The Outrageous Lady Read online

  She felt that he was being sarcastic and somehow, because she knew that there were many things he must have learnt about her escapades, she wanted to hear no more.

  “Tell me about your home,” she suggested.

  “It’s not large but very old and was originally part of a Priory. The estate runs at one point down to the sea and the gardens in the spring are more beautiful than any other place in the world.”

  “I would like to see them.”

  Their eyes met and after a moment she asked,

  “Would I be – welcome?”

  “One day you will come there.”

  She looked away from him, feeling as if he was casting a spell over her from which she could not escape.

  After a moment she said,

  “You cannot go on like – this!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it is dangerous. You might be – captured.”

  “Would it worry you?”

  “You know perfectly well it would. As you have taken such an interest in me, you cannot expect me not to be interested in you. I beg of you, give up this dangerous frightening life – ”

  She had a feeling the sentence was not complete, so she added,

  “As I intend to give up mine.”

  “Are you sure of that?”

  “I felt sure when I left London, but now I will swear it, if you like. There will be no more roistering on the town, no more laughing at – other people.”

  He put out his hand again and she put hers into it.

  “I believe you,” he said.

  “You will do what I have asked of you?”

  “I will think about it, but in living this life I have felt free in a way I cannot explain.”

  “It is freedom that I want, too,” Lady Roysdon said, “but I don’t have the quietness of the trees or the security of the wood.”

  She spoke almost resentfully as if she had been deprived of something that mattered.

  “Now they are yours,” the Highwayman said simply.

  She rose to her feet and walked to the edge of the trees to look, as she had the first time she had come, at the sun sinking in a blaze of gold and crimson.

  He followed her and, as he came behind her, she felt something quiver within her. She knew it was because she thought that he might take her in his arms and kiss her as he had kissed her that first night.

  Instead he stood leaning against a tree, also gazing out towards the horizon.

  “It will not be easy for you,” he said at length and she knew exactly what he was saying.

  It was not going to be easy.

  The Earl for one was going to be very difficult and her friends in London would find it hard if not impossible to understand that she no longer wished to behave as she had done for so long.

  She shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

  She had a feeling at this moment that nothing mattered outside the quietness of the wood and the fact that he was here beside her.

  “He wants to marry you?”

  The question did not surprise her, because she knew that he was thinking of the Earl of Sheringham, as she was.

  “Yes – and he says he – intends to do so when my – husband dies.”

  “And you will marry him?”

  “Never!”

  Her response was sharp, almost violent.

  “Never! Not if he was the last man on earth!”

  She was thinking as she spoke of the look in the Earl’s eyes when they had gone to Bridewell.

  She had known then that the stories she had heard about him and the things that Averil had sensed were all true and she almost hated herself for having tolerated him for so long.

  “It will be hard to be alone.”

  The highwayman’s voice was very quiet and gentle, but she felt that he understood as no one else could have understood the difficulties of the past and those that lay ahead.

  “I will manage.”

  “If only I could help you.”

  “You could if you – wished to do so.”

  He shook his head.

  “I would not be accepted in the intimate circle of Carlton House in which you move. Besides I would not wish to be.”

  “Then what can we do?”

  “We?” he raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes – we!” she said fiercely. “You have encroached upon my life and now you cannot back out.”

  “Do you think I wish to?” he asked. “Oh, my dear, you are so lovely and so vulnerable that I am afraid.”

  She gave a deep sigh.

  “I will manage – somehow.”

  “And if you do not?”

  She gave him a swift smile.

  “Then you must tell me where to find you. I cannot wander around Cornwall asking for Sir Just Trevena.”

  “Somebody would bring you to me, but you shall have my address if I go home.”

  “You have to!” she said passionately. “I could not sleep at night thinking about you in danger – afraid that you might be – arrested!”

  “Does it matter to you?”

  His voice was very deep and she knew that he wanted the answer, searching her face as if afraid she would not tell him the truth.

  She stood looking at him.

  Then, like a ship coming into harbour, she moved slowly towards him and only when she actually touched him did his arms go round her.

  She raised her face to his.

  He looked down at her for a long moment before slowly he bent his head and his lips found hers.

  Chapter Five

  Lady Roysdon found it hard to sleep.

  She lay in her soft bed and all the wonder of the evening swept over her like a tidal wave. She kept repeating to herself every word that had been said, heard every intonation of Sir Just’s voice and saw every look in his eyes.

  She knew that she had stepped into a magic world that she had always known existed somewhere but had never found.

  Everything else seemed to slip away and become so insignificant that it was like looking down the wrong end of a telescope.

  This was love! This was what she had thought love must be like, but indeed it was far, far more wonderful.

  When Sir Just kissed her, she had felt the same rapture that had been there the first time, but it was now far more intense, far more ecstatic.

  She had known then that everything that had happened to her in the past was unimportant compared to this minute, this second when she was in his arms.

  He kissed her until she became not only a part of him but part too of the peace and quietness of the wood and she knew that he had spoken the truth when he had said it was hers.

  Words were not necessary for them to tell each other of their love. It was spoken in the touch of their lips and in the strength of his arms and, when he laid his cheek against hers, she thought that there could be no greater happiness.

  It might have been minutes or it might have been hours before he said very quietly,

  “You must go home, my darling.”

  “I – cannot leave you.”

  “You must. There was great danger that I was well aware of, in your coming here, but I wanted you so desperately that it overruled my better judgement.”

  “No one will – know,” she said hesitantly.

  At the same time she felt a little quiver of fear in case through her he should be involved in unforeseen danger.

  He took her back into the wood, placed her wrap around her shoulders and only when they should have moved away to where her curricle was waiting did she remember to ask,

  “When shall I see you – again?”

  “I will think of a way,” he answered. “Then I can give you back your ring.”

  “I must see you,” she said insistently.

  “Do you not suppose that is what I want?” he asked. “But remember that people will think it strange if you are always driving out of Brighton at night or confined to your bed with an indisposition that the doctor has not been called to
treat.”

  She knew quite well who he meant by ‘people’.

  There was only one person, she thought, who would be really inquisitive, fiercely, possessively so, and it was he they both had to fear.

  “Let me come to you tomorrow,” she begged, but Sir Just shook his head.

  “Give me time to think. It is impossible to do so when you are with me, when your beauty blinds me and the touch of your lips is like reaching Heaven itself.”

  She knew how long he had waited for this and she lifted her face to his, her lips soft and eager, her breath coming quickly between them.

  He looked down at her for a long moment and then he kissed her forehead.

  “I love you beyond life itself!” he sighed, “and because of my love I must think of you – always of you.”

  Resolutely he drew her along the small path through the trees to where Jake and the curricle were waiting.

  He took her hand in his and she held onto him desperately, wanting him to tell her that she need not go, although she knew by the determination on his face and the squareness of his chin that he had made up his mind and would not change it.

  “Please – send for me tomorrow” she begged in a whisper that only he could hear.

  He smiled and kissed her hand.

  Then, when she would have given everything she possessed to stay with him, Jake was driving her down through the wood and back on the road towards Brighton.

  She thought when she reached home how early it was compared to many nights in London when she had returned from one of her adventures with the Earl after dawn was breaking.

  But perhaps Sir Just had been right, she thought, in not letting her stay until the physical side of their need for each other might have overridden the spiritual.

  It had been so perfect, so part of the Divine, to be in his arms and she had not thought that perhaps he, like other men, had been driven almost mad with desire.

  ‘He loves me!’ she told herself. ‘But this is different – different from anything I have known before.’

  She fell asleep thinking of him, pretending that she was still with him, his lips on hers and she was happy as she had never been happy in her whole life.

  She awoke and wondered what had disturbed her for it was still dark.

  She closed her eyes, wishing to return to her dreams.

  Then there was a sharp click and, as she puzzled as to what it might be, she realised that the sound had come from the window.

  She knew then that it had been like the sound of a stone against the glass and she rose hastily to pull back the curtain and look below.

  It was that indecisive moment just before dawn when the stars were receding into the darkness of the sky and there was a faint glow on the very edge of the horizon.

  She looked down and saw who had disturbed her.

  It was Denzil!

  She put a finger to her lips and then hurriedly picked up a satin wrap from a chair, slipped her feet into heelless slippers and opened the door that led onto the landing.

  She thought frantically of how she could speak to Denzil without Danvers being aware of it, but, as she reached the top of the stairs, she listened and knew that the old man was asleep.

  He was sitting in one of the high padded chairs with a curved back that were always used by nightwatchmen. His head had fallen on his shoulder and he was snoring very softly.

  Lady Roysdon crept down the stairs so quietly that not a board creaked.

  Walking on tiptoe she passed through the hall into the morning room and shut the door behind her.

  She went to the window, opened the casement and saw Denzil still standing looking up at her bedroom window.

  She whistled and he saw immediately where she was and within a few seconds had reached her side.

  “What has happened?”

  Lady Roysdon’s voice was hardly above a whisper.

  “They’ve captured the Master, my Lady!”

  “Who? Who has?”

  “I don’t know, my Lady.”

  “What happened? Tell me exactly!”

  “He was asleep in the inn when they burst in on him.”

  “Who were they?”

  “Three men.”

  “Policemen or the Military?”

  “I thinks neither, my Lady. I thinks in fact when I sees ’em leave they were servants of some sort.”

  Lady Roysdon was very still.

  “Go on,” she prompted.

  “I ’ears ’em go into my Master’s room, but ’e ’ad always told me not to interfere if anythin’ happened and to pretend I ’ad no knowledge of ’im. So I listened. I could ’ear clearly all that was said.”

  “What was said?”

  “They woke ’im and accused ’im of bein’ an ’ighwayman. He laughed and told ’em they were mistaken, that ’e was just a traveller and often stayed at the inn.”

  “What did they say then?”

  “They started ransackin’ the place, my Lady. I could ’ear ’em doin’ it.”

  “And what did they find?”

  “The emerald ring belongin’ to your Ladyship.”

  Lady Roysdon made a sound that was half a cry.

  “Nothing else?”

  “Nothin’, my Lady.”

  “What was said then?”

  “They asked ’is name, which ’e refused to give ’em.”

  “You are sure of that?”

  “Quite sure. They asks ’im where ’e got the ring and ’e says ’twas ’is business.”

  “Then what did they do?”

  “They orders ’im to dress and they takes ’im away with ’em.”

  “On horseback?”

  “No, they ’ad a carriage.”

  “Have you any idea where they took him?”

  “Yes, my Lady. I followed ’em.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “To the big ’ouse where the ball was held the night my Master took your Ladyship’s emeralds.”

  “Lord Marshall’s! And they left him there?”

  “I thinks they must have locked ’im up. Then they all three gets into the carriage and drives off toward Brighton.”

  “Then you came to tell me.”

  “Yes, my Lady. I thinks ’twas the best thing I could do.”

  “Quite right, Denzil. It was the only thing you could do.”

  Even as she spoke she felt a sudden weakness come over her and thought that she would faint. Then holding onto the window ledge she told herself that she had to save him – she must save him!

  Denzil was watching her and now as the sky lightened a little she could see the anxiety in his face, which was mixed, she thought, with an almost childlike trust as if he knew that she would not fail his Master.

  Lady Roysdon put her fingers up to her forehead trying to think, feeling as if her brain was filled with wool and there was not one positive thought in it.

  Then she remembered the expression in Sir Just’s face when he told her he must plan how they could take back Averil’s necklace.

  She had seen a quiet confidence in his grey eyes that made her know that he would succeed and she need not be afraid.

  ‘Tell me – what to do – tell me!’ she cried out in her heart.

  Almost as if he answered her, the plan was there, coming to her clear-cut as if he was explaining it and every detail fell into place.

  She drew a deep breath.

  She would do what was wanted of her. It was, she was sure, a question of timing.

  “Do you know where Jake is sleeping?” she asked Denzil.

  “Yes, my Lady. ’E told me it were over the first stable as I enters the Mews”

  “That is right. Wake him!”

  “Yes, my Lady.”

  “Tell him I want my closed travelling carriage, the light one, and four horses to be ready at six o’clock.”

  “That’ll be in about ’alf-an-hour’s time, my Lady.”

  “That is right. Tell him to make any explanation he likes
to Hancocks and the other servants, but he is to drive me alone. I don’t want anyone else with me.”

  “Very good, my Lady.”

  “And you must have your Master’s horse ready in the clearing where we dined last night. Take it from the inn as soon as possible in case a further search is made there.”

  “I understands, my Lady.”

  Lady Roysdon lifted her hand to close the window.

  “You thinks you can save ’im, my Lady?”

  It was a cry of desperation.

  “I shall be praying that God will help us to do so,” Lady Roysdon answered and shut the window.

  *

  The carriage drove up outside Lord Marshall’s porticoed front door at a few minutes after seven o’clock.

  A servant looking somewhat surprised came hurrying down the steps to open the carriage door.

  Lady Roysdon stepped out, exquisitely arrayed in a blue silk coat embroidered with white braid and a bonnet covered in ostrich feathers, which fluttered in the morning breeze.

  “I wish to see his Lordship,” she told the butler, who hurried across the hall as she entered the front door.

  “His Lordship is not yet down, my Lady.”

  “Will you inform his Lordship that Lady Roysdon apologises for calling so early, but it is of the utmost importance that she should see him immediately.”

  “I will convey your message to his Lordship,” the butler said.

  He showed Lady Roysdon into a comfortable salon, one of the rooms that had been used on the night of the ball.

  It was impossible for her to sit down. She moved about fingering the miniatures on one table, the snuffboxes on another, not taking in the beauty of the objects she handled, but feeling as if her fingers would not keep still.

  It was nearly a quarter-of-an-hour before the door opened and she had looked at the clock on the mantelpiece not once but several times.

  Dressed in the very acme of fashion, but with an exceedingly surprised, if not resentful, look on his face, Lord Marshall came into the room.

  He was a man of middle-age, growing slightly portly and, Lady Roysdon was aware, very conscious of his own consequence.

  She curtseyed and he raised her fingers perfunctorily to his lips.

  “Your Ladyship! This is a great surprise!”

  “Forgive me, my Lord, for disturbing you so early in the morning,” she said, “but, as your Lordship must be aware, I would not have called if it had not been imperative for me to see you.”