Part 11 (1/2)

”Ah, Dougal. He's become quite the dandy. My other brothers and I can barely countenance him.”

The squire chuckled. ”I am certain it's just a phase. I spoke to your brother about investing in a property with me.” The squire puffed up his chest, sticking his thumbs through the b.u.t.tonholes of his fine woolen coat. ”I'm a bit of a hand at turning a profit. It's a cold day indeed when Ned Higganbotham don 't come out on top! I shouldn't mention this, but I turned well more than twenty thousand pounds last year, and that was only on two ventures!”

”Ah,” Gregor said smoothly. ”That explains why you were speaking with Dougal. He can smell a good investment a hundred miles away.”

”He's right sharp, I'll grant you that. My G.o.dfather, the Duke of Richmond, says he knows his funds are in a good place when he releases some to me. I've made him a tidy profit in the last decade, I can tell you that.”

Mrs. Bloom came forward, her eyes agleam at the mention of a real live duke. ”How do you do? I am Mrs. Bloom. I'm on my way to visit my friend, the Countess of c.u.mberland. Did I hear you say you are a member of White's?”

”Aye. I've been a member since I was seventeen, as was m'father and m'father's father.”

Venetia, who was rubbing Miss Higganbotham's icy cold hands between her own, caught sight of Gregor's expression. A frown rested between his eyes, the tight lines down each side of his mouth indicating displeasure about something. Venetia frowned. The squire had said nothing untoward; why would Gregor look so stern? It was almost as if he disapproved of their new company.

She glanced at the squire. He was rather rotund, with a protuberant nose and reddish skin. His features were broad and common, but his eyes shone with good humor, and though he was a bit coa.r.s.e in his speech and dress, he seemed nice enough. It was a pity Gregor was holding the squire in dislike for nothing more than a rough manner.

Mrs. Treadwell brought in a tray holding a steaming pot of tea and an a.s.sortment of cups and saucers. She set it down beside Miss Higganbotham and poured a cup. ”Here ye are, miss! This'll warm ye up!”

She placed the cup and saucer in Miss Higganbotham's hands, but the girl was shaking so much that half the tea sloshed into the saucer before her maid leapt forward and rescued it. The girl set the brew back on the table. ”She's done frozed through 'n' through. The carriage fell into a drift, and we was tossed into a puddle, the both o' us!” The maid turned to show the back of her cloak completely wet. ”Miss Higganbotham's is the same, 'tis just that I'm more used to the cold than she is.”

”La!” Mrs. Treadwell took Miss Higganbotham's hands between her own and rubbed them briskly. ”We'd best get ye out of those wet clothes before ye take ill!”

Venetia turned to the squire. ”Miss Higganbotham may stay with me in my room and-”

Gregor interrupted. ”No.”

Silence met this.

Venetia's cheeks heated. ”Gregor, what do you mean?”

”I'm certain the squire would rather not stay.”

Venetia's brows rose, while the squire flushed a deep red. ”Now, see here,” he began, but Gregor cut him short.

”It will be grossly inconvenient for all involved; there's hardly s.p.a.ce for the five of us as it is. I'm certain that Miss Higganbotham merely needs a few moments to compose herself, and you'll be able to leave. I will even see to it that your injured horse is replaced.” He met the squire's gaze evenly. ”Besides, I daresay you were in a hurry to reach London, or you wouldn't have been traveling in such weather to begin with.”

The squire sent his daughter a hard look before saying in an abrupt tone, ”That's true; we were in a hurry. I had thought to reach my brother's house before nightfall, but the roads are far worse than I'd imagined.”

”It's daylight still. You should be able to reach Eddington in less than an hour. There is a lovely inn there.” Gregor turned to Mr. Treadwell. ”Isn't there?”

Mr. Treadwell blinked. ”Aye, but 'tis four miles, and the roads-”

”I am certain they're pa.s.sable,” Gregor said curtly.

”With the snow melting-”

Miss Higganbotham sneezed.

The squire's expression darkened.

Venetia took the poor young lady's hand and pulled her to her feet. ”Enough of this. I won't hear another word about anyone going back out in that weather. The snow may be melting, but it's still piled high, and travel would be dangerous.”

”Aye, and making a muck where it has already melted,” the squire said briskly. ”There's drifts as high as my head and muddy spots as could swallow a carriage.”

”There you go, m'dear,” the squire told his daughter bluffly as Venetia led her from the room. ”Thank you, Miss-ah? I'm afraid I didn't catch your name.”

Venetia had started to reply when something about Gregor made her shoot him a look. He returned her regard grimly, his eyes s.h.i.+mmering with anger. The look took her aback, and she had to compose herself before she replied. ”I am Miss West, and this”-she gestured to Ravenscroft, who'd leapt up to hold the door-”is my brother, Mr. West.”

”Nice to know you,” the squire said, bowing briefly. ”Thank you for taking care of my daughter. Elizabeth, you go with the nice lady, and none of your shenanigans, do you hear?”

Miss Higganbotham sent her parent a glare from her fine blue eyes and chattered out, ”I w-w-will st-st-stay here, but only until I f-f-feel better. Then I w-w-will leave!”

The squire's bushy brows lowered. ”Stop being dramatic. Now, off to bed with you, and not another word!”

Miss Higganbotham lifted her chin, which still quivered piteously. ”D-d-do as you wish, Father. M-m-my happiness has already been d-d-destroyed.”

Venetia raised her brows. ”Heavens! I wouldn't say that. The inn's nice and warm, and your tremors are already receding.”

”It's not the cold, it's my circ.u.mstances,” the young woman said. ”I am n-n-not here willingly; I am b-b-being abducted!”

Miss Platt's mouth dropped open.

Mrs. Bloom uttered, ”Well! I never!”

Ravenscroft's fists clenched as if he yearned to fight whoever had perpetrated the evil deed.

Gregor glanced at Venetia to see if she'd witnessed her paramour's reaction but found her slipping a sympathetic arm around the girl. ”Oh, my dear! Who abducted you?”

”H-h-he has!” Miss Higganbotham proclaimed, pointing a trembling finger at the squire.

Venetia's brows rose. ”Your own father?”

”Yes. I told him I will not g-g-go to London, e-e-even if I have to kill myself!”

Chapter 8.

I dinna think 'tis romantic when a man says he's willin' t' give his life fer the woman he loves. Give me instead a man who'd fight to keep us both alive and kickin'! There's naught romantic about a dead man, beau or no.

OLD WOMAN NORA FROM LOCH LOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD EVENING.

V enetia made the squire's daughter comfortable in her room, helping the poor girl to bed while her maid hovered nearby and Miss Platt clucked her concern.

”There, there,” Miss Platt said, holding Miss Higganbotham's hand. ”You'll be warmed soon.”

”I hope so!” the girl said. ”Though it w-would serve my father right if I d-d-died!”

”What a horrid thing to say!” Venetia said cheerfully, hanging Miss Higganbotham's cloak over the chair to dry.