‘It is not fitting, mem-sahib.’ Rajib hesitated. ‘You will get blood on your clothes.’
‘Then I shall buy a new dressing gown,’ Rosalyn replied. ‘Please do not waste your breath in arguing, Rajib. We must get you home before you bleed to death—and before those assassins can return.’
‘They will not come back,’ Rajib said. ‘To run from a woman will shame them. They will not return—but others will come in their place. Jared is not safe here. He will not be safe until his father takes a new heir.’
‘Damian will take me away,’ Jared replied. ‘As soon as he knows what has happened…he will take me somewhere they cannot find me.’
It was a long, difficult process getting Rajib back to Orford Hall, but somehow they managed it between them. Rosalyn was less worried by the weight of his body, which almost caused her to stumble once or twice, than by her very real fear that he was losing too much blood and might die. However, when they were nearly at the house, a man came striding out to meet them, and she breathed a sigh of relief as Damian took the burden of the injured man from her.
‘Rosalyn! My God! Let me help you,’ he commanded. ‘Rajib, lean on me.’ He shouted and servants came running from the house to help. ‘This man is badly injured. Take him inside and summon Nessa to tend him. I shall come in a moment.’
‘I have failed you, sahib,’ Rajib gasped weakly. ‘I should have protected Jared. You should dismiss me—send me away.’
‘You did all you could and almost lost your life in the process,’ Damian said grimly. ‘Do not talk now. Go with the others, Rajib. Your wounds must be dressed before you bleed to death. We shall speak later and decide what must be done to protect Jared.’
Rajib was silent, his head bowed in shame. In his own estimation he had betrayed the trust placed in him, and owed his life to the prompt action of an Englishwoman. Something that would not sit easily with his pride, but he held his tongue and allowed himself to be led away by the servants.
‘Thank goodness you are back!’ Rosalyn said when Rajib had been borne into the house by willing hands. ‘I shall feel safer knowing you are here to watch over Jared.’
‘What has happened?’ He looked at her anxiously. ‘Are you hurt also? And Jared? What has been going on?’
‘After Rajib was wounded, Sheba tried to protect me—but they killed her and it was Miss Eastleigh who saved us,’ Jared told him. ‘It was my fault, Damian. I have disobeyed you by leaving the grounds every day. They knew where to find me. I made it easy for them.’
‘That does not make it your fault,’ Damian said grimly. ‘It was my duty to protect you. I should not have stayed away so long.’ He looked at Rosalyn’s pale face. ‘Will you come up to the house and let me give you something for the shock?’
Rosalyn hesitated, glancing down at herself. ‘I ought to go back,’ she said, realising all at once how she was dressed. ‘I must see to poor Sheba—and explain to my family. They will be wondering what has happened.’
‘I shall come with you—you cannot walk home alone.’
‘You are needed here. The men who attacked Jared have fled. I shall be safe enough.’ She lifted her hand, showing him her pistol. ‘I believe I can protect myself if need be.’
‘It seems you have already proved it.’ His smile was so tender it almost overset her. ‘Go then, if you wish. I shall come to the orchard tonight,’ Damian promised. ‘If you can slip away, meet me there. We must talk.’
‘At half past eleven,’ she replied, giving him a fleeting smile. ‘Take care of them, Damian. Jared needs you now. Stay with him.’ Then she turned and began to run back the way she had come, before she weakened and gave into the prompting of her heart.
Rosalyn did not want Damian to realise she was on the verge of an attack of nerves. Her thoughts on hearing of the danger threatening Jared had been solely for him, and afterwards she had known she must help the injured Rajib. Only now did she begin to think of her own situation. She was wandering the countryside improperly dressed. If any of her neighbours chanced to see her, they would think she had gone mad!
More worrying was what Mrs Jenkins would make of it! Rosalyn could only hope that no one would see her return. What must she look like? Her wrapping-gown was stained with blood, her hair blown into a tangle by the wind—and she was still clutching her father’s heavy pistol!
The picture that presented itself to Rosalyn’s mind was so funny that she laughed, and then the tears came. For a moment she was shaken by a storm of grief and delayed shock. Poor Sheba was dead. Rajib might yet die of his wounds—and she was beginning to feel decidedly odd. Oh, how very foolish of her! This really would not do: she must stop immediately.
She found a kerchief and wiped her face, smearing it where some of Rajib’s blood had mingled with her tears, then she took a deep breath and lifted her head. There was nothing to cry about: it was all over! What a very silly woman she was to be sure, and how fortunate that Damian was not there to see her give way to weakness.
She blew her nose, feeling much restored, then slowed her pace to a walk as her home came in sight. There, she was almost home and could now put the whole incident from her mind.
It was not to be expected that she could reach her own room unobserved. Freddie was in the hall surrounded by servants, who were all making a lot of noise but doing nothing.
Maria was with them. She gave a shrill scream as Rosalyn entered.
‘You have been hurt!’ she cried as she saw the dried blood and thought the worst. ‘Oh, I knew it—and it is all that foolish child’s fault. If she had gone to Freddie as she ought…’
‘Stop talking nonsense!’ Rosalyn commanded. ‘What is going on here? Freddie—Sheba is dead. Send someone to fetch her from the pasture, please. I shall have her buried in Mama’s rose garden. I must go and change. I dare say dinner is already ruined.’
‘Sheba has been found and I’ve had her brought back to the stables,’ Freddie said, sounding relieved to have his sister returned apparently none the worse for her adventure. ‘What happened, Ros? We thought you must have been kidnapped.’
‘Thanks to Father’s pistol I wasn’t, nor was Jared,’ she replied. ‘The Indian servant—Rajib—was injured. Jared and I took him home. He could barely walk so it was a long and awkward journey. I am sorry if you were worried—but did you have to tell everyone, Freddie? I meant you to keep it to yourself.’
‘Freddie was worried when he found the body of that poor dear dog,’ Maria said, completely forgetting all the times she had called Sheba a wretched animal. ‘We were wondering how best to search for you.’
Rosalyn nodded. She glanced beyond her cousin to where Mrs Jenkins and her brother were standing, watching the commotion in silence. Rosalyn saw disapproval in the other woman’s face, and a look in Bernard Harrington’s eyes that sent a cold shiver down her spine.
‘I must apologise for my appearance,’ she said, addressing the older woman. ‘I was dressing when Sarah Jane came to me—and there was no time to finish. I had to act immediately. Had I wasted even another second, I believe I must have been too late. I fired at the assassins just after they killed Sheba—I dare not think what might have happened had I delayed.’
‘You should of course have informed Sir Frederick,’ Mrs Jenkins said, her mouth screwed up into a sour look. ‘However, if what you say is true, it would seem you have acted bravely and with no thought for yourself. We can only hope that no harm to your reputation is sustained from roaming about the countryside in…what is hardly suitable attire.’
‘You are too harsh, Patricia,’ objected her brother, a gleam in his eyes. ‘For myself, I admire Miss Eastleigh. I take it you scared the ruffians off, ma’am?’
‘Had I been closer I should not have hesitated to shoot them,’ Rosalyn assured him. ‘My father taught me to protect myself. He gave me a small pistol to take with me when I ride out alone—but I thought this would be more useful today.’ She showed them the gun, which was an odd-looking thing w
ith multiple chambers. ‘You see, it fires more than once.’
‘I have one of Mr Wheeler’s contraptions myself,’ said Bernard Harrington. ‘An ingenious tool, but seldom reliable. You were brave to use such a weapon, Miss Eastleigh. It could have exploded in your face.’
‘As you see, it did not.’ Rosalyn was made uncomfortable by the look in his eyes, and very aware that every line of her body must be visible to his gaze through the soft silk of her wrapping-gown. ‘Maria—please inquire if some kind of a dinner can be rescued. I must change, but I shall be down in fifteen minutes.’
She hurried away. If she could have followed her own inclination, she would have liked to lie down for an hour, but there had already been too much disturbance. The sooner everything was back to normal the better because, once they had all retired for the night, she would be able to slip away to meet Damian.
Chapter Eight
‘Will this cause more trouble for you, my love?’ They were in the orchard, alone in the moonlight. Damian stood with his arms about her, gazing down into her eyes. ‘I ought not to have asked you to meet me, but it was such a shock when I saw you come back with Rajib: realising what a risk you had taken—what might have happened to you. You could have been killed, my darling.’
He looked so concerned that Rosalyn reached up to kiss him. His arms tightened about her, the kiss deepening to one of such intense passion that it shook them both.
‘I love you too much to lose you now,’ Damian murmured. ‘I want you so badly—need you in my life. Come with me now, my darling. This very night. Soon, I am going to take Jared somewhere safe. Somewhere his enemies will not find him. You could come with us, then we need never be apart again.’
‘I wish I could come with you tonight,’ Rosalyn said, her voice soft and full of longing. ‘If it were not for Freddie and Beatrice, I would—but I have given my promise. Mrs Jenkins is capable of cancelling the wedding even now. At the moment she is being polite to me, perhaps because she hopes I will marry her brother. Of course I shan’t, but…’
‘My God!’ Damian exclaimed, startled. His eyes narrowed, becoming angry. ‘Is that man here? You do not mean to tell me that Bernard Harrington is actually staying at your house?’
‘Yes. Yes, he is—why?’ She saw the expression of anger and disgust on his face and her skin prickled with goose bumps. ‘What is it, Damian? Please tell me.’
‘He is evil,’ Damian said in a voice thick with emotion. ‘You must be very careful, Rosalyn. Take care never to be alone with him. Promise me, you will be very careful.’
Rosalyn’s gaze became thoughtful. ‘Beatrice told me he has made her afraid of him. I dislike him very much—but what has he done that you should call him evil?’
Damian hesitated, then inclined his head. He had kept the secret for so many years, but now he must speak out—for her sake.
‘He raped a young woman. She was not much more than a child, only seventeen. A shy, delicate, pretty girl—very much like Miss Holland.’
‘I thought it was his brother who did that? I have heard the old rumours, Damian—was that not the reason why you fought a duel with Roderick Harrington, over a woman?’
‘It seems I have kept silence to no avail. You are not the only one to have guessed what I have tried so hard to keep secret. Yes, my darling, the duel was over a young woman. Helen was like a sister to me,’ Damian said, his expression showing both remembered grief and outrage. ‘We lived within a few miles of one another and I visited my friends often. One day, I found Helen weeping bitterly in the garden of her home. At first she shied away from me, would not tell me what was distressing her so much—then, because she had always trusted me, at the last she told me what had happened. Roderick forced her into his carriage when she was walking back from the village to her home. She fought him but he was too strong for her and she was so frightened that she fainted. Something unspeakable happened to her later that day; she would not tell me all the details, but I believed I knew.’
‘That was wickedness indeed,’ Rosalyn said, feeling sickened by the tale, ‘but what has it to do with Bernard Harrington?’
‘Nothing, or so I thought then. I comforted Helen, promised to avenge her and left her sitting there in the sunlight…by that evening she was dead. She had taken something poisonous…some plant or berry she had found growing in the garden.’
‘Oh, that is terrible!’ Rosalyn cried. She had not realised the extent of the tragedy until this moment. ‘The poor, poor girl…to take her own life! How unhappy she must have been.’
‘She was ashamed,’ Damian said grimly. ‘I think she regretted telling even me. It was more than she could bear and so she took her own life. When I heard how she had died, I went after Roderick and forced a duel on him. I was young then and hot-tempered. I wanted to make him pay for what he had done. He tried to tell me he had not himself abused her, but I would not listen. It was only later that I learned the truth.’
‘It was Bernard?’ Rosalyn’s face went white with shock. ‘That is what you are saying, isn’t it?’
‘Apparently, he boasted of it to one of his cronies, and my father heard the story. He told me I had killed an innocent man, accused me of murder, then banished me. He did not tell me he knew Bernard was guilty. I learned that only a few weeks ago, from papers my father left when he died. All these years I have been tortured, not knowing for sure…wondering if I had mistaken Helen’s meaning.’
‘That was not kind of him.’ Rosalyn sensed Damian’s pain—and the guilt he must have felt when he discovered that he had forced a duel on the wrong man. Roderick was not innocent, but there was another more to blame. ‘You must have been out of your mind with grief and guilt.’
Damian’s expression did not change. ‘Father never cared for me, and he had lost a great deal of money to Bernard Harrington at the card tables. He blamed me for his losses.’
‘How could it be your fault?’
‘He said he could not refuse Harrington’s challenge, because of what I had done, and that he had been cheated. He was angry, blaming me for having become embroiled in a matter that did not concern me.’
‘Your father said he was cheated—did you believe him?’
‘I was never sure, but now I think it may well have been the truth.’
Rosalyn asked what he meant, and he explained about the incident he had recently witnessed at the gaming hell.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked, gazing up at him fearfully. ‘Will you take revenge for what he did to Helen—and for your father’s sake?’
Damian saw the anxiety in her eyes. He touched her cheek, marvelling at the softness of her skin, at the sweet perfume that seemed always to cling about her. There had been other women in his life over the years, but none had ever aroused such feelings in him before.
‘Do not distress yourself,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘Mr Harrington will be brought to book for crimes other than rape—or cheating at the tables. I have purchased notes far above the worth of his estates. He will in time be arrested for debt and probably spend some time in prison. I believe he deserves at least that—and it will close the door on the past for me. I do not require revenge for myself, only that he should receive some punishment for his crimes.’
‘I am glad you do not mean to fight a duel,’ she said softly. ‘I could not bear it if you were killed.’
‘If we had not met, I might have thought it worth the risk,’ Damian said in a voice caught with emotion. ‘But now…’ He drew her to him, kissing her tenderly once more. ‘When I asked you to come away with me just now it was in a moment of madness, because I want you so much, but it was wrong of me. If you will have me, my darling, I should like to marry you.’
Rosalyn’s face lit up with joy. ‘Oh, Damian! You know I will. I would have lived with you as your mistress, but to be your wife is all the happiness I could ask of life.’
‘We may have to go away for a time—to live abroad. I am thinking of adopting Jared as my own,
of giving him my name. You would not object to that—to what others might think or say?’
‘Of course not.’ She touched her fingers to his lips, smiling at him with love in her eyes. ‘I am already very fond of him. I am sure I shall come to love him as if he were my own. Besides, he needs to be loved—and I know you care for him.’
‘I imagined you might say that.’ Damian trailed a finger down her throat, letting it rest for a moment on the tiny pulse spot at the base. ‘You are so generous. Because of what happened today, I may have to take him away before the wedding—but, once he is safe, I shall return to claim you.’
‘Must you go at once?’
‘We cannot leave for a few days. Rajib is too weak to move just yet—but as soon as he is well enough, I shall leave. Perhaps without telling you. Do not fear that I have deserted you. I would never leave you—unless you told me to go.’
Rosalyn felt her love swell and grow within her. She could not imagine ever wanting him to leave her side.
‘Shall we meet again before you leave?’
‘It is Miss Holland’s dance tomorrow evening, is it not? You will be too tired to meet me afterwards—but perhaps the following day? In the afternoon. I do not like the idea of your wandering about alone at night. Particularly as Harrington is a guest in your home.’ He drew her close, kissing her again. ‘Promise me you will be careful. If he harmed you—I would kill him!’
‘Do not say such things.’ Rosalyn laughed up at him. ‘You are worrying for nothing. He saw Papa’s pistol earlier this morning. He knows I am capable of firing it. You must not be concerned for me, Damian. Mr Harrington will not dare to harm me.’ She leaned towards him, pressing herself against his body, offering her mouth for his kiss. ‘How I long to be with you, my dear one, to know the sweetness of your love. Kiss me one last time, then I must leave you.’
Anne Herries Page 15
