One Night with a Regency Lord: Reprobate Lord, Runaway Lady / The Return of Lord Conistone. Isabelle Goddard
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In that time she’d neither glimpsed any activity nor heard a sound from the distant building. Maybe, after all, her hiding place was too far away to hear the noise of any departure? She debated what to do. At this rate she could be sitting under the oak tree until nightfall. Gathering her courage, she decided to chance a return. With some stealth she began slowly to approach the inn and, meeting nobody, crept through the back entrance to the passage that ran the length of the building to the open front door.
Almost immediately she became aware of Glyde’s carriage being led back into the courtyard and turned to flee again. But at the same time raised voices sounded above and she was sure one of them was Gareth’s. She strained to hear what was being said, but the voices were too indistinct. As she listened, there was a sudden noisy creak of bedroom floorboards overhead. In a trice she’d whisked herself into the shadows beneath the stairs. Just in time. Rufus Glyde clattered down the staircase, his face twisted in fury. He was so close that had she reached out her arm, she could have touched him. She remained frozen to the spot as he stormed past her and out into the sunlit yard, throwing himself onto the driving seat of the carriage and whipping up his horses in a frenzy.
She found she was shaking uncontrollably and her first thought was to seek the sanctuary of her bedchamber. But there were questions burning through her brain that needed answers. The angry scene she’d come upon in its dying moments made no sense. Her old suspicions began to return; she needed to know what connection existed between these two men.
Contempt was written large on Gareth’s face. His ankle throbbed angrily, but it had been worth the pain to knock the sneering smile from the face of his foe. Glyde would be for ever associated with the scene of his disgrace and his heart rejoiced that he’d routed the man so completely. But if he were honest, it was the image of Glyde and Amelie together that had spurred him to extreme action. That image was seared on his mind’s eye, even stronger for being intangible. He had no idea why Glyde had turned up at this remote inn or what connection he had to the girl, but speculation gnawed relentlessly at him. He doubted he would ever get the truth from her; he’d been a fool to believe that she was trustworthy.
He was still standing by the window, exactly where she’d left him. If she hadn’t just heard that furious altercation, she might have imagined she’d been away for only a few minutes and that the intervening time was simply a bad dream. But Gareth’s face told another story. She could see immediately that he was in a thunderous mood. He turned as he heard her footsteps, his eyes now blue flint and his mouth close-gripped. She started to speak, but was cut off abruptly.
‘Why did you leave like that?’ he flung at her. ‘What is that man to you?’
She steadied her racing heart and replied in an even voice, ‘He’s nothing to me. I ran away because I feared being discovered.’
‘Why should it matter that he saw you?’
‘I told you, I feared being seen—by anyone.’
‘Anyone? Do you take me for a fool? He came looking for a woman and I think that woman was you. You turned white when you saw his carriage in the yard. You fled. Can you really expect me to believe that it was because some stranger had suddenly arrived?’
‘Believe what you wish, I don’t know who he was seeking. I escaped from the inn because I didn’t want to be found here. I’m an unmarried woman and have been living under the same roof as you for the last week.’
‘You would have me accept that a girl who thinks nothing of throwing her lot in with a man she doesn’t know is worried that others will see her with him?’
‘I never threw my lot in with you. You forced me to accompany you.’
‘It doesn’t seem to have pained your sense of propriety too greatly.’
‘You can mock all you wish. You may not have a reputation to defend, but I do. I have a living to earn and I can’t afford to attract any gossip.’
She hoped that this was an inspired invention, but instead Gareth immediately pounced on her words and shredded them to pieces.
‘If you don’t know this man, then how could it affect your reputation one way or another?’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t know him,’ she conceded.
‘At last,’ he muttered grimly, ‘we’re getting near the truth or as near as we’re ever likely to with you.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Her anger sliced through the airless room.
‘Simply that you appear to have a rather slippery relationship with honesty.’
‘If we are to call each other liars, then you hardly fare better. What about the lies you told my fellow passengers on the stagecoach? That was blatant.’
‘And this isn’t?’
‘I was telling the truth when I said that I didn’t want to be discovered. But I am acquainted with this man. He’s an intimate of my young mistress’s brother and visits the house regularly. Although I was only a servant there and beneath his notice, I was worried he might recognise me.’
Gareth was silent, seeming to turn this over in his mind. She was unsure he believed her and, to deflect him further, renewed her attack.
‘I’ve told you how I know him, though I can’t understand why it’s any business of yours. Now perhaps you’ll tell me how you’re acquainted with him.’
He stared sightlessly through the window, once more in that overheated, overfurnished salon. The babble of rich men intent on their pleasure filled his ears, then the sudden silence, the incredulous stares, the shuffling of feet and finally the cool withdrawal of the well-bred from the social disaster in their midst.
Unrelenting, Amelie waited for his response, never taking her eyes from his face. Aware at last of her scrutiny, he raised his gaze to her, his expression bleak.
‘My acquaintance with him is very slight.’
His discomfort was palpable and she decided to press home her advantage.
‘You were quarrelling,’ she insisted. ‘You must know the man well enough to quarrel.’
‘He angered me. He invaded my room without permission and then wouldn’t leave.’
‘And that was enough for you to throw him down the stairs?’
‘A slight exaggeration? He’s a particularly obnoxious man and I didn’t care for his tone.’
‘If all that annoyed you was his attitude, you seem to have argued for a long time. Why didn’t you get rid of him earlier?’
‘You may not have noticed,’ he replied scathingly, ‘but I’ve sustained an injury. You fled on the instant and I was left alone to deal with him. In the end I got tired of his importuning and decided to risk the ankle. It hurt like hell, but I’m glad I assisted him on his way.’
He seemed to have regained something of his poise and his face no longer bore the icy expression that she’d come to dread. She was almost encouraged to tell him her true situation—almost, but not quite. To do so might jeopardise her plans entirely. If Gareth were the man she believed him to be, he would be impelled to pursue Glyde when he knew the full extent of his infamy. That would cause a scandal she would never live down. And if he were not that man, if he were untrustworthy, then she could be in real peril, in danger of kidnap or blackmail once he knew her true identity.
‘Does he know that you have a sister staying here?’ she ventured tentatively.
‘He knows,’ came the short reply.
‘You didn’t tell him my name?’
‘No,’ he said in a distant voice.
Her face wore such an expression of relief that his distrust once again blossomed.
‘Your fears are unfounded, my dear, your identity is safe.’ His tone was caustic. ‘I doubt