by Robyn DeHart
“If you think because you are larger than me that you can intimidate or frighten me, you are sadly mistaken.” She poked one finger into his chest and looked up at him through narrowed eyes.
He reached out to pull her to him. He wanted to kiss her so badly it made him step backwards. “He told you about Gwyneth, did he not?”
Surprise softened her features. “He did.”
He nodded.
“Do you want to know what he told me, specifically?” she asked.
“I’m certain I can deduce what the man said.” He wanted to defend himself, tell her the truth about what had happened, but none of it mattered, least of all her opinion of him. She was merely an assignment, though he knew that wasn’t entirely the truth. “There are always other sides of a story,” he added in spite of himself.
“She is the reason you remain unmarried?”
He nodded.
“But you shall marry someday, will you not?”
“To produce an heir. It is my responsibility to not allow my title to die with me.”
She frowned. “You make it sound so formal. What of love and affection?”
“Love is nothing more than an illusion. Marriage is a business decision.”
“That is not true. I’ve seen love between married couples.”
“You’ve seen what people want you to see. Nothing more.” He was done with this conversation. Debating the merits of love was a futile exercise. “That was all that was discussed?”
“If you want to know if I told him anything that you have spoken to me in confidence, then I did not,” she said. “I believe I told you once that I am trustworthy. If you don’t believe me, then you shouldn’t have brought me here.”
“I didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Precisely what I said. You, this—” He spread his arms out to encompass the room. “Is an assignment, and not one I asked for.”
Pain flickered across her eyes, but she took a breath, lifted her chin a notch. “My apologies for inconveniencing you so.”
“That’s not what I said.” There it was, still that desire to lower his lips to hers. He walked to the other side of the room and picked up a book as if that was what he’d intended to do.
“When do I return home?” she asked.
That surprised him. She hadn’t backed down from a fight yet, but now she was ready to leave. Of course, who could blame her, he’d been a complete ass to her today. “Not yet. I know we said the opera would be it and then you could leave for your family’s cottage, but it would seem we need you a while longer. That is what I was coming to tell you.”
“What of—”
He held a hand up. “You will be compensated for the additional days.” Women and their incessant need for money. “Tomorrow afternoon they are laying the beginning of the railroad track that will ultimately lead from London to Brighton. The railway engineer will be there to explain the route, as well as a few other officials. You do not need to say anything, but it will be good for public opinion for Her Majesty to be seen supporting industrial advancement.”
“I see.” Whatever fire he’d lit in her this evening with his accusations and temper, he’d successfully cooled. Her clipped tone chilled him, that and perhaps she had believed the story Morton told her. She hadn’t asked him about it, hadn’t asked him to deny the accusations. It was for the best if she believed the worst of him. He was here to protect her, not seduce her.
“I will be here in the morning to brief you on the situation,” he said. “Fortunately, these are not people Victoria already knows so you won’t have to pretend to remember them.”
She nodded.
Damnation, he should not be annoyed that she wasn’t fighting him, yet he was. She was being ridiculously compliant. “You are not having second thoughts, are you?”
“No, of course not.”
But he wasn’t completely assured by her response, nor was he reassured by the fact that he was too involved in her emotions, in her, if he were honest. Normally his work called for him to show up, use his instincts to protect the Queen, then go home. But with Evie everything was becoming increasingly complicated, and that made him nervous.
Chapter Seven
Stand and wave.
Stand and wave.
That was all she needed to do. Oh, and not forget to breathe, and appear as if she were the Queen of England. Shouldn’t be too difficult. She’d survived the opera the other night without even a hitch. Granted, there she had spent the majority of the time in a theatre box far removed from the people.
This need not be any different. Still, her nerves were on fire. She took a deep breath, in and out. This was so different from her regular life, posing as the Queen aside. At home she so easily hid in the middle of her sisters, effectively staying out of the center of attention, but here, there was no hiding. Everyone looked at her, everyone acknowledged her. Was this how it felt when Jilly walked into a ballroom? To have every male head turn with appreciation and every female wince with just a little envy? Surprisingly enough, Evie couldn’t deny that while the attention was overwhelming, there was part of her that enjoyed it. Female vanity; she would never had guessed she possessed any. Her mother would be so proud.
Bennett stood at her side as they waited for the rest of the men who would escort her to the platform. Between them, Bennett reached over and barely brushed his fingers against hers, though he did not grab her hand. Her breath caught. She did not dare glance at him, but knowing he was right here next to her soothed her. The warmth of his hands permeated the fine silk of her gloves, and she wished in that moment they were somewhere else, perhaps different people, so she could grab his hand and link their fingers.
“You’ll do fine,” he said.
And then she was being led from the carriage up to the platform. It was the starting of a train depot, but at the moment consisted mostly of a framed building and a stage-like area. Freshly laid tracks gleamed in the sunlight.
The man at the podium acknowledged her, thanked her for coming, then went about explaining the design and route that the railway would take from her to Brighton. She inclined her head and gave what she hoped was a regal wave, then he continued talking.
She scanned the area, searching for a friendly face, but found none. From here, the crowd all looked the same. The poor to one side, the rich to the other, instinctively separating themselves as they would be on the train, as they were in town.
Behind her right shoulder stood Bennett. Without turning around, she could see him in her periphery. His stern features were set in a fierce glare as he watched the people around her. He was not far, but not so close he could touch her.
“Does Her Majesty wish to address the crowd?” the man at the podium asked.
It took a moment for his words to register with her, and she was formulating a response when Bennett stepped forward and whispered something to the man. He nodded and smiled brightly at Evelyn.
“Our gracious Queen does not wish to take any focus off the railway today,” the man said.
The crowd cheered; well, some of them did, perhaps even most of them, but a few snickered and jeered. Though she could not see where the naysayers stood, she heard their voices loud above the applause of the others. Bennett had mentioned something about Victoria not being popular with much of England, but seeing that in action was jarring.
Still Evie smiled, and inclined her head in a slight bow. The man got everyone quieted and then continued to drone on about the railway construction. Evie had never given much thought to England’s monarch, but in this moment, she felt an enormous amount of sympathy for her Queen. Not only did the woman have to endure such events, but she had to do so while weather jeers.
She looked out at their faces, wondering what it was that made them hate her so. Then she saw him, a figure in the crowd moving effortlessly toward the stage.
…
Bennett watched the crowd, looking
for anything out of the ordinary. He glanced back at Evie as the man at the podium continued to talk about the amazing attributes to the upcoming railroad. She, too, looked out at the crowd. People called to her, some cheered, some yelled spiteful things, cruel words that neither Evie nor Victoria deserved.
Then in a flash, she was laid out on the platform, a man on top of her. People screamed. Bennett picked up the man and tossed him off the platform, then scooped up Evie’s body and raced to the carriage.
“Are you hurt?” Bennett asked, again and again.
Evie looked up at his face, but didn’t answer.
“I need you to tell me if you’re hurt,” he said.
She concentrated on his face. “What?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe so, merely startled.”
He tucked her into the carriage, and climbed in beside her. “I shall check everything out when we get back to the palace.”
She shook her head, wrapped her arms around her middle. “That won’t be necessary.” Fear widened her eyes. “What was the man trying to do?”
Bennett said nothing, only clenched his jaw. He pulled back the small curtain on the carriage and stared outside. The ride back to Buckingham went by in silence. When he’d seen her go down, fear sliced through him. But he’d gotten the man off before he’d killed her, though he’d obviously injured her. With every bump and bounce of the carriage, she winced, though she did her best to put on a brave face.
Finally the carriage rolled to a stop and he once again grabbed her. This time he took her hand rather than carried her into the palace. He led her up the stairs and then into a room at the end of the corridor.
“What is this room?” she asked.
“It is where the Privy Council meets.” He led her directly to the fireplace and pushed down on a small statue. There was a click and then the fireplace shifted, revealing a hidden staircase.
Her breath caught. “Wow,” she whispered.
He led her down, then moved a lever on the wall and the passage behind them closed. He said nothing, but continued moving forward until they’d reached an antechamber. He went about lighting the wall sconce lanterns, then turned to face her.
“Now then, where are you hurt? And don’t bother telling me that you aren’t, I’ve seen you wince.”
“I told you, I am fine.” But her body betrayed her with a jab of pain on her side. She grabbed onto it, her eyes falling shut. “I can inspect it myself. I need to get to my bedchamber.”
His brow furrowed. “Where?”
She released a hiss of a breath. “You are so stubborn. Here.” She touched her left side and winced at the feel of her own fingers.
“I need to see it.”
“You can’t see it, it is beneath my clothing.”
He nodded and the realization fell onto her. Her mouth opened in a silent “o.”
“It is purely a medical examination,” he said, unsure if he was trying to convince her or himself, but right now his concern for her wellbeing outweighed his lustful thoughts about seeing her without her clothes.
“Certainly there is someone more appropriate to examine me. Do you even have medical skills?”
“Some,” he said. “We cannot afford to allow anyone see you, or rather Victoria, in this state. I need to assess the situation before I bring the information to the others, see if we need to risk calling in a physician.”
“Here, you can examine me this way.” She moved closer to him, held her arms up out of the way so he could reach her side.
“I need to see it, Evelyn.” He swore. “Either you take that dress off or I’ll take it off for you.”
Her heart pounded and her mouth went dry. “You will have to take it off for me, as I cannot reach all of the fastenings. I still think this is completely unnecessary.” She turned her back to him so he could have access to her buttons.
He swore again. His warm breath skittered across her skin.
“What is the matter with you? I am the one that was hurt.”
“Precisely. This is a situation that should never have happened. We shouldn’t have brought you here to London, should only have cancelled the events,” he said, all the while working on her buttons. “Told everyone that the Queen had a bit of an injury and waited for her to recover.”
A cool draft brushed against the back of her neck as her dress fell open. It still left her corset and chemise in place that he’d have to remove.
“I should not have had to save you.”
“I will not apologize because I did nothing wrong,” she said sharply. It seemed entirely ridiculous that he was angry with her for something that was not her fault.
He was quiet and still for several moments. “Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost gentle. “That I am angry with you for this?”
She tried to glance at him over his shoulder. “Obviously you are.”
“No.” He traced a finger against the bare skin of her back. “I am angry with myself for not protecting you.”
“Oh.” Her body was riding a war of sensations; pleasure from his touch and pain from her side. She’d take the pain if he’d touch her again.
He pushed the dress off her shoulders, then began working on loosening her corset. “You’re bleeding.”
She tried to see the injury, but she could not see anything. “Where?”
“Right here.” His finger brushed gently against her side. “Doesn’t appear to be too much blood, but I need to see the injury.” He tugged and pulled on the corset until he’d released it and lifted it off her.
Then it was her shift, which he was able to pull up, rather than remove. “It looks as though he cut you, a knife or some sort of blade. It’s not very deep though.” His touch was gentle as he explored the area at her side.
The injury hurt, she couldn’t deny that, but that was not the sensation that she focused so intently on. His fingers rubbing lightly against her bare flesh sent shivers through her. She had only ever been in this state of undress with maids and her sisters, never a man. Anytime she was the least bit embarrassed, an ugly stain of red blotched her skin. She must be positively covered in it at the moment, but she shoved the thought aside. It wasn’t as if Bennett would find her appealing in any circumstance.
“Evelyn, I think you’ll be all right.” His hand cupped the dip at her waist. “I’m going to need to clean this wound and bandage you.”
“Do you have everything you need down here?” She glanced around the antechamber, noting the carved out stone walls.
“Yes, I have what I need.”
Then she frowned. “Where are we?”
“Below the palace.”
…
Bennett moved to a cabinet and opened it, searched through it. Once these tunnels had been completed, the Brotherhood made certain that these rooms were well-stocked with anything they might need, everything from wine to dried fruits and medical supplies, anything that might be necessary in an emergency. He found what he needed—bandages, a basin, and a jug of water. There were also supplies for sutures if they were required, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Footsteps sounded down the tunnels. He had expected others to come and check on her well being. Potterfield was the first to round the corner into the room, but he stopped short when he saw Evelyn’s state of undress.
“Beg your pardon,” he said, and stepped back around the corner.
Bennett moved back to her, tried his best to ignore the sight of her bare back splayed before him, but damned if the sight of her fair skin didn’t have blood surging to his groin, despite the fact that her injury still bled. Thankfully it had slowed, a good sign that she was not injured too badly, but there was always the concern for infection.
“Is it a serious injury?” Potterfield asked loudly enough for them to hear.
“This is mortifying,” Evie murmured.
“Haven’t cleaned it yet,” Bennett said. “But it doesn’t look too bad thus far.”
He poured som
e water into the basin and carried it over to her. Damnation, this was a situation neither of them should have been in, but her especially. She was a bloody country miss, not some war-trained woman tested in the art of battle.
“That man should never have gotten near the platform,” Bennett said to Potterfield. “Why didn’t the men in the crowd catch him? You did have men down there, did you not?”
“Of course,” Potterfield said. “I spoke to the guards we had on the ground. They all said he looked unassuming, that they didn’t even notice him until he was right there at the platform. And who would have guessed he could have jumped onto the platform? When I agreed to Her Majesty attending, I was given the measurements of the platform.”
“Obviously they were wrong,” Bennett said.
“I saw him coming,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realize truly what I was seeing, but he was coming right at me.”
“If others come down here,” he said to Potterfield, “keep them out of the room until I’m finished with this.” Bennett dipped the rag into the water. “This might burn.” He proceeded to clean the wound.
She winced, but said nothing.
“I’m sorry if you were frightened,” he said low enough that only she would be able to hear. He kept his attention to the task at hand, refusing to notice how deliciously pale and creamy her skin was compared to his, or the way the muscles in her side tensed and tightened as he cleaned.
“That man,” she said, her voice shattering his thoughts. “He intended to kill me, her, the Queen.”
“Yes.” Finally he’d cleaned the wound enough to see that it was little more than a graze of whatever kind of blade he’d used. Had she not being wearing all the layers of clothing, it would have done more damage. “Knife wound,” he told Potterfield. “Not too deep though.”
“We’ll need to watch for infection,” Potterfield said. “There is some salve—”
