The School for Brides

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  “Eva . . .” He reached for her arm to stop the pacing. He touched the side of her face. The soft skin was clammy under his warm palm. “Sweet, I know Lord Maddington. They do not call him the Mad Lord for naught. He is a violent man. He almost killed a footman for dropping a vase. If your Yvette is indeed at Highland Abbey, she is well guarded. None of his servants will dare betray him. They fear him too much.”

  Beneath his hands she shook. “Please help her, Nicholas.” Her bottom lip trembled and tears filled the corners of her eyes. “We cannot allow her to be murdered!”

  A sob broke from her. He eased her into his arms. Her shaking turned into quiet weeping as rain and tears soaked through his shirt. She felt small and vulnerable, tucked against his chest. Protective feelings welled inside him, and he murmured soothing sounds until she quieted.

  Spent, she lifted her head and sniffled. “I apologize for bringing this to you, Your Grace. Yvette is not your concern.” She stepped back and released her grip on his shirt. He cupped her face with both hands. He hated to see her so dejected.

  “I promise I will do what I can for your friend.” He leaned to press his lips to her forehead. “Allow me a day or two to see what I can discover. Promise?”

  Slowly, Eva nodded. But the dark spark he saw in her eyes, just before she turned and walked to the door, narrowed his eyes and roused suspicion.

  “Eva.” Her hand rested on the door handle and she looked over her shoulder. The dull pain in her eyes had faded. She looked as if she was about to do something reckless.

  Short of tying her to his bed, he had to remain confident that Harold would keep a watch over her while the Runners looked into the kidnapping. “Do not do anything foolish.”

  “I will not.” She nodded stiffly. “Good day, Your Grace.”

  For the remainder of the afternoon, a sickening dread settled deep in his gut.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I cannot sit here in my room and do nothing,” Eva said. She leaned back against the pillows on her bed, then leaned forward, turned, and punched the closest pillow into a downy pulp before slumping back against it. She felt so overwhelmingly helpless and frustrated. “Yvette is in danger.”

  Noelle reclined on an elbow at the foot of the bed and traced a finger around the floral pattern on the coverlet. Summoned by Eva, Noelle had rushed to the Mayfair house. Though Noelle didn’t know Yvette, Eva was sure she sympathized with her plight. What woman would not? To be kidnapped and likely abused by a man with a history of violence was a terrifying nightmare all women could understand.

  “Did His Grace not say he would help?” Noelle had faith in the powers of a duke on a mission. It was a faith Eva didn’t share. No one man was all-powerful and able to work miracles. Not even the dark duke. “I think it best if you allow him a few days to see what he can do. A man of his stature can engage the Runners to action in ways we cannot.”

  The unshakable belief in His Grace rankled. It wasn’t as if Eva didn’t believe Nicholas could do what he said. It was the waiting she took issue with. Never patient to begin with, she felt each tick of the clock batter through her mind with piercing accuracy. Time was wasting, and she couldn’t bear it!

  “A few days? We might as well serve up Yvette to the earl on a platter with an apple in her mouth,” Eva snapped. She crossed her arms and blew hair out of her eyes. “Lord Maddington nearly killed a man. Does that not warrant immediate action?”

  “And what, exactly, does this immediate action entail?” Noelle said. She pushed up on the bed. “Do you ride up to his door on Muffin, dressed in medieval armor, and demand her release? Or roust the villagers, arm them with pitchforks and flaming torches, and launch an attack on the abbey?”

  “I don’t appreciate you mocking me, sister,” Eva scolded.

  Noelle leaned on one palm. She reached out to place her other hand on Eva’s outstretched ankle. “I do understand your worry, and I apologize. However, if this man is as dangerous as His Grace believes, you must not cross him. His Grace will help. I know he will. He will do anything for you.”

  Perhaps not anything. He would not give her his name, a home, and children. But she had more urgent concerns right now. She would think about what to do about His Grace later, once Yvette was safe.

  “I will allow him no more than two days,” Eva said firmly. Two days loomed, seemingly without end. “No more. If Yvette is not rescued by then, I shall roust the villagers.”

  Eva shoved her black mourning gown into her satchel. The heavy wool garment was too small; it hadn’t been worn for almost four years, since the death of her elderly nurse. Still, it was the only black gown she owned and would have to do as a disguise. She could live with flattened breasts and shallow breathing as long as she was invisible in the darkness.

  She’d eaten her supper, read to her mother, and waited until everyone in the household went to bed. Then she wrote a note and packed two days of necessities after donning her spinster wig and spectacles.

  It was just before dawn when she slipped from the house and hurried across the damp grass of the garden, running out to the mews. Boothe, the groom, was snoring loudly as Eva stealthily slipped into the small stable.

  She’d seen Boothe saddle Muffin hundreds of times, and felt fairly confident she could manage without help. She pushed a note onto a nail by Muffin’s stall to assure Boothe the mare hadn’t been stolen, and set to work.

  The plump pony yawned and chewed slowly on bits of hay while Eva worked with efficiency, though it took several tries to get the saddle positioned correctly. Soon the task was complete. She tied the satchel behind the saddle and patted the horse gently on the rump.

  “Ready, love?” She led Muffin outside to a mounting block and slipped into the saddle. With the splash of orange and gold from the sun yet to make a full appearance, Eva pointed Muffin north, and prayed the mare could make the trip without expiring along the way from exhaustion.

  The road was pitted and muddy but clear, except for an occasional coach or farmer’s cart, as Eva and Muffin made the trip to the small village outside Highland Abbey. It had taken twice the hour or two most travelers needed to cover the distance. With many stops for Muffin to rest, it was early afternoon before she stabled the mare, took a room at the inn, and asked for food to be sent up.

  Famished, Eva ate a hearty stew in her room and then settled down for a nap. Muffin had one speed, slow, and one gait, jarring. Eva’s body ached in places she didn’t know one could ache. Still, they had made the trip in its entirety without the rotund little mare dropping onto her back, dead, her hooves in the air.

  A success indeed.

  Once refreshed, she pulled her wig and spectacles back on and left the inn. She wandered about the tiny village. A few businesses dotted the one road passing through it, and a smattering of houses made up the rest of the ramshackle occupied dwellings. One could nearly toss a stone from one end to the other. Clearly, the inn was the only reason anyone had for stopping on the way to somewhere else, and prosperity was only a dream to its residents.

  As casually as she could, Eva asked several villagers about Lord Maddington, in an effort to gain information about the man. She was met with glares and stony silence. The villagers were either fiercely loyal to the earl, who owned most of the property in the area, or too terrified to cross him and risk his wrath. She returned to the inn without any information to help her understand her adversary.

  Knowing Yvette was less than a mile up the road, and she could do nothing for her right then, left Eva on the verge of tears.

  She nibbled on some freshly baked bread and more stew, but the food sat like a lump in her belly. She finally pushed the bowl away and settled on the bed. It would be after midnight before she felt it would be safe to walk to the abbey and take a look around. She flopped back on the patched quilt and began a fitful evening of counting cracks in the plaster ceiling.

  Several hours later, just as her lids were beginning to droop with the pull of sleep, a sharp rap
on the door brought her upright on the bed with a start.

  Eva tiptoed to the door and pressed her ear to the rough plank. She heard nothing. Placing a hand over her heart for calm, she lowered her voice to a rough tenor and barked out, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s me, Rose.”

  Eva yanked the door open, mouth agape, to find several pairs of eyes staring back at her from the ill-lit hallway. Standing in a cluster and dressed like stable boys in homespun shirts, trousers, and caps were Rose, Sophie, Abigail, and Pauline. They smiled sheepishly, as if they’d been caught with their hands in someone else’s jewelry box.

  “Let us in. Quickly!” Rose whispered.

  Eva stepped back as they stumbled into the room, rushing to get out of sight.

  “What are you doing here?” Eva scowled as they pulled off their caps.

  “We came to help you rescue Yvette, of course,” said Pauline, looking around the simple room. She sat in the chamber’s only chair, then stretched out her legs in a most unladylike fashion. “We would have gotten here sooner, but had to wait for a coach heading in this direction.”

  Eva frowned. “But how did you know where I was?”

  “Harold came looking for you,” Abigail said, brushing dust off her shirt. “He was terribly concerned when he discovered you’d run off. We all were.”

  “Rose overheard you speaking with the investigator about Lord Maddington and the abbey and suspected you were planning to rescue Yvette,” said Sophie. “We knew you shouldn’t face such a task alone. So while Rose distracted the grooms, Abigail and I borrowed some clothing from the stable behind that huge town house at the end of the street.”

  “You stole clothing?” Eva asked, aghast.

  “We left a note. Unsigned of course,” Abigail broke in. “We will return the clothes when we return to London.” She worried a thumbnail between her teeth. “I’m certain no one saw us.”

  Eva’s worry increased tenfold. Knowing they cared enough to risk prison for her and Yvette lifted her spirits, in spite of their risky behavior. They were the closest to true women friends she had ever had. However, their presence had muddled up her plans.

  Though the company was welcome, she’d hoped to find a way to get to Yvette without drawing undue attention to herself or arousing the earl’s suspicions. The arrival of the four young “men” would surely cause a stir in this small village.

  “Were you seen sneaking into the inn?” Eva pressed.

  “We took the back stairs so no one would notice us. The innkeeper thinks we are bedding down in the stable,” Sophie offered. “One drunken sot out back was snoring and muttering in his sleep, but we came across no one else.”

  Thank goodness. “You should take the first coach back to London in the morning,” Eva said, working her bottom lip with her teeth. “You risk yourselves needlessly; I can handle this matter alone.”

  “Indeed?” Sophie dropped on the bed, leaned forward, and rested her elbows on her knees. The other three settled on either side of her. “If His Lordship catches you snooping around his property, he’ll have you shot. With five of us, we can create enough of a commotion to allow one of us to slip in and rescue Yvette.”

  A rap on the door stopped any further argument. Eva jumped and pressed a finger to her mouth to keep silent. Drat. The innkeeper must have heard something and become suspicious. If he tossed them out, there would be nowhere else to go at this hour.

  It wasn’t the innkeeper standing in the hallway when Eva opened the door with an apology on her lips.

  Noelle stood outside the door, dressed in widow’s black, with a lacy black veil covering her face and hair. It took Eva a second to recover from the shock, and then she closed a hand around her sister’s narrow wrist and yanked her inside.

  Locking the door tightly behind her, Eva slammed her hands on her hips and swept an exasperated look around the room. So much for her plot to take a stealthy look around Highland Abbey. Stealth didn’t include a sister and a gaggle of courtesans trotting at her heels.

  “Have we forgotten anyone? Or should I go downstairs and ask the innkeeper for another room with a row of beds?” Eva sighed. “Would you care to explain why you’re here, Noelle?”

  Her sister swept off her hat and tossed it on the bed. She pulled Eva into a rib-cracking hug and kissed her on the cheek. “I was worried you’d come to harm, so I came to rescue you from your good intentions.” She pulled back and stared at the other women, her brows up. “I see I wasn’t the only one with that notion. The battalion has arrived in full force.”

  Eva scowled. Who knew she was so incompetent and helpless? “Clearly I am much in need of assistance.”

  She introduced everyone, leaving out her sisterly connection to Noelle and her sister’s title. Proper decorum kept the former courtesans from questioning Noelle’s unexpected arrival.

  “We are Miss Eva’s students,” Rose broke in. She smiled prettily. “She is turning us from mistresses into wives.”

  Eva winced, wishing Rose had kept the information about the school to herself. Noelle knew too much about her already.

  “None of us want to be courtesans anymore,” Abigail chimed in, looking at Noelle, then down at her booted feet. “We cannot wait until the party next week, when we can find husbands!”

  “I see,” Noelle responded, with an ironic look at Eva. “An interesting profession you have, my dear.”

  All eyes on her, Eva shifted from foot to foot. She hadn’t expected her sister and courtesans ever to meet. This had the makings of a disaster.

  It was Noelle who came to her rescue with a quick change of topic. “Now that we have gathered the army together,” she said, “we must plot our troop movements. The enemy will be more numerous and better armed. We must use cunning and wits if this battle is to be successful and the prize captured.”

  At the upward cock of Eva’s brow, Noelle grinned and shrugged. “I was once courted by a major.”

  Eva realized right then that she couldn’t have chosen anyone better to plunge into this madcap and possibly fatal adventure with her than Noelle with her steel will and fearlessness.

  She reached out and took Noelle’s hand. They locked eyes, and no further words needed to be said. They would watch over each other, two sisters against a common enemy.

  Drawing in a deep breath, Eva reached her other hand toward Sophie, and soon they all stood hand in hand in a crude circle. They drew on each other for strength.

  “I know we believe Yvette is alive and we will be able to save her, but we must be prepared for the possibility that she may have perished.” Eva hated to say such a dismal thing aloud, but as the leader of this ragtag band, she had to be truthful and courageous.

  “We cannot storm the abbey and go right up to the door,” she continued. “The earl is an evil man. We must get in and out of the abbey with stealth, without raising an alarm.”

  “Imagine his face when he discovers Yvette gone,” Rose said with a giggle. Her blue eyes danced. “ ’Tis unfortunate we cannot geld him before we leave.”

  “No gelding,” Eva said. She needed to speak with Rose about her often expressed desire to geld men. It would certainly not endear her to her husband. “He has a house full of servants, and we’ll be outnumbered. He must not know he’s been robbed until he discovers the treasure gone in the morning. By then, we’ll be well away from here.”

  “And he will be free to torment another woman without suffering a single negative consequence for his behavior,” Abigail said, her voice strained. “It is a grave injustice when a man like that can do as he wishes and not suffer for it.”

  “It is an injustice, Abigail,” Noelle said. “That is why Eva helps her courtesans leave unhappy situations and why we will help Yvette. Clearly the earl is obsessed with your friend. That has kept her alive. It will be a small, if not appropriate, punishment once she’s been taken from him forever.”

  Eva took a moment to ponder the comment. She hadn’t looked at it that way. “Noelle
is correct. Though the mad lord will likely never face true justice, he’ll lose Yvette. I vow to take some satisfaction in that knowledge.”

  “I shall also,” Abigail said. “Reluctantly.”

  “I still think we should have brought Harold,” Rose interjected with an evil grin. “He could have gelded him easy.”

  Pauline snickered and swung out a foot to gently nudge Rose in the leg. Rose kicked back at her. Pauline narrowed her lids and frowned fiendishly. “For such an innocent face, you, dear Rose, have a very wicked mind.”

  Rose shrugged and released Eva’s and Pauline’s hands to tuck a loose bit of bright red hair under her cap. “My mum and her lecherous husband taught me not to trust anyone and to do what was needed to survive. If that includes having a bit of sport at the expense of men and their family baubles, well, I will not apologize.”

  Eva grinned at the image. Perhaps letting Rose geld the mad lord wasn’t such an unwelcome idea. He deserved harsh punishment, and gelding would leave him unable to abuse women sexually in the future.

  “If the need should arise tonight and the earl needs punishing, I promise it will be you, Rose, wielding the knife.” Eva waited until the uneasy giggles passed. “Now let us get to business. We have a battle to plan.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sophie and Rose managed to find breeches, shirts, and boots for Noelle and Eva. Eva didn’t ask them for details as she pulled on the too-large boots and laced them tight. Their crimes were piling up, and by the end of the evening, there’d be more. Tomorrow, she’d make sure all the borrowed garments were returned.

  Eva left the spectacles behind but kept her wig in place. The courtesans didn’t know her any other way, and her bright hair could draw unwelcome interest.