His Beautiful Wench

by Nathalie Dae

  “Uh, hello,” she said as she approached. “You must be Amelia.”

  Amelia nodded, embarrassment flaming her cheeks. It seemed the woman was also flustered. Did she see me peeping through the window while she…? Or perhaps she’d barely made it back to the castle when Morley went to find her?

  “I’m Helena,” she said, placing her hand on Amelia’s arm and giving it a little squeeze. “Please forgive my state. I’m…giddy at times.” She held up two halves of what had been a small white vase. “I hope Lord Graham is in a good mood.”

  “He was full of…high spirits when I last saw him.”

  Helena slapped a hand to her chest. “Oh, thank goodness.” She leaned forward, the scent of lavender pomade strong, and whispered, “He has an awful temper.”

  Amelia smiled. “I imagine he does.”

  The woman moved closer still, their cheeks almost touching. “You must get away from here.”

  Amelia closed her eyes briefly. She nodded, a tenuous movement she hoped Helena caught, and blew out a quiet sigh. “I can’t.”

  Helena’s breath skimmed Amelia’s ear and a prickle of unease wended up Amelia’s spine. The pomade’s aroma intensified, leaving Amelia nauseous and lightheaded.

  “You can. I will show you a way. It’s not safe here, you understand?” Helena swallowed, the sound striking in the quiet foyer. “He has plans. Awful plans.”

  Oh God… “I can’t leave until Emmett returns. If I leave before then, the lord will kill him.”

  “My sweet, he’s going to kill him anyway.”

  Amelia’s pulse raced, the echo of it the dull thud of a breaking heart. She clutched her throat, suddenly unable to breathe. Her eyes misted and her knees jolted as though empty of bone and muscle. Helena stepped back and clasped Amelia’s elbow, steering her toward the stairs.

  “Come,” she said, overbright and loud. “Let me show you to your room. I’m sure you’ll love it here!”

  Amelia walked like a condemned woman, stuck between her need to stay here for Emmett and leaving to find him, warn him. What if it was too late? What if Graham’s men had already waylaid him? Murdered him? She took each step in a daze, barely aware of where Helena led or what surrounded her. Visions of her lover shot and tossed overboard clouded her mind, foiling any effort she had of working out what to do.

  A door creaking pulled her to the here and now and she found herself in a candlelit bedroom. A double bed placed beneath two arched windows overlooked the rear grounds, the gardener’s cottage to the far right. Lights still flickered inside and Amelia wondered if the green-fingered man had finished work for the day. A quick memory of what had occurred inside just minutes ago intruded into her foggy mind. She ousted the image away, angry that she could think of such a thing when Emmett’s life was clearly in danger. And what of her life? Would it be as she’d suspected? Surely the pastor wouldn’t comply with her being forced into a marriage she didn’t want.

  Oh God, I… What will I do?

  She sat on the bed and stared at a wooden ottoman at the foot, the intricate carvings like those on her attic chest. A pistol shot of longing swept through her—for the familiar, for home. Her throat swelled with a lump of emotion and the ottoman blurred into a smudge of no discernable shape. Hands clasped in her lap, she let the tears fall. Helena rushed to her side, the mattress dipping as she sat. She embraced Amelia, hand stroking her hair, bringing a little comfort.

  After what seemed a long time, Amelia’s tears ceased and she wiped her face with shaking fingertips. “I…I don’t know what to do.”

  Helena cupped Amelia’s cheek and turned her face to meet her gaze. “I have limited time before I have to report back to Graham that you are settled in here, so listen carefully.” Her brown eyes widened slightly and she lowered her hand to cover Amelia’s. “I’m here to see to his needs, you understand?”

  Amelia nodded, disgusted by Graham’s use of this woman.

  “I didn’t have a choice. If I didn’t come to work here, he would have harmed my family.” She sighed, the breath shaky, then said cheerfully, “So here I am.” Her wobbly smile belied her apparent nonchalance. “When Graham takes a wife, I can leave.”

  “So why are you helping me? He has made it quite clear what his intentions are regarding me.”

  “I understand the ways of love. I…I have fallen for the gardener here, but if the lord found out I’m sure my employment and my family’s lives would be terminated. If you feel for your Emmett the way I feel for John… How can I possibly deny another woman her beloved?”

  Gratitude laced with a wave of sentiment swamped Amelia. “But you may risk seeing to his needs for some time should he not get what he wants with me. What if he doesn’t find another woman to wed?”

  “For as long as John is here, I will manage. He understands my position.” She gave a sardonic laugh. “He doesn’t like it, but what can we do?”

  The coupling in the gardener’s home took on new meaning, and guilt that she’d witnessed what she’d thought just an act of sexual release brought a blush to her cheeks. Would she ever hold Emmett in her arms like that again?

  “It’s not too late. Emmett should still be alive. John overheard Graham talking to his men. They are to waylay your man on his way back here, on the road that leads to this dreadful place.” Helena squeezed Amelia’s hand. “We have a plan. Emmett was told to arrive here at midnight.” She glanced at a clock on the bedside cabinet. “That gives us time to leave here and meet him before they do.”

  “Why so late?” Amelia asked, her stomach contracting with fear.

  “It’s unlikely anyone would be on the road at that time, so killing him there would go undetected. Emmett will either be on foot or horseback—if he owns a horse.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  Helena stared at their hands and murmured, “Then we will take another horse.”

  The implications of Helena’s plan slammed into Amelia and her heart rate sped up. “What have you planned?” she whispered, dread swirling through her body. “Although I appreciate your help, I’m frightened of the consequences for you.”

  Helena smiled. “Don’t you worry about that. We won’t be caught. It will appear you stole two horses for your escape, that’s all. One would have been more plausible, but needs must—unless you don’t mind riding two to a horse with Emmett?” She shrugged and offered a smile. “You will attend dinner as though everything is as it should be. You must act as you normally would with the lord. If he senses anything… How do you usually behave around him?”

  “I’m a little waspish.”

  “Good, then continue with that. After dinner, claim tiredness and ask to be excused. I will come for you at eleven. Graham retires at ten and he will undoubtedly want to keep to his routine in case he is questioned by the authorities about Emmett’s murder—which will not happen.”

  Amelia clenched and unclenched her fists. “But what if we’re not on time? What if something goes wrong?”

  “It won’t. I promise.”

  But how can she be so sure? Unforeseen circumstances could ruin everything and Emmett will be dead and I’ll be…

  She cursed herself for falling apart at a time when she needed to be strong. Gathering her resolve, she straightened her spine and exhaled slowly. She would do this for Emmett, just as he was taking back the jewels for her.

  “He planned it all, didn’t he?” she whispered, eyes narrowing. “He sent Emmett on a voyage to get those jewels with marrying me in mind.” She thought back to Graham visiting the saloon. “Before I had even met him he had bided his time, knowing what he had in store for me.”

  “My sweet,” Helena said, smoothing a wisp of Amelia’s hair behind her ear, “he wanted you from the first time he saw you. Before your parents died. Do you understand?”

  Amelia nodded. A wave of anger enveloped her, consuming her tears and helplessness, replacing it with determination and a desire to see Graham dead. Shocked at the level of her hatred, she tried
to erase such thoughts from her mind, but they remained, stubborn, unwavering.

  “How can one man organize such a terrible set of events without remorse?” she asked, looking at Helena.

  “Some people are born without remorse, and believe me, the lord is one of them.” She rose and walked to an armoire beside the door, swinging the doors wide. “Now here are your clothes.”

  Amelia frowned, not recognizing any of the garments hanging inside. “But—”

  “He purchased them. We must choose something with a gathered skirt, one that will spread wide enough so you can ride like a man.”

  Fingering the bodice of Matilda’s gown, Amelia said, “Are there any that don’t itch?”

  Helena turned, one hand fondling a black gown, and smiled. “None of these will itch.” She laughed. “Thank goodness we can find amusement in such dire circumstances. It lessens the tension.” She took the gown from the armoire and held it to her chest. “It’s safe for me to say you won’t mind leaving your dress behind then?”

  Amelia swiveled as Helena moved to the foot of the bed and laid out the gown. “It isn’t mine. It belongs to Mad—to Matilda, my friend.”

  “Ah, Madam. She’s my friend too. I worked there before coming here.” She smiled tightly. “I know you won’t enjoy it, but I must run you a bath. You must play this charade as you would have done had I not been here. While you bathe, I will report to Graham. Dress, and I will return to do your hair. Dinner is served at eight and lasts around an hour. Remember, you must be back in this room before ten. The hour’s wait will be dreadful, I know, but I must ensure everyone has retired before I come for you.”

  Helena disappeared through a door to her right. Water splashed and Amelia stood and walked to one of the windows. She looked out without really seeing anything and imagined what Emmett was doing now. Had he already collected the sculpture? Being in Graham’s employ, Bates’ men would offer Emmett no trouble, probably paid a hefty sum to hand over the goods. Or would they act out a play, making it seem as though they thought Emmett was stealing, a trespasser on their ship, and beat him?

  Helena entered the room and Amelia turned from the window to face her.

  “Your bath is ready. I’ll be back shortly.” She strode to the door, her dress swishing, and clasped the knob. “I know it will be difficult, but try and relax.” With a reassuring smile, she opened the door and left the room.

  Taking a deep breath, Amelia picked up the black gown, went into the bathroom and locked the door. She folded the dress and placed it on the floor then removed the green velvet, the air a blessed relief on her tortured skin. She moved to the mirror. A red mark where the fabric had chafed signified its angry heat beneath her breasts. She looked away, saddened that her wedding dress had hurt her as much as the events before and after she’d put it on. Amelia sighed and stepped into the tub, easing herself below the water. She cringed, the warmth exacerbating the soreness, and reached for a bar of soap from a dish on the bath’s edge. Creating lather in her hands, she dropped the soap and washed her body and hair. Finished, she leaned back and stared at a small wooden sideboard, wondering if it housed a drying cloth. Two stout candles in platelike holders burned brightly, creating shadows that danced upon the cream-colored walls. She shuddered and closed her eyes, trying to imagine herself back home. If only she could open her eyes and be gone from this place, with Emmett beside the tub soaping her.

  “Oh Emmett. I miss you. Please stay safe.”

  Unable to bear thinking about him lest she break down, she stood and stepped out of the tub, careful not to slip on the polished wooden floor. She opened the sideboard and found a stack of linen cloths. Pulling one from the pile, she wrapped it around herself and stood shivering—but not from the cold air. Fright at the coming hours chilled her and her teeth chattered. She rubbed her body dry then donned the black gown, grateful for the loose bodice and soft material. Stooping, she picked up the green velvet and then stood upright to blow out the candles.

  In the bedroom, she sat at a small table with an oval mirror and a silver hairbrush on top. She picked up the brush and studied the back. Engraved swirls surrounded her initials. Shocked, she threw the brush down and stood. The presumptuousness of her find was hard to digest. Lord Graham, so used to getting what he wanted, obviously believed he would get her too.

  Oh God, that man is so… I can’t bear to eat at the same table as him.

  Amelia shuddered and strode to the window, ire lending her speed. She stared at the grounds. Movement in the trees beside the gardener’s cottage caught her attention and she leaned forward, peering into the gloom. A swathe of light from inside lit the grass in front of the window and another joined it as the front door opened. John appeared as a silhouette, bending to look at the trees. Helena stepped out of the darkness and hurried inside. John appeared to glance up at the castle and give a slight nod. Amelia raised her hand and the gardener stepped back and closed the door. Helena walked to the window and pulled the white drapes closed, leaving Amelia with nothing but their moving shadows behind the fabric and a sense of anticipation so great it stole her breath. She struggled to breathe through the panic, head swirling. Gripping the headboard, she willed herself calm. Air finally entered her lungs and she sat on the bed, heart beating painfully fast and hard.

  Just get through the meal and come back here. Then…then we leave this place and find Emmett. Then what?

  She stared at the floor, her mind sifting through their options. Should they go to her home or his? Or Emmett’s ship? Or even a new town? Indecision gripped her and she stood and paced the room, concentrating on remaining unruffled. It wouldn’t do for Graham to spot something amiss.

  Footsteps rapped, brisk and hard on the floor outside her room. Amelia stood still, pulse thudding in her ears and waited for them to pass. They were male, she was sure of it. Graham? Morley? Someone she had yet to meet? She held her breath as the footfalls grew louder then paused. Outside her room? And was that heavy breathing filtering between the jamb and the door? Stifling a gasp, she laid her hand on her chest and waited. The breathing gained volume, harsher rasps, as though the person tried to contain anger or excitement. A shudder ripped through her and she slowly released air through pursed lips.

  Go away! Please, just go away!

  A series of shuffles, then the footsteps resumed their journey, fading as she imagined them descending the stairs. Their timbre changed, sounding tinny, then vanished. Had Graham intended to see her before dinner?

  I would never have let him in.

  But would she have had a choice?

  She blinked, telling herself to stay strong. She would get out of here and wait for Emmett on the road. What other choice did she have?

  Chapter Seven

  Helena knocked then entered Amelia’s room, her cheeks flushed, hair awry. Amelia smiled and Helena flushed redder and smoothed her dress front.

  “Is it obvious that I—?” she asked, fussing with her locks.

  “Only because I know where you’ve been.” Amelia sat on the bed and took in a deep breath. “Someone came by. Stopped outside my room. I heard them breathing.” She looked at Helena, wanting…wanting what? Confirmation of what she already knew? That Graham had lurked on the landing?

  Helena snorted and strode to the small table. Picking up the brush, she said, “I suspect it would have been him. He likes to…smell women.”

  Amelia closed her eyes and released a shaky sigh, revulsion for him bringing gooseflesh to her arms. “He…he’s made that clear before.”

  “He’s disgusting,” Helena whispered, then brightly said, “Well, you’ll be gone very soon. Come. I’ll style your hair, though it’s still a little damp. We may need to leave it as it is.”

  Amelia stared at the brush and nodded, pushing away any thoughts of it bearing her initials. It’s just a brush… She sat before the mirror, shocked at her appearance. Dark half-circles beneath her eyes shouted of her fatigue and hard lines had formed on either side of her
mouth. Haunted eyes glared back at her, the whites bloodshot, and they filled with tears. Helplessness seeped into her. She almost gave in to it, let it swamp her mind and body, but an image of Emmett shot at the roadside forced her spine straight and strengthened her tenacity.

  I won’t let a bully like Graham win. He’s already taken my parents. I won’t let him take Emmett too. Then me…

  The brush smoothing through her hair felt good and she took a moment to relax, safe in Helena’s company. How could she ever repay this woman for what she had done, was about to do? I’ll find a way. Maybe Matilda can help.

  Amelia studied Helena’s reflection and their eyes met. No words were necessary. Both of them knew the danger that lay ahead. The timing was crucial and if they were delayed upon leaving… No, I can’t think about it going wrong. We’ll succeed and get away. Find somewhere Graham can’t reach us.

  “It will be fine,” Helena said with a final stroke of the brush. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her worried eyes.

  “It has to be. I can’t live without Emmett.”

  They regarded one another, the knowledge that they had one chance only hitting Amelia hard. She batted away her nerves and uncertainty, stood and paced the room. She wrung an unseen cloth and went through what she knew of the plan. It wasn’t enough.

  “Exactly what are we going to do?” she asked, still pacing, still wringing. “When you come for me, what happens then?”

  Helen placed the brush on the table and sat on the chair. She linked her fingers and sighed, the exhalation as wobbly as Amelia’s knees. “I’ll lead you outside to the right of the castle. The grounds there lead to a neighboring farmer’s land and we’ll travel on horseback to the main road. We wait there for Emmett and when he comes you will go your way and John and I will come back here.”

  “What will you do if Graham suspects you helped us?”

  Helena looked down at her hands. “He will do as he’s threatened and hurt my family, but he won’t suspect. By the time he realizes you’re gone, only one horse will be missing and I’ll be in bed—or waking him tomorrow morning.” She winced.