To Wed in Scandal (A Scandal in London Novel)

by Liana Lefey

  She knew Henry meant it. And, as he was the one holding the weapon at the moment, there was nothing Fairford could do but concede.

  “I would not dream of it,” said he. “Only have the simple manners to allow the lady to make her own decision regarding whether to go with you or to remain here with me.” He turned to her, holding out a hand. “Sabrina?”

  “I will go with Lord Montgomery,” she answered, drawing closer to Henry.

  Fairford’s brows drew together. “With this…this madman? But why? I thought you wished to marry me?”

  “Be—”

  “Because there are no fitting words to describe the sort of twisted, cowardly animal you are,” interjected Henry.

  “Cowardly? Who is the one pointing the gun at an unarmed man?” shouted Fairford, plainly hoping to garner the sympathies of those gathering behind him in the hall. “Sabrina, don’t listen to this raving lunatic. Come with me and let us have done with this nonsense!”

  “I know about the girl,” snarled Henry.

  Fairford paused for a moment, then: “Girl? What girl?”

  “The French girl you bought from Madam Boucher.”

  She watched the other man freeze into damning stillness.

  “If you come after us,” said Henry, “if you give us any sort of trouble at all, I will publicly expose you for what you really are, right before I personally relocate your vitals.”

  Swallowing nervously, the other man nodded.

  “Now, move back,” commanded Henry, keeping the gun leveled at his enemy’s gut.

  Fairford did as ordered, backing up until he was completely out of the room.

  The moment the people in the hall saw the gun, they wisely chose to disappear back into their rooms.

  Henry thrust her behind him when they reached the stair. “Go outside and wait for me. I’ll be right there. I really wouldn’t advise coming after us,” he said, again addressing Fairford. “Not unless you like the idea of a hole in your belly.”

  When she reached the bottom, she stopped and watched as Henry slowly backed down, keeping the gun trained on his target. As he joined her, she whispered a quick warning about the valet in the stables.

  “Then I’m afraid we’ll have to ride double for a while,” he replied.

  They moved quickly across the dark yard, avoiding the stables. Just as they reached the middle, however, a shout sounded from the inn, and Sabrina turned to see a shadow at her window, which was still open.

  A heartbeat later, she saw a flash and heard a shot ring out. She screamed over the neighing of the horses in the stables as Henry lifted his weapon and returned fire. “Go!” he shouted, hurrying her toward the woods.

  He found his horse, and they quickly mounted and fled.

  “Wait!” she cried, thinking of the bundle she’d thrown in the yard. “Go back! My things—I’ve money and clothing, and my boots! I threw them down before you came in and—”

  “Leave it!” yelled Henry over the wind.

  “But I’m barefoot!”

  “It’s not worth getting shot over. We’ll be back in London by midmorning, and you can worry about shoes then. Now be quiet so I can listen for pursuit.”

  His anger was deserved, every bit of it and more.

  Her tired mind simply couldn’t push beyond the moment, and her heart was reluctant to even try now that Henry was here. Instead, she leaned into him, savoring the solid warmth of his broad chest against her back.

  Though it was early May, her bare feet were like ice. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was that he was here, and that the distance between her and hell grew with every second that passed.

  The moon rode high between racks of clouds, peeking down at the fugitives every few minutes, along with the occasional glimmering star. Utterly drained, she drifted into a state on the very edge of slumber. Reality seemed very far away as they galloped along the dull ribbon of the road winding between the hills.

  AS SOON AS he was certain she was asleep, Henry gradually turned his horse in a long, smooth arc until they were headed back northwest. Giving Leeds a wide berth, he passed through Armley, crossed the river at the shallows of Kirkstall Ford, and headed for the Dales.

  He would like to have shot Fairford and ended matters there, but the blackguard had been unarmed and there were too many witnesses. It wouldn’t serve him to rescue Sabrina only to hang for murdering a murderer.

  Scotland was the only viable solution. There would be a pursuit, of that he had no doubt. With any luck, his enemy would assume they’d headed straight back to London and try to catch them on the southerly road. With his man at his side, the odds were in Fairford’s favor, should they be caught.

  Dawn tinged the east with deepest cobalt. Slowly, it spread and lightened until a streak of deepest rose broke through at the horizon.

  He sniffed the air. The clouds scudding across the sky had a look of rain about them. He prayed it would hold off for a little longer. As they neared Hawes, he let his tired horse slow to a walk.

  The change of pace along with the encroaching light awakened Sabrina. “Where are we?” she mumbled roughly, blinking up at the turbulent sky.

  “We’re going to have to change horses here. You’d best get down and have a stretch of the legs while you can when we stop.”

  “I can’t,” she grumbled. “I have no shoes, remember?”

  “I’ll try to purchase some in the village,” he promised. “For the right price, I’m sure someone will have something suitable.”

  Cresting a low hill, they paused briefly to gaze down at the little hamlet spread out below. All was quiet and still as its denizens slept in the predawn silence before the cock’s crow.

  They picked their way down, and he stopped them in front of an inn, dismounted, and helped her down, spreading his cloak over the grass to keep the dust from her feet. “I’ll speak with the proprietor and see where we might be able to purchase some shoes, as well as arrange for a new mount. Wait here for me.”

  Sabrina stretched and winced, longing for a soft bed, not to mention something to silence the rumbling in her middle. Where on earth were they? Wherever they were, it certainly didn’t look like any place she’d passed yesterday. Dark, forbidding clouds hung low, diffusing the light so that she couldn’t even tell where the sun was.

  Turning, she saw a skinny, blond girl carrying an enormous bundle of what looked like wool. The threadbare rags she wore barely covered her, and she looked half-starved. “Pardon me, but could you tell me where I am?”

  The waif cracked a knowing grin. “Stole ye away, then, did ’e?”

  “I came of my own free will.”

  Freckles elongated as the girl’s mischievous smile broadened. “’E must be a catch indeed fer yer ladyship t’ come a’runnin’ t’ the anvil wi’ bare feet!”

  “Are you going to tell me where I am or not?” Sabrina repeated a little crossly, her patience wearing thin.

  The girl chortled, obviously in no hurry to oblige. “Yer in Hawes,” she finally said.

  Sabrina frowned. “And where is that?”

  With a sigh, the girl set her bundle down and scratched her nose. “Ye really don’t know, do ye? Yer in the Dales.”

  “What? But that’s the wrong way, that’s—” Halfway to Scotland. North. They were headed north.

  “Now ye see it!” the little ragamuffin said with a smirk, shouldering her load again and ambling off.

  Henry came out of the inn, a pair of boots in one hand, some stockings, garters, and a worn cloak in the other. “Here. They might be a bit bigger than you want, but they’ll keep your feet dry. Damn things cost almost as much as a new pair in London,” he grumbled, presenting the footwear. “The innkeeper’s wife refused to part with them for less than a small fortune.”

  Sabrina looked at the offering. The boots were not pretty, but they were in decent condition. Snatching them and the other items, she immediately sat to don them, not caring if the entire world saw her calves and ankles
as she pulled on the stockings. She tied the knee garters quickly and slid on the still-warm boots; he must’ve bought them right off the woman’s feet. It was an odd sensation, wearing someone else’s shoes. But it was that or do without.

  Feeling less vulnerable now that she was no longer restricted to a square of cloth, she faced her kidnapper. “Why are we traveling north?”

  Henry’s eyes twinkled as he gave her a lopsided smile. “Because Fairford will expect us to run for London, and I don’t fancy the idea of him and his man catching us out on the open road. Two armed men against one is not what I’d call favorable odds. We’ll go to Scotland and return home by a different route.”

  A flush crept into her cheeks. “And when I return after being gone so long?”

  “Other than me, your mother and Percy are the only ones who know.”

  “Oh.”

  “Sabrina, why were you climbing out of your window in the middle of the night with no shoes on?”

  She lowered her voice, even though no one was around. “I overheard him talking to his valet. He planned to marry me, get an heir, and then have Grimsby kill me so that he could marry that Childers woman, if that is even her real name.”

  “Grimsby?”

  “Yes. He’s paid him to kill women for him before—many times, from what I overheard last night. And he’s planning to do it again sometime very soon. He spoke of another woman he’s been keeping. He called her his ‘French nightingale.’”

  “She’s safe at Aylesford. He’ll never hurt her again.”

  Her eyes widened at the implication. “You knew about him?”

  “Not until recently. Or not entirely, at least. We should have told you about him after we discovered what he’d been up to at Boucher’s, but we didn’t think you’d listen.”

  “We? Wait. Who is we?”

  After a guilty hesitation, he answered. “I suspected something wasn’t right with Fairford after he confronted me at Rebecca’s party, so I asked Percy’s help to have him watched.”

  “He never said a word,” she breathed, bewildered.

  “He saw no reason to enlighten you. The moment you accepted his offer, Fairford ceased to be a threat.”

  “I see,” she said, her temper flaring. “I’ve been played for a fool in every possible way, haven’t I? His interest in me was solely at your direction, wasn’t it?” she said, accusingly. “Tell me, did this ‘help’ you mentioned extend to him asking me to marry him?”

  “God, no!” he exclaimed. “I only asked him to provide a distraction to help keep Fairford at bay. Asking you to marry him was his own decision entirely, and an enormous damned surprise to me.”

  “Then, he really did want to marry me?”

  “He did,” he said bitterly. “And I wanted to kill him for it.”

  “If he is your friend, then how could he do such a thing, knowing that you—”

  “I didn’t tell him how I felt about you. I let him believe that I was only interested in you as far as to keep you safe.”

  She blinked back sudden tears. “Why did he not come with you? Surely it would have been safer with two.”

  “He stayed behind to watch over your mother and the girl, as well as to be sure Fairford had not sent us all on a wild-goose chase.”

  “How did you know where to find me? The girl?”

  He nodded. “Percy came to me the morning after the ball and told me what had happened. I went at once to Aylesford, and that was when your mother found your note. We didn’t know if Fairford intended to marry you over the border or by special license in London, so we decided to pay his leman a visit before haring off. That’s how I knew where to look.”

  Her mouth formed a little O of comprehension.

  He took her into the inn and had them bring whatever hot food was available, while he finished making arrangements for two fresh mounts. They ate the leftover stew and bread hurriedly, not wishing to waste any time. As they were finishing, the innkeeper’s wife brought them a basket filled with some loaves, a bottle of wine, and several small wheels of Wensleydale cheese.

  Guiltily, she peeked down at her hostess’s bare feet. When she looked up, however, the owner of those naked toes wore a delighted grin between her dimpled cheeks.

  “Be not troubled, luv. ’Tis proud I am to ’ave made sich a bargain,” the plump goodwife whispered with a smug wink. “I’ll ’ave me two new pair an’ a luvly gown, too, fer what ye’re wearin’!”

  Sabrina ducked her head and laughed quietly. Henry really had been rooked!

  “I’d planned to stop and rest here for a few hours, but I think we should ride on, instead,” said Henry, frowning at his pocket watch. “The less people see of us, the better,” he explained. “Fairford will probably inquire as to our passage on his way south, the same as I did on my way to find you. If he catches on to us quickly enough, he might decide to turn around and give chase.”

  Less than half an hour later, they were again riding out across the wold, skirting the edges of the now-bustling little market town.

  The sun was high in the dome overhead when they stopped just north of Penrith to water the horses. Henry had opted to avoid being seen in the town.

  She slid off her mount with a groan. She’d ridden astride for the sake of speed, and now her thighs ached abominably.

  Henry walked the horses over and let them drink from the little stream.

  “You don’t have to marry me,” she blurted, the sound of her own voice startling after so many hours of silence. “Mama will likely demand it, circumstances being what they are, but I will not hold you under obligation. You can take me home, and we can simply pretend none of this ever happened. I’ll let Percy go his way, if he truly has changed his mind, and I’ll threaten Fairford with what I know if he tries to force my hand.”

  In two strides Henry was before her. “I didn’t ride all day and night to return without a bride.”

  Her heart pounded. “But how can you still want me, after—”

  “You little fool.” He took her quivering chin between gentle fingers, lifted her face, and kissed her tenderly. “Because I love you. And I’m not letting you out of my sight ever again.”

  Tears coursing down her cheeks, she looked away in shame. “I am afraid to love you,” she admitted. “But I cannot help it, even if it brings me to misery.”

  “I told you once that I am not the sort of man to keep a mistress or take lovers, Sabrina. I love you, and I have no desire for any other woman.”

  “My father probably told my mother the same thing,” she said bitterly. “He was a good man, a wonderful father, and I loved him, but he broke my mother’s heart. I do not want—”

  “For the last time, I am not your father, and I won’t be punished for his poor judgment.”

  “And if the physician tells me to have no more children at the risk of dying? What then? Will you become a monk?”

  Sunlight flashed in his wicked, violet eyes as he slowly grinned. “There are many ways of pleasuring that do not involve the final ‘act,’ my love. I’ve already shown you some of my knowledge. Do you require further demonstration?”

  Alarmed, she took a hasty step back. “I am well aware of your…intimate knowledge,” she stammered. “But will it be enough for you to pleasure me without finding equal satisfaction yourself?”

  His grin broadened as he deliberately narrowed the gap between them.

  THE HEAT OF his gaze sank into her bones, awakening a painful yearning in her flesh.

  “There are as many ways for a woman to satisfy a man as there are techniques to pleasure a woman,” he said. “I will teach them all to you.”

  Cheeks burning, her mind flashed back to some of the illustrations in the book he’d given her. Something of her thoughts must have shown on her face, for Henry’s laughter rang out. She opened her mouth to protest, and he claimed it, breathing in her gasp of surprise as he moved to caress the sides of her breasts, thumbing the nipples briefly before skimming down to reach ba
ck and cup her derriere.

  Familiar fire spread throughout her body, the backs of her legs tightening with each stroke of his tongue as it delved into the dark, velvet recesses of her mouth to play touch and seek. Shudders of pleasure rippled through her, and unable to help herself, she moaned aloud with want.

  Sweeping her up, Henry carried her to a grassy copse down by the stream. The horses turned their curious, liquid brown eyes to watch the two humans briefly before returning to the more interesting grass before them.

  Quickly, he divested her of her cloak and spread it out on the soft, green turf. Laying her on the makeshift bed, he kissed her until the earth beneath her melted away. Her skirt and petticoats he pushed up, slowly massaging her thighs, soothing muscles that ached from riding. With lips and hands, he wooed her body, planting kiss after gentle kiss on her sensitive skin until she writhed and pulled at him. Finally, he parted her knees to sample the delicate flesh between.

  Her breathy exclamation of pleasure made the horses’ ears perk, and they nickered in answer. Their encouragement went unheard, however, as the tide rose within Sabrina, gathering strength. Just as she was about to cross the threshold, Henry rose to his knees, freed himself from his breeches, and sank back atop her.

  His hot, heavy manhood prodded between her thighs, but to her frustration he did not immediately seek entrance. Instead, he chose to tease, rubbing his hard length against her dewy heat.

  She thought she might go mad with desire.

  “If you say the word now, I will stop,” he told her. “As I said, I can bring you to your pleasure without completing the act.”

  She stilled beneath him. “Do you not want me?”

  He answered her meek inquiry with a gasp of laughing disbelief. “Sweetheart, I would like nothing more, but I thought you’d want to wait until we are wed bef—”

  The words were silenced as she pulled him down to kiss him again. The tingling between her legs mounted as she felt the blunt tip of his shaft graze her entrance. She wriggled, seating him more firmly against herself.