Regency High Society Vol 1: A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel. Mary Brendan
thrust her roughly aside and she was shocked at the look of naked fury on his face.
‘Where the Devil have you been?’ he demanded. ‘We have been searching for hours. How dared you go off in such a way. Are you totally without shame? Look at yourself—just look at yourself!’ His voice was filled with disgust.
Harriet staggered back. ‘What are you saying? I was attacked …’
Sandford’s lip curled. ‘Again?’ he said coldly. ‘You do seem to make a habit of that, don’t you?’
Ignoring her protests, he turned on his heel and strode up the path to where his horse was tethered. Harriet, grabbing up her skirts, stumbled after him, convinced that she must still be in the grip of some dreadful nightmare and her eyes widened in amazement at the unexpected sight of Clipper grazing peacefully on the verge ahead.
‘You found her!’ she panted, as Sandford came to a standstill beside the horses. ‘I was afraid …’
‘Much you cared!’ Sandford spun round to face her. ‘You left her tied up at the gate while you cavorted with your—your what?’ He raised his crop as though to strike her.
Harriet flinched, dumbfounded. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, her head still pounding. ‘What are you accusing me of? I was riding with Judith—I told you yesterday …’
‘Spare me the details. I’ve seen the note—you carelessly left it on your dressing table. Rose brought it to my mother when you failed to return from Westpark.’
‘Note? What note? Oh—yes, I see—but that was not intended …’
He turned away from her, his shoulders suddenly slumped and he leaned his head wearily against Pagan’s neck.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said bleakly. ‘I am tired of your tricks. Hopefully, you will soon be gone. I wish to God that I had left you in the ditch—my life has been in turmoil since that day!’
‘Oh, please,’ exhorted Harriet, laying her hand on his arm. ‘Please tell me what you think I have done? I beg of you …’ She winced as he gripped her wrist, his eyes suffused with anger as he regarded her unadorned fingers.
‘You witch!’ he choked. ‘Where is it? If you have given it …’
‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Harriet tried to pull away from him and, finding that she could not escape, she raised her free hand and slapped him hard across his cheek. For an interminable moment he stared down at her, almost unseeingly, then with a groan he crushed her to his chest and buried his face in her hair.
‘Oh, dear God! What have I done!’ he breathed, but Harriet hardly heard him. She dragged herself away from his grasp and glared at him in rage.
‘How dare you! Have you gone mad! I hate you! I cannot wait to get away from this place!’ She thrust her hand into her boot. ‘See! Here is your precious ring! And to think that I went to the trouble of saving it! I pity whoever has the misfortune to become your wife!’
Casting the jewel at his feet, she burst into tears and swept regally past him. It was more than a mile back to the house, she knew, but she had no intention of asking for Sandford’s assistance to mount her horse. She trudged resentfully along the path, clutching up the muddied skirts of her riding habit as best she could, fulminating at the unfairness of life. She had been at this beastly place barely two weeks and already she had been dragged into a lake and set upon by brigands, which was more than had ever befallen her in all her years with the military! What else could happen? She couldn’t expect her grandfather to arrive for at least another week, at the earliest. If only she had insisted on leaving with Ozzy and Martha! What right did Sandford have to dismiss their suggestion? Hadn’t she just heard him admit that he would be glad when she had gone? He had left her in no doubt as to his opinion of her—calling her a witch—and a trickster!
She came to a sudden standstill on the path, trying to remember the exact words he had used. He had behaved as though he had been the victim, when it was she who had been attacked and tricked not once but three times, she realised, if one counted the puzzle of the note! Walking on, she deliberated upon that particular enigma. Sandford had referred to it with an anger she considered totally uncalled for. It must have been perfectly obvious that the note was not intended for her. Who on earth did he suppose she would arrange to meet in secret? And why? Then an incredible notion entered her head as she recalled his words—he had supposed that! He had been accusing her of having a clandestine tryst!
For a moment or two Harriet felt quite sick as a cold clamminess swept over her body and she had to press her shaking hands over her lips to control their trembling as she struggled to digest the implication of his words.
While Sandford and his men had been supposedly scouring the park she had been concealed inside a bush practically under their noses and then, far from giving her a chance to explain her absence, he had been so convinced of her guilt that he had refused even to listen to her. Worse, he had accused her of having spent hours in some furtive and underhand assignation!
Something else occurred to her. Sandford had said that Clipper had been found tied to the gate, but the only gate was at the end of the Beldale bridleway that, as far as she could judge, was more than a mile from the spot where she had fallen from her horse! Someone must have taken Clipper back to the gate and tied her there! But, in God’s name, why?
As she neared the house Harriet’s indignation was replaced with apprehension. Who else had been furnished with this untruth? Had Lord William and Lady Caroline also come to the same conclusion as the viscount? What other interpretation would they put on her long absence?
The sound of horse’s hooves alerted her to the sight of Tiptree riding up behind her, leading her mare. He dismounted and cupped his hands.
‘Up you get, miss,’ he said dispassionately. ‘His lordship wants you to ride in.’
Harriet allowed the groom to raise her into the saddle. She knew that this would be far better than being seen arriving at the stables without her horse but was still at a loss as to how she would begin to explain her disappearance.
The two horses walked into the yard and were immediately surrounded by the grooms and stable-lads, all expressing delight at ‘Missy’s’ return and clamouring for information. Tiptree waved them aside as he swung down from his mount.
‘Miss Cordell got lost in the woods,’ he said, in brief explanation. ‘She’s very tired. Make way, lads. Let’s have a bit of space. His lordship is calling in the others.’
Smithers helped Harriet down and took Clipper’s reins.
‘Glad to see you safe back, miss,’ he ventured. ‘We was all worried you’d hurt yourself. Don’t need no more accidents, you know.’
Harriet took heart from his remark and gave him a shaky smile. Turning to go into the house, she found Tiptree at her side.
‘Beg pardon, miss,’ he said quietly, ‘but his lordship says you dropped this.’ He held out the emerald ring. ‘He says to tell you ‘'not to worry”.’
Harriet looked inquiringly at him but his face was expressionless. She slipped the ring on to her finger once more and took a deep breath as she entered the hallway.
‘Harriet, my dearest child!’ Lady Caroline swept forward to throw her arms around her protégée. ‘Oh, thank goodness you are safe! His lordship has been in such a torment!’
Harriet didn’t inquire as to which ‘lordship’ the countess was referring. Kissing her ladyship on the cheek, she assured her that she was, indeed, unhurt and merely in need of a wash and a very long drink.
Lady Caroline indicated her requirements to March and tenderly led Harriet into the salon.
‘Sit down, dearest, do,’ she said, pressing the shivering Harriet down on to a sofa and offering her a rug to put over her knees.
Harriet, eyes brimming, shook her head and smilingly refused