Lady Vixen (The Reckless Brides, Book 3)

by Shirlee Busbee

  With an effort she met his guileless smile when he reentered the room. Inwardly she was seething, damning herself for being goose enough not to realize that under no circumstances was Robert to be trusted. Lowering her lashes to hide the furious expression in her eyes, she surveyed the room. There appeared little that would be of use to her. It was a masculine room, with a comfortable yet elegant air—the furniture covered in dark shades of leather and damask, the rugs muted pools of gold and brown, with drapes of russet velvet pulled across the windows to keep out the fall chill. Nicole examined a set of glass doors that apparently led to the outside noting the drape of diaphanous material that screened them. For just a moment she had the feeling that someone was watching her but dismissed it as silly fancy.

  If the doors were not locked, it would be a simple matter to pluck up her pelisse and run out into the night. This stretch of coast, she recalled, was rocky and pitted, offering her several places to hide until morning. She edged toward her pelisse, but Robert unknowingly blocked that move by walking between her and her objective. Grasping her hand, he brought it to his lips and said, “My dear, you don’t know how often I have dreamed of you here with me. Dreamed of you as you are now, your hair gleaming in the firelight, and your skin bathed in gold.”

  Nicole swallowed, uncertain whether to laugh or to slap his face. Hastily she looked away, afraid her eyes would betray her, and removed her hand from his, stepping back as she did so. Not looking at him, she murmured, “I do hope that Lord Saxon will come soon. I am exhausted and I fear that I have a sick headache coming on. You must forgive me, sir, if I do not seem appreciative of your compliments, but I am distressed by this evening’s events and I cannot think clearly.” It was a lie, and if Robert had not been so besotted, he would have recognized it as such. Christopher would have snorted and told her roundly to drop her missish airs. But Robert was blind with love and tenderly he said, “If you would like to lie down, I can have my housekeeper Mrs. Simpkins show you to one of the bedrooms.”

  That wasn’t precisely what Nicole had planned on-—a bedroom was the last place she wanted to be with Robert Saxon in the vicinity. Despairingly she glanced around the room, her gaze riveted by a pair of dueling swords hanging crossed above the mantel. But even Nicole’s mind boggled at the thought of stabbing a second man this incredible evening. Besides, she argued, it wasn’t likely she would be able to wrest one of the swords down from the wall before Robert stopped her.

  The bedroom it would be—but with Galena in attendance. Putting a hand on her head, she cried, “Oh, how my head aches! Yes, I believe I will lie down. But please, please, send my maid to me. She knows how to cope with these attacks.”

  Her request was accomplished with ease. In seconds she was whisked up the stairs by Robert’s housekeeper, a worried Galena in close attendance. Acting like a spoiled beauty, Nicole muttered, “Oh, please, Mrs. Simpkins, do leave us! My maid knows exactly how to cope with these terrible headaches.”

  Galena’s mouth nearly fell open at such an outright lie, Miss Nicole never having been sick a day since she had known her. She was a clever girl, though, and said nothing, only nodding her head as if agreeing with every word Nicole said.

  Mrs. Simpkins, suspecting she was waiting on her employer’s intended wife, did exactly as told. No use upsetting the new mistress—this was a good placement and she wouldn’t want to lose it. She went back down the stairs to her kitchen.

  Nicole barely waited until the door closed and Mrs. Simpkins’s steps had died away before she sat up impatiently and threw off the lavender-soaked cloth that had been gently placed on her brow a moment before.

  Nervously Galena regarded her as she ran to one of the windows and stared down at the ground below. With an exclamation of triumph Nicole raced back to the bed and began ruthlessly tearing down the silken bed-curtains. Unable to help herself, Galena burst out, “Miss Nicole, what are you doing? What is happening?”

  Nicole sent her a merry look. “We,” she said, “are escaping. Come now, help me! Tie these strips to the leg of that armoire. This material should be strong enough to hold our weight.”

  At Galena’s expression of incomprehension, Nicole said hurriedly, “Robert Saxon is not to be trusted. I’m afraid that he means to compromise me, just as Edward tried to do. We must free ourselves.”

  Galena helped her, not totally convinced. When she looked at the three-story drop below, she balked. “Miss Nicole, I can’t! I’ll fall, I know I will. It’s too far.”

  Nicole stared at her. She could browbeat the girl, but it would gain her nothing. If Galena felt she would fall, fall she would, probably wailing in a loud, carrying voice as she did so.

  “Very well,” Nicole said. “I will do it alone. Give me a few minutes once I’ve reached the ground, and then go back down to the kitchen just as if nothing were wrong. Tell the housekeeper I have fallen asleep and must on no occasion be awakened. That should gain me an hour or so. By then I should have been able to find someone to carry a message to Lord Saxon.”

  “Miss Nicole, you wouldn’t go off and leave me!”

  “Galena, I have no choice! You’ll be safe. Just remember to act as if you know nothing, and when my disappearance is discovered be as surprised as everyone else. Understand?”

  Her eyes the size of saucers, Galena nodded. “But, Miss Nicole,” she cried, “you have no pelisse, no cloak. You are sure to catch an inflammation of the lung.”

  Throwing her a fierce look, Nicole said, “If I thought walking naked down the middle of Brighton on Christmas Day would save me from Robert Saxon, I would do it! Please Galena, help me!”

  The window opened easily, and without hesitation Nicole slid across the sill, her hands grasping the swath of material. She hung there a moment, and then she swiftly lowered her body to the ground. It took her but a few minutes. The countless times she had climbed like a cat in the shrouds of La Belle Garce came to her aid now. Her heart thumping thunderously, partly from exertion and partly from elation, her feet touched the ground beneath the window. Galena’s face appeared, and giving her a cheerful wave, Nicole lifted her skirts and sprinted down toward the sea, planning to work her way back up to the road farther down the beach. Rottingdean, she knew, lay not more than three miles to the east of Robert’s house, and within the hour she should reach it. There she would find someone to take a message to Lord Saxon.

  Traveling down the beach, she stared at the ocean and watched without much interest the tall masted ship anchored some distance out to sea. She smiled. Oh, for the carefree days of La Belle Garce! Those early days before she had become aware of Christopher as a man, before she and Allen had thought of their mad plans. With a guilty start she realized that she hadn’t thought of Allen in weeks, months. Christopher had said he would be freed. Perhaps at this very moment, Allen might be free, Nicole mused, wanting to believe it.

  She felt curiously carefree as she walked on the moonlit sand, the breeze tangling the sable-fire hair. But reality pressed in on her, and she turned her back on the pounding surf and began to climb up the rocky sloping cliffs that led up to the road.

  Increasingly aware of the chill bite of the air, and trying to ignore it, she focused her thoughts on the warm fire that would be waiting for her when she at last returned home to Kings Road. How glad she would be to be there once again! The explanations, she decided gloomily, would be dreadful; how was she to tell Lord Saxon that his own son had played a part in tonight’s dishonorable occurrence.

  At first neither Simon nor Christopher had thought a great deal about Twickham’s assessment of the situation. It seemed reasonable enough, for Robert to give Nicole and Edward Markham a ride home in his gig. But the more he thought about it, the more it bothered Christopher. What about the maid? Four in Robert’s gig? It seemed unlikely.

  By seven o’clock that evening both he and Simon were more than just a little worried. They had said nothing to the ladies, not wishing to alarm them, and when Regina had asked after Nicol
e, Simon muttered hastily, “Ah, forgot to tell you—I gave my permission for her to dine at Unton’s place tonight. You know how smitten Unton’s heir is with her. I saw no harm in it. After all, you were just there last night yourself, so you can’t say you disapprove.”

  “Well, no, I don’t disapprove, it’s just that it’s unlike Nicole to go off like that. Did she say how late she would be?”

  Simon hesitated and Christopher broke in smoothly, “Rather late, I suspect. There was some talk of a midnight charade, because of the full moon. I wouldn’t worry about her; Unton and his son will see to her.”

  Simon shot him a thankful look and the subject was dropped—dropped but not forgotten by either of the gentlemen as they sat alone in Simon’s study a few minutes later. Dinner was to be served at eight, and Christopher, after a quick glance at his pocket watch, said, “I’m going to take a ride by the park and then go to Markham’s lodgings. Perhaps he is there and can tell us something.” He stood up, started toward the door, and then stopped. Revolving slowly to face his grandfather, he added, “I am also going to find out if Robert is at home—so don’t expect me back for dinner.”

  “Christopher! Do you think that it is wise—considering how he feels about you?”

  The gold eyes were hard, the firm mouth taut as Christopher retorted, “I am not afraid of Robert! He is the one who knows precisely what Galena said, and probably the only one who can tell us what happened and where Nicole is. It’s not more than an hour’s ride out to his place, so I should be back before ten o’clock. Don’t worry—I have been taking care of myself a long time.”

  Higgins, when informed of the plan, disliked it even more. “I’m telling you you’re mad! Nick can take care of herself. I’m not saying that if we didn’t have that ship to catch, I wouldn’t be in favor of trying to find out what happened too. But damnit, man, we’re sailing on the midnight tide! You shouldn’t be galavanting over the countryside searching for a tough little varmit like her! She is probably perfectly safe.”

  His face shuttered, Christopher asked pointedly “Do you have everything packed?”

  Knowing there was no swaying him when he was in one of these damn-all moods, the older man answered sourly, “Yes. There wasn’t all that much, after all.”

  “Very well then. You will come with me. Roberts place is not but a mile or so from the rendezvous point. I’ll go ahead and take you…and the memorandum there.”

  Staring fixedly at the dark features, Higgins asked slowly, “Are you telling me that you’re not leaving? That you’re staying and I am to return alone?”

  “No! I will be there, but I may have to cut it fine and if…if for some reason I am delayed, you and the memorandum will still reach New Orleans safely.”

  At Robert’s house Christopher discovered that Master Robert was not at home but was expected for a late dinner. Christopher shrugged, saying that he would see Robert tomorrow. He added that there was no need to tell Robert that he had called. A moment later Christopher and Higgins were on their way to the little cottage they had stayed in while Christopher had recovered from his wound.

  The parting between the two men was brief. After depositing Higgins at the cottage, Christopher said, “I will be back by midnight. If I am not—do not wait for me. See that the memorandum is delivered to Jason Savage the instant you reach New Orleans.” At Higgins’s gloomy expression he added, “Higgins, I’ll make it, but if I don’t—I’ll do as I’ve already told my grandfather and head for France. I’ll be there in time for the battle—that I promise you.”

  He made the ride back to Kings Road in good time, his thoughts on Nicole. She was probably sitting at home warm by the fire, he decided, as he reached the outskirts of Brighton. And if she is, she had better have a damn good reason for disappearing!

  Simon pounced on him the instant he entered the house, dispelling any notion that Nicole had returned in his absence. “Well, what did you find out?”

  Stripping off his driving gloves and warming his hands before the fire in the study, Christopher admitted, “Nothing. The park was deserted, Markham not at home, but Robert is expected home for a late dinner.”

  Taking a deep breath, Christopher looked over at his grandfather. “I still have to leave tonight, you know. Nicole’s disappearance doesn’t change anything.” Turning away, he muttered, “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear the little devil has done this on purpose.” A harsh laugh broke from him. “What am I saying? Hell, I don’t know better!”

  Simon regarded him. “It seems that you are taking this much too personally. I see no reason to change your plans—Nicole will be found and there is probably a logical explanation for her absence. Whether you are here or not makes little difference.”

  Christopher let out his breath in a rush. “You’re right, and if I am to depart, I shall have to do it before the hour grows much later. Are the ladies still up? If they are, I had better bid them good evening—it’s the least I can do, considering they don’t know it is really goodbye.”

  Simon nodded and sat alone in his study while Christopher walked to the blue drawing room and said his good nights to his new stepgrandmother and his great-aunt. Neither lady suspected he was bidding them good-bye, although Regina did wonder at the way he gave Letitia a quick hard embrace before leaving the room. But then she dismissed it—Christopher was given to strange fits and flights; any young man who would turn his back on the chance to marry such a charming heiress as Nicole must be a little strange.

  Christopher entered the study slowly, his face a little drawn, knowing that the time for the final good-bye had come. Simon, seated behind his desk, also knew that the moment of farewell was upon them, and with an aching heart he watched as his tall grandson crossed the room to stop before the desk.

  Christopher’s long fingers skimmed the polished surface, and his face bleak he stared down into the worn features so like his own. “Grandfather,” he began haltingly, “I do not like to leave under these circumstances, but I must, and within a very few minutes. Higgins is already waiting for me at Rottingdean and from there we will travel to Dover and then to France.” Inwardly Christopher cursed himself for being such a ready liar and wished that at least for this moment he could put the lies and half-truths aside. But it was imperative that Simon believe he was heading for France, and ruthlessly he quelled his conscience. The lie behind him, he was able to say more easily, “I shall miss you,” adding with a quick, endearing grin, “and my new grandmother too! More seriously he continued, “I feel certain that a peace between England and the United States will be negotiated in Ghent before many months have passed. I may be back by next summer, and while I am saying goodbye now, remember it may only be for a few months.”

  Simon, his emotions temporarily well in hand, snapped, “Bah! Don’t molly coddle me! I expect Letty and I shall do very well without you.” Not looking at Christopher, but staring ferociously at the top of his desk, he said, “I’ve been thinking about it and this is really best. Letty and I are just married, and it’s not good for a man to start marriage cluttered up with a lot of relatives and such. When you return next summer, Letty and I will be well settled, and then we’ll have the time to appreciate your company. You’ll not understand what I mean, never having been married before, but I doubt Letty and I will miss you too much during the next several months.”

  Christopher could hardly choke back the gust of laughter that shook him at Simon’s outrageous words. With barely disguised amusement in his voice, he replied, “Ah, yes. That point of view had not occurred to me. Perhaps it is even fortunate that things have fallen as they have.”

  Simon glared at him. “Yes. Yes, it is! And now if you’re going‍‍—get!”

  Hearing the raw pain in Simon’s tone, Christopher’s amusement fled, and reaching over the desk, he extended his hand, and as Simon grasped it tightly, he said simply, “Good-bye, grandfather. Look for me come summer.”

  “I will—and you had damn well better be here!” />
  Neither man spoke of the dangers involved in the long sea journey, nor did Christopher allow himself to think of Simon’s age. Christopher said softly, “I will be. Depend upon it!” The clasped hands tightened a moment longer and then Christopher was gone.

  The night was growing colder, Christopher thought to himself, when at last he urged his horse in the direction of Rottingdean. If everything went as planned, in less than two hours he and Higgins would be on their way back to New Orleans.

  Nicole’s whereabouts vexed him not a little, and even though there was probably a reasonable explanation for her continued absence, he would have liked to know precisely what had happened to keep her from returning home. There were dozens of reasons that occurred to him, but none of them found any favor with him. He was beset with a nagging premonition that Nicole was in some kind of danger, and no matter how often he told himself that she had gone for a ride with Robert and that they had probably lost a wheel or stayed overlong visiting with friends, he was never quite satisfied. And because he was worried, a fact he would not admit to himself, he was also angry with Nicole for acting in such a reprehensible manner. Baggage! he thought cynically, running about the countryside with two men, just like a common little trollop. He’d not waste another moment on her. Let Edward Markham and Robert fight over her—he was getting the hell out.

  Having followed Robert’s gig to the house, Edward hovered about outside for several minutes, unable to decide precisely what his next move should be. He had not yet discarded murder, and he was searching for an entrance into the house, when he saw Nicole and Robert through the glass doors of the drawing room. Outside in the darkness he had watched the scene being acted—Robert’s writing of the note, Nicole’s dash across the room, and eventually her departure. A wolfish smile on his lips, he undid the sword cane. Such a little actress his cousin, he was going to enjoy her performance when he drove this blade through her black heart. But first there was Robert. Gently testing the glass doors, he discovered that they were unlocked. Silently he opened them and slipped into the room while Robert was momentarily gone.