Surrender

by CJ Archer

  "No, I'm sorry," Alex said. He pressed the palm of his hand to his aching head but it didn't grind away the fresh wave of pain. He was shouting at the wrong person—the real fault lay with none other than himself. "Was Miss Appleby particular friends with any of the staff?"

  "No, sir. I did ask if they knew where she was going but none did."

  "Thank you, Worth, that was helpful." But not helpful enough. Worth was too upright, too good. If it had been Alex he would have sent one of the servants to follow her and report back. "Have my curricle brought round. And please inform Mrs. White to have the garden room prepared for Miss Appleby's return. She'll be using it for the remainder of her stay."

  "Alex?" Phillippa, rubbing her eyes, came down the stairs dressed in a red Oriental robe over her nightshirt. "What's all the noise about? Have you just found out about the intruder? It was positively awful. I'm so glad you're home. Poor Georgiana." She stopped rubbing and her hands flew to her mouth instead. "You do know what happened, don't you?"

  "Yes," he said, taking her by the shoulders as soon as she set foot on the black and white tiled floor. "Philly, Georgiana's gone. Did she tell—?"

  "Gone!" She blinked up at Alex, her blue eyes filling with tears. "Are you sure? She's left us? Oh, Alex, this is dreadful." She threw herself into his arms and burst into tears.

  "Good grief, child," said Aunt Harry from the stairs. "What are you wailing for? Miss Appleby is gone of her own free will. She must have decided it was for the best and—."

  "No, Aunt," Alex said, fighting against his rising temper once more. "It is not for the best. Not for Philly and not for me. Understand?"

  Aunt Harry bristled. She seemed to grow inches taller. "Perhaps it's best for Miss Appleby."

  He had no answer to that. It might be true but it didn't feel like the truth somehow. Anyway, how could he think clearly when his head felt as if it was filled with wool?

  "You're behaving like a fool, Alexander. It's time you grew up and began taking your responsibilities as the son of an earl seriously."

  "Second son," he snapped.

  "You are the Duke of Moreland's grandson."

  "I am Alexander bloody Redcliff. This is my house and I can do as I please. If I wish to find Georgiana then I will find her and I will bring her back here." If she wanted to be found, a small voice said. The notion that she was running from him brought the nausea flooding back.

  "Why?" Aunt Harry whispered. Heaven forbid if the servants should overhear a conversation of this nature. "To what purpose? To marry her?" She shook her head and her white cap slipped to one side revealing thin, graying hair.

  Marriage. Alex hadn't thought that far ahead. He'd been too intent on getting Georgiana in his bed and now all he wanted to do was get her back in his house. "Why not?" he said, partly to goad his aunt and partly because the idea didn't seem such a terrible one.

  Aunt Harry's mouth pinched and two spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. "She's a nursemaid. She's been alone with countless men, in their homes!"

  A bark of harsh laughter escaped his throat. "I don't care."

  "You should."

  "Poor Miss Appleby," Phillippa muttered.

  Alex ignored them both. "I'm going after her and neither of you can stop me."

  Aunt Harry held up a gloved hand. "The truth of the matter is you cannot marry her, Alexander. Not a woman like that. We would be ostracized. We'd not be invited to another party or ball for this Season and at least another two or three more. Your sister would suffer as a consequence. Her own reputation would be sullied. Her chance of making a fine match destroyed. Do you want that on your conscience?"

  "Staunton's reputation is beyond reproach," Alex said in his defense. "That should be enough to save Philly."

  "Society doesn't care about the good, it feeds on scandal. All it takes is one misstep and the entire house is brought low. Indeed, the more respectable the family, the harder the fall." Her shoulders lowered and she sighed so deeply she seemed to collapse upon herself. Although she didn't quite look her age, she nevertheless appeared more tired and drawn. "Alexander, please tread carefully where Miss Appleby is concerned. Don't risk everything your Aunt Adelaide and I have tried so hard to achieve."

  He felt sorry for her. He really did. But in the end, there was nothing he could do. He needed Georgiana. If that meant moving into the country and never showing his face in London society again, then so be it. If it meant never seeing his aunts again, then that's how it would have to be.

  "Aunt Harry," he said with remarkable restraint, "I did not think of marriage until you brought the subject up. I'm not sure I'm ready for it. I'm not sure Georgiana would want it. Perhaps I'll take her on as my mistress—."

  "Oh, Alexander, don't be so vulgar," she spat out as if the word itself tasted foul.

  "Alex!" Philly said. She flicked her plaited hair over her shoulder. "You wouldn't!"

  "I don't know." The rumble of carriage wheels stopped outside the house. Alex glanced out the window. His curricle was ready. "I have to go."

  Both Worth and Trent appeared. Trent supplied gloves, hat and great coat and Worth opened the door. Alex's two matching bays stood calmly on the street, his groom standing at the ready beside the gleaming curricle. Up and down the street carts made early morning deliveries, met by servants at the basement stairs. Their masters and mistresses were nowhere to be seen. It was too early for the ton to rise.

  Alex made to leave but Phillippa caught his arm. "Please find her and bring her home," she said. "I need her." He'd never seen his sister look so desperate. It alarmed him and he kissed the top of her head which was as much comfort as he could muster.

  "Why do you need her?" Aunt Harry said from behind Philly.

  Phillippa let go of Alex and dipped her head. "No particular reason."

  "It's something about last night, isn't it?"

  Phillippa twisted the ends of her plaited hair in her fingers but said nothing.

  "What do you mean?" Alex said, looking out to his curricle. Too many delays. He just wanted to get away. One of the horses stamped, rattling the bridle and reins, an echo of Alex's own impatience.

  "I don't trust Miss Appleby," Aunt Harry said in her best imperial marchioness' voice. "She's hiding something. I've known it since I first met her."

  Alex scoffed. "How could you possibly know such a thing?"

  "I'm very good at reading people. And there's something about her that isn't quite right. For instance, your injuries are almost healed and—."

  "Enough!" Alex turned and took two steps at a time then jumped into the curricle. His aunt didn't know about the opium and he didn't have the time or the inclination to explain. He heard her huff of displeasure as he took up the reins.

  "They're ready for a good run, sir," the groom said, settling onto the rumble seat.

  Good. Because Alex needed to go fast.

  ***

  Alex stopped at Sir Oswyn's house, catching him in the middle of breakfast, but Sir Oswyn either didn't know where Georgiana had gone or he was lying. Alex guessed the latter but no amount of shouting and threatening could get Sir Oswyn to admit anything. The Permanent Under-Secretary went on to blame her "foul-tempered patient" for forcing her out, and followed up the accusation with a few colorful words. It did nothing to assuage Alex's anger which had grown along with his desperation. By the time he'd reached Sir Oswyn's house he'd not been able to control his temper any more than he could have reined in a team of six terrified, charging horses.

  He took a few moments outside Sir Oswyn's to consider his next move. Through the haze of headache, frustration and blinding anger, he realized she truly had gone. And that meant she was probably heading home to Oxfordshire. She could either have taken the mail coach or stagecoach to get there. Since the mail departed in the evenings to take advantage of the quieter roads at night, she must have taken the stage. Early departures left for Oxford from The Grey Hound, the nearest coaching inn, so that's where he headed.


  For a few coins the proprietor checked his ledger and informed Alex that a Miss Appleby had indeed taken the six A.M. stage to Oxford. Alex had quite a bit of time to make up.

  Getting out of London was slow but the bays managed the traffic superbly and flew down the Uxbridge Road. They made it to the first coaching inn at Uxbridge in good time and he breathed a sigh of relief to see a stage coach sitting idle while the horses were changed. A driver stood by overseeing proceedings. The passengers must be inside, refreshing themselves.

  He left the curricle and bays with his groom and entered the old inn, an ancient Tudor-style place with low ceilings and thick beams, black with age and smoke. A serving girl directed him to the adjoining dining room where six people sat around a long table. He recognized Georgiana immediately even though she had her back to him.

  He hesitated. He'd been turning over words in his head ever since he'd left London, trying out the best way to convince her to return with him. But now that he was faced with the task, nothing seemed appropriate.

  The driver entered and joined the diners at the table. "Ten minutes," he said, reaching for a hunk of bread from the central basket. A serving girl placed a plate of pork, potatoes and cabbage before him and he scooped it into his mouth with the fork as if he only had ten seconds.

  Alex regarded Georgiana's straight back. There was so much to say and so little time to say it.

  CHAPTER 15

  "Hello, Miss Appleby."

  Georgiana jumped in her seat at the sound of that low, sleek voice behind her. She steeled herself as she turned around but still gasped at the sight of him. Alex's eyes were red-rimmed, a vivid contrast to the dark swelling of the surrounding bruises which still marred his good looks. Extra lines slashed across his forehead and his chin was peppered with dark stubble. He looked tired, harried and...haunted? She wanted to go to him, smooth away the frown and tease a smile from his serious mouth. But that would not be seemly. Nor would it be wise at this juncture in their relationship.

  "You followed me?" It was a rather stupid thing to say but she couldn't think of anything more intelligent. Her brain seemed to have ceased functioning the moment she saw him.

  He shrugged as if it were nothing to find her several hours after she'd left London without informing anyone in his household where she was going. "May we speak?" His gaze flicked to the other passengers, all of whom appeared to be avidly concentrating on their half-cooked roast beef and waxy potatoes, a sure sign they were listening with intent.

  Georgiana moved to a small table further away. He slid into the chair opposite. She folded her hands in her lap and raised an expectant eyebrow at him. So far she was rather pleased that she'd not dissolved into tears of either happiness or frustration—she was still undecided as to how she felt about Alex's presence. It was wonderful to be desired by this man, exhilarating if she were honest. But she had made up her mind that it was for the best to leave him and nothing could convince her to change her decision. She had everything to lose if she stayed. They both did.

  No, tears would not do. What she required was reason and fortitude. Now, if only she could summon them from amidst her turbulent emotions...

  Alex drew in a breath and let it out slowly. "Firstly, I need to know you're well. Everyone has told me you came to no harm last night, but I had to see for myself."

  "I am in good health. Nothing happened. The intruder—."

  Alex slapped his palm down on the table. "Nothing happened!"

  The other passengers swiveled their heads as one, the veneer of disinterest forgotten.

  Alex leaned forward and lowered his voice. "For God's sake, Georgiana, you could have been killed! That is not nothing." He rubbed the dark stubble on his chin. Both hand and face were covered in traveling dust which meant he'd come straight into the dining room upon arrival. A tiny thrill of selfish and very inconvenient pleasure rippled through her. He'd not delayed his search by a moment.

  "But I wasn't harmed," she said reasonably.

  His eyes narrowed. "Ah, yes, the pistol." She thought he'd interrogate her as to how she'd been able to buy a new one but he simply nodded. "Thank goodness you're not an obedient woman."

  "I suspect that'll be the only time I ever hear you say that."

  He didn't smile. "Do not treat this incident lightly. I doubt the intruder was a simple thief."

  "As do I. I think he was trying to kill you." From his silence she knew he agreed. A solid lump of fear lodged in her chest at the thought of someone stabbing him while he slept a deep opium-induced sleep. "Alex, you must find out who it is before he tries again. You've been much too distracted and he's proved to be very brazen. Who knows where or how he will strike next?"

  His mouth twitched into that adorable, sheepish grin that always made her knees weak. "Does your concern mean you care about me?"

  "Of course I care," she snapped. "That's why I left."

  He sat back in the chair as if she'd pushed him and blinked at her. Blinked again. "I don't understand. That doesn't make sense." He crossed his arms and his two eyebrows slammed together above the bridge of his nose. "If you cared you would have stayed. You'd help me."

  She could feel the force of his anger from where she sat. But there was hurt pride in there too. Alexander Redcliff was probably not used to having women leave him.

  She leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table. "I left because I knew you wanted me to stay."

  He shook his head. "No, still not making sense."

  "And you knew I would stay with you until you stopped smoking opium. I think I even stated as much."

  "Ah." He unfolded his arms. "Well, yes, I suppose so. But—."

  "Besides which, my presence has distracted you to ill effect."

  "Distracted me?"

  "Yes. That's why this man, whoever he is, has been able to get through your defenses. You've not been prepared for him. But I am not your only distraction. The opium is numbing your senses, Alex. I will be as blunt with you as I can be—if the opium doesn't kill you directly then it will kill you indirectly by slowing your wits. That man will murder you and he'll not care if he harms those with you to do it. Is that what you want? Will that ease your nightmares?"

  By the time she'd finished she was shaking with anger and fear and so many other emotions she thought they'd gush out of her like a flooded river bursting its banks. She couldn't have been balder—why did he not see the dangers? Why was he so pig-headed and—.

  He grasped her hands in both of his and drew them to his mouth. His lips were warm and soft. "Don't be afraid," he murmured against her knuckles. "I've given up."

  The room suddenly grew hotter. Her hands were trapped against his delicious mouth and she found it difficult to concentrate on what he was saying. But the words slowly sank in, syllable by syllable.

  "Given up?" Her voice sounded far, far away.

  He nodded and she felt his lips curve into a smile against her fingers.

  "Time's up!" the driver said, rising. He patted his belly, pushing out his stained, ill-fitting waistcoat, and belched. "Got a schedule to keep to. Let's go!" This last he directed to Georgiana.

  She nodded. "I'll be there in a minute."

  "No she won't," Alex said, lowering her hand but not letting go. "Take down her luggage."

  "Is that your way of asking me to return with you?"

  He lifted one shoulder in innocent appeal. "I would have asked you properly but there isn't time." He grinned and she might as well have waved a white flag above her head. Of course she would return with him. Good lord, if she'd known putting her life at risk would bring about such a swift and decisive change in his attitude towards opium she'd have done it sooner.

  "Well, miss?" the driver said. The other passengers had filed out of the dining room and she could hear the ostlers shouting orders to each other in the inn yard. "Can't give you yer money back, mind."

  "I'll return to London on one condition," she said to Alex. "That I can help you at every stage of
your withdrawal."

  He hesitated.

  "Every step, Alex, including the worst. And it will get very bad, believe me."

  "Make up your mind, sir," the driver said, hands on hips. "I can't wait here all day for you toffs to kiss and makeup now, can I?"

  "Then go, Driver. I agree to your terms, Georgiana." When the driver was gone and they were alone Alex came around the table and reached for her. She put out a hand to stop him but he grasped her wrist and drew her up, pressing her body against the hard, powerful length of him.

  He placed his hands gently on either side of her face and the cool blue depths of his eyes held her captive. There was something else she'd wanted to say but she couldn't for the life of her remember what. All she knew was that she wanted to be held by this man and never let go.

  "I missed you," he said. His thumbs caressed the edges of her mouth in such sweet agony it stripped her nerves raw. It felt like she stood on the edge of a deep pool of desire and she wanted to dive right in, straight to the bottom.

  And then he kissed her. Completely. Wonderfully. It stole her breath and her mind but inflamed her senses until she felt she was burning from the inside out.

  A gasp from the door separated their lips but not their grip on each other. "Pardon me, sir, miss," said a bonny serving maid. "But I've got to clean up now..."

  Alex chuckled and tucked Georgiana into his side with an arm firmly around her waist. She was grateful for the support but slowly her senses returned and her mind began to function. She remembered what she wanted to say.

  "There's another stipulation I need to make," she said, reluctantly withdrawing from him.

  "Tell me outside. I want to get home before it grows late." He took her hand and began to move off but she held him back. He frowned at her and touched her cheek. "What is it, Georgiana? You look troubled."

  She sighed at his delicate caress and wished she wasn't about to say what needed to be said. "You must promise me something else."

  "Sounds ominous."

  She waited for the maid to leave with a stack of plates. "Promise me that we won't kiss or make love. I will only touch you when it's necessary in the course of your withdrawal and only to help you."