by Mary Balogh
He would do it anyway, he decided. He did not like to think of Madeline unhappy. Or perhaps ill. He must see if there was something he could do to help. He opened his door and walked back down the corridor. He stopped outside the door to his sister’s room and listened. She was definitely still awake and apparently moaning and loudly fidgeting. Or was she indeed asleep and having nightmares? He tapped quietly on the door.
For a moment all fell silent within, and then the scuffling sounds increased in volume. Lord Amberley turned the handle of the door, found it unlocked, and opened it.
The curtains were not drawn either at the long windows or around the bed. He stared motionless for a moment at the figure on the bed, or rather twisted around and half off the bed. Madeline?
Her arms were above her head, apparently grasping the bedpost. Her head was completely swaddled in dark cloth. She was wearing a flimsy blue dress, but it was twisted awkwardly around her body and was pulled up so that her long slim legs were almost completely exposed.
“What on earth?” he said, striding toward her and putting his glass of water down on the side table so that he could help her. And she certainly needed help. Her wrists were bound to the bedpost, he saw with some horror. And it was a cloak that had wrapped itself completely around her shoulders and head.
She was a prisoner. Those mad twins! Would they never grow up? Lord Amberley felt a surge of anger.
“Hold still,” he said firmly. “I shall have you free in a moment.”
She lay still then, though it took him more than a few moments to loosen her bonds, which her struggles had doubtless tightened considerably.
“There,” he said, expecting her at any moment to burst into an indignant tirade against Dominic. He reached down and tried to lower the skirt of her gown, but it was so tightly twisted beneath her that the task was impossible. He reached up to untangle her from the twisted cloak. Her hands were on his, plucking at them, but they were cold and nerveless. He pushed them away.
When he had pulled away the folds of the cloak, she was still not free. Her head and face were almost entirely covered by the hood, which was held very firmly in place by the green gag she wore. He pushed back the hood, feeling even greater fury. She looked up at him with wide and wary eyes.
Dark eyes.
Oh, God!
“Turn your head,” he said tonelessly. “I will free you from that gag.”
His fingers fumbled with the knot and finally loosened it. He slid one hand beneath her head and lifted it so that he could both remove the scarf and put back her hood. A cascade of thick dark hair fell over his arm with the hood and waved over her shoulders. He did not think to remove his arm for a moment.
She lay still, her head resting against his arm, staring up at him warily. Perhaps she did not realize that her legs were exposed to the thighs.
“Who are you?” he asked foolishly, and he slid his arm from beneath her head and stood up.
She opened her mouth as if to speak, and tried to lick parched lips with an equally dry tongue. She made an inarticulate sound.
“Here,” he said, picking up the glass of water, “you must drink this. No, don’t shrink from me. I will do you no harm.”
He put one arm beneath her shoulders again and lifted her to a sitting position. He held the glass while she drank. Her hands, he could see, were temporarily paralyzed.
She turned her head away after she had taken a few sips, and her long disheveled hair hid her face from his view. “You are Eden?” she asked, and coughed. “What do you want with me? I will not be intimidated. You may kill me if you wish, but I will not plead with my father to pay you a ransom. And I will not submit without a struggle to being ravished.”
“Eden?” he said, straightening up and standing beside the bed. “My brother has brought you here?”
Her pale handsome face suddenly flushed quite painfully, and she pulled at the skirt of her gown. She had to lift her hips in order to loosen it. He kept his eyes on her face while she did so. She sat up abruptly on the side of the bed, and one hand collapsed clumsily beneath her as she used it to push herself upright.
“This is an outrage,” she said, her voice shaking very slightly. “I demand to be released.”
“I agree with you entirely, ma’am,” he said quietly, and reached out to tug on the silk-tasseled bell-pull beside the bed. “May I know who you are so that I might communicate with your family? They must be frantic with worry.”
“My father is Lord Beckworth,” she said. “We live on Curzon Street.”
“I know him,” Lord Amberley said with a frown. “May I ask how you got here, Miss…?”
“I was abducted,” she said, “by two men. I was at Lady Easton’s ball. They said that Eden would be here soon. But that must have been many hours ago.”
“Lord Eden is my younger brother,” he said. “Ah! Do come in, Mrs. Haviland. This lady has come to be here by some misadventure involving Lord Eden. Will you stay with her here, please, and see that she is made comfortable and has some refreshments, while I send for her father? She has been tied up and gagged for several hours. I believe she would appreciate having someone massage her hands.”
“Oh, please,” the dark-haired handsome girl said as he turned to leave her in some privacy, “not my father. Please, will you send for my brother instead? James Purnell. He will come.”
Lord Amberley nodded and bowed to her, as the housekeeper, clucking her tongue, crossed to the bed and picked up one of the girl’s hands. He left the room and closed the door quietly behind him. It was perhaps as well that the very first thing he must do was compose a swift note to the girl’s brother. Perhaps by the time he had done so his present white fury would have cooled down just sufficiently that he would not quite throttle his brother when he went to his room to confront him.
Perhaps. Though he doubted it. The twins had always had a gift for getting into the most unbelievable scrapes. But this was not a scrape. Not by any means. A young girl had just been abused and terrified probably beyond his power to imagine, and her character and reputation destroyed, possibly beyond repair.
Oh, no, this was no scrape. Heads would surely roll over this.
THE AGONY OF FEELING the blood needling and knifing its way back through her hands was finally subsiding to a dull throbbing. Her fingers still looked and felt swollen, but she could begin to flex them. Her mouth still felt dry even after two cups of tea. Alexandra sat in the dressing room adjoining the bedchamber where she had been held prisoner. The Earl of Amberley’s housekeeper sat with her, still clucking with concern after sending a maid scurrying for tea, and after chafing her hands and wrapping a soft shawl around her shoulders instead of the crumpled cloak. Alexandra had discovered the identity of her rescuer, though she had learned very little else. She still did not know any more about Lord Eden except that he was the Earl of Amberley’s brother.
She had not asked, of course. Some explanation must be given for the happenings of the night, but she was not the one to do the asking. James would discover the truth. At least, she hoped it would be James. She prayed that her father’s servants would have allowed the message to be taken to her brother. Her father would have to know eventually, she supposed. But she wanted some time to collect herself before he was told.
James would sort everything out for her. All she was thankful for was that it was over, that Lord Amberley had found her before Lord Eden came home. James would see to it that the truth came out. He would discover what motive a gentleman who did not even know her might have for having her kidnapped and held captive for the whole of a night.
Alexandra waited with an outer patience learned through long years as her father’s daughter. Inwardly she was impatient to be gone, never to see this house again, never to see the Earl of Amberley again. She would burn with mortification, she knew, when she allowed her mind to dwell on the spectacle that must have met his eyes when he saw her on the bed. To have had a man in the same bed-chamber as she was horrifying e
nough. But ten times worse, she had been stretched on a bed in a dreadful state of dishabille.
And then suddenly Nanny Rey was in the room and the earl’s housekeeper on her feet. And her old nurse looked dearly familiar with her diminutive sparrow’s figure, her sharp red nose, and the gold-rimmed spectacles that always looked for all the world as if they were ready to drop off the end of her nose. Alexandra would not run to her as she wished to do, or burst into tears as her body yearned to do. She merely clasped her hands very tightly in her lap and forced a bleak smile to her lips.
“I am afraid I have got you from your bed very early this morning, Nanny,” she said.
“Thank the good Lord that Master James had the presence of mind to call me,” Nanny Rey said, peering at Alexandra over the top of her spectacles. Indeed, she rarely looked through them. “Have you come to any harm, lovey?” She glared at the housekeeper as if that poor lady were solely responsible for all the woes of her mistress.
“Nothing that has not been put right already,” Alexandra said. “Is James here, Nanny? May we leave now?”
“As fast as our feet will carry us,” her nurse said. “We will wait in the carriage, though his lordship said you was welcome to stay in comfort here while he had his talk with Master James, and Master James himself said we was to wait here. But old Nanny wouldn’t listen to the King of England himself if what he said wasn’t in the best interests of my girl. Put your cloak on and your hood up, lovey. It is a chilly morning, May or no May. And thanks to you, ma’am.” She nodded curtly in the direction of the silent Mrs. Haviland. “You will please tell Mr. Purnell that we will await him outside.”
Alexandra looked about her in some wonder as Nanny Rey hurried her down a curved oak staircase to the tiled hallway she had glimpsed the night before. There were oak paneling and large paintings everywhere and a magnificent chandelier hanging from the domed ceiling. The experiences of the night before began to take on an aura of unreality.
She had never been so happy to see her father’s carriage waiting at the bottom of a flight of steps. Her father’s coachman handed her inside. Her attention was only momentarily distracted by a tall young man of pleasing appearance, who looked at her in some curiosity as he touched his hat and mounted the steps to enter the house. He was dressed in evening clothes.
Nanny Rey glared balefully at him and followed her mistress into the carriage. She pulled the velvet curtains firmly across the windows as the coachman shut the door.
INSIDE THE LIBRARY ON the ground floor of his town house, Lord Amberley found himself having an uncomfortable confrontation with James Purnell. He had expected an irate brother, bristling with fury, demanding satisfaction, perhaps even a duel. He had been apprehensive about the meeting, but he had been prepared for it. He would have thrown against such righteous indignation all the forces of reason and good breeding.
He had not expected a man of icy self-control, a man who said little, but whose dark eyes burned with something that seemed not quite anger. They were eyes that watched very directly and seemed to penetrate to one’s very soul. No mannered speeches of carefully rehearsed platitudes would fool this man, Lord Amberley suspected.
“I am afraid Miss Purnell was the victim of some unknown prank last night,” he said, “for which my brother appears to have been entirely responsible.”
“Then I will speak with your brother,” James Purnell said. He stood close to the library door, a cloak still around his shoulders, his hat in his hand. He had refused to have them taken from him or to take a seat. “Lord Eden, I believe?”
“I am afraid he is not at home,” Lord Amberley said, “and in his absence it is impossible for me to say exactly what happened, since I did not feel it appropriate to question your sister too closely. But Miss Purnell was confined in my sister’s room when I found her. I can only imagine that for some reason my brother thought her to be his twin. They are not unknown to such madcap activities.”
“My sister does not resemble Lady Madeline Raine in any way,” James Purnell said.
“I agree,” Lord Amberley said. “Except perhaps in height and build. I can only suggest, sir, that you convey your sister home with all speed and return later to demand satisfaction from my brother.”
“I certainly intend to do that,” Purnell said quietly.
“We will hope that the events of the night will never be made public,” Lord Amberley said. “I see no reason why there should ever be a blemish on your sister’s name. Even so, I shall, if I may, call on Lord Beckworth after luncheon to beg permission to pay my addresses to Miss Purnell.” His always firm jawline was more set than usual, his face pale.
James Purnell looked back at him with his burning eyes. One lock of straight dark hair had fallen across his forehead. “Frankly, Amberley,” he said, “I believe my sister would be doing herself a disservice to ally herself to this family. But I can see that the offer must be made. I shall inform my father of your intention.”
Lord Amberley bowed. “The time must be close to six o’clock,” he said. “You will wish to take Miss Purnell home.”
Purnell did not move for a moment, during which time he leveled a penetrating stare on his host. “Was she touched?” he asked quietly.
“No.” Lord Amberley stilled his right hand, which he suddenly became aware had been clenching and unclenching itself at his side. “She was tied up and gagged when I found her, but I am almost certain that she had not been otherwise abused.”
“You must understand that I will demand other satisfaction from Lord Eden if you prove to be wrong,” Purnell said.
Lord Amberley bowed and felt a moment’s relief as his guest turned abruptly to the door. But even as he reached for the handle, there came a jaunty tapping from the outside and the door opened.
Lord Eden’s head appeared around it. “Edmund,” he said, “who on earth was…? Oh, pardon me. I didn’t mean to intrude.” He grinned cheerfully and made to withdraw.
“You had better come in here,” Lord Amberley said. “This concerns you, Dom.”
“Intriguing!” his brother said, the grin returning to his face. He came into the room, flung his hat down on a side table, and nodded genially to the visitor.
“Dom,” Lord Amberley said, “can you explain what Miss Alexandra Purnell was doing in Madeline’s room last night?”
Lord Eden looked blank. He glanced from his brother to James Purnell. “Have I missed something?” he asked.
“This is Mr. Purnell,” Lord Amberley said. “I found his sister in Madeline’s room an hour ago. She was tied to the bed and gagged. She seems to believe that you were responsible.”
Lord Eden looked indignant. “Why, of all the…” he began. Then his face blanched. “Oh, Lord.” He passed a hand over his eyes.
“What happened, Dom?” Lord Amberley’s voice was quiet but it held an unmistakable note of authority.
“Those two loose screws must have mistaken her for Madeline,” Lord Eden said, removing his hand from his face and looking first into the smoldering eyes of James Purnell and then at his brother. “I asked them to bring Madeline here. I thought she was just about to…Well, that is another story. It was all a mistake, anyway. When I found Mad was still in the ballroom, I thought no harm had been done. I might have known it was strange that Faber and Jones just disappeared without a word. Oh, Lord!”
“My sister has led a very sheltered existence,” James Purnell said. “She has had a strict upbringing.”
Lord Eden closed his eyes. “Oh, God,” he said. “She must have been terrified. But I can’t understand it. Both Jones and Faber know Madeline. Does Miss Purnell look so much like her? I say, Edmund, that wasn’t her stepping into the carriage outside just now, was it?”
“Probably,” Lord Amberley said. He held up a staying hand. “But this is not the time to rush out to make your apologies, Dom. Miss Purnell must be taken home without further delay. I suggest, sir”—he turned his attention to their visitor—“that you return later
if you require satisfaction from Lord Eden, as I can well understand you may. I shall call at Curzon Street after luncheon.”
James Purnell looked steadily at each brother in turn before bowing curtly and turning to the door without another word.
“Oh, Lord,” Lord Eden said as soon as the door closed behind him, “what a coil!”
“I don’t believe I have any sympathy to spare for you, Dom,” his brother said, moving at last to sit heavily in the large mahogany-and-leather chair behind his desk. “Even if it had been Madeline I found, I would have been outraged. She was bound and gagged. Her hands were paralyzed when I released them, and she was quite unable to say a word until I had helped her to a drink of water. And you entrusted such treatment of our sister to two of your friends? Not at all the thing, Dom. And that is the understatement of the decade. I have a mind to level you with my own fists and leave nothing for Mr. Purnell to gain satisfaction from.”
“I thought she was going to elope with that Fairhaven reptile,” Lord Eden said. “I had to go after him, Edmund. I had to leave my friends to take Mad out of the way.”
“You could not just have told her the game was up and set Mama to keeping watch over her?” Lord Amberley said wearily. “You never could take the easy and obvious course, could you, Dom? I don’t see how I am to get you out of this. You will be fortunate indeed if you do not end up dead with a bullet between your eyes. And you will be honor bound to delope if it comes to a duel, you know.”
“I deserve no less,” Lord Eden said with bitter remorse. “The poor girl, Edmund. I have probably put her through a more frightening experience than I would feel looking down the barrel of Purnell’s pistol. Do you know her? I cannot put a face to the name, I must confess. Is she very young?”