Temptress in Training (14 page)

Lindley must have recognized his chance. He was there, pushing her to the side and hoisting Papa's arm over his shoulder. How dare he! She slapped at him and tried to pry him away. He pushed her hands aside as if she were nothing more than a big, annoying gnat.

“Are you going to help me, or not?” he said finally, meeting her eyes. “Your father needs medical attention.”

She paused flailing at him just long enough for the words to sink in. “What?”

“Help me get him into your carriage. There must be a surgeon somewhere in this town.”

“You'll take Papa there?”

“Not if I have to carry him the whole way. Help me now.”

She did without hesitation. Perhaps Lindley had some shred of humanity in him, after all. Or perhaps it was a ruse simply to get Papa away from her. Well, either way, getting Papa into the gig was a good idea. If she had to, she'd get rid of Lindley somehow and then take Papa on her own. At least then he'd have a chance at survival.

Papa demanded weakly to know what they were doing, and Sophie soothed him as best she could. “We're taking you to the doctor, Papa. He'll tend your leg and stop that bleeding.”

“You leave my daughter out of this, Lindley!”

“No, Papa, I'm not leaving you!”

He struggled a bit, but it took only a few moments for Lindley to get Papa up into their carriage. The horse watched them nervously, and Sophie was glad the stable hands had been slow in their labor. In fact, this could work very well for her.

As Lindley carefully positioned Papa in the seat, Sophie stole around the back of the gig and hopped into it from the other side. She took up the reins where Papa had secured them and quickly slapped the horse into movement. The little mare gave her a look of pure insult but danced into motion. The gig jolted.

Papa groaned.

“Hold on, Papa,” Sophie said. “We're leaving.”

But the yard beside the inn was small and the horse had to be turned around. It had been years since Papa had let Sophie drive, and she was clumsy at directing the confused mare. True, Lindley had been thrown back from the gig when first it jerked into action, but he was still quite capable of interfering with her brilliant escape plan.

He simply waited for the gig to be turned, then jogged up to the mare and took her halter. She cooperated beautifully for him and the gig came to a standstill. Sophie folded her arms across her chest and glared.

“Move over,” Lindley said. It was obvious he had no intention of waiting for her to comply before climbing in, so she had no choice but to move closer to Papa or let herself be sat upon.

Papa groaned again when she pressed against his injured knee.

“I'm sorry,” she said to him, but she spared a murderous glare for Lindley.

“Sophie stays here!” Papa insisted, wincing as the gig hit a bump.

Sophie laid her hand on his arm. “No, Papa. I go where you go.”

“For now we are all going to the doctor,” Lindley replied and gave Papa a quick surveying glance. “You're no use to me dead.”

“But you don't need her!” Papa protested. “Leave her behind.”

Lindley didn't bother with a glance for her. He shook his head. “No. I'm thinking you're not so likely to go ahead and die if she's here with you. Sophie stays.”

And so she did. She took Papa's cool hand in hers as their crowded little gig rolled into the darkness between the buildings that lined the narrow streets of Warwick. She tried to ignore Lindley's warm, solid form pressed next to hers. The muscles in his arms loosed and tensed as he guided the mare. It was quite distracting to be so close to him after…well, it was distracting.

But all that mattered now was getting Papa the help he needed. She would concentrate on that. Lindley's motives for saving Papa might be self-serving, and she was certain he had every intention of taking Papa to the authorities soon enough, but for now he was doing the right thing and she was grateful for it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He said nothing. Her words hung in the air and mocked her. This man did not need her thanks. He probably did not want them, just as he did not want anything else she may have offered. Papa's reprieve was only momentary, and she was an idiot for feeling any sort of gratitude. Lindley must think her a fool.

Finally he spoke, words muttered so low she could barely hear them. “I'm not a monster.”

 

T
HE SURGEON WAS AN AMIABLE SORT WHO SEEMED
honestly not to mind being awakened in the night to tend a suspicious wound. It appeared Papa would live, after all. At least for a while.

“Is the pain very horrible, Papa?” she asked, fluffing his pillow and making sure the blanket didn't lay too heavily on his wound.

The surgeon's house was neat and clean, but small. He agreed that Papa should remain here for the night, and Sophie was glad for that. However, her eyes were heavy and she wished Papa did not occupy the only spare bed in the house. The lone chair in the corner she had claimed would be sadly uncomfortable for passing the rest of the night.

And she was certainly not about to take up Lord Lindley on his offer to return to the inn with him. Unfortunately, that meant he was going to be staying here, too. Apparently he did not trust her, and for good reason, she had to admit. As soon as Papa was well enough, she planned to take any opportunity to escape with him. That would be a bit more risky with Lindley hovering over.

“You should go, Sophie,” Papa said, his voice groggy from the medicine he'd been given. “Lindley will not follow you. It is me he's after.”

“I won't leave you, Papa,” she said, having just told him the same thing not two minutes ago. “We'll find a way out of this together.”

But Papa shook his head. He looked so weary, so sad. “No, Fifi. Lindley has me, and the law is on his side. He may have let you believe your charms hold some sway over him, but truly, he is only using you.”

She felt her face go warm. “Really, Papa. You are mistaken if you think anything has passed between me and Lord Lindley.”

“I saw you,
chou-chou
. You went to his arms, hoping he might care enough about you to spare me.”

Now her face burned from the shame of what she had attempted as well as from the humiliation of having failed. “I had to try, Papa.”

“And now here we are at the surgeon's,” he said, patting her hand gently where she laid it on the cover beside him. “But do not let this mislead you, Fifi. Lindley's passion is not for you. No, he craves only vengeance. Don't give him any more of yourself than you already have, my dear.”

“I've given him nothing, Papa. You must rest, now. You need to sleep. I will stay nearby.”

“As will Lindley, no doubt.”

“Yes. And the surgeon, should you need anything.”

“To hell with the surgeon. It's Lindley I worry about…for your sake, Fifi. You should go. The minute you can, leave this place and get to safety.”

She had to laugh at that notion. “And where is that, Papa? Back to the inn, where Lindley would surely find me? Should I walk all night back to Geydon where we were shot at?”

“London. You can go back to London.”

“And live in the brothel again? No, Papa. I can't do that. I want better for my life.”

“And what of your position in Fitzgelder's house? I wasn't overly fond of the idea, but Eudora assured me the housekeeper was a decent sort and would look after you.”

Madame had told Papa she'd be looked after? That Mrs. Harwell was a decent sort? Heavens, but she'd never known Madame to be such a poor judge of people.
Decent
was not quite the word Sophie would have used to describe the shrewish housekeeper. The only sort of looking after Sophie had received in that house was exactly the sort to make Papa roll over in his grave. Except that he hadn't actually been
in
his grave, but still…he wouldn't have liked it. No, she could hardly go back there.

“I'm sorry, Papa. You must know I can't go back there.”

“No, of course you can't. Damn that Lindley. Why did he have to find us?”

He tried to sit, and she could see the frustration and anger rising in him. Lord, but he was going to irritate his wound and start the bleeding again. She shushed him as best she could, for all the good it seemed to be doing.

“Papa, please be still.”

“It's not enough he must destroy me, but now he's set his sights on you,
ma petite
. And to think, I was more concerned about what Fitzgelder might do to you. It would seem he's been the least of my worries all along.”

“Actually, Papa, I'm afraid we still need to worry about Mr. Fitzgelder. It seems that…well, I'm afraid he believes I've stolen something from him.”

“Stolen? But Fifi, you are no thief.”

“Of course not, Papa. But Mr. Fitzgelder lost his locket and assumed that I—”

“His locket?”

“A piece of jewelry, but nothing that appears to be very valuable.”

“You've seen it?”

Er, she hadn't quite meant to implicate herself. “I, that is, I saw him with it. The day I left.”

“What did it look like?”

“What? Oh, well it was gold, and heart-shaped.”

“Did it open?”

“Open? I don't know. I would assume so, but I did not see him open it.”

“Were there designs engraved on it?”

Heavens, did Papa suspect her so much that he must needle her this way? Well, she did
not
steal that locket. True, it may have fallen into her possession, but she had
not
stolen it. Not intentionally, anyway, and she'd not admit to it now, especially not to her poor father. The man was overly anxious, and perhaps the medicine was making him imagine things. He needed to sleep, and she needed to get his mind off his many worries.

“There may have been engravings on it, Papa, but I did not look at it closely,” she said simply. “I did
not
steal it. Mr. Fitzgelder simply lost it and then found it convenient to blame me. Now, go to sleep. You need the rest.”

“And you?”

“I'll be right here in this chair beside your bed.”

“And where will Lindley be?”

“Not in here with us, I assure you. Now please, sleep, Papa.”

She adjusted the blankets again and was relieved when his body seemed to relax and his head sank into his pillow. Tomorrow they would find their way out of this, but for now he needed to rest and let that leg begin to heal. The doctor was confident that once the bleeding was stopped Papa would be fine in no time. She could only hope this would prove true. Time was something they had precious little of.

“And you're certain you know nothing more about that locket, Fifi?” Papa asked after a quiet pause while Sophie curled up in her chair.

“What? No, of course not.”

“Too bad.”

“Why?”

“Then perhaps you
would
have stolen it and things would not look so dire for us now.”

What on earth did that mean? He
wanted
her to have stolen it? The poor man must be talking out of his head. “Papa, I…”

“
Chut, chut,
Fifi. Let us speak no more of it. It is in the past now.
C'est la vie.
”

Indeed, that was true. However she'd gotten the locket didn't matter. What mattered was that she
did
have it, and apparently Papa thought this might work in their favor. Well, best not to bring that up now. It would only agitate him when he needed rest. Tomorrow morning she could tell him the truth, perhaps show him the locket.

Did Papa think it sounded valuable? Could they perhaps use it to bargain with Lindley? She couldn't imagine how a man like Lindley might be swayed by a simple piece of jewelry, but perhaps it was possible. He certainly hadn't been swayed by anything she'd offered him thus far. Maybe a golden locket would have better luck.

“Good night, Papa. I'll be here if you need me.”

She shuttered the lamp and the room fell to darkness. It was a good thing, too, for she would have hated to explain to Papa if he had seen her smiling at the bitter irony of her words. All those years she had missed him and longed for him to be there because she needed him; now here they were and he was alive, yet it was she who promised to be nearby for him. Life was unfair.

In silence she slid her hand into her pocket to touch the warm gold locket there. Unfair, yes, but perhaps occasionally that was a benefit. She would have never willfully stolen something like this, yet here it was. Unfair to Mr. Fitzgelder, but perhaps a godsend for them. In the morning they would find out if Lord Lindley might be interested in the small, golden heart.

It seemed he was in want of one, golden or otherwise.

 

T
HE LOCKET.
L
INDLEY STOOD OUTSIDE THE DOOR AND
heard D'Archaud asking after it. Yes, it must be the same one—Fitzgelder must have gotten his hands on it, and Sophie stole it away from him. It simply would have been too much a coincidence not to be the case. Although, why would she deny that to her own father? If she had stolen it, wouldn't it have been at her father's request? Why keep it from him now?

It didn't make sense. Unless…could she be telling the truth? Perhaps she did not have the locket. Yet why would Fitzgelder have accused her, then? Someone else must have stolen it. Yes, that had to be it. Someone else knew about the secret it contained. Someone who could profit from it.

That meant things were about to get complicated.

That idea was laughable. Things weren't already complicated enough? D'Archaud only held value as long as he could give the names and locations of all the players in this game. If other parties were involved, D'Archaud's information might become obsolete too quickly. Lindley had come so close to finding his goal only to feel it slipping through his fingers. With that locket and its hidden secrets circulating out there, anyone who knew of it might find himself—or herself—suddenly become a liability.