“Allow her to disappear.” Spencer glanced at the young woman who listened with hope in her eyes.
“Yes,” Dalia agreed. “No one will know.”
Pruett shook his head. He wasn’t having any of their suggestions. “That’s a ridiculous notion. You haven’t answered my question. What were you doing at the gardens?”
“Put down that knife,” Dalia suggested, “and I’ll tell you.”
“I ain’t puttin’ this down until the pair of you are gone from my sight.”
From Pruett’s expression, Spencer knew he was losing his patience. That made two of them. Yet what could he do to set Dalia free and get both her and Kate out of the room without harm?
The weight of Dalia’s regard had him glancing at her again. She dropped her gaze to the porcelain pan before her then glared at him again. She repeated the gesture, but he wasn’t certain what she was trying to tell him. Was she suggesting he use the basin as a weapon? Did she intend to?
She quirked a brow, and he braced himself, uncertain what was coming but trying to prepare for it all the same. Then she stomped on the edge of the basin, sending it flying into the air.
Without a second thought, Spencer took advantage of Pruett’s distraction and bent forward to ram his shoulder into Pruett’s chest. Spencer reached for the wrist holding the knife. His momentum carried Pruett backward into the wall. Spencer slammed the man’s hand against the wall with the hope he’d drop the blade.
Dalia managed to catch the basin and slam it over Pruett’s head.
Pruett roared under their joint attack. Dalia struck him again and again. Unfortunately, she missed a few times and hit Spencer’s shoulder.
Spencer drew back to strike Pruett’s jaw, hoping the man would drop to the floor. But no. He matched Spencer’s attack blow for blow with his free hand.
Between Pruett’s fist and the pain in his ribs, Spencer staggered, fear settling deep in his bones. Would he be able to rescue Dalia after all?
Chapter Fifteen
“They [dress-lodgers] are poor wretches who somehow or another are reduced to the lowest depths of destitution. Sometimes illness is the cause.”
~The Seven Curses of London
Panic caused Dalia’s breath to hitch. She shoved back the fear as best she could to focus on her anger.
Anger at Pruett’s men for hurting Jack.
Anger at Pruett for hurting Kate.
Anger at him for hurting Spencer.
Anger at herself for placing Spencer in danger.
Gathering her strength, she renewed her efforts to break Pruett’s head with the basin then struck his hand, which refused to release the knife.
A movement out of the corner of her eye revealed one of his men rushing toward her. Before she could react, Kate stood, bound hands clenched into fists, then swung with all her might at the man’s head.
She connected with him soundly, causing her to cry out with pain. The man stumbled. Dalia swatted him alongside the head with a satisfying twang. He slid to the floor, holding a hand to his ear.
Dalia didn’t waste time celebrating the victory but turned back to Pruett. Spencer punched him squarely in the nose, stunning him based on the way he blinked blankly. Holding her weapon with both hands for maximum effect, she swung the basin once again, striking Pruett’s head.
The blow sent a painful reverberation up her arms. But the realization that it was her best hit yet helped her ignore the ache. Pruett at last dropped the knife as he sank to the floor, out cold.
The other man turned tail and scrambled out the door.
Spencer stumbled back, his expression pinched, making Dalia realize how badly he’d been hurt. Before she could comment, he said, “Go.”
Just that single word spoke volumes. Without pause, she grabbed Kate’s arm and rushed toward the door. But she hesitated on the threshold, something deep inside her unwilling to leave without Spencer. She looked back, relieved to see him directly behind them, and proceeded into the hall.
“Jack!” Dalia’s relief made her knees weak as she saw the footman sitting up. “Are you well?”
The tall man gingerly touched the back of his head as he slowly stood. “What happened?”
“You were struck from behind upon our arrival.”
“Let us share the details after we escape,” Spencer ordered as he locked the door of the room. “As quick as you can.” He gestured for them to follow as he led the way down the empty hall to the stairs. He glanced about warily as though expecting someone to accost them at each corner.
Dalia realized the man who’d left might have very well gone for reinforcements rather than running off in fear. Kate had told her that Stephens had ordered the rest of the girls to the front room upon Pruett’s arrival. He must’ve worried one of them would find a way to aid Kate. Had the man who’d run away gone to get Stephens?
Dalia urged Kate to hurry down the stairs as quickly as possible. Jack followed closely behind.
Within moments, they’d run out the rear entrance.
“What about Molly?” Kate asked.
“I haven’t seen her,” Dalia said, hoping the young girl who’d been brave enough to send the message was well.
“I didn’t see anyone when I arrived,” Spencer added. “We’ll have to hope she hid.”
Kate nodded, a tear tracking down her cheek.
“No time to fall apart.” Dalia placed her hand on the woman’s shoulder. “We must focus on getting away from here.”
That only made Kate cry harder.
Dalia shook her head. Spencer’s horse, the same one he’d ridden in Hyde Park, stood inside the gate, its head bobbing at the sight of them. Dismay filled her as she realized there were four of them and only one horse.
“Come along.” Spencer stood next to the steed and locked his hands together to serve as a step. “Jack and I will lead the horse with you and Kate on it.”
“Allow me, my lord.” Jack lifted Kate onto the horse, settling her in the saddle. He pulled a small knife from his pocket and cut the bindings from her wrists.
Spencer reached for Dalia’s waist, but she placed her hands on his. “No. I can see you’re hurt. I refuse to make it worse.” With a squeeze of his hands, she stepped back to place her foot on the rails of the wrought-iron fence to hoist herself up behind Kate before he could protest.
Spencer offered a small smile as he untied the horse’s reins while Jack opened the gate. After leading the animal through, Spencer paused long enough to shove a rock against the latch, making pursuit of them more difficult.
Then he and Jack led the horse, running alongside it. Dalia held tight to Kate’s waist, realizing the woman shivered with fear.
“Have you ridden before, Kate?”
“No, miss. It don’t seem natural, does it? To have this big beast between your legs?”
Dalia wasn’t certain but thought she heard Spencer muffle a laugh.
He wound a path through the neighborhood until she had no idea of their whereabouts. She wondered if he actually knew where he was going or if he was making their path difficult to follow. Jack swayed as he shuffled along, putting a hand to his head several times. No doubt it ached like a bad tooth.
The problem was that two women on a horse led by a nicely dressed gentleman and an injured footman were very conspicuous. Heads turned on each street they took. But she didn’t know what else they could do. Though she considered offering to walk alongside Spencer, she feared Kate would lose her seat if left on the horse alone.
At last, Spencer slowed their pace. His odd gait grew more noticeable. He paused near the mouth of an alley as he caught his breath. His gaze skimmed up and down the street, and Jack did the same.
“I don’t think we’re being followed.” Dalia had glanced back several times as they’d traveled but had seen no sign of anyone in pursuit.
“Good.” Spencer closed his eyes for a long moment before he straightened, pain visible in the tightness of his expression.
“Did he injure you with the knife?” Dalia asked, horrified at the thought as she searched his form for evidence of a wound.
“No. Someone’s fist must’ve cracked a rib.” He placed a hand on his side and winced. “Or two.”
“Why don’t you ride for a time?” she suggested, already leaning forward to swing her leg over the horse to dismount.
He raised his hand to stay her. “Jolting about on the horse won’t aid me.”
With a resigned nod, she adjusted her position then glanced down the street. “What now? Do we need to find a place to hide for a time?”
“I want to go home,” Kate said between sniffles.
“If we take you home, Pruett will find you,” Spencer said. “I’m guessing his anger will be far worse than it was earlier.”
Kate cried harder at his words.
“Come now, Kate,” Dalia said as she squeezed her shoulder. “You don’t want to put anyone else in danger. I think it best if you disappear for a time. At least for a few weeks until the situation calms.”
“Disappear?” Kate’s brown eyes widened in horror. “To where? I ain’t got no place to go.”
Dalia bit her lip. “You’ll have to come home with me.” The idea of explaining the woman’s presence to her mother had her cringing, but where else could she go?
Spencer looked up at the still sniffing Kate. “Have you ever been to the country?”
Later that evening, Dalia smoothed trembling hands over her pale rose-colored gown. Though the last thing she wanted was to go to the ball, her mother would be expecting her. She and Violet would already be there. Her father was most likely at his club but would soon drop by. Holly was at a friend’s house for the evening. Jack rested in his bed after the cook had taken a closer look at the bump on his head. She couldn’t very well feign illness again without raising her mother’s suspicion.
Spencer had promised to meet her there to advise how Kate was faring. That alone was enough reason for her to leave the comfort of her room and venture downstairs.
Yet her stomach swirled with nerves, causing her to feel slightly nauseated. She jumped when the footman came to tell her the carriage was waiting. The lump in her throat refused to go away as the carriage took her to the ball. She didn’t understand what was wrong, why she felt so weepy.
She was safe. Kate was safe. Spencer was hurt but safe.
There was no reason for this urge to cry. Luckily, it wasn’t far to the party. She drew several deep breaths as she alighted with the footman’s assistance.
The front entrance of the large mansion had marble columns lit by torches that lined the stairs. The appearance felt austere and less than welcoming, which did nothing to soothe her roiling emotions. She entered the foyer where Lord and Lady Haverton were still greeting guests.
“Lovely to see you, Violet,” the lady said.
The mistake only made the lump in the back of her throat bigger. “It’s Dalia, actually.”
Why did she bother to correct anyone? No one remembered anyway. But did that truly matter?
“Oh, of course. Dalia. You and your sisters look so much alike.”
Dalia managed a smile and thanked them for the invitation. A glance around the ballroom revealed her mother not far from the entrance. She straightened her posture as she approached. “Good evening, Mother.”
“Where have you been?” her mother asked, a frown marring her brow.
“I-I—” She hadn’t prepared an excuse for her tardiness. “My errand earlier took longer than I anticipated.”
Before her mother could respond, a shiver ran down Dalia’s back, as though a warm finger trailed down her spine, causing awareness to wash through her. She turned to find Spencer directly behind her. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest at the sight of him. The urge to walk into his embrace nearly overwhelmed her.
“Good evening, Mrs. Fairchild,” he greeted her mother with a slight bow. “Miss Fairchild.” His familiar gaze caught on Dalia. “May I say you both look lovely this evening?”
Her mother straightened from her curtsy with a smile as Dalia did the same. “Why thank you, my lord.”
His timing couldn’t have been better. Her mother’s attention shifted to Spencer, her expression filled with delight.
“How is your mother? I haven’t seen her in an age.”
“She is well, thank you. I’m certain she’d be pleased if you called on her.”
“I shall do that soon.”
Spencer nodded before turning to Dalia. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
Her mother beamed with approval, but Dalia felt guilty for misleading her. No doubt Spencer only wished to advise her how Kate fared.
The pang of longing for something more caught her breath as she offered her gloved hand. Nerves fluttering in her stomach shifted into something else entirely. Anticipation? Pleasure? Perhaps something in between. A proper label for it escaped her.
He placed her hand on the crook of his elbow, pressing it tight against his side as they walked toward the dance floor. The intimacy of the movement had never before dawned on her. The act of touching him had changed in the last few hours, or rather the last few days.
Now that she knew him better, she became aware of the cadence of his step, the rhythm of his breathing, all of which had become achingly familiar. A hint of the pain he had was visible in the tightness around his eyes along with the stiffness of his body.
“Are your ribs terribly sore?” she asked.
“Only if I move.” His smile made light of it though she knew he must be hurting.
She shook her head, confused.
“What is it?” he whispered. “Are you well?” The concern in his tone brought the lump back to her throat.
“I’m fine,” she managed to choke out. She felt his gaze searching her expression, but she didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d burst into tears. Was this sensation some sort of aftershock from the afternoon’s events? Regardless, she didn’t want Spencer to think ill of her for acting so weak and upset.
With a quick glance over his shoulder to see if anyone watched, he guided her to the far side of the dance floor and through the terrace doors, which stood wide open.
Before she could settle herself, they stood outside protected from view by a tall boxwood hedge. The cool evening air helped clear her thoughts. Flickering light from torches along the terrace cast shadows over Spencer’s expression.
“Are you certain?” He kept her gloved hand in his. When she only nodded in response, he lifted her chin with a finger. “Tell me.”
The knowledge that he understood her well enough to realize her distress added to it. She licked her lips as she ordered herself to calm. Yet the next breath she drew shuddered, revealing her distress. “I-I don’t know what’s wrong.” Frustrated with herself, she pulled away only to have him draw her into his embrace.
“It’s quite normal, you know.”
“What is?”
“Your upset is a natural reaction. People experience shock after a harrowing incident such as the one you went through this afternoon.”
That had her meeting his gaze. “Do you?”
He nodded. “You went through a wide range of emotions in a short amount of time. Now your mind and body don’t know what to think.”
The explanation relieved her considerably. “I confess that I’ve been on the verge of tears several times since the...incident.”
“You were incredibly brave today.”
Startled, she glanced up, surprised he thought so. She knew that soon enough, he’d be lecturing her as to her reckless behavior, but for now, the comfort of his words eased the lump in her throat.
“I’m not saying I agree with what you did,” he warned, though his soft tone felt more like a caress than a reprimand. “But you showed true courage, coming to Kate’s rescue.”
“I’m sorry.” She knew she owed him an apology. He wouldn’t be injured if it weren’t for her. “I didn’t know what else to do. It was m
y fault that Pruett was angry with her. When I visited the home that day, I pressed her for answers.”
“No, the fault lies with Pruett.”
She pondered his words, realizing he had a valid point. “Is Kate all right?”
“She’s fine. My housekeeper insists she looks just like her niece and is coddling her nicely. She’ll leave in the morning to take a position as a maid at my country estate until things settle down.”
“That is very kind of you.”
“Perhaps Kate can decide what she wants to do when far away from the city. A fresh perspective will hopefully give her clarity.”
Dalia couldn’t help the little shiver that passed over her at the thought of all the other women in the city who deserved a chance to do the same.
“Are you chilled?”
Before she could respond, Spencer tightened his arms. His warmth seeped into her, easing much more than her shivers. His touch calmed her anxiousness. Indulging herself, she leaned her head against his broad chest. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t arrived when you did.”
She felt his body tense and wished she hadn’t mentioned that.
“We shall save that particular discussion for a later date,” he suggested. “I don’t believe my nerves can take reliving this afternoon’s events.”
Sighing with relief, she enjoyed the moment, loving how safe she felt, how perfect she fit there. The contact felt wonderful, as though linking her to him both physically and emotionally. Perhaps it was because of the experience they’d shared, but she felt as if no one else could understand her as he did. The urge to press her lips against his sent flutters through her.
He stilled for a moment then muffled a groan as he shifted his hands along her body. Desire pulsed through her when she felt his lips on her forehead then over her closed eyes then her cheeks until she couldn’t bear it any longer.
She raised on her toes and kissed him with the passion that coiled through her, heating her thoroughly. His lips were firm, melding with hers. He deepened the kiss, running his hands along the bare skin of her upper arms before holding her hips.
Falling for the Viscount_Book VI of The Seven Curses of London Series Page 16