Lovers Forever (5 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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The situation was desperate. Tess's story had to be refuted immediately. His finances were in utter disarray, and he faced ruin since that last trip of his to London and his heavy gaming losses. A speedy marriage to an heiress was the only thing standing between him and dun territory. His face twisted. Damn Tess! And those bloody aunts!
Suddenly his features cleared. Of course, there was Mr. Brown.... A tigerish smile curved his lips. Mr. Brown would not be happy with any new demands. But that couldn't be helped, Avery thought grimly. Mr. Brown would just have to advance him a generous sum or face the consequences....
An hour later, bathed and impeccably groomed, his hasty plans to avert a catastrophe already in motion, Avery met with the aunts in his study. “Ah, ladies,” he said smoothly as he entered the masculine room and shut the door firmly behind him. “I hope that you haven't been waiting long.”
Uncertainty in their faces, Hetty and Meg stared at him. Despite his polite words, the barely leashed rage they saw on his face made them shrink together.
Avery smiled nastily. “And now what have I done to make you look at me that way?” he fairly purred, his blue eyes hard and ugly.
“N-n-nothing,” Hetty quavered, sitting up straighter on her black leather chair. “We—we were just surprised by your peremptory demand to see us.”
A slim blond brow flicked upward. “But why wouldn't I want to see you? After all, we have so much to talk about . . . don't we?”
“What do you mean?” Meg asked bluntly, holding tightly to one of Hetty's hands.
Dropping all pretense of politeness, Avery snapped, “I mean your heavy hand with whatever you put in my wine last night—and your lovely niece's
non
appearance. I do believe that my message included all the ladies.”
“Tess isn't feeling well. She can't leave her bed,” Hetty said.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, why would we lie?” Meg demanded gamely.
“Why indeed,” Avery said dryly. Ignoring them for the moment, he crossed to the bell rope that hung against the wall and rang for a servant. Almost immediately Lowell answered the summons.
Bluntly Avery asked his butler, “Have you carried out my requests?”
A not-very-nice smile creased Lowell's dour features. “Yes, sir. I have.” He glanced at the two women. “They ain't nobody in them rooms. They're empty. The chit ain't nowhere in the house or stables. She's gone.”
“Ah, and have you taken care of everything else?”
Lowell nodded curtly. “Except for me and Coleman, all the servants have packed and left for the unexpected holiday you so kindly granted them.”
A smile that sent chills down the backs of the two women crossed Avery's face. “Thank you, Lowell. That will be all.”
Avery waited until the door had closed behind his henchman before he turned to the ladies. “And now,” he said coldly, “suppose you tell me precisely what happened last night and where Tess is hidden.”
Hetty met his gaze squarely. Lifting her chin, she said, “She is gone to London. To her uncles.”
“I see. A rather sudden trip on her part, wasn't it?”
“Well, what did you expect?” Meg asked rashly. “You planned to dishonor her and force her to marry you! But thank the Lord, she's managed to escape you!”
“Oh, I doubt that,” Avery said silkily. “What do you think the reactions of Baron Rockwell and his esteemed brother will be when I tell them that Tess and I have
already
been intimate? That this silly flight of hers is nothing more than a lovers' quarrel, hmm?”
“That's a black-hearted lie!” Hetty burst out indignantly. “Alexander would never believe you!”
“Ah, but I wonder if the rest of society would be so understanding....”
In her great agitation, Hetty rose to her feet. Bosom heaving, she spat, “Alexander would never allow you to say such things. You'd find yourself on the dueling field if you dared to spread such lies!”
Avery looked bored. “But then, of course, the reason for the duel would have to be explained, wouldn't it?”
Hetty's defiance crumpled and she sat back down, her face drawn. “You wouldn't,” she said shakily. “You wouldn't dare.”
“Wouldn't I?” Avery replied almost cheerfully. “Oh, but I would indeed. I think that you ladies had better resign yourselves to the fact that I intend”—his eyes glittered—“for Tess to become my wife, one way or the other....” He smiled at their defeated faces. “I will leave early tomorrow to call upon the baron and his brother. While I'm gone, I'm afraid you ladies will have to make do with the services of Coleman and Lowell.” His voice grew hard. “You will, of course, be locked in your rooms, and I wouldn't count on anyone releasing you—Lowell and Coleman are quite capable of dealing with any intruders. You may wish me a speedy trip.”
Hetty's violet eyes almost purple with rage, she rose to her feet and said fiercely, “What I wish, sir, is for you to go to the very devil!”
 
Unaware of the events taking place at Mandeville Manor, Tess had taken stock of her present situation and found it not exactly pleasant. Aside from the bodily discomforts—and there were many considering her condition—it was the terrifying emptiness of her mind that troubled her most. But as she walked doggedly down the lane, she realized there was quite a bit that she
did
know. She knew she was running away, and that for some reason she was to go to London. Why or whom she was to seek in London, she had no idea.
She was also aware that the clothes she wore were not the simple fabrics of a common farmer's wife or tavern maid, and after examining the softness of her hands, she concluded that she was probably a member of the aristocracy or, at the very least, a governess or lady's maid. Her habit was not new, nor were the fine leather boots on her feet, but the materials were expensive and the cut fashionable.... Now how did she know
that
? she wondered, a puzzled frown wrinkling her brow.
She sighed. It didn't do her much good to recognize quality when she saw it, if she couldn't even think of her own name. It suddenly occurred to her that her absence, however long it had been, would probably cause alarm. Was someone even now searching desperately for her? A father? A husband? Perhaps even a lover? And who had aroused this urge to flee? This undeniable sensation that she was in danger, that she was running away from someone? She frowned. Would it be friend or enemy who sought her out—and how would she know? It was a frightening dilemma. What if no one was looking for her? But surely, she told herself stoutly,
someone
would miss her!
A brief search of her person had turned up no reticule, no letters, not one scrap of paper or object that would give her a clue. She was also, she admitted glumly, absolutely penniless.
As the hours passed and Tess trudged unhappily along, her head ached, her feet hurt, and her stomach growled more vigorously with every step she took. The scary possibilities whirling in her brain gave her no comfort at all. Momentarily she even wondered if she were an escaped felon, but she soon dismissed the idea—she might be running away from something, but she didn't feel guilty.
As daylight began to fade, a slight intermittent drizzle became her companion and the need to find shelter became paramount. By her reckoning, she had come several miles from the area where she had first woken and she had long ago left the original country lane far behind her. Guided solely by instinct, she had taken many turns and twists in the various roads she had found. Just as the rain began in earnest, she had come upon a wider, more heavily traveled road. There was no doubt in her mind that it was the main road to London, but again, how she knew that fact she couldn't say.
In the darkness she suddenly spied a faint, twinkling light coming slowly in her direction, and with a feeling of pure fright, she dived to the edge of the road and hid in a patch of brambles. A moment later she relaxed as the object came abreast of her hiding place and she recognized the creak of a wagon and heard what was obviously a farmer intent on reaching home before the weather became any worse.
“Ach! Come along now, Dolly, girl! There's a warm barn and sweet hay for you—it's not much farther, Dolly, love.”
Wishing she dared accost the friendly-sounding driver, she waited until the light from the candle lamp on his wagon had disappeared and then she climbed stiffly back to the road and continued her journey. Disheartened, hungry, and shivering, she almost didn't believe it when she came round a bend in the road and saw the lights of a tavern winking invitingly through the rain.
There it was, nestled to one side of the road, warm yellow light spilling out from its windows. This was not one of the larger inns that catered to the mail coaches and the aristocracy, but a smaller one, probably frequented by ordinary people like the farmer she had just passed. For some reason that gave her hope. She'd be safe in a place like this....
Anxious to escape the increasingly ugly weather, she hurried forward, only to stop not ten feet from the main door. Her mouth drooped. She had no money. She had no name. How was she to pay for food or a room?
The distant, ominous boom of thunder decided her. Moving forward, she slipped around to the back of the building. Confronted by the stout rear door of the tavern, she stood there a moment, shivering in the rain. What was she to say? She could hardly expect an utter stranger to believe that she had just woken up with no memory. But what if they recognized her? Hope flowed through her, and she started forward eagerly, only to stop as she recalled her strong feeling that she was running away from someone. What if they did recognize her and sent word to her unknown nemesis?
A sudden flash of lightning lit the area, and she hesitated no more. She would just have to pray that she wasn't doing the wrong thing by pretending she was some poor wretched lost creature in need of help—which wasn't much of a pretense! She would simply have to throw herself on the mercy of the innkeeper and hope for the best....
Tess didn't think very highly of her plan, but she didn't have any choice. Taking a deep breath, she pounded on the rear door of the tavern.
It flew open almost as if someone had been waiting for her knock. Tess stood there uncertainly, trying frantically to think of something to say as a heavyset older woman appeared in the opened doorway, peering out into the rain. Wisps of gray hair straggled out from beneath the ruffle-edge cap she wore, and a white apron was tied around her ample waist. Her full face set in lines of displeasure as she caught sight of Tess and she said in scolding tones, “Well, I must say that you took your time getting here! You're late, and I'll let you know right now that this is not behavior that we tolerate! From now on, your time is ours. We're
not
a charity house—even if my husband did agree to take you on for a few weeks while that rascally pimp of a brother of his is in Newgate. If you're going to work for us, my girl, you'll be here when you're supposed to be or it'll be back to London for you!”
Tess opened her mouth to explain the mistake, but before she could speak, the woman jerked her into the warmth and light of the kitchen.
The tavern kitchen was a comfortable room with smoke-blackened beams overhead and a scrupulously clean stone floor. Over the woman's shoulder Tess caught sight of a young girl and a small boy hard at work at the far end of the room near an open fire where a large haunch of beef turned on a spit. The heavenly smell of spices, of roasting chicken and beef, assailed her nostrils, and Tess nearly fainted from the pangs of hunger that beset her.
Eyeing Tess's slender, bedraggled form, the heavyset woman frowned. “I always thought Tom's fancy piece was a big, strapping woman. Don't know how much work we're going to get out of you!” A nasty gleam lit the pale blue eyes. “I'll wager most of your
work
was done on your back!”
Tess stared at her openmouthed, not quite able to credit her ears. “I'm afraid that there has been a mistake.... I'm not—”
“Now don't start that! It don't matter to me—all I care is that there is work to be done and you were expected to be here hours ago. Now what's your name, girl? Tom didn't write much in that scribbled note he sent my husband—only that you'd be arriving tonight and we could make good use of you until he got out.” Her round face split into an unpleasant smile. “
If
he gets out—it's my opinion that Tom Darley was born to hang—unlike my Henry, who's as honest and hardworking as his brother is crooked!”
Once more Tess opened her mouth to explain, but cravenly she hesitated. Looking at the innkeeper's wife, at the coarse, unfriendly features, she realized that she was unlikely to find her a sympathetic listener. The instant she declared that she was not Tom Darley's “fancy piece,” she'd most likely be thrust out into the storm. Would it hurt so very much, for this one night, to pretend? To step momentarily into a ready-made identity? Just for tonight?
While Tess stood there silently turning over her extremely limited options, the innkeeper's wife said reluctantly, “I don't suppose you've had a chance to eat yet, and I'll not have it said that Sally Darley,
Mrs.
Darley to you, is a mean-spirited woman. So if you hurry, you can help yourself to some bread and cheese on the table there before I send you out front to help my husband.” Glancing with disfavor at Tess's damp state, she added, “But first get out of those clothes and into something more serviceable. Don't dawdle, either! This may be your first night here at the Black Pig, but don't expect to have an easy time of it.”

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