Laura smiled. “You’re very kind to worry about me.”
“I worry about all my patients, but you and Bette . . .” He shook his head. “She deserved a happier ending than this, and now I pray yours will make up for it.”
“So do I.” She turned to the window once more and the view blurred.
She prayed the next three days until Bette’s funeral passed without incident or indictment. She needed to get away from Bath and Adam if she had any chance of surviving the loss of her dearest friend in the whole world.
Her friends were limited and her funds low. It would cost money to start again, as well as survive. The country was a foreign land where she knew no one or no place. Unless . . .
Laura’s heart beat a little faster.
She knew of only one person with connections in the country. One person she’d helped by testifying in court the last year past. Testimony that unraveled her and Bette’s livelihoods but ensured another’s life entirely. Emily. Hadn’t she said Laura could call on her help anytime, night or day? Surely a lady such as Emily Darson would know of someone wanting employment within the many estates surrounding the city?
Hope sparked and Laura clasped her hands tightly in her lap. All she needed was a place to start. The rest would be up to her.
The only question remaining was whether she was important enough for Adam to come looking for her before she fled the city and, thus, eradicated the chance of him finding her.
The spires of Bath Abbey passed the window and the haughty, superior stature of a man in its courtyard reminded her of the ever-present threat of Malcolm. If he wasn’t already thinking of his next approach toward her, he undoubtedly would within a day or two. She narrowed her eyes as her fierce sense of survival erupted.
It was imperative she made her escape immediately after the funeral.
Now she no longer had Adam’s protection, she was as vulnerable and exposed to Malcolm’s anger as a waif on the street. Night prowlers sniffed out waifs from the most unlikely of places.
Laura turned and stared at Dr. Penders’s profile. Nothing was more unlikely than a friendship between a whore and a doctor, yet it had happened. She had no doubt things would get better, but she was no safer from Malcolm than Monica was whilst she was in the city, and Laura refused to risk giving him further reason to harass her newest ally.
The carriage continued through the streets toward the funeral director’s establishment. When it pulled to a stop outside, the doctor alighted before helping her onto the street. The city was busy with shoppers and businessmen hurrying to and fro. Life went on no matter what. She inhaled a deep breath and Bette’s spirit willed her on.
“Laura?”
“Yes?”
Dr. Penders waved toward the door. “Shall we go in and get the details finalized?”
She nodded. “Afterward, there’s a friend I’d like to see before I come to your home. Would you mind taking my case with you and I’ll come back to the house shortly?”
He frowned. “I really want you to rest, my dear.”
“I will. I know just the person to help me find work in the country. I can’t believe I didn’t think of her before.”
Royal Crescent was Bath’s most famous street and, no matter how many times Laura saw the semicircle of architectural brilliance, it never failed to take her breath away. Erected from Bath stone, the houses were three stories high with servants’ quarters at the top, with the kitchens and cellars below street level. The houses shone in all their butter-colored glory, the gorgeous sash windows glinting in the late-afternoon sun. Only the very wealthy could afford to live in such an abode, but she refused to let the street’s magnificence intimidate her.
Holding on to her resolve, she hurried along the pavement toward number twenty-four. Although conscious of the inferior state of her clothing, hat, and shoes, she kept her chin high, ignoring the condescending glances of the ladies walking arm in arm as they passed her.
She was on a mission and no one would stop her from completing it.
Reaching Emily’s house, she marched up the small pathway and knocked on the door. A pretty young maid answered the door. “Can I help you?”
Laura smiled. “Is it possible I could speak with Emily Darson, please?”
The maid frowned, suspicion immediately darkening her eyes as she appraised Laura from head to toe. “May I ask who’s calling?”
“Laura Robinson. Miss Darson will remember me from a year past.”
“A year? I’m sorry, but she is very busy at the moment—”
Laura’s smile dissolved. “Then I’ll not press you further if she hasn’t the time to see me, but I would very much appreciate you asking her all the same.”
Their gazes locked.
After another few seconds, the maid cleared her throat. “If you could just wait here, Miss Robinson.”
“Thank—”
The door closed, leaving Laura standing on the step. Damn superior madam. Who does she think she is? She turned her back to the door and studied the rich green grass of Victoria Park while she waited. On the maid’s head be it if she didn’t reopen the door, because Laura had no intention of moving until she heard from Emily she didn’t wish to see her.
She hadn’t survived by taking rebuffs and refusals.
A minute passed. Then two. Her patience stretched a little more with each passing second. At last, the door clicked open behind her and Laura turned.
“Laura? My goodness, it is you.”
Laura grinned. Emily was even more beautiful than she remembered.
“Emily.”
Emily opened her arms and Laura stepped into them. She squeezed. “You look so well.”
“I am.” Emily pulled back and slipped her arm around Laura’s waist, ushering her inside. “Come in. I am so glad to see you.”
They stepped over the threshold and Emily addressed the maid. “You don’t remember Laura, do you?”
The maid frowned as she stared at Laura.
Laura smiled. “I didn’t remember you either. The circumstances under which we met were more than a little rushed.”
“I’m so sorry, I don’t . . . yes, I do!” The maid grinned. “You’re the . . . the . . .”
Laura laughed. “Yes, I’m her.”
Emily laughed. “Annie, would you be so kind as to bring some tea and cake into the drawing room?”
“Of course.” Annie’s cheeks colored pink. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Robinson.”
Laura smiled. “You too.”
Annie turned and hurried toward the kitchen.
Emily squeezed Laura’s waist. “Come. Let us sit. I want to hear all that you’ve been up to. How are you? How’s Bette?”
Laura’s brief moment of happiness shattered and her shoulders slumped as they entered Emily’s luxurious drawing room. They sat on one of the plush settees. “It’s because of Bette I’m here.”
Her friend’s smile wavered. “She’s all right, isn’t she?”
Tears smarted Laura’s eyes to see such genuine affection in Emily’s gaze.
She shook her head. “She’s dead.”
“Dead?” Emily whispered. “She can’t be.”
Laura swallowed the lump in her throat. “Pneumonia took her yesterday.”
“Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”
“I need your help. I want to leave Bath as soon as Bette is buried.”
“Leave Bath? Why? If you need somewhere to stay, you are welcome—”
“I can’t stay in the city.” Laura shook her head. “It’s too painful.”
“Then what can I do?” Emily grasped her hand. “Do you need money?”
“I need work. If I go to the country, somewhere quiet where I can start again and nobody knows who I am or what I did before, I’ll have a new beginning.”
Emily slowly nodded. “I see. Then I’ll contact my aunt. She knows lots of people with estates in Saltford and Colerne. We’ll get you a position in one of the houses. Will that suit?�
�
Laura smiled. “That would be perfect.”
“Then consider it done.” Emily grinned and squeezed Laura’s hand. “It really is good to see you.”
It was early Tuesday morning when Adam paid the carriage driver and picked up his case from the cobbled walkway outside his home. He stared at its façade and trepidation rippled through him. He had been gone three days longer than anticipated and he longed to see Laura again. Self-hatred burned his throat and he swallowed hard. First, he would tell her the play had an investor—and then he would draw a very deep and very hot bath.
Climbing the steps, he took his key from his pocket and opened the front door. He tossed it onto a side table and shrugged off his coat. “Laura? Where are you? Is this any way to greet a man coming home from a longer than anticipated trip?”
The house remained eerily quiet.
His smile slipped and Adam frowned. Maybe she and Nurse had taken Bette for a stroll into town. He moved along the hallway into the drawing room. Although there wasn’t a single cushion out of place, the scent of wilting flowers hung in the air. He shot his glance to the side table and then the windowsill where a vase of roses withered.
Foreboding stole through his gut. “Laura, where are you?”
He rushed into the hallway and took the stairs two at a time. He pushed open the door to the guest bedroom. Laura’s bed was neatly made, the wardrobe doors open, revealing the absence of her small amount of clothes.
“You said you would not leave.” He stormed across the landing to the room Bette had slept in. It was empty. “Goddamn it, Laura. You promised.”
Slamming the door so hard it shook on its hinges, he ran downstairs and into the drawing room as though expecting, by some miracle, for Laura to reappear. An envelope propped on his writing bureau caught his eye. He raced over and ripped it open.
Adam,
Bette is dead. She died the afternoon you left for Bristol. I am grateful for everything you have done and, indeed, what you believed I could do, but I cannot stay here without her.
I’m sorry.
I wish you all the best for both you and your play.
You are a remarkable man. I’ll never forget you.
Best wishes,
Laura
He read and reread the unfamiliar handwriting. Who wrote this for her? Nurse? Regret pinched hot at his cheeks as he gripped the paper and ripped it into pieces. He tossed the shards in the air and stormed from the room. What the hell had he done? Why had he gone to Bristol? Why had he seen Annabel?
He snatched up his keys and left the house, slamming the door behind him.
Hell would freeze over before he would let Laura leave after what he had done to make the play happen sooner rather than later. He had done it for her as much as for himself.
Liar. Your actions are about you. About your own impatience for notoriety. Your own impatience to make your play come to life.
The last three days had nothing to do with Laura. It was only him who had succumbed to the easy route to ensure his dreams came to fruition. Laura would never have been so bloody weak. The woman would be honest and true to who she was. She would take each day as it came and cherish it, be thankful for it. Her perseverance through poverty and obstacles made shame course through his veins and pound at his temple. He had to find her. Had to return her to his home where she belonged, where she could grieve for Bette and know she still had a future without her beloved friend by her side.
He would never leave her again. He would be loyal and help her realize her potential.
Adam sprinted along the streets into town and made straight for the theater. If Laura had moved on, there was a small chance she would have handed in her notice to the theater manager—or at least her friend Tess might know where she was headed.
Upon entering the theater, he barged straight into the auditorium.
The play being shown was a farce, and the audience laughed and cheered along with the actress gracing the stage. Keeping his mind focused, Adam scanned the crowd for Tess and soon spotted her blond curls. He hurried up the aisle just as she finished a sale.
“Tess?”
She turned and her eyes widened. “Mr. Lacey. Are you all right?”
“I’m looking for Laura.”
“Laura? She’s gone.”
Impatience made him curl his hands into fists. “I know. Where is she?”
Tess stepped back and Adam controlled his temper.
He forced a smile and pushed his hand through his hair. “I am sorry. I just need to see her as soon as possible.”
Tess quirked an eyebrow, an all-knowing glint lighting her eyes. “You sure have a thing for her, don’t you?”
Adam met her smile. “What can I say? She is a beautiful woman. Do you know where she is?”
Her smile dissolved and she shook her head. “No, she came in a couple of days ago to say she was leaving and to thank me for everything I did for her. She was cut to pieces about poor Bette. She was her nearest and dearest friend. Died, she did. These few days past.”
“She did not say where she was going?”
She shook her head.
“Damn it.” Adam squeezed his eyes shut, his mind whirling. She could be anywhere by now. On her way to Bristol. London. Anywhere.
“I wouldn’t have thought she’d leave without seeing Bette buried properly.”
He snapped his eyes open.
Tess lifted her shoulders. “God only knows what kind of funeral Laura could afford for her, but I did see her talking in earnest with Miss Danes just before she left. Maybe she knows something.”
Adam stared. “Miss Danes?”
Tess nodded. “They were talking in the foyer. I was a bit taken aback because Miss Danes put her arms around Laura, she was trembling so hard.” She shook her head, her eyes glazing with tears. “I ain’t never seen Laura tremble over nothing before. Strong as an ox, she is. She won’t get over losing Bette easy, that’s for sure.”
His heart kicked painfully and Adam squeezed Tess’s hand. “I will go find Miss Danes.”
“Wait. There’s something—”
He sprinted along the front of the stage toward a door leading into the corridor backstage. Pushing and shoving through the people gathered around, he headed for Monica’s dressing room. He knocked and pushed the door open without waiting for her permission.
Stephanie, Monica’s dresser, was packing boxes.
“Stephanie? Where is Monica?”
The girl spun around. Adam immediately stiffened. Tears shone wet on the woman’s cheeks and her pallor was white.
“What is it? What is wrong?”
“She’s not here.”
He glanced around the room. Monica’s dressing table was empty of makeup, hairdressings, everything. “Where is she? What has happened?”
“He came after her again. After all this time. He came after her and beat her in her home.”
“What? Who did? Where is she?”
“At home. Recovering. I don’t know what that Baxter animal wanted, but there was no way Monica was going to give it to him. The commotion caused her neighbor to come running from next door. The poor man near beat the door down, but Baxter scarpered before he could catch him.”
“Baxter.” Adam whispered the bastard’s name from between his teeth and his vision tinged red at the edges. “Monica worked for him? In the past?”
Stephanie pursed her lips together.
Adam glared. “Stephanie, please. Tell me Monica’s connection to Baxter. The man is a leech who deserves to be punished.”
“She loved him.”
He stiffened. “Loved him?”
She nodded. “It was a long time ago and she despises him now. I think he wanted something to do with Laura, but Monica refuses to tell me what caused him to come after her the way he did.” Her voice cracked.
Adam pulled her into his arms and held her tightly as she sobbed. He stared blindly ahead, rage pouring into his blood. If Baxter had gotten to
Monica, he would get to Laura, too, sooner or later. For the first time since he arrived back from Bristol, Adam prayed Laura had already fled the city.
He eased Stephanie back and held her at arm’s length. “I will go and see Monica now. Do not worry. She will be all right.”
“What if Baxter comes back? I’ve told her to leave. Get out of the city, but she won’t hear of it.”
He tightened his jaw. “The Monica I know would not run from anyone. Have no fear, I will put an end to this.”
Releasing her, he turned and stormed back along the corridor and out of the theater.
Chapter 18
Adam flagged down a passing hansom cab and got in. Anger beat a pulse inside his head, hammering against his skull in a never-ending barrage of noise. How had Baxter become such a disruption? Adam had stumbled across a chance meeting with one of the most beautiful women to grace God’s earth and was falling hopelessly in love with her, had a four-year friendship with another, yet this piece of scum unfathomably linked the two.
The carriage jolted across town, stopping and starting; the roads became busier as noon approached. Shouting salesmen and women, and the screaming of playing children mixed with the slamming of carriage doors and the pealing bells of the abbey. Adam dropped his head back against the seat and focused on regaining control of the rage bubbling inside, threatening to spill over.
He would find Baxter and get the man arrested once and for all. First, he needed to see Monica. See what the bastard had done to her and learn the parting words she had spoken with Laura. Baxter was the catalyst to them both being hurt. Adam curled his hands into fists on his thighs. The scum’s control over them ended today.
The carriage turned onto the street where Monica lived in a modest three-bedroom house. Adam inhaled a deep breath. A house she was so proud to be paying for by her own means. It was ironic he had helped her obtain this home, yet very soon he would have no choice but to downsize to something much smaller.
The Temptation of Laura Page 18
