An Unwilling Conquest Part 80

"Aye--that'd be wise." Salter shook hands with Harry and they all turned to the door.

"Joliffe's got the makings of a fairly desperate character. It wouldn't hurt to keep the lady close--just until we've got him safely stowed.

I'll send word the instant we've got the blackguards in custody, sir. "

"Send word to me at Hallows House," Harry told him. After seeing his guests to the hall, Harry returned to the study and quickly glanced through his letters. He looked up as Dawlish entered with a cup of coffee.

"Here you are." Dawlish set the cup down on the blotter. "So--what's the sum of it, then?"

Harry told him.

"Hmm--so that clerk fellow's not so useless after all?" Harry took a sip of his coffee.

"I never said he was useless. Gormless. And I'm willing to accept that I might have misjudged him."

Dawlish nodded.

"Good! Last day of this ramshackle business, then.

Can't say I'm sad. "

Harry snorted.

"Nor I."

TII get breakfast on the table. " Dawlish glanced at the long-case dock in the corner.

"We've still an hour to go before we're due at Hallows House."

Harry set down his cup.

"We'd best use the time to get all tidy here--I expect to leave for Lester Hall later this evening."

Dawlish looked back from the door, brows flying. "Oh-ho! Finally going to take the plunge, are you?

"Bout time, if you ask me. Mind--wouldn't have thought you'd choose a family picnic to do it at--but it's your funeral."

Harry lifted his head and glared but the door had already closed.

Later that afternoon, Harry recalled Dawlish's observation with grim resignation. Not in his wildest dreams had he imagined playing the most important scene of his life on such a stage.

They were seated on colcarful coach rugs on a long gra.s.sy slope leading down to the gently tippling River Lea. Some miles north of Islington, not far from Stamford Hill, the woods and meadows close by the river provided a pleasant spot for young families and those seeking a draught of country peace. Although some way down the low escarpment, their position afforded them an uninterrupted view over the river valley, meadows giving way to marshland, water glinting in the sun.

Roads meandered through the marshes, leading to Walthamstow, just beyond the valley. Oaks and beeches at their backs shielded them from the sun; the haze of a glorious afternoon surrounded them. Bees buzzed, flitting from field flower to hedgerow bloom; doves cooed overhead.

Harry drew in a deep breath--and shot a considering glance at Lucinda,"stretched out beside him. Beyond her reclined Era, her hat over her face. On a neighbouring rug sat Heather and Gerald, engrossed in animated discourse. Beyond them, at a suitable distance, perched on and about a collection of fallen logs, sat Agatha and Em's even more severe dresser, together with Em's coachman, Dawlish, Joshua, Sim and the little maid Amy.

In their dark clothes, they looked like so many crows.

Harry grimaced and looked away. Fate had chosen a line moment to turn fickle.

The instant he had realised that it Was Heather's guardianship that was Joliffe and Mortimer Babbacombe's goal, he had determined to come between them and Lucinda with all possible speed. By marrying her, he would a.s.sume legal responsiblity in all such matters--automatically, without question. It was the one, absolutely guaranteed way of protecting her, of shielding her from their machinations.

But her yesterday had been filled with preparations for the soiree; the household had been at sixes and sevens. He hadn't liked his prospects of finding a quiet moment, let alone a quiet corner to propose.

As for today, they had organised this outing a week ago as a quiet relaxation away from the ton after the excil;ement of the soiree. They had come in two carriages, Em's and Lucinda's, the menservants riding atop; Agatha and Amy had shared Lucinda's carriage with their mistress and himself. They had lunched surrounded by sunshine and peace. Now Em looked set for her postprandial nap; it would probably be at least an hour before hunger again prodded Heather and Gerald to a more general awareness.

So, since learning of her danger, this was his first chance to remove her from it. Hiding his determination behind an easy expression, Harry got to his feet. Lucinda looked up, putting up her hand to shield her eyes. Harry smiled rea.s.suringly down at her before lifting his gaze to her drab watchdogs. With a slight movement of his head, he summoned Dawlish, then strolled back towards the trees. When he was out of earshot of his intended and his aunt, he stopped and waited for Dawlish to reach him.

"Something wrong?"

Harry smiled politely.

"No. I just thought I'd let it be known that, when I take Mrs Babbacombe for a stroll in a few moments, we won't need an escort." When Dawlish screwed up his eyes, as if considering arguing, Harry continued, his tone growing steely,

"She'll be perfectly safe with me."

Dawlish humphed.

"Can't say as I blame you~ Cramp anyone's style, it would, having to go down on your knees before an audience."

Harry raised his eyes heavenwards in a mute gesture of appeal.

"I'll tell the others."

Harry hurriedly lowered his gaze but Dawlish was already stomping back through the trees. Muttering a curse, Harry did the same, returning to the rugs on the gra.s.s. "Come for a walk."

Lucinda glanced up at the soft words--which cloaked what sounded like a command. Beside her, Em was gently snoring; Heather and Gerald were in a world of their own. She met Harry's eyes, very green; he raised a brow and held out ~h{s hand. Lucinda studied it for an instant, savouring the thrill of antic.i.p.ation that shot through her, then, with Studied calm, laid her fingers in his.

Harry drew her to her feet. Tucking her hand in his arm, he turned her towards the leafy woods.

The woods were not extensive, merely stands of trees separating fields and meadows. They strolled without words, leaving the others behind, until they came to a large field left fallow. The meadow gra.s.ses and flowers had taken over; the ground was carpeted in a shifting sea of small bright blooms.

Lucinda sighed~ "How lovely." She smiled up at Harry. Engaged in scanning their surroundings, he glanced back at her in time to return her smile. The trees screened them from their companions and any others strolling the river banks; they were not isolated but as private as, in the circ.u.mstances, it was probably wise to be. He gestured ahead; by unv iced agreement, they strolled to the centre of the field where a large rock, weathered to smoothness, created a natural seat. With a swirl of her blue muslin skirts, Lucinda sat.

Harry noticed that her gown matched the cornflowers scattered through the gra.s.s. She had worn a new bonnet but had let it fall to dangle by its ribbons on her back, leaving her face un shadowed She lifted her head and her gaze met his.

Stillness held them, then her delicate brows arched slightly, in query, in invitation.

Harry scanned her face, then drew in a deep breath. "Ah-hem!"

They both turned to see Dawlish striding across the field. Harry bit back a curse.

"What now?"

Dawlish cast him a sympathetic glance.

"There's a messenger come-- 'bout that business this morning."