by Terry Long
The thought reassured her enough to be able and sit down on the edge of the massive bed.
A whirlwind of maids came and went, filling the tub and washbasin with water, fluffing the down in her pillows, and fetching a dinner tray. When the last of the maids left, Ally consumed her meal in rapid momentum, barely chewing before swallowing each morsel. Her bath beckoned. She followed the hint of jasmine, making her way toward the steaming tub. With fast hands, she stripped off her gown, stay, shift, stockings, and garters in record speed.
She almost moaned when she stepped in the tub. Lowering into the calming decadence that greeted her flesh, Ally closed her eyes to the blissful sensation. Little by little, her sore muscles didn’t feel so taut or inflexible any longer, enabling her to fully settle, but her mind had other plans.
What would Nana say? What if her maid, Margaret, dashed to the hospital, sobbing and related this terrible account to Nana? Oh, dear! Nana would surely be worried, and in her frail condition…Ally squeezed her eyes tightly to prevent the pool of tears from falling.
She gasped when the door opened.
“Are you still bathing?” Michael asked from behind the privacy screen, his voice laced with disbelief.
“Don’t you dare come in here, Mr. Langdon!” she shouted. Instinctively, her hands flew up to cover her chest, completely mindful of her vulnerability.
There was a brief pause before he said, “I am bolting your door. If you need anything, best to ring for it now.”
“You’re…you’re locking me in?” she sputtered in outrage.
“Problem?”
“I’m not your prisoner, you arrogant…you dreadful…cad!”
“Choice words.” He chuckled and shut the door with a loud thump. After a split second, the key turned in its lock.
Heavens, was she furious, but there wasn’t anything she could do, sitting in the tub, naked as she was. And she was not, under any circumstances, going to get up. Not until absolutely certain he wouldn’t come bustling through that door again, after coming up with some derogatory remark to throw at her.
She sat there completely naked, her entire body shaking from fury. Tears stung her eyes. She’d never wanted to kill a man until today. She was going to have to confess that sin to a priest now, wasn’t she?
Chapter Six
Shouts woke Ally from a much needed slumber. She strained her ears. The younger Langdon.
Sweet Lord, must he shout every word?
She grew weary of his objections. Ally wasn’t sure if it was because of his brother’s command to stay away from her, or if Victor truly found interest in her. She’d certainly done nothing to encourage his advances or to foster such close an attachment. They had simply discussed the weather, the soirées he’d enjoyed, and smidgens of her youth while she lived on the Continent. He’d smiled most the time, yes, but surely, that was only because he was polite.
Another bellow sounded.
Ally threw aside her bed covers. Michael Langdon was the root of her problems. If he hadn’t snatched her and dragged her all the way to Scotland to suit his own selfish designs, none of this would be happening. She and Nana could tend to their garden, unbothered by rackets of noise and brooding gentlemen.
Anxious to leave the chamber, Ally glanced at the empty dressing room for her gown. She remembered putting it over her undergarments on that chair last night. It was the gown she had worn when she had been rudely ambushed. Had he taken it so she couldn’t leave? He had locked her inside, after all. The indignity! If he planned on keeping her in here until Victor married… Oh, God! She rushed to test the lock.
Blessedly relieved when the door pulled open, she expelled a long breath. At least she wasn’t to be a prisoner. She rang the bell pull. Hopefully, one of Michael’s maids would be able to help her locate her gown, silly as that sounded.
Ally retreated to the washstand in the back of the chamber and cleaned her teeth. As she splashed water onto her face, a maid appeared with her gown in hand.
“Milady.” The maid curtsied.
Ally smiled and hurried to dab her cheeks with a cloth. “You have my gown.”
Head lowered, the girl repeated her curtsy, and then shuffled her feet by the door.
Ally could not discern why the poor maid got so flustered. Had she come to convey bad news? Horrid thoughts of Michael ordering his servants to relay his messages tumbled through her head. Ally is to be locked in her chamber at all times. Ally will not be able to return to Dartford. Not under any circumstances are you to speak to her…
“I took it for a wash, milady.”
Ally let out the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you. What is your name?”
“Abigail.” Another curtsy, swift and hasty, followed.
Ally thought the behavior strange, but decided not to comment on it. “Come, help me with that gown.”
“Yes, milady.”
Abigail looked to be a handful of years younger than herself. She had large eyes and an even larger smile. “I have some experience in hair dressing,” the maid said, bristling. After explaining that the styles she knew were at the height of fashion, she added, “I would like to fix your hair every morning, if that’s fine by you, milady.”
“That would not be necessary, but thank you.” Ally caught her bottom lip between her teeth when her voice came out as sharp as a whip. She hadn’t meant to sound rude, but the idea of remaining in London longer than a few days troubled her more than she’d first thought. She must speak to Michael. And soon.
After the last button on her gown was tucked, Ally turned. “Is Mr. Langdon—that is…is my…” She swallowed. “Husband disposed?” She had barely been able to mask a flinch at the use of the word.
“He is in the study with Master Victor.”
Just as she’d said the younger man’s name, another bellow flitted around them.
“Perhaps I should wait a moment,” Ally said. The day ahead promised nothing but further chaos and conflict, and she groaned at the very thought of facing it all—of facing him.
Abigail’s eyes widened and brightened like a bloodhound on a scent. “Because of Master Victor, milady? Milord wouldn’t let him touch you. He said as much, remember?”
No doubt what had transpired in the driveway last evening had been tossed around the servants’ quarters like hotcakes. Ally sighed. “I’m not afraid of Mr. Victor Langdon. I just don’t want to be the reason my husband and his brother are at odds.”
“Yes, ‘tis frightening.” Abigail hunched forward and lowered her voice. Her gaze flew to the door and then back to Ally as if readying to expose the darkest of secrets. “Milord hardly ever gets disconcerted with his brother. Most often lets him do as he pleases.” She grinned, reminding Ally of how young she still was. “But when it comes to his wife, surely, no man will stand back and let his brother seduce—”
Ally took a step back and broke eye contact, uncomfortable with the direction the discussion headed. Obviously, Abigail was not that young.
“I’m sorry, milady.” Abigail lowered her face. “I spoke out of turn.”
“It’s quite all right. I should be going downstairs now,” Ally said, feeling the urge to quit the subject. When she saw Abigail’s wide, enthusiastic smile return, Ally walked to the door.
Another shout rang out.
Behind her, Abigail said, unscathed by the temporary tension, “He’s just wound up because he didn’t have it his way this time.”
Lord! So was Victor always impatient and boisterous, then? Ally pasted a half-hearted smile and nodded at the maid before she made her way down the long corridor to face the bumblebroth in which Michael had placed her.
In a large landing on the same floor, she spotted several colossal ancestral portraits in gilded frames that took up an entire side of a wall. The other boasted eight paintings of vibrant sunrises- no surprise. Michael stared at the sun each morning as if he’d never see it again.
As she continued toward the staircase, she spied silk dra
peries swathed aside to allow in the morning light. Rich tapestries graced the south walls, while a thick, elaborate rug in various colors was strewn in one corner of the gleaming vestibule below. A couple of elegant chairs with detailed back and legs sat amidst it. In the opposite direction stood a massive grandfather clock with a brass chime as large as she’d ever seen. Its canted columns weaved large reed-like swirls down its length and intricately carved caps finished the look. Enormous chandeliers hung from four areas of the tall ceiling.
None of which she’d noticed last evening. She’d been too frightened, she allowed.
On the first floor, Ally strolled closer to a room—a study—and paused.
Though Michael hadn’t seen her, he still brooded as if she were present, blackening his mood. Ally swallowed hard as she took in his side profile. He leaned against a large desk. Long, well-muscled legs clad in dark blue buckskins were crossed at the ankles. The rolled-up sleeves of his partially unbuttoned white shirt exposed sinewy forearms. Though he seemed relaxed, a sense of barely leashed power emanated from him, and Ally swallowed again. Couldn’t he look less…indestructible?
His hair looked disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it too many times. A few strands fell over his eye, making him look like a true scoundrel. He pursed his mouth into a straight line. When Ally tore her gaze from him to the object of his displeasure, she spotted his brother who stood in the far corner of the room, red-faced.
Victor caught sight of her. “There you are!” He hastened over with a large smile, causing Ally to believe there must be another gentleman with an identical voice who’d done all the shouting this morning.
Ally’s gaze flew to Michael and she straightened her shoulders, embarrassed to have been caught spying on them.
Victor pulled her into the study, his hand lingering on her bare wrist longer than necessary. Ally gently drew her hand back in the same instance Michael cleared his throat. She turned to him. She couldn’t deduce what the devil he wanted her to do from that blank look he gave her. Should she turn and leave? Leave them to their ominous looks and irritation to resolve this dilemma on their own? But would it be wise to leave them? They hadn’t done the other in thus far—
“Come away with me,” Victor said, breaking the silence.
Oh, please not again.
Unfolding his arms, Michael now loomed, his face appearing fiercer with each step he took towards them. His hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed into slits. He looked like he was going to murder his brother with his bare hands. Unintentionally, Ally took a few steps back until she nearly stood outside the study.
“She doesn’t love you!” Victor said, his voice exceedingly close to a child’s protest. “Just let her go. Please.”
“You’ll disrespect my wishes in front of others?” Michael said in a chilling tone that sent a shiver down her spine.
“You coerced her into marrying you! She doesn’t want you,” Victor wailed. Like a wounded puppy, he turned to her with pleading eyes. “Tell him. I beg of you.”
“I—” Ally began.
“You’ll go upstairs,” Michael ordered, his tone dry. He spared her not even the slightest glance, his expectation being full compliance.
“Perhaps, Mr. Langdon, if you’ll let me explain to your brother,” she said, drawing enthusiastic nods of agreement from Victor. “Then—”
But Michael didn’t have the same opinion. “Upstairs.” The muscles in his jaw worked. Pinning his dark, heated gaze on her, he bit out, “We have an arrangement.”
Yes, the arrangement. Ally bit the insides of her cheek to refrain from sharing what she thought of him and his unfortunate superiority over them all. She would behave like a lady, if only for Victor.
But if Michael would only let her explain to Victor, surely the younger Langdon would understand, and would accordingly, begin his quest for a wife.
She opened her mouth, but the words dried on her tongue at Michael's shrewd, piercing eyes. A dead silence filled the room, broken by the sounds of her hitched breaths. For a short-lived moment, everything stopped. She found herself drawn into a staring match, a competition Ally knew she had no probability of winning. Finally, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, she dropped her own and turned away.
“Ally.” Victor grasped her wrist again. “What arrangement?” He gripped her hand to his chest so tightly, she couldn’t pull it away. He looked so dreadfully distraught, Ally thought the man might begin bawling at any moment.
“The arrangement is none of your concern,” Michael declared, shooting her a don’t-you-think-about-telling-him glare.
Either Victor didn’t hear his brother, or he simply didn’t care. “Ally, come with me. We will go anywhere you please.”
Ally choked on a breath, pulling her hand back. Home is the only place I wish to go. If there were any other means of repaying Michael and still somehow procure the hospital’s apparatus, Ally would happily take up on Victor’s offer- to let him take her home. But…
Michael’s face became as ominous as she’d ever seen it. She had half a mind to tell Victor to take her away from here, but she had a strong feeling Michael wasn’t the type to stand back and shrug at a situation that went awry. He would likely drag her back by the hair.
“I can’t,” she muttered, her voice coming out in a croaky whisper.
Victor turned to his sibling. “Because of my brother.”
Michael looked just as surprised as she felt at Victor’s defiant stare. She’d never seen Victor angry before. Distraught, yes. Dejected, yes. Hysterical, even. But angry?
“I’ve heard enough,” Michael snapped through clenched teeth. “You may return above stairs now, Ally.”
The man looked as though he might explode and go up in flames right there in his study. Ally detected the firm set of his jaw and a throbbing vein in his temple. His face flushed into a shade that resembled red wine. He turned to his brother. “Miss Overton…Pardon me. Mrs. Langdon is inaccessible right now. Suffering from a case of the vapors, if you will.”
Ally took her time to frown at him before directing her attention to Victor and offering him a dismayed look. The younger gentleman ought to know that she, too, didn’t agree with his brother’s high-handedness. And he looked upset enough to weep, which Ally did not think she could bear to witness.
“Now!” Michael bellowed.
That oaf! He didn’t have to shout. She wanted to clout him over the head, but settled for bestowing upon him a bold, hostile look instead. Disgruntled that he hadn’t even seen it, because of his instant disregard of her, Ally headed for the exit shuffling her feet noisily.
She stepped from the study. The butler, who stood outside the door, offered her a slight bow.
“Good morning, Matthews,” she said forcing a diminutive smile. She knew he’d heard the exchange and inwardly cringed. How horrifying for the servants to learn she was here due to some sort of arrangement their master had struck with her.
She walked along the grand vestibule, holding her head high, even though all she wanted to do was cry. Regardless of how awful Michael treated her, it was his money that was going to help Nana recover. Ally hated knowing that he had a hand in helping; she detested it with all of her being. But she must abide by his rules. For Nana. In a few days, confidently, she would return home. That thought was the last string of hope for her to behave with decorum, as Nana had always lectured.
Thoughts of Michael’s high-handedness were momentarily pushed to the back of her mind when his voice cut through her thoughts.
“Go home, Victor. Get over this sorry truth and move on. You’re a grown man. The spectacle you’ve just put yourself through is remorseful.”
“I’ll come back every day for her,” she heard Victor say, unaltered by his brother’s bark.
“Every time you do so, I’ll lock her in my chamber. You don’t want her locked up like a prisoner in Newgate, do you?”
Ally held her breath, her hand gripping the smooth tusk
ed railing. Her knuckles turned as white as the carved ivory. She prayed Victor not turn her into a prisoner here at this cold place.
Much to her frustration, she couldn’t hear another word. Ally spun around, incapable of taking much more of the protracted silence.
She met Matthews’ gaze down the hall and whirled right back around. It would prove all the more humiliating if he had to usher her to the chamber like a recalcitrant child.
Dragging her feet up the stairs as if walking a plank, Ally muttered a few selective words under her breath. Michael had better send someone for her as soon as his brother left. If he’d forgotten that he’d banished her to a chamber for the remainder of the day, she’d…she’d put a fish in his bed! She nearly growled with frustration.
What could she really do?
Chapter Seven
Four days of marriage to the tyrant proved utterly trying for Ally. She had tried to go back to Dartford, but being the bullhead he was, Michael had obstinately refused. He said for all he knew, she could be meeting Victor somewhere, and his impractical brother would attempt to take her away and make a muck of his life.
Ally could still hear the phrase ringing in her ears. Michael saw her existence as a pain. Though unable to discount his smart opinion of her, she didn’t squander much time feeling sorry for herself.
Her mind kept returning to Nana. She’d have to find a way to see her soon. Nana was ill, and when she woke, she would immediately ask for her granddaughter. She’d be so worried. And pained. My beloved Nana.
Ally wiped a tear with the back of her hand.
Fixing her gaze on a pink bloom nearby as she sat under a large oak, Ally thought of another way to address Michael on the matter. May I visit with my sick grandmother? No? Well, then, would you like to escort me to the hospital filled with ailing patients, so I that I may see my grandmother, you pretentious man? Surely, that wouldn’t work, but it seems that speaking sensibly hadn’t worked, either. When she pleaded with him to see Nana, he said something along the lines of “your maid will see to feeding her.”
