For the Earl's Pleasure (14 page)

She swallowed thickly again. “It sounds like a hospital.”

“I’ve been to Bethlehem. It’s not Bedlam, or at least not a part to which I’m familiar.” He hesitated before turning to her. “Have you visited any of the others?”

She looked away. “One. But it was a small asylum.”

“Did they use straps?”

“Yes.” Dozens and dozens of straps ready and waiting to clamp her down and never let her back up. The doctor had whispered in her ear that the straps were always a possibility in her treatment were she to step out of line. She had read in his eyes that he relished the thought. The only thing that had stopped him was the threat of her mother, who had asked him to perform other tests before resorting to the less savory treatments. Like…

No, no she wouldn’t think on it.

“But it is doubtful that is where you are being held,” she said after realizing that she had been staring, frozen like some small woodland animal on the wrong end of a hunt, for a few seconds.

“Why do you say that?”

“I just do. Were there identifiable smells or sounds? Can you describe the building at all? There are dozens of hospitals, and who knows if you are not in a confined space that looks remarkably like one.”

“Yes.” He ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it before the strands settled back into place. “White walls, few windows. Two men at least.”

“That isn’t much to go on.”

“I need to keep disappearing, returning to gather more information.” He closed his eyes as if concentrating on doing just that. “But I can’t seem to do it without some provocation from you.”

“I don’t know if it is wise for you to disappear again,” she said uneasily.

“Why?”

“You look worse each time you reappear.” And the fear kept increasing that he wouldn’t return at all.

“Thank you, Smart.” His moody voice was full of sarcasm. “I will endeavor to look my best the next time I return from torture.”

She fought the urge to reach out and touch him, but all of her insecurities concerning him kicked back into the fore and she kept her hands at her side.

He looked toward the partially opened drapes. “There was something. Letters through the one window. M-A-L.”

“Like a sign across the street?”

“Yes.”

“I can ask Telly. Have her look into it.”

He slowly nodded.

“I am to attend the Louddon’s party tonight,” she said. “All of your cronies will be there. Perhaps now you will be able to talk to or touch one of them as well.” He hadn’t been able to touch Basil, so she didn’t think that was likely, but who knew. He had been able to hit that man.

She hesitated. “Basil will be there. And if we don’t learn more from him tonight, I will try and drag information from him the day after tomorrow. Perhaps we can settle the matter of his—”

“You are meeting with Basil in two days?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear the conversation?”

“I wasn’t paying attention to that part.”

“Oh, well I am. Meeting with him, that is.”

“No.”

She blinked. “I assure you that I am. My mother and Mrs. Browning will be there. It is hardly as if we are having a liaison. Or that he could harm me in the middle of Hyde Park.”

“Just like someone couldn’t have harmed you in the middle of the fair yesterday?” he said darkly.

“That—” She licked suddenly dry lips. “That was different.”

“All it takes is for someone or something to separate you from your companions.”

“I will hardly choose to run after a footpad again.”

“There are dozens of other ways.”

“Valerian, I can’t stop living just because I’m scared.” Which was a darkly humorous statement.

She had determined her life over when the doctor had finished with her. Had remained in a state of shock for months before pulling herself together and saying that she would never again give someone that power over her—to put her in such a state. She would not let fear rule her. At least not to that extent.

She still had to live within the strictures of society. Still had to make sure that she kept herself out of the hands of people like that.

But caution was different from fear. And choices were different from dictates.

She continued, “People who want to do harm can always try and separate one person from the pack, but I am in a better position now that I know to look for it.”

His eyes grew darker, but there was something unreadable in their depths too. “You called me Valerian.”

She fiddled with her lace cuff. “That is your name, is it not?”

“You never call me that without sarcasm.”
Anymore
, went unstated.

Her hand went to her waist. “And you never call me Abigail, if you’ll remember.”

He shook his head, but she continued before he could say anything. “Back to the situation,” she said, trying to get the conversation away from more uncomfortable topics. “It is unreasonable to avoid Basil in public spaces.”

Valerian’s eyes tightened.

“We will go to the ball tonight and see if there is anything we can glean about Basil or Number Eighteen.”

There was a tentative knock on the door. As she invited Telly in she felt a light touch at her neck—reassuring, demanding, claiming. Which Rainewood would win at the end? The old one, the new one, or a combination of the two? Or was each incarnation designed to torment her forever?

A
bigail wound through the dense ballroom crowd with a heightened sense of purpose to her movements. Valerian prowled behind like a large pet cat impatiently waiting for her to fill his dish.

She smiled at the image. She might be uncomfortably turning into one of the young women who groveled for a word from Valerian and preened with confidence when in his good graces, but he was equally cursed at the moment.

“Feeling good tonight, Smart?” His fingers pulled down the exposed skin of her arm, then continued and curved beneath the shoulder of her dress to pull her against him. She tried to cover the fact that she had awkwardly moved an inch forward from no apparent cause, but her heart was beating too quickly and her breath gusting too fast.

He hadn’t been able to touch or talk to anyone else in the room, so he seemed to have concentrated all of his ability to do so on her once again.

There was an ironic aspect that their conversations were still private—even though they took place in the belly of the ton.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I could do all manners of things to you here in the ballroom, and no one would notice.”

Heat, searing and forceful, burned her.

“Miss Smart, might I remark that you are looking quite lovely tonight.”

She jerked away from Valerian and turned to see Aidan Campbell standing before her, the look that he had been sporting whenever their eyes met during the last week was deeper and more urgent.

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell,” she said politely, carefully looking around to make sure there were others near. “It is a pleasant evening, is it not? I find myself succumbing to the pleasure of the teasing weather that states summer is nearing.”

He smiled. “How lovely, Miss Smart. I too find summer to be most pleasurable.” A dance struck up—a waltz. He bowed to her. “I wonder if you would do me the honor?”

“Don’t do it, Abigail,” Valerian said darkly, his eyes narrowed slits as he looked at his friend.

She looked into the crowd to see shocked or unreadable expressions on the faces of most of Rainewood’s group.

“He’s up to something,” Valerian said more insistently, but there was a tinge of something else in his voice. She almost dropped her fan in shock when she recognized the emotion.

She smiled widely at Campbell, fanning the green flames. “Of course, Mr. Campbell, it would be my pleasure.”

She was on the lookout for oddities in behavior, and Campbell’s definitely qualified as such. Nothing could happen in the middle of the dance floor though—besides threats. And in that case they would be one step closer to the truth. One step closer to finding Valerian’s body.

To her losing him again.

She shut down that train of thought and accepted Campbell’s extended arm as he escorted her onto the floor.

The violins struck their opening measures and Campbell competently began the three-beat rhythm. He was a good partner. Confident and practiced.

“You are a very good dancer, Mr. Campbell.”

“As are you, Miss Smart. I daresay I have missed a keen opportunity to partner you all these months.”

She tilted her head to regard him. “You could have asked me to dance, Mr. Campbell. Though I am surprised even now that you have.”

“Raine wouldn’t much have liked it, would he have?”

Shock rocked her. But judging by the explosive expression on Valerian’s face as he paced alongside, she was pretty sure that was an accurate statement.

“I don’t know to what you refer.”

“Don’t you?”

“No. But if I did, do you always do what Rainewood wants?”

A false smile appeared upon his lips. “Usually, yes. And I have long suspected more between the two of you.”

Her posture tightened. “Oh?”

“Yes. It’s in the way you interact. Or strictly don’t, I should say. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but the other day it shone brightly.”

“Lord Rainewood was quite unpleasant the other night. I found myself equally unpleasant in his company, unfortunately.”

A dark melody whispered in her ear as she passed. “We’ll see how unpleasant you feel later, Abigail,” Valerian’s voice darkly promised.

“Are the two of you lovers?”

She missed a step, then another as Campbell shifted to help her back into the rhythm. “Pardon me?”

“I asked if the two of you are lovers.” There was a pinched look to Campbell’s expression. “It would be just like Raine to cover an indiscretion so boldly.”

“I think I am finished with this conversation, Mr. Campbell. Thank you for the dance.” She tried to extricate her hand, but he held tight.

“No, forgive me.” There was an almost desperate air to the plea. “My lips run away. I admit to maddening jealousy.”

She stared, hard, but allowed him to continue to lead. “I find that hard to believe, Mr. Campbell. With how often you associate with Rainewood and the rest, it would seem you are on the same page as they in how I am viewed. Invisible.”

“And yet, I am but a simple coward, Miss Smart. Only with Raine gone do I now come forward to dance with you.”

“I admit to thinking you must have an ulterior motive, Mr. Campbell.”

There was a sudden sparkle in his eyes—not the darkening that she had imagined would take place. “A very keen one, in fact. It is possible that I wish to turn our dance into two and perhaps two dances into a carriage ride through Hyde.”

She missed a step again. She could hear Valerian behind her swearing up, down, and around about everything from Campbell’s stupidity to his parentage. He seemed to find exceptional fodder with one’s parentage she’d noticed.

“I don’t know whether to be amused or ashamed that you seem to think so little of me that you would miss a step, when all of the rest of your footwork has been so graceful,” Campbell said.

“I confess I find myself at a loss, Mr. Campbell. You have taken me by complete surprise.”

He looked over her shoulder. “And that is to my detriment. I should never have relied on the grace of my compatriots to define my actions.”

Pretty words. Earnest eyes. Abigail didn’t believe a bit of it.

Her mother, however, would have a fit were she to turn down such a lucrative possible match, a future
viscount
—her mother would be over the moon. She had seen in the ledger the amount of money Campbell owed—especially to Valerian. At the very least it would be interesting to make him confess his motivation for pursuing her so suddenly.

“Should you choose to call, you will not be turned aside.” She tilted her head in the other direction to observe him, watching his shifting expressions. Satisfaction, joy, darkness, surprise. If only she knew which emotion to trust. It could all be a lark.

Though—she looked at the group gathered along the side—most of them looked quite displeased.

“Have you lost your sense? Tell him you want nothing to do with him,” Valerian demanded.

She smiled at Aidan Campbell and let him twirl her away from the darkening face of her ghostly companion. Sometimes decisions had more than one effect, for good or ill. Valerian’s reaction struck something deep and satisfying within her. She had scoffed at females for such actions before, but now…a warm giddiness overtook her as she saw his outrage as she twirled again. She could almost understand the addiction.

“That is quite wonderful to hear,” Campbell said with a satisfied edge to his voice. “I will make an appointment.”

She inclined her head.

“He’s either dangerous or after your money,” Valerian insisted, leaving a trail of shivering dancers in his wake as he passed through, trying to stay with them.

Money—their blessing and curse. It was the one thing that had kept them in decent stead in the ton. The Smarts had fallen from society two generations ago, destitute. Renewed fortunes had provided them entrance once again.

Those renewed fortunes had bought Mrs. Browning and an audience at court. Her mother had used their money liberally to ensure their base success. If Rainewood had given them a modicum of good will, they would have secured their standing.

She gave him a dark look over Campbell’s shoulder. She recalled her debut as clearly as if it had occurred yesterday.

Campbell seemed to be on the same train of thought. “I remember when you made your debut. Every eye was on you that night.”

She wanted to ask Campbell when he had become possessed of a suitor’s tongue. Instead she laughed lightly. “That is kind of you, Mr. Campbell, but hardly true, I think.”

He tilted his head. “No, it was quite true. I believe the crowd went silent in contemplation of where you would take your place in the social milieu. You are a beautiful woman.”

“That is very kind of you,” she repeated, not knowing what else to add—such as how one’s deep pockets always made one more attractive.

“What did you do to Raine to make him react so negatively to you on the evening of your debut?”

She hadn’t expected the question. No one had been brave enough to ask it. They had just taken their cues from whichever side of the social circle they resided.

“Perhaps Lord Rainewood was just having a bad night. Unlucky for me.”

“Perhaps.” He sounded entirely unconvinced. “Raine sometimes has his piques, it is true.”

“I would say so.” She glared at the topic of conversation.

Campbell swiftly turned her. “How did you come to know of Oxting Stables?”

She almost missed another step at the abrupt topic switch, but held together and gracefully glided forward. “I must have heard someone mention it in idle conversation.” Partially true.

“Mmmm. I confess that you intrigue me, Miss Smart.” He twirled her competently for the final time as the violins pulled their last note to a close. “You always have.”

The twirl put her back in view of Valerian’s face, which was dark and deadly. His eyes met hers and he stepped forward through Campbell, placing himself between them, his height obscuring Campbell from view.

She gasped as his fingers curled possessively around her waist.

“Miss Smart, are you ill?” Campbell asked from somewhere behind Valerian.

She seemed to get asked that an awful lot in the presence of Valerian. “No, it is just rather warm in here, is it not?” She fanned herself with her gloved hand, wishing she’d brought a real fan, trying to cover up her deepening color, her parted lips, and the sweat collecting on her brow as Valerian pulled a hand up her back and around her nape, massaging the skin there.

She tried not to react. To step away from him. To avoid the pull.

She stepped left, removing herself from his grip and putting Campbell back in her sights. Campbell’s eyes had darkened, and she recognized the signs of a man who was partially aroused. She had seen the burgeoning look too many times in the faces of spirits. What had appeared on her face to have made Campbell react that way?

“Thank you for the dance, Mr. Campbell.”

He bowed, eyes never leaving hers. “Thank you, Miss Smart. I look forward to seeing you again, in perhaps a less formal venue.”

She tipped her head and allowed him to lead her back to the sidelines. He walked closer to her than he had before they’d stepped onto the dance floor. Seeing some of Rainewood’s other lackeys heading their way, and feeling unnerved in more ways than one, Abigail excused herself as quickly as she could and walked over to where Phillip, Edwina, and Gregory were conversing about technical marvels with Sir Walter Malcolm.

“Sir Walter, how good to see you,” Abigail said. The man had been unfailingly kind to her since her debut, even in the presence of Valerian’s dismissal and the coldness of his wife and daughter.

“Likewise, Miss Smart.” He smiled good-naturedly. “Your mother mentioned that you were going to watch the balloon competition in a few days’ time.”

“I am.”

“Excellent! Mr. Brockwell will make a good showing, I am sure. I look forward to seeing his design.”

Phillip flushed beneath the praise. “I aim to do so, Sir Walter.”

“Excellent. I shall see you both upon the morrow. And perhaps Miss Penshard as well?”

Edwina nodded, blond curls bobbing above her cherry cheeks.

Sir Walter took his leave.

Edwina turned inquiring eyes on her. “I saw you dancing with Mr. Campbell.”

Gregory’s disgusted look spoke of far darker thoughts than Edwina was expressing—Edwina was always a bright light, willing to forgive any slight or indiscretion. Phillip simply looked uncomfortable.

“He asked,” she said simply.

Edwina looked thoughtful, but nodded. Gregory was hardly as kind.

“After the Malcolm’s ball, you danced with him because he asked?” Gregory narrowed his eyes. “He has ignoble intentions.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Valerian’s darkly satisfied look.

“Would you not be curious as to what they are?” she asked Gregory.

“No. I know what they are. I would have publicly cut him. Given him a taste of his own behavior.”

Edwina put a hand on his arm. “Now, Gregory, I am sure that is not true. We can forgive those who hurt us.”

If it had been anyone else, Gregory would have assuredly shrugged off the hand, but he simply pursed his lips. “You are foolish in your forgiveness, Edwina. I thought Miss Smart more intelligent.”

“I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Penshard,” she said tartly.

Phillip looked increasingly uncomfortable. But then he had always hated confrontation, unlike Gregory.

“Be careful with whom you choose to associate, Miss Smart. We have always been your allies. Don’t annoy me.” His green eyes were nearly black.

“Gregory! Apologize this instant,” Edwina declared.

“I will not. If she thinks to take up with them now that Rainewood’s out of the picture, then she deserves our scorn.”

Valerian stepped forward, eyes narrowed on Gregory. “He knows something. I knew it.”

“What do you mean, now that Rainewood is out of the picture?” Abigail demanded.

Edwina and Phillip also looked at Gregory in question. Phillip’s eyes darted between Abigail and Gregory anxiously.

“You should be relieved he’s gone,” Gregory said. “Or is it as I suspected—and you never dropped that heavy girlish torch you carried for him?”