by Leda Swann
“I don’t recall giving you a choice in the matter,” he replied calmly, taking a length of silk from his pocket and holding it up threateningly in front of her. “Now, will you stop attacking me, or will I have to tie you up?”
“You would not dare,” she hissed at him.
“I kidnapped you,” he reminded her.
“You are nothing but a ramshackle soldier,” she spat at him. “A rogue. A rake of the worst kind.” If he were to tie her up now, she would lose any chance she had of catching him by surprise and getting away. She sank down into the far corner of the carriage and pulled up the blind to see out of the window.
London passed by her eyes, so near and yet so out of reach. “I will lose my respectability,” she said, a little more calmly. “I will never be able to hold up my head in society again. And it will all be your fault. Would you have that on your conscience?” Even as she spoke, the thought of what might happen to make her lose her respectability made a blush rush to her cheek and gave her a tingle of anticipation in the pit of her stomach.
“I will not tell tales to the discredit of the woman I intend to marry,” he said stoutly. “Your reputation is safe in my hands.”
“On your honor as a soldier?” No decent soldier would break such a solemn promise.
“On my honor as a ramshackle soldier, a rogue, and a rake.”
She glared at him. He was not taking her or her concerns seriously. Did he not care that if word of this escapade were ever to get out, her life would be in ruins?
If she truly thought she was in physical danger from him, she would fight until her breath left her body, but she knew he would not hurt her. He was no monster to find pleasure in torturing women.
And he had sworn to keep her reputation safe. Having her good name sullied was her greatest concern. She would not be forced into a marriage she wasn’t sure she wanted. The worst of her fury began to subside. “Where are you taking me?”
“My brother has a cottage by the sea. Nor far from Brighton, actually. We used to take the train down there from London occasionally when we were children. Of course, I couldn’t abduct you and put you on the train, so I hired a hackney to take us all the way there instead.”
“Your brother will not care that you have kidnapped me?”
He gave an easy laugh. “My brother will never know. He hates the place. The cottage is left empty year round.”
The horses were still clip-clopping through the city streets, but they had entered a part of town she did not recognize. Throngs of laboring men in workers’ smocks crowded the roadway, fighting for space with men pushing handbarrows or the odd donkey cart. The women among the crowd looked desperately bright and brassy, as if they were hell-bent on making the most of their short time on earth. “How long until we get there?”
He caught her anxious glance out the window. “I wouldn’t try to get out of the carriage here. It’s a bit of a rough neighborhood. You’re safer inside the coach with me.”
“What are you going to do with me when we get there?”
“Nothing you will not enjoy.”
Even if she could get past him, which she doubted she could, she would not like to be wandering alone in this part of town. “I would like for you to take me home.” She made her voice sound as calm and rational as she could. “Unlike you, I am not on leave. I have a job to do. I have no time to play silly games with you. I have to be at the hospital at seven in the morning. If I simply do not turn up, giving them neither notice nor excuse, I will be dismissed.”
“This is not a game, Beatrice.” He crossed his arms over his chest and looked her squarely in the eyes. “I have been in love with you for months, and yet you refuse to listen to me. You are on the verge of promising yourself to another man even though you do not love him. He is not the man for you and you know it. What else can I do to make you see reason?”
She was uncomfortably aware that it was her fault he was in love with her. If she had not led him on through her letters, she would be sitting down with Mrs. Bettina and the other girls to a hot supper right now, instead of trundling through the streets in a hired carriage on her way to goodness-knows-where. “I am not promised to anyone. I gave you a week to court me, to see if you could change my mind about you.” Even to her own ears, it was a feeble excuse.
She did not dare confess to him she had already decided she could not marry Dr. Hyde. At least not while she felt so strongly for the captain. He would take it as a sign that he had won, and she was not ready to promise herself to him, either. She might never be ready.
“I still have a day or two left. And I will command your undivided attention for the whole of that time. When we return to London, I have every confidence that you will agree you belong with me.”
“And my position at St. Thomas’s? How will you salvage that?”
“As my wife, you will have no need to work. In addition to my captain’s pay, I own a small estate in Surrey that I inherited from my grandmother. My brother’s steward looks after it. You will not want for anything.”
“I like my job. I like being a nurse.”
“You would have to give it up if you were to marry Dr. Hyde, as you seem so set on doing. Why would you not give it up to marry me, when I love you infinitely better than he ever could?”
He did not understand. Part of Dr. Hyde’s attraction had been that he understood that medicine was not an occupation, it was a calling. She could just as soon give up breathing or eating. “I would not give up my position to be married to any man.” Healing others is what gave her life purpose and meaning.
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then gave his head a bemused shake.
Just then, her stomach gave a loud gurgle. It was past suppertime and she was hungry. Keeping her from her dinner was yet one more sin she could chalk up to his account. At the rate he was clocking up sins, his soul would belong to the devil before tomorrow morning.
He grinned at the noise and pulled a basket out from under their seat. “I’m an old campaigner and I know that an army marches on its stomach. I have come prepared.”
Despite her anger with the way he had cornered her, she was grateful to see the food he pulled out. A French tart, fresh crusty bread with a wheel of soft cheese to accompany it, and a couple of pears. There was even a bottle of white wine that was still cold.
He handed her a portion of tart on a napkin. “I’m afraid we have no time to picnic by the roadside. I want to get to the cottage before the light goes.”
The tart was so freshly baked it was still warm, and the pastry flaked and melted in her mouth. She washed it down with a glass of the wine. It was stronger than the weak ale she was used to drinking, and combined with the motion of the carriage, it made her head swim.
When she was done, she leaned back into the cushions. For now, she was safer inside the carriage than outside it. Even once they reached the cottage in Brighton, she would hesitate about asking for help and having to deal with the scandal that would ensue. Maybe it would be best to let the situation ride until the captain returned her to London, and count on his conscience to help her deal with the consequences.
For consequences there certainly would be. The matron ran a tight ship. Nurses had been dismissed from St. Thomas’s Hospital on far flimsier grounds than unexpectedly not turning up for work for several days. She would have to concoct a believable lie and hope it would be enough to save her position.
He patted his shoulder. “You’ll be more comfortable if you lean against me.”
Her neck was already getting a crick in it. She shuffled over until she could rest her head on his shoulder. Her eyes started to drift shut. “Wake me when we get there.” It had been a long day on her feet, and she had not been sleeping well lately. Thinking about it, she hadn’t gotten a decent night’s rest ever since Captain Carterton had returned to England. Another sin to add to his tally.
She’d meant her words as a joke, but when she opened her eyes again the carriage had stopped m
oving and Captain Carterton was gathering her in his arms. Either the cottage was much closer to London than he had admitted to, or she had slept for several hours.
“I’m awake,” she murmured sleepily, but he did not put her down.
He carried her through the dark night and into the cottage. She saw no reason to protest. If he was strong enough to abduct her despite his wounded arm, he was strong enough to carry her.
A fire had been lit in the bedroom where he carried her and laid her down on the counterpane. Its cheery crackle lit the room with a dim light. Captain Carterton fetched a taper and lit a gas lamp. “You can sleep here tonight.”
She pulled a face. “In my uniform?”
“If you want to. But there will be a clean nightgown and some fresh clothes for the morning in the closet if you would prefer.”
A wardrobe of clothes to choose from? The thought disturbed her. “Do you bring many women here?”
His sigh spoke of irritation. “Do you trust me as little as that?”
“You have given me precious little reason to trust you.”
“The clothes here belonged to my sister-in-law. They are all clean and of good quality, even if they are no longer in the height of fashion.”
“Belonged?” She would not wear the clothes of a person who had died from a sickness. Staying in her uniform was preferable to running the risk of catching tuberculosis or pneumonia.
“She died here. A fall from her horse. That is why my brother never uses the place. He has avoided it ever since her death.”
Such stories always made her melancholy. “He must have loved her very much.”
“He loved her rather less when he realized she had not been alone in the cottage.”
Beatrice gulped. “Oh, I see.”
“It’s an old story.” He shrugged. “I visit the cottage whenever I am back in England. I was always fond of her. But enough ancient history. Can I heat you some washing water before you retire? Or boil the kettle for a cup of tea?”
He laughed out loud at her look of surprise. “Of course I can make a pot of tea. I am a soldier, not some ninny of a bank clerk who has no notion of life outside his stool in the office. Many’s the time in the field I have had to boil my own water and make my own tea or go without.”
“Then thank you, yes, I would like a cup of tea.”
As soon as he was gone, she rose from the bed and prowled around the room, all trace of sleepiness gone.
The bedroom was plain and sparsely furnished, but clean and comfortable. She drew back the curtain and looked out of the window, but the dark night hid the surroundings from view. She was certainly not in London. There were no street lamps—no lights anywhere in the distance.
It was quiet, too. Quieter than it ever was in London. No carts rumbling noisily across the cobblestones. No night soil men clattering and clanking through the streets. No cries of street vendors or whinnies of horses pulling a too-heavy load. And if she listened closely, she could hear the faraway whoosh and roar of the sea.
She would have to sleep here tonight and see what the morning brought.
She inspected the closet. As Captain Carterton had promised, it was full of clothes. Beautiful clothes, too. Gowns of expensive silk, striped bodices, even a luxurious coat of heavy velvet. She ran her hand over the soft fabric. She’d drooled over a coat like this in a shop window last winter but had been horrified at the cost. Captain Carterton’s brother must be wealthy to afford to buy his wife such luxuries.
At one end of the closet hung a few nightgowns. Seeing them, she could well believe that whomever they had belonged to had used the cottage as a place for secret assignations. No sturdy flannels or even plain cotton among them. Just frothy confections of silk and lace that displayed more than they concealed.
She picked the most modest one and laid it out on the bed. Then, opening the door and checking that Captain Carterton was not lurking outside in the hallway, she quickly stripped off her uniform.
The silk went on smoothly over her naked body and floated around her calves. She had never owned anything so decadent as this one nightgown.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror inside the closet. The fabric clung to all her curves, and the thin fabric was so transparent as to be almost sheer. Through it she could see the dusky pink of her nipples and a dark triangle at the apex of her thighs.
Hurriedly she got into the bed and pulled the covers over her. The mattress was filled with soft feathers, and a goose-down comforter was spread over it.
Only just in time. Captain Carterton walked in to the room with a cup of tea on a tray.
He placed it on the bed for her, and then shrugged off his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt.
Wide-eyed, she watched him as she sipped her tea. “This is my room. Go away. Or if you will not go away, then keep your clothes on.”
His shirt now unbuttoned, he kicked off his shoes. “I cannot sleep in my clothes.”
“I did not ask you to.”
He took off his shirt and pulled off his linen undershirt. “This cottage was designed as a love nest. There is only one bedroom. Only one bed.”
His chest was broad and smooth. She swallowed uncomfortably as she looked at him, not daring to look away for fear of what he would do next. In her heart she had known it would come to this as soon as he had climbed into the carriage beside her. “You cannot mean to share it with me.”
With his shirt now off, he was unbuttoning his trousers. “That is exactly what I mean to do.”
She tucked the bedclothes tightly around her body. “I cannot sleep in the same bed as a strange man. You will have to take the floor.”
“The floor? When there is a perfectly good feather bed with room in it for me? I do not think so.”
He was wearing nothing but his linen smalls now. “You are a soldier, as you keep on reminding me. Surely you have slept in worse places.”
“Not when there was something better on offer.”
He had better keep his word not to tell tales on her, or her reputation would be utterly ruined. No one would believe that she had innocently shared a bed with him. She wasn’t sure herself that it was possible, but it seemed once again that she had little choice in the matter. “Then, at least, put some clothes on. You are indecent.”
“Unlike you,” he gave her a huge smile as he pushed his smalls over his hips and let them fall to the floor. “I always sleep in the nude.”
When Beatrice still had not arrived home by ten that evening, Lenora went in search of Mrs. Bettina. It was very unusual for her roommate not to be at home so late in the evening. Quite unheard of.
Mrs. Bettina was sitting by the parlor knitting socks and humming to herself. Actually humming. Lenora had seldom seen her look so cheerful. She hated to break into her landlady’s mood. “Beatrice is not here,” she said baldly, not knowing how to break it to the matron any more gently. “She finished her shift the same hour as I did. She should have been home long before now.”
She tried not to show it, but she was worried sick about her friend. Beatrice would surely have told her if she was planning to go out in the evening. Being roommates they always shared such information as a courtesy, so each would know when to expect the other home.
If Beatrice was planning an evening meeting with Dr. Hyde, he might have mentioned something in passing, too. She had been working with him on an operation all the afternoon, and he had had plenty of opportunities to casually allude to his plans. He knew she and Beatrice were best friends as well as roommates. But he had said nothing.
Lenora had been battling panic all evening. The streets of London were not always safe. Anything could have happened to an unescorted young woman on her way home.
Mrs. Bettina gave her a measured glance. “I would not worry about Beatrice. I saw her leaving the hospital in the company of Captain Carterton. And the sergeant-major told me—” She blushed and cleared her throat. “Sergeant-Major Tofts told me that Captain Carterton was
planning a surprise for her this weekend. I wouldn’t be surprised if we didn’t see her until Monday.”
Lenora gaped. “But she is planning to marry Dr. Hyde. She told me so herself. And she doesn’t even like the captain very much. I heard her grumbling about how annoying he was just this morning.”
Mrs. Bettina would not be disturbed from her knitting. “I think the captain is growing on her.”
“But the doctor?”
“The doctor takes her for granted. Maybe a little competition in that quarter will open his eyes to what he really wants.”
Lenora retreated to the room she shared with Beatrice—alone. However lightly Mrs. Bettina was taking the absence of one of her lodgers, Lenora herself was not so sanguine. She did not trust Captain Carterton as Mrs. Bettina did.
She had heard Beatrice crying in the night on the evening she had gone to the music hall with the captain. He had clearly not treated her as a gentleman ought to treat a lady, but had managed to upset her badly. Beatrice never cried.
If Captain Carterton had persuaded or somehow tricked Beatrice into going away with him for the weekend, she could be in all kinds of trouble. Lenora would not be a true friend of hers if she did not try to find her.
She climbed back up the stairs and into bed, but sleep eluded her. She would go and see Dr. Hyde in the morning and tell him of Beatrice’s absence. He was a clever man. He would know what to do.
“Did you sleep well?”
The low husky voice roused Beatrice from a light doze. Though the captain had kept to his side of the bed during the night, she had been on edge and had slept poorly. She had lain stiff as a board for much of the night, fearful lest she should roll over and bump into him in her sleep.
The first birds were singing with the coming of the dawn before she had drifted off into a deeper sleep, and even then she had been prevented from truly resting by disturbing dreams. Saucy dreams of passion. Erotic dreams of her limbs tangling with the captain’s, of his mouth kissing her privates, of his finger inside her teasing her, bringing her to the brink but not quite pushing her over…