Ellen gaped at him in horror as she lay there, then began to curl up into a ball.
He relented at once. "I’m sorry, Miss Jerome. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I’m not angry with you, but him. And with myself for not giving him a good thrashing when I had the chance."
She said nothing, merely curled herself up even tighter as she cowered under his jacket.
Ash sighed. "But what a fool I am for shouting at you. You’re probably half out of your wits with fright. If you can bear to let me touch you, I’ll help you up from there and you can lean on me until we get back home.
"Then I shall go get Blake. I should like him to look at you as well. He can certify that you are unharmed in the fullest sense of what nearly happened. I’m afraid that no less than a full legal document stating categorically that you are a virgin is going to do once all of this gets out."
Her eyes were round as saucers by now. "I can’t possibly tell anyone! Have Cousin Blake see me like this!"
She began to weep, pulling the jacket more tightly around her throat. "And if you are any sort of a gentleman you wouldn’t want me to be exposed to the derision of the world by speaking of this to anyone."
His well-sculpted jaw tightened perceptibly. "I pride myself on being a gentleman in every respect, though many would share Bridges’s opinion that my coming from India makes me a, what was it, 'black bastard' and 'nigger,' and actually little better than an ape."
She looked stricken. "Oh no, I didn’t mean to imply—"
"Perhaps not. But nor did you credit me with any decency either. I’m not speaking of myself or Blake crying rope on you, and tying your garters in public for all to see. I’m speaking of that fact that Bridges will bruit this about as assuredly as the sun will rise on the morrow."
She shook her head in disbelief. "Surely he wouldn’t. He would be admitting wrong-doing. That he lured me into the carriage with two of his supposed friends, and they deliberately left us alone and unchaperoned."
He sighed and explained gently, as if to a small child, "He will be trying to cover his sorry hide by saying you’re a loose woman who led him on. You heard what he said about you. And about me coming to your defense. I won't repeat the words, for they are not suitable for anyone's ears, least of all a woman's."
"Nor was what he said about you," she replied with an indignant sniff, and cuffed her tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.
He shrugged slightly. "I don’t care about myself. I learned long ago to defy the expectations and ignore the insults and calumnies of others.
"But this is your world, Miss Jerome. Millcote is your home. Bridges may already, even as we speak, be trying to blacken your reputation. He’s angry enough to try to ruin you if we don’t circumvent him at once in the only manner we can."
She shook her head, staring at him in stunned confusion. "I don’t understand any of this. And I wouldn’t want him to speak ill of you when all you were doing was trying to help."
"I wouldn't either," Ash admitted, "but purely from a professional and familial standpoint. I’d not like him to impugn my reputation, for it might damage Blake’s medical practice.
"But we’re here alone, and that will cause some tongues to wag. We must be prepared for the worst. Bridges will say I only rescued you so I could have you for myself. Or that you had planned a tryst with me as well. Or I was a jealous ex-lover. Or any other depraved thing his weak little mind can think of."
She began to weep in earnest now. "Those are quite enough ‘ors,’ thank you."
"I’m sorry," he said, relenting in the face of her mounting distress. "I just thought you’d better know all the facts before you decide upon a course of action to pursue."
"Oh God," she cried, wringing her hands. "My poor parents. They’ve already been through so much. This will be the death of them."
He said in a gentle tone, "No, my dear, it will not, for you have done nothing wrong. Moreover, this obsessive fixation upon virginity, marriage and inheritance is not healthy in the upper echelons of your English society."
His dismissive tone caused her to raise her head and stare at him in wonder. "You are partly English, are you not? And you live here. It’s your society too."
"Three-quarters English, though to listen to Bridges and your Uncle Timberlake, you would think I came from darkest Africa and dressed in nothing but a loincloth."
She blushed.
"My mother is half-English, half-Indian. My father was a British soldier. I lived in India until I was nine, and dream of going back now that I’m old enough and qualified as a doctor."
"Yes, of course, I do see Martin and your mother from time to time, though they are so busy these days, and so, er-"
"Very much in love, I believe would be the best way to describe it," he said with a warm smile.
"Um, yes, quite," she said, blushing. "And your brother and sister are adorable. I’m surprised to hear you speak of England in such a manner. It just that you’re so, well, refined, genteel. Not different or set apart as Bridges implied."
Ash laughed. "Implied? No need to be so polite, dear girl. He called me a black bastard and a nigger. I think that was clear enough. But I don’t care what he says. It’s what you and my family think that counts."
"What I think?" she said in surprise, her blue eyes darkening with confusion. "Why, what should I think? You’re no different from anyone else in the world that I can see."
He returned her frank appraisal, and gradually came to believe that her avowal was actually sincere.
She had not ignored him because she was prejudiced. She had ignored him because she was silly and immature, and did not pay much attention to others outside of her cosy little world at Jerome Manor. Or was there something more to her even than that...
She continued for a time longer to study his fair skin, with a hint of creaminess, his sparkling golden eyes with flecks of green around the pupils, the jet-black hair which feathered lushly against the sides of his head, and flowed down to his shoulders, giving him the look of a sleek black hawk.
In short, he was the most spectacularly handsome man she had ever laid eyes upon. How could he ever be described as black?
Once again she marvelled at the contrast between the man who knelt before her, and the one who had crossed her path upon occasion about four years ago.
She recalled Ash when he and his mother had first come to the Millcote area to visit her cousin Blake. Then he had been much more thin, and in pain from the lingering effects of a mysterious debilitating malady.
She also recalled the terrible tale of how he had been kidnapped by his own uncle, starved and beaten for days in an effort to get him to sign away his fortune to him.
When Ashe had refused, his uncle had nearly thrown him off the parapet of the manor house to his death until Martin had saved him. Here was a young man who had suffered.
But Ash certainly seemed hale and hearty now, for he towered over her and was as broad as a tree. He was so large and muscular, in fact, that she wondered how the flimsy seams of a jacket or trousers could contain his virile strength.
The hand he held out to her was warm and hard, the skin soft and pliant, with only a few rough spots on the palms, she noted as she took it tentatively once more.
With his other hand under her elbow she felt herself rise from the ground. Ellen was grateful for the support he offered. Her legs had turned to jelly, and she admitted shakily, "I still feel as though I’m about to be ill again."
"Curse me for not taking my medical bag with me on my rambles. I shall never make that mistake again. Are your legs all right? I mean, he didn’t—"
She flushed. "No, no, he grabbed my wrists, the upper part of my body only."
"But you might have turned an ankle or twisted a knee trying to get away."
"No, I’m unharmed apart from my arms and mouth I think," she said, tasting the acid of vomit and the metallic tang of blood. She shuddered at the way Bridges had assaulted her.
He frowned. "A man’s fork is a very tender thing. If you ever find yourself in such a dreadful predicament again, knee the monster, or punch. Or pretend you’re going to be amenable, and grab and twist like this." He illustrated for her with his other hand.
"That will unman him enough to give you time to get away. Or even unman him enough to prevent him from carrying out his desires, if you do it hard enough."
"I’m never going to get close enough to a man to ever enable him to try. I’m going to become a nun for certain," she said vehemently.
He replied in a mild tone, "Now, my dear, just because you’ve had one understandably traumatic experience does not mean you should flee from the world. You’ve done nothing wrong. Why should you be the one imprisoned?"
"But it isn’t the first time something like this has happened," she admitted with a half-sob. "For me or my family. Emma was engaged to that awful highwayman Cavendish, who raped Martin’s first wife and nearly killed him.
"Then I was engaged to Adam Neville, and he turned out to be a debaucher of women and a murderer. Not to mention Georgina being engaged to his brother Oliver, who was a partial accomplice in their rapes."
Ash’s brows shot up in surprise. "I had no idea they were so bad."
She said quickly, lowering her voice to a whisper, "No one is supposed to know. But Blake and Arabella came to me and told me everything. My parents must never find out the whole truth. It was bad enough telling them that the Neville brothers had acted as they had done over gambling debts."
"All your secrets are safe with me. I give you my word."
She gave a little sigh. "The trouble is that there are so many secrets. I’ve been hiding away ever since, avoiding society like the plague. I've only going about with my cousins Martin and Samuel, and now with just Sam since Martin is so happily married to your mother."
"It must be very lonely for you," he said sympathetically as he led her a few steps forward towards his house. "How do you spend your days?"
"Doing my own reading and fancy work, trying to improve myself. I wish to make myself more wise in the ways of the world. I study, read the papers, try to learn about the inequalities in our society, and see if I can help redress them."
She sighed. "I knew it was a mistake to try to come out of my self-imposed solitude. I’ve just recently begun to socialise more with my sister’s encouragement, and just look at what nearly happened. So what am I to think?"
His golden gaze met her cornflower blue one. Yes, here was a lot more depth indeed. Not a china doll after all, for all her spectacular blond looks.
"First of all, you are not to blame yourself for any of this," he assured her, patting their hand as they strolled along. It’s not your fault. You’ve been very unlucky, and perhaps need to be much less trusting of men who seem to want you only for your person, but are really angling for your fortune."
She threw up her soiled hand in exasperation. "What am I supposed to do? Ask to consult with their bankers and solicitors before I ever even dance with them at a ball?"
"If need be," he said gruffly. "An easier way might be to see who introduces you, what company they keep. He was an acquaintance of Georgina’s, was he not? Well, the jolly young lively set may be very entertaining, but they’re not always the best choice for a girl who would wish to protect her modesty and virtue. Or her reputation for upright conduct and sense."
"I know it now. But it seems as if Georgina has no people of sense in her circle."
He restrained a smile. "Not surprising considering what a flighty little thing she’s always been. You’re forgetting I saw her as a very willful young lady in Bath leading you and everyone else a merry dance. You ought not to let her have everything all her own way, you know."
"I own it," she sighed. "But it’s simpler to go along with her than to resist."
He gave her a long look as he stopped to help her over a fallen tree stump. "The same can be said for many temptations, my dear. But if ever any one of that lot should encourage you to do anything at all you think is wrong, even just something as simple as a carriage ride, you need to say no. Promise me. Believe me, Miss Jerome, there are a lot worse things in life than to be considered less than modish. I think you may have just discovered one of them."
She blew out a trembling breath. "I won’t forget that lesson in a hurry. Thank you for scolding me. My own father and cousins have never troubled to berate me thus. They just let me go my own way, straight to perdition if I’m not careful."
"In my religion we have no hell except that which is here on earth. It isn’t always easy to behave correctly, but we’re obligated to at least try. It's better than being made even more unhappy, is it not?"
"In this case most definitely," she said in a firm tone. "I really must thank you again, Mr. Paignton. Dr. Paignton, I suppose. I have no idea what I was thinking, and am so fortunate that you happened to come along when you did."
She looked around her. "I know I’m not out of the woods yet, however. I must ask that you not mention what happened here today to anyone."
He stared at her in astonishment. "My dear Miss Jerome, how on earth do you expect me to keep this a secret! Your bruises, your gown. And why? You have nothing to hide or be ashamed of!"
"Please, Mr. Paignton, I can’t afford to get myself or my family talked of again. I know you mean well and are saying what you genuinely believe. But you’ve already expressed a complete disregard for society. Therefore you cannot fully grasp what a disaster this will be for my family when we’re already gossiped about so."
He ground his teeth together audibly. "Not least because of what Georgina is doing. If it were her who had been attacked, it would be one thing. But you? You're a model of propriety."
Ellen sighed. "I fear she has done much that she ought not," she admitted, "in which case she did not have to be attacked. In fact-"
They both looked at each other in alarm, instantly reading the other’s thoughts.
"By God, this is just too bad!" he exploded. "And I shall tell her so in no uncertain terms."
"No, you can’t!" Ellen gasped in genuine alarm. "It’s not your place, and I don’t want her to know about this-"
"But Miss Jerome, surely you can see that something must be done. Georgina is running the risk of ruining her own life as well as yours at this point. I was fortunate enough to be here when needed, and undertook to protect you this afternoon. But the next time you might not be so fortunate. The next time you might even be outnumbered, the better to overpower you."
She shuddered. "No, I cannot believe all of them are so lost to decency. As for Georgina, it’s my own fault for not correcting her. I am the elder, after all."
He shook his head, his face grim. "That may well have been true a few years ago, but she has attained the age of twenty-one by now, has she not? In most societies that is the age of discretion, even for a woman. If not eighteen or sixteen in some cases. The age of sexual consent for women is thirteen, though I personally find that disgraceful. I attained my majority and inheritance at eighteen. There is no excuse for what she has been doing, and what nearly happened to you as a result of them thinking you to be equally fast and loose."
"I can see it all now, and can only be ashamed for being so foolish and negligent." The tears welled up, and despite herself she stepped within the circle of his warmth.
Ash told himself she was treating him no differently than she would her cousins. The Jeromes were a warm and demonstrative family who had been through a great deal. Still, he scarcely dared touch her after all that had occurred, though she really was the most elegant and lovely young woman.
He patted her on the shoulder in an avuncular fashion. "Come, my dear. If you are so intent upon keeping this a secret from everyone, we must get you into the house and find you something proper to wear before anyone sees you like this and jumps to the wrong conclusions about what we’ve been doing in the forest."
She blushed. "I’m sorry. You’re perfectly correct. Yes, please, if
you don’t mind. We can tell your mother, and I suppose Martin is going to have to know. But do try to persuade them both not to say anything to Mother and Father."
"I shall try, if in turn you will allow me to have a few select words with Georgina."
"In my presence."
"Of course," he said, his expression grim. "I have nothing to say to her behind your back. Or indeed anyone else's that I would not say to their face."
"Very well," she said, staring at him. He really was a most honest and forthright man, even more so than Blake, Martin, and the rest of their friends the Rakehells.
"When we get to the house I want you to go straight into the bathroom. Our maid Nelly will give you some of my mother’s things to wear. Then we can see about the bruises on your wrists and so forth. There are spare brushes and toothpowder in the cabinet under the sink, and all manner of soaps. Use whatever you like. Anything you need you have only to ask.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5 Page 40
