“But when I was a man, I was free of him. He didn’t seek me out, and I avoided him as if he carried the plague. It was blatant cowardice. I did nothing to help my sisters. Nothing to stop his cruelty to servants and tenants. I was too terrified to interfere with him. And so, in the end, I killed him.”
Shaken herself by these revelations, Elf stroked his damp arms. “He sounds like a monster.”
“He was. But I should have killed him face to face.”
“No, no. You could never do that. Yes, perhaps you should have tried to help those in his power. But perhaps you didn’t know the depth of his cruelty.”
“Because I chose not to know.” His voice had settled to a more normal tone, and he shifted to slide his hand between her thighs.
She seized his wrist. “No.”
“No? I don’t think you found much pleasure in that recent bout.”
“I think I’ve had my hundred guineas, worth.”
“Don’t forget. I’m paying you.” When she continued to resist, he gave up and pushed into a sitting position. “Perhaps you intend to supplement it with blackmail now.”
She moved to sit beside him. “Even if what you say is true, I have no proof.”
“Thus I am saved from folly.” Though physically they sat side by side, she felt as if he were moving away. “Are you proud of yourself, Lisette?”
Elf pulled the robe around her, shivering, and not entirely with cold. “No. After this, you’ll never want to see me again, will you?”
“I never thought we were contemplating a durable relationship.”
“You asked me to be your mistress.”
“Ah. Yes, you’re right. I regret that I must withdraw the offer.”
She swallowed. “Don’t hate me.”
“I won’t. I don’t. I will just endeavor to forget you.”
Elf pressed her lips together to stop tears. “What if we ever meet again?”
“Lisette,” he said sharply, “you understand what has happened. Leave it be. This has been a strange night, and if we survive, doubtless neither of us will forget it entirely. But I’m sure we will both try.”
She realized she had taken the robe, leaving him naked. She struggled out of it and held it out until it touched his body. “Take it. You must be cold.”
Then he was gone, and his voice came from farther away. “Keep it. Try to get some sleep.”
Swallowing tears he must not hear, Elf curled up in the robe, in the smell of him and sex, and tried to start forgetting.
It had been a long night with little sleep, and Elf must have dozed, for she awoke to loud noises. Struggling to untangle the robe enough to sit, she heard muttered voices along with bangs.
“Forced something in the keyhole, they have,” someone grunted.
A touch made her start. Fort said, “Hush.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. But not our captors. With luck, they’re my people looking for me.” He sounded relaxed and normal, but in an artificial way.
Or my people, looking for me, she thought. Then she remembered he was naked. She slid off the box and put the robe in his hands.
“I suppose I should wear something,” he said, taking it. “I wish we had the means to share it, though. Your shift will be scanty covering.”
Elf realized a trace of light gleamed around the trapdoor. It wasn’t day yet, but must be past dawn. “Shouldn’t we say something?” she suggested. “After all, if it’s our captors, they know we’re here. If it’s not, they might give up.”
“True. I’ll go and communicate.” She heard scrabbling noises, then his voice. “Hello out there.”
The banging stopped. “Sir?”
Elf was easing up the coffin lid. They were about to be rescued and she had to try to keep her identity secret. Probably disaster was inevitable, but if she could put her mask on again, it was just possible that Fort need never know the true identity of his nighttime confidante.
That, at least, would spare him constant reminders of his confessions.
“This is the Earl of Walgrave. A handsome sum to the man who rescues me.”
The lid was heavy, but she managed to support it one-handed as she groped around.
“Beggin’ your pardon, my lord, but is there a lady there with you?”
She found the mask!
“Indeed there is. Are you in search of her?”
Elf eased the lid back down, absorbing the surprise in Fort’s voice. Oh, he was certainly in for some surprises. Especially as the mask strings had been cut. Damn and blast those Scots.
“Aye, well, in a manner of speaking.” Elf recognized Roberts’s voice. “Is she all right?”
“Yes!” Elf called. “For pity’s sake, release us!”
Her main concern, however, was the mask. Plague on it. They’d cut the left string of the mask within an inch of the edge. With trembling hands, she tried to knot the broken string on to the fragment, but it was hopeless.
Hopeless.
Could she hold it against her face? No, that would look foolish indeed.
Bangs from the trapdoor threatened release at any moment, bringing light and terrible exposure!
Tossing the useless item aside, Elf tugged at her powdered curls, pulling them forward over her face.
“What’s the problem out there?” Fort shouted.
“We’ve a man with us can pick locks, milord, but someone’s jammed a lump of wood in the keyhole. And as the door opens out, it’ll be a hard matter to bash it down.”
“There’s another door down inside. What sort of place is this?”
“It’s a ruined tavern down near the docks, milord. There’s been a fire not long ago, it seems. Took out the nearby buildings and charred this one enough to close it. We’ll try to find the other door.”
Elf heard Fort scrabbling back down the ramp.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“By the box.”
In a moment she felt him at her side. He touched her gently on the hand. “I’ve been a wretch tonight, Lisette. Accept my apologies.”
Elf took his hand, swallowing tears at the thought of what might have been—had they been other people or had she not broken down his walls. “I demanded answers to questions you didn’t want asked.”
He pulled her into an almost brotherly embrace. “Perhaps I was just ready to disgrace myself.”
“I see no disgrace. And I just wanted to heal you. Forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you.” He rocked her slightly, reminding her of their first embrace of the night, that delicious tender swaying in his arms which had led to other things that could never happen again.
No more, no more sounded like a dirge in her head.
“You’re a kind woman, Lisette.” Faint voices grew louder beyond the door. Any moment now and this would all be over. “Will you give me your real name?”
Elf wanted nothing more, but whispered, “I dare not.” She clung to the remote chance of escaping unidentified. Perhaps then Elf Malloren might find a way to be with Fort Ware.
He cradled her head, tracing her features. “I wonder what it is you fear . . . ?”
But then, with a grating click, the door opened and torchlight flooded in.
When Elf hid her face against his chest, she simply wanted to spare her eyes. She realized immediately that she’d found an excellent position.
“The key was in the lock, my lord. My . . . my goodness.”
Roberts had just managed not to say “my lady.” How much did he know? And what on earth did she look like?
“Find something to cover the lady with,” Fort said crisply. “Come along. One of your coats, and sharpish.”
Elf found herself bundled in a frieze coat which was only slightly musty with sweat. Slipping her arms into the overlong sleeves she kept her head down and wished for a collar to pull up around her face. Then Fort lifted her into his arms and carried her through the door and she could again hide her face against his shoulde
r.
“I can walk,” she said.
“The ground’s rough here.”
“You have bare feet, too.”
“This seems to be my one chance to be the perfect, gentle knight. Don’t snatch it away.”
Reprieve.
Another few moments of untarnished closeness.
Elf relaxed against him as he climbed rickety stairs and threaded his way through the ruins of the old taproom. The place smelled of stale beer and charred wood, but then fresh air played on her stockinged legs, carrying a hint of the river. Turning her head cautiously, Elf saw gray dawn light through blackened, broken windows. How precious sight was after darkness.
Then he carried her through the doorway into a derelict wasteland edged by scorched buildings.
“Do you have a vehicle?” Fort asked.
“Aye, milord.”
“Who the devil are you?”
At his tone, Elf sneaked a look and winced. They’d brought her own one-horse chair that she used to tool herself around town, generally with a footman up behind. A glossy blue with white-and-gold trim, it was no commonplace vehicle. Nor was Bianca, her white carriage pony, a commonplace horse.
She tensed, ready for the truth to come out.
“Name’s Roberts, milord,” said her servant phlegmatically. “Hired to find the lady.”
Oh, bless you, bless you.
Fort didn’t pursue his question, except to ask, “And how the devil did you find her?”
“Beggin’ your pardon, milord, but can we chat somewhere else? If others were to return, we’re not that many to oppose them.”
Elf took time to count. Just Roberts and two other men, one holding the horse. She could understand why they’d not brought the two women, but there’d been two other men in her squad.
After a tense moment, Fort said, “Very well. But I will require a pair of shoes from one of you. The donor can hide around here until someone brings him a new pair. You, bring the chair here!”
The man led the open vehicle over and Fort lifted Elf into the seat. Then he turned to select from among the shoes being offered.
As she took the reins, Elf began to think she might get away with her deception after all. At the moment, the men stood between her and the only obvious road out of here, and she knew little of this part of London. But as soon as they entered a part of town she knew, she’d whip up Bianca and elude Fort once again.
Poor Lisette would have to disappear, but at least she might be able to continue to meet with him and tease him as Elf Malloren.
He chose the shoes of the man who’d been holding the horse and sent him to a nearby corner to make the exchange. He sent Roberts along to bring the shoes back.
And that was a kindness, she realized.
True, he had demanded the shoes as if by right, but he had not made the man limp into hiding barefoot over broken stone and glass.
Sighing, she admitted to herself that in her eyes Fort was close to perfect. Not that she thought him perfect, just that she had fallen under a spell that made him appear so.
A spell called love.
Hopeless love.
Amanda had been right. It was Romeo and Juliet, but it seemed they were at least going to escape with their lives.
Roberts came back with the shoes, and Fort put them on. “Now,” he said, “by all means let us guide the lady home, wherever that might be. And while we go, you can tell me what happened, and how you found us.”
He turned toward the chair as he spoke, and Roberts turned with the flaming torch. Before she could avoid it, Fort reached up to brush her tangled hair back off her face.
He was smiling quite tenderly.
She tried to turn, but he captured her chin, smile fading.
He blinked as if he couldn’t believe his eyes, then turned her face full into the light. “Elf Malloren?”
Chapter 12
“I’m sorry.” Elf made herself meet his shocked eyes, trying to send a message of love.
He let her go as if she burned him. “No wonder your voice seemed familiar! What a wonderful night you must have had, my lady. Not only do you get me to serve you as if I were a penny whore down on the docks, you have me blubbering my secrets like a maudlin boy!”
He lunged for her. Her two men fell on him, dragging him to the rough ground.
Legs and arms flailed in the flaring light of Roberts’s fallen torch.
Curses and grunts flew out of the writhing mass.
Elf winced at the horrible sound of fists on flesh.
“Stop it!” she screamed at all of them, but they paid no heed.
She slashed at the raging heap with her whip but no one even seemed to notice. They were going to kill each other!
Then the barefoot man came running and in moments they had Fort overpowered, though still writhing like a madman. Singeing the air with curses, Roberts used belts and strips cut from the habit with his knife to truss Fort up.
He staggered to his feet, lip swollen and bleeding, and shirt town. “Now what, milady?” He sounded as if he’d like to throttle her himself.
Shaking, Elf sank her head in her hands. She had no idea.
She felt as exhausted and bruised as the men must be, and her mind floated, empty of all rational thought.
She could have him delivered to his house and leave matters to fall as they would, but she remembered the look in his eyes. God knows what mischief he’d do.
Then there was the matter of treason. In all her probing, she’d forgotten to dig into that.
She took a deep breath and looked up. “What about the Scots?”
“It’s a long story, milady, and we’d best not tarry here.”
“True enough.” Elf badly needed time to think. “Put him up here and guide me to Lady Lessington’s.”
Though silent, Fort resisted any attempt to put him in the seat, so in the end they laid him across beneath her feet. Elf even had to put her feet on him. “And it serves you right,” she snapped, clicking Bianca into motion. “What a foolish demonstration.”
He said not a thing.
They lurched out of the derelict area into a mean and narrow street, Roberts walking ahead with the torch, the other men behind, drawn pistols in hand. Since Fort didn’t need the shoes anymore, they’d been reclaimed.
Doubtless woken by the fight, a few people peeped from behind tattered curtains or around slightly open doors, but no one interfered with them.
Elf looked down at the bundled body under her feet and fought tears. Yet again she’d created a problem, and must try to solve it.
“I never meant any harm,” she said softly to her captive audience. “It was a complete accident, that meeting at Vauxhall. But I did overhear something about your plans. I couldn’t let it go by.”
He might have been a corpse for all the response she got. She persevered.
“I only played this masquerade tonight because I wanted to find out what you have hidden in your cellars. And I hoped to flush out Murray and his men. I thought they’d try to attack me if they saw me or at least follow me. Perhaps they did, and that’s why they seized us. But I don’t know why they didn’t kill me . . .”
She was chattering again.
I love you, she could have said, but what point in that now?
What point in any words? He was doubtless too angry to listen.
Perhaps later.
If there was a later.
Lud, but she ached with tiredness. Her eyes itched with it, and exhausted chills shook her. She could hardly organize her mind for thought, but she must.
“Roberts,” she said wearily. “Tell me what happened tonight.”
As the horse clopped along the muddy lane, Roberts told his story.
“Well, milady, we kept close eye as you left the ball and walked to the earl’s house. Nothing ’appened, though, and no one seemed to be much interested in you. Though Sally, God bless her, spotted some street urchins following close.
“So, we set about roundin
g some of ’em up. And it’s like trying to catch eels, it is, with those little blighters. But in the end one of ’em told us as they’d been hired by a clergyman at the Peahen over near Cow Cross Street to watch Lord Walgrave. Since nothing else was ’appening, like, I went over there to see what I could find. Now I admit, milady, we didn’t keep close watch on the earl’s house, since we reckoned—”
He broke off there and gave her an embarrassed look. Elf could only pray the misty light hid her flaming cheeks.
“Well anyway,” he continued, “we didn’t expect anyone in or out for ’ours, you see. So when I got back, I was fair shocked to find such mayhem.”
“Did you arrive as we were being taken away?”
“Oh no, milady. We’d surely ’ave stopped ’em! No, it was long over by the time I got back. You see, Sally and Ella ’ad ’overed near to the ’ouse. Woman’s instinct, Ella said it was. When they saw some goings-on down the back of the ’ouse, they knew something were up. So Sally, she stayed to keep an eye on things, and Ella ran to get help. By the time Ella got back with Roger, the place was in uproar.”
“Oh no.” Perhaps matters were even worse. It was horrible that Fort knew her identity. It would be disaster if the whole world did.
“People thought it was just ’ousebreaking, milady. The earl’s servants had woken to find rascals in the ’ouse, and fought with them. Mostly in the cellars.”
He put no emphasis on the words, but Elf registered them. If the Scots had been in the cellars, it had been to steal whatever Fort had guarded there. She glanced down at him, seeing no sign of life, except perhaps an extra tension.
“Did they get it?” she asked.
“I reckon so, milady.”
Fort twitched and Elf thought he might at last break his silence, but he didn’t. What was this important item? And if the Scots had it, what were they doing with it?
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