Invitation to Scandal (29 page)

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Authors: Bronwen Evans

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: Invitation to Scandal
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She did not stir.
He gently shook her. “You have to wake up. I can’t get us out of here on my own. I’m not strong enough without you. I need you.” His plea echoed around the chamber.
He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as if it would break. He smoothed the hair off her ashen face and whispered, “Come on, you little fighter. Don’t give up on me now.” Emotion pricked behind his eyelids.
She had to live.
Then he heard the footsteps running toward the chamber. He tried to pull Rheda up onto her feet, but they both sagged back to the floor in a jumble of arms and legs. Steeling himself, he rose to his knees and levered his body between the door and his love. He would protect her with his last breath if that was what it took. He raised the empty gun, hoping it might halt the enemy’s advance.
Chapter 23
 
T
he door crashed inward. Stephen stood in the doorway with Daniel peering over his shoulder. Rufus dropped the pistol in relief.
“Please help her” was all he could manage before he sagged back onto the cold slate floor, energy draining from his drugged body.
“Rhe.” Daniel pushed Stephen aside and raced toward her. His fingers found the pulse point in his sister’s neck. “She’s alive, thank God.” He swept her up in his arms. “I’m taking her up to the house and calling the doctor.” And without a backward glance he strode out of the dungeon.
Stephen crossed to Christopher’s body. “He is very much dead I see. Was he our spy?” And shrugging out of his coat he walked and handed it to Rufus.
Rufus nodded.
Stephen sniffed the air. Softly he asked, “Are you all right?”
Rufus could see the question in his eyes, and he swallowed his embarrassment. “I will be once I’ve had a dip in the sea and several mugs of strong black coffee.” Stephen did not ask more.
Rufus held out his hand. “Help me up.” Stephen helped pull him to his feet and held the coat while Rufus slipped it on.
Rufus asked, “How many men do you have with you? We need to search the ruins. Hale has an accomplice—a young man called Samuel. We have to find him.”
“What does he look like?”
Rufus closed his eyes momentarily. “I don’t know. He was wearing a full-head, black leather mask.”
Stephen gave him a blank look, then blinked. Walking to the door he called one of the men over. “Get the men and search the ruins. We are looking for a man—young. Hold any you come across until Lord Strathmore can interrogate them.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Rufus joined Stephen at the door.
His friend asked, “What now?”
“I’m going for a swim, and then I’m going up to the house to put my life in order.”
“She’ll be fine, Rufus. She’s alive and she’s strong.”
“You should have seen her.” Rufus let the emotion he barely held in check flood his voice. “She was fearless. She saved me from a fate worse than death—”
“Miss Kerrich is quite a woman,” Stephen said softly.
“Congratulations.”
“Don’t congratulate me too soon. I still have to convince Rheda.”
Stephen laughed and clapped him on the back. “The biggest mistake you could make from this mess is to let her escape.” Stephen sobered. “I’ve never met a woman more right for you, Rufus. Don’t let foolish pride stop you from finding happiness.”
Rufus felt his mouth twist in a wry smile. “One thing my father’s disgrace taught me is that pride is a useless emotion. Speaking of pride, I think I’m going to need your help to make it down to the beach.”
 
A strong steady heartbeat thudded beneath her ear. Muscular arms held her tight against a solid chest. The masculine scent of sandalwood. Rufus.
As the mist on her brain continued to clear, she realized she was being carried and that they were moving at a fast pace. Heavy booted footsteps crunching on gravel. Her senses focused. Sun warmed her face and fresh sea air filled her lungs.
They were free of the dungeon.
They had survived.
The rush of relief gave her the strength to open her eyes. The world appeared fuzzy and distorted. Light temporarily blinded her; she reached up and cupped the face above her and tried to get her throat to work. Each swallow caused hot, raw pain and brought tears to her eyes. The sound that came out was croaked and muffled; she hoped Rufus understood. “I knew you’d save us,” she managed.
“We cut it a bit fine,” he said. “It took Jamieson too long to find Stephen. We were down by Fraser’s Landing.”
Daniel? Not Rufus. Daniel
. Rheda’s heart almost stopped.
“Where’s Rufus?” she croaked, struggling in Daniel’s arms. Was he hurt? Throat forgotten, she closed her eyes and gave a silent prayer. Was he dead? She couldn’t remember anything except Christopher’s fingers squeezing the life out of her. She pummeled Daniel’s coat with her fists. “Put me down. I have to go to him.”
Daniel simply held her tighter. “Calm down. Rufus is fine. He has a few cuts and bruises and of course his body is under the influence of the effects of the opium, but it’s nothing that a bath and a stiff drink won’t fix.”
Rheda slumped back against his shoulder. Thank God. She forced her words out even though it felt like she’d consumed a hedgehog. “Where are you taking me?”
“I’m taking you to Hastingleigh. It’s closer than Tumsbury Cliff. I want the doctor to look at you.”
“If you put me down I can walk. It’s Rufus who needs a doctor. He could hardly stand.”
She felt the chuckle rumble deep in Daniel’s chest. “He was strong enough to kill Christopher and save you both. I don’t think he’s at death’s door.”
Christopher was dead? Rheda bit her lip. Poor Lady Hale. Her son was her life. How could she face the woman who had always been her friend, knowing she’d helped kill her son?
Christopher was dead! Her mind cartwheeled. Despair seeped into every pore. If Christopher was dead, that meant Rufus would never be able to clear his father’s name. Rufus would only have his word as evidence. Would that be enough? Given Society’s tendency to believe the worst—definitely not. It was little wonder Rufus sent her away with Daniel. He wouldn’t want to see her. She’d cost him everything; her stupidity had made him a captive, had caused him to suffer terrible indignities, cost him his pride, and, worst of all, destroyed his only hope of clearing his father and restoring the noble family name of Strathmore.
She didn’t blame him if he never wanted to see her again.
And she wanted him. She wanted him so much. The truth sizzled across her heart like a lightning bolt streaking across the sky.
All her life she’d believed it was marriage she’d feared. Giving a man so much power over her. Only now did she realize her fear wasn’t a husband—or children. The monster of her nightmares was marriage
to the wrong man.
She was petrified of making her mother’s mistake and choosing a man who did not love her. Her mother desired to remain near her childhood friend, Helen. This formed the basis of her marriage, and as she’d watched her husband’s character weaken and degenerate over the years she’d regretted her choice.
Regretted it deeply.
Rheda refused to take the same path. But how was she to judge if a man would make a good husband? She’d had limited exposure to men, other than the sycophants and leeches who surrounded her father.
Except for Rufus. At the thought, it was as if someone dashed a bucket of cold water in her face. Rufus was nothing like those men. Nothing like her father. He had strength of character. He wouldn’t blame his wife and tenants for his financial troubles. He wouldn’t hit out at his neighbors or curse his wife for dying in childbirth and leaving him with two children to raise. He wouldn’t drink and gamble their inheritance away and leave them destitute.
He wouldn’t be so selfish.
Unlike her. The horror of her actions—her selfish actions—made her tremble in Daniel’s arms, made her retch into her hand. She’d been behaving like her father. She’d taken the easy way out—smuggling. Using the help she could give the villagers as an excuse to condone her behavior.
But Rufus had never taken the easy way out. There
was
no easy way out for him. In the face of his father’s death and supposed treachery, Rufus could have turned bitter. He could have slunk away and lived his life at Hascombe and not given a damn for what others thought. With his wealth he could have lived a life of idleness and debauchery.
But he hadn’t. He’d stood proud and faced Society’s scorn. He’d risen above his shame to serve his country, trying to atone for his father’s actions even while believing him innocent. He’d put his family obligations ahead of his own desires.
For twelve years he’d believed in his father, in his family’s honor, and in himself. He was never going to give up when he had a sister and mother to care for and protect.
He was an honorable man—even to saving her life at the expense of his own honor and his family’s vindication. The thought of his sacrifice tore a sob from deep within her. His family.
Family. No wonder a man of his moral fiber would suggest marriage. He’d taken her virginity, and in his eyes there was only one honorable outcome—marriage. Especially if she was with child.
She touched her stomach and reverently rubbed her palm over it. Rufus’s child. The warmth of the image of their child swept away the last vestige of the cold dungeon.
Nevertheless, marriage did not guarantee fidelity, and family didn’t mean love between husband and wife.
She needed time to think through all the options, weigh up the risks, and finally talk with Rufus.
Her breath seemed to be stuck in her damaged throat. What did Rufus truly desire? Once she knew his heart, she’d be able to make a decision.
She was so lost in her thoughts and fears that Rheda wasn’t aware of her surroundings until Daniel gently laid her on a bed.
Then reality flooded back. “We’re here? At Hastingleigh ?” She tried to rise, but Daniel pushed her back down.
“Stop it, Daniel. I need to go to Lady Hale. Her world has just imploded. She needs me.”
Daniel shook his head. “Dr. Caxton has given her enough laudanum to make her sleep through the night. You need to get some rest, and I want the doctor to look at your throat. You can barely speak, and the bruises need treatment.” He wrinkled his nose. “And you need a bath. What is that smell?”
“Opium.” She instantly recalled wiping it off Rufus’s naked body.
“I’ll arrange for a bath to be brought up.” At the door he hesitated. “You realize I will be speaking with Rufus. You must know you’ve been compromised. You were found with a naked man.” She started to speak, but Daniel held up his hand. “I’ll brook no argument. I allowed your last escapade to ruin you. You saved the princess’s life and carried the shame for something not of your making. I’ll not see you ruined again.” And he left, closing the door with a sharp click.
Rheda collapsed back on the bed and shut her eyes. Her throat burned, and she was desperate for a drink. As if reading her thoughts, there was a knock on the door and one of Lady Hale’s servants entered carrying a tray.
“Lady Umbridge thought you might like some refreshment. I’ve set your bath in the dressing room, through the door.” The girl pointed to the open door to her right. “Do you need help undressing and getting into the bath?”
“No,” she managed to croak out.
“Cook’s prepared a hot honey drink to ease your throat. Dr. Caxton’s orders.”
 
Within half an hour Rheda relaxed against the back of the tub. The hot drink helped to ease her throat, just as the heat of the water was easing the scrapes and bruises on her body. She had scrubbed the traces of the dungeon from her skin, but she could not block them from her mind.
She hoped Rufus was resting. She wanted him refreshed before tackling the difficult conversation to come. The scented soak in the bathtub had been illuminating.
She did not yet have all the answers, but one thing was very clear in her mind; she loved Rufus Knight with all her heart. And if his name and his bed were all he could offer her, then she would take it gladly, for to be the object of his desire was—quite frankly—worth any price she’d have to pay.
“How is your throat, Rheda?” asked a voice so empty of concern it caused the hairs on her arms to raise.
She opened her eyes and took in the haughty beauty entering the room. Lady Umbridge glided closer and, gathering her skirt about her, sat on the stool beside the bathtub.
“Much better if I don’t talk, Fleur.”
“Fine. I’ll do all the talking then, shall I?” Fleur said acidly. “I must admit I was not overly surprised when I heard the tale of Christopher’s double life. I suspected he was odd long ago, upon my first visit to Hastingleigh as a young bride. He was the only man who never tried to seduce me.”
“Perhaps, in some things, he had good taste?” The snarky comment slipped out without any thought.
Fleur’s eyes flashed, and she drew herself up. “I see the time for pleasantries is past. I have something you, or should I say Rufus, want. No. Need.”
Rheda sat up straighter in the tub. “What?”
The other woman’s teeth showed white in a parody of a smile. “I have your attention at last.” She leaned forward. “I admit Christopher intrigued me when I learned what had occurred. So I searched his room. It’s amazing what one can find when one snoops. I found some reading material that was very enlightening.”
The moment the words left Fleur’s mouth, Rheda remembered her last conversation with Christopher, and the water seemed to turn to ice. He’d told her he kept journals. Why had she not thought of it? “Christopher’s journals.”

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