by Jaimey Grant
“No, sir. She awoke a few moments ago and I gave her the powders just like Lord Connor showed me. Then she went back to sleep.”
“Has she been able to eat anything? And keep it down?”
The woman frowned. “No, sir. That is, she drank some broth, but she couldn’t keep it down.”
Adam was worried. He thought her inability to retain sustenance was due more to the near starvation she had suffered rather than the fever itself. He had no doubt that when the time came to really try to overcome that, he would need Connor again.
“Has she spoken at all?”
Mrs. Campion—the Mrs. was a courtesy title—scrunched up her doughy face thoughtfully. “She mumbled something about not letting, um, you, sir, take her back. Then she sighed and said…love, no, Levi? Yes, Levi. That was it.”
“She didn’t say anything else?” Adam asked a trifle shortly.
“No, sir, that was all.”
“Very well. I have some things to do. I’ll return to see how she goes on before dinner.”
Adam left the house in a bit of a temper. She was dreaming of another man. How dare she think about someone else when…When what? Why the devil was he so upset? He sounded almost…jealous.
Heaven forbid, was he jealous? He didn’t even like women; he certainly wouldn’t be jealous if one should show a preference for someone other than himself. A woman only served one useful purpose he could think of and that was best served flat on her back. Beyond that, he had no use for them.
He shoved the thought of jealousy aside. He realized with dismay that he was nearing Hyde Park and it was the time of the promenade. He hated the promenade.
It was not as busy at this time of year. For one thing, it was too cold for most. It was also too early for the height of the Season. There were not nearly as many people in Town.
But even with the drastically dissipated numbers of human beings in London, someone always stopped to talk to him; débutantes flirted, hopeful mamas tried to draw him into conversations extolling the many virtues of Miss This and Lady That, gentlemen tried to claim more than a mere acquaintance with him, etc. It was vastly annoying.
“I say, Prestwich, are you back in Town?”
Adam reluctantly brought Charger to a halt. The great black beast stamped his feet in irritation. He was brought swiftly under control and stood placidly enough while his eyes darted around looking for…a victim, most likely.
Adam resisted the urge to reply with the obvious rejoinder “Of course I am, you bloody nodcock” and said instead, only a trifle sarcastically, “As you can see.” He left it at that and made to move on. This was generally enough to discourage conversation.
Evidently, Lord Hubert Baxter was either completely oblivious or else had no fear of dying. He reined in closer to Charger, who took exception to the movement and tried to rear up. Adam kept his seat and barked a sharp command at the horse. The large beast quieted instantly, satisfying himself with an angry snort while he pawed at the thin layer of snow covering the ground.
“I heard you were in the north recently, Prestwich,” Baxter said then, his keen eyes missing nothing.
Adam looked at the once handsome, now scarred visage of the lord. He could barely tolerate the man in the best of moods. He was not in the best of moods now. “I was,” he answered curtly, hoping his obvious disinterest in anything Baxter had to say would bring an end to the conversation.
It seemed his famous luck had run out. “And who kept your ladybird company while you were off gallivanting across the country?” the lord asked insolently.
This was the other reason he hated the park. Unless there was a lady present, Adam was always inundated with questions about his mistress. Everyone eagerly awaited the moment it was known that he let her go and some other lucky gentleman had the chance to be her protector. He actually considered sending an announcement to the papers to save a lot of people a lot of trouble when…if…the time came.
As much as Adam disliked women and sometimes hated them, he had been with his mistress since his return from the peninsula. He found her interesting as a person and, although he wouldn’t admit it even to himself, she was far more than a mistress. She was his friend. He wasn’t bored with her yet although it had been well over a year since he’d met her and she had agreed to be his mistress.
She was also, unfortunately, an actress at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. Worse than that, she was an exceptional actress of exceptional beauty. She was a great favorite with the gentlemen and the green room was always full to overflowing with her admirers, often men who wanted no more than a glimpse of the exotic beauty.
She was Miss Raven Emerson, The Ebony Swan.
It was her role as Juliet that made her really famous. She was Juliet. She made every audience member feel her blossoming awareness of first love, her desperation to be with her love despite all odds, her despair and confusion over her cousin’s death at the hands of her love, her sudden loss and anguish at her dearest Romeo’s passing, and ultimately, her own release in death.
It was not very often that true beauty and natural talent converged in one person on the stage but Raven was that perfect entity. She was tall—only a head shorter than Adam who was over six feet tall. Her hair was glossy black, straight, and silky. She never wore it up, not even at home. She had dark, nearly black eyes that tilted slightly giving her an exotic look. Delicately arched brows and long black lashes made her eyes stand out even more than they normally would have. Her nose was in perfect proportion to her face and her mouth was made for kissing with a fuller bottom lip and a slightly thinner top one. She was naturally graceful in movement and with every spoken word she managed to captivate man and woman alike, even her fellow actors.
Adam knew he was not the only man who found her appearance irresistibly seductive. Baxter had been after her since before Adam had even known of her existence. Raven had confided that the man was one of the few gentlemen who accosted her regularly that refused to take no for an answer.
Adam had never cared whether or not she was faithful to him, but he had always had the feeling that she was. Even Baxter’s words failed to rouse his anger with Raven. It did, however, rouse his anger at Baxter. Prestwich was tempted to call the man out and have done with the whole damnable situation.
“I imagine she kept herself suitably entertained. And since you ask, she was obviously wise enough not to have been with you,” he said equably. “And now, I really must go.”
Chapter Five
Raven kept rooms near the theater for convenience sake although Adam knew she had the wherewithal to buy a house if she wished. His offer to set her up in a quaint little house on the outskirts of Town had been turned down with a smile and assurances that she was quite comfortable right where she was. She was frugal with her money and unlike most courtesans, she knew the wisdom of saving for a rainy day, or in her case, her retirement from the theater. He admitted to a reluctant admiration of her because of this.
He walked into her little sitting room where he knew she would be at this time of day. She usually practiced her lines there with the help of her little maid, Molly. He waited patiently until Molly was dismissed before he approached the actress.
Raven smiled at him, delighted to see him, as usual. He wondered if she ever thought he might marry her. She had never in any way indicated that she felt he should or would, but how was he to know what actually went on in the woman’s head? She was, after all, a woman. Didn’t they all cherish hopes of matrimony?
When she saw the look on his face, Raven took his hand and led him out and up the stairs to her bedchamber. She normally did not like to indulge in sexual activity so close to the time when she had to be at the theater, but she sensed in Adam the need for a release and she was more than willing to oblige him.
He had, after all, been the one to introduce her to the fine art of lovemaking. It had been against her earliest decisions to take a protector. But that was before she learned of the unpredictability of rece
iving her pay for working at the playhouse.
And that was before she had met Adam Prestwich. He had not attempted to turn her head with the empty flattery that she so often received from other gentlemen. But the admiration was clear in his eyes and for the first time she had found herself sorely tempted by a man.
It had only taken the first time he asked her to be his mistress and she had heard a voice remarkably like her own saying yes.
That had been well over a year ago. She had been an actress since she was twenty. Even at that young age she had a wisdom beyond her years. She had at one time carried the hope of meeting and falling in love with a man who would marry her and save her family from penury. A year of trying to make ends meet on her meager salary with ten other mouths to feed had changed that. But she found she was unable to bring herself to say the words that would seal her fate with some gentleman who was only interested in her body and not her heart or mind.
But in Adam she had sensed a need. What it was, she wasn’t sure. But it was there nonetheless, and she was willing to try to learn what it was he needed and strive to meet that need.
And now, she thought of him as her closest friend.
An hour of pleasurable activity later, Raven half-dozed in the circle of Adam’s arms. They lay on their sides facing each other and he held her against him while wondering when he would get bored with her. He was amazed at how long he had been with her already.
Normally, he gave a mistress her marching orders after a relatively short acquaintance. He remembered the longest as being about two months. They always seemed to become rather arrogant and sure of his affections. One had even had the gall to ask when they were to be married. After dropping her unceremoniously on the floor—he had been in the process of carrying her up to her bed—he had sworn never to have anything to do with semi-respectable ladies of the ton again. That was one promise he had found relatively easy to keep.
He had never wondered or particularly cared what went on in any woman’s mind, much less a whore’s. But he often found himself pondering the inner workings of Raven’s beautiful head and sometimes even asking her.
Perhaps he did this because he had trouble really thinking of her as a whore. She had been innocent until the first time with him and he had been strangely flattered that she would choose him for her first sexual experience even though he knew she had had several offers from half the gentlemen of the beau monde. Surely, she could have found a man far better heeled than he was and far more handsome, definitely far more personable?
But she had chosen him and as much as he tried to tell himself that she was just like every other woman—a scheming little adventuress just trying to get her hands on as much wealth as she could—he was never truly convinced of what to him was a fact rather than mere conjecture.
Black eyes opened and gazed sleepily up into his. He hadn’t even realized he was staring at her. She smiled and kissed him lightly on the lips. When he didn’t smile back, just continued to look at her intently, she asked, “Is something wrong, Adam?”
He liked her offstage voice. She had a soft, slightly husky voice that he found soothing and erotic at the same time. He traced the line of her jaw with one long finger and kissed her deeply.
Just before rolling her onto her back and covering her body with his, he whispered, “I’ll tell you later.”
It was some time later that Raven finally had the answer to her question. Well, an answer at any rate.
They were once again in the position of him holding her, only this time he was lying on his back and staring up at the silk canopy of the bed. She was laying half on top of him, one hand playing idly with the dark curling hairs on his chest and one leg draped negligently over both of his. He had drawn the bedsheet up to cover the lower half of their bodies. Both were relaxed and smiling.
They lay like that for several minutes before Adam recalled her question.
“Did you really want to know if something was wrong?” he asked with a slightly cynically inflection in his voice.
She cuffed him lightly on the chest. “I would not have asked if I didn’t want to know,” she replied with a smile that took the sting out of her action.
He had to smile. “I have a problem,” he began, his smile disappearing as he thought about Lady Rothsmere.
Raven waited patiently, knowing Adam would only continue when he was ready. When he rose and dressed, she sat up, a little puzzled but still silent.
Pausing with his hands in the middle of tying his cravat, he said reflectively, “I find myself encumbered with a certain burden who refuses to…cooperate.”
This was enough to arouse Raven’s curiosity. Rising and pulling on a robe, she asked, “Can I help in any way?”
Gazing at his beautiful mistress thoughtfully, he nodded. “Perhaps.” Glancing at the clock on the mantle, he smiled. “We are both late now, my dear. I am due at White’s and you should be at the theater.”
“You look awfully pensive, old man. What’s to do?”
Adam didn’t bother to rise. He simply gestured to the seat opposite and waited for Connor to sit down.
“Nothing is wrong except I have a runaway heiress in my house and a sick feeling in my stomach that she would actually be better off with me than with her own family.”
“I wondered if you had realized,” Con said seriously. He ordered from the waiter that approached and sat silently until the man had left before continuing. “I have to admit that I wonder what would make one of the richest titled ladies run away and actually prefer to be left to die as a petty thief in Newgate. She must have been desperate.”
“Or out for a lark that went desperately wrong?” Adam inserted cynically.
Connor considered that for a split second before firmly shaking his head. “I think some investigation into her family is called for, Adam. Her actions are too extreme. Even for a woman of her stubborn hardheadedness.”
Agreeing reluctantly, Adam added, “If they discover I’m back before I learn anything, I will have to return her. I can’t legally hold her. She is underage, Con.”
The subject seemed closed for the moment. The friends ate steadily for a while before Connor cleared his throat and said, “I have to go back to Denbigh soon.”
Adam’s fork paused en route to his mouth. He set it down on his plate and pushed the plate away. “How soon?”
“I wanted to leave tomorrow.”
“You can’t,” Prestwich returned bluntly.
“I can’t?” His tone was disbelieving.
“No, you can’t. What if something happens to Bri? I can’t take care of a feverish countess who hates the very sight of me. What if she dies, Con?”
“That’s your own fault,” Con retorted. “Her hating you, I mean. As for the rest, I can wait only a few days. I will leave as soon as her fever breaks. After that, you will have no problem.”
“She was starving.”
“I know. It wasn’t hard to tell.”
“She can’t keep anything down. What if she still dies even after the fever breaks?”
By now, Adam could hear the worry and desperation in his own voice. And he hated it.
“After the play tonight,” Con replied in a seeming non sequitur, “we will go to the green room and visit your friend the Swan.”
“Why do you—”
“Trust me,” Con interrupted forcefully. “Don’t worry.” He rose to his feet and prepared to take his leave. “Come around for me at half past seven if you will. Until then.”
Chapter Six
The Theatre Royal in Drury Lane that evening was crowded despite the lack of Society in Town. Hundreds of candles blazed in large chandeliers poised above the full pit below. Even the boxes were crowded with those members of the ton who either stayed in London all year or were there on some business or other.
Adam and Connor were of the latter group. Connor preferred to spend his time in the country with his wife and children and Adam had never found London very interesting when Par
liament was not in session.
The play started and Adam marveled anew at the beauty and grace of the lead actress. She was the play. Everyone else were little more than props to accentuate how very perfect she was. He watched her closely, a look of pride on his face.
The actor playing the role of Romeo was a young man almost too beautiful to be a man but he played his part well. Adam was nearly convinced that he was in love with his companion. And Raven…well, she was everything a young girl in love should be. Radiant, joyous, and yet despairing that she would ever be able to declare her feelings to all and sundry.
The play duly ended and Adam found himself in the green room bowing in front of Raven. She gave him a welcoming smile and offered him her hand.
When Connor approached, her smile grew. “Lord Connor! I was not expecting you. How is your wife?”
Connor engaged in a few moments of small talk with the actress. Then, “I have a favor to ask, if you would allow me a few private moments of your time.”
Biting her lip, she had to ask, “You are not going to ask me to be your mistress, are you, my lord? As flattering as the offer is, I am quite taken.”
Connor almost thought she was in earnest. Then he caught the amusement in Adam’s eyes. “I am heartbroken, indeed, Miss Emerson. However, that was not exactly what I was interested in discussing.”
She threw a puzzled look at Adam who returned it with one of his own. “How can I be of service to you, gentlemen?”
“I understand you have some experience with nursing sick persons,” Connor said. It was not a question.
“Nursing, my lord? Why, yes, I do. My father was sick for many years before I finally journeyed to London. I helped my mother take care of him until she died and then it was I who nursed him for a time with the help of my sisters.”