The Convenient Marriage Read online

  ‘You m-make a habit of running away with f-females, do you not?’ said Horatia.

  His brows contracted, but only for a moment. ‘So you have that story, have you? Let us say that I make a habit of running away with the females of your family.’

  ‘I,’ said Horatia, ‘am a W-Winwood, which you will find makes a vast d-difference. You can’t force me to elope with you.’

  ‘I shan’t try,’ he replied coolly. ‘Yet I believe we might deal extremely together, you and I. There’s something about you, Horry, which is infinitely alluring. I could make you love me you know.’

  ‘N-now I know what is the m-matter with you!’ exclaimed Horatia, suddenly enlightened. ‘You’re drunk!’

  ‘Devil a bit,’ answered his lordship. ‘Come, give me your cloak!’ He twitched it from her as he spoke, and threw it aside, and stood for a moment looking at her through half shut eyes. ‘No, you’re not beautiful,’ he said softly, ‘but – damnably seductive, my pretty!’

  Horatia took a step backward. ‘D-don’t come near me!’

  ‘Not come near you!’ he repeated. ‘Horry, you little fool!’

  She tried to dodge away from him, but he caught her, and pulled her roughly into his arms. There was a wild struggle; she got one hand free and dealt him a ringing slap; then he had both her arms clamped to her sides, and kissed her suffocatingly. She managed to jerk her head away, and brought one sharp heel down full on his instep. She felt him flinch, and twisted herself free, hearing the lace at her corsage rip in his clutching fingers. The next moment the table was between them, and Lethbridge was nursing his bruised foot and laughing. ‘Gad, you little spitfire!’ he said. ‘I never dreamed you would show such spirit! Damme, I believe I shan’t let you go back to that dull husband of yours after all. Oh, don’t scowl so, sweetheart, I’m not going to chase you round the room. Sit down.’

  She was by now really frightened, for it seemed to her as though he must be out of his senses. She kept a wary eye on his movements, and decided that the only thing to do was to pretend to humour him. Trying to speak quite steadily, she said: ‘If you sit down, so will I.’

  ‘Behold me!’ Lethbridge replied, flinging himself into a chair.

  Horatia nodded, and followed his example. ‘P-please try and be sensible, my l-lord,’ she requested. ‘It isn’t the least use telling me that you are fallen in l-love with me, because I d-don’t believe it. Why did you bring me here?’

  ‘To steal your virtue,’ he answered flippantly. ‘You see, I am quite frank with you.’

  ‘W-well, I can be frank too,’ retorted Horatia, her eyes gleaming. ‘And if you think you are g-going to ravish m-me, you quite mistake the m-matter! I’m much nearer the door than you are.’

  ‘True, but it is locked, and the key’ – he patted his pocket – ‘is here!’

  ‘Oh!’ said Horatia. ‘So you don’t even play f-fair!’

  ‘Not in love,’ he replied.

  ‘I wish,’ said Horatia forcefully, ‘you would stop talking about l-love. It makes me feel sick.’

  ‘My dear,’ he said, ‘I assure you I am falling deeper in love with you every moment.’

  She curled her lip. ‘Stuff!’ she snorted. ‘If you l-loved me the l-least little bit, you wouldn’t do this to me. And if you did ravish me you would be p-put into prison, if Rule d-didn’t kill you first, which I daresay he would do.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Lethbridge. ‘No doubt I should be put into prison – if you had the courage to tell the world of this night’s work. It would be worth it. Oh, it would be worth it, only to know that Rule’s damned pride was in the dust!’

  Her eyes narrowed; she leaned a little forward, her hands clenched in her lap. ‘So that is it!’ she said. ‘F-fustian, my lord! It would d-do very well at Drury Lane, I d-daresay, but in life, n-no!’

  ‘We can but try,’ said Lethbridge. The mockery had vanished, leaving his face very harsh, the mouth set in grim lines, the eyes staring straight ahead.

  ‘I can’t imagine how ever I c-could have wanted you for a friend,’ said Horatia, meditatively. ‘You are d-dreadfully poor-spirited, I think. C-couldn’t you find a way of revenge except through a woman?’

  ‘None so exquisitely complete,’ Lethbridge answered, unmoved. His gaze travelled to her face. ‘But when I look at you, Horry, why, I forget revenge, and desire you for yourself alone.’

  ‘You c-can’t imagine how flattered I am,’ said Horatia politely.

  He burst out laughing. ‘You adorable rogue, I believe a man might keep you a twelvemonth and not be tired of you!’ He got up. ‘Come, Horry, throw in your lot with mine! You were made for something better than to be tied to a man who don’t care a rap for you. Come away with me, and I’ll teach you what love can be!’

  ‘And then Rule can divorce m-me, and of c-course you’ll m-marry me?’ suggested Horatia.

  ‘I might even do that,’ he concurred. He walked over to the table and picked up one of the bottles that stood on it. ‘Let us drink to – the future!’ he said.

  ‘Very w-well, sir,’ Horatia answered in a voice of deceptive mildness. She had risen when he did, and taken a step towards the empty fireplace. Now, as he stood with his back to her, she bent swiftly and picked up the heavy brass poker that lay there.

  Lethbridge was filling the second glass. ‘We will go to Italy, if you like,’ he said.

  ‘Italy?’ said Horatia, tiptoeing forward.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘B-because I wouldn’t go to the end of the street with you!’ flashed Horatia, and struck with all her might.

  The poker fell with a rather sickening thud. Half horrified, half triumphant, Horatia watched Lethbridge sway a moment, and crash to the ground. The wine-bottle, slipping from his nerveless fingers, rolled over the carpet spilling its contents in a dark ruby flood.

  Horatia caught her underlip between her teeth, and went down on her knees beside the limp form, and thrust her hand into the pocket he had patted so confidently. She found the key, and pulled it out. Lethbridge was lying alarmingly still; she wondered whether she had killed him, and shot a frightened look towards the door. No sound disturbed the silence; she realized with a sigh of thankfulness that the servants must have gone to bed, and got up. There was no blood on the poker, and none that she could see on Lethbridge’s head, though his wig, gaping up from his forehead, might conceal that. She put the poker back in the grate, caught up her cloak and sped over to the door. Her hand shook so that she could scarcely fit the key into the lock, but she managed it at last, and the next moment was out in the hall, tugging at the bolts of the front door. They scraped noisily, and she cast a quick nervous glance behind her. She got the door open, and wrapping her cloak round her fled down the steps into the street.

  There were large puddles in the road, and heavy clouds threatening to obscure the moon, but for the moment it had stopped raining. The road was eerily quiet; blank, shuttered windows on either side, and a little draughty wind sneaking up to whip Horatia’s skirts about her ankles.

  She set off, almost running in the direction of Curzon Street. She had never in her life been out alone on foot at this hour, and she prayed fervently that she would not meet anyone. She had nearly reached the corner of the street when, to her dismay, she heard voices. She checked, trying to see who these late wayfarers might be. There were two of them, and their progress seemed a little uncertain. Then one of them spoke in a quite unmistakable if slightly thick voice. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ it said. ‘I’ll lay you a pony you’re wrong!’

  Horatia gave a tiny shriek of relief and hurled herself forward, straight into the arms of the astonished roysterer, who reeled under the impact. ‘P-Pel!’ she sobbed. ‘Oh, P-Pel, take me home!’

  The Viscount steadied himself by grasping at the railings. He blinked at his sister in a bemused fashion, and suddenly made a discovery. ‘Burn