Indigo Moon Page 3

  The duke stared at the dumpy little man who was the most astute solicitor he’d ever had the fortune to acquire. “Find out everything there is to know about this bounder. I’ll have his throat slit if he’s up to no good.”

  The little lawyer bowed out, hat in hand.

  “There goes Lady Driby, Heathmont. Look how she stares at us. Shall we smile and wave? Perhaps she will assume my father encourages your suit. She will be groveling at your doorstep within the week, if so,” Aubree observed.

  “Aubree!” Emery objected. “Someone should have taken you over their knee and thrashed respect into you long ago.”

  “It’s true,” she replied defiantly, tossing her hair, forgetting her maid had coiffed it atop her head to make her look older. She succeeded in bringing the arching feather of her hat into her eye and she brushed it away. “Ever since I arrived in London, I have had people fawning all over me in hopes of pleasing my father. I should have no acquaintances at all if I were merely Miss Beresford from Hampshire. I am glad he left me in the country all these years. At least I had some real friends.”

  The earl cast her a quick glance. She knew she looked fine in a fawn riding habit that provided a perfect foil for her golden complexion and jade eyes. Yet, sometimes when she spoke, she had difficulty hiding her loneliness, and she bit her tongue.

  “Your wealth and position entail a certain amount of responsibility, Lady Aubree. You should not mock it,” Austin responded without Emery’s censure.

  “And I assume you have shouldered your responsibility admirably, my lord,” she taunted. “However, you will forgive me for doubting. Every flapping tongue in the town has come to call these past days. If you have committed half the crimes of which you have been accused, you must lead a very busy life. Whatever lies at the bottom of them cannot represent a great deal of responsibility.”

  Though couched in hints and subtle terms, the gossip Aubree had heard of this man had been nothing less than horrifying, as she was sure her sources had intended. They whispered of the earl’s ways with women that left them ruined forever, though never clarifying how that was possible. Others brought up the tales of the earl’s first wife and her tragic death, making it seem Heathmont was somehow responsible. They recited his many and varied duels with a great deal of relish, and warned that he was head over heels in debt, but Aubree disdained their warnings. A man with a limp did not fit her image of a rakehell.

  “I am not perfect,” Heathmont responded. “I have eluded responsibility in the past and I am paying for it now. I simply meant to remind you of your position.”

  Aubree regretted her mocking words. She would have sooner kicked an injured animal than puncture the pride of this man who had so wonderfully aided her cause. Even now, the proof that his gallantry had paid off rested in a safe place next to her heart. She wished she dared show it to him, but she could not. Instead, she sought a better subject.

  “Have you any brothers or sisters, my lord?” she asked.

  “I have a younger sister,” Heathmont replied cautiously.

  “Then you do not have to worry about her going off to war. That is very fortunate.” Aubree sighed.

  “Yes, quite,” Heathmont replied wryly.

  “Aubree’s brother was lost with Nelson,” her cousin needlessly explained.

  “I am sorry. I did not remember.” Heathmont reined in his horse until he rode beside her. “I should have. You must have still been in the schoolroom then.”

  “I did not mean to solicit sympathy,” Aubree informed him. “I only tried to relate your lecture on responsibility to the world I know. Henry had an enormous responsibility. He was heir to all my father’s estates, overseer in his absence, yet he chose to run off to the glory of war. Still, I am not certain he lacked responsibility.”

  “Many of us thought we were assuming a greater duty by protecting our country from invaders. I am certain your brother was one of those,” Heathmont replied curtly.

  “And you, my lord? They tell me you were decorated at Corunna. Is that where you injured your knee?”

  “It was a mad, drunken rampage, and I feel no great pride for my part in it. Only at the end, when we turned upon them and drove them back before they drove us into the sea, did we show our true courage. Too many died for our carelessness. Yes, that is where I injured my knee. Now let us find a less morbid topic for this beautiful day.”

  Aubree obediently tilted her head and applied her not inconsiderable intelligence to the matter. The day was indeed a lovely one. The thick canopy of foliage shaded them from the warmth of the sun, and their spirited mounts tugged at their bits, eager for a run. But the most interesting part of the day was this man riding beside her. His shoulders strained at the seams of his worn, cinnamon-colored coat, and the powerful muscles of his thighs clad in tight buckskins bulged as he kept his restless stallion under control. Aubree had never noticed these physical attributes in any other man, but she assumed it had something to do with her awareness of his lame knee. She suspected it pained him to ride for any length of time, but his stern demeanor revealed no sign of it.

  The object that held her interest longest was the sword he carried at his side. Gentlemen carried walking sticks, not swords. Why did Heathmont feel compelled to carry this protection with him on the civilized pathways of Hyde Park?

  “Tell me in what way I can repay your kindnesses,” she blurted out, surprising even herself. “I would very much like to force society to accept you back into its good graces, but I fear Geoffrey may not be very receptive to the suggestion.”

  At this ingenuous remark, the earl gave a bark of laughter, startling his mount into stepping sideways. In smiling, the harshness of his features dissolved into an almost puckish expression beneath the curls on his forehead.

  “My lady, you are an education unto yourself,” he said admiringly, ignoring Emery’s snort of derision. “I take it this means your reluctant swain has returned to the fold?”

  Aubree touched the place where the sacred letter lay. “Soon, I trust. But you have not answered my question.”

  Heathmont smothered a small frown. “Your company has been a pleasant diversion. I thank you for your thought, but once my business here is complete, it is not likely that I shall return soon. Just keep your young lord from challenging me for my presumption in accompanying you. I would regret having to put an end to what we have endeavored so hard to bring about.”

  Emery made a rude noise. “Spare me the platitudes, both of you. If the duke hadn’t been up north this past sennight, you’d both be brought to task by now, and if this Geoffrey person is not in the duke’s good graces, you’re likely yet to come a cropper. I’d suggest you save your mutual congratulations.”

  The earl’s expression grew thoughtful. “If my sources are correct, the duke has shaped a few straying northern members into line behind the Regent. He should be back in town soon. You are certain your fiancé will stand firm this time?”

  For a moment, she let doubt linger, but resolution firmed her mouth. “If he loves me, he will not let my father stand in our way.”

  Emery gave her an odd look. “That is like throwing a man to the lions and promising your hand if he survives. I should think the duke would have a little more wisdom in these matters than you. Wouldn’t it be better to heed his advice?”

  Aubree shot him a scornful glare. “It is my father who insists I must marry before my eighteenth birthday. I see no insight or wisdom in that.”

  Emery grunted. “I do. Once you come into your mother’s inheritance, you will be impossible to control. He’s better off finding you a husband to sit on the purse strings or you are likely to turn all of Hampshire into a haven for every mistreated animal in the kingdom.”

  The earl chuckled and she turned her irate glare on him. “I suppose you, too, consider a female incapable of managing her own affairs?”

  “Affairs, never,” he assured her cheerfully. “I cannot imagine a woman alive not capable of contriving an affair,
if she so desires it.”

  Aubree cast him a look of loathing and spurred her mount into a gallop. For just a little while, she would like to feel the wind in her hair again. Her smaller mare easily outdistanced their larger mounts on narrow park paths and the advantage of surprise gave her an even greater lead. With the expertise of a country-bred rider, she cut across carefully kept lawns and through a grove of trees, losing herself entirely from their sight.

  Satisfied she had jarred their male complacency, Aubree eased into a canter. They would catch up with her eventually. In the meantime, she had the opportunity to go over in her mind again the note that had been delivered the previous day.

  My dearest love,

  Your father convinced me it was in your best interests for me to refrain from claiming you as my own. However, recent events make me doubt that your interests are best served by the neglect of those who love you. I shall make your father see he is wrong about me. Do not fear, my love, I shall be with you soon.

  Your adoring,

  Geoffrey

  An odd letter, to be certain, but the words of love warmed her heart. She should have known Geoffrey would never have hurt her unless he had thought it best. She wondered what her father could possibly have said to him to make him avoid her. Still, it seemed Lord Heathmont’s suggestion had worked admirably. Now Geoffrey could see for himself that her father had no real interest in how she fared.

  Aubree’s heart beat erratically at the line about being with her soon. Where? When? She wished he had been more specific. The adventure of it made her blood boil with excitement. Soon, very soon, Geoffrey, she prayed. The tedium of waiting for escape from the confining box of her life had become almost too much to bear. Proof of that came from the fact she had almost begun to enjoy these outings with Heathmont. The scandal she was causing was almost half the fun.

  Her mare pranced nervously as they rounded a bend and encountered a closed barouche halted in the middle of the roadway. It seemed strange for anyone to ride the park grounds in a closed carriage, stranger still that they had chosen to halt in the middle of this popular thoroughfare. Aubree glanced over her shoulder to see if her riding partners had caught up with her yet.

  She saw no sign of them and very little of anyone else. It was not the fashionable hour to be out. A curricle raced along the roadway ahead and a few strollers meandered among the bushes. Undoubtedly the stopped carriage was innocent enough.

  Aubree eased her skittish mare onward, intending to circle the carriage. It had halted in an extremely inconvenient spot between parallel rows of shrubbery, and of necessity, she slowed to edge between them.

  So it was no major difficulty for a man to step from the bushes and grab her reins, forcing her horse to a halt. “Lady Aubree, we have been waiting for you.”

  He appeared in every way a gentleman, from the stylish cut of his copper curls to the polished gleam of his Hessians. Only the sword at his side and his manhandling of her mare brought a frown to Aubree’s brow.

  “Release my reins,” she demanded, tapping her riding crop against her thigh.

  “There will be less commotion if you climb into the carriage before your friends see you. I can explain...”

  Hearing approaching horses, Aubree adopted a stubborn expression.

  Impatiently, the gentleman offered a polite, “Beg your pardon,” and yanked her from the horse.

  Aubree screamed as he shoved her into the hands of the carriage driver and was thrust into the waiting carriage.

  “You will be safe. You are in good hands.” The gentleman jumped from the step and swung his sword in a signal to the driver, who lashed the team of four into a gallop.

  Clinging to the window, Aubree unlatched the door and leaned out, but they were already traveling too fast to jump. In the distance, she saw Heathmont and Emery riding furiously after her, and watched in horror as the swordsman stepped into their path, rapier drawn.

  Her last sight of her cousin and the earl before the coach dashed around the bend was of Heathmont throwing himself from a galloping stallion, sword in hand, and Emery dashing for the shrubbery.

  And then the trees cut off all vision and the force of the wind slammed the carriage door closed.

  The clash of steel rang in the early-afternoon silence as Heath met his opponent’s thrust with an experienced riposte and turned the play against him. The rapiers flashed, sparkling in the sunlight as they met with equal skill but different purposes. Heathmont had to keep the other man alive if he hoped to discover Lady Aubree’s abductors.

  Gritting his teeth, he tackled the task, and the clink and flash of silvered metal swirled in the dusty path. He had met stronger opponents, but his knee robbed him of the swiftness necessary to win with ease. His challenger had an arm of steel and a knowledge of how to use it.

  For a fleeting moment, Heath wondered if this were the elusive Geoffrey, but a good look at the younger man convinced him this was no young dandy. He bent to his task with renewed vigor, knowing the longer he delayed, the farther the carriage carried her.

  Beresford returned, empty-handed, just as Heath feinted and jabbed, bringing down his opponent. The young abductor sprawled in the dust, his coat sleeve slashed at the shoulder, but alive by the grace of Heath’s deliberate restraint.

  Pointing his sword at his opponent’s throat, he waited for Beresford to dismount, a worried question in his eyes.

  “They escaped me. A fruit cart overturned in the street at the entrance and the carriage disappeared before I could make my way through the riot. I doubt if Lady Driby will ever speak, to me again. Her phaeton’s lost a wheel in the melee and I ignored her.” Beresford cast a glance at the man waiting stoically for his death in the dust of Hyde Park.

  “Where are they taking her?” Austin demanded coldly of his victim.

  The young man remained silent, whereupon Heath skewered his sword a little more painfully beneath the elegantly tied cravat.

  “You’ll not die neatly, I assure you. Abducting young ladies is not a gentleman’s habit, so I feel free to treat you as the scum you are. I think I will pluck your right eye first, then begin upon your left. What remains of you, if we have not found Lady Aubree, will be given to the duke to do with as he pleases. I don’t imagine it will be a pretty sight.”

  Gray eyes snapped coldly. “It will be a sight prettier than what you would have done to that poor girl.” He turned his gaze to Beresford. “Your cousin is safe, but you would do well to take better care in your choice of friends.”

  Beresford rolled his eyes heavenward in mock prayer. “By gad, Heath, it is another young knight come to slay the dragon. Shall we save him and set the fair maiden upon him when we find her?”

  Austin’s grim expression did not reflect Emery’s humor. The point of his sword drew blood as it pressed harder. “You fool,” he cried. “That girl is out there now without protection of friends or relatives. Have you any certainty where that coachman takes her? Or to whom? Who set you to this?”

  The figure sprawled in the pathway had grown pale, but defiance flared in his eyes. “I’ll never tell. I could not save my sister, but so long as I am alive, you will not destroy another innocent.”

  Heathmont felt the blood leave his face. He moved the point of his sword to the young man’s chin, holding it still as he studied the long-lashed gray eyes and shock of auburn hair. His mouth grew dry as he removed the sword and gestured for the man to rise.

  Beresford looked at him questioningly. Heath waited until the young swordsman had risen from the road and begun to dust himself before offering explanation. “Harley, I presume?” he asked, keeping his own sword in hand while standing on his opponent’s weapon.

  Steely eyes met his. “Correct. If you will give me my sword, I will be more than happy to continue where we left off.”

  Heathmont did not move his foot. “When we left off, you were sprawling on the ground, at my mercy. I’ll not kill your father by killing you. My concern is for the girl. If you do
not tell us where she is, she has some rather persuasive relations who will wring the information from you. Spare your father that disgrace.”

  Harley glanced at Beresford, who regarded him with cold amusement. He spoke to Beresford, not to Heathmont. “I will speak to his grace or Lord John, but not to this criminal.”

  With mixed sadness and anger, Heath nodded agreement, but the matter had already left his hands. He mounted his stallion and waited for the others to follow.

  Chapter 4

  By the time they reached the countryside, Aubree had exhausted every stratagem conceivable for escape or rescue. That last slam of the door had jarred a hidden lock, preventing her from throwing herself onto the mercy of the teeming streets of London. She had attempted crying for help as the carriage rolled slowly through jammed roadways, but she met only the stares of strangers. Little had she realized how very few people she actually knew in this terrifying city.

  With the safety of the crowd behind her, Aubree collapsed against the seat and put her mind to work. She had no intention of despairing like some wailing miss in a romance novel. The young gentleman who had halted her horse had seemed kind, and if Heath and Emery had not come riding up when they did, he might have explained what this was all about.

  The letter in her bodice crackled and Aubree felt a leap of hope. Perhaps this was Geoffrey’s way of “saving” her from Heath. Perhaps this carriage even now carried her to Geoffrey’s arms. The thought made her bounce with excitement as she took note of the direction they traveled.

  They were headed north. Surely, if he meant to take her to Gretna Green and put an end to her father’s resistance, he would join her soon. But the thought of her father brought another ugly, nagging suspicion.

  What if her father had heard of her dalliance with Heath and this was his way of removing her from trouble? The occurrence was not without parallel. The duke had whisked her away from a stay in Brighton once when she had offered to treat the Prince’s headaches. The duke had been in London at the time. She had no idea how he had learned of her very circumspect offer, but she had ended up in a carriage bound for Hampshire the very next day. Prinny’s dubious morals and the impropriety of a young, unmarried girl treating his complaint personally had not occurred to her at the time.