Spencer meets his Lady Love

by Christine Donovan

  “You are not fine. You’re still bleeding and you look hot,” William said. “The physician is with Spencer and will be down momentarily.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Smythe went to stand, swayed, and sank back down into the chair. “Perhaps I do need a doctor. Thank you.”

  “No thanks necessary.” William poured whiskey for the new arrivals and refilled a glass for Smythe who looked like he needed about four. He should have said something last night about being injured.

  “How did it happen,” Wentworth asked as he sipped his drink.

  “One of my own Runners. Knew he was crooked as hell. Caught me off guard, which rarely ever happens. For his troubles he’ll be buried in a pauper’s grave.”

  “Good. I would hate to think you let him live after that,” William said, feeling some satisfaction for the Runner.

  “Hell no.” Smythe downed his glass, leaned back. “We found out Baker has family in London. Believe it or not he is a distant relative of the Duke of Yarmouth.” He paused and took a shallow breath. “We are watching his London residence. As soon as it’s dark my men will get inside and search the place from top to bottom. If they are in there, they’ll find them.”

  “The duke is depraved. If Baker went to him, he wouldn’t care what he did to Miranda or Violet. He hates women if his treatment of Amelia was any indication.”

  “I know. And that’s what troubles me.” Smythe’s speech sounded slurred. On two drinks? Now William was truly worried. He’d seen the man drink much more than that and not feel any effects of the alcohol.

  The butler announced the doctor. “This good man has been stabbed. He needs care,” William stated.

  The physician spoke quietly to Smythe, then removed the man’s shirt and Smythe hissed as it was pulled over his head revealing a cloth bandage wrapped around his midsection stained with old and new blood. It was then William’s nose detected the stench of infection. He glanced at his companions and saw they all noticed as well.

  “The wound is infected. He needs medicine and rest,” the doctor said as he rummaged inside his medical bag.

  William left and reentered. “The housekeeper is preparing a room. Let’s get you up.”

  “No. I can’t ppppossibly impose.”

  “You can and will.” William and Wentworth each took a side and helped Smythe stand. William noticed right off how hot his skin was to the touch. He’d always admired Smythe, but he did even more so now. The man would’ve hunted for Miranda and Violet at risk to his own life.

  After getting him settled in a room, the doctor made them all leave. A short time later he entered the hall to concerned looks on all the men. “I cleaned his wound, rewrapped it, and gave him laudanum to ease the pain and help him sleep. I think we caught the infection in time. But only time will tell. I will be back on the morrow to look in on both Mr. Spencer and Mr. Smythe. Good day. I can see myself out.” The middle-aged doctor walked down the hall carrying his carpet bag of medicines and instruments.

  “What do we do now?” Sebastian asked.

  “You may as well go back to your wives. Smythe’s men will contact me when they find out anything more. Let us pray Miranda and Violet are at the duke’s residence. That way, they should be home tonight.” Once alone, William paced the small room, hoping to exhaust his mind and body enough so he could relax.

  “May I come in?”

  “Always,” he replied with a smile and zing to his heart. When he opened his arms, she walked right in, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “You look tired. You haven’t slept since before the ball. Come. I’ll tuck you in.”

  William rested his cheek on the top of her head and inhaled her lavender scent. The same scent he smelled the first time they met. It would always remind him of her.

  “That sounds wonderful, but what if Spencer or Smythe need me.”

  “Smythe?”

  He proceeded to explain about the Runner.

  “Oh dear. The poor man. We owe him so much already. It’s the least we can do. I’ll check on him when you are settled in bed.

  “Have Mary or Liz. I want you to myself.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  ***

  When Smythe came awake he looked around, and his investigator’s mind came to several conclusions. The sun had set and he had no idea where he was. He kicked off his covers as he’d broken out in a sweat. Knife wound. Infection. Fever. He was in the house of the Earl of Bridgeton.

  The other thing he noticed was a lovely young lady sitting in a chair dozing. He had seen her before, even though they were never formally introduced. She was one of Mr. Spencer’s sisters. Which one he did not know.

  As her head bobbed forward he studied her features illuminated by the candle light. Her hair was a pale blonde, her lashes slightly darker as they rested against her skin. He wondered if her eyes were blue or green. She looked slight of frame. Although she had curves. Her wrap failed to hide the swells of her breasts over the scooped neckline of her light pink dress.

  What was she doing in here? If anyone found out she would be ruined. Spencer would kill him. He would not want a Runner for a brother-in-law.

  “Excuse me miss,” he said in a voice he hardly recognized. “You need to wake up.”

  She lifted her head, locked eyes with his, and smiled as she raised her arms over her head to stretch. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

  He died. There was no other explanation for this angel sitting at his bedside. Blue. Her eyes were a strikingly deep blue. Suddenly, he had difficulty getting air into his lungs.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m sorry.” Even in the candle light he witnessed her blush. “I’m Mary. Spencer’s sister. I was afraid you might wake-up in the night and need assistance. My sister, Liz, is sitting with Spencer. So I thought...” She shrugged her shoulders. “I would keep watch on our other patient.”

  “You need to leave.” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted the harshness of them, and his stomach twisted up around the knife wound at the hurt look that replaced the happy one from moments ago.

  “Forgive me that was harsh.” He pulled the covers up over his chest, which he just realized was naked except for the bandage. “I mean. It’s not proper for you to be in a room alone with an unmarried man.”

  She waved her hand around. “Oh, that. Nonsense. I’m playing nurse and you’re my patient.”

  Damn if his blood didn’t pump southward. She was adorable and so innocent. She had no idea what she insinuated. He needed to tread very carefully around her.

  “I thank you for looking over me while I rested.”

  “Oh.” Her smile faulted again.

  “What I mean to say is, you must be tired and in need of rest yourself. I feel much improved.” And then he remember his case. “Do you know if any of my men came by this evening?”

  Her smile came back brighter than before, if that were possible. “Yes. That is another reason why I came in here. If you woke up I wanted to give you the good news. Your men rescued Miranda and Aunt Violet.”

  Suddenly, exhausted beyond reason, he sighed and thanked Mary. At least he thought he said the words before he drifted into a hazy sleep.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Not long after Baker raped Aunt Violet, he came back to leave a pitcher of water and some stale bread. The small loaf would likely break a tooth if they ate it, it was so hard. But the water was a welcome respite. Miranda held the pitcher for her aunt, encouraging her to drink. After she took a sip, Miranda did as well then hugged her aunt close again hoping to ward off the chill and to ease her aunt’s burden and pain.

  Miranda must have dosed off because she started awake at the sound of someone whispering her name in the dark. “Here,” she whispered back as she struggled to stand. “I’m here.”

  “Bow Street Runners here to take you home.”

  “It’s locked.”

  “Do not fret, mil
ady. I have the key. As the man got closer with his lantern, she realized there were two men, not one, and they were young and dressed completely in black.

  “Quickly before Baker returns.”

  “He’s dead, milady. There is nobody here but the duke’s servants and they are frightened.”

  Air expelled from her lungs and she nearly collapsed to the ground in relief. They were safe. Baker could never rape either of them again. As the men entered the cell she asked, “Can either of you gentlemen lend me your coat for my aunt?

  The smaller of the two didn’t hesitate before he shrugged out of his overcoat and handed it to her.

  “Thank you, kindly.”

  Miranda pivoted around and hurried to her aunt who still sat on the cold, damp floor staring into nothing. Miranda’s heart sank at the lost look on her face. How would she ever make it right for her?

  “Aunt Violet,” Miranda said in a soft voice as though she were talking to a young child. “These men have come to take us home. Here, I have a coat for you to keep you warm.”

  When she helped her aunt stand, her gown gaped open. Miranda quickly pulled it closed and slid her arms into the coat and buttoned it up. She rolled up the overly-long sleeves and wrapped her arm around Violet’s waist. Silently, they followed the men down a hallway and up a rickety set of stairs and into an opulent home lit by several candles casting shadows eerily on the walls, floor, and ceilings.

  Miranda fought the urge to flee from this unwelcome home. She needed the safety of the outdoors. Craved fresh air. Instead, she forced herself to continue walking slowly, helping her aunt along. When they descended the outside stairs and came face to face with a carriage baring the Earl of Bridgeton’s crest, she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Because for the first time since she found herself in Baker’s company, she believed everything would turn out fine.

  After she was home and back into Spencer’s safe arms, she would find a way to help her aunt heal.

  The coach ride was the longest in her life. She sat with Violet wrapped in her arms and her head resting on her shoulder. The two Runners sat opposite, neither looking at them, and she appreciated their privacy. The last thing she needed was strangers watching. If she saw pity in their eyes her defenses would come crashing down and she’d be useless to Auntie.

  When the wheels came to rest, Miranda closed her eyes and said a silent prayer to God. Please let my husband be alive and well. I cannot fathom life without him. And she couldn’t. They may have only recently been reacquainted, but he was her everything. Her heart, body, and soul belonged to him. Completely and desperately. The urge to crash through the unopened carriage door, run up the stairs and into the house screaming his name was hard to fight.

  Someone needed her. The person who had been there for her since her parents’ deaths. The person who brought her back from the brink of wanting to die. Made her travel to London and find the man of her heart.

  “Auntie,” she crooned. “We are back at Spencer House.” Only when the door opened, she realized they weren’t home. They were at Bridgeton’s. It didn’t matter, it was as good as being home. “We are at the Earl of Bridgeton’s home.” One of the Runner’s helped her down the steps, she turned and held out her hand to her aunt. “Come. Let’s get you a nice hot bath and tucked into a warm bed.”

  The look in her aunt’s eyes, had tears pooling in hers. She resembled a simpleton. “Please. It is safe here.”

  She reached farther into the carriage, and finally her aunt placed her hand in hers and let herself be led from the vehicle. Before they had a chance to ascend the steps, Bridgeton, the butler, and housekeeper met them.

  The relief on Bridgeton’s face was short-lived when he looked at Violet and then her.

  “My aunt needs care. I will explain all later.” Without saying a word, the housekeeper gently wrapped an arm around her aunt’s shoulder, spoke quietly to her, and led her inside the house.

  Once she no longer had a reason to be strong, her body began vibrating, her teeth chattered, and tears rained down her face, followed by heart wrenching sobs. And that wasn’t the worst of it. She bent over and cast up her accounts, splattering the earl’s boots.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “No need.” Before she could protest he swept her into his arms, ascended the steps into the foyer, and continued up the grand staircase, down a hall, and kicked open a door to a dark chamber.

  “Do you think you can stand for a moment while I light a candle and stir the embers?”

  “Yes.” When he put her down, she locked her knees to keep herself from dropping like a marionette doll with its strings cut.

  Once the candle was lit and flames glowed in the hearth, her eyes rested on the pale man with a white bandage wrapped around his head lying on his back in a large four poster bed.

  “Oh God,” she cried as she hurried to the bedside, her melt-down of moments ago vanishing as panic took over at seeing Spencer looking so ill.

  “What did the physician say?” Please let it be good news.

  “That he has a fractured skull and needs to rest. If he could have hunted down Baker and rescued you himself he would have. But damn it, each and every time he tried to get up he vomited and passed out.”

  “He hit me as well. But obviously not as hard. No doubt he meant to kill Spencer but not me.”

  “Indeed. He is lucky to be alive. But not just alive. Alive with all his facilities.”

  Her hands reached out, resting on the bed for support.

  “Amelia’s ladies’ maid should be in any moment to help you clean up. I think it would do wonders for my cousin if he woke up with his wife beside him.”

  “Thank you.”

  After the maid helped her wash most of the grime from her body and hair, she dressed in a clean night rail and climbed underneath the covers, curling up against Spencer. Even though he slept, he sighed and moved closer to her body as if he knew she was there.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Warmth woke Spencer out of a deep sleep which had brought him relief from pain. The right side of his body was overheated and something was tickling his face and chest. Before he dared open his eyes, because the past few days brought him nothing but excruciating pain when he did, he reached for his face and came in contact with soft, silky hair.

  His eyes popped open, and he saw his beautiful wife curled up against his side. The stabbing pain inside his skull eased.

  He didn’t move, afraid to wake her because he wanted to enjoy this moment. He wanted to study and memorize every single part of her. It wasn’t easy as his heart throbbed inside his chest causing his whole body to vibrate. He so desperately wanted to touch her. Love her. But he didn’t want to be greedy.

  After the ordeal she went through, she needed her rest. It took restraint not to wake her up so he could be reassure she went unharmed. Unviolated by that man. But the answers could wait. Meanwhile, he would close his eyes and revel in the knowledge he had Miranda back.

  Nothing or no one would ever take her from him again.

  “Are you awake?”

  Her voice traveled inside his body and curled around his heart. “Yes. Welcome home.”

  “I’m so sorry about what happened. If I hadn’t married you, you would not be in bed with a head injury.”

  Fighting through the pain throbbing inside his skull, he turned onto his side and looked into her worried, soft green eyes. “I would do anything for you. Die for you. Fight for you. Because my life is nothing without you in it. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

  Tears leaked from her eyes and he gently wiped them away with his fingertips. “When I was locked inside that cell I thought I’d never see you again. That if I somehow managed to escape, you would be dead. I thought he killed you.”

  “Oh, my dear, it takes more than the likes of Baker to put me in the ground.”

  “He is dead.”

  “Good.” And afraid to ask, but needing to know, he said, “Did he...”

 
; “No. But it was horrible.” She buried her face into his neck. “He raped Aunt Violet right in front of me.” She inhaled deeply, and he could feel her heart pounding rapidly against his side. “He tied me up. There was nothing I could do. I feel so guilty that I made it out unscathed.”

  “Thank God you did. How is Violet?”

  Sobs caused her body to tremble from head to toe. “Ever since it happened she has stared at nothing, said nothing. Appears like a child. I’m afraid I’ve lost her for good.”

  “I will hire the best doctors. We will not rest until she is recovered and herself again.”

  “From experience, she will never be the same.”

  “I realize that, but look at you? How far you have come. You will be her best advocate. She is a strong woman, I believe she will eventually recover. It may take days, perhaps months, but she will crawl out of her own internal nightmare and come back to us. What other choice do we have? Give up and let her wallow until death takes her?”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For saying the words I needed to hear right now.” Her chest pushed against his side as she inhaled and exhaled. “The whole time it was happening, I relived my violation. I nearly descended into the darkness with her.”

  “Never again sweetheart. The man is dead and can never hurt you or your aunt again. And as long as I’m alive no one else ever will. Now rest. It’s still early and to be honest, I need to close my eyes to ease the pain inside my head. Will you stay with me?”

  “There is nowhere else I’d rather be. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  ***

  Later that day Smythe came to visit Spencer, and Spencer thought the Runner looked worse than he did. “What happened to you?”

  “Never mind me. I’m sorry. I failed you.”

  “Nonsense. It’s not your fault. All that matters is that Baker is dead. Miranda is fine and I’m convinced her aunt will be in time.”

  “But still. Doesn’t sit well in my gut.”