The Scarlet Bride

by Cheryl Ann Smith

  After what seemed like an eternity, Simon reappeared. “My parents would like to see you.”

  Laura’s stomach dropped. She picked up her valise. “Wouldn’t it be quicker to just have me ejected out of the house from here?”

  Simon shook his head. “You are not to be ejected. My father wants to see if Mother was correct about your character.”

  “Excellent.”

  He took her arm and escorted her to the library. The warmth of the familiar room didn’t clear the chill from her limbs as she faced the new earl.

  The man was tall and handsome. The paternal connection between father and son was clear on their faces. They resembled each other remarkably. She curtsied. “My Lord. My Lady.”

  “Miss Prescott.” Lord Seymour stood and rounded his desk. He looked at her over a pair of reading glasses. “I understand that you have gotten my son into all sorts of mischief these last few weeks, including a race about the wharf last evening on the tail of a possible murderer.”

  With knees shaking, she managed to meet his eyes. “In all fairness, My Lord, Simon got himself into mischief when he rode in to rescue me from Westwick’s footmen. Had he dropped me off at the school and never returned, he would not have risked his neck by jumping out that window last night.”

  Lord Seymour nodded, amusement in his eyes. “My son is impulsive. And I can see why he is fascinated with you. You are very unlike that simpering Lady Jeanette.”

  “Father,” Simon warned. “We did not come here to discuss Lady Jeanette. We came to seek shelter for Laura.”

  The countess stepped forward. “Of course Laura will stay here. It will give the two of us time to get better acquainted.”

  Never had Laura heard a more ominous comment. Though Lady Seymour appeared kind, she was a mother first. If she saw any indication that her son was falling in love with a courtesan, she’d have Laura kidnapped and dropped off somewhere in the wilds of Northumberland.

  “It will be my pleasure to get better acquainted with you, Lady Seymour,” she managed through a tight throat. The countess’s smile was a touch mischievous, as if she saw Laura’s discomfort and enjoyed it immensely.

  “Excellent.” The countess crossed the room and passed Laura. “Come, I shall see you settled.”

  Laura shot Simon a pleading look. He shrugged. The silent plead turned into a frown. He’d dropped her into a lion cage without a weapon to fend off the sharp-toothed felines.

  “I have just the room for you.” The countess led the way up the stairs to a tastefully decorated rose and white room. The color was subtle and warm and overlooked the street. Laura placed her valise on the bed for the maid, who quickly unpacked her meager possessions.

  Shamed for the countess to see her poverty displayed in the old clothing, Laura spent a minute putting her parents’ miniatures in just the right place on the writing desk. When she finally turned back to the countess, the maid was gone and Lady Seymour was wearing a curious expression.

  “You should never be ashamed of where you come from, Miss Prescott.” She settled on the bed and patted the coverlet. “Please join me.”

  Apprehensive, Laura took a seat beside her.

  “Let me tell you a story,” the countess began. “My family was large and as poor as church mice, though some would say the mice had better lodgings. I worked as a milkmaid and housemaid since I was eleven to help support my family. We all worked very hard to keep food in our stomachs.”

  Laura pondered the information and waited for her to continue.

  “Oddly, in spite of the harsh conditions, my family was happy.” She smiled. “One afternoon I was walking back from Henley Hall when a man rode past on a large bay horse. I thought nothing of it until he turned the animal around and rode back to me.” Her eyes took on a faraway cast. “Though he was very, very handsome, I had been chased by some of the finest bucks in Ireland. I wasn’t about to be seduced and left with child by this arrogant Englishman with a charming smile.”

  “The earl sounds very much like his son,” Laura said.

  “He was, is. But he had other plans for me. He climbed down from that horse and for the next two hours told me about his life, his family, and his plans to marry me. By the time he returned me to my father, I was smitten. We wed a few hours later.”

  “What a romantic story.” Laura sighed.

  The countess nodded. “I took a leap of faith that day. I only knew that when I looked into his eyes, I would always be loved and cared for.”

  Tears prickled behind Laura’s lashes.

  “The point I am making with my long-winded tale is that I went from a tiny house my father had built to an estate in Kent. When I met my husband, I was barefoot and wearing a dress Lady Henley’s daughter had outgrown and gifted me.” She took a deep breath. “I will judge you for your character, not whether you have a large dowry or are weighted in jewels.”

  Laura sat a little straighter on the bed. She smiled wryly. “I’m pleased, for I have nothing other than my character to judge.”

  Lady Seymour stood. She peered askance at Laura through narrowed lids. “We shall see.”

  Caught up in the whirlwind that was Lady Kathleen, Laura spent the next two days in her company and in that of her daughter, Brenna. They shopped, went to a museum, and even called on Mrs. Fairchild, who had recently lost her elderly pooch.

  Simon, His Lordship, or the guards were always present and wary. Though the outings were meant to bait Henry, Lady Seymour struggled to treat each as if nothing dark was lingering just out of sight. In public, she appeared more interested in learning about Laura than worrying that a killer might be stalking them. In the privacy of the town house, Lady Seymour fretted about Laura’s safety.

  The family wanted to keep her sheltered. It was Laura who insisted they continue life as if nothing were amiss. After a long and somewhat heated argument, they reluctantly agreed.

  “Is your mother always so enthusiastic?” Laura had asked Brenna after the visit to the museum when the two younger women slumped, exhausted, in the carriage.

  “Always,” Brenna replied as her mother was helped inside. “Mother has the energy of six women.”

  The countess righted her hat. “It keeps me young, dearest.”

  Laura eventually discovered Simon’s plan to marry off Brenna to one Chester Abbot and, by his sister’s description of the man, stood firmly with Brenna against the notion.

  “How can you consider him a husband for your sister?” Laura confronted Simon later that evening. She made a face. “He sounds positively dull.”

  Simon scowled. “It is as I feared. You have come under the negative influence of my mother and sister. Soon you will be taking me to task for my choice of coat or how to better use my spoon. Perhaps I should consider moving you elsewhere until Henry has been captured.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” She glanced at the open door of the sitting room and stepped close. She took his hands. “I feel safe here. If I promise not to speak a word about your spoon or coat, will you let me stay?”

  Laura knew he’d not remove her from the town house and the threat was only jest. But it gave her an excuse to lean in, feel his warmth, and enjoy the touch of their hands together. In such a busy household, and with the lack of privacy, their contact had been minimal.

  He let his gaze roam over her face. “An inn would be more private. I cannot get close to you without tripping over Mother or Brenna.”

  She warmed. It was comforting to know his ardor for her hadn’t waned. She intended to steal many more kisses.

  “They want to assure themselves that you will not take advantage of my good nature.” She walked backward, drawing Simon behind the open door. She pulled her hands free and placed her palms on his muscled chest. “Or perhaps they hope to keep me from taking advantage of you.”

  Simon growled low and dipped his head for a kiss. She moved against him and slid her arms around his waist.

  The kiss deepened quickly, infusing her with tingles.
Then just as quickly, it was over.

  Laura didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “I’ve missed you terribly. Making lively conversation over meals or speaking politely about the weather is not enough.”

  Her Grace’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

  Cupping her face, he pressed a last hard kiss on her mouth and drew her back into the room. “I have employed an estate manager for my manor and the hiring of a staff has begun. I also have two pieces of news. Uncle Arthur has been returned to London and will be buried tomorrow.”

  “That is good news. Your family has him home.” Laura sat in a chair. “And the second piece of news?”

  “Crawford has discovered that Henry’s real name is Charles Henry Innes. He has passed the information to the Runners.”

  “The name certainly fits with what I know. Westwick did slip once and call him Charles. But why the ruse?”

  “We suspect Westwick and Henry of nefarious deeds beyond their desire to kidnap and sell young women for profit. There are rumors about cheating at cards and selling shares in worthless shipping investments, to name two. Charles may have used ‘Henry’ to keep his true identity secret. Both names are as common as tea is in England.”

  “And yet Westwick had no such qualms about revealing his own identity,” she interjected. “He must have thought his title would keep him safe if he was caught committing crimes.”

  Simon snorted. “He got away with so many misdeeds in his life. Why would he not think he was safe from prosecution?”

  Laura nodded. “And yet he wasn’t safe from an assassin’s knife.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Aunt Bernie still has a touch of a fever and is sleeping,” the countess said. Clad in black, she pulled on her gloves. Her face was grim. “I have promised to take her to pay her respects to Arthur once she is feeling better.”

  Laura nodded. Aunt Bernie was beside herself when she realized she’d have to miss the funeral. Unfortunately, she could barely rise from her bed to take care of her most basic needs. She’d never be able to sit or stand several hours upright.

  “I will check on her frequently,” she promised.

  Lady Kathleen patted her arm. “You are a dear.”

  Simon stepped forward and took Laura’s hands. “I don’t like leaving you alone in this house. Henry could be anywhere.”

  The family was gathered in the foyer, a sea of black. Miss Eva and the duke and Miss Noelle and Mister Blackwell had all come to travel together with Simon’s family to the funeral. The rest of the extended family had already gone off to the church.

  “I am well guarded,” Laura said. She squeezed his hands. “I promise to stay inside and keep vigilant.”

  “I’d rather you came with me,” he said softly.

  “The funeral is for family and friends. Besides, I can comfort Aunt Bernie should she awaken,” she said. “The house is full of servants, and guards are posted outside. I am better watched than the king.”

  Laura worked to present a confident tone. Henry was a man capable of any misdeed. If he wanted to find a way into this house, he would. She could only hope that the sheer volume of the staff, having been alerted to watch for anything suspicious, would ensure her safety.

  “I will be back as quickly as I can.” Simon pressed her hand to his mouth as the family filed out the door. He glanced at Hardy. “Bolt the door behind us.”

  “Yes, sir.” The butler did as he was told.

  Her first order was to check on Aunt Bernie. She went upstairs.

  The lady was sleeping, her cheeks flushed and streaked with tears. Laura placed a hand on her forehead. The fever seemed to be abating from a high the previous day. It was a happy sign of recovery. Laura tucked a blanket around her and left her to sleep.

  Laura walked to her room and collected the volume of poems she’d finished last evening. She went downstairs to the kitchen and the cook made her a snack of scones with jam, left over from breakfast.

  “These are the most delicious scones I have ever tasted,” she said and the cook smiled. “Perhaps you should take the rest away, lest I have to let my dress out.”

  Satiated, she walked to the library to return the book and select another. After a thorough search, she chose a book that chronicled the history of pirates and walked to the parlor.

  A footman stood at the end of the hall, clearly alert for trouble. Another was posted at the top of the staircase. Laura appreciated Simon’s thoroughness.

  She wandered into the yellow parlor, took a seat on the settee, and was soon immersed in the fascinating tale of the life of Edward Teach.

  An hour passed and then two as she delved in the stories of Calico Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny. She was halfway through the history of Captain Kidd when her unsettled nights caught up to her. Her head bobbed and the book hit the floor with a clunk.

  The sound startled her awake.

  Rubbing an eye, she bent to retrieve the volume and heard a noise from the open doorway connecting the parlor with the library next door.

  Curious, she rose and walked toward the doorway.

  She was nearing the opening when a shabby figure stepped into the room. Alarmed, she opened her mouth to cry out when the man lifted his arm and aimed a pistol at her face.

  Chapter Thirty

  Henry.” Laura’s heart raced.

  Nodding, he lowered the weapon and stared into her eyes, his face tight. “Your lover is determined to protect you. It is lucky that I spent my youth as a housebreaker. There is not a wall I cannot climb or a window or door I cannot unlock.”

  “How did you avoid the guards?” Laura took a step backward. Fear burned in her stomach.

  “Save for one visit to the courtesan school, I’ve been hiding in the attic since I dragged myself out of the Thames. I figured the last place anyone would look for me was in this house. And I was correct. No one thought to look up there when they made a sweep of the house and grounds.” He shrugged and indicated his dusty clothing. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

  She shuddered at the idea of him hiding in the upper floor for the last few days, with her and the Harrington family living below.

  Clearly she’d underestimated him. They all had. A life of criminal pursuits had honed his ability to get in and out of every situation.

  “Why did you wait to confront me until now?”

  “There were far too many people about,” he admitted. “A few minutes ago, I noticed the house had suddenly gotten very quiet. I decided to find out why, so I snuck down the servants’ stairs and crept through the kitchen. Getting to you was simple with all these connecting rooms. No one thought to post a guard in an empty parlor or library.”

  The man was brilliant. Insanely brilliant.

  “I see I have finally done something you admire.”

  “What do you want?” Laura snapped. She hated the quiver in her voice. She would beat him at his game. She had to win for the sake of them all.

  “I have come for my due,” he said, moving across the room. “I watched Westwick put his hands on you, kiss you, and carry you to his bed. It’s my turn.”

  Laura braced herself as he neared. The stench of stale sweat and dirty clothing permeated him. He was scuffed and water stained. “You will never have me,” she vowed.

  He smirked. “And what will you do about it, Lady Laura? Fight me? I am both stronger than you and armed.” He lifted the pistol. “You will either come willingly or I will tie and carry you from the house. Either way, we will be well away from here before your lover returns.”

  “You may be able to slip into the house alone unnoticed, but you will never get away while carrying me. You will be seen.”

  The smirk turned evil. “The guards will not interfere when I’m holding a pistol to your head.”

  Worry kept her from calling out. She knew the footmen would come to her aid. But who would die before he was subdued? Could she risk a life to save herself?

  For now, she had to rely on her wits.

/>   Moving closer, he came within reach, yet still far enough back to keep her from lunging for the weapon.

  She met his eyes. “How did you become so evil? I know you killed Westwick. We found the maid who saw the murder,” she lied. “She has made a statement to the Runners. You will be caught and hanged.”

  Smugness flashed to rage on his face. “Westwick was my brother. He murdered my mother as if he’d held her under that water himself.” He rubbed the pistol against his temple. Madness welled in his eyes. “I was orphaned and still he left me to rot, forgotten, in that foundling hospital.”

  In spite of his evil, Laura felt for the baby he once was. Growing up orphaned had twisted his mind.

  “How did you find out about Westwick?” Leaving the town house with Henry would mean certain death. If she could keep him distracted, she might find a way to escape.

  Henry grinned. “The home kept records, such as they were. When I was fifteen, I discovered that I’d been left there by a farmer from Suffolk. I’d thought I was his unwanted son. Imagine my surprise when the truth came out.”

  “How much do you know about your history?”

  “Everything.” He drew the pistol down the side of his face as he stared down at her breasts. “I learned that I come from a long line of lechers.” Before Laura could see his intention, he stepped forward and tore her delicate bodice open.

  She cried out. The swell of her breasts above her corset was exposed. She reached out to claw him, but he stepped back just as quickly as he’d advanced. She clutched the torn fabric together.

  “Bastard.”

  He leered. “You have beautiful breasts, Lady Laura. Later we shall remove your gown so I may worship your perfection.”

  “You will have to kill me before you take your pleasure,” she ground out. “I’ll never come willingly to your bed.”

  One lid narrowed. “Still a fighter? And I’d thought Westwick had beaten it out of you.”