The Dangerous Lord Darrington(34)

'Miles?' She laughed. 'What has he to do with it?'

'He was at the inn with your brother and the de Beaunes. Providential that he should turn up on the quay after the attack.'

'Providential indeed,' retorted Beth, her colour heightened. 'He did his best to help Simon.'

'Did he?'

The earl handed her a small mug of punch and she did not reply  immediately. She considered his question while she inhaled the pungent  aroma of the hot rum and lemons, thinking back over all Simon had told  her.

'Yes, he did,' she said emphatically. 'He told the constables they were  making a mistake when they accused Simon and, after, he travelled all  the way to Malpass to bring us news of Simon's death.'

'That is a lot of trouble to go to for a chance acquaintance.'

'It speaks of a generosity that I cannot begin to match!' she retorted. 'When I think of how I have betrayed him … '

'You have not betrayed Radworth,' he replied curtly.

'No, but I was sorely tempted.'

'If there was no temptation, there would be little honour in  resisting.' He smiled at her over the rim of his cup. Hot, aching desire  seared through her and she wondered how long her resistance could last  when Guy was so close.

She kept her eyes lowered as she sipped at the hot, sweet liquid.

'It is late and you are tired,' he said, putting down his cup. 'Come, let me escort you to your room.'

She picked up her cloak and accompanied him through the gloomy  passages. The candles burning in the wall sconces made their shadows  dance beside them like clownish attendants. A helpful bootboy directed  them to the second floor.

'It appears we are next door to each other,' murmured Guy, opening her  door. She hung back as he walked in before her, returning moments later  with a candlestick bearing a small stub of candle, which he proceeded to  light from one of the lamps in the passageway. 'Here.' He handed her  the candlestick. 'Goodnight, Mrs Forrester.'

Beth retreated into her room, locking the door behind her. She heard  the squeak of a hinge and footsteps in the room next to hers. That would  be Guy. She leaned against the door, unable to stop herself from  smiling. When had she begun to think of him as Guy and not the Earl of  Darrington?

It was difficult to remember when he had stopped being an unwelcome  guest and become so indispensable to her comfort. Somewhere deep inside a  tiny flame of hope flickered. Perhaps, when all this was over, there  might be a way …

No! Quickly she thrust the thought aside. She dared not even consider  the future until Simon was safe. She moved away from the door to inspect  her room by the light of her single candle. Dark panelling stretched  from ceiling to floor, unalleviated by any decoration save a small  mirror on one wall. A large canopied bed took up most of the floor and a  small washstand occupied one corner. She was making her way around the  bed towards the window when she saw a line of light at the base of one  wall. As she drew closer the candlelight revealed a raised edge to the  panelling and she noticed a handle and below it a dull metal lock and  key …                        
       
           



       

She jumped back with a gasp as the panelled door swung open. Guy stood  in the aperture, a solid, black figure outlined by the lighted room  behind him.

'If you planned this … ' she began, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

'No, no, I assure you, I bespoke separate rooms for us.' There was the  hint of laughter in his voice. 'I fear the landlord may have  misunderstood me.' He looked around. 'Why have you not lit your  candles?'

He took the candlestick from her nerveless fingers.

'I-I was about to do so.' She said nothing more; she was not going to  admit she had been standing in the darkness, thinking about him.

He went around the room, touching the flame to every candle.

'There.' He held out the candlestick. 'Now you can see to go to bed.'

She reached out, their fingers touching around the metal holder.

Would he kiss her? He was looking down at her, his eyes dark and unfathomable.

He is waiting, she thought suddenly. He is waiting for a sign from me.

She drew herself up to her full height. 'Goodnight, my lord.' She pointed towards the open door.

'Are you sure you want me to go?' His rueful smile was almost her undoing.

'I am sure.' She put her hand on his chest and pushed him gently but inexorably towards the opening.

'Very well, madam.' He stepped back into his own room, saying as she  shut the door between them, 'You only have to call if you need me.'

She closed the door and turned the key. It gave a satisfying click.

'What … ' Guy's voice came muffled through the panelling ' … Do you not trust me?'

Despite her raw emotions a gurgle of laughter escaped her. 'Good fences make good neighbours, my lord!'

She prepared slowly for bed. With no nightclothes she decided she would  sleep in her shift, but her gown and petticoats needed to be shaken out  and folded carefully over a chair in readiness for the morning. She was  still smiling when at last she climbed into the bed, thinking of Guy.  Was he asleep in the next room, or was he lying awake, just as she was?  She curled on her side, nestling her cheek against her hand. He would  not coerce her; she was free to lock the door and keep him at a safe  distance and that is what she would do. But as the bed grew warmer and  she gave herself up to sleep, Beth found herself wishing that she could  spend the night in the earl's arms.





Chapter Fifteen



Sunlight filtered into the bedroom through dusty windows and Beth lay  still for a few moments. Excitement stole over her when she remembered  that they were to go to Bourne Park that morning. She dressed quickly,  humming a little tune as she tidied her hair. It was a long time since  she had felt quite so happy. It was because they had found Madame de  Beaune, she told herself as she picked up her kerchief and arranged it  around her neck. It had nothing to do with the fact that the earl was  waiting for her downstairs.

His smile, when she joined him for breakfast, was conspiratorial.

'I trust you slept well, Mrs Forrester?'

'Very well, thank you,' she answered, unable to suppress the twinkle as she responded.

His every look was a caress, heightening her awareness, sending the  blood singing through her. She poured his coffee; he carved wafer thin  slices of ham and beef and put them on her plate. We might be a  long-married couple. The thought appeared only to be dismissed. Beth was  aware that they were walking on a tightrope of normality. One wrong  word, one touch and they would fall headlong into each other's arms.  That must not happen, Beth knew there was far too much at stake for her  to risk her happiness and that of her family with a passionate affair.  So she smiled at the earl, drank in every word, every look and stored  them all away. They might be all she would have of him.



They drove to Bourne Park in a blaze of autumn sunshine. When they  arrived they found the gates standing wide and no sign of the night  watchman or his hounds. The house was a square gentleman's residence  built of brick and Portland stone with a flight of shallow steps rising  to a solid door set beneath a pillared portico. Beth was insensibly  encouraged by the gleaming paint, shining windows and neat garden which  hinted at an orderly and well-regulated household.

As they swept around the gravelled drive the butler appeared at the door and a servant ran out to catch the horses' heads.

'We are expected,' murmured Guy, handing Beth down.

They were shown into an elegant morning room where they were greeted by  a ruddy-cheeked gentleman in a brown bagwig who announced himself to be  Mr Richard Graveney.

'My man told me you called late last night, my lord,' said Mr Graveney,  once the introductions were complete. 'Not the usual time for a  courtesy call.'                       
       
           



       

'These are unusual circumstances,' replied the earl. 'We believe you have a visitor, sir, a Madame de Beaune.'

'Indeed?' Sir Richard's face gave nothing away, but his tone was reserved.

'We have come from the White Bear at Widley,' put in Beth. 'We arrived the morning after-after the dreadful events there.'

'And how do you think I can help you, ma'am?'

'We know that the younger Madame de Beaune fled from the inn yesterday  morning. I have been told her sister lives in the area, and is married  to an Englishman.' She smiled a little. 'That led us to you, sir.'

'We called late last night because we have reason to believe your  sister-in-law may be in danger,' added the earl. 'Our concern was  somewhat relieved by our … reception.'

Mr Graveney stared at them in silence for a few moments, then walked  over to the window, a crease furrowing his brow. After staring out at  the park for a few moments he seemed to come to a decision.

'My wife received a letter from her sister, disclosing that she and her  mama-in-law had fled the terrors in France and were seeking refuge. Of  course we wrote back, offering them shelter. My sister-in-law arrived  yesterday, in a state of great distress. She told us old Madame de  Beaune had been murdered and she had fled the scene, fearing for her  life. She begged us not to reveal her whereabouts to anyone.' He bent a  frowning look upon the earl. 'What is your interest in all this matter,  my lord?'