THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER FOUR

                   CHAPTER FOUR

No one could deny that Mr Frederick Granville cut a handsome figure in his blue cut-away coat and yellow pantaloons. A cravat of the finest cream muslin frothed at his throat above a waistcoat of cream brocade.

    As a dandy, he had the look of a gentleman, but Eleanor knew it was in appearance only. She saw again falseness and deviousness in Frederick Granville which was repellent to her.

    The shameful words he had spoken to her at their last meeting still rang in her ears. No gentleman would have said such things. No gentleman would attempt to compromise a lady of good family in this manner. His actions then, as now, bespoke his base nature and she sensed a mischief in his intentions towards her.

    A great fear swelled in her breast, making her tremble, although she strove to hide her agitation from him.

    ‘Sir, I do not know what this means,’ she exclaimed. ‘I must call Mrs Possimer to me. This meeting so late at night is highly improper.’

    Granville smiled with amusement. ‘My dear Miss Wellesley, do not trouble yourself. Mrs Possimer will obey only my instructions. You are under my roof now and I will call the tune.’

    Eleanor rose unsteadily to her feet; her worst fears confirmed.

    ‘This is your house?’

    ‘I have many such...establishments, Miss Wellesley.’

    There could be no mistaking his meaning and Eleanor drew in a sharp breath; her hand flying to her throat as she stared at him in dismay.

    ‘This is a house of ill-repute?’ She could not prevent a quiver in her voice.

    His smile was mocking and unpleasant. ‘At present it is a common lodging house, but it does not pay well. My associates and I will change that very shortly. You are not the first lady of quality to sleep under the roof of a house of pleasure, I assure you...Eleanor.’

    She bridled at his familiarity. ‘I see it now!’ she cried. ‘You have led my father and me into a trap.’

    ‘Your father brought about his own ruin, for he was too found of the baize.’

    ‘I hazard you know more about the circumstances of his death than you say.’

    ‘Hazard!’ Granville laughed. ‘Upon my word! That was the very thing that did for your papa.’

    ‘Speak plainly, sir!’

    ‘Very well, then,’ Granville snapped. ‘Your father was a weak gambling fool. A man in his cups grows careless in his talk. When the game went against him he accused a fellow player of cheating.’

    ‘How dare you denigrate him,’ Eleanor cried. ‘My father was bred a gentleman.’

    ‘A fool none the less,’ Granville sneered. ‘Only a fool would call out a rogue like Silas Taplow.’

    ‘This Taplow must be brought to justice,’ Eleanor exclaimed. ‘What is being done?’

    ‘Taplow would be kicking his heels in Newgate this very hour,’ Granville said. ‘Were it not for the connivance of a crony of his who got him away to a hiding place.’

    ‘It occurs to me that that conspirator was no one but you, sir,’ Eleanor accused angrily. ‘You planned this all along.’

    Granville looked pained. ‘You misjudge me, Eleanor,’ he replied. ‘Silas Taplow is no friend of mine; a fellow of some wealth, but devilish under bred. Smells of shop, don’t you know.’