Snowy Night With a Stranger Page 7

  Ned moved swiftly back to the door and Georgiana followed him.

  “What are you doing here?” The question was abrupt and angry, the residue of the last few minutes still showing on her face and in her eyes.

  “I happened to be passing, and overheard your argument. I thought you might need some assistance. But I see I was wrong.”

  He stood looking at her, wondering how on earth he could have missed it. No more déjà vu. Georgiana Carey was the thief and the pickpocket ambushing unwary travelers in the snow. There was no mistaking the way she moved, no mistaking the similarity in build, no mistaking the businesslike ferocity with which she’d handled her problems. He had felt again the blow to his own neck that had felled him in the snow when he watched her deal the same to Godfrey Belton. No wonder he’d thought there was something familiar about the pony in the stable.

  She stood for a moment, her eyes now uncertain, her hands steepled at her mouth, thumbs hinged beneath her chin. “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  He smiled easily. “No reason, except admiration at your ability to look after yourself.” He looked beyond her at the still-gurgling Godfrey. “What do you want to do about him now?”

  “Leave him,” she said coldly.

  “Won’t he want his revenge?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You could enlist your guardian’s support,” he suggested. “He surely wouldn’t countenance that kind of brutality.”

  “My guardian is at home in rough company,” she said as coldly as before. “Surely you can tell that from the guests he invites. What you may consider brutality he would consider perfectly acceptable.”

  Georgiana could feel the bruises on her arms beginning to throb and she stood absently rubbing them as she contemplated the consequences of what had just occurred. Godfrey would certainly want his revenge. And she probably should not be here to receive it. But where else could she go in this blizzard?

  Ned saw her increased pallor, and the vulnerability growing in her eyes as she stared at something only she could see. “Come,” he said. “You need your own chamber. Tell your maid you’re unwell and you intend to pass the evening upstairs.” He took her hand and drew her away. “Lock the door if you’ll feel safer.”

  “I’m not frightened of that jackass,” she denied fiercely, but allowed Ned to lead her away. And then she stopped and looked at him. “Of course, I only had the advantage while he didn’t know what I was capable of. Now he knows, and he’s a great deal stronger than I am.”

  “Not as fast though,” Ned pointed out, urging her on with a hand in the small of her back. “And by no means as quick-witted. Which way are we going?”

  “Left-hand passage, but there’s no need for you to come any farther.” She moved away from his hand, suddenly afraid that she would start to rely on the strong warmth it was imparting. The temptation was great, as great as was the urge to confide in him. But Georgiana knew she was on her own. She had only herself to rely upon.

  “I’m taking you to your door,” Ned said. “I actually owe you some thanks, Georgie.”

  “Oh?” As he’d hoped, the observation distracted her and she looked sideways at him as he eased her down the corridor, his hand still firmly planted in the small of her back. “What for?”

  “Warning me about your guardian. Selby is most definitely not an honest broker.”

  “What did he want?” She lifted the latch on her door, pushed it open, and then gave in to temptation. She didn’t want him to leave her and to the devil with the consequences. “Come in and tell me.”

  He followed her into a spacious and comfortable apartment. The fire blazed, and the lamps were lit. “Well, it seems Selby trapped my never-very-alert brother into some kind of ridiculous property deal, but Rob died while it was still in dispute. Selby seems to think I can be persuaded to settle the debt myself.”

  Ned shook his head with amusement as he kicked a fallen log back into the fire. “He seems to think I was born yesterday.”

  “Oh, he’ll try anything for a few guineas,” Georgiana said, settling into the corner of the daybed, kicking off her slippers. “He’s so grasping he can easily mistake his mark.” She leaned back, resting her head against a cushion, looking up at him as he stood by the fire, an arrested look in her sharpened gaze.

  Ned found himself transfixed by the green gaze. He looked at her, his eyes locked with hers, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that this moment, in this room, with this woman, had been lying in wait for him all his life. There was a sense of the absolute rightness of it, of being here with her. Without conscious volition he moved away from the fire, came over to her, leaned down, bracing a hand on the back of the sofa and kissed her mouth.

  She didn’t move, she didn’t resist, but she didn’t return the kiss, either. When he straightened slowly, still looking down at her, he saw that her eyes were now full of questions. She touched her mouth with her fingertips, then nodded as if in confirmation.

  “What is it?” he asked softly.

  She smiled and said, “I always wondered what a proper kiss would be like. I was beginning to think I would never find out. Thank you for showing me.”

  Somehow that was not the reaction Ned had hoped for. He’d kissed her, not given her a bunch of flowers. He contented himself with a somewhat ironic bow, a murmured “At your service, ma’am,” and left her, closing the door firmly behind him. He heard the key turn in the lock almost immediately.

  He stood outside her door for a moment, frowning in thought. It was inconceivable to him that she hadn’t felt the connection that he had felt. It had been so powerful, an almost palpable magnet drawing him across the room to her, it was not possible that he alone had felt it. Maybe he was being foolish, the strictly pragmatic man of business giving way to a flush of romanticism, but it didn’t feel like that.

  And the one thing he knew without a shadow of doubt was that he could not in good conscience marry Sarah Hartley. He had accepted the idea of a suitable and convenient marriage between old friends. But he had had no feelings for another woman then. Now—now he wanted Georgiana Carey, and all the old clichés seemed fresh and bright.

  He had lost his heart; fallen head over heels in love; met the love of his life; couldn’t live without her.

  He laughed to himself in mingled self-mockery and wonder at the whole extraordinary business. He would have her. But before he could do that, he had to untangle the mesh that snared her. Or was she doing that for herself?

  Well, he would find the answer to that a little later. He strode away down the corridor and headed for the Long Gallery again.

  Godfrey Belton was standing in the doorway to the gallery as Ned approached. Or rather, he was not so much standing as leaning against the doorjamb breathing rather heavily. His normally high color was rather gray and his skin looked clammy.

  He glared at Ned as he approached. “What are you doing here, Allenton?”

  Ned gave him a look of innocent inquiry. “I was intending to walk through the gallery,” he responded. “A little gentle exercise seemed in order after lunch.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is something the matter, Belton? You don’t look too well.”

  Belton grunted. “I’m perfectly well.” He pushed himself upright and leaned forward suddenly, one finger jabbing at Ned’s chest. “Just keep your eyes off Georgiana, Allenton. She’s mine, and she’ll learn that soon enough. If you want to do her any favors, then you’ll keep well away from her. Understand?”

  Ned, with an air of fastidious distaste, caught the jabbing finger and returned it to its owner. “What an uncivilized brute you are, Belton,” he said amiably. “I’ll thank you to keep your fingers to yourself.” Then he stepped around the man and into the gallery.

  Godfrey turned to watch him. “You’ll regret that, Allenton,” he declared. “You don’t know your way around these parts anymore, and if you think the Allenton name means anything now, you’re in for a rude shock. Your kind have no powe
r now. In a few months Selby and I will own everything from the coast to the Pennines, and we’ll drive the Allentons and everyone of your ilk out.”

  Ned made no response, merely stood looking out of one of the long windows, waiting for Godfrey to leave. And finally he did, limping a little as he walked away.

  And what exactly had he meant by that? Everything from the coast to the Pennines?

  With his fingertip Ned traced a design in the condensation on the window. He was beginning to see a pattern form.

  -o-O-o-

  Georgiana sat by the fire after Ned had left, stretching her shoeless feet to the warmth, wriggling her toes. She hadn’t meant to sound so dismissive, but she had spoken out of the surprised recognition that something amazing had happened to her. And foolishly she had expected Ned to understand that. How could he not understand it when it was clear that the same thing had happened to him?

  It had come upon her so quickly, that recognition. She had been looking at him, talking naturally enough about Selby, and then she had felt the most powerful need. The need to touch him, to be touched by him, to lean into him, to yield to his strength. How she longed for someone to share her terrors, to make them insignificant. But most of all, she wanted to be loved as much as she wanted to love. Her life was such a desert, a bleak and loveless landscape where the only people around her were intent on getting something from her, on using her. And for the first time, someone had walked into that landscape and filled it with light and warmth, and infinite possibility.

  Georgiana hugged herself—an involuntary movement that, while it was no substitute for Ned Vasey’s arms, gave her an inkling of what those arms would feel like. She basked again in the glow from those gold-brown eyes, and again her lips felt the pliant warmth of his mouth on hers.

  She had disappointed him with her seemingly prosaic response to his kiss, but she hadn’t been able to help it. It was all so new and fresh and so full of promise that she hadn’t been able to find the right words. But he would come back, she was sure of it, and when he did, she would make certain he was not disappointed again.

  Her arms fell into her lap as cold reality reasserted itself. If she was to make a future out of this promise, it was imperative she make her escape before Godfrey could get his hands on her again. She cursed her own foolishness for dropping her carefully preserved pretense of compliance. She had known she had to maintain the play until she could safely make her escape. Instead, in a fit of lunacy, she had shown her true colors at a time when she could not possibly get herself to safety.

  And Godfrey would tell Selby what had happened. Or would he? It was always possible he would be too embarrassed to tell anyone of his defeat at the hands of a mere woman. But whether he did or not, the die was now cast.

  Chapter Six

  Ned dressed slowly and with some reluctance for dinner that night. Christmas night or not, he had no desire to spend another evening under the quixotic sovereignty of the Lord of Misrule, and he suspected that Roger Selby would be less than amiable after their meeting that afternoon. It had certainly not come to Selby’s desired conclusion. And then there was Godfrey Belton, of whom Ned had also made an enemy. And he’d find no friends among the other guests. There was no real civility there, and if their host turned against one of the guests, he suspected, they too would turn like an obedient pack of hounds on their master’s quarry.

  And what of Georgiana? Would she show herself or stay behind a locked door? He rather hoped she would do the latter—it would be one less thing for him to worry about—but he was by no means sanguine that she would choose discretion over valor. Not from what he’d seen of her thus far.

  Just what was she doing playing highwayman in the Cheviot foothills? He intended to find out before the night was done. Apart from anything else, he wanted to reclaim his stolen property. He didn’t begrudge her the guineas, but his fob watch had belonged to his grandfather, a man with whom he had had much more in common than his own father. It was a valuable piece, but it was worth much more than face value to Ned. She’d had no opportunity to sell or pawn it in the last two days, so he would claim it later, and at the same time get an explanation from Lady Georgiana Carey.

  “There, sir. Very smart, my lord.” Davis smoothed the coat over Ned’s shoulders, patting the soft gray wool with satisfaction. “Is there anything else I can do for you now?”

  “No, thank you, Davis,” Ned said. “Go and get your supper. And there’s no need to wait up for me. I may sit late.”

  Davis bowed. “Very well, sir. If you’re sure, m’lord.”

  “Quite sure. It is Christmas night, after all. Enjoy your evening.” Ned smiled and waved a hand toward the door in dismissal. He waited until Davis had departed, the door firmly closed, and then he fetched his portmanteau from the armoire. Davis had emptied it of everything he could see, but he didn’t know of the hidden compartment. Ned lifted the lining at the bottom of the bag and then the stiffened leather base. Beneath he kept a pistol and a lockbox. It was the pistol that interested him tonight. It was small, ivory handled, and in Lord Allenton’s hands quite deadly.

  He took it out, cleaned and primed it, and tucked it into an inner pocket of his coat, where it lay snugly beneath his arm. Ned checked his image in the glass and nodded his satisfaction. There was not a bulge visible in the beautifully cut garment. Why he thought he might need a pistol tonight was something of a mystery. It was unusual, to say the least, to go armed to a host’s dinner table, but better safe than sorry. He’d learned that lesson many times over. No man with half a brain moved around India without his own arms and, more often than not, an armed retinue. Threats came from both the human animal and any number of others.

  He felt much more comfortable with the familiar weight under his arm. Although if he had to shoot his way out of the house into the blizzard, he’d be jumping from the frying pan into the fire, he reflected wryly as he went downstairs to the salon.

  The guests were all assembled, drinking deep, a group of men throwing dice at a baize-covered table in the window. The atmosphere was more like a tavern or a brothel than a gentleman’s salon before dinner, Ned thought, taking a glass of wine from a circulating footman’s tray. There was no sign of Georgiana.

  He strolled across the room to where Selby stood in conversation with Belton. “Gentlemen, good evening.” Ned bowed.

  Godfrey walked away but Selby offered a curt nod in response. “I’d like that bill of sale back, Allenton. It’s my proof.”

  “Of course.” Ned’s smile was soothing. “As soon as I’ve had my own lawyer look it over, and discussed the matter with my agent, I shall, of course, return it to you.”

  “We honor our word in these parts, Allenton,” Selby stated. “As I’ve already said, you’ll find yourself persona non grata if you don’t.”

  Ned inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I’m sure that’s so, Selby. But if you recall, it was not my word that was pledged.” He sipped his wine, watching his host’s reaction.

  Selby drained his glass in one deep draft and called to the footman to bring him another. “On your own head be it, then, Allenton,” he said, and turned his shoulder, ignoring Ned.

  Ned shrugged and walked away. He was aware of a slight buzz in the room, of curious glances, low-voiced conversations that died as he approached. Then the door opened and Georgiana walked in.

  She was wearing an emerald green gown, caught beneath the bosom with a bronze silk belt. The long sleeves were tight and buttoned at the wrists with tiny emerald studs. Her red hair was caught up on her neck with a bronze velvet ribbon, and two emerald studs gleamed in her ears. Her eyes were filled with fire as she stood in the doorway and looked around the room.

  She looked magnificent, Ned thought, his breath catching in his throat. Magnificent and defiant, determined to outface her guardian, her fiancé and the whole drunken tribe of guests.

  Georgiana met his eye and smiled slightly. She felt strong, astoundingly relieved now that she’d deci
ded once and for all to drop the pretense. She had nothing to lose now.

  “My dear ward, I’m so glad you decided to join us,” Selby said, coming toward her. “After your little difficulty this afternoon, I felt sure you would keep to your room.”

  What exactly had Godfrey told Selby of what had transpired in the Long Gallery? Not the truth, surely. It would be too mortifying for him. Georgiana’s smile would have frozen a basilisk. She sketched a curtsy. “I recall no difficulty, my lord. You must be mistaken.”

  Selby regarded her with narrowed eyes. “I doubt that, my dear. I very much doubt that.”

  “Excuse me, sir.” She moved away from him, crossing the room to where Ned stood, pausing to greet other guests as she made her way to him. She felt rather than saw Godfrey take a step toward her and she forced herself to keep smiling, to continue smiling, nodding, every step drawing her closer to Ned. Surely if she ignored Godfrey he wouldn’t force a confrontation here, in front of everyone.

  But she was by no means sure of that, and she felt a surge of relief when she reached Ned.

  “Good evening, Lady Georgiana.” Ned bowed. “May I procure you a glass of wine?” He beckoned to the footman.

  Georgiana took a glass from the tray, glancing covertly toward Godfrey, who was staring malevolently at her from a few feet away.

  “Don’t worry,” Ned murmured. “If he makes trouble I have my pistol.”

  She looked at him, startled. “You haven’t!”

  “Certainly I have,” he responded with a bland smile. “I’m a regular knight errant. Always ready to defend a damsel in distress.”

  Her eyes danced with amusement for a second, and then became grave again. She started to say something but Godfrey interrupted her.

  “I take it ill in you, madam, that you ignore your fiancé,” he said with distinct menace. “Your duty is to me, and no one else.” He turned to Ned, his eyes small and bloodshot and full of hate. “You have no business here. Leave us, sir.”

  Ned hesitated. But he didn’t want to make matters worse at present and nothing would be gained by open warfare. He smiled reassuringly at Georgiana. “Give me leave to leave you for the moment, ma’am.” He walked a little way away from them, then took up a position by the fire, resting one arm along the mantel, a foot on the fender, openly watching Georgie and Belton as he sipped his wine.