In Bed with a Rogue (3 page)

His fingers circled her wrist and he smirked. “Do you really think you can stop me, little sister?”

“I am a grown woman, so stop calling me little sister. Besides, there wasn’t anyone at the door, so Milo will not know the woman’s identity. It seems your rescuer rang the bell then left you alone on the stoop.”

The woman knew him and where he lived. Who was this mystery lady skulking about Whitechapel aiding those in need? He ran through a mental list of ladies he knew and couldn’t imagine any of them stealing away to the rookery. Unless his rescuer was in trouble. What sort of trouble, he didn’t know, but if she was willing to risk discovery to save him, he owed her a debt.

“Maybe one of the other servants saw something last night. I will have Milo gather them,” he said.

“Oh, no, you won’t.”

He gently swept his sister’s hand aside and stood. His head spun and he plopped back on the bed. “Perhaps tomorrow.”

Eve smiled smugly. “I told you. The doctor said to rest.”

“How am I supposed to rest with a pesky sister buzzing about?” He tweaked her nose to show he was teasing.

“Very well. I am going, but you’d best stay abed or I will return with Mama. And you know how she likes to fuss over you when you are injured.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

She grinned. “You know me better than that, Bastian. I
would
dare and I would enjoy every minute of it.” With that, his sister spun on her heel and hurried from his room, laughing.

***

Helena brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and sighed as she tugged one of the double doors leading into St. Saviour’s Church. She carefully descended the dimly lit stairs of the side entryway and paused to allow her eyes to adjust.

It had been a week since Fergus had searched the Wentworth Street brothel, and they hadn’t received a single lead on Lavinia’s whereabouts since. Helena couldn’t avoid the church any longer. As Fergus had said, it was the most logical place to check.

She hadn’t been to St. Saviour’s in many years, but it looked no different, much to her dismay. She leaned against a stone pillar to steady herself and drew in a cleansing breath. Burning wax lingered on the air, mingling with the musty smell of damp wood.

After her mother was buried, her father had stopped bringing her and her sisters to worship. Helena hadn’t cared. She’d wanted to forget the place where her mother had been laid out, her body as cold as one of the statues in the Lady chapel. Helena never would have come back except she knew the best chance of finding her sisters might lie in the parish registry. If any of them had married, perhaps she could decipher one of their signatures and learn the identity of her sister’s husband. Although their disappearance from London did not bode well, Helena refused to believe her siblings had met the same end as their mother.

A rustling sound came from the front of the sanctuary, and she rounded the pillar to peer down the narrow nave. Candles burned in only the first tier of the iron chandelier, casting the interior in long shadows. A flash of black disappearing into an antechamber propelled her forward.

“Pardon me, sir.” She hurried down the aisle, her skirts brushing against the dark woodwork of the enclosed pews.

The man reappeared in the archway. His round face was open and his smile welcoming. “Good afternoon, madam.” His rich voice echoed off the vaulted ceiling and was eerily familiar. “Welcome to St. Saviour’s Church.”

She returned his smile as she neared. “Thank you and good afternoon. I am Lady Prestwick of Aberdeen, and I am hoping you can assist me in a matter.”

“It would be my honor to serve, Lady Prestwick. How may I be of assistance?”

“I am searching for a member of this parish, but there is a chance she has married. I would like to view the church registry in hopes of learning her husband’s name, so I can pay her a call.”

His brows came together and his smile dimmed. His gaze ran over Helena from head to toe. “A member of
this
parish, milady? Has she wronged you in some way?”

“Heavens, no. She is a sister…of one of my servants. They lost touch several years ago, and I promised to look for her when I was in Town. To deliver a message.”

Her face heated with the lie. There was probably a special place in Hell for people who lied to a man of the cloth, but she couldn’t allow anyone to link her to her past. Admitting she was searching for her sisters could create all manner of questions she didn’t want to answer, and it could interfere with her mission to bring her youngest sister into her world when she found her. Helena would see Gracie become a lady someday, with all the benefits that position would entail. Tutoring wouldn’t be the same hardship for her young sister as it had been for her. At age fifteen, Helena had had much to learn in a shorter span of time, and her education had been grueling.

Besides, Wickie had gone to a lot of trouble to create a respectable past for Helena, and she had promised no one would ever learn the truth. Some would judge him harshly for his actions. He would be seen as a lewd older man who had seduced a young girl, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Her husband had behaved honorably, and when she reached the appropriate age, he had offered marriage as a well-bred gentleman would. She never wanted anyone to think of her as that poor young girl.

The preacher scratched his head and regarded her. “Forgive me for saying so, milady, but you have most unusual eyes. I feel I have made your acquaintance in the past. Were you also a member of the parish at one time?”

“Oh, no. I’ve only recently arrived from Aberdeenshire.” His features also rang with familiarity, but she hadn’t been to London for many years, and she hadn’t attended church even longer than that. She couldn’t possibly know him. She only remembered one clergyman at St. Saviour’s, the one who had officiated her mother’s funeral service.

Mr. Cooper had been a middle-aged man with thick blond hair and a round, friendly face.

Helena’s heart jumped into her throat. “Mr. Cooper,” she whispered.

His smile widened. “We have met, haven’t we, milady? Please, refresh my memory.”

“I am afraid you are mistaken, sir.” She licked her lips, her gaze flickering toward the aisle.

“But you know my name, and yours is a hairbreadth away.” He rubbed his forehead. “Is it Mary? Margaret?”

Panic surged inside her. He was getting too close at guessing her mother’s name.
Marianna
. Helena had her mother’s distinctively large blue-green eyes, but she’d never thought anyone would remember her mother after all this time.

“I—I must go.” She began to back away. “I’ve recalled an appointment I cannot miss. Perhaps I can search the registry another day.”

Her elbow bumped the corner of the altar and startled her.

Mr. Cooper’s brow wrinkled in concentration. “Marian? No, that is not quite right. It is on the tip of my tongue.”

She turned and fled.

***

Sebastian grimaced at the entrance to the church. His sister, Eve, crossed her arms and returned his scowl. “Well, are you going to be a gentleman and open the door?”

“There are churches closer to home. Why did you have me carry you across town?”

“I am less likely to see anyone we know. Besides, it isn’t too far and Mr. Cooper is always in on Thursdays.”

“And you fancy Mr. Cooper?”

She burst into laughter and her face lit like a ray of sunshine. These moments had been too rare of late. His foul mood faded as he realized his sister wasn’t as broken by Benjamin Hillary’s betrayal as Sebastian had thought.

She wrinkled her nose, the light sprinkle of freckles and action reminding him of when she was a little girl. “You cannot be that eager to be rid of me, Bastian. Mr. Cooper is at least twice my age.”

“I’m not eager to be rid of you at all, even though you are most vexing at times.” He jerked the south entrance door open, smiling back at Eve when a force slammed into his chest. The impact caught him by surprise and he stumbled back a step, hugging the young woman to save her from falling.

“Oh dear,” she said. “Forgive me. I wasn’t watching where—”

Round, expressive eyes met his and her mouth dropped open. He’d grown accustomed to leaving ladies speechless, but it had been a long time since a real lady had allowed him near her. Pink infused her pale cheeks as she remained in his arms, her perfectly pleasing breasts crushed against his chest.

A full smile spread across his face. “No apology necessary, Miss…?”

She blinked, her thick lashes making her eyes even more extraordinary. “Lady Prestwick.”

Sebastian released her, a rush of disappointment leaving him flummoxed. “Begging your pardon, my lady. I meant no offense to you or Lord Prestwick.”

“So you know my husband. This never gets easier,” she mumbled and smoothed her hands over her skirts. Her delicate brows drew together as if it pained her to speak to him. “There was an accident. A little over a year ago. And he…uh…I am afraid he—”

“Oh! He
died
.”

“Sebastian!” Eve hissed and elbowed him.

“I am sorry to hear that, my lady, even though I didn’t know Lord Prestwick, per se.” Gads, Sebastian was a first-rate clod today. This was what came from avoiding Polite Society. He’d forgotten how to talk with people.

Eve linked arms with him. “Our condolences, Lady Prestwick. I don’t believe we have had the honor of an introduction. I am Eve Thorne and this is my older brother, Sebastian.”

The lady nodded. A light breeze off the Thames fluttered strands of golden-brown hair around her face. “I am familiar with you and your brother, Miss Thorne.”

Sebastian stiffened, prepared to defend his sister from a vicious attack, but it was unnecessary. Lady Prestwick smiled, two dimples appearing in her cheeks.

“It’s an honor to make your acquaintance. Perhaps you and Lady Thorne would call on me when I have my next at-home so I might meet her as well.”

The fight drained from him and his easy smile returned. The lady had truly surprised him with her invitation to call on her. Most ladies gave Eve the cut direct. His sister hadn’t attended a social gathering in a long time.

Eve squeezed his arm and beamed at Lady Prestwick. “That would be lovely. Mother will be so pleased when I tell her we have met.”

Lady Prestwick glanced at him once more and nervously licked her rose-colored lips. “Again, forgive me for not watching where I was going.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, my lady.” A woman like her was welcome in his arms any day, and if his sister weren’t present, he would let it be known. He had a fondness for widows and had provided comfort to several over the years. At least before they’d started referring to him as mad and began avoiding him.

The lady smiled once more then bid them a good day. He turned to watch her carriage approach and her climb inside. Her footman glowered at him as he closed the door and took his position before the carriage rolled away.

“Did you see that?” Sebastian asked his sister, his temper rising. “Her servant
glared
at me.”

“I am sure he has good reason.”

He tore his gaze from Lady Prestwick’s carriage disappearing around the corner. “A good reason? What good reason?”

She lifted a slender brow. “Don’t you dare be coy with me, Sebastian James Edmund Thorne.”

He rolled his eyes at her excessive use of names. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Lady Prestwick is your lady. For the life of me I cannot figure out how you sustained such severe injuries, though. Did you fight a round of fisticuffs for the honor of her company, or did she have her footman toss you from her house?”

“I have no lady, so I am not sure what you are babbling on about.” He pulled the door open wider and motioned his sister inside. She swept into the dim belly of the church.

“Very well. Be tight-lipped if you must, but I recognized her perfume. She is the lady from that night you claimed to be attacked by footpads.”

Eve’s revelation hit him square in the gut. He lifted his cravat to his nose and drew in the faint spicy-sweet scent of Lady Prestwick’s perfume lingering on him.

Jiminy.
Maybe his sister was right, but reputable ladies like Viscountess Prestwick didn’t wander the East End, and they didn’t fall into the kind of trouble one would find there. He shook his head.
No, Eve must be mistaken
.

His sister reached the bottom of the stairs and looked back over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

“Why are we here, anyway?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “I am praying for Benjamin, of course.”

“He does not deserve your prayers.” He scowled and followed her inside despite his protest.

“Now, now. You don’t know what I am praying for.” Her calculated grin made him forget the mystery of Lady Prestwick for a moment.

He chuckled. “And all this time I thought you were a saint.”

“Likewise,” she said then snorted.

Three

Helena often felt out of place in a crowd, and the one gathered in the foyer of the Theatre Royal was no exception. She only half listened to the ladies standing around her discussing their latest hardships. Lady Wiltshire’s modiste was working too slowly on her newly commissioned gown. Lady Rutland’s sojourn to Bath would be delayed by a week. And Lady Teesdale was having a horrible time with her cook, who had taken to bed with a fever two days earlier, which had Lord Teesdale high on the ropes.

Problems
of
the
privileged. How do they cope?

“I told Mrs. Burke no more lazing about unless she wants to be turned out without references. Lord Teesdale was fit to be tied and refuses to eat another bite until the regular cook returns.”

Helena smiled to disguise the gritting of her teeth. She didn’t even know Mrs. Burke and yet she felt sorry for her. Lord and Lady Teesdale must be the most trying employers in Town.

Lady Eldridge—
Olive
—caught Helena’s eye and motioned Helena to join her and her dear friend, the Dowager Duchess of Foxhaven. The duchess was a cheerful lady who always put Helena at ease, and she was more than happy to escape the present company.