Accidental Fiancee (11 page)

The knife dropped to the ground and the attacker took off, leaving his injured friend to fend for himself.

* * *

Brandon turned and reached for her. He got his first good look at her face and was immediately sorry he had let any of them go. He pried her fingers from around the gun. “Is it loaded, Grace?” At the nod of her head he cursed under his breath. She could have been terribly hurt...or worse.

“Perhaps you feel more inclined to get into the curricle now?”

Grace did not say a word. He thought she might be in shock, until he turned her to face him. She seemed to come to herself, and laid her forehead against his chest. Somehow that simple gesture touched him more than words could have.

“I thought he was going to kill you with that knife, and the fault would have been entirely mine.” She shifted a little so that her cheek was resting on his coat. “What an awful day this has been.” She started to cry as she grabbed his lapels. “All those poor children.”

He had never seen her upset like this. She was always a pillar of strength. Her terror must have been great. But she had not mentioned that; she only spoke of worrying for him and the children. He led her, sniffling, to his curricle, just as the hackney pulled up.

The footman jumped down, greatly agitated. “Where did you get to, my lady? Why didn’t you remain at the orphanage? I’ve been that scared. I knew I should have stayed with you.”

Brandon paid off the hackney driver and sent the footman home with him. Grace sat in his curricle, tears rolling down her cheeks, silent and remote. He would take her someplace where she could recover her poise. Hyde Park was out of the question. He opted for the smaller Green Park. It was much less traveled, especially this early, and he hoped he could soothe her wounded sensibilities.

Once he did, he was going to kill her!

She had worried him out of ten years of his life on that curricle race to Baxter Street. Once she calmed, he was going to make his feelings known to her about women who wandered around the seediest parts of London unescorted.

Traffic kept him from watching her closely, but he knew she was still crying, albeit silently. When he handed her his handkerchief she apologized. “I am so sorry.”

They reached the park and he asked if she felt up to walking a short distance to a bench by some trees. She nodded. He asked his groom to walk the horses until they were needed again.

When they sat down on the bench, he took her hand soothingly into his. He tried to make her look at him. “Feeling better now?”

“Yes, thank you.” But her shivering told a different tale. “If one of those men had hurt you because of me, I would never have been able to live with myself.”

He finally began to understand her, and his anger began to burn anew. “Are you telling me,
can
you be telling me you were worried about
me
and not yourself?”

“Me?” She looked up at him for the first time, surprised. “Of course I was not worried about myself. I worried that if I did not kill him outright he would still be able to hurt you with the knife.”

“If you were not worried about yourself, why were you running when I found you?” he asked between clenched teeth.

“I had my pistol, but it was in my reticule. I had to run to get the time to pull it out. When they were surrounding me, they might have taken my purse and the gun with it, so I took off, looking for a place where I had the advantage. I prayed all the while. And God answered with you.”

His expression darkened further still.

“What is it? Brandon, are you angry with
me?
”

“Am I angry with...” Shaking his head, he jumped to his feet and began to pace. “You little fool, anger does not even begin to do justice to what I feel at this moment.”

“But—” She got no further.

“Say no more.” He enunciated each word. “I went to your house early, hoping we might be able to go for a drive when the park was not so congested. What do I find? That lame excuse for a butler muttering about you going off alone, with only a suit of armor knowing your exact location.” He was trying very hard to rein in his temper.

“If it had taken me five more minutes to get out of your butler where he
thought
you told Max you were going, you could be dead now...or worse.” He sat back down, grabbed her shoulders hard and turned her toward him. “They would have robbed you, at a minimum. You are old enough to understand what else they might have done to you, Grace. You cannot think it something to take lightly.”

“Of course not! I was so thankful when I heard your voice. But the man with the knife could have hurt you.”

“Arghh,” Brandon roared in frustration, jumping to his feet again. “I do not want your thanks! I want you to realize what almost happened to
you,
so you never do such a cork-brained thing again.”

“Please sit down. I cannot think. I do not wish to think anymore.”

“Blast!” was all he could say. How could he get through to her? “Grace, London is dangerous for a woman alone in the
best
part of Town. But in the place you were today, your life was not worth anything more than the contents of your purse. You risked your life for that today. Not mine,
yours.
You see,
I
could have handled all three of them, knives or not. My groom was with me. You did nothing but risk yourself, and the anguish it would have caused everyone who loves you.”

His anger was spent at his final words, and surprise took over.
He
was one of those who had come to care about her; he realized that was why he was so angry.

She got up from the bench and turned away from him. He went to her, turned her around and gently pulled her to his chest, surrounding her with his arms. He could have lost her.

“Brandon, I am sorry that I put you through this. You are absolutely right. I had no guarantee I could have escaped those men.” She started to cry again.

He held her tighter for a minute, surprised she did not put up more of a fight. He finally put her a little away from him, and then whistled for his groom to return with the curricle.

Once they were seated, he dismissed the groom, knowing propriety was the least of his worries. When they were alone, he began a slow walk with his horses and asked the question that had been burning in him all afternoon. “Why did you go there, Grace? How did you even know about that particular place?”

She kept looking straight ahead, too ashamed now after his harsh words to meet his eyes and see what he must think of her. She answered softly, “Since coming to London, I have sought information from the ladies I have met as to how they help the less fortunate. Most of the time I just received blank stares, but occasionally someone would say they gave to an orphanage fund, but they really had no time to help.”

“I am not surprised,” he muttered.

“Finally, I heard someone mention the orphanage on Baxter Street. I do not remember who. As it was the only name I received, I thought to offer my services there once a week while I remained in London.” She began to cry again, sobs coming from deep inside. He had never heard such heart-wrenching torment. He pulled the curricle to the side of the path and stopped.

“Tell me about it, Grace. What happened there?”

She put her face in her hands, her head bowed over her lap. “It was so terrible. I know it will haunt me until I die.” She wiped her cheeks. “I will not go there alone again, I promise. But something must be done for those children and I intend to do it.”

He could barely understand her as he listened to her recount her visit. Her usually soothing voice came out hoarse and raspy through her tears. “The food they feed these little children was rancid. They get no baths. Why should they, when the housekeeper obviously has not had one in recent memory? They did not understand me when I asked them where they played. Oh, how God must cry over the horror.” She blew her nose, but the tears ran down her cheeks as she sat up straight. Her voice was barely a whisper and he knew she was seeing it all over again.

“They work all day, no matter how little they are or what condition their health is in. One three-year-old girl had needle imprints in her fingers from sewing the soles of shoes. I cannot even fathom it—three years old!”

She cried quietly until he thought her heart would break. “I asked one little girl her name and it was Jane number six. Brandon, they have numbers. I could not bear it. I wanted to gather them all to me and wait for carriages to take them home to the Abbey.” She tried to staunch the tears. “Don’t you see, Brandon? There but for the grace of God go I or you, or any one of us. Why was I born into a family that could provide for me, and those children into a world so very dark?” She answered her own question. “Because I can do something about it. I can take them all to the Abbey if I cannot do something here.” She finished defiantly, “But I am going to try.”

“Something
is
being done, Grace,” Brandon said quietly. She turned to look at him, and reached up to touch the tic in his jaw.

“I need to show you something,” was all he said as he guided his horses back onto the path.

They rode in silence for a while, both deep in thought. His were tumultuous. What kind of woman was she? There was no other female of his acquaintance who would have worried about charity work. Was this second nature to her? Or was this from her God? He needed to learn more. He had known from the beginning that she was different, but with each passing day his pride in her grew to new heights. And she had gathered more information about Baxter orphanage than he or Dennis ever could have!

Gads! The woman had stood by his side in the shabbiest part of Town, threatening to shoot someone who might hurt
him.
Most
men
would be shaking in their boots in that situation. And when it was all over and he had vented his spleen on her, she had apologized and appreciated his plain speaking.

He had never told anyone about the place they were going, except Dennis and Lord Langdon, but he knew he could trust her. And he knew what she needed to see if she was to get the picture of what she had witnessed out of her head.

They left the park and travelled to the business district. Vendors hawked their wares loudly. Once through the busy throng, the noise began to subside a bit and quiet storefronts lined the street. Brandon went one or two blocks beyond and pulled up to a large building with a fresh coat of paint. She looked at him with questions in her sad green eyes, but he stayed silent as he handed her down and proceeded toward the front door.

Of a sudden, a side door opened and children of all ages, shapes and sizes rushed outside and began to laugh and throw balls and chatter loudly. The front door opened as Grace turned to look at him, and a buxom woman of indeterminate years stepped back in surprise.

“Lord Weston! We weren’t expectin’ to see you today,” she said as she smiled warmly. “The children will be a mite glad, they will.”

“Mrs. Dickerson, I would like you to meet my betrothed, Lady Grace Endicott. I believe she wishes to volunteer to help, if you can use another pair of hands.”

He was thankful and proud of Mrs. Dickerson’s reaction. She beamed at Grace. “Come in, come in, my manners have gone abeggin’, they ’ave. I can just send for tea and your lordship can look at the books and the lesson plans while we wait ’ere in the parlor.”

“That will not be necessary, but I thank you,” Brandon told her. “I just wanted to introduce you to Lady Grace today and then I think she would like to make arrangements, say next Tuesday—” he looked toward Grace to be sure that was acceptable to her “—to come and meet the children and perhaps set up a schedule to help you.”

“Saints preserve us, your lordship, we can use as many ’ands as we can get! We got three new little ones in yesterday alone! Thank you, my lady, I will look forward to it.”

“I will, t-too,” Grace stuttered, as she tried to absorb all that was happening.

They took their leave, and after a few minutes, Brandon spoke. “Grace, Dennis’s older brother and I committed ourselves years ago to attempt to be productive in one area of our lives. I certainly was not in any other. We both had an interest in workhouses and orphanages. When David was killed, Dennis took his place in the venture, and this is the third orphanage we have been able to get renovated and reorganized.”

She did not interject, so he kept on. “After the first one, we realized we needed more help, from higher places, shall we say. We wanted to be sure the previous owners were prosecuted, or at least put in debtors’ prison until they repaid the money they basically stole from the mouths of the children.” His anger was rekindled as he thought of the struggle it had been to make a judge see the wrong being perpetrated on defenseless children.

“We were approached by Lord Langdon. I believe I mentioned him to you when we were making our plans for London. He is a respected and active member of Parliament and could be our voice in legislative change, as well as in the legal arena. He agreed to assist us on the condition that we curtail our more ribald behavior.

“These children are taught trades, as well,” he continued. “If they do not get adopted, then they can still be useful members of society when they are old enough. But they get good food, exercise and learn to read and write.”

She still did not speak, but looked at him as if he were a total stranger. Gazing at him with admiration that he knew he did not merit.

“Grace, do not put me on some stupid pedestal,” he said harshly. “It will only topple tomorrow.”

Chapter Eleven

“Y
ou
did all of this?” she asked in wonder. “You make people believe you are hard and unfeeling, and
you
did all of this.” She could not stop saying it.
This
was the man she had always wished to know. This was a real-life Max who would fight wrong and change history.

“Do not get sentimental over this, Grace. It is an investment that also pays monetary dividends. The local businesses that teach the children trades pay for this service, unlike the one on Baxter Street. If they end up apprenticing a child, they pay again, because they know they will be getting a healthy, well-schooled employee.”

“And where does that money go?”

He hemmed and hawed, saying that
most
of it went back into the orphanage, but that he and Lord Hendricks were compensated enough.

He could talk about financial gain all he wanted, but she knew the truth now. The label of rake had been thrown on him when he’d made that disastrous decision to help someone unworthy of his help, and subsequently had decided to live up to it for all he was worth. But he was the furthest thing imaginable from a libertine.

Since she had met him, she had seen nothing but honorable things from Brandon Roth. She would not have agreed to their venture otherwise. And now this. His dissolution was all a facade, and the truth never became known because nobody took the time to look deeper. They liked having this handsome rebel in their midst. They wanted a wicked marquess, not one who saved children. There was no food for gossip in that!

She saw him through new eyes, and realized it was more important than ever that they break their connection soon. If she found out any more about him, she would not want to let him go. She could scarcely think of it already.

But no matter what she quietly wished for herself, she knew he still did not want marriage.

She listened as he spoke about the financial rewards, struggling to make himself sound less philanthropic. “Baxter Street has been in our sights for several months,” he explained. “But Brownlow is sleazier than most. You may rest easy, love, those children will be returned to healthy and happy states as soon as Dennis and I can arrange it.”

She turned and smiled at him, tears of joy now filling her eyes. “Thank you so very much. Thank you for everything today. What I thought was one of the worst days of my life has now turned into one of the most special ones—all because of you.” He began coming up with more excuses, so she interrupted him. “Tell me how I may help.”

“Grace,” he said, the firmness of his tone telling her to listen closely. “I understand your desire to help, and giving Mrs. Dickerson a hand will be a great start for now. You can do nothing at Baxter until Dennis and I have done our parts. You will need to be satisfied with that.

“No, do not rip up at me. I promise as soon as we have taken over Baxter, you may work to your heart’s content. We have already begun renovation on the new building where the children will be housed. But until then, it is not safe for you there. Especially now that Brownlow knows you are looking at his operation. All he has to do is hire someone to make sure you never tell anyone...ever. And after today, I know of three angry men who would probably do the job for free.” He paused for effect. “I may not always be able to save you.”

He went on. “Brownlow does not know about Dennis and me, so you see, you could even jeopardize our work if you do anything else there now.”

“But Brandon, I will not be in London that much longer. I wish to see those children smile.”

Her heart was heavy as she thought of leaving him, while knowing it must come, and soon.

“Do not be silly. We should have something accomplished there by the end of the Season.”

She did not argue with him. She would accept that he would take care of those children, as he had the others.

“Grace?”

“Hmm?”

“Grace, pay attention to me.” Her mind had wandered. “I need two promises from you, and if I do not get them, I will send you packing. You’ll be on your way home tomorrow.”

She thought about withholding her promise. It would be so much easier to go home before she found out more things to like about him.

But she just smiled. “That is no threat to me. Only recall, home is where I wish to be.”

He would not be teased. “This is not a jest, Grace. The orphanages are a private business matter. Lord Langdon and Dennis are the only others privy to what I have told you today. I will allow you to volunteer with Mrs. Dickerson, but only escorted by me or someone of my choosing. I allowed you to know about this place and my business here because I trust you. That is the only reason.”

Her thoughts were too jumbled to rein in.

“Should it be discovered that Dennis and I are involved in this, it could undo all that we have accomplished. Do you understand what I am saying, Grace? You may not even tell Lydia. If Dennis has not told her, you must not, either.”

“Another secret, my lord?” she asked him, quietly, with no real anger in her tone. She did not wish to upset him any more. “I will tell no one. I do want to help, however.”

“Then we understand each other.”

He was not finished. “However, I require one other promise.” She knew what was coming. And before today, she would have put up a fight over his demands. But she felt as if she truly knew him now.

“You must also promise me that you will never again do what you did today, going off unescorted and informing no one other than
Max
of your destination.” He turned icy dark eyes on her. “I want your word on this. I will not dissemble. Do you not see that if you had come to me in the first place all of this could have been avoided? I would have taken you directly to Mrs. Dickerson, and there would have been no attempt to take your life.” His frustration was palpable. “If you want to go somewhere or know something, I would be the logical person to ask, as I have been here in Town longer than most. Do you understand, Grace?”

They turned onto Berkeley Square. She felt as if she had been away from the town house for weeks. “Do not rip up at me. I will come to you if I should need help.”

“No, Grace. You will not leave this curricle until I have your promise that if I cannot escort you somewhere—which you will ascertain by asking me first, and not by simply assuming I am occupied—you will always take at least one footman with you, and permit him to
stay
with you, instead of sending him home. And you will inform your household where you have gone.”

She tried not to be, but she was finally irritated. “I have no wish to drag you around with me every time I go out-of-doors, and indeed, you would quite soon tire of it. You have no idea how many times I go out or how many places I go, and it would become quite irksome for both of us if you did.”

She gave up the fight at last, but behaved badly in doing it. “Very well, I will either invite you or send a courier to your club, letting you know where I am going, each time I go out. You will become the laughingstock of all your friends.”

“Grace,” was all he said.

They were both emotionally spent, and she apologized.

“I am beginning to believe the gentlemen from Essex are not the nodcocks I originally presumed. Perhaps they simply knew themselves insufficient to the task of keeping up with you.” They pulled up in front of her house. “Friends, again?” he inquired as he put his hands on her waist to lift her down.

As she straightened her gown, she muttered, “I pity the woman you actually do wed. One moment you will berate her as you would a child, and the next you will expect all to be forgotten.”

He laughed and gently touched her cheek. As she started to turn to go into the house, he held her there with his hands on her waist. “You forget, my sweet, that I have several other excellent qualities besides those two.”

She couldn’t resist. She laughed at his words.

“Grace, look at me.”

She was uncomfortable standing on the street this long with him holding her, but she obeyed.

“I am loath to bring it up, because I am quite sure you did it unconsciously, but you called me Brandon today. Several times, in fact.”

A surprised flush crept up her cheeks. “I certainly did not.”

Oh, my! She had! She had been thinking of him as Brandon for weeks now. She decided to ignore it, and stepped from his grasp.

As he entered his vehicle and she began to mount the steps, he called to her. “Do not think I am done with you, love. We will also need to discuss the little matter of carrying a loaded gun with you everywhere you go.”

She just smiled and began to hum her favorite song as she went into the house. She stopped beside Max and stared at him. As she slowly began her ascent to her room, a sad thought came to her.
I have found my living knight in shining armor, only he will never be mine.

* * *

The very next day Brandon sent a message to Grace asking if she would join him on a morning call. After the previous day’s debacle, he’d determined it was time to introduce her to Lord Langdon. Brandon knew his lordship had been waiting for such an introduction.

When he told her where they were going, she looked at him with wide eyes. “What a horrid man you are!”

“My, my, yesterday I was a paragon. You know, we really should have kept that list we started at the Blue Swan. You might see that my good characteristics balance out the bad.”

She looked up at him from under the brim of her hat. She was not smiling.

“What have I done now?”

“You could have warned me. I would have taken more care with my gown and my hair. I would have—”

“You are perfectly well aware that you look lovely, and if I did not make that plain to you when I first saw you this morning, then I
am
a horrid man. There, you got the compliment you were fishing for!” He looked over at her and winked. “Minx!”

An uncomfortable silence fell for a moment and he wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers.

“Brandon?”

“Yes, love?”

“What is the impetus behind helping the orphaned children? You made it clear yesterday that you receive financial reward, which is the obvious answer as to how you afford your horses.”

“Sarcasm, what I enjoy most in you,” he mumbled.

She glared at him and went on as if he had not interrupted her. “What motivated you to take on such a task?”

His instincts suggested she was looking for more ways to compliment him on his good deeds, so he deliberately answered her provocatively. “Trying to work my way into heaven, of course.”

She put her hand on his arm and turned to face him. “You are teasing me, are you not?”

“Afraid not. With my history, it will take until I am—” he pretended to calculate in his mind “—one and seventy years to break even.”

She did not laugh. “Please tell me you do not really believe that.”

“I may be off by a few years, but not many.”

“Brandon, be serious.”

“I am afraid to. You are going to try to convert me to something or another.”

“Sorry,” she said, as she put her hands in her lap.

“Grace, petulance is very overrated.” She did not laugh at that, either. “Very well. Of course, I do not believe that. But you know of my sins. If heaven exists there is no place for one such as me.”

“Have you ever heard the saying, ‘Grace is getting something we do
not
deserve and mercy is not getting what we
do
deserve?’”

“No, but I expect you are about to explain it to me.”

“I know I will be in heaven, you see.”

“I know you will be, too.”

“Why is that?

“Your whole life has been nothing but doing good. Who could doubt it?”

“We do not get to heaven based on our works. Because heaven is perfect, even one mistake keeps us out.”

“Then no one would get there.”

“That is the point! ‘...but where sin abounded, grace did much more abound.’ Because of God’s grace, our sins don’t have to keep us from heaven. His unmerited favor provides a way for us to get there that has nothing to do with how much we do...good or bad.”

“What about ‘we reap what we sow’?”

“There
are
consequences to our choices made here, but it does not have to affect our standing with God.”

“Grace, this is obviously very important to you, and because it is, I will gladly hear it. But I can deduce that this discussion may take more than the time we have left before we reach Lord Langdon’s house. I promise I will give you another opportunity to save my soul, but may we schedule it for when we have more time?”

“Of course, Brandon.” She did not pout or put on a disappointed air. He was a little surprised, but he often was when he was with her.

“Tell me what I should know about Lord Langdon before I meet him. Will I like him?”

“I think I shall let you decide for yourself whether you like him or not, but I must remind you that he believes us engaged,
as do I, my love,
and it will not do to cause him unnecessary pain by alluding to it any differently.” He thought she was going to speak, but apparently she changed her mind.

“He plays the most important role in our endeavors with the orphanages. Our efforts affected little before he became our mouthpiece in Parliament.” He wished to tell Grace that his lordship was much more to him than that, but that relationship was separate, too personal, and he was not yet ready to share it.

They entered Lord Langdon’s morning room, where their host awaited them eagerly. He greeted Brandon with a handshake that turned into a bear hug with a slap on his back. At one time Brandon would have been embarrassed by that, but not now and not with Grace present.

“My lord, may I introduce you to my betrothed, Lady Grace Endicott.” He brought her forward with a hand at her waist and Lord Langdon took her hand into both of his.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, my lady,” he said, with an aside to Brandon, “at last.”

Brandon laughed outright. “Once you hear all that she has been up to of late, you will soon understand the delay.”

“My lord, I am very glad to meet you, as well. Can I convince you to call me Grace, sir? I assure you I answer more readily to it.” Brandon thought her smile could charm the spots off of a leopard. “Unlike you, I have only known about you for a short period of time, but I am no less pleased.”