London Ladies (The Complete Series)

by Eaton, Jillian

  “Aye,” the driver said, his brown eyes solemn.

  Looking back and forth between the two of them, Miles raked a hand through his dark hair, tousling the ends. Bollocks on this, he thought as he took a step towards the door, only to suddenly freeze when he heard the unmistakable click of a pistol being cocked.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were ye.”

  “And I would listen to him if I were you,” Charlotte said cheerfully from inside the carriage. “He is quite a good shot.”

  The driver grinned, revealing teeth blackened with rot. “That I am,” he agreed.

  Miles did not doubt for a second that Charlotte would take great pleasure in seeing a bullet rip through his flesh. Hands curling into impotent fists of frustration, he took one step back. Were Dianna’s whereabouts not unknown, he would have most likely found the entire situation comical. Here he stood in his own damn driveway with a gun being waved in his face and Charlotte Graystone ordering him about as though she were a queen and he a lowly servant. It was so bloody strange as to be almost surreal. But Dianna’s whereabouts were unknown, and as long as her life was in potential danger he found nothing amusing about his current predicament.

  “I can help,” he repeated. “I know these woods as well as any other and more than most. Dianna needs me.”

  “Dianna needed you,” Charlotte said quietly. “She doesn’t anymore. Ernie, let’s go.”

  Her words hit Miles like a punch to the gut and he watched in silence as Charlotte’s carriage rolled down the drive at a brisk pace, leaving a billowing trail of stone dust in its wake.

  Dianna needed you… She doesn’t anymore.

  The hell with that, he thought grimly. And the hell with Charlotte Graystone if she believed she could keep him from the woman he loved.

  Going to the stables, he ordered his fastest horse saddled, a high spirited chestnut gelding named Blaze for the wide white mark between his eyes. Even before the bridle was completely buckled he’d vaulted into the saddle, and the very second the groom released his hold on the reins Miles spun Blaze in a tight circle and dug in his heels. They exploded into a gallop, kicking up stone and grass as they raced away from the barn.

  Hunching low over Blaze’s neck, Miles took to the fields instead of the road, soaring over a wooden fence without hesitation. The gelding’s mane whipped in the wind as his head bobbed in rhythm with his mighty, ground swallowing stride. Air flew by in a rush, the sound of it drowning out everything else. A slight tug on the rein and Blaze obediently veered off to the left towards a narrow trail that led into the forest. Given the uneven terrain Miles usually avoided galloping through the woods, but today the twisted maze of trees and brambles offered him something the roads did not.

  A direct route to Ashburn.

  Chapter Seven

  When Dianna opened her eyes it was dark and the songbirds were silent.

  With a gasp she scrambled to her feet, fighting a dizzying wave of disorientation before she recalled where she was. She’d wandered far from Ashburn, and fallen asleep beneath the boughs of a willow tree. In the light of day everything had looked familiar, but beneath the inky sky of night with only a sliver of moon peeking out behind a thick wall of clouds she couldn’t tell north from south, let alone home from away.

  Young ladies should not wander by themselves, she scolded herself, especially if they have no idea how to get back to where they started from.

  Aunt Abigail would be frantic with worry. Charlotte as well, for if there were one thing Dianna was known for (aside from being left at the altar) it was her punctuality. She prided herself on always being where she was supposed to be, when she was supposed to be there. It was the mark of a well behaved, responsible lady to have her whereabouts accounted for at all times, and Dianna was nothing if not well behaved and responsible.

  Except for right now.

  Picking up her shawl, she gave it a few hard shakes to remove the bits of grass and leaves clinging to the soft fabric and wrapped it protectively around her trembling shoulders in an attempt to ward off the sharp chill that permeated the air; a chill that hinted more at the winter to come than the summer that had been.

  Biting her bottom lip, she turned in a slow circle, taking a moment to assess her surroundings. She was fairly certain the willow tree had been on her left when she walked towards it this morning, which meant if she kept it on her right she should be able to find the pond, and if she found the pond she could find the manor. It was by no means an excellent plan - or even a very good one - but what other choice did she have? No doubt search parties had already been sent out which, while slightly reassuring, also meant if they hadn’t found her yet they weren’t likely to anytime soon. Having been occupied with thoughts of Miles, she must have wandered further than she thought.

  Tilting her head back she studied the night sky, the nape of her neck tingling with apprehension as she saw a dark mass creeping ominously across the heavens. Were those rain clouds threatening to drown out the stars, or regular clouds? Her lips thinned. How was she to know the difference? Best she pick a direction and start walking. Surely anything was better than staying where she was, waiting for a rescue that might not come until the early hours of dawn.

  Holding her shawl closed with one hand and the hem of her dress in the other, Dianna began to march across the field with single-minded determination, careful to keep the willow tree on her right as she attempted to retrace her steps from earlier in the day.

  “One foot in front of the other,” she muttered in an attempt to bolster her waning confidence. Except for the few times she’d accompanied Miles on his fishing expeditions - which mostly involved her reading a book on the bank while he did the actual fishing - she’d never enjoyed being out in nature beyond a walk in the park or a brief sojourn in a meadow to gather wildflowers.

  She found the vastness of the wild outdoors to quite intimidating and it certainly did not help - then or now - that she’d never been able to tell north from south or east from west. She couldn’t allow herself to think about that right at this moment, however. She needed to remain positive. If she did that, then surely she would be able to find her way home. After all, she’d walked here on her own. How hard could it be to walk herself back?

  “One foot in front of the other,” she repeated. “One foot in front of the other.”

  Unfortunately, it seemed Mother Nature was not in a very obliging mood. Dianna’s answer to whether the clouds were ominous or innocent was answered before she’d made it halfway across the field when a cold, fat raindrop landed on her shoulder and slid down, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. Another one fell, and then another, until like a bucket being overturned the skies opened and a deluge of icy water came tumbling down from the heavens.

  Within seconds her hair was plastered to her scalp and she was soaked through to the skin. Shrieking - Dianna generally wasn’t one to raise her voice, but if any situation called for a bit of noise, it seemed to be this one - she spun around and returned to the willow as fast as her waterlogged shoes would carry her.

  The leafy branches did not keep out the rain completely, but at least they offered more protection than standing out in the open. Huddling against the trunk, Dianna wrapped her arms around herself and, teeth chattering, body shaking, began to pray desperately for rescue.

  Chapter Eight

  Dianna feared she would soon freeze to death.

  Curled in a tiny ball beneath the willow tree with only her meager shawl for protection, she kept her head buried between her knees and tried in vain to control the chattering of her teeth. Tears mixed with the water falling down her cheeks, for even with her head bowed and covered the rain still managed to find her. It was merciless and seemingly unending, working its way into every crevice, soaking her through to the very bone.

  It was impossible to tell how much time had passed. One minute seemed as long as an hour, one hour as long as an entire day. Twice she’d try to stand, only to quickly discover the
only thing worse than being forced to endure a rainstorm of biblical proportions beneath a willow tree was being forced to endure a rainstorm of biblical proportions not beneath a willow tree.

  How long until she was found? Dianna did not even want to hazard a guess. It was taking all of her willpower and concentration simply to stay awake, for she feared if she closed her eyes there was a very good chance she would never open them again.

  After everything she’d endured, surely this was not how her life was supposed to end. She only needed to hold on a little bit longer. Rescue would soon come. Rescue had to come. Didn’t it?

  When she first heard the drum of hoof beats against the earth and a shrill whinny cut through the night Dianna thought it was her imagination at work, conjuring up that which she so desperately wanted to be true. But the horse whinnied again, and the hoof beats grew louder, and when she squinted through the slashing rain and the nearly impenetrable darkness she could just make out the shadowy silhouette of a man approaching swiftly on horseback.

  “H-here.” Her voice escaped as a watery croak, vocal chords as frozen as the rest of her body. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Here. Here. HERE!”

  “Dianna. My God.”

  Strong, steady hands seized her shoulders, pulling her upright. Her shawl fell to the ground and was immediately forgotten as she found herself wrapped in a coat and pulled up against a man’s chest. Against Miles’ chest. Even half frozen and teetering on the edge of unconsciousness Dianna recognized the timbre of his voice and the scent of his skin.

  “W-what are you doing here?” she gasped.

  “I think the better question is what are you doing here?” His arms tightened around her trembling frame and she burrowed into him, instinctively seeking the warmth his body heat provided. Rain continued to fall, but wrapped in Miles’ waistcoat she no longer felt the harsh sting of it upon her skin.

  “I went for a walk and I fell asleep beneath the willow tree and when I woke it was d-dark and-”

  “Shhh, love.” Miles rubbed his thumb across her cold cheek. Pressed his lips to her wet, tangled hair. “You can explain it all later, when you are warm and dry and sitting before a roaring fire.”

  “A fire sounds n-nice.” Now that the relief of rescue had settled in, exhaustion was quick to follow. After forcing herself to stay away for so long, it was a nearly impossible struggle to keep her words from slurring or her eyes from closing.

  Safe, she thought with a whimpering sigh. Well and truly safe.

  When Miles picked her up, cradling her against his chest as though she were a babe, she let him, nestling her cheek over his heart, its steady rhythm giving her the reassurance she needed that everything would soon be all right. When he carried her over to his horse, however, and raised one muddy boot up towards the dangling stirrup, she reacted like a cat being held over a bucket of water.

  “No. Miles, no. I cannot ride. I won’t!” If there was one thing Dianna feared more than freezing to death, it was sitting astride a horse. She could not remember the last time she’d ridden. She could not even recall what incident had prompted her terror. She only knew that her fear of the four-legged beasts was absolute, and she would rather walk ten miles in the pouring rain than ride ten yards on a horse.

  Legs kicking wildly, she shoved both palms with surprising force into Miles’ chest. Her vehement protest startled his mount who spooked to the side, the whites of its eyes flashing in the darkness.

  “Dianna, stop. Stop!” Miles turned away from his horse, but did not lessen his grip on her squirming body. A streak of lightning suddenly lit up the sky in a jagged line of blinding white, illuminating Miles’ countenance. Plastered against his skull from the rain, his hair looked black as pitch. Water ran in rivulets down his face, drops beading on the edge of his nose and chin. His eyes were a piercing green, his mouth a hard rigid line of determination. He looked savagely beautiful, like an avenging angel sent from the heavens above.

  Dianna abruptly ceased her struggles.

  “We need to find shelter.” Even though his mouth was a hair’s breadth from her own, Miles was forced to raise his voice to a shout as thunder crashed and the winds began to howl. What had begun as a drenching rainstorm had turned into a tempest, and it seemed they were standing right in the middle of it. “Are you certain you cannot ride?”

  Eyes wide, she shook her head. “No. I - I can’t.”

  “Then we will go on foot.” But instead of setting her down he continued to hold her cradled protectively against his chest, using his own body to shield her from the worst of the rain. He whistled a short, sharp command and his horse obediently followed, trailing behind them as they made their way across the open field. Rain lashed against Miles’ face and powerful winds buffeted his tall frame, but his grip on Dianna never lessened and his step never faltered.

  Brave man, she thought sluggishly. After forcing herself to stay awake for countless hours her body was teetering on the brink of exhaustion and her mind wasn’t lagging very far behind. It felt as though tiny wisps of fog were stealing across her brain, draining every single thought from her head. Brave, she thought again. So very brave. Like my own knight in shining armor.

  “What was that, love?” Miles said, making her cognizant of the fact that she must have spoken out loud. A blush stole across her cheeks, taking her ashen skin from pale white to dusty rose.

  “N-nothing,” she managed to stutter.

  “There is an abandoned cottage on the other side of these woods. We can stay there until the worst of the storm blows over.”

  Young ladies do not stay in abandoned cottages with men they are not married to.

  Oh do shut up.

  Dianna nodded her head, brushing her cheek up and down along his white linen shirt. The fabric smelled of him. Other things may have changed, years may have passed, but his scent remained the same as always. She closed her eyes and inhaled. Sandalwood and sky. An odd combination to be sure, but she could think of no way else to describe it.

  Once, long ago before life grew complicated and adult responsibilities outweighed the innocence of childhood, she and Miles had played a simple parlor game. One child was blindfolded while the others stood in a long line side by side with their shoulders brushing. Using only touch, the blindfolded child had to try to identify at least one other person by name. When it had been Dianna’s turn, she had not hesitated. Confident in her decision she’d marched to the far left of the line, held out both hands… and placed them squarely on Miles’ shoulders. When the others admiringly asked how she did it, she told them the truth: she’d simply identified him by his scent. But what she never told them - what she never told anyone - was that even if her nose had stopped working, she still would have known precisely where to go for she’d felt him.

  He’d always been her candlelight in a dim room. Her sun on a cloudy day. Her shining star on a dark night.

  And now he was her safe harbor in the middle of a storm.

  Lulled by the gentle rocking of Miles’ step and the familiarity of his scent, Dianna finally succumbed to exhaustion even as another bolt of lightning lit up the sky and thunder boomed in the distance.

  Miles knew the exact moment Dianna fell asleep.

  Her slender body went limp in his arms, head lolling to the side until it nestled in the crook of his shoulder. Daring a glance down at her upturned face he saw her lashes were spread like golden fans across her ashen cheeks and her red lips were slightly parted, her breaths short and even.

  Even in sleep, with circles beneath her eyes the color of bruises and her skin milky white and cold to the touch, she appeared almost too beautiful to be real. He would think he carried a delicate angel in his arms, if not for those tiny breaths and the nearly indiscernible rise and fall of her chest.

  Now that she slept he allowed his sigh of relief to come.

  Bloody hell.

  If Miles thought he’d felt fear before, it had been nothing compared to the terror that plagued him whi
le he scoured the countryside for Dianna. He had run his first horse to ground looking for her, and very nearly broken the leg of the second on a jump over a ditch only a fool would have attempted… or at least that’s what Charlotte had shouted angrily at his back as he landed safely on the other side and galloped away, leaving the search party far behind.

  His second sigh was big enough to lift Dianna a fraction of an inch off his chest. She murmured sleepily, slender fingers sliding across his shirt before they found an opening between the buttons. Miles bit back a gasp as she pressed her cold hands against his bare skin, but instead of pushing her away he held her closer, willingly offering her the warmth of his body at the sacrifice of his own comfort.

  Truth be told he would have cut his own hand if it served some purpose in helping her. Perhaps finally then his heart would stop threatening to pound out of his chest and the fear that had coiled in his stomach like a serpent from the first moment he learned Dianna was missing would slowly begin to unwind itself for even now, with Dianna rescued and resting safely in his arms, he could not get the image of her huddling beneath the willow tree out of his mind. How bloody pale she’d looked when he had ridden up. How vulnerable. How scared and alone.

  If he hadn’t found her… Miles’ grip tightened, as though his body were unconsciously seeking reassurance that Dianna was alive and well. Smooth brow knitting, she murmured a soft protest, and he instantly loosened his hold.

  “I am sorry love,” he whispered, needing to say the words out loud even if she couldn’t hear them. Rain spilled from his lashes as he turned his head against the howling winds and blinked his eyes to clear them. “I am so damn sorry.”

  In his heart Miles knew he was apologizing for more than holding her a bit tighter than he should have, but those words - the ones that would mean the most - were not quite ready to come. Not yet. Not now. How did one apologize for four years of heartbreak? How did one make amends for being a bastard? He didn’t know, but he was damn well going to find out. Almost losing Dianna to the elements had only served to reinforce what he felt for her which was… everything. She was everything, and after having lost her twice he wasn’t about to let it happen a third time.