To Hell and Back: Regency Romance Novella (Devilish Debutantes Book 6)

by Annabelle Anders

  Or two.

  Or a perhaps all of them.

  “There’s one,” she declared, taking his mind off the sharp pain in his left side. This time he allowed his mind to envision her sliding the hose down the length of her leg and off her foot. Sounds of the valise opening and her rummaging about kept him informed of her progress. Along with her nervous narrative.

  “These are much more practical. Wool. My mother made them for me ages ago, and they’ve held up quite well. I brought them along so I could walk about the estate after we arrive. It’s been a while, and I doubt Jean Luc has made time to visit any of his tenants.”

  And then, by her wiggling, he surmised she had her hand beneath her skirts again.

  Focus on the mud beneath your knee, man. Even the pain in your ribs. Devise the next steps required to extract your client from this quagmire.

  Yes. Client. Mrs. Eve Mossant was nothing more than a client.

  He needed to get her up this hill and to the nearest inn as quickly as possible. Considering the damage the carriage had taken, he doubted it could be repaired easily, if at all.

  Damn but he ought to have considered road conditions more than the desperate look in her eyes when deciding to travel in the wake of this morning’s storm. He’d made a foolish decision and nearly gotten them all killed.

  He inhaled deeply at his thoughts and winced. He didn’t mind the inconvenience so much for himself, but he had a lady to protect.

  Her hand landed on his shoulder, and she pushed herself off his leg. “There. Much better. You may open your eyes now.”

  She looked quite satisfied with herself.

  He’d done well enough fighting his attraction to her in the past. He would continue to do so, regardless of her changed circumstances.

  And he’d not find her straddling him again anytime soon. He’d gone without bedding a woman for far too long. He oughtn’t to have been aroused. For God’s sake, they’d just rolled down the side of a cliff.

  “I think John went this way.” He cleared his throat and gestured for her to walk in front of him. If she lost her footing, he could keep her from falling.

  Nothing untoward about the gesture. He’d do this for any client.

  Squish. Squish. Squish.

  Progress was painstaking and slow, but his respect for her only grew. If she had any complaints, she kept them to herself. And although she surely was experiencing a good deal of fatigue, she continued plodding right along. Until…

  “Oh! Oh!” Both of her feet, planted on the ground, nonetheless, were sliding backwards. Her arms grasped at some nearby branches to no avail, sending her plowing into Niles’ arms.

  As luck would have it, he’d braced himself against a rather large boulder.

  A soft bum pressed against him first, followed by rounded feminine curves. He caught her around the waist, just below her breasts, and tugged upward so that her feet didn’t slither out from under her. He hissed in pain when her elbow jammed into his side.

  * * *

  “Oh, Mr. Waverly!” He’d expect a fit of vapors from most ladies of his acquaintance but was to be surprised by her once again.

  She was shaking with laughter.

  Bent over, unable to breathe, uncontrollable laughter.

  “I’m sorry.” She barely managed the words. “It’s just that…” More laughter. “Why had I thought this would be easy? Anything having to do with my husband was never simple.”

  Her dead husband.

  A carriage accident.

  And yet a few unchecked chuckles escaped his throat. She could barely hold herself upright and tears had begun streaming down her face.

  “Oh, don’t laugh. I’ll never be able to stop.” Her laughter went unchecked for a full minute before she was able to successfully bring it under control. By then she had turned around in his arms and was wiping at her eyes, leaving some rather pronounced muddy streaks in the process.

  He didn’t think to stop himself from grinning at her.

  Hanging onto his shoulders, she suddenly stilled. “What?” A wide smile filled her face. “I’ve not gone mad. I promise you. Despite.” She used one hand to indicate her dress, her shoes and her face. “I imagine I can either laugh or cry. And as you well know, I’ve already given in to the latter…”

  Niles couldn’t help but study her animated face.

  So full of life. This woman.

  “I much prefer this,” he allowed himself. He’d been happy to comfort her but hated that she was experiencing such turmoil. Yes. He’d always prefer laughter.

  He swallowed hard, suddenly uncomfortable at such intimacy. Her face, tilted up, and her hands clutching him, left a scant few inches between their lips.

  When was the last time he’d kissed a woman? Not out of lust, nor convenience, but because he wanted to?

  Since curtailing his work for Findlay a few years back, he’d lived an almost celibate existence. While traveling… not so much.

  But he’d avoided romantic entanglements.

  “Hello there! Mr. Waverly.” A shout from above had Mrs. Mossant dropping her arms and turning around. “I’d like to go after the horses, if you don’t mind?” John was obviously becoming impatient waiting for them.

  Niles turned various scenarios around in his brain before answering. “Meet us at The Goat and Pig. Mrs. Mossant and I will make our way there on foot!” Unless another respectable vehicle came along.

  And if it could remain on the muddied road.

  He’d traveled this route before. The Goat and Pig didn’t offer luxurious accommodations per se, but it would provide a safe haven for his client until other arrangements could be made for her travel. He took a deep breath and immediately regretted it.

  Blast and damn this mud.

  “We’ve passed the midway point, I believe.” This to encourage her. “Try to step on the larger rocks. You’re less likely to slide that way.”

  Without looking back again, she straightened her shoulders and took a few tentative steps in the direction she’d just slid down. This time, he grasped her waist from behind. Somewhere along the climb, they’d lost her valise. He hoped she hadn’t been carrying anything valuable. He supposed he could send someone back for it, if necessary

  The going was slower now, as the top half of the climb dropped steeper than below, but they made steady progress.

  Her feet slid a few more times, and her knees buckled once, but she kept moving without complaint. By the time they arrived at the road again, her face was flushed. Beneath her silly hat, damp tendrils of hair clung to her forehead and the sides of her face.

  She swept the hat off her head and glanced between the two of them. “That was quite stimulating.” Illuminated by sunlight, for the first time, he noticed a few strands of silver hidden in her coiffure. Tiny lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes as she stared off into the valley below.

  And then the glow of the sun disappeared, and with it the silver glints and harsh illumination.

  A dark and threatening looking cloud moved visibly across the sky.

  “I don’t trust this road. Are you able to continue toward the inn?” Although no longer as vigorous as he’d been as a younger man, he had retained his stamina by practicing the ancient arts.

  She would be quite fatigued by now, despite the satisfaction she’d derived from their climb.

  She grimaced. “I’m sorry, again, for all this.” She turned to walk, but in the wrong direction.

  “Do you plan on hiking back to London, then?” His words halted her.

  “Oh. Of course not.”

  Niles gestured for her to go ahead of him, but then reconsidered and took hold of her arm. “This way to The Goat and Pig.”

  “They’ll take one look at us and surmise the establishment was named for the two of us.”

  Niles chuckled.

  A woman who maintained her sense of humor under such circumstances was rare indeed.

  * * *

  What a disaster of a predicame
nt this was!

  Eve matched her steps to Mr. Waverly’s. She wasn’t a petite woman, but even so, she surmised he’d shortened his stride so that she wouldn’t struggle to maintain their pace.

  “How far is this Goat and Pig establishment?” she dared to ask. Perhaps they ought to have marched toward London. If they were lucky, some passersby might come along and take them up. She’d abandoned her belongings when changing her footwear, leaving her with nothing respectable or even clean to change into.

  All she had was her traveling dress, a light wrap she’d donned earlier that day, and her hat — and even that was ruined.

  Mr. Waverly squinted into the distance. “I’d hazard to say five miles? Difficult to say as it’s been a while.”

  Five miles? She stifled a groan.

  What would she tell her daughters if they were in her situation? To be grateful they’d come out of the mishap uninjured? To dwell on something other than the crick in her side or the blister on her left heel.

  Chin up, Eve.

  “Does your work require you travel often, then? Your other clients?” She’d keep her mind preoccupied by learning something about her dedicated man of business.

  “Not as much as in the past, but oftentimes Findlay has me look in on the factories. Most of those are up north.” She, herself, had met Niles through Thomas Findlay, father to Rhoda’s friend, Cecily. The man’s success in commerce was quite legendary.

  “How did you meet Mr. Findlay?”

  “He gave me my first job.” This might prove interesting after all. She knew very little about employment of the merchant class.

  “As his secretary?”

  Niles chuckled and then winced. “I suppose my duties fell more under the title of… security.”

  Fascinating.

  “You were one of his brutes? A ruffian?” Common knowledge provided that Mr. Findlay did not achieve all of his objectives by following established practices. She turned her head so that she might study Niles Waverly more closely.

  “For a few years.”

  This would explain the less than perfect line of his nose. And his very solid presence. Even tumbling down a cliff, she hadn’t experienced fear.

  He’d protected her with his own body. She hadn’t considered it at the time, but that was why she’d been entangled with his person when they’d landed.

  “What did you do after that?” He’d piqued her curiosity for certain.

  His jaw clenched, and she wondered if he resented her prying.

  “I became something of a manager.”

  “You managed all the other brutes?”

  “Among other things.”

  “Is that why you never married, then? Because you were constantly putting yourself in danger?”

  He shrugged. “I suppose. And the travel.”

  Walking side by side with him, she couldn’t help herself but to study Mr. Waverly again. “Did you grow up in London?”

  He slid her a sideways glance. “I did.”

  She wanted to know more. Had he been very poor? Who were his family?

  “And you, Mrs. Mossant, where do you hale from?”

  “I grew up on a small country estate, not far from Pebble’s Gate.”

  Chapter 5

  Digging Up Some Dirt

  * * *

  He could imagine her upbringing. Protected. Entitled. The daughter of landed gentry, betrothed at a young age to the son of a neighboring land owner. He’d known enough of them.

  “I grew up in Mayfair,” he provided.

  Not sure why he’d tell her this. Perhaps because she seemed to want to know. He’d set the record straight. Allow her an understanding of how he came to be the person he was today.

  A man with genteel manners, but grossly below her, notwithstanding.

  “My father lived in a gardener’s hut, set behind the Earl of Peabody’s London manor. My mother worked in the Earl’s kitchen. His lordship was kind enough to keep her on despite their improprieties.”

  “You grew up in Mayfair?” Clearly, he had indeed surprised her with this information. “I’m well acquainted with Lady Ester, his youngest daughter.” Her brows furrowed then.

  It ought to come as no surprise to her. He’d grown up a servant to her equals.

  Although employed professionally now, in essence, he still considered himself something of a servant on occasion.

  He’d believed himself in love with Lady Ester’s older sister at one time. Ah, yes, he’d been a foolish lad back then. And he’d learned his lesson well.

  Lines between the classes were as immovable as oceans and rivers. Perhaps more so.

  “My father was a baron,” she chimed in. “Spoiled me rotten as a girl. My mother had probably been spoiled worse than me.” She scuffled along, her head down now. “Never in my life have I found an unhappier woman.”

  He could think of no suitable response, so he offered none.

  After a fashion, she continued. “She hated my father. Found fault in everything he did and everything he said. Can’t imagine my father was all that happy either. Tell me, were your parents in love?”

  “Ridiculously so,” he answered without thought. His parents had spent almost every waking hour working but when they did manage to find time together… “Embarrassingly so,” he corrected.

  They continued talking in this vein for the next several minutes. Surprisingly, they’d both received similar educations, his out of charity, and hers as had been expected.

  He respected her, but more surprisingly, damnit, but he liked her. He found himself sexually attracted to her even more so than before. Of course, he’d never act on it. Or so he’d convinced himself.

  She stumbled, causing him to halt and assist her in finding her balance. She was exhausted. He ought to have paid more attention. It wasn’t the distance that required so much effort, rather the clawing mud and the terrain.

  “We can stop for a while.” A large tree that had fallen alongside the road caught his eye. “Sit down.” Likely she was parched, as well. All this mud and not a drop of fresh water between the two of them.

  “Are your parents still alive?” She brushed at the log before finding a seat upon it.

  Niles lowered himself gingerly beside her, stifling a groan at the pain that shot through him.

  “The earl has provided them with a small pension and a cottage to make their home on his country estate. His lordship is a decent fellow.” Something Niles himself had brokered. With a certain degree of arm twisting.

  She’d referred to her father in the past tense. “What of yours?”

  “My father passed a few years after I married. With no son to inherit, my childhood home went to a distant cousin, whom my mother married. She still resides at Neptune’s Park, but her health is diminished.”

  Niles wondered that he’d not learned this about her earlier. “And the cousin?”

  A tight smile. “Ironically, not dissimilar from Jean Luc.” And then she shook her head slightly. “I do not visit often.”

  Damn. The masculine half of the population had not given this woman much reason to trust their sex. It was no wonder she’d sought her independence so diligently.

  She tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and inhaled. “It’s going to rain again.” She spoke the words quite matter of factly.

  She was right. Clouds had been gathering in front of them for ten minutes now.

  She slid a glance at him from beneath her lashes. “Under normal circumstances, I appreciate the scent it brings.”

  “But not when one is caught unprotected in the elements,” he agreed, doing his best to ignore the surge of attraction he experienced — ignore his imagination...

  They ought to be on their way again, but he’d not push her.

  He needn’t have worried. She rose and offered her hand. “Shall we then?”

  To assist him.

  With him being nearly twice her weight.

  They barely walked ten steps before the wind kicked up
, carrying with it a smattering of sprinkles.

  “I’m so sorry for this. I should have considered the road conditions more seriously.” This was his fault. She’d insisted they travel, yes, but he could have refused her.

  She ducked her head as the sprinkles turned into pelting drops. They couldn’t proceed in such conditions. He grasped her hand and tugged her towards a copse of trees in the distance. At least they’d afford a modicum of protection.

  Again, her fortitude surprised him.

  A bolt of lightning flashed with its thunder not far behind.

  * * *

  Eve hadn’t run in ages. As in moved faster than a walking pace, lifting both feet off the ground at one time.

  Holding this man’s hand, exhausted and quite undone, memories from her youth tantalized her. Of climbing trees and playing in the rain.

  She might feel differently if it was colder, but for now, she felt renewed somehow.

  When they reached the trees she wondered at who she’d become, but then scoffed at herself. The death of Jean Luc had scrambled her in more ways than one.

  Oh, but this storm was magnificent. Warm hands grasped her from behind and vigorously rubbed the length of her arms.

  “Oh, Niles. May I call you Niles? I forget how powerful nature can be!”

  His motions slowed and for a moment, she felt his chin resting atop her head, as though he too would take a moment to appreciate the spectacle. “You’re a unique woman.”

  “Eve,” she supplied. “Call me Eve.” Under such primitive circumstances, it felt odd to address one another by either Mister or Missus.

  “Eve.” His voice sounded husky. From their exertions, likely.

  “I am different than most of my counterparts anyways.” She knew she wasn’t like other ladies of her acquaintance. Ladies who’d lived their entire lives dependent upon husbands, brothers, and fathers. Her daughters, she knew, would be different as well. It was why she’d sent the younger girls to finishing school this past year. She wanted them strong, but without the sharp edges she herself had formed.

  Although she did admit, such strength had saved her eldest. She shivered and his arms wound around her middle. She covered them with her own and leaned against his solid warmth. Mr. Waverly — Niles — was different too.