The Temptation Of Torilla Part 5

He thought it a bore to have women at a dinner where the wine and food were the first objects of interest.

And he told himself that the sooner Beryl understood that if he wished to have a bachelor party she must make other arrangements for herself, the better.

As he thought of his intended, he realised how disappointed his mother had been in his choice of a wife.

He had known that was inevitable as he drove North to break the news of his impending marriage, but he found himself remembering the sadness in the Dowager Marchioness's eyes and the wistful note in her voice.

'She will be happy enough once I am married,' he told himself optimistically, 'and when we have children she will both love and spoil them.'

It occurred to him for the first time that the life Beryl had lived up to now was hardly conducive to contented motherhood.

She was, as he had described her, the life and soul of every party. She was also always surrounded by a crowd of admiring swains who laughed at everything she said and extolled her as being wittier than she in fact was.

As if he wished to rea.s.sure himself, the Marquis thought, 'We like the same sort of things, we lead the same sort of life.'

That, he was sure, was the right foundation on which to build a commendable marriage.

It was growing late in the afternoon but there was still a little way to go before he reached The George and Dragon where he intended to stay.

As he drove his horses round the corner of a narrow hedge-bordered road, he saw a commotion ahead.

The Marquis, who was travelling fast, pulled in his team.

"An accident!" he remarked briefly.

"It's the stagecoach, my Lord," Jim replied.

They drew nearer.

The stagecoach, which was lying at a drunken angle on the left-hand side of the road, had obviously just come into collision with a chaise drawn by two horses, which were plunging about out of control.

The stagecoach had been prevented by the hedgerow from turning over completely and the luggage piled on top had fallen into the road. A number of white chickens, which had been contained in a coop, were fluttering about squawking loudly.

Their cries were augmented by the bleat of a sheep sewn into a sack, which was lying upside down on the gra.s.s verge. There were feminine screams and masculine oaths, while the owner of the chaise, a middle-aged and furious gentleman was hurling abuse at the driver of the stagecoach.

The latter, ably supported by the guard, was shouting back at him.

The Marquis looked at the turmoil with amus.e.m.e.nt.

Then, as it was impossible to pa.s.s and it seemed unlikely that anyone intended to clear up the mess, he handed his reins to his groom.

Without haste he stepped down onto the road and walked up to the combatants, his voice clear and authoritative cutting across their furious interchange.

"Go to the heads of your horses, you fools!"

Both the gentleman who owned the chaise and the coachman turned to stare at him in astonishment.

"Your horses!" the Marquis called out again and surprisingly they obeyed him.

He then turned to the men who had been scrambling down from the roof of the coach and pointed to those who had their heads out of the windows being unable to alight owing to the angle at which it lay.

"Get everyone out!" the Marquis ordered. "Then you can right this vehicle, unless you intend to stay here for the rest of the night."

There was a sharpness in his tone that galvanised the men into activity.

A fat farmer's wife was helped out first, crying as she did so, "Me chickens a me poor little chickens a they be all crushed!"

She insisted on her rescuers taking from her first a basket in which remained a few of the day old chicks she was doubtless taking to market.

As she reached the ground, she declared stridently, "'Tis a disgrace the way these coachmen drive! Sommat should be done about it a that it should!"

"I agree with you, ma'am," the Marquis said.

Then, as the woman went on worrying about her chickens, he turned his attention to an elderly gentleman who, quivering with anger as he was a.s.sisted from the coach, was swearing that every bone in his body was broken.

He was followed by three more men, then last of all the Marquis saw a little oval face with two large frightened eyes framed by a somewhat battered bonnet.

Torilla stepped out so lightly that she hardly touched the hands of the two men who were only too anxious to help her. Then, as she reached the road, she looked up and saw the Marquis.

Her eyes widened and the colour rose in her pale cheeks as he swept his high-crowned hat from his head, saying, "We meet again, Miss Clifford!"

It seemed as if she had no words to answer him and after looking at her beneath lazy eyelids he returned to the task of sorting out the accident.

The horses in the chaise were now under control and in a somewhat peremptory manner he told the middle-aged owner of them to be on his way.

"I intend to sue the company for the damage that has been done to my vehicle," the gentleman grunted angrily.

"I doubt if you will receive any compensation," the Marquis replied. "But you can always try."

"The driver is drunk a that is perfectly obvious," the gentleman averred.

"They invariably are," the Marquis answered and walked away, obviously bored with the subject.

Now that one side of the road was clear, the Marquis could proceed on his way. But first he set the men who had been on the coach to work pus.h.i.+ng and pulling the unwieldy vehicle back onto the highway.

"Drive more carefully in future," the Marquis ordered the coachman.

The man was crimson in the face and there was some truth in the accusation that, even if he was not drunk, he had certainly imbibed more freely than was wise.

To mitigate the severity of his words, the Marquis gave the driver a guinea and he was instantly all smiles and pleasantries.

The coach was righted, most of the chickens had been collected and returned to their coop, the sheep still bleating plaintively was placed the right way up on the roof and the pa.s.sengers began to take their places.

The Marquis walked to where Torilla was standing a little apart from the others.

"Do you know where you are staying tonight?" he asked.

"At an inn called The George and Dragon," she replied.

"Then I will take you there, for it is where I am bound myself," the Marquis offered.

She looked away from him towards the coach, then back again.

"I a would like that a but a "

"There are no 'buts'," the Marquis interrupted. "My groom is a very effective chaperone and you will be there quicker and far more comfortably than if you wait for old grumble-boots!"

She smiled and would have bent down to pick up her valise, which she had beside her on the gra.s.s verge.

"Leave it," the Marquis ordered.

He helped her into the phaeton and went round the other side where Jim jumped down to hand him the reins.

The groom picked up the valise and climbed onto the seat behind the hood and then they were off, driving smoothly with a speed that soon left the scene of the accident far behind.

The Marquis did not speak and after they had driven a little way Torilla glanced at him from under her eyelashes.

He was not only very impressive, she thought, but very handsome. At the same time he was rather frightening.

Perhaps it was the proud manner in which he held his head and the expression on his face that was almost disdainful, as if everything and everybody was beneath him.

His features were cla.s.sical but there were lines running from his nose to the side of his mouth which she thought were the marks of cynicism a or was it boredom?

She felt suddenly very young and very inexperienced and almost wished she was travelling in the coach rather than with a stranger.

Then he turned to smile at her and quite unreasonably she felt that the sun had come out.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Your horses are magnificent, sir!" she replied.

"I am glad you should think so."

"They are finer than any I have ever seen, except perhaps for those you drove yesterday."

The Marquis looked at her in surprise and she explained, "I love horses. While we were waiting this morning for the coach, I looked into the stables at the inn and a groom told me that four superb chestnuts belonged to a Sir Alexander Abdy."

She paused before she asked, "That is you, is it not, sir?"

"That is my name," the Marquis agreed.

"Then I would like to a thank you again," she said in a low voice.

"Forget it," the Marquis said briefly. "There is no need to talk or even to think of anything that is no longer of any consequence. I would like, however, to know who you are."

"I am Torilla Clifford," she answered.

"Torilla," the Marquis repeated. 'I don't think I have ever heard that name before. It becomes you."

He saw that even at such a very mild compliment the colour rose in her face and he told himself he must be careful not to frighten her as she had been scared already.

He was not used to the company of young girls, but he sensed that Torilla was rather exceptional and not only in her looks.

He had not been mistaken when he had thought last night that not only was she very lovely but there was something sensitive about her.

It was an attribute he had found singularly lacking among the daughters of the aristocracy who had been pressed upon him on his journey North.

He talked about his horses, where he had bought them and their breeding. He realised that Torilla, unlike most women, was not pretending, but was in fact vitally interested in everything he said.

She also asked him some intelligent questions, which told him that she not only loved horses but also had studied racing form. He began to wonder who she was and where she came from.

He was not to know that the Earl of Fernleigh had a racing stable and that Beryl and Torilla as children vied with the stable boys in picking the winners of every important race.

It was not long before The George and Dragon, an ancient Posting House with a history of highwaymen, came into sight.

"As we are both staying here," the Marquis said, "I should be honoured, Miss Clifford, if you would dine with me this evening."

She looked at him with what he knew was surprise and he added, "I have a private room and I am quite certain that the dinner provided for me will be very much better than the menu selected for the stagecoach pa.s.sengers."

"That would not be difficult, judging by last night's meal," Torilla smiled.

"Then you will dine with me?"

She looked at him and there was a worried look in her blue eyes.

"It would not be a wrong?"

"Wrong?" he questioned.

"I a I am travelling a alone," she said, "and I don't know a if it would be correct for me to a accept the invitation of someone to whom I have not been a introduced."

She spoke hesitantly and gave him a glance as if she was afraid that he might laugh at her.

But the Marquis replied quite gravely, "I think, considering the unusual circ.u.mstances in which we met, we may consider ourselves introduced, Miss Clifford. Moreover, if you are with me, there will be no chance of your being subjected to the odious attentions of anyone who might be dining in the coffee room."

He saw a little s.h.i.+ver go through her as she recalled what had happened last night and she said quickly, "I would much a rather be with a you."

"Then that is settled!" the Marquis said. "I am afraid I keep late hours and so I shall not dine until half after seven. But that will give you time to rest."

"Thank you. Thank you a very much!" Torilla said in a breathless little voice.

They drove into the courtyard of The George and Dragon and, as the landlord hurried forward, the Marquis explained Torilla's presence.

"There has been an accident to the stagecoach about five miles away from here," he said. "I have brought Miss Clifford, who is one of the pa.s.sengers, with me. Kindly see she has a comfortable room to herself."

"Just as you say, sir," the innkeeper replied, bowing obsequiously not only to the Marquis but also to Torilla.

She was taken upstairs and given, she was quite sure, a far more comfortable room than was usually accorded to stagecoach pa.s.sengers.