Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  Nicole smiled reassuringly down at her worried face. "You've done the right thing, Galena. Let us leave this place and go home. I am so tired and it seems all I have done is live on the ends of my nerves for the past hours."

  Robert took the cue from her words, and stepping down, he helped Nicole up into the gig. She took one glance at the broken-down vehicle and shuddered. Thank God she was out of Edward's clutches!

  After having seen the women seated, Robert, a grim cast to his features, started purposefully toward the other vehicle, but Nicole called him back, "Robert! No! Let him be!"

  At Robert's stunned look of disbelief she said persuasively, "He can do nothing further tonight. I have wounded him with his own sword and tomorrow will be time enough for us to take action. Please, for my sake, let us be off?"

  "My dear, I would do anything for you, but I cannot stand the thought of that fellow escaping with nothing more than a wound given to him by a woman! He needs to face a man!"

  "He will, Robert, he will. But tomorrow, please? The hour grows late, and as no one else knows where I am, they all must be frantic with worry, so please, please take me home?"

  Robert's face was turned away from her, and so she didn't notice the peculiar expression that flitted across it. Apparently taking one last look at Edward's disabled coach, he said, "Very well, my dear, if that is what you want. I shall have my satisfaction of him later. That you cannot deny me!"

  "Nor would I want to, Robert. Nor would I want to."

  Without further ado Robert climbed swiftly back into the gig, turned his horses, and once again, Nicole was on the way back to Brighton, this time in much, much more convivial company, and actually enjoying it, despite the cramped seating and the bite of the cool night air. She spared no thought for Edward, only thankful that she had escaped with so little injury.

  Nicole erred in her judgment of Edward's state. She should have realized that Edward was an extremely desperate young man. Edward had recognized Robert Saxon's voice, and clutching the sword cane, he had slipped out the other side of the disabled coach and hid behind it. Facing an angry and furious Saxon was more than he could bear at the moment. He needed time to gather his flagging courage once more about him. Oh, he would fight to keep Nicole, but not here, here on a main road, with four witnesses.

  From his place of concealment he watched narrowly as Robert swung his gig about and started on the journey back. Feeling safe from retribution, he stepped out boldly from behind the carriage, and ignoring the twinge, of pain in his shoulder and the bloodstains that marred his beautifully cut pale blue jacket, he demanded that one of the horses be cut loose—he would go for help! He definitely wasn't sitting the night out in a cold uncomfortable carriage waiting for them to do something.

  There was a brief acrimonious argument, but eventually Edward got his way. A few moments later, precariously astride a strapping barebacked coach horse, he set off down the road, presumably on his way for help.

  Edward had no intention of going after help. Marriage to Nicole was now out of the question—but murder wasn't. With the sword cane strapped firmly to his waist by a strip of leather from the harness of the coach team, he set off in pursuit.

  It would be a tragedy, he thought proudly, a mysterious tragedy. Lord Saxon's son and Miss Nicole Ashford and her maid murdered on the Brighton Road by an unknown assailant! Brilliant! The answer to all his problems. And no witnesses. Precisely how he was going to get the three of them calmly to let him stab them to death was a point Edward had not yet decided upon. At the worst, his identity hidden behind the handkerchief that would be tied across his face, he would just make a wild thrust for Nicole and escape.

  Unaware of the desperate stalker a short distance behind them, Robert and his passengers made their way toward Brighton. Except Robert, like Edward, had very different plans from the ones stated.

  Robert had not started out on this journey with any real plan other than to rescue Nicole from Edward's dastardly plot. It wasn't until he had Nicole safe that his decision not to return her to Kings Road was made. Instead he would take her to the small house of his near Rottingdean. There he would convince her of his love and make her realize that she must marry him!

  Nicole had no idea of what Robert was planning, but she had been uneasy from the moment she had learned that no one else knew what had happened. Her liking and admiration for Robert had long since died and she was wary and suspicious of him. But he had rescued her from a very dangerous situation and for that she was grateful. Resolutely she quelled the disobliging wish that her rescuer had been someone other than Robert Saxon. And as they traveled down the moonlit road, Robert made polite, relaxing conversation, deftly turning her thoughts away from the trauma of the night. She felt a prick of remorse—he was being so kind.

  Her feeling of remorse lasted for all of thirty-five minutes. Then as Robert casually guided his horses off the main road onto a side road leading to the left, she asked sharply, "Where are we going? Brighton is ahead of us, not this way!"

  "I know, my dear, but I thought we should stop by my house. It is much closer. You are chilled to the bone, and my housekeeper will prepare a hot mulled wine that will drive the cold from your body," he replied smoothly, his eyes on his horses. "There will be a fire on the hearth to warm you, and I shall immediately send one of my servants with news of your whereabouts. As you said, they all must be worried beyond belief about you. When my message reaches my father, I'm positive it will not be many minutes before they all arrive at the house. Then instead of a cold and drafty gig to take you home, you will travel there in comfort, surrounded by my relieved family."

  It was an enticing picture, but Nicole mistrusted it. And unless Robert's house came into view very shortly, she would mistrust his words even more.

  Edward, cold and decidedly uncomfortable, but still following doggedly behind them, had whistled silently in surprise when Robert turned the gig off the main road. What was Saxon up to? A sneer curved his mouth, and he laughed to himself. A little seduction, perhaps? It would serve Nicole right, he thought viciously. Whatever reasons Saxon had for following this particular road, they suited Edward admirably. A deserted country lane this time of night was far more appropriate for cold-blooded purposes than the main road to Brighton.

  Fondling the sword cane, he kicked his horse viciously on the sides, intending to overtake the gig and have the business done. But his mount, trained as part of a team of coach horses, proved recalcitrant. Not only did the animal not respond to Edward's urgings, but it began to wheedle and cavort, fighting against the reins. Fearful of falling off, for Edward was no expert rider, he instantly desisted and with growing fury had to allow the horse to proceed at his own pace, an unwavering, steady plod. Sometimes Edward feared he would lose sight of his quarry altogether. But while the gig would occasionally disappear around a curve or down a dip in the road, somehow Edward always managed to get just enough speed from his horse not to lose track of his prey.

  As the miles went by them it was obvious, at least to Nicole, that in one respect Robert had lied outright. By now if he had stayed on the main road, they would have been home, and her uneasiness grew. Galena must have sensed her uneasiness, for like a child she had slipped her small hand into Nicole's.

  Robert was driving to the southeast toward the sea, and Nicole could smell the scent of the salt-laden air. Turning her head to look at him, she asked quietly, "Exactly where is your house?"

  Robert smiled charmingly down at her. "Not more than a mile from here. It is on the sea; I often lie awake at night listening to the pounding of the surf." Lowering his voice, he said softly, "Your mother claimed it was one of the most delightful houses she had ever visited."

  Nicole felt her stomach lurch at the implication, but not wishing to bring up the whole ugly story at the moment, she forced herself to give a careless shrug. Fortunately Robert's house came into view approximately a mile down the road.

  CHAPTER 35

  Robert's house
was not large, but it was extremely cozy and comfortable. The entrance hall was tiny, but the drawing room where Nicole was ushered by one of Robert's servants was handsomely appointed. A fire leaped merrily on the stone hearth, and Robert's housekeeper instantly served her a steaming cup of hot spiced wine.

  Her stained pelisse was thrown carelessly on a nearby chair, and standing in front of the fire, Nicole warmed herself and sipped the hot liquid. Eyeing Robert over the rim of her cup, she asked steadily, "When are you going to write to your father? Shouldn't you be doing it before the hour grows much later?"

  "Ah, yes, my dear, I shall do it, this very moment," Robert agreed swiftly and, sitting down at a rosewood-inlaid desk, proceeded to do so. Sending her a smiling look, and taking the folded note with him, he walked to the door and stepped out into the hall. Suspicious of him, Nicole flew across the room, carefully slipped the door open a slight crack, and watched him intently.

  Robert was alone in the hallway, standing with his back to Nicole. She watched as he methodically ripped the note into shreds and dropped the scraps in a large copper urn. He turned so quickly, coming back toward the drawing room, that Nicole had no time to shut the door and had barely enough time to race across the room to her earlier position before the fire.

  It was with a decided effort that she met his guileless smile when he reentered the room. Inwardly she was seething, damning herself for being goose enough not to realize that under no circumstances was Robert to be trusted. Lowering her lashes to hide the furious expression in her eyes, she surveyed the room. There appeared little that would be of use to her. It was simply a masculine room, with a comfortable yet elegant air— the furniture covered in dark shades of leather and damask, the rugs muted pools of gold and brown, with heavy drapes of russet velvet pulled across the windows to keep out the fall chill. With consideration Nicole examined a set of glass doors that apparently led to the outside. A gathered drape of some diaphanous material screened them. For just a moment she had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching her, but dismissed it as a silly fancy.

  If the doors were not locked, it would be a simple matter to pluck up her pelisse and run out into the night. This stretch of coast, she recalled vaguely, was rocky and pitted, offering her several places to hide until morning. She began to edge toward her pelisse, but Robert unknowingly blocked that move by walking between her and her objective. Grasping her hand, he brought it to his lips and said, "My dear, you don't know how often I have dreamed of you here with me. Dreamed of you as you are now, your hair in the firelight, shining like flame itself, and your skin bathed in gold."

  Nicole swallowed, uncertain whether to laugh or to slap his face. Hastily she looked away, afraid her eyes would betray her, and determinedly she removed her hand from his, stepping back as she did so. Not looking at him, she murmured, "I do hope that Lord Saxon will come immediately! I am so exhausted and I fear that I have a sick headache coming on. You must forgive me, sir, if I do not seem appreciative of your compliments, but I am so distressed by this evening's events that I cannot think clearly." It was a blatant lie, and if Robert had not been so besotted, he would have recognized it as such. Christopher would have snorted with disbelief and told her roundly to drop her missish airs! But Robert was blind where Nicole was concerned; so tenderly he said, "If you would like to lie down, I can have my housekeeper Mrs. Simpkins show you to one of the bedrooms."

  That wasn't precisely what Nicole had planned on— a bedroom was the last place she wanted to be with Robert Saxon in the vicinity! Despairingly she glanced around the room, her gaze momentarily riveted by a pair of dueling swords hanging crossed above the mantel. But even Nicole's mind boggled at the thought of stabbing a second man this incredible evening. Besides, she argued realistically, it wasn't likely she would be able to wrest one of the swords down from the wall before Robert stopped her.

  The bedroom it would be—but with Galena in attendance. Putting a hand on her head, she cried in fainting accents, "Oh, how my head aches! Yes, I believe I will lie down. But please, please, send my maid to me. She knows how to cope with these attacks."

  Her request was accomplished with an ease that startled her. In a matter of seconds she was whisked up the stairs by Robert's housekeeper, an extremely worried Galena in close attendance. Acting like a spoiled beauty, Nicole muttered pettishly, "Oh, please, Mrs. Simpkins, do leave us! My maid knows exactly how to cope with these terrible headaches."

  Galena's mouth nearly fell open at such an outright lie, Miss Nicole never having been sick a day since she had known her. She was a clever girl, though, and said nothing, only nodding her head as if agreeing with every word Nicole said.

  Mrs. Simpkins, suspecting she was waiting on her employer's intended wife, did exactly as told. No use upsetting the new mistress—this was a good placement and she wouldn't want to lose it. And so she went back down the stairs to her kitchen.

  Nicole barely waited until the door closed and Mrs. Simpkins's steps had died away before she sat up impatiently and somewhat disgustedly threw away the lavender-soaked cloth that had been so gently placed on her brow a moment before.

  Nervously Galena regarded her as she ran to one of the windows and stared down at the ground below. Then with an exclamation of triumph she raced back to the bed and began ruthlessly tearing down the silken bed-curtains. Unable to help herself, Galena burst out, "Miss Nicole, what are you doing? What is happening?"

  Nicole sent her an almost gay look. "We," she said lightly, "are escaping. Come now, help me! Tie these strips to the leg of that heavy armoire. This material should be strong enough to hold our weight."

  At Galena's expression of incomprehension, Nicole said hurriedly, "Robert Saxon is not to be trusted! I'm afraid that he means to compromise me, just as Edward did. So we must free ourselves."

  Silently Galena helped her, obviously not totally convinced. When she took a look at the three-story drop below, she balked. "Miss Nicole, I can't do it! I'll fall, I know I will. It's too far!"

  Grimly Nicole stared at her. She could browbeat the girl, but it would gain her nothing. If Galena felt she would fall, fall she would, probably wailing in a loud, carrying voice as she did so.

  "Very well," Nicole said resignedly. "I will do it alone. Give me a few minutes once I've reached the ground, and then go back down to the kitchen just as if nothing were wrong. Tell the housekeeper I have fallen asleep and must on no occasion be awakened. That should gain me an hour or so. By that time I should have been able to find someone to carry a message to Lord Saxon."

  "Miss Nicole, you wouldn't go off and leave me!"

  "Galena, I have no choice!" Nicole retorted exasperatedly. "Now do as I tell you. You'll be safe. Just remember to act as if you know nothing, and when my disappearance is discovered be as surprised as everyone else. Understand?"

  Her eyes the size of saucers, Galena nodded her head slowly. "But, Miss Nicole," she cried protestingly, "you have no pelisse, no cloak. You are sure to catch an inflammation of the lung."

  Throwing her a fierce glare, Nicole said harshly, "If I thought walking naked down the middle of Brighton on Christmas Day would save me from Robert Saxon, I would do it! Now stop this nonsense and help me!"

  The window opened easily, and without hesitation Nicole slid across the sill, her hands tightly grasping the swath of material. She hung there a moment, and then she swiftly lowered her body to the ground. It took her but a few minutes. The countless times she had climbed like a cat in the shrouds of La Belle Garce came to her aid now. Her heart was thumping thunderously, partly from exertion and partly from elation, as she stood on the ground beneath the window. Galena's face appeared, and after giving her a cheerful wave, Nicole lifted her skirts in her hands and sprinted down toward the sea, planning to work her way back up to the road farther down the beach. Rottingdean, she knew, lay not more than three miles to the east of Robert's house, and within the hour she should reach it. There she would find someone to take a message to Lord Saxon
.

  Traveling down the beach, she idly stared at the ocean and watched without too much interest the tall masted ship anchored some distance out to sea. She smiled to herself again. Oh, for the carefree days of La Belle Garce! Those early days before she had become so aware of Christopher as a man, before she and Allen had thought of their mad plans. And with a guilty start she realized that she hadn't thought of Allen in weeks, months. Christopher had said he would be freed. Perhaps at this very moment, Allen might be free, Nicole mused, wanting desperately to believe it.

  She felt curiously carefree as she walked on the moonlit sand, the breeze tangling the sable-fire hair. But reality pressed on her, and she turned her back on the pounding surf and began to climb up the rocky sloping cliffs that led up to the road.

  Increasingly aware of the chill bite of the air, and trying to ignore it, she focused her thoughts on the warm fire that would be waiting for her when she at last returned home to Kings Road. How glad she would be to be there once again! The explanations, though, she decided gloomily, would be dreadful, for how was she to tell Lord Saxon that his own son had played a part in tonight's ugly and dishonorable occurrence.

  It wasn't a pleasant prospect, nor was the prospect of meeting Christopher's contemptuous, derisive eyes. He would think the worst, she thought half angrily, and half miserably.

  ***

  At first neither Simon or Christopher had thought a great deal about Twickham's assessment of the situation. It seemed reasonable enough, although a bit erratic, on Robert's part to leave Kings Road under the circumstances simply because he wished to give Nicole and Edward Markham a ride home in his gig. And the more he thought about it, the more it bothered Christopher. Four in Robert's gig? Or after taking Galena back with him, did Robert assume Nicole would order the girl to walk all the way home again from the park? It seemed unlikely.