by Candace Camp
“Don’t be absurd, Ursula,” Sebastian told her, his voice hard. “Miss Ward and I will be married, of course.”
Alexandra’s jaw dropped, and she turned to Sebastian. Her stomach felt as if it had suddenly been tied into a thousand knots. “I beg your pardon?”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. Damn Ursula for bringing the subject up, anyway! He had been unable to say a word to Alexandra about marrying him on the ride home, for they never had a moment alone for private conversation. He cursed himself for not having broached the subject early this morning. Now, because of Ursula’s heavy-handed glee at the scandal they were in, he had had to blurt it in front of everyone, without even asking Alexandra first.
“I said that we will be married,” he replied, meeting Alexandra’s gaze.
“I think you are getting a little ahead of yourself, Lord Thorpe,” Alexandra told him acidly. “There is such a thing as asking for a woman’s hand before one declares that one is marrying her. Or is that not a practice followed in England?”
“Of course it is. But, dammit, I haven’t had a moment alone to talk to you about it. There was always someone there—that portly woman going to visit her daughter, or that couple with the screaming baby, or—”
“You needn’t enumerate them. I am quite aware of our fellow passengers. That hardly excuses your taking it upon yourself to say that we are going to be married.”
“But, Alexandra, dear, you must be,” the Countess put in, her forehead creasing. “Ursula is right. So is Sebastian. You have to marry, or your name will be ruined.”
“As I don’t even live here, I hardly see how that matters.”
“Think of poor Sebastian. He will be considered a cad and a roué if he doesn’t wed you after this.”
Alexandra shot Sebastian a flashing look. “I doubt it will ruin him. I’m not marrying him.”
She rose to her feet, her arms rigid at her sides. Sebastian stood so abruptly he almost turned over his chair. He glared at Alexandra, his jaw set in as mulish an expression as hers. “Devil take it! You will marry me, my girl.”
Alexandra faced him, her eyes blazing. She felt as if her heart was breaking. How could he tell her she was going to marry him, and only because of a stupid scandal? She was so furious that she had to clench her fists to keep her hands from trembling.
“I wouldn’t marry you if it was the only thing that would save me from hanging!”
Alexandra whirled and strode out of the room, leaving the others staring after her in consternation.
ALEXANDRA INDULGED IN A GOOD bout of tears that night and woke the next morning puffy-eyed and headachy. She thought dispiritedly that she had probably thrown her life away with both hands the night before. But what else could she do with Sebastian asking her to marry him for all the wrong reasons? No matter how much she wanted to be with him, she knew that it would be hellish, not heavenly, knowing all the time that he did not love her as she loved him, that he had married her only because it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Moreover, she thought, just to drive her spirits a little lower, he probably would not have done that if she had been just Alexandra Ward, not someone the Countess of Exmoor thought was her granddaughter.
She rang for the maid and dressed listlessly, then went down the hall to check on her mother. Willa Everhart was sitting beside Rhea, embroidering, and she looked up at Alexandra’s entrance and smiled.
“Good day, Miss Ward.”
“Good morning. But you must call me Alexandra.”
Willa smiled again. “All right. Alexandra. And I am Willa.”
“How has she been?” Alexandra walked to the bed and stood looking at her mother, who lay motionless, her eyes closed. Except for the slight rise and fall of her chest beneath the sheet, she might have been dead. A shiver ran through Alexandra at the thought.
“Physically, she is doing as well as can be expected,” Willa said. “The maid and I prop her up and manage to spoon some gruel down her a few times every day. We get her to take a little water the same way. But she is losing weight, of course.”
“Doubtless.” Alexandra leaned against the post of the bed and asked wistfully, “Do you think that she will ever awaken? Will she live like this the rest of her life?”
“I don’t know. The doctor doesn’t seem to, either. He will only say he’s known of some that have awakened and resumed normal lives after days, even weeks and years. But then he’s known those who have died, too. He says to keep turning her to keep away the bedsores and try to feed her and just wait for what happens.”
“Not a very cheerful prognosis, is it?” Alexandra pulled up a chair beside Willa and sat down. “I don’t know if I have thanked you for coming here to help. I am sure I haven’t thanked you enough.”
Color rose in Willa’s pale face. “There’s no need to thank me. I am happy to do it. It pleases the Countess, and that makes almost anything worthwhile.”
“You are very fond of the Countess, aren’t you?”
“Yes, very much. She took me in when I had nowhere else to go. She didn’t have to—I am only a distant cousin to her. But she is the kindest of women. She has fed and clothed and housed me for almost twenty-five years now, and never a word from her of my obligation to her, never an unkindness or a cut.” Tears sparkled in her eyes. “There’s little I wouldn’t do for her. But this is an easy task. I rather enjoy looking after people. I looked after my father for years before he died. He was an invalid. That was one reason I never married—that and my lack of a dowry.” She gave a small self-deprecating smile.
It seemed to Alexandra that Willa’s life had not been easy—penniless, spending her marriageable years taking care of an invalid parent. But she seemed quite content with her lot, even grateful that it had not been worse.
“You must have been quite young when you came to live with the Countess.”
“Twenty-four. It was in 1789.”
“You were with her, then, when her son and his family were killed.”
Willa nodded. “It was a terrible time for her. First her husband died suddenly—it was his heart, they said. She sent for Lord Chilton, but Paris went mad with revolution. The whole family was killed, every one of them.” She cast a quick, embarrassed glance at Alexandra. “I’m sorry. I mean, that is what we all thought then.”
“It’s all right.” Alexandra smiled at her. “I am still not convinced that I am the Countess’s granddaughter.”
“Her ladyship was terribly distraught. Practically all her family lost in one fell swoop.” Willa shook her head. “Of course, there was Lady Ursula. I am sure that the Countess loves her daughter, but, well—the truth be told, I suspect the Countess always loved Lord Chilton best. The Countess took to her bed for weeks when she heard the news, wouldn’t see or talk to anyone. She was inconsolable. It was all I could do to get her to eat. Some nights she would walk the floor hour after hour. I would sit up with her, and she would talk about Chilton and his childhood and—oh, it was a terrible time. Thank God she eventually came out of it all right.”
“I am sure that a good part of that was due to your care.”
“It’s good of you to say so.”
“It’s only the truth.”
Alexandra insisted that Willa go down to eat breakfast and take a break from her duties while she sat with her mother. After Willa had left, Alexandra edged her chair closer to the bed and took her mother’s hand. Rhea’s hand lay flaccid in hers, limp and unresponding. Alexandra talked to Rhea, telling her about their adventures in the balloon and with the highwayman, making it all sound like a great lark. She wondered if her mother could hear anything she said. The doctor seemed to doubt it, but Alexandra thought there was no harm in assuming that she could. She talked to Rhea as much as possible, hoping that some word would reach her mother deep in her sleep and bring her back.
When Willa returned thirty minutes later, Alexandra went down to breakfast. She walked into the dining room and stopped abruptly. There, sitting at the table with her aun
t, calmly downing a plate of ham and eggs, was Sebastian.
“What are you doing here?” she asked ungraciously. “Do you plan to plague us from morning till night?”
He smiled in the manner of one who enjoyed delivering bad news. “More than that, my dear. I have moved in.”
“What!” Alexandra stared at him. “Are you mad? You can’t live here!” She could scarcely imagine anything worse than having to be around Sebastian every minute of the day, always seeing him, wanting him, her heart breaking all over again every day.
“I don’t know why not. Your aunt invited me.”
“Aunt Hortense!” Alexandra swung on that good woman, who was placidly eating her eggs, long since used to her niece’s temper. “How could you?”
“Quite easily, my dear. The Countess and Sebastian and I talked about it at some length last night after you went up to bed. We decided it was the wisest course.”
“Obviously Murdock’s presence hasn’t been enough protection. I have brought over two or three of my other servants, including Punwati.”
“Punwati! Whatever for?”
“He is quite adept at the Eastern arts of hand-to-hand combat. A good man to have in a fight.”
“Do you plan to turn our house into an armed camp?” Alexandra asked scathingly.
“If I have to, in order to keep you safe. When you go out now, one of us will accompany you—Punwati, Murdock or I.”
“I am to be a prisoner in my own house, then?”
“Not a prisoner, dear,” Aunt Hortense said, shaking her head. “It’s for your protection.”
“You will protect me into an early grave! I cannot bear to have Murdock and Punwati and God knows who else hanging about all the time!”
“You’ll scarcely notice they’re here,” Sebastian assured her. “Murdock and my two servants will primarily patrol the outside of the house. Punwati will keep a watch on the inside. And, of course, it is I who will be with you most of the time.”
“You are the one I want to have around least,” Alexandra retorted bluntly. “Talk about a scandal! If it was such an awful thing for the two of us to be stuck together one night because of that silly balloon taking off, imagine how the tongues will wag at the idea of your living here!”
“Since I plan to marry you, the scandal will not last long.”
“Then I would say you are pinning your hopes on shaky ground. I have no intention of marrying you.”
“You’ll see the advantages of it eventually,” Sebastian replied imperturbably. “Anyway, there’s no reason for scandal. We will be in a house with your aunt, your mother and Miss Everhart. We couldn’t be more well chaperoned. The Countess approved of the idea, and she knows all the ins and outs of Society.”
“I don’t give a damn about Society,” Alexandra snapped. “I just don’t want you here!”
“Careful, my dear, you may wound my feelings.”
“You have none,” Alexandra replied scornfully, “or you wouldn’t be doing this to me.”
“Doing what?”
“I know what your scheme is. Don’t think I’m not on to you.”
“My only scheme is to keep you safe.”
“You think that if you are around constantly, you can wear me down, convince me to marry you. Well, I won’t.”
“Then you need not worry about my being here.” He met her gaze blandly.
“Oh! You are the most infuriating man I ever met!”
“Sit down, my dear, and eat your breakfast. It will improve your temper.”
“Nothing will improve my temper except your leaving.”
“I am sorry to hear that. I suppose we will have to endure your bad mood for a while, then.”
Alexandra scowled at him and plopped down in her chair. She had thought that things could not be worse this morning when she woke up, but she was quickly learning that they could. How was she to endure having Sebastian around all the time? Even now, annoyed as she was by him, she kept thinking about how much she would like to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair. She had the awful feeling that she would soon make a fool of herself.
She was contemplating these dark thoughts and pushing food around on her plate with her fork when the butler walked into the room.
“Miss?”
Alexandra looked up inquiringly. Their usually calm, dignified butler looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Yes?”
“There is, ah, a person who wishes to speak with you, miss.” Every line of the butler’s face showed his opinion of this person.
Alexandra’s curiosity was aroused. “All right. Show him in.”
“It is a female person, miss, and I—well, I think you would rather not see her here.”
“I wouldn’t?”
“She is, er, a trifle, well, dirty, miss. I would not normally bother you. No doubt she is begging. I tried to turn her out, but she was extremely insistent that you would wish to hear what she had to say. She said that she had information. About the attack on you the other day.”
“What the devil!” Sebastian jumped to his feet, and so did Alexandra.
“Take me to her,” she said calmly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SEBASTIAN AND ALEXANDRA FOLLOWED THE butler to the kitchen, where they found several of the servants standing on one side of the room watching a woman who stood on the opposite side. She was returning their gaze equally warily.
She was short and quite thin, dressed in an odd assortment of layers of clothing, none of them particularly clean. On her feet were an outsize pair of men’s brogans, caked with dried mud and muck. Her hair was tied in a scarf, and it looked as if it had been some time since her face had seen a washrag. She was completely out of place in the tidy, sparkling kitchen, but she faced the situation boldly, her chin thrust out and her eyes snapping, as if to dare any of the servants to complain about her presence.
“Hello,” Alexandra said, forcing herself to speak calmly and pleasantly. “I am Miss Ward.”
The woman turned to look at her, then her gaze slid beyond Alexandra to Sebastian.
When the woman said nothing, Alexandra went on, “I believe that you wanted to tell me something?”
“I got sumfing you’d like to ‘ear,” the woman responded.
It took Alexandra a moment to figure out what the woman had said. The thick London accents still confused her. But Sebastian understood immediately.
“Indeed? And what would we like to hear?” he asked in an indifferent, even bored voice.
The woman let out a snort. “You fink I’m tellin’ ye, just like ‘at?” she asked scornfully. “I has important information, I do, an’ I figure it’s worf sumfing to ye.”
“I can hardly judge that, can I, until I hear what it is?” Sebastian responded.
“’Ere! I ain’t talkin’ to you, any’ ow. I’m talkin’ to the lady.”
“That’s true,” Alexandra interjected, frowning at Sebastian. “And I am very much interested in hearing what you have to say. What does this information concern?”
“It concerns my man, that’s wot—the one you’ve got up in Newgate.”
“In jail?” Sebastian looked sharply at the woman. “Are you saying that your man is the fellow who attacked Miss Ward the other day?”
The woman gave a firm nod, pride evident on her face. “That’s ‘im. Red Bill Trimble.”
“And you are going to give us evidence against him?” Alexandra asked doubtfully. The woman seemed too proud, even fond of the man to be giving evidence against him.
“No. Wot’s wrong with you? I’d never do nuffing like ‘at. But it ain’t right ‘im sittin’ there rottin’ and the one wot ‘ired ‘im runnin’ about free, now, is it?”
“Hardly,” Alexandra agreed, her pulse quickening. “Do you know who hired him?”
A crafty look crept over the woman’s face. “Mebbe I do. Wot’s it worf to you?”
“It’s worth you not going to jail,” Sebastian interjected hotly. “If you know who hired your ma
n to harm Miss Ward and don’t tell, that makes you an accessory to the crime.”
“’Ere!” The woman recoiled. “There’s no cause to do that! I ain’t done nuffing wrong! I just offered to help, like, an’ you’re tryin’ to put me in jail!”
“Sebastian, do be quiet,” Alexandra said crisply. “You are not helping matters any.”
“I’m not going to let that woman extort money from you on top of everything else. She’ll bloody well tell us what she knows—”
The woman backed up quickly, her face going pale beneath its layer of dirt. “’Ere now, you got no cause—I ain’t askin’ you for money!”
“Of course not,” Alexandra assured her, shooting a speaking glance at Sebastian. She moved toward her, holding out a hand. “Here, why don’t you sit down at the table and have a nice cup of tea, and we will talk about this like reasonable people.”
“I can see you’re a real lady,” the woman said, raising her chin and casting a triumphant look at the servants massed across the kitchen from her. She sidled over to the table and sat, keeping a careful eye on Sebastian.
“Thank you. Mrs. Huffines, tea, if you please,” Alexandra said to the cook. “The rest of you, I am sure, have work to do—somewhere else.”
The cook sniffed and bustled off to brew a pot of tea, and the other servants took themselves off reluctantly. Alexandra sat at the large wooden table across from their visitor, and Sebastian, after a moment, sighed and sat beside her.
“Now, then, Miss—” Alexandra began.
“Maisy. Me name is Maisy Goodall.”
“All right, Maisy.” Alexandra said. “If you don’t want money, what is it you do want?”
“You could get Bill out of jail, you could.”
Sebastian made a noise of disgust, and Alexandra shot him a warning look.
“I doubt that I have the power to do that,” Alexandra told her. “Of course, if he were to tell us who hired him, I am sure that the magistrate would go easier on him.”
“Not ‘im,” Maisy replied honestly. “Red Bill ain’t one to rat out ‘is mates. ‘Sides, ‘e don’t know ‘oo it is.”
