Abducted by a Fiery Lady: She captured him by mistake, now he must capture her heart willingly...

by Edon, Ella

  They sat like that for a long moment, then her father gently extricated himself from her embrace, reaching into his drawer and taking out a cigar and a sheaf of paper.

  “Father?” Emilia frowned.

  He grinned. “We have things to do, and places to go – as soon as we are ready to do it. This is an old document I have…something with the Earl of Westmore’s name on it. We’ll track him down, one way or another. No fretting, heartsease.”

  Emilia nodded slowly. “Yes, Father. No fretting. And, Father?”

  “Yes?” he frowned, looking up from the document, blue eyes inquiring.

  “Don’t forget to take your pills before we go.”

  He chuckled and nodded. “Yes, milady.”

  The sound of his laughter followed her out into the hallway.

  In her bedchamber, she sat down heavily on the bed, arms wrapped around herself, looking at the ceiling. She felt inside her heart a wonderful, flaming light she’d forgotten about for so long now. She believed in a future again, and one in which it was possible to love.

  Nothing is stronger than love.

  She’d never doubted that, and now she knew. And somehow, it felt as if things would come right. The rain had stopped, and the sun was coming out.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Needing to Escape

  Luke looked up from where he sat in the drawing-room. He’d been here at Deepvale, his uncle’s Yorkshire home, for three days. So far, all he could do was slip soundlessly in and out, while his uncle slept in a fevered state. It was frustrating. He could curse his cousin for not being here himself.

  If he was in London, he would have nothing to worry about: Emilia would know how much he loved her.

  He heard footsteps, hurrying along the hallway. He heard the Gazette slip soundlessly from his knee as he dropped it. He saw the butler come in and immediately thought his uncle had taken a turn for the worse.

  “Is he ailing?” he asked at once.

  His uncle’s butler, a young fellow by the name of Fletcher, shook his head. “No, sir. It’s your cousin. He just arrived.”

  “Cousin Hal?” He shot to his feet. “Where is he?”

  He was already striding to the hallway. If his cousin found it so easy to detach himself from his estate in the borderlands, what the Deuce was he doing it now for? Why hadn’t he come down months ago, instead of leaving all the cares about his uncle on Luke’s shoulders? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to greet him or give him a thrashing.

  “Where is he?” he demanded of Fletcher again, who had followed him out and was now trying to keep up.

  “He’s in the entrance way, sir,” Fletcher said nervously. Luke nodded.

  “Cousin?” he demanded; his voice clipped as he strode across the mosaiced entrance-way. “What brings you…”

  “I got the news that Father’s dying,” Hal said.

  Luke looked long and hard at his cousin. His smooth face was seamed with worry, his brown hair disarrayed, his brown eyes tense. He looked like a man who was witnessing a nightmare.

  Luke sighed. “He’s alive yet, Hal. He was asking for you.”

  His cousin shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Luke,” he explained tiredly. “I’ve been horrid. I should have come down…”

  Luke shook his head, interrupting him briskly. “You did your best,” he said. He wondered if his feckless cousin noticed the irony in his words. His cousin gave him a wry grimace.

  “I deserve that, I think,” he admitted. “If my best is this bad, I can’t be worse, can I?”

  Luke raised a brow and he couldn’t help smiling at him. A selfish so-and-so his cousin might be, but he was honest.

  “Be that as it may,” he said. “Let’s go and see your papa.”

  Hal rolled his shoulders, grunting with pain as they walked up the stairwell together.

  “I slept in the coach on the way down,” he muttered. “We went all night. How is he?”

  “He’s not as ill as you might think – I’ve seen better, but he’s a strong man.”

  “I know.” Hal nodded.

  Fletcher carried Hal’s case in after them. Luke glanced down, noting that he’d brought nearly nothing with him. He’d be surprised if his valise contained even one complete suit. His cousin must have left in a panic.

  “You heard from Fletcher, about the change in his health?” he asked.

  Hal nodded. “I hoped my butler exaggerated, for my benefit.” He made a face. “It sounds serious.”

  “It is possible that he will die,” Luke said stiffly. “At least, so it seems to me. But, you never know…with sufficient motivation, he might make more progress. Your father, as we said before, is strong.”

  “Take me to him.”

  The two men strode across the landing and along the hallway together. At the door of his bedroom, they paused.

  Uncle Ranvier was lying on his back, his eyes closed. He was pale and almost gray in the face, his lips white. He’d been sweating and shivering with fever, but now he was still. The man on the bed – long, haughty face unmoving – faced the ceiling, his eyes closed.

  Luke watched as Hal stared across the room at his father, as if unable to believe what he saw.

  “Father?” he whispered. “It’s me. I came down to see you. Are you awake?”

  Luke stepped in and stayed where he was by the door. On the bed, Ranvier drew in a rattling breath. Hal looked across at him, boyish face helpless.

  “What’s happening, Luke? How long’s he been like this?”

  Luke shrugged, feeling bewildered. “I don’t know,” he said. “Should we call the doctor?” He was already halfway to the door again.

  “Wait,” Hal said.

  Luke watched Hal’s expression change to one of distress, and then, to his surprise, his uncle shifted. He turned and looked at Hal.

  “You came, you scoundrel.”

  Hal stared at him. The voice was weak; a grating rumble from a chest clearly plagued by tightness. But the words were coherent, not the ramblings of a man in fever. His uncle slit his eyes and looked at Luke and then back at his son. He scowled.

  Hal grinned, elated. “Yes. Yes, father! I’m here. We were so worried…Luke’s been here for days.”

  “I thought I heard him.” Ranvier croaked. “I’ve been somewhat out of it…” He coughed and rolled over, reaching for a handkerchief. “Damn bothersome fever…”

  “Here, father.” Hal passed it to him. Ranvier took a big sniff, then lay back on the pillows, looking up at the ceiling.

  “You two young fellows might want to get me a dish of luncheon,” he suggested. He drew in a shaky breath, rasping in his chest. “I heard the clock. I know what time it is…and I’m starving and not senile yet, for that matter.” He opened his eyes and stared at Luke at the doorway.

  Luke felt his cheeks lift in a smile, though he tried to conceal it. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Ranvier laughed. He tried to sit himself up on the pillows, and Hal helped to arrange them behind his head.

  When Uncle Ranvier was sitting up, Luke noticed that his cheeks had a little more color in them. He was still deathly pale, the flesh hanging on his once big face. He leaned back. “Well, since I have you here, one of you might fetch the doctor. I reckon I’m in need of something for my chest.”

  He started coughing and Luke nodded, then headed into the hallway. He was rushing to the entrance when Hal’s footsteps sounded behind him.

  “Cousin? I’ll get the doctor. You tell Fletcher to bring Father up something to eat…I can’t believe it!” His face was happy. “The old curmudgeon’s alive!”

  Luke nodded grimly. “I can’t, either. I really thought he was…Fletcher! There you are. Fetch the doctor, if you please?”

  “And a bowl of soup, My father’s awake now!” Hal beamed.

  Fletcher nodded, looking from one of them to another, bemusedly. “Yes, sir. Which one first?”

  “The soup,” Hal said.

  “The doctor,” Luke replie
d at the same time.

  They both laughed, and so did Fletcher. His face lit up, too. Luke felt touched – he hadn’t known, though he should have realized it, given his uncle – how loved the old man was by the servants and his family alike.

  “Get the doctor first,” he said gently. “I’m sure my uncle won’t starve in two minutes.”

  “Yes sir. At once.”

  Fletcher turned and rushed to the front door.

  Luke looked at his cousin, noting how happy he looked and realizing, elated, that now that Hal was here, he could leave. “It seems like things are changing around here,” he said. “If I’m not needed, I should…”

  “You’re not needed?” Hal sounded shocked. “Please, don’t say that! You’re very needed! Cousin! I can’t sort all this out on my own. Please…stay for three more days?”

  Luke sighed. His heart was torn. Of course, he was already halfway to London in heart. He had never, if truth be told, really left – not mentally. He wanted to see Emilia with a longing that was consuming him internally. But at the same time, he knew Hal was right.

  “Three days,” he said. He gave him a hard stare.

  “Thanks, cousin.” Hal looked him in the eye. “I appreciate it. Now…while we wait for the doctor, and for father to have his stew, we should talk. And have luncheon ourselves. I’m starved!”

  Luke nodded. He felt sick and didn’t really feel like eating much – especially not now that he knew he was confined here for three more days with his cousin. He knew, though, he had to keep his strength up.

  “Thanks,” he said. “It’s good to have someone to talk to.”

  Hal nodded. “You’ve been stuck out here, what? A week? I’m so sorry, Luke…I don’t think sometimes. If I’d been…”

  “I know. If you’d been aware how close to death he was, you’d have come sooner. Well, you’re here, now. And in time, too…But I need to get back to London.”

  Hal nodded. “Yes, cousin. Something wrong?”

  “No,” Luke said stiffly.

  Hal shrugged. “As you wish.”

  He followed Hal downstairs to the dining-room. As he went, he noted, wearily, that nothing in the place had ever changed – the dining-room was still decorated much as it had been, he imagined, when the place was built a hundred years ago. It smelled, faintly, of mildew. He drew out a seat and sat down. Hal sat down opposite and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed.

  “Makes me think of our childhood, eh?” Hal said.

  “I suppose,” Luke replied again. Hal opened one eye and regarded him lazily.

  “You look fed-up,” he observed sleepily. “What’s amiss?”

  Luke shifted in his chair, feeling nettled. “I had to leave London and urgent business.”

  Hal looked distressed. “It was remiss of me to worry you. I was busy with the estate…you can’t imagine how full of people coming up for hunt-balls it was. It’s not even September yet.” He shook his head wearily.

  “It’s fine,” Luke said stiffly. “Let’s forget about it.”

  If he had to hear Hal talking about attending balls and parties while he was stuck here, unable to see Emilia and imagining her, living her confusion as if it was his own, he’d strike him.

  “This isn’t about this,” Hal said thoughtfully. “There’s something else bothering you. What is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” Luke insisted, teeth clenched. He pulled a piece off the bread Fletcher had brought them as a starter, then shook his head at himself. “Fine. It’s something. I was in no place to leave London, when you wrote.”

  Hal nodded. “I understand. Do I know her?” he added. One brow lifted in inquiry.

  Luke stared. “Hal? What makes you think…” He was quite shocked. His face went red.

  Hal shook his head. “Oh, Luke. You really are a pillock. I know you – we’ve been friends my whole life. Do you think I don’t recognize that look on your face? I know it’s about a girl.”

  Luke looked at his knee, where his napkin – decorated with embroidery by, presumably, his aunt – lay. He sighed slowly.

  “I should have guessed you’d be able to read me like a book. Yes, it’s a girl. Her name’s Emilia.”

  “I don’t know any Emilia,” Hal shrugged. “You’ll have to be more specific. She’s from London?”

  “We met in London, yes,” Luke said. “She’s the daughter of the Earl of Mowbray.”

  “Difficult customer, yes.” Hal nodded. Luke slitted his eyes at him.

  “What do you mean, difficult customer?” he asked. His cousin was treading on thin ice, if he thought he could insult Emilia. He felt himself tense up.

  Hal raised a brow. “The earl’s involved with the Leedsgate Club. You know them.”

  Luke nodded. “I do. Are you suggesting that, because the young lady’s father had the misfortune to be involved in illegalities, that she is somehow less worthy in some way?”

  “No! No, cousin.” Hal shook his head. “A truce! Please. I know better than to make you vexed.” He raised his hands.

  Luke shot him a look. “I know.” .

  They shared a grin.

  “You gave me enough of a thrashing when we were fifteen – one I’ll never forget. My shoulders still hurt.” Hal grinned. “Anyhow. I know something of the lass. And I know she’s been placed in a difficult position.”

  “You do?” Luke dabbed his lips, almost dropping the napkin in surprise.

  “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it!” His cousin looked incredulously at him. “Her father’s in no place to settle her a dowry, and, given that the lass is getting older…”

  “Are you suggesting she’s a poor prospect for marrying?” Luke was outraged. “Hal! Have you seen her?”

  Hal raised up a hand in mock-surrender. “Easy, Luke. I haven’t seen her, but I’ve heard tell she’s very beautiful. I was just saying, be careful.”

  “I’ll be careful when you are,” Luke growled.

  Hal grinned. “Always assuming you like betting on the impossible.” He reached for the pitcher in the center of the table. “Luke, I haven’t thanked you for being here.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Luke said, as his cousin saluted him with his beaker.

  “It does. I’m comforted by the knowledge that you were here, to keep an eye on the old devil.”

  Luke nodded. “I couldn’t let him die alone. I like him.”

  “And he has always spoken highly of you, Luke,” Hal said softly.

  Luke shifted, sensing some regret in Hal’s voice. Feckless and indecisive his cousin might be, flighty and impulsive he was, for certes, but there was no harm in Hal’s nature. He was a good man.

  Luke sighed. “He knew you were here, and he woke up,” he said. “I reckon that shows you his opinion.”

  “Really?” Hal sounded as if that was almost too good to be true.

  “Yes,” Luke grunted. “Now, finish your soup. We have three courses to get through, and account-books to read.”

  Hal grinned. “Yes, lieutenant-colonel.”

  They both laughed and Luke felt a glimmer of true happiness, despite how sore his heart was.

  All he could do was hope that Emilia was alright. And that she hadn’t forgotten about him.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Desperate Moment

  The rain kept on falling, sheeting down in a gray shower over London. Emilia stared out of the open door around the side of the house, breathing the rain-scented air, listening to the song of it. She’d been caught inside for two days. Behind her, June stared out with her.

  “It’s going to drown out Lady Arnott’s party,” Emilia said blandly. “And cause flooding in the lower quarters of the town.”

  “Certainly, milady,” her maid murmured softly.

  Emilia turned to look at her, feeling her sadness like a gray mantle wrapped around her shoulders, suddenly impossible to ignore. She caught June’s eye, and felt reassured by the compassion she saw there.

  “Milady? Come in, do,”
she said softly. “That wind’s frosty.”

  “Oh, June…” Emilia covered her face in her hands and wept. “I just…I can’t bear this. I don’t care if I get soaked, if I get cold. I’m so sad.”