Corseting The Earl

by Killarney Sheffield

  “I am sorry.”

  She didn’t want to think about it. Not here, or now. She stood on tip toe and ran a hand across his matted head, both ill at ease and comforted by the sorrow in his tone. “What happened?”

  He groaned. “They wanted to initiate us. I knew better. I should have bowed out when the squire gave everyone the chance. I thought it would be as simple as a blood-letting, or a couple smacks with a paddle. Instead the fiend wanted to strip us naked and have us spank each other. When they tied my hands and then tried to remove my dress, I fought back. Once they realized I was a man they gave me a roughing up like I have never had before. I remember little else after the first few punches. Ten to one is very unfair odds, if you ask me,” he groused bitterly.

  “You were shackled to the wall, bloody and swollen when they brought me here.” She fought to control the waiver in her voice. “I thought you had died more than once.”

  “That would explain the ache in my shoulders.” His tone softened. “I am a tough lad. A little knocking about cannot kill me.”

  A sob lodged in her throat. “We are going to die. They mean to kill us, Heath.”

  “You must be brave, my Pippa. We will not count our hours yet. Have hope. Someone will come looking for us. Even now my butler will be on the hunt, for I was supposed to return the next day and sent him a missive saying such.”

  “I wish I had as much faith in your butler as you, my lord.” Pippa backed up and then sat down with her back against the altar. “I doubt anyone will be able to find us in this secret chamber below a seldom used chapel.”

  “Is that where we are?”

  She nodded and then realized the absurdity of the gesture in the dark. “Yes.”

  “Well, one of our captors will come to see if we are dead, or alive, at some point. I can pretend to be dead and we could attack them when I am unshackled.”

  Pippa shivered, glad he couldn’t see the doubt on her face she knew showed. “Somehow I do not think either of us is in any shape to fight off a captor.”

  “We will do what we must…when the time comes.” He moaned. “The blackness is coming again, Pippa…. Wake me…if I sleep too long…else I am afraid I will not…wake…up.”

  “Heath?” She scrambled to her feet and made her way too him in the dark. “Heath? Do not leave me.” Her hand found his chest, and when she detected the shallow rise and fall of it she heaved a sigh of relief. He was not dead, at least not yet. Though if help didn’t come soon, she doubted he would last much longer.

  Gathering her courage she struck out for the stairway on her hands and knees, skirting the altar. At first she thought she missed them, but then her hand brushed the bottom step. One by one she made her way up until she bumped the solid shape of the moveable wall. She groped the wall searching for a handle, knob, or lever to open it, but met only smooth stone. Frustration growing, she traced the gaps between the stones until she found a smooth line indicating the doorway. She ran her fingers up and down the path, yet still could not find a way to open the door. In desperation she shoved it as hard as she could, but it didn’t budge. Was there a darker stone which needed to be pressed to open it like on the other side? It was possible, but in the dark she wouldn’t find it. Oh why hadn’t she thought to check the door while the torches still burned? A sigh slipped from her lips. She hadn’t checked before because it was a fool’s errand to think it would have been that easy to escape.

  Chapter Thirty

  Something roused Pippa from her slumber. “Heath?” When he didn’t answer, she sat up wincing at the cramp in her thigh from resting on the cold stone.

  A slow grating sound echoed.

  Scrambling to her feet Pippa faced in the direction of the stairs from whence the noise came. Were Mitchel and the lords returning? Someone made their way down the steps without any light.

  “My lord?” came a feminine enquiry.

  Pippa hesitated and then answered, “We are here.”

  “Pippa, is that you?”

  Puzzled as to the identity of the woman she returned, “Yes, and Lord Sedgwick is with me. Who are you?”

  “’Tis I, Mary Baglo.”

  “Mary? What are you doing here?” Astonished Pippa moved toward the voice.

  “I went to Lord Sedgewick’s townhouse to warn him you might be in danger after Mitchel tossed me out onto the streets, but the butler said his lordship did not return home as expected.”

  Curiosity got the better of Pippa. “Why did Mitchel toss you out?”

  Mary’s hollow laugh echoed in the dark. “The lecher plans on putting you in my stead as his mistress, and after the way you spoke of him at the inn, I had the feeling it was not consensual.”

  A hand touched Pippa’s arm and she jumped. “How did you know where to find Heath and me?”

  Mary’s tone hardened. “Where do you think he held and beat me until I submitted to becoming his kept whore?”

  “I am sorry,” Pippa whispered.

  A sniff echoed. “I thought you said Lord Sedgewick was here?”

  “He is shackled to the wall.”

  It was silent for a moment. “Is he…?”

  “Dead?” Pippa supplied. “No, but I am not sure how much longer he will live if we do not get out of here.”

  “I do not have a key for the shackles,” Mary murmured.

  Pippa’s hopes fled. “I cannot leave him, Mary. If Mitchel comes back before I can summon help they will kill him. And…I love him, Mary.”

  “A blind man could see that, Pippa.”

  “Oh.” Pippa grimaced. Had she been acting the love sick fool in front of everyone who thought Heath a woman? Dear Lord! “What are we going to do?”

  “I will go see if there is a key somewhere in the church.”

  Pippa groped for Mary’s hand. “Please hurry.”

  “I will have to shut the wall while I search, for I dare not leave it open in case someone should come along.”

  A shiver rode Pippa’s spine. “How do I open it if you should be caught?”

  “You cannot from the inside.”

  Dread filled her as Mary shook off her hand and climbed back up the stairs. When the door ground shut she fought the terrible feeling she would never see Mary again. She turned to Heath. “Heath, you must wake up. Mary has come to free us. Wake up.” When he did not respond she stroked his cheek. “Heath?” A moan slipped from him, but he did not stir, so she stood on tip toe and pressed her mouth against his bruised one. He moaned again and his lips parted.

  She pulled back. “Heath?”

  “Pippa…did you just…kiss…me?”

  “Yes.” A giggle slipped from her lips. “I need you to wake up. Mary is here to save us.”

  “Mary?” The puzzlement in his tone was almost comical. “Who is that now?”

  Alarmed she place a hand on his forehead. It was hot to the touch. “Mary Baglo, my lord. You remember, from the inn?”

  “The inn? Yes…yes, the inn. We had a mighty good time there, eh?” He chuckled, a low, sinister kind of sound she didn’t expect.

  “My lord?”

  He cackled. “Hehehe, yes, the serving girl was quite buxom. She wanted to take us both to bed. Could you imagine that, Peter?”

  Good Lord! The man is out of his mind with fever! “Heath, ’tis not the time to reminisce. We are in serious trouble here.”

  “Remin…iss, such an odd word, do you not think? How’s about a dance, dearie? I got my best stockings and petticoats on.”

  “Wonderful.” Pippa sighed. She glanced over her shoulder. What was taking Mary so long? To her relief, the door atop the stairs grated across the floor. Footsteps made their way down the steps and then a cold hand touched her arm.

  “These must be the keys.”

  Something jingled by Pippa’s head.

  “They were the only ones I found, and in the holy water basin at that.”

  Heath chuckled. “I drank the holy water once. A switchin’ I got too. Damned hurt, it did.”<
br />
  “What is he talking about?” Mary whispered.

  “He is out of his head with fever,” Pippa explained.

  A key scraped the lock, the chain rattled and then Heath slumped to one side. “Hold him up whilst I undo the other one,” Mary commanded.

  Pippa wedged herself under Heath’s arm pit to hold him upright, afraid she wouldn’t be of much help in her weakened state. “Hurry, he is heavy.”

  Again a key scraped, the chain rattled and Heath slumped forward as Mary must have supported his other side.

  “Oh dear me, I seem to have a tear in my stocking,” Heath mumbled.

  “What?” Mary asked.

  “Never you mind, Heath, I will fix it for you when we get home.” Pippa patted his chest. “Come on, my lord, one step at a time.”

  Heath wobbled and then took a step. “Such a good girl my Pippa is. And such a smart one, too.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Pippa mumbled. They made their way with pain staking slowness across the dark room to the steps. “Up we go, my lord.”

  “I would much rather go down them, dear. My legs seem too tired to climb. Perhaps I did dance too much this eve, you know.” Heath wobbled, sweat dripping from his brow and landing on her cheek.

  Pippa groaned. “Come on, just a few steps, please?”

  “Well…all right. Just two then. I shall count.” He took a deep breath and then wheezed. “One.”

  Pippa and Mary stepped with him.

  He took a second step. “One…no, no, I did that one already. One….” He stepped with the other foot, and rather than correct him Pippa went with it and stepped along. By the time they reached the twentieth step, Heath had started counting at one sixteen more times. They hauled their burden into the little chapel. There was no light shining through the windows as they made their way in the murky darkness between the pews to the door.

  Mary leaned Heath up against the wall. “You two wait here while I make sure no one is about. There should not be anyone, since it is well past three, but I best be sure.”

  The door creaked open and a rustle of material heralded Mary’s exit.

  “Why are we standing here in the dark?” Heath groused much like whiny child. “Tell the houseboy to light the damned lanterns already. Am I that poor to not afford it?”

  “Shh!” Pippa admonished. “We are playing a game, my lord.”

  “A game? Oh how wonderful! I love games.”

  She snorted. “Yes, good. Now we are hunting a…a mouse. Yes, we are cats, hunting a mouse.”

  “Cats, eh?” Heath was silent a moment. “Meow.”

  Pippa couldn’t help but giggle at his impersonation of a feline. “Shh, hunting cats must be very quiet, my lord.”

  “Me…ow,” Heath whispered.

  Struggling not to laugh, Pippa shifted his weight on her sore shoulders.

  The door creaked open again and Mary returned. “All is quiet. Come on, I have a donkey cart waiting by the west gate.”

  Heath lurched forward. “Cats do not like donkeys.”

  “What is he talking about?” Mary hissed.

  Pippa steadied him. “Pay him no mind and let us get out of here before someone comes.”

  Slowly but surely, they made their way from the church, through the garden and to the west gate. It took some doing, but together they managed to get the now silent lord into the back of the cart right before he blacked out. Pippa dragged her weary body in beside him and with Mary in the driver’s perch they headed out.

  “We have got to find somewhere t’ hide.”

  Pippa peered behind, keeping a look out for any sign of discovery. “Hide? Just get us to his lordship’s London house and all will be fine.”

  Mary urged the donkey faster. “Are you noddy? That’s the first place they’ll look for him.”

  “Do not be absurd. Surely no one would attempt to hide a lord in his own home.”

  “Mitchel will do anything, trust me,” Mary shot back over her shoulder.

  “Well, we have nowhere else to go.” Pippa touched Heath’s forehead and frowned at the heat there. “Unless…do you know of the orphanage Doctor Willis looks after in London?”

  “Aye, I do, ’tis on Brighton Street,” Mary answered.

  “Take us there.” Pippa stroked Heath’s cheek hoping they would arrive before it was too late.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  The earl stirred in the bed and Pippa hurried to see to him. “My lord?”

  His eyes slowly opened and then he blinked. “Pippa?”

  She smiled. “I feared you would never awaken, or remember me.”

  A frown marred his chapped lips. “Why would I not know you?”

  “You were out of your head with fever and kept calling me Peter.” Pippa giggled at his confused expression.

  “Where am I?”

  Pippa poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. “You are at the Brighton Street Orphanage, in London.”

  He turned his head to take in the simple room. “How did I get here?”

  “Mary came to rescue us and we practically carried you from the church cellar. I must say you are unreasonably heavy, my lord.” Pippa held the glass of water to his lips. After a few sips she set it on the table. “I will have to inform the doctor you are awake.”

  “Wait.” He tried to sit up, his face twisting into a mask of pain.

  She stayed him with a gentle hand on his chest. “The physician says your ribs are broken and bruised, and your arm was dislocated as well.” When Heath frowned at the bandage binding his left arm to his chest she patted his other shoulder. “You took quite a thrashing, my lord. The doctor was not sure you would wake up.”

  “Bloody bastards,” he hissed. “I will hunt every last one of them down and see they hang for treason.”

  A smile rode her lips at his feistiness. “The founder of the orphanage has been very stanch about admitting no one, so we will be safe here, I am sure.” She grimaced. “No one knows you are here, not even your Lady Spencer.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh, dear, I meant to break things off with the woman.”

  “Whatever for?” she wondered out loud, plumping his pillows.

  It was silent for a moment. “I am not in love with her.”

  Pippa pondered his pale, battered face. “Most do not marry for love anyway.”

  “I would like to, Pippa.”

  She turned away so he would not see the sorrow on her face. It was too bad he would not marry her. Her heart ached to tell him her feelings, but she was simply not strong enough to weather his rejection. She was soiled goods, no longer innocent, or pure. No man would want her. “Thank you for taking my mother and father in, my lord. As soon as you are well enough I will expect my payment of a cottage and shop so we will be out of your way.”

  “I assure you, you and your family are no bother, Pippa.”

  Forcing a smile she nodded. “I shall summon the doctor.”

  “Stay with me a while?”

  She shook her head, blinking back her tears. Pippa left the room and shut the door behind. Leaning her back against it she allowed a few tears to fall. Her adventure with the kindly lord had come to an end, a fact that troubled her. Reality now dictated she face her mistakes and return to her old life. No matter how she longed to tell him she loved him, it wasn’t to be. Sure he was kind to her, but he did not love her, and he longed to fall in love and marry.

  * * *

  Heath stared at the door after it closed behind Pippa. Bits and pieces of their time in the church dungeon flitted in and out of his mind. Had her confession of love for him been an illusion? Did his fevered mind conjure it up on its own? He was sure it had been real, yet her aloofness now refuted the idea.

  He turned his thoughts to the political task at hand. Lord Waxland would have to be notified immediately about the situation surrounding their capture and escape. With a grimace, he eased from the bed, glad someone had clothed him in clean, but faded breeches. Grasping the
windowsill he hauled himself to his feet, groaning in agony as pain lanced through his side.

  The tolling of a bell began to ring through the streets beyond the window. Heath shoved open the shutter and leaned out. Bells across London drowned out the clatter of coaches, horses, and everyday sounds. People on the streets stopped in their tracks and looked to the heavens.

  A woman strolling below the window bowed her head. “Hail the passing of our great King.”

  Heath addressed her, “What is that you say?”

  “The bells tell of the death of our good King George, Sir.”

  “Oh, no.” Heath closed the window as a sense of urgency filled him. He glanced around the simple room, which contained a single cot and bedside table. A tan shirt lay across the foot of the bed. He snatched it up and worked to get it over his head with one hand. Tugging it down in place he looked for footwear. As luck would have it he found a pair at the foot of the bed as well. The cracked leather bore evidence of once being some man’s fashionable riding wear, but were now years beyond a gentleman’s attire. With great difficulty he yanked them on. They were at least two sizes too big and he felt like he was wading through the muck; yet, he supposed it was better than braving the London streets in bare feet. He snickered. Or dressed once again as Percephany.

  After crossing to the door in a shuffling gait to keep the boots in place, he opened the door and peered out into the hall beyond. He gauged which way the stairs might be by the gloom at one end of the hall and the sallow light at the other and headed in that direction. The stairs creaked under foot, and the shabby railing wobbled under his weight as he supported himself with it. He was relieved to make it to the bottom without falling to his death and made a mental note to send some funds to repair it when he reached home.

  An older woman came around the corner with an armload of towels. She let out a startled yelp when she spied him, dropping the towels in surprise. “My lord!”

  Heath tried to smile through his aching side. “So sorry, I did not mean to startle you, Miss.” As fast as he could, he made his way across the gloomy entranceway and out into the sun. Unfortunately he had to walk a full block before coming across a cab. After he flagged it down, he gave the man Lord Waxland’s address and climbed aboard. If it did not hurt so much he might have laughed when his boot dropped from his foot upon rising it to the first step. He thought to retrieve it, but bending over would hurt like the dickens, so he ignored it and scrambled aboard.