The Dangerous Lord Darrington(17)

'I cannot go down to supper like this,' he remarked. 'And if I ask Peters to deal with it he may become suspicious.'

'I have a clothes brush in my room,' said Beth.

They had reached the door of her bedchamber and she stopped, waiting  for him to take off his coat. He merely looked at her, his brows raised.

'Do you expect me to stand about here in my shirtsleeves? Will that not be equally suspicious, if I am seen?'

He was right, she knew it.

'Very well, you must come in!'

She stepped back to allow him entry, quickly closing the door behind  them. There was no sign of Tilly, but the room was prepared in readiness  for her mistress, with a cheerful fire blazing in the hearth. Beth went  around lighting all the candles and trying not to think how the earl  filled the small space. She had to squeeze past him to get the clothes  brush, careful to avoid the slightest contact.                       
       
           



       

'Tell me about Miles Radworth,' he said over his shoulder as she stood  behind him, brushing his back and shoulders with brisk, firm strokes.  'He brought you the news that your brother was dead?'

'Yes. He stayed in Portsmouth after the escape, and when the first  reports came in of the shipwreck he waited until his own enquiries  satisfied him that all hope was lost.'

'And he told you also that Simon was accused of murder?'

Her hand shook a little. 'Yes.' She resumed her brushing. 'He brought  with him the newspapers carrying reports of the murder and of Simon's  escape. We had heard nothing until then-it is not to be wondered at that  a small note in a southern newspaper should be missed by our  acquaintances here. Miles was very kind and full of regret that he had  not been able to help Simon-'

'But does he believe your brother is guilty?' Beth stopped brushing. 'Well?'

'I … I fear he does.'

The earl turned to look at her, his grey eyes searching her face.  'Radworth was practically a witness to this whole affair. How can you  expect me to believe your brother's innocence when he does not?'

Beth sank her teeth into her lip. It was a lot to ask of a man she had  known for such a short time. He took the brush from her hand.

'My coat is done, I think. Allow me to return the favour.'

He dropped to his knees and began to work on the hem of her gown; Beth  stared down at his dark head. His movements were confident and assured,  the shoulders beneath the fine tailoring of his jacket broad and strong,  capable of taking the troubles of the world, she thought. If only he  would believe her.

'There.' He stood up and she quickly schooled her face into a mask of  indifference. 'I think I have removed all signs that you have been in  the undercroft.'

He handed her the brush again, smiling slightly. The candle light  played on his face, enhancing the smooth planes of his cheeks and  accentuating his strong jaw. His black brows shadowed his eyes, making  them look grey and hard as granite. Merciless. With a sudden rush of  nerves she realised her situation, alone in her bedchamber with a man  she had known for just over a week. She swallowed and said a little  croakily, 'We must go down to supper. I-um-I will check the passage is  clear for us to go out.' Moving away from him was difficult, as if she  had to break an imaginary thread between them, but she forced herself to  go to the door. Moments later they were in the corridor.

'I believe Radworth moved up here soon after he first came to see you.' The earl fell into step beside Beth.

'Yes. He has been very attentive.'

'Your sister puts it more romantically. She says it was love at first sight.'

She shot him a suspicious look. 'Do you find that so incredible?'

'Not at all. You are a very beautiful woman.'

Her cheeks flamed. 'I beg your pardon, I was not looking for … for a compliment, my lord!'

'I am merely answering you honestly. There must have been a powerful  inducement to make a man leave his estates and settle in the north.'

Still reeling from being called beautiful, Beth was not offended by his remark.

'You are not to think that I was so flattered by his attentions that I  have not considered that,' she replied frankly. 'I have made  enquiries-he is no fortune hunter. His estate in Somerset is at least  equal to Malpass. And he did not press me to a betrothal while we were  still grieving for Simon.'

'And why are you marrying him? Do you love him?'

His question caught her off guard and she replied without thinking,  'No, but-' Her step faltered. She added, trying to speak lightly, 'I  must make a life of my own at some time. Grandmama will not live for  ever and Sophie will undoubtedly marry.'

They were approaching the dining room and through the open door Beth  could see that her sister and grandmother were already seated at the  table. She stopped.

'My lord, you will say nothing to my grandmother of-of what you have seen … ?'

'You have my word on that, Mrs Forrester.'

'And tomorrow?'

He shook his head slightly, the tantalising smile glinting in his eyes.  'I will make you no promises of what I may do tomorrow, madam.'

Beth closed her lips. Might he consider it his duty to turn Simon over  to the authorities for trial? She was sure Miles would do so; in her  mind she could almost hear him telling her that the law must be upheld,  that if Simon was innocent then the courts would prove it. But  Darrington was not Miles. She would not expect him to help her, but she  might be able to persuade him to keep their secret. After all, rumour  said he was a womaniser and now Miles had unearthed some secret from his  past that cast doubt upon his integrity. The problem gnawed at her  throughout supper. She said very little during the meal, allowing Sophie  to chatter away while she watched the earl, trying to read his  thoughts.                       
       
           



       

Miles had said his reputation was tarnished. He was a traitor and a  libertine. A small voice inside told her it could not be true, but  another, more insistent voice whispered that such a man could be bribed.  He had said he did not want her money, but there were other forms of  persuasion.

As she toyed with her food a plan began to form in her head. Across the  table the earl was relaxed, smiling at something Sophie had said. He  glanced across at her, still smiling, but she pretended not to notice.  Beth pushed her plate away. Her appetite had quite gone, but she had  made up her mind on a course of action. It should not be difficult.  Dangerous, possibly; certainly abhorrent, but if it would protect Simon,  then she would do it.





Chapter Nine



While Guy conversed with Sophie and Lady Arabella during supper his  mind was going over all he had heard and seen in the undercroft. Beth  was taking an appalling risk sheltering a fugitive, but it was her  brother and Guy had a brother of his own. Nick was married now, but in  his younger days he had had his share of dangerous escapades. There was  no question that Guy would do the same as Beth, if Nick asked it of him.

Was Wakeford guilty? He doubted it, but he could see how events had  conspired to make the boy seem so. And he was only a boy. Twenty-two,  twenty-three … he was certainly younger than his sister. The thought of  Beth made him glance across the table at her. She was pushing the food  about her plate, but eating very little. And no wonder. He hoped she  would understand from his smile that he meant her no harm. She would not  meet his eye, so he determined that before he rode away in the morning  he would make it clear that her secrets were safe. Lady Arabella was  addressing him and he dragged his eyes away and his mind back to what  his hostess was saying.



The family retired soon after supper was ended and Guy made his way  back to his room where he found Peters laying out his nightclothes.

'I take it your master is asleep,' Guy remarked, shrugging himself out of his coat.

'Yes, my lord. Sleeping like a baby, if I may say so. And a good thing, too. We have a long journey tomorrow.'

'Ten miles,' Guy agreed. 'But we will make him as comfortable as  possible. Here.' He held his jacket out to the valet. 'Take that away  and make sure it is cleaned for the morning, will you? Thank you,  Peters. That will be all. I will see myself to bed.'

Once Peters had gone, Guy began to pack his trunk in readiness for the  morning. He thought of his own valet, kicking his heels at Highridge,  and hoped he was enjoying his holiday. He would certainly have plenty to  do when Guy arrived back tomorrow with a trunkful of clothes needing  his attention. In his mind Guy could even now hear his faithful servant  bewailing the state of his shirts, washed by some provincial laundress,  and he would undoubtedly say that his master's topboots were scratched  beyond repair from careless polishing by the Priory's servants.

Guy was so used to the house and its sounds by now that he barely  noticed it settling down for the night; the thud as the servants  shuttered the windows and the distant banging of a door, until  everything was silent save for the occasional creak of the ancient  timbers. He was surprised therefore to hear a faint scratching at his  door. He was making his way to the door when it opened and Beth  Forrester slipped into the room.