A Country Mouse Read online

  'If you persist in this nonsense you will see just how much of a brute I can be, my girl. Now, behave yourself. This is not the time for such discussions.'

  'Then when? I promise you, I will not dance until I have an answer I am satisfied with.'

  'We will talk later on the terrace, after this dance is finished.' Her resistance ceased and with a false smiled pinned to her face she allowed him to guide her to the set. She dipped and curtsied, skipped and galloped when required, outwardly a beautiful young woman enjoying her debut in the company of her fiancé.

  Lady Althea watched with a proud smile. She was basking in her daughter's success. Several old acquaintances had drifted over to see her and complemented her on her own appearance. Happy that her daughter was in good hands she accepted an invitation to play a hand of whist in one of the side rooms set aside for that purpose.

  Emily allowed her fiancé to lead her from the floor and she was dismayed to find her mother no longer in her appointed place. She was regretting her rash challenge and wished heartily to back out of the promised tête-à-tête. The uncompromising set of Viscount Yardley's shoulders and the grimness of his features did not bode well.

  'My mother is not here, sir. I do not have her permission to go out on the terrace.'

  'You need no permission; you are under my protection.' He threaded her smartly through the press of people and outside. There were several other couples already there, cooling down after their exertions on the dance floor.

  'It's too cold here, I wish to go in again, if you please. I do not want to catch a chill.'

  Without a word he swung around and marched her back inside. She could feel the muscles of his forearm tighten. Where was he taking her? Where was her mother? She wriggled her fingers but they were held firm. Then from feeling fearful she was flooded with righteous indignation.

  How dare this man drag her, against her will, about the place? Ignoring the two couples standing quietly talking, she flung her weight backwards, taking her captor by surprise. His grip slackened and she was free. Every instinct told her to make good her escape but her anger made her brave.

  She stood her ground and stared at Sebastian, icy rage in her eyes. 'Enough, sir. I will not be manhandled like this. I will speak with you here, and you will listen.' That four other people were riveted also did not bother her. She removed her ring and held it out. 'Here, sir, this I believe, is yours. I want none of it.'

  * * * *

  Too astonished to protest he instinctively held out his hand and felt his token drop into his palm. He stared at it in disbelief. By the time he had recovered his ex-fiancé had vanished into the ballroom. How could this have happened? She had made him a laughing stock. Word of his dismissal would already be passing round the gathering like wildfire.

  His fists closed and the jewel bit into his palm. He took several deep breaths. His fury burned inside him, but he banked it down. Apparently unconcerned he smiled at the interested spectators, casually slipped the ring into his waistcoat pocket, and sauntered off, as though he had not a care in the world.

  No one would have suspected that before the night was out he intended to deal out a punishment to Emily that would necessitate her taking all her meals standing up for the foreseeable future.

  In the ballroom Emily was instantly engulfed in a sea of gentlemen all eager to scribble their names on her dance card. She had no intention of honouring these assignations. She wanted to return home, at once, but until she found her mother, she was trapped. Any moment she feared that the man she had just publicly jilted would appear to exact his revenge.

  Chapter Ten

  Emily nodded, dipped and smiled, promising she was to return in a few moments, but always moving steadily away from the double doors that led to the passageway. She hoped she could hide herself in the crowd, but suspected that her vivid green gown and chestnut hair would make her easy to spot.

  She found herself in the almost empty receiving hall, all the expected guests having arrived. Lord and Lady Galveston and their daughter Sophia and her fiancé had deserted their post on the stairs that led down to the lower floors and freedom.

  Emily hesitated, should she go up or down? Edwards was upstairs waiting; downstairs somewhere she would find the carriage. She made her decision and ran upstairs, her dress held high, exposing far more ankle than was seemly.

  A helpful chambermaid appeared at her side and guided her to the rooms in which the ladies could retire and repair the ravages of an evening on the dance floor. On enquiring Emily discovered that all the maids, dressers, and abigails were elsewhere but the girl promised Edwards would be fetched to her immediately.

  She felt as if her heart was trying to escape the confines of her bodice; her mouth was dry and intermittent tremors shook her tall, slender frame. The other ladies in the room watched her covertly; like colourful vultures they waited, certain they would be able to pick up some juicy gossip to tell their friends.

  The servant's door opened and Edwards hurried in. She had Emily's green and silver cloak over her arm.

  'I am sorry you are feeling unwell, Miss Emily. I have asked for the carriage to be brought round at once.'

  Emily quickly took her cue. 'I think I was imprudent to come out so soon after my fall, Edwards. I should have heeded the doctor's advice and rested a few days longer.' Edwards cleverly brushed Emily's hair aside revealing the livid purple blue bruise that marred the right side of her forehead and ran back into her curls.

  The watchers sighed - no gossip here - the flushed girl was merely unwell. With an injury like that on her temple, it was hardly surprising.

  'I should sit down, Miss Emily. It might be some time before they send for us. The carriage could be several streets away.'

  Emily allowed herself to be seated on a chaise-longue. 'What about Lady Althea? How will she return if I take the carriage?'

  'Do not fret, miss; I have sent a message to Lady Althea; she's quite content to wait until it returns to collect her. She's in no hurry to leave.'

  Ladies came and went but still they did not receive the longed for summons. Emily flinched every time door opened expecting a furious Viscount Yardley to burst in and accost her. It was a full forty-five minutes before a footman arrived to escort them. The sound of the quartet playing and the tinkle of laughter accompanied Emily for it was almost midnight and the ball was in full swing.

  Emily saw no one she knew as she hurried down with Edwards close behind her. At the door she turned.

  'I can return alone, Edwards. I wish you to remain here in case Lady Althea needs you.'

  Edwards did not protest. 'Very well, miss. I will see you to the carriage and then return to wait.'

  Emily mounted the carriage steps and felt her fear slip away; she sank back onto the silken squabs in the welcome darkness of the spacious interior. Edwards stepped back and the steps were folded. The door closed, the coachman clicked and the horses shook their heads'.

  With a sigh of relief she settled herself more comfortably. She was safe, at least until the morning, and by that time, she prayed, Sebastian would have calmed down. Something, a slight noise, an almost imperceptible movement at the far side of the coach, alerted her. She did not turn her head, she did not need to. She was not alone. The man she was so desperate to escape from was inside the carriage with her.

  Icy tremors ran down her spine. She was trapped. He was a violent man - had he not already mowed her down? And servants, if they valued their positions, did not interfere in their master's business.

  She must not give herself away. He must not know she was aware of him. Her hand slid across to the door handle and began to lift it. She kept her face averted, pretending she was sleeping, praying he would not announce his presence for a few seconds longer.

  There, she felt it move. Without conscious thought, so terrified she did not stop to consider the consequences, Emily threw open the door and jumped out into the darkness, glad the horses were still at a walk. She thought she heard him
shout but, remembering her frequent falls when learning to ride her pony years ago, curled herself into a ball to land on the cobbles, shoulder first.

  The impact jarred the breath from her body but, otherwise unhurt, she scrambled to her feet and gathering her cloak about her she fled down the pavement, heedless of her surroundings, only wishing to escape from the man in the coach. Even the short time she had been inside with him, she had been aware of the anger pulsing towards her. She knew he hated her, knew he intended to do her harm.

  She heard him call after her but this only made her run faster. She ran round corner after corner until she was sure she was safe from her pursuer. She collapsed against a railing, gulping in air, hoping to discover where her mad dash had taken her. The light from the full moon showed that she was in a residential road away from the main thoroughfare. Tall houses loomed on either side, their windows dark and uninviting. What had she been thinking of? No girl of sense would leap from the safety a carriage and take to the streets unprotected.

  She felt her fear flood back; it would have been better to have faced Sebastian, but it was too late to repine. If she could retrace her path and return to the main route at least there she might recognize her whereabouts.

  Her slippers were ruined, her dress and cloak torn, her elaborate hairstyle in disarray. Then she remembered her jewels. Her fingers flew to her head; the tiara was still in place. She pulled it out and then carefully removed her long ear bobs and unfastened her necklace; there was no point in advertising her wealth.

  She opened her reticule, luckily still suspended from her wrist, and was about to drop them in when she reconsidered. Perhaps her jewellery would be safer concealed somewhere on her person. She dropped the precious items into the bag then hastily lifted her skirts and tied the ribbon to her drawers. She smoothed down her skirt and could see no telltale bulge. Satisfied she had done all she could protect her mother's heirlooms she began to walk back, hoping her stupidity would not end in disaster.

  Even Sebastian's anger began to seem preferable to being alone, cold and footsore, at midnight in a deserted London street. Her heart skipped as, in the distance, she heard the welcome sound of carriage wheels on cobbles. She increased her pace, the sooner she was back on the main thoroughfare the better.

  She emerged, bedraggled and weary, to see the tail-lights of a carriage bobbing away in the distance. The wide street was otherwise abandoned. No linkmen, no gentlemen returning foxed, from their clubs. She had no idea where she was or what direction to turn in. It started to rain. Miserably she trudged on. She rounded the corner and on seeing a group of young bucks walking down the opposite pavement shrunk into the shadows, hoping they would pass by unaware.

  'What ho? I spy a fair damsel,' one of them called, and leaving his companions to follow if they wished, he lurched from the path and headed towards Emily.

  She had no option, face them or flee. She stepped away from the wall and back straight, expression severe, she waited, every inch a lady, however unlikely that might appear. The inebriated young man stopped. He bowed almost pitching onto his face in the gutter. He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

  'Can I be of assistance, my fair lady? You appear to be in some distress.'

  Emily tried to think of a plausible explanation. She could hear the rattle of a carriage approaching at speed. Then the crash of a door and running footsteps and she was swept from her feet into a crushing embrace.

  'You little idiot! What were you thinking of?' Sebastian turned to her would be rescuer. 'I thank you, sir, for your kind offer, but my fiancé is safe with me.'

  The first of the man's two companions had, by this time, joined him and, even as drunk as they were, they realized that their prey was lost to them. This tall, formidable gentleman had murder in his eyes. They backed away, bowing and muttering pleasantries, leaving Emily and Sebastian alone on the path.

  Uncontrollable shivers racked her body and her knees began to buckle. 'Come, sweetheart, I will take you home. We can talk in the morning when we are both recovered.'

  Emily snuggled into Sebastian's warm arms and felt safe and cosseted. From fearsome ogre he had been transformed, in her muddled mind, to gallant saviour. On arrival at Lessing House, he carried her swiftly through the deserted corridors and left her in the capable hands of her maid, who was beginning to wonder why her young lady always returned injured and in disarray, when in the Viscount's company.

  * * * *

  Emily did not stir until noon the next day. She suffered no ill effects from her exploits but her beautiful evening dress and cloak were ruined beyond repair. She had a leisurely bath and selected an especially becoming sprigged muslin morning-gown in pale peach. Her head was aching a trifle so she asked Jenny to braid her hair loosely and leave it in a single, shiny plait hanging down her back.

  The enormity of her behaviour, from the public humiliation of her fiancé to the stupid leap out of the carriage, filled her with remorse and shame. She knew she had to face the reckoning sometime, so it might as well be now.

  'Jenny, do you know if Viscount Yardley is in the house?'

  'Yes, miss, he sent a message enquiring after your health and said he would be waiting for you

  in the library, whatever time you rose.' Emily shuddered. 'Are you unwell, miss? I hope you have not caught a chill from your experiences last night.'

  'I am sure I have not, thank you. I am very fortunate to feel no effects, apart from a stiff shoulder.'

  Her maid offered no comment. How anybody could manage to fall from a moving carriage she could not imagine, unless that Viscount had been up to his tricks again. And why had Miss Emily's reticule been fastened to her drawers? It was a mystery, and no mistake.

  'Do you wish me to accompany downstairs, miss? I could sit quietly and act as chaperone.'

  'It's a kind offer, but no, I think not.' Emily almost smiled, as she imagined Sebastian's expression if she arrived with her maid in tow.

  She paused outside the library to steady her racing pulse and tidy her skirts. Her head was throbbing and her shoulder ached abominably. She smiled ruefully, it was no more than she deserved. She wanted to turn and run back upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedchamber, but that would only postpone this unpleasant interview.

  Gathering her failing courage she pushed open the door and stepped in, unconsciously bracing herself for an onslaught of abuse. Sebastian had been staring out of the window at the rain dripping from the trees. He heard the door and swung round, his expression severe. But when he saw the beautiful, ashen faced girl, framed in the doorway, his face changed instantly to concern.

  He strode across to take her limp, cold hands in his, chafing them to bring back some warmth. 'Emily, you pea-goose, you should not be up. You do not look at all the thing.' He led her, unresisting, to a well padded settle, pulled up close to the fire. 'Sit here, sweetheart. I have already rung for some hot chocolate. Maybe that will restore some colour to your cheeks.'

  This unexpected kindness was Emily's undoing. Her eyes filled and tears trickled unchecked down her face.

  'God's teeth! I am a brute,' she heard him swear, not for the first time. Then she was on his lap, with his arms firmly around her. 'I do not mean to frighten you, darling, you must know that I would never harm a single hair on your head.'

  Emily raised her tearstained face to his, a watery smile curving her lips. 'Unless I drive you to it by my irresponsible and unforgivable behaviour.'

  He chuckled, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. 'I admit last night my intention was to spank some sense into your lovely head.'

  She settled more comfortably into his arms. 'And now?'

  'And now, I find to my astonishment that I have forgiven you, again.' He frowned, his volte face sending shockwaves down her spine. Her fear reflected on her face. 'Do not panic, you silly girl; I shall not do it this time. But, I promise, if ever you do anything so stupid again you will sincerely regret it.'

  Emily raised her eyebrows. 'I can assu
re you, I have no intention of jilting you in public a second time.'

  He shook his head in disbelief. 'I do not give a damn for that. I am talking about jumping from a moving carriage and running away into the night. I have never been so scared. Even Boney's crack troops have not engendered such fear in me. I thought I would not find you in time.' He bent his head and touched his lips to hers in a gentle kiss.

  'I find,' he said, when he finally raised his head, 'that you have stolen my heart, little cousin. I did not know such a thing could happen, and so fast.'

  Her smile was radiant. 'And I, although I have fought hard not to, have become besotted with you, Cousin Sebastian.'

  'What ever are we going to do about it?'

  'I cannot imagine, I am quite at a loss.'

  In answer he pulled her tightly to his heart. 'Can you feel it, darling? It beats just for you. How soon can I persuade you to marry me?' He smoothed her hair, and touched his lips softly to her bruised face. 'I can not imagine why you love me, Emily. I have behaved appallingly. I am, I promise you, known throughout Europe as a calm and reasonable man, not given to wild tempers and uncontrollable rages.'

  She laughed and, wriggling free of his loose grip, resumed her seat on the sofa. 'And I do not, as a rule, behave like a hoyden with as much commonsense as a chicken.' Her ringless hand still rested in his.

  'I have something to ask you, my love. Will you marry me? Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? Will you make me the happiest man in England? You must answer me from your heart. I will understand if you feel that you cannot tie yourself to a brute like me.'

  Her answering smile made his heart turn over. 'I love you, and you love me, that is all I ever wanted in a match. I do not care how volatile our relationship will prove to be; if we truly love each other, it will survive.'

  Instantly he looked younger, more like the man of scarcely four and twenty that he was. He smiled and his eyes bored into hers. 'You still have not answered my question. Are you going to marry me? And how soon?'