She could see that her dress was neatly hung over a chair, and her petticoats, stockings and stays were placed nearby as if she had calmly taken them off, rather than discarding them in passion. He had considered her reputation and that counted for something.
She should be lying here covered in shame, and worrying about the possibility of children, but she could only think about how alive she felt.
‘The excitement of the ball turned my sleeping habits upside down.’ Daisy strove for a normal voice, but every muscle was poised to see Polly’s disapproving stare. ‘I woke, feeling refreshed and went for a walk. Then suddenly tiredness came in waves and I had to go back to sleep. I certainly do not plan to make a habit of it.’
‘You should have rung, miss.’ Polly bent down and put the book in a pile with the others. ‘It is what I am here for. To help with the dressing and undressing.’
‘Next time I will.’ Daisy reached for her dressing gown and slipped it over her shoulders, covering some of the nakedness. ‘Normally I never sleep in the afternoon. I cannot think what came over me.’
‘My uncle’s punch is renowned for its potency. He has a few extra-special ingredients. It is no wonder that you had to return to bed, but you should have rung for help undressing. Those petticoats are going to be creased, piled like that.’
‘It seemed easier this way.’ Daisy attempted a placating smile and at a breath Polly seemed to be satisfied.
Polly motioned towards the tray. ‘I have brought you some restorative chocolate. Webster, Lord Ravensworth’s valet, suggested it.’
Webster and not Adam. Daisy’s stomach churned. Had Adam said something to his valet when he returned? Instantly she rejected the thought. Adam’s straightening of her clothes and removing all evidence of their passion showed that he wanted to protect her reputation, not ruin it.
‘I should get up.’ Daisy swung her legs out the bed. ‘You will make me into a lazier creature than Mrs Blandish.’
‘Webster seemed to believe that you would stay in bed all afternoon. Not my lady, I said. She is used to doing things. We have an afternoon of sewing and altering ahead of us.’ Polly tilted her head. ‘If you are up to it.’
‘After I have had a wash and dressed. My light-green work dress I think. The one with a bit of lace about the neck.’
Polly gave a smile and started bustling about the room, tidying. Daisy’s neck muscles relaxed. Polly had not noticed anything different. Nobody would. She could pretend that this morning had never happened.
‘Where is Lord Ravensworth?’ Daisy risked a sip of the chocolate.
‘He has left a note.’ Polly returned with her arms full of fresh petticoats and the light-green afternoon dress. Daisy had to admit that wearing that dress was far more appealing than her own dull grey or black dresses she had worn as a governess. That woman was gone for ever. ‘I should have mentioned it afore now.’
Daisy saw the cream note, sealed with wax. ‘How long ago did Lord Ravensworth leave the note?’
‘I am not sure. Webster simply asked me to deliver it. I peeped in a while ago and you were asleep with a smile on your face.’ Polly pursed her mouth tightly. ‘My lady should get her rest.’
Daisy broke the seal with eager fingers and then began reading with growing dismay. Adam had left for London. Urgent business. He did not expect to return. All danger was over. Brief and curt. The note fluttered from her fingers.
He had used the danger as an excuse to seduce her. She had forgotten all her ideals and rules about being a governess.
* * *
Adam tightened his grip on his pistol and looked at the black door of the hut. The last few rays of autumn sunlight gave feeble light. Webster should have been here before now, long before now. He had agreed to watch and to report if anything went wrong. But Webster was nowhere to be seen.
His muscles relaxed slightly when he saw a tall cloaked figure: Webster.
‘It took you long enough. We were supposed to meet at the stables, but the head groomsman said you had gone on ahead. It is unlike you, Webster.’
‘When do we go in?’
‘Are you sure he is in there?’
‘One of the stable lads has been watching this place ever since you gave me the map. He knew where it was sure enough.’ Webster tapped the side of his nose with a bandaged hand.
‘What have you done to your hand, Webster?’
‘Scalded it this morning. A bit of bother, but don’t you pay it no mind.’
Adam frowned. It was unlike Webster to be clumsy. The back of his neck prickled, but he dismissed it. In a few moments, this would all be over and he would be free to live his life. He could offer Daisy certainty, rather than fear. ‘I want the doctor to see it when we get back to the hotel. No excuses. And it sounds as if you are sickening.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Neglecting your health does no one any good.’
‘Just didn’t want to take liberties.’
‘Miss Milton thought you were watching out for her this morning. Thank you for that,’ Adam replied smoothly, ignoring the familiarity. There was something about Webster’s demeanour, and his speech, something that he could not put his finger on. ‘Luckily Miss Milton possesses an excellent brain. The stone hut was painfully easy to find after following her directions. Funnily enough I had thought them vague.’
‘If it leads us to the man with the strange eyes like you said…who cares how the directions were given?’
‘What man with the strange eyes?’ Adam froze, one hand on his pistol.
‘Different colours and with an angry scar about his neck.’ Webster licked his lips and stared at him with his cap shadowing his face. ‘I am sure you told me, sir. There can’t be many like that around here. If he does not show, we are bound to find him soon.’
‘I never said anything about a man with strange eyes or a scar, Webster. Only about the hut.’ Adam withdrew his pistol, pointed it at his erstwhile valet. ‘Explain! What have you done with my valet?’
‘I think, Lord Ravensworth, you should reconsider your position before you begin making demands.’
‘Had I?’ Adam’s neck muscles tightened and he cocked his pistols. ‘My valet! Answer me now!’
‘You are no longer the one asking questions, Ravensworth. You are the one providing the answers.’
Several burly men emerged from the woods. Adam recognised three from the earlier attack. The false Webster reached out and took the pistol from Adam’s fingers.
‘You have been singularly obtuse. Easy like the other aristocrats. The great nobility who cannot see beyond the ends of their noses.’ The man’s smile became a sneer as he took off the bandage on his hand and revealed a tattoo. Adam blinked. Not Webster, but an imposter. His head had been so full of Daisy and wanting to return to her bed that he had hurried, not paying proper attention. It was too easy. And he had been trapped by his own desire.
‘What have you done with my valet? Answer me! Is he still alive?’
‘If you will proceed this way, you can be reunited with your valet. Who knows—maybe he breathes.’
* * *
Daisy touched the cream note and looked out at the darkening landscape. The note did not make sense. She had turned it over and over in her mind. She had to think with her brains, rather than with her emotions. Emotions led to difficulties. How many times had she told herself that when she left her employers to start another job?
Adam would not have left with just a note, not without telling her who the culprits had been or if her sister and niece would be safe. He had only taken what she offered. But there was a courtesy about him. He knew she worried.
‘Polly, did you say that Lord Ravensworth gave you the note?’
‘No, miss. It was Webster. Apparently Lord Ravensworth left early this morning just after first light. He did not even stop to change after the ball.’
Daisy froze. Webster had deliberately lied to Polly. ‘But that is wrong. I saw Adam…later.’
&n
bsp; She kept her eyes modestly on the floor, but she knew her cheeks flamed. What sort of woman made love to a man mid-morning?
‘I’ve no idea what to make of it, miss, to be sure. I only know what Webster said. He is a man who dislikes to being crossed. My uncle told me that. Last summer when Lord Ravensworth was here, he used to throw his weight around a bit.’
‘Lord Ravensworth?’
‘Lord Ravensworth is a toff.’ Polly gave a small curtsy. ‘Begging your pardon, miss. He is by all accounts a perfect gentleman, if a bit demanding. It is why I wanted this job. I can go places if I’m your lady’s maid.’
‘Then who threw his weight around?’ Daisy rubbed her hand against her temple…there was something here.
‘His valet. All smiles and bows unless he thinks you are below him. Overly proud, Wor Davy called him. Mr Webster was particularly nasty today. He had burnt his hand and it was all bandaged. I offered to help and he said no. And he didn’t even know that the railway was going to Rosehill.’ Polly clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘I have been telling tales. Servants’ gossip and I promised my uncle that I would learn to keep my mouth shut.’
‘No, I am pleased you said something.’ Daisy pressed her hands into her eyes. She should have known the note was false. But who had sent it? Surely Webster had to have known… Webster knew all about railways. It was why Adam and he travelled here last year.
She drew in her breath sharply. Webster had been here last year. His eyes might not be different colours, but there was a certain look about him that matched Nella’s description. That matched the man who searched for Adam. Perhaps Nella could identify him…if she could find the sketchbook.
It was an entirely slender thread, but it was all she had to go on. And she wanted to be doing something, rather than sitting around, waiting and hoping. Action was required.
Daisy narrowed her eyes and began to look through her pile of papers, sorting as she went. A huge stack needed to be burnt, but there were others like Nella’s note and some of the drawings she had done of the woods that Daisy wanted to keep. Halfway down, she came across the old sketchbook. Daisy flipped through the pages.
Various satirical sketches and doodles. The one of Mrs Blandish as a giant tabby cat supping cream was particularly good. She had to admit that Nella had talent for capturing people in a few lightning strokes. It was a pity that, given her class, she would be prevented from putting it to full use.
Daisy sucked in her breath and looked at the series of sketches of the cloaked man. They could have been Webster. Had Adam been harbouring a viper? Or had Webster known more than he said?
‘Polly, can you ask for one of the grooms to take me to the Blandishes? It appears that I have found the missing sketch book after all.’
* * *
Daisy waited in the vestibule of the Blandishes’ house. All about her stood boxes and trunks. Above her, she could hear Miss Blandish sob and wail.
‘Was there some reason for the call at this late hour, Miss Milton?’ Mrs Blandish waved her handkerchief. ‘We are in the midst of packing or otherwise you would have found us dressing for dinner. We have decided to quit the neighbourhood. The air has been less than kind. My nerves will no longer stand it.’
‘Nella mentioned that she had lost her sketchbook.’ Daisy held it out and kept her voice calm. Mrs Blandish could be managed. A steady manner would do more to ease the situation than anything. Above all things, Daisy wanted the truth. Daisy looked up at the gilt ceiling. That was not strictly true. She wanted Adam back alive and well.
‘I promised to return it if I could. I went through my papers one last time, and there it was.’
‘Nella will be pleased, I am sure.’ Mrs Blandish turned to go.
Daisy drew in a breath. She had to risk it.
‘Mrs Blandish, I need your help. I am fairly certain that Adam Ravensworth is in trouble.’
Mrs Blandish raised an eyebrow. ‘That is his problem. He should not have been foolish. I do not see what I and my dear girls can do to help.’
‘Nella drew sketches last summer. There is one that she wanted to see. A man who had frightened her, and she saw the same man consorting with Lord Edward.’
‘That man has no claim on this house.’ Mrs Blandish stuck her nose in the air. ‘Who he consorts with is no concern of mine. Why Nella should start telling tales again, I have no idea.’
‘I believe Miss Blandish had a lucky escape.’ Daisy rapidly explained about the conversation she had overheard and watched the astonishment grow on Mrs Blandish’s face.
‘Opium, did you say?’ Mrs Blandish waved her hand in front of her face. ‘When I was a girl in India, I saw some of its ravages. And, yes, you are right—Lord Edward did display some of the symptoms. I have been blind.’
‘He would have made a poor husband.’
‘What do you want me to do?’ Mrs Blandish dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.
‘Call Nella. I want to see if some of her tall tales were actually correct.’
Mrs Blandish went white. ‘Could she be telling the truth? Have I punished my darling girl for telling the truth? You promised, Miss Milton, that she was telling stories.’
‘I owe Nella a sincere apology.’ Daisy bit her lip. She had to sacrifice her pride and beg. ‘Please, Mrs Blandish, Lord Ravenworth’s life depends on your assistance.’
Chapter Fourteen
Adam sat on the hard floor of the hut, fuming. The sweet heavy scent of opium hung in the hut, clawing at his mind. He fought against it and the parade of ghosts it dragged from the recesses of his mind. A faint breath of air seeped through a crack behind, giving some small measure of respite.
Such a simple ruse to dress in Webster’s cloak. Adam had been arrogant beyond belief, and fallen into the trap. How easily it had been arranged. What made matters worse was that he was not the only soul to pay for his hubris.
Next to him lay Webster’s body. Adam laid his head against Webster’s chest and heard the rhythmic sound of his heart and soft rattle of his breath. His valet lived. Barely, but there was life. Silently, Adam vowed to do all in his power to keep the man alive. Both of them would survive. He glanced over and saw another figure huddled in the corner. The figure kicked out and gave a faint moan. Heritage. It made a certain amount of sick sense.
His stomach clenched. And Daisy? Would they capture her as well?
One more regret to add to his list. He should have woken her up and said goodbye. He should have told her how he felt, rather than wanting to keep the picture of her peacefully sleeping in his brain.
He clenched his fists, relaxed them, tried to get the ropes to move. He could escape. He would live. He would marry Daisy. It was inevitable now. All he had to do was to keep his brain free from the opium and not to panic.
A footstep resounded in the hut. He glanced up and saw the cloaked man, the false Webster, sneering at him. Ice-cold fury coursed through Adam.
‘Who are you?’ he croaked.
‘You may call me Jones,’ the man leered at him. ‘You knew me once. We worked together. But then do the aristocracy ever notice the ordinary? Aren’t we all just cogs in a wheel?’
Adam concentrated hard. He could vaguely remember a Jones; he had had that Jones punished for sadistically beating an Indian soldier to death. Was it the same one? Or someone else, someone who bore a grudge?
The man tilted his head and pressed his lips together, a small act, but one that brought his features into line. Adam’s stomach plummeted. It was Trooper Jones. Adam searched his mind. Jones had been part of the detail guarding the thuggee prisoners.
Daisy’s words haunted him—an angry red scar, different-coloured eyes and Sanjay. He doubted then, but no longer. They had all done Nella a disservice. The most dangerous of the thuggee had survived.
His blood ran cold. He had not only survived, but had begun rebuilding. Adam longed to wipe the smirk from Trooper Jones’s face.
‘You were a soldier once.’ Adam glared at Jones. ‘I
t is treason to consort with the Crown’s enemies.’
‘And you think I am afraid of hanging?’
‘You served your country.’
‘Aye, and that bloody excuse was my officer.’ Jones sent a stream of spittle towards where Heritage lay. ‘Do you think he cared? All he wanted was his opium pipe filled.’
‘Did he save Sanjay? For opium?’
‘Very good, Lord Ravensworth. I knew you was intelligent. I did that on my own. They don’t die immediately, you know. I obeyed orders, hanged him and then cut him down. No one paid me no mind. Just put out one of the poor wretches who had died. That piece of dirt never noticed the difference. Just like Sanjay predicted.’
‘When did Heritage join you?’
‘He were a late recruit. Met him in an opium den, Sanjay did. He owed Sanjay money and, to save his squalid existence, he got us information, information about you and your habits. Think he enjoyed seducing your mistress.’
‘That was how you learnt about the ruby necklace.’ Adam cursed whichever woman had told Heritage.
‘Sanjay already knew you had it. Sanjay makes it his business to know things like that. He is the last one and so they rightfully belong to him. Them and all the jewels. We spent a time collecting them up again. All he wanted from Heritage was information. You are a hard man, Lord Ravensworth. A worthy opponent. We thought we had you last summer when you visited here. But you never let your guard down. Stronger measures were necessary.’
‘Why did you decide to join him, Jones? He will kill you in the end. People like that don’t share.’
Jones sent another stream of spittle towards Heritage. ‘I figured that I weren’t going to get rich being in that army. So I left. And we became brothers, Sanjay and me. He’s giving me half of all the jewels.’
‘You murdered for him.’ Adam closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for all their victims. He stretched behind him, trying to find even the smallest shard so he could work on his ropes. If he could keep Jones talking, there was a slim chance, he could work himself free.
‘Retribution, Sanjay calls it. I was a soldier in a holy war. We tracked them down one by one, saving the best for last. I’m going to be a very wealthy man, Ravensworth.’
Compromising Miss Milton Page 20
