Another succession of knocks followed.
“Should I answer that, miss?” Miranda asked from the doorway.
Ida shook her head. “No. It’s best if we don’t.”
“Very well, miss.”
Miranda left and Ida returned to the window. When she looked out again, Mr. Nugent was gone. Expelling a deep breath she went back to her knitting. Miranda’s light footsteps sounded on the stairs in the hallway, first going up and then coming back down a few minutes later. Silence followed until Ida suddenly heard Miranda say, “Sir, you cannot simply—”
“Where is she?” a man’s voice demanded.
Dread pooled at the base of Ida’s spine. She grabbed the pistol and stood.
“Wait,” Miranda shouted. “Miss Strong!”
Concerned for the maid, Ida stepped out into the hallway and raised her arm, aiming the pistol directly at the intruder. “Stop right there, Mr. Nugent.”
“I’m sorry, miss,” came Miranda’s tremulous voice from behind Mr. Nugent’s portly figure. “He got in through the kitchen door while I was upstairs.”
“It’s rude not to answer the door when someone comes to call,” Mr. Nugent said.
Ida glared at him while pulling back the hammer on the pistol. “And it’s against the law to break into someone’s home.”
“Foolish chit. You’ll kill me if you’re not careful.” He took a step in her direction.
“Unless you kill me first. Is that it?” Ida pressed her back into the doorframe behind her. She really didn’t want to shoot him, but she would if she had to.
He held up his hands. “I just came to talk.”
“About what?”
His gaze darted to the pistol, then back to her face. “Your misguided attempt to pin your father’s sins on someone else will destroy my family’s reputation.”
“Seems suspicious to me that you happened to leave Town right before his arrest.”
He stilled for a moment. “What?”
“My father came to you for help but you were gone.” She took a deep breath. “Where were you?”
Setting his jaw, he gave her an angry look. “That’s none of your business.”
“My father was innocent,” Ida said while gripping the doorframe behind her with her free hand.
“You’re his daughter. Of course you would think that.” He moved closer still.
Ida retreated through the parlor door. “Stop there or I’ll shoot.”
“God damn you, girl. You’re not good company for an earl. Can’t you see that? You need to be gotten rid of, and since Fielding isn’t capable of it, I’ve decided to take matters into my own hands.”
Ida’s mind raced. Two attempts had already been made on her life. He was one of the suspects. When she’d failed to grant him entry, he’d forced his way in and now he was saying she had to disappear. Her hold on the pistol tightened. “I must insist you leave. Fielding will not like finding you here.”
Don’t panic.
Keep a clear head.
Guthrie’s words of advice marched straight to the front of Ida’s head, bringing calm reassurance with them. She steadied her aim and took a deep breath.
“Then it’s probably best if we make this quick.” Mr. Nugent reached inside his jacket pocket and began retrieving an item while closing the distance once more.
Ida pulled back the trigger and fired.
Mr. Nugent’s mouth fell open, Miranda screamed, and Ida knocked her shoulder against the parlor door.
“What the bloody hell?’ Mr. Nugent howled as he stumbled against the wall. “I—argh—you damnable little hussy!”
Ida stared at the spot where she’d shot him. Blood was starting to pool beneath his trousers. She’d deliberately aimed for his leg, hoping to make him immobile without threatening his life.
“Dear me,” Miranda muttered. She peered past Mr. Nugent and straight toward Ida. “Forgive me, miss, but what do we do now?”
Ida’s heart, which had been eerily calm throughout the entire ordeal, began to race. “I suppose he needs to sit. Can you fetch a chair while I keep an eye on him?”
Miranda rushed back to the kitchen while Mr. Nugent proceeded to groan between curses. His eyes were squeezed shut in pain, his one hand clasping his left thigh while the other remained in his jacket pocket. His shoulder offered support as he leaned against the wall.
“I think we need his lordship’s help with this mess,” Miranda said when she returned with the chair. She placed it directly behind Mr. Nugent so he could drop onto the seat. “As reluctant as I am to leave you alone right now, I should probably try to find him.”
“Show me your other hand,” Ida told Mr. Nugent. Eyes flashing with raw hatred, he retrieved a piece of paper and held it toward her. She stared down at it and frowned. “A promise note. For ten thousand pounds?”
“I thought you might appreciate the blunt. In exchange for leaving Fielding alone.”
“Idiot,” Ida muttered. “I thought you had a weapon. Why the hell did you not say something?”
“I didn’t expect you to actually shoot me.”
Ida stared at him for a moment in dumbfounded disbelief, then turned to Miranda. “Go. Find Lord Fielding. And come back as quickly as you can.”
With only a fleeting moment of hesitation, Miranda sprang into action. Shocked and slightly nervous about the possible repercussions for her actions, Ida waited for her return, praying she’d bring Simon with her. Dear God. She shouldn’t have acted so quickly. She should have waited to make sure Mr. Nugent actually posed a threat. But he’d been approaching and with everything else she’d recently been through, she’d panicked.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but you broke in. How was I to know you just meant to bribe me?”
He answered with a snort and attempted to put pressure on the wound, determined, it seemed, to ignore her from that point on.
It felt like hours before Miranda returned. She was flushed and out of breath, but at least she’d found Simon. He strode through the door as if on a mission to save the world, took one look around, and promptly closed the distance between them so he could pull her into his arms. “Ida.” His voice warmed the top of her head while his hand stroked over her back. “It’s all right. You did well. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Having concluded his meeting with Mr. St. John faster than he’d expected, Simon had already been on his way to Number Five Bedford Street on foot when he’d seen Miranda hastening toward him. Her stricken expression had caused his stomach to drop as if weighed down by lead. The jumbled words that had followed, linking Ida’s name with his uncle’s and something about a shooting, had caused the fine hair at the nape of his neck to rise and a chill to prick at his skin.
Standing in the hallway now with Ida safe in his arms, he felt his panic subside while a series of forceful emotions rolled through him. There was intense anger toward his uncle for going behind his back, for barging in and compelling Ida to act as she had, but there was also pride and an overwhelming sense of relief. Ida had protected herself against a man she’d found threatening. She was unharmed and Elliot lived. It could have been worse.
“Miranda,” he said, reluctantly easing his hold on Ida and guiding her into the parlor where he helped her sit. “I need you to fetch the Duke of Huntley for me.”
Elliot would have to be taken to a hospital. Getting him into a carriage would not be easy, and once the task was accomplished, someone would have to go with him. Since Huntley had offered to help Simon if the need arose, Simon would ask him to accompany Elliot so he could remain here with Ida. Given what had happened, he wasn’t about to leave her side.
“Of course, my lord.”
Miranda left and Simon returned his attention to Ida. “Would you like some tea? Or perhaps something stronger?”
“Tea would be nice.”
He re-filled the half-empty cup she’d left on the table and handed it to her. “Here you are.”
“Thank you.” Sh
e took a careful sip and sighed. “I’m so sorry, Simon. I shouldn’t have shot him without being sure he meant to harm me. As it turns out, he didn’t. He just wanted to pay me off.”
“Pay you off?”
She took another sip of her tea, then set the cup aside. “He reached into his pocket for a promise note worth ten thousand pounds. I didn’t know what he was going for, but he’d entered the house without invitation, was coming toward me, and…after everything else, I panicked.” A steady sigh left her. “Guthrie always told me to aim for the legs when using a pistol. It stops the attacker in his tracks while keeping him alive for questioning.”
“You did well.” Simon crouched beside her and placed his hand on her arm. “Elliot threatened you the moment he walked into this house without invitation, so I’m glad you did what you did. Even if he meant you no physical harm, he still meant to get rid of you – to tempt you into leaving me after I’ve already told him to stay out of my business.”
“I know he’s your uncle, but I actually hope he turns out to be the man we’re after, so I didn’t shoot an innocent man because of a promise note.”
Simon squeezed her hand. He knew she felt bad for what she’d done now that she was able to sit and ponder how everything had played out and whether or not she’d been right to do what she did – if perhaps she ought to have said more, waited to see what was in Elliot’s pocket, acted differently.
It was an exercise in futility. What was done, was done. They had to deal with it now.
“I have to speak with him, Ida. Will you be all right here for a few minutes?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Satisfied with the confidence in her voice, Simon stepped out into the hallway where Elliot sat, still clasping his leg.
Simon stared down at him. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Elliot clenched his jaw and gave him a scowl.
“Breaking into homes and bribing people. That’s the sort of behavior reserved for thugs, not gentlemen.”
“Your whore—”
“Call her that one more time and I’ll put a lead ball through your other leg,” Simon snapped. “You had no right to be here. Least of all after I specifically told you to stay away from her.”
”Open your eyes,” Elliot said. “You’re so bloody besotted by her you can’t see how destructive she is. Your reputation is lying in the gutter right now because of her. You have to get rid of her.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Damned fool.”
Simon turned away in disgust and went back to check on Ida. She was sitting exactly as he had left her, staring into her lap as if searching for answers.
With his chest tightly squeezing his heart, he closed his hand around hers and pulled her to her feet. “Come. Let’s get you upstairs so you can rest.”
“Will you stay with me today?”
“Of course.”
“And tonight?”
“If you wish.”
She nodded and let him escort her, only giving Elliot a brief glance as they moved to the stairs.
“We should probably get you out of this dress,” Simon said once they reached her bedchamber. “Here. Let me help.”
With the same amount of care he’d grown accustomed to using with her, he brushed aside the strands of hair that had fallen from her coiffure and popped the top button open. His pulse quickened as the fabric started to part, allowing a hint of her delicate spine before it disappeared beneath her chemise and stays. Sucking in a breath, he continued his task. Perhaps it was a sign of madness that he would marvel over every inch of skin he revealed. The last time he’d undressed her it had been dark and his eyes had been closed. This time, he let himself see as much as she would permit. The temptation to trace the curve of her spine with his fingers, to press a kiss to the nape of her neck, was almost irresistible.
His heart beat faster. Harder. He forced himself to refrain.
“All done,” he murmured as soon as the back of her dress had been fully opened and her stays loosened enough for her to manage the rest on her own. “Get some rest.”
“Thank you.” She turned, rose onto her toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Everything inside him tightened, conveying an urgency so intense it took every piece of restraint he possessed not to wrap his arms around her, pull her flush against him, and let her gown slip from her shoulders so he could explore her more fully. Somehow, he managed to recall that Huntley would soon be arriving, that he still had his uncle to deal with, and that while he and Ida had shared a few kisses, she hadn’t suggested she might be ready for more.
So he waited for her to step back, then gave a swift nod and left. Returning to the foyer, he gave his uncle a brief look just to make sure he was still all right, then took a seat on the stairs and waited for Huntley’s arrival.
Dark afternoon shadows dimmed the daylight when Ida awoke. After Simon had left, she’d removed her dress and stays and tossed them both in a corner before climbing into bed. Staring at the ceiling, she allowed her thoughts to return to the earlier events of the day.
She’d shot someone and yet she’d not dissolved into tears or suffered a fit of hysterics. Yes, Mr. Nugent was still alive, but she would have thought she’d be more shaken. Perhaps the reason she wasn’t was because of how understanding Simon had been. He had given his full support. She’d heard him reprimand his uncle when he’d gone to speak with him, and her heart bloomed with warmth at the memory of it, dissolving whatever doubts she’d held on to after the incident at the ball.
Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed her feet into her slippers. It was time to find him and let him know how truly grateful she was, how much his being there for her meant, and how much he mattered to her.
Donning her robe, she tied the belt and proceeded downstairs. All was quiet, save for the clock ticking in the foyer, but a sliver of light coming from the dining room guided her forward. Reaching the door, she nudged it open a little bit more and glanced inside.
Her heart leapt and her stomach flipped over with joy.
There he was, hunched over the table. He was reviewing the information they’d found and making notes. His cravat had been discarded. The white length of linen hung loosely over the back of a chair. Ida smiled. She’d never seen him look quite this disheveled, with his hair all mussed and a hint of stubble lining his jaw.
“Is Miranda around?”
Simon started in response to her voice and glanced up. A smile lit his features and he almost knocked over his chair in his haste to stand.
“Ida.” Her name was like a whispered caress. His eyes beamed with pleasure. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. More like myself.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He cleared his throat and came toward her. “I believe Miranda’s in the kitchen preparing dinner.”
“Good. I’m actually quite famished.”
He chuckled but said nothing further. The sound faded until they just stood there, staring at each other. Feeling oddly awkward, Ida grasped for words with which to fill the silence. “How did things go with Huntley?”
Simon’s eyes hardened until she regretted asking the question. A frown followed. “He’s taken my uncle to St. Agatha’s for treatment.”
“I see.” She stepped farther into the room, allowed her fingers to trail across the backrest of each chair while she approached Simon.
He watched her with wary eyes, but not, she noted, without a hint of curiosity. Ida bit her lip. Four days ago she’d decided she wanted to be his lover. But then they’d quarreled and she’d been hurt. Their relationship had taken a turn, one she believed had given rise to more intimacy than they would have shared otherwise. And they’d kissed, not with desire but with a fond sort of sweetness that made her feel treasured. Simon was being considerate and kind. He was putting her first, and in doing so he’d buried the fire she used to see in his eyes before.
And she wanted it back �
�� wanted him – more than anything else in the world.
Taking courage, she moved toward him once more, not stopping this time until she was able to touch him. The palm of her hand found his cheek before sliding up into his unkempt hair. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve been here all along,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
“Perhaps I should be clearer.” She looped her arms around his neck and rose onto her toes while pulling his head toward hers. “I’ve missed this.”
Without holding back she captured his mouth with her own, not with gratitude or affection this time, but with uninhibited wantonness. A growl of pure satisfaction rose from his throat, and then his arms were around her, dragging her closer – so wonderfully close she could feel each exquisite contour of his solid frame.
Angling his head, he deepened the kiss and allowed her to taste him. The earthy flavor of coffee crept over her tongue, accompanied by a faint hint of brandy. Ida sighed with more than mere pleasure. She sighed with contentment as well. This was home, right here with this man. Wrapped in his arms was where she belonged.
Simon’s mouth forged a smoldering path down the length of her neck. Ida tilted her head to grant him more access. His hands shifted her weight, pulled at the hem of her robe and the chemise beneath, and then she was being lifted up into the air. One moment later her bottom connected with the dining room table. Simon nudged her legs apart, stepped between them and cradled himself against her. A playful nip of his teeth grazed her shoulder.
“Ida.” Her name, part reverent benediction, part tortured groan, brushed over her skin. “You make me forget who I am and what I should do until there’s just want and need and a burning desire to have you.”
“I feel the same way.” Her mouth sought his once again, kissing him with every yearning she felt in her heart.
“You’ve been through so much,” he tried, “I don’t want to push you and—”
The Formidable Earl Page 17