‘Quiet!’ he hissed. The voice was instantly recognisable.
‘You!’ Hester struggled in Guy’s grip. ‘How could you?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘You… you bastard.’ Hester struggled to free herself.
‘Language, my dear Miss Lattimer.’ Guy was not letting her go and her efforts to free her wrist only succeeded in tightening his grip. ‘Please let go of that sword before you run me through or I will have to hurt you.’
‘I mean to run you through,’ she gasped, attempting to kick him, but finding that in bare feet all she was doing was stubbing her toes, despite the fact that he appeared not to be wearing boots. ‘I wanted to trust you and now I know I was right not to-but how you could-’
He let go of her suddenly, then used both hands to twist the sword in her grip. With a gasp Hester let it go and heard it land with a soft thud on the chaise as he tossed it away.
‘I’m sorry, but one of us was going to get hurt.’ She found herself gathered tightly against Guy’s chest. ‘Now please, stop struggling and be quiet. Do you want to wake the household?’
‘Yes!’ She stamped hard on his stockinged foot. ‘Brute! You treacherous, lying, deceitful brute. Jethro will be down with a shotgun in a moment-’
‘No, he will not. He was snoring his head off when I climbed through his window; in fact, everyone was snoring, except you, and you were making enchanting whiffling noises. Look, if I let you go, will you stop kicking me and come and sit on the chaise?’
‘No, I will not! Whiffling? I do not whiffle.’ She broke off and stared up
at what she could see of his face in the faint light. ‘Why were you climbing through Jethro’s window? You couldn’t know he had taken a sleeping draught.’
‘Parrott and he thought it was best if I came in that way, because of course we wanted Susan to lock and bolt everything downstairs as usual.’ He relaxed his hold. ‘Be still, just for one moment, and tell me if this looks like the actions of a man who is set on haunting your house with dead roses.’ Guy stepped away from her and there was a sudden narrow beam of light that fell on the chaise. Blinking, Hester realised he had partly opened the slide on a dark lantern.
On the chaise was a pillow. On the floor beside it his discarded boots and a long-barrelled pistol contrasted incongruously with a bottle and a napkin open to reveal what appeared to be a ham sandwich.
The dark lantern clicked shut. ‘Now, come and sit down. We do not appear to have woken Susan or Miss Prudhome, but I suggest we keep our voices down. I have no wish to be taken to task by your chaperon for having a tryst with you in your nightgown.’
‘It would more likely be Susan brandishing the kitchen poker.’ Hester felt confused and relieved in equal parts but she let herself be steered to the chaise. Guy put the sword on the floor and sat down beside her. ‘I am sorry I kicked you-but what are you doing here?’
‘Setting a trap for your night-time visitor, although I imagine if he is within fifty yards of the place he will have fled by now.’ She could see no more of him than his outline against the faint light from the window, but the sense of being protected was so strong that it was an effort not to throw her arms around his neck and cling to him. She had been wrong about Guy and suddenly the knowledge that he was innocent was all that mattered.
‘And Jethro knows?’
‘I was worried about you all, so I sent Parrott over. He was coming anyway to talk to the lad. They spent a cosy afternoon plotting and Jethro promised to leave his window open for me.’
‘But how did you get up to it? We have no ladder long enough.’ The image of Guy making his way stealthily across the road encumbered by a ladder almost provoked a giggle and she stifled it hastily. Hysteria seemed rather too close for comfort.
‘On to the water butt, along the penthouse roof over the scullery, up a somewhat poorly attached rainwater pipe and in through the window.’
‘Your clothes must be filthy.’
‘My valet sent me out in my second-best housebreaking outfit,’ he assured her in a solemn whisper.
This time the giggle did escape. ‘Oh, Guy, I am so glad it is not you,’ Hester managed to gasp between faint hiccups of mirth.
‘Are you? Why?’
‘I felt in my heart… I mean, I felt instinctively that you would not do such a thing, but my head told me to be sensible and mistrustful.’ At least he could not see her blushing in the darkness-why had she mentioned her heart? ‘I felt you were my friend-those few moments when I was convinced I was wrong were horrible.’
‘Well, I am your friend, although I give you fair warning that I still intend trying to persuade you to sell to me. Why did you cut me dead this morning?’
Hester sniffed. ‘I did not want another prosy lecture on what I ought to do.’
‘Prosy?’ Guy sounded indignant. He reached out in the dim light and tweaked a lock of Hester’s straying hair. ‘I was merely being careful on your account. As I should be now- go to bed, Hester.’
‘Do you think I would get a wink of sleep?’ she demanded. ‘I am staying here.’ To emphasise the point she curled up against the pillow at the head of the chaise and tucked her feet under her. Nothing was going to dislodge her now. Reverting to his previous remark, she added, ‘And I did not cut you, I waved my whip.’