Secrets and Sensibilities: A Regency Romance Mystery (The Lady Emily Capers Book 1) (16 page)

Watching him now, she felt the courage to try one last
prayer. “Please, God,” she murmured, clasping her hands tightly together. “Give
me another chance to show that I can love. Let David live so I can tell him how
much I love him.”

In the bed, David stirred. Hannah caught her breath.

“David?” she ventured. “David, can you hear me?”

His hand moved up to grip the edge of the covers, and he
moaned.

Hannah rose to her feet, feeling hope flood through her.
“David? Oh, please, David! If you can hear me, wake up.”

He tossed onto his side, and his face contorted in pain.
Alarmed, she bent over him. His breath came in ragged gasps as if he’d just run
a race.

“Hannah!” he cried out and curled tighter as if the effort
hurt.

“I’m here!” she assured him. “I’m right here. Please, David,
come back to me. I need you.”

He stiffened, eyes squeezing in a grimace, and moaned again.
“Hannah, don’t go! I love you!”

She choked back a sob, catching up his hand. It was hot in
her grip, and she feared for him. Was she too late after all? “I’m here. I
haven’t gone. I’ll never go. I love you too. Wake up and let me show you.”

Her touch seemed to quiet him. He relaxed back against the
pillow, although his lips moved. Bending low, she strained to hear the words.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lady Brentfield demanded
from the doorway.

Hannah straightened, clinging to David’s hand. She had been
so intent on him she had not heard the door open or close. That Lady Brentfield
had entered so easily only confirmed Hannah’s fears about the servants.

Lady Brentfield stood in her wrapper, a pink muslin affair
with lace encrusting the hem, long sleeves, and deep bodice. Her golden hair
was unbound and cascading past her shoulders. She should have looked soft and
feminine. The anger in her eyes made her look lethal.

“I am not accustomed to repeating myself,” she said. “You
have no business in this room, not when you caused his injuries.”

Hannah knew exactly who was to blame for David’s condition,
but she could not confront the woman while David lay at her mercy. “I’m merely
watching his lordship while Mr. Asheram takes a short nap.”

“Do you think I believe that?” The woman laughed, moving
closer to the bed. Hannah released David’s hand to intercept her. Lady
Brentfield glared.

“You are here to see yourself compromised,” she accused
Hannah. “Admit it! You followed those secret passages from your own room to
his, and I’m certain it’s not the first time.”

A hot retort sprang to Hannah’s tongue, but she swallowed it
down. “You may think what you like, Lady Brentfield. I am merely doing my
duty.”

“Your duty,” she sneered. “That’s your excuse for getting
your own way, isn’t it? Well, that nonsense stops now. I am the mistress of
Brentfield, not that black-skinned prig, not that weakling in the bed. I rule
here. Go back to your room and pack your things. I want you out of this house
by dawn.”

Hannah stiffened, but she knew she could not give in. “No,
Lady Brentfield. I am staying until David dismisses me. You are the one who
will leave this room. Go now, or I’ll scream.”

“Scream?” Lady Brentfield laughed. “You wouldn’t dare. I’m a
witness to your pathetic attempt to catch yourself a titled husband. You
scream, and I’ll tell them all what you tried to do. Your reputation will be in
tatters. Miss Martingale will never take you back.”

“You have until the count of three,” Hannah replied, holding
on to her fragile faith for strength. “One . . .”

“You’re bluffing. You cannot win with the hand you have been
dealt.”

“Two . . .”

“I warn you, you are only hurting your own reputation.”

“Three . . .”

Lady Brentfield crossed her arms over her chest and dared
her.

Hannah screamed.

The door burst open, and the young footman dashed in only to
skid to a stop as he beheld the tableau. “Lady Brentfield, what . . . Miss
Alexander, what are you doing here?”

“Lady Brentfield,” Hannah told him, “needs to see Mr.
Asheram. She would like to lodge a complaint about my services. I suggest you
escort her on her way.”

“This woman,” Lady Brentfield countered, “is attempting to
seduce his lordship. I insist you remove her at once.”

The young man licked his lips, glancing nervously between
the two determined women and the still figure on the bed. “Mr. Haversham never
mentioned anything about you being here, Miss Alexander.”

“He asked me personally,” Hannah assured him, head high. Her
heart began to pound, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I will not
leave this room without his orders.”

He swallowed and turned his gaze to Lady Brentfield. “Your
ladyship?” he asked hopefully.

“Oh, don’t be a fool,” Lady Brentfield snapped, throwing up
her hands. “Return to your post. I’ll find Haversham myself.” She stomped from
the room. With a puzzled look at Hannah, the footman closed the door once more.

The sound of slow, quiet, clapping came from the bed. Hannah
whirled.

“Well done, my dear,” David said with a grin.

Hannah dashed across the space, and for a moment David
thought she would throw herself into his arms. Part of him was decidedly
pleased about the prospect, but his throbbing head quailed. She stopped at his
side, however, and gazed down at him so adoringly that he felt himself
blushing.

“Oh, David,” she cried, dark eyes luminous. “You’re awake.
Do you know me?”

She was so serious that he couldn’t resist teasing her. “Do
I know you? Let me see. Cleopatra? No, Joan of Arc? Wait, wait, I have
it--Aphrodite, Goddess of Love?”

She stuck out her tongue at him. He laughed, then grimaced
as his head protested. She immediately turned solicitous.

“Are you all right? Does it hurt much?”

“I feel like someone’s trying to carve a pattern on the
inside of my head,” he told her truthfully. “And they’re not very good at it.
How long have I been out?”

She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Nearly fourteen
hours.”

“Don’t go by that. I let it run down the first time I heard
it strike midnight. It’s enough to wake the dead.”

“Then we should have wound it hours ago,” she quipped.
Suddenly her lips started to tremble. “Oh, David, we were so worried!”

“So worried, in fact, that you took on the bully of the
county in a bare knuckles brawl. You stood her down, Hannah. I’m proud of you.”

She blushed. “I had to. I couldn’t let her finish what she
had begun. She’s been trying to kill you, David.”

“You’ve been talking with Asheram,” he replied, wishing the
man hadn’t worried her. “You have to see that the idea is ridiculous.”

“Lady Emily doesn’t think so,” Hannah countered. “And
neither does Ariadne and Daphne. Even Priscilla’s convinced of her aunt’s
guilt.”

David tried to frown and gave it up as too painful. “But
why?” He listened as she outlined their suspicions. Though the pain in his head
made thinking difficult, he realized with dawning horror that the idea had
merit. When Hannah finished, he reached out a hand and pulled her to sit beside
him.

“Do you understand what you just did?” he demanded. Now that
he realized it, it nearly unnerved him. “That’s a woman capable of murder, and
you faced her down alone.”

“I had to do it,” she replied. “Do you really think I’d leave
you at her mercy? Am I such a coward?”

He felt his mouth quirking into a grin. “No indeed, Miss
Alexander. You are no coward. I am very grateful.” The grin faded as he thought
again of the danger she had been in. If he had remained unconscious, the countess
might have killed them both and called it a lovers’ quarrel.

He blamed himself. Asheram had tried to warn him, and he had
laughed it off. His brash attitude had put Hannah in danger. In fact, his
entire outlook on this estate had put them both in danger. Asheram kept telling
him he had to take things more seriously. Perhaps it was time he actually
started acting like the Earl of Brentfield. He tightened his grip on her hand.

To his surprise, she hung her head. “You’re wrong. I am a
coward, David. I told you I loved you, but I was afraid to act on that love. I
was wrong. If you still want to marry me . . .”

“
If
?” He laughed then sobered as his head protested.
“Hannah, there is no ‘if’ as far as I’m concerned. I want you with me. I can’t
imagine life without you. The only ‘if’ is whether you want to marry me. I have
to remain an earl, worse luck. Can you be a countess?”

Her fingers fretted at the comforter. “Perhaps not like most
countesses. I couldn’t ever bring myself to hunt, and I’m not sure I’d be much
good helping you manage the estate.”

“You just keep an eye on the art collection, and that will
be enough,” he told her, hope rising. He was almost afraid to ask her about the
other reservation she had mentioned, but he knew they needed to reach an understanding.
“And Hannah, about children . . .”

“I’ll know what to look for in a nanny,” she replied
readily. “And I’ll know how to love them. I’m learning that that’s what really
matters.”

“Then that’s a yes? You’ll marry me?” He felt himself tense,
and the pain in his head tightened like a vise.

She raised her head, and her gaze was so full of love that
he caught his breath in wonder. “Oh, yes. God brought you back to me, and I’m
not letting you go now!”

He found he didn’t care what kind of pain was resounding
inside his head. He drew her down into his embrace. Her lips were tender
against his, warm, gentle. They spoke of a shared love, a future. He felt
himself relax. She offered a quick caress, and then she straightened.

“Where’s Asheram?” he asked with a shakiness that had
nothing to do with his injury.

“He’s resting.” Her response came out breathless as well.
“He’ll want to see you. I’ll send the footman.” She rose to speak to the
footman, then hurried back to his side. “Can I get you anything? Water? Food?
Laudanum?”

He started to shake his head, and the pain was so great the
room darkened. He sucked in a breath. His anguish must have shown on his face
for she cried out.

“David, what is it? Shall I send for Dr. Praxton?”

“Not a bad idea,” he gritted out against the pounding. “And
perhaps I will try some laudanum. After I talk with Ash.”

She nodded, and he realized she was growing dim. Suddenly he
was afraid. She had said God had brought him back. At the moment, he wasn’t too
sure.
Dear God
, he prayed,
please don’t take me now, not when I’ve
only just found her.
The pain intensified, and he closed his eyes against
it.

“David?” she ventured, and he could hear the echo of his
fear in her voice.

“I’m all right,” he lied. “Just tired. Talk to me, please? I
wouldn’t want to fall asleep before Asheram gets here.”

She was quiet for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure what to
say to him. “You called out my name when you were unconscious. Do you
remember?”

Trying to remember was difficult. “I was dreaming, I think.
It was dark, and there was a light. I think I somehow thought you were in the
light, and I knew I had to reach you. You were my lighthouse, my guide. I
followed you back, Hannah.”

“I’m so glad,” she whispered, and he thought she might be
crying. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet.

“Now, it’s nothing to be sad about,” he told her. “I’m going
to be fine, just fine. Tell me something else.”

She was silent again, and he thought he heard the snick of
the secret panel opening. Was she leaving him after all? Before he could open
his eyes, he heard her sniff. “I started drawing you,” she confessed.

His eyes snapped open. She smiled tenderly at him, still
right at his side. The pain abated.

“Did you, now?” he mused, absurdly pleased by the idea. Then
he remembered how her other drawings had seemed to capture the essence of her
subjects, and he wondered what he’d see if he looked at the drawing of him.

“You’ll need to pose later so I can finish it,” she told
him.

He grinned at her. “You mean like those nude models we
discussed?”

The color flamed to her cheeks, and she stammered. He broke
out laughing, and the pain stabbed him anew. As he closed his eyes again, he
thought he heard the door open.

“What is it, Miss Alexander?” he heard Asheram ask, voice
drawing nearer. “Crosswell said you asked for me.”

“He’s awake,” Hannah proclaimed, and David did not need to
look at her to know how she felt. The joy and relief throbbed in her voice. He
forced his eyes open.

“Good evening, my lord,” Asheram greeted him.

“Good evening,” he managed. “We have to talk, and quickly
because my head is pounding. I believe what you said about her ladyship. First
take Hannah back to her room and post Weimers outside her door. If you explain
our suspicions, I think he can be trusted to protect her.”

“I won’t leave you!” she protested.

“And I won’t leave you alone,” Asheram added. “I thought you
understood. Lady Brentfield is dangerous.”

“Too dangerous to leave to chance,” David replied. “I want
her confined in her room and a guard posted outside.”

“You have no proof,” Asheram pointed out. “You cannot
condemn her without it.”

“It’s my house, isn’t it?” David countered. In truth, he
hadn’t expected such opposition from the two of them. Having to deal with it
only sapped his strength further. But deal with it he must if he was to protect
Hannah. “She’s here on my sufferance. She can stay tonight, but I want her out
tomorrow. We can put her in that house at the foot of the drive until she finds
a new home, preferably one out of this country.”

“Do you really want Lady Brentfield out of your sight?”
Asheram pressed. “She could easily hire assassins.”

Hannah sucked in a breath, and David grimaced. He had wanted
her safely in bed before discussing the details with Asheram. Now it was too
late.

“Not if we cut off her funds,” he explained impatiently.
“Now will you get Hannah out of here?”

She stuck out her chin defiantly, but he could see the fear
in her eyes. “I tell you, I won’t go. Not while you’re in danger.”

“And I can’t solve this problem while you’re in danger,”
David argued. His frustration triggered the pain again, and he had no choice
but to close his eyes and count off the seconds until it passed. When he opened
his eyes again, Hannah and Asheram were regarding him solemnly.

“We’ll sent a groom for Dr. Praxton,” Asheram told him.

“Lie still,” Hannah urged, bending to arrange the bed
clothes that he had apparently dislodged. “I’m sorry I upset you. I’m just
worried for you. Must I go?”

Her tone pleaded with him to let her stay. He had to remain
firm. “I’ll rest easier knowing you’re safe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She started to go, then whirled back to press a quick kiss
against his mouth. His head screamed in protest; he smiled against the pain.

“I’ll only be gone a moment,” Asheram assured him.

As soon as he and Hannah were out of the door, David closed
his eyes once again. So long as he lay perfectly still, the pain lingered at
the back of his head, bearable, but annoying. To counter it, he focused his
thoughts on Hannah.

She was in love with him. She had admitted it in the
passageway, and her words and kiss just now had confirmed it. She had the
strength to get past this fear of being his countess. Funny that she was so
concerned about it. He certainly hadn’t had any idea how to be an earl; at
least she had grown up around the aristocracy and had some idea of how to go
on. They would learn and grow, together. He could hardly wait until morning
when he could see her again.

He realized he was starting to doze and opened his eyes
again. The room was in darkness. The fire must have burned down. Hannah had
taken her candle, and his light, used so often in his passage explorations,
must have gone out. He decided to wait and let Asheram light it.

There was a movement in the darkness, and suddenly a
heaviness smashed against his injured face. Bright pain sparked across his
mind. He struggled, pushing against the formless weight that blocked his nose,
filled his mouth. His head exploded, and he felt himself slipping down into the
darkness once again. This time, he wasn’t sure that even Hannah could save him.