To Rescue a Rogue (27 page)

“Dear God. I've always been afraid of that.”

“It's not
true
!” Mara exploded.

He looked at her. “How can I tell?”

“Because you are who you are.”

Dare's lips twisted. “I wish I were sure of that.”

W
hen they arrived back at the house, Simon proposed a council of war, but Dare said, “I'm sorry, Simon. Not now,” and went upstairs.

“Damn, I forgot.”

Jancy took his arm. “There's nothing to do tonight that can't be done tomorrow, love. Come to bed.”

Mara went upstairs with them and entered her room feeling selfishly deserted. She needed to talk over events, and she needed to be with Dare. She had some idea now of his nightly battles and tonight could be dire.

Ruth arrived with hot water and began helping Mara out of her clothes. “And how was it, milady?”

“It?”

“Almack's, milady!”

“Oh, as expected.” But if she didn't want Ruth in a fret, she had better show some enthusiasm. “Sophie and Giles Gilliatt were there.”

“That must have been nice, milady.”

“And I met the Duke and Duchess of Belcraven. They're the parents of one of Simon's friends.” She dredged up names of other people who might satisfy Ruth's interest, but was profoundly grateful when she was finally in her bed.

But Ruth hovered. “Are you all right, milady?”

“Yes, of course. Just a little tired.”

“From a bit of dancing? That's not like you.” Ruth put her hand to Mara's forehead.

Mara brushed it away. “I don't have a temperature, Ruth.”

“Just checking. It's a nasty place, London is. All sorts of dirt and disease.”

Including, Mara thought when she was finally alone, gossip. Who could have invented such a horrible story?

Or is it true?

Definitely not.

But Dare feared it.

It isn't true. It isn't!

He must be so anguished, but he had people to care for him. Salter, Feng Ruyuan.

She couldn't bear it. She climbed out of bed, put on her wrap, and left her room. As usual at such an hour, the house was silent, so she hurried along without fear of being caught. She wasn't sure she cared anyway.

She reached the door to the musician's gallery and opened it—to be met by silence. She stepped carefully up to the curtains and made a chink to look through. The ballroom was empty. Something was definitely wrong.

Mara left the gallery and went carefully down the dark stairs to the corridor with its occasional night lamps. She needed to see Dare, to know how he was, to help him if possible. She had the right by love, both hers and his.

She went to Mr. Feng's room and listened at the door, but heard no sound. She moved on to the door to Dare's bedroom and tapped, surprised by how little hesitation she felt. The door opened and she faced Dare's stone-faced man, Salter.

“Is Lord Darius here?”

“No, my lady.”

“He's with Mr. Feng?”

“No, my lady.”

“Then where is he?”

After a moment, he said, “I don't know, ma'am. He came up and changed. Then he disappeared.”

“This isn't good, is it?” She'd never spoken to Salter before, but she knew him to be a kindred spirit at this moment, a comrade-in-arms.

“No, ma'am. What happened?”

Mara stepped into the room and closed the door, then gave him a quick account of Almack's. “Could it be true?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

His eyes narrowed. “You're not?”

“I'm in love. I know what that does to a person's judgment.”

His grim face relaxed a bit. “It isn't true, ma'am. I've lived so close with Lord Darius this past eight months that I know him better than he knows himself. The mind's a funny thing and can invent a lot, especially under the influence of opium, but the truth is always there. There's none of that sort of cowardice in him. The mind can lie to itself, especially to try to bury shame, but only to a point. He has no memory of anything like that.”

“Have you told him that?”

“Haven't had the chance, have I?” Salter said.

“Where will he have gone?”

“I don't know, ma'am. We haven't had anything like this since we've been here.”

“We must search.”

“It's late, milady—”

“I can hardly sleep in this situation!”

Salter shook his head. “I mean, he's a long way from his last dose. There might be difficulties.”

“All the more urgency in finding him, then. Get Mr. Feng to look, too.”

She left the room and prowled the corridors, trying to sense Dare. Something turned her attention toward the upper floor. Dare wouldn't go to the children's quarters in distress, but she was pulled that way. She had to check.

As she'd suspected, the schoolroom was dark and deserted. She blew out her candle before carefully opening the door into the children's bedroom. By moonlight, she saw two beds, two sleeping children, and no one else.

The next door was closed and she realized there were sounds from within. Creaking floorboards, thumpings. Was Dare fighting Mr. Feng in there?

She eased open the door into an empty white room lit faintly by moonlight. Dare was in the room alone, like a ghost in his loose white clothing, bouncing from wall to wall, thumping the walls with his fists, not hard, but desperately.

Wary of startling him into hitting her, Mara said, “Dare?”

He froze, his back pressed to a wall, hands spread as if seeking something to clutch on to.

Cracked glass.

Fear made Mara tremble—fear of doing harm, a worse fear of being rejected, but she didn't feel she could leave him to go for help.

“Salter says it can't be true.”

“How can he know?” Perhaps she heard shivering in his faint voice.

“He seems to think he knows you very well. He's worried about you.”

“He's always worried about me. Everyone's worried about me. Apart from the people who are disgusted with me.”

She walked up to him. When he turned his head away, she gripped it between her hands and turned it back to face her.

“Someone spread a lie about you, Dare. You can't let them win like this. Perhaps this is what they want, for you to give up.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. The man in the first dance. The officer. Do you know him?”

“I can't remember….”

“Think!”

“Mara…” His legs buckled, so he slid to sit on the ground. “I can hardly breathe.”

She sank down with him and gathered him into her arms, discovering the faint tremble that ran through his entire body, and a cold sweat that had soaked the back of his clothes. By instinct, she held him as tightly as she could, rocking him as she might a child. “I love you. I believe in you. You're everything that is fine and admirable….”

He shook his head against her shoulder, but his hands clutched on to her like those of a drowning man.

“Yes,” she said. “Whoever did this cruel thing will live to regret it, word of a St. Bride.”

He mumbled something about devil's hair.

“Exactly. I know now why Simon fought a duel. If I find out who did this, I'll…I'll do something violent.”

He laughed, she thought, but the trembling hadn't stopped.

“You must come, Dare. To Salter and Feng Ruyuan, the ones who know what to do to help.” She grasped his arm and rose, doing her best to force him to his feet. He made it with help from the wall, breathing in sharp gasps.

“Are you in pain?”

“Of various sorts,” he breathed. “The mind is the worst. Nothing is right. Nothing is ever right.”

“Come,” she urged, trying to take his weight, though she had no hope of supporting him if he truly needed it. They made it to the door.

“Come,” she said again, steering him toward the stairs. She talked him down them, Dare balancing himself with a hand on the wall. “We'll get you to bed.”

At the bottom, they met Salter and Feng Ruyuan, probably summoned by the sound of her voice. Salter looked as if he'd take Dare in his arms, but Feng Ruyuan said, “You are late, Darius. Come.”

The words were quiet, but seemed to snap Dare out of a haze. He cast Mara an anguished look that might be a plea for help, but then staggered after the Chinese man.

Mara followed, but Salter grabbed her arm. “Begging your pardon, my lady, but you can't go there.”

She twitched free. “Oh, yes, I can.”

The ballroom doors were already closed when she reached them. She opened them and went in.

Dare was standing in that prayerful pose even though he swayed and trembled. Feng Ruyuan was speaking to him in a voice so soft that Mara could only catch words. Mind. Body. Control. Fear.

Then they began to move in synchrony, in flowing patterns. At first Dare moved like a broken toy and Mara wanted to protest. She fumbled her way to one of the upholstered chairs against the wall and sat, trying to lend Dare her strength.

In time something mended and he began to move almost as smoothly as Feng Ruyuan. There was a kind of sinuous beauty that reminded her of the most courtly dance, though it was like no dance she knew. She could tell that each slow step took strength, balance, and focus, especially as everything became more complex, involving turns and swoops.

Then Mr. Feng looked at her, even as he continued the patterns. He spoke to Dare, and while Dare continued, Mr. Feng beckoned her.

Mara felt a stupid urge to say, “Me?” But she stood and walked to the man.

“Like this,” he said, and demonstrated movements of the hands that swept them outward, one high, one low, then back around themselves and together again. When she had it, he nodded, and turned to match Dare's patterns.

Mara continued the movement, feeling a little silly, but eased by doing something.

Feng Ruyuan returned to her and showed her some steps. Forward, backward, and a turn. Mara found it difficult, especially in her long robe, but she would master this.

She tried to put the movements to music, but they fit no music she knew. She realized she needed to break free of her usual world in order to do this—and then it made sense. She slid into the flow and glanced at Feng Ruyuan. He smiled and showed her an additional step that formed a cycle so she could continue without pause.

It pleased. It soothed her mind, but not in the way of blanking it. More by elevating it like the best sort of prayer. She could see why this might help Dare to rise above torment and survive the night.

Then noises brought her back to earth and she stopped.

The men were fighting now as she'd seen them fight before. She recognized the patterns turned to violent force.

No, not violent. Just intense. The purpose was not to hit or hurt. That only happened if either made a mistake. The mistakes were always Dare's. When it happened, he paused, focused, and then picked up the patterns again.

Sweat poured off him now and his chest heaved so that Mara longed to cry halt, but she knew evil was pouring out of him with that sweat, and tormented thoughts were being vanquished. She simply sat again and tried to join her strength with his as he fought for his life.

They came to the point she'd witnessed before, when Feng Ruyuan called a halt and produced temptation. From her place, she could smell the opium, slightly sweet, slightly musty. Such a blessing when people were in pain, but such an evil when uncontrolled.

Dare was quivering, tension in every line of him, anguish in his face, and Mara longed to go to him. She understood that he had to fight this battle alone. He would always have to do this alone.

When the opium was brought close, his tremors became a violent shaking and his hands pushed together as if they'd break through each other. Mara bit her lips so as not to beg for him to take it, to find the peace it would bring. She closed her eyes and prayed that God give him strength and victory.

She heard the slight sound and opened her eyes. Feng Ruyuan had stepped back and was slipping the opium box out of sight. Dare still shook. Feng Ruyuan moved behind as he had before, and she could see now that he was massaging Dare's shoulders, hear that he was murmuring in a singsong that might be Chinese.

Then he led Dare stumbling away.

Mara was left sitting in the empty ballroom, surrounded by ghosts of labor and pain, but also by victory.
Thank you, God
. She rose, finding herself stiff, and left the room. She considered, but not for long, before going to Mr. Feng's room.

She knocked, marveling at herself, but sure of what she must do. There was no response, but she could hear something from inside. Music. Flowing flute music that matched the flowing patterns.

She opened the door.

Dare was lying on a narrow, high bed, his head turned away from her. He was naked. Feng Ruyuan was pummeling his oiled body in a way that looked painful, but Dare didn't complain. A woman sat nearby playing the flute.