The 12th Kiss
Page 14
He stopped, looked down at his clothes and sighed. Promptly he changed into his “adventure suit."
* * * *
"Knives to grind!"
"Apples, bake or boil ‘em!"
"Is there no one, no one to help a wretch like me?” A young man walked by the Viscount, watching the ground as he moped along.
The squeal of a little girl's voice caught the Viscount's attention. He turned. It appeared the child was speaking to her brother. Lord Cheltham noticed perplexing expressions on their faces. He approached them smiling.
"Could I be of service to you fine children?"
"Do you have a hoop of some sort?” the boy asked.
"A hoop? Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin. “Ah, yes.” He pulled out a handkerchief and tied the ends together to make a circle.
"Will this do?"
The boy shrugged and took it from him. He looked around and spotted two sticks. He stuck them into the ground and placed the cloth circle around them. Then he picked up two small stones and handed one to his sister.
"What is this?” Lord Cheltham asked.
"A game. We take our beggar's bullets and attempt to land them in the middle of the circle."
"Is there a prize?"
The boy scratched his head. “Sometimes the reward is in the action and not in what you can hold in your hand afterward."
Lord Cheltham rubbed their heads in an affectionate way. “Fine children you are! I can only hope mine will be as gifted as you!” He gave a small, playful bow and walked to search out his best friend.
He found Raphael bleeding from the arm, leaning and listening to a small boy. He tore a piece of cloth from his ragged shirt and handed it to his friend.
"Bloody hell,” Raphael attempted to tie the strip around his arm with his free hand and teeth.
Lord Cheltham went to him. “Allow me."
Raphael gave him a look of surprise and nodded. Lord Cheltham quickly tied it around Raphael's arm.
"How did you acquire this, lad?"
"Saving this scruffy lad's pratts from a bundle of bullies!” He titled his head to the little lad, and then continued with his discourse. “One had a bloody knife, mate, and I never saw it comin',” Raphael cursed. “He drew the cork only because I became distracted by the ones that were attempting to give Conrad an earth bath."
"We had better have that looked at. It looks bad."
Raphael yanked his arm away. “I will not be going to see a surgeon, thank you kindly, Cheltham."
"Raphael, it could become infected."
Raphael gave him a look of irritation. “I'll keep my eye on it."
"Are you sure that's enough?"
"Yes. Forget it!"
Lord Cheltham looked at the lad Raphael had rescued. He pulled some coins from his pocket and gave them to the ragged boy who took them and darted off. Lord Cheltham smiled knowingly.
"Charming fellow."
"Ah, leave him be.” Raphael winced and rubbed his arm. He spit to his side in the dirt.
"I have questions, Raphael."
"About what?"
"About you and Miss Moore."
"What do you wish to know?"
"That easy?"
"What do you want to know, Cheltham?"
"Does she love me?"
"Oh. That's what you want to know."
"How do I convince her to marry me, Raphael?"
Lord Cheltham looked at him with a racing heart.
"You know, don't you?"
"I know. She has told me everything."
"Well?"
"She does not wish for me to tell you."
"Raphael, how do I make her my wife?"
"Why do you want her as a wife?"
Lord Cheltham sat down on the ground next to Raphael now and leaned back against a short wall. He did not give heed to the fact that he was a nobleman sitting on the dirty streets of London with a ruffian. He lifted his face to look at the sky. A dirty-faced boy in rough linen almost tripped over his foot.
"Watch ‘yerself you little mudlark! You nearly broke my friend's ankle! Go!” Raphael shooed him.
The boy put his thumbs to his ears and wagged his fingers while sticking out his tongue. He turned and ran. Lord Cheltham looked at him, slightly amazed.
"Raphael?” He chuckled.
"I know that boy. He's a little by-blow of an earl who abandoned him. The boy still holds assumptions about his position."
"How did you come to know this boy?"
"He was a climbing boy stuck up in a little space."
"A presumptuous boy like that was working for a chimney sweep?"
"He had to survive. I rescued him; you know my small size allows me to do such things."
Lord Cheltham laughed.
"He was ungrateful. He told me that I stepped on his manly pride."
Lord Cheltham laughed harder.
"He sounds like a cork-brained lad to me to not appreciate your grand rescue!"
Raphael sneered. “The boy needs to learn a thing or two about manners!"
"He's from the streets."
"So? Not everyone around here is rude, Cheltham!"
"My pardon!” He was silent a moment then turned back to Raphael.
"I was about to tell you why I want Relief to be my wife."
Raphael leaned forward in great interest. “Not for the money?"
The Viscount inhaled deeply. Maybe in my parents’ view, not mine.
"How's your arm, boy?"
Raphael touched it. “It throbs, but do not mind it. Tell me about Relief."
Lord Cheltham smiled widely. “Ah, you want to discuss women!"
"Not women, just the one you want to marry."
He sighed. “Why do I want to marry Relief?” he muttered.
"Yes, why?"
Lord Cheltham turned and looked at Raphael carefully.
"So I do not have to rip my heart out of my chest and stomp on it. Every beat without her by my side is agony to me."
Eleven
Raphael started, stunned.
"Raphael?"
"I ... uh ... I...” Raphael stood up, unsteadily.
Lord Cheltham looked at Raphael's shaking hands.
"Lad, you suddenly look ill. Can I escort you home? Is it your arm?"
"N ... No. I'm fine."
The sound of pounding horses’ hooves thudding against the dirt road and shouts of Move! caught their attention. Someone was running off with Cheltham's carriage. He jumped up and chased after them but couldn't catch up. Panting, he bent over and grasped his knees. Raphael stumbled up to him as the Viscount stood up and spit out a string of curses directed at the thief. Lord Cheltham turned to his friend. The lad's angry expression turned to one of great concern. “Your vehicle is lost, Cheltham."
"We'll find, him, Raphael. There was a day I would have alerted the authorities, and waited to hear word, but now, I have the proper connections on the street to discover the scoundrel's whereabouts myself. I will take pleasure in turning him over for punishment."
"If I had a keffel with me—” Raphael muttered.
Lord Cheltham frowned, confused.
"Sorry, it's a Welsh term. If I had Relief's horse, I could—"
"Lad, come with me.” He suddenly did not care about the carriage. He directed his bleeding friend to an inn just a few yards away.
Lord Cheltham tossed the innkeeper some money and was led to a cramped, room that smelled of stale food and cheap gin.
"Sit, boy. You look exhausted. Let me have a look at that arm.” He went Raphael's shirt sleeve.
"No!” Raphael yanked his arm back and winced. His cheeks reddened.
Could it be you're embarrassed, lad?
"I just want to examine it,” he said, irritated at Raphael's foolishness. He reached for the sleeve again.
"No! I'm dished up.” Raphael plopped back with a thump.
"We'll sleep here tonight.” The words were barely above a dog-tired whisper.
Lord Cheltham shrugged. It
was no matter to him. The lad was injured, and he would not tire him further. He could already hear Raphael's even, deep breathing and knew he was asleep. Lord Cheltham lay down next to him, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Before he knew it, he was also asleep.
* * * *
Relief opened her eyes and looked straight into Lord Cheltham's beautiful face. She stared at him for a long time as he slept. Gently, she reached her hand up and touched the blond hair by his brow, breathing out the words softly, “I love you, Benjamin,” using his Christian name.
His eyes came open, and she gasped, afraid he had heard her feminine voice. She was close enough to lean and press her lips to his.
My darling.
She squeezed her hands to still their trembling, to squelch the urge to skim his jaw line, to swallow the need to kiss him madly.
His handsome eyes narrowed in suspicion, and he frowned.
Oh, no.
"Boy?” He sat up slowly, still looking at him with question.
She sighed inside—her secret remained safe.
"Raphael ... er ... I—” He shook his head, glanced down then returned his gaze to hers.
She didn't dare move.
"I,” the Viscount sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you see, I consider us close, but,” he hesitated then something changed in his eyes, and he looked at her with resolution, as if he would lie to himself to protect his dearest friend. After all, that crime was a capital offense.
His lips turned into a knowing smile. “You're probably tired after fighting crime and having a dalliance with a lady."
Relief blushed and looked away. Lord Cheltham said nothing more.
"My lord,” she said imperiously, facing him once again. “Of course I prefer the opposite sex!"
That was mortifying.
Lord Cheltham chuckled with pleasure and rubbed his chin. “I was in jest, dear boy!” He laughed again, sounding truly happy and turned to leave the inn. Relief followed him, holding her breath.
That was deuced close. But honestly, it would have been better for him to assume Raphael prefers boys than for him to know I am Relief Moore. He never would have reported the crime.
The Viscount called over a hackney carriage, and despite his apparent ease to discover his male friend did not desire him-though Relief knew it would not mean the end of their friendship-he did not speak further to her at this time. The ride disturbed her in its awkward silence.
After Lord Cheltham directed the coachman to his house, he turned to him. “See the lad home.” He paid him and hurried into his townhouse without a backward glance.
* * * *
That evening Honora, glanced into her sister's anxious face, and the two ladies turned to stare out the window of the Earl of Whittingham's townhouse. Lord Cheltham pulled up in his phaeton. Honora glimpsed the love glowing in Relief's eyes, and happiness for her made her light-hearted.
"He is much anticipating seeing you here, Leafy, for one can tell by the way he jumped from his carriage."
"The earl told him that he was having a social gathering so that he could get acquainted with the lovely Miss Honora Moore."
Honora giggled, loving the way her sister said that.
"And his lordship, Lord Cheltham had to be here because you would be here!” she said with her hand over her heart, feigning to swoon with romantic fervor. The back of her wrist came to her forehead.
Leafy puckered her lips, suppressing a giggle of her own. She took Honora's wrist and set it back at her side. “Be good, Honora."
"Look! Your prince leaps up the stairs!"
"Honora!"
"I only speak the truth!” She lifted her chin.
Lord Cheltham greeted his friends with a quick word then searched out her sister. Honora took note of the soft smile on Leafy's lips, a reaffirmation that the man made her heart thud with love.
"Leafy,” she whispered, leaning to her sister's ear. “His eyes say: God help me, I will die if I cannot be the object of that devastating smile of hers."
Relief glanced down quickly to look over her appearance. “Do I look my best, sis?"
"Beautiful, Leafy."
She had chosen the dress, a semi-formal type with lovely bands of satin trimming it. Satin buttons and roses decorated the waist. A long lace scarf was draped over her injured arm.
"He's staring, Leafy. His eyes say that his nerves are in a sorry way. Lucky girl,” she teased.
Leafy turned away from him. “It is a good thing Mrs. Miller went for a drink of water."
"Now he's frowning deeply, Leafy. His face displays his displeasure at your snub."
"Must you give me a moment-by-moment account?"
"I must. He appears peckish for you, absolutely starving! And he is a beautiful specimen of the male persuasion, Leafy. I would wager that on your wedding night after you undid his trousers, there would not be something stuffed down there. You will glow for weeks after sharing the sheets with him!"
"You shocking, lascivious, impetuous little chit!"
Honora giggled and slapped her arm. Relief grimaced terribly and stumbled. She touched her arm.
"I'm so sorry! I forgot!"
Lord Cheltham rushed to her side and quickly went for the scarf. She pulled away.
"My dear Miss Moore, you are hurt!"
"I sustained an accident. I assure you, I am quite all right!"
"You are not!” He went for the scarf again.
"How dare you presume with me?” She stepped back.
"Miss Moore, I should like to know—” His arm fell to his side.
"To know what?"
"Are you angry about my misunderstanding with Raphael?"
Honora lifted her brows and placed her little fists on her hips, greatly amused, smiling brightly.
"No. I am just a little fatigued. I slipped and fell. A string of pearls had fallen near my feet."
He looked at her, not quite convinced. He rubbed his chin. “Do you require medical attention?"
"Do you not think I can not seek help when I need it?” Leafy said with annoyed tones.
Honora suppressed a laugh. Her sister hated his male over-protectiveness. She was not a female like others who would have warmed at his gallant overture.
"I did not mean to say—"
"Please, leave me be,” Leafy said.
"I will not."
"Hmm!” She lifted her chin and turned away. He reached for her other arm and spun her around. Her gaze came to his face, and she was frozen in place.
"Beloved,” he muttered, “you are hurt."
"I'm quite well, Benjamin,” she uttered softly.
Honora's heart twitched with regret for Leafy. Leafy's voice was edged in sadness.
"Please do not be vexed at me concerning Raphael. I give you to understand that the little chap is still my favored friend. I intended on contacting him for another adventure on the morrow."
Leafy took a step closer to him. “Really? I own I shall be glad for that if it be so."
He gave her a soft look of love. “Really, my love. It seems to be of grand importance to you. I know he means a great deal to you, and I can understand why."
"You do?"
"Yes."
She looked down and a little sob escaped her lips. Honora touched her shoulder in support.
Lord Cheltham's eyes widened. “Miss Moore—"
"She will be fine, my lord,” Honora gave him a reassuring look.
Relief walked away. Lord Cheltham tried to follow her. Honora stayed him with a touch of his arm. “Don't."
"But—"
"My lord, leave her be."
"Miss Moore, why is she so overcome tonight?"
Honora gazed at him, incredulous.
"Because she is in love with you and cannot have you."
His eyes grew large. “What? Of course she can have me!"
Honora nodded. “She is all-a-gog."
He took a step in Relief's direction.
"My lord, please. If you
care for her, you will not pursue this."
"Miss Moore, I have no choice."
She sighed. He dashed off to find her, but did not see her until everyone was seated for dinner. His friend, Lord Hawksworth, who had been drowning in his cups for more than an hour, eyed Relief in a way that Lord Cheltham could not approve of. Mrs. Miller frowned.
"Miss Moore,” he started, with a slur to his voice. “You are a very lovely lady."
Lord Cheltham shifted in his seat, furious with his friend. Lord Hawksworth chuckled.
"Ah, the lovely wild American girl. How much would I have to pay—"
Mrs. Miller's hand flew to her mouth.
Lord Cheltham stood up abruptly, silencing the room. Several people held their glasses or table napkins midair.
"I would advise you to shut your mouth,” he said coldly.
Lord Hawksworth scoffed and thrust his hand through the air in Lord Cheltham's direction. “Look at the Viscount. Why just a short while ago you were so formal with all of us. Now, I see you about town with tight black breeches, cloak flowing behind you, dagger strapped to your side, ever-ready to fight. You look like a damn buccaneer! Why you have even grown out your hair! You no longer seem to care about your reputation! Perhaps you intend to pass over your inheritance to your cousin the Marquess, die on the streets?"
Lord Cheltham clenched his jaw, trying to keep his cool.
"Perhaps, Lord Hawksworth, I have discovered another part of myself, a bolder part, a better part. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I am truly worthy of the title ‘nobleman.’ Perhaps,” he gave a soft look to Relief, “I now merit the hand of an angel."
Relief gifted him with a look of love in return.
Lord Hawksworth laughed, mocking him.
"Ever since you cast your eyes on the beautiful American heiress, you've been, well honestly, strange. I wonder you should not require smelling salts to rouse you in her presence, as she knocks you cleanly onto your tail. Tell me, sir, does she howl like a lady or a whore when you mount her with your powerful legs?"
Mrs. Miller fainted. Lord Whittingham turned bright red with obvious anger.
Relief jumped up and darted towards him, fists in the air. Honora stopped her and held onto her tightly by the wrist. The Viscount charged his friend.
"Our friendship is over!” he roared.
"As is his place in society,” Lord Whittingham sneered.