Perilous Risk (9 page)

His heart sounded against her ear.
Thrump. Thrump. Thrump.
The steady beat lulled her. Her muscles went even more limp. Warmth enveloped her. Her racing thoughts and escalating emotions slowed and cooled.

For long moments, he simply held her.

And she relished being held.

She pretended, for the briefest time, that she was his. It made her feel safe, cherished.

She sighed and leant into him.

His lips brushed the top of her head.

She caught her breath. They were crossing lines here. Lines that wouldn’t be so easily uncrossed. Was that wise? Was it what she really wanted?

The sudden tension in her body must have communicated itself to his, for his muscles tightened against her. “I’ll go and get you something to drink,” he said.

His embrace loosened and she pulled away and nodded. As she watched him leave, her mind swirled with the conflicting feelings of relief and yet disappointment at the loss of his closeness. He returned quickly with a cup of the wine punch and a quill and paper.

He handed all the items to her. “The footman says you asked for writing materials.”

Again she nodded numbly. She took the cup from him.

Under his gaze, she attempted to drink the punch slowly, though again, its wetness made it hard for her to resist the urge to down it as fast as she could.

As he set the writing materials on a small table, he watched her speculatively. Then he took the empty cup from her. “What’s all this about, Rebecca?”

“The Duke of Saxby has died.”

He nodded and brushed a strand of her hair off her face.

“The duchess says she will have her maid testify that I poisoned him—then, then smothered him. That she saw me do so…no, no, that her maid saw, that’s what Maria said.” Rebecca’s breath came quicker, made her words sound breathy and broken. “I am innocent. Completely innocent.”

“She’s not a kind or trustworthy woman.”

At his dry tone, Rebecca startled.

He stared at her with a blank expression. Then a hint of a smile graced those sensual lips. “She’s a right nasty bitch.”

With her chest still tight from anxiety, she gave a harsh, barking sort of laugh. “To say the least.” She took a deep breath. “She asked me to come and have a look at His Grace to see what I could do. My father owns an apothecary. I help him with the shop, but as an experienced nurse, I also do consult with people from time to time. Midwifery mostly, but sometimes other concerns.” She put her hand to her forehead and rubbed for a moment. “How stupid of me to have allowed myself to become entangled with her.”

She lowered her hand and found him studying her intently.

Did he not believe her? Had she been wrong to trust him?

Her heart began to pound again.

“What?” she finally asked.

“What indeed?” His dark brows drew together. “What does the Duchess of Saxby really want from you?”

She gaped at him. “She wants to protect herself from the accusation of murder by pointing the finger of accusation at me.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s not what she wants.”

He sounded so certain. It unsettled her. “What makes you so certain?”

“No matter Maria Seymour’s disgraced reputation, she is a wealthy duchess now. And Saxby has—” he paused then made an ironic expression. “
Had
no close relatives save his cousin, the Countess of Ruel. Well, she has not been on speaking terms with him for years.”

“Of course she wouldn’t be…” Rebecca bit her lip.

Stephen was watching her very closely. “You think they were lovers?”

“I don’t know. Some people say they were.” It was none of her business and certainly not her place to spread gossip.

”She’s quite a reserved lady.”

“That’s putting it mildly again.”

He raised his brows. “Should I have dubbed her an ice-queen like the gossips?”

Rebecca inhaled sharply. “Ice-queen is a most unkind way to put it.”

“And not likely true, elsewise you’d be safely tucked away with Ruel tonight, not out playing nursemaid to the Duke of Saxby. Don’t you think?” He gave her a penetrating and, was it…yes, it was a rather challenging look.

She sat up and pulled her shoulders more square. “I don’t like to speculate.”

“As I was saying, it is highly unlikely anyone ever will publicly raise the issue of murder in regard to the Duke of Saxby’s death.” Again, that hint of a smile. “At least, no one would do so without ironclad proof.”

“The Earl of Ruel would question it.”

“Not without proof.”

Stephen was correct about that. Jon could be volatile but he also knew how to control himself in order to attain a goal. And according to his countess, he felt that Saxby deserved whatever consequences he reaped from wedding a she-wolf like Maria. She rolled her shoulders. “Perhaps Maria wants to shield herself from public speculation.”

“She’s a disgraced woman and well used to public condemnation. And she now has the power of rank and greater wealth. Likely she doesn’t give a d—” He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “Rebecca, tell me what she really wants.”

Rebecca tried to tell him but her tongue seemed to grow heavy. He was very kind to try to help her. But she must placate or insult him, whatever it took to get him to cease. And then, when he had left her, she would write a note to send to Jon. She schooled her expression to be frosty. “She wants to place the blame for her husband’s untimely death on me.”

Stephen stared at Rebecca. He studied every aspect of her visage. Those eyes of the most pastel blue possible. The small, straight nose. A little mouth but well-shaped, the lips thin but not too thin and pink as a peony. The chin softly rounded but not weak. Alabaster skin with a faint blush over the cheeks.

From inside the plain black carriage, across the street from Seymour House he had witnessed her flight. Had watched her hair fall from its pins. Now it lay about her shoulders in a spill of slightly curling, finely-textured light brown tresses interspersed with threads that glinted in the warm yellow glow from the chandeliers shining in the open top of the antechamber. These highlights appeared to be of an even more gossamer texture, their colour a variance in shade from deep to palest gold.

She had always reminded Stephen of his mother’s most prized possession, a set of teacups, with roses painted so delicately upon the fine china that it had appeared to be a watercolour.

That was what Rebecca’s beauty was like. Understated. Refined.

And just as precious and priceless to him.

Her voice still echoed in his ears, gentle and warm.

She was lying.

Damn it all anyway. She was lying to protect Jonathon Lloyd. The man who had thrown her aside in favour of his younger, wealthy countess.

What a fool Stephen had been to think Rebecca would accept his help.
Pride had kept him from contacting her all these weeks he’d been back in England. The sense that she would respond to him in this off-putting manner.
He should just leave her now.

But he couldn’t.
She was in trouble and she desperately needed his aid.

He would die to protect Rebecca.

Well, it wouldn’t do to appear over-eager, would it? If he wasn’t careful he would reveal the depth of his feelings for her. And frighten her away. He couldn’t make a muss of things. She didn’t understand the situation she’d so unknowingly traipsed into. But he did. He couldn’t reveal all to her. He certainly couldn’t reveal that he’d been spying on her as she’d come and gone from Saxby’s house. That would unnerve her and make her suspicious about him.

But he must impress upon her the urgency of the matter at hand. “
You think the Earl of Ruel will be able to help you better?”

“
With something like this, yes, I do.”

“
He doesn’t have my connections, Rebecca. He can’t protect you as well as I could.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe you would do this.”

“Do what?”

“You men.” Her tone was light, almost teasing. But her smile was belied by the wintry glint in her eyes. “You are unbelievably callous.”

“Pardon me?”

“Gentlemen will say anything.” She looked away, her expression and tone sharpening. “You men will do anything when you are set to get up a woman’s skirts.”

What could he say? He’d dearly love to get up her skirts. He’d thought of nothing for the past few years but how close he’d come to getting up her skirts. In fact, it had driven him mad yet been the one thing that had proved his salvation in some particularly dark times. The desire to live and come home to England. To her.

And to get up her skirts.

However, this wasn’t the time and place. He blinked at her, indignant.

“You think this is why I am offering my help, that I would take advantage of an obviously distraught woman?”

“Listening to your incredible boasting, I do now.”

“It wasn’t a boast, Rebecca. It is a simple fact.”

All her customary kindness suddenly stripped away from her expression. She curled her lip. “You are just a commoner—I don’t even know what you do now for your living.”

“I am Baron Drake now.”

Her expression hardened even more. “It’s true, Rebecca.”

“You’ve become a baron.” She gave a sharp, stilted laugh. “Just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

“Yes, that’s just about the whole of it.”

“You were an equerry last I heard. And not a particularly important one.”

Certainly not as important as the almighty Earl of Ruel. A flare of pain burnt in his stomach. He took a slow yet shallow breath as it passed. Then he pushed his bitterness down. There was no time for jealousy. He must convince her to trust him. Her safety depended on it.

“I have made some lucky connections and done some valuable services for powerful gentlemen, especially at the Congress of Vienna and during the latest Congress at Verona. I was an exceptional equerry and I have been well-rewarded.”

And he’d engaged in some travel during the past few years. Seen some of the world. Italy. Peru. India. He’d also taken care of some clandestine business whilst there. Business quite valuable to certain powerful gentlemen.

She stared back at him, less angry but more wary than a moment ago. “They don‘t just bestow titles on secretaries, no matter how valuable their service.”

There was nothing to say to that. Most people simply assumed his service had been transacted on his knees, beneath a desk. And that he had been very, very skilled. It brought the most awkward of propositions. But he’d grown weary of the current conversation and so he brought up the one point that was sure to distress her. But it would also facilitate the best conclusion to their discussion. “Jonathon Lloyd left town this morning with his countess.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders dropped and her expression crumbled.

The most peculiar ache centred in his chest. He hated seeing the depth of her continued emotional attachment to Ruel. But he also hated causing her pain. “I believe they intend to spend a fortnight in Devon before the opening of Parliament.”

“Then I shall have to send him a message and wait for his reply.”

“I wouldn’t send that message.”

“Why not?”

“Things are rather…sensitive between the earl and his countess. It is said that he is not happy that she has insisted on their daughters and resulting nursery staff accompanying them to Devon. Bringing the infant Midhurst could not be avoided, as the countess is nursing the heir herself. However, the presence of the toddling daughters and their nannies will change the whole atmosphere in their house in Devon.

“One feels much sympathy for Ruel for surely he had intended this trip away as a time to recommence their connubial activities. But Lady Ruel is a most devoted mother. She has always refused to leave their children in the sole care of their servants.”

“Oh…” Rebecca’s softly arched golden brown brows drew together. “Yes, the time since the countess’ lying in…I hadn’t thought of that.”

“And then there was the whole matter of the countess’ delicate condition whilst carrying this latest child. She must have been unavailable to her lord a good many months.”

Her frown deepened. “Oh, dear me. Yes, that would be in very poor taste for me to send a message.”

It said a great deal about Rebecca’s state of agitation that she didn’t ask him how he happened to have such intimate knowledge of the Lloyd household. Though it might have been passed off as whispered tittle-tattle, Lady Ruel was an exceptionally private person. She had no friends among her peers to confide in and have such matters whispered about. But that wasn’t what was most important at present. He’d had to make Rebecca understand. Only putting matters so bluntly and revealing his private knowledge would have sufficed to turn Rebecca’s mind.

“You can’t wait for Ruel.” He pressed the issue whilst she was still confused, still off-balance.

She cocked her head to one side and her forehead wrinkled as though with consternation. “But you said there was no immediate danger to me.”