The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 4 (The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Sets)

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "No, not at all," Matthew said, his voice hoarse with emotion and the rawness in his throat which just wouldn't ease. "I just don't want anyone looking for her to know we rescued her. I swear, I'm going to head into the clinic through the back way and in through the boiler room."

  "Yes, sir, sorry, sir."

  "That's all right. Your tender sentiments do you credit. But come. We need to get her to a doctor."

  "How will you get home?"

  "I shall manage, never fear. But don't expect me back for a couple of days."

  He nodded. "I'll tell Bevis, sir."

  "Thank you, Gibbs. I know I can rely upon your discretion."

  Gibbs mounted the box and whipped up the team.

  Chapter Three

  Fifteen minutes later Matthew was stepping out in the mews. Another five minutes saw him inside the clinic hallway making his way to the pair of private examination rooms near the front to rendezvous with his coachman and Althea.

  Dr. Herriot and his assistant Oliver Neville were busy in each room, and Matthew felt relieved that they were both in attendance.

  Antony was just finishing with a woman and her baby and looked up in surprise. "Why Matthew, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

  "I'm well, thank you. But this isn't a social visit. I need your help, and your utmost discretion. Can we close these curtains and talk for a moment?" he asked, stepping into the room and away from the open door.

  "Certainly. Clarissa, can you please take the baby and her mother to the dispensary?"

  "Yes, sir." His dark-haired assistant quickly did his bidding.

  As soon as the door was shut, Matthew began to slide the curtains closed and told him what had happened as briefly as possible.

  Antony Herriot looked stunned. "I'll go out there right now and see if your driver has brought her. Really, Matthew, you did well to come to me. I'll be as discreet as I can, of course, but this really is most shocking. The authorities-"

  "Are not going to be called, at least not yet. We know nothing at this point, and they'll only be in the way."

  The sandy-haired young doctor looked doubtful, but nodded. "All right. Let me go see if she's here."

  He brought Althea in a short time later. Matthew almost snatched her out of the doctor's arms. He laid her down on the table gently and smoothed her hair back from her brow.

  "It's all right, sweetheart. Antony here is going to help you. He needs to examine you, my dear. There's no need to be scared. It's all right. He's not going to hurt you."

  "All right," she sighed.

  Matthew positioned himself at her head, and kept hold of it by gently stroking her hair and face, and whispering reassuringly in her ear.

  Dr. Herriot examined her thoroughly under the relatively bright light from the lantern they used overhead. Matthew could see now that there were dozens of bruises all over her, but they had been covered over with powder.

  "Her nose has been broken and badly set, her left cheekbone smashed. She looks like she's fought in a mill, for heaven's sake. Several teeth knocked out. A couple of broken knuckles, a smashed finger, some of her nails ripped and jagged. She must have fought like a tigress. I just wonder how badly she's hurt internally if the bruises are that bad. It looks like she's been bound with rope for some time. You can tell from the marks on her ankles and wrists."

  "How long?" he rasped. "How long has she been made to suffer like that?"

  "My best guess, about five or six weeks."

  "So ever since I left her after her father died," he sighed. "He passed away two months ago."

  The sandy haired doctor, dressed from head to toe in black save for his dark gray cotton coat thrown over his clothes, frowned and nodded. "I doubt it is a coincidence. The abuse looks to have been pretty systematic. The drugs too. I'd say they've kept her under all that time to stop her struggling, but it also killed some of the pain. That means I can't tell how badly she feels."

  He continued to examine her in silence, but finally he had to ask, "A virgin, you say?"

  Matthew saw he was frowning.

  "Yes," he said, staring at him. "I'm sure. I'm the one who defiled her, after all. I mean, not that I've ever had a virgin before, but there was pain, blood, and I could see the remains of her maidenhead on me. It wasn't a monthly if that's what you're wondering. Why do you ask?"

  Antony blushed and shook his head. "It's just well," he said reluctantly, when Matthew continued to stare at him, "It's just that..."

  "Come on, out with it, man."

  "She's your cousin. I don't want to upset you."

  "Cripes, how much more upset can I possibly be?" he exploded.

  Antony cringed. "Drat it, Matthew. All right. It's just that she's been, um, used everywhere else. I find it hard to believe that they didn't just rape her too. But at least we don't need to worry about pregnancy or disease there."

  Oliver Neville entered at that moment and shook his head pitingly at the sight of the girl. "Come now, Antony, you've been working here long enough to know a virgin fetches a much higher price on the open market. They can make her do all sorts of other things until they can find someone willing to pay the right price."

  Matthew felt the bile rise again, and availed himself of a nearby basin.

  Both men clucked sympathetically.

  "It's terrible, I know," Oliver said, "but she's safe now. Don't let your imagination run wild and get the better of you."

  "It's what I've done that's sickening me," Matthew rasped.

  Antony looked down her throat and all over her body dispassionately. "It may not be much consolation, but if her body is anything to go by she was probably so drugged she didn't even know what was happening to her most of the time. At least it would have deadened the pain."

  Matthew took a swig from his flask to deaden his, but the smell and taste mingling with the odors of of the clinic were enough to render him light-headed.

  When Matthew came to himself once more Oliver was holding his head down between his knees and telling him to breathe deeply. A basin at his feet held the rest of the noisome contents of his stomach. Oliver tidied him up like a small child, and gave him a pat on the shoulder.

  "It is all very well to have sensibilities and fine feelings, but we mustn't give way completely to our emotions. Your cousin needs us all to try to concentrate on helping her."

  "Tell me what we need to do. I would never forgive myself if she died."

  Antony shook his head. "I don't think it will come to that. But nor can make any promises. She's pretty badly beaten. Even if she isn't suffering from internal bleeding, she has a long road to recovery. I'm not so sure you shouldn't send for the rest of you family to-"

  "No!" he shouted. Then he shook his head. "No, I don't want them involved. My aunt Lady Pemberton would be beside herself. I'm not sure how this happened, how Althea ended up in the clutches of those foul swine, but she's my responsibility now. I'll take care of her. Whatever she needs."

  The two medical men exchanged significant looks. "It's very commendable of you, Matthew," Antony said, "but have you any idea what this is going to entail?"

  "No," Matthew admitted, "but you're going to tell me. I shall either do it myself or hire whatever staff I need to assist me. I'm sure you have some good nurses you can recommend."

  Antony sighed. "Matthew--"

  "What, what is it? I'm sorry to say she's not the only woman in the world who has ever been beaten, and they recover. And as for her, er, loss, well, I swear, I didn't--"

  "Nay, that's not what I mean. But I won't lie. She's not in good shape. Even if she recovers physically, it seems she is an opium addict. Even if we cure her of the addiction, there will likely be long lasting mental effects of the hell the poor child has been through.

  "But perhaps in time," Matthew began with hopeful desperation, rising up off the floor at last to stand by her bedside once more. He stroked her cheek with the back of one hand and she sighed in her sleep.

  "But that's just it, M
atthew, time. I don't mean to reproach you, but you've taken on mistresses the way most dilettantes do a hobby. Once you have all you want or need to know, you move on.

  "In this instance we're facing the prospect of months of rest and recuperation, and you have the patience of a flea. You can't just pick the girl up and drop her when you get bored--"

  "I would never! She's my cousin and--"

  Antony ignored his protests and pressed on. "Nor is it suitable for a bachelor such as yourself to take on the role of nursemaid. Even with the purest and most decent of intentions you will bring scandal to her. Your reputation only is enough to cause-"

  "Thank you for your concern and your candour, Antony," Matthew said stiffly. "Let us deal with the unpalatable truth head on, shall we? I've used the poor girl cruelly. The only way to protect her and try to mitigate this disaster in some way is to marry her. If you could please send for the local vicar so we can be wed at once, I would be most grateful."

  He fished out a wad of notes for the special licence and handed it to Oliver.

  He and Antony shot each other a concerned look, but each could see the wisdom of what he had proposed. The determined set of Matthew's jaw also spoke volumes.

  Oliver cautioned now, "So long as you know she's going to have to be awake enough to give her consent."

  "Fine. How long do you think that might take?"

  "Some time tomorrow morning is my best guess. Why don't you go outside and get someone to make you some coffee whilst we finish up here?"

  He shook his head stubbornly. "I'm staying. Oh, I'll keep out of the way here at the top of the table, but I promised I wouldn't leave her, and I won't."

  He moved back to his former seat and murmured, "I'm here, dear."

  He put his head on the table next to Althea's and began to talk to her in a low soothing tone whilst they did what they could for her bruised and battered body.

  For the most part she seemed to be quiet enough as he sought to reassure her. Only when they tried to turn her over to rub some ointment on all of her cuts, scrapes and bruises did she begin to struggle.

  "You're all right. Antony just wants to help, put medicine on. You're all right. No one is going to hurt you. No one's ever going to hurt you again. Including me."

  Her groans lapsed to a whimper and finally subsided as he continued to soothe her with his voice and his hand stroking her hair every so often.

  "I'm going to give her some cream to put on. Let's see if she's sensible enough to do it herself."

  "Althea, love, did you hear the doctor?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Explain it to her again."

  "I want you to put some cream on your back and bottom to soothe the cuts and so on. Can you manage if you roll on your side?"

  "I can try."

  He flung a sheet over her, and Matthew had to watch her wince as she rubbed it in. She was soon tired and sore, and rolled onto her back once more. She began to her shiver, and Oliver scrambled for some blankets while Antony began to bank up the fire.

  He asked his assistant to call for Clarissa. When she arrived he requested, "Some tea for all of us, please, with plenty of sugar in it. I think we're going to need it."

  The grim-faced woman nodded curtly and left.

  When Antony was certain all had been tended to to make Althea as comfortable as possible, he said, "Now you need to decide what to do. If you're afraid of her being found, we need to think about where to take her."

  Matthew blinked. "Take her? Can she not stay here? We were careful not to be followed."

  The doctor nodded. "She could stay tonight. It'll be morning soon enough. But we're already so overcrowded, and she wouldn't get a wink of sleep. You can use my house, and there is always Philip Marshall's as well. He and his wife would be glad to help, and they are most discreet.

  "There's also Alistair Grant, though with him being a bachelor as well, like myself, he's not such a good choice. And I wouldn't recommend it for another reason. You did say you wanted to keep the authorities out of this for the moment. He would feel obliged to notify them if you turned up on the doorstep with her in this condition."

  "True."

  "And I hate to say it, but if you admit to anyone what you did when she was bound to the bed, they're going to blame you for all of this. It's a pretty remarkable story by any stretch of the imagination. They'll think you seduced her away from her home with intent to commit all sorts of depravities upon her. Who knows what will happen to both of you then."

  "I know. You don't need to remind me. But I swear to you, I never-"

  "I know. I believe you."

  "What about Blake? Are he and Arabella here?"

  He shook his head. "I'm sorry. He just shut up the house to go back down to Somerset."

  "And I just came up tonight. My house is in an uproar even if I were willing to take her there. So I supposed the best choice is to go to Philip's."

  Antony nodded. "He's a good man in a crisis, completely unflappable."

  "But he does work for Alistair."

  "Aye, but he's the soul of discretion, and the last man to judge, even if you tell him the whole truth."

  Matthew's mouth set in a grim line. "And I have the feeling I'm going to need his own special knowledge of the London underworld to get to the bottom of this."

  Oliver stared. "Now you're not going to do anything hasty, are you, Matthew?"

  "No. But I need to know what bastard put my cousin in a brothel! Philip can ask the right questions, put out the feelers, pull in some favours."

  "But he's hasn't been a prostitute, nor lived in London for years," Antony pointed out mildly.

  "No, but he gives a lot of aid to the women hereabouts when they need it. Someone in that brothel will know him, I'm sure of it. Know him and want to help. So we can send him to collect information."

  "He's going to need to keep a low profile, though. Those sorts of people aren't too keen on lawyers going around asking questions. And we don't want them to follow Philip's trail back to Althea."

  "True," Matthew acknowledged.

  "I can help," Oliver offered. "I mean, it's been a while since I patronised the stews, but they aren't going to get their dander up if I ask around compared with an out and out posh toff like Philip Marshall. You give me the details of what happened. I can say I'm looking for something similarly exotic, willing to pay for it.

  "I mean, I'm guessing whoever took her probably knew who she was, would have known about her being your cousin, and you being in thick with the Rakehells. They're not a group of men you'd want to take on, not if you were a criminal wanting to carry on your nefarious career."

  Matthew shrugged one shoulder. "But I'm only on the fringe. Old school friends, but I've never been political or anything, and you know they don't really hold with rakes like me."

  "That's not to say they don't forgive them if they mend their ways, as with Philip and Randall. That's also not to say they wouldn't defend a friend who needed it, or a damsel in distress. No, whoever took Althea either didn't know who she was, or they are so powerful, or so foolish, that they don't care that interfering with your family most likely means letting himself in for a whole heap of hot coals on his head."

  Matthew wondered why this thought made him so uneasy. But it was true. The Danes had always been a powerful family, and his aunt Lady Pemberton was a formidable woman. Likewise the Rakehells were prominent and powerful men. Even the lowest class of pimp would have heard of them, and quailed.

  But the brothel had not been a complete cesspit. Many men of his acquaintance went there for the anonymity and clean women. There were far worse places. Not to mention dirty back alleys. So who would have dared...

  He pictured the room again, the odd markings everywhere. Again they reminded him of his new home in Somerset. Strange symbols... What could they have meant?

  Oliver was speaking again, and Matthew dragged his mind away from his present chain of thought.

  "When it's quiet enough here I'l
l go," Oliver offered. "After everything I did, even if anyone recognises me, they'll just think I'm back to my old ways. I'll pretend I'm on the prowl for a new fresh young thing, heard they had just got in a new prime article or two."

  "But if the authorities hear about it-"

  "It's all right. They won't. Or if they do we can come up with some excuse or alibi. I know I'm supposed to be on my best behaviour, but just asking questions can't get me into trouble."