by CJ Archer
He shrugged and slapped Alex on his injured arm. Alex managed to suppress a grunt, just. Squashing North's toes wouldn't be nearly satisfying enough after this.
"It's the least I could do," North said. "Besides, I'm rather fond of Redcliff. Hate to see him perish before our latest wager is settled."
"The feeling isn't mutual," Alex said tartly.
North laughed. "You must forgive my attire, ladies." He brushed at his dirty breeches without dislodging a speck. "Saving lives is a filthy business."
"I think the dirt is quite dashing." Philly grinned and rubbed a smudge off one of the brass buttons adorning North's coat. Alex looked Heaven-ward but was caught by Miss Appleby who seemed to be warring with a smile.
Aunt Harry glanced from one to the other then hooked her hand through Philly's arm. "We were going to take a walk around Hyde Park to see who is about. Care to join us, my lord?"
North beamed. "I couldn't think of anything else I'd rather be doing. But I'd best meet you there. Can't go to Hyde Park at this hour covered in street muck."
"But you hate walking," Alex said. Whatever had got into his friend? North usually rode his gray along Rotten Row and had once been overheard saying that walking was for old maids and children.
"Depends on the company, my good man. And the company today is of the highest order."
Philly blushed then made a great show of pulling on her gloves. Aunt Harry tapped the point of her parasol on the tiles, settling the matter.
"What about you, Redcliff?" North went on. "Care to join us?"
"I think I'd rather stay here with my headache, thank you."
"Nonsense." Aunt Harry sniffed. "You will join us, Alexander. Miss Appleby has something for your headache, I believe. We don't want you brooding here alone."
But he wouldn't be alone and everyone there knew it. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex saw Miss Appleby look away. Perhaps he did still possess a sense of honor after all because he said, "I'll have my nurse for company."
A ripple of displeasure crossed Aunt Harry's sharp features. "Nevertheless, I think you should come for a walk, Alexander. I'm sure she will agree it will do you some good."
He was about to argue the point when Miss Appleby cut in. "Of course it will. Walking strengthens the constitution." She turned to the butler who hovered at the back of the hall. "Worth, would you be so kind as to ask Trent to dispense a portion of the headache tonic for Mr. Redcliff." Worth nodded and disappeared down the stairs leading to the basement. "Enjoy your walk." She made a brief curtsy to Aunt Harry and North but he was too busy inspecting a tear he'd just discovered on his coat sleeve to notice.
Then she was gone. Just like that. Leaving Alex to the wolves promenading around Hyde Park in search of marriageable prey.
***
Georgiana tried to settle into an afternoon of Gothic entertainment in her room but found herself re-reading the first page of her novel three times before finally giving up. The fire in the grate had chased out the chilly spring air and lulled her into thoughtfulness. Those thoughts centered around two things: THAT kiss and Redcliff's accident. She wasn't sure which was more disturbing. Both made her heart pound with what her medical training considered unhealthy ferocity. Both whipped all sensible thoughts from her mind and tied her insides into knots. Her examination of the incidents, and her reaction to them, occupied her so thoroughly that she leapt out of her chair, bumping her hip on the arm, when someone knocked on her door.
She opened it to Redcliff, standing with hands behind his back, chin out and a lord-of-the-manor expression that only made her heart re-start its annoying hammering. He must have just returned from his walk. He still wore his black leather gloves.
"I've come to change your mind about dining with us this evening," he said.
"I'm sorry but my mind is already made up." She returned to her seat by the fire and picked up her book.
Instead of leaving, Redcliff removed the book from her hands and snapped it shut. "Then change it. Isn't that what you women do?"
She plucked the book out of his hands. "No."
A muscle pulsed high up in his jaw. "Please," he said on a huff.
She regarded him levelly. Did he genuinely want her to join them or was this all part of his plan to seduce her? "Why do you want me to dine with your family? I would think you'd be glad for me not to appear."
He paused and switched his attention to her shoulder, avoiding her gaze. "I like your company."
"You do not. You've been trying to rid yourself of me since I arrived."
"Because I don't want a physician," he said. "That doesn't mean I don't like you." The fine lines around his eyes shifted closer. His Adam's apple bobbed furiously.
"But you don't like me. Not really. You called me tight, remember?"
His smile was predatory. "I kissed you too. Surely that counts for something."
Not when the kiss was intended to distract her from her job, which she suspected was the real reason for it. Indeed she hoped it was the real reason. Surely it must be. Redcliff was a thoroughly handsome gentleman with excellent prospects. He could go to any woman to sate that particular need.
She sagged with bone-deep relief. He posed no real threat to her. Once he realized his silly attempt to get her to leave wouldn't work he'd stop this game of seduction. It was all a matter of time. Until then, she could endure it.
She could.
"Nevertheless," she said, "I won't be joining you for dinner."
He sighed. "It seems I'll have to put up with Aunt Harry and Philly alone. I hoped you'd protect me from their social engineering. They're trying to force me to attend every society event between now and July."
"I'm sure you're capable of handling them by yourself."
He grunted and shifted his weight. Clearly he wasn't prepared to leave and admit defeat. Well good, because she had some things to discuss with him. She rose and closed the door—she didn't want an audience.
"Is holding me captive part of my treatment?" He stretched his arms out in front of him and crossed them at the wrists. "I'll be far more complicit if you tie me to the bed. With your silk stockings."
"My stockings aren't silk." She refused to show any kind of reaction. The sooner he realized she couldn't be shocked, the sooner his attempts at seduction would end. "But if all else fails, I'm sure my worsted ones will do."
"When," he said.
"Pardon?"
"When all else fails, not if. You won't get me to dilute my opium with that stinking weed you call a headache tonic."
"You've tried it?"
"Twice. It didn't work. I ordered Trent to throw it away."
She gasped. "That tonic costs a lot of money."
"Add it to the fee Sir Oswyn is paying you." He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow in question.
"What?"
"Aren't you going to ask me to refrain from my nightly dosage of opium again?"
"Not tonight. But if you want me to replace some of it with another herbal remedy, please come to my room." She eyed the dangerous tilt to his lips with suspicion. He had that look about him again. The same as the one he'd had just before he'd kissed her in his study. She swallowed. "I'll, uh, always be available to help you, ahem, no matter the time."
"Always?" He caught her chin between his thumb and finger and his hooded eyes darted over her face. Slowly, so very frustratingly slowly, he bent closer. His mouth descended to hers. She ought to pull away but that compelling presence of his trapped her. "Now there's a promise I'll find difficult to refuse," he murmured.
Her eyelids fluttered shut. Her heart pounded in her ears. Oh lord, this was wrong. And bad. Very, very... She shouldn't...
"But refuse I must." He let go of her chin and she would have tipped forward if he hadn't caught her by her shoulders. Amusement danced in his eyes. Damn him. "I'm not ready to cut down my opium dose." His thumbs caressed her through her dress, warming her. His chest rose and fell with his deep, ragged breaths and beads of sweat popp
ed out on his brow.
Then his thumbs suddenly stopped and his fingers sprang open as if someone had operated a lever to release them. He blinked rapidly and looked rather boyish and not at all like the in-control gentleman of earlier.
She tried to breathe normally but the weight pressing down on her lungs had not yet lifted. "As you wish," she managed to whisper. She cleared her throat and said in a louder voice, "I can wait."
His gaze lingered on her and a deep frown creased his forehead. "Yes," he muttered. "Waiting. Of course." Before she could ask him if he was all right, he swept past her to the door. His hand was on the handle when her wits returned and she remembered the other thing she wanted to discuss with him.
"Before you go," she said, "I want to ask you about the accident with the coach."
"Ah."
"Ah indeed. Did it really try to run you down deliberately?" Redcliff had glossed over the details earlier, perhaps to preserve his aunt's nerves, but he'd not fooled that astute lady nor Georgiana. "Have you reported the incident to the magistrate?"
"What would that achieve? I didn't see the driver and the coach had no distinguishing marks. Thank you for your concern, Miss Appleby, it's most heartening. But there's no cause for alarm. It's unlikely to occur again."
Georgiana wasn't convinced. "Do you know why someone would want to harm you?"
"Of course not." He flung his arms out wide. "Everyone loves me."
"Don't be sarcastic. This is important and I wish you wouldn't dismiss it so lightly."
He smirked. "Don't concern yourself, Miss Appleby. I'll be perfectly all right. As I said, no one has any cause to kill me. Or is that so difficult for you to believe?"
She gave him what she hoped was a withering look. "Thank you for allaying my fears, Mr. Redcliff. But do be careful. I don't want to cure you of your opium addiction only to have you killed by a runaway carriage."
He stared at her, his dark brows drawn dramatically together, his lips slightly apart. "Your ability to deceive yourself astounds me." He turned and left, and she wished she'd found a witty retort to his cutting remark. But her mind failed her. Redcliff had succeeded in thoroughly unsettling her. Again. It was most infuriating.
And deeply worrying. She must try harder to keep a clear mind when he was near.
There was one comfort at least—after he discovered his opium was gone he would be very angry. And he would see that she meant to succeed. The attempts at seduction would cease and she could return to being the plain, tight physician again.
***
Alex's head pounded a vicious rhythm against his skull and his heart banged out an equally violent and no less painful hammering against his ribs. He paused on the landing and gripped the newel post hard.
Damn women. Damn Miss Appleby. She was the cause of his discomfort. The sooner he could smoke his opium powder and fall into blissful sleep the better. Opium alleviated the headaches and helped him direct his nightmares, turning them into harmless dreams where he could forget what he'd done. Perhaps it would also help him forget how kissing Miss Appleby had made him feel. Hopefully the opium haze would obliterate the desire twisting his gut and grabbing him by the balls.
He wasn't supposed to want her this way.
Why the hell hadn't she left yet? Any virginal, sensible woman would have run home by now, far away from his hungry clutches.
She'd better locate her principles soon because he really didn't want to take the next logical step.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Good lord but he was fooling himself. He did want to take the next step. That was the whole bloody problem. She was an untouched maid, and his guest at that.
***
"Open up!" came the voice on the other side of the door.
Georgiana bolted upright on her bed. She must have fallen asleep, despite the apprehension she felt as she waited for Redcliff's late night visitation.
"God damn you, open the door this instant!" Redcliff didn't shout and he didn't pound his fist on the wood, but the threat in his tone was unmistakable. And the desperation.
She slid off the bed, drew in a steadying breath and smoothed her hands over the front of her dress. Thankfully she hadn't changed into her nightgown. She paused to fix her hair, tucking the loosened strands into the high bun, checking in the dressing table's mirror that it was flat and straight.
The delay caused a guttural growl from Redcliff beyond. "If you don't open—. It's about bloody time!" He stepped into the room, his bulk forcing her backwards until her legs hit the bed. He was like a raging bull, all big and powerful with steam practically blowing out of his nostrils. He'd removed his coat and waistcoat and wore only shirt, breeches and boots. Sweat dampened his hairline and his features were set like a stone.
He held out his hand, palm up. It shook. "Give it to me."
It would be foolish to play the innocent and pretend she didn't know what he was talking about. "No," she said and reinforced it with a shake of her head. She braced her legs against the solid oak frame of the bed and tilted her chin. It would be an easy target if he wanted to hit something.
Going by the balled fist at his side he definitely wanted to hit something, but he must have had enough presence of mind because he did nothing more than breathe deeply. "You stupid, ignorant woman! Do you know what you've done? You and my bloody valet who is going to be out of a job in the morning."
"It's not his fault. I pressured him into helping me."
"So much for loyalty." He stalked across the room then back again. He covered the length of her small bedchamber in three strides and caused the flame in the candle stub on the mantelpiece to flicker. He'd not brought a light of his own. "You're going to ruin me! Kill me! Christ, everyone wants to kill me these days."
The runaway coach. "Who else?" The more she thought about the incident, the more she suspected it was linked with his spying. Perhaps it was even connected to the event he'd buried deep in his memory with the aid of opium. The one she needed to unlock for Sir Oswyn. She'd have to mention it to her employer in the morning.
If she made it through the night.
Redcliff stopped pacing and loomed over her. Good lord but he was large. Menacing. The light may not be bright but it was enough to see his eyes. They contained pure, primal rage. A violent shudder shook her but she refused to cower.
"Never bloody mind," he growled. "Where the hell is my opium?"
She steeled herself. "I've hidden it."
"Where?"
"I won't tell you. Be assured, I'll measure out—."
"Damn you!" She could just make out his eyes narrowing and his chest swelling with his deep intake of breath. "You heartless witch. I need that powder. Do you even realize what you've done? Do you?"
She swallowed. "Yes."
He shoved his hands onto his hips and glared at her with such force it took all her effort to remain standing on legs that had suddenly liquefied. "If you were a man I'd strike you."
She drew in a breath, let it out slowly. He wouldn't. Surely he was enough of a gentleman to control himself, even in the grip of both anger and withdrawal. She had to believe that or the fear would control her. "Let's discuss your treatment—."
"Treatment!" He slammed the palm of his hand against the side of the wardrobe causing the solid oak doors to rattle in their hinges. She jumped. "I don't need bloody treatment! I'm not ill. I just want my opium back. For the nights. Just the nights. Do you understand?"
"I know it helps you sleep," she persevered. "I know it stops the headaches and helps with the nightmares."
His head snapped back. His nostrils flared. "Sir Oswyn told you I have nightmares?"
"Yes."
"He's wrong. The opium soothes my aching head and helps me sleep, nothing more." His gaze swept the room and finally settled on her, an icy blast in an already cool room. The fire had burned down to a few glowing coals in the grate. She picked up her woolen shawl from the end of the bed and threw it around her sh
oulders.
"Where is it?" he spat.
"It's not in here."
With a snarl, he flung open the doors and drawers of the wardrobe. He rifled through her things and tossed chemises, stays and hose onto the floor as if they were not her most intimate and delicate things. Inevitably, he found the muff pistol.
"What are you doing with this?" he said, holding it up.
"I take it with me everywhere."
She expected a lecture or further questioning but he simply emptied the bullets and stuffed the pistol into the waistband of his breeches at his spine.
"That's mine!" she said. "Give it to me."
But he continued his search for the opium as if he hadn't heard her and she thought it best to leave him alone while in that crazed state. He looked under her bonnets, squeezed the fingers of her gloves and the toes of her boots. He reached up and felt across the top of the wardrobe, under the dressing table, and tipped over the chair to search the underside of the seat. He pushed aside the chintz curtains and patted down the folds. When he found nothing, he reeled about and pinned her with a glare that tore shreds off what dignity she still possessed after his man-handling of her belongings.
"It's in there, isn't it?"
"In where?" She knew it was the wrong thing to say when he hurtled towards her, teeth bared. With the reflection of the candle's flame in his eyes there was a considerable touch of the demonic about him. "I told you, I no longer have it! Mr. Redcliff, please calm down—."
He shoved her aside and she tripped over her own foot. She fell on top of her best straw bonnet, squashing it flat, and banged her elbow on the floor.
Redcliff didn't notice. He tore the covers off the bed, stripped off the sheets and lifted the mattress. Then he pulled something out of his pocket but it wasn't until she heard the rip of fabric that she realized it was a knife. He sliced the mattress several times lengthways and clouds of wool spilled onto the floorboards. He pulled out all the stuffing then let the disemboweled mattress fall back into the bed frame. He picked up the pillow and she thought it would suffer the same fate but he simply scrunched it between his hands before throwing it against the wall.
