He never lost awareness of her presence beside him. She probably never forgot he was here either. A mutual alertness affected the air in the chamber. It would not do to acknowledge it, or the way it invisibly heightened the forced intimacy that the night’s events had created.
Nor would it do to reflect on those kisses. Her palpable presence kept bringing his mind to them anyway, to his body’s repeated discomfort.
He had assumed that she was experienced in the game when he began toying with her. Wrong there, as with so many of tonight’s assumptions.
Her surprise and dazed wonderment had charmed him too much. Drawn him in. Innocence could be very beguiling, apparently. Those kisses had enchanted him, and he would not forget them for a long time. She had distracted him so much that the real Domino had been halfway across the chamber before either he or she had realized that they were no longer alone.
He tried to remember what he could about the intruder, but it was all a blur of instinct and defense. He saw only that hat, low crowned and dark, with a broad brim. He suspected, but was not sure, that the man buying ale when he queried the innkeeper had worn a hat like that. If that had been the Domino, he would have overheard the directions up to this chamber and not had to ask for them himself.
As much as annoyance with her interference tried to win out, it never did during the hours that they waited. The kisses had a lot to do with that. He also sympathized with her desire to clear her father’s name. He understood familial love and the sacrifices it could require. He had to admit that her reckless mission spoke well of her, even if it had been in vain. Horatio Kelmsleigh had no son to fight for his name, so a daughter had taken up the standard.
He cast his mind to what he knew of the man’s family, besides what he had learned tonight about Audrianna. Sebastian had watched the funeral when Kelmsleigh was buried in unconsecrated ground due to his suicide. Few people attended. A man publicly disgraced did not have many friends.
He had seen the widow in her black crepe. There had been two girls with her. One had huddled closely, all but under her mother’s arm. The other stood just far enough away to suggest an emotional isolation. He had been some distance from the little group, and other than dark hair, there had been nothing else to notice about the women.
He had spied that day because he thought that the other conspirators might be present as friends and associates. The few men around the grave occupied his attention, not the women.
More than a father and husband were lost by his wife and daughters. The months since had probably been difficult financially as well as socially for the Kelmsleigh women. In truth, he had not given much consideration to the consequences of that investigation and death to these innocents. Actually, he had not thought about them at all.
Now one of them was beside him on a bed, in a chamber where they should not be alone together.
He crossed his boots. He wondered if the justice of the peace would be reasonable or small-minded.
The interview waiting had only two possible endings, but either one of them would be unfortunate for Miss Kelmsleigh.
The rap on the door sounded sharply. Sebastian jolted out of the unsettled sleep into which he had fallen. As he rose to his feet, his wound caused red to split through his mind for a moment. He looked at the window. The barest light leaked in around the closed shutters. Dawn would break soon.
Miss Kelmsleigh was on her feet too. She smoothed the skirt of her dress, fixed the bed drapes, then strode to the pegs to fetch her pelisse. He waited while she put it on. She quickly tried to make her hair look less disheveled in the looking glass.
The rap sounded again. Her eyes met his. She appeared sad and resigned, and embarrassed by their night together. No doubt the hours of thought had revealed the impossibility of the situation to her as well.
He opened the door. Hawkeswell stood there, not the innkeeper.
“I insisted on being the one to come up,” he said.
“Good man. Thank you.”
“The JP is below. Will you be coming down, or should he come here?”
“This is hardly the best place for it, but it is better than the alternative. We don’t want an audience in attendance.”
Hawkeswell nodded. “Your arm?”
“It was a mere scratch. If you would not mind helping further, please learn the time when the first coach leaves for London and let me know.”
Hawkeswell dipped away. Sebastian closed the door again.
“Nine o’clock,” Miss Kelmsleigh said. “That is the time of the first coach. I had planned to be on it.”
She hid her nervousness well. Except for the way her hands grasped each other and the melancholy in her expression, one would never guess that she faced a judgment soon.
Deciding that her manner and poise would help more than hurt, Sebastian opened the shutters completely to disperse the night shadows. He turned back to her and got the first really good look at her in the light of the breaking day.
Her hair had that deep chestnut color. Those reddish lights showed even now. Her eyes possessed an arresting green hue. Her features were very regular, and more delicate than the harsh firelight had implied. Her face possessed a mature and unique beauty that one would call handsome rather than pretty.
Handsome enough to make him pause a moment and remember that kiss vividly. Then he moved the chair so it flanked the fire but still faced it.
“Please, sit here. He will see upon entering that you are a lady, and it will affect the entire conversation.”
She obeyed. Sebastian took the pistol from where it had laid on the table all night, and set it on the fireplace mantel, against the hearth wall, where it would not be immediately in view.
Another rap sounded on the door, not nearly as sharp as Hawkeswell’s had been. Its somewhat tentative quality was a good sign.
Sir Edwin Tomlison was a tall, very thin fellow with steel gray starting to frost his thick black hair. The resigned set of his mouth as he entered the chamber and introduced himself told Sebastian a lot. This was a man who enjoyed being justice of the peace for the status it gave him in the county, but who did not relish the jurisdictional duties that came with the position.
“Lord Sebastian Summerhays.” Sir Edwin bowed. “I had the honor of meeting your brother once, before he went to war and . . .” His voice trailed off. His face fell into sympathetic folds.
“I believe that you had your own war adventures, Sir Edwin. I remember when you were knighted for them.”
Sir Edwin’s face lit up. A country squire made a knight, he was pleased that a marquess’s brother knew the reasons.
Sebastian introduced Miss Kelmsleigh. Sir Edwin showed surprise, and recognition, at hearing her name.
“A bad business here, sir,” he said to Sebastian. “There’s quite a crowd down below, all of them in high emotion about the exciting events to which you have treated them. Their stories will be in Brighton by noon, and in London by night, so we need to speak frankly.”
“I intend to do so. I told the innkeeper, and I tell you now, that there was an intruder who shot me during a struggle. He fled at once.”
“Can you describe him or identify him?”
“I did not see him well enough. It happened very fast. Perhaps he thought the chamber held only baggage and its occupants were dining below. He seemed as surprised to see me as I was by his intrusion,” Sebastian said. “He wore a distinctive hat, however. Brown, perhaps, and not fashionable.” He gave a labored description.
Sir Edwin chewed that over. He gave Audrianna a sharp look, then paced thoughtfully to the window. The light had transformed from dark gray to silver and it washed his expression of consternation.
Sebastian joined him. Sir Edwin looked out the window and spoke lowly. “Would that be Horatio Kelmsleigh’s daughter, sir? No one in England is ignorant of that name. Her presence here raises questions.”
“I can see how it might. Ask your questions and I will answer them as a gentleman, to the
extent any gentleman would.”
“Are you saying there are some questions a gentleman would not answer on the matter?”
Sebastian did not reply. He let his silence speak for him. And damn Audrianna’s reputation.
“I am bound by my duty to say the innkeeper here told me that Miss Kelmsleigh fired the shot that caused your wound, sir.”
“The innkeeper was not present and cannot speak to the facts. You have my word that there was a third person here, a man, as I said. I will swear to her innocence if you require it. I will attend your quarter sessions and do so, if necessary, but I would prefer to spare her the notoriety of defending herself against such a baseless accusation.”
Sir Edwin flushed. To require such a thing of a gentleman who gave his word would be an insult. It dismayed him that Sebastian would even insinuate such a thing had been implied. All the same, he shot another glance over his shoulder at Audrianna’s back.
“Odd that she is here, what with your role in that investigation, Lord Sebastian. I would not expect the two of you to have an . . . ongoing acquaintance.”
“That oddness does not bear on your duty, does it?”
“No, sir, you are correct. If there was an intruder, it does not. I’ll try to keep her name out of this, but if I cannot . . . Perhaps I should say that I think she was here to impart her own information, regarding her father’s activities? That might keep some from assuming her presence was for other reasons.”
“You can say what you choose, and others will assume what they will, but she did not fire that pistol.”
Sir Edwin nodded in agreement. “I think that I understand the circumstances here, sir.”
Sebastian checked his pocket watch. “Sir Edwin, the first coach departs in fifteen minutes. Miss Kelmsleigh wants to return to London. I ask that you escort her down and see her off safely, so the curious and vulgar do not importune her with questions.”
Sir Edwin drew himself tall and straight. “Certainly. There may be quite a lot of that soon enough, I expect. It would be a kindness to spare her the worst this morning.” A new light entered his eyes. A critical one, for the gentleman in front of him who would forever be spared the worst, while Miss Kelmsleigh paid any cost that was assessed for this notorious episode.
Sebastian bore the unspoken criticism. No one would ever believe that meeting her here was the result of a perverse whim of fate. The important thing was that Sir Edwin was not going to hold her over for the quarter sessions, to face an accusation of trying to murder the brother of a marquess.
Sebastian went to her chair. “Miss Kelmsleigh, Sir Edwin is done with us and satisfied. He will escort you to the coach now.”
She raised her gaze from where it had remained fixed on her lap. Her stoical expression broke to show her relief. Her green eyes reflected the worry she had been hiding. I am free? she mouthed.
He nodded, and offered his hand to help her stand. Her soft palm touched his, resting lightly but still communicating the silent intimacy of the night. Her hand left his when she reached for her mantle.
Sir Edwin picked up the valise and waited at the door. Audrianna joined him there. Before she left, she looked back into the room, and into Sebastian’s eyes with an expression that he could not fathom.
Chapter Four
It was close to midnight before the gig that Audrianna hired at the local coaching inn delivered her home.
The house appeared a high, rectangular black block in the gig’s lamplight. Audrianna’s spirit groaned with relief at the sight of its simple, rustic mass. Nestled away from the road, far enough from London that one could pretend the talk of the town did not exist, this house and the people in it offered the comfort and solace that one finds in a true home with a true family.
She had lived here only half a year, but she knew more contentment inside those walls than in any other place in the world.
The building was dark except for golden light visible through the front sitting room’s window. It was too much to hope that Daphne had left a lamp burning and gone to bed. Her cousin would be darning or reading while she waited for the missing member of her odd household to return.
Daphne’s role in the house was difficult to describe. Part mother, part hostess, part landlady, she treated the occupants as her sisters. The household rules that she had established required equality among everyone, in all things. However, in truth they were all dependent on her generosity.
Audrianna entered the front sitting room and set her valise on a chair.
Daphne sat near the fireplace, with her extremely pale hair hanging down, already brushed into a river of silk for the night. She wore a primrose-hued undressing gown that flowed around her tall, slender body.
She lifted her gaze from her book. A smile of relief broke on her delicately lovely face. Her gray eyes took in Audrianna’s muddy hem and the valise.
“You are tired and probably hungry,” she said. “Come to the kitchen and eat something.”
It was typical of Daphne not to scold, but also not to hide that she saw enough to have cause to scold if she so chose.
Audrianna followed her cousin through the house and into the short passage that led to the kitchen. Originally a separate structure, the kitchen had been connected to the house by this narrow corridor at the same time that Daphne had the greenhouse expanded.
Only low embers burned in the kitchen’s big hearth, and Daphne set about adding some fuel. “Mr. Trotter gave me some money for you when I delivered your new song to him today. Twenty shillings.”
Mr. Trotter was a London sheet music publisher who had recently agreed to print a few songs that Audrianna had composed. “That is much more than I expected.”
“He said that ‘My Inconstant Love’ has sold particularly well. He said to tell you that your sad melodies make more money than the others.”
“I am not sure that I only want to write sad songs, but I will try to compose a few more.”
“I am sure that whatever you write will be successful, if it comes from your heart. ‘My Inconstant Love’ has sold well because of that.”
That was possibly true. Audrianna had composed that song while devastated about Roger’s inconstancy, during the week after he threw her over because of Papa’s disgrace. Tears had blinded her while she worked out the melody.
Daphne opened a cabinet and examined its contents. “I think that Mrs. Hill plans on the rest of this ham for dinner tomorrow, so we had better not steal that. Let me see what else can be pilfered.”
“A bit of cheese and some bread will be enough.”
“You are sure? If you have been traveling—”
“I will be fine with bread and cheese.”
Daphne served the food, then sat at the worktable across from Audrianna. “Did you go to London to visit your mother?”
“You know that I only visit for meetings arranged in advance, and almost always on Sundays.”
“I know nothing, certainly nothing about this adventure of yours. You left no word. No note. If Lizzie had not noticed your valise was gone, I might have thought that you fell into the river.”
So, Daphne was going to scold after all. It had been inconsiderate to leave with no word, but that word would have only led to many more words than Audrianna wanted.
“I remind you of your Rule for living in this house, Daphne. Foremost among its orders is that we do not pry into each other’s histories or lives.”
This household, composed of single and independent women, maintained civility and safety due to Daphne’s Rule. Like the codes of the monks of old, the Rule’s precepts governed their behavior and helped them avoid the sort of bickering that could easily arise in such an environment. Upon first coming here, Audrianna had found the Rule a little silly, but she soon came to appreciate its wisdom.
“You are correct. It is a good part of the Rule. An essential part,” Daphne said. “However, that does not stop us from wondering about each other, or caring for each other like sisters. Which is
why the Rule also includes the instruction that if we are going to be absent for an extended period, we should inform the others of that so they do not worry.”
She was not scolding, despite her words. Her voice was far too soft to be called a scold. There was concern in it, and gentle sympathy, and maybe a little hurt too, as if Audrianna’s secrecy implied a lack of trust.
Audrianna kept her attention on her supper. She dared not look at Daphne. Her cousin possessed a worldly wisdom that far exceeded what one would expect of a woman not yet thirty years old. Audrianna doubted she could hide her discouragement if Daphne looked right into her eyes.
A white hand reached over and gently touched Audrianna’s arm. “Did you visit a man, Audrianna?”
Audrianna had to look over then. Not only did the question astonish her, but also the earnest manner in which Daphne asked it. She spoke as if it would be normal for Audrianna to have spent last night with a man.
Which, to be honest, she had.
She felt her face get hot when she realized that.
“It is not that I want to pry into either your life or the state of your virtue,” Daphne said, pretending she had not noticed the blush or dismay. “In fact, I question whether virtue, in this sense, should be as highly regarded as it is. It is just . . .”
“Just what?”
“I know that you still mourn what transpired with Roger, and that you have not conquered that disappointment,” she said gently. “If you visited a man, that does not concern me as much as your reason for doing so. I hope that you have not allowed sorrow to make you reckless. Neither happiness nor pleasure will be yours if you embark on an affair out of resentment, pique, or rebellion.”
“Please be reassured that I have not embarked on any affair, for any reason. I am grateful for my place in your home, dear cousin. More grateful than you will ever know. I was gone these two days on a personal matter but not one of the heart. I ask that you allow me to leave the explanation at that.”
Daphne bowed her head in agreement and retreat. She revealed no insult. Still, Audrianna worried that she had offended her cousin. They normally were of like mind, and this was as close to a contentious conversation as they had ever had.
Ravishing in Red Page 4