It seemed an age before the doors to the library swung open. When Richard stepped out onto the terrace, a furious scowl on his face, she wrapped her arms round herself in an involuntary gesture of self-defence. It was hard to be sure which aspect of the situation she found most intimidating. His scowl. The pistol he was still brandishing, even though he had warned her about the dangers of getting shot. Or the fact that he was barefoot and bare-chested, his open shirt billowing out behind him as he strode forward.
He’d looked very dashing at the masquerade, dressed up like a corsair. But tonight, she thought as she gulped, he looked as formidable as the real thing.
‘What the hell is going on?’
‘It’s Milly.’ Somehow she managed to drag her eyes away from that fascinating expanse of bare male skin and say, ‘She’s… I’m so—so sorry, Richard, b-but she’s run off with L-Lord Hals-tead.’
‘You are freezing,’ he said in response to her stammered sentence.
Yes, she silently agreed. It was cold that was making her tremble all over.
‘Let’s get you back indoors and into the warmth, and then you can tell me what on earth possessed you to go running about in just your night things.’
‘Yes,’ she said as he ushered her into the library. ‘B-but you must hurry, Richard,’ she said as he shut and bolted the doors behind him. ‘If you get d-dressed quickly there might still be time to stop them. It won’t take you long, will it? You already have your breeches on,’ she said, eyeing his behind as he bent to ram home the floor bolts. ‘You only need to do your shirt up and…’
She was gibbering. She could hear herself doing it. But she was standing here wearing only her nightdress. And everyone else in the house was asleep. Richard had not paused to take hold of a candle when he came down from his room, so the library was lit only by the moonbeams shimmering in through the doors. And, even though she could not make out very much of him beyond shapes now, she could still see, in her mind’s eye, the wedge-shaped torso sprinkled with dark hair. She’d never taken much account of the fact that a man’s shape was so very different from her own. All hard, flat planes where she was soft, rounded curves…
‘Stop them?’ Why on earth would she think he wanted to stop them? If Milly had decided to throw herself away on a man like Halstead then there was nothing he could do about it. Good riddance to her! He had done all he could to ensure she stayed respectable. ‘I know I can trust you not to make a whore of her,’ her father had said. And he had not. He had kept his word.
But, no matter what hopes her father might have had regarding her future, Milly had a mind of her own. Of late she’d spent far too much of her time buying pretty clothes and showing them off at various pleasure haunts. Now it sounded pretty obvious that if virtue stood in the way of her enjoyment she had no compunction about shedding it.
But how could he explain that to an innocent like Lady Jayne?
‘Look, let’s get you back to your room, and we can talk about this in the morning.’ By then he might have been able to think of some way to explain the way some women regarded relationships with men without shocking her.
‘I can’t go back to my room. It is locked. Milly pushed me inside and locked me in when I tried to stop her from leaving.’
‘Then how the devil did you get down here? Don’t tell me…’ He made himself really look at her for the first time. He had been aware, from just one glance, that she was wearing only a nightgown. But he had tried to be a gentleman and not notice how wet it was, rendering patches of it transparent—how it clung to the swell of her belly and the fullness of her breasts. He forced his eyes not to linger on the dark shadows hinting at what lay beneath. ‘Your dishevelled state tells its own story. You climbed out of the window.’
Why had she done that? Why had she thought it was so important to come to him, and…? Oh, Lord. He had never managed to explain properly that he was not in love with Milly. The darling little idiot had risked life and limb to come and warn him because she could not bear to think of him being hurt by Milly’s defection.
Was there anyone so sweet-natured, yet so valiant?
Milly might have said she loved him, but he couldn’t imagine her acting as selflessly or as recklessly as this. But then there was nobody quite like Lady Jayne.
‘You might have broken your neck, you idiot,’ he said, a shudder going through him just before he swept her into his arms and cradled her close.
‘No, no, I would not. I am very good at climbing. I have had lots of practise.’
How could anything feel so wonderful when it was so wrong? It was her fault that Milly had run—both out of patience and off with Lord Halstead. And yet when Richard pulled her into his arms all she wanted was to put her arms round him and hug him back. Then press kisses onto the scars she had noted peppering the front of his left shoulder.
And it would not have been to offer him the comfort he was so obviously seeking in this moment of pain at Milly’s betrayal. It was a purely physical response to being in his arms. Feeling his naked skin beneath her cheek. She just wanted him. In a way she did not fully understand with her mind. But her body—oh, her body knew what it wanted. It wanted more contact. Naked skin to naked skin. Her mouth wanted to taste and her hands to touch. It was all she could do to remain motionless in his arms, just breathing in the scent of him. It wasn’t a scent she could put a name to. It was just…warmth and cleanliness and…Richard.
He felt her tense. ‘Yes,’ he said, relaxing his hold on her ever so slightly. ‘All those times you climbed out of windows to meet with your Harry, I suppose.’
He had to rein himself in—and reminding himself she was still nursing a broken heart because of Harry was one sure way to do it. Though it was utterly delicious to feel her in his arms, now was not the time to let passion get the better of him.
She was not ready for moonlight kisses in the library. Especially not when they were both half-naked and he was growing steadily more aroused by the minute. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed, but somehow he managed to step back and let his arms drop to his side.
‘Come on, Richard!’ she urged him when he just stood motionless.
He clenched his fists. Lord, what would she do if she discovered how things really stood? He had to bring his arousal under control.
‘You need to get back to your room and get some clothes on. Some boots on,’ she corrected herself. ‘And chase after her and stop her before it’s too late.’
He didn’t want to put his clothes back on. He wanted to take them off. And hers, too.
‘Lady Jayne…’ he grated. Now was the perfect time to tell her the truth. The bit that concerned Milly, at any rate. ‘I don’t really care if she has run off with Lord Halstead—’ he began.
‘You don’t mean that! Richard, you mustn’t give up on her! How will you ever live with yourself if you stand back and let her throw herself away like this?’
She seized hold of one of his clenched fists with both her hands.
‘Don’t you understand? She is not going to marry Lord Halstead. She… Oh, Richard, don’t you see what will happen when he gets tired of her? She’ll miss all the…what she calls fun she says she’s been having with him, and she’ll go out and get another…protector. And then another, and another.’
Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears.
‘But she doesn’t mean it. She isn’t a bad person. She’s just so angry and upset tonight that all she can thin
k about is if she can’t have you then why shouldn’t she have cream horses and pretty clothes? Oh, Richard, you have to save her from making a mistake she will regret for the rest of her life.’
That was when it struck him that not all her distress was on his account. She was really upset at the thought Milly was making a mistake she would regret once her temper had cooled. A wry grimace twisted his mouth. If she were a man she’d already be down at the stables, saddling a horse and riding out after her. Once her friendship was given, she was loyal to the bitter end. And she would think less of anyone who demonstrated less than her own total commitment. Less of him if he stood back and did nothing to prevent Milly sinking into a life of vice.
‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I must stop her.’ Adding silently, For your sake.
‘I knew that if only you could put aside your anger you would do the right thing. You always do.’
She was looking up at him as though he was some kind of…hero.
Even after she’d been betrayed by all the men in her life so far, she trusted him. She had complete faith in his ability to snatch Milly back from the abyss.
He felt ten feet tall. Because she believed in him.
‘Very well,’ he said, raising her hands to his mouth and kissing each one. ‘Tell me where she has gone and I will go after her.’
Her whole body sagged with relief. ‘She told me Lord Halstead would be waiting for her on the lane that goes up to The Workings. But she was on foot and carrying a bag. I’m sure you will be able to catch up with her.’
‘Come on, then,’ he said, grabbing her hand and heading for the door.
‘Wh-where are you taking me?’
‘Up to my room, for now.’
‘Oh, there is no need for that. Just get after Milly.’
‘As if I would leave you down here on your own—in the state you’re in.’
He could hardly believe she would think he’d do that. What did she take him for? But one glance at her, and the way she was looking at him, was sufficient to reassure him. It wasn’t that she expected little from him, in particular, in the way of courtesy. That outlook had been drummed into her by the way everyone in her life had treated her so far. She simply did not expect anyone to care what became of her.
He felt a pang go through him. Lord, but he knew what that felt like.
He put his loaded pistol down on the table just inside the door when they reached his rooms, and led Lady Jayne to an armchair by the fire.
‘Sit there while I fetch you a blanket.’
When he returned from his bedchamber she had drawn her knees right up to her chest and wrapped her arms round herself. But she was still shivering.
As he draped the blanket round her shoulders he noticed a bloodstain on her nightgown.
‘You have cut your knee. And your poor feet,’ he said, looking at the state of them. ‘I should tend to your hurts. And get you some brandy…’
‘Never mind me,’ she said, grabbing the edges of the blanket and tugging them tight to her chin. ‘I shall be all right. Just get after them. Hurry, Richard, hurry!’
Even now, she spared not a thought for herself. God, how he wanted to kiss her. But if he allowed himself to weaken now, while they were both wearing so little clothing, who knew where it would end?
Besides, by this time he’d come to the conclusion that she was right. It was essential for him to catch Milly and put a halt to her schemes. Otherwise, in the morning, everyone would hear that one of the young ladies—or at least a person they had all assumed was a lady’s companion—had run off with one of the gentlemen. And it wouldn’t stop there. Once the guests dispersed the scandal would be all over Town. It was just the sort of salacious gossip that people loved to spread: an apparent innocent seduced by a much older, experienced man at the house party where Lord Ledbury proposed to Lady Jayne Chilcott. And not just any innocent, but the girl who’d come as companion to Lady Jayne. And then how long would it be before someone unearthed the fascinating tidbit that Lord Ledbury had known said innocent even longer than he’d known Lady Jayne? That he’d set her up in her own house, and given her an allowance?
It was the very scenario he’d been fighting to prevent ever since he’d introduced the girls to each other.
He would never forgive himself if it came to that.
‘Help yourself to a drink, then,’ he said gruffly, waving his arm at the table that held a decanter and glasses. ‘While I go and get some boots on.’
By the time he returned to his sitting room, booted and half buttoned into his army greatcoat, Lady Jayne was sitting curled up in the armchair again, sipping a generous measure of brandy.
He went over and tugged the blanket back up round her shoulders snugly.
‘I will be as quick as I can,’ he told her. ‘Just sit tight and keep warm. When I get back we’ll see about cleaning up your cuts and scrapes and work out how to get you back to your room without anyone discovering you have ever been out of it.’
Then, because he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he bent down, seized her face between his hands, and kissed her hard—full on the lips.
‘What did you do that for?’ she gasped.
She looked puzzled, and a bit surprised, but not the least bit angry. Which filled him with elation. And hope.
‘Because you are a darling,’ he said, gently tracing the curve of her cheek with his forefinger. ‘We shall have to have a serious talk when I get back. But in the meantime…’ he bent and kissed her again ‘…behave yourself.’
And then he turned and left. Picking up his pistol on his way out.
Lady Jayne sat there in a daze. He had kissed her. Twice. And called her a darling. She could still feel the imprint of his lips upon hers. And the echo of his hands cupping her face. A lovely, fuzzy warmth began to spread through her veins.
Only to come shivering to a halt when she recalled him adjuring her to behave herself.
He might be grateful to her for alerting him to Milly’s flight, but he still only saw her as… Well, the best she could hope for was a friend. And he had not been able to resist saying something about her behaviour. He’d even brought up that dreadful episode when she had snuck out of Lady Penrose’s house to meet Harry. The horrid, shaky feeling she’d had ever since she had fallen off the roof became a surge of real nausea.
She downed the rest of the brandy, then set the empty glass down on the floor by the chair with a snap.
Minutes ticked past.
It was awfully quiet, sitting up by the fire, in the middle of the night. She wondered where Richard was. Whether he’d caught up with them yet. And whether he’d shot Lord Halstead with that pistol he’d snatched up as he went out through the door. And whether Milly was flinging herself on his chest and weeping with gratitude…
She pulled her thoughts away from their reunion. Only to become increasingly aware of all the physical discomforts she’d told Richard did not matter. Her nightgown had absorbed a lot of rainwater when she’d slid down the wet tiles, so that in spite of the blanket round her shoulders she just couldn’t get warm. Her knee hurt. As did the palms of her hands and her shoulders in the aftermath of hanging from the guttering. And her feet were filthy.
She’d feel much better if only she could have a wash and get into some clean, dry nightwear, rather than sitting here feeling sorry for herself because Richard had done exactly as she’d asked. Left her here alone, soaked, freezing and hurt, to go chasi
ng after Milly.
But she could not go back to her room. Milly had locked her out.
No, she hadn’t, though. She had locked her in. She had turned the key in the outside of the door. If she could just find her way back to the suite she would be able to get back in and, as Richard had said, nobody would be any the wiser.
Hitching the blanket round her shoulders, she tiptoed across the room and peeped out of the door through which Richard had gone. The corridor outside was pitch-black. Nobody would venture along here without a candle. And if she were to see any glimmer of light she could run and hide, surely?
She went and fetched a candle from Richard’s bedroom. She felt a pang of guilt when she noted a mess of broken glass on his dressing table, where the stone she had flung had shattered the mirror. She also couldn’t help noticing that his bed had not been slept in. He must have been getting ready for bed when she’d thrown the stone through his window. Which was why his shirt had been undone. Her mind flashed back to the sight of him, standing in the library doorway, barefoot and half dressed. And then her eyes fell to the rumpled coverlet of his bed. Had he been sitting just there, undoing his shirt, when her pebble flew through the window?
She backed hastily away from the bed, took the lighted candle from Richard’s nightstand, and marched determinedly out of his suite of rooms.
If she turned to the left and walked until she came to the end of his side of the house, then turned left again, that would take her to the front of the house, where her own suite was situated.
The candlelight cast huge wavering shadows before her as she crept stealthily along the deserted corridors. How on earth did burglars have the nerve to creep through people’s houses in the dead of night? By the time she reached the familiar sight of the door to the suite she had shared with Milly her heart was banging so hard against her ribs it was making her whole body shake.
She slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief to think nobody had seen her, walked across to her room and stretched out her hand to unlock her door. But there was no key in the lock. Milly must have removed it for some reason, and she had not noticed because she had been making so much noise pounding on the door, demanding her release. With a sense of frustration she shook the handle, but it was no use.
An Escapade and an Engagement Page 19