Page 16 of The Book of Lost Stories
‘Sir, I do not understand your meaning, but I find thetoneof your remarks offensive, and your manner ungentlemanly!’
‘Bravo! Like Lady Basset, you were clearly cut out for the stage, my dear. Such big, soulful eyes and demure air.’ He kissed hisfingers and smiled at her in a most discomfiting way. ‘A very prime article, indeed.’
‘Lord Rayven,’ she began again uncertainly, for in her limited experience no man had ever said such things to her and she was unsure what he meant or, indeed, how to extricate herself. ‘I would like to return to my aunt atonce.’
‘Oh,verygood!’ he applauded. ‘And perhaps the bargain should be struck with her, but I thought we would deal better together, gloves off.’ He moved closer and said in a low, intimate voice, ‘Come, what do you say? I must return to London tomorrow on urgent business. If you go with me I will set you up in prime style in your own little establishment and, provided you do not share your favours while under my protection, you will find me generous to a fault.’
‘Return to London with you … little establishment?’ Her head reeled as she stared blankly at him.
‘Yes, you are a pretty little thing, and would cut quite a dash in fine gowns and jewels,’ he suggested, insinuating a muscular arm about her slim waist and pulling her closer. ‘I am sure your object in coming to Harrogate was to inveigle some old gentleman into marriage and I dare say with a little more encouragement Colonel Lamphlet would oblige, but take it from me, you would have much more fun in London under my protection. Come, let us seal the bargain!’
The hard, sure pressure of his kiss woke her from a horrified trance as illumination finally dawned and, recalling half-understood passages from the letters of her aunt’s worldly friend, Lady Crayling, the precise nature of the offer he was making her suddenly became clear.
Furious outrage flooded her veins in a molten, invigorating rush, and she thrust him away from her with such a mightyand most unladylike shove that it caught him entirely unawares and off balance.
Staggering back, he caught the heel of his boot in the twisted root of an importunate willow, causing him to fall with an almighty splash into the river. A great cascade of displaced water shot into the air and then rained down on a gaggle of ducks, who fled, quacking indignantly.
It was fortunate that at this point the river was quite shallow. Alys stared, transfixed, as Lord Rayven slowly rose to his feet like a modern-day Neptune, his wet coat and breeches clinging modishly, if immodestly, to his admirable form. It was a vision that reminded her forcibly of the jewelled figure of a sea god she had found in her mama’s jewellery box.
Damp tendrils of black hair clung to his brow, and he had an indescribable look on his face, as several conflicting emotions tried to express themselves at once: incredulity, anger and amusement all vied together.
Amusement seemed to win. Laughing, he emptied the water out of his hat, flourished it as he bowed deeply, then, with a measuring look in his eyes that she feared boded her ill, began to wade back to the shore.
The spell of horrified fascination broke. Picking up her muslin skirts, Alys ran for dear life along the riverbank, towards the safety of the carriage.
There was no sound of pursuit, and she presumed he had thought better of whatever devilish impulse she’d seen in his eyes and would ride straight home.
He would be, if possible, even wetter by the time he got there, for it came on to rain heavily just as Alys reached the carriage. This was fortunate, since her lame explanations for her solitary return, blazing cheeks and distracted manner wereoverlooked in hastening to a nearby inn, where they could shelter while taking refreshment.
Alys felt it a deep pity that a lady – especially a young lady – could not call for the brandy. And it was even more of a pity that she had not pushed Lord Rayven into the Dropping Well, where he could be hung, petrified, among all the other items, like an awful warning of what could befall so-called gentlemen who grossly insulted innocent maidens.
*
Lord Rayven, still grinning, had waded out of the river and looked admiringly after Alys’s rapidly diminishing figure, white skirts fluttering. Her gown did not seem to impede her in the least: he had not thought any young lady could run so fast.
And lady she had undoubtedly proved to be, despite being paraded about the town – and even brought to his very house! – by a vulgar woman who seemed little better than a procuress showing off her wares. If Miss Weston had been puzzlingly quiet and self-possessed, using no arts to attract other than those nature had supplied by way of beautiful and expressive grey eyes and glossy chestnut curls, he had thought it all part of their plan.
Something crackled underfoot and he picked up a letter, which she must have dropped. It was addressed to a Miss Grimshaw and, in addition to being slightly marred by the muddy imprint of his boot heel, the wafer that had sealed it was broken.
He hesitated a moment, before giving in to curiosity and opening it, hoping that it might give him some insight into Miss Weston’s real character … which it did. It most certainly did.
It also showed him that, even without his crass error, she held him in unalterable dislike, comparing him with the villain in some trumpery novel she was playing at writing.
When he looked up, the flying figure had vanished beyond a turn in the pathway.
8
Stormy Weather
‘But I would help you escape this villainous lecher, for brother I will no longer call him,’ Cornelio exclaimed, throwing himself at her feet. ‘My desire for you, Cousin, arises only from love, and not from any hope of material gain. Come with me now, or regret this day forever!’
The Travails of Lady MalvinabyORLANDO BROWNE
When they had returned to their lodgings and were alone, Alys gave her aunt an edited explanation of what had happened.
Lady Basset was horrified, mortified and indignant by turns on Alys’s behalf, fully concurring in her urgent desire to leave Harrogate immediately, if only so she could dragoon the squire into calling Lord Rayven out for his insults.
However, she calmed down overnight and after breakfast, which Alys had little appetite for, said she thought Lord Rayven would have passed the incident off as an unfortunateaccident, should anyone have happened to notice it, since the truth would make him appear ridiculous. ‘And it was lucky the threat of rain drove the other visitors away, so the scandalmongers will not get to hear of it.’
