A Warriner to Protect Her

by Virginia Heath

  She shook her head. The black void that came with the laudanum would rob her of any control. Besides, if she needed to escape quickly from here then she needed to be lucid. She also needed to plan an escape route.

  ‘Can you tell me where I am...Jack?’

  He sat back down on the mattress again, disregarding any of the rules of propriety, and sighed, as if answering questions was a great chore to him. ‘You are in my home. Markham Manor. In deepest, darkest, dankest Nottinghamshire. Retford is the nearest village, almost three miles away, but if it’s a proper town you need, then Lincoln is probably the closest.’ That put her in the north of England. Just. A long way from Gretna Green at least. ‘I found you near the woods a good mile away. Soaking wet and frozen stiff. I reckon you had been out in the storm for a couple of hours before I came along. I have no idea where you sprang from either and since nobody has come to claim you, I think we can assume whoever tied you up was not able to follow your tracks. My brother Jamie has battened down the hatches in your honour, in case they come visiting, and is taking turns with my youngest brother Jacob to keep watch, so you are safe.’

  For some inexplicable reason, Letty believed him. She had actually done it! She had escaped Bainbridge and now she was hidden in a house. Her relief must have been obvious because he shot her a dubious look which suggested he did not believe her pathetic claim to have no memory of the event.

  ‘What day is it?’ The passing of time was her only hope now, yet she had no idea how long she had been here.

  ‘It is past midnight so it must be Friday.’

  Letty risked another tenuous shake of the head. She could not work out how much longer she needed just from that information. ‘The date?’

  Intelligent eyes sought hers and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he could see into her very mind and knew she was lying. ‘As I said, it’s past midnight, so I suppose that would make it the fourth.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Yet you have not enquired as to the month, so I must assume you remember some things. Are you sure you have no memory of what happened?’

  Letty looked down towards her hands. This man had been nothing but kind to her so lying to him made her uncomfortable—but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be tempted by a ransom, so with no other choice she did it anyway.

  ‘I do not recall the accident at all.’ She would never, ever forget it. Her heart began to knock against her ribs at the falsehood and her palms felt sweaty. What she was claiming did not sound plausible to her own ears.

  ‘Do you remember any details about your family, Letty, so that I might be able to inform them of your predicament?’

  Letty would rather die than admit the truth. If her uncle knew where she was then her life might as well be over. Correction—it likely would be over and pretty sharpish, too, if he and the Earl of Bainbridge’s hideous plan came to fruition in the next few weeks. No matter what, she needed to stay hidden until then. She stared down at her hands again and shook her head. ‘I am afraid I do not... My head feels so dizzy.’

  Whilst this was true, she only mentioned it to stop him probing further. Lying was not something that had ever come naturally to her. Her mother and father had always caught her out when she had tried to do it, joking that her guilt was plainly written all over her face. Just in case he could read it in her eyes, Letty hastily closed them with a sigh, but not before she saw scepticism in his own intelligent blue gaze. ‘Perhaps I will feel better with a little more sleep,’ she mumbled, trying her level best to sound exhausted rather than terrified of imminent exposure, and felt him rise from the mattress next to her.

  ‘Perhaps I should fetch my brother so he can check on you. You have been very ill.’

  ‘There is no need to wake him at such a late hour. I have already inconvenienced you and your family enough. I shall sleep for another few hours, I think.’

  She heard, rather than saw, him hesitate for a few moments as he decided whether or not to grant her request. ‘I will be right here next to you should you need anything,’ he said gruffly, perhaps a touch begrudgingly. Then she heard the rustle of blankets and the sound of him easing his big body back down on to the hard, uncomfortable floor.

  Letty was peculiarly grateful that he did not intend to leave her alone in her current state. She felt too vulnerable and his solid presence was strangely reassuring. ‘I am so sorry for being so burdensome,’ she added lamely, hoping to convey to him her appreciation for all that he was doing for her despite the fact she was lying through her teeth. He grunted in response, but offered no soothing words to contradict her nor did he make any attempt to prolong any conversation between them. She heard him punch the pillow into shape and hoist the covers over himself as he settled into a suitably comfortable position to sleep in.

  Whilst Jack Warriner lacked the gentlemanly politeness she was accustomed to, Letty could not help but admire his honesty. He did not want her here, she was a huge burden, but he would not turn her away just yet either. She would be safe here, temporarily. It was a small weight off her mind. A day or two of respite in this remote oasis was a blessing to be sure, although she would have preferred not to have been flung from a speeding carriage in order to have achieved it.

  On the other hand, neither her uncle nor the odious Earl was likely to take her escape lying down. Now she was out of their clutches, if she managed to make it intact for her twenty-first birthday, both men were now in very precarious positions indeed. She was not entirely sure what the penalty for abduction, forced marriage and then bridal murder was—but she would be extremely surprised if either of them was allowed to live if they were ever sentenced for the crimes. They would move heaven and earth to find her, and to silence her, and they would endeavour to do so well before the fourth of January.

  Letty could not afford to rest on her laurels while she recovered. She needed a plan. A proper plan this time, which would keep her safely out of harm’s way until it was too late and she would have full control over her inheritance. She also needed to think of something to tell her clever, reluctant host. Bumbling excuses were not going to work indefinitely on him. But could she really risk telling him the truth? Until she knew more about the situation and the man himself, it would surely be prudent to keep quiet. In the last few days, Letty’s blind trust in mankind had been smashed to smithereens with a pickaxe. Trusting anyone after what she had been through was not going to be particularly easy.

  To her side, she heard the steady deep breathing of a man already lost in slumber. Letty had never shared a bedroom with a man before. A few short weeks ago such a scandalous act would have brought ruin to her name. Then she had cared a great deal about her reputation—as if it was all that mattered. Of course, she had not realised her life and liberty were in danger and she had believed she would be free to select the husband of her own choosing from the ranks of willing gentleman who swarmed around her at every social function. Her enormous fortune gave her the pick of the bunch, so there had been no need to be hasty. Years ago, when she was young and foolish, she had even written a list of attributes the lucky candidate must possess. He had to be handsome, witty, titled, an excellent horseman, a connoisseur of the theatre, a patron of the arts, the absolute envy of all her friends and, of course, and most importantly, he had to be hopelessly in love with her.

  Whilst she had managed to find suitable gentlemen with nearly all of those qualities, the last one was always the sticking point. After several Seasons her youthful hopes had become quite jaded. So far, she had not found one man who she was wholly convinced loved her, Letty the woman, rather than Violet the Tea Heiress. Her huge fortune, instead of giving her a reassuring sense of comfort, had become a massive weight on her shoulders. Did anyone of her acquaintance actually like her for herself? Or was it merely the piles of pound notes and all the luxury that came with her legendary generosity that drew people to her? She could ne
ver tell.

  There was one promising candidate who was already close to proposing marriage—the Duke of Wentworth. However, Letty could not quite fathom him out either. Until she did, there was no way she was going to commit to something as permanent as marriage. She was still young; what was the rush? Besides, for a while now she had been distracted with other thoughts. Ideas of actually doing something with her fortune, something that mattered, something which gave her shallow, empty life some purpose. Perhaps create a home for foundlings? Other orphans who were all alone in the world, just as she was, but who did not have the benefit of a fortune to keep them safe, fed and warm. Unfortunately, while she had been lamenting the huge burden of her fortune and what to do with it, and putting off journeying on the path to find her one true love, she had neglected to consider her uncle’s personal ambitions for her money or the fact that she was bound by law to do his bidding until she reached the age of majority.

  Which was only one month away now, give or take a few hours.

  Chapter Four

  Exactly one month left...

  Jack eagerly swapped his nursemaid duties with Joe well before dawn. The hard floor had not been conducive to sleeping on for any longer, not that he ever had time to sleep in, but still, even by his standards the hour was early. The mystery woman had been in his care for a few days now. However, last night had been the first time she had been in any state to speak for herself and her cagey responses to the questions he had asked her did not quite ring true. In fairness, the poor girl had been bound and gagged and horrifically abused beforehand, so it was hardly surprising she was reluctant to trust him, but as she was now his responsibility, he reasoned he did have the right to know what sort of trouble he had brought to his own door.

  And she was going to be trouble.

  He knew that with the same certainty he knew the sun would rise every morning. Trouble had been Jack’s constant companion for a decade; he knew the scent of it too well to ignore.

  He wasn’t surprised when he found Jamie already up and dressed in the kitchen. Since his brother’s return from the Peninsula, he apparently did not sleep. And he smiled even less than Jack did. Both states worried him, yet he had no idea how to fix them. Jamie had always been a closed book. Any loose pages he once had were now glued together firmly and no amount of cajoling would pry them free again.

  ‘I thought I would head to the village and see what I can find out about our guest.’ After cradling the woman in his arms for hours and sleeping alongside her for two nights, much as he did not want to, he already felt responsible for the chit. And strangely protective. Clearly he was going soft in his old age.

  Jamie handed him a steaming mug of tea and an assessing stare. ‘Good idea. I’ve been thinking much the same myself. It is fairly safe to assume the girl is in danger, but if you go there asking questions, you could stir up a hornets’ nest.’

  ‘I am not a fool.’

  ‘I never said you were; however, you are not known for your subtlety. I’ll come with you and show you how it’s done.’

  Without thinking, Jack allowed his gaze to wander to his brother’s wounded leg and regretted it instantly when he saw his face cloud with fury. ‘I am not a blasted cripple, Jack! I can still ride a horse.’

  He was in no mood to try to reason with him today. Jack had barely slept properly in three nights so his temper was closer to the surface than usual and he would likely say something which couldn’t be undone. Since Jamie had come home, he was still so angry at the world and convinced he was good for nothing. Any attempts at brotherly concern about him over-extending himself and putting back his recovery would only aggravate him further.

  ‘I shall saddle the horses then.’

  * * *

  It was market day in Retford and by the time they arrived the square was already bustling with activity. At his brother’s suggestion, they went directly to the inn in search of breakfast and information. It made sense. If strangers were in the area, they would be staying at the inn. Jack would not have thought of that first, so perhaps having Jamie in tow would prove to be beneficial.

  ‘Just eat your food and listen. The trick to good recognisance is to appear disinterested. If we hear anything vaguely interesting, leave it to me to do the probing.’

  Jack grunted in response, a little put out by his brother’s lack of faith in his abilities. Jamie selected a table in the centre of the dining room and they ordered food, then his brother disappeared to do some quiet digging and left him to his own devices. For want of something useful to do, he scanned the patrons to see if he could see anything suspicious and conceded that perhaps his brother was right. He knew nothing about gathering information subtly. In fact, his relationship with subtlety of any sort could best be described as tenuous. Jack was a doer and acknowledged his usually straightforward methods of getting to the truth might not be what was needed today. Because it was market day, almost every face was new to him—and therefore, by default, instantly suspicious to his untrained eyes. His first instinct was to go and thoroughly question them all, which was exactly what his military-trained brother had feared he would do. ‘You cannot help yourself, Big Brother,’ he had said as they had ridden over, ‘you are too used to being in charge.’ Acknowledging his own character flaws always made Jack wince; having them pointed out correctly by a sibling was galling.

  At the bar, Jamie had sidled up to the innkeeper. Being a recently returned war hero from the infamous family who lived near the forest made him of significant interest to the innkeeper. The locals did love to gossip and the Warriners had given them plenty to feast on over the years. Jack watched the man ask his brother question after question with barely contained curiosity and, as usual, Jamie dealt with them with his customary surliness, staring into his drink and never meeting his interrogator’s eyes. To all intents and purposes he appeared exactly like a man who wanted nothing more than to be left alone rather than one on a quest for information. Jack had to admire that talent, even if he was still slightly sulking and did so begrudgingly.

  A few minutes later, Jamie limped back to the table and spoke in a voice so low, Jack had to strain his ears to hear it.

  ‘There are a group of men from London staying here. A pushy lot, by all accounts, who the innkeeper would be glad to see the back of. They have been here since the morning after you found your damsel in distress. Came in soaked to the skin, despite the two fancy carriages they arrived with. The carriages and half the men left the next day, leaving three of them behind. The rooms were all booked under the name Smith. The innkeeper says they’ve been asking questions about a girl. An heiress, by all accounts.’ Jack raised his eyebrows at this news. ‘They are claiming she has been kidnapped and they are searching for her. They haven’t surfaced yet this morning, but he expects them presently on account of it being market day and filled with new people to talk to. So far, each morning they have done the same thing. They ask questions, eat and disappear for the day. He has no idea where they go to—but they come back very frustrated. As if they are in a great hurry to get the job done.’

  Jamie shot him a warning glance as their breakfasts were brought over. How he noticed the impending arrival of the food was also impressive, Jack mused, seeing as Jamie was not facing the kitchen and would have needed eyes in the back of his head to have seen anyone behind him. The innkeeper’s wife plonked them down unceremoniously in front of them, her hostility towards not one, but two Warriners so early in the morning written all over her face.

  ‘Have you paid for these?’

  Their father’s legacy still blighted them. The bastard had been dead seven years and still the locals believed a Warriner equalled nothing but bad debt and aggravation. Jamie shot the woman an evil look and was about to put her in her place when Jack intervened. ‘I paid up front, Nelly. As I always do.’ He was trying to build the broken bridges, had been trying for year
s to mend them, and as much as the slights still wounded he understood them. For centuries the Warriner family had always been a bad lot and it would take a darn sight longer than seven years for the brothers to repair the damage their ancestors had wrought. It was only in the last eighteen months that Jack had been able to lure a few rag-tag tenants back to his land and even they were not originally from around these parts. Nelly sniffed and stalked off.

  ‘Perhaps they are Letty’s family searching for her? Maybe she was kidnapped.’ Conjuring the image of her terrified and running away from him made Jack feel a strange combination of protectiveness and fury all over again.

  Jamie shrugged. ‘Or that is exactly what they want us to think. They could hardly tell people they are the kidnappers and they would like their hostage back now, can they?’ That argument made a lot of sense too. ‘Besides, if they are above board, why the name Smith? It’s too convenient, Jack. My gut tells me it’s not right.’

  As Jamie’s guts had saved his soldiering bacon on more than one occasion, Jack decided to go along with them. They ate in virtual silence in order to overhear the tangled conversations around them. In the main, they were all tradesmen here to make some coin. One or two piqued their interest, but nobody mentioned a bound and gagged girl in the woods.

  Their food was long finished and they were about to leave when three burly men walked in and scanned the room like hawks seeking prey. Jamie picked up his empty mug and pretended to drink. ‘Here we go. This is them, I reckon.’

  The three men instantly split up and began approaching the other patrons jovially, moving from group to group after friendly handshakes were exchanged and ever closer to their table.