by Amelia Grey
“Wait.” Zane kept his tone level, but leaned in close to her. “What did you mean by he is fine now?”
She swallowed hard, fearing she was jeopardizing her relationship with Harper for Zane and his cousin. Lifting her shoulder a little, she turned and stared into the distance, listening to the sounds of the carriage and the horses clopping along.
“You are giving me cause to worry, Brina. I suddenly have the feeling you are not telling me truth.”
“I am,” she said, taking umbrage at his words and facing him again.
“Then perhaps it’s just you aren’t telling me all of it. Why is it so hard for you to trust me?” he asked sharply.
“I don’t appreciate your tone, my lord. Even if I don’t tell you everything I know, it doesn’t make what I do say less true.”
He averted his gaze and muttered something so low she couldn’t hear it, but was certain it was a curse word. Whether or not it was obscene she didn’t know.
When he looked back at her, anger dominated his face. “I need to know everything if I’m trying to help my cousin.”
“And I am trying to help mine,” she said just as hotly, folding her hands tightly across her chest. “If you want to know all the truth, it’s that I don’t think Robert is a very good influence on Harper. He had no problems enjoying young ladies and staying away from excessive gambling until he started gaming with Robert, and I wish they weren’t friends.”
“Is that so?” He gave a short derisive laugh. “It just so happens I think the exact thing about Harper. He could very well be the one who has been leading Robert astray.”
“What?” she exclaimed more loudly than she should and leaned in close to him. They stared at each other, equal in passion about their cousins. “I’ll have you know that Harper is a gentleman and has never done anything wrong in his life. He’s only recently started gambling, sir—since spending all his time with Robert, who was obviously taught everything he knows by you in Paris and Vienna.”
Zane’s grimace hardened. “Fine. Don’t tell me,” he retorted and leaned back in the seat with bounce. “I’ll talk to Harper.”
“Heavens, no!” She reached over and placed her hand on his upper arm as if worried he might try to immediately leave the carriage. “You mustn’t do that. Ever. Harper would never trust me with anything again. Promise me you won’t mention this conversation to Harper or Robert, and I’ll tell you.”
His expression softened. “All right, but tell me everything you know.”
Zane listened attentively as Brina relayed her last conversation with Harper. “So it seemed suspicious a young man would fall and injure himself so badly—but it could be true. Except Harper recently showed signs of bruising.”
Nodding, Zane offered, “It sounds like they both might be gaming at a house or club where ruffians play.”
Brina closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head. That is not what she wanted to hear him say. “What can we do about it?”
He shook his head decisively. “There is no ‘we’ in this, Brina. I am already looking into this.”
“Zane, you must promise me again that you won’t go to Harper’s to talk to Robert.”
He gave her a conciliatory smile. “I might get angry with you from time to time, but I won’t go back on my word to you. You should know that by now.”
Yes, to her detriment, she was learning just how seriously he took giving his word.
“Besides, if Robert is staying out of sight while his bruises heal, for now he is safe. That gives me time to find out what’s going on.”
“If Harper is mixed up in any trouble, will you tell me?”
His eyes swept down her face and lingered on her lips. “Of course, I will.”
“Thank you. I’d want to—”
“My lord, Mrs. Feld, how are you on this lovely afternoon?”
Brina looked over to the carriage that had driven up beside them to see Zane’s uncle, Mr. Sylvester Browning, and his brother and his wife smiling at them.
She heard Zane mutter another oath under his breath, and she smiled. When he didn’t go to family, they came to him.
After a short chat with the Brownings and a lengthy ride through the park with more than a few nods, waves, and calls of greeting to people they knew, the earl’s carriage rolled to a stop in front of the abbey. The large stone building with its plain wooden door stood out like a stalwart beacon among all the smaller buildings surrounding it. There was nothing notable about it other than its size. A small sign out front read THE SISTERS OF PILWILLOW CROSSINGS. The good work that went on inside for the poor made it a formidable and a majestic place to Brina.
Zane hopped out and reached to help her down onto the pavement. “This isn’t a part of London I’m familiar with,” he offered as he looked around the street.
“I wonder why. No gaming hells nearby?” she offered with a smile, knowing it wasn’t a busy section of London for shoppers or many businesses.
“If you keep teasing me in such an attractive manner, Brina, I’m going to have to go against my better judgment, that of my uncles, and the entirety of my family and most of the ton, and kiss you right here on the street.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He took a step forward and reached for her. She whirled away and laughed. “You must behave, my lord, or you’ll have it where neither of us are welcomed in Society again.”
His gaze swept seductively up and down her face. “There will be no promises about that from me on this afternoon.”
Deciding it was best to leave that subject alone, Brina cleared her throat, pointed, and said, “The sisters set up tables and give out the food there in front of the main entrance.”
“The building is bigger than I thought it was. How many women live there?”
“I don’t know for sure. I never asked. Probably thirty.”
“Are all of them nuns?”
“No. Maybe half. In this abbey, you don’t have to take the vows of the church and join the order to unite with them. But everyone is to follow all their rules. Remaining chaste, participating in prayers, and performing whatever duties you’re assigned without grumblings or rancor. Otherwise, they would be dismissed from the sisterhood.”
“Sounds reasonable,” he commented.
When she showed Zane where the tea and bandages she’d prepared were handed out, Brina noticed the now-familiar cabriolet had stopped in front of a building not far behind them. The driver looked the same, standard black top hat and hunkered down in a black cloak. Though he’d never been close enough she could see his face. It angered her the man continued to follow Zane. He had no right to watch the earl’s every move. She supposed it was a testament to Zane’s willpower that he hadn’t flattened the man.
For a few moments she thought about grabbing Zane’s hand and racing down the street, ducking between buildings with him, much in the way she had imagined racing through underground tunnels when they were in the chateau in Paris. But she then remembered how upset everyone was about the curricle ride, and she pushed the exciting thought of escaping with the earl aside.
There were only a few other people on the street, so Brina started walking and Zane fell in beside her. Three men walked ahead of them and a couple strolled leisurely on the opposite side of the street. The road was free of traffic, except when the cabriolet rolled slowly behind them.
“This building behind the abbey that we’re going to look at, have you checked to see if it is for sale?”
“Yes,” she said confidently as they continued to walk. “It’s not currently available.”
“Perhaps I could put in a good word—”
“No, thank you, my lord,” she said, looking over at him pointedly. “This is my project for the sisters, and I will handle it myself in due time. I’m in no hurry. Besides, Sister Francine is the type of person who will need to be gently coaxed into seeing that the sisters could make use of a separate chapel for the abbey. Their wants and needs are few and simple, but
their service and hearts are pure. I only want to—”
From the corner of her eye, a splash of color caught Brina’s attention. She glanced at the window she was passing. There, displayed in the seamstress shop, was a gown almost the exact shade of the pink costume she wore to the masquerade ball.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Chapter 21
The gown was gorgeous.
Brina stopped to stare at it. The round neckline was low but wouldn’t be considered shockingly racy. The high waist and short capped sleeves were banded with beaded velvet ribbon of the same bright shade. The skirt flowed in wispy waves of short, curled flounces trimmed with the same exquisite ribbon. The late afternoon sun was at the right angle to shine on the beading. It sparkled, twinkled, and called to her hidden desire to permanently shed her widow’s weeds and wear something soft and beautifully feminine again.
And then, of all things, she imagined herself dressed in it, walking into a glittering ballroom in London, the skirt swishing from side to side and around her legs with every step.
Toward Zane.
An intense swelling of something she didn’t quite understand filled her chest. Right then, all she wanted him to do was sweep her up into his arms and never let her go.
He smiled reflectively. “That looks like—”
“Yes, I know,” she interrupted him and answered simply. Beautiful as it was, the gown wasn’t something a widow should wear. And it didn’t matter how many fantasies she had about Zane and love and all the rest of it. She would remain a widow.
Brina turned and started walking again. Faster this time, feeling as if she needed to get away from that gown, that color, and Zane. He was making her want things she shouldn’t want, feel things she shouldn’t feel. The all too sudden and real fear that she had already lost her heart to him hit her with such force, she was finding it difficult to manage.
There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t marry again.
Zane easily kept up with her hurried stride. They walked in silence for a few moments before he asked, “Why don’t you want to look at the gown?”
“It’s not for me,” she answered in a clipped tone.
“Why? You looked glorious when you rushed into the room wearing that color in Paris. I remember thinking that fate had an evil sense of humor. Sending in the most beautiful lady I had ever seen, and I was bound to a chair.”
His words took the edge off her tense feelings and her footsteps slowed. She laughed softly. It was wonderful the way he could change her outlook with just a few words. “You were so angry that night, I’m surprised you remember what I was wearing.”
“I told you. I can’t forget one thing about you. That night will be with me always.”
“Me too,” she said, returning to her more somber state. “I’ll never forget the shock of hearing you say, ‘Come untie me.’”
The hint of a chuckle in his chest was soothing.
“I was desperate,” he admitted without reservation.
“So was I.”
“You never told me why you were at the ball,” he said, intentionally bumping her arm softly with his elbow.
“We decided the reason for the mask was so people didn’t have to talk about what happened or why they were there.”
“But you know the reason for my presence. I want to know everything about you. Being there, dressed as you were, and now knowing who you are, puzzles me.”
Her steps slowed and she stared at the backs of three men walking in front of them. She supposed there was no harm in telling him since he already knew about her connection to the abbey. “I foolishly thought that since I had looked into a life of celibacy and servitude that I should look into a life of entertainment and debauchery.” She continued to amble along the street without looking at him. “Does that surprise you?”
“No. It sounds like a human reaction.”
She sighed. He was being kind. “The minute my aunt left me on my own, I knew I wasn’t made for that kind of life any more than I would take to life at the abbey. When I entered the room you were in that night, I only wanted a safe place to hide until it was time to meet my aunt and leave.”
“Did something happen after I left you in the room?”
“No, I locked myself inside and thought about you.”
That caused him to glance at her. “Me? Why?”
She stopped again and so did he. “I was wondering if you were doing more than kissing her. The woman who tied you.”
“Brina,” he said her name on a husky breath as he looked deeply into her eyes and shook his head. “Don’t ask about my past.”
“Why can’t I be as curious as you? It’s not like I don’t know you’ve been with countless women. You are known as a scoundrel and rake as well as a gambler.”
“Who has mended his ways,” Zane emphasized. His eyes stayed steady on hers. “For you. I’ve not thought about kissing anyone but you since I saw you walking down the street the day after I arrived in London.”
She looked into his eyes and felt a horrible, overwhelming sense of loss because she knew she couldn’t have him. “I’m not available. I’ve tried to tell you I am committed to being—”
“No,” he said earnestly. “I don’t want you to be a widow, Brina. I don’t want you to be Mrs. Feld. I want you to be my wife, my countess, Lady Blacknight. I am committed to keeping my word and you must be—”
The sudden squeal of youthful laughter startled Brina and Zane. They looked down the street. Not far from them, a boy the age of nine or ten and thin as a sapling was jumping up and down in a jubilant way and in a singsong voice saying, “I won again. I won again.” His friend, younger by more than a couple of years, with full cheeks and a chunky build, stayed huddled against the side of a building, holding cards in his hands.
Thankful for the children’s interruption, Brina said, “It looks as if they are having a good time with their game. I like to see children who are happy and playing.”
“I’m not sure what’s happening,” Zane said, seeming to study the boys intently.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Only one of them appears to be happy. Wait here.” He started walking directly toward the boys.
Brina wasn’t about to stay behind. She was as inquisitive as he was. Catching up to him, she asked, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to talk to them.” He looked over at her and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to join their game.”
She returned his smile with a rueful chuckle. “I think you should.”
The two boys weren’t wearing the best of clothing, but it didn’t appear they were street urchins who’d been left to their own care by unfortunate circumstances. They were clean and too well-fed not to have someone looking after them. Brina scanned the area but didn’t see anyone else paying attention to the boys.
As she and Zane neared the pair, Brina drew closer to Zane. He immediately knelt down to be on the smallest boy’s level. Startled, the youngster shrank away from him.
“Don’t be frightened,” he said in a calm voice and tone. “I only came over to talk to you because I heard you playing. Who’s winning?”
“I am,” the tallest boy said, looking at Zane. “He’s not a very good player.”
Zane eyed the cards the younger child held and then picked up some of the ones that lay on the pavement and looked at them.
“What do you think you’re doing, Mister?” the oldest boy asked, staring at Zane with a menacing expression. “We aren’t causing anyone trouble. Those are my cards you have in your hands, and I’ll thank you not to take them.”
Zane shrugged. “I’m not going to take them from you. I’m going to give your friend a lesson in card playing.” He looked up at Brina and repeated, “A lesson. So his next game will be a fair one. Don’t you agree every game should be fair?”
The youth rolled his small brown eyes from side to side and wiped his forearm under his nose before declaring, “Of
course I do.”
Zane nodded and gave his attention back to the youngest. “What’s your name?”
“William,” he answered shyly.
“What’s his name?” Zane asked with a quirk of his head toward the taller boy.
“Claude.”
“We don’t need you in our game,” Claude piped up in a high-pitched tone. “We aren’t doing anything wrong. You have no cause to bother us.”
Zane ignored him and kept his attention on William. Big green eyes stared back at him. “Do you mind if I see your cards?”
“It’s all right,” Brina said, stepping closer to William. “You can trust him. He only wants to help you.”
Timidly, the little one handed the cards to Zane. “Do you see this smudge on the card right here?” He pointed to the top left corner.
William nodded.
“It’s the ten of hearts. So, if you saw this card in his hands”—he motioned with his head to the taller kid—“what would you think?”
“He’s holding the ten of hearts.”
“That’s right,” Zane said with a nod. “It would help you win if you knew what cards he was holding, right?”
“I didn’t know that smudge was on the card,” Claude defended. “I swear I didn’t.”
Zane continued to ignore him. “This card has a little dot of red right there.” He pointed. “And this one has the edge frayed. See them?”
The youngster nodded again.
“The next time someone asks you to play a game, check all the cards over carefully for markings, and if there are any, don’t play. It won’t be a fair game. Do you understand?”
“I had no idea the cards had markings,” Claude interjected dramatically. “Found them in the rubbish. Thanks for letting me know, Mister. That was right kind of you.”
William scrambled to his feet, one chubby hand made a fist and the other he held out, palm up, as he glared at his friend. “You cheated. Give me back my money.”
“I didn’t cheat,” Claude declared in an angry tone, putting both fists up in a threatening manner. “You want to fight?”