Susie Darcy's Tenacious Nature Page 11

  As sleep would be impossible until she had reacquainted herself with her conscience, she would escape immediately after breaking her fast while the house was quiet and explain her absence upon her return. She would worry about coming up with a plausible reason after she had paid James—no, she must not think of him so informally, she reminded herself, even though he had invited her to do so the previous evening. As soon as Mr Tyrell learned of her inability to keep a confidence, there would be no further informality between them.

  There could not be, in any event, she reminded herself, since his glamorous wife-to-be was in the district. Mr Tyrell might not see that as an impediment but Susie held a very different view regarding personable gentlemen who dispensed their favours a little too liberally.

  ‘Thank you.’ Susie managed a wan smile when Mary returned and placed a tray across her knees. The smell of fried bacon made her stomach roil. ‘Bring hot water and lay out my habit please,’ she said. ‘I shall be going out immediately I have had my breakfast.’

  Mary, eyes agog, looked as though she wanted to ask where she could possibly be going at such an early hour. Her training kicked in at the last minute and she merely bobbed a curtsey before going off to fetch the necessary water.

  Susie cut her breakfast into small pieces and pushed it around her plate to make it look as though she had eaten some of it. She managed a few tiny forkfuls of scrambled eggs and wished that Astor, Marc’s lurcher, would pay her a visit. Astor could always be relied upon to clear up unwanted food. She buttered a slice of toast and nibbled at it as she drank her tea, wondering what she could possibly say to Mr Tyrell in her attempt to justify the unjustifiable.

  Half an hour later she rode away from Pemberley with a slightly disapproving look from Simpson but without encountering a single member of her family. She wondered as she turned her mare in the direction of Hillgate House if Mr Tyrell would be awake so early. She had not stopped to consider the embarrassing possibility of being turned away before setting off on this soul-bearing expedition. Well, if he was not up and about she would insist upon waiting until he was, since she would never find the courage to make this most humiliating of journeys a second time.

  When she rode up the short driveway to the house, everything was in perfect stillness, with no signs of life anywhere. It was not an encouraging start, she thought, peering at the grounds to see if anyone was attending them. Someone had made a half-hearted attempt to tidy the gardens, she noticed. Blowsy spring flowers waved their heads in the gentle breeze, scattering petals that had not been cleared away and giving off a heady perfume. Susie absently observed that weeds still sprang up freely between them and that the gravel driveway was in urgent need of raking.

  She reached the front of the house, dismounted, tied her mare’s reins to a post and climbed the steps to the front door. She wielded the brass knocker, the sound that hammered through the house drowned out only by the even louder hammering of her own heart. No one answered her summons and so she knocked for a second time. After what seemed like an age, she heard bolts being drawn back and the door was opened by a man of about Mr Tyrell’s age whom Susie had never seen before. He was well dressed; neither a servant nor, to the best of her knowledge, a gentleman either. Unless Mr Tyrell had a guest she knew nothing about. But why would a guest answer the door? Where were the servants?

  This gentleman/servant looked at her with an interest he made no effort to hide before offering her a guarded smile.

  ‘Good morning, miss,’ he said politely. ‘Can I be of assistance?’

  ‘Good morning,’ she replied, glad when the plume affixed to her hat fell across her face, helping to disguise her embarrassment. ‘I am Miss Darcy.’

  At that revelation the man’s polite expression gave way to total astonishment.

  ‘You must excuse me,’ he said, recovering quickly. ‘I was not expecting you.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose you were. Is Mr Tyrell at home?’

  ‘For you, I am sure he is, if you would care to—’

  ‘Susie?’

  Mr Tyrell appeared at the man’s shoulder, in shirtsleeves and stockinged feet, his hair a mass of tangled curls falling across his brow, stubble decorating his jaw. It was evident that he had not long been out of his bed. Susie was fascinated by the sight of hard muscles rippling and shifting beneath the thin fabric of his shirt as he lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. She had seen her brothers in dishevelled states many times but they failed to make her insides combust with unconsciously graphic displays of their masculinity. She knew she was gaping at Mr Tyrell but couldn’t seem to help herself. The man was physical perfection. The realisation made her almost angry. No one person deserved to be quite so…well, so arresting, so distracting, so enticing. His lips twitched, the infuriating man, as though he was well aware just how comprehensively the sight of him affected her.

  ‘Quick, Dawlish, don’t leave Miss Darcy standing about.’ His fledgling smile disappeared so fast that Susie wondered if she had imagined it. Did she see irritation flicker through his expression? Was he angry with her before she had even had an opportunity to explain herself? He might have the courtesy to wait until she had told him why she was there before he rang a peal over her. Then he would have justification for that anger. This was not an auspicious start and her courage almost deserted her. ‘Take her horse around the back in case it’s seen.’

  ‘I was about to attend to both matters before you burst upon us,’ the man called Dawlish replied in an indolent manner. He had to be more than a servant, Susie decided. If any of the retainers at Pemberley spoke in such a familiar manner to a member of the family, they would earn themselves a severe reprimand at the very least, possibly even dismissal. ‘You had best go and make yourself presentable.’

  ‘Please don’t trouble yourself, Mr Tyrell,’ Susie replied, stepping into a neat yet sparsely furnished drawing room when he opened the door for her. It was evident that this house had not been occupied for a considerable amount of time. It lacked homely touches and felt…well, unlived in. The fire was not lit, there was a thin layer of dust along the mantel, she noticed cobwebs on the wainscoting and the windows could do with a clean. ‘What I have to say will not take long.’

  Mr Tyrell seemed overcome with curiosity about her unaccompanied arrival at such an unsocial hour but good manners came to his rescue and he didn’t comment upon it. ‘I apologise for the less than fulsome welcome,’ he said instead. ‘We were afraid you might be someone else.’

  Miss Fleming, perhaps. It went some way to calming Susie’s fluttering nerves when she recalled that Mr Tyrell had been lurking behind the front door when Dawlish opened it, presumably unwilling to show himself to his intended. But he had been willing to receive Susie, a situation which would not endure when he learned the reason for her visit.

  ‘I am sorry to disappoint you.’

  His smile was somewhat relieved. ‘It is no disappointment. Quite the reverse. However, I am unaccustomed to receiving ladies in my shirtsleeves and don’t feel comfortable—’

  ‘Please, I cannot stay long.’

  ‘That would be as well. I don’t mean to be rude, but you should not be here, and certainly not alone. It will do your reputation no favours. Presumably your father doesn’t know…’

  ‘No one saw me,’ she replied, avoiding a direct response.

  ‘Not leaving Pemberley perhaps. I am sure they are all still in bed, which is where you ought to be. It isn’t fashionable for ladies to be seen so early on the morning after a party, but then I suppose I ought not to be surprised that you are out and about. I already know enough about your character to be aware that you don’t subscribe to the norm.’ He fixed her with a mildly condemning look, causing her to wonder if he was more concerned for her reputation or the problems it would make for him if Miss Fleming heard of her visit. ‘However, as to not being seen or your destination remarked upon, you would have been noticed riding through the village, which you would have had to do in or
der to get here.’

  ‘I often ride out alone.’ She wanted to tell him that he had nothing to fear from her, even if she hadn’t stopped to consider all the implications when calling upon a single gentleman unaccompanied, but couldn’t find the right words to overcome her embarrassment. ‘No one would think anything of it,’ she said lamely.

  ‘Would you like some coffee?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  Perdition, why did he have to keep smiling at her as he paced up and down, all lithe muscle and graceful coordination, putting her in mind of a large, predatory cat.

  ‘Then at least take a seat.’ He indicated a chair with a flourish.

  Susie perched on the edge of the chair in question, a bundle of nervous anticipation as she tried to think how best to broach the subject that had brought her to his door. She had practised time and again what she intended to say during the course of a largely sleepless night. But this decadent god parading restlessly in front of her, who appeared to be hiding from one of the most glamorous ladies within society’s ranks, deprived her of the ability to think coherently.

  Or to think at all.

  ‘What is it, sweet Susie?’ He crouched in front of her and took both of her hands in his, his dark eyes full of concern. ‘It is evident to me that you have barely slept and you don’t look at all well.’

  ‘Just what a lady wishes to hear,’ she said, striving for a light tone.

  ‘You are not the type to seek false praise, which is one of the things I most admire about you. Something of an urgent and disturbing nature must have occurred to bring you to my door at such an hour. Tell me what it is.’

  Susie felt tears threatening. She had not anticipated that he would be so kind to her, that his eyes would soften when he held her gaze, that the feel of his long, capable fingers stroking her gloved hands would fill her with such overwhelming regret for the loss of his respect.

  ‘I have an admission to make,’ she said, swallowing several times to make the words audible above the anxiety ringing in her ears. ‘I’m afraid you will be very cross with me, Mr Tyrell.’

  He squeezed her hands and didn’t let go. ‘Mr Tyrell?’ The lines that appeared in his forehead as he frowned perfectly reflected her crumbling conscience. ‘I thought we had progressed beyond that point.’

  ‘Perhaps you will change your mind when you hear what I have done. Well, there is no perhaps about it. I know you will.’

  And to her mortification, Susie felt tears trickling down her cheeks. The trickle turned to a flood when she felt strong arms lift her from the chair. He sat in it himself and settled her on his lap. Too ashamed to meet his gaze, she rested her head on his shoulder and cried until the fine lawn of his shirt was soaked with her tears.

  ᴥᴥᴥ

  James held her trembling body, valiantly trying to ignore the feel of soft curves beneath his hands and his predictable reaction to them as he patiently waited out the flood of tears. His curiosity about her agitation and unexpected arrival at Hillgate House would have to wait until she was in better command of herself. She was the last person he had expected to see at his door when the knocker sounded at such an early hour. He wouldn’t have put it past Beatrice to beard him in the hope of…well, of being discovered here alone with him, forcing his hand. That was why he’d been lurking behind the door when Dawlish answered it with strict instructions to turn her away.

  ‘I’ve done something exceedingly foolish.’

  Her trembling voice recalled James’s wandering attention. ‘It can’t be so very bad,’ he replied, reaching for a handkerchief, only to recall that he wasn’t properly dressed and so couldn’t provide her with one. She reached into the pocket of her habit and produced her own. She blew her nose, mopped her eyes and seemed a little more in control.

  ‘The very worst sort of betrayal, I’m afraid.’

  To his disappointment she slid from his knee and paced the length of the rug that had minutes before born the weight of James’s own feet. He stood also, unable to remain seated when she was not, and waited her out in silence.

  ‘I…well, you will recall I told you of my friendship with and belief in Mr Porter’s character.’

  She is going to defy her family and marry him, was the first thought that sprang to James’s mind, bringing with it an unjustifiable wedge of jealousy. But then it occurred to him that such a decision would not necessitate her risking a call upon him. It was really none of his business, much as he would like it to be.

  ‘I remember very well,’ he said softly. ‘What of it?’

  ‘You will also recall that I was very upset, not to say disappointed, when I learned of Mr Porter’s connection to the man Bevan.’ The skirts of her habit whipped around her legs, almost tripping her when she reached the end of the rug and abruptly changed direction. She seemed too distracted to notice. ‘What I didn’t tell you at the time, because I was too ashamed to make the confession, is that I had confided in Mr Porter as to your purpose in coming to Derbyshire.’ She finally stopped pacing and lifted a guilt-ridden countenance for his inspection. ‘I am so terribly sorry. I have made life much more difficult for you, which was not my intention.’ She spread her hands. ‘Obviously, I am a very bad judge of character.’

  His relief was palpable and he gave a brief laugh. ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Is that all?’ she echoed. ‘Isn’t it enough? I have worried myself half to death and barely slept a wink because I misjudged Mr Porter and betrayed your trust. And all you can do is laugh.’ She huffed indignantly and James was delighted to see glimpses of her lively character emerging from the depths of her devastation. ‘I’m surprised you can bear to look at me.’

  ‘Why would I not look at you? I enjoy looking at you and admire your courage in coming yourself to tell me about this misunderstanding.’

  ‘Misunderstanding?’ She looked totally bemused.

  ‘You have done me a favour and I am much obliged to you.’

  A favour?’ Her eyes widened to an impossible degree. ‘I appear to be repeating everything you say because I don’t have the first idea what you mean.’

  ‘Think about it, sweet Susie. Your friend Porter is the only link we have to Bevan.’

  ‘Yes, but he will warn him off now.’

  ‘If he is in league with him, he would have done so the moment he knew of my coming to the area. As your father’s steward, he would have heard about it before I got here, I would imagine. Stewards always know everything.’

  ‘Oh, I had not considered that possibility.’ She brightened considerably. ‘I suppose he would have done.’

  ‘In which case, no harm has been done by your confiding in Porter. But let us suppose for a moment that your judgement is sound and Porter is not involved in anything underhand but instead wants to earn your father’s approval. What would he do now?’

  It didn’t take her long to comprehend his meaning. ‘If his connection to Bevan has nothing to do with the forgeries, perhaps he will try to discover who Bevan takes his orders from.’ She furled her brow. ‘But then again, why not tell my father or you that he knows where the man is to be found?’

  ‘Because he wants to take the glory, I would imagine, and make himself look good in your eyes.’ He touched her face. ‘I cannot blame him for that.’

  Her cheeks bloomed. James watched her fighting her embarrassment with a soft smile of appreciation. Beatrice never blushed. She was far too self-assured ever to feel embarrassed, or the need to apologise for her conduct. Susie was her polar opposite and, adorable in her innocence, never looked more beguiling than when she struggled to control her feelings.

  ‘I did not come here with the expectation of receiving your forgiveness, Mr Tyrell.’

  ‘The only thing I have any need to forgive is your unwillingness to use my given name.’ He softened his voice. ‘Have you forgotten it so soon?’

  ‘James,’ she said almost reluctantly, rolling his name around her tongue, as though experimenting with the sound. ‘There, do
es that satisfy you?’

  His chuckle was rich with carnal implications she was too inexperienced to interpret. ‘Not nearly, but it will suffice. For now.’

  ‘What shall you do? About Mr Porter’s knowledge, I mean.’

  ‘Let him lead us to Bevan,’ James replied simply. ‘And in that regard, I think my friend needs to hear this, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied, looking bemused.

  Rather than ring the bell, James opened the drawing room door and, aware that Dawlish would be bursting with curiosity about Susie’s visit and therefore lurking close at hand, simply called his name.

  ‘You have not been introduced,’ he said when Dawlish proved his point by stepping into the room mere seconds later. ‘Miss Darcy, may I present my friend and occasional servant, Mr Dawlish?’

  ‘I would happily be your servant, Miss Darcy,’ he said with a flourishing bow and typically rakish grin. Susie, he noticed, flashed a wide smile in return. Most ladies found it impossible to be offended by Dawlish’s presumptive attitude and Susie was clearly no exception.

  ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Dawlish.’

  ‘Miss Darcy comes with interesting news.’

  Dawlish listened as James explained the situation with Porter.

  ‘Seems like your steward may obligingly lead us to some answers,’ Dawlish said when James ran out of words. ‘How well is he acquainted with Covington?’

  ‘A good question,’ James said, thinking it was one he ought to have voiced himself. He blamed Susie for his lack of incisiveness. Her vulnerability as she admitted to her indiscretion had pushed all thoughts other than an overwhelming need to comfort her from his head. ‘Do you know the answer?’ he asked, turning to Susie.

  She lifted a slender shoulder in evident bewilderment. ‘I’m not aware that he has any connection to him at all.’