The Price of Temptation

by Williams, Harmony

  When he reached forward to probe it, she cried out in pain and curled inward. He snatched his hand back before adequately touching the leg. He looked worried.

  “Do you need a physician, madam?”

  She had worn her best dress. Evidently it was still fine enough to denote that she could afford a physician’s fees.

  Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. “I just need to rest a moment. Could you find a footman from this house, maybe? I don’t want to be out on the street…”

  The driver hesitated, then glanced at his horses. One stamped and snorted angrily. The driver looked pained. He turned to the house and pumped his arm but said, “I cannot leave my horses.”

  Annoyed at the delay, a woman in an expensive silk turban thrust her head out the window. “Why have we stopped?”

  He looked from Lily to his passenger and back. “She stepped in front of the horses. She’s hurt…”

  The woman snarled. “I’m not paying you to leave me stranded on the edge of Mayfair.” The driver looked pained again and frantically waved to the house.

  This time, a thin waif of a girl slipped through the front door and dashed down the steps. She knelt at Lily’s side. “What happened?”

  Lily wailed, “He ran me down! My ankle!”

  The driver, afraid of being blamed, cursed again and dashed to his carriage. He vaulted into the seat and thrust the horses into motion, the carriage rattling off.

  The girl jumped to her feet, shaking her fist at him. “You dastard! Running off after you hurt a woman!”

  Worried, the girl peered at Lily again. “Do you think you can stand, miss?”

  Lily pressed her lips together and shook her head.

  The girl rocked back on her heels, glancing toward the house with a furrow between her brows. “The master is not in. I suppose…”

  “Yes?” Lily did her best to sound pained yet hopeful.

  The girl nodded decisively. “I’ll fetch a footman to carry you. You can rest in the kitchen until a physician arrives.”

  “Do you think I’ll need one? Perhaps if I rest my ankle for ten minutes…”

  The girl’s mouth narrowed into a grim line. “I’ve seen injuries from horse hooves before. You’ll need a physician, or you’ll be off that foot for a good long while. But come, I’ll fetch someone to carry you into the house.”

  As she scampered back to the door, Lily faced into the wind, forcing her eyes wide again. She swallowed hard, hoping that the cosmetics she and Adam had applied to her leg would be enough to fool someone who was an apparent expert in such injuries. She would have to delay taking off her shoe and stocking as long as possible.

  Not long after, a young man in blue livery exited the house. With a muttered apology for the imposition, he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. The girl trotted after him, shutting the door and directing him to the kitchen. “I’ve already informed Mrs. Beadle. She’s put on some water in case we need rags. She knows what to do with injuries.”

  Water would not mix well with the cosmetics. Lily swallowed hard, fighting a wave of nausea and panic. Adam, you’d best be quick… The long corridor closed around her swiftly, removing any hope of spotting her husband as the young, brawny footman carried her into a kitchen so hot, the sweat on her upper lip was not entirely due to her nervousness.

  Hurry.

  …

  Adam waited, reveling in Lily’s performance as she convinced not one but three people that she was grievously injured and needed to enter the house. Had she truly been injured, Adam would have sworn vengeance against the recreant who’d driven away without a backward glance. The moment the door swung shut behind the footman carrying his wife, Adam pushed away from the wall of the house opposite. It was his turn to impress.

  In the chaos, the maid had grabbed the nearest footman to the door, meaning that for a short time it would be unmanned. Adam took the steps briskly, hefting his bag in one hand as he moved as if he belonged. He eased the door shut behind him and immediately took to the stairs. Although he stepped as lightly as he could, they creaked beneath his feet.

  On the first floor, he paused and searched out the nearest unoccupied room. He slipped inside, soundlessly shutting the door behind him and taking in a sitting room decorated in shades of pink so gaudy, they stung his eyes. This small, delicate room must belong to the lady of the house. He waited, heart pounding, as he listened for pursuit.

  Silence. He strained his ears. From somewhere beneath him came muffled voices. If anyone was on the first floor, he didn’t hear them. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t find them in another room. His senses on alert, he moved with purpose through the house, carrying the bag that was both his ruse and his purpose. If anyone asked, he was the physician someone had called to see to Lily, even though he carried scientific journals along with implements in his bag. If pressed, he could explain their inclusion.

  He checked the doors along the hall, but to his consternation, the library must reside on the floor above. Once again, he took the stairs and found the closest room to seclude himself inside.

  The moment he shut the door and faced a wall lined with bookshelves, he breathed a quick sigh of relief. At last. Curiously, the supposed scholar’s collection did not extend beyond this wall. The bulk of space in the room was devoured by a large oak desk and wedged into the corner, an oblong shape beneath a sheet.

  Opening the door a crack so he’d have some warning if one of the servants approached, Adam laid his bag next to the door and perused the shelves. Any duplicates of the volumes he had in the bag would have to be removed, replaced by the ones he and Lily had altered.

  In the four years since they’d parted, she hadn’t lost her ability to learn quickly, nor her deft hand. Between them, they had added her name—L. Darling—to seven essays. He’d read the contents of the articles with her, each of them taking turns to read aloud before she parroted back the information. As long as she didn’t let her persona slip, she should be more than able to fool a room full of dandies.

  Dandies who fancied themselves scientists were especially easy to fool.

  The scrape of fabric raised the hairs on the back of his neck as he pulled a volume from the shelf. Turning, he found the corner of the sheet pooled on the floor next to the six-foot-long object. A sarcophagus. The sheet had slipped to reveal the top of a gem-encrusted gold lid painted with eerie, open eyes.

  Adam didn’t put much store in curses. They were tools for men like him to manipulate those around them. However, his skin crawled beneath the weighted stare of those eyes. He didn’t look away, even as he opened the volume and checked it for the article he wanted to replace.

  His breath lodged in his throat, his senses consumed by the eerie atmosphere of the room, he didn’t hear footsteps approach until the floor creaked directly outside the door.

  Hide.

  The instinct seized him, but the space beneath the desk was too narrow and filled with the seat of the chair. The only other place…

  His gaze settled on the sarcophagus. He didn’t have time to reconsider. Walking through the halls, he might be able to pass for a physician. But ensconced in the library? No one would believe him.

  Silently cursing himself, he shoved the volume haphazardly onto the shelf and dove for the sarcophagus. The sheet pooled on the floor as he dug his fingers beneath the lip of the achingly heavy lid and shouldered it aside. The air within was stale and thick with the putrid stench of rotting flesh. He gagged but forced himself to smile so he didn’t lose his lunch.

  He winced at the grating sound of stone on stone as he lowered the lid back into place overtop him. The rigid body beneath him made his skin crawl. He held his breath, turning the lid slightly askew to allow air to enter and to give him a fingerhold to get out again when the way was clear. All the while, he felt as though eyes bored into the back of his neck. Swea
t dampened his temples and he was acutely aware of the wrappings of the mummy beneath him.

  Was that a breath on the back of his neck?

  No. He didn’t believe in life after death.

  But this close to an ancient body…

  If it started to move, he might jump out of his skin.

  Whoever came into the room didn’t notice his bag, for they chose a volume with the brisk assurance of someone who knew the precise contents of the library. If they noticed the disturbed sheet on the sarcophagus, they were as chilled by the body within as was Adam. The intruder left, shutting the door.

  Adam released his breath, regretting it instantly with his next intake. Arms trembling, he heaved of the lid of the sarcophagus to the side, wide enough to slip through. Getting out was far more difficult and ungainly than entering.

  Fortunately, the mummy did not attempt to follow.

  Gulping for breath and kneeling on the floor next to the sarcophagus, he stared down at the aged, wrapped body. It didn’t move, still in death. He shut the lid with finality.

  His skin crawled as he hurried to complete his task before he was interrupted again.

  …

  Lily managed to delay the inevitable for ten minutes. Ten agonizing minutes, wherein the housekeeper clucked over her leg, reaching out to touch it in places as Lily winced.

  “Does it feel any worse?” Mrs. Beadle asked.

  Lily cringed again when the woman, with enough meat and muscle on her frame to snap Lily’s ankle had she wished it, gently turned it to determine the range of mobility. She hissed, jerking her leg back as if in pain. “I don’t think it’s improved.”

  Straightening, the housekeeper harrumphed. “It doesn’t appear to be swollen. I have a chop to lay on it, if we can remove that stocking.”

  Lily glanced sideways at the young footman, who colored up. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a skilled enough actress to blush on command, but she lowered her eyes, demure. “I don’t think it would be right for me to disrobe in mixed company.”

  Mrs. Beadle shooed the footman away with a hand. “Why don’t you make yourself useful? There’s a book on remedies up in the library. Fetch it.”

  Delay. “You don’t need to go to any trouble for me. I’m certain I’ll be able to walk on it in a little while.”

  “Sit still for now,” the housekeeper said, chiding. “We’ll shut the door and bar the men. I’d like to see your leg. It might be broken, and the bruise will help to tell.”

  With no means of postponing any longer, Lily bit her lip. She nodded, acting shy.

  Gently, Mrs. Beadle folded her skirt above her knee. “Hold still, this will take a moment.”

  Lily did as she was asked, though she hissed in pain as the woman gently removed the stocking from around the manufactured bruise Lily and Adam had applied. She hissed in a breath, starting to turn Lily’s ankle to examine it in more detail. When Lily yelped, the woman dropped her ankle instead. Her features scrunched with sympathy. “It still hurts to twist, does it?”

  Pressing her lips together Lily nodded, pretending to be in too much pain to speak.

  She held her breath as the girl narrowed her eyes, examining the bruise. Lily hadn’t anticipated a horse’s hoof causing the injury. The cosmetics showed no crescent from the horseshoe, only a mottled red and purple bruise about the size of her fist. It was just above her ankle, as if she might’ve turned it and fallen.

  The girl tsked under her breath. “I don’t think the horse caught you squarely. That’s a mercy.”

  She didn’t touch the bruise. And neither did Mrs. Beadle. The makeshift bruise had survived the loss of her stocking, but with too many fingers—especially if the woman decided to wash it—the color would flake away.

  The older woman examined it from multiple angles but nodded her agreement. “Certainly a mercy. It’s barely swollen at all. If we can brace it, I’m certain you’ll be able to walk without too much trouble. Don’t fear, dear. We’ll do our best to spare you any pain.”

  At a brisk rap at the door, Mrs. Beadle stood. At Lily’s urging, the girl pulled her skirt down to cover her leg. The housekeeper opened the door, placing her bulk between the corridor and Lily.

  The footman muttered, “The remedy book.”

  “Excellent! This will tell me precisely what we’ll need to construct a brace. George, we’ll need supplies.”

  He followed her into the room as she leafed through the book, humming under her breath until she found the correct passage and gave him his direction. He nodded and disappeared. Leaving the book open on the table next to Lily, Mrs. Beadle turned to her with a stern look.

  “I don’t see any blood on that leg, but I’d like to wash it…”

  The roar in Lily’s ears drowned out the rest of the housekeeper’s sentence. She swayed, not feigning her distress. Adam would know what to say to allay suspicion. Lily sat paralyzed, on the brink of hysteria.

  Run.

  Helpless, Lily prepared to bolt. The door near the oven must lead into the garden. I’ll be trapped.

  Mrs. Beadle wet a cloth in one of the pots, wringing out. The droplets hit the water like the beat of an executioner’s drum. Lily couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow around the thick knot in her throat. Run. Risk it. Mrs. Beadle turned to her with the rag.

  A figure pushed open the ajar door, carrying a doctor’s bag. “Is this my patient?”

  Lily’s gaze flew to Adam. She nearly fell into his arms with relief. With a foolproof persona, he briskly examined the room, paying her little mind. When his attention completed its tour and settled on her again, her stomach flipped.

  Help me.

  He shouldered his way in between her and Mrs. Beadle with her wet rag. Lily gulped for breath. He smelled…

  He smelled like refuse. She gagged, trying not to make a face.

  He knelt in front of her ankle as if he’d just returned from a morning bath. Couldn’t he smell himself?

  Of the servants in the room, Mrs. Beadle regained her composure first. “Forgive me, sir, but we didn’t call for a physician.”

  He glanced up at her with a raised eyebrow. “Someone did. Perhaps someone on the street? I was let in and pointed toward the kitchen to find my patient…”

  Lies, but he delivered them so smoothly that she nearly believed them herself. She blinked at him, wresting her attention from the peculiar smell long enough to realize that since he was kneeling in front of her, he must have succeeded in his task!

  Or he had been caught in the corridor with no recourse but to don his persona. Had they finished their task? She caught his warm hazel eyes and held them, willing him to understand her unspoken question.

  He nodded, terse.

  We can go home.

  But not before they diverted Mrs. Beadle. After all, Lily had to return to this very house.

  The housekeeper, maid, and footman hovered over Adam’s shoulder as he carefully peeled up Lily’s skirt. Although he had bared her leg earlier in the day to apply the cosmetics, at the time, Lily had been consumed by anxiety. Now, with her senses heightened from adrenaline, the lightest brush of his fingers made her gasp.

  He lifted his head. “Did that hurt?”

  She looked down, playing demure. “A little, sir. Forgive me, I’ll try not to make a sound.”

  “Don’t apologize. I need to know where you’re hurt in order to treat you properly.”

  Craning her neck, Mrs. Beadle informed, “We don’t believe it’s broken, but I was going to make her a brace and wrap her up so she can walk.”

  Starting at mid-calf and moving lower, Adam examined the bruise with his fingertips. She whimpered, pretending pain, but didn’t fight him. When he reached her ankle, sliding his bare palm beneath her heel, another shiver coursed through her. His hands were warm and rough. She swallowed hard.

  “N
ot broken, I don’t think, but she ought not to walk.” He met the gaze of Mrs. Beadle, the clear authority in the room. “Will you find her shoe? I’ll carry her to bed.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up with the hint of suggestion. Lily fought the urge to kick him.

  “This isn’t my house. I don’t have a bed here.”

  He looked surprised, but the private twinkle in his eye betrayed him. Fortunately, none of the servants had a clear vantage of his face with him kneeling at her feet.

  “You don’t? Then did you arrive in a carriage?”

  She shook her head. “No, sir. I was out for a walk when one nearly hit me.”

  He hummed under his breath but directed Mrs. Beadle to dress Lily in her shoe. It took no more than a wave of his hand, and every person in the room was captivated by him. How did he do it? In far too short a time, Lily would have to put on a similar performance.

  As Adam straightened, he lifted his bag. “Then we’ll use mine. Thank you, madam. I believe I will take my patient from here.”

  No one questioned his air of assuredness. In the blink of an eye, he deposited his bag on Lily’s lap and scooped her from the stool. The maid trotted forward to open the door. They left the house uncontested.

  This is precisely why he is so dangerous. He could fool anyone, even her. Clasped in his arms, it was difficult to recall how deeply he’d hurt her. How easily he still could…

  On the street, he continued with purpose toward the livery on the corner. The moment they passed out of sight of the house, he set her on her feet and tucked her stocking into his pocket.

  Lily raised her eyebrows at him. When he grinned at her, butterflies took wing in her stomach. He caught her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “You did smashingly, as I knew you would.”

  Her chest warmed from the compliment. When she drew in a breath to answer, the smell, not yet dissipated by the typical London stench, assaulted her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose.

  “I trust you did, as well?”

  He nodded. “Everything is in place.”