Chapter 17

17

When Annelise awoke it was full daylight, with the rain settling down to a light mist, and she ached in every part of her body, first from the jolting carriage ride, second from falling asleep in a chair. In front of Christian Montcalm, no less, she thought with horror. She was blissfully warm, and she glanced down at the blanket that was covering her. Not a blanket at all, but the coat he’d been wearing, now streaked with the mud she’d brought in with her.

She looked up, but she was alone in the room. The fire was still burning brightly—someone must have built it up while she slept. And the pistol was gone.

Not that it mattered particularly. She wasn’t going to shoot him—she’d had every chance, and every incitement to do so, but she hadn’t. It was just as well it was out of her reach. He’d been right about one thing—if she shot him accidentally she would have felt miserable.

He was wrong about everything else. The man you’re in love with!

Totally untrue and bad grammar, as well. It should have been the man with whom you’re in love, and so she ought to tell him when next she saw him, but perhaps it would be wiser not to bring up the subject at all during the few short hours they would be there.

She rose, setting the coat down carefully on the table where the gun once was, and stretched. She would have given anything for a long soak in a hot tub of water, but that was going to be denied her until they reached William’s home. She could only hope the Dickinsons had a fondness for bathing.

And that William had been correct in their approval of his bride. She’d never considered that their eventual arrival at William’s home might not be a welcome one, and she wasn’t going to worry about it now. Escape from this place was of the utmost importance—they would deal with their arrival later. She could only hope William was not mistaken in his parents’ support.

She glanced around the library. It was tidy, well dusted and shabby. The curtains hung in tatters, the fabric on the furniture was shredded, the carpet a danger to unwary feet. This was a house badly in need of a vast infusion of money, and she’d just stopped it. If an innocent young woman hadn’t been at stake, she’d feel a bit of regret. It really was a lovely room.

But that reminded her—she needed to find Hetty and make certain she was in good shape after her ordeal. What had Christian told Will? Up the stairs, four doors on the left at the end of the wing? It should be easy enough to find. William was probably comforting her—they might be holding hands, talking in low whispers of the future. She needed to put a stop to that, of course. With Hetty’s reputation so compromised she must make certain that there was no appearance of impropriety.

She’d already come up with a relatively believable story. Mr. Chipple had gone on a business trip, Hetty had become so desperately homesick she’d been unable to eat and William and Annelise had deemed it a good idea if she went back to Kent for a visit. On their way they visited an old friend of the family’s before ending up in the comfortable family home in Kent.

Of course, Kent was in the opposite direction of Devon. And there was a chance even a country squire would have heard of the notorious Christian Montcalm. But William had assured her during their journey together, at monotonous length, that his parents approved the match as much as they disliked Josiah Chipple. They would welcome the three of them with open arms. After that, Annelise was unsure quite what she would do. There was little doubt that Josiah Chipple would be just as displeased with her as he was with Hetty, untempered by any parental affection. Her wisest course would be to send a letter to Lady Prentice, to see if she could arrange an alternative visit for her errant godchild, preferably far away from the temptations of London and beautiful, charming villains who could confuse even the most practical of souls.

The hallway was a gloomy reflection of a rainy day, and Annelise started down it, only to be stopped by a too-familiar voice.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you.”

She turned and saw Christian, looking clean and beautiful while she felt like a mud-soaked troll. She resisted the impulse to snarl at him. “Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped. “I need to make certain poor Hetty has survived

her ordeal in decent spirits, and tell her and Will that we need to make ready to leave. We’ll want to travel as much time in the daylight hours as we can.”

He sauntered—there was no other word for it—toward her, tall and lean and graceful. “I expect Miss Hetty is in very decent spirits, but perhaps a bit of privacy?”

She resisted the impulse to use one of her precious curses. She limped over to the door, knocked once, and then turned the handle.

As soon as she peered inside, Annelise jumped back with a shriek, slamming the door, her face flaming. “I warned you,” Christian said mildly, coming up beside her. He rapped on the door in a peremptory manner, waited a moment, and then pushed it open again, waiting for Annelise to precede him into the room.

Not that she wanted to, but she had never been one to shirk her duty. At least Hetty and Will were sitting side by side now, covers up to their bare shoulders, looking as shamed as they ought to. She turned to Christian.

“This is all your fault! If you hadn’t molested her she wouldn’t have felt it necessary to give in to Will’s importunities, and…”

“I didn’t molest her. I didn’t touch the tiresome chit, did I, Hetty? And I don’t think the importunities were on Will’s part.”

The part of Will that was exposed, far too much of him in Annelise’s opinion, was bright red, but Hetty tossed her head defiantly. “I wouldn’t let you touch me,” she said loftily. “I’m in love with William, and besides, you’re too old for me.”

Christian laughed. “A wound straight to the heart, dear Hetty. Indeed, when I’m around you I feel very ancient indeed. But I’m afraid it’s time to rouse yourself from your bed of sin and find your way back to civilization.

Were you planning a quick trip over the border, or will you chance a more formal wedding? I’m not sure that it would be wise to wait—Chipple is a vindictive man when his plans are thwarted, and apart from that you wouldn’t want any premature issue from this unfortunate slip.”

“I’ve already figured out what to do,” Annelise said, her voice still a bit strained from shock. “My brother-in-law is a vicar and his parish is not too far to the north from here. We’ll go there first, see if there’s any way to circumvent the marriage laws and join them without Mr. Chipple’s permission, and if not, we’ll continue up to Scotland have them married there. Once Hetty’s safely married, Mr. Chipple won’t dare interfere.”

“You’re trying to contravene the laws, Miss Kempton?” Christian said, lightly mocking. “I’m astonished and admiring. You’ve thought of everything. I only hope you are right about Chipple. At least his wrath will be directed at someone other than me for the time being.”

“Until I inform him of what you did,” Annelise said.

He turned his head to look at her. “Would you do that, my sweet? How unkind of you, when no harm’s been done and young Romeo and Juliet will live happily ever after. Indeed, you ought to thank me. If I hadn’t intervened, forcing the two of you to come after me, it’s very likely that Hetty would be engaged to some old windbag with a title and young…

William, is it?…would be marrying a local beauty. Instead we have a revoltingly happy ending for all. I get to live without Miss Chipple but still with an impressive inflow of cash, the young lovers are united, and Miss Kempton…well, I’m not certain what her happy ending is. At least an escape from Chipple’s household?”

“What impressive inflow of cash?” Annelise asked suspiciously.

“Hetty’s so-generous father gave me fifty thousand pounds to leave the girl alone. Very thoughtful of him.”

“And you abducted her anyway?” she said, scandalized.

“Don’t look at me like that, dragon,” he said mildly. “A man who’d take a bribe wouldn’t hesitate to go back on it. But in the end I’m holding true to my word. I will leave the future Mrs…. whatever to her bucolic future.”

“Mrs. Dickinson,” Hetty said.

“Better than Chipple,” Christian said. “Now, why don’t we see about how we’re going to get you safely on the road. The rain has halted, and it’s only late morning. I imagine we can get you out of here within the next few hours.”

“Thank God,” said Annelise, ignoring the little twinge of sadness she felt. It was simply reluctance to climb back into a carriage, she told herself.

And for the boon of never having to see him again, then she’d willingly climb back into the hideously sprung equipage that had brought them there.

“But we have a bit of a problem,” he added.

“Could we at least get dressed before we discuss this?” William asked.

“No!” Annelise said, thoroughly annoyed with them. “You’ve literally made your bed and now you must lie in it until we discover what we can do.

And don’t give me that look, Hetty Chipple. Your eyes should be downcast in shame at your behavior.”

“I’m not ashamed! And if you weren’t a bloodless old maid you’d understand!” she shot back.

It wasn’t so much that she minded being called a bloodless old maid.

She just would have rather not had Christian there to hear it.

He seemed merely amused by it all, which wasn’t the least bit gratifying.

“Behave yourself, Hetty,” he said. “I resisted the temptation to spank your overindulged little backside, but I can always change my mind.”

“You won’t dare touch her!” William declared, starting to throw back the covers while Annelise shrieked and closed her eyes. Observing Chipple’s indecent statues was bad enough—she really didn’t want a full view of William Dickinson.

“Behave yourself, William,” Christian said. “If you think I couldn’t thrash you soundly you’re mistaken, and I doubt Miss Kempton would object.”

She opened her eyes, deciding she was safe. William had sat back down again, pulling the covers up to his waist. He was a nicely made young man, she supposed, as hairless as the statues. At least above the waist.

She could feel her face flaming at the thought, but fortunately no one was looking at her. “If anyone deserves a thrashing it’s you, Mr.

Montcalm,” Annelise said. “You’re a disgrace.”

He smiled at her, that sweet, beguiling smile that always had the ability to disturb her cool and rational mind. “Indeed I am,” he said. “It’s a shame I never had someone like you to show me the error of my ways when I was younger. I’m afraid by now I’m a lost cause.”

“And totally unrepentant.”

“Oh, I repent. I’m sorry I ever thought I could tolerate Hetty’s incessant yapping for the sake of her lovely fortune and her equally lovely face. But I’m afraid she’s not worth it. And stop trying to jump out of bed to hit me, William. You’d embarrass Miss Kempton more than you have already. You need to concentrate on getting your betrothed out of here before another storm hits. This time of year the roads get near impassible, and you definitely would not want to be trapped here.”

“Definitely not! We’ll leave as soon as our carriage can be made ready,”

Annelise answered for him.

“Ah, but there’s the problem. The cheap carriage you hired has a broken axle as well as a broken wheel, and it’s uncertain whether it can even be

repaired. At the least it will take several weeks to get the work done, and I’m not prepared to have company for that long.”

“Then we’ll hire a new one.”

“There are no carriages for hire in a tiny town such as Hydesfield.”

William looked momentarily daunted, but Annelise was undeterred.

“Then we will simply have to take your carriage,” she said. “I’m certain you were just about to offer it—it’s the least a good host could do if his unexpected guests are stranded. Particularly since it’s his fault they’re there.”

“Indeed, that was my very thought,” Christian said, affable as ever.

“Except there’s still a minor problem.”

“And that is?”

“It’s a hired carriage, not exactly what you’re used to, and I doubt the driver can be persuaded to abandon it. He will, I’m certain, be happy to transport you wherever you wish to go, for a price. And the carriage isn’t bad—it’s fast and light and surprisingly comfortable.”

Annelise felt a sudden foreboding. She wasn’t sure why—he just seemed way too smug for the problem to be answered that easily. William was looking none too happy, and even Hetty seemed to realize the mysterious problem.

“And?” Annelise demanded.

“It only carries two passengers.”

She refused to panic. “Then I’m sure William could sit up with the driver…”

“There’s no room, Miss Kempton,” Christian said blandly. “And there’s no way William could manage to drive it—they’re tricky things to manage and not easily mastered. No, I’m afraid you have no choice but to go with the coachman.”

“I see no problem. The driver can drive and William can simply ride beside the coach. Dreadfully uncomfortable for you, William, but probably for the best, seeing what proximity with Hetty has led to.”

“Again, another problem,” Christian said. “Carriage horses, as you know, are unridable, and I have only two other horses in my stable, due to my straitened circumstances. One is lame, and the other far too small to carry William’s weight. She might possibly support a woman of your stature, Miss Kempton, if you care to try.”

She was going to disgrace herself and cry, Annelise thought. Either that, or hit him. There was no way she could climb on the back of a horse, even to escape him. No way out. And the devil knew it.

“I don’t see what everyone’s so concerned about,” Hetty piped up.

“William and I will depart for her sister’s house, and the moment we get there we’ll send a carriage for Miss Kempton. There’s no reason why she can’t stay here for a few days.”

“But she’s an unmarried lady…” William began.

“Pish! She’s on the shelf and we all know it. If Christian was able to resist me then someone like Annelise is perfectly safe.”

This was certainly a perfectly miserable conversation, Annelise thought, unsure how to stop it. Christian Montcalm was leaning against the door, faintly amused by the whole thing.

“Well, of course she’d be safe,” William replied, totally without tact.

“She’s hardly the sort of woman who tempts a man to misbehave. There is still the question of her reputation.”

“If she were young enough and eligible enough it would already be in tatters,” Hetty pointed out. “After all, she’s spent the night with you—she’d be ruined. Fortunately people are unlikely to see anything improper when a well-bred female of her advanced age is in the company of a man. After all, if spinster chaperons required their own spinster chaperons there simply wouldn’t be enough to go around.”

“Charmingly put, Hetty,” Christian said.

Annelise had reached her limit. “I’m not yet thirty, for heaven’s sake!”

she snapped. “Hardly tottering by anyone’s standards. And I’m not staying here!”

“But Annelise, no one would ever think someone like Christian would be interested in you,” Hetty kindly explained. “He’s known as a connoisseur of beauty. Your reputation would be perfectly safe. Whereas he’s right—I need to get out of here and under the care of respectable people as soon as possible. You wouldn’t mind staying. You have no home of your own—and visiting one person’s house is not different from another’s, even if this place is remarkably shabby. And it won’t be for long—we’ll send someone after you as soon as we reach your sister’s house.”

“I won’t—”

“You have no choice, Miss Kempton,” Christian said in bored tones. “It shouldn’t be more than a few days, and I give you my solemn word that I

will do nothing to impinge on your sterling reputation.”

“You already have,” she said, knowing she was trapped, still fighting.

“Hetty’s right, you know,” William said helpfully. “No one would ever think a philanderer such as Montcalm would have any interest in one such as yourself.”

And indeed, Montcalm was looking totally bored by the entire conversation. “I leave it up to the three of you,” he said. “You have my word as a gentleman that Miss Kempton is perfectly safe with me. Argue amongst yourselves—in the meantime I have some work to do. I have neglected this place for far too long, and the charming nest egg needs to be wisely spent. At least some of it does, before I return to London. I’ve ordered the carriage put to and informed the driver, and Mrs. Browne will have packed a meal for you to carry you the first stage of the journey. Just let me know how many guests I’ll be having for dinner.”

“If I stay I’ll eat in my room,” Annelise said, and then bit her tongue.

She shouldn’t have even entertained the notion that she might stay under the profligate’s roof.

But he seemed to have lost interest in her. In fact, ever since her arrival he’d seemed far more interested in getting rid of Hetty than in Annelise’s presence. Most likely his flirtation was nothing more than a way to annoy and distract her, and now that he had decided Hetty wasn’t worth the price, then her interfering companion was negligible. As Hetty and William had discussed what a total antidote she was, he’d made only a token effort to object, to defend her. She’d been a game that he had now tired of.

It should have been a relief. In fact, it was a relief. Just a deeply depressing one.

“As you wish,” he said, clearly dismissing her. “I can count on Mrs.

Browne to see to your comfort, and this is a big house and I keep odd hours.

Besides, I’ll be extremely busy taking care of things I’ve been neglecting. I doubt you’ll even see me during your reluctant stay.”

She would have come up with a disparaging insult except that it appeared he meant exactly what he said. And to have expressed disbelief would have sounded both conceited and deluded. Despite his recent wicked behavior, he was no longer any threat to her at all.

“Very well,” she said, because if she said anything else she might cry, stupid sentimental female that she was. “I’m sure I’m making a fuss for

nothing. I’ll stay until you can arrange transportation for me. Though I dislike the thought of you two being unchaperoned.”

“I think that particular milk has already been spilt,” Christian said. “I’ll have Mrs. Browne see to a room for you, Miss Kempton.”

She was about to insist that it be as far away from his rooms as possible, but he’d already left. And such a request would have sounded absurd, given that she had been put so firmly in her place. On the shelf, unwanted.

There were no tears in her eyes when she turned back to the two miscreants, only determination. “William, wrap something around yourself, take your clothes and depart. You can wait for Hetty downstairs. I may have only a few hours left with her as my charge but I intend to make a few things clear.”

Hetty didn’t look any too pleased at the lecture she knew was coming, but William had the good sense not to trifle with a dragon. He pulled the coverlet from the bed, wrapped it around his body and scooped up his clothes. “I’ll be right back—” he began, but Annelise interrupted him.

“You’ll see to the carriage and the horses and that there are enough blankets to keep Miss Chipple warm, and good food to eat. And you will not touch anything but her hand or arm from now until you are decently wed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Kempton,” he stammered, looking like a schoolboy. And she a stern schoolteacher. She sighed for what was and couldn’t be changed.

“Then go,” she said. And turned her steely gaze on the newly deflowered Hetty Chipple.

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