But he didn’t drift back to sleep at once. He was too worried. How did one exquisitely beautiful servant woman earn Lord Monmouth’s fatal interest, so much so that he was willing to engage another to finish what he’d started?
* * *
Alastair Sommers climbed out of his coach and walked up the front steps of Lord Monmouth’s townhouse. He reached reflexively to touch the plasters applied to the cut on his face and winced. It was an hour until dawn, but what he had to say could not wait.
An exhausted butler answered the door. “May I help you?”
“Tell Lord Monmouth that Lord Sommers is here. It’s a matter of great urgency.”
“I’m sorry, my lord. His lordship and his son have left for their estate in the country.”
Alastair cursed. He hadn’t a clue where Monmouth’s country estate was. “Could you write down the address for me?”
“Just a moment.” The butler disappeared back into the dark house. A few minutes later he returned and pressed a piece of paper into Alastair’s hands.
Alastair returned to his coach, his thoughts racing wildly. He needed to pay a call to Monmouth in person, but not today. He had to visit a doctor and have his face taken care of.
The pretty bitch had ruined his face and she would suffer dearly for it. But first he would make Lord Monmouth admit to the girl’s true importance. He’d paid far more than he bargained for in this affair as it was.
As for the girl, his man Lewis would be engaging with his usual contacts right now while trying to find her in London. If he saw the opportunity, he would take her and hold her until Alastair returned.
He wasn’t done with the girl, oh no. He wanted her and he would have her, one way or another. That thought brought a cold smile to his face.
Chapter 6
By midmorning Philippa had eaten and borrowed an ill-fitting dress from the sweet Mrs. Craddock. Mr. Boudreaux had borrowed one of Mr. Craddock’s shirts and had hired a coach to take them back to London.
She followed him to the waiting coach but jolted when he offered his hand to help her inside. Her cheeks warmed and her heart lurched; it felt so inappropriate to be treated this way. She shook her head, muttering a thank you as she gently but firmly pushed past him and pulled herself into the coach.
They sat on opposite sides of the coach, a strange tension growing between them. She’d spent the night in his bed and while nothing happened, she felt changed.
She’d woken with her body coiled around his, their limbs tangled in a quiet intimacy that she’d never known before. Ever since she’d left home, she’d always felt so alone, and yet as she stirred just an hour after dawn, she hadn’t felt that way at all. She’d had some wild, unexplainable connection to this man. It both excited and frightened her.
“Mr. Boudreaux…” she began uncertainly. The woolen gown she’d borrowed hung limply on her and she felt very self-conscious of that fact. It was unladylike to pry into his life, not to mention unprofessional, but she desperately wanted to better understand this stranger who had saved her life.
“Just Beau, if you please.” His deep voice made her think of distant thunder and the promise of summer lightning. She loved how his baritone made her feel, even when he spoke only a handful of words.
“Beau, when you were asleep last night, I thought you were dreaming.”
His face shuttered, closing her out of whatever she’d hoped he might have shown her. “People dream at night. It’s nothing unusual.” His tone wasn’t biting but she still felt stung by it anyway.
“Yes, but you were calling for your father. What happened to him?”
The playful, sardonic side of Beau was gone now. His lips pressed into a hard line and she thought for a moment he wouldn’t say anything. Even darkly disapproving, the man was still far too handsome for her to be comfortable. She was about to apologize for her imprudence when he answered.
“He died a long time ago.” That single sentence warned her that she’d crossed some unseen line and should not ask him anything further on the matter.
She busied herself rehearsing what she would say to Lord and Lady Lennox when she returned home, assuming it was still her home. Kind as they were, it was hard for her not to see herself as more trouble than she was worth right now.
If they cast her out, she would have to return to her parents’ shop until she could find new employment. Her parents could employ her at the shop, but she wanted to get out and see what she could of the world. Being an upstairs maid, while hardly her dream, was as close as she could come to seeing a bigger life, even if it was just short glimpses of handsome men and beautiful women in glittering gowns swirling by the half-closed ballroom doors.
“Philippa, I’m sorry. I was unkind to you earlier,” Boudreaux said. She looked at him and saw only sincerity in his gaze.
“You need not apologize, sir.”
“I do. A gentleman should never speak to a lady as I did.” He looked at his hands in his lap where they twisted one of his gloves. “Losing my father was painful. I was only a boy when the French gendarmes had him shot.”
She hated seeing the pain laid bare in his eyes, but she had to know more. “Why did they shoot him?”
Beau’s eyes lifted and for a moment, he was that vulnerable boy, the one who’d spoken during his dreams. Her heart filled with sorrow.
“He spoke out against the violence in Paris just three years after the Terror when the streets ran red with blood. And he was an aristocrat. They saw his wealth and privilege as evils, and they killed him to take his home and his money. My mother and I fled to her relatives in England before they came for us too.”
“I’m so sorry, Beau.” Without thinking, she reached across the coach to take his hands.
His lips curved. “It’s all right. I’m a grown man and it’s all in the past.”
She wanted to agree with him, but if she was honest, the past never seemed that far away. She wasn’t sure why, but she sometimes dreamed of a darkened room and a woman whispering her name, a sob catching in the woman’s throat and an angry deep voice growling words she could not remember. It always seemed just out of reach. A singular, dark, yet defining memory of a memory.
The coach rolled to a stop. The footman met them as Beau opened the door. It was then that she recognized the footman as one of her friends, Clement.
“Pippa!” he exclaimed, but went silent and rigid as he caught sight of Beau and assisted them both down before closing the coach door.
Clement leaned over to whisper as she walked past him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’ll tell you all later,” she whispered back as she followed Beau up the townhouse stairs and into the Lennox’s entryway. Mr. Beaton was there to greet them.
“Please come in, Mr. Boudreaux. We’re so relieved to see you.” His eyes drifted to Philippa. He looked as though he wished to say something more but kept his composure and merely nodded once at her.
“Is Lord Lennox at home? As you can see, I had success in locating Miss Wilson.”
Mr. Beaton looked to the stairs. “I believe word has already reached him.”
“Boudreaux, thank God!” Ashton Lennox strode down the stairs to meet them.
Philippa ducked her head, waiting to be chastised for all the trouble she’d caused. The Lord Lennox’s boots appeared in her line of vision and a hand lifted her chin, so she was forced to look up at her employer. What she saw left her stunned. There was no fury, no disappointment, only relief and joy.
“Philippa, we’ve all been so worried about you. We’re glad you’re home. Please go to the kitchens and have some hot tea while I speak to Mr. Boudreaux.”
“You don’t wish me to pack my things, my lord?”
“Pack?” Lennox asked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“She’s afraid you will terminate her position here,” Beau said, humor in his tone. “I told her you wouldn’t.”
“Lord no, Philippa. Why would you think that? Your position
here remains yours.”
Tears blurred Philippa’s eyes. She’d been so afraid she would lose her friends and the people she’d come to view as a family, but she was safe. Lord Lennox wasn’t sending her away. Even though the Lennox family had only ever been kind to her, she knew that causing a scandal would be bad enough to make even the nicest families send a servant away.
“Now, you’ve been through a lot, I’m sure,” said Lord Lennox. “Why don’t you get something to eat as well. You can settle back into your duties tomorrow.”
“Thank you, my lord.” She rushed away to the kitchens where she bumped into Ruth.
“Pippa!” Her friend squealed and hugged her. “I heard you were found! What happened? Are you all right? Roger’s been terribly upset. Come and sit. Mrs. Murphy will put the kettle on.”
They moved into the kitchens, where Mrs. Murphy was busy cooking up a luncheon for the household. The kitchens were warm, and the air was full of delicious scents that reminded Philippa how hungry she was.
“Pippa, dear. Thank heavens you’re back.” The stout, merry-faced cook, abandoned the stew for a moment and to hug Philippa. When she cupped Philippa’s face, she stared deeply at her.
“Are you all right, love? You’re bruised all over. Roger said a man grabbed you. In broad daylight, no less! We feared…well…” She didn’t finish.
She was quick to reassure all her friends she was fine. “Mr. Boudreaux, a friend of his lordship, helped me escape from my captors.”
“What? Oh dear, we had better hear the whole tale.”
* * *
Beau followed Ashton into his study where Cedric Sheridan sat waiting. Beau handed the viscount his cane.
“Thank you, Sheridan. This proved quite useful.”
Sheridan accepted the cane. “Glad to hear it. How’s the maid?”
“Shaken.” Beau settled into the seat beside Sheridan. “Sommers took her to the Abbey, as I suspected. I got there just in time; he was about to force himself on her.”
“Christ,” Sheridan muttered.
“Bastard,” Ashton said in a dark and deadly tone. “I’m constantly amazed that man is still alive.”
“Sadly, the man’s name does carry weight, and I thought given the difference of our social standings, I ought not to murder a peer, no matter how much I was tempted to.”
“I doubt I would have had your self-control,” Ashton said.
“Believe me, my control was tested. Sommers is fortunate that I only learned of his full plans after I’d escaped with the girl.”
“His full plans?” Sheridan’s brown eyes widened.
“He intended to kill her. Lord Monmouth instructed him to abduct her and dispose of her.” It made Beau’s blood boil all over again.
“Monmouth again? What the bloody hell is going on?” Sheridan demanded.
“Where is Sommers now?” Ashton asked.
“Not sure. He shot me in the bloody back as we rode away from the Abbey.”
“Good God, man,” Ashton gasped. “Are you all right?”
“Well enough, though I won’t be lifting anything heavier than Sheridan’s cane for some time. It’s why we couldn’t return last night. Philippa is to be commended. She ran to a nearby inn and fetched help. A local doctor removed the bullet and stitched me up. The laudanum left me unable to ride until late this morning, so we rested at the inn for the night.”
Sheridan whistled softly. “Well done, Boudreaux. The girl was lucky to have you.”
“I was lucky to have her.” He was silent a moment, a dozen thoughts about Philippa plaguing him. “Lennox, where did you find this girl?”
“Find her?” Ashton repeated.
“As a maid to employ. How did you find her?”
“The usual way. A posting in the paper. Rosalind interviewed her. She didn’t have any references, as I recall, but her parents have a textile shop on Bond Street. Rosalind knew the shop and decided to take a chance on the girl. Once I saw her, I believe I understood why she hadn’t found employment elsewhere.”
Beau nodded. “She’s stunning. A true diamond of the first water. I’m sure most ladies would be far too concerned about the wandering eyes of their husbands to hire her.”
“Exactly. That’s why we took her on. Rosalind will always have my sole love and attention, and I never take advantage of my staff.”
Lennox narrowed his eyes on Beau slightly. “You spent an entire night alone with my maid. Should we have a discussion, Boudreaux?” It wasn’t a threat, not exactly.
“I will admit she is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but I did not act upon my desires. I’m not a bastard. Besides, I was too preoccupied with laudanum and a bullet in my back.”
Lennox cracked a smile. “Fair enough. But well and healed, would you have?”
Beau shrugged. “If the lady wished me to take her to bed, I would, but she would have to be quite clear about her intentions. Women in service often feel compelled to accept a gentlemen’s advances.” Then he added with a smile, “Besides, I prefer women to come to me.” All of his mistresses had pursued him first, even the opera singers or ballet dancers. Though he was tempted to break his rule for Philippa.
“You might be one of the few men in London I can trust to send her to.”
“I beg your pardon?” Beau didn’t like the contemplative gleam in Lennox’s eyes.
“Clearly Monmouth has an interest in her, and if we are to protect her, we need to know why. I won’t have an innocent woman murdered.” Lennox declared this with a low and dangerous tone.
“So you wish to send the maid to a notorious bachelor’s residence?” Sheridan chuckled. “Only you, Ash. Only you.”
“I’m not certain sending her to me is wise,” Beau replied. “Besides, I have no need of another upstairs maid. What would I do with her?”
Lennox leaned back against the edge of his large rosewood desk and crossed his arms. “She won’t be your maid. She shall be your ward. The daughter of an old friend from the country that has passed away. Now she has come to live with you, as per his dying wish. You shall take her to balls, dinners, the opera. Be as open and public with her as possible.”
Beau blinked. “You wish to use her as bait?” He’d heard Lennox could be ruthless, but to use an innocent woman as bait was more than he could have imagined from him.
“You’ve done an excellent job protecting her so far. You could do the same for a few more weeks. By keeping her in the public eye, you reduce the chances of another attack. You will also need to avoid any sense of routine. Do not take her to the same opera house twice or visit the same friends for dinner if you can help it.”
The wound in Beau’s back began to throb and make his shoulder ache, as if to remind him how dangerous it was to protect Philippa. “Might I remind you she was snatched in full public view on her first day leaving your house?”
“You’ll have to trust me,” said Lennox. “There is subtle mind work at play here. It’s for the very reasons you mention that Monmouth will think twice about another attack. He will suspect it’s a trap and will spend his time wondering as to your motives. Why expose her so easily? Why change her name? If it is a trap, why take such precautions against routine? It will keep him unbalanced, and unaware of what Sheridan and I are doing behind his back.”
It sounded reasonable, but Beau remained unconvinced. It seemed reckless.
“Please, Boudreaux,” Lennox said more softly. “I wouldn’t trust her safety with anyone else.”
Beau felt the weight of Lennox and Sheridan’s hopeful gazes. “Bloody hell, you want me to play guardian to the most beautiful woman in London?”
Both of them chuckled. “I think we would beg to differ on the most beautiful. Have you seen our wives?” Sheridan smirked.
“The most beautiful unmarried woman, then.” Beau amended with a laugh. “You honestly think London would approve of me as a chaperone? If I’m not careful, I could end up leg-shackled.”
“Nonsense, man. We
’ll be there to support you in society, confirm your story, and act approving of your guardianship. We need only play this masquerade for just long enough to draw Monmouth, or whoever he has contracted, out.” Ashton waited for Beau’s answer expectantly.
Beau finally conceded. “Very well. But it’s been too long since I played nursemaid. My poor staff haven’t had a woman in residence. They’ll be in an uproar.” He also needed to decide how he would handle St. Albans seeing the girl and noting the resemblance to his deceased daughter.
Lennox merely laughed again. “Your staff will be fine, Boudreaux. You will be fine. Do not let a pretty woman make you nervous. They are easier to share a house with than you realize.”
Beau highly doubted that. There was a reason he always kept his mistresses at quaint little love nests away from his own residence. He liked having room to breathe.
“One week,” Beau warned. “I cannot promise much beyond that.”
“So says the confirmed bachelor,” Sheridan joked.
Beau shot him a glare. “One week.”
“One week,” Lennox agreed. “Any longer and I fear Monmouth will strike again. If we haven’t learned the truth by then, I will find another way to protect her.”
“Has anyone asked if Miss Wilson will be accepting of such an arrangement?” asked Sheridan.
“She might take some convincing,” Lennox admitted. “But I believe she will. However, I would prefer not to frighten her too much. We mustn’t let her know the danger, not yet.”
“But you must warn her. I won’t shelter her innocent of the risks. She must be told at least some of it,” Beau insisted.
“Cedric, have Mr. Beaton bring Philippa here.”
Sheridan left the room, leaving Beau alone with Ashton.
“I will provide money for her care. She will need clothes and jewels, a horse for riding.”
Beau held up a hand. “If she is to be my ward, real or feigned, I shall pay for her. I will need to be publicly seen providing for her.”
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