by Jaimey Grant
“Whatever do you mean?” he asked benignly.
Bri just smiled at him. “What would you like to know first, my dear Mr. Prestwich?” she asked. “It would be a shame to waste this opportunity for you to pick my brain.”
Adam sat in the hard chair by the bed—and wondered why he hadn’t had the blasted thing replaced with something more comfortable. He shook away the thought and concentrated on his unwilling guest.
“So talk,” he commanded curtly after a few moments of tense silence on his part and amused silence on hers.
“So talk?” she repeated, drawing out the two words in a horrible drawl worthy of Brummell himself. “I am suddenly very fatigued,” she said softly as she lay back on the pillows and feigned weariness. She peeked at him through half-lowered lids and was amused to see his annoyance writ plain on his attractive face.
Attractive? Where had that traitorous thought come from?
“Cut line, brat,” Adam retorted rudely. “Tell me what the devil possessed you to run away from the safety and protection of your family with nothing more than the clothes on your back.”
Bri stared at him with something akin to contempt. Her emerald eyes flashed with dislike, anger, and…fear? No, not fear. Adam refused to believe Bri would fear anything. She was too intrepid, too brave, too stubborn and too damned…well, mean, for lack of a better word, to be afraid of anything.
And yet, just days ago she had admitted that she was scared.
Adam pushed this uncomfortable thought aside and concentrated on getting Lady Rothsmere to talk.
“Do you really want to know, Adam?” she asked scathingly. “Do you want to hear the story in its entirety? Or do you want to hear that I was just bored and looking for a lark which, unfortunately, when found went horribly wrong? Do you want the truth or what you believe to be true?”
He felt an unaccountable urge to fidget at the words that were almost exactly the same as he had uttered to Connor at White’s recently.
He noticed her hands were clenched painfully tight in her lap, the knuckles white. Her eyes were as hard as the jewels they so closely resembled. He was right, she wasn’t scared. She was angry. Then he saw her lower lip tremble pathetically and wondered if she would use tears to manipulate him as all women did.
Bri didn’t give in to the tears that threatened. She would die before she’d cry in front of this man. But she wanted to make him feel remorse for the thinly veiled insult on her intelligence.
Lifting her chin a notch, Bri met Adam’s gray-green eyes and said vehemently, but quietly, “I ran away, Mr. Prestwich, because I wasn’t ready to die!”
Chapter Eight
“What?”
“Did I stutter?” Bri sneered. “Do you not understand the King’s English? I didn’t want to die. It is a reasonable thing to wish for when you haven’t even reach your eighteenth year.”
“You exaggerate, my lady, surely. Who would want you dead?”
His tone was as disbelieving as could be although his face was carefully blank. He may as well call her a liar to her face and end their conversation. She could tell he wouldn’t believe a word she had to say.
“Talking to you is pointless, Adam,” she replied wearily, suddenly tired of fighting with him or trying to get him to understand. “You won’t believe a word I tell you if you even listen at all.”
Adam regretted making his disbelief so obvious. He strove for a conciliatory tone when he said gently, “I apologize, Bri, if I seemed less than believing. But if you think about it, it does seem a trifle farfetched. One of the leading families in England tries to kill off their heiress? In the hopes of getting her title and inheritance, I assume. It is your family you are accusing, is it not?”
She nodded and watched him closely. He was being very careful with his expression, she noted. He revealed nothing more than polite interest. Except his eyes. Bri realized with a start that Adam, for some reason, was not masking his emotions from his eyes. She saw contempt, derision, and cynicism mingling in the gray-green depths. And there, in the farthest reaches, beyond all the negative emotions, she saw concern.
It was the concern that made her talk although she wasn’t foolish enough to totally discount the derogatory feelings he held in check.
Her face and voice were devoid of emotion as she spoke. Adam wondered how much of her tale was truth and how much was calculated to manipulate his nobler feelings of protectiveness and sympathy.
“I grew up knowing that I would one day inherit my father’s title and vast wealth. I was the only child of my parents’ union and mama died when I was five. Papa’s title was one that could pass to a daughter as well as a son. He died when I was nearly seventeen and I became the Countess of Rothsmere.
“I was left in the care of my mother’s brother and his wife, the Duke and Duchess of Corning, my father’s sister and her husband, the Earl and Countess of Fenton, and my father’s brother, the Duke of Westbury. They were all ecstatic when they discovered they had complete control over my money and me until the day I turn twenty-five. I was ordered to marry the man of their choice.”
Adam smiled despite his doubt in the veracity of her story. “And you rebelled, I would guess.”
“At first,” she replied complacently. “Until I met him. He was everything I ever dreamed of in a husband.”
Adam experienced a sick feeling in his stomach at her confession. There was a wistful note in her voice that suggested that she still had feelings for this man, whoever he was.
He opened his mouth to tell her tersely to continue but found himself saying instead, “Who was he?”
Bri turned her head and regarded Adam in surprise. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he sounded jealous. She smiled slowly. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t work out.”
Prestwich grunted and told her gruffly to continue her tale. She stifled a smirk and complied.
“Things did not work out as I wanted. I thought myself in love with the gentleman chosen for me. Until I overheard a conversation between him and Corning. Once my betrothed was my husband and gained control of my money, he was to give half to the duke and certain secrets about the gentleman, and I use the term loosely, would not be revealed to the ton. After the marriage was consummated, he could go his own way.
“I decided he could go his own way a bit earlier than expected. I marched right into the room and announced to the men attempting to ruin my life that I would die rather than marry the bastard.” She suddenly laughed. Her eyes twinkled merrily as she regarded Adam. “I used that word when I confronted them, Adam. I didn’t know that that was the big secret.”
Adam stared at her in shock then smiled, as her laughter was infectious. He could imagine what sort of commotion ensued after such a declaration.
He realized he was being manipulated into relaxing his guard against her feminine wiles and he resolutely hardened his heart. His smile was replaced with a frown and he ordered her to continue.
The smile in her eyes died and the smile on her face turned cynical and mocking. “Don’t let my obvious enjoyment of the situation color your views, my dear sir. I would hate for you to be disappointed lest I confirm your idea that women are the very devil.”
“So you ran away to avoid marriage to a man obviously not worthy of you and decided that whoring on the streets was infinitely better?” His own voice was mocking and he watched her closely.
“I would have been much better off as some man’s whore than that man’s wife, I do assure you. At least a whore has the right to leave should she wish. A wife is little better than a slave to her husband’s whims and freakish starts,” she retorted bitterly. Her tone softened only slightly as she continued. “But no, I did not run away for that reason. I did and still do feel that anything is better than spending my life with a man who has betrayed me. But the real reason I ran away was the ultimatum put upon me. I was to marry Lord—” She glanced at him sharply. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously. She had almost let the name sli
p. “Let’s call him Lord Nobody, shall we?”
“Lord Nobody? Very clever, I must say,” Adam responded dryly.
“Is everything all right?” Raven poked her head into the room, her dark eyes bright with curiosity. “Have you need of anything?”
“A straitjacket, perhaps?” Adam said beneath his breath. He smiled at his mistress. “No, Raven, we’re fine. But have a tea tray sent up in about an hour.”
Raven threw a worried look at Bri, nodded and left.
When Adam returned his attention to his guest, he noticed her face was drained of color and she was trembling. Her hands were wreaking havoc with the counterpane and she seemed to be staring at nothing. What the devil was wrong? He was out of his chair and beside her on the bed within two heartbeats. He reached out to touch her and she flinched away from him.
“That was not amusing,” she whispered.
Adam sat on the bed beside her, nonplussed by her comment. “What wasn’t amusing?”
“Straitjackets are horrible things. I couldn’t move and I couldn’t get away. It was horrible.”
Adam took her by the shoulders and turned her towards him. The thought in his mind was too terrible to contemplate. Her eyes held more than just the horror of being alone and wondering where the next meal would come from and when. She looked lost in a memory too traumatic for words. She reminded him very much of Verena Northwicke when that young matron had told him of her rape. He shuddered.
“Bri, what are you saying?” She remained silent. He shook her a little. “Tell me!”
She met his gaze unblinkingly and loosened her clenched hands to grip the lapels of his riding coat.
“Oh my God,” Adam breathed. “They locked you in a madhouse.” He saw the truth in her eyes and he drew her against his chest, rubbing her back soothingly. He felt her start to shake then her arms went around his waist and she held him so tight he found it difficult to draw a deep breath.
He didn’t want to believe it was her family that had done such a hateful thing. He was unsure exactly who they were, but someone had done a terrible disservice to this vibrant, lively girl. They had destroyed her innocence and taken away every dream a young girl has about her life and the love she will one day find.
She was crying. Not wrenching sobs, but quiet weeping that cut right to his heart. She was genuinely distressed. It wasn’t a ploy to gain his sympathy or sway his decision. It was fear and terror.
“Bri, you’re okay now, love. Don’t cry, please.”
With the tears finally abating and the fear receding, Bri was able to regain control of her rioting emotions. She was disgusted with herself for losing control but she hadn’t thought of that time in the madhouse for so very long. She’d had no idea the mere thought would freeze her back in time.
She pulled out of Adam’s arms and only then realized when she looked into his worried countenance that he had been very comforting and tender. Her heart gave a little leap in her breast.
She took a deep breath. “I apologize for that unseemly display, Adam. It was unlike me.”
“Yes, it was,” he replied thoughtfully, making no move to leave her side. He found the bed a good sight more comfortable than the hell-chair and decided he wasn’t moving unless she actually asked him to do so.
He wasn’t going to move, she thought. She wanted him to move. She didn’t like his concern. It made her think things she had no business thinking about. Like how good it felt to be held by him. And what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to hers. Her body responded to the thought and she cursed it roundly for being such a traitor. Adam Prestwich was the enemy.
She wanted to tell him to move. She wanted to tell him to get out. Of her life, preferably. But there was really nothing she could do. If he wanted to sit on the bed, so be it.
“Now, where was I?”
“You were supposed to marry Lord, uh, Nobody, I believe,” Adam supplied helpfully. He turned so he was facing her, crossed his arms over his chest and prepared to be amazed at her powers of invention.
She smiled faintly. “Lord Nobody, yes. Well, I couldn’t do that. I told them I wouldn’t do that. Corning held a counsel of war with the rest of the family. They told me it was Lord…Nobody or he would put me, he would…he would send me away.” She looked down at her tightly clasped hands, unable to meet his eyes.
“Put you…where?” Adam asked.
“Exactly where he did put me, in a madhouse.”
Her voice was blank, her face was blank, but that haunted look was dawning in her wide eyes again. “No, love. Stay here with me. What happened next?”
It was the endearment that snapped her out of it. Her eyes narrowed as he watched her. “My cousin succeeding in freeing me. Then he had to leave and I was again on my own. So I ran away and here we are,” she ended on a derogatory note.
“Yes, here we are. And you spent the intervening time working where you could and doing what you had to in order to survive, correct?”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Yes, why?”
Adam smiled blandly. “Just trying to reconcile a few things in my own mind, that’s all.”
“Why don’t you just ask me if I was whoring on the streets to keep from starving?” she snapped angrily.
His curiosity got the better of him. “Why did you not just set yourself up as some man’s mistress? You have the beauty and the spirit to be a first-class courtesan.”
“Thank you for that assessment of my character, Mr. High and Mighty. I didn’t take a protector because I couldn’t stand the thought of what I’d have to do with the bloody bastard. Men are all disgusting pigs.”
Adam peered closely at her, moving his head from side to side as if looking for something. His intense look was making Bri decidedly nervous.
“What?’
“I am sure there is a lady in there somewhere,” Adam responded with a thoughtful frown. He shook his head sadly. “No, perhaps not. She must have died some time ago, I should imagine.”
“She did,” Bri retorted dryly. “I killed her.”
Adam had to smile at that. She certainly was an interesting young lady.
He sought to bring their discussion back to the subject they needed to explore. “If you couldn’t stand the duties of a mistress, how did you, to use your own words, sell yourself on the streets?”
“I didn’t. I’ve been raped several times but I have never consented to having relations with any man.” Her voice was dead and her eyes were closed as she said this.
He was amazed at her calm tone. He felt his own heart stop and then speed up alarmingly. He wanted to destroy every bastard who ever touched her. He was disgusted by his own intense feelings and further disgusted by his readiness to believe her protestations.
He stood and bowed. He had to get away from her before she managed to make him believe the whole sordid tale. “I have some business to attend to this afternoon, my lady. I will leave you in Raven’s capable hands.”
Chapter Nine
“What was that all about?” Raven asked as she directed the maid with the tea tray.
Bri shrugged but said nothing.
“Very well,” Raven replied equably. “Would you like tea, my dear?”
“I think I would like to rest,” Bri answered wearily.
She did sound tired, Raven thought compassionately. She wondered what Adam had been thinking to tax her about her past at such a time. Raven would swear that sometimes the man was completely oblivious.
“Would you like to eat something first? You really must if you are to regain your strength.”
“Oh, very well,” Bri replied ungraciously. “Just so you leave me alone.”
Raven complacently placed a tray over the young lady’s lap and handed her a spoon. “Do you think you can manage on your own?” she asked with quiet concern.
“What the devil is this rot?” Bri exclaimed as she examined the bowl before her, ignoring Raven’s inquiry.
“That rot, as you so quaintly put it, is
cook’s never-fail remedy for ailing strength. She says you are to drink every last drop or you’ll have her to contend with.” Raven smiled brilliantly. “And I reckon Adam will be back in here to put a bug in your ear as well.”
“Let him, I’m not eating that slop,” Bri responded querulously.
“If you don’t get your strength back,” the actress retorted slyly, “then how do you suppose you will be able to escape Adam again?”
Bri shot her a penetrating look. Then she grinned. “You’re right, you know. I wouldn’t want him to get lazy and fat just because I neglected to give him a run for his money.”
“That’s the spirit! Now eat it all. Can you manage?” she asked again.
“Yes, you can go beard the lion in his den as I know you are itching to do,” Bri replied with a smile.
Raven smiled back and that was the start of a most unconventional friendship between a titled lady of good birth and upbringing and a confessed lady of the night.
Adam was in his study going over his accounts when Raven entered the room. Her wool skirts swirled around her and he wondered why she still insisted on wearing her “governess” costumes when everyone knew who she was and what she was to him.
“To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” Adam asked politely as he rose from his chair.
“I’m curious,” his mistress commented as she came around to his side of the desk and put her arms around his waist. She looked up at him with a benign expression on her beautiful face. “Do you want her dead or do you just delight in tormenting her?”
Adam placed his hands on Raven’s shoulders. His voice was calmly inquiring when he replied but his eyes held dangerous sparks. “What business is that of yours, my dear?”
“I like her, Adam. I won’t let you destroy her.”
“As I’ve destroyed you?” he asked quietly.
Raven felt a lump in her throat. Did she secretly blame Adam for her own lack of moral conviction? She supposed she did, somewhat. But how on earth would he guess such a thing?