Lord of a Thousand Nights (42 page)

Is that what she thought had just happened out on the lane? He had not been thinking about repayment, or anything, much. Nor did he believe she had felt any obligation to respond as she had. And she had responded. Before she tried to bite him, of course.

“I have neither expectations nor delusions of enjoying your favors in that way or for those reasons, Miss Longworth.”
My, how noble you are, Kyle lad. Such an elegant idiot, too.

Those speculations kept having their way, however. The memory of that embrace remained fresh. He would probably indulge in a few dreams. Since he would pay dearly for them, he would not feel guilty.

“Perhaps instead you spoke of the brothel to make certain that I understood that tonight makes me fit for little else. I am all too aware of that. I know the high costs of what has occurred.”

Yes, she probably did. Her poise had made him wonder, though. And the boy from the pits of Durham had resented her reclaimed composure even as he admired it. A woman ruined irredeemably should not be so cool. She should weep the way the women of his mining village wept over loss.

“Miss Longworth, your accounting will have nothing to do with me. Forgive me for teasing you so unkindly. My annoyance at my own costs got the better of me.”

She angled forward, as if peering to see if he was sincere. The vague moonlight leaking into the middle of the carriage gave form to her features—her large eyes and full mouth and perfect face. Even this dim view of her beauty made his breath catch.

“You have been kind and gallant, Mr. Bradwell. If you want to scold and remind me of my compliance in my final fall, I suppose that I should show the grace to listen.”

He did not scold. He did not speak much at all. She wished he would. Their brief conversation left her feeling less awkward. During the silences she could only sit there with her worry while his presence crowded her.

She could not really move farther away, either. A collection of large rolls of paper filled almost half the carriage. She wondered what they were.

An inner instinct remained alert for any movement from him. She knew she was at the mercy of this man's honor. He knew it, too, and that moment out on the lane had confused matters. There had been a second or two— no more, she was sure—when that embrace had been less than adversarial.

She put the memory of it out of her mind. She did not want to dwell on how quickly her stupidity lured her to misunderstand a man again. She did not want to remember how she had stirred more easily than a decent woman ought.

He had spoken of his own costs. She wondered what they would be. His name would be attached to the gossip about that dinner party and to her “purchase,” but as a man it would not destroy his reputation. Among some people it might even make him more interesting.

Maybe he referred to the bid itself. It was a huge amount for anyone. Perhaps he did not actually have the money to make good on this odd debt.

If he did not pay up he would be destroyed in the circles that mattered. In most circles, she suspected. Even the ones around the pits of Durham.

That reference had been an interesting comment. She wondered what Norbury had meant by it. Mr. Bradwell's speech and manner did not mark him as that common.

“If you are not taking me to a brothel in London, where are we going?”

“I am taking you to your cousin. The county paper noted that she is in residence at her husband's property here in Kent.”

This man continued to surprise her. Not only with this information, but also with his awareness of her cousin Alexia's movements.

“I had not realized that she had come down from town. I wish I had known. I might have escaped this morning and walked there.”

“It is at least an hour by carriage. You could not have walked. Nor, I suspect, could you have escaped.”

“Is she alone, do you know?”

“The paper mentioned the family coming down.”

That probably meant that Irene was with her. She would at least see her sister before— Her eyes stung and she bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood. The thought of seeing Alexia and Irene undid her as nothing else had.

“I assume that Lord Hayden is with her.” She heard her own voice break. Mr. Bradwell's form blurred. “I pray, let us not intrude.”

“I can hardly keep you with me at an inn.”

“I do not see why not. My reputation is already totally ruined.”

“Mine is not.”

“Of course. Yes, I see. I am sorry. I do not want to bring more scandal to you. It is just that Lord Hayden has already been too kind and I have been ungrateful in the past and now to show up at his door with this horrible, hopeless—”

A sob snuck out, strangling her words. Then another. She bit her lip again, hard. It did not help this time.

He took her hand in his and pressed a handkerchief into her palm. His firm, dry hold branded her skin and mind. Not hurtful like Norbury. Not weak or grasping, either. Just careful and strong, and a little rough. Like that embrace on the lane.

It felt like the touch of a friend. Her wariness left her then. She finally knew for certain that she was safe. Her composure left her, too. Her rescuer made no effort to console her. He understood that nothing would change what was going to happen.

Her composure had annoyed him. Now her weeping dismayed him. He resisted the impulse to gather her into her arms and offer comfort. He might frighten her. She still wondered about him. On the lane she had proven that
he wanted her, which gave her good cause to suspect his motivations in making that bid.

She continued crying. He could not take it anymore. He shoved aside the plans and moved to the place beside her. He carefully embraced her, ready to move away fast if she wanted to be alone in her misery.

She didn't. She cried into his shoulder while he held her. He tried to ignore how aware he was of the feel of her fragile form in his arms. He bit back the false words of reassurance that wanted to spring from him. She would reject them outright, he guessed. He suspected that she would never again lie to herself about much of anything.

The carriage turned off the road. She realized that the journey was ending. She valiantly tried to swallow her tears.

He called to the coachman to slow down so she would have more time. And so he would, too.

Her composure returned before they reached the house. The embrace did not become awkward, however, and she made no attempt to break it. He held her until they rolled to a stop.

He climbed from the carriage and offered his hand.

She looked up at the house. The vertical forms of classical columns and long blocks on either side of the central temple facade could be seen.

“It is the middle of the night. The whole household will be abed,” she said.

“There will be a servant by the door. Come now.”

She placed her hand in his. He felt a subtle roughness that surprised him, but the touch was mostly soft and warm. She stepped down. One pause, one deep inhale, and she walked with him to the door. She left her hand in his like a frightened child.

A servant eventually responded to the knock.

“This is Miss Longworth, Lady Alexia's cousin,” Kyle
explained. “Please ask Lord Hayden to receive us if he is in residence.”

The servant ushered them to the library. Kyle took in the room's perfect proportions. His practiced eye noted that even the wooden Doric pilasters decorating the mahogany bookcases were true to the ancient system of measurements. Lord Hayden favored a pure classicism based on Greek rather than Roman models.

Miss Longworth refused to sit. She returned his frock coat, then paced the edges of the chamber, twisting his handkerchief in her hands.

“Will you stay while I explain, Mr. Bradwell? Please. Lord Hayden is a good man, but—I do not fear him, but after all the rest—he is not so stern as he appears, I think, but this story would strain the patience of a saint, and his love for my cousin may not spare me his worst reaction.”

He had met Lord Hayden only once, and agreed the man appeared stern. However, he also knew what she meant by “all the rest,” and how it indicated the man was not as hard as he looked. Or, as she suggested, Lord Hayden was so in love that he had put sternness aside in the case of his new wife's relatives.

Presumably “all the rest” would now include support of the relative in question today. Miss Longworth faced utter ruin, but Kyle assumed that Lord Hayden would make sure that she did not starve in her exile from family and decent society.

“I will remain until you have explained, if you wish.”

Lord Hayden did not come down alone. His wife accompanied him. They arrived in dishabille, he in a dark blue brocade morning coat and she in a pale yellow undressing gown. A lace-edged cap covered most of her dark hair. Kyle had never met Lady Alexia but she appeared a kind woman of about Miss Longworth's age. Mid-twenties, he guessed. Right now her violet-gray eyes held noticeable worry for her cousin.

Lord Hayden appeared resigned, as if he expected nothing good if he was roused from his bed by a Longworth. His sharp gaze took in his visitors and did not miss the way Miss Longworth's attempted escape had soiled the skirt of her dress. His attention lingered on Kyle's face, no doubt assessing the scratches so obviously made by a woman.

The ladies embraced and Miss Longworth made introductions. Lord Hayden nodded a silent acknowledgment that the introductions had been unnecessary since he and Kyle had met before.

“Mr. Bradwell helped me to escape from a house party of Lord Norbury's,” Miss Longworth announced.

Lord Hayden caught his wife's eye in a meaningful glance. It was the look of a man who knew about that love affair and had predicted the worst from the start.

“I fear,” Miss Longworth added after an awkward pause, “I fear that something very scandalous happened at that house party that will be known to the world in a few days. Mr. Bradwell brought me here because there was nowhere else to go tonight, but come the morning I ask for transportation back to Oxfordshire.”

“Exactly what happened?” Lord Hayden asked.

She told them. Bluntly. She spared herself not at all. She took full blame for her situation, which Kyle thought a bit hard. Her inclusion in a party of whores, her sale at the auction, her stupidity in misunderstanding Norbury's affection—it was all clear, specific, and honest. Ruthlessly so.

“So, I will return to Oxfordshire tomorrow,” Miss Longworth concluded. “If I disappear completely and we cease any social connection, perhaps you will not be affected too much by the consequences of my behavior.”

“Do not be so rash,” Lady Alexia cried. “Surely it is not as bad as you say. Hayden, tell her she does not have to break with us completely. If we—”

“No, Alexia,” Miss Longworth said. “I know how it
must be, and so do you. Do not force your husband to command it.”

Lady Alexia looked close to tears. Miss Longworth held her poise. Kyle bowed to them both and eased away, to make his escape from this most private of family crises.

Miss Longworth looked in his eyes. “I am sorry that I did not trust you. I am very sorry for those scratches. Thank you for your kindness.”

There was nothing to say in response, so he walked out of the library. He found Lord Hayden in his wake.

“Tell me, Bradwell— Was it as sordid as she says? Or is there some hope that perhaps—” He shrugged, unable to think of what “perhaps” might be.

“Do you really want the truth, Lord Hayden?”

The man hesitated. “Yes, I suppose that I do.”

“He publicly declared her a common whore, and treated her like one, in front of a dozen men whom you see daily at your clubs. I am sincerely sorry for her, but this is one Longworth who your money and protection cannot save.”

Lord Hayden's dark eyes flashed anger at the allusion, but his ire passed quickly. Weary acceptance took its place.

“You have my gratitude that you stepped forward to take care of her and give her protection, Bradwell. In a dining room full of gentlemen, only you acted liked one.”

“Since I was the only man there who was
not
a gentleman, that should be the real scandal, don't you think?”

He walked out of the house and away from the sad notes being played inside it. The melody would turn into a dirge of mourning soon.

He strode through the cold night to the carriage. Miss Longworth's scent lingered on his frock coat, filling his head.

LORD OF A THOUSAND NIGHTS

A Bantam Book

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Bantam reissue / April 2008

Published by Bantam Dell

A Division of Random House, Inc.

New York, New York

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved

Copyright © 2002 by Madeline Hunter

Insert art copyright © 2002 by Franco Accornero

eISBN: 978-0-307-56595-2

www.bantamdell.com

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