Hester’s eyes filled again. “I would never think of shaming you, milady.”
“Nor would you ever do so.” Aunt Trudy embraced the poor maid. “You are of my household, Hester, and it is not my custom to desert my people in their hour of need. But where shall we send you when your condition can no longer be hidden?”
“Aunt Trudy?” Anthea said diffidently.
“Yes, child?” Aunt Trudy looked up. “She is your maid, after all, and you must accept some measure of the responsibility for her well-being. What can you recommend?”
“Send her home. To my home, I mean—to Windhaven.”
“The very thing!” Aunt Trudy clapped her hands. “None know you there, Hester, and heaven knows there’s need of you. The housekeeper is compassionate and gentle, I’ve seen to that—though she’s stern about duty, mind! Your secret would be safe there, and we can legitimately send you to see to your mistress’s affairs for several months—really, there wasn’t a single room in the house fit for a young lady, and you’ve wit enough to see to the transforming of a suite, Hester. The babe will be safe there—”
“Oh, yes! It was a wonderful place to grow up!—Your pardon, Aunt,” Anthea said, lowering her eyes.
“Given gladly,” Aunt Trudy replied. “There are tenant families who would be glad enough to have one more if there were a little money to help feed it, and if you’re minded to have the child adopted. However, there are also wetnurses available to tend it, if you don’t wish to give it up but have it reared in the manor. For you know, Hester, that we’ll expect you back in London within the year.”
“I would want nothing more, milady! Oh, thank you, milady!” And the tears flowed again, but this time it was Aunt Trudy who took the maid into her arms and risked water-spotting her gown.
* * *
Life proceeded at its normal, and rather dizzying, pace; Hester remained in attendance on Anthea, for it would be a few months more before her condition was so pronounced as to require her removal. Anthea found that there was a bond of sympathy established between herself and her maid now, and she felt free to confide in Hester, especially in regard to her feelings about her two foremost suitors. She did not explain, though, that she rather hoped neither of them would encounter Sir Roderick, for she didn’t believe Hester would be reassured to learn of the family ghost of Windhaven Manor just now. Besides, Sir Roderick had assured her that only family, or those extremely gifted with that Talent the Celts termed “fey,” could see him. There seemed little danger of that, though, for Sir Roderick had been oddly absent since the Season’s beginning. To be fair, Anthea would have had to admit that she hadn’t had time to chat with him, and he apparently didn’t want her to slacken her breakneck course.
Lord Delbert’s attentions became more and more ardent; he began to steal a kiss in the garden, and in the drawing room, when Aunt Trudy was absent—kisses that became longer, his tongue dancing lightly over her lips in a pattern that sent thrills coursing through Anthea’s whole body. She knew she should have slapped him, told him to desist—but was afraid that he might.
Mr. Crafter, on the other hand, was unhappily the soul of propriety—Anthea could have wished for the opportunity to compare his kisses with Lord Delbert’s. He did, however, spend more and more time looking soulfully into her eyes, and once, when she protested that a man of such broad experience and depth of learning should find an unlettered chit like herself to be boring, he assured her, “Nothing could be farther off the mark, Miss Gosling. You are astonishingly well-read for so young a lady, and have a lively and inquiring mind that entrances me.” Then his gaze sharpened in that disconcerting intensity of his. “But more—there is some quality about you that attracts me mightily, as the steel to the lodestone. You have some element of empathy that far exceeds that of most people, and I suspect you have an inordinate sensitivity which you are at pains to hide.” Anthea felt alarmed, and her face must have shown it, for he broke the tension with a puckish smile. “Besides, you’re the best opponent at chess I’ve had in many a year. Will you play?”
She would, but she found herself wishing that it had been another game to which he had invited her. She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she wished it.
It was Lord Delbert who named it, one night when Aunt Trudy was detained with the housekeeper. He pressed Anthea to him, kissed her far more passionately than ever before, then whispered, “I can no longer live without you—I must have all your favors at once, and for all my life! Run away with me tonight, to Gretna Green!”
And Anthea, to her shame, said yes.
Delbert swore her to silence, claiming that if Aunt Trudy knew of it she would prevent them for more months than he could stand—that he would positively wither away from unrequited love. Anthea doubted that, but she was as impatient as he for the wonders his presence promised, though she wasn’t certain what those wonders were; so she refrained from telling her aunt, though she felt dreadfully guilty in doing so.
But she had to tell Hester, of course. After all, she couldn’t have packed by herself.
* * *
Aunt Trudy had to attend the soiree, even though Anthea had a headache—it was, after all, a social obligation. As soon as she heard the carriage depart, Anthea was out of bed and changing into her travelling clothes. She felt horrible at deceiving Aunt Trudy, who had been so good and kind to her, but Love was master of all, and surely her aunt would understand when she came back wedded to one of the most eligible bachelors of the ton.
She and Hester dragged the portmanteaus down the back stairs. There, in the mews, was a carriage, with Lord Delbert, all smiles, right beside it. Anthea hesitated at the sight of the enclosed vehicle, knowing she would have no chaperone—but Lord Delbert swept her up in his arms, kissing her deeply, and the blood began to pound in her veins, and she knew that the love for him that ached in her breast was all that truly mattered.
Then they were in the coach, and Anthea caught a bare glimpse of Hester waving as they were whirled away. Then Delbert’s lips closed over hers again, and she could think of nothing else.
It was the most romantic evening of her life. Champagne and passion in a closed coach, kiss after kiss, growing more giddy and more silly as the miles passed. At some point in all the jesting and jollity, she mentioned how he would love Windhaven, as soon as it was restored. He seemed to still beside her then. “Restored? Is it so awfully run-down, then?”
“Oh, yes, and buried under a mountain of debt! But Aunt Trudy tells me that it will yield income again, in ten or twenty years.”
“But surely you will inherit from her when she dies.”
“Perhaps something, though I wouldn’t wish to claim it, she has been so wonderful to me already. But she has two sons and two daughters, so of course the bulk of her estate must go to them.” She suddenly realized what she was saying, and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “How silly of me, to discuss such mundane matters!”
“I am fascinated with every word that drops from your lips.”
Lord Delbert turned away; a cork popped, and liquid poured. It was a moment longer before he turned about again to offer her another glass. There was more champagne and more passion then, his kisses becoming ever more ardent—then a sudden unaccountable weariness came over Anthea.
“It is the strain and the excitement,” Lord Delbert soothed. “Sleep, my love. I would have you fresh and vivacious when we arrive at the first inn.” Then waves of sleepiness engulfed her, and Anthea drifted off into dreams of bliss.
Anthea, waken! came Sir Roderick’s voice in her mind. The dreams had become more and more carnal; she dreamed of lips pressed to her naked flesh, light fingers caressing her until she ached with longing. But Sir Roderick’s voice was commanding, and she wakened, though her head throbbed and the whole world seemed shrouded in fog. She wondered that the wine had been so strong—then realized that those light fingers were caressing her in more
than dreams, in the very life, far more intimately than they should, and Lord Delbert was gazing down at her with a smile of rapt delight—and not at her face. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and his face was flushed. She cried out in shock, and he looked up at her with a devilish grin. “Wakened so soon, my pretty? Well, that will only add spice to the adventure.”
“But, my lord ... Gretna Green ... can you not wait ... ?” Though part of Anthea wished he wouldn’t.
Delbert threw back his head and laughed, and there was a note of cruelty in that laughter. “Foolish girl, there will be no Gretna Green! What need have I, a lord, of a ceremony?”
Anthea stared, electrified. “But ... love ...”
“Say ‘money,’ rather. I’m ocean-deep in debt, silly wench, and needed a rich marriage to bail me out. The rumors said that you had estates—they mentioned nothing of debts! Still, if I cannot have relief of one kind from you, I’ll have another.”
“My lord!” she protested, flinching away—but his arm prevented her, circling behind her. “My aunt!” she cried. “Your reputation in the ton ...”
“And would you be foolish enough to speak of it? I assure you, none of your predecessors have! Though even if you did, what matter? I’m finished in London, anyway, if I can’t have a sea of silver right quickly. I shall have to leave to wander the Continent, so what matter Society now? Be sensible, wench, and lean back and enjoy it, for you’ll not have such another night again!”
She didn’t doubt that, though not as he’d meant it. She remembered the young women with stony faces, and realized, with horror, that she was about to join their ranks.
“Don’t tell me that you had no notion of this,” he said with a sneer, “for I could tell by your kiss that you had mind for one thing only.”
“I never had! Shame on you, sir, to think so of me!” Then Anthea realized that the motion of the coach had stopped, that it was still. “Where ...”
“On a country track far to the north of London, my dear, and the coachman has taken the horses far away. There will be none to disturb our lovemaking.”
“My lord, if you love me, you will wait!”
“Love?” Delbert’s lip curled in a cruel sneer. “What is love but the yearning of body for body? Don’t tell me that you haven’t felt it, my lass, for I’ve known the heat of your body and the pounding of your heart—here, even here.” The cupped hand tightened. “I know what kind of girl you are, Anthea, even if you do not—and your being here, alone in a closed coach with me, gives proof of it!”
“No!” she cried, trying to writhe away from him, but the arm that was curled about her tightened, holding her securely, as he laughed.
A delaying tactic, my dear. A wager, Sir Roderick’s voice said in her mind. A game of chess.
Anthea’s heart leaped to know she was not alone, though she blushed with shame at the thought of Lord Roderick’s witnessing her disgrace, and knew there was little he could do. But it was even as he said—the longer she could postpone the inevitable, the less inevitable it might become. “A wager, my lord! A game of chess! If you win, I shall not resist you—indeed, I shall surrender myself to the passions you claim to detect!”
“A wager?” Delbert drew back with a gleam in his eye. “That might add spice to the encounter. Chess, d’ye say? Foolish child, do you think you could best me?”
“It might heighten the pleasure, as you say,” Anthea said, her voice trembling.
Delbert heard; his grin widened. “And my forfeit, if—ha, ha!—I should lose?”
“Then you will let me go, my lord, unharmed and intact, and will say nothing of this night’s doings to anyone.”
Delbert frowned, but the gleam remained in his eye. “High stakes, but why not? I’ve played for higher. Where are your chess pieces?”
They were in her portmanteau, and she had them out in a trice, managing to rebutton her bodice as she did. She laid out the pieces, then began the longest game of her life—not merely because of the suspense or the stakes, but because, as Sir Roderick’s voice pointed out to her:
He will never let you go unmolested, even should you win. Your only hope is to prolong the game—the longer, the greater the possibility of rescue.
She saw the truth of it in the anger that flashed in Delbert’s eye when she took a pawn. Thereafter, she was careful to lose steadily, never taking a piece of his unless she had lost two of her own, but prolonging each capture as much as possible. Meantime, she tried to ignore the caresses of his voice as he described the pleasures she would experience when this opening game was over, and tried to fight against her body’s longing to surrender. Yet when she grew too distracted, Sir Roderick’s voice was ever there, counseling, pawn to queen’s knight six ... king’s bishop to queen’ s rook five... Beware of pawn take at queen’ s bishop four ...
Three hours passed, and Lord Delbert began to frown. In fear, Anthea sacrificed two pawns and a knight, though she had to call his attention to the latter. “This game tires me,” he growled ominously, and Anthea’s heart thudded, for she knew she dared not lose. She began to win, and Delbert to grow darker and darker of mood. Then, when he had only a rook and a knight left to his king, while she had two rooks and won her queen back, he snarled and threw over the board. “Witch! You could not have brought that to pass! Come here, and I will show you the glories of the path to your master!” And he surged toward her, hands outstretched.
Anthea screamed and threw herself at the coach door, knowing it was futile, that she could never wrench the latch open in time—but Sir Roderick had been at work, and the panel gave way. Delbert’s rush carried them both tumbling out of the carriage. Anthea fell clear and bruised her head, but Sir Roderick’s voice beat through her brain, and she found her body lifting from the ground. Run, child! As far and as fast as you can!
She had a brief glimpse of Lord Delbert, half in and half out of the coach, cursing and thrashing. Then she found her feet and was off, tripping and stumbling over the uneven ground of a springtime field. There were woods to her right, and the road, but she knew she dared not run on it, for he would surely be faster than she. Ahead rose low hills, and she dashed for their cover. If she could only last till dawn! Surely he would give over the chase when there was fear of discovery!
But she heard the pounding of his feet behind her, his snarling rage, then his sudden howl of fright. Glancing back, she saw the glowing suit of armor with sword uplifted, and heard Delbert yelling in horror. Roderick had made himself visible to Delbert. She saw no more, for she turned away and ran for her life. He might give over, daunted by the specter, but she doubted it; his passion and anger were such that he might very well overcome his fear, and seek her out still, defying the ghost.
Her breath was coming in ragged gasps, and she was more hobbling than running, when she finally came among the low hills. She stopped, swaying, seeking a hiding place, tempted to merely sink down against the nearest slope—but she heard Lord Delbert’s howls of anger, then his maniacal laugh of triumph. “Spirit of battle or spirit from bottle, what matter? You cannot harm me in either case!”
Then she heard the pounding of hoofbeats and a cry in the night—Delbert’s voice, in rage. She risked a look back and saw a horse and rider swooping out of the darkness, blocking her pursuer, the man leaning down to cuff Delbert aside.
“Crafter!” Delbert shouted furiously. “What in hell do you think you’re doing!”
“Punishing a rogue and a scoundrel,” Roman Crafter snapped.
Anthea was amazed at the cold hardness of his voice. “Get back to your coach and wait for your horses, Delbert, or you may not live to regret it!”
“Remember your station, you oaf!” Delbert roared. “Do you dare touch a man of the blood?”
“Station? You forget, Delbert—I’m American. We don’t believe in such things. Show me your quality with your deeds, not your birth.”
“That I will, in a trice!” Delbert bellowed. “Just get down off that damned horse, Crafter, and I’ll show you your place!”
Roman gave a low laugh that raised chills along Anthea’s spine—and leaped down from the horse.
With a roar of triumph, Delbert pulled a pistol from his belt and leveled it at Crafter’s head.
Then Anthea could not believe her eyes, for suddenly the pistol began to glow, a glow that brightened into a streak of white light that surged down Delbert’s arm toward his heart. He screamed and threw the pistol away, but the white light still clung to his arm, and a voice from nowhere rang out: Shall I kill him, young Roman?
Run, girl! Sir Roderick’s voice rang through her head. He has bought you time, but may yet pay with his blood! Flee!
Anthea did, turning and running, suddenly as frightened of Roman Crafter and whatever spirit accompanied him, as she was of Lord Delbert.
She knew that one or the other of them would be after her, no matter who won. In a panic, she looked about and saw a patch of deeper darkness against one of the hillsides. She hobbled to it with ragged, sobbing breaths, reached out—and felt the hillside give way into a low cave. Weeping with relief, she dropped to hands and knees and crawled in. There was still a chance Delbert might find her, but it was less than before.
Something glowed in the dark, something that stretched upward into a tall and glittering form.
Anthea cried out, and shrank back against the wall of the cave.
He stood in silhouette against an eldritch glow that seemed to come from the walls of the cavern itself, a tall, unnaturally thin man with silvered hair.
Anthea crouched rigid, staring up at him.
He lifted an arm in a bell-sleeve with a gold-embroidered cuff, beckoning.
The Crafters Book Two Page 16
