Chapter Thirteen #2
“May I ask Miss Lily to dance?” Durward asked Tabitha, so she knew he would behave.
As they went off, Barty slid into Lily’s vacant seat. Glancing at him, it came to her that he looked happier than he had for a couple of days.
“You’re looking rather pleased with yourself,” she said lightly.
He grinned. “Actually, I am. I enjoy a good caper. Besides, I’ve just had a talk with Carily.”
“Oh.”
“He’s not such a bad fellow, you know. He beat me soundly at cards the other night and I’m afraid I ended up owing him rather more than I can comfortably pay.
I went to pay what I could and grovel for permission to pay the rest next quarter day.
And do you know what he did? He tore up my other vowel and said I’d written out a duplicate by mistake and my debt was paid.
I argued, of course, but he was adamant.
Unexpectedly handsome of him, don’t you think? ”
“Yes,” Tabitha said slowly, for Carily never did anything without a reason. Angry with her, he had clearly fleeced her little brother. Why would he forego that money? He had given few hints of a conscience until now.
Barty lowered his voice. “He also said he’d had a talk with the duke and decided he wasn’t a bad fellow after all. Made him think, he said. And said the duke deserved you where he didn’t. I thought that was pretty handsome, too.”
Perhaps it was. Perhaps all he had ever needed was a jolt. Mostly, she wondered what on earth Jack had said to him. It had certainly worked wonders.
As the dance came to a close, Lily stopped to talk to someone—Lord Hazlett, Tabitha saw with some surprise. Surreptitiously, she looked around for Ralph, and to her annoyance saw him stalking toward her.
She turned aside to accept a glass of champagne from one of her admirers, and hoped Ralph would take the hint. He didn’t, merely stood beside her until she was forced to notice him.
“Cousin,” she said civilly. “It is an excellent party, is it not?”
“Clearly,” he snapped. “A word in private if you please.”
Unhurriedly, she set her glass on the table and rose to her feet. “Let us walk, then.” She lowered her voice. “But if you make a scene, Ralph, I shall walk away.”
“Please don’t adopt that self-righteous tone with me. You are supposed to be chaperoning Lily, and she is running wild, dancing with rakehells and nobodies while you flirt with all and sundry. It won’t do, Tabitha. It won’t do at all.”
“It wouldn’t if it were remotely true. She has danced only with young men who are known to me and who asked me for permission first. Lily is a sensible and well-behaved girl who would never leave my sight let alone give me cause—”
“Then where is she?” Ralph interrupted with sudden intensity.
Tabitha glanced to where she had last seen her stepdaughter. “She was speaking to Lord Hazlett...” But she was not there now, nor could Tabitha see her in the throngs circulating before the next dance.
Ridiculous panic surged, no doubt fed by the seriousness of Ralph’s tone. The truth, of course, might lie in the fact that neither was there any sign of Nathaniel Meade.
“I’ll look for her on the terrace,” she said abruptly. “She probably needs cool air after all that dancing. In case she isn’t there, you should inquire—discreetly—of Lord Hazlett, which direction she took.”
Without a further glance at him, she strolled casually to the French windows and out onto the terrace.
She was so sure that she would find Lily there with Meade and have to haul the pair of them back into the respectability of the ballroom, that when she found the terrace completely empty, she felt curiously forlorn.
Surely they would not have been foolish enough to go alone into the gardens? The terrace was lit up, but the gardens were not, being rather too secluded for this kind of event. As Tabitha well knew, having walked and kissed with Jack there...
Quickly, she ran down the steps from the terrace and across the wet grass. Lily would owe her a new pair of dancing slippers after this...
Something bumped, like a loose door, away to the left where there was a little summer house and a gardener’s shed. Surely Meade would not have taken her there!
And yet, as she knew from experience, a summer house was an excellent place for an assignation. She turned in that direction, peering into the darkness. A pale light shone, and she quickened her steps.
She reached the summer house door, which was closed. But the light flickered to the left and further back. Something—someone—moved. She was sure she heard breathing. Were they avoiding her by hiding in the gardener’s shed?
This is ridiculous! She marched toward it and found the door wide open.
“Lily,” she whispered.
And something struck her hard between her shoulder blades. She staggered forward into the shed and it slammed shut behind her. The bolt shot home and footsteps receded, not toward the house, but in the direction of the stables. And there was only one set. No one spoke.
The darkness of the shed was absolute. So was its silence. She was alone. Stunned, her heart hammering with fright, it took her a moment to be clear what had happened.
Ralph. Ralph had done this, using one of his thuggish grooms who probably didn’t even know it was the dowager countess he had been ordered to lock in the shed. Why?
Whatever the reason, it could not be good. She needed to get out and prevent whatever it was. What on earth could she prevent? She had no say in the adjudication between himself and Hunter as earl, and no evidence that would help either of them.
But she could prevent Lily’s marriage.
Hazlett. The chaplain. If Ralph had a special license...
Jack will not do it. He will not marry Lily, and certainly not like this! In the middle of someone else’s ball.
Then Ralph will make him. Somehow, he will find a way to force him, hurt him. She had to get out of here! In desperation, she tried pushing and kicking at the door, but both it and the bolt were solid, and she wore the flimsiest of shoes. She was more likely to break her own toes.
If she shouted, would anyone hear? And if they did, what kind of a scandal would that cause, to be discovered out here alone in the dark? Ralph would at last have the ammunition to challenge her guardianship of Lily. No, she must get out on her own.
She moved around the shed and by means of touch raked through the various garden tools, pots, and bottles, looking for something, anything that might help to weaken the bolt. She could try hitting the door with a mallet...
A saw! Unfortunately she found it by cutting her finger on it, but she lifted it with considerable triumph and felt her way back to the door. It slid easily into the crack at the side of the door, and she brought it downward until it struck the steel bolt.
She drew it back and began to saw.
It was hard work, and she had the feeling she was not getting very far. Panting, she paused for breath.
A voice beyond the door said warily, “Lily?”
***
JACK WAS WORRIED.
Despite the gaiety of the ball and the success of his efforts so far to negotiate the social maze of strangers, flatterers, fun-pokers, importuners, and matchmakers, something was wrong.
The presence of Hunter Lisle and his embarrassing efforts to paint Jack as a hero made him uncomfortable, particularly when they were believed.
He also did not like the intimacy he noticed between Uncle Hazlett and Ralph.
And he particularly did not like the change in Tabitha.
He had looked forward to more of her company, to dancing with her, perhaps stealing a more intimate moment on the terrace. But she seemed to be avoiding him, concentrating on her duties to Lily, as was only right, while still managing to hold court in a manner that somehow froze him out.
He could have coped with that—a man as sheltered as he could surely not hope to hold the interest of a woman like Tabitha for very long—but her aloofness was too tense, somehow.
Worse, the glow of happiness had faded from her eyes, from her smile, from her very person. And he could find no reason for it.
He looked around for her friend Lady Hawthorn, who, as hostess, no doubt had enough on her mind, flitting hither and thither in her bright jewels and beautiful gown like a butterfly in a wildly blooming garden.
Lily, however, might have some clue as to what was upsetting her.
Except he could not see her on the dance floor, or. ..
“Your grace.”
Jack turned his head to find Lord Carily, of all people, standing in front of him. “My lord.”
Carily gave a faint, uncertain smile. There was a new diffidence, almost humility in his manner.
“I have been thinking a great deal,” he said seriously, “about our recent conversation.”
Jack inclined his head.
Carily glanced about him. “Might I ask—beg—five minutes of your time in private? Your grace has made something of an impression and I think I need...that is, I would like...a little more clarity. Someone to clear my head with, if you see what I mean.”
Jack, used to figuring things out for himself, did not, quite. But Carily had known Tabitha considerably longer and might well provide insight into her sudden change.
“Of course,” he said politely.
“It is somewhat crowded here for a private conversation... Perhaps the library...?”
Again, Jack inclined his head, and they walked together around the edges of the ballroom to the door. He could not even see Tabitha now.
The public rooms were in darkness, since all the facilities necessary for the party were catered for in the ballroom annexe. However, the library appeared to be an exception. Although the door was closed, a band of light shone beneath it. Carily opened the door and bowed him inside.
Jack walked in and pulled up in surprise. The room was far from private.
Uncle Hazlett was there, with Dr. Wheatsheaf. So was Lily and, most worrying of all, Ralph Lisle. They were all standing and looking awkward, apart from Lily, who had drawn herself up to her full height and was glaring at her cousin. When Jack walked in, she transferred the glare to him.
“How could you?” she said brokenly. “How could you treat Tabbie so?”
Jack blinked in astonishment. Behind him, someone else came in—the Hawthorns, wreathed in smiles.
“What a unique and romantic way to celebrate a wedding,” Lady Hawthorn exclaimed. “And no wonder Tabitha was so reticent about your grace! I had it all wrong in my head.”
Carily closed the door, turned the key, and pocketed it.
Jack turned slowly and faced his uncle. “What is going on?” he asked evenly. “What wedding?”
Uncle Hazlett smiled a little sadly. “Yours, my boy.”
“Tell him it is nonsense, your grace!” Lily said furiously.
“Arrant nonsense,” Jack said, taking in the bewildered faces of his host and hostess. He turned to Lily, offering his arm. “Perhaps I might escort you back to the ballroom and Lady Sark.”
“Lady Sark is not there,” Ralph said at once. “She is...indisposed.”
Jack took a step nearer him, his arm dropping back to his side. “Where is she?”
“She will come to no harm. Providing you do as we require. Sign the papers and marry my pretty cousin. Where is the hardship in that?”
Jack’s blood ran cold. A muscle jerked in his throat. “What have you done to her?”
“Wait a minute,” Sir Peter said, frowning suddenly. “I don’t like the sound of this at all! Are you trying to compel Lily to marry his grace?”
“I positively insist upon it,” Ralph said, almost casually.
He was examining the nails of his right hand.
“She is not safe with That Woman. His grace is not safe with That Woman! The only solution, as Lord Hazlett and I see it, is for Lily and his grace to marry each other immediately for their own safety, negating That Woman’s foul machinations. ”
Sir Peter and Lady Hawthorn both opened their mouths to object, but Jack was before them, contempt dripping from his every pore.
“If you are referring to Lady Sark, you are a viler creature than even I imagined. And you—” He swung on his uncle, catching and holding his gaze.
“I could never have imagined you would stoop so low. As for you...” He looked Dr. Wheatsheaf up and down.
“Where are the strict Christian principles you have always preached to me? How many clear commandments have you broken this evening?”
Neither his uncle not Wheatsheaf would meet his gaze.
Hazlett said hoarsely, “It is for the best, Isbourne. You must be safe.”
“I?” Jack said, rare rage suddenly swelling up from his toes to consume him.
“I alone, of all the people in the world, must be safe? Lady Sark does not count? Lady Lily does not count? Your kind hosts do not count that you break all the laws of hospitality to deceive them? Oh, no, this stops here! And if you have harmed one hair of Lady Sark’s head, I will prosecute the lot of you with the full force of the law! ”
His sudden anger, which he doubted even his uncle had seen before, seemed to overawe them all. He had even swung on Carily, his hand held out, palm upward for the key, when Ralph spoke again—unworried, faintly amused.
“And if Lady Sark survives your betrayal of her, how will her reputation survive such prosecution? Especially after her long disappearance tonight. How will Lady Lily’s?”
Jack spun to face him, and Ralph actually backed away.
“You wouldn’t,” Lady Hawthorn whispered, staring at Ralph in horror.
“I would,” Ralph said self-righteously. “I would do anything to save my cousin.”
Dear God, he was almost convincing. And Jack did not doubt he would do his worst. But the immediate, physical fear for Tabitha overrode everything. He had to get to her now, find her, wherever she was.
He strode across the room and hurled himself at Carily, slamming him into the door. “The key, you commoner! Right now. Or I swear to God, I’ll batter my way through with your head.”
Surprised and winded as he was, Carily let out a shout of laughter—which suddenly choked off as Jack closed his hands around the man’s throat.
Carily jerked and scrabbled at the relentless hands. But Ralph threw himself forward, gripping Jack’s arm, hauling him off, and allowing Carily to fight back.
Jack had no intention of making it easy, and he didn’t. Only once did he glimpse his uncle’s face, which bore an expression of undisguised horror.