Chills

by Heather Boyd

  Determined to fill the awkward silence, she risked distracting him to ask a question. “Have you been in London long, sir?”

  Lord Blamey looked at her in surprise. “Oh, I have been here since the current parliamentary session began. I never miss a day.”

  Constance waited for him to continue, hoping he had more to say, but he turned his imperfect attention back to the horse and the surrounding sights.

  “Do you enjoy all that society in London has to offer?” Constance pressed. “Do you attend the balls and the opera often?”

  Blamey winced. “Some.”

  Constance shifted her gaze from the horse and looked at him properly. His gaze was pinned on an open carriage at the edge of the park. Lord Blamey stared with such fixed attention that Constance needed to gather the reins when he refused to heed her repeated warning. The horse, now assured of a competent driver, swiftly obeyed her commands. The phaeton jerked to a stop.

  Lord Blamey looked at her with chagrin then retrieved the reins from her hands. They sat for a moment in awkward silence until a familiar voice hailed them.

  “Blamey, good to see you again.”

  Heaven help her. Lord Hallam.

  Constance couldn’t think of a worse witness to her lack of decorum, but it was either grab the reins or allow the horse to swerve them into the trees.

  “By God, Hallam,” Blamey exclaimed. “Can’t believe how old you look. Why it must have been six years since I last laid eyes on you. I thought you were dead.”

  “Dusty,” Hallam chuckled, “but not dead.”

  Blamey threw the reins and leapt from the carriage. Constance made a grab for the falling ribbons and hauled them tight, keeping the horse still as a boy scrambled to hold the grey steady. Assured that the horse was secure, Constance looped the reins and looked up, straight into Jack’s eyes.

  Don’t panic, Pixie. Do not panic.

  “You and your books,” Blamey laughed and turned his back on Constance in favor of continuing his conversation with Lord Hallam.

  Jack frowned, his gaze shifting between Blamey and the horse. Then, uncharacteristically, he rolled his eyes. Was he thinking the same as she? So much for Lord Blamey. When Constance returned to Ettington House, she was going to scratch out his name.

  She shakily returned Jack’s regard, admiring how well he looked upon his horse. His mount was restless, but he held him steady with firm hands and a soft word. Was it wrong to admire an engaged man so much?

  Two weeks ago, she could not have admitted such a thing. But she did glimpse much to respect about the way he lived his life now. She was glad he had outgrown his cruel tendencies.

  Constance sat in her perch for an uncomfortable time, waiting for the lords to stop their reminiscences. As fine as the gleaming phaeton looked, she didn’t feel safe at all. Her hands were sweating inside her gloves, and she adjusted her grip on the flimsy armrest.

  Jack cleared his throat. “I say, Blamey, will you be attending the Sommerville luncheon this afternoon?”

  “Of course, of course. I attend every year.”

  Jack flashed a brief smile. “Then perhaps you’d best return Miss Grange to Ettington House. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to disappoint Lady Sommerville.”

  “Quite right. Quite right. Another time, Hallam.”

  Hallam chuckled. “I’m returning to Ettington House myself now. Perhaps we can continue our conversation as we go.”

  Lord Blamey puffed up onto the carriage, squeezed his broad backside onto the seat, and flicked the reins. He didn’t remember to throw a coin to the scamp that had held the horse for them. But Constance did see a flash of silver arc from Jack’s direction as the carriage drew away from him.

  With Hallam guiding Lord Blamey, Constance did not once consider taking the reins.

  When Ettington House loomed ahead, Constance drew a deep breath, relieved to be almost free of the misadventure.

  Lord Blamey helped her disembark the phaeton.

  “My lord, thank you for a pleasant afternoon.”

  “A pleasure,” he assured her.

  He climbed into the carriage, tipped his hat, then plunged into the traffic. He barely missed scratching the side of a stylish town carriage. The driver snarled out an indignant reply, but her erstwhile suitor was oblivious to it all.

  Constance shook her head at his abrupt departure.

  “I am very pleased to see you return whole, Miss Grange,” the butler whispered as he held the front door open.

  “Parkes,” Constance whispered back, conscious of eyes watching their progress. “I would be very grateful for any warnings you might feel the need to pass on. I would prefer not to have another experience like that again, if you don’t mind.”

  “Very good, Miss.”

  Constance headed for the stairs and the quiet seclusion of her bedchamber.

  The butler cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Miss Grange, but the marquess and Lady Orkney are expecting you to join them in the drawing room. Viscount Carrington has come to call.”

  She frowned. “Just the viscount?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  He had told her to expect an introduction to his future bride today. What had changed? Although Constance would prefer to avoid Jack indefinitely, at least the charming viscount would be there to act as a distraction.

  Squaring her shoulders, Constance pushed the door open and joined them.

  Even though the space between them was greater than twelve feet, Constance was acutely aware of the marquess. Jack, still dressed for riding, lounged in his usual spot, doing his best to unnerve her.

  Viscount Carrington, on the other hand, leapt to his feet. “I say, I’m so glad to see you return in one piece. The rumors about Lord Blamey’s driving skills must be a gross exaggeration.”

  Constance settled herself across from the smirking viscount and scowled. “Did it occur to you to warn me, my lord?”

  “You can’t imagine I would disparage a man of my own class for something as insignificant as poor driving. Half the ton suffers that affliction.”

  Constance fidgeted with the skirts of her gown. “Then it is a surprise there aren’t less of you on the roads. The aristocracy must be on the brink of extinction.”

  Jack stared at her. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t scowling either.

  “Certainly not.” The viscount bristled, but then his charming smile returned. “Although, I understand you may have made it your life’s work to exterminate poor Jack here.”

  Constance opened her mouth and then closed it again. She couldn’t argue that point because she had wanted, at some time or another, to pretend the marquess didn’t exist.

  “Carrington, watch yourself,” Jack warned, sitting forward. “The pranks Pixie played on me in childhood are not to be repeated outside our circle. I believe she has developed other interests.”

  Jack’s eyes gleamed with devilry. He was talking about kissing. The only problem was she couldn’t tell if he was warning her not to do it again or daring her to kiss him again.

  A further confusion was that Jack had used her nickname in front of the viscount. Flustered, she bowed her head. “I assure you, it won’t happen again.”

  The viscount sighed. “Well that is damned inconsiderate of you. The season has been quite exciting since you started going about. If I can’t expect more adventures I shall have to find another to brighten an otherwise dull year.”

  “Perhaps you and your betrothed could work something out between you?” Constance suggested.

  The viscount’s face lost its cheeky grin, but he very quickly had it back in place. “You never know. Oh, I almost forgot, Miss Penelope sends her apologies for not calling on you today. She apparently awoke with a dreadful headache and cannot make calls.”

  “Oh, that is horrible to hear. I do wish her a speedy recovery.”

  “You are very kind.” Viscount Carrington fidgeted.

  When Carrington took his leave, she was glad to see him go. Yet the
awkward silence left in his wake proved unnerving. She waited for Jack to scold.

  Jack cleared his throat. “Was his driving really so bad?”

  Constance lifted her chin.

  Jack’s blue eyes twinkled with amusement and his smile grew wide. “Tell the truth now, Pixie.”

  “There are no words to describe Lord Blamey.” Constance raised her hands to her face and let the absurdity of the morning escape. She laughed. “Oh, my stars. Spare me from another morning like this one. I don’t think I have the strength to endure another carriage ride like that.”

  “Well, there is far more to a perfect gentleman than driving,” Virginia offered. “There is a love of dancing, manners, and intelligence to consider. It helps if he can offer his heart as well.”

  Discomforted by talk of love, Constance changed the subject. “Are the viscount and his lady very much attached? Will they wed soon?”

  Virginia clenched her hands together. “We are still waiting to hear of the date.”

  Jack and Virginia exchanged a long glance.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, not wrong, Pixie,” Jack answered sitting forward. “Although the viscount has arranged an admirable match with an earl’s daughter, one that will increase his circumstances considerably, we are not entirely certain he wishes to marry the chit anymore. There have been some rumors about the match, but the date for the union seems no closer.”

  “Was she really unwell this morning?”

  Jack grimaced. “I doubt it. Lady Penelope prefers to dangle Carrington on her arm, not the other way around. How he puts up with it I’ll never understand. I wouldn’t tolerate such treatment.”

  ~ * ~

  So far, so good. The way things were going, Virginia would have Pixie for a sister-in-law in no time at all. Her brother hovered over her friend, so obviously smitten that even a blind man could see how perfectly happy the union would be. Given the way Jack devoured Pixie with his eyes, an announcement of their marriage couldn’t be too far away. She only hoped the potential scandal of his broken betrothal wouldn’t distress Pixie. But Jack was not a patient man and was used to getting his way. Being sued for breach of promise wouldn’t bother him in the face of marrying the woman he wanted.

  Although she should be ashamed of her lapse as a chaperone she couldn’t be happier. Between them, she and Bernard had hatched a plan to bring the pair together as often as they could. They had agreed to play to their strengths. Hallam would be blunt about his approval. Virginia would subtly point out her brother’s sterling qualities.

  When the doors creaked open to admit Lord Hallam she let out a contented sigh. Now that he was behaving as she wished, she really could find no fault with him. Thank heavens he had acted to protect her brother’s interests this morning and convinced Jack to follow the phaeton. Virginia had not wanted to raise an alarm over a rumor, but it seemed that she should have mentioned Blamey’s appalling driving skills.

  Bernard thumped into the seat beside her, his large frame sprawled untidily. He wouldn’t drink tea, but requested ale. He jogged his knee impatiently while waiting for its arrival.

  Virginia contemplated educating him on the correct manners of a gentleman, but to be honest, she liked most of his rough edges. Not all of them, of course, but his unapologetic way of living gave her a thrill. That and the words he whispered into her ear when no one paid attention. She knew he was attempting to prepare her for the future, but if he didn’t stop speaking soon she thought she might go up in flames.

  She had never considered matters of the bedroom outside of it before, but he forced her to think about them—and to listen to him talk about them. Her only contribution so far was to tell him to be quiet in case they were overheard.

  When Bernard shifted position, he brushed his hand over her shoulder, and then slid it down her back, lingering on her bottom. He squeezed.

  Before she could stop them, memories rose of pain, of terror, and of humiliation.

  Virginia fought them, tried to delay the return, but they proved far too demanding. Fear rolled through her mind of long hours bound in place, the taunting whispers in her ears, and the unrecognizable face of her husband, grinning in exhilaration as she cried out in anguish.

  Her ears rang strangely, but she couldn’t see beyond the memories. Voices called, but she couldn’t understand. She gave in to the terror as the flush of wet heat scalded her skin. It was too much. She took the coward’s way out. She fainted.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  VIRGINIA SWAM UP from confusion and chaos, glimpsing the white face of her friend. Beyond her bed hangings, her brother, and beyond him, Bernard leaned against the wall with his gaze fixed on the bed.

  Pixie pressed a cold cloth to her face.

  “I’m all right,” she whispered.

  The door clicked shut and when she glanced over, the men were gone.

  “What happened?” Pixie asked.

  The raw pain still gripped her. Her memories were jumbled and terrifying. “I remembered my husband.”

  She closed her eyes to hide her anguish.

  Pixie wriggled forward and curled an arm around her, offering comfort. Virginia sank into her friend’s embrace and let the tears fall. She had let herself forget so much.

  The farce that was her wedding day turned her stomach. Virginia had been so happy. She’d planned to be the perfect wife.

  “How did I get here?”

  “Lord Hallam caught you as you fainted and carried you upstairs. He’s been hovering at the door, too agitated to do more.”

  “It wasn’t his fault.” The fault belonged to her late husband. Bernard had just been the trigger that brought everything rushing back.

  Pixie frowned. “Of course, it wasn’t. Why ever would I think that? Hallam has been nice to you hasn’t he?”

  Virginia didn’t want to explain why Hallam was being so nice to her just yet, so she closed her eyes, pretending to fall asleep.

  ~ * ~

  “Would you like to talk about it?” Constance asked.

  Virginia’s eyes snapped open, but she stared at the ceiling for a long time. Constance did not like to rush her, but she worried about the lengthening silence. Her skin was pallid, her eyes dull. If she wasn’t ill, then Constance didn’t know what was wrong or what might make her cry in such distress. Did she miss her husband?

  Constance knew very little about the late Lord Orkney. The rushed wedding hadn’t afforded Pixie the chance to attend. She’d felt a little betrayed by the slight. When her friend’s letters failed to mentioned him after the wedding, except to inform her of his death a month later, Constance hadn’t pressed for information. Virginia spent years mourning at her brother’s estate. She had secluded herself from everyone.

  Virginia rolled into a ball as a large shudder wracked her. Constance should not have asked. She should have left Virginia alone with her heartbreak.

  “Orkney attacked and beat me.”

  What? Virginia’s words cut through the room like an explosion, any thoughts of sadness burned away by anger. Orkney had hurt Virginia? It was impossible to believe it could happen, yet Virginia would never lie—not about something like this.

  “Why?” Constance blurted out, unable to comprehend how such a mild mannered gentleman would change. All of Virginia’s early letters had praised Orkney’s warm and gentle nature.

  “He was sick. He liked inflicting pain on his lovers.”

  A tear fell down Constance’s cheek at the thought. She brushed it away impatiently and wrapped her arms about her friend. “I should not have asked. I didn’t know Orkney had hurt you.”

  “No one knows. Jack protected me from the scandal, and from my husband.”

  “It must be terrible to hold this secret so close. Do you want to talk about it?” Constance asked, reluctant, but determined to support her friend. When Virginia hesitated she added, “Or should I fetch your brother?”

  “No, I don’t need Jack. He knows you’re with me
.” Virginia scrubbed away her tears. “I could never understand why Orkney changed. He said the vilest things. I did not understand. I still do not. On … on our wedding night, he pounced on me – there is no other word for it. I never expected that. He had always been so gentle.”

  The shuddering breath Virginia took ripped at Constance’s composure.

  “He threw me on the bed – ripped my … ripped my clothes. He went crazy, biting and scratching. He held me down. I was so afraid, Pixie. I hope you never know how terrifying it is to be so powerless. He abused me so badly that Jack felt it in London, and he came for me. I am so ashamed that my brother had to see me in that state, but I doubt I would have survived more …” Virginia sobbed and curled into a tighter ball.

  Tears streamed down Constance’s face at the terror her friend had endured. She took a deep breath, struggling for control and awkwardly rubbed Virginia’s back.

  Virginia sniffed. “I remember watching as Jack hammered Orkney’s face. Jack left him bleeding on the floor for what he had done to me. Poor Jack, he was drunk by the time we got home. He had to numb the pain, you see. Sometimes we feel too much. I was confined to bed for three weeks. Three weeks of my life I cannot remember or ever get back.”

  “Who looked after you?”

  It was not like Jack to neglect his sister. Someone else had to have seen and thankfully held their tongue.

  “I … I am not sure I remember clearly. It is strange too. The incident has never come up in conversation. I … no, nothing.” Virginia’s confused eyes were dry now but red rimmed.

  “You said Jack was beating Orkney, but you were watching. Was someone else there? Was Hallam with him?”

  Virginia rolled away. “Oh, God, no.”

  ~ * ~

  Jack paced his study, agitated because of his sister. A dam had just burst open and his heart beat far too fast. If not for Pixie’s presence upstairs, he would be up there too. He poured himself a drink, hands shaking with the effort not to spill a drop, as Hallam came up beside him.