Read Miss Hillary Schools a Scoundrel Online
Authors: Samantha Grace
He quickly moved to her arms before he changed his mind. Pushing up her sleeves, he smoothed the cloth over each arm before cleaning the red marks on her wrists.
Her stockings were tattered beyond reason, so he removed them and tried to inch her skirts higher to clean her legs.
She grasped her skirts and held them in place. “No. Please don’t.”
He drew back slowly. “As you wish.”
The ordeal had shaken her more than she had allowed him to see. Once he covered her with the counterpane, he placed tiny kisses on both wrists and pulled down her sleeves. Lana’s breath grew deep and steady as she surrendered to slumber. When he judged her soundly asleep, he moved from the bedside intending to turn the lock in the door.
Her eyes flew open and she reached toward him. “Drew, please don’t leave me alone.”
He kissed her hand and then settled into a chair close to her bed, facing the door to stand guard.
“Shh, I’m not going anywhere.” In fact, it might be a long time before he left her side again.
Horses approached Choate Manor. Lana pushed back from the breakfast table to hurry into the foyer, her gaze flicking to the spiral stairs. Should she wake Drew?
Lady Dohve followed behind Lana at a slower pace. “Who would be calling this early?”
When there was a rap on the door, Lana’s steps faltered.
What
if
it’s him?
She chided herself for being silly. Her abductor wouldn’t show his face at Choate Manor, surely. And he wouldn’t travel in a pack.
Pushing her irrational thoughts aside, she turned the locks and opened the door a crack. “Papa!” She threw open the heavy oak door and launched into her father’s arms.
He gathered her in a firm hug. “Lana, precious girl. You are safe. Thank God.”
As soon as her father released her, Jake pulled her into his squeezing embrace. “Thank God is right. Forest found you. Where is he?”
“Is he all right?” a less familiar voice asked.
She peeked around her brother to discover Lord Richard hanging back, fumbling his hat.
Lana stepped from Jake’s arms. “He’s sleeping, my lord. He suffered a blow to the head, but he doesn’t seem to have any lasting injuries.”
“Maybe the blow has knocked some sense into him.” Despite Lord Richard’s bluster, worry showed in the lines on his forehead. “Perhaps I should see to my brother.”
Lady Dohve stepped aside and swept a hand toward the stairs. “Of course, you should, my lord. Maynard will show you to the chamber.”
“No need,” Drew’s voice drifted down the stairwell making Lana’s heart trip. “I heard a commotion and thought I should investigate.” He ambled down the stairs to greet her family and his brother. “The cavalry arrives at last. And late. I could’ve used your help earlier.”
Drew’s brother gathered him in a rough hug, pounding his back as if he burped an infant. Well, an especially hearty one. “You should’ve asked me to accompany you,” Lord Richard said. “What were you thinking?”
Drew offered a sheepish grin. “In retrospect, I agree.”
Lana gestured toward their hostess. “Lord Richard, Papa, Jake. You remember Lady Dohve, do you not? The baroness provided us with safe haven last night.”
Her father bowed to the baroness. “You have my undying gratitude, my lady. We’ve been sick with worry these last two days.”
“As would be any parent with a missing child, even if she’s a grown woman. Please, join us for breakfast.”
With hats in hand, they trailed into the breakfast room where there was no servant to attend to their needs. Once the men prepared their plates with the meager offering, Lady Dohve sighed.
“We’ve had more than our share of heartache at Choate Manor these past months, so I’m relieved to see your situation has a happy ending.”
Everyone offered sympathetic mutterings, seeming unsure in what to say. The baroness didn’t require any encouragement to continue.
“I learned only yesterday Betsy March was killed in an accident.” Lady Dohve sipped her tea. “Betsy was like a daughter, you know.”
Lana studied her family. Her father’s lips twisted into a poor imitation of sympathy. “I did not know. My sympathies, my lady.”
Jake fiddled with his napkin, his face turning red as he held his tongue.
“That is kind of you, sir.” Lady Dohve pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted the tears welling in her eyes. “Four months ago we lost my great-nephew to a fever. Philip had only arrived from Bavaria when he grew ill.”
Jake’s eyes rounded. “Philip Bollrud?”
“Did you know him, Mr. Hillary?”
He shook his head. “Not personally, my lady.”
Lana’s father turned to Drew, effectively ending discussion of Bollrud. “We didn’t know what to think when you didn’t return last night, so we left at dawn to call on Lady Dohve. I’m elated to find you and Lana safe. What happened?”
Drew met Lana’s gaze before throwing a glance toward the baroness. “Perhaps after breakfast we may speak in private.”
Lana understood he wanted to spare Lady Dohve. “Do you have a library, my lady? I would love a book to occupy my mind.”
The baroness puffed her chest and smiled. “Yes, it is lovely. My husband collected many books on a multitude of subjects. I’ve been fortunate to retain it these last few years.”
***
Drew sent a smile of gratitude to Lana when she escorted Lady Dohve from the breakfast room.
Jake tapped his knuckles against the table. “So that blackguard
isn’t
Bollrud? I knew he was queer as Dick’s headband.”
Drew recalled thinking the same thing when Bollrud first appeared at Irvine Castle. “His real name is Reggie March, Betsy’s brother. It was a ruse to access Lana’s dowry.”
He filled them in on the events at the cottage, ending with their escape.
“Where is the bugger now?” Rich asked, fury making his face hard.
Unlike Drew, March didn’t have the loyalty of his kin to protect or hide him.
“He has no other ties,” Drew said, “and we know he has no money, or very little.”
Mr. Hillary rose from his seat at the end of the table. “Jake will collect the local magistrate. Drew and Lord Richard, you search the outer property. Return to the cottage and see if you can track him. I will walk the grounds closest to the house.” The man handed out orders like a decorated general.
Drew didn’t feel at ease leaving Lana, even if her father kept watch over her. Yet, he was the only one who knew the location of the cottage.
He heaved a sigh and rolled his shoulders. “I’ll need a horse.”
“You may use mine,” Mr. Hillary said.
Before Drew left, he sought out Lana in the drawing room. She excused herself from Lady Dohve’s company and followed him to the foyer.
“Lana, I must leave for a short while, but your father will keep watch over you.”
She gripped his arm. “Where are you going?”
“Rich and I are hunting Reggie March.”
“Can’t we go home and be done with the matter?”
“I’m afraid if we don’t find him, he will turn up again.” And March still had Drew’s horse, or more aptly his father’s. There would never be an end to his father’s bellyaching if Drew lost Demetrius.
Lana’s blue-green eyes locked with his, and in them, he read a mixture of apprehension and knowing. “Please, proceed with caution.”
“Nothing will happen to me, peach. I have responsibilities.” Drew wrapped her in his arms and placed a quick kiss on her lips before anyone interrupted. “My carefree days are over.”
Lana drew back with a frown.
“I meant care
less.
” He winked, hoping his teasing would ease her worries. “My careless days have come to an end, though my carefree ones seem numbered as well if that dark scowl is any indication.”
He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose, relieved to hear her soft chuckle.
***
Lana’s mind wandered as Lady Dohve chattered about the weather, her favorite holiday, and her past associations in London.
She wanted to be home where she could take a real bath and sleep in her bed, but it appeared she might be stuck at Choate Manor another night.
“Miss Hillary, I would like you to be frank with me.”
Lana looked up to find the baroness studying her with a firm gaze. “Did my Betsy ever give reason to believe she was a bad person? Aside from her involvement with your abduction, of course.”
Yes, there was that small matter. Difficult to overlook, really. Lana thought back to her earlier experiences with Betsy. Her maid had been a sweet young woman. Lana was as shocked by Betsy’s betrayal as Lady Dohve. “I had no reason to suspect her.”
The lady offered a sad smile and gazed at her hands resting on her lap. “I am sorry for what happened to you, and I apologize for my questions of a personal nature. It’s quite heartbreaking to learn the unadulterated truth about a loved one.”
Lana nodded. “I can only imagine the depth of your hurt.”
“Miss Hillary, the gentlemen referenced my nephew in their discussion. How do they know of him? Philip had been abroad most of his life.”
She glanced at the baroness. Should she reveal Reggie’s deception? The lady seemed fragile, and Lana didn’t know if she could cope with much more.
Lady Dohve twisted at the waist to open a drawer on the side table beside her chair. Retrieving a miniature, she handed it to Lana. “This was my nephew, Philip.”
Lana accepted the painting. The young man’s dark hair waved back from his handsome, youthful face and a secretive smile played about his lips. The name Bollrud would always conjure Reggie’s snarling face in her mind, and this thought made her sad. He had tainted the reputation of a gentleman deeply loved by his family, likely a kind man if he was anything like his aunt. Lady Dohve deserved to know what additional damage Reggie had caused.
“Mr. March portrayed himself as your nephew. He traveled to Irvine Castle and told everyone he was Lord Bollrud. He claimed he sought a wife but he had already chosen me as his target.”
She searched Lady Dohve’s face for any expression of emotion, but it remained impressively blank. Lana was unsure if the baroness had even heard her given her lack of any reaction.
Finally, she wrinkled her forehead and bit her lower lip. “Miss Hillary, please forgive my questions, but I must know, what happened at the cottage?”
Lana wished to put the entire affair behind her, so she provided an abbreviated summary of events at the cottage.
“Reggie threatened you with a pistol, you say?” Lady Dohve’s manner remained on par with one inquiring into one’s holiday in Bath.
“Yes, my lady.”
“Oh, dear.” The baroness struggled to push herself from her chair with a grunt. “Will you excuse me, Miss Hillary?” Without waiting for a reply, she swept from the room.
What had gotten into Lady Dohve to necessitate her sudden disappearance? Lana blushed as it dawned on her the lady likely rushed for the water closet. She returned her attention to her book, but after half an hour, Lana began to worry the gravity of the situation had gotten to the baroness.
For the next few moments, Lana glanced over her shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lady Dohve beyond the drawing room doors. Finally, she set her book aside and shifted her weight to rise from the sofa, but a rustling of skirts stopped her. Lady Dohve returned with her sewing basket and resumed her spot by the fire.
“You don’t mind if I attend to my embroidery, do you?” Lady Dohve’s voice was full of cheer.
The lady was taking everything surprisingly well. Lana’s fears of the baroness swooning or dissolving in a fit of tears remained unfounded. In fact, her jolly demeanor struck Lana as bizarre given everything that had transpired.
Lady Dohve looked up from her sewing. “Would you care for any refreshment, dear? Betsy always favored chocolate biscuits. Would you like me to ring for tea?”
“N-no thank you.”
The baroness sat back with a smile. “How silly of me. We just enjoyed breakfast, did we not?”
There was something off about the lady. Lana scooted to the edge of her seat, preparing to stand. “My lady, are you well? Should I call for assistance?”
Lady Dohve chuckled. “I’m right as rain, my dear. Thank you for your concern. Please, rest.”
Easing back against the sofa cushion, Lana lifted the book from her lap, but her attention stayed on her hostess.
The baroness’s needle stilled and she cocked her head, staring into space. She froze, her posture rigid, for several moments before clucking her tongue and shaking her head.
Lana’s concern for the lady increased. Was the baroness suffering an apoplectic fit? Her behavior was decidedly strange.
Lady Dohve plopped back against the chair. “My dear girl, I believe I left my spectacles in the library. Would you please retrieve them?” When Lana didn’t move at once, the baroness waved her hand impatiently. “Go on, do as I say.
Now
.”
Good
heavens
above.
The woman was too overbearing by half, which may account in part for her lack of servants under her employ.
“As you wish.” Lana rose from the sofa and took refuge in the library. Closing the door, she sank against it. She didn’t mind escaping the other woman’s company for a bit. The way Lady Dohve spoke incessantly about Betsy troubled her.
She wandered the room lined with shelves reaching all the way to the soaring ceiling, inactively seeking the spectacles. The inner room had no windows, probably to protect the books from damage, but this meant she had no view outside. And no quick means of escape should the baroness choose to follow and impose her peculiar company on Lana.
Perhaps she could convince her father to take her home. She opened the library door and slipped into the foyer, hoping the lady wouldn’t hear her escape.
“I’ll ask ya once more, where is she?” Reggie’s gruff voice stopped Lana, and she pressed back against the wall. Blast! How did he gain access inside the manor house?
“Don’t affect that tone with me, young man.” Lady Dohve’s voice rang out strong, a testament to her aristocratic lineage. “I haven’t any idea who you mean.”
“That trollop, Lana Hillary. I saw ’er pa walkin’ the grounds. Tell me where she is.”
Lana held her breath. If Lady Dohve kept her secret, she promised to be much more tolerant of the baroness’s oddities.