Innocence Lost (12 page)

"Megan, you must eat or none of your new gowns will fit,” Julian said as he folded his newspaper and set it aside.

"I'll eat when I'm hungry. How is Perkins this morning?"

He sighed. “He is angry that I won't allow him to return to work until his stitches come out in a couple of days."

"Good,” she breathed, grateful the dear man was almost recovered. She glanced down and watched the steam rise from her cup. “I think I'll take a stroll in the park today.” Anything to keep from dwelling on Nicholas.

"I'm sorry, Moppet, but I must go to the dock and inspect the clipper's progress."

"Julian, will you please stop calling me that? I am not a child."

He raised his brows at her request, but didn't agree to it. “I shan't be overlong. Eat something,” he said instead, then kissed her forehead and departed.

She abhorred the idea of spending another day alone dwelling on that insufferable man. How she wished she could ride her horses. Then she recalled that Julian didn't say she couldn't go, just that
he
couldn't. She told Wentworth to have the carriage brought around.

She held her face up to the sunshine after she alighted from the vehicle, followed by her maid disguised as a duenna. It was necessary that Society not realize Lucy's identity since a maid was not a proper escort. But she refused to remain indoors another day. She needed a distraction from Nicholas like she needed air.

Walking along the path to the park, she smiled in admiration of the colorful flowers in bloom. They reminded her of her mother's gardens at Kenbrook, and a wave of sadness threatened her. She shook her head, forcing back the looming depression. Today, she decided, she would not be sad.

Unaware of the many appreciative male eyes that followed her, she sat on a bench to watch a group of children play. Her maid took the seat beside her and began to chatter about their lovely surroundings.

"What a lovely rose garden, my lady. Oh, look at the statue. Is that marble?"

She groaned inwardly. If only she could have a few moments to herself... “Lucy, didn't you say just yesterday how you needed to visit the apothecary and find a treatment for your mother's swelling?"

"Oh, yes, my lady."

She kept her eyes fixed on the children. “Well then, why don't you go now? I'll remain here and wait for you."

"But Lady Megan, I could not possibly leave you alone."

She smiled in reassurance. “I shall be quite safe. Look at all the children. Were it not safe, would they be allowed to play thus?” She waved a hand toward them as they rolled upon the grass and tackled one another.

"I guess not,” her maid answered.

"I am certain you shan't be but a few minutes. Have Hanson escort you in the carriage."

"Are you sure, my lady?"

"Yes, Lucy, now off with you. I shall be perfectly safe during your short absence."

"Well...all right. And thank you, Lady Megan,” Lucy said breathlessly, her excitement at being taken somewhere in the grand ducal conveyance evident. Servants were rarely allowed the use of such vehicles.

"Would you mind if I took the seat beside you?” asked a voice.

She looked up to find a pretty girl standing before the bench. “Please do,” she answered.

The girl sat, trying a little too hard to be ladylike. “I'm Evelyn Thornton, but everyone calls me Evie. And you must be Megan Westland,” Evie said as she opened her parasol against the bright sun.

"Why, yes I am. How did you know?"

"Everyone has been talking about you,” Evie answered. She laughed. “You certainly made an impression at the theater, from what I hear."

She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I did?"

"Absolutely. My brother, Ash, was there and couldn't stop talking about you. I had no idea how accurate he was in his description. My dear, you are stunning,” Evie said, her soft brown eyes swimming with merriment.

Megan ducked her head, a little embarrassed. “Thank you.” Megan learned that Evie celebrated her twentieth birthday two months ago. Her only sibling was her brother, Ash, older by six years. Upon the sudden death of their father five years ago, he became the Earl of Ashton and her guardian.

"Why aren't you married, Evie?"

Pain filled Evie's liquid brown eyes. “I was betrothed once, but he cried off,” she answered.

Crossing her arms, Megan expelled an indignant huff. “Well, in my opinion, he was a damn fool."

When Evie spun around sharply, Megan popped a hand over her mouth. She prayed she hadn't offended her new friend with her bluntness. She was ever driving her parents crazed with her unladylike ways.

Evie threw her head back and laughed.

Megan removed her hand, pleased and a little surprised by Evie's laughter. Then she joined in and they laughed so long, tears streamed down their faces.

"Oh, my, I haven't laughed this hard in...I don't think I have ever laughed this hard,” Evie said as she wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"I haven't either.” Then she sobered, recalling why she had no cause for laughter lately.

Evie's hand moved over hers. “What is it?"

She found herself telling of her parents’ hasty departure, which still caused her great concern. But she said nothing of Nicholas.

"That's terrible, Megan. Well, it's no wonder I can feel your sadness. However, they shall be here soon,” her friend said in a soothing tone.

"Yes, soon,” she repeated, and a shiver ran through her. Her parents could learn what had happened between her and Nicholas. Especially after Julian's mention of the marriage offer.

With a sigh, she chose a more cheerful topic. “Are you attending Almack's tomorrow?"

Evie looked aghast for a moment, then shook her head.

"Why not?” she asked.

"I did not receive a voucher,” her new friend answered while smoothing non-existent wrinkles from her dress.

She drew her brows together. “I don't understand."

After a moment of silence, Evie looked up. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I am not acceptable."

"Why? Because of your broken betrothal?"

"Yes,” Evie whispered, her gaze skidding away.

"Well then, it will be my pleasure to turn down Lady Jersey's invitation. I suddenly find Almack's not acceptable."

With a gasp, Evie swiveled back around. “Oh, Megan, I didn't mean for you..."

Smiling, she patted Evie's hand. “I know you didn't."

Evie's eyes filled with more tears. “That's the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said and pulled a frilly piece of linen from her bag. She gave a sniff and scrubbed the wetness from her cheeks. Then she straightened and asked, “What about Huntington's masque? Are you attending that?"

"Are you?"

Evie nodded. “Is your brother escorting you?"

"Yes. And who might your escort be for the night?"

"Usually, I would say Aunt Agnes. But I have a feeling that my brother will suddenly be delighted to perform the task."

They chatted for a while longer before she heard Evie exclaim that she had left her aunt asleep in the carriage and needed to return for her.

"Would you like to come?” Evie invited.

Megan shook her head with reluctance. “No, I'm waiting for my, uh, duenna to return with the carriage. You go. I'll see you at Huntington's,” she replied, then bade good day to her new friend.

After Evie's departure, she realized how late it was. With growing alarm, she thought that Lucy should have returned quite a long time ago. Hours must have passed.

Standing, she fretted about whether to stay and wait or search for the carriage. Something terrible must have happened.

After retrieving some coins from her small wrist bag, she hired a hackney to convey her to the apothecary. When she found the shop closed for the day, she had the jarvey take her to the townhouse, her heart racing. But the carriage hadn't returned, nor was her brother back from the shipyard.

Julian would know what to do.

The jarvey squinted at her. “Yer sure ye be wantin’ ter go there, miss?"

"Yes, and I would like to arrive before Christmas, please."

The driver shrugged and whistled at his horse. The wheels crunched over the road and they made their way through the streets of London much slower than she wanted. Megan resisted the urge to yell out at the driver. She should not advertise the fact she was unescorted.

The air thickened with a horrific stench at the same time she noticed the dingy buildings. The only things holding up some of the dilapidated structures were light feet and heavy prayer.

Children stood at either side of the street, shoeless and wearing filthy rags. Large, haunted eyes stared blankly from little faces streaked with dirt and grime. The adults were in no better condition. Pity welled up within her and she swallowed tears. She would speak to her father about this.

A few minutes later, the hackney stopped and the driver announced, “'Ere ye are, miss."

"C-could you wait here, please? I'm just going to get my brother,” she asked with a measure of desperation. She handed him more coins to sweeten her request.

The driver looked around, taking in the rough atmosphere, then back to her and sighed heavily. He shifted in his seat. “Don't be long, miss,” he warned.

"Thank you. I shan't,” she promised, turning toward the row of large ships anchored nearby.

When she found her brother's clipper, she eyed the narrow boarding plank. Thoughts of her maid snuffed the urge to turn back. Taking a deep breath, she began to climb the unsteady board.

The piercing cry of a gull startled her. Her foot slipped, and she gasped. By God's grace she managed to keep upright. Giving the bothersome bird a good frown, she continued up the plank until she reached the deck.

"I say, miss. Ye ain't supposed t’ be ‘ere."

She spun around, plastering a hand over her thundering heart. Seeing a boy, she closed her eyes momentarily. “Oh, you frightened me,” she breathed.

"Are ye lost?” the boy asked as he stared up at her.

She smiled, her pulse no longer exploding in her temples. “That depends. What ship is this?"

"The
Sweet Siren
,” the boy confirmed with a puffed-out chest.

"Then I'm not lost. I need to see your commander. It is urgent."

"Right-o, miss,” he said as he spun on his heel and ran to the steps leading below deck.

Within moments, he returned with someone other than her brother. The man walked toward her with a surprised expression and roved his eyes over her face several times before he spoke. “I'm sorry, my lady, but the Master—our captain—has already departed. I am Stuart Williams, the second-in-command of this ship.” He gave a bow. “Can I be of some assistance to you?"

Her shoulders drooped. “No, thank you, Mr. Williams. It's Julian I need. Do you know if he left straightway for home?"

"I haven't a clue, my lady,” he answered. His sky blue eyes held an unspoken question.

"Then I am sorry to have disturbed you."

"Believe me, my lady, you didn't disturb me.” A smile grew on his lips.

As she began to return the smile, she remembered the jarvey. “I must leave. My driver said he wouldn't wait long."

"Are you sure I can't help you, Miss...” He trailed off and lifted his eyebrows.

"Oh, forgive my rudeness, Mr. Williams. I am Megan Westland, Julian's sister,” she replied and held out her hand.

Surprise flared in his eyes. “I had no idea that the master has such a lovely sister,” he said, taking her hand. He bowed over her gloved knuckles.

"Thank you, Mr. Williams, but I really must go now.” She turned and began the journey back to the hackney, praying the driver hadn't left. As she walked amongst the squalor, she pulled a lavender-scented handkerchief from her bag and held it to her nose.

The sun began to dip into the western waters as she took the last few steps to the waiting vehicle. Thank God it hadn't moved. Just as she placed a foot on the steps, she noticed the empty driver seat. A strong arm pulled her against a body as big and stiff as a tree trunk. She shrieked. His other hand clamped over her mouth, and a retch-provoking smell hit her. Dear God, he probably hadn't taken a bath in months.

"Yer not to make a sound,” the big oak grumbled into her ear with rancid-ale breath.

She nodded. She doubted she could scream again since her furiously beating heart was in her throat.

The large man looked around, then shuffled them into the dark alley behind him. She thrashed and tried to cry out. No use with his filthy hand clamped over her mouth. Her heart surged up her throat. Oh, God, oh God! She dug her heels into the ground, but he dragged her along. Using all her strength, she fought for freedom. He squeezed. The pain made stars dance before her eyes.

As they approached the shadows between the two buildings, the large man whispered into her ear. “Now, ‘old still an’ do as I says. I'm takin’ me ‘and away, so don't go makin’ no noise."

She nodded, and the oaf removed his hand. But as he tried to lift her skirt, she gnashed her heel onto his boot and threw her elbow into his bloated paunch.

The man grunted in pain, then wrapped his arms around her. “'Old still or t'will ‘urt all tha more,” he hissed into her ear.

Megan prayed as hot fat tears coursed down her cheeks. Dear God, why did she ever leave the safety of her home? Why did she come to the docks? She shivered, imagining the big oaf dumping her into the water after having his way with her. Hot bile rose up her throat.

A crack rent the silence and she was freed of his suffocating grasp. She spun around and saw the large brute stagger. His face contorted with pain and he shook his head. He blinked several times and then focused on her.

She shivered at the look of rage in those black, beady eyes. Taking a step back, she plastered her back against the dingy brick wall behind her. The man's fingers curled like talons, and he began to stalk toward her. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, unable to bear the thought of what was to come next.

Another loud crack sounded, followed by a heavy thud. She slowly opened her eyes. The large man lay on the ground. She turned to the alley's entrance. Was she being rescued or merely captured by another ruffian? She could detect nothing above the outline of a man standing there.