Silk and Scandal Page 10

  In Charlotte House, all caste systems were dashed away. Together they took tea, maids and governesses along with ladies of quality who shared a common bond. Supposed differences were whisked away in the face of cruelty; they laughed and talked together like old, comfortable friends. Looking at them all, Eliza was overcome with emotion. Though she was in constant peril of discovery, she felt fulfilled that she had managed to accomplish so much. Justice might be elusive but it was something.

  Pandora joined them just as the doctor arrived and went upstairs to tend Mary. While they waited for his verdict, they talked of mundane matters until Doctor Wellsby wearily trudged back downstairs.

  Everyone stood as Eliza went to him. “How is she?”

  Wellsby ran short, stubby fingers through what was left of his silver hair. He shook his head. “Not well, I fear. Not only is her fever severe, the burns show the beginnings of infection. That, coupled with her recent delivery of a child, have left the poor dear incredibly weak.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Ann asked, her young face alight with worry.

  Doctor Wellsby accepted a cup of tea from Harriet and nodded his thanks. “Simply do what you can to see to her comfort. I have given instructions to your Mrs. Brown for cold compresses and given her laudanum to keep Mary sedated. A salve for the burns may help as well. With your permission, I will stay with her through the night.”

  “Certainly. Thank you, doctor,” Eliza said. “I must be on my way but please do sit for a while.”

  When the doctor was settled with his tea and a plate of pastries, Eliza said her goodbyes and made her way to the front door, Pandora beside her.

  “Shall we call on Bailsworthy this night, m’lady?”

  Eliza shook her head. “No, not tonight. Today has been much too tiring, and I must first be sure of Mary’s health. Three days hence, perhaps, but this time I shall go alone.”

  “My lady!” Pandora gasped. “Please do not attempt this alone. What if something should go wrong?”

  “Nothing will go wrong, I promise. I simply couldn’t live with myself if something should go awry with Mary and I would feel much better knowing you are close by.” She put on her riding gloves and pinned her hat into place, a frown knitting her brow. “Stay here. Mrs. Brown will need help, no doubt, and I don’t want to burden the others. Each has serious troubles of her own.

  “My plan for Bailsworthy is to follow him as he moves from hell to hell. It is said he wins with regularity. Once his pockets are full of guineas, I will nab him, and Kathleen will have a small nest egg for her and her babe.”

  Pandora scowled her disapproval, but gave her mistress a nod. “As you wish, but I do not like this. It is too dangerous.”

  “I am not afraid.”

  “That is what worries me, m’lady. You should be afraid.”

  “But why? I am as careful as I know how to be. My disguise is flawless allowing me to haunt the alleyways unnoticed. This has been a part of my life for so long that it seems I have time for nothing else.”

  “Not even love? Even I have come to realize the handsome Duke desires you above all others,” Pandora said, eyes dark with concern. “He took care of you after that swine attacked from afar. For that alone, he has my undying gratitude, and I would hate to see you lose a chance for something special with him. Perhaps he is not the rake society paints him.”

  “Pandora, please. Nicholas Delaford is not a man whom I wish to discuss when my mind is set on tormenting Lord Bailsworthy.” Eliza lifted her chin as she plucked a nonexistent bit of thread from her sleeve. “Besides, I am sure that, as of several hours ago, he has washed his hands of me as I failed to present myself for tea. He is not a man easily rebuffed and will no doubt take offense at my failure to attend him. Perhaps now, he will find another lady to torment.”

  “Oh, that he might torment me! What a handsome fellow he is. Have I mentioned lately that you are daft?”

  “A time or two.” She reached for her maid’s hand then gave it a quick squeeze before noting the darkening sky. “Truly, I must be off before the rain comes. Already I smell dampness in the air, and it is a long ride home. Send for me if there is news on Mary.”

  “Yes, I shall. Be careful and do not forget Mrs. Brown’s key above the door of her cottage. Should it rain, you may have need of shelter.”

  “Of course.” With assistance from a grizzled stable hand, Eliza mounted her horse and rode down the graveled drive toward London as storm clouds threatened.

  A crack of lightning lit the sky, and Majesty shied nervously. Leaning over his neck, Eliza soothed him with a soft whisper in his ear. “Shh, boy. There is no need to fear. There now, that’s a good fellow.”

  She stroked his long neck with her hands, and the magnificent black snuffled softly as he stilled along the dirt road. Fat drops of rain began to fall on her face. It might be necessary, after all, to stop at Mrs. Brown’s abandoned cottage to wait out the coming storm. Resolved to the inevitable, she straightened in the saddle and fought the urge to race along the quiet road at full speed. She wanted to be safe at home instead out in this isolated spot. A measure of unease crawled down her spine and the rain began in earnest. Urging her mouth forward, the slowed only as she neared a country lane where she knew she would find needed shelter.

  Imogen Brown’s cottage rose up in the distance.

  It was a meager home but still immaculately maintained and as the storm roared like a dark beast, Eliza acknowledge the rush of relief when she spotted the safe harbor. Since leaving Charlotte House, the sensation of being studied had followed her trek toward home and safety. It felt as if hundreds of eyes watched her every move.

  But worrying over that now, as she sat drenched upon her horse, was not an option.

  A small outbuilding set near the house. She urged her mount close then managed to slide from the horse before taking the reins and leading him inside the barn. There was a hole in the roof but it would suffice as shelter until they could again be on their way back to London. Eliza removed the saddle then gave Majesty a quick rub on his silky nose. “I shall return for you soon, my lad,” she whispered before dashing back into the rain.

  Mrs. Brown’s cottage was a quick sprint away and, uncaring of propriety, she lifted her skirts slightly and began to run. That strange uneasy feeling swept over her again. She paused to spare a glance toward a nearby copse of trees then screeched aloud as a rough hand grabbed her from behind. A slender blade pressed to her throat as the fetid breath of the man who’d accosted her hit her nostrils. The villain’s fleshy belly pressed against her back.

  “Here she be, Shorty. The ‘igh falutin’ miss we been lookin’ fer.” He laughed against her cheek. “Him wat hired me will be mighty ‘appy with this days work.”

  Hired?

  Only Stanhope would dare such a thing!

  She fought against the man’s hold but he only laughed and pressed the blade against the flesh of her throat. Twas no use! Eliza thought of the pistol she carried in a concealed pocket in her gown but there was no way to retrieve it. Another man, this one quite thin, stepped into view. He grinned at her through rotten teeth and stared at her as rain ran in rivulets over his grimy face. “A good bit o’work, Mott. Now stick her so we can get our pay from the nob. A pint of ale be waitin’ fer me in London.”

  “I will pay you more not to kill me,” she managed. “Release me now and my father will see to it.”

  The man who held her went still and slowly the blade was removed from dangerous proximity to her throat. Her heart pounded a relentless tattoo as she struggled to regulate her breathing.

  Never had she been more terrified.

  Alone in the country with no help near!

  How could she have allowed herself to assume such a position of weakness?

  The villain moved from behind her enabling her first look at him. Much like his partner, he was a filthy, ragged cretin. He stared at her as if considering her proposal and all the while she inched her fingers closer
to the pocket that contained her weapon. He opened his mouth to speak but then the lot of them looked up as a madman on horseback rushed toward them with a wild cry.

  The the madman in question was Duke Weston.

  Unbridled relief claimed her. How he’d managed to be in exactly the right place at the right time wasn’t something she would question at the moment. He was here and that was all that mattered. Before any of them could react, Nicholas leaped from the back of his horse and grabbed the first villain he encountered. The hapless skinny man with the rotten teeth was helpless against the fist that landed on his cheek. Propelled to the ground, he rolled then managed to re-gain his footing and began to race toward the copse of trees where, no doubt, mounts waited.

  Eliza frantically reached into her pocket to retrieve her pistol as Mott turned to run as well but Nicholas grabbed him and landed a solid punch to the man’s belly. Her fingers brushed the steely surface of the weapon. She pulled it free from the clinging fabric of her gown but her hands shook so badly, it fell to the muddy ground. Nicholas stood over the villain, his hands fisted, then spared her a glance. His eyes narrowed. “You are bleeding.”

  She was?

  Nicholas stalked from the writhing Mott and touched her throat. It wasn’t until he removed his fingers that she saw she had, in fact, been pricked by the knife. A pinkish-red color showed upon his hand.

  “I am fine.”

  The Duke scowled then faced Mott again and together they watched as the villain raced off into the woods. Eliza rushed up to grab his arm as Nicholas prepared to give chase. “Let him go. Please. I have had quite enough.”

  Beneath her palm, his muscles relaxed yet she knew without any question that had she not stopped him, Nicholas would have pursued. A crack of lightning rent the air and the Duke’s mount whinnied, pawing the air in distress as if to emphasize her concerns. Nicholas turned to look at her. “Are you in pain?”

  “Merely a scratch, I assure you. Let us go inside.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Go ahead. I will see to my horse.”

  As he turned to go, she rushed to thank him. “Yet again, you saved the day. How can I repay you?”

  “Reserve your thanks, Miss, until I reveal what my reward shall be,” he finally said before turning away.

  Eliza hurried through the mud and the muck left by the foul weather then entered the quiet cottage. It wasn’t until she leaned against the closed door in relief that she allowed his words to roll slowly through her mind. Reward?

  This did not sound good at all.

  Chapter Eight

  Upon entering the small cottage, Nicholas immediately surmised that though the place was uninhabited, it had been recently cleaned. Someone had once lived here and lovingly tended it still. Curious about the owner of the cottage, he took in a long, rectangular table at the far end of the room and studied a grouping of chairs near the cold fireplace. A heavy, crudely carved mantel was devoid of pictures and bric-a-brac. Eliza was nowhere in sight and he could only assume she was somewhere behind the closed door that sat to his right. Nicholas shifted against the discomfort of his drenched clothing and set about peeling his sodden coat and waistcoast from his body. He draped both articles, along with his shirt across the immense table and after tugging his boots off, went about the business of building a fire to ward off the chill of the place.

  It wasn’t his intention to shock the lady currently hiding out in the adjoining room but neither was he prepared to become ill. In any event, it was far too late in the game for modesty between the lovely miss and himself. Despite the innocence of their current situation, she was well and truly compromised. A lady of breeding who shared secluded country cottages, even if only for a moment, with a bachelor gentleman was doomed to wed him whether she wished it or no.

  A smile curled upon his lips as he continued to stoke the small fire into greater heights.

  Yes, she was well and truly caught now but Nicholas had no desire to discuss the situation at the moment. She’d been traumatized enough. Rising to his full height, he leaned an arm against the rough mantel. The lady suffered more near-misses than anyone he had yet to meet. Wedding her as quickly as possible would solve the dilemma. He turned to face the closed door and walked barefoot across the planked floors. Best deal with the current situation. The rest could wait. He rapped sharply.

  “Hand me your gown.”

  “I beg your pardon,” she said from behind the door.

  Nicholas grinned at the affront in her voice. “I intend no debauchery, believe me. I only know those sodden clothes will invite the ague. I don’t wish you to become ill.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  His grin widened. “Do you need assistance? I can come─”

  “No! No, um, I can manage.”

  He stepped away from the door. Quite fervently, he wished to remove his wet breeches but he wasn’t quite so insensitive as to embarrass the lady further. He would be dry soon enough. Hoping to hasten that occurrence, he approached the warm firm again to ponder the problem of one Lord Stanhope who seemed intent on harming his intended. Deep in thought, he started a bit as a door creaked open and he turned to see a disheveled Eliza framed in the doorway.

  Even in disarray, she was lovely, her auburn hair down and curling wildly. Her ivory shoulders were bare above a hastily knotted bedsheet that hid her body from view. She looked down momentarily and then gazed around the room before finally meeting his eyes. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It seems once again you have saved me from villains.”

  Smiling, he sketched a short bow. “At your service. My friends call me Saint Nicholas behind my back.” He crossed the short distance to her and cognizant of her embarrassment, gently took her hand. “Come sit near the fire. We shall both be dry and comfortable soon enough.”

  As Eliza gingerly sat, apparently careful not to dislodge the sheet, she smiled a little. “It cannot occur soon enough, Your Grace.”

  Nicholas took a chair beside her and waited. It did not take long.

  “How did you manage to come to my aid so easily?” she asked. “Were you following me?”

  “In truth, yes. When I arrived at your home to find you’d hared off for parts unknown, I promised your distraught parents that I would find you, fetch you, and bring you back to the nest.”

  “How gallant of you.”

  “Oddly, there is no sarcasm in your voice.”

  She shook her head. “It was unseemly of me to leave that way but, you see, you continually press me, push me. I had had enough, sir.”

  “And your solution was to leave with no escort? After what happened to you in Hyde Park?”

  “It was stupid. I was ridiculous. But I do not care for feeling trapped.”

  Eliza refused to look at him and simply gazed at her hands. They were fisted in her lap. Her shame and regret was palpable in the quiet room. A log sizzled and cracked in the fireplace as a fat tear landed on the back of her hand. “Those men might have killed me.”

  Enough!

  He stood and, not wishing to stand dominantly over her, kneeled near her chair and took her hand. He pressed it too his lips astonished that the taste of her tears could move him so. “Your tears unman me. Please don’t torture yourself with recriminations at this point. Just be happy you are safe. I’ll let no one harm you.”

  “You must think me an awful harridan,” she said with a sniff.

  “I think you sweet. I believe, Miss, that you carefully hide that sweetness and gentleness of heart from the world but one can only continue a masquerade for a while. It is quite obvious to me that you are brave and fearless yet believe no one can save you.”

  She met his gaze. “And you shall save me?”

  “Yes. I will save you from anyone who would harm you, and yes, my dear, I will save you from yourself.”

  “Perhaps that is a good thing but I have reservations.”

  “Ah, well, reservations.” Nicholas stood and, using his fingertips, swept the tears from her cheeks. He smiled sl
ightly then returned to his chair. “As to that, we have been well and truly caught. You realize, do you not, that you are a compromised lady. You would bring shame not only to me but to yourself and your family if you did not promise to wed me posthaste.”

  She nodded and made a small sound, somewhat a cross between a squeak and a sigh. “Mm.”

  “Would it be so terrible to marry me?”

  Eliza shook her head and looked at him. For the first time since she’d entered the room, she appeared to notice is state of undress. Her eyes lingered on his neck and his bare chest and it was obvious from the slight widening of her eyes, that she’d never seen such a thing as a man’s near-nakedness. His body reacted. His muscles tightened and every nerve ending went on alert. Only the cloying discomfort of his wet breeches prevented a full-on erection.

  Damn and blast!

  He was no monk.

  Nicholas wanted her beyond bearing but neither would he frighten her with his lust. Wedded then bedded. He did not want to begin their lives in any way other than what was proper and right. He wanted no regrets between himself and his bride.

  It served no purpose to continue with this perilous topic when he wanted her beneath him in bed so badly. He blew out a slow breath and prayed for strength. She was the very vision of untamed loveliness. Soon, he vowed. Soon he’d have her but now there were questions that required an answer.

  “Do you know the former owners of this cottage?”

  “I do,” she said. “A friend raised her family here and she keeps it in order in the event one of her children may someday want it.” A crack of lightning sounded outside the walls of the cozy house and Eliza jerked, shook her head, and then continued. “Mrs. Brown is an old and dear friend who moved when her husband passed. I know this place well so when the storm began and raced here for safety.”

  “But found villains awaiting you instead.”

  “Yes. Quite unfortunate.” Her hair had begun to dry leaving heavy curls behind. They framed her face to perfection and Nicholas longed to touch to see if they were as soft as they appeared. In an attempt to train his thoughts elsewhere, he gazed into the fire.