, timid woman and so in  thrall to her husband that I knew I could never persuade her to come  away with me. I just walked, away from Saltby and Beringham and all the  places I had known. Heaven knows what would have become of me if I had  not met Hywel Jenkin and his travelling players. He bade me join them,  asked no questions of my appearance or my history until I was ready to  tell him. I changed my name to Agnes Bennet and found I had a natural  talent for the stage: I began by playing boy's roles, for which my short  hair was no impediment, and through Hywel's kindness and care I learned  all the arts of the theatre. He encouraged me to go to London, to seek  my fortune in Drury Lane.' She smiled. ‘I did very well there.'

‘So why did you leave?'

She gazed at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide how much to divulge.

‘I behaved very badly,' she said at last. ‘I persuaded a young man to fall in love with me.'

He paused and waited patiently for her to speak again.

‘Gideon. He was very sweet.' The faraway look in her eye and gentle  smile sent jealousy pounding through Ross like a battering ram.

‘Then to bewitch him would not have been difficult, given your charms.'

Her eyes flew to his face when he spoke so roughly, and he saw the pain  in them. She said quietly, ‘It was all a charade, and I am not proud of  it. There was a crowd of young bucks who came regularly to the theatre.  I was flattered by their attentions and when they asked me-paid me very  well-to participate in a practical joke I agreed. I was to captivate a  young man and trick him into thinking he was marrying me, when in fact  his bride was someone completely different. It was a very mean-spirited  thing to do, and all for a jest.'

‘Then why did you take part?'

‘At first I thought there would be no harm in it. They were all rich  young men, spoiled and impetuous. It was to be a prank, a joke. But  Gideon was not like the others. He was kind, thoughtful and so charming  that I was soon regretting I had agreed to trick him.' She would not  meet his eyes and a blush of shame mantled her cheek. ‘Unfortunately by  then it was too late. I had put myself in the power of a very unpleasant  character. At first I had been flattered by his attentions, but... He  was a bully, no different from my father, in many ways.' She shuddered.  ‘I was fortunate that I managed to keep him at arm's length as long as I  did. He was very cruel-it was his own cousin that he coerced into  taking my place as Gideon's bride.'