Devil's Cub (Alastair-Audley Tetralogy 2)

A swift smile lit his eyes. ‘What, dare you brave the sea again?’

‘I must,’ she answered. ‘I daresay it will not be so rough this time.’

The smile died; he shook his head impatiently. ‘No, you can’t do that. There’s no going home now.’

She looked startled. ‘Where else can I go? I must go home.’

‘You can’t,’ he repeated. ‘Do you realise you’ve been in my company since yesterday? My poor girl, it’s you who are ruined, not Sophia.’

She said placidly: ‘But I am not ruined. I can think of some tale to tell that will satisfy people.’

He gave a short laugh. ‘Once it’s known you were aboard my yacht, no one will believe you innocent, my dear,’ he said.

‘But no one need –’ She stopped, remembering the note she had left for her mother.

He read her thought. ‘Left a letter, did you? Of course you did! What woman ever did not?’

She felt abashed, and said nothing. He came back to the fireplace, and stood scowling down at her. ‘Let’s finish this bout with buttons off,’ he said. ‘I don’t care to make mistakes. The fault may be mine, but what business have you with a mother – with a sister such as Sophia?’

‘Sir,’ said Miss Challoner, giving him a very straight look, ‘I don’t design to be thought above mamma or Sophia.’

‘Design!’ he said scornfully. ‘You are above them. They – but I don’t wish to offend you more than I have done.’

Miss Challoner said with composure: ‘You have insulted me in every conceivable way, sir, so pray do not boggle at plain speaking now. I assure you I shall hear you with equanimity.’

‘Very well,’ said his lordship, cold as ice. ‘Then I shall take leave to inform you, ma’am, that the manners of your parent and sister are neither those of persons of Quality, nor those of virtuous females. You, upon the other hand, are apparently both virtuous and gently bred. And,’ continued his lordship with a flash of anger, ‘it is not my custom to abduct respectable young females.’

‘I did not want you to abduct me,’ Miss Challoner pointed out. ‘I am very sorry for your mistake, and I fear that my own conduct may have been partially to blame.’

‘Your conduct,’ said the Marquis crushingly, ‘was damnable! The manners you assumed at Newhaven were those of the veriest trollop; your whole escapade was rash, wanton, and ill-judged. If I had used my riding whip to school you as I promised you would have had no more than your just desserts.’

Miss Challoner sat very straight in her chair, and looked steadfastly down into her lap. ‘I could not think of any other way to keep Sophia safe from you,’ she said in a small voice. ‘Of course, I see now that it was madness.’ She swallowed something in her throat. ‘I never thought that you would take me instead.’

‘You are a little fool,’ replied the Marquis irritably.

‘I may be a little fool,’ retorted Miss Challoner, plucking up spirit, ‘but at least I meant it for the best. While as for you, my lord, you meant nothing but wicked mischief right from the start. You tried to ruin Sophia, and when I would not let you, you ruined me instead.’

‘Acquit me,’ said his lordship coldly. ‘I don’t ruin persons of your quality.’

‘If you call me a respectable young female again, my lord, you will induce a fit of the vapours in me,’ interrupted Miss Challoner with asperity. ‘If you had discovered my respectability earlier, it would have been the better for both of us.’

‘It would indeed,’ he agreed.

Miss Challoner hunted for her handkerchief, and blew her little nose defiantly. It was a prosaic action. In her place Sophia would have made play with wet eyelashes. Further, Sophia would never have permitted herself to sniff. Miss Challoner undoubtedly sniffed. Lord Vidal, whom feminine tears would have left unmoved, was touched. He dropped his hand on her shoulder, and said in a softer voice: ‘You’ve no need to cry, my dear. I told you I don’t ruin ladies of your quality.’

She said, with a challenging gleam in her eye: ‘I am rather tired or I would assure you I should not indulge in a weakness I despise.’

‘Egad, I believe you wouldn’t,’ said his lordship.

Miss Challoner put the handkerchief away. ‘If you know what I must do next, I wish you would tell me, sir.’

‘There’s only one thing you can do,’ said his lordship. ‘You must marry me.’

The inn parlour spun round before Miss Challoner’s eyes. She shut them, unable to bear a sight so reminiscent of all she had undergone aboard the Albatross. ‘What?’ she said faintly.

Vidal raised his brows. ‘You seem amazed,’ he said.

‘I am amazed,’ replied Miss Challoner, venturing to open her eyes again.