A Lady’s Trust

by Callie Hutton

  Driscoll headed to the table and filled a plate with cheese, cold meats, bread, a berry tart, and two pieces of fruit.

  “Hungry tonight, brother?” Dante eyed the full plate from across the table where he filled his own plate.

  “Yes.” For some reason he hesitated to share the information about the young lady—Miss Pence—with his brother. Most likely the chit would be gone by the time he returned, anyway.

  To his surprise, and annoying delight, Miss Pence sat precisely where he’d left her. From his approach behind, her slumped shoulders and occasional shiver touched him. ‘Twas obvious the girl was in trouble. Hopefully, over food and the tea he’d asked Cook to send up, she might be more forthcoming about her situation.

  “I think this might help to warm you up, also.” He handed her the plate of food that she took with enough enthusiasm to convince him that the poor girl must have been starving.

  “Th-th-thank you.” She clutched the plate with shaky hands.

  “I don’t want to be disrespectful, Miss Pence, but I think the best way for you to warm up is to remove your wet clothes.”

  He winced when her eyes widened, and it appeared as though she was about to bolt.

  “No. No, that is not what I meant.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean there is a bedroom on this floor—”

  Miss Pence jumped up, placed the plate of food on the table in front of her and made for the door, his greatcoat dropping to the floor. Bloody hell, he was making a muck of things.

  “No. Please.” He bolted ahead of her and blocked the door.

  “Move away from the door, sir.” She raised her chin, the wet curls clinging to her forehead. The combination of her shaky voice and body only made him feel worse. The last thing he wanted was to frighten the girl and have her race back out into the foul weather.

  He moved aside. “Please allow me to explain. I went about this all wrong.”

  She placed her hand on the door latch but didn’t open the door, the caution in her eyes making him back up.

  “There is another room on this floor,” he smartly did not mention the word ‘bed’, “where you can change into something else. Then we can spread your clothes in front of the fire and allow them to dry while you eat.” He raised his hand. “I swear to you, Miss Pence, I am a gentleman, and I would never, ever take advantage of a young lady.”

  She drew herself up, and although she was at least a half a foot shorter than his six feet, she gave the impression of looking down at him. “You have not even introduced yourself, sir.”

  “I truly beg your pardon, Miss Pence. I am Mr. Driscoll Rose. I am brother to the Earl of Huntington. My other brother, Mr. Dante Rose and myself, own this club.”

  She visibly relaxed, but not completely. “I do not travel in Society, Mr. Rose, so I must admit I do not recognize your brother’s title. However, I am familiar with The Rose Room, which is, I assume, where I managed to make my very awkward and embarrassing entrance?”

  Despite her disheveled appearance and abrupt arrival, she managed to enthrall him further with her humor, and Driscoll felt more than the usual ennui for the first time in weeks. “Yes. This is the second floor of The Rose Room.”

  * * *

  Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. The Rose Room was the one place her brother would never find her. He’d been banned from the elite club for fist-fighting over three weeks before.

  When she’d spotted the open, welcoming, and well-lit window at the back of the building, she had no idea what the structure housed. A large oak tree, with branches a mere few feet from the window was far too tempting not to climb.

  As she studied Mr. Rose, she had no idea how to accomplish it, but if she could remain here until morning, it would give her time to come up with a plan while assuaging her hunger and staying warm and dry.

  Depending on this nice man to be the gentleman he claimed, she came up with a decision. “Yes, Mr. Rose. I believe a dry set of clothes would be most welcome.”

  The smile he offered her caused butterflies to dance in her middle. However, she was neither at a time, nor in a place to encourage attention from a man. She was already on the run from two men. What she needed was a way to earn money without her stepbrother finding out so she could leave London.

  “Excellent. I will have one of our maids accompany you to the room and help you change. The women we employ to clean and help in the kitchen live in rooms in the basement. Perhaps one of them will have a more appropriate outfit for you to wear.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Rose. You are too kind.”

  He stepped to the door and called to someone to send up Betsy. He then waved her toward the food. “Please, Miss Pence.”

  With a great deal of thankfulness, Amelia returned to the seat she’d so abruptly left and helped herself to some bread and cheese.

  She tried very hard to be a lady, but she hadn’t eaten all day and was quite hungry. Mr. Rose took the seat across from her, them both enjoying the heat from the stove. He didn’t speak, but watched her in a way that was, remarkably, not threatening.

  He hopped up at a knock at the door and admitted a gentleman carrying a teapot, followed by a young woman.

  “Ah, good evening, Betsy. This is Miss Pence who is in need of a dry set of clothes. Can you accommodate her?”

  The maid eyed Amelia and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Rose. I believe I have a few articles for Miss Pence to wear.”

  “Excellent. Please fetch them, and then you can escort our guest to the bedchamber down the corridor and help her change.”

  The maid dipped and left them, not raising a brow or showing any sort of surprise. Despite what she’d witnessed so far, perhaps Mr. Rose was a bit of a rake and oftentimes had women arrive at the club looking for clothing and a place to sleep.

  She pushed that unwanted thought from her mind and continued with the food, particularly relishing the warmth from the tea.

  “I don’t wish to pry, Miss Pence, but may I ask why you were climbing a tree at,” he looked over at the clock hanging on the wall, “one o’clock in the morning?” He grinned before she could answer. “And please don’t tell me you endangered yourself by climbing a wet, slippery tree because you did not have an umbrella at hand.”

  Amelia wiped her mouth and placed the napkin next to her now empty plate. “I appreciate everything you did for me, Mr. Rose. However, despite your kindness I cannot tell you why. All I can do is assure you that I am not running from a crime, nor am I involved in anything illegal.”

  Mr. Rose stared at her, obviously not happy with her answer, but he did not seem to be overly concerned about it either.

  “I thank you very much for the food and a chance to dry off and warm up, but I will take up no more of your time.” If he was going to continue questioning her, she needed to remove herself before she said something to her detriment. She rose and almost made it to the exit before a large hand slapped against the door, preventing her from opening it.

  She leaned her head against it and sighed. She could not tell Mr. Rose that her stepbrother was looking for her. Even though she was of legal age, most people would return her to Randolph, assuming as her guardian, he knew what was best for her.

  Hardly.

  Behind her heat radiated from Mr. Rose’s body, combined with the sound of his breathing, the air sweetened with mint. “No, Miss Pence.”

  He broke with all propriety and placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “I will not allow you to wander the city in the rain. I don’t know from what or from whom you are running, but a lady alone in the dark on the streets of London at this late hour is much too dangerous. I do not enjoy reading about murders and other horrendous things happening to lovely young women in my morning newspaper.”

  Amelia closed her eyes, fighting tears. She was frightened, penniless, worn out, cold, and in possession of no plan to avoid Randolph. Why was a stranger kinder to her and more concerned for her welfare than a relative who was supposed to be
her guardian and protector?

  Mr. Rose backed away, perhaps realizing the impropriety of touching her. “I insist you avail yourself of the empty bedroom where Betsy will take you. You may stay the night, and I assure you no one will bother you. In fact, there is a sturdy lock on the door that you can engage.”

  Although she hadn’t been familiar with the Rose brothers in her short time in London, she’d learned that The Rose Room was an elite gaming club owned and run by honest gentlemen connected to the nobility. Compared to Randolph’s plans for her, which would result in her forever banished from polite society, and the life she had wished for herself, Mr. Rose’s kind offer to let her stay at the club was a minor infraction.

  “I will accept your offer, Mr. Rose. I am sure I am breaking some sort of rule of propriety in doing so, but since I know so few people in London there isn’t much that can harm my reputation at this point.”

  He looked as though he wanted to ask a question, but her drawn appearance must have been enough for him to merely nod. “Very well. When Betsy returns with the clothes for you, I will have her take you to the bedchamber.

  “I reiterate, please do engage the lock, which will make me feel better. We rarely have trouble in the club, but I do not wish to take any chances with your well-being and good name.”

  Shortly after their conversation, Betsy returned to the room with articles of clothing draped over her arm. At Mr. Rose’s instructions the young maid escorted Amelia to a lovely bedchamber several doors down from the office where she and Mr. Rose had conversed.

  The room was done in very masculine colors and style. No doubt the space was used for the brothers when they decided to stay overnight.

  Once Betsy made sure Amelia knew where everything was and offered her the clothes, which consisted of a soft cotton nightgown and dressing gown, the maid left. Clenching the borrowed clothes in her hands, Amelia sat on the bed and stared out the window at the darkness.

  She had a place for tonight, but what would tomorrow bring?

  3

  Around noon the next day, Driscoll looked up from the newspaper he was reading as Dante entered the brothers’ dining room at the club and dropped into the chair across from him.

  “Good morning big brother.” He reached across the table and took a slice of toast from Driscoll’s plate and smothered it with jam. “Can you tell me why when I tried to enter the bedroom down the hall, the door was locked?”

  Driscoll shrugged and continued to eat.

  “Your lack of response is interesting.” Dante finished the stolen toast and crossed his arms over his chest, tilting the chair back on two legs. “Does the lock on the door have something to do with the full plate of food I saw you hustle upstairs last night? You, who never eats beyond ten o’clock at night?”

  “Sometimes I eat beyond ten o’clock,” Driscoll mumbled.

  Raised eyebrows was Dante’s only response. “Well, I know you don’t have a woman in there.” He gestured toward the bedroom down the hall.

  Driscoll stiffened and frowned. “Why not? Why couldn’t I have a woman in there?”

  “Because you never raise your head from your ledgers long enough to notice anyone else. Let alone a female. And, even if you were to go against your nature and have a woman in there, even you wouldn’t be sitting here eating breakfast while she lounges in bed.”

  Driscoll threw his napkin down alongside his plate. “I beg to differ. I do enjoy females, and might I remind you that I took Miss Bailey to the theater just last week?”

  “Brother, she was my date that I foisted off on you.” Dante stood and filled a plate from the sideboard. Eggs, bacon, tomatoes, sausage, toast and an orange.

  “What do you want with the bedroom, anyway?” Driscoll studied him. “It’s already after noon, you certainly don’t plan to sleep now.”

  Dante sat and eyed his food. “No. I spent the night at Mrs. Bancroft’s house, but I needed a clean shirt.”

  “Why don’t you keep clothes at her house? You sleep there more than your own bed.”

  Dante grinned. “Ah, but we don’t do much sleeping, brother.” He took a sip of tea. “But you are avoiding my question. Why is the door locked?”

  “I have a guest.” Lord, how he wished to avoid this conversation. He wasn’t yet sure what to make of Miss Pence. Frankly, he was relieved to hear that the door was still locked, since he hadn’t the nerve to try it himself. That meant she hadn’t escaped during the night.

  There was no tree outside that room.

  He’d decided if she had remained by morning that he would offer her temporary lodging, as long as he was comfortable that she wasn’t, indeed, running from some criminal activity.

  However, there was nothing about the woman that suggested wrongdoing. Of course, shimmying up trees in the rain to climb through the window of an unknown building did suggest some sort of misconduct. At least from what he’d known about proper young ladies; the ones he had avoided like the plague since they were all anxious to lead a man to the altar.

  Dante stared at him. “Well?”

  “What?”

  His brother sighed. “Who is your ‘guest’ in the bedroom?”

  Driscoll removed his spectacles and rubbed them with his handkerchief. A subtle maneuver to allow him time to gather his thoughts that was not lost on his brother. “Last night a woman fell through the window into the office.” Bloody hell there must have been a better way to say that.

  Dante’s brows shot to his hairline. “Fell through the window? How the devil did she do that?”

  “Climbed the tree outside the window,” he mumbled.

  Dante let out a low whistle. “And here I thought you led the most uninteresting life possible.”

  Driscoll frowned. “Do you want to hear the rest of the story, or just sit there and insult me?”

  “Can I do both?” He grinned and shoveled more food into his mouth. He waved his fork at Driscoll. “Continue.”

  “Her name is Miss Pence. She is running from something, but I doubt—with as much assurance as I can muster—that she is a criminal.”

  “She climbs through the window of a gaming club in the middle of the night, and you don’t think there is anything criminal about her? Did she drag her bag of ill-gotten goods with her, or leave them at the base of the tree to retrieve after she cleaned out our office?”

  “Do you want to hear what I know?”

  “Yes.” Dante smirked.

  “She said her name is Miss Amelia Pence. She was familiar with the club but didn’t know that was where she was seeking shelter from the rain.” Driscoll took a sip of tea. “She was cold, wet, tired and hungry.”

  “And you being you, never noticed if she was attractive or not?”

  Driscoll growled. “Yes, she is attractive, and yes I noticed. And no, before you ask, I did not offer to share the bed with her.”

  Dante shook his head. “Pity.”

  “She was frightened, Dante. Whatever it is she is running from can’t be good.”

  “So, what is your plan here, big brother?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know.” Alone in his own bed in his flat, he’d spent a good part of the time he should have been sleeping thinking that very same thing. She trusted him enough to accept his offer of a warm, dry bed.

  “I don’t mean to come across as unfeeling, but we can’t have a strange woman staying at the club. I don’t know anyone by the name of Pence, so that could be a made-up name. Despite your good-natured belief that she is not a criminal, we have no way of knowing if Scotland Yard is looking for her.”

  Driscoll sighed, hearing his very own thoughts spoken out loud by his brother. “I think we should see what she says this morning. For all I know, she went back out the window, and that would be the end of our problem.”

  “There is no tree outside the bedroom.”

  The sound of footsteps drew their attention. Miss Pence stood in the doorway, looking very much like a little lost lamb.

  Everyth
ing protective in him reared its head. Driscoll took a deep breath, his heart speeding up. The devil take it, he was becoming ridiculous about the chit.

  Both men stood. “Good morning, Miss Pence,” Driscoll said.

  She moved farther into the room and offered a slight smile. “I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to stay here last night.” She dipped a curtsy, which she didn’t pull off very well since she was back into her trousers. Without saying another word, she turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Driscoll said and walked up to her, taking her hand in his. A very soft hand, one that only a lady would possess. She had never done hard work. Another clue to her identity. “You must at least eat breakfast before you go.”

  Miss Pence hesitated and glanced toward Dante.

  “May I make known to you my brother, Mr. Dante Rose.” Driscoll waved at his brother. “Dante, this is Miss Amelia Pence.”

  She backed up when Dante snorted.

  * * *

  Amelia felt the heat rise to her face at the snicker coming from Mr. Dante Rose. She’d wrestled with herself for the past hour, wondering if she should just make her way out of the building without seeking Driscoll Rose to thank him.

  Part of that time was also spent trying to figure out where she would go from here. She had to avoid her brother, as well as Mr. Lyons who would no doubt be searching for her as well.

  Damn her stepbrother for making the stupid wager! It hurt to acknowledge that she was not surprised by what he’d done. Even though they had never been close, she didn’t think he held her in such low regard to wager her into a life of disgrace and degradation.

  Driscoll pulled out a chair. “Please, Miss Pence. I would like you to join us, have breakfast and possibly allow us to help you in whatever way we are able.”

  Dante Rose sat back, his arms crossed over his chest and watched her with all the warmth and consideration of a fox watching his prey. He was certainly nothing like his brother.

  She walked to the sideboard and filled a plate with food while Driscoll fussed over her, showing her things she might like.