The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(46)

‘No. Upon my honour.’ The word seemed to cause him some bitter amusement, to judge by the twist of his lips which Guin did not mistake for a moment for a smile.





Chapter Fifteen


Jared had been on the Great North Road, so had he been heading north from London or south? His accent was that of any educated English gentleman, but just occasionally she thought she caught the faintest hint of a flat northern vowel. And there had been something in his voice when he had said that he was going to Allerton, almost as though he was gritting his teeth and making himself go.

‘Are you from Yorkshire?’ Guin asked abruptly.

‘I do not discuss my past.’ The shutters were down with a vengeance, the man was looking at her as though she was an opponent at the end of his rapier.

‘You just have,’ she pointed out.

‘I had little choice, I think.’

Oh, so it is all my fault, is it? ‘So you can be intimate with me in a barn one night but not in a carriage the next morning?’

‘You wish to be intimate, my lady? I can certainly oblige you.’ There was heat in his gaze, but no softness in the mouth that had –

‘No, I do not. That was… that was a mistake. I was appreciating your tact in not mentioning it, but I see you were merely saving it up to put me out of countenance when it suited you. I meant that, surely, you can confide in me?’

‘Why? I value my privacy and I refused to confide, as you put it, in your late husband, who remains my employer. Which you are not.’

‘As a friend, I had thought.’ Embarrassment was giving way to an anger that was curiously sustaining. Guin tugged at the check string and the carriage slowed and stopped. ‘Obviously I was mistaken. As I am sure that Faith has recovered from her attack of tactful queasiness perhaps you would like to take her place, Mr Hunt. You may scan the scenery better for familiar landmarks from up there.’

If she had hoped to provoke an answering show of temper in Jared she was disappointed. He opened the carriage door, jumped down, helped Faith from her perch and closed the door on her with perfect civility.

‘My lady?’

‘There are times, Faith, when I think that the entire male sex has been put on this earth to infuriate women.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ It did not help at all that her mouth twitched in a hastily-suppressed smile.



‘I apologise,’ Guin said in York at the last change before they arrived at Allerton Grange. ‘I hope you were not too uncomfortable outside.’

‘Not at all and I do not require an apology.’ They might have been discussing a spilled cup of coffee. Jared was his usual perfectly calm, unreadable, self. He was managing to scan the inn yard for hazards as well as pay her attention and his competence was beginning to provoke Guin to the point of recklessness.

She wanted to poke at him, like a foolish child prodding a stick through the bars of the bear’s cage in the menagerie at the Exeter Exchange to see the beast’s fangs. Instead she inclined her head graciously and surprised a flicker of reaction in the depths of those amber hawk’s eyes. Was he trying to provoke her? Were they both playing some kind of game, one where she had no idea of the rules, or the prize?

She was still pondering on the conundrum when the carriage turned through the high stone gateposts of Allerton Grange in the mid-afternoon. The sun was shining, the small park looked picturesque and tranquil and the house when it came into view sat secure and welcoming on a slight rise.

‘It is difficult to believe that we fled from here in such alarm and confusion,’ she said as Jared dropped the window to lean out and survey the building.

‘It looks a fine small property.’

‘That is not why Augustus bought it – he knew nothing about it, really – it was an act of charity which fortunately turned out to be good business. His Quenten cousins had something of a financial crisis, I believe, and had to move from here. When Augustus attended his cousin Charles’s funeral he took the place off the heir’s hands, unseen, to help out. He visited on his way home to see what kind of pig in a poke he had acquired and encountered me at the Red Griffin in the village. I was in the throes of a distressing discussion with the local magistrate, Francis was laid out in the cellar, the landlady wanted both me and the body out of there…’ She gave a little shiver at the recollection. ‘It was all horrible and Augustus descended like a good angel and rescued me.’

‘An interesting choice of word,’ Jared said, turning back from the view to study her face. ‘Why did you need rescue? Assistance, I could understand.’

‘Because they suspected I had killed my husband, of course.’

‘And of course you had not, but circumstances made it seem that way.’

Was that a statement or a question? Guin knew she had lost colour: a guilty conscience was a damnable thing. ‘If you are asking me if I pushed him out of the window, then the answer is, no, I did not.’

Did I wish him with the Devil? Yes. Did I do nothing to stop himself drinking until he was incapable? Yes. Was I relieved that he was dead? Yes, Heaven forgive me.

As though she had spoken out loud Jared sent a sharp look at Faith who was tactfully gathering up books and Guin’s parasol and shawl. He said nothing, but Guin was certain that this was something they were going to have a discussion about as soon as they were alone, although why he thought it relevant to the present problem she had no idea.