Allegra cried out, her hand flying to her mouth. Her little chair! Just as Old Bibby had described it. The chair that Papa had meant as a gift for her. The chair she had never seen, that had been delivered the day before Papa’s arrest.
She felt a quivering jolt in the pit of her stomach, a flutter on her shoulder as though someone had touched her. “Papa?” she whispered, half expecting a reply. She shuddered and stared about the room in growing panic, feeling as though the walls were narrowing, the furniture about to smother her. The shadowed corners were suddenly alive. Papa, Mama, Lucinda, Charlie.
Oh, God! She heard their voices, heavy with sorrow, calling her name. Anne Allegra! Annie! Anne! They beckoned to her from the dimness, their ghostly forms swirling around her so she cowered in fear. The very whisper of breath from their mouths, their ancient, faded scents—caught in the folds of draperies and cushions, in carvings and paintings—filled her nostrils with the musty sweetness of the grave. She saw their eyes, burning with accusation. You still live, and have done nothing? they murmured. Remember us. Remember us!
She began to tremble in an excess of horror. All the long-dead memories, all the pain that she had denied, came crowding in with the specters of her family. She was in a world beyond tears. She sucked in great gasping mouthfuls of fetid air, her eyes wide and staring in terror; she wrapped her arms around her shaking body to protect herself from their onslaught. And still they crowded close, closer, beseeching her with their cries, their open arms.
She heard sounds coming from her own throat; they scarcely seemed human. A wailing, moaning cry that burst from her with every breath she took. “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
“My God, girl, have you seen a ghost?” Grey Ridley loomed in the doorway, frowning. He threw off his hat and strode into the room. He took her roughly by the shoulders. “What is it?” he demanded.
She shook her head. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t stop her trembling. She couldn’t drive away the ghosts. She continued to moan in helpless pain, her body shaking convulsively.
He muttered a curse and pulled her into his arms, pressing her against his breast. She felt his hands on her back—stroking, comforting. “Don’t be frightened,” he said. “There’s nothing to fear.” He held her more tightly as she continued to tremble. “Come now, what did you see? A harmless mouse? A shadow that frightened you? Was it a bad dream?”
He was solid and real. She clung to him in desperation, her fists clutching the front of his coat, her face buried in his chest, and willed the ghosts to leave her in peace. After a little while, her racing heart slowed, her quivering body quieted, soothed by his strong embrace.
A bad dream? God knows that was the truth. She nodded. “Yes,” she managed to croak. “A bad dream.”
He laughed gently. “’Tis a forbidding room even by daylight. You should never come here at night.”
She lifted her head from his breast and looked at him. He was frowning in tender concern. But in another moment he might begin to wonder why she was here. And she hadn’t regained her wits enough to invent a plausible lie. She stirred in his arms. “I’ve quite recovered, milord,” she whispered. “Don’t trouble yourself with me any further. I’ll just go on to my room.”
“Nonsense. You can scarcely stand alone yet. You’re shaking like an aspen leaf. Come and sit down.” Still holding her close, he led her to the settee.
She sat reluctantly, but made a feeble attempt to move away from him. “Truly, milord…I…”
He pulled her tightly against him once more. “I will not have disobedience. I order you to stay just so, in my arms, until you cease your trembling.” Though the words were scolding, the voice that uttered them was warm and benevolent. “That’s better,” he said, as she relaxed into his embrace.
Surrendering, she nestled in his arms. He was a comfort against the fading specters—his words, his voice, his very corporeal presence. What harm to allow herself this ease? A few minutes, no more, and then she would find an excuse to leave. His hands were on her back and the nape of her neck, caressing her in a soothing rhythm. How sweet and pleasant. She had not thought she could ever feel so protected again.
His gentle hand moved around from her neck to stroke the side of her face; he cradled her jaw for a moment, then lifted her chin. He gazed into her eyes, his thumb making soft circles on her cheek. He ran his finger down the bridge of her nose and across her trembling lips, as though his fingertips meant to record her face. He traced the arch of her brows, ruffled the feathery fringes of her eyelashes. His delicate touch enchanted her, lulled her into a sweet, safe realm.
“So somber. So tragic,” he murmured. “That lovely mouth.” He sighed heavily. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her bosom. “The fair Allegra. What must I do to make you smile?”
She gulped, hot tears springing to her eyes. “I’ve almost forgotten how.”
He sighed again. “Why are we slaves to our own demons?”
She felt his pain as sharply as her own. “’Tis very lonely, this life.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Not all the time. Even a hermit needs the sound of a human voice, now and again. The warmth of another hand.” His eyes focused on her mouth. “And a sad-eyed woman needs to be kissed,” he whispered. “If she will allow,” he added, a flicker of doubt crossing his face.
She closed her eyes. He had always wanted her. She had seen his desire as a need—for whatever reason—to possess her and soothe his soul. But now she knew that her need was as strong as his. That her longing to be cherished again had become an open sore, a wound to her heart that would only be healed by a human bond. She opened her eyes and smiled at him. Tentative, and a little frightened. “Yes,” she said softly. “She will allow. Grey.”
He returned her smile. “How sweet to hear you speak my name.” He put his lips on hers. It was a gentle kiss at first, the soft, soothing, comforting kiss of a dear comrade. But as she returned it, her eager mouth thrusting to meet his, his gentle kiss became a delirium of passion. He groaned with desire. His lips were suddenly hard, firm, demanding. Inhaling her own lips as though he were a desperate man satisfying a great hunger. Roughly, he pressed his finger against her chin, forcing her lips to part, and filled her mouth with his searching tongue.
She gasped in helpless pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck. Every sensual movement of his tongue—a frenzied pulsing in and out—sent spasms of delight racing through her body. She moaned softly, lost in the wonders of his burning kiss.
Panting, he lifted his head from hers at last. “Oh, God. How delicious you are. Your mouth is honey. Nectar of the gods.” He pulled the linen square from her neck, bent his head and kissed the swelling roundness of her breasts. His mouth was a searing flame on her skin and she trembled anew, her head thrown back in an agony of sensual pleasure.
She felt his hand on her knee, tugging at her skirts until his fingers touched naked flesh. He stroked her quivering thighs, fondling the firm young limbs while she writhed in exquisite joy. It was an intimate caress, new and wonderful and heart-stopping. Then his impatient hand clutched at her furry softness and she cried aloud. His fingers were hard, more demanding, more aggressive than his mouth had been; they rubbed against her delicate cleft, kneading and touching her in ways that set her body on fire. Her loins contracted in hot, eager spasms against his hand, and she gasped when he responded by thrusting his finger deep within her.
She tangled her hand in the hair at his nape and pulled his head up to hers, seeking fresh kisses. She was lost in a haze of ecstasy. She wanted nothing more than to return to him some measure of the joy he was bringing to her. She kissed him with all the passion in her, then pushed her tongue against his mouth, begging entry.
Instead, he released her body and her lips and stood up. “You sorceress,” he said, his voice rasping with passion. “You tantalizing witch. Do you think I’ll let you tease me with your kisses? When I’ve waited so long?” He fumbled at the ties of his cloak with shaking h
ands, and muttered a curse when the strings knotted.
Allegra lay back on the settee, waiting, watching him, trembling with longing. The light of the single candle was behind him; it cast his looming shadow across her where she lay. She shivered, feeling a moment’s uneasiness and fear. He was so impatient. So hungry. And when he swore loudly, ripped the cloak from his shoulders and threw it to the floor, she shivered again. So impatient and hungry. And so filled with lust. Just like Squire Pringle?
She felt the excitement fading from her body. She turned her head aside as he knelt to kiss her again. By chance her eye fell on her little chair near the door. Dear heaven, how could she do this? Had she forgotten so soon? Don’t die, Mama, she had pleaded. My life is yours until all the Baniards are avenged. I shall not rest. I shall not seek happiness for myself until all the Wickhams are dead. I swear it to you, Mama, she had wept.
Oh, God, what was she doing here except forgetting that vow, betraying the ghosts, shaming herself for a moment’s pleasure? Of a sudden, she felt cold and drained. “No, Grey,” she murmured, shaking her head. “No, I cannot…”
He chuckled and leaned closer, cupping his hand on her breast and squeezing gently. “You vixen. Are you determined to torment me?”
“No!” she said more firmly, and put her hands against his chest. “I shall not!” She struggled to sit up.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her back against the settee. “What new game is this?” he growled. “Must I woo you again with kisses?” He bent to take her mouth.
“No!” she cried, and pushed against him with all her might, hands and feet in concert to defend herself.
He teetered for a moment, thrown off balance, and then toppled backward. He fell hard, striking the back of his head against a sharp corner of the sideboard and going down with a groan. He lay curled on the floor, rocking in pain, his hands clamped tightly against his skull.
“Godamercy,” breathed Allegra, dropping to the floor beside him. What had she done? “Are you much hurt, milord?”
He lifted his hands from his head and held them out to her. They shone darkly wet in the candlelight, stained with his blood. He glared up at her from beneath his brows, his eyes dark with fury. “You haven’t addled my brains, or killed me, if that’s what was in your mind. But, I swear by the Almighty, you’ve damn well come close to earning yourself a thrashing.” He grumbled a curse and bent in distress, returning his hands to his head.
“I’ll get help,” she whispered. “Don’t try to stand.” She raced for the staircase and flew down the stairs, passing a startled footman on her way to Ridley’s rooms. She tapped impatiently at his door and clutched at Jagat Ram’s sleeve when the valet opened for her. Words tumbled out of her in a rush of panic and dismay. “His Lordship. The box room. He’s been hurt. Bring lights.”
Ram nodded and motioned to the footman, giving firm orders in his low voice. In a few minutes, the passage was alive with servants. Allegra hung back as they fetched candles and trooped up the stairs. She could hear the clump of their feet on the attic floor above. She breathed a sigh of relief when at last she heard Grey Ridley’s voice from the staircase; it was filled with anger, but strong and vigorous.
“Damn it, Ram,” he barked, “I don’t need to be carried! Put me on my feet and fetch someone to take a stitch in my skull!”
Allegra waited only until she saw Grey, his head wrapped in a bloody cloth, come limping along the passageway, supported by Ram and one of the footmen. Then she fled. It was enough to know that he wasn’t seriously hurt. Beyond that, she couldn’t think clearly. She only knew that she had to get away. It wasn’t a question of her freedom, though surely she could go to prison for harming her master. It wasn’t even the threat of a beating. She could endure it, if he weren’t there to see her shame.
She simply knew that she had to leave. Run, flee—as far away from Baniard Hall as she could get. She dashed down the stairs and into the dark night. For the first time, she blessed Humphrey and his dalliances. The gate would be unattended.
The moon was bright. Fearing to be seen from the Hall, Allegra avoided the gravel paths and the road. Instead, she raced through the vast park, dashing from shadow to shadow beneath the large and spreading trees, like a farmboy crossing a stream from stone to stone.
She reckoned she was halfway to the gate and the walls of Baniard Hall when she heard the dogs. Their frantic barking echoed through the still night, growing closer and louder. “Oh, sweet heaven,” she whispered. They couldn’t be coming after her! She increased her pace, hitching up her skirts to speed her progress. And still they came closer. She could hear them snarling now. The sound froze the marrow in her bones.
She reached an open clearing. The pounding of her feet on the greensward was echoed by the thud of her racing heart. Sweet God, if only she could reach the gate in time! She cast a wild glance over her shoulder. It was too late. She saw the dogs hurtling toward her, their massive bodies emphasized by the moonlight. The brightness glinted off their bared teeth.
Allegra shivered in terror. They would rip her limbs to shreds. There was no doubt of that. What to do? What to do? Desperately she scanned the nearby trees, looking for one that might afford her shelter, with a low enough handhold to climb it.
She whispered a prayer of thanks to Charlie when she saw the ancient oak. Old and sprawling and half dead. But Charlie had loved to climb it, and had convinced Papa to let it stand. Allegra leapt for the lowest branch, hauled herself up and scrambled into the leafy depths of the tree. She clung to the trunk, gasping for air and trembling in every fiber of her being. She had never been so frightened in all her life.
The dogs were now at the base of the tree, circling and baying up at her. They growled and barked and snarled, they took little running jumps against the tree trunk, they leapt high in the air in their futile attempts to reach Allegra. She clung more firmly to her branch, praying the animals would tire of their sport and leave her alone.
She heard Andrew’s voice, calling to the dogs, and then she saw the flicker of lanterns through the trees. Her heart sank. There would be trouble now. How stupid of her to flee. What had she been thinking of? And where was her common sense in the attic, to allow Ridley such liberties with her body in the first place?
Andrew emerged into the clearing, followed by three footmen bearing lanterns. One of them carried a musket. Andrew whistled to his dogs, hooked their leashes onto their collars, and patted them until they quieted. Then he borrowed a lantern and held it high, peering up into the tree. “Who be there?” he called.
Her voice was still unsteady from her fright. “’Tis only me, Andrew. Allegra Mackworth.”
“Get you down.”
She clambered down from the tree and stood before him, taking care to put herself beyond the reach of the mastiffs. She giggled nervously. “I never would have gone out into the night, had I known the dogs were so savage.” She hoped she sounded innocent and girlish enough.
His face twisted in a grimace of suspicion. “Where you been, girl? No one be allowed in this park afore dawn. Not when my beauties be out.”
“I…I didn’t know. The moon was so pretty, and I…”
“Mr. Briggs will have to learn of this.”
She thought quickly, her sense of self-preservation reasserting itself. She was in enough difficulty with Lord Ridley now, without him learning that she had tried to run away. “Oh, please, Andrew,” she begged. “Must you tell Mr. Briggs? If you come to the stillroom tomorrow, I can give you a tasty cordial that I made for His Lordship. Red mint and honey. It will warm the cockles of your heart. And take away that dyspepsia.”
He hesitated, then shook his head. “I can’t do it. It be against Mr. Briggs’s orders. You find ’em in the park? he says. You bring ’em to me.” He jerked his head in the direction of the footmen, who stood at a distance, wary of the dogs. “Besides, they saw you. One of ’em would tell Mr. Briggs, if I didn’t.”
She sighed and allowed
herself to be marched back to Baniard Hall.
To her surprise, she was met at the door by Mr. Briggs himself. His normally pleasant face was set in a scowl, and his gray eyes were as cold as steel. He listened carefully to Andrew’s story, his expression growing colder and harder. Then he beckoned to Allegra. “Come with me.”
Filled with foreboding, she scanned his implacable face. “Where are we going?”
“Silence!” he ordered. “You will do as you’re told.”
God save her, he could be as imperious as the master, when he wanted to be! While she quivered in dread, fearing the worst, he led her up the back stairs. She breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped at her room and she saw that no one was there. She had half expected to find Mrs. Rutledge, on Ridley’s orders, with a rod in her hand.
Briggs removed the key from her door and motioned her inside. She did as she was bidden; then, emboldened by her reprieve, if only for a little while, she turned and held out a supplicating hand. “Please, Mr. Briggs. Have a crumb of pity. Speak to me.”
There was no warmth in his normally kind face. He was the steward of Baniard Hall, and no familiarity or friendship with her was about to sway him from his honorable duty. “I intend to lock you in this room until morning. And then we will get to the bottom of this. His Lordship was in no condition to speak of it tonight. And I was reluctant to question him. But I mark that Lord Ridley was found, sorely wounded, in the box room tonight. Found at your direction, Ram tells me. There was a woman’s neckerchief beside him.” He glanced briefly at her exposed breasts. “I note you are missing yours. And, perhaps most damning of all, you were attempting to run away, I think. Doubly damning, in view of your situation. A legally contracted bond servant with no rights of your own. I hesitate to accuse you of harming His Lordship, but the evidence would point to that conclusion. I’ll say no more. You have betrayed His Lordship’s trust. And mine.”
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