by Lauren Smith
“Let’s go for a little walk down ’ere.” He dragged her into the mews he had just emerged from. There was an open door on the left, leading to rooms above a shop front. Gillian tried to dig in her heels a little as they reached the door, her mouth filled with a strange bitter taste. The knifepoint pricked her, and she couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped. Instinct took over, and she wriggled in his hold, wanting to flee the man and his knife.
“Stop fightin’ me!” the man snarled and dug one hand into her hair, jerking her head back as he used the painful hold to drag her inside the darkened doorway. She was slammed against the wall, her head striking against wood. She dropped the letter from her reticule. She tried to touch her head.
“Ah… ’Ere we are.” The man bent down and grasped the letter. With this temporary distraction, he lowered the knife so that it was close to the floor while he retrieved the letter meant for her mistress. Gillian didn’t need the letter, which gave her a chance to use his diverted focus to escape. She scrambled for the door but cried out as the man grabbed her skirts and yanked hard.
She fell to her knees, and something hit her temple. In the blink of an eye, everything went dark.
Chapter 4
James stood beside his carriage, watching Miss Beaumont walk away. As the distance between them lengthened, his heart grew heavier, he realized something had been taken from him.
She had seemed so lost as she’d pulled away from him. There had been a glimmer of tears in her eyes that he didn’t understand. He wanted to go after her. There was something wrong—he sensed it. He would escort her home, even if she protested. Whatever was in that letter had upset her greatly, and she shouldn’t have to return home alone. James told his driver to wait for Letty and take her home. He would hire a hackney once he’d seen Miss Beaumont safely to her residence.
When he turned back to the street, he saw the distant figure of Gillian as she reached the end of the street. Suddenly, a man came toward her and grabbed her arm. Panic flared inside him. No gentleman would grab a lady’s arm like that, and out of nowhere, no less. James frowned. Did she know the man? The intimate stance indicated that she did, but he was too far to see clearly what was occurring between them. She and the man turned away from her coach and walked into the mews, vanishing from view.
The knot of worry in his gut grew stronger. What was she doing? The man seemed off somehow in a way James couldn’t place. There was a menace in the way he was moving toward Gillian, and James didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone, her protestations be damned. He began to walk briskly, but after a few seconds he began to run. As he reached the mews, he nearly collided with the man, who cursed at him and stumbled back before he rushed out of the alley.
What—?
There was no sign of Gillian. He scanned the mews, peering deep into the shadows cast by buildings on either side. He squinted and saw a door open farther down the narrow lane. A pale hand was stretched across the floor over the threshold.
“Gillian!” Fear strangled him as he rushed to the door. He skidded to a stop at her side as she lay on the floor.
“Oh Lord,” he gasped as he knelt down and turned her over. He placed two fingers against her throat. A steady pulse beat against them. She was alive. He examined her and saw a reddened mark against one temple. The man had struck her!
James knelt down and lifted her up in his arms, cradling her against his chest. She needed to be seen by a physician immediately. He rushed to her coach.
“Excuse me!” he called out to the driver. “Are you Miss Beaumont’s coachman?” The driver glanced down and cursed in surprise at what he saw. He rushed from his seat to help James get Gillian inside.
“What happened?” the driver demanded, his eyes scanning Gillian’s motionless body.
“Some bloody bastard struck her. She has to be seen by a physician at once.”
“Thank you, my lord.” The driver helped settle Gillian on the seat.
“I will accompany you. I should not like to leave the lady alone until I’m assured of her well-being.”
The driver hesitated, but James crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Very well, my lord. Hop in.”
James took a seat and then leaned over to lift Gillian onto his lap. The thought of not holding her made him restless and anxious. He brushed a lock of her hair from her eyes and traced his thumb over her lips, hating the fact that the only reason she was in his arms now was because she’d been injured.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured to her.
Gillian suddenly stirred, her head swaying a little as she came around. For a long moment, he couldn’t breathe as he watched her eyelashes flutter, and then she was staring up at him.
“Wh—What happened…?” She licked her lips and reached up to touch her head.
“Don’t—” He tried to stop her, but she winced as her hand touched the sensitive part of her temple.
“How…” Gillian let out a little cry of pain. It tore at his heart. Seeing her hurt like this was destroying him.
“Be at ease Miss Beaumont, I saw you headed for this coach when you were dragged into the mew by that man. I wasn’t able to stop him but I found you. Would you like to sit up?” he asked softly. He didn’t want her to leave his arms, but she nodded.
“I should—it’s not proper.”
He chuckled wryly. “It’s a closed coach. No one will see. Besides, you are in distress, and I intend to give any assistance I can.”
“Distress?” She snorted. “I’m not some damsel, Lord Pembroke.”
“No, of course not.” He knew he must have upset her idea of her own feminine strength by implying she was some damsel in distress. She loved to read Gothic novels but clearly had no desire to live in one. He understood. Letty would have struck him with one of her fine fawn gloves if he dared to imply she was in need of rescuing.
Gillian slid off his lap and sat beside him, delicately feeling the area around her reddened temple again.
“What was that man after? He hit you, but he left your reticule behind and didn’t seem to want to…” He swallowed down the word force. That was a frightening subject for ladies, and he didn’t want to frighten her.
“It was the letter he was after. It was important.” She sighed, her eyes grave.
“The letter? He has it now?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. He took it. But he won’t learn much. I read it, and that’s all that matters.” Her fingers trailed over her torn skirts where the man had likely grabbed her.
“What was in the letter, Miss Beaumont?”
“I wish I could tell you, but it’s not my secret to share.”
James gaped. “Whatever was in that letter almost got you killed, and yet you won’t tell me?”
She reached out, touching his knee, her eyes pleading with him.
“I wish I could, but I mustn’t. I’m so very sorry.”
It was madness. What secret could be so dangerous that a gentle-born lady would be unable to tell him?
“Could you take me to the Sheridan townhouse? I must speak with a friend there.”
“Lord Sheridan’s townhouse? Very well.” James sighed and opened the window of the coach door and gave the driver the address.
Once he settled back in his seat, he watched her, careful not to miss her restless shifting as flashes of pain crossed her eyes when she moved her head a certain way.
“Stop moving so much, Miss Beaumont. You likely sprained your neck in the fall.”
“Sprained my neck?” She rubbed her neck but couldn’t seem to reach the spot that caused her discomfort.
“Would you allow me to help?” he asked gently. He had no desire to take advantage of her, even if he was a rogue most days. He couldn’t stand to see this captivating creature in pain.
“Help how?” Gillian’s voice was soft and slightly breathless.
“You’ll permit me to touch you?” He lifted his hand to her cheek but didn’t touch her until she nodded. This was d
ifferent than a stolen kiss in the bookstore. She was hurt and alone with him, and she needed to know he would never hurt her.
He reached up and placed his fingers on her shoulders and moved them down to her neck, gently massaging the little knots of tension he found there. He’d had a mistress once who had been very clever at massage and had taught him exactly where to apply pressure.
“That feels wonderful. How did you know it would make the pain ease?”
“It will calm your muscles if you massage them lightly where they have been strained.” He trailed his index finger along one taut tendon in her neck, indicating where he would continue to touch her. “Relax. Face away from me. I want you to draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly.”
Gillian hesitated for a moment before she tucked up her legs on the seat and offered him her back. He carefully kneaded her neck and shoulders, even rubbing his fingers into her hair at the base of her skull. Her little moan of pleasure made his body tighten with arousal and shame. He promised himself he would be a gentleman for a few minutes longer if he could.
How was this woman so bloody tempting? He could have almost any woman in London, yet this quiet, intense, and mysterious beauty had him enraptured. It had to be the cloak of danger she wore. That was what drew him in. He loved a good adventure. The coach came to a stop, and the driver called out that they had reached the Sheridan townhouse.
“Thank you, my lord. It feels much better.” Gillian turned toward him, and he reluctantly let go of her.
“Miss Beaumont, I really should make sure you see a physician.”
She shook her head. “My friend can send for one if I still feel unwell.”
Gillian collected her reticule and reached for the door. He beat her to it, opening it for her. She blinked as though she were surprised he would open the door for her. Were there no gentlemen in Lothbrook? He assisted her down, relishing this last chance he had to hold her waist and feel her hands on his shoulders before he had to set her down.
“You are certain you don’t wish for me to go inside with you?” he asked, hoping she would change her mind.
“No, please. I must visit my friend in private. The driver will see you home.” She started to wave to the coachman and pull a few extra coins from her reticule, but James caught her hand, gently pulling it to his lips for a kiss.
“No need. I believe I could use a walk.” There was no doubt he needed to clear his head.
“Thank you, Lord Pembroke. Truly. I do not know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come after me.” Her lips trembled, but she didn’t seem to be a weak, delicate creature to him. She was brave, and to have endured what she did with such grace was astonishing.
“May I call upon you?” he asked. The thought of this mysterious woman returning to Lothbrook and never seeing her again made his chest hollow.
“I…” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t think that would be wise.” She seemed like she wanted to say more but changed her mind and rushed up the steps. She didn’t bother knocking on the door, but burst inside, vanishing from view.
James stood at the bottom step, staring at the lion’s head knocker and trying to ignore the odd ache beneath his ribs. Only a few minutes had passed when he began to walk home and realized the book he bought for her was still in his coach with Letty.
“Is he gone?” Gillian asked Sean, who was peering discreetly out the window at the sidewalk where she’d left James standing.
“Yes. He’s just started to walk down the street. What happened?” The young Irishman looked concerned.
“It’s a long story, and I really need to rest a moment. Is Miss Sheridan back?”
“Not yet. The League is in the parlor having tea. Our mistress took one look at Mr. St. Laurent when he arrived and fled the house. Didn’t even take her bonnet.” Sean chuckled.
“What?” That was certainly unlike Audrey. She never left the house without a proper bonnet. She loved them too much to be seen without one.
“Of course, there was quite a scandal among the staff.”
“What? Why?” Gillian followed Sean down the stairs to the servants’ kitchens, where she eased into a chair by the fire and stole a biscuit from a tray when the cook had her back turned.
“Well, Mr. St. Laurent sees her go and asks me where she ran off to. I tried to tell him I had no idea, and then he rushed after her. No one has seen either of them since.”
“Oh dear…” Gillian rubbed her eyes. Audrey had run off, and St. Laurent had pursued her? That was bound to lead to trouble. “Was Lord Sheridan very concerned?”
The footman blushed. “He doesn’t know. He’s been busy, you see.”
“Busy?” Gillian echoed.
“Yes. Apparently it’s not only the Duchess of Essex and the Marchioness of Rochester who are expecting.”
“What?” Gillian sat up, her aching head momentarily forgotten as her friend grinned. “Tell me, Sean, what is it?”
“Well, it seems…” The Irishman drew out the suspense until she couldn’t stand it. “That Sheridan House will be hearing the cry of a babe in six or seven months. The League take making babes as seriously as they do weddings.”
Gillian giggled, pure joy filling her. Lady Sheridan and Lord Sheridan were expecting. What wonderful news!
“So, you can imagine, none of the League are focused on Miss Audrey or Mr. St. Laurent at the moment. In fact, Essex and Rochester were placing bets on which babe would be the stronger chap once the little ones grow up. None of the lords seem to think their firstborns might be wee lassies.” Sean put a kettle of water on the stove, ignoring the harrumph of the cook, who liked her kitchen to be free of meddling footmen when she was working hard to prepare dinner. Gillian smiled faintly at the thought of those powerful lords all discussing children. She’d seen those men with their wives, and if they way they acted around the women they loved was any indication, those lords would be wrapped around the delicate fingers of their children once they were born. It was wonderful, simply wonderful to think of children growing up in households full of love and laughter. Not like her own house, which had been quiet and empty save for her mother and a handful of servants. Her thoughts strayed back to James and what Letty had said about his father dying and his mother becoming ill. He too had had a trying life, despite a title and money. It was one more thing they had in common, yet she would never see that man again, no matter how much she might wish to.
“Now, are you ready to tell me what happened today?” Sean leaned down and gently cupped her cheek, turning her face so he could get a better look. “What happened to your face? Did Lord Pembroke—?”
“No.” She cut him off before he could assume the worst about the man who had been her champion. “I was hit by a man in an alley, and Lord Pembroke came to my rescue. I’m afraid my head hurts something fierce.”
Sean was still scowling. “You’re going to tell me everything that happened.” He stole a few biscuits, poured her cup of tea, and sat beside her, listening to her tale of the letter. He was the only one they could trust about Audrey’s double life. She left out the glorious kisses from the earl and the fact that she’d spent the afternoon masquerading as a lady. Sean would have disapproved of her deception. When she was finished, the footman was up on his feet, pacing the kitchen, much to the frustration of the cook, who had to keep dodging him as she prepared the evening meal.
“We must find Miss Sheridan at once.”
Gillian agreed. Audrey could be in danger. Whoever had attacked her in the alley had wanted the letter, most likely because he was involved in the scheme to track down and harm Lady Society. But Gillian had read the note and knew of the threat. As long as she could find Audrey and warn her in time, they might yet save her.
She followed Sean back up the steps into the main entryway just as the front door flew open. Audrey strode in, her hair down in wild tangles, her cheeks flushed, and her skirts rumpled.
“My lady!” Gillian gasped. Had something happened to her? She’
d never seen her mistress so ruffled before except…the night she and Charles had faked a rather rough seduction to pressure Cedric into letting Audrey marry someone and soon. Had Audrey actually been kissing someone to look so…mussed?
“Gillian?” Audrey seemed distracted and a little surprised to see her.
“Yes, my lady.” Gillian and Sean both bowed their heads, but Sean spoke up.
“My lady, we must speak with you. I’m afraid it’s a matter of urgency.”
“Oh?” Audrey waited for them to follow her upstairs to her private study.
Once they were inside with the door closed, Audrey took a seat and looked at them expectantly.
“My lady, you received a warning from Mr. Worthing. You must not go through with tonight’s plan.”
Audrey’s brow furrowed. “But why not? You know those men are monsters. I cannot let them continue their awful meetings.”
Gillian’s head ached, and she shared a glance with Sean. “My lady, there was a man. He attacked me to get that letter given to me by Mr. Worthing.”
“Attacked! Heavens, Gillian, are you all right?” Audrey was on her feet in an instant, rushing to Gillian’s side and tugging her into a chair. “Please, sit. I had no idea.”
For the first time, Gillian saw genuine concern in her mistress’s eyes.
“I’m all right. Lord Pembroke assisted me and escorted me home.”
“He did? James is such a dear,” Audrey murmured.
A sudden flash of envy shot through Gillian at hearing Audrey speak James’s name with open and easy familiarity. It only reminded her of the gulf that separated them.
“I should thank him,” Audrey added.
“No!” Gillian gasped. Sean and Audrey stared at her, and she knew she would have to explain, at least in part, the rest of her day.
“I…that is, the Earl of Pembroke mistook me for a lady, and I did…that is, I did not exactly correct him.”
When she had confessed all, Audrey was silent. Sean looked at her disapprovingly.
“Am I to be dismissed?” Gillian asked. It would not be uncalled for, given her outrageous behavior and deception.