Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 03]

by The Storybook Hero

  Quickly banishing such odd thoughts from her head, she continued in a rush, "However, despite present appearances, I am no doxy, but a respectable English governess. There is a reasonable explanation for my presence in Mr. Sheffield's rooms. We agreed to join forces and travel north together for the sake of the young people in our care, as it seemed... the sensible thing to do. Although the highest sticklers may not approve of the arrangement, nothing improper has occurred between us. Together we have managed to bring our charges to safety. Through, I might add, some very harrowing circumstances."

  If anything, her show of quiet dignity caused the gentlemen to appear even more embarrassed. For a moment, the only sounds were the shuffling of booted feet and several more muted coughs. After an exchange of rueful glances, it was Ivor who broke the awkward silence.

  "Once again, Miss, er...."

  "Hadley. Octavia Hadley."

  "Once again, Miss Hadley, let me offer you our sincere apologies for the crude comments that were made... " A brief inclination of her head indicated that the apology was accepted and he should go on. "I believe our man Squid has introduced himself, but let me make the rest of us known to you. I am Lord Chittenden and these two gentlemen are my nephews, Lord Wright and Lord Thomas Sheffield."

  Octavia blinked. The Earl of Chittenden and the Marquess of Wright! Why, even a country miss such as she knew they were two of the most influential—and moneyed—men in London. That certainly explained how such a daring rescue attempt for their young relative had been planned. But it did not explain what the gentlemen were doing here in Russia themselves. After all, if they had paid for someone else to risk...

  Another discreet cough interrupted her thoughts. "Miss Hadley, might we step inside?"

  A dull flush rose to her cheeks. "Yes, of course," she stammered, quickly stepping aside so that the gentlemen could file into the room. "N-naturally you are anxious to meet with your young relative."

  "Quite." William's eyes had already made a sweep of the spartan quarters. "I am also anxious to have a word with my brother."

  It took a moment for the statement to sink in. "Brother?" she repeated faintly.

  "Yes. Alex is our youngest brother," added Thomas. "Did he not mention the family connection?"

  Octavia felt the color drain from her face as the words of the garrulous Mrs. Phillips came echoing back. Alexander Sheffield—are you perchance related to William Sheffield, the Marquess of Wright? No wonder the two younger gentlemen had looked rather familiar!

  "No. He did not." Her voice had taken on a rather brittle edge. "I imagine he saw no reason to reveal the truth to a... mere stranger." Drawing in a sharp breath, she added, "Indeed, the only reference he made to his family was to indicate his estrangement from them. He said that they did not care in the least what might happen to him."

  "He was wrong." The marquess's lips crooked in a rueful expression. "Not that he was given much reason to think otherwise."

  Turning abruptly, she moved to one of the closed doors and threw it open. "Nicholas, you must come out and meet your... other relatives."

  The boy slowly stepped out from the shadows, followed closely by Emma. However, rather than approach the three gentlemen who stood expectantly in a tight semicircle, he rushed straight to Octavia.

  "Surely a brave fellow who has faced murderous Cossacks, deadly blizzards and a troop of enemy soldiers can't be nervous at the prospect of meeting his family," she murmured close to his ear. Giving him a small squeeze of encouragement, she urged him forward. "Now go give your uncles a proper greeting."

  Squaring his thin shoulders, the boy approached the strangers and made a very credible bow. "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. I—"

  Before he could finish, Wright had enfolded the lad in his arms. "Hello, Nicky. You cannot imagine how glad we are to see you."

  Octavia took tight hold of Emma's hand and watched with a pensive smile as Nicholas was introduced to the rest of his English family. But her thoughts were focused on the one Sheffield who was not present in the room.

  The wretch! It turned out that lies were also to be included among the litany of Alex's sins. Why, he had played her for a fool from the very beginning, letting her think he was an impoverished tutor, as alone in the world as she was! Her sense of betrayal was so overwhelming she feared for an instant that she might fall into a swoon worthy of the worst sort of gothic heroine.

  Her disillusionment was, however, quickly replaced by seething anger. Why, she fumed, if Alex had been able to stand on his feet, she would have been sorely tempted to plant a fist smack on that patrician nose of his!

  Speaking of the devil, it was Thomas who suddenly looked up from his young relative and inquired, "Er, by the way, where is Alex?"

  "He is sleeping." Her lip curled up slightly. "Or, to use the term that gentlemen are wont to employ, he is sleeping it off."

  "Ah." Thomas exchanged a rueful grimace with his older brother.

  "Don't worry, milord. I have a good deal of experience in tending to Mister Alex," piped up Squid. "He'll be dead to the world for another few hours, but once we have him aboard the ship, I'll see that he wakes without too sore of a head."

  Ivor took a discreet peek at his pocket watch. "I'm afraid that we must make haste if we are to make it to the docks before the convoy weighs anchor." He slanted a look of concern at Octavia. "It was difficult enough to convince the admiral to make room for our group aboard the naval vessel leaving tonight. Two additional people, and females at that...."

  "It was only for the sake of expediency that your brother and I traveled together this far. You needn't feel any obligation for me, my lord. I assure you, I am quite capable of dealing with formalities here and seeing to the arrangement of a passage to England for myself and my charge."

  "But we can't leave Miss Hadley and Emma behind!" cried Nicholas on realizing what was being discussed. "Alex would not—"

  "Alex would not hesitate for an instant. The most important thing is for you to be out of Russia as soon as possible," said Octavia. She turned to the earl, her expression inscrutable. "Please, I insist that you not miss your ship."

  Ivor's mouth compressed in a thin line. "Under ordinary circumstances, I would not consider leaving the two females alone in a foreign land. But you are right—we cannot be sure the threat to the boy is over until we have set sail."

  There was a flurry of thumps and thuds as the young valet emerged from the second bedchamber with an unconscious Alex draped over his shoulder. "Leaping Lucifer," muttered Squid. "Russian vodka appeared to have even more kick to it than French brandy."

  It was only with great difficulty that Octavia restrained the urge to aim a potent kick of her own at Alex's passing posterior.

  "You are a stalwart young woman, Miss Hadley," continued Ivor with a harried sigh. "I shall of course send word to the embassy asking that they assist you in finding a quick passage home."

  "That is more than kind of you, sir. But there is no reason for concern. I am well used to looking out for myself."

  The marquess shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "What of money, Miss Hadley. May we offer—"

  "No," she said rather sharply. Somehow the thought of accepting any payment from Alex's family make her feel rather soiled. "I have sufficient funds."

  He gave a reluctant nod. "As you wish." Thomas had already moved to help Squid maneuver Alex's limp form out toward the stairs. The earl gave a gentle tug to his young relative's sleeve. "Nicholas, we really must be going."

  The boy hesitated, then broke away to throw his arms around Octavia. "Good bye, Miss Hadley," he said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "We will all meet again soon, won't we?"

  She hugged him, but refrained from answering.

  His gaze then turned to Emma. "I shall miss—learning what happens to Emily and Valancourt."

  The book suddenly appeared from the folds of her skirts. "Here, you take it!" she cried, thrusting it into his hands.


  "But Emma—"

  "Don't worry. Octavia has other books, while you do not."

  "I—I shall return it to you in London."

  "Yes." She blinked back a tear. "Of course."

  The book clutched to his chest, Nicholas allowed the earl to hurry him off toward the stairs. With a final brief bow, the marquess followed after them.

  Thwock. The door fell shut with a bang.

  She had to hand it to him—when it came to making an entrance or an exit into her life, Alex Sheffield was nothing if not dramatic.

  Chapter 15

  It was as if a gale force storm was raging in his head. His brow felt like it had been pounded by an ocean of angry waves, and there was a howling in his ears, like wind tearing through rigging, that would not moderate, no matter in which direction he rolled. Even now, he was being buffeted by....

  "Mister Alex, come on now, it's time you opened your eyes." Squid gave him another brisk shake. "Look, I managed to bribe the cook's mate to brew up a cup of your favorite hair of the hound."

  The dull roar sounded like his valet's voice, but that was impossible. No doubt it was mere wishful thinking, for a swig of the fellow's special concoction would have tasted nothing short of ambrosial at the moment. Another lurch of his queasy stomach caused him to emit a low groan.

  "I think he's finally coming around, milord."

  Alex finally managed to pry one bleary eye open. The mop of blond curls, the faint scar along the cheekbone—his valet appeared to be more than a figment of his imagination. "What the devil..."

  Squid bent closer. "Feeling like a regiment of Boney's soldiers tramped over your bonebox in their hobnail boots, eh?"

  The other lid came up as Alex sought to bring his swaying surroundings into focus. "What in the name of Hades are you doing here in Russia?" he croaked. "And how the devil did you find us—stop moving about while I am trying to speak to you! It is making me... seasick."

  A bark of laughter burst forth. "We ain't in Russia anymore, Mister Alex. We are near half way out through the Gulf of Finland, with a fair wind toward Denmark."

  "Not in Russia!" Alex sat up so abruptly that he cracked his head on the overhanging bunk. "Bloody Hell! Where is—"

  "Calm yourself, Alex. You and young Nicholas are safely aboard one of His Majesty's frigates, thanks to your courage and resourcefulness."

  Alex wondered whether the blow to his cranium had further addled his senses, for the voice that came from one of the blurry shapes behind his valet sounded exactly like that of his brother William. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms to his throbbing brow, hoping to force his brain into proper working order. "Octavia," he muttered hoarsely. "Octavia and Emma...."

  There was a brief silence, save for the groaning of the ship's timbers.

  "Er, I believe he is referring to the governess."

  Hell's Teeth! An excess of Russian vodka must induce not only a wicked intoxication but a number of strange hallucinations as well! Now it seemed to be his uncle Ivor who was speaking.

  "Ah, yes. Miss... Hadley, wasn't it?"

  Alex's lids snapped open at the mention of her name. The figure looming over him was no longer an amorphous shape, but now clearly bore the familiar features of his eldest brother, as well as his voice.

  "As to that, she quite agreed that it was time to part ways, given the circumstances," continued the marquess. "It would have been impossible to accommodate two females in these cramped quarters."

  "You left them in St. Petersburg?" Alex's voice was barely more than a whisper.

  "Why, yes, of course. Miss Hadley indicated that was what she had expected all along. She assured me she had adequate funds and was quite capable of managing for herself." William gave a harried chuckle. "Indeed, I do not doubt it. An unusual female. One who is not easily intimidated—"

  With an inarticulate roar, Alex lowered his head and lunged at his brother, his shoulder catching the marquess square in the midriff. The force of the attack sent both of them crashing to the deck of the tiny cabin. It took the combined efforts of the earl and Squid to separate the younger man's fingers from his sibling's neck and wrestle him back to the narrow bunk.

  "Mister Alex, have you gone mad?" cried the startled valet, still trying to control his employer's thrashing arms.

  As the marquess rose to his feet rather shakily and began to finger the purpling bruise on his cheek, Ivor regarded first one nephew, then the other with a look of grave concern. "Alex, we know what an extraordinary amount of strain you have had to bear lately—"

  Alex ceased his struggling and slumped back against the rough planking. "I haven't lost my mind, Uncle Ivor." He drew in a ragged breath. "Just whatever shred of self-respect I still possessed." His troubled gaze then turned on his brother. "No doubt you are well pleased to see your low opinion of my character is so justified," he said with a bitter sneer. "Once again I have left another person to founder."

  William's brows drew together in consternation. "Why, surely you don't think I meant to—"

  "Damn you! Get out—all of you!" Alex didn't care that he was perilously close to shouting. "Except for Squid. And you, you traitorous little whelp of the sea, may take yourself off as soon as you have fetched enough brandy to keep me well under the hatches until we reach England."

  Squid's remonstrance was cut short by a gruff snarl. "If you wish to remain in my employ, you'll do as I say." His lip then turned up in a sardonic curl. "But perhaps you have already decided to seek a more gentlemanly sort of company."

  The earl nudged the young valet and made a wordless sign for him to leave off any attempt at argument. Catching William's eye as well, he motioned at the door. "Come, let us join Thomas and the lad up on the quarterdeck," he said in a low murmur. "Perhaps later, when Alex has had a chance to recover from the shock of the news, he will be more willing to listen to reason."

  Squid nodded glumly, but the marquess's features took on a stubborn set. "I abandoned Alex once before when he was in need. I'll not do it again. This time, if he tells me to go to the Devil, he will have to toss me into Hell with his own two hands."

  A faint smile creased Ivor's lined countenance, but he refrained from any comment as he backed into the darkened passageway, drawing the valet along with him.

  With a harried sigh Wright turned toward his brother.

  The violent outburst had left Alex utterly drained. He felt neither anger nor outrage, simply a yawing void within his breast. The spirits might fill it for a brief time, but he knew, with frightening certainty, that the emptiness would not be banished so easily. Oblivious to whether his rants and curses had been paid any heed, he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands.

  "Alex," said the marquess haltingly, not quite sure of how to begin.

  A muffled groan was the only response.

  He moved closer and, after a moment's hesitation, lay a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder, as if expecting it to be knocked away. "Damnation, Alex," he blurted out. "I should have realized that you would not wish to leave your... friends behind, not after all you had been through together." A heavy sigh sounded. "It was not my intention to cause you any pain, but I see that I have. I'm—well, I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I was wrong to assume I, of all people, knew what was the right thing to do."

  Alex was moved to look up, an expression of disbelief slowly replacing the remorse etched on his haggard face. Was he truly hallucinating now, or had his rigid martinet of a sibling just unbent enough to admit to an error in judgment?

  "Good Lord, William. Don't tell me that a Marquess of Wright actually thinks he might be capable of making a mistake." His voice, though still sharp with irony, had lost a bit of its earlier razored edge.

  "I suppose I deserve that." The marquess crooked a grimace. "I have made more than few mistakes, Alex. The shame is not in being fallible, but in being too blind or too self-assured to recognize it. Or perhaps too afraid, thinking it a sign of weakness rather than of being merely human. The tro
uble is, we Sheffield men had it drummed into us that mistakes were not allowed." His mouth compressed. "How absurd. It was Father who made the biggest mistake of all, for which we have all paid very dearly."

  Alex's throat became so constricted that speech was nigh impossible. What had it cost his brother to utter such sentiments aloud? Whatever the toll, the words were a priceless gift. He blinked several times, wondering if his own face betrayed the same poignant vulnerability that now shaded his brother's lean features.

  Slowly, still without a word, he leaned forward until his cheek came to rest on the marquess's silk waistcoat.

  He felt the hand on his shoulder tighten its grip, and suddenly he was being held so hard up against the other man's chest that it was difficult to breath. A choked sob somehow escaped, but whether it came from his own lips or William's he was not sure.

  "D-do you remember the day Mama died, you found me hiding in a corner of the nursery?" he asked rather thickly. "I was afraid to let anyone know I had dared do something so unmanly as shed a tear."

  "Good Lord, you were seven years old," murmured the marquess.

  "You held me that day as well, William. And you never teased me about it or told anyone else. I—I have never thanked you for that."

  "That should not have been the only time I reached out to you, Alex."

  "The fault is more mine than yours. I did my damnedest to push you all away with my outrageous behavior. It is a wonder you didn't wash your hands of me entirely."

  "Neither of us can change the past. But as to the future..." He paused to clear his throat. "For too long I have lived with the loss of two brothers. I should like to have one of them back from the dead."

  A wry expression pulled at Alex's lips. "I think I am ready to come back, for I am tired of living in a Hell of my own making. But I am no saint, William. God knows, the climb will not be easy. No doubt I shall trip and stumble along the way."

  "Then reach out to me for help, instead of a bottle of brandy." William managed a weak smile. "Only think of how much of your quarterly allowance you might save in the bargain—I am much cheaper than spirits, Alex. And I trust I will leave you with less of a headache."