The Dangerous Lord Darrington(30)

She answered stiffly, 'What you did in your past is no concern of mine, my lord.'

'Indeed it is not.'

Beth bowed her head, mortified.

'And just what is it you think I am guilty of? Come, madam,' he cajoled  her when she waved a dismissive hand. 'You have said too much not to  tell me the rest. Perhaps Clarice added some juicy detail last night-'

'No!'

'Very well, out with it. What is it you know?'

'Nothing! I should not have spoken. I beg your pardon.'

With a muttered oath he brought the curricle to a stand. 'But that is  not good enough, madam. I want to know just who you think you are  travelling with today.'

'Please, my lord, I spoke out of turn. Can you not forget it?' She  turned away, only to find herself being gripped by the shoulders and  forced to face him.

'No, I can not,' he ground out. His eyes, hard as flint, cut into her.  'What have you been told about me? Am I a monster? A murderer? Mayhap a  libertine who preys upon vulnerable women.' His hand came up to cup her  face. 'But you already know that,' he purred. 'Are you afraid now that I  might take advantage of you?'

'No, you would not do so.'

He laughed harshly. 'Look around you.' He waved hand. 'We are alone,  miles from anywhere. Why should I not take what I want from you?'

Anger blazed in his face, but Beth saw something else there too: pain.  She had hit a nerve and wounded him, deeply. His anger was not wholly  directed at her and that gave her the courage to meet his look.                       
       
           



       

'Of course I do not believe that of you,' she said quietly. 'I would  not have come so far with you if I had believed you would hurt me.'

His grip on her arm tightened. She bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out.

'So what do you believe of me?'

'I heard … ' She looked away and whispered the word, 'Treason.'

He released her and she rubbed her arms.

'You know the worst of me, then.'

'I know no details,' she muttered. 'It cannot be so very bad, since you are a free man-'

'Mayhap you should have asked me about it.'

'You have not encouraged me to think you would confide in me,' she  retorted, showing spirit. 'You brushed aside my questions at the soirée  and refused to explain to me about your fiancée. What would you have  told me if I had asked you about … about this?'

'The worst that can be said of me is that I was a damned fool!' he growled, gathering up the reins.

They set off again and Beth thought miserably that the fragile  friendship they had been building had been shattered by a careless word.

'I can only judge you on my own experience, my lord,' she said quietly. 'I believe you are a good man.'

'I hope you never have cause to think differently,' he said shortly.



Guy was thankful that driving a fresh team gave him an excuse to keep  his attention fixed on the road. He silently berated himself for  allowing his anger to surface. He was no longer a callow youth to lose  his temper over such a trifle. He had long ago become inured to the  slights and innuendo following the scandal that had forced him to  withdraw from public life. Apart from his closest friends, he did not  care what anyone thought of him, although he was contemptuous of those  women who set their cap at him, so anxious for a title and a fortune  that they cared little that the name was tainted with scandal.

The truth was that Beth Forrester had undermined his defences. As they  travelled together he had begun to believe they were just a man and a  woman, enjoying each other's company. But all the time she had thought  him a traitor. No wonder she had believed she could buy his silence by  offering herself to him! Guy glanced down at the figure sitting upright  and silent beside him and his anger melted away. What right had he to  criticise her? He had chosen to retire from society rather than work to  clear his name; he could hardly blame the woman if she believed ill of  him. He said, by way of making amends, 'We should be at the crossroads  very soon. Odd that the lady should give that as her forwarding address  if she was departing from Portsmouth.'

'I had wondered about that,' she replied thoughtfully. 'Unless her  experience of Portsmouth made her loath to put up in the town again.'

'Well, I hope we may soon know the truth.' He raised his whip to point  towards a large building in the distance. 'If I am not mistaken, that is  the inn ahead of us.'

Five minutes later they clattered into the yard of the White Bear. It  was a large old building with galleries on two storeys surrounding the  yard and was full of bustling activity when they arrived. The ostlers  were huddled in one corner, talking amongst themselves, and did not  immediately dash out to take charge of the curricle team. The earl,  aware of Beth's fretting impatience, called to them to hurry and once  the horses were under control he jumped down and ran around to help Beth  to alight.

'Not the most efficient hostelry I have ever visited,' he remarked as  he gave her his hand. 'Not even the landlord to welcome us.'

'Perhaps they are very busy today,' she remarked, setting off  immediately for the inn door. 'Let us hope the service is better  inside.'

He followed her into the inn and past the noisy taproom. As she  hesitated outside the coffee room a harassed-looking waiter came out,  wiping his hands on his apron. He gave a nod in their direction and  asked civilly if he could be of assistance.

'We are looking for a Madame de Beaune,' said Guy. 'We understand she is staying here.'

The waiter froze, his brows coming together. He said slowly, 'Madame de Beaune, you say?'

'Yes.' The man continued to stare at them and Guy added sharply, 'Well, is she here? Out with it, man.'

The waiter swallowed, and looked around, as if seeking assistance.

'Please,' said Beth. 'We have travelled all the way from London, please tell us if she is here.'

'Well … aye, she is, in a manner of speaking.' The waiter was no longer  wiping his hands on his apron, he was wringing them. 'She's here, but  she … she's dead.'                       
       
           



       





Chapter Fourteen



Beth swayed at the waiter's announcement and felt the earl's steadying  arm slip around her waist to support her. Before she could speak a  portly gentleman in a brown frockcoat and grey wig appeared and the  waiter turned to him.

'This lady and gentleman have just arrived from London, sir, and were  asking after the French lady.' With that the waiter hurried away,  grateful to have shuffled off responsibility.

'I am Sir Jeffrey Farnborough, the magistrate,' announced the portly  gentleman, coming forwards. 'May I ask what your business is here?'

'Perhaps first we could find the lady a seat?' the earl responded. He  was still supporting Beth, holding her close against him, and she dare  not free herself, afraid that her legs would not support her.

Sir Jeffrey took one look at her face and nodded. 'Aye, of course. This  way.' He led them through a winding passage to a small dining room well  away from the entrance. 'Very well,' he said, shutting the door. 'What  was your business with Madame de Beaune?'

The earl guided Beth to a chair and hovered over her solicitously.  'Leave this to me,' he murmured quietly before straightening to address  the magistrate. 'We met Madame on her previous visit to England in '87,'  he said easily. 'She was travelling then with her husband, who had come  over on business. We planned to renew the acquaintance. Unfortunately  we were delayed getting to town and Madame had already departed, but she  left us a note telling us she would be here.'

'And do you have the note with you?'

The earl lifted one eyebrow at the magistrate's question. 'I'm afraid  not. It was very brief, I did not think I should need to refer to it  again.' He said, anticipating the next question. 'Perhaps I should  introduce myself. I am Lord Darrington. And this is Mrs Forrester.'

'Well, I am sorry, my lord, madam, but it seems you have wasted your  journey. As the waiter informed you, Madame de Beaune died last night.'

'May I enquire the cause of death?' asked the earl, gently swinging his quizzing glass.

'She was murdered, my lord.'

Beth's eyes widened, but she kept silent.

'Indeed?' Lord Darrington raised the quizzing glass to his eye 'How shocking. Would it be indelicate to enquire how … or why?'

'As to that, sir, we know a thief stole in during the night. Poor woman  disturbed him going through her luggage and he stabbed her. The man in  the next room heard the rumpus and set up the alarm, but the killer was  too quick. He jumped out of the window and was away.'

'How very dreadful,' murmured Beth.

The magistrate shook his head. 'As you say, madam, dreadful. Well, I  must get on. If you have just arrived, I suppose there is nothing you  can tell me to help me with my case. Do you know her family, for  instance?'

'No,' muttered Beth.

'We understand she had only recently arrived from France,' put in the earl.