by Dawn Ireland
Why hadn’t he turned around, or left when he found her? He’d told himself their little game was a good way to teach her a lesson, but to be honest, it had been an excuse. He’d wanted to see her naked. That’s why he’d insisted she come out.
He was supposed to be concerned with her safety, not acting like a randy young man watching through the keyhole to get a glimpse of a naked woman.
Alex shouldn’t have been swimming at all. Why couldn’t she ever do the expected? One moment she’d been taunting him. The next, she’d disappeared from sight.
He hadn’t seen any sign of injury. Hopefully she just suffered from the cold. Had she been in the water long? She should have known better than to swim this early in the season.
John peered out of the stable as they galloped into the mews. Declan gave him Knight’s reins and asked him to send someone for the doctor and to retrieve Blade. Carrying Alex’s slight form, he strode toward the manor, up the steps, and into the hallway.
Morgan saw them first.
“What the...” He rushed over and tried to take Alex from him.
“No. I can carry her. Get Eleanor. Ask Edgar to have the staff bring extra blankets and a warm bath to her room.” Declan took the stairs two at a time, rushing past Richards to get to Alex's room.
The valet wore an appalled expression. Declan guessed it had more to do with the state of his clothing than with the shivering girl in his arms. Richards scurried ahead to open the door. “My lord, what happened?”
“A small accident.” Declan laid Alex down on the bed. “Help me get this damp shirt off her.”
“This is your shirt, my lord. Her hair’s soaked it through.” Richards appeared to be on the verge of tears. “It’s ruined. What was she doing in your shirt?”
“She needed it.” For modesty’s sake Declan wrapped a blanket around Alex’s body, while Richards tugged the shirt over her head.
Declan laid her back on the pillow and started rubbing her limbs to try and bring warmth back into them. He could hear her teeth chattering in spite of his efforts.
Eleanor burst into the room, followed by servants laden with blankets.
“What happened? Lord Morgan said there’d been an accident.” Eleanor rushed over to Alex’s bed.
“Alex nearly drowned.”
“How?”
“Swimming.”
“She was swimming?” Eleanor shook her head in resignation. “Where?”
“In the lake, just past the south meadow. I’m not sure what happened. It may have been the cold water.”
“Get more blankets on her. Where’s the tub?” Two male servants came in bearing a large, wooden bathtub. “I need hot water up here, now.” Eleanor turned toward Declan. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. I’ll take care of Alex.” Eleanor turned to Richards. “Make sure Lord Worthington gets into some dry clothes.”
He gave up. He’d underestimated Eleanor; she could be just as stubborn as Alex. “I’ll go, but I want to know the minute the doctor arrives.”
“I’ll send word.” Eleanor turned back to her patient and wrapped a dry towel around her head. He took one more look at Alex’s shivering form and left the room.
“Don’t be blaming yourself. She’d have drowned if you’d not been there.” Morgan poured another brandy, then sat in the wingback chair opposite his friend.
“I wasn’t a gentleman, Morgan.” Declan ran a hand through the hair on his forehead. “I knew she wouldn’t come out with me there, yet I persisted. I even threatened to come in after her.”
“And so you did.” Morgan leaned forward and raised his glass in Declan’s direction. “To my way of thinking, you’re a hero.”
Declan started to protest, but Morgan stopped him. “She was swimming before you got there. In water that cold, the doctor pointed out the cramp could have happened at any time. She might have been alone when it hit. Then you’d not be forgiving yourself for her death.” Morgan shook his head, his voice cajoling. “The doctor told you she’d be fine.”
Declan stuck his booted feet toward the fire and swirled the brandy in his snifter. His life used to be simple. He knew what he wanted, and what he had to do. Alex made chaos of everything. He closed his eyes and sat back.
Morgan broke the silence. “The Countess of Lochsdale is a bit spirited. Beautiful, too.”
Declan opened his eyes to find a contemplative look on his friend’s face.
Morgan took a large swallow of his brandy. “A man would be looking a long time to find another like her. Perhaps I should be courting her myself.”
“No.” Declan thought he saw a grin on Morgan’s face before he turned to the fire.
“Ah well, I see you’ll be wanting some fancy husband for her. Have you any idea who?” He turned back to Declan, his expression serious. “I think it should be a very determined man. Alex will take a bit o’ training, but she’d be worth it.”
“I don’t care who Alex marries.” Declan stood up and went to lean against the fireplace, then studied the flames. “Her grandfather trusted me to do right by her, and I shall. Marriage is the only answer.” He turned to look at Morgan. “You’ve been acquainted with her inside a week. Do you think I could leave her to her own devices?”
“Sure as Ireland’s green, she’d find herself in trouble. She’s not afraid of much.” He chuckled. “And, she certainly worked her magic on Catrina. Throws a knife at her one day and gets her to help with finding a husband the next. By the way, I think you should be commending the butler.”
“Edgar?”
“Couldn’t get over how he handled the knife incident.” Morgan shook his head. “The man’s not human. He calmly removed the blade from the wall and went back to carving the roast.”
“Edgar’s been with the family a number of years. I doubt Lady Lochsdale could do anything to surprise him.”
“Where might she be learning to throw like that?”
Declan went over and poured himself another drink. “She lived onboard a trading vessel until she was twelve. The sailors thought it prudent to teach her how to defend herself.”
“That she can. Did you know her then?”
“I brought her home to her grandfather.” Declan sat back down and crossed his legs at the ankles.
“She’s a special colleen. How do you think she’ll fare in London?”
“We have to get her there first. It’s a wonder she’s survived till now.”
“Did the doctor say she could travel?”
“Yes, but I still want to delay our trip by a day. Just in case she develops a fever. We both know what that could mean.” Their eyes met, and Declan knew Morgan understood. On the battlefield, it often wasn’t the wound that killed.
“That won’t be sitting well with Lady Catrina. I think she might be getting a bit restless.”
“She’ll have to wait.”
Morgan studied him intently. “I thought you might be developing an attachment for Lady Catrina.” His brow furrowed. “Though after spending the last week with her, I see why that might not be appealing. Spoiled females are a bit of a trial.”
“If I had my way, I wouldn’t marry at all.” Declan leaned over and poured the last few drops of his drink on the fire, listening to it hiss. “I need an heir, and Catrina would be as good a wife as any.”
“Why her?”
“I could never love her.”
Morgan’s eyebrows raised. “You’d not be wanting to love your wife?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Have you told Alex you intend to marry Catrina?”
“I mentioned it.”
“And?”
“She seemed upset. I have no idea why.” Declan stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can never tell what she’s thinking or what she’ll do. One thing I am sure of. She needs a husband.”
“Do you think she’ll be finding a suitable match in London?”
“Let�
��s hope so.” Because God knew he couldn’t take much more.
Everything hurt. Alex tentatively opened her eyes, only to shut them against the light streaming through her bedroom window.
She tried to take a deep breath, and discovered breathing had become a luxury. What had happened? She’d been at the lake with Declan, then her memory blurred into fragmented glimpses of pain and endless water.
One thing for certain. If it hadn’t been for Declan, she would have drowned.
Someone tapped on her door. “Come in.” Her voice sounded rough, but at least it worked.
Declan entered and crossed to her bed. He stood there gazing at her until she wondered if he was trying to commit her face to memory.
“How are you feeling?” His light voice seemed at odds with the tortured look that swirled in the dark blue depths of his eyes.
“I’ve been better, but I’m alive.” Alex smiled, but his expression didn’t change. She tried a different tact. “You lied to me.” At least that comment turned his worried frown into confusion. “You do rescue damsels in distress.”
The corners of his mouth twitched upward. “I make an exception for naked fencers.”
Her face heated, and she quickly turned away. She’d been trying to forget that she hadn’t been wearing anything when he’d saved her. She drew her blanket up under her chin. Her figure had never been something she dwelled on, but now she couldn’t help wondering how she’d compared to other women he’d known?
“I’m sorry, Lady Lochsdale. For some reason, you make it difficult for me to be a gentleman.” Declan crossed to the window, then stood, staring at something she couldn’t see.
He stayed like that for a long moment, his profile stark, and when he faced her, his bitter expression wasn’t as hard to take as the self-derision lacing his voice.
“I should have left, or at least turned my back when I discovered you at the lake. I knew the circumstances.” He held her gaze. “It was my fault.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Funny, two weeks ago she wouldn’t have imagined defending her guardian. Now, well, it wasn’t in her nature to let other people take the blame for what she’d done. “I shouldn’t have been swimming when the water was so cold. As for the other,” Alex said with a shrug, “I guess I was curious about what you’d do.”
The vision of Declan, naked to the waist, swam before her eyes. “I knew I should get out. But I wanted...”
Heat warmed his expression, and she had the feeling he knew exactly what she’d wanted. She dropped her gaze to the bracelet on her wrist. One of the small diamonds had fallen out, and she ran a finger over the gap. “It doesn’t matter now.” She looked up and tried to sound eager. “When do we leave for London?”
“Tomorrow morning, if you’re well enough to travel.”
“I shall be.”
Declan leaned over and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. “Good, get some rest. We’ll leave at first light.”
“Lord Worthington?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for saving my life.”
Declan’s smile warmed the blue of his eyes. “You’re welcome. Shall we call it even?”
The deafening clatter in the courtyard gave Alex a headache. She was sorely tempted to cover her ears. Between servants calling to each other as they loaded the trunks and horses pawing the cobbles, you couldn’t think.
Then again, maybe her head hurt because she knew she’d be traveling in a carriage with Catrina. She felt as if surviving the next few days with that vain, pompous creature would take an incredible amount of patience—not one of her strong points.
Two enclosed carriages stood at the entrance to Oakleigh, the Lochsdale crest clearly emblazoned across the polished black doors. She had personally checked to make sure Blade was attached to the baggage coach. If things got really bad, she’d find a way to ride. Even if she had to do it sidesaddle.
A small group of servants and family had gathered outside to say goodbye. Berta held a coral pink shawl of the finest wool in her hands. She handed it to Alex. “Here, you’ll be needing this.”
“Berta, it’s beautiful.” She took the shawl and gave the old woman a peck on the cheek. “I’ll think of you whenever I wear it.”
“See that you do. And remember what I told you. I don’t want to hear about any more foolishness like yesterday. London’s a dangerous place. You don’t need to go looking for trouble.”
“I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Tears stood in Berta’s eyes. “Good luck to you, Lady Lochsdale.” She leaned over to give her a hug and whispered in her ear, “Hurry home, and bring a husband with you.”
Alex stepped back and gave the older woman what she hoped was an encouraging smile. She didn’t want to be reminded about the reason for this expedition. Especially as she had one immediate concern. Catrina.
Edgar spoke up. “Don’t worry about things around here, my lady.” He was fiddling with his neck cloth as though he suddenly found it too tight. “We’ll do just fine till you come back.”
“I have every confidence in you, Edgar.” She smiled at him and a dark red blush spread across his cheeks. He turned away, making a big display of checking one of the straps on the carriages.
Eleanor stepped around the piles of trunks still strewn across the courtyard and came over to her. “It’s a good thing you don’t have much of a wardrobe. Lady Catrina’s things are liable to take up all the space.”
Alex lowered her voice so only Eleanor could hear. “If I’m really lucky, there won’t be any room for me in the carriages, and I’ll have to ride.”
Eleanor smiled. “Now how would that further your growing relationship with Lady Catrina?”
Alex sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this.” She gave her cousin her best imploring look. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?”
“Who would take care of the estate?” Eleanor gave her a hug. “You’ll do fine. Do you have your list?”
Alex patted the pocket of her skirt. “It’s right here. I hope it helps. I don’t remember discovering any good husband material last time. What if they’re all the same?”
“You’re looking at them in a different way now. Just try to act like a lady.” Eleanor pinned her with a knowing gaze. “No breeches or knives.”
Alex hoped her expression didn’t give her away. Had Eleanor guessed she’d tucked a shirt and breeches in the corner of one of her trunks? There might come a time when she needed freedom of movement. Men were lucky. They never had to worry about skirts weighing them down, let alone panniers, corsets, and stays.
Catrina came out of the manor wearing a ruffled dress of pale blue. Lace frothed at the elbows and neckline. Her only concession to travel seemed to be the wearing of hip pads instead of panniers.
“How is she going to travel in that?” Alex stared at the outfit in disbelief, then down at her serviceable grey gown. The dress was a favorite when she traveled because all it required was an underpetticoat and no stays. If Catrina was miserable on this trip, it was her own fault.
“Some people are more concerned with appearances.” Eleanor gave Alex a searching look. “I know you despise Catrina, but following her example will help you fit in. It’s only until you marry.”
“If I marry the right man.”
“You will. Go on now. Lord Worthington looks like he wants to leave. Lady Catrina and Lord Morgan are already in the carriage.”
Alex gave Eleanor a hug. “Take care of yourself.”
Eleanor laughed. “I’m not the one who’s had two accidents in the last fortnight. Things are going to be very dull around here without you.”
“Think of it as a much needed rest after the last eight years.” Alex grinned at her, then headed for the carriage.
Declan stood waiting to hand her up through the door. He’d already informed them he’d be riding Knight. Alex wished she could ride Blade, but due to her recent injuries Declan had expressly forbidden it. Still, she had to try. “There’d be
extra room in the carriage if I rode.”
“No.”
The tone left no room for argument. Alex took comfort in the replacement knife she’d placed in her boot, squared her shoulders, and allowed him to help her into the lion’s den.
Chapter 10
In order to get a better view of the street, Alex drew back the dust-laden curtain and repressed a sneeze. She’d forgotten how many people seemed to inhabit London.
“Alex, come away from the window this instant. It’s vulgar to stare.” Catrina began to straighten her clothing in preparation for their arrival.
If she had to listen to one more “do this,” or “Alex wear that,” she’d scream. Why couldn’t she have been blessed with the ability to sleep most anywhere like Morgan? With as much sleep as he’d had in the last three days, he shouldn’t need to rest for a week.
She stole another glance out the window. London fascinated her. In spite of the suffocating smell from the sewage in the streets and the ill-kept appearance of many buildings, she liked the city.
The carriage passed Hyde Park, veered onto a tree-lined side street, then stopped in front of a massive home made of yellow stone. The color reminded her of the buildings she’d seen in the Cotswald region with her grandfather. The weathered structure gave the impression it had always graced that spot and always would.
Several steps led up to the entrance. Carved, brass knockers adorned imposing looking wooden doors, which Alex suspected were heavy enough to need two men to open them. Flanking the steps were stone platforms, upon which crouched mythical lions, their feathered wings unfurled. The sculptures enhanced the power and beauty of the mansion, yet added a touch of whimsy. It was an impressive building, but why were they stopping here?
She’d assumed they would be occupying her grandfather’s home near Westminster. They’d stayed there three years ago, during her first Season. Perhaps this belonged to Morgan.
