by Laura Landon
“This doesn’t change how I feel about you, sir.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” he answered. “Although I’d still like to know why you have such a healthy dislike of me.”
Millie wanted to tell him exactly why she disliked him, but she couldn’t. She’d said too much already. Just letting him know that she disliked him had piqued his curiosity. She couldn’t allow him to delve into the reason she detested him so. If only she’d hidden her reaction the first time she’d seen him. If only she hadn’t revealed so much of her true feelings.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he asked.
“Are we almost there?”
“Yes. Do you feel unwell?”
“No. Yes. I’m not sure.”
“Lay your head against me,” he said, and Millie did.
His footsteps sped forward and she heard him issue an order for Henry not to cross the street.
As if in a fog, Millie realized she was being carried up the stairs of Lord Strothum’s town house. She heard voices, but they seemed so far away. Suddenly, she was too tired to care.
Millie closed her eyes on a deep sigh. She felt exceedingly confused.
Roarke Livingston’s strong arms tightened around her.
And she knew there wasn’t any other place on earth where she’d feel so safe.
CHAPTER 5
Roarke climbed the stairs to the third floor, then went two doors past the nursery door to Millie Shaw’s room. His hours away from the house had been an unexpected trial, an agony, if he were truthful with himself, and he’d counted every minute until he could look on her face again, to see for himself that she was truly alright. It had been a full twenty-four hours since he’d carried her home, and according to the latest report, she was doing much better. The doctor had ordered her to remain in bed today and tomorrow, then said she should be well enough to work at least half the next day.
Roarke was relieved. From the way her wound persisted in bleeding, and how fast the bump rose on her forehead, he was afraid her injury might be more serious. When she lost consciousness, he’d become even more concerned. He was relieved when he was told she’d regained consciousness minutes after he’d carried her to her room. He, of course, hadn’t been allowed to see her.
Today was different. Jack and Lord Strothum were with him. They were on their way to ask Miss Shaw for her help.
“Do you think she’ll agree to assist us?” Jack asked Lord Strothum. “And are you sure we can trust her?”
“I’m sure she’ll agree. Millie is an exemplary employee. As far as trust is concerned, I trust Miss Shaw with my children. That is the same as trusting her with my life. I wouldn’t give them over to anyone in whom I didn’t have complete faith.”
They reached Miss Shaw’s room and Roarke knocked. Lady Strothum opened the door and allowed them to enter.
Millie Shaw was dressed and sitting in a chair. She didn’t seem surprised to see them, which meant Lady Strothum had told her that they wanted to speak with her.
She looked at each man as they entered, each man, that is, except him. She avoided making eye contact with him.
“How are you feeling, Miss Shaw?” Lord Strothum said when he reached her.
“I’m quite well, my lord. Well enough to resume my duties.”
“Unfortunately,” Lady Strothum added, “Dr. Ramsey doesn’t agree. He thinks you should wait at least one more day before you return to the nursery.”
“Then you will wait at least one more day,” Lord Strothum decreed. And that was the end of the discussion.
“Why don’t you gentlemen have a seat,” Lady Strothum said, pointing to three empty chairs that faced Miss Shaw. Lady Strothum sat in a fourth empty chair, and the men joined her.
“I assume my wife explained that we wanted to speak with you,” Lord Strothum said, his brows raised above his direct but pleasant expression.
“Yes, your lordship,” Miss Shaw answered. “And from the reinforcements you brought with you, I assume this matter is important.”
“It is, Miss Shaw. The matter is extremely important. But before I explain what it is, I want you to know that I am not ordering you to help us. This is simply a request. A request you are free to refuse. The decision is completely up to you.”
Roarke watched the change in Millie Shaw’s expression. A frown creased her forehead and she clasped her fingers in her lap.
“You’ve piqued my interest, my lord. If I have it within my power to assist you, you know I will do so.”
“I knew that would be your answer,” the earl said as he exchanged a smile with his wife. “First, I want you to know that what I’m about to tell you is highly secret. Until we have all the details, it is important that no one suspects what we know.”
Her frown deepened. “Of course, my lord.”
“Yes, well, Mr. Livingston tells me that when you and the children were in the park on the day you fell, Beth mentioned that the upstairs maid Annie had been crying because Jimmy Jamison had…gone to heaven.”
“Yes, Beth overheard Annie confiding to one of the other maids. It seems Annie considered herself in love with the footman.”
“As you recall, Jimmy Jamison’s death is the reason Mr. Wallace’s Bedford Street investigators are here. The staff was told that Jimmy Jamison surprised some thieves who broke into my study. The truth is, Jimmy Jamison was the thief.”
“Oh, dear,” she said.
“Yes, I caught him attempting to steal some important papers from my safe.”
Miss Shaw hesitated a moment before she spoke. “I’m not sure I understand, my lord. If you already know Jimmy Jamison was the thief, what help can I provide?”
“Jimmy Jamison wasn’t working alone,” Mack Wallace said. “He was part of a group, a larger conspiracy, you see.”
Lord Strothum looked at his wife. When she reached over to take his hand, he continued. “We’d like you to speak to the maid Annie, and gather any information you can. Especially about any friends Jimmy talked about. Friends either on staff here, or friends he associated with on his days off. And any plans he might have mentioned that may help us discover who he was working for. Or with.”
“I see.” Millie Shaw sat in silence for several moments. “May I ask why you chose me?”
“Actually,” Lord Strothum said, “Mr. Livingston suggested we ask you.”
Roarke enjoyed seeing the surprised look on her face. He took great pleasure from the fact that she felt compelled to look at him. Finally.
“Since this is classified,” Lord Strothum continued, “we have to be careful who we trust. And since the girl is already distressed, Lady Strothum and I certainly did not wish to appear to be interrogating her.”
“Oh my no, that would frighten the poor girl,” Lady Strothum said. “No, no, we felt it most necessary that her inquisitor be a kind sort of person, someone with whom she might already be comfortable. Someone whose gentle nature is well known.”
“I’m very flattered,” Miss Shaw said.
“I have complete trust in your discretion,” Strothum added. “Mr. Livingston’s suggestion only confirms what I already know.”
Miss Shaw’s gaze shifted to him again, but she lowered it to study her hands in her lap shortly after their eyes made contact. She took in a deep breath, then looked up. “I’ll be glad to speak with Annie. I’m not sure how much information I can gather. We’ve always been on speaking terms, but never close enough that she’s confided in me concerning anything personal.”
“I can’t ask more than that,” Lord Strothum answered, then he rose. “Thank you, Miss Shaw. I appreciate your willingness to help.”
Miss Shaw moved to rise from her chair, but Lord Strothum held out his hand to stop her. “Please, don’t get up. We’ll see ourselves out.”
Lord and Lady Strothum moved to the door, along with Mack and Jack. Roarke stayed behind to speak with Miss Shaw.
“That’s a nasty bruise you have on your forehead,” he said
, looking at the cut above her eyebrow and the array of colors surrounding it.
“That’s what I’ve been told. I haven’t been allowed to examine it, due to a sudden and inexplicable shortage of mirrors, I’m told.” She smiled at her small joke, and its effect pierced him with consuming warmth. “I think everyone believes I’ll suffer a relapse.”
Roarke couldn’t help but smile. Anyone who thought Millie Shaw was that weak didn’t know her all that well. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Her cheeks darkened as she nodded. “I’m fine.”
“Good. I’d hate it if you couldn’t accompany the children when they go to the park.”
“I won’t let the children be your only competition. If I’m not there to challenge you, you’ll consider your abilities far too superior.”
Roarke laughed. “That’s one flaw from which I’ll never suffer as long as I have you to remind me of my inadequacies.”
Roarke expected a rejoinder, but none came. Perhaps he would just have to be content with one moment of radiance from Miss Shaw. Or perhaps her injuries were more severe than she let on. “Rest now,” he said, then walked away from her. He stopped when he reached the door. “And thank you for agreeing to help us.”
Roarke took a step through the open doorway, then turned when she called out his name.
“Thank you for what you did,” she said. “Janie said you carried me all the way from the park. I appreciate your assistance.”
A fleeting disappointment clouded his thoughts. She had no memory of it? No memory of her arms around his neck, her cheek against his shoulder? No memory of the fierce way he’d clutched her to his chest?
Roarke forced the thought away and gave Millie one of his most brilliant smiles. “That’s quite all right, Miss Shaw. I know you would have done the same for me.”
“Oh, but I couldn’t have—”
Her face turned a deep shade of red when she realized he was teasing her.
Roarke doubted he’d ever seen anything as lovely. “Rest now, Miss Shaw. You need to get better. The children miss you.”
He stepped into the hall, and closed the door behind him.
The fullness in his chest when he thought of Millie Shaw confused him. The emotions she stirred within him were different than any emotions he’d ever experienced. More deeply rooted.
More frightening.
. . . . .
She couldn’t sleep. Millie told herself sleep eluded her because she’d spent so much time resting the last two days, but that wasn’t it. The real reason was because she couldn’t stop thinking of Roarke Livingston. He invaded her thoughts and her dreams. He occupied her every waking moment as well as the hours after she closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep. He refused to leave her alone.
She wanted to hate him. She wanted to make him suffer for the pain he’d caused Rosie. But he was impossible to hate. There was so much good in him she constantly found herself overlooking the bad he’d done. It was as if he was a different person than he’d been four years before. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to cause the change in him.
She thought of how he behaved with the children. The time and patience he took with Master Henry and Robbie to show them the correct way to throw a ball, and how to step behind the ball to catch it better. She remembered the special way he chatted with little Beth. From the expression on Beth’s face, she knew the little girl had already fallen in love with him.
And how could she ignore the care and concern he’d shown for her when she’d fallen. He’d carried her all the distance from the park, then up the stairs, and to her room.
According to Janie, Rogers had tried to take her from him, but he’d refused to hand her over. And Janie made such a point about the worried expression on his face when he rushed into the house with her in his arms. Janie said it was plain to anyone who saw him how concerned he was that her injuries were serious. Janie told her that the topic of conversation below stairs was that Mr. Roarke Livingston must have special feelings for Miss Millie Shaw.
Oh, she knew that wasn’t true. And if it was, she needed to squelch them this very instant. How could she allow a connection to him after everything he’d done? She only had to think about Robbie and— Millie threw back the covers and bolted from her bed. With angry movements, she shoved her arms into the sleeves of her robe and stepped into her slippers. She needed to escape from where such wild thoughts churned inside her head. She needed fresh air. She needed— Millie rushed to the door and opened it. She didn’t know what she was desperate to find, but the four walls of her room were crowding around her until she felt as if she were suffocating.
She made her way down the hallway until she reached the stairs, then slowly took the steps. The last thing she needed was to fall down a flight of stairs in the dark.
She reached the second floor, then turned right instead of left. Left would take her to the servant’s staircase. Right, took her to the main staircase, closer to the library, and there was an exit in the library that led onto the terrace that overlooked the large garden. That was her destination.
Millie knew the way by touch. Most evenings, this is where Lord and Lady Strothum waited for her to bring the children. She’d been here so often she could navigate the room in the dark.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she crossed the foyer, then walked down a hall with closed doors on both sides. She opened the third door on the left and entered the library. Two chairs flanked the fireplace, and another grouping of chairs angled on either side of a window, but she avoided them as she walked across the room. She reached out her hand and came into contact with the double French doors that would take her outside.
She unlatched the doors and stepped into the cool night air, letting her feet carry her across the terrace as if some magical force drew her into the open. She stopped only when she reached the cement balustrade and could go no farther.
A pool of moonlight fell across her face and calmed her breathing as Millie closed her eyes and inhaled the gentle night.
“Couldn’t you sleep?”
A startled cry escaped from within her. She turned to see Roarke standing inside the door. His pose was relaxed; his arms were crossed over his chest, his left shoulder leaned against the doorframe, and his right booted foot casually crossed his left.
He’d removed his jacket and was down to a shirt that was open at the neck. His sleeves were rolled nearly to his elbows, and he looked more magnificently handsome than ever.
Millie’s heart raced in her chest.
“No, I couldn’t. I thought a breath of fresh air would help.”
“Don’t you know,” he said as he pushed himself away from where he stood and crossed the terrace, “that fresh air has the opposite effect. Instead of putting one to sleep, it makes one more alert.”
He didn’t stop until he was close to her—so close she could reach out and touch him. She took one step away from him.
“Then coming here will have defeated my purpose,” she said.
“Unless your purpose in coming outside was not to assist you in falling asleep, but to clear your mind of something that is troubling you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Then pardon me for doubting you, because not only do I think something is bothering you enough to keep you awake, but I believe I know what that something is.”
Millie turned her back to him and took a step away. “You can’t possibly know what’s bothering me.”
“Can’t I? I believe I do, because the same problem is bothering me.”
A weight of unease settled inside her chest and she clutched her hands together at her waist. “I need to go back inside.” She took a step toward the house.
“Don’t you want to hear what’s bothering me?”
“No.” She took another step toward the house. And another.
“Yes, you do, Millie Shaw. For som
e reason I don’t understand, I feel something for you that I’ve never felt for another woman before in my life. And I don’t know what to do about it.”
Millie stopped.
“I could ignore it if I was the only one of us who feels like this, but you feel it, too. Don’t you, Millie?”
She turned on him. “How dare you.”
“How dare I, what? Feel this way. Or tell you how I feel about you?”
“You have no right. Not after what you did.”
He crossed the distance between them and didn’t stop until he stood before her. “That’s the second time you’ve accused me of doing something inexcusable. What did I do, Millie?”
Oh, how she wanted to tell him exactly what he’d done. How she wanted to throw every horrible, unforgivable sin he’d committed in his face. How she wanted to lay every unpardonable transgression at his feet and condemn him to a life as filled with heartache and regret as the one she was living.
But she couldn’t.
It would be like throwing little Robbie into his very arms.
What if Roarke discovered Robbie was his son and decided to take him away from her? After all, what father wouldn’t want his son?
She thought of her future without Robbie in it and her blood turned to ice. She wouldn’t give Robbie up. He was as much hers as if she’d given birth to him.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what reprehensible offense I committed, Millie? Even an accused criminal has the right to know what crime he’s suspected of having carried out.”
Millie studied his features. The expression on his face told her he was truly ignorant of any wrongdoing.
A frown pulled his thick, dark brows closer together, giving his handsome features a more rugged appearance. She’d never looked into eyes filled with such emotion. Never looked at a more entreating expression. Never been moved by such a haunted countenance.
Never beheld anyone so beautiful.
No wonder Rosie had fallen helplessly in love with him. No wonder she’d given herself to him without the bonds of marriage. No wonder she hadn’t considered that the man she loved with all her heart didn’t love her as much. Didn’t love her enough to even remember her name.