by Adele Clee
“Really? Why ever not?”
“Because Morton Manor is an asylum.”
Chapter Two
With her ear pressed to the bedchamber door, Nicole Flint listened for the heavy trudge of the guard’s footsteps. The brute, Stokes, was ill with a fever, leaving Baxter to patrol the manor at night.
Once a home for the insane, the house was still a prison, despite the effort to transform it into a private dwelling.
“Can you hear anything?” Rose hovered in the shadows. She gripped the candlestick in her hand like a club although her trembling arm conveyed a reluctance to strike.
“No, but we must be patient,” Nicole whispered. If Rose stood any chance of escaping, they had to remain focused. “It will be a few minutes until Baxter makes his rounds.”
Baxter was the most conceited of the men the Earl of Stanton had hired to ensure they never left Morton Manor. With his pleasing facial features and full set of teeth, the women in the village found him irresistible. A few softly spoken words and a flirtatious grin would be enough to tempt him to enter the bedchamber. While preparing to put their plan into action, Nicole had spent the last two days batting her lashes at him and offering the odd coy pout.
“Please say you’ve changed your mind.” Rose stepped closer. “Please say you’ll come with me. I can’t bear the thought of leaving you here alone.”
“You know I’ve no choice but to stay, Rose.” Nicole closed the gap between them and rubbed her friend’s upper arm.
“But if we tie Baxter’s feet and gag him, it will be hours before someone notices he’s missing.”
“You need to get as far away from here as you can. The last time you escaped you’d barely travelled a mile before they caught up with you.” Nicole flinched at the memory. Stokes had bound Rose’s wrists so tightly the rope had rubbed red welts into her skin.
“Are you not paid to be my companion?” Rose said in desperation.
Nicole cast Rose a look of reproach. “That would be a valid argument had your father paid me. When I accepted the position, I didn’t realise I’d be locked in the house day and night without a penny’s worth of gratitude.”
Rose smiled. “Once I am married to Lord Cunningham, my father will have no choice but to pay you what he owes.”
Nicole’s reasons for deciding to work for a living had nothing to do with money and everything to do with hiding.
“One of us has to stay with Baxter,” Nicole said. And a night spent locked in a room with an angry guard was safer for her than a trip to London. “One of us must make sure he cannot leave this room until morning.”
Rose’s bottom lip trembled. “But what if they punish you?”
Nothing could be as bad as what her brother, Jeremy, would do if he ever found her. Other than the earl, no one knew she lived at the manor. And she had every intention of keeping it that way.
“What can they do, lock me in my room without supper?” Nicole snorted.
“But you’re faster on your feet,” Rose persisted. “You could cover the mile to the main road in no time.”
“You know I cannot take the chance of being seen in London.” Nicole’s tone conveyed the gravity of her situation. She attracted bad luck like a magnet did iron filings. Someone was bound to notice her.
“Which is precisely why you must come with me. My father will throw you out when he discovers I’m gone. You’ll be of no use to him. What will you do then?”
Nicole swallowed down her apprehension. “Hopefully, I’ll have a week before the earl arrives.” Stokes would scour the countryside from dell to dingle looking for Rose before admitting defeat. “Going back to London is not an option for me.”
“Then head north, far away from those who wish you harm.”
Rose’s suggestion proved tempting. Bless her. Despite her own misfortune, she always thought of others.
“Unlike you, I have nothing to recommend me. You are Lady Rose Darby,” Nicole said remaining resolute in her decision to stay. “Lord Cunningham loves you and has no doubt been out of his mind with worry these last six months.” The earl would stop at nothing when it came to controlling his daughter’s future and deciding whom she could marry. “Lord knows what your father has told him.”
A whimper left Rose’s lips. “Do you think his love will have faded after such a lengthy separation?”
“Once true love springs to life in one’s breast, it can never be tempered.” Well, that was what she told herself in a bid to banish the nightmares. Nicole considered the kind and beautiful woman before her. “Only a fool would refuse to wait for you. Find Lord Cunningham and elope to Scotland as you’d planned.”
While Nicole’s tone brimmed with hope, inside, she acknowledged the daunting task ahead. But London was only twenty miles away. Plenty of carriages passed through the village. Someone was sure to offer a gently bred lady assistance.
Rose sighed. “Will I ever see you again?”
“Of course.” Nicole had no idea where or when, but the close friendship they’d developed during their ordeal was strong enough to withstand anything. “But let us not think of that now. You must—” She stopped abruptly. “Hush.”
Nicole’s heart thumped against her ribs at the sound of Baxter’s heavy gait plodding up the stairs. The guard was slight of frame and pounded the wooden boards merely to prove he was not shirking his duties.
Nicole’s hand settled on the door knob.
“Wait.” In a sudden flurry of panic, Rose gripped Nicole’s arm. “I can’t do it,” Rose whispered. “If I hit Baxter on the head with the candlestick, I’ll surely crack his skull.”
Baxter’s faint humming was drowned out by the violent rattle of the door at the far end of the hall.
Nicole turned to Rose. The lady was so petite it was foolish to expect her to render a man unconscious. But it was too late to alter their plans now.
“Don’t worry. Take this instead.” Nicole handed Rose the linen napkin, took the candlestick and placed it on the floor behind the door. “Force the napkin into his mouth as soon as he’s on the floor, and I’ll deal with the rest.”
Despite experience when it came to physical scuffles with men — or one man in particular — nerves pushed to the fore. She sucked in a deep breath, rattled the door and rapped a few times, just for good measure.
The creak of boards beyond the door confirmed Baxter’s approach.
“Baxter?” she called through the gap between the frame and the jamb. “Open the door. Quickly.”
“What is it?” he answered back.
“I need to speak to you. Just for a moment.” Nicole signalled for Rose to hide behind the armoire.
“You know I can’t open the door.”
“It is of a personal nature.” Nicole softened her tone. “There are too many people watching us during the day. I … I have seen the way you look at me.”
Her comment was met with silence.
Seconds passed.
Then the jailer’s keys jangled and one rattled in the keyhole. The lock clicked. Nicole stepped back as Baxter opened the door. The faint glow from the candle in his hand illuminated his face. He was a short man of less than average height, which accounted for his need to boast of his conquests. From the playful glint in his eye, he understood her meaning.
“What are you doing out of bed, Miss Flint?” A confident grin played at the corners of his mouth as he crossed the threshold. “Looking for trouble no doubt.”
“A lady struggles to sleep during such turbulent weather.” A gust of wind shook the sash window behind her. Even the elements were on their side tonight. Nicole retreated further into the room. “Your whispered words of comfort is all that’s needed to soothe my fears.”
The candle flame flickered as he held the brass stick. His lips parted as his firm eyes centred on her mouth. “What about Lady Rose?” Baxter’s gaze drifted to the mound of pillows hidden beneath the blankets in the far bed.
“Rose is asleep. Step inside while I fi
nd my cloak and then perhaps we could take a stroll outdoors.” Nicole shuffled back and drew Baxter further into the dark room. “After all, we would not want Mrs Gripes to find us together.” The temptation to glance at Rose was great, but she resisted.
“I’m not supposed to enter my lady’s bedchamber,” he said, but his feet proved to be in discord with his words. “Stokes will have my hide if he hears about it.”
Nicole reached for the cloak on the bed and clasped it to her chest as she closed the gap between them. “Well, I won’t tell him.”
Baxter stepped closer and moistened his lips. “And you can be damn sure I won’t.”
“Then there is nothing to fear.” Nicole gestured to the burning candle in his hand. “Let me take that. It is not the heat from the flame that I want to feel burning my body.”
A low growl animated from the back of Baxter’s throat. He grinned before wetting his thumb and forefinger with his thick tongue. The wick sizzled between his fingers, and he bent down and placed the brass holder on the floor.
As soon as Baxter lowered his head, Nicole threw the heavy cloak over him, wrapped her arms around his body and gripped him tightly.
“Now,” she called to Rose who rushed from her hiding place in the shadows. Baxter writhed and wriggled in an attempt to break free from Nicole’s grasp. “Use your foot and take his legs from underneath him. Hurry.”
Rose kicked out at Baxter. Two swipes and he landed in a heap on the floor. “What should I do now?”
The man was stronger than Nicole expected. Not as strong as Jeremy, of course. “You must hit him, Rose, with your fist. As hard as you can.”
“Hit him?”
A lady of such gentle breeding rarely ever raised a cross word, let alone assaulted a person in anger. “This is your only chance of escaping,” Nicole said to rouse the lady’s ire. “Lord Cunningham may well have married someone else in your absence, and it is all Baxter’s fault.”
Not just Baxter. The Earl of Stanton was the first one in the queue when it came to apportioning blame.
With a growl like that of a newborn wolf cub, Rose thumped the shrouded figure on the floor. “That’s for keeping me a prisoner these last six months,” she said. “And that’s for trying to ruin any hope I have of marrying Lord Cunningham.” Rose delivered another blow.
Upon witnessing Baxter’s slow movements and hearing his gasps for air, Nicole decided he was weak enough for them to bind his legs.
“Where did you put the rope?” Nicole said. It was the one they’d stolen from the barn, spent an hour sawing into two pieces with a butter knife, and hidden on top of the armoire.
Rose scampered to the bed. She thrust her arm underneath, patted the boards and pulled out the length of rope.
“You must sit on him, Rose, while I tie his legs.” Nicole’s firm tone left no room for doubt. With Baxter’s head and face covered by the travelling cloak, the task would not seem as daunting. “Quickly.”
In spite of her small frame, Rose sat on Baxter’s stomach while Nicole sat on his legs and bound his ankles together. “Now we must bind his wrists. When I remove the cloak from his face, you must push the napkin into his mouth.”
Rose nodded and reached for the table napkin she’d dropped on the floor. “Where did you learn to tie such tight knots?”
An image of Jeremy’s cold black eyes and ugly sneer flashed into Nicole’s mind. She shivered. “It is not so much how I learned to tie them, more how I learned to undo them.”
Rose raised her head in acknowledgement. They had no secrets. During their months in captivity, they’d shared every hope, every fear.
“Are you ready?” Nicole clutched the second length of rope. “Remove the cloak.”
Rose did as she asked. Baxter’s enraged glare proved unnerving, but Nicole dismissed all feelings of anxiety. Despite Baxter nipping at Rose’s fingers like a rabid dog, she forced the linen cloth into his mouth.
Baxter fought them, lashed out and Nicole had no choice but to punch him on the nose.
The man wailed against the gag in his mouth. Blood trickled down over his lips, and Rose used the edge of the cloak to mop it up while Nicole set to work, strapping Baxter’s hands.
With the job done, they both stood and heaved in a breath. But there was no time to waste. No time to celebrate the small victory.
“Hurry. To linger only serves to tempt fate.” Nicole grabbed the travelling cloak and fastened it around Rose’s shoulders. “Do you have your provisions?”
“Yes.” She opened the door of the armoire and ferreted about inside. “There’s bread from breakfast this morning and fruit taken from the bowl in the dining room,” she said holding up the linen bag she’d sewn using remnants of fabric stolen from the box in the parlour.
“And you have the purse of coins I gave you?”
Rose nodded. “Promise me you’ve got money, too.”
“Please, do not worry about me.” Nicole couldn’t lie and so avoided answering directly. She grabbed the small bunch of keys from Baxter’s pocket, removed the black iron key and handed it to Rose. “Now go before someone notices Baxter is missing.”
They hugged.
“Be safe.”
“We will be reunited soon,” Rose whispered as she tiptoed along the landing.
Nicole returned to the bedchamber and hurried to the window. She watched Rose rush out into the night and make a dash across the lawn. When Rose reached the overgrown topiary hedge she stopped, turned back to the window and waved.
With a heavy heart, Nicole pressed her palm to the glass. Rose was the only person who had ever been kind to her. The only person she regarded as a true and loyal friend. Perhaps their paths would cross again. Perhaps the image of the gentle lady fleeing her prison would be the last memory of all they’d shared.
Baxter’s muffled moans and mumbles forced Nicole to turn around.
“Now the roles are reversed, I doubt you find it half as entertaining.”
With eyes wide, Baxter murmured something incoherent.
“Well, you shall have but one night of misery, whereas we have endured six months.” With the keys in her hand, she strode over to the door and locked it before sliding down to a sitting position. “In six hours, you shall be a free man, whereas I will pay for my disobedience.”
Some would find such a long wait tiring, difficult to bear. But Nicole would use the time to come up with a plan.
Her main objective hadn’t changed. She needed to be far away from Jeremy, far away from his wife, Rowena. Once she’d found a way out of Morton Manor, she would head north, take work as a governess or paid companion.
As always, her mind became engrossed in fanciful daydreams. Where were the knights of medieval times, the men willing to risk their lives to save a damsel in distress? Where were the honourable men, those not preoccupied with lining their purse or finding a willing woman to warm their bed?
Baxter raised his arms and gestured to his wrists. Had the scoundrel shown remorse over playing jailer and master, she might have pitied him.
Instead, she raised a reproachful brow and settled back against the door to wait until morning.
Darkness gave way to the golden rays of dawn. But while daylight heralded a wonderful new beginning for Rose, the sight filled Nicole with dread. Rose’s absence meant there was no need for Stokes to control his vicious outbursts, no need for Baxter to suppress his debased morals.
After all, why would the earl care what happened to the paid companion?
The sound of carriage wheels crunching along the gravel drive dragged Nicole to the bedchamber window. One glimpse of the painted black and yellow conveyance and her heart dropped to her stomach like a lead ball in a well. The Earl of Stanton’s coat-of-arms — two black eagles holding a gold shield — was instantly recognisable.
Good Lord! What wicked turn of fate was this?
How was it the devil had arrived so soon?
Had he stumbled upon Rose at the coaching inn, only t
o bundle her into the vehicle and return her to their rural prison?
The red iron shod wheels stopped rolling. The door flew open before the coachman climbed down from his box seat. Nicole pressed her nose to the glass. The handsome gentleman who vaulted to the ground was most certainly not the grumpy old Earl of Stanton.
With keen interest, she observed the stranger.
He was tall and broad, of athletic build with a slightly rakish air about him. A strong, powerful stance added to his appeal. In a moment of fancy, Nicole wondered what it would be like to waltz with such a gentleman. Would she feel the evidence of those muscular thighs pressing against her legs? Would his masculine scent make her giddy, make her want to bury her face in his neck and inhale the musky aroma?
Nicole shook herself to her senses.
For all the saints, it wasn’t the first time she’d gazed upon a well-proportioned face. Yet it was the first time she’d looked upon a man and felt a rush of excitement. The first time she’d not felt a frisson of fear.
He straightened his coat and brushed the sleeves before surveying the building’s exterior. As he scanned the facade, their eyes met. He jerked his head back and raised a curious brow.
Like a bolt from the heavens, a strange sense of familiarity struck her. This was a scene she’d lived through before, although logic deemed it was impossible. Then again, she’d had many dreams of being rescued by a kind-hearted gentleman.
A need to discover more about the mysterious visitor took hold.
Offering a sinful grin, he inclined his head to her, and she shot back from the window, unnerved by her instant reaction to his dangerous charm. A pleasing countenance was often a mask used to hide the scoundrel within. Perhaps this man would prove to be more of a threat than any she’d come across before.
Baxter’s muffled cries of protest woke Nicole from her musings. The guard shuffled vigorously and wiggled his arms in an attempt to break free from his bindings.
Nicole sighed as she considered her predicament. She would have to release Baxter, eventually. It was only a matter of time before someone came to look for him. No doubt Mrs Gripes was up and dressed in her apron, ready to serve charred toast and coddled eggs.
