A Regency Duo

by Carole Mortimer

  “I’m sorry,” Eliza muttered. “Really, I am. This is not what it looks like.”

  Freddie pivoted. He counted to ten, but kept his hold on Eliza’s arm. He stared at her, her body more enticing than he ever could have imagined.

  He dropped his gaze to the floor and swallowed. “First, pick up your damn clothes.”

  She didn’t budge.

  “Suddenly gone deaf, my lady?”

  “No. You’re holding my arm. I can’t bend.”

  So he was. Fuck.

  His hand didn’t move.

  Double fuck and triple fuck.

  He slowly released her and slapped his hands upon his face, covered his eyes and rubbed his cheeks. He laughed. For a few minutes he hadn’t been aware of the pain in his ribs. Now the bloody ache was back. And worse than before.

  He dropped his hands from his face and peered down.

  Blood seeped through his waistcoat.

  “Your wound has reopened.”

  He didn’t need the fucking woman to tell him what he already fucking knew. He kept silent, not sure he trusted himself to speak just now.

  “I think you should lie down.”

  He ventured to the bed, still holding his tongue.

  Eliza crouched and went for his boots.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you out of your boots.”

  “You’re still naked. Didn’t I request you get your clothes?”

  “No. You pretty much ordered me to fetch my garments. And I must say, that is very unlike you. You must be in unbelievable pain to speak at me in that manner.”

  The woman was enough to drive him mad. “Pain is not what pushed my temper.”

  “Really? I can’t imagine what else it could have been. Certainly not the site of me exposed to the world. That, I think, would have given rise to something else, not your temper.”

  Oh, for Jesus’ sake. “I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”

  She shook her head and then pulled off his boots, all the while still bare as a newborn babe.

  Eliza leaned over him and unbuttoned his waistcoat, then pushed up his shirt. “Just as I thought. You have indeed, reopened your wound.”

  A deep gasp sounded at the door.

  Ari.

  “Freddie?”

  “I can explain.”

  Eliza glanced over her shoulder. “No, he won’t be explaining anything. Fetch a surgeon. His wound’s reopened.”

  Ari shot him a surprised look, but disappeared. He imagined she’d gone to do exactly as Eliza had ordered. “You’re still naked.”

  “And does that bother you, Your Highness?”

  “It’s Freddie, to you.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so. The Freddie I know doesn’t cavort in brothels.”

  “And the Lizzie I know doesn’t get engaged and not tell her best friend.”

  She licked her lips, the look of guilt veiling her face.

  “I think it’s safe to say we’ve both kept things from each other, though you are correct. I don’t cavort in brothels. This place isn’t what you think it is. At least, it’s not for me.”

  Eliza backed away from the bed.

  “Where are you going?” He might be mad as hell at her, but there was no way he was going to let her out of his sight now. Not with that furious Meyock on the loose. The man was probably headed for that uncooperating brother of hers, this very minute. Like it or not, Eliza needed his protection now.

  “I’m going to get dressed, and then head home.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Ordering me about, again?”

  “No. But I have reason for wanting you to stay.”

  She smirked. “Oh, I am sure you do.”

  The woman was enough to drive him to an early grave, though to be fair, he was doing a damn good job of that himself. But he did need to protect Eliza. “I am not referring to that.”

  “Oh, so now I’m not good enough for you? Is that what you think?”

  “No. Of course not. I would have no problem bedding you, kissing you, holding you in my arms…keeping you safe.” He’d said too much.

  Eliza’s mouth gaped.

  Wisps of her brown hair dangled from her bun, framed her face in the most enticing of ways. He wanted to reach out and undo the whole fucking knot, get his hand thoroughly through those cocoa colored strands, wrap them tight about his fingers and pull her head back so her neck fell bare for his lips to explore. But he couldn’t even move a frickin’ inch, bleeding out like he was. “What I meant was…”

  Eliza slipped into her shift just as the surgeon appeared at the door. “That was fast,” she said.

  “He lives next door.”

  Eliza nodded. “Convenient, and probably best for a ruffian such as yourself. I think it best I wait downstairs.” She turned and left him to the doctor’s care.

  He really shouldn’t have snuck up on her like he had. But he had acted out of impulse, bullheaded fool that he was.

  He’d compromised Eliza tonight. Ruined her reputation.

  And he’d compromised his whole damn mission, as no one knew he’d frequented Montgrieve House.

  But Lord Meyock now knew.

  And probably come morning, so too would Eliza’s brother.

  Once again, he’d failed his father.

  You are such a bloody, fucking fool, Freddie.

  Chapter 7

  “Who exactly are you?”

  Eliza cringed as she faced the Countess Montgrieve sitting behind a large cherry wood desk, a cold glare glazing her narrowed eyes. “Lady Eliza Littlefield.”

  “And you came to my establishment under false pretenses because…”

  “It’s complicated, Your Ladyship.” She prayed the woman would understand.

  “No doubt. But this is my home and you are only still here because of my good grace not to call the constable without learning your full story, first.”

  “Thank you, for that.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” The countess shoved a stack of documents piled in front of her into a red leather case and then closed the flap. “I might still decide to have my guards fetch the authorities. But I deserve to hear your story.”

  She agreed, the woman was well within her rights to know the truth. But with so many little souls resting on her success here, Eliza just didn’t know where to start. She squeezed her arms tighter around the wad of garments held at her chest.

  “I’d like to know that tale, as well,” a tall, finely dressed, black-haired man said, entering the office. His blue eyes bore straight through her.

  She averted her gaze just enough to avoid those bone-chilling orbs.

  With a noisy breath, one that enlightened her to the man’s obvious annoyance, he shucked out of his blue great coat and tossed the thing onto the settee. The fine wool garment ended up no better than the wrinkled mess in her arms.

  She swallowed. Archie and Meyock now seemed such trifle problems compared to having to deal with the Countess Montgrieve and her bulky henchmen. Haven House was probably lost for good after this fiasco.

  A second, and just as dashing man as the one with the icy-blue gaze, appeared at the door. “Sorry I’m late.” He removed his coat and top hat and hung both on a peg on the brass stand in the corner. “What did I miss?”

  “For fuck’s sake, Eddie. Just sit.” The first man was indeed angered.

  The so-called Eddie sat on the sofa across from her.

  Eliza slouched.

  “Gentlemen,” the Countess said. “I’d like you to meet Lady Eliza Littlefield.”

  Eddie, nodded.

  His beastly friend, the one who remained standing, didn’t.

  The Countess rose from her chair and then joined her on the settee. “Eliza, may I present to you His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Christopher.” She motioned to the standing brute. “And his brother, Prince Edward of Countavia.”

  Freddie’s brothers. Well, the two eldest o
f them anyway, as she knew, like all subjects of the realm knew, King Bertram and Queen Charlotte had seven sons. No daughters, just seven wild boys.

  She stood and curtsied, her hands still grasping her clothes.

  The Crown Prince shook his head, and lowered himself next to his brother. “Please, sit.”

  The click of a cane tapping against marble reached her ears. She turned.

  At the door stood Freddie, his bare chest clothed only in fresh cotton wrappings, splotches of blood still seeping through some of the fabric. He looked worse than she’d ever seen him, tired and bruised. All six-foot one of his muscular body appeared in need of a dose of good sleep. A pang of guilt seeped into her soul. “You should be in bed.”

  “Yes, you should be,” Prince Christopher said, his words clipped.

  “Go stuff it, Kit.” Freddie sauntered over and wedged himself, slowly, between her and the countess.

  Eddie leaned back and smirked.

  Kit glared at him.

  “What? He’s only saying what we’d all like to say to you at the moment, but he’s the one being most true since Ari and I, and probably Lady Eliza, are doing our best to keep it formal. Your Royal Highness.”

  Kit pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Maybe I did lose myself a bit. But I have good reason for having a temper just now.”

  The crown prince paused, dropped his hand, then focused solely on her. “I’d very much like to hear your story, Lady Eliza.”

  She opened her mouth, but no words came.

  Freddie reached for her knee and squeezed, gently. He nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Your Royal Highness, but I came to Montgrieve House…” She stopped. That wasn’t right. Her story started three nights back.

  “Lady Eliza?” Kit quirked a black eyebrow.

  “I first met your brother years ago and we had a secret friendship. Two years ago, he abruptly called it off. Then three nights ago we ran into each other in an alley at The Wharf.”

  The look of shock that coveted Kit’s face was near horrifying. Obviously, her Freddie hadn’t shared this bit of information with his siblings.

  “It’s all right,” Freddie said. “Go on.”

  “Your brother rescued me from an assailant and I in turn tried to stop him from bleeding out. Then he showed up at my home, Haven House, this morning, offering to help me and the orphans I rescue, with financial aid. He mentioned, should the occasion arise that I needed to get in contact with him, I should write to Countess Montgrieve, at this address as we both thought it best I didn’t show up at the palace. However, I thought it best I show up here in person and well, the rest mistakenly unfolded from there.”

  “I see,” said Eddie.

  Kit just cocked his head, shot his brother a new round of glares. “Really, Eddie? You comprehend that whole slapped together tale?”

  “I do. Boy meets girl. Boy falls for girl. Boy gets scared of falling for girl. Boy meets girl again. Boy saves girl. Girl saves boy. The two engage in some probably not so legal business. The two end up in bed in a brothel. What is so mystifying about that?”

  “It’s a damn good thing I was born first,” Kit spit out.

  “Eddie is right,” Freddie added, still stiff with apparent pain. He clutched his ribs.

  Edward rose. “Well, now that we have it all straightened out, I am going back to my card game.” He bowed to the countess. “Ari, as usual, it was a delight to see you.” His gaze wandered over to Eliza. “And Lady Eliza, a pleasure to meet you. I am sure it won’t be the last time.” He winked at Freddie who simply huffed.

  After grabbing his coat and hat, Prince Edward departed.

  If only she could flee as well. But she couldn’t, especially with the crown prince staring at her as he was.

  “How many orphans have you rescued?” Kit asked, his tone a tad bit more serene now, almost as if he actually took interest in her work.

  “Over the last two years, I’ve taken in and resettled about twelve. I currently care for seven.”

  “And you do not have the proper funds to run your house, is that correct?”

  “She does now,” Freddie interrupted.

  Kit rolled his eyes. “Well, that is very good news, Your Royal Highness. At least I can rest tonight knowing one issue has been resolved on your list. Yours and Lady Eliza’s very long list of very serious and compromising issues.”

  Freddie squared his shoulders as he pried his back off the settee, his movements stiff and slow. “The lady saved my life, Kit. What the fuck more do you want from her?”

  Kit stood, his face going red from his cheeks to his brow. He looked like Vesuvius about to blow. “What I want, Freddie, is for you to once consider the realm over yourself. A royal prince does not go and make offhanded business deals with unsuspecting women who know nothing of the danger said prince has put them in. You have compromised the Crown by bringing Lady Eliza into this whole covert serial killer mess.”

  Did she just hear right? Was Freddie hunting a serial killer? Now the wound and the alley and everything else about the other night made sense.

  “No. I have not compromised anything. You have. Just now.”

  Kit ran his hands over his face, then squeezed his cheeks before returning to his seat. “Damn, you Freddie. You always get the best of me. And it needs to stop. Now.”

  “Lady Eliza will keep our secrets. Of that I assure you, brother.”

  “You should have stayed in bed, as I ordered you to.” Kit, apparently, couldn’t let things go.

  “Why? So I could hide like a coward behind the palace façade while our own subjects are being slashed at the throat? I think not.”

  The Countess Montgrieve pushed off the settee. “I think this is a private discussion, Your Royal Highnesses.” She scooted from the room before either man could comment.

  Eliza wasn’t sure what to do. Go? Stay? Sink into the cushion and pray she’d find a fantastical hole that would gobble her up in one swift instant?

  Kit rose and walked over to their side of the room. He bent to reach Freddie’s ear, but did nothing to lower his voice. “You shall remain at this house for one week, brother. Not a single day less. And you are to keep Lady Eliza at your side every minute of that span as she is now your sole responsibility. And God help me if you show your ugly face in my presence during that time.”

  “You can’t keep me off the mission.”

  “I can. And I will.”

  And with that, the crown prince left Montgrieve house.

  She didn’t dare turn and look at Freddie. Not now, not knowing she’d caused him all this distress, not to mention the reopening of his blasted wound.

  And as for spending the whole week in the prince’s presence, well, that was not going to happen either. Bosworth would be back the day after tomorrow and she couldn’t not be home at Haven House when the man returned. He’d call the full cavalry out to search for her if he’d suspected she was missing.

  But she did owe Freddie at least tonight. “As much as I hate to admit this, I do think your brother is right. You should be in bed.”

  “I am not going back up those bloody stairs again. I’ll sleep right here.”

  “You cannot sleep on a settee.”

  “Why not?”

  “One, it’s not large enough for you. And two, this is Countess Montgrieve’s office. I don’t think she’d appreciate a royal ruffian spending the night in her personal domain.”

  A slight laugh filtered from Freddie’s throat. “You may have a point there, Eliza.”

  She stood and balled her garments under her left arm and offered him her right hand. “I’ll get you up the stairs.”

  Freddie’s lips ticked upward. “You do realize I am at least three times your weight.”

  “And you do realize I have reared nineteen children, practically on my own, for the last two years. You’d be surprised what one small woman can manage to achieve in a role such as that. For instance, cats are not the only creatures who get caught in trees
or who climb tall cubbards to steal cookies and perch on the top shelf for a better view of the kitchen. And when those things happen in the middle of the night, Bosworth, my butler does not care to be disturbed.”

  In the hallway, they headed up the stairs.

  Freddie leaned heavily on his cane, but kept his arm entwined with hers. “You do a lot for the children you rescue. But why do it all?”

  “Well, I must admit, there are days when I ask myself the same question. But those moments are fleeting. I had a fortunate life, though not a spoiled on. At least not in the sense of wealth.” She paused, her mind thinking back to the years her and Freddie had kept their friendship secret.

  “I know we once agreed to not discuss our personal lives with each other,” she said. “But I think you need to know me better.”

  Freddie nodded. “We only agreed to that because we wanted to just be Freddie and Lizzie. Not Prince Frederick and Lady Eliza. But I think all that has now gone out the window, Lizzie. This isn’t about rescuing young pickpockets anymore. I’m in far more dangerous a situation at the moment. And I’ve embroiled you into it as well. But all that aside, I would love to know what your life growing up was like.”

  This was the Freddie she used to know. “Well, it was a simple life actually. Littlefield Hall had massive debts when my father became earl. He worked them off through good investments and frugality. And during that time, he and my mother appreciated their good fortune by opening Haven House. My father realized it was heart and not money that made a happy home. And he and my mother were wonderous to the children they took in. When my father died, and my mother only a month after him, I inherited Haven House and a small fund to keep it going. It suits me.”

  At the top landing, Freddie stopped and rested against the wall. “My offer to fund Haven House still stands, Eliza.”

  “I couldn’t ask you to help me, now. Though I would have no objections to you becoming Charlie’s benefactor. The boy deserves a good life. But as for anything else, absolutely not. I will find my own way, as my father had.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but as a prince, I can do a lot more than you. My father, and to a degree, Kit, are the law in this country. And despite my brother’s anger tonight, he will come round. He has a soft spot for children. And beautiful women.”