“What the devil are you about woman? Where is Miss Hawkins?”
“You’re too late.” The woman twisted to look him square in the eye. Desperation was more dangerous than loyalty to a cause. “She will be dead soon enough.”
“Where is she?” When the woman only mashed her lips together, Garrick pulled a second knife from under his jacket, squat on his haunches, and pressed the tip under her chin. “Do not try me, woman. Tell me, and you may yet live to see another day.”
Fear flickered like the firelight over her face, gone before Garrick was sure. Finally, she said, “My brother has taken her to the ravine, but you are too late.”
Garrick didn’t hesitate a moment longer. He ran for the woods in direction of the ravine, picking up the trail of a single man. His habit of reconnoitering new surroundings might prove the difference between Victoria’s life and death.
No smaller set of prints was visible, which meant the man was likely carrying Victoria. He didn’t allow himself to dwell on why. The extra burden would slow their progress, giving Garrick a chance. And a chance was all he needed.
Movement through the trees had him slowing. It was a man carrying a body over his shoulder. Victoria’s glossy black curls bounced with his every step. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she squirmed a little in the man’s hold, a breathy moan carrying through the trees.
Garrick let out a steadying breath. She was alive. That’s all that mattered. He stalked the man as swiftly and silently as a cat. The coarse rope binding her hands was tight, and her movements became more pronounced. The man grunted and did something to her leg that caused her to rear up in pain. She drew in a breath, looking prepared to release it in another scream when their gazes clashed and held.
She held her scream at bay, instead speaking in a hoarse voice, but not to him. “Let me go and tell your sister I’m dead.”
“You’d bring hell down upon us. No. This was my mistake, and I must fix it.”
Garrick bared his teeth and closed the distance by another six feet. Hell was coming for the man whether he chose to do the right thing or not.
“Have you ever killed anyone?” she asked.
“I’ve done plenty, girl. Tossing you over a cliff won’t keep me up at night.” His voice didn’t contain nearly the same confidence of his words. The man might be a bruiser used to navigating Seven Dials, but he wasn’t a killer. Not yet, at any rate.
“My death will not be the end of this, you know.”
The conversation, as bleak as it was, was masking Garrick’s approach. Victoria knew this, and Garrick almost smiled. Her quick wits and bravery had never been in question.
“You don’t understand,” the man said mulishly.
“Then help me understand, John.”
“My sister could have left me to fend for myself. She could have sold me to a sweeper. If she hadn’t had me to care for, she could have found a respectable position in a house. Instead, she— Well, I’ll do anything for her. Anything.”
Winter sunlight filtered through the thinning trees. The edge of the ravine was ahead. Garrick clutched the knife and made his move. It took only five long strides to reach Victoria. He slammed his shoulder into the man’s arm and sent him reeling to the side.
Victoria tumbled to the ground with a grunt. Garrick forced himself not to glance in her direction. If the man happened to kill Garrick, she would be next. John swung a meaty fist around. Garrick dipped to the right, but the punch caught the edge of his jaw. Pain exploded.
The man was on Garrick before he fully recovered, grappling for the knife. Garrick broke the hold John had on his wrist and stabbed upward. The point met flesh, and Garrick drove the knife deeper. John’s eyes widened, and his grip loosened. He staggered backward into a tree and slid to the ground, still propped against the trunk, his legs splayed wide.
Breathing hard, Garrick watched the life leak from the man, then he shook himself free of the icy fury that held him in its grip. Victoria lay on her stomach, her hair out of its pins and in her face.
Garrick fell to his knees and helped her to sit, brushing her hair back with a shaking hand. A bruise was forming on her temple, and she was scratched and dirty, but she appeared otherwise unharmed.
“My arms. Can you cut me loose?” Her pain reverberated to him.
Garrick returned to the dead man, pulled the knife free and wiped the blood off as best he could on the dead leaves at his feet. He sawed through the rope binding her wrists. As it began to give and her arms moved, she groaned.
“Easy now. Let me help,” he said softly, chafing her arms. “How are your hands?”
“I’m not sure. I can’t feel them.”
He peeled off her gloves and found her hands swollen and unnaturally white. “I’m afraid this is going to be deuced uncomfortable.”
He rubbed her hands between his, stimulating blood flow and offering her his warmth. She bit her bottom lip and grimaced, but didn’t cry out. After several minutes of his ministrations, her hands had turned pink, and she could open and close her fingers.
“John is dead?” It was a surprise to hear a hint of grief in her voice.
Garrick glanced over his shoulder. “He is. Are you sorry I killed him?”
“I suppose a quick death is better than the spectacle of being hanged.” She looked to where their hands were clasped together. “I do feel sorry for him though. Does that make me weak?”
“It makes you human. Do you reserve the same sympathy for Mrs. Leighton?”
“Did you… kill her also?”
“No. I spoke to her briefly to ascertain your whereabouts, but my guess is your father has her in custody.”
“I was scared,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her.
“I was too,” he admitted.
Her gaze darted up. “I didn’t think anything could rattle you.”
“Losing you could.” He took a deep breath, wanting to say more but knowing he shouldn’t. “Let’s get you back to the house and into a bath.”
He rose and helped Victoria to her feet. She swayed, and her face paled. Before she could slide back to the ground, Garrick wrapped an arm around her and brought her to his body.
“I’m so dizzy.” Her voice was muffled against his shoulder.
“No wonder, considering you were hauled upside down over a man’s shoulder like a sack of grain.” He scooped her into his arms and picked his way through the trees. “That knock on your head isn’t helping matters. I’ll make certain you are examined by a physician.”
She rested her head on his shoulder and trembled in his arms. “I was a mistake.”
“Pardon?”
“A mistake. They meant to abduct Eleanor from the Bear and the Crown, not me. It was never a plot involving Father.”
“Why Lady Eleanor?”
“Mrs. Leighton is in love with Lord Berkwith and thought to eliminate her competition.”
“That was an extremely risky, not to mention foolish, plan.”
“She was desperate. Her hands are arthritic. She won’t be able to carry on as a milliner for much longer.”
Garrick didn’t say what he was thinking. No matter the state of her hands, Mrs. Leighton wouldn’t make another bonnet.
“Will they show mercy?” she asked.
Garrick wasn’t sure who “they” referred to. Sir Hawkins? The magistrate? Garrick felt none of the compassion Victoria struggled with. Mrs. Leighton had sentenced Victoria to die. “She’ll get what she deserves.”
The woods were growing sparser, and a dark gray tower of the house came into view. Victoria had gone limp in his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder. He shook her slightly, and she roused, her eyes heavy-lidded.
“You can’t go to sleep, sweetheart.”
“But I’m so tired.”
“I know, but it could be dangerous.” Head wounds were tricky and unpredictable. He lengthened his stride and ignored the burn in his shoulders and arms. He would carry her back to London if
he must.
She touched his cheek, drawing his gaze to hers. “Am I truly your sweetheart?”
The terror and fury of the past hour had stripped away any pretense. “You’re my love. My life.”
She blinked slowly and smiled before slipping back into a stupor. A shot of fear quickened his steps. He cleared the trees and jogged across the lawn toward the front of the house.
A footman met him on the graveled drive. “Sir! Is that the missing lady?”
Garrick was out of breath. “Summon a physician. Bring hot water, clean cloth, and smelling salts to Miss Hawkins’s room. Find her father, Sir Hawkins, and send him up.”
The footman nodded and scampered off. Garrick clattered into the house. Several ladies emerged from the drawing room, Lady Eleanor included.
“Oh, Victoria!” Lady Eleanor cried before half collapsing in her mother’s arms. “I must see her.”
Garrick had not the time nor patience to deal with hysterical young women. He ignored the crowd and took the steps two at a time, finally reaching Victoria’s room. He lay her on the bed and made a quick examination of her head. The contusion was swelling outward, which he knew from experience was a positive sign.
A wide-eyed maid hustled in with a basin of steamy water, clean white linen, and a kit with a small supply of medicines. She set it on the stand next to the bed. Garrick nodded his thanks and uncorked the smelling salts.
One pass of the vial under Victoria’s nose roused her. She took his wrist and pushed the vial away, but didn’t immediately release him. Her grip was reassuringly strong. “Where am I?”
“In your room at Barclay Manor. You’re safe.”
“I was safe the moment you found me.”
Her words were like arrows shot straight into his heart. He had survived loss, and he would survive losing her, but he would walk the earth a ghost. Victoria would always have the best of him.
The door banged open, and Sir and Lady Hawkins strode toward the bed. Garrick extricated himself and stepped aside, stoppering the smelling salts.
“My darling girl.” Lady Hawkins sat on the edge of the bed and kissed Victoria’s cheek.
Sir Hawkins joined Garrick. “We found the woman. What happened to the brother?”
“You’ll find his body at the edge of the ravine to the west of the estate.”
Sir Hawkins inhaled sharply. “We’ll retrieve it. Good work.”
“Taking Victoria was an error, sir. They wanted Lady Eleanor from the start.”
“I gathered as much from the woman’s rambling.” Sir Hawkins chuffed. It wasn’t a laugh but a sound full of irony. “I’ve always feared someone would exact revenge because of what I have done. I never imagined danger coming from a different source.”
“Victoria is safe now.”
Lady Hawkins was doing most of the talking, but Victoria had propped herself on the pillows and was answering in a whisper.
“She’ll recover,” Garrick added.
“Thanks to you, lad.” Sir Hawkins clapped him on the shoulder and went to join his wife at Victoria’s bedside.
Garrick had been dismissed as any servant would be. He backed toward the door. All the fear and fury of the day had drained away, leaving him bereft of any emotion. The emptiness threatened to drag him under. He’d only felt this way one other time. After his parents had died and the village shunned him. He’d survived that heartbreak. He would survive this one too.
But not without getting rip-roaring drunk.
Victoria’s quiet voice stopped him with his hand on the latch of the door. “Thomas, don’t go. Stay with me.”
He turned around. Victoria held a hand out to him, parting Sir and Lady Hawkins, who had shifted to stare at him with very different expressions. Sir Hawkins with a contemplative purse of his lips, and Lady Hawkins with a disapproving frown. Garrick went to Victoria, taking her hand. It was still chilled. He rubbed it gently between his hands.
Victoria smiled up at him. “I want Thomas by my side.”
Lady Hawkins made a scoffing sound. “I will stay with you as long as you need, darling. I’m sure Garrick has other duties to attend.”
Victoria laughed, then winced, and touched her bruised temple. “You misunderstand me.”
“You have had a shock and should rest while we wait on the physician to arrive. No need to speak of things you may regret.” Lady Hawkins took Victoria’s wrist and pulled her hand free of Garrick’s hold.
“Oh, Mother,” Victoria said in a voice laced with both sadness and humor.
“Victoria is in love with Garrick, Agatha,” Sir Hawkins said. “And based on my observations, the feeling is mutual.”
Garrick started around to face his benefactor and employer and mentor. As usual, Sir Hawkins’s face gave no hint as to his thoughts or feelings on the matter. He could very well be imagining running Garrick through with a sword.
“How long have you known, sir?” Shock roughened Garrick’s voice.
Sir Hawkins waved his hand about. “For years now. Of course, I recognized Victoria was besotted with you as a young girl, but it was only after her debut and none of the gentlemen sparked her interest that I realized her feelings were well and truly fixed on you.”
Lady Hawkins plopped on the edge of the bed. “This is outrageous. You must send the young man away, Harold.”
Sir Hawkins linked his hands behind his back and rocked slightly on his feet. “And you believe that will solve the problem?”
“Once Victoria is married to Lord Percival—”
“Never.” Victoria sounded like her father, decisive and unyielding. “I love Thomas. I’ve loved him for as long as I can remember. I will marry him or no one. If, that is, he will have me?”
She glanced at him through her lashes, and his knees wobbled. If her parents weren’t watching them—Lady Hawkins with daggers in her eyes and Sir Hawkins more thoughtfully—he would climb in bed with her, take her in his arms, and remain that way the rest of the day and night.
Instead, he lay a hand over his heart as if he could rip it out and offer it to her. “I’ve always wanted you. I will do anything and everything in my power to protect you.”
“If you want to protect her, you should allow her to marry someone more suitable,” Lady Hawkins said through clenched teeth.
Sir Hawkins’s eyebrows quirked up. “I believe Garrick would be eminently suitable for Victoria.”
“But the boy is an orphan with no prospects!”
Garrick finally understood. Sir Hawkins hadn’t been trying to push him out, but set him up for this moment. “I am a man, not a boy, and I will be able to provide for Victoria, perhaps not as a peer might, but we will be comfortable.”
“Garrick will be working directly for the Home Office starting in the new year. It is an important position, and he will be well compensated. His ascension has been no different than mine, and I was good enough for you, Agatha.”
Lady Hawkins continued to ignore Garrick. “But you gained a knighthood and accolades and—”
“Stop, Mother.” Victoria pushed herself to sitting and propped herself on a mound of pillows. “I will marry Thomas. My decision is final.”
Lady Hawkins’s mouth pinched shut, then she spun around and stalked out the door.
Sir Hawkins sighed and patted Victoria’s hand. “She’ll come around. I’ve had a bit more time—years, in fact—to come to terms with what I deemed a likely future.”
“Sir, I should have formally asked for Victoria’s hand and—”
“You have my blessing, of course.” Sir Hawkins looked to the fire in the grate, a pained expression flashing. “Is a speedy marriage necessary?”
Victoria and Garrick exchanged a glance. Color flooded her face. Heat radiated off his neck, and he knew his cheeks were similarly red. Did they have no secrets left? He supposed this is what came from conducting a love affair under the nose of a spymaster.
“Ah, yes. I believe a special license would be wise, sir.”
/> Sir Hawkins made a sound of agreement. “The physician will be here soon. I shall leave the two of you alone, but the door remains open. Is that understood?”
Victoria and Garrick spoke at the same time. “Yes, sir.”
When they were finally alone, Garrick perched on the edge of the bed and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. She grabbed it and pressed a kiss to his palm.
“That was the most courageous thing I’ve ever witnessed,” he murmured.
“Getting myself abducted?” she asked quizzically.
“Standing up to your mother. For me. I’m humbled, and I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t regret the decision.”
“The only regret I have is not declaring myself earlier.”
Garrick chuckled. “If I’d had any hope of being welcomed as an acceptable suitor, I would have offered myself two years ago. The time we’ve wasted.”
“No, not wasted. It happened just as it should have.” She drew him closer and snuggled into his chest. “Now tell me about this opportunity at the Home Office.”
He half reclined, propping one leg on the bed and leaving the other on the floor. He wasn’t sure if that was enough to appease the laws of propriety or not, but they had already broken so many he decided it didn’t matter. “Your father informed me yesterday I’m to transition into a new position. I assumed he was fobbing me off because he’d become aware of my inappropriate feelings for you.”
“It seems it was just the opposite.” She yawned.
“That he’s known for so long…” Garrick shook his head in wonder at the twists and turns. Every life was full of hope and hardship and joy. Sometimes at the same time, and sometimes one grew out of another. He and Victoria would no doubt encounter hardships, but they would face them together. It had been a long time since he wasn’t alone.
A knock on the doorjamb had Garrick bolting off the bed. A portly man with steel-gray hair and side whiskers came inside carrying a black bag. “Miss Hawkins. My name is Dr. Calhoun. I hear you’ve had quite an adventure.”
Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1) Page 141
