Mayhem in Bath Page 12

  She hesitated. “My name is Polly.”

  “Margaret, surely?”

  “No, I was named just Polly.”

  “Polly Peach? It reminds me of—”

  “Mr. Gay’s Beggar’s Opera.”‘ she interrupted.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s no accident. The Beggar’s Opera was my parents’ favorite, and it amused them to name me after the heroine, Polly Peachum.”

  “What better reason to choose a name,” he murmured, giving her a smile.

  Her heart tightened treacherously, for when he was like this, she found him irresistible. She made herself speak of something that would break the spell. “Do you think you will ever win Lady Georgiana from the Marquess of Hightower?” she asked.

  His glass became still. “That is a rather personal question, Miss Peach.”

  “Such inquiries are not your sole prerogative, sir. Besides, perhaps you intrigue me after all,” she replied, being as disarming as she could because she really wanted to know.

  He smiled. “Now whose charm is too easy by far?” he murmured. “Very well, I will indulge you. I do not know if I can win her back, but I rather fear not.”

  “Then you will have had a lucky escape,” Polly said bluntly.

  “I’ve asked you before not to speak ill of Lady Georgiana—” he began, but Polly broke in quickly.

  “We have a truce, Sir Dominic, and believe me, I speak ill of her with good cause.”

  “Perhaps I should point out that you are hardly acquainted with her, and cannot therefore be any real judge of her character.”

  “I do not need to know her to understand her. My guess is that her sole interest in the marquess is that he will one day become Duke of Grandcastle. Unless you have expectations of suddenly becoming elevated to a similar rank, you will never win her. Not that she’s worth winning anyway; indeed I think she would make you a very bad wife.”

  “Do you indeed?”

  “Yes.” As their eyes met, an additional observation ran silently through her head. I’d make a far better wife for you, the finest of wives, in fact... The moment the startling thought entered her head, she became filled with confusion, and rose agitatedly to her feet. “I... I think I should return to my uncle, Sir Dominic.”

  Startled, Dominic got up as well. “Why, is something wrong?”

  “No, of course not” Somehow she managed a smile. “I will return Jinny’s clothes in the morning, with a purse for both her and Mrs. Matthews for their kindness to me.”

  Dominic raised an eyebrow. “And what of my kindness?” he inquired with aggravating humor. “Doesn’t that warrant a suitable reward, too? After all, I did rescue you from the terrors of the water butt.”

  “After causing me to fall into it in the first place,” she pointed out tartly.

  “I will apologize and set aside all claim to a reward if you tell me why you really came here tonight.”

  “I’ve already explained I was looking for the cat.”

  “Hmm, if that is still to be your story, I fear I must withhold my apology.”

  “You are free to withhold as you wish. Sir Dominic.”

  “I’m grateful for your understanding. Miss Peach,” he murmured, reaching for the bell pull, and then instructing the footman who came to bring two hooded cloaks.

  As the footman hurried away, Polly looked at Dominic. “Do you mean to walk me to the door again?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I wish you would not.”

  “Then you wish in vain. Miss Peach, I will escort you from door to door even if you are kicking and screaming in protest, so you might as well accept graciously.”

  A minute later, enveloped in cloaks to keep off the rain, they stepped out into the wet darkness, but almost immediately Polly halted in dismay, for a mud-spattered traveling carriage was drawn up outside the door of 1 Royal Crescent. Two footmen were carrying luggage into the house, and another was pressing coins into the hand of the linkboy who’d conducted the vehicle through the town. Lord Benjamin had returned early from London!

  “Oh, no!” Polly breathed in horror, for by now her absence was bound to have been noted. What would satisfy her uncle?

  Dominic saw the carriage as well. “Beddem has come home earlier than expected?”

  “Yes, he wasn’t supposed to be back until the day after tomorrow.”

  “Halloween? How appropriate.”

  “What am I going to say? How on earth am I going to explain not only being out like this, but also wearing someone else’s gown? A maid’s, at that!” She drew back into the doorway as cloaked footmen emerged from number one with lanterns, clearly about to start to search for her. Polly felt apprehensive. “My uncle would have slept on if Lord Benjamin hadn’t returned. Now he must be very anxious about me. I... I can’t let them search. Please let me go through your house so I can slip in through the kitchens.”

  “That won’t do.” Dominic suddenly caught her and began to usher her along the pavement. “Leave the talking to me,” he instructed.

  “But—”

  ‘Trust me, Polly.”

  ‘Trust you? I would as soon—”

  ‘Trust Old Nick? Yes, I know, but this happens to be one scrape with which I think I can be of assistance.”

  They’d almost reached number one now, and the first footman, who happened to be Giles, caught a glimpse of Polly’s face in the light from his lantern. “Miss Peach?” he cried in relief, for he hadn’t relished the prospect of combing die streets of Bath on a night like this. However, his glad smile faltered a little when he saw she was alone with a gentleman. “Is all well, miss?” he asked quickly.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” she replied, feeling quite out of control of the situation. What on earth did Dominic have in mind? Indeed, what could he say to alleviate the situation for her?

  As Giles turned to tell his fellow footmen the search was no longer necessary, Dominic again ushered Polly toward 1 Royal Crescent. They were just ascending the small flight of steps at the door, when it swung open for another footman to emerge to join the search. His lantern illuminated their faces, and as he gasped and stood aside for them, Polly saw her uncle and Lord Benjamin standing in the hall in earnest conversation. They saw her at the same moment and turned openmouthed as Dominic almost propelled her into the house. What no one saw was Ragwort seated at the top of the staircase, listening and watching.

  Giles hastened to relieve Polly and Dominic of their cloaks, but although Dominic surrendered his, Polly wasn’t similarly willing. If she could hide Jinny’s pink dimity, she would, for this situation was bad enough already without her uncle and Lord Benjamin discovering she had changed her clothes as well!

  Lord Benjamin’s face was a study of suspicion as he unfastened his own traveling cloak, then tossed it on the table next to his top hat and gloves. He was corseted in such a way that his rear end protruded and his chest was puffed out like that of an angry cockerel. Beneath the cloak he wore a biscuit-colored coat, dark brown waistcoat, and cream breeches, with a green silk neck cloth of such intricate yet voluminous proportions that he had to raise his chin in order to look over it. The second son of the Duke of Lawless was as pudgy, soft, and pink as ever, and his thinning brown curls were in such neat rows that they must have taken his coiffeur a positive age to achieve. His brown eyes were swift and calculating as he gauged Dominic, clearly wondering if he was another challenger for the hand of the Peach’s Bank heiress.

  Hordwell shuffled awkwardly forward on his walking sticks. “Polly, m’dear? Are you all right? I’ve been quite frantic since it was realized you weren’t in the house,” he asked in genuine concern.

  “Yes, Uncle, I’m quite all right.” She hurried to hug him, praying that Dominic had suffered a stroke of absolute genius to extricate her from this fix.

  Hordwell looked a little guardedly at Dominic. “What is the meaning of this, sir?”

  Lord Benjamin spoke before Dominic could reply. “I’m sure there is a rea
sonable explanation. Is that not so, Fortune?”

  “Of course there is a reasonable explanation, Beddem. Do you imagine I would willingly allow anything to jeopardize Miss Peach’s reputation?” As he said this, he steadfastly avoided looking in Polly’s direction, for the specter of the pavement kiss loomed rather large. Then he swayed a little and passed a hand over his forehead. “Forgive me, I... I still feel a little shaken. The footpads...”

  Polly’s lips parted in astonishment. Footpads? Hordwell and Lord Benjamin were taken aback, then the latter cleared his throat. “Well, if you’re in some distress. Fortune, perhaps it would be better if we adjourned to the drawing room. Er, no, to the library, it’s a little less formal.” Clearing his throat again, he moved toward the door in question, and everyone followed.

  Chapter 19

  As they all went into the library, Ragwort hastened downstairs to slip inside as well. He cast around for somewhere suitable to sit, and his glance fell upon a cozy spot between the sofa and the hearth. As he hurried over to it, a tantalizing smell wafted to his nostrils. It came from the glass of cognac on the table by Hordwell’s favorite chair. When Ragwort had told Bodkin that he and alcohol did not agree, what he’d really meant was that after even a small glass of wine, he became carefree to the point of recklessness. After one glass of cognac he was liable to do anything! Therein lay the reason why Caraway had left him. The brownie hesitated longingly, but then conquered his desire and went to sit in the place he’d selected.

  He was dismayed by what appeared to be further evidence of Polly’s involvement with Bodkin’s enemies. Hordwell and Lord Benjamin were the instigators of Nutmeg’s disappearance, and Dominic seemed to be in present possession of Nutmeg’s belt. As for Polly herself... The brownie glowered as she sat on the sofa, almost close enough for him to touch. Pretty and golden-haired she may be, he decided darkly, but she was also a snake in the grass. He had observed her chasing poor Bodkin from the house earlier on, and had put the wrong interpretation upon it. He knew she hadn’t caught his new friend, because Bodkin had returned briefly to reassure him about his escape, before hurrying away through the rain to cosset himself at Zuder’s. Now, under very questionable circumstances, Polly had come back with Dominic, whom he, Ragwort, was beginning to strongly suspect of being her lover, because the undercurrents between them were so strong as to be almost tangible. Miss Polly Peach was no friend of Bodkin’s, no friend at all!

  Hordwell eased himself painfully into his chair, picked up the glass of cognac, and then fixed Dominic with a look that conveyed great doubt in any story of footpads. Polly fidgeted nervously as she tried in vain to conceal the clothes she wore beneath her cloak. She looked anywhere and everywhere, except at Dominic.

  Lord Benjamin took up a commanding position with his back to the fire. “Now then, what’s all this about footpads? And how can it possibly involve Miss Peach?” he inquired, glancing curiously at the quality of Polly’s pink dimity.

  Dominic had remained standing by the sofa. “With all due respect, Beddem, I don’t think it’s rightly any of your business. What I have to say is for Mr. Horditall and his niece alone.” He passed a hand over his forehead, as if still a little overcome.

  Lord Benjamin flushed. “If it concerns my guests, sir, it concerns me,” he said pompously, but was nevertheless rendered a little uneasy by Dominic’s act “Oh, do sit down, man!”

  “Thank you.” Dominic took his place next to Polly, much to Lord Benjamin’s ill-concealed resentment. Dominic ignored him, and addressed Hordwell. “Sir, allow me to introduce myself. Sir Dominic Fortune of Bellevue Castle in the county of Hertfordshire. You may have heard of it?”

  Hordwell certainly had, as indeed had Polly, for Bellevue Castle was one of the most splendid medieval fortresses in the south of England. Refurbished and improved until it was now the last word in fashionable luxury, it boasted gardens that were said to contain more roses than any other estate in the realm. Ownership of such a property could only find favor in Hordwell’s eyes. “Oh, yes, indeed, sir.”

  Dominic paused. “Mr. Horditall, are you willing for me to speak of my dealings with Miss Peach in front of a third party?” he asked, knowing such an inquiry would annoy Lord Benjamin intensely.

  Hordwell was in a cleft stick. He didn’t want to offend his host and prospective nephew-in-law, but neither did he wish to risk exposing anything scandalous or embarrassing where Polly’s last hour or so was concerned. He flushed, and then decided to put his trust in fate. “By all means speak in front of Lord Benjamin,” he said, crossing his fingers in the concealment of his chair.

  “As you wish.” Speaking only to Polly’s uncle, Dominic embarked upon his explanation. “If it were not for Miss Peach, I would now be lying... possibly dead... in the gutter of Royal Crescent.”

  “Mercy on us,” whispered Hordwell.

  Dominic went on. “I fear that as I walked home earlier this evening, I was set upon by footpads not long after I had passed this house. Miss Peach happened to be looking out of a window, and in the heat of the moment came hurrying out into the rain to drive them off.”

  Hordwell gasped. “Oh, Polly, you rash child!”

  A perverse bubble of laughter rose in the rash child’s throat, and she had to bow her head to hide the fact.

  Dominic proceeded. “Hearing her raising the alarm, the villains took fright and ran away, and Miss Peach was able to keep sufficiently conscious to help me to my own house. In the process, we both stumbled considerably, and I fear Miss Peach’s gown was not only wet through but also torn. So noble a heart has she, that nothing would do except she saw me safely inside, then she ordered a footman to bring a doctor. She remained there until she was sure I was well again. All I was able to do for my fair rescuer in return was to instruct one of my maids to provide a dry gown, and men escort her safely home when I had sufficiently recovered.” With this, Dominic took one of Polly’s hands, and drew it solemnly to his lips, his gray eyes admiring and grateful.

  Ragwort glowered from the floor by the sofa. He’d wager the last pot of honey in Bath they were lovers.

  Lord Benjamin was dumbfounded by Dominic’s tale, and Hordwell looked fit to faint clear away. Polly felt she would explode with suppressed mirth, for—unlike the truth—the picture he painted didn’t have a rainwater butt in sight! Lord Benjamin recovered first, his astonishment beginning to turn to suspicion that all was not as it should be. “Well, Fortune, I must say that for someone who has been attacked by footpads, you are remarkably free of bruises.”

  “Miss Peach’s timely appearance spared me,” Dominic replied, as if butter would not melt in his mouth.

  Lord Benjamin’s eyes narrowed. “Why was no word sent here? Miss Peach’s uncle has been most anxious since her absence was discovered.”

  Dominic turned to Hordwell. “I realize we were remiss in not advising you of the situation, sir, but in the heat of the moment, I fear it slipped both our minds. May I say, sir, that you have almost splendid lady for a niece. I doubt if a more admirable heart exists in the whole of England.” He looked at Polly as he said this, and when he saw she could barely contain herself, he earnestly pressed a handkerchief upon her. “Don’t cry, Miss Peach, for all is well now, thanks to you.”

  Polly took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes in order to hide her face. If Dominic said much more, she knew she would positively curl up! To her relief, he rose to his feet. “I trust this is explanation enough for you, Mr. Horditall?” he inquired, still looking all innocence, and then swaying again for good measure.

  Hordwell nodded. “Yes, yes, of course, sir.”

  “Sir, I gather you and Miss Peach are attending the ball tomorrow night?”

  “Eh? Well, yes...”

  Polly glanced toward the fire, where a small blue flame danced above its golden fellows. She now wanted to attend the ball after all...

  Dominic spoke again. “Mr. Horditall, it would please me greatly if you would kindly regard tonight as a form
al introduction, for I would very much like to pay my respects at the ball.”

  Hordwell glanced at Lord Benjamin, whose face resembled a thundercloud. “Er, yes, of course. Sir Dominic.”

  Dominic turned to Polly a last time. “I still cannot thank you enough for all you did tonight, Miss Peach, and if there is ever anything I can do for you, please do not hesitate to ask.”

  Somehow she managed to meet his eyes without bursting. “I will bear that in mind. Sir Dominic.”

  He raised her hand to his lips, then whispered so that only she could hear. “Until we meet again, Polly.” For a moment his fingers tightened over hers, then he turned to bow to the two men. A moment later he had left the house.

  Polly sat where she was, feeling Lord Benjamin’s gaze upon her. She sensed he was about to probe more into what had happened, and before he could start, she suddenly got up. “I... I feel very tired now. Uncle, so with your leave I will retire.”

  Hordwell was startled. “Eh? But, Polly, you haven’t had time to greet Lord Benjamin properly!”

  She gave the latter a briskly apologetic smile. “Please forgive me. Lord Benjamin, but under the circumstances, I’m sure you’ll understand.” Without waiting to find out whether he understood or not, she gathered her skirts and hurried from the room.

  Ragwort watched her leave. He didn’t believe a word of the footpad story. She and Dominic had commenced an affair—it was as simple as that. Oh, just wait until he told Bodkin how far her treachery had gone! Just wait! The brownie decided not to follow her, but remained where he was, hoping to hear the two men mention Nutmeg when they were alone. He was disappointed, for their conversation centered solely upon whether or not Dominic had just told them the whole truth, a question of intense concern to them both.

  Before going upstairs, Polly slipped into the dining room to watch Dominic return to his house. She saw him walk along the wet pavement, being sure to pause occasionally as if weak, in case either Hordwell or Lord Benjamin should be spying. Polly smiled, watching until he disappeared through his front door, then she turned away from the window. A stark and irrefutable fact now was clear; she had stepped beyond the point of no return into love. But how did he feel about her? Did she dare to hope that after tonight he regarded her in a new, more favorable light, and that Georgiana was no longer quite so precious in his eyes? A wave of excitement washed over her, but it was tinged with more than a soupçon of apprehension.