by Darcy Burke
It made sense that Jimmy had then gone on the hunt for Wolverton, finding him at Lockwood House during one of Jason’s notorious vice parties. Jimmy had killed one of Jason’s footmen, donned his livery to pass into the party unnoticed, then killed Wolverton. Ethan had gone onto the terrace just as Wolverton lay dying. The marquess had told Ethan that Jimmy was dressed as a retainer. Then Ethan had caught sight of the knife Jimmy had used. The hilt had been engraved with the letter J, which Ethan knew meant Jimmy, but which could also be interpreted as being for Jagger. He’d picked it up, intending to remove it from the scene, but that was when Jason and then Teague had come onto the terrace and discovered him.
In the eyes of Bow Street, Ethan was a murderer. It didn’t help that they’d also wanted to charge him with the death of Lady Aldridge, who’d died of opium poisoning at the hands of Jimmy’s underlings. Her husband had led a second Mayfair theft ring and had been killed last spring when he’d been in danger of being caught by a former magistrate. Jimmy didn’t want Aldridge or his widow telling the authorities about the intricate theft rings he’d built among London’s Upper Ten Thousand.
Audrey’s eyes opened and she blinked several times before focusing on him.
He tried to read her expression, but couldn’t. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she murmured. She sat up abruptly. Her hair had come completely undone, as it usually did in her sleep. The dark curls cascaded past her shoulders. She put her hands up and patted the mass.
He gathered up the pins on and around his coat and handed them to her. “Here. I don’t see a glass, and judging from the length of Peck’s beard, I presume there isn’t one.”
She held her palm flat to receive the hairpins. “I daresay you’re correct.” She smiled at him, and it was at moments like these that he wondered if he could truly choose a normal life. With her.
He shook off the ridiculous fancy and got to his feet. “I need to run outside.”
He took his time conducting a rudimentary toilet in the narrow stream running seventy or so yards away from the hermitage. He wondered if he’d run across Peck, but didn’t.
Perched on a rock, he leaned over and splashed water on his face. The sound of a gunshot nearly launched him into the creek. He leapt up and raced back toward the hermitage. If Jimmy’s men had found them again . . . He nearly tripped in his desperation to get to Audrey.
As soon as he reached the clearing where the tiny cottage was settled, he stopped short. Four young dandies were circled around with their rifles. Peck and Audrey stood near the doorway to the cottage.
Everyone looked safe and whole. Ethan’s heartbeat began to slow.
One of the dandies turned. “This your brother, then?” He took in Ethan’s damp hair and shirtsleeves. Ethan hadn’t bothered to don his waistcoat or any of his other garments yet, while these men were decked out in their best hunting attire. Their finery grated on Ethan. His clothing and accoutrements back in London rivaled anything they were wearing. He might be a goddamned criminal, but he was the best-dressed one in London.
Audrey had managed to tame her hair into a sedate style. Dressed in Miranda’s dark blue gown that was too short for her, she looked like an inferior miss in hand-me-down clothes. Ethan detested that far more than his own inadequate costume. In different circumstances, he would gown her in the finest silks and drape her in jewels.
“Yes, this is my brother, Wendell,” Audrey said. “Wendell, these gentlemen are out for their morning hunt.”
“I heard the gunshot. I trust they’re not hunting hermits.” He didn’t bother masking his glower. What manner of idiots were they to be firing so near to the hermitage?
“No, no,” one of them answered jovially. “Just a misfire!” He didn’t seem to notice or perhaps he didn’t care about Ethan’s annoyance, which only served to irritate Ethan even more. Everyone paid attention to his reactions. It was generally accepted that agitating Jagger wasn’t beneficial for one’s health.
Ethan cut through the group of gentlemen and went into the hermitage. He quickly donned his waistcoat and simply tied his cravat. He pulled on his thoroughly rumpled coat as he walked back outside.
“If you weren’t such a delightful young lady,” one of the men was saying to Audrey, “I’d be inclined to report Peck’s behavior to my father.”
“What sort of ‘behavior’ is that?” Ethan asked, again not sparing the effort to keep the bite from his question.
“Having guests. We don’t pay him to entertain.”
One of the other men snorted. “That’s precisely why you pay him. To entertain us. And I’m thoroughly entertained by Miss Hughes.” He dropped a lascivious gaze at Audrey’s chest and it was all Ethan could do not to toss his dagger into the man’s throat.
“Ah, Wendell, we should perhaps be going,” Audrey said, touching his arm and drawing his murderous glare away from the man who’d offended her. Audrey’s gaze connected with Ethan’s and she widened her eyes to perhaps communicate with him to stop. Though Ethan wanted to eviscerate the man who’d ogled her, he recognized such foolishness, though satisfying, wouldn’t aid their cause.
He forced a smile at the dandies, his lips threatening to break under the exercise. “Don’t blame Peck. He merely took pity on us as we were traveling through. It was quite late and my sister is in a rather delicate condition.”
He slid a glance at Audrey, whose face had paled. “Come, Sister, it is time for us to depart.” He went to their horses and loosened them from their tethers. Then he helped Audrey to mount.
Ethan offered his courtliest bow to the hermit, and pointedly ignored the others. “Thank you for your kind hospitality.” He swung himself up on his horse and led Audrey from the clearing.
They weren’t able to ride side by side until they reached the main road. Audrey wasted no time in riding abreast of him. “Why did you say that about my condition?”
“I wanted to mitigate any trouble our visit might’ve caused Peck.” And attempt to make her less attractive to their lewd attention.
“I don’t think it caused any trouble.”
“You heard what that fop said. He considered telling his father that Peck had somehow overstepped his role of hired hermit.” Peck was little better than a slave, it seemed. They weren’t so alike after all. Ethan enjoyed absolute freedom. He could do whatever he wished whenever he wished.
His body slumped as if he’d been kicked in the gut. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t simply tell Jimmy he was through being his right hand, that he wanted to be a proper gentleman in Society as Ethan Lockwood. Jimmy would never let him go, would never free him from his criminal obligations. It was why Ethan had orchestrated his plan to bring him down in the first place. Only then would he be truly free.
Ethan and the hermit were exactly the same. Men who’d chosen a life in the hope that it would be an improvement, only to find they were little better than serfs of old.
“I’m not sure they really meant any harm,” Audrey said.
His hands tightened on the reins. “You might have if you’d noted the way they were looking at you.”
She snapped her gaze to his, then nodded, understanding his meaning. “I didn’t realize. No one ever looks at me like that.”
I do. He bit back the words before he uttered them. There was absolutely no reason to encourage an attraction between them.
They rode a few minutes in silence. “Peck said he put some bread in the saddle bag for us,” she noted. “I hope those gentlemen didn’t mean him ill. He really is a kind soul.”
A kind soul. How Ethan longed for her to think of him in that way. Could he be kind? He’d tried to be. He’d gone out of his way to try to save people in recent months, risking his own neck in the process. Not only had he not had a hand in Lady Aldridge’s death, he’d tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade her to leave London, to remove her from Jimmy’s reach. And now, seeing how far Jimmy was willing to go to get his way, he had to ask himself—would it have helped
? Ethan wondered if he’d even have a chance at life if he went back to London. Clearing his name was one hurdle; surviving Jimmy’s death warrant would be a far more dangerous one.
He had another choice. He could go to America and start over. It wasn’t what he’d planned or what he wanted, but what if Audrey went with him? She’d seemed not only open to the idea, but even enthusiastic about it. She’d tried to do it once, after all.
He looked over at her, her gaze fixed straight ahead, her posture tall and regal in its bearing. She might’ve agreed to go with him once, but now? After all she’d seen at his hand and everything he’d revealed?
He wanted to nurture a sliver of hope, but he didn’t know how. The life he’d chosen had led him to abandon such worthless sentiments.
FOUR VERY LONG days later, Audrey followed Ethan into the tiny inn where they’d secured a room in Lostwithiel. It would be their last stop before reaching Beckwith.
Audrey had never been so happy to arrive somewhere. Her body was exhausted and her mind equally so. Keeping Ethan at arm’s length took a great deal of mental effort. They’d both adopted mutual avoidance tactics, but she’d no idea if it came easier to him or not. It certainly seemed as though it might. They ate meals in relative silence, traveled in absolute silence, and exchanged mere pleasantries upon retiring each night and awaking each morning. It was, upon reflection, the antithesis of the adventure she’d hoped for.
Since the hermitage, anyway.
Prior to that, it had been one life-changing event after another. The question was, in what way? Her life was unalterably different, which meant she’d have to figure out what to do once she arrived at Beckwith. She knew what she couldn’t do, and that was return to the life she’d been living before Ethan Locke-Jagger-Lockwood had waltzed into it. Which left spinsterhood, perhaps retiring to her own hermitage, or if she really wanted to embrace her ruination, lead the life of a demimondaine. She smiled to herself at that absurd thought.
“Audrey?” Ethan nudged her arm, dislodging her from her musings.
“Yes?”
“We have a room, albeit a very small one just beneath the roof. The innkeeper is preparing it now. I also requested a tub of water.”
Audrey nearly squealed with delight. They’d spent the last two nights in a barn and a lean-to. She was just grateful to have a bed tonight—everything else was extravagance.
“Thank you.”
His gaze lingered on her a moment. Though their relationship had cooled, the attraction between them had not. Every night, she fought to keep space between them, and every morning she woke up curled against his heat.
“The innkeeper said we could go through there,” he gestured to a doorway on the other side of the staircase, “and take our supper.”
Audrey nodded before preceding him to the small dining room where they enjoyed a delicious repast of mutton stew and the best ale she’d ever tasted.
Ethan apparently agreed. He said, “Our host is an accomplished brewer. He’d be one of the most popular ale makers in London.” It was the sort of innocuous conversation they’d shared since leaving the hermitage. Audrey was weary of trying so hard, so she only nodded.
His forehead creased. “Are you tired?”
She arched her brows. “Aren’t you?”
He chuckled softly. “I think I’m making a bad impression on you. You’re turning sarcastic. If I’m not careful, you’ll become cynical too.”
“I doubt that. I’m far too optimistic.”
He drank the remainder of his ale. “A remarkable trait.” He fixed her with a dark stare. “Don’t lose it.” He wiped his mouth with his serviette and stood. “Are you ready to go up? I’m sure the innkeeper is finished by now.”
“Yes.”
He performed the duty of footman and pulled her chair back so she could stand. She turned her head to look at him, but he’d gone back to avoiding looking at her.
They trudged up two flights of stairs, the latter set being very narrow and close. They had to duck their heads the last several steps lest they knock against the ceiling.
The room really was tiny. They could only stand straight in the very center where the roof peaked. There was no fireplace, but several lanterns cheered the space. Best of all, there was a tub of water from which steam curled into the air. It wasn’t large enough to bathe in, but there was sufficient water for both of them to share.
“You go first,” he said.
She glanced around the chamber. The basin sat on the floor, and aside from it and the lanterns, there was a pallet in the corner. Her belongings—the various items Ethan had procured over the last several days, including a second hairbrush and bonnet since she’d left the first ones at Bassett Manor and a spencer that offered at least a modicum of warmth during the cool nights—sat in one corner. The innkeeper must have brought them up from her saddlebag, something else Ethan had mysteriously obtained.
The space and furnishings were definitely meager, but Audrey thought it grand after their recent lodgings. Still, there was no privacy. She supposed she could ask Ethan to go back down to the dining room, but the innkeeper’s wife had bustled in as they’d left, presumably to clean it up for the night.
“I’ll just lie down on the pallet and look at the wall,” he said. “I promise I won’t peek.”
She trusted him not to, which was probably foolish, given all she knew of him. Even so, he’d always proven to have her best interests at heart. “I’ll be quick.”
She went to the basin and kneeled beside it, putting her back toward the bed. She hesitated until she heard what sounded like Ethan lying down. To confirm that, she turned to look. He’d discarded his coat and waistcoat at the foot of the pallet, along with his cravat.
Satisfied that the situation was as private as it was going to get, she unhooked her dress. Thankfully, it was a garment she could remove without the assistance of a maid. It felt wonderful to divest herself of it and her corset entirely. And though she ought to put both back on before going to bed, she didn’t think she could.
She dipped one of the small towels the innkeeper had left into the water and scrubbed her face. The cloth smelled vaguely of rosemary, which only added to her comfort. She closed her eyes and imagined she was home. But that actually had the reverse effect. She didn’t want to be home. She wanted to be right here.
She glanced back over her shoulder at Ethan. He wasn’t facing the wall anymore. He’d rolled toward her and was watching her.
Her breath became trapped in her lungs. “You promised you wouldn’t look.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “You trusted me?”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but without heat as she recognized this was the banter she missed sharing with him. “You’ve given me plenty of reasons to believe I’m safe with you. In every way.”
He flopped onto his back and looked at the ceiling. “I’m a scoundrel, Audrey. Forevermore. You make me . . . No, I’m still a scoundrel.”
She made him what? He’d never tell her if she asked, so she didn’t bother.
She longed to peel her chemise from her body and wipe away the days of travel, but wasn’t sure she dared. If she kept her back to him, he wouldn’t see anything . . . intimate. Provided she only took the chemise down part way. Gathering her courage, she wriggled her arms from the capped sleeves. The garment pooled at her waist. She didn’t dawdle, but completed her toilet as quickly and thoroughly as possible given her partially dressed state.
When she was finished she set the wet towel to the side and pulled the chemise back up over her arms. Only then did she brave a look back at Ethan. He was unabashedly watching her again. Scoundrel indeed.
The water drying on her flesh should have chilled her, but heat pooled in her belly and swirled through her. Her skin tingled beneath the chemise and her nipples hardened to stiff points. She turned away from him once more in the hope of dousing the pull between them. Perhaps she was going to have to don her other garments again after all.
> “I’m finished.” She stood and moved away from the basin, careful to keep her back to him, though there wasn’t really any place she could retreat to.
She heard him rise from the pallet, felt the air shift as he moved past her. She snatched a blanket from the bed and wrapped it around herself. Then she snuck a glance at Ethan. He’d also kneeled next to the basin. He drew his shirt over his head and the lanterns cast a golden glow across his muscled back.
She forced herself to sit on the bed with her back toward him. The deprivation did nothing to ease the want burning in her core.
“Audrey?”
His voice jolted her to an even greater sense of awareness. Had he somehow read her thoughts? Of course not, that was impossible.
“Yes?” Her voice sounded much too high.
“I believe it’s time for my stitches to come out.”
She turned toward him and looked at the wound. It appeared pink and quite healed. Yes, the stitches could likely come out. But she didn’t have a blade.
Even as she thought it, he pulled his knife from his boot. Then he removed his footwear and slid it toward the wall. He sat down next to the basin. “Will you bring one of the lanterns?” There was one near him, but two would provide better illumination.
She swallowed, trying not to stare at his bare chest. Or at his face, so handsome and cold, yet dearer than she would’ve thought possible. She’d grown quite fond of this man, despite his faults, or maybe because of them.
She picked up the lantern nearest the bed and carried it to the basin. She kneeled beside him. He held the knife in his palm, offering it to her. Her fingers grazed his flesh as she took the blade. It was lighter than she imagined. For some reason, she’d thought a weapon that had killed would feel heavy, oppressive.
It would be tricky to slide it beneath the sutures without puncturing his flesh. Anxiety pricked her neck. “You must be careful not to move.”
His eyes bored into hers. “I shall be a statue.”
Who apparently planned to stare at her.