The Mysterious Lord Marlowe. Anne Herries
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will you go? The room is warm now and you could stretch out in two chairs.’
‘Are you sure you wish for that? I thought you might prefer to be alone?’
‘We broke in here and the door is vulnerable. If Blake were to discover this house I would rather not face him alone.’
‘I doubt he would think of coming here.’ George frowned. ‘Though it is possible that he might know it was left to me, I suppose. Someone may have told him.’
‘Then please remain here. I prefer your presence to Captain Blake’s.’
‘Yes, I think I shall. You may rest assured that if he attacked you I should shoot him.’
‘Is that why you have brought the pistol?’
‘Like most military men I am accustomed to travelling with a loaded pistol. I know others do it, too, but I am a keen shot. Believe me—my hand would not tremble if the need arose.’
‘You fought with Wellington?’
‘Yes, for many years—on the Spanish Peninsula and elsewhere.’
‘I see.’ Jane looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I believe I shall sleep more easily for knowing that, sir.’
‘You have my word that I shall protect you with my life. More than that I cannot promise. Blake is a ruthless devil and has several rogues working for him that think nothing of murder. Had I not known that he might kill us all, I should have prevented the abduction as soon as I realised that he had lied about the lady’s willingness to be taken.’
‘Even though he has something important that belongs to you?’
‘Yes, of course.’ George inclined his head. ‘Had it been within my power. As it was not, I decided to do what I could for you.’
‘What of the other victim in this affair? Lady Fanshawe is a dear friend of mine and I fear for her safety. Can you not help her?’
‘For the moment I can do nothing, but I shall try to discover her whereabouts. For that reason I have allowed Blake to go on thinking he has my reluctant loyalty.’
‘Every moment we delay, her situation becomes more desperate.’
‘You should not fear that her life is in immediate danger. Blake wants her alive until he has her fortune safe in his hands. If she died before he persuades her to wed him, he would lose what he truly wants—though he swears he cares for her and she for him. Were I not sure that he means her no harm for the moment, I should have gone to the authorities immediately. I am in part to blame for her predicament and shall do what I can to help her.’
‘Do you believe Blake when he says he cares for her?’
‘Not any longer. Yet I think she is safe enough for the time being—at least, her life is not at risk. More than that is not within my power to judge.’
‘He may allow her to live, but she may lose everything else,’ Jane reminded him. ‘Abduction and the forceful seduction of an innocent lady is a wicked crime. Rogues who participate in such crimes deserve to hang.’
A little nerve flicked at George’s temple. Yet his expression was strictly controlled, giving no hint of his state of mind.
‘I cannot deny it. Nor do I deny that I played a part in this heinous affair. I wish it were otherwise—though had I not agreed to help him, he would have employed some other rogue. I should not then have been in a position to help you—or her.’
Jane silently acknowledged the truth of his words as she ate her food and swallowed a few mouthfuls of wine. She undoubtedly owed the fact that she was still alive to him, for had he not found her in the hut and then denied it to his companions, Blake might have come himself. She might already be lying dead somewhere. Putting the wineglass down still half-full, she sighed and leaned back to rest her head on the comfortable cushions. She was inclined to believe George when he said he regretted taking part in the abduction of Mariah Fanshawe, but that did not excuse his conduct. Whatever the hold Blake had over him, he should not have sunk to that vile creature’s level.
Within a few minutes of finishing her wine, Jane had once again fallen asleep. Watching her, George felt oddly protective. He bent to place another log on the fire. It was most unlikely that Blake would come here, but he would wedge something heavy against the French windows they had broken to enter. He would try not to sleep, though he knew he was tired and might not be able to keep guard throughout the night despite his best intentions.
George was thoughtful as he went off to make sure that the house was as secure as he could make it. Jane Blair—if that was her true name—was a remarkable young woman. He thought that if he had met her in other circumstances he might not have noticed her, for he was more usually attracted to ladies with pale hair and blue eyes. There had once been a lady with beautiful azure eyes who had stolen, then broken his heart. It was because of Marianne that he had run off and joined the army, wanting release from the pain she had caused. However, he had quickly forgotten her in the heat of battle, the sight of fallen comrades driving what he now realised was a mere fancy from his mind.
George was not now the same feckless daredevil he had been in his youth. Had Marianne accepted his proposal he would probably have broken her heart a dozen times. He had not been ready for marriage and Marianne in her wisdom had known it. Now, having seen too much fighting and too much pain, he had returned to England to settle down, perhaps here at the estate that his great-aunt had left him. His own father had had no other son and George had inherited the greater part of his estate, which was not large, and part of which had gone to the sister he adored. He was not the richest man in England, but his great-aunt’s estate had given him the money he needed to retire from the army and build a new life in England. Having a true interest in wine, he was contemplating setting up a business to import fine vintages from Spain and Portugal.
Thinking of his sister, George’s brow furrowed. It was because of Verity that he was in this predicament, hiding from a man George despised and disliked. Blake had some letters and personal effects that belonged to Verity and she had begged George to recover them for her.
Blake was still withholding Verity’s property, refusing to give George what he had promised. He was not sure what he could do about his sister’s problem. Unless he took desperate measures and broke into the rogue’s house.
It was perhaps what he should have done at the beginning, George acknowledged to himself. The one thing he ought not to have done was to let Blake blackmail him into helping with his evil plans. He was not even sure why Blake had wanted him involved—unless he’d thought to gain a hold over George, too, which in part he had for he was now guilty of a heinous crime. Yet had he not agreed, Jane might even now be dead—and the abduction would have gone ahead anyway. At least now there was a chance that he could help one, or perhaps both, of the ladies.
He was determined that nothing should happen to Jane Blair. Her bravery in escaping and the way she faced having to stay with a man she did not know in an empty house made him admire her. Verity would have been in hysterics by now. Jane was an exceptional young woman and he would protect her with his life.
Jane was woken by the smell of coffee and bacon frying. She blinked hard, easing her stiff shoulders as she looked for the source of the delicious aroma. Seeing the tray of hot food on the table beside her, she glanced up at the man who had provided the feast.
‘How did you find these?’ she asked as he poured the steaming liquid into two delicate porcelain cups. ‘Bacon, eggs, fresh bread—and coffee?’
‘The caretaker, Mrs Muffet, saw candles here last evening. She came to investigate at first light. I explained that I had come down from London to look at the house and she insisted on fetching food from her cottage and cooking it for us.’
‘You told her I was here? What does she know?’
‘I told her I had a friend with me. She did not come in here and does not know that my friend is a lady. I allowed her to think you were a gentleman.’