Devil's Cub (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 2)

She shrugged carelessly. ‘Oh, I tell no secrets, sir!’

The door opened and the landlord came in, followed by a serving-man with a tray. Miss Challoner walked over to the window while the cloth was laid. When they were alone again my lord said: ‘Your coffee – have I ever heard your name? Mary, isn’t it?’

She forgot her rôle, and said coldly: ‘I have not given you the right to use it, sir.’

Again he laughed. ‘My good girl, you’ve given me whatever rights I choose to claim. Sit down.’

She remained where she was, eyeing him.

‘Obstinate, eh? I’ll tame you,’ Vidal said, and got up.

She had an impulse to run from him, and curbed it. She was swept off her feet and dumped down, none too gently, on a chair by the table. A heavy hand on her shoulder kept her there. ‘You elected to come with me,’ the Marquis said, ‘and by God you’ll obey me, if I have to lay my whip about your sides!’

He looked so grim that she could not but believe he would do as he threatened. She sat still and he removed his hand from her shoulder. ‘Drink your coffee,’ he said. ‘You’ve not much time.’

Her hands were no longer quite steady, but she contrived to pour some coffee into the cup.

‘Shaking, eh?’ said that hateful voice. ‘I shan’t beat you if you behave yourself. Let me have a look at you.’ He turned up her face with a careless hand under her chin. ‘You’re not so bad-looking after all,’ he remarked. ‘I dare say we shall deal extremely together.’

She drank a little of the hot coffee; it put heart into her; she replied calmly: ‘Unfortunately we shall have no opportunity of judging. I go back to London by the first coach.’

‘Oh no, my dear,’ said his lordship. ‘You’ll go to Paris with me, in Sophia’s stead.’

She pushed her cup and saucer away from her. ‘You’re talking wildly, my lord. You won’t expect me to believe that it is me you want to run away with.’

‘Why not?’ said his lordship, coolly. ‘One wench is much like another after all.’

She sat very upright, her hands lightly folded in her lap. ‘You’ve been worsted, sir, but need you insult me?’

He laughed. ‘We’ll see who’s worsted when we reach the end of the jest, my girl. As to insults, egad! I wish you would tell me how I may insult so bold a piece as yourself. Don’t put on that missish face, my dear. It won’t serve after this night’s escapade.’

‘You can’t take me to France,’ she persisted. ‘You think because Sophia was indiscreet – that I – that we are loose women, but –’

‘If you’re trying to make me believe in your virtue, you’re wasting your breath,’ interrupted his lordship. ‘I knew what your sister was from the start, and as for you, whatever doubts I may have had you’ve set at rest. Virtuous young ladies, my dear, don’t lend themselves to these jests. I may not be very much to your taste, but if you contrive to please me, you won’t find me less generous than any other man.’

‘You are unpardonable!’ she said in a suffocated voice. She got up, and this time he made no effort to prevent her. ‘Have the goodness to tell me how far I am from London. What is this place?’

‘Newhaven,’ he replied, draining his tankard.

‘Can I travel by stage-coach from here?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said his lordship with a yawn. ‘It need not concern you. I meant what I said.’

‘To take me to Paris? You’re absurd, my lord. Do you suppose I should make no outcry? In these days even a noble marquis could scarcely force a young female aboard his yacht.’

‘Scarcely,’ agreed his lordship. ‘But I can make you so damned drunk that you’ll be in no fit case to struggle, my girl.’ He drew a flask from the pocket of his greatcoat and held it up. ‘Hollands,’ he said briefly.

She was scandalised. ‘I think you are mad,’ she said with conviction.

He got up and came towards her. ‘You can think what you like, Mary, but you’ll drink my Hollands.’

She moved back till the wall stayed her. ‘If you touch me, I’ll scream,’ she warned him. ‘

I don’t desire to make a scene, but I will.’

‘Scream away,’ he said. ‘You’ll find old Simon is very deaf – when he doesn’t want to hear.’

She was shrewd enough to know that the landlord would hesitate to interfere with his noble patron if he could avoid it, and felt suddenly very helpless. The Marquis towered over her, and it seemed likely that he really would force the contents of his flask down her throat. She said quietly: ‘Please do not make me drink that. I am not a shameless woman, my lord, though I must seem to be one. I can – I think I can make you understand, if you will listen to me.’