by Vella, Wendy
“But he threw his body over you when Walter was shot, and seemed so angry when—”
“No more, Mary.”
“Very well, if you insist.” She didn’t look happy.
“I do insist.”
“Do you really wish to spend time with Mr. Valentine?”
Mary wore a sage day dress today with a rose sash under her breasts. The hem was raised in places, and from beneath peeked a rose underskirt. Her pretty face was framed by a bonnet tied with wide rose satin ribbons.
“You look lovely today, Mary,” she said, changing the subject.
“I told Mother I was sick of dressing like Aunt Sybil, who is seventy and wears layers and layers of clothing. She allowed me to select a couple of dresses.”
“Well, I approve.”
“Now answer my question.”
“Mr. Valentine is a nice man. I like spending time with him,” Beth lied.
“He is a braggart and elderly. No, you do not. Tell me the real reason.”
“There is no other reason.”
“Very well, if you wish to lie to your friend, we shall leave it there. But,” she added when Beth opened her mouth. “Should you wish to discuss anything, I am here for you. Anything at all, including Nathan.”
“Thank you, but there is nothing I wish to discuss.”
Mary harrumphed, sounding like the Duchess of Yardly.
“What do you wish to see?” Beth asked. She must get her hands on that book today. It had to be her sole focus.
“I wish to enjoy the theatrical entertainments. One apparently is far more expensive to enter than the others but is said to be spectacular. Apparently, the walls are lined with green baize and hundreds of lamps light the room.”
“Then we will be sure to attend.”
Their carriage stopped behind the others in a line, then rolled forward slowly until it was their turn to step down.
“Come, Aunt!” Mary yelled.
“What? Damn sure I didn’t ask you to!” Aunt Agatha said, looking about her.
“We are here, Aunt!”
The Stratton estate was large and impressive, and they walked slowly up the front steps with Aunt Agatha, Beth on one arm, and Mary the other.
They greeted their hosts, the duke tall and elegant, and his duchess beautiful in a cinnamon dress. At her side was a young girl, her hand clutched in her mother’s.
“Hello.” Beth bent to greet the child. “My name is Beth.”
“I’m Lucy” came the shy response.
“Are you looking forward to the fair?”
Lucy nodded.
“She wants to go and join her siblings but is too shy to do so,” the duchess said. “I shall take her shortly. A group of those not wanting to partake in the more frivolous festivities have gathered in a parlor. If you wish, I shall have someone direct you there,” the duchess said to Mary and Aunt Agatha.
“Thank you, that would be wonderful.”
Taking their leave from the hosts, they followed a footman and soon reached the parlor the duchess mentioned.
“I will stay here!” Aunt Agatha roared, stomping into the room. “Come and collect me later. I have no wish to gad about at a fair!”
“Very well, goodbye,” Mary said to her aunt, very happy with the situation if the wide smile on her face was any indication.
“Will she be all right?” Beth said as they left.
“Very much so. They’ll spend the day alternatively dozing and arguing. There will also be snifters of brandy, lots of food, and she will love every minute,” Mary assured Beth. “Now come, there is much to see.”
Soon they were outside, walking down a path with other guests in the direction of the fair.
“Where is your large footman?” Mary asked.
“He, ah, he had a stomach ailment,” Beth lied. She had not told Lucas where she was going today because he would not have left her side, and that would never do. If Nathan attended, he may recognize him, and Lucas would stop her from getting Mr. Valentine alone.
They walked through the manicured gardens, then along another winding path and came out in a meadow. The fair stood before them. A large tent had two flags waving in the gentle breeze. Around that were smaller tents, stalls, and people. Plenty of people milling about the place, looking pleased to be doing so.
“I love fairs,” Mary sighed.
“Me too,” Beth said. She and her parents had lived a controlled life since leaving London, never sure where her father was forced to go or when he would return. She’d missed so many things from her old life.
“Oh look, jugglers!” Mary dragged her forward, and soon they were watching the man.
“He’s very clever,” Beth said. “I’ve tried that, and it’s not easy.”
“When did you try juggling?”
“Last year. I learned to alleviate the boredom.”
They wandered on, looking at stalls. Beth bought a warm shawl for her mother and gloves for Lucas, and all the while she kept her eyes open for Mr. Valentine.
“I’m buying that tiny book,” Mary said, pointing to a stall that had a lot of little curiosities. “You can never have enough books.”
Mary wandered over and began haggling with the man behind the table.
Color, sounds, and scents were all around her. It was wonderful to feel as if no one knew she was here. As if she was just a young lady spending the day at the fair with none of the other things going on in her life.
“Excellent.” Mary was smiling when she returned to Beth’s side.
“Did you beat that poor man down?”
“I did not beat him down! He loved every minute of our haggling and said as much.” Mary tucked her purchase into her reticule. “Now, where are you meeting Mr. Valentine?”
And just like that, the lightness she’d briefly felt fled.
“Wherever the king is,” Beth said, looking about her.
“Has the king arrived?” Mary asked the man she’d haggled with.
“Indeed he has, young miss. Quite the to-do it was too. He’s now seated awaiting a performance.” He waved to the left.
“Thank you.” Mary slipped her arm through Beth’s, and they slowly made their way through the crowds, stopping to purchase small trinkets and sweet treats on the way.
She was in no hurry to reach her goal. Her stomach clenched as she saw the group of people formed around the king. Guards, lords, and ladies. He was surrounded.
She searched and found Mr. Valentine. He was in another group, seated away from the monarch, but close enough should he be required.
He saw her and smiled, then excused himself and made his way to her side.
“Come, I have seats.” He held out a hand, knowing she would not refuse. Believing Beth to be infatuated with him.
“My friend Mary is here with me.”
He bowed. “I am always pleased to meet another beautiful woman.”
Beth didn’t point out that he’d already met Mary. Instead, she placed her fingers on his arm and let him lead her to the seats he then waved them into. Mr. Valentine took one beside her.
The show began, and the first act was acrobats. Beth focused not on the performance but on the man who leaned into her. Did he have the book on him?
“Bravo!” Mr. Valentine clapped, brushing his arm against hers. “Will you walk with me, Miss Carlow?” he whispered into her ear.
“I would love nothing more,” Beth lied. She turned to Mary. “I shall return shortly.”
Not waiting to hear her friend’s displeasure at Beth leaving with a man, she simply got up and walked away. Once they were clear of the seated groups surrounding the king, she put her fingers on Mr. Valentine’s sleeve and let him lead her wherever he wanted.
“I cannot stop thinking about you, Miss Carlow. Your beauty is like no other.”
“You flatter me.”
“I speak the truth, my dear.” He led her toward a tent.
“What is this?” She tried not to stiffen. Tried to appear m
erely excited and curious.
“I have paid the owner handsomely to ensure we have privacy.” He lifted a side of the tent and urged her inside.
“Mr. Valentine,” she whispered, sounding breathless and silly.
“Don’t be afraid, my dear. I would never hurt you.”
“I know you are a gentleman,” she whispered, relieved that it was not completely dark. There was not much in the tent. A chair and some things stacked about the place. No people, however, which was clearly what he’d wanted. He moved to stand before her, his hands on her shoulders, the fingers of one hand slowly stroking her neck.
Beth fought her body’s reaction to stiffen and pull away.
“Miss Carlow, you have possessed me. I can think of nothing but you and when we could be together once more,” he crooned.
“Oh, Mr. Valentine, I am no different. I have longed to see you again.” Which was entirely true; she had wanted to see him, just not for the same reasons as his.
Only one word could describe the look on his face. Lecherous.
His hands undid the bow at her throat and removed her bonnet. He threw it to the floor.
“Oh, I—” His mouth stopped any further words from leaving Beth’s. She was pressed hard into his chest, his lips devouring hers in an extremely unpleasant way. Something jabbed against her left breast, and she knew instantly what it was.
“Ouch!” She stepped back.
“What has happened?” He reached for her again.
“Something in your jacket, it stabbed me,” she whimpered, rubbing her breast. His eyes followed the movement, seeming mesmerized by her actions.
He tore the jacket from his body and threw it aside.
What now?
His hand gripped the back of her head, and he jerked her close once more. His mouth slammed down on hers. Their teeth clashed and noses collided.
“Mr. Valentine!” She wrenched her mouth away; he grabbed her jaw and turned it back, the arm around her tightening in a determined grip.
“Y-You are scaring me.” She tried to pull back, but his grip on her was fierce.
“Little girls who play with fire pay the price.” The words were rasped against her mouth.
She struggled in earnest then, but before she could free herself, he stopped kissing her as a furious squeal filled the air.
“Save me!” Mr. Valentine screeched.
Beth stumbled back and fell, her eyes on the four pigs who had stormed the tent.
“Don’t eat me!” he cried, then fled without looking back.
Beth fought back the tears. Fought back the need to be sick. One of the pigs came to stand before her, snuffling against her boots. She patted its head with a trembling hand, needing that contact, even if it was with a pig.
“Thank you, little p-piggies.”
She’d known there was every likelihood he would kiss her. That she would need to let him do so to gain what she wanted. But not what had transpired. Beth had no doubt that if the animals had not entered, he would have attempted to take advantage of her in the worst possible way.
“Move, Beth,” she urged herself.
Getting to her feet, she grabbed the jacket, heart pounding, and began searching the pockets. The pigs snuffled around her as she did so. Beth liked pigs and had raised several of her own over the years. Finding the small blue book, she felt her heart pound hard inside her chest. Could she use this to barter family’s freedom?
“Come, piggy,” she whispered, holding out the jacket. “Run away with it.”
Three were completely black and one a mix of black, white, and tan.
“Come on, you know you want to shred it,” Beth coaxed the pigs, waggling it before them. If they took it, then Mr. Valentine would not suspect her of stealing the book, as it could be anywhere.
One of the black ones grunted, then lunged at it. Another saw it as a game and did the same thing. The next minute, all four were running from the tent with the perfidious Mr. Valentine’s jacket in their snouts.
Tucking the book into her reticule, she bent and tore the hem of dress slightly before picking up her bonnet. She then took several steadying breaths. It was done; she would not have to speak with Mr. Valentine again. Beth placed her bonnet on her head and retied the ribbons and then left the tent.
Once, the most taxing decision she had to make in a day was what to wear. “How I wish for a return to those days,” she muttered.
“My pigs!” An elderly woman was looking about her, clearly searching for something.
“I believe they went that way.” Beth pointed in the direction the animals had taken.
“Blasted animals,” she muttered. “They are always escaping.” She stomped away.
Raising her face to the sun, Beth leaned against the side of a wagon briefly. Just a few minutes to collect herself and return her heartbeat to its normal rhythm. When she felt calmer, she went to find Mary.
Mr. Valentine met her before she reached her destination, striding toward her with a desperate look.
“My jacket! Where is it?”
She slapped him hard. His head snapped left. “I have no notion. But what I do know is that you are no gentleman, sir. You left me to face th-those ravenous beasts.” She sniffed. “Th-They tore my skirts!” She wailed then, loudly. He blanched. “And your a-actions, sir, were not those of a gentleman!”
“I-I—”
“There can be no possible excuse for your behavior. I wish never to see you again, Mr. Valentine!” She walked away. Looking over her shoulder, she watched him running back to the tent.
“Horrid beast.” Yes, she’d given the appearance of being interested in him, but that gave him absolutely no right to treat her as he had. She was glad she would never be subjected to another advance from him.
The weight of the book in her bag felt ridiculously heavy. More theft. More reasons for her one day to be locked in a rat-infested jail while awaiting hanging for her treasonous actions, right alongside her father.
Closing her eyes briefly, she prayed that would not happen. The feel of fingers clamping around her wrist had her eyes springing open. She turned to fire more insults at Mr. Valentine and came face-to-face with Nathan Deville.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Where have you been? I’ve looked everywhere for you.” Nathan instinctively pulled Beth closer. Her face was pale, eyes wide, and her lips looked red and swollen. Something had scared her, and to his eyes she looked like she’d been ravished. The thought slipped the leash on his temper.
“What did Valentine do to you?”
“N-Nothing. Release me, Mr. Deville. I need to find Mary.”
“Nathan,” he gritted out. “You always call me Nathan.”
Her lips trembled.
“Beth.” Her name was torn from him. Only she had ever been able to wrench this kind of emotion from him. “Talk to me.”
“Let me go. Why were you looking for me?”
“I found Miss Blake frantically searching for you. She said you’d gone off with Mr. Valentine alone.” His anger spiked again. “She asked me to help with her search!”
“Don’t roar at me.”
“I’ll bloody roar at you if you behave in a reckless manner, with little or no regard for your reputation.”
“I am no concern of yours.” Her chin rose. “My reputation is not your problem either.”
He pulled her closer. Lowering his head, he looked into her eyes.
“What game are you playing?”
He’d mulled over and over what he and his brothers had discussed, all the events that were linked to her or her father, and come to the conclusion that the Carlow family was in danger and needed help. He was determined to give it.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Miss Carlow!”
They turned to see Mr. Valentine running, still in his shirtsleeves.
“Where is my jacket?” He stopped before them.
Nathan knew she wasn’t aware of her actions, but the step
Beth took closer to him was telling.
“The pigs ran off with it before I could stop them, Mr. Valentine.”
“You foolish girl! Do you know what you’ve done? My book was in that jacket!”
“I did not remove your jacket and know of no book,” Beth said, now pressed to Nathan’s side.
“That book is of national importance! Many secrets are held within those pages. Names that, if in the wrong hands, would be catastrophic for those involved!” Valentine was pale and shaking as he advanced on Beth.
“What do you mean by catastrophic, Valentine?” Nathan demanded. “What was written in your book?”
“The king’s business. Things no one but he and I are privy too!”
Nathan wasn’t sure why he suddenly went cold, but he did. Could the names of the Deville brothers be in that book?
“If it does indeed hold the king’s business, one would think you would take more care of it,” he gritted out. “And not bring it to a bloody fair!”
“I never let it leave my sight,” Valentine said, looking pale yet indignant.
“Which is clearly working well for you,” Nathan snapped.
“Go and find it at once, you silly girl!” Valentine stepped closer to Beth, deliberately intimidating her.
“Back away,” Nathan growled. “Now.” His tone had the man stopping.
“You dare to speak to me, the king’s confidant, in such a manner?”
Pompous prat, Nathan thought settling his hand on Beth’s back to reassure her he was near. Valentine had done something to her; he just wasn’t sure what, yet.
“I dare to speak to a man who would take advantage of an innocent young woman.”
Guilt flushed the man’s cheeks, confirming his words. Nathan’s blood boiled.
“Sh-She lies. I didn’t touch her. She threw herself at me!”
Nathan stepped forward, grabbing the man’s collar. With his face just inches from Valentine’s, he said, “She didn’t say a word, but you’ve revealed your guilt.”
“Don’t hurt him, Nathan.” Beth’s hand on his arm had him looking down at her. “Please, let him go. I know what you are capable of.”
Valentine paled. He also knew exactly what Nathan could do, it seemed, confirming that their names were in that book.