Corey McFadden (24 page)

“I thank you both. I do not think Martin heard you at all. You should both return to the stables and wait for Mr. Mathes. Mrs. Formby, could you escort him up here when he has finished with Hobbs? And leave the explanations to me, if you please. He need not know much about this sorry situation.”

“Certainly, my lord. We should get back down to Hobbs right away. I should hate for him to attempt to stand in our absence.” She looked hesitant. “Would your lordship prefer to go down? I should be happy to wait up here.”

The proprieties of the situation were clearly foremost in her well-ordered mind. It was absurd, really, when one considered that the girl had slept up here almost every night for some weeks. He shrugged, almost angrily, annoyed that he was made to feel such a fool in the eyes of his own staff.

“No, thank you. I will sit with her.” The earl spoke with quiet authority.

Mrs. Formby nodded and left the room, casting one anxious glance at the small form on the bed. Frederick shambled behind her, grateful for the escape. He shut the door behind him.

Radford stared at the door, his thoughts in a tumult. He could feel the girl’s eyes boring a hole into his back and he could not bring himself to turn around and face her. With a growl of annoyance at himself and at her, he strode toward the desk chair and yanked it up, setting it down too roughly next to the bed. He removed his jacket and ripped off his neckcloth, flinging both to the floor before realizing that his ‘valet’ lay prostrate before him. He sat, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms over his chest. The candle from the table by the bed flickered in her green eyes. He stared back, his eyes hard, his mouth a grim, tight line.

“I will not question you until the doctor has seen to your injury. I trust we will then have the truth out of you. No more lies and no more half-truths. Is that understood?”

He spoke harshly, his words whipping at the girl like a lash. She nodded wearily, then turned her face away from his, possibly unable to bear the anger that must have been reflected in his eyes.

He stared at her profile in silence. In the flickering, soft light of the candle it was so obvious. He swore at himself for being such a lackwit that he couldn’t tell a boy from a girl. The dark red curls haloed her face with its high cheekbones and generous, soft mouth. She had a small, straight nose with just a bit of a tilt to the end. And the eyes...they were turned from him now, but he could not rid his mind of the green depths of pain that begged his mercy. She might even be a beauty, he found himself speculating, with a bit more hair on her head and a decent gown. Damn! What a fool she had made of him.

With a growl, he rose and crossed to his desk, pouring himself a large brandy. Moving to the unlit fireplace, he lowered himself into one of the upholstered wing chairs flanking the hearth, and brooded about the perfidy of women while awaiting the doctor.

A short while later, he heard the slightest sound of rustling in the hallway outside his room. As he sat up, alert, there came a soft tap on the door. He crossed the distance to the door in long strides and opened it quietly, revealing Mrs. Formby and the doctor. Radford stood back and they entered. Mrs. Formby looked strained and grim. Mr. Mathes looked slightly uneasy. Radford closed the door behind them and gestured for the doctor to take a seat.

“How did you find Hobbs, Mr. Mathes? Are his injuries serious?” Radford asked.

“The blow appears to have been a superficial one, my lord. He is alert and rational which means he should recover fully within a week or so, although his face will be scarred slightly and he will have a nasty headache for a couple of days. I understand there was a robbery attempt?”

“Yes, by a gunman. But I have reason to beg your discretion in this matter. I was traveling in my coach with a young woman. She was...in costume. We had been at a small party....” Radford despised himself for this absurd, face-saving lie, but although he could trust Mr. Mathes in a mere matter of a naughty tryst, he was unwilling to rely on the man’s discretion in such a juicy little mare’s nest as this had turned out to be. The doctor, after all, treated half the
ton
.

“I would greatly appreciate your seeing to the young lady this evening, then perhaps you could forget the matter entirely?” The earl was aware that his rank alone would demand the man’s loyalty. Mr. Mathes would not dare to jeopardize his professional standing with so influential a member of society.

“My lord, you may rely entirely on my discretion. The young lady need have no fear of my wagging tongue.” The doctor’s voice held a slight note of alarm.

“Naturally not, man. I should not have even implied such a thing. Forgive me. The events of the evening have been most unsettling. Now, if you will see to the girl?”

Radford stood and gestured to where she lay. Mr. Mathes moved to the side of the bed and bent to examine her. Radford stood by his chair and watched, angry that he had been reduced to frightening a good man for the sake of his own reputation.

“Mrs. Formby, might I ask that you hold the candle up for me, just so? That is perfect,” the doctor said as she lifted the candle so that it threw its light on the girl’s chest.

Radford watched as Mr. Mathes moved his hands expertly over the wound, pausing here, probing gently there. Radford could see her breasts thrusting up, smooth and pink in the candlelight, mocking him.

With a snarl, he turned and sat. Behind him, there were murmurs in low voices. He heard Mrs. Formby pour water into the washbowl and the sounds of the wound being cleaned. There was not a whimper from the girl, although it must have hurt a great deal.

A short while later the doctor walked over and stood near the chair next to Radford. Radford gestured for him to sit. As the man lowered himself into the chair, he wiped his hands with a damp cloth.

“I believe she’ll be all right, my lord, but I have some fear of an infection. The wound is shallow but ragged. The bullet creased her side. She was extremely lucky. Another few inches and it could have penetrated her lung...” Mr. Mathes paused and sighed. “I hate to see such viciousness directed at such a lovely young lady. It is bad enough when you young men take after each other so senselessly, but I cannot think what this child has done to deserve such ill treatment from fate.”

Radford stared at the dark fireplace, wrapped in his dark thoughts. What had she done to deserve this? She had nursed him and the rest of his household through a long, difficult illness. She had served him with quiet devotion these many weeks. She had helped him to resolve a pernicious evil among his set with great courage and loyalty. She had thrown herself into the path of a bullet meant to kill him. It was he who was her debtor, not the other way around. He looked-up at the doctor, confusion and sorrow plain on his face.

“I shall need to see her safely to her family, but I do not wish to endanger her recovery. When will she be up to a carriage ride of several hours, sir?” Radford spoke quietly, his anger dissipated into guilt and regret. He did not know what to do with this girl in his bed. He was at war with himself and his feelings, and he had a great wish simply to crawl into bed and go to sleep. His bed, however, was occupied.

“The wound needs to be tended several times a day. She seems well enough at the moment, but, as I have said, there is the risk of an infection and fever. I would like to see her stay here for several days, but if there is any awkwardness with her family, she can be moved right away, provided she may lie comfortably in the carriage and not be jolted around overmuch. If she gets a fever, she should not be moved, however. There is risk in that.” Mr. Mathes spoke softly to the earl so that the girl would not hear. He did not wish to add humiliation to her painful injury. These young people of the
ton
were too reckless, too careless of their good names, he thought. They would learn too late that one departed this world with nothing but one’s reputation, good or ill. Still, it was his role to give care and comfort, not to judge.

Radford met his eyes with chagrin, aware that the older man thought him guilty of ungentlemanly conduct with regard to this obviously young girl. There was no way to tell him the truth, his pride forbade it, and there was no way to disavow dishonorable intentions, not without sounding defensive and insincere. Trapped in a web of lies spun by the girl and by himself, Radford was feeling stifled, frustrated, and foolish. The sooner he could get himself extricated from this impossible situation, the better.

“I thank you for your care this evening, sir. It was good of you to leave your bed at such an hour.” The earl ached for the man to be away, to leave him alone to solve his problems expeditiously.

“Well, I’ll be off then.” Mr. Mathes stood, straightening his jacket. “Mrs. Formby has instructions as to how to care for the two patients. I’ve given the girl just a drop of laudanum. It will help her to sleep quietly and not toss and turn from pain. I’ve left some in a vial on the bed table. Mrs. Formby knows the dosage. Not much, now, she’s young and I would assume not used to taking it.”

“I understand. You may be sure we will do everything to make her comfortable.” Radford walked the doctor to the door. “Mrs. Formby, would you see Mr. Mathes out?” He stepped aside and out they went, back into the dark hallway.

Radford closed the door quietly, leaning his back against it, staring at the figure on the bed. He felt drained. It had been an extraordinary evening from start to finish.

He walked softly to the bed, hoping perversely that she was already asleep, strangely unwilling to demand her story from her tonight. Her green eyes, bright in the candlelight, stared up at him as he stood over her. With a sigh, he sank into the chair at the side of the bed. It would not be put off. He tugged dispiritedly at his boots, flinging them one after the other on top of his jacket and neckcloth.

* * * *

Maude had felt his shadow over her and willed herself to meet his gaze. He looked tired, thoughtful, but, thank God, no longer hostile and hard. She had been chasing thoughts in her head as he and the doctor had talked. What should she tell him? Was there any chance she could bluff out a new story? If he had not recognized Mike as Maude Romney, perhaps he would not recognize “Molly”? She was sick of falsehood and fear, but looming large in her present nightmare was the image of Cousin John, on top of her, grinding his crotch against hers, sweating and laughing as he deliberately inflicted pain. Lying again to her benefactor was unthinkable; going home to John was worse. Caught in this web of deceit, she could see only the path that led deeper and darker into lies.

“Who are you?” he asked softly. “Why have you done this to us?” He waited. “You will have to tell me, girl. I must know the truth, whatever it is. You have placed me in a devilishly awkward position. If you expect any consideration from me, you must tell me why you have defrauded my household in such a manner.”

Maude’s hands twisted at the coverlet. She chewed on her lower lip. His dark eyes bored into her soul where she feared he could read the whole truth, clear as day. Then, miracle of miracles, there was a soft tap at the door.

* * * *

Swearing under his breath, Radford rose, and giving her an I’ll-be-right-back look, he walked over and opened the door. Mrs. Formby stood in the dark hall, her arms piled with white linen. She stepped quickly into the room and he shut the door. Of course the girl would have to be changed. He had not thought of that. Well, he would wait.

“I shall be but a moment, my lord, if you’ll permit. I’ve brought several nightgowns of my own and some fresh linens and bandages for later. I did not wish to be seen tomorrow bringing these things to your room.” She stepped briskly to the bed and placed the pile on the chair.

“That was very wise, Mrs. Formby. I confess I am past thinking through these details tonight.” Radford sank back into his wing chair, facing away from the bed. It was plain he was not destined to get any sleep tonight.

“Would your lordship prefer that we move the girl onto her cot in the dressing room? Otherwise, I can prepare another room for you.”

“I think not, Mrs. Formby. She will rest better in the larger bed and I think she should not be moved just now. I’ll take the cot tonight. I’ve slept in worse, you know.” He grinned as he heard her sniff of disapproval. “I would prefer not to disarrange another bedroom—less to explain tomorrow. There is little enough left of this night to matter anyway, and I do not wish to be sneaking up and down hallways in the morning. She should not be left alone, at any rate.”

Radford settled himself, stretching out at an angle in the broad chair, testing whether it might, in fact, be preferable to the hard little cot. As he leaned his head back against the cushion, he was confronted with a view of what was happening at the bed in the large, ornate gilt-edged mirror that hung over his dresser. Creamy and pale in the flickering candlelight, the girl was completely undressed. What he had taken for a gangly, coltish boy, he could see was a lean, long-limbed beauty, her skin unblemished and soft. Her wound was on the side facing away from the mirror, so there was no bandage to mar the unbroken line of pale flesh from head to toe. When she sat up, he could see her breasts were small but round and full, the nipples a dark, blushing pink. Radford drew in his breath, mesmerized, as Mrs. Formby leaned the girl forward and placed a white lawn gown over her head. She drew it down gently, covering inch by inch the long, exquisite body. How could the girl have hidden this from him? How could he have been so blind?

He was hardly aware of staring and gave a start as Mrs. Formby’s matter-of-fact tones cut through his trance. “I’m done, my lord.” He watched as she lay the girl back against the pillows and covered her up with the silk sheet. The extra linens were swept up and deposited neatly on a small table against the wall.

“I shall leave you now if you are sure you need no further assistance.” Mrs. Formby stood, erect and proper in her quilted bathrobe, her hands folded together across her middle. “I do not believe the girl needs anything more tonight, but you must ring directly into my room if she requires anything.”