A Suitable Husband Page 8

  Beth hurried forward as the door closed behind him. ‘Oh, madam, I’m so pleased. We can all rest easier in our beds if the captain’s in charge of everything.’

  Sarah settled back pleased her subterfuge had been so well received. Belatedly she realized she had not discussed the extra remuneration due to Oliver. When she saw him next she would assure him he would be well paid for his extra services. Masquerading as her intended was no more than an extension of his employment after all.

  ***

  Lord Hepworth greeted the announcement with unrestrained delight. ‘Well done, my boy, well down! My dear wife will be overjoyed as she has been hoping young Sarah would take the plunge again.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord. It’s a relief you’re pleased with our news. We’ve not known each other long and we feared we might be accused of being too hasty.’

  ‘Not a bit of it, my boy. I knew the instant I set eyes on my Harriet, and she on me. The sooner you are wed the better, if you do not mind my saying so. Sarah and Edward need your protection. There’s some devil out to harm them and until we have him stopped their lives are at risk.’

  ‘That’s why we decided to announce it now. I need to be on hand at all times to keep them both safe.’

  ‘Ah! I understand, as an unattached gentleman it would have been impossible for you to move into Rowley Court. Good God! The village tabbies would have made your ears burn.’

  Oliver grinned wryly. He thought the engagement of a penniless, ex-army officer to a wealthy widow would cause almost as much gossip. ‘The last four of my riflemen will be here tomorrow, or the next day. I will then have ten trained and fully armed men to patrol the grounds. That will be more than enough to keep them from harm.’

  ‘Excellent, excellent! I see you have it all in hand, my boy. I will arrange for a basket of dainties to be sent over for Sarah. There are pineapples and peaches ready in my hothouse.’ He nodded towards the eagerly listening Edward. ‘I shall have Cook put in some gingerbread for you as well.’

  Lord Hepworth rose to his feet and offered his hand to Oliver. His grip was surprisingly firm from a man of his advancing years. ‘I will bid you good day, my boy. I expect Harriet and the girls will be pestering to come over and talk weddings.’ At the captain’s look of horror he laughed. ‘Never fear; I can put them off for a day or two. Give Sarah time to recover.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, that would be appreciated. Sarah has undergone too much excitement and stress in the last few days. She needs to recoup and recover.’

  ‘I will see myself out. I do not stand on ceremony here, you know.’

  Oliver bowed and watched the stocky, grey-haired figure depart; a slight frown marred his features. Events were moving on too swiftly and decisions were being taken out of his hands. He had chosen to accept the post as tutor to Edward Haverstock after having seen Sarah for himself. It had always been his intention to marry her but on his terms. Somehow she had pre-empted him with this fallacious engagement; forced him into a situation he was no longer in control of.

  He had wanted Sarah to fall in love with him; to be so besotted she would deny him nothing. That his affections should become engaged instead had not been part of his scheme. He felt vulnerable and at a loss to know how to proceed.

  Angrily, he slammed his fist on the desk, the pain clearing his mind helping him to focus his attention on the main matter, that of unmasking the villain who was attempting to murder his betrothed and her son.

  ***

  Upstairs Sarah slept through the banging and clattering that accompanied the clearing of Edward’s bedchamber. Jack and Billy, an under-gardener, had been given the unenviable task of removing the incinerated bed and charred remains of curtain, commode and carpet.

  The two youngsters had removed the damaged window frame and were throwing the debris out of the window where it fell three floors to land, noisily, on the terrace below. That they had thought to spread a layer of straw to protect the slabs from damage was an admirable notion. Unfortunately their mathematics was sadly askew and most of the jettison from the room was missing the straw altogether.

  Edward hearing the delightful sound of falling carpentry raced upstairs to join in the fun. It was there Oliver discovered him, so soot covered he resembled a blackamore and was only distinguishable from his fellow dismantlers by his size.

  ‘Enough! Stop this at once!’ Oliver roared over the banging. Instant silence fell and three grimy faces turned to look, their teeth white slashes as they gaped at the furious giant towering over them. It was Edward who found the courage to speak.

  ‘Should we not be doing this, Papa? Are we doing something you dislike?’ His ingenuous inquiry halted Oliver, his angry words remained unspoken. He looked round the blackened ruin of the room, already half cleared.

  He shook his head in bafflement, being with Edward was making him turn soft. His next words held no trace of annoyance. ‘No, lad; I came up merely to suggest it might be good idea to look out of the window.’

  Puzzled, the older boys rushed to the empty frame, Jack instinctively putting his arm across the gap to prevent Edward coming too close. They surveyed the chaos they had caused below. They saw an almost pristine layer of glowing yellow straw, surrounded on all sides by shards of charred wood, mattress, and burnt carpet pieces.

  Jack stepped back and drew Edward away from the window with him. ‘We had no idea, Captain, sir. We thought all this,’ he gestured vaguely round the ruined room, ‘was landing safely on the straw. I don’t understand how it’s all over the lawn, the terrace, and the flowerbeds.’ His voice held genuine bewilderment; as if some malign fate had spread the debris deliberately in every place apart from the one it was intended to be.

  Oliver stared from one miscreant to the other and reluctantly his mouth began to curl. These boys were working so enthusiastically and were mystified about the inappropriate whereabouts of their labours. ‘Are you dropping your rubbish or throwing it out?’ He was trying hard to disguise his mirth.

  Jack looked from Billy to Edward, and then said happily. ‘Throwing it — that way Edward doesn’t need to go near the window, sir.’

  Oliver swallowed. ‘Exactly, Jack. The straw is directly underneath the window; ideal if you were dropping it but not for hurling it through the window as you appear to be doing.’

  Edward came over and shyly touched his future father’s hand. ‘Are we in trouble, Papa? Are you very angry?’

  Oliver’s heart turned over. He held the boy to him and said gruffly. “No, Edward. It was a genuine mistake. No real harm has been done, yet.’ Jack and Billy understood the message.

  ‘We will go down and clear everything up before we do any more, sir. We need to move the straw as well.’

  ‘I think it would be better if you desisted from throwing anything out of here. Make a pile over here. I’ll get someone else to remove it.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, Captain.’ Jack’s reply was subdued. Men had been turned off for lesser offences, they were lucky to have got off without even a serious reprimand.

  Oliver nodded pleasantly and escorted his small charge from the room. ‘Come, lad, I’ll take you to Sally. She must organize a bath and change of clothes before you go to visit your mama.’ Edward allowed himself to be led downstairs quite unaware of the maelstrom of unexpected emotions he had released in his Oliver’s head.

  Chapter Nine

  Three days after Sarah had been confined to her bed Dr Witherspoon declared her sufficiently recovered to spend the day reclining in her boudoir. She and Oliver were sitting companionably together.

  ‘I hope my father and sister received my letter telling them of our engagement.’

  ‘Does it matter? You’re no longer a debutante who needs your family’s permission before making your decisions.’

  ‘I know that, but strangely enough they care for my welf
are and would be concerned if they thought I had become engaged to someone unsuitable.’

  His smile did not reach his eyes. ‘Like me? Will they consider me an unscrupulous fortune hunter?’

  ‘Please do not be ridiculous, Oliver. Of course, I am not referring to you. But they have not met you and do not know you as I do.’

  ‘But we don’t really know each other do we, Sarah? We have been acquainted scarcely a month, after all.’

  ‘A week was long enough to know you are a brave and resourceful man with a natural affinity to children.’ She grinned at him. ‘It was also long enough for me to know you can be arrogant, opinionated and short tempered.’

  ‘And I knew instantly you are a lovely, intelligent, independent young woman with a sharp tongue and high opinion of herself.’

  They stared at each other for a moment, neither sure whether to be flattered by the compliments or offended by the criticism.

  Sarah broke the silence. ‘Well, we have seen both the worst and the best and we are still friends, are we not?’

  ‘More than friends, I hope, my dear.’ Oliver was suddenly beside her and her pulse accelerated. His dark features were so close the faint white line of an old battle scar that ran from the corner of his left eyebrow back across his forehead was visible. Her fingers itched to trace its path and bury themselves in the thickness of his hair. She should stop this; one word would send him away. He would never take what was not freely offered.

  It had been so long since there had been the comfort of a man’s arms around her; she raised her eyes and gave the permission he required. He slid his arms around her and, pulling her gently forward, lowered his mouth to cover hers in a kiss of such devastating sweetness that her lips parted, allowing him to explore as he wished.

  Her hands linked round his neck, holding him captive, reluctant to end the embrace. Eventually he raised his head, his eyes dark with desire, his cheeks flushed. He gazed down at her. Her eyes were soft and loving, her mouth swollen from his kisses. If he did not to pull away she would not be able to say no.

  Slowly he removed his arms. ‘We must stop now, Sarah, or this will reach a place where it becomes impossible to turn back.’

  Sarah moved her head restlessly, her hands dropped back and her eyes fluttered shut then opened. Her cheeks were pink, not with desire but with embarrassment. How could she have behaved so wantonly? This man was not her real betrothed; he was her employee and had no right to take such liberties with her person. ‘This will not do, Oliver. It must not happen again, do you understand? You have taken shameful advantage me when I am too weak to refuse.’

  He leapt angrily to his feet. ‘Good God, Sarah, I didn’t ravish you! You were holding me captive, not the other way round.’

  The fact this statement was patently true only inflamed her ire. ‘How dare you suggest such a thing? You forget yourself, Captain Mayhew. You are being employed to take part in a masquerade. This does not give you leave to act as if the arrangement is genuine.’

  “Thank you for making my position clear, Mrs Haverstock. I must apologize for my presumption. In future our meetings will be strictly professional. Do I have your permission to leave?’ His icy sarcasm and glare of total disgust made her regret her intemperate words. Too late to recall them now, the damage was done, their friendship ruined.

  Gathering the remnants of her pride she schooled her face to reflect none of her inner anguish. ‘Yes, that will be all, Captain. I am sure you have pressing duties elsewhere which will occupy all your time in the future.’

  He nodded curtly and without bothering to answer, strode from the room. Sarah swallowed a sob; not sure how she could have turned something so pleasurable into such an unmitigated disaster. She closed her eyes and hot tears pricked behind her eyes. What was the matter with her? She had swooned and wept more often in the past weeks than in the last five years. It really would not do; she was made of sterner stuff than this. She must not let the fact someone was trying to murder Edward and herself cause her to behave in such a feeble way.

  She scarcely had time to recover her equilibrium before her maid tapped on the open door. ‘Lord Hepworth has sent a box over for you, madam. Should I have it brought up?’

  ‘No, thank you, Beth. Have it sent to the kitchen; Cook will know how to deal with it. I am not feeling too well, could you assist me to my bed?’

  Even with her maid’s strong arm the journey to her bed seemed overlong. Finally the curtains rattled shut and left her in the welcome sun-dappled dimness to contemplate her future. She realized she was playing a dangerous game. Oliver was not a man like Jonathan who she could bend to her will. He was hot-blooded and able to inflame her passions in a way her husband never had. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift back to the few moments she had spent in his arms. Just the thought made her feel restless and her skin flecked with unwelcome heat.

  It would not do! She was a respectable widow, not a member of the demi-monde. Such feelings could only be considered acceptable for a married woman. Slowly, languorously, she stretched; the coolness of the cotton sheets welcome on her overheated limbs.

  As she drifted off to sleep she smiled; maybe the engagement should become genuine? Being married to someone like Oliver would definitely have many advantages.

  ***

  ‘Here you are, Master Edward; Lady Hepworth has sent you some gingerbread men.’ Thomas held out a sweet smelling ginger confection in the shape of a little person. Edward took it eagerly. He sniffed it appreciatively, then his nose curled and he held it at arm’s length. ‘This smells strange, Mrs Thomas, not the way it usually does.’ He wafted it under the Cook’s nose.

  ‘Hold still, Master, let me have a sniff. Yes, you’re right; maybe this one has become tainted by something else in the basket.’

  ‘Shall I still eat it, Mrs Thomas?’

  ‘No, give it to Rags. I will fetch you out another.’

  Edward knew his shaggy dog was in the stable yard greeting the doctor whose open carriage had just bowled down the drive. He ran from the kitchen door, round the side of the house, and across to the stables.

  The pungent smell of hot horses and stable dung greeted him. The weather had set fair and Rowley Court was basking in the warmth.

  ‘Papa, Papa, I have a gingerbread man for Rags,’ he shouted when he spotted him. Papa was in his breeches and shirtsleeves, of his navy serge topcoat there was no sign.

  ‘Do not shout, please Edward, where are your manners, lad?’

  The boy skidded to a halt grinning up at both men. ‘Good afternoon, Dr Witherspoon. Have you called to see my mother?’

  ‘Yes, Edward, but I am told that she is resting, so I will not disturb her today.’

  Edward crouched down and waved the treat in front of the dog’s wet nose. ‘I have something lovely for you, Rags. You’re a hero, and you deserve it.’

  Oliver raised an eyebrow. ‘You are indeed honoured, Rags; I know these are your master’s favourite.’

  Edward watched his beloved companion gulp down the biscuit, his plumy tail wagging enthusiastically. ‘I gave it to him, Papa, because we thought it smelled nasty.’

  Oliver acted instantly. Too late he dived down and forced the dog’s jaws open, desperately hoping he had not swallowed the whole. Rags gave a groan and snatched his head away and tried to bite at his mid-section. Then his long legs buckled and he collapsed, writhing in agony, on the cobbles.

  The doctor joined him on the ground. ‘Poison?’

  Oliver nodded, his face grim. ‘I realized too late. This is my fault. It could have been Edward.’ He heard the boys smothered sob and his heart shrivelled. He had promised to protect this boy, and his mother, and now he had allowed his pet to be poisoned in front of him.

  David Witherspoon had other ideas. ‘There might still be time to save him. I need salt from the kit
chen; run fast Edward and fetch me a cupful.’ Edward needed no further urging, he vanished.

  ‘Get him up on his feet, and try to hold him steady.’

  Oliver struggled with the writhing, whining dog, not wishing to cause him many more distress.

  He straddled Rags and, when the animal was more or less on his feet, he closed his knees and gripped hard. By the time Edward returned the doctor had a hollow glass tube and funnel ready. The salt was crushed into powder and stirred into enough water to make a liquid.

  ‘Can you force his jaws apart and hold them open?’

  Oliver nodded. With difficulty he tipped the dying dog’s head back and held his mouth open. David forced the glass tube down the dog’s throat and slotted the funnel into the top. “Edward, can you tip the salt water down for me, please?’

  With shaking hands, and tear stained cheeks, Edward bravely stepped up and slopped the solution into the open end of the funnel. It took the combined strength of both men to hold Rags still. The animal’s body was convulsed in agony and Oliver believed their actions were far too late.

  ‘Good boy; that’s enough. Now, go in and sit with Sally. We will send for you when there is any news.’

  Edward ignored the doctor’s words and Oliver felt the small body pressed against his hip, seeking a comfort which he could not deny. ‘You can stay, but I warn you it will not be pleasant viewing.’ Edward didn’t answer, just pressed harder and Oliver felt little hands hanging onto his breeches.

  For a moment nothing happened. A circle of grooms had gathered; everyone loved the big boisterous dog and all knew how much he meant to Edward. Then Rag’s body convulsed and there was a horrible gurgling noise. The contents of his stomach began to be projected forcefully onto the cobbles. The miserable retching continued and the anxious watchers saw large pieces of gingerbread were visible in the noxious pile.