Redemption (The Reckless Rockwoods Book 4)

by Monica Burns

  “Damnation!” Out of habit, he pulled his watch from his white vest and flipped it open. The feel of the gold pocket watch against the pads of his fingers always soothed him. Noting the time, he tucked it back into his pocket. “It appears Chantrel’s drug has rendered you immobile and speechless. Can you possibly blink your eyes?”

  Relief lit her gaze and he saw her eyelids blink once. Satisfied they were finally getting somewhere, he nodded sharply. “Excellent. One blink is yes, two is no. Understood?”

  Another blink of her eyelids answered his question.

  “You’re quick. I like that.” He nodded and bit back a smile at the irritation that flared in her eyes. “I must admit, I don’t think I’ve ever been in such a fortunate position before. That is—being in the company of a woman who doesn’t talk, for whatever reason.”

  This time he couldn’t keep from smiling at the anger in her eyes. It made her green eyes dark as the thick summer’s grass at Melton Park. Sebastian raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and shook his head. “Fair enough, I’ll restrict my comments until you’ve regained use of your tongue.”

  Contempt flashed in her gaze and the moonlight reflected the gold sparks in her eyes. The look she gave him would have been lethal if it had been a weapon. It didn’t matter. He enjoyed watching the entrancing sparks of outrage illuminating her eyes. Sweet Jesus, he’d truly lost his senses if he were comparing her eyes to grass with gold sparks. Maudlin rubbish is what it really was. He needed to remain focused on the business at hand

  “Helen. That is your name, correct?” He paused. The affirmative response allowed him to proceed. “Do you have family?”

  The fear in her eyes made him frown as her single blink told him she had family. He eyed her with curiosity.

  “Mother?” Two blinks. “Father?”

  Once more, she blinked twice. Her agitation increased, and Sebastian saw her lips twitch, which told him she was desperately fighting the drug that controlled her. A garbled sound tumbled from her lips.

  “Eh..erd”

  “What? I don’t understand.” Panic flickered in her eyes as she silently pleaded with him to comprehend. He grimaced. It could be hours before she was coherent. “It’s all right. The drug should wear off by morning. We’ll sort everything out then.”

  The coach jerked to a halt and Sebastian climbed out of the vehicle. The lights of Melton House were a soft glow on the side of the carriage as he leaned back inside and lifted Helen into his arms. As Sebastian strode up the steps into the town home, he tried to ignore the way her body warmed his in all the wrong places. The sooner he found a safe haven for Helen, the better. If he waited too long, his prized control might easily slip with this woman. And that was unacceptable.

  Chapter 2

  October 1897

  Helen stirred beneath a warm blanket. A fierce thumping pounded her head with vengeance, and she moaned. Raising a hand to her throbbing brow, she forced herself to sit up. The pain forced her to keep her eyes squeezed shut as she gently massaged her aching temples.

  “Oh, miss! You’re awake at last.”

  Startled by the unexpected sound of another’s voice, Helen’s eyes flew open to see a young girl at the foot of the bed. Confused, she blinked. Where was she? Strange, jumbled images flooded her head, and she moaned again. Dear lord, her head hurt almost as much as her back. She moved stiffly to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “Where am I?” Her voiced sounded so hoarse. It was almost a croak.

  “Melton House, miss. His Lordship asked that you be shown to the library by nine this morning.”

  Melton. Where had she heard that name before? Last night. She’d heard it last night when Madame Chantrel—oh, dear God, it hadn’t been a nightmare. She really had been bought and sold. He’d bought her. Of all the images mixed up in her head, his face was the only one that wasn’t a blur.

  Tall and broad shouldered, he had stood out amidst the small crowd of men last night. Those black eyes of his, blazing with fire in the dim light. It had been as if he’d wanted to devour her. Helen swallowed hard as she remembered exactly why the man had bought her.

  “Come along now, miss, his lordship don’t like to be kept waiting.” The petite maid clucked as she urged Helen to her feet.

  “Lord Melton…this is his house?”

  “That it is, miss. Although the man does have his hands full what with all of his sisters living here with him. It’s a good thing his brothers have their own livings over near Bond Street.”

  “Is there a Lady Melton?” The moment she asked the question, she winced. If the man was married, it wouldn’t bring home a prize he’d won in a brothel auction.

  “Oh, heavens no, miss. His lordship don’t have the patience for women. He says he’ll never marry.” Busy shaking out a blue silk gown, the maid laughed then draped the dress over a beautifully carved, wood folding screen. “It’s a great pity though. Handsome man he is. And those eyes, mercy me, they’re enough to make a girl melt right where she stands.”

  Helen bit her lip. The maid was right. Lord Melton’s eyes were hypnotic. In the carriage last night, his eyes had caressed her the way a lover might. Then, as if he’d suddenly realized he’d revealed too much, he’d retreated behind a mask of indifference. But even in those brief moments, she’d seen a glimmer of what she hoped was amusement and kindness.

  “The earl is a real stickler for time, miss, so I’ll go get your breakfast while you freshen up. I’ve brought you one of Miss Louisa’s gowns. I’m sure it will fit you since the two of you are about the same size.”

  “Miss Louisa?” Helen used the heel of her palm to apply pressure to the spot just above the bridge of her nose. Lord, but her head throbbed like a church bell. It was as if Uncle Warren had beaten her senseless.

  “Yes, miss. She’s the youngest of the Rockwoods. And the most mischievous of the lot. His Lordship’s had a devil of a time with her over the last year.” The maid looked at a small watch pinned to her bodice. “Lord, love me. His lordship won’t be happy with me if I don’t have you downstairs in less than an hour. Go on now, freshen up and I’ll be back shortly with your breakfast.”

  Helen got out of bed as the girl darted from the room. For the first time since waking, she took in her surroundings. She liked the simplicity of the bedroom. White gauze draped softly from the bed’s canopy, its filmy transparency echoed in the window’s curtains. Next to the dressing screen stood a washstand, while a dressing table with a mirror reflected her image back at her.

  She grimaced at her tousled hair. Brushing out the knots would take time. To the right of the bed was a small fireplace with a marble mantle. Except for a small clock, the mantle was devoid of any ornamentation. The sight of the timepiece reminded her of how particular the maid had been about being on time. Clearly, the earl ran a precise household. Her mouth tightened with pessimism. A man who was concerned with time would most likely be devoted to rules. Rules that inflicted pain. It was the reason she’d fled Mayfield with Edward. That and Cousin Albert. She shuddered at the memory of her cousin. If it hadn’t been for Edward, she would have…

  “Dear God, Edward.”

  Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Sinking down onto the mattress, she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as bile rose in her throat. How could she have forgotten her brother until now? Where was he? Had the earl sent for him? She needed to know Edward was safe.

  With a sharp movement, she sprang to her feet and hurried to the washstand. The cool water chilled her as it splashed over her skin. It was a vivid reminder of the icy fear sluicing through her veins. In short order, she was throwing her night rail over the wooden screen and retrieving the undergarments the maid had provided.

  As the silk chemise whispered over her shoulders, she waited for the fire to flare over her back. Despite the soft fabric, it scraped painfully at the fresh, vicious welts. The marks had even appalled Madame Chantrel. At the time, Helen thought the woman was being kind. Now she was cert
ain the woman had only been concerned that the wounds might detract from the price she expected Helen to bring.

  Swallowing the urge to cry out from the pain the garment inflicted, Helen clenched her teeth and waited for the fire to subside into a familiar raw throb. A quiet knock on the door made her jump, her pain ebbing slightly as dread slashed through her. Had Lord Melton come for her himself? The anticipation skimming through her body shocked her.

  Dear lord, perhaps her uncle had been right about her all along. Helen whirled around to see a young woman step into the room. The girl, her dark brown hair gathered up on top of her head in a style that flattered her heart-shaped face, tilted her head and smiled.

  “I thought I’d come help you dress since I know Mary has gone to fetch you breakfast. It’s Helen, isn’t it?” The young woman didn’t wait for Helen’s nod. Instead, she smiled cheerfully and brushed past Helen, carelessly grabbing the blue dress off the folding screen. “I’m Louisa. Or at least I will be until Sebastian learns I’m here and not at the family estate in Scotland. It won’t surprise me in the least to hear him call me something quite different.”

  With a merry laugh, Louisa gathered up the skirt of the gown and moved forward to slip the silk dress over Helen’s head. Before Helen could even object, Louisa spun her around do up the button on the back of the gown. The girl’s audible gasp echoed over her shoulder, causing Helen to grow rigid. Because the crop marks were still so tender, she’d forgone wearing the corset the maid had left her. From the other girl’s shocked outburst, the ugly wounds had to be clearly visible through the thin chemise covering her back.

  “Who did this to you,” Louisa exclaimed with suppressed fury.

  The question didn’t surprise her. Not looking at the young woman, Helen shook her head. She had no desire to explain the circumstances she and Edward had left. Uncle Warren had contacts among members of London’s society. The slightest bit of information could easily lead him to where she was.

  “It is of little consequence,” she said with stoicism.

  “Little consequence,” the girl behind her bit out. “I think you should have your head examined. These marks are barely healed. Have you had a doctor look at these?”

  “There’s no need,” Helen said quietly as she reached behind her to button the dress.

  A gentle hand squeezed hers as Louisa pushed Helen’s hands aside and resumed closing the back of the gown. The silence hanging in the air was heavy with Louisa’s unspoken questions, and Helen trembled. She wanted to forget the past. Forget the way Cousin Albert constantly tried to trap her in a dark corner to steal a kiss or worse. She shuddered at the unpleasant memory. Then there was the sting of her uncle’s riding crop against her back. She didn’t want to remember any of it. Determined to avoid any further questions, Helen turned to face the other woman.

  “Thank you for the loan of your dress, it’s very generous of you.”

  “I’m pleased we’re about the same size,” Louisa said. The young woman’s voice reflected a compassion Helen had longed for so often over the past twelve years. Louisa smiled at her. “Besides, it gave me the excuse to meet you. Everyone is in a dither over your mysterious arrival last night. Polly, my maid, was all agog about how romantic it was.”

  “It was far from romantic, I assure you,” Helen said in a stilted voice.

  Last night had been a nightmare. Heat burned Helen’s neck and cheeks as she vaguely remembered Lord Melton carrying her into the house.

  Even rendered powerless by drugs, her nerve endings had tingled at the man’s touch. Helen swallowed the knot suddenly swelling in her throat and glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantle. It was almost nine. She could not afford to irritate the earl. It was quite unlikely Madame Chantrel would have released Edward as well as herself, and she would need the earl’s help in rescuing her brother.

  “Oh dear, I’m awfully sorry. I’m being nosy again. Sebastian dislikes it enormously when I pry into someone else’s affairs,” Louisa said as she moved around to eye Helen with a gleam of speculation in her warm, hazel eyes. “Still, I must say, my brother’s behavior is extremely unusual. I can’t remember the last time he even looked at a woman, let alone brought one home. But then, Sebastian has always worked hard to bury the romantic side of him.”

  Another knock echoed in the room, and the maid entered with a breakfast tray. The smell of eggs and kippers drifted into the room, immediately making her feel queasy. The last thing she wanted to do at this moment was eat. It would be impossible to do anything at all until she knew Edward was free of Madame Chantrel’s grasp. Without hesitating, she walked toward the door.

  “Where on earth are you going?” Louisa stopped Helen with a gentle tug of her arm. “You haven’t even eaten yet.”

  “I’m sorry, but I must speak with his Lordship.”

  “Of course, but Sebastian can wait.” Louisa dismissed her brother with a wave of hand, but Helen shook her head firmly.

  “His Lordship might be willing to wait, but I cannot.”

  “As you wish,” Louisa replied, eyebrows arched in curiosity. “But I must warn you, Sebastian is not someone you want to face on an empty stomach.”

  The sincerity in Louisa’s voice made her hesitate. The earl was most certainly intimidating, but she’d faced far more daunting inquisitions from her uncle than anything the Earl of Melton could inflict on her. Edward’s visage entered her mind’s eye once more, and she responded with another firm shake of her head.

  “No, I must speak with his Lordship now.”

  “Very well,” Louisa nodded with a perplexed smile. “Beth, will you show Miss…”

  “Rivenall,” Helen said when Louisa sent a questioning look in Helen’s direction.

  “Show Miss Rivenall to the library, where I’m certain my brother is enjoying his morning paper.” As Helen followed the maid out of the room and down the hall, Louisa’s voice rang out behind her. “And remember, his bark is worse than his bite.”

  Despite her deep concern for Edward’s safety, the puckish remark made Helen’s mouth curl upward slightly. Following Beth down the hallway, Helen heard the soft whisper of her dress against the carpet. The blue dress was lovelier than anything she’d ever worn. The two dresses she owned were threadbare and marked with darning. No. She no longer owned any dresses. Madame Chantrel had her clothes and Edward. Guilt lashed out at her with the same fierce fire as the marks her uncle had left on her back. How could she even begin to take pleasure in the dress she wore, while her brother’s fate had yet to be determined? A shiver skimmed down her back. She could only hope the earl would help her a second time.

  With the petite maid in the lead, they turned the corner of the hallway and moved down an impressive staircase. Melton House had a completely different air from Mayfield. The creamy colored walls were starkly different from the dark, oppressive interior of Uncle Warren’s house.

  Even the ancestral portraits didn’t stare down at her with stern, critical eyes as they did at Mayfield. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Beth had reached the foot of the stairs, and she moved quickly to catch up with the girl. If the earl was as rigid as her uncle, she had no wish to be late for their appointment. She needed his help and that meant being as conciliatory as she could be.

  Chapter 3

  Present Day

  Sebastian tossed his morning newspaper aside, and leaned back in his chair. Fingers rubbing against his chin, he considered Caleb’s visit bright and early this morning. His brother was forcing his hand in how to deal with Chantrel’s establishment. Sebastian had intended to report his suspicions about the woman’s illegal actions to McBride this morning and go with the Inspector to the establishment this afternoon in his efforts to find Georgina.

  While his brother agreed to give McBride until midday to answer Sebastian’s summons, Caleb had made it quite clear that he wouldn’t wait much past the noon hour to launch a rescue. Worse, Caleb had bluntly declared he would do whatever was necessary with or withou
t Sebastian’s help. It left Sebastian no choice but to agree to his brother’s demands.

  Sebastian understood his brother’s concern for Georgina. If they waited too long the girl could easily be hurt, perhaps worse. God help him if McBride didn’t arrive soon. Without the inspector, Sebastian’s only recourse would be to plan the woman’s rescue and inform the police after the fact. Damnation. Why couldn’t his family control their emotions like him?

  He’d learned at an early age how to hold himself in check when it came to his impulsive nature. Unintentionally, his gaze swung to his mother’s portrait above the fireplace. Pain lanced its way through him as he remembered the sound of her laughter. If only he hadn’t—he buried the memory deep in his head as he picked up his discarded newspaper.

  Frowning, he read the sensational headline Terror in the East End. The brutal second murder in Whitechapel had been fodder for the scandal sheets all week. They fed off this type of tragedy. He skimmed the article and frowned. Considering the barbaric manner the madman had butchered Annie Chapman, he needed to arrange for a few precautions.

  Louisa would have to be told not to go anywhere without one of the footmen, and Sebastian would see to it the men were armed. Although the murdered woman had been a prostitute in an area far removed from Mayfair, Sebastian wasn’t willing to take chances with any of the women in his care. And that included Helen. The thought of his newly acquired charge made him close his eyes for a moment.

  He’d slept little last night, and when he had finally fallen asleep, wild, erotic images of Helen entwined in his arms and riding him with wanton abandon had filled his dreams. With a groan, Sebastian leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk and clutch at his head.

  Deeply ingrained, his self-control was a trait he valued and took great pride in. It was something he’d learned at an early age. But it had been years since anything had challenged his self-discipline with such intensity. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.