After standing there a moment, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
The door opened. A figure appeared there.
“Alicia...” The voice sounded horrified. Alicia slit her eyes against the sudden brightness, straining to see who stood there.
“Roderick?” It did not seem possible. But it must be he! No one else was that tall, with that red hair, those earnest brown eyes.
“Alicia. What has been done to you?” Roderick ran to her and, heedless of the grime, he put his hands gently on her shoulders.
Alicia blinked. She did not really care. She had lost Leo. She had been reduced to a captive, deprived of almost everything which made life bearable. She felt indifferent to everything in that moment, even to death. Kill me.
“I am well,” she said, her voice a mere whisper.
“No, you aren't, by God!” Roderick said, his voice harsh beyond anything Alicia had ever heard. “Someone will pay for this.”
“Roderick,” Alicia whispered. “Leave it. I am well. Are we going?”
“Yes,” Roderick soothed, suddenly aware of greater priorities than revenge. “Yes.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the door. She felt too weak to walk, and so, at the doorway, he stopped.
“I do not want to offend you, my lady, but...”
He bent down, picked her up. Carrying her as if she weighed nothing beyond a feather, he walked down the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs was the duke.
Seeing him, Alicia hissed in a breath of pure terror. She closed her eyes and pretended to be in a faint.
“So,” he said smoothly. “You have collected your property, I see.”
“She is not my property,” Roderick said, voice dangerously quiet. “If you insist,” the duke agreed wearily. “But I shall expect monetary recompense for this. You know that,”
“I know,” Roderick said, voice broken. Alicia stiffened. What was happening here? She had guessed at some agreement between the duke and Roderick, but what was this?
She made a small panicked sound, and Roderick stiffened.
“The lady needs urgent attention,” he said, his voice accusing. “If you will excuse me?”
“But of course,” the duke said smoothly.
Alicia heard his boots move on the floor as he stepped aside to allow Roderick to pass. She heard the heavier footfall and felt the jolting motion as she was carried forward and out through a door. Cool wind hit her cheeks. She thought she might weep.
“I will travel with you back to my lodgings. If you would care to lower the blinds?” Roderick said solicitously, lifting himself lightly into the carriage after lowering her carefully to the seat.
Numbly, Alicia reached out and lowered the blinds. She was grateful for his consideration. She did not want to be seen, filthy and unkempt, by half of London.
The carriage ride was not as slow as Alicia had expected, and she slept most of the way. At the next stop, she was carried out and up the stairs by a footman who took her, under Roderick's instruction, straight to a room upstairs. Water was drawn for a bath.
Sitting in the warm, cleansing water, the scent of rosemary and lavender gentle around her, Alicia thought she might die of relief.
She stood at length, shocked at how her body had shrunk back on itself. Walking gingerly out of the bath on legs suddenly weak, she went to the bed, where a simple cream muslin dress lay. It was scented with daffodils, and she guessed it had belonged to Ada.
Dressed and clean, her hair brushed out along her back and drying slowly, she found her way downstairs.
“Alicia...” Roderick appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. “Come here?”
Alicia nodded and went inside. The room was high-ceilinged, with yellow paper on the wall. Feeling suddenly exhausted, she collapsed on the green-upholstered couch. Roderick stood looking out of the vast window, his back to her. Alicia said nothing, and sat studying her hands. She had no idea what to say. She did not know what he had been told and did not know how to begin an explanation. Besides, he had some explaining to do as well, she reckoned tiredly.
At length, he turned to her.
“I am sorry for your predicament,” he said, softly.
“That is well, Roderick,” Alicia said, her voice a whisper. She found she felt no anger toward him, only a deep sadness.
“Should I call for tea?” Roderick said, stiffly formal.
“I...” Alicia swallowed hard. Tea, with milk and sugar, would be truly wonderful. She’d had nothing but a slice of bread to eat the last two days, and her stomach cramped ominously at the thought of tea. “I would like that,” she whispered.
“Very well.”
Roderick pulled the bell and called for tea. A few minutes later it was delivered, complete with scones with jam and cheese. Alicia ate slowly, feeling her stomach ache and cramp as the food went down.
Roderick took his tea to the window, still clearly unready to face her. At length, when the silence had stretched a long time, he turned to her. He seemed to have been crying, his face streaked with tears.
“Why, Alicia?” he asked, desperate. “Why?”
“Well...” Alicia bit her lip. She wanted to say so many things. She had never loved him. She had never wanted their marriage. She loved Leo, and Roderick himself, clearly, loved Henriette. What could she say?
“We were not suited, Roderick. We both realized that.”
“I know,” he said, very quietly, after a long moment.
Alicia breathed out. All the tension seemed to drain from her, very suddenly. There was understanding in his gaze, and sorrow, and even, if she looked deeply, a wary respect. She smiled, gently. He lifted his hand, about to stroke her shoulder. Then he let it fall.
He walked to the window and she followed him, looking out over the city where late afternoon sun broke through the clouds. They chatted, politely, of formal things: the town, the harbor, the state of the shipping now that the year drew to a close.
By the end of tea, they had managed to make a bridge of tentative friendship across the gulf of expectation and betrayal that had separated them. But they were still no nearer a solution than before.
Alicia was still a prisoner, though in another, more comfortable place.
Roderick was still betrothed to her.
Neither of them was any freer than before.
CHAPTER THIRTY
DESPERATION
DESPERATION
The sun had set on London hours ago. The last carriages had rattled either into town, carrying the lords and ladies to their balls, or away, carrying the merchants and traders home.
Now, the streets were quiet and cool, sinking into night. The air was icy, the promise of winter rich in a fretful wind.
Leo, standing in the street in the blue darkness, drew his cloak around him and shivered, though he did not really notice the cold. His heart was too full for much distraction.
Alicia. She is here, somewhere.
She had gone missing two days ago. Two days! So much could have happened in that time. If they were slavers, she could be in Morocco now. He spat. The theft of young women to be sold abroad as slaves was not unheard of, though it was extremely rare.
Leo felt his eyes well with tears. It was his fault! He had turned his back on her. If he had only brought her up to see the captain, if he had not been so arrogant, showing off by organizing it all alone...She could be dead by now! And if she is... It is my fault.
He felt the tears run down his cheeks, icy tracks in the cold wind.
He thought of Alicia – bright-eyed, wide-smiled, laughing. She was always so happy, so cheerful! In his mind's eye, she was there, looking over her shoulder at him, green eyes bright. I cannot believe I scorned you once for that lightheartedness! It is part of you, part of why I love you.
In that moment, he made a solemn promise to himself. If he ever saw Alicia again, he would never again condemn or mock her for simply being herself. He would love her openly
and completely, for every trait she had.
He blinked. He had not realized, until then, how he did love her.
He had known he loved her. He first realized it after the ambush in the forest, when she saved them with her trust and care. He just had not realized how much she had come to mean to him.
“I need to find you,” he said aloud.
Feeling suddenly resolute, he walked toward the nearest source of light.
It turned out to be a public house – a merry taproom, filled with drinking, talking men.
“Ahoy, there!” one of them hailed Leo drunkenly.
“Uh...hello...” Leo raised a hand nervously. He knew he did not know the fellow. Whoever he was must have been quite drunk to think he recognized him.
“Hey, my fine young fellow! Come and sit with us!”
Leo looked at the group around the table: they were clearly workers, probably employed in one of the smithies, judging from the vast size of the man who had hailed him. Leo stiffened. As Earl of Harwood, he had never shared a meal with someone less than a lord before. He hardly knew anyone who had no title. All his training made him want to run away. Yet Alicia, he knew, would not have run. She would not have thought them any less than herself. That, and his need for company, decided him. He walked up to the table.
“Hello!” He smiled. “May I join you?”
The big man chuckled. “Fancy manners!”
“Whoa! Some fancy fellow, eh?”
Leo felt his face flush, and a slow anger creeping through him. He had never been mocked simply for being polite.
“If you have no manners, then I suggest you get some. Would you care to learn?”
He stood back, arms crossed over on his chest, inviting the men to stand and fight him.
The big man stared. The men around the table – his companions – whooped at the challenge.
“Whoa! Ben. This one's a fighter.”
“Watch that he don't run you through with that sticker of his.” Another indicated Leo's fighting sword, still hanging in the scabbard by his side.
“I'm betting on the skinny one,” another man added.
The big man looked at Leo. It was a long, hard look. Then, as suddenly, he grinned.
“You're all right, lad!” He held out a massive hand for Leo to shake. “You're one of us!” He smiled expansively and moved up on the bench, patting it as an indication that Leo sit beside him. “Come on, let me buy us all a round.”
“Uh... thank you,” Leo said uncertainly.
This time, he noted, no one made any comment on his manners.
The ale arrived, frothy and dark. Leo drank it gratefully, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
At first, he simply listened to the talk around the table, grateful for a respite from his own worries.
“I'm Ben. Ben Watney.” The big man suddenly leaned toward him, interrupting his thoughts.
“Oh. Leo... Graham,” Leo said quickly. It still seemed prudent to hide his identity.
“I'm a blacksmith,” Ben explained, confirming Leo's earlier guess.
“Oh.” Leo smiled. “I bet that's interesting.”
The big man chuckled. “Not sure I'd say interesting! But fun,” he conceded. “Fun it can be.”
They sat for a while in silence. Leo downed some ale, noticing that the room pulsed and swayed a little. Realizing he must be hungry, too, he leaned over for a chunk of bread from the central loaf. It was delicious – warm and crumbly, freshly baked.
“So,” Ben asked after a moment, “what's your story?”
Leo took a deep breath, wondering what to say. Trust, he remembered Alicia say. He would trust.
“I am here,” he confided, “to find a woman.”
“Whoa!” Ben laughed. “Plenty of those around. Hey, lads?”
“No,” Leo said quietly, after the laughter had died down, “a specific woman. The woman I love.”
“Oh,” Ben replied. “Well, that's a bit trickier. She run off?” He looked sympathetic, and Leo felt his heart grow warm.
“No,” Leo said sadly. “She was stolen.”
“Stolen!” Ben exploded. All the men at the table turned to look at them. Leo was surprised to note he did not feel embarrassed.
“Yes,” he agreed.
“Any idea who took her?”
“I only saw the carriage,” Leo said. “It was unmarked. Though the one man had a badge of an axe and spear on a black field on his back.”
“Oh,” Ben Watney paused, and wiped his mouth. “I've seen such a device...” He paused. “Lads?”
“Aye, Ben?”
“Anyone know a black shield with a spear and axe on?”
“No.”
“No.”
“We saw one, last week, right, Ben?” an older man, bearded and quiet, asked after a moment.
“Aye,” Ben said shortly. “I think we did.” He sat silent for a while, then turned to Leo. “We had a carriage in... needed the wheel-rims repaired. Heaven knows what he did to it, to get it in that state!” He chuckled mirthlessly. “The carriage had this shield on the door, like the one you saw.”
“Did you see the owner?”
“No.” Ben shook his head. “His coachman brought it round. But I did know the name... it's on the tip of my tongue... Damn!” he swore, and wrinkled his brow. Then, he suddenly clicked his fingers. “Lord... Lord Rawlins. That's it! Lord Luke Rawlins.”
Leo stared at him.
“The Duke of Lennox.”
Both men said the name together.
Leo felt his heart fall through the floor.
For now, he knew who had his beloved: his worst enemy.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DEEPENING FEELINGS
DEEPENING FEELINGS
Later, the sky was dark velvet, studded with brilliant jewels. Roderick, walking hastily down the road, heels clicking on the cobbles, breathed in the night air and tried to still his racing heart. The air smelled of dew and water and it did not calm him. It made him think even more of her – Henriette – a thought which was deliciously distracting.
After knocking at the third-floor apartment, he was admitted, and the light burned in the parlor, casting dancing orange reflections into the street.
“We shouldn't, you know,” Henriette whispered softly to Roderick, who lay beside her on the silken chaise-lounge in her small, fashionable apartment – the one her father used, when he came to town.
“I know.” Roderick's voice was hoarse. His lips were on Henriette's, then, hard and hot and hungry. Henriette, smiling inwardly at the effect she had on him, rolled onto her back and let him kiss her. Then she sat up.
“My lord,” she said sternly, though she smiled, her face becomingly blushed, “we ought to wait until we can make an arrangement.”
“That is true,” Roderick sighed, meaningfully. “But...” His face fell. He sat up, from where he had leaned toward her, about to kiss her again.
“But?”
“You know we cannot,” Roderick whispered. “I am betrothed to Alicia, and...”
“I know,” Henriette said, softly. “But what if Alicia released you from your betrothal?”
Roderick looked at her as if she had just appeared out of a cloud of dust. “Do you think?”
Henriette laughed. “I do!”
“You said that – or strongly suggested it – before,” he said cautiously. “I just can't quite believe it...” His voice trailed off.
“Neither of you were consulted before the match was made,” Henriette began, “so why would you consider her to be any more enamored of the idea than you?”
“There is no true reason why.”
“Exactly!” Henriette smiled. “And I do believe she has... other plans.”
“She confided such to you?” Roderick asked, instantly curious, though, Henriette noticed, quietly pleased, he looked more hopeful than affronted.
“She did,” Henriette confirmed. “Though I am bound to secrecy in them, I may tell you that
she has met another for whom she feels the greatest admiration. Not that different to...” Henriette paused.
“To what I feel for you,” Roderick breathed.
“I was going to say,” Henriette said, and was surprised at how sincerely she meant it, “as what I feel for you.”
The two looked at each other. Neither of them blinked.
“Henriette...” Roderick breathed out. With her dark hair piled on her head, her pale neck revealed by the white muslin dress, she looked like an angel, and his voice was thick with emotion.
“Roderick.” Henriette said his name decidedly. She had, she realized with growing surprise, fallen for him. What had begun as a task, a way to improve both her own life and Alicia's, had grown into a deep and meaningful relationship.
Her body soft against the lean hardness of his, she slid sideways on the silk couch, the soft muslin of her gown rustling against his arm. She lifted her face to his. She kissed him.
Roderick gasped and kissed her in return. She moaned and leaned against him, pressing her body to hers.
“Marry me,” Roderick asked, his lips lingering on her hair.
“Yes,” Henriette whispered, and reached out to stroke his shoulder. “Yes, Roderick. I shall.”
“Oh...” Roderick sounded more surprised than anything else, and he smiled at her with such a rapt grin that Henriette felt her own heart lift.
As she allowed him a last kiss before she very carefully extricated herself, she realized, with growing amazement, that she loved him, too. This match had worked out very well for her... very well indeed.
“Come, my dear,” she whispered, deftly extricating herself from beneath him.
He gasped, but acquiesced, letting her help him with his coat and lead him to the door.
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and he groaned as if in pain. “You will settle your own matters, and I shall settle mine. Then we shall be married, and...”
“And you will be my only affair worth caring about. Always,” Roderick said fiercely, and kissed her once more before leaving, reluctantly through the front door.
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