Parker smiled down at his aunt. He recognized the fire in her eyes at the mission before her.
Adele then looked at the girl. “Poor dear.” She shook her head back and forth, her eyes full of worry as she looked up into Parker’s concerned eyes. “She is of a size of Poppy or Piper, don’t you think?”
Parker wasn’t given time to respond to any of Adele’s observations. So he remained silent as she spoke.
“Next I will enlist one of the maids to assist with altering a few of the girls’ gowns. It is a shame.” She reached out and tucked the girls flailing arm to her body. She clucked her tongue. “Poor girl. Poor, poor girl.”
“Yes, Aunt.” Parker gazed down at the unconscious girl in his arms, his brow furrowed as he thought back to her shrinking from him in fear. “Quite a shame.” He hugged her closer to him, the heat of her body further reassurance that she was all right.
***
“It’s been six goddamn weeks.” Oliver Anderton, the Earl of Granville, leaned back in the high back leather chair and took a sip of brandy trying to hide the acute anger that threatened to surface. “And you’ve still found no sign of her?” Rage consumed him. He went silent but still simmered with fury.
“We’ve searched for weeks and have found no trace of the girl or the babe, my Lord.” Cooper stood near the chair, the brim of his hat mangled beyond recognition by his nervous fingers.
“What I find most interesting, Cooper.” Granville sat his tumbler of brandy down with an ominous quiet and stood, circling the man; a black scowl across his face. “Is the need to search for her and the babe at all?” He curled and uncurled his fingers.
“Yes, sir.” A wary look crossed Cooper’s face. “The men you had guarding her didn’t believe she was a true threat.”
“Obviously they were wrong,” Granville said in his quiet voice, even though deep inside he knew he was losing control.
CHAPTER THREE
Sleep, my child and peace attend thee,
All through the night
Guardian angels, God will send thee,
All through the night
Parker prowled from one end of the hall to the other, his fists jammed into the pockets of his coat for the second time that day. His valet, Dudley, was going to have an apoplexy when he saw the misshapen material. He cursed under his breath as he waited for his aunt to see Miss Smith settled. What was taking them so long? She was in the room with Mrs. Chase making sure their unexpected guests were well taken care of and attempting to feed Miss Smith some broth. He was learning so much in such a short amount of time. For example, how long it takes to spoon broth down an unconscious woman’s throat. It is obviously a more onerous task than he would have imagined.
Who was this girl? Why was she running? Who was she running from?
He turned at the click of the door latch, blinking when his aunt stepped into the hall.
“Who is the girl?” Adele inquired in hushed tones as she slipped quietly into the hall closing the door with only the faintest of clicks. “She barely roused long enough for us to spoon a few sips of broth into her mouth, poor girl. I was unable to retrieve any more information before she succumbed to her exhaustion.” Adele’s hands were gripped tightly together; her knuckles white. Uneasiness filled her eyes which in turn added to Parker’s.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Parker replied in a dry voice with a shrug. “Before she collapsed, she gave her name to be Persephone Smith and the baby, Matilda. I know of no one in this area by that name and it appears quite contrived. Smith?” Parker questioned. “Do you know of any Smiths?” His jaw tightened. He was going to have a massive megrim by the end of the day if he didn’t calm his nerves.
Adele shook her head. “But how did she come to be here? Rosebriar?” Adele pointed to the floor for emphasis, pacing back and forth, wringing her hands together. “She is but a child, Parker. She cannot be above eighteen. How did she come to these circumstances? A baby, no husband, no family in sight, and starving?”
“Her speech was that of good-breeding and a well-educated lady.” He paused. “Someone is undoubtedly searching for her. She couldn’t have made it far, not in her condition and not carrying the babe.” He intended to broach the subject as soon as she awoke and was full of strength.
“Surely someone is searching for them.” Adele pursed her lips; her mind seemed to be working hard. “If she is as you said, a lady.”
Parker raked a hand through his dark hair, lowering his gaze. “She’s so very thin.” Worry edged his tone. He raised his gaze and turned his attention back to his aunt.
“That she is, my dear. Mrs. Chase is going to sit with her a while and attempt to feed her some more broth if she wakes,” Adele advised. “The babe looks remarkably well, though.”
“That she does.” He thought of Miss Smith’s haunted eyes, and the protective knee-jerk reaction she had for her daughter. “I will send out inquiries first thing in the morning.” He studied his aunt’s face before stepping back.
“What is it, Aunt, you look overly worried?” he observed, his voice low as he tilted his head to study her.
Her gaze drifted back to the bedroom door and she appeared to struggle with whatever she was trying to say. “Something is terribly amiss.”
Parker stiffened his hands fisted at his sides. “What?”
Adele stood quietly next to him as if searching for the right words.
His gaze captured hers, pinned her in place, his stomach clenched. “Explain, Aunt,” he blew out his breath in frustration, worry gnawing at his gut.
She looked around to verify they were indeed alone, dropping her voice to a whisper, “She’s been abused.” Her face sober when she glanced at Parker. “Physically beaten by someone or some object...” her voice trailed off, her hands fluttered helplessly as she struggled with delivering the information.
Parker’s body tightened and anger turned his voice to ice. “What makes you believe this?” His eyes narrowed.
Adele shifted uncomfortably and looked away. “She has marks all over her body.”
A thunderous expression exploded across Parker’s face. He pivoted and stomped to the door, he would demand answers—immediately. As he reached for the latch he felt his aunt’s hand fall softly on his arm, he turned to see her shaking her head. A perplexed look swept over his face. He speared his hand through his already mussed hair.
“There will be time enough to question her once she has slept,” Adele pointed out. “She needs her rest.”
He glared at her; a noise came from him that even he didn’t recognize. A grating sound as his teeth clenched. He scrubbed his hands roughly over his face. “Of course, you’re right.” He didn’t think he was capable of emitting another sigh, but one escaped anyway. He took his aunt’s arm and threaded it through his, gently patting her hand as he wrapped it around his forearm. “Let’s take some refreshment and gather our thoughts. Our guest needs her rest. When she has awakened, perhaps she will be willing to share her mysterious circumstances with us and how she came to be at Rosebriar.” Bloodlust boiled his blood at the same time coldness ran up his spine. Scars? Why?
He escorted his aunt, both content to remain silent as they made their way to the Rose Room. He made sure she was comfortable before ringing for refreshments.
He poured himself a brandy before walking to the window and leaning against the windowsill, pushing aside the thick drapes with his body. He needed the light of the fading afternoon to ease the darkness that had seeped into his soul at his aunt’s words. He took a moment to think about the girl sleeping in Piper’s suite. Her shabby dress combined with her cultured speech made little sense.
He sought answers in his mind but none seemed reasonable. “I’ll send Fothergil to London to see if we can find out anything about our guests,” he stated, taking a healthy swallow of brandy. He frowned staring off into space.
“However did you manage with the girl and the baby at the same time?”
“I’ve ne
ver felt so unnerved.” He rubbed the back of his neck taking another swallow of brandy just at Dobbins scratched on the door and rolled in the tea cart. He settled himself in a chair pensively running his hands through his already tousled hair. “Pray she tells us who she truly is.”
“You don’t believe she gave you her true name?”
He shook his head, jaw set, his blue eyes dark, he responded, “This is an ugly situation, Aunt, something is not right.” He vowed to himself he would find out the truth. “She’s afraid.”
“So I gathered.” Adele looked up from pouring a cup of tea. “Would you care for a cup, dear?”
Parker shook his head, raising his tumbler of brandy. “She is running from something or someone most likely.”
“It is a little early for strong drink, Parker.”
“I know, but I have a feeling over the next few days I’m going to need all the fortification that I can get.” He stared down at the amber liquid. Damn. He needed to be more careful what he wished for in the future.
The particular smile that appeared in Adele’s eyes worried Parker. “At least it will no longer be eerily quiet.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “You are receiving great pleasure from teasing me, my dear.” He cringed as she very nearly echoed his exact sentiment.
“As a matter of fact, yes.” Adele smiled with pleasure, sitting on her chaise, as if this was a normal day. “It is good to be ruffled every once in a while.”
“I have been ruffled sufficiently for one day.”
“I’ve been horribly remiss in my responsibilities,” Adele said with a concerned look in her eyes.
Parker glanced sharply up at her, his eyes questioning. “Of what are you speaking?”
“I should have made sure your emotional needs were met, but you have always been so strong.” She sounded uncertain.
Parker almost spewed his last sip of brandy. “Aunt, my emotional needs have been met ten-fold by every member of this household,” he said with a wry smile and a hint of laughter in his voice. “Whatever has you going on like this?”
“Perhaps we relied on you overmuch?” she questioned, sitting up. “You stepped into your role superbly, no one could find fault with you. After your father died, you ceased being a young man of little responsibility and became a guardian to three young siblings who had just lost the most important person in their life.”
“It was my duty, Aunt,” Parker reminded her. “I do not begrudge anyone. I did what needed to be done.” He didn’t want to remember. He wanted to move on and just live. He didn’t want or need to talk about his feelings with anyone.
“Yes, you did.” She reached over and patted his hand. “You were splendid in your role. You are still splendid in your role as the head of this family.” She raised her eyes which shimmered with unshed tears. “But I never asked you how you were doing?”
“I have nothing to complain over.”
“Parker, I know you.” She flashed a brief smile. “You wouldn’t grumble even if there was something legitimate to be upset over.”
***
Granville stood in his empty dungeon and growled. The multiple cells equipped with stocks, cages, and benches with straps were normally being used vigorously by the members of the club at this time. Full of women or men, some eager to play and some who were not. He didn’t care which and neither did most of the men who belonged to this club. Their only concern was appeasing their lust and now many were angry because they were being forced to hide. They were forced to tame their activities now that they had nowhere else to go. Most feared that their identities would be revealed because she had escaped.
The bitch.
She had ruined everything.
He thought it would be amusing to play with her for a while. She had held no other value to him after his brother’s death. He should have gotten rid of her when he had the chance.
He had seriously fucked up.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sleep, baby, sleep
Your father tends the sheep
Your mother shakes the dreamland tree
And from it fall sweet dreams for thee
Sleep, baby, sleep
Sleep, baby, sleep
Persephone stifled a yawn, stretching her arms high above her head and hitting a solid object with her fists. She had been dreaming. The most delicious of dreams filled with comfort and warmth. She blinked rapidly several times to clear her sleepy eyes and spied the plaster ceiling arched above her head instead of a cold, cloudy sky. She swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat as fear shrouded her, effectively cutting off her breath at the realization she was no longer lying on the cold hard ground but cocooned in delicious warmth, wrapped in thick quilts on one of the softest beds she had ever slept.
She remembered the feel of a hand stroking over her cheek. So soothing.
What happened? Her brow knotted in confusion. Where was she?
She jerked upright from the thick, soft mattress, her heart suddenly pounding, muscles coiled, and quickly kicked free from her blankets. Rising to her knees as the toasty warmth of her surroundings truly infiltrated her still foggy mind, confusion swamped her. The last thing she remembered was stopping to rest in a field.
A bit frantic, her eyes widened. “Tillie?” She anxiously scanned the opulently appointed room decorated in deep blue and gold until her gaze landed on the large man dozing by the fire. Her heart tripped at the sight catapulting her into abrupt wakefulness. Dear Lord, no. Not again. She couldn’t do this again. She was too tired. “Tillie?”
She slid from the high bed and swayed, grasping the thick post of the large oak bed for support as her legs were like jelly, taking a deep breath, waiting for the rush of dizziness to pass before racing frantically to where he sat.
“Where is she?” She gripped his arm and tugged him awake. “Where’s my baby, you monster?” Her eyes wide like a frightened rabbit, but her demeanor that of a protective mother hen. “You cannot have her.”
Parker pushed himself upright just as Miss Smith hurled herself at him again and landed a surprisingly hard blow to his shoulder.
“What have you done with my daughter?” Her pale cheeks were tinged with pink, almost as if with fever and her eyes dilated in alarm.
“Bloody hell, girl.” He rubbed the spot on his shoulder she had just pummeled with her tiny fists. He frowned almost imperceptibly. He didn’t know how long he had slept, but judging by the shadows in the room it was nearing sunset. He had fallen asleep debating on how to move forward without causing her more fear. How he was going to assist Miss Smith and her child.
“What have you done with Tillie?” Her arms flailed, her fist connecting with the bone near his left eye. She hissed in a breath as pain shot up her hand and traveled to her elbow.
Parker cringed at the strength behind the blow because she was such a tiny person.
“Give me back my baby.” She sobbed hysterically, tears burned, scalding as they spilled over. She put her hands over her mouth muffling her sobs. She dropped to her knees; her head falling to her chest one hand palm facing up on her thigh. “You can’t have her too.” Her bruised hand clutched against her breasts. “You can’t—she is all that I have left in this world.” Helpless. “No, no, no!” A heart wrenching cry tore from her throat and assaulted his ears.
Parker blanched when she looked up through lashes tipped with tears, trembling with obvious distress. “Please, sir, I beg of you.” She stared at him with apprehensive eyes fringed with red tipped lashes gripping his massive hand with her thin white fingers, carrying it to lie against her heaving bosom. “I will do anything you ask, just don’t harm Tillie. Please, don’t harm my daughter.” Her voice broke on a desperate sob.
Parker snatched his hand away, as the meaning of her words filtered into his brain. Sick at heart that anyone’s eyes could hold such fear and could only imagine why someone had used her so despicably. He bent closer gripping her shoulders in his firm grasp, then lowered his voice to soothe.
“Miss Smith, no one is taking your daughter anywhere.” He ran his hands up and down her arms in a soothing motion. “Tillie is sleeping quite comfortably in the cot over in the corner.” He pointed toward the far corner a few feet from the fireplace, an intricately carved shield separating the fire from the cot. “My aunt has sent for a nurse from Ashford to assist so that you can rest. She should arrive later this afternoon. You were exhausted.” He straightened to his full height, his hand still settled lightly atop her shoulder. “Pray, do not worry.”
Persephone tried to pull away from his touch, but she needed the human contact. The comfort. She craved it. She had missed it. She hiccupped, her red-rimmed eyes rose, widening in relief as she spied the white lace-covered cot. A sob of relief broke free from her lips and he could feel her shoulder trembling beneath his hand—in relief, he hoped.
Parker hooked his hands under her arms and lifted her to stand. He rose, scraping a thumb over her brow, smoothing it. She flushed and her eyes fell closed when he lowered his hand to capture one of the tears that rolled down her cheek before cupping her jaw in his warm, callused palm. “Look at me, Miss Smith.” He cupped her face in his palm and held her.
Heart pounding, she sucked in air, then she opened her large eyes blinking in rapid succession to clear the tears. The breath rushed out of her lungs and she shuddered, her jaw trembling under his palm.
He watched as it seemed to take a lot of effort on her part to look him square in the eyes, but she finally did. Her green eyes, large against her pale skin, finally lifted and he paused taken aback by the terror still present and pushed back a straggle of fallen hair. He was mesmerized by what he had originally thought a dull red, but in the firelight, it became a vibrant canvas of rich reds, golds, and browns that leapt around her head.
He cleared his throat to ease the ache. “I assure you, Miss Smith, Tillie is in excellent health.” Parker couldn’t help but notice the stubborn lift of her chin and knew it would take time for her to trust. To believe he wasn’t out for something she did not want to give and continued, “She has been changed and sufficiently fed and now is sleeping quite peacefully.”
Rescue Me Please Page 4