Reese's Bride (3 page)

R
eese awakened from sleep to a banging at his door. Frowning, he swung his legs to the side of the high four-poster bed and shoved himself to his feet. The pounding started again as he dragged on his dark blue silk dressing gown.

Grumbling, he grabbed his cane, crossed the bedroom and jerked open the door to find Timothy Daniels standing in the hallway.

“For God’s sake, man, what is it? Keep that up and you’ll wake the whole house.”

Timothy’s flaming red hair glinted in the light of the whale oil lamp he held in his hand. “It’s an emergency, sir. There’s a woman. She’s downstairs, sir. She says she needs to speak to you. She says the matter is urgent.”

“It is well past midnight. Why the devil would a woman wish to see me at this bloody hour of the night?”

“Can’t say, sir. But she’s here with her son and she seems overly distressed.”

Apprehension trickled down his spine. He had seen
Elizabeth and her son two days ago. Surely this had nothing to do with her. Then again, he had never been a man who believed in coincidence. “Tell her I’ll be down as soon as I can put on some clothes.”

“Aye, sir.”

Timothy disappeared and Reese made his way over to the wardrobe. Unconsciously rubbing his leg, he jerked out a pair of black trousers and a white lawn shirt, sat down and pulled them on. As he tucked in his shirt, pain shot down his leg. Since he’d taken a chunk of grapeshot at Inkerman, it was stiff, but not completely. Once he began to walk on it, it usually loosened up. At this hour the blasted thing felt like a lead rod connected to his body.

Reese ignored it. As soon as he was dressed, he headed downstairs, wondering what sort of problem awaited him at this hour of the night.

Leaning on his cane, he took the stairs as fast as he could, reached the bottom, and looked up to find his tall, skinny, very dignified butler standing next to a woman dressed in black.

Time seemed to slow. He knew those finely etched features, the pale skin and raven-black hair, the perfectly shaped eyebrows and lips the color of roses. Images assailed him. Elizabeth in the garden of her home, laughing as she raced him to the gazebo. Elizabeth in his arms as they whirled around the ballroom. Elizabeth out on the terrace, her fingers sliding through his hair, her mouth soft and welcoming under his.

He straightened, met her gaze squarely. “You are not welcome here.”

She was trembling, he saw as she walked toward him,
her movements as graceful and feminine as he recalled, a small woman, though she had never seemed so. “I must speak to you, my lord. It is urgent.”

He wasn’t used to the title. Major suited him far more, and it jarred him a little. He might have told her he had no time for a woman of such low character as she, but then he saw that she wasn’t alone. A gray-haired woman stood in the shadows next to the boy he had seen in the village, the boy who was Elizabeth’s son.

“Please, my lord.”

“This way.” He moved off toward the drawing room, limping only a little, hoping his harsh tone of voice would compel her to turn and leave. He walked into the drawing room and waited as Elizabeth moved past him, her full black skirts brushing against his legs. He closed the sliding door, making them private, but didn’t offer her a seat nor take one himself.

“It’s the middle of the night. What is it you want?”

She lifted her chin and he noticed her complexion was far paler than it should have been. She was fighting for composure and the realization filled him with satisfaction.

“I—I know you what you think of me. I know how much you hate me.”

He laughed without mirth. “You couldn’t begin to know.”

She bit her bottom lip. It was as full and tempting as he remembered and the muscles across his abdomen contracted.
Damn her. Damn her to bloody hell
.

“I came here to plead for your help. My father is dead. I have no brothers or sisters, no true friends. You are a man of honor, a veteran of the war. I am here because I believe you are not the sort of man to turn away a des
perate woman and her child—no matter your personal feelings.” She swayed a little and beads of perspiration appeared on her temple.

Reese frowned. “Are you unwell?”

“I…I am not certain. I have been feeling ill of late. That is part of the reason I am here. Should my condition worsen, I am concerned for what might happen to Jared.”

“Jared? That is your son’s name?”

“Yes.”

She swayed again and he started toward her, using his cane only once as he crossed to where she stood and caught her arm to steady her. He was a gentleman, no matter how difficult at times that might be. “Sit down before you fall down.”

She moved forward, sank unsteadily onto the burgundy sofa, her black silk reticule falling into her lap. She reached a trembling hand to her temple, then looked up at him with the beautiful, haunting gray eyes that invaded his dreams. The memory of a thousand sleepless nights hardened his jaw and fortified his resolve against her.

“I am not the help you need.”

“There is no one else I can turn to.”

“You’re the Countess of Aldridge. Surely there is someone.”

Her hands gripped the reticule in her lap. “I intended to go to London. I might have tried to make it tonight if I hadn’t been feeling so unwell.” She looked at him with those beseeching gray eyes. “I believe my in-laws may be doing something to my food or drink. If my condition continues to worsen, my son may be in grave danger.”

His jaw tightened. “You’re speaking of Mason and Frances Holloway?”

“Yes. I’m afraid that even should I reach London safely, my brother-in-law will arrive within days. I’m afraid he’ll find a means of forcing my return to Aldridge Park. Once I am there…” She shook her head. “I am frightened, my lord. I am here because I don’t know where else to go.”

“What do you expect from me?”

“I suppose I expect that your honor will dictate you must help me. You’re a strong man, the sort who can protect my son. I suppose I am hoping that no matter what I have done, you will not be able to turn me out of your home.”

Anger simmered just below the surface. She knew how much he valued his honor. She knew more about him than any other person in the world. He worked to calm the angry pounding of his heart.

“I am afraid,
Countess
, you ask too much.” Purposely, he used her title, a reminder of all that had transpired between them.

“Elizabeth…” she softly corrected. “We are too well acquainted for anything more formal.”

A hard smile surfaced. “I suppose you could say we are well acquainted. Very well acquainted, indeed.”

For an instant, a flush rose in her cheeks, erasing the pallor, but she did not glance away. “Will you help me?”

He began to shake his head. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear having her in his house, under his roof. He couldn’t stand the painful memories.

She came up from the sofa, so close he could measure the incredible length of her thick black lashes.

A black-gloved hand settled gently on his arm.
“Please, my lord. I beg you not to refuse. My son needs you. I need you. You are the only person in the world who can help us…the only person I trust.”

The words hit him hard. She trusted him. Once he had trusted her. Reese stared at the beautiful woman standing in front of him. He had loved her once. Fiercely and without reserve. Now he hated her with the same unrelenting passion.

Still, he could read her desperation, her fear. As she had said, he was a man who valued his honor. She had come to him for help. How could he turn her away?

“I’ll have Hopkins show you and your party upstairs.” A harsh smile curved his lips. “I believe you remember where to find the guest rooms.”

She glanced away but relief washed over her features. “Thank you, my lord. I swear I shall find a way to repay the great debt I owe you.”

And then she collapsed at his feet.

“Corporal Daniels!”

Elizabeth stirred as Reese lifted her into his arms. Her mind was foggy, blurred. She blinked up at him, into the hard, carved lines of his face. “I…I’m all right. You don’t have to—”

“Daniels!” he shouted again and a brawny, red-haired young man appeared beside him.

“Yes, sir?”

Reese dumped her unceremoniously into the younger man’s arms. “I can’t carry her up the stairs—not with this damnable leg.”

Corporal Daniels looked down at her and smiled. “Rest easy, ma’am. I’ll get you there in a jiff.”

She had no time to protest as the young man swept her out of the drawing room.

“Mama!” Jared rushed forward as they entered the hall and grabbed frantically onto her skirts.

“I am fine, sweetheart. Just a little dizzy, is all. Bring Mrs. Garvey and come upstairs.”

Jared turned and raced back to where the older woman stood waiting and grabbed hold of her hand. The butler led the pair a few steps behind as the corporal carted her up the stairs. He carried her into one of the guest rooms and settled her carefully on the bed.

“I’ll fetch Gilda to attend you, ma’am. She’s the chambermaid.”

She didn’t protest. She still felt light-headed though the spinning had begun to slow. She rested her head on the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. It was white while the walls were a soft yellow, pretty though the room could use a fresh coat of paint. The curtains were yellow silk damask, the furniture rosewood, recently dusted but in need of a dose of lemon oil.

She was staying at Briarwood. Reese had agreed to help her. She could hardly believe it.

And yet, in her heart, she had been certain, no matter his personal feelings, he would not turn her away.

He walked into the room a few minutes later, tall and masculine, the image of authority and strength. For an instant, she caught the glint of silver on the head of his ebony cane. She knew he had been injured. She didn’t know how badly he was hurt.

Icy blue eyes fixed on her face. “You are here—at least for the moment—and you are safe. I’ll have Corporal Daniels fetch the physician—”

“There is no need for that. I just need to sleep. Perhaps tomorrow…”

“You’re certain?”

She wasn’t the least bit certain, but she had already put him to enough trouble for one night. “Yes.”

“All right, we’ll wait until the morrow.”

“Thank you.”

“In the morning I’ll expect you to tell me exactly what is going on.”

She struggled to sit up, eased back until her shoulders rested against the carved wooden headboard. Reese made no attempt to help her.

“Tomorrow my brother-in-law will discover Jared and I are missing. Sooner or later, he’ll find out where we are.”

“As I said, as long as you are here, you are safe. Get some sleep. Your Mrs. Garvey is with the boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” Turning, he left the bedroom and Elizabeth realized how rapidly her heart was beating. Dear God, until that moment, she hadn’t realized how painful it would be to hear the sound of his voice. How difficult it would be to suffer Reese’s bitter dislike of her.

She hadn’t realized the feelings she had believed so deeply buried remained just beneath the surface.

She had to guard them, keep them carefully hidden away. If she failed, if she allowed the slightest crack in her heart, the pain would simply be too awful to bear.

The light of a crisp fall day streamed into the house as Reese made his way down the hall toward the breakfast room, a sunny chamber that overlooked the garden. With its creamy yellow walls and the chairs at the table
upholstered in soft moss green, it was a room he enjoyed sitting in to read his daily newspaper and eat his morning meal.

Not today.

Today his mood was grim and had been since he had awakened from a restless night of sleep. As was his habit, he had been up for several hours, working in his study for a while then going out to check on his livestock.

Besides his big black gelding, Warrior—like Reese, a veteran of the war—he had, since his return, purchased several mares and a blooded Thoroughbred stallion. With his damnable stiff leg, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to sit a saddle again, but he had been working to stretch and retrain his muscles, and even if he couldn’t ride, he refused to give up his horses.

His latest purchase, the stallion, Alexander the Great, came from prize racing stock. Reese had seen him run and he believed the horse would sire colts capable of winning at Ascot and Epson Downs.

Still making his way down the hall, a noise inside the breakfast room drew his attention. As he walked inside, he saw Elizabeth and her son seated at the table, and his chest tightened at the sight of them there in his house.

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, and continued into the sunny room. The pair were enjoying a meal of sausages, creamed herring, and eggs, though Elizabeth didn’t seem to actually be eating, just moving the food round on her plate. She looked up at him just then and the gratitude in her eyes made his chest tighten even more.

It was merely his dislike of her, he told himself, and anger than she had embroiled him in whatever turmoil her marriage to Aldridge had created.

“Jared usually eats with his nanny in the schoolroom,” she explained a bit nervously, “but since the house is new to him, I brought him downstairs to breakfast with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

He looked at the boy, whose eyes were dark and round and clearly uncertain. He perched on the edge of his chair as if he might run. A small silver horse, a unicorn, Reese saw, sat on the table in front of him.

“I don’t mind.” He turned away from the child. It was hard to look at Aldridge’s heir and not feel jealous. The boy should have been his. Elizabeth should have been his.

But money and power had been more important than the promises she had made or her declarations of love.

Then again, perhaps she had never felt the least affection for him. Perhaps it had all been pretense.

“I’m done, Mama,” the boy said. “May I be excused?”

The child had stopped eating the moment Reese had appeared in the doorway. Elizabeth seemed to sense his distress and managed to smile. She looked paler than she should have and now he noticed her eyes seemed a duller gray than they usually were, without the faint blue undertones that made them so appealing.