The Three Evesham Daughters: Books 1-3: A Regency Romance Trilogy

by Audrey Ashwood

  After she had been lucky twice before, it seemed as if fortune had refused to assist her this evening. At first, Felicity had been held back by her mother, who stopped by at bedtime to speak to Felicity once again about Lord Layton. Felicity had just managed to push her street shoes underneath the bed and pretend she was waiting for Brigid to help her get undressed. Never before had she had such a hard time putting on a cheerful face, as had been required in the few minutes during which her mother urged her to consider the young man with a little more benevolence than before. Felicity was able to keep the conversation short, but at the cost of agreeing to another excursion, or an outing at Almack’s.

  After her mother had finally retired, Felicity quickly slipped into her dark dress, with Brigid’s help. She put her winter coat on, threw a scarf around her shoulders, and crept downstairs with her maid. There, Joseph was already waiting – ready to accompany them.

  At first, Felicity had been against the idea, fearing the small group would arouse unnecessary attention. The fact that Joseph should have been in bed by that time, had also worried her. Only when the boy managed to convince her that he “always went to bed late,” had she finally agreed to allow him to accompany them. She had given in, not only because Joseph insisted (for a child he was really very stubborn), but also because, similarly to Brigid, he knew his way around the streets of London and Whitechapel. She did not expect him to protect her from danger – after all, he was still a child, for heaven’s sake, despite the fact that he had grown up on the streets – but Felicity was certain that she could learn something from him.

  In a way, it was almost fascinating how he and Brigid moved around the dark alleys of the city. They had a familiarity with the geography of the town and an almost instinctive knowledge of the dangers. They knew whom better to avoid and when to discern those who did not pose a threat. Before her unfortunate entanglement with the viscount, Felicity had never realised how sheltered she had been and how different her life was from those of most people.

  When they reached the ground floor and the door to the garden, through which they were going to slip out, a loud noise caused Felicity to freeze in her tracks. Brigid and Joseph put their heads together, frantically whispering about what they should do next. As they heard footsteps coming closer, Felicity’s heart was beating up into her throat, and she searched her mind for the best possible explanation of why she was here, dressed the way she was, at this late hour. It was Brigid who told them to wait there whilst she took on the task of eliminating the obstacle. It turned out to be one of the kitchen maids standing by the back door, presumably also waiting to get out of the house unseen. Felicity and Joseph were finally able to sneak into the garden, whilst Brigid reprimanded the girl and sent her back to her room.

  All of these unforeseen delays had not helped to eliminate Felicity’s discomfort, even though Joseph and Brigid did their best to try and calm her down and reassure her that everything would be fine.

  When he stepped out of the shadows of a house entrance and startled her, she could barely suppress a scream.

  “Good evening, Lady Feli,” he said, indicating a bow. Her heart jumped inside her chest when he uttered the short form of her name. From his mouth, the two words sounded like a compliment or almost a term of endearment. The dark-sounding timbre of his voice reminded her of a cat’s purr.

  “Brigid” – He bowed a second time – “and Joseph. Regardless of the occasion, I am glad you all made it here unscathed.”

  He held his hand out to Felicity, and she took it without hesitation. Unlike her, he was not wearing gloves. His fingers were warm, and his grip was firm, but not too tight. It felt… good. For one heartbeat, they looked into each other’s eyes without saying a word. In that very moment, Felicity felt a large amount of fear, which had been her constant companion over the past few months, fall away.

  “Let us discuss briefly what we must do,” he said. Although he was also including Brigid and Joseph, Felicity had the feeling that he had only addressed her. “I suggest that you follow the demands in the letter and wait for the man, whilst Brigid, Joseph and I keep a close eye on you. Talk to the man, agree to his request, but tell him you need at least a day or two to get the sum.” He squeezed her hand gently, which was still resting in his, and looked into her face inquiringly. “I wish there were a simpler solution, my Lady. Do you think you will be able to endure the man’s presence for a few minutes?”

  “Of course,” Felicity replied, even though she was far from being sure. “I assume you will follow him afterwards?” ‘The priest’ nodded. “Should there be any… unforeseen obstacles, Joseph will take on that task.” He nodded towards the boy, who stared at him with wide-open eyes, the admiration on his face almost palpable. The little man had not known that Lady Felicity’s ally would turn out to be none other than the mysterious boxer!

  Apparently, ‘the priest’ was a legend in the streets of London. Although she felt cold, and the situation was anything but invigorating, Felicity had to smile. When she was old and grey, she would be able to tell her grandchildren that she had known the most famous pugilist of his era!

  “That’s right,” the man in front of her said. “You are very brave, my Lady.” He leaned over her hand and indicated a kiss. Her smile deepened. Then he turned to Brigid as well. “Ladies, I want you both to return to the safety of your home as soon as the man leaves. Do I make myself clear?” His voice had lost all of its feline features. Felicity saw out of the corner of her eye that Brigid was nodding, but she, herself, was not quick enough to agree. His blue eyes fixed on her with a frighteningly adamant look. “Lady Felicity?”

  She flinched when he addressed her so familiarly by her name. Once again, she had the inkling that she knew him from somewhere else, not just as the mysterious masked man, but in his other official life. How could this be possible? Felicity knew no men of his class. Not because she did not want to, but because her parents barely had any private connections with wealthy tradesmen or merchants. However, this riddle had to wait. “Yes, I will do what you ask me to do,” she finally agreed and was rewarded with the flash of a satisfied smile behind the black mask. A strangely warm feeling spread inside her chest and dispelled the rest of her fears. She almost felt like the old Felicity... the one she had once been before Greywood had dragged her down into his abyss of intrigue – confident and almost strong enough to take on the blackmailer.

  “How can I ever thank you?” She would have gladly withdrawn the words with their double meaning, but it was too late. Before she could correct herself, the tall stranger smiled at her and gave her an answer that brought tears to her eyes.

  “By smiling with not a care, as you once did, Lady Feli.”

  Chapter 13

  Luke pushed aside the memory of her teary shimmering eyes and the combination of disbelief and gratitude on her face, as he disappeared behind the corner of a dark alley, which came out opposite St Botolph’s. It was a road riddled with rubbish that was only about twenty yards long and ended in a brick wall. His surveillance post was strategically well chosen. It was unlikely that the man would approach him from behind, and he was still within calling distance of Lady Felicity. He had positioned Brigid in a post at his right, whilst Joseph was hiding behind Felicity’s back to his left. The boy had proven to be a valuable addition to their jumbled group and was as reliable as Felicity had assured Luke he would be.

  The tower clock struck midnight. It was the appointed time. The man should be here soon, but Luke could not rely on him turning up at all. It was possible that the bastard was playing a game of cat and mouse with his victim, leaving Felicity to stew, only so he could gloat over her helplessness.

  Similar to the last time, Felicity was waiting by the portal of the whore’s church. She kept glancing in all directions, avoiding looking at Brigid who was busy chasing away a drunken suitor. It was good that she had turned her back on Luke when he moved to his post, and also that she did not know where Joseph was. A trained
observer would have noticed what or who she was looking at, but above all, which direction she was trying to avoid. As long as her adversary remained nothing but a faceless ghost, it was better to stay overcautious.

  Luke pressed his shoulder against the wall and made himself as slim as he could, even though he knew that he was as good as invisible with his black clothes, hiding in the shadow of the corner house. A movement to his right caught his attention, but it was only the drunkard who was still trying to persuade Brigid to accompany him. Even from a distance of twenty-five yards, Luke could see that the stubborn man was now waving a thick pouch of money in Brigid’s face. Dammit, he would have liked to intervene and said the right words to the unwelcome suitor, but that would have jeopardised his cover. His respect for the reformed prostitute grew, when he saw how she braced her arms against her hips and told the man unmistakably to be on his way. Well done, girl, he thought.

  His eyes went back to the church entrance, where a woman was approaching Felicity. The swinging hips, along with the tripping gait, and the conspicuous scarlet-red skirts, identified her as a woman of the night. Beneath her bonnet, which was more a scrap of fabric than a headdress, an abundance of red hair burst out. Felicity began to step nervously from one foot to another. Luke could see by the movement of her head, that the woman was saying something. Felicity reacted by shaking her head “no” and crossing her arms in front of her chest. The whore seemed to say something else and again, Felicity refused.

  By the way she held her body, Luke saw that it was not a pleasant exchange of words. Felicity pulled her shoulders forward and clasped her hands in the front of her coat. Thank heavens, the red-haired whore went on and positioned herself at some distance. He almost admired the woman’s impudence to have gone to take a closer look at her alleged competition, considered her harmless, and was now presenting her bodily assets despite the icy cold.

  In the meantime, the man who had been unsuccessful with Brigid, had halfway reached the spot where Felicity stood. Luke held his breath as the lovesick drunkard’s head turned back and forth between the redhead and Felicity. Leave them alone! he silently invoked the man, forcing himself to release his tight fists. However, much to Luke’s displeasure, the man seemed to prefer Felicity’s modest dress and her shy demeanour over the more obvious woman, because he walked directly towards her. The redhead spat out a whole barrage of obscene enticements at the man, words that not only surprised Luke, but would have made a sailor blush.

  You can do that, he told Felicity in his thoughts, watching how she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. They were too far away for him to hear the nascent exchange. He had no other choice but to watch while searching their surroundings for suspicious movements. The clock tower announced the quarter of an hour, as the drunk eventually stumbled on wobbly legs to the red-headed woman. There his advances were welcomed. Luke saw the woman link arms with him and the two of them walked away.

  He glanced over towards Felicity, who was frozen on the spot where she stood. She turned her face towards the moon as if to plead for help. Brigid was becoming restless and he noticed how she kept looking over to her mistress. What was going on over there? Felicity’s tender body seemed to sway. She reached out towards the left, trying to lean against one of the pillars. Dammit, something was not right! Luke looked towards his left, where the redhead and her client were fast disappearing into one of the many side alleys surrounding the church forecourt. Even for a whore who had found a willing client, she was in a hurry – and the man… Luke squinted. He no longer stumbled like a drunk.

  Thinking and taking action became one thing. As he sprinted after the pair, he glanced over to Brigid, who had begun to move at the same time as him. Good. As much as he wanted to look after Felicity, it would not make any sense. He could not let the rage that he had been tricked, take over his rational thinking. He had to follow that man!

  Was the street-woman his accomplice? Luke turned into the alley where they had disappeared, grateful for his soft leather shoes, which did not reveal his presence in the silence of the night. He believed that he saw the two figures in front of him. The smaller woman trotted up front, the beefy man followed her closely. In the silence of the night, the clacking of her heels on the cobblestones could be heard loud and clear. They had not gone far before they turned left. Luke quickened his pace. In that moment, of all times, the waning moon chose to disappear behind a few clouds. Just before he reached the street corner, Luke stopped. He had no idea what made him stop – instinct, his experience on the battlefield, or the sudden absence of any sound – but he did.

  It saved his life that night, for that instant, just as he turned left to follow the dubious couple, he saw, a mere ten yards in front of him, a treacherous flash of fire, which came from firing a weapon, and he heard the bang. Something hit him in the side. It burned and became wet. He sank to his knees. Instinctively, he pressed his right hand against his hip, where the bullet had grazed him, and looked down. It was not a serious injury, even though the wound burned like hell. He looked back up.

  The female shooter was not the best – otherwise she would have killed him, at this short distance. Or was that not her intention, after all? The couple did not show any intention of leaving, probably because they wanted to make sure that they had hit their target. Now that they were aware of him following them, he no longer wasted any thoughts on keeping up his cover. He got back up and began to resume the pursuit.

  He only managed to take a few steps, because fate then chose to throw another obstacle in his way. Behind him, he heard the unmistakable sound of a woman’s footsteps. He turned around. It was Felicity who, despite his instructions, was now storming towards him. Her terrified eyes told him everything he needed to know.

  She worried about him.

  A strange feeling filled his chest.

  Then he heard the second bang. Without thinking, he threw himself over Felicity and yanked her with him to the ground.

  “Oh, my God, are you all right?”

  Felicity tried desperately to wriggle her way out from underneath ‘the priest’s’ body. How was it possible that a human body could be so heavy? Even for a man of his stature, he suddenly seemed to weigh at least double her own weight. Or was it because he was wounded and unconscious? In another, far less rational part of her mind, she perceived even stranger things. For example, she suddenly became fully aware of the number of places where her and ‘the priest’s’ bodies touched. There were many places! Even through the voluminous layers of her clothing, she could feel the heat he radiated. It was a terribly embarrassing feeling, and at the same time confusingly pleasant – even exciting! And there was something else that clouded her head. He somehow smelled… indescribably good. It was not that Felicity could have said exactly what he smelled like – if at all, he smelled like raw, fresh soap. All of these thoughts shot through Felicity’s head as she tried to push his upper body a bit to the side and slide out from under him. Finally, she succeeded. Behind her, she heard Brigid calling, and there was also Joseph’s young voice. In front of her, Felicity heard the sound of retreating footsteps. She did not waste any thoughts about her own dirty appearance, and even fewer on her safety, but she got up onto her knees and turned towards him. He lay there, on his stomach, motionless, as if he were asleep… or dead.

  Just as she had seen the family doctor doing it, when he measured her pulse, she took his wrist in between her fingers and felt for his heartbeat. Nothing. She tore the gloves from her fingers and repeated the gesture. Still nothing.

  “Open your eyes,” she pleaded, leaning forward. With a strength that she did not know she had, she rolled ‘the priest’ onto his back, pushed aside his black coat, and pressed her ear against the spot on his chest, where she was hoping to – please, please, please – hear his heart beating.

  The blood rushed in her ears. For a moment, she thought she only heard her own heart, but that was impossible, because her own pulse was racing, whilst the dull throbb
ing at her ear sounded calm and regular.

  He was alive!

  She let out the breath she had been holding. Two arms embraced her around her shoulders and pressed her against him. She raised her head. He was alive, although he was obviously in great pain, revealed by his tightly pressed lips. She saw that the fabric of his mask had moved slightly. Was he wounded beneath it? She believed that she saw blood in the faint moonlight. Even though she felt nauseous, her hands went up to take off the mask.

  Fingers as strong as steel closed around her wrist.

  “Do not,” he managed to say. “Or…”

  “Or what?” Felicity asked, keeping still. She realised that she was still kneeling beside him, closer to him than would be deemed appropriate. But what did it matter now? He had risked his life for her, without even a thought, and he had taken the bullet that was destined for her.

  “You are hurt. Let me see your wound.”

  “It is just a graze,” he insisted.

  “Please,” she whispered. “I want to see the face of the man who risked his life for me.” Footsteps sounded right next to her. Brigid and Joseph had joined them. Felicity looked at him, at this man who, despite his severe pain, would rather suffer than reveal his secret.

  “Joseph, do you know where the nearest doctor is?” she asked and sat up the moment he released her wrists. “Or you, Brigid?”

  “I do not need a doctor – it was just a grazing shot!” He sounded impatient, but Felicity ignored the displeasure in his voice.

  “I want to make sure of that myself,” she replied determinedly.

  “Before we lose any more time, let me have a look,” Brigid said, and dropped to her knees on the other side of the boxer. He tried to sit up, but Felicity was faster and pressed her flat hand against his chest. To hell with etiquette!