Christian lifted her once again and held her to his chest. "Allow me."
She was as still as a granite statue in his arms as he carried her back to the horses. "I stabbed him," she said softly.
He could hear the shock in her voice. “You did what you had to do. Could you see his face?" He adjusted her weight, pulling her a little closer and letting her soft curls rest on his cheek. She seemed fragile all of a sudden, and he didn't like that feeling. Since he'd met her, she'd been strong and challenging. He liked thinking of her that way. Needed her to stay that way.
"Not really." She finally laid her head on his shoulder as if the weight she was carrying was too much to bear at the moment. All too soon they reached the horses and it was time to let her go. He lifted her onto the saddle and waited until she was settled. “We'll find him.”
She stared down at him from atop the horse, determination in her gaze. "Next time we'll be ready.”
He liked that she used "we," but it twisted the guilt flowing through him at the same time. He nodded and reluctantly left her side to mount his own horse. Once he was in the saddle, he stayed within arm's reach of Alice the entire ride back to Langdon Park, making sure she didn’t jostle her injured foot.
Even though it was near dark, he couldn’t wait for her to change out of that torn and bloody dress. It only reminded him of how close she’d come to losing her life. Again. At the ball, she’d run toward danger, and this time, danger had run toward her. He’d been mere feet away both times, and both times he’d been unable to stop it. Whoever this was had caught Christian off-guard twice, and Alice had nearly paid with her life. That wouldn't happen again.
He looked over at her, with her back straight and hair falling around her waist. Her chin was raised, and she appeared as a warrior approaching the castle with her battle wounds. Yes, Alice Huntingdon was a fighter, and she was someone he’d fight beside.
Because together, he knew they could win.
Chapter Seven
ALICE BREATHED IN THE early morning air as the sun began its work of melting away the mist from the ground. The birds were singing in the trees, and the beauty of it all soothed her soul. The only thing to mar her view had been the gaping black hole where the tack room had once stood. At least the horses were safe and the grooms were able to keep the animals calm.
She’d tried to look in on the stable hand that had been stabbed last night, but the doctor had given him an extra dose of laudanum, so he was expected to sleep until later this afternoon. She’d hoped to be able to question him, but she had other areas to investigate while she waited. After finding her favorite horse, Dolly, and feeding her the apple she’d brought, Alice took the time to brush her down before their ride. It was time well spent that was therapeutic for both of them, and something Alice desperately needed.
In addition to the events of last night, Alice had received news this morning that her best friend Elizabeth would be unable to attend the house party. Her father had chosen a man for her to marry and was requiring her to stay in London for the entire courtship. Worry for Elizabeth had immediately washed over Alice. Elizabeth’s father wasn’t kind and the chance was high that he’d chosen a man who wouldn’t ever hold his daughter’s heart. Alice wanted to hurry back to London and support her friend, but finding that list of agent names before it was sold was her first priority. With a deep sigh, Alice stepped on the mounting block and settled herself in the saddle. The moment she could go to Elizabeth, she would.
She rolled her neck as Dolly walked down the path that led to the wood. She was still sore from being attacked last night. Even after a long, hot bath before bed, her muscles had protested when she’d gotten up this morning. Her ankle still pained her, but not as badly as last night. At least she could put some weight on it today. Lacing her half boot up tighter than normal seemed to help. Now she wanted to go back to the wood and see if the man had left behind a clue to his identity.
Spurring Dolly into a gallop across the slope of the park, she only slowed when they reached the edge. When the thunder of hoofbeats sounded behind her, she turned, unsurprised to see Christian. He quickly caught up, his hair windblown and a grin on his face. “I didn’t think to see you up and about so early, my lady.”
“You think me a slug-a-bed?” She tilted her head in her horse’s direction. “I don’t think Dolly would forgive me if I missed our morning ride.”
“She is a beautiful horse.” He leaned forward in the saddle. “Though I was thoroughly impressed by the mount your stable master chose for me today. Did your father name him?”
“No, but the duke finds it comical to be outranked by a horse.” Alice smiled. “He usually rides Prince himself.”
“I hope he won’t mind that I borrowed him.” Christian patted the horse’s neck and Prince snorted as if giving his consent.
“I’m sure he won’t.” Alice took a moment to admire how Christian sat a horse, strong and confident, his broad shoulders as powerful as the horse’s beneath him― as if he was born to ride.
He looked over at her and she felt a flush creeping up her cheeks. His lips curved, and Alice was grateful he was not a mind reader.
“Might I inquire as to where your groom is, my lady? I’m sure your father doesn’t allow you to ride without an escort.” Christian turned as if a chaperone would appear like a wraith in the mist.
Alice looked over at him, amused at his antics. “Don’t worry, my lord, I am safe from anyone who has designs on my person. Henry, my groom, is never far behind, and he generally keeps me in view. He doesn’t like to intrude, so he stays a respectable distance behind.”
Christian frowned and his brows drew together, all merriment fleeing at her words. “Is that safe? Especially now with the case we’re working on directly targeting agents. If something happened, he might not be close enough to help you.”
Alice tightened her grip on the reins. “I’m not going far, and I’m armed.”
He cocked his head and slowly looked over her person. Alice fought the urge to squirm under his gaze and raised her chin at his perusal.
“Would it be improper to ask where you are hiding the weapon?” he finally said with a broad grin.
“Yes, it would.” The corners of her mouth lifted as he carefully looked over her riding habit one more time. She’d altered all her clothing to conceal a knife sheathed at her waist, but it was very hard to spot. Not that Christian wasn’t trying. He could be quite incorrigible.
Her smile faded, though, when she looked ahead to the little wooded area in front of them. She took a breath to calm her heart. “If I were to guess, we are both out here for the same reason.”
Christian followed her gaze. “I believe so.” He dismounted and came to her side. “May I help you down, my lady?”
“If you would, please.”
He reached up, settling his hands around her waist before he helped her to the ground. “You’re hoping there’s a clue to the man’s identity that we couldn’t see in the darkness of the trees last night.”
“Yes.” Her tongue seemed thick, and she shook out her skirts to cover how disconcerted she was by his closeness. His now-familiar scent of bergamot and mint filled her nostrils, and she could feel the warmth of his body through her riding habit. His nearness multiplied the few butterflies she’d already been dealing with into a rioting mob of them.
Quickly stepping away, she busied herself with tying Dolly’s reins to a nearby tree. “Stay here, girl,” she murmured as Dolly inspected the grass below her. “I won’t be long.”
Christian did the same for his horse and they walked into the woods together. The familiar trees looked different in the daylight, with sunshine filtering through the branches. She’d walked these woods as a girl, climbing the trees and finding all the best hiding places. But last night had changed things.
Her stomach tightened, remembering the attacker’s hands reaching for her throat, the feel of the knife piercing his shoulder. The truth was, she’d hardly been
able to sleep last night, going over the scene again and again in her mind. Yes, she’d been trained in how to use knives, daggers, and swords, but that was the first time she’d actually stabbed someone to save her own life. The experience had shaken her far more than she’d thought possible.
She could feel Christian’s gaze on her. Wanting to appear unaffected so he wouldn’t think her unequal to the task ahead, she took a deep breath and kept moving forward. The broken branches and flattened grasses clearly showed where she had been tackled. Pushing down the memory, she walked closer and bent down to see if anything had fallen out of the man’s pockets or if any clues had been left behind. Christian crouched beside her.
“You hide your emotions well, but you don't need to when you're with me,” he said softly. “I know that what happened last night was . . . difficult.”
“I'm conducting an investigation.” Despite the turmoil inside, Alice was able to keep her voice level. If she spoke of her innermost feelings, she might cry. That would lead to a discussion she’d heard often among male counterparts― that women belonged in the home and not in the field. She couldn’t bear to hear Christian say she shouldn’t do her job. She had to appear professional.
There was a streak of blood on the grass, but no obvious blood trail. Standing, she took a step toward the bushes straight ahead. The scratches on her arms attested to those brambles being the ones she’d gotten caught in. If only she’d had her gloves, her skin would have been better protected. But she hadn't put them back on before she’d joined the search party. Her hands instinctively rubbed her arms, as if she were cold.
Christian was right behind her, and she was aware of his every movement. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Alice.”
He said her given name so intimately, as if he had the right to use it. His voice wove a spell of security around her. His presence filled the spaces, the holes that fear had drilled into her heart. How did he know exactly what she needed? Maybe he was different. Maybe she really could trust him.
She turned to face him and took his hand in hers, drawing it down between them, intertwining their fingers. “I’m well.”
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the back of it, keeping his eyes on hers. “I believe you.”
Just moments ago she’d wished to have her gloves on last night, but at the moment she wished her hands were gloveless. His kiss had sparked tingles all the way up her arm.
She stood speechless for another heartbeat, watching him, hearing his words echo through her mind and heart. He believed her. Believed in her. “Thank you.”
He let out a breath, seemingly as affected at the emotions swirling around them as she was. His voice was low and sure. “You know, if you’d been in the army, you would have had the commiseration of every officer around you to help you get through this. The bond between you would have become unbreakable when you shared what happened. Once you experience battle together, you become part of a unique circle of brotherhood that can be a shelter and protection.”
He’d stepped closer, the buttons on his jacket nearly touching the front of her riding habit. Alice’s heart sped up at the way he looked at her. “But I’m not a man, so I couldn’t be part of a brotherhood, my lord,” she said, a trifle breathless.
“At this moment, I’m grateful you’re not a man.” He lifted his hand and touched her cheek, letting it trail down her jaw. “I want you to be in my circle, Alice. Let me help shoulder your burden.”
Their connection stretched and pulled between them, beckoning her to lean on his strength and coaxing her to share. “Have you ever . . . stabbed someone?” she asked softly, looking up at him.
“Yes.” His face was solemn. Even the birds stopped singing, as if they were all holding their breath to hear his answer. “I’d been sent near the frontline for my first battle, and I saw the man’s face in my dreams for a month. But I did what I had to do to survive, just as you did last night.”
Tears pricked the back of her eyelids, but she pressed them closed. She would not cry. “I’ve practiced and trained, but I wasn’t prepared to feel a knife puncture flesh at my own hand.” She touched her throat, feeling her attacker’s fingers there once more. “He had quite large hands.”
Christian’s jaw clenched before he reached out to capture her hand in his. “Your training was superb, Alice. Pearce was also a trained agent, one of the best. He was stabbed, but you weren’t. That’s something to be proud of, though not many people will ever be privileged to know of it.”
“Yes, that isn’t a topic I can broach at a morning call. Such a thing would definitely set tongues to wagging.” She smiled at the very idea. It felt good to be with him and discuss things she’d only ever talked about with her father.
“I hope you know you can talk about it with me. Anytime.” He set his hands on her shoulders. Though he was standing a little closer than propriety demanded, Alice didn’t step away. She had to admit, the look in his eyes gave her an extra bit of confidence that she hadn’t known she lacked.
Christian cleared his throat. “I was thinking last night that with all that you’ve been through recently, you must have a variety of colorful bruises on your person. You fell on the terrace at the ball, and then the fall last evening as well.” He tilted his head and let his fingers lightly brush down her arms and back to her shoulders, and she shivered at his touch. “And yet here you are, out in the woods, investigating.”
Alice was determined to keep her equilibrium while he was near, but she had to admit it was more difficult than she’d thought. Her hand went instinctively to her hip. “I do have some bruises, yes, but I believe it highly improper to speak of them. Luckily my maid has a poultice that draws out the pain.” She smiled and motioned toward his temple. “And since we’re asking improper questions about injuries, I’ve been wondering, did you receive your scars in a knife fight?”
He lifted a hand and touched the now-white scars near his ear. “Yes. A surprise attack. I moved just in time to avoid my throat being sliced and got these instead.”
She winced. That had been awfully close then. “You were lucky not to have been killed.”
“Very.” He ran a hand over his jaw. “The scars are so faded now, I’m surprised you noticed them.” He arched a brow. “And mentioned it out loud.”
She pulled her shoulders to her ears and winced a little. “Yes, I know. My mother would give me an hour-long comportment lecture if she knew I mentioned a war hero’s scar in conversation, but as we are throwing all polite conversation topics to the wind today, I had to satisfy my curiosity.” She shouldn’t be asking these questions, but she couldn't stop herself. And it had been a welcome distraction from remembering the details of the stabbing.
“I seem to recall warning you about how dangerous curiosity can be.” He shook his head, a suitably mournful expression on his face. “I didn’t think you heeded me then.”
“You’re right, I didn’t.” She laughed. “My governess encouraged curiosity. She said it was the foundation of learning. And I am always learning, therefore I am always curious. I couldn’t stop it any more than I could reverse the direction of the Thames.”
He groaned aloud, but she knew he wasn't serious. Facing the bramble, she felt lighter, the heavy emotions gone. She had Christian to thank for that.
When she pushed forward, she saw a small piece of black fabric on one of the branches and stepped closer. After she plucked it off, Alice turned to show it to Christian. Rubbing it between her fingers, she made an assessment. “The man last night was dressed in black, so this most likely belongs to him. It’s not a coarse fabric. Possibly lawn or cambric.”
“So he has fine clothing.” Christian pushed the frontmost branch away to get to something a little farther in the bush. “And he has blonde hair.” He held up some strands of hair to the sunlight.
Alice sighed inwardly. The clues were leading in one direction only.
“From the look on your face, I know you’re thinking it,
so I’ll just say it. Pembroke has blonde hair and fine clothing. His claims of sleeping through the stable fire are ludicrous at best. He could have easily been the arsonist last night, or at least an accomplice.”
He was right, but she couldn’t believe it. Pembroke had been sincere when she’d questioned him about Thomas. “This is all very circumstantial. Half the men in England have blonde hair and fine clothing.”
“But half of England aren’t suspects in our case.” He looked down at her, his eyes searching. “Why do you want him to be innocent?”
“Why do you want him to be guilty?” she countered. With a shake of her head, she fixed her gaze on the bush and sighed. “I haven’t drawn any conclusions, not really. I just want to have more proof than a few hairs and a piece of black fabric.”
“We’ve got more proof than that.” He held up his fingers and started counting off. “He was at the ball when the gunman was in the garden. He was there when the stables were set on fire. And it’s possible he attacked you last night. You didn’t see his face, but did you recognize his build? Or his voice?” Christian bent his head to look at the bush with her again. There wasn’t anything else. Alice turned away.
“It all happened so fast. He had me on the ground. I felt the tip of his knife on my neck and tried to twist it out of his hand. He was choking me. I stabbed him. Then you were there.” She tried to remember any other details. “He was taller than I, but I can’t say if he was Pembroke’s size. And if it was him last night, he didn’t receive any wound treatment from our servants or staff. We would have heard about it.”
“He could have hidden that.” Christian scanned the other trees nearby. “We’ll get more information. We’ve still got a little time to prove it’s him.”
They walked back to the horses. Alice was glad to leave the scene behind. “Are you looking forward to the picnic?” she asked, hoping to change the subject. “It should be diverting.”
“I’m sure it will be,” he said, swishing a stick through the overgrowth at their feet. “But the novelty of eating outside was ruined for me by the army.”
The Marquess Meets His Match Page 6
