Mary Brendan - Regency High Society Vol 1 - A Hasty Betrothal / A Scandalous Marriage / The Count's Charade / The Rake and the Rebel

In a trance-like state Harriet felt herself being half-dragged, half-carried deep into the copse between clumps of briar and gorse. She could offer no resistance owing to the waves of nausea and blackness that were drowning her senses. She was aware of being pushed into a shallow depression in the ground and felt her skirts being bundled about her as branches were heaped upon her body, but her voice could make no protest. As she felt herself falling deeper into the roaring abyss of unconsciousness she heard the man’s voice once more.

‘The ring! Cripes, man! We forgot the ring—where’s her hand?’

With a supreme effort Harriet eased the emerald ring from her finger and feeling for her boot, she pushed the jewel under the front fastenings. Then she passed out.

The cold, dank smell of the earth pervaded her senses. For some moments she remained still, trying to break through the cloying mists of her brain. Her temples were pounding and her mouth was dry and foul-tasting. Cautiously she sat up, pushing aside the mound of twigs and branches that covered her and, after peering carefully about, she saw that she was quite alone. Steadying herself against the tree trunk, she managed to stand. Her assailants had gone and Clipper was nowhere to be seen! Surely she had not been the victim of horse-theft? Apart from some rough handling she had not been hurt and she had nothing of value … !

Gasping, she thrust her hand down into her boot and felt the hard ridge of the precious stone against her fingers and almost wept with relief. That was what they were after! They were just common foot-pads after all—but what were they doing on Beldale property? Gradually, it began to come back to her—they must have been waiting for her—but had they actually pulled her from her horse—what had caused her sudden dizziness? Her head ached so, she was covered in bracken and mud and her hat and cravat were both missing!

As she shaded her eyes against the piercing glare of the summer sun she was suddenly transfixed as she registered its position in the sky. It must be past noon! She had been in the copse for hours! Casting about her for a sign that might help to guide her back to the path, she was eventually able to locate the trail of flattened grass along which she had been dragged and, still very unsteady, she slowly and painfully managed to make her way back to the bridleway. Scrambling in sobbing relief through the final clump of gorse, she fell straight into Sandford’s arms.

He thrust her roughly aside and she was shocked at the look of naked fury on his face.

‘Where the Devil have you been?’ he demanded. ‘We have been searching for hours. How dared you go off in such a way. Are you totally without shame? Look at yourself—just look at yourself!’ His voice was filled with disgust.

Harriet staggered back. ‘What are you saying? I was attacked …’

Sandford’s lip curled. ‘Again?’ he said coldly. ‘You do seem to make a habit of that, don’t you?’

Ignoring her protests, he turned on his heel and strode up the path to where his horse was tethered. Harriet, grabbing up her skirts, stumbled after him, convinced that she must still be in the grip of some dreadful nightmare and her eyes widened in amazement at the unexpected sight of Clipper grazing peacefully on the verge ahead.

‘You found her!’ she panted, as Sandford came to a standstill beside the horses. ‘I was afraid …’

‘Much you cared!’ Sandford spun round to face her. ‘You left her tied up at the gate while you cavorted with your—your what?’ He raised his crop as though to strike her.

Harriet flinched, dumbfounded. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said, her head still pounding. ‘What are you accusing me of? I was riding with Judith—I told you yesterday …’

‘Spare me the details. I’ve seen the note—you carelessly left it on your dressing table. Rose brought it to my mother when you failed to return from Westpark.’

‘Note? What note? Oh—yes, I see—but that was not intended …’

He turned away from her, his shoulders suddenly slumped and he leaned his head wearily against Pagan’s neck.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said bleakly. ‘I am tired of your tricks. Hopefully, you will soon be gone. I wish to God that I had left you in the ditch—my life has been in turmoil since that day!’

‘Oh, please,’ exhorted Harriet, laying her hand on his arm. ‘Please tell me what you think I have done? I beg of you …’ She winced as he gripped her wrist, his eyes suffused with anger as he regarded her unadorned fingers.

‘You witch!’ he choked. ‘Where is it? If you have given it …’

‘Stop it! Stop it!’ Harriet tried to pull away from him and, finding that she could not escape, she raised her free hand and slapped him hard across his cheek. For an interminable moment he stared down at her, almost unseeingly, then with a groan he crushed her to his chest and buried his face in her hair.

‘Oh, dear God! What have I done!’ he breathed, but Harriet hardly heard him. She dragged herself away from his grasp and glared at him in rage.

‘How dare you! Have you gone mad! I hate you! I cannot wait to get away from this place!’ She thrust her hand into her boot. ‘See! Here is your precious ring! And to think that I went to the trouble of saving it! I pity whoever has the misfortune to become your wife!’

Casting the jewel at his feet, she burst into tears and swept regally past him. It was more than a mile back to the house, she knew, but she had no intention of asking for Sandford’s assistance to mount her horse. She trudged resentfully along the path, clutching up the muddied skirts of her riding habit as best she could, fulminating at the unfairness of life. She had been at this beastly place barely two weeks and already she had been dragged into a lake and set upon by brigands, which was more than had ever befallen her in all her years with the military! What else could happen? She couldn’t expect her grandfather to arrive for at least another week, at the earliest. If only she had insisted on leaving with Ozzy and Martha! What right did Sandford have to dismiss their suggestion? Hadn’t she just heard him admit that he would be glad when she had gone? He had left her in no doubt as to his opinion of her—calling her a witch—and a trickster!

She came to a sudden standstill on the path, trying to remember the exact words he had used. He had behaved as though he had been the victim, when it was she who had been attacked and tricked not once but three times, she realised, if one counted the puzzle of the note! Walking on, she deliberated upon that particular enigma. Sandford had referred to it with an anger she considered totally uncalled for. It must have been perfectly obvious that the note was not intended for her. Who on earth did he suppose she would arrange to meet in secret? And why? Then an incredible notion entered her head as she recalled his words—he had supposed that! He had been accusing her of having a clandestine tryst!

For a moment or two Harriet felt quite sick as a cold clamminess swept over her body and she had to press her shaking hands over her lips to control their trembling as she struggled to digest the implication of his words.

While Sandford and his men had been supposedly scouring the park she had been concealed inside a bush practically under their noses and then, far from giving her a chance to explain her absence, he had been so convinced of her guilt that he had refused even to listen to her. Worse, he had accused her of having spent hours in some furtive and underhand assignation!

Something else occurred to her. Sandford had said that Clipper had been found tied to the gate, but the only gate was at the end of the Beldale bridleway that, as far as she could judge, was more than a mile from the spot where she had fallen from her horse! Someone must have taken Clipper back to the gate and tied her there! But, in God’s name, why?