Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess (11 page)

Reanna winced. Boyton was a despicable orphanage. Nearby, but despicable. No matter that she was still on her knees, she would not agree to bring the children to a house of hell. “No, Killian, I will not. It—”

“You will get a grain cart and a mule.” He cut her off, his voice harsh, but not lined with the mocking tone he had mastered. He opened his desk and rummaged about. “And ten shillings. Take it and leave.” He slapped the coins on the edge of the desk.

“But Killian…”

His eyebrows rose, challenging her. “Yes?”

She shook her head, not able to speak. Getting to her feet, she forced herself to step forward and pick the few coins up. She turned and stiffly walked out of the room, chin strained upwards as she tried to afford some semblance of dignity she knew she no longer possessed.

Reanna continued walking, head high, until she made it to the stables. The first empty stall she found, she leaned into and retched. Humiliation washed over her, waves and waves of it. She hung onto the half-door, letting spasms wreck her body.

A warm palm went gently on her shoulder. Ike. Her body still shuddering, he pressed a wet handkerchief into her hand. It took Reanna a long moment to compose herself enough to look up at him.

He handed her a cup of water. “We all think it’s been horrible what he’s done to you and the children, m’lady. I wished I could have stayed out there with the children for longer to help, but that red-haired woman has us all running ragged with her demands.”

“It is all right, Ike. I understand. I am just so grateful for the help everyone was able to give. Those children are my responsibility, and I was the one who failed them.”

“No, m’lady, you’re wrong, if I may say. Not failing. You’re doing right by those children. We all knew you would. You’re a mighty fine person, m’lady.”

“You do not have to say such things just to cheer me up, Ike.”

“I say ‘em cause I mean ‘em. We all feel that same way, matter of fact.”

“Thank you.” Reanna was truly touched by his words. Maybe the scene with Killian had been worth it.

“I got the orders from his lordship, m’lady. But I figure there be some wiggle room in the request. I got our biggest wagon, and he said mule, but we don’t got a good mule right now, so I gave you a strong horse, m’lady. One that should see you to Boyton.”

“I am going to London, Ike. I would never bring the children to Boyton.”

“London, m’lady?” He paused, nodding with a shrug. “Course, London. Aye, the horse’ll get you there as well.”

The two walked out of the stables.

“I loaded it up as much as I could with all the food that cook had available, but let me go get lots of blankets and the like that you’ll need for the journey.”

He stopped and grabbed her arm. “Are you sure about this m’lady? Maybe you could stay in that shack until he left? We would all help. Or I could sneak off and come along to London.”

Reanna almost broke at his kindness. “No, Ike, you have already done more than enough. I cannot have you losing your position. You have two babies to feed at home. Plus, I need you available to help Joan should any more children appear.”

Ike nodded. Within fifteen minutes, he had gathered blankets, supplies and more food, and then helped her into the wagon.

“God-speed, m’lady—we all be praying for you and the children.”

“Thank you again, Ike. I will send word.”

She stopped the horse halfway to the Visper’s shack.

One horse and one wagon to haul eleven children to London. She had no money for lodging, nor barely enough for food and the tolls. Damn.

How could she have let this happen?

Reanna gripped the leather straps as the tears began to fall. She let herself wallow for a moment, and then, just as quickly as the tears had started, she pulled her head up and demanded they stop.

The children needed someone strong, not someone who was going to cry at every turn. She needed to be that person.

With resolve, she clicked the horse forward.

~~~

The front door clicked closed and, hearing it, Killian leaned forward, burying his forehead in his hand.

“Really, Killian, was that necessary?” Vivienne sauntered into the room, hips swinging wide.

Her hissing voice grated the back of his neck. Killian looked up, pushing himself away from the desk. He stood and moved to the wide window, staring out at the front of the estate. “You really are a bitch beyond compare, aren’t you, Vivienne?”

“Don’t be mad at me, Southfork. That scene was damn well why you brought me along to this god-forsaken place, and you damn well know it. You wanted to get rid of her. You were the one that said it would be better for everyone if she hated you.” She stalked to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of brandy, throwing it back in one swallow. “You brought me here to do what you don’t have stomach to do.”

She spun to him. “And after your non-performance with me last night, it was clear you didn’t have it in you to do what needed to be done. I’m surprised the twit actually believed what I said, since you haven’t been able to stick your cock into me since well before you married the bitch. So don’t you dare tell me you weren’t looking for me to do this.”

“You may go, Vivienne.”

“Killian, this is getting tedious.” Her eyes rolled. “She’s finally gone, and she’s taking those brats with her—be glad you’re rid of them.”

“Go, Vivienne.”

“I’m not done.”

Killian tore his eyes off the window and looked back at his mistress. “You are done. Remove yourself.”

“Fine.” She stomped over to the door, then paused. “I will be upstairs if you want to go for a ride or, God forbid for your weak dick, fuck.”

“You misunderstand, Viv. I am done with you. I will afford you the comfort you are accustomed to on your journey back London. But be gone by nightfall.” Killian turned his attention back to the window.

“You are a fucking waste of time, Southfork.”

The door slammed on her exit.

~~~

Two hours later, Killian found himself mostly drunk, teetering on his horse, and staring down at the hunting cottage that had housed Reanna’s orphanage. He didn’t realize his direction when he had set out, and he had let the horse decide where it wanted to go. Before he knew it, the damn horse led him here, then stopped.

He didn’t move, didn’t want to go in.

Silly that he hesitated at going into the place. He hadn’t even seen the children in the cottage. Vivienne had discovered them while out on a ride and demanded they be removed. He had assumed they were squatters and ordered it done. And that had been the end of it.

Or so he thought.

His head started to clear. The thick spring air funneled into his mind, cleansing the sludge of brandy. He didn’t want to go in, but his body was unwilling to agree with his mind, and he got off his horse, slowly approaching the tidy cottage.

Inside, neat disarray met him. Wooden toys were strewn about, as were a few chalkboards on the wide table in the middle of the room. Several colorful fabric streamers hung from the upper rafters, and Killian noticed a pile of them on the floor in a corner. Looking up, he could see a row of beds, neatly made, in the loft area in front of the bedrooms.

It was obvious that the children had left in a hurry, taking nothing but the barest of necessities.

The air in the cottage suddenly smothering, Killian stepped out the door and jumped onto his horse. Destination in mind, this time he guided the horse.

Reaching the highest ridge in Holloton, Killian could see the main road. He sat atop his horse, watching for an hour before the wagon showed, and his eyes couldn’t leave it as it trailed by.

A gaggle of young children—it was hard to tell how many from this distance—squished into the back of an open-air wagon. Two sat on the driver’s perch. Behind the wagon, a young boy followed on foot. The crew was led by Reanna, hand on the reins of the horse as she walked in the front.

Killian’s jaw clenched.

He needed to wait.

Wait a day until he sobered and Reanna calmed. She wouldn’t get far and he knew where she was traveling to.

Then, then he would go after her. Go after her even though he didn’t have a damn clue about what he was going to do.

He watched the group until they crested the far hill. They moved slowly, and just as the wagon disappeared over the hill, the little boy at the back stumbled, and tripped to one knee. He got up quickly, running to catch up to the wagon.

And then they were gone.

At that moment, Killian felt the deepest pang of emotion he’d had since bedding Reanna, though he only acknowledged it for a second.

What the hell had he done?

What the hell had she done?

Reanna stared at the fire, letting it die down now that the children were asleep. Thank goodness cook—or Ike—had the sense to put a tinderbox in with the food. The journey would have been miserable without fire, even though the weather had been fortunate thus far during the trip. An occasional rain, but the spring warmth had held, except in the chilly evenings. But the children seemed to sleep well enough huddled together under the wagon, as they currently were.

The last five days had been long and hard, but the children had thought it an exciting adventure, mostly, in thanks to Thomas’s conjured enthusiasm. He had made it a game for his siblings and the others from the start. An adventuring game, he called it.

Reanna stretched her feet out in front of her and realized how much they hurt. Slowly, she untied the laces and eased her tall leather riding boots off. It wasn’t until the second boot came off, that the agonizing throbbing started in the first foot. She inspected her feet in the low light of the fire. Both were bleeding from blisters that covered her skin. She had only walked since they left the Visper’s shack, and now her feet were paying the price.

Damn her lack of foresight again—she wasn’t even wearing proper walking shoes. Then again, what were proper walking shoes for an eight-day trek to London?

Realizing the pain hadn’t been as harsh when the boots were on, Reanna attempted to shove her right foot back into the boot. It didn’t slide in. She gripped the edges of the leather and shoved harder.

Excruciating. But the boot was on. Doubled over, she bit back against the pain as the throbbing waves began to lessen.

When she could breathe again, she eyed the left boot and braced herself, then picked it up. It was the same, even worse because she knew the torture at hand.

Head down, still trying to catch her breath from the left foot, a voice made her jump.

“Do they hurt that bad?” A small hand went on her shoulder.

She looked up to see Thomas standing by her side, his face crumpled with concern.

“What do you mean? Does what hurt?”

“Your feet. I saw them when you took the boots off. You’re crying.”

Surprised, Reanna touched her cheek only to find it was wet. She quickly rubbed her face with her palms. “No, no, they don’t hurt at all. You should be asleep.”

He shrugged.

“Here, sit down.” She tugged his wrist downward until Thomas sat beside her. Reanna tucked him under her arm, his head on her chest.

“Why did he not like us?”

“Why did who not like you?” Reanna played dumb, hoping to not have to come up with an answer.

“The marquess. He doesn’t like us much. Does he like you?”

Reanna stifled a bitter laugh. “No, he does not like me. Not at all.”

“Why not? I like you.”

Reanna frowned, staring at the fire. “I honestly do not know why he does not like me, Thomas. I wish I did know.”

“Is that why he doesn’t like us either?”

“Probably. I am afraid one bleeds into the other.”

“Do you think he likes anyone?”

The vision of Killian’s mistress, spewing cruelty, flew into Reanna’s mind. She shrugged. “I guess he likes some people. People who are more like him, I suppose.”

“Hmmm. That’s too bad.”

“Why?”

“I think if he liked you, he would like more people too. Then maybe he’d like us.”

Her arm tightened around him. “Maybe, Thomas. Maybe.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Reanna thought Thomas had fallen asleep, but when she moved to lay him back, his voice came out, thick with near-sleep. “How much longer will it take us, Lady Ana? The kids are getting tired and kind of scared that we’re not there yet.”

There was no use in easing the truth. “I think three days, maybe more.”

“That’s not too bad. They’ll be happy to hear it.”

“Good, now get some sleep.” She grabbed the small blanket next to her and folded it, bundling it up and putting it between Thomas’s head and the cold ground.

Midmorning the next day, with Thomas leading the horse, the group was working through a long stretch of the rough road in the middle of thick woods. Reanna was at the back of the wagon, walking along, singing Jeannie’s favorite song for the lot of the younger ones for the fiftieth time that day.

Eyes on the youngest ones, her feet didn’t stop when the wagon did, and she smacked into the low plank of wood across the back.

Hitting her stomach, it took her breath away, and it was several moments before she could swallow air. She looked up, only to see exactly why the wagon had stopped so abruptly.

Highwaymen.

And one had a pistol aimed at Thomas.

Reanna ran, stumbling to the front, diving in between Thomas and the two men, high on horseback. “No. Stop.” Her hands flew up, palms wide as she tried to shield not only Thomas, but the entire lot of children behind her.

“We be takin’ what money ye got, ducky,” the shorter one without the pistol said, jumping off his horse and approaching her.

“What?” Reanna blinked hard, not quite believing what was happening.

“Yer money, ducky. It be ours now. Hand it over.” He approached her, pulling a knife from his waistband.

“No. But, what? I have no money. And the children.”

“How ye be payin’ the tolls without coin? Ye have some, that’s sure.”

He moved within swinging distance.

Reanna looked over her shoulder, praying for another traveler to show on the road. It remained empty. And now she had the wagon full of children crying behind her.

“No. Only a few shillings left.” Reanna shook her head. “I swear, we have nothing.”

“We be takin’ yer horse, then. We can get a might bit fer it.”

“What? No.” Reanna stepped sideways, trying to block his path to the horse. “You cannot. How will we get to London?”

“Not me problem, ducky.” He stepped around her, moving to the hitching on the horse.

“They can’t take our horse, Lady Ana.” Thomas poked her in the back.

The short one stopped, his hand on the horse, and looked at Reanna. “Lady, eh? Ye be lyin’ ‘bout the coin, then.” He took a step back toward her.

“I am not lying.” Reanna looked frantically at the man on the horse, then back to the one in front of her. “All you see is all I have with me.”

“Horse will be fine, then, ducky.” He went back to unhitching the horse.

Reanna’s mind flew. Dammit. She needed that horse to get them anywhere. She had nothing to defend them. Nothing. Except…

Quietly, she turned to Thomas, putting her face in front of him. The horse’s reins still in his hands, he stared at her, watching her as if she was daft, but he stayed silent. That was all she needed. After a moment, she moved her mouth to his ear, her head shaking.

“Hush. No, Thomas, I don’t think they are the worst.” Her loud whisper gained a notch. “I think we can do better.”

The short robber in front of her turned, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What? What ye say?”

Reanna stood straight, setting herself in front of Thomas. “Nothing.”

He stepped at her, waving the knife in her face. “Tell me what ye say.”

Reanna’s hand went up as she leaned away from the knife, but her feet stayed solid in front of Thomas. “Please, it was nothing. I just said I don’t think you are the worst thieves we will encounter. I was hoping to hire the deadliest ones to escort us safely to London, and Thomas just suggested you two.”

“We not be the deadliest? Course we be the deadliest.” He looked genuinely insulted, but didn’t lower the knife. “And the biggest. And where ye gonna get the coin for that, lady?”

Reanna shrugged, nonchalant, praying that her pounding heartbeat wasn’t making sound outside of her own head. “In London. I can access my funds there. Just because I do not have money with me, does not mean I do not have money in town.”

The knife lowered, and he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her. “What ye be payin?”

“No.” Reanna shook her head. “You two take the horse and let us be on our way, if you please.”

“How much?”

“Ten guineas. But I think we can do better.”

“Ye can’t, lady.” He scoffed, pointing up and down the road with the tip of his knife. “We run this road from here to London. Ain’t no others ye gonna hire. We be it. And we be happy to take your ten guineas.”

“We would?” The tall, skinny robber still on his horse eyed his partner.

“We would. If’in you got the coin fer real.”

Reanna sighed. “I do, for why else would I bother to be taking care of this many children? But it does not seem as if escorting us will fit your schedule. You seem to be in a hurry, and we move quite slowly.”

“It fits our schedule just fine, lady. Ye have us, or no one.”

Reanna looked around, undecided. Finally, with another sigh, she looked at the tall one. “Very well. You two will have to do. I will pay you when we arrive safely at my solicitor’s establishment. But you will have to put away the pistol and knife. I will not have the children scared.”

Tucking the knife back into his waistband, the short one turned to the horse, re-tightening the hitching. He pointed at Reanna. “Git those squabblers back there down fer movin, ducky. We have coin to collect.”

Reanna let out an unperceivable sigh of extreme relief as she walked past him to the children, hiding a smile threatening her face.

She clapped her hands. “Sit, sit children. We are moving again.”

The short man went to get on his horse, and he nudged the animal to trail Reanna at the back of the wagon. The skinny robber remained in the front and started down the road. Thomas pulled on the reins he was holding, and the wagon started forward again.

Reanna looked over her shoulder at the short one. “Thank you, good sir, for your assistance.”

“We ain’t good sirs, ducky. Don’t go gittin thoughts on that.”

Reanna smiled warmly at him. “Yes, well, you are now gainfully employed. I will speak to you with the respect you deserve.”

~~~

Waiting, Reanna stood on the top step, staring at the dark red door of the house that swallowed a whole London block. Taking a deep breath, she shifted from one foot to the other in order to even the shards of pain in her feet.

After the stop at her aunt’s solicitor, and her payment to “Shorty” and “Tally”—as the children had dubbed the highwaymen, since they had never shared their names—she had stopped by Killian’s townhouse. She had found Miss Melby there, who had been in near hysterics over Reanna’s whereabouts.

Bringing Miss Melby with her to her aunt’s Brook Street home, they had spent a whirlwind week of hiring staff and nannies, and setting up the household.

The dark red door opened in front of her, and Reanna was shown into an impeccably decorated drawing room
that still managed to be cozy in its elegance.

“Reanna. Wonderful. It is you. I was hoping I heard Wilford correctly. For I would certainly not see most anyone in this state. Forgive me for not standing. Come in, come in.”

The voice of her friend—Reanna’s only friend, truth be told—floated up. There had been plenty of acquaintances through her aunt during her stay in London, but only one person Reanna had actually felt she could sincerely call a friend, the Duchess of Dunway.

Reanna searched the room, her eyes eventually landing on the back of the long moss-colored sofa in front of her. The duchess’s head popped out above the carved wood top of the furniture. Then her hand came up, waving Reanna in.

Reanna walked into the room and around to the front of the sofa, only to see the duchess half-lying on a wall of pillows, feet propped up on the sofa, and an open book resting on her huge mound of a belly.

All anxiety in the pit of Reanna’s stomach dissipated when she saw the duchess’s smiling face. Reanna had often wondered during the months in Holloton if their friendship had remained intact, for the duchess was married to Killian’s best friend.

“You. You are pregnant.”

“What? Why, yes. Of course. I thought you knew,” Aggie said. “Did you not receive the letters I sent?”

“Letters?” Reanna paused, eyebrows collapsing in confusion. “I received no letters at Holloton.”

“None?”

Reanna shook her head.

“None at all?”

“I am afraid not.”

For a moment, Reanna thought she saw a flash of annoyed anger in Aggie’s eyes, although it didn’t seem to be directed at her. But then Aggie waved it off with a bright smile. “Well, no bother. You have just discovered the most important news I had with your very own eyes, and I am delighted to see you. Sit, please.”

Reanna moved to the chair by her friend’s head. “When is the babe due? You look…”

“Huge?”

Aggie laughed, and it was the dry, throaty laugh that had always warmed Reanna’s soul. She had missed that laugh.

“Thank you for holding back the analysis, but it is true. I am huge. The midwife says the babe should be born anytime now. And I have been stuck on this sofa or in bed for weeks. Devin will not let me out of the house.” Aggie shifted on the pillows so she could see Reanna more directly. “But enough about me. How long have you been back?”