by Erin Grace
‘No.’
‘But you can’t force me to stay here.’
‘We will return to Etford at once, where you will have a bath and change before you expire from the cold. I will take some of my men and we will scour the forest until we find your sister.’
‘No.’
One of his eyebrows rose. ‘Are you always this stubborn when someone tries to help you?’
‘I didn’t ask for your help.’
He reached up, tapped on a hatch within the roof and when it opened, instructed his driver to make haste for Etford Park.
Catching Lester’s piercing glare just before the hatch closed, she shuddered and rubbed her hands along her arms.
‘Look at you.’ A deep sigh escaped him as plucked the gloves from his hands then leaned forward. ‘Give me your foot.’
A command, not a request. ‘Why?’
‘Again, you test my opinion of your intelligence.’
A severe reprimand died on her lips as his hand reached down beneath her sodden skirts, grasped her ankle and raised her left foot.
Oh Lord. Her boot was filthy, and wet, and no! He was resting it upon his knee. His breeches would be ruined. ‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ His fingers deftly went to work to untie her tattered laces as she tried in vain to remove her foot. ‘Stop your fidgeting for one minute and hold still. There is nothing more you can do for your sister at the moment, so you may as well do as you are told for once. I promise you, once we get to Etford I will not rest until she is found. Traipsing around Heron Forest alone in the dark is dangerous, if not foolish. You would be doing no favors to your sister’s welfare by getting injured or ill.’
The carriage shunted and ground to a halt. The driver was shouting. Highwaymen? So close to Etford Park?
Gabriel placed her foot down and reached for a pistol tucked with the satiny folds of the carriage lining.
‘Wait here.’
He had no sooner stepped out than a familiar Scottish brogue sounded from somewhere outside. Mr MacCallister? What was he doing out here?
Compelled to discover what was halting their return to Etford Park, she reached down to re-tie her laces but found her near frozen fingers unwilling to oblige. Bloody hell.
She pushed herself up from the seat, wobbled for a moment then crouched forward as she prepared to open the door.
‘I told you, you aren’t going anywhere.’ Gabriel stepped inside, grasped her hand and gently nudged her back toward her seat. ‘And, before you attempt to flay me with that glare of yours, you may wish to know your sister has been found alive and well, it seems. Mr MacCallister is on his way to inform your mother and uncle.’ Overwhelmed with relief she fell back against the chair and burst into tears.
A wry smile met his lips. ‘And, here was I thinking you’d be pleased by the news.’
She threw the parcel at the wretch and gave him a weary smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what? I hadn’t the chance to do anything. It is Mr MacCallister you should thank. It appears he found your sister hiding in the manor stables. She’d slept by my favorite hunter, keeping warm in the straw. At this very moment she is in the kitchen eating a huge portion of Mrs Peel’s best jam pudding. Which, I might add, was to be my dessert this evening.’
‘Oh my.’ Through her tears she couldn’t help but smile at his remark, but Lord help her, Stephaney was going to get a lecture she wouldn’t readily forget. Her poor heart was yet to recover from the terrible fright. ‘I owe Mr MacCallister a great deal. But as you were prepared to risk your own safety to help her, I feel I owe you my thanks as well. If for nothing else, but the loss of your pudding.’
‘Alas, it is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make again, if just to see you smile.’
Her breath caught, as he flashed a wicked grin then picked up her foot once more. Despite the cold, her body felt curiously warm.
Damn the man. She’d considered him heartless, unfeeling for kissing her then abandoning her at Etford Park. Now, he was just like the day she’d met him whilst riding. Could she be wrong about him?
Hope and fear filled her chest but dissipated within moments as he slid her boot off, along with it a tiny trickle of dirty water which ran out and splattered onto the carriage floor.
Oh, why won’t the heavens open up and swallow her now? Henrietta would kill her at least five different ways when she found out about this.
The situation could not become any worse.
Then the site of her drenched woolen stocking landing on the floor confirmed that indeed, matters had become worse. But, the strange thing was, she hadn’t even felt him remove her sock, such as was the numbness of her foot.
‘Damn it, Lily. Your feet are like blocks of river ice, and your lips are blue.’
But as he cradled her foot with his large hands, warmth rushed into the cold flesh of her cheeks instead, the skin there suddenly prickling with heat.
She should tell him to stop, that what he was doing was inappropriate to say the least, but the words lodged in her throat, refusing to be released. Then for a blissful, decadent moment, she almost allowed herself to enjoy his gentle ministrations.
‘Now, you will tell me exactly why you were traipsing through the snow with nothing but that flimsy shawl and coat? You will catch your death of a cold. Didn’t Mrs Godfrey give you new clothes to wear?’
Her throat tightened in indignation, as she attempted to adjust her pelisse. ‘This happens to be my best coat. I just hadn’t anticipated such a change in the weather this afternoon.’
‘It has been snowing heavily for two days, madam.’ Wretch.
‘Very well. I didn’t wish to ruin the new clothes you had issued me. I may not have much, but I do appreciate what I am given.’
‘So, I see.’ He ran his fingers down the length of her foot and smiled. ‘You have very slender feet, madam.’
‘Thank you. No one has ever really noticed before. I take after my mother, I suppose.’
‘Firstly, I’m somewhat relieved to hear your feet are not the talk of London. Secondly, your mother is to be congratulated on such exquisite work. And, thirdly, you will never be out in such weather again without good boots and proper attire. I don’t give a fig about the cost. Do you understand? In fact, you will not be walking in this weather again.’
All she could manage was a short nod as his skillful fingers worked her icy toes, the tingling sensation prickly at first, but she didn’t complain.
Then as he began to message her ankle and calf, she was filled with warmth of a very different kind. Her heartbeat skipped as his hands massaged further up her leg, his fingers tracing from a sensitive point behind her knee, down to her ankle. Oh, my. Never had she been touched like this - but his hands were trembling.
Then she noticed him in the dim lamp light.
‘Captain?’ His face was pale, very pale. ‘You don’t look at all well.’
‘Nonsense. I’m the one assisting you, remember? I’m fine.’ But no sooner had the words left his lips than he began to cough.
She removed her foot from his hold, leaned forward and touched his forehead with the back of her hand. A fearful chill gripped her body.
‘You have a fever, sir.’
He took her hand, kissed it and smiled, but his eyes were glazed and he appeared to be perspiring. ‘I am merely tired. As I had said, I have been out all night and it has caught up with me.’ He began coughing, louder this time. ‘Though, I am looking forward to a hot bath. Preferably with you in it.’
‘Captain!’
She would have blushed, but he’d passed out.
Chapter 17
Lester unhitched the horses from the carriage and glanced up at the light-filled windows of the manor. Shadowy figures darted to and fro from floor to floor. No doubt tending to the captain’s ills.
Damn fool. What had the man been thinking? Chasing after some worthless piece of muslin when he should have just let the baggage free
ze. Would have served her right. After all, she did enjoy her ‘walks’.
He spat on the ground then lead one of the mares over to the stable where that bastard Scot was waiting.
Hold him back, will he? Well, the next time MacCallister interfered in his business he just might find the cold blade of his dagger between his shoulders.
The thought of the Scotsman lying in a pool of blood against the white snow sent chills of anticipation hurtling through his veins.
‘How did they travel, Lester?’
He shook off his thoughts and handed MacCallister the reins. ‘How do you bloody well think they travelled? I know my horseflesh. Do you doubt the way I can manage a team?’
The man eyed him curiously then shook his head and smiled. ‘Nae. Of course not. I was just asking. You know I dinna like to keep the ladies out in the snow for too long.’
‘Well, then you might want to take that up with little Miss Bowden. Seems she likes nothing better than to have me running after her every whim. Only, one day, I won’t be able to save her pretty little arse from the cold.’
He turned his back on the Scot and returned to cleaning down the carriage. Already late, he would be polishing and cleaning until the early hours for sure. Bloody bitch.
And, now the captain was no better. The man had let himself be managed by some conniving female. Up until now he had been proud to serve a man returned from the war. In fact, he’d tried to enlist once, only to be turned down because he was missing two fingers, one from each hand – ‘souvenirs’ from a childhood spent pick-pocketing in the streets of London.
Gin-soaked and vicious when riled, Meg didn’t like it when one of ‘her boys’ came back to the old loft empty-handed. On two occasions, he hadn’t been quick enough when she grabbed his hand and hacked at his fingers with a knife. But, only his little fingers, mind. She would never harm the digits that did all the work.
Exhausted, Lily cursed beneath her breath as she stumbled at the top of the stairs.
Her tired feet ached, and her body craved sleep. The narrow servant’s stairs were treacherous at times and if she wasn’t careful, she would fall and break her neck one day. But for now, her concerns lay with getting fresh sheets and small squares of linen to the captain’s valet, Peters.
Donald, Thompson and Peters had carried the captain’s limp frame from the carriage and upstairs to his chambers. She’d followed the men as they laid him upon his bed, her stomach twisting as she prayed he was all right. Memories of her poor mother telling her of their father’s death surfaced, but she fought to push them to the back of her mind.
Gabriel wasn’t dead yet. And she would consign herself to the devil before she’d mourn his passing before time.
Mrs Godfrey had sent for the village doctor, but apparently the man was out of reach, delivering a baby some two hours from Speckles Wood.
Once they had settled the captain into his bed, she’d expected the old housekeeper to reprimand her for leaving her post and go looking for Stephaney, but the woman hadn’t mentioned it once. Perhaps Mrs Godfrey had been too angry at the time, and would inform her of her punishment later?
Without bothering to knock, she pushed against the slightly open door and entered the captain’s room. ‘Mr Peters?’
Whilst waiting for a reply, she placed the linen on a nearby table and approached the bed. Her breath caught, eyes misted at the sight of the captain lying on the middle of the bed.
Oh, Gabriel.
His tousled dark hair contrasted sharply with the fine white sheets, the ruffled collar of his shirts cradling his neck. Sweat glistened on his brow, his face pale tense with the tremors of fever.
Yet, the room was warm – hot, in fact. Peters had stoked the fire and Gabriel’s body was covered in layers of richly embroidered blankets. From each of the four corners of his bed rose an intricately carved mahogany pillar, connected at the top by long lengths of paler wood and secured by brass fittings. Why would a man who displayed such exquisite taste pretend to be so indifferent to everything around him?
‘He had it sent from India.’
She spun around at the sound of Peters voice. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You seemed transfixed by the captain’s bed. He had it made for him and shipped back to Etford.’ The man glanced at her and smiled softly. ‘As you can see, he has an eye for beautiful things.’
She didn’t quite know what to make of his comment, but heat rose to her cheeks. ‘I brought you the sheets you requested.’ She returned her gaze to the figure sleeping in the middle of the bed, her heart aching. His chest rose and fell as though a great weight had been placed upon it and before long she found her own breathing keeping pace. ‘How is he?’
Peters offered her a meek smile and picked up one of the linen squares before soaking it in a basin of water. ‘I’m afraid it’s far too early to tell, madam. He is very restless but, since he’d returned from the war, he banned me from serving him laudanum to help him sleep. Mrs Peel, however, is brewing some willow bark tea for the fever. I only hope I can get him to swallow some. Other than that, I am not a doctor, and can only treat him to the best of my abilities. I pray it is enough.’
Feeling useless, she nodded and glanced around the room for some chore to do. ‘I wish to help.’
‘There really is nothing much you can do tonight.’
She reached out and clasped the man’s forearm, her gaze pleading for silent understanding. ‘I must help him. Please.’
Eyes full of sympathy, Peters patted her hand then took it within both of his. ‘Very well. You may come back later tonight and sit with him for a time whilst I have a short rest.’
She reached up, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now, if you will excuse me, I must change the captain’s clothes and sheeting. His perspiration has soaked these ones right through.’
‘Yes, Yes of course. Thank you, again. I will have Mrs Peel prepare a supper tray for you. It would seem no one wishes to attend the dining room this evening.’
He sighed. ‘It’s as if the household is in the grip of mourning yet another loss. Even his lordship had ventured to ask his son’s condition. Most peculiar. And, if you will forgive my impertinence, he seemed gravely concerned. These past few days his lordship seemed to have taken a turn for the better. In fact, apart from attending dinner with Lady Cecily and sitting in his library instead of staying in bad, he has been almost well…pleasant.’ He placed the damp cloth upon Gabriel’s head. ‘In any event, I am not one to give up hope so easily. The captain is a very resilient man. Do try and get some rest, Miss Bowden. You look very tired, my dear.’
Though she’d only met Peters on a few occasions, she appreciated his courteous manner and gentlemanly way. Never once had he threatened her, complained or spoken out of turn. What was more, she trusted him.
Gabriel was in good hands.
Out in the hall, she slumped against the wall and inhaled a deep breath. Exhausted. That’s what she was. Yet despite the events of late that afternoon, Mrs Godfrey had expected her to carry on with her duties as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
She, on the other hand, desired nothing more than collapsing on her bed and sleeping until Christmas.
Christmas! Lord. It was a week away and she hadn’t even begun to make Henrietta’s cakes and puddings. But, oddly enough, she no longer cared. The captain lay ill from fever, her sister needed her and here she was worrying about feeding a group of women who all had the etiquette of circus monkeys. No more. Come tomorrow, she would send word to her aunt that she no longer had the time to bake or polish or clean. Nothing else mattered than those she cared about. Every spare moment not tending to her duties would be spent tending to the care of…just what was he to her?
Her lord? Her suitor? Her lover? Blast it all, she had no idea and was too tired to think. What she did know was from the moment he passed out in the carriage, she’d never felt so guilty in her life and would ne
ver forgive herself if he were to… no, she refused to think the worst. Not now. Not ever. She couldn’t bear losing someone she loved again.
She gasped and placed her hand on her chest, the rapid beating of her heart pulsing beneath her fingertips.
Good heavens. She loved him? What was she to do? Her mind spun with the revelation. How could she have allowed herself to fall for the man? Impossible. He was heir to a vast estate and she was nothing more than a penniless girl in servitude.
She could never have someone like him. ‘Are you all right, Miss?’
Polly appeared from the servant’s stairs, carrying a tray laden with food. She was an odd girl, possibly only one and twenty at most, but looked much older. Such, she supposed was the life of a scullery maid.
She nodded and pushed herself from the wall, praying her countenance didn’t betray her thoughts. ‘Yes. I was just resting a moment. It’s been a very long day.’
‘Hasn’t it though. Not made easier by you disappearing all the time, I must say.’
Made contrite by the woman’s valid comment, she swallowed and met her eye. ‘I am sorry, Polly. It wasn’t very fair of me, but there was nothing for it. My sister had gone missing. Haven’t you ever worried about a brother or sister?’
‘No. Don’t have any. At least, none that I know of. I was an orphan, you see. I came to work at Etford Park when I was just twelve.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’
The girl shrugged and adjusted the tray. ‘Don’t be. It’s a far cry better here than in the workhouse.’
‘Please. Let me take that for you. It’s the least I can do.’
The girl smiled and handed over the heavy load. ‘That’s very good of you. I didn’t mean what I said just now.’
‘Say no more. Is this for Lady Cecily?’
‘Yes. Poor thing. She has barely touched a bite these past few weeks. Not good for a woman in her condition not to eat.’
‘Condition?’
Polly appeared suddenly uncomfortable and lowered her voice. ‘I thought you knew? No? Lady Cecily is with child, at least that’s what I overheard Lady Stanton telling Mrs Godfrey. Poor Master Henry’s I’d say. That’s why the captain has offered to marry her. But, Lord, imagine losing two fiancées within a month? You’d begin to feel like you were cursed, wouldn’t you? But the captain, will pull through. He has to, eh? Not good for a woman of her station to be unmarried and carrying a babe.’
