by Louise Allen
‘Get off my patch,’ the woman hissed, thrusting her face close to Tess’s. She smelt of spirits and strong perfume. ‘Unless you want your pretty face marked.’
‘No, no, I don’t.’ Tess backed away and the woman stalked past with a swish of petticoats, only to slow to a hip-swinging saunter before she reached the corner.
‘Evening, my dear.’ A male voice behind her made her jump. ‘Feeling friendly, are you?’
‘No, I am not.’ Tess whirled round. ‘Go away or I’ll…set my cat on you.’ There was a feline shriek of indignation from the swaying basket and the man stepped aside and walked off hastily.
‘Sorry, Noel,’ she murmured. ‘We can’t stay here, it isn’t safe.’
Perhaps if she found a hackney carriage the cab driver would take her to a respectable lodging house. There didn’t seem to be much alternative. If she stayed on the streets she would either be assaulted, taken by some brothel keeper or she would freeze to death.
Tess slipped her hand though the slit in the side of her skirt seam and touched the reassurance of her purse. Thanks to Alex she still had the stagecoach fare from Margate to London in her pocket and some guilders that she could probably change at a bank in the morning. They were all that stood between her and penury, so she just had to pray that lodgings were cheap.
‘What do we have here?’ A man’s voice, so close behind her, had her spinning round. There were two of them.
‘Good evening.’ She tried for a confident tone. ‘Could you direct me to a cab rank, please?’
‘We can direct you, missy, that’s for sure.’ There was a chuckle as one of them moved round behind her. ‘Right down our street.’
*
On a cold, dank evening there was nothing quite like the simple pleasure of one’s own chair, by one’s own fireside with a bottle of best cognac to hand. Alex stretched out stockinged feet to the blaze and swirled the glass under his nose. He had the rest of the evening before him to digest a good meal, catch up on his correspondence, read a book…worry about Tess in that bleak convent.
No wide hearth with unlimited coals for her. Certainly no brandy to keep her warm after a plain dinner. He shifted, searching for a comfortable position in a chair that had always been perfect before. She was used to convent life. Just because he’d hate it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t be feeling as though she was home again.
And surely they’d find her a good position soon, one where she wouldn’t be run ragged by some acid-tongued old woman or harassed by her charges’ older brothers. Who did he know who might be able to employ her? The problem was, he didn’t know any respectable matrons well enough to ask them to employ an unknown young woman without them leaping to conclusions based on his reputation, not Tess’s. One look at that oval face with the expressive blue eyes, that soft, vulnerable mouth…
She was none of his business. Alex gave himself a mental shake, sat up and reached for the pile of letters his secretary, William Bland, had produced when he’d gotten home.
‘The financial matters are all docketed and on your desk, my lord. There is nothing of pressing importance. There are a few invitations despite the fact that your return date was uncertain.’ He’d handed over a stack of gilt-edged cards. ‘And these items appear to be of a personal nature and have not been opened.’
By personal, William meant he had separated out all those with fancy-coloured wafer seals and any that had a whiff of perfume about them. They could wait, too, Alex decided, dropping them back on to the table beside his glass and picking up the invitations again. No, no, possibly, definitely, no…
There was the sound of the knocker. Curious. No one, surely, knew he was home yet? Alex squared off the pile of pasteboard rectangles and listened to the murmur of voices from the hall. Because he was away from home so often he did not trouble to employ a butler, and MacDonald, the younger of the two footmen, was on duty tonight.
The caller was still talking. Alex swung his feet down off the fender and pushed them into his shoes. Damn it, MacDonald was inexperienced, but even he should be able to get rid of unwanted visitors in less time than this. Alex stood up as the door of the study opened.
‘A Miss Ellery has called, my lord.’ MacDonald, who had a fine set of freckles to go with his red hair, was blushing painfully. ‘I have told her that you are not at home, my lord, but she says she will sit on the front step until you are. So I have seated her in the front room because she does seem to be a lady, my lord. Only—’
Hell, what had gone wrong with the confounded female now? Alex told himself he was exasperated, not pleased. Not anxious. Certainly not pleased. ‘Show her in, MacDonald.’
‘Miss Ellery, my lord.’ MacDonald opened the door.
There wasn’t a female member of staff living in, either, Alex recalled. The scullery maid and Hannah Semple, his cook/housekeeper, came in by the day. Damn, this got stickier the more he thought about—
‘Hell’s teeth, Tess, what’s happened to you?’
She stood there on the threshold swaying slightly, the basket in one hand, her bag clutched in the other. Her hair was half-down and a great bruise was coming up on her left cheek. Tess set down her luggage as he started towards her. ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you at this hour, my lord. Only…’
Her eyes rolled up and her legs gave way as he reached her. Alex caught her now-familiar weight in his arms, laid her down on the chaise longue against the wall and bit down hard on the stream of oaths that fought for escape. ‘MacDonald, send Byfleet down with the medical kit, tell Phipps to go for Dr Holt and you get round to Mrs Semple’s lodgings and tell her I need her back here to spend the night. Go!’
Then he sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. His hands, he was shocked to see, were clenched, ready for violence, and he glared at them until they relaxed. She had been walking unsupported, he told himself; she had been able to argue with MacDonald. She couldn’t be seriously hurt. He still wanted to punch whoever had done this to her.
‘My lord?’ Byfleet came in and set down a tray of gauze pads, small bottles and jars on a side table, the familiar kit for when Alex had overdone things in the sparring ring.
‘This is Miss Ellery, a young lady I escorted over from Ghent. She should be in a convent in Golden Square, which is where I left her. I have no idea how she got here, nor what happened, but you can see her face.’
The valet, who specialised in never being flustered, bent over the couch. ‘A nasty bruise. I would hazard the guess that she has come into violent contact with a brick wall. I suggest we remove her outer clothing, my lord, and that I clean the area before she wakes, in case the skin is broken.’
Between them they got Tess out of her bonnet and cloak, took off her boots, one of them unlaced already over the bandaged ankle.
‘No gloves, my lord,’ Byfleet observed, and held out Tess’s right hand for Alex to see. There was a dark red stain under the nails. ‘One concludes that she scratched her assailant.’
‘Excellent,’ Alex muttered and held the bowl for Byfleet as he began to clean her cheek. ‘Is that going to scar?’ Bad enough that they’d hurt her, worse if she had to look in the mirror at the results for the rest of her life.
‘I doubt it, my lord.’ Byfleet took a fresh piece of gauze, covered it in ointment and laid it over the bruise. ‘She is young and seems healthy, and the skin is not broken.’ He probed with his fingertips. ‘Nor is the cheekbone.’
Tess regained consciousness suddenly and woke fighting. One moment she was limp under Byfleet’s hands, the next she had lashed out for his face. Alex caught her wrists before she could make contact. ‘Hush. Lie still, you are safe with me. This is Byfleet, my valet. He is helping you.’
‘Alex.’ She let him push her back against the cushions. ‘I’m sorry.’ She began to smile at Byfleet, then stopped with a hiss of pain.
‘The doctor and my housekeeper are on their way. Are you hurt anywhere other than your face?’
She lay still, obviously th
inking about it. ‘My ankle—I had to run. And my shoulder. They grabbed me and I swung round and hit a wall.’
There had been more than one of them, and she’s a slip of a girl, defenceless. The instinct to punch something became a desire to get his hands around throats and not let go.
Byfleet moved to the foot of the chaise and began to unbandage her ankle. ‘The doctor will need to look at this, my lord. It is very swollen.’
‘Who was it?’ Alex asked, trying to keep the fury out of his voice.
Tess shrugged, winced. ‘Goodness knows, just two men who thought they’d found easy prey in the dark.’
‘How did you get away?’
‘I kneed one of them in the groin and then hit the other round the ear with my bag. Then I ran and there was a hackney. He’d just put down a fare, so I scrambled in.’
‘Yes. Of course you did,’ Alex said faintly. A defenceless slip of a girl? Perhaps not. ‘After you had hit one bully, emasculated another and run on a sprained ankle. Why the blazes aren’t you tucked up in bed at the convent?’ he demanded.
Tess grimaced at his tone. ‘Because I am a fallen woman, undoubtedly your mistress and unfit for decent company.’
‘What?’
‘Someone who knows Mother Superior was on the boat, she recognised me, saw us together on deck. I was asleep on your lap, if you recall.’ Tess closed her eyes.
Weariness, pain—or shame? How dare they make her ashamed. She was innocent. He was the one who had been fighting lascivious thoughts for two days and nights…
‘Mother Superior threw me out and I was looking for lodgings when this happened. I’m sorry to have bothered you, but afterwards, I didn’t think I could manage to find anywhere to stay…’ Her voice trailed away. Alex closed his right hand around her wrist and she rallied, opened her eyes. ‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance. Tomorrow, when it’s light, I’ll find somewhere.’
A bustle in the hallway announced the arrival of Dr Holt and Hannah Semple. Alex stayed where he was beside Tess and explained the situation to both of them. It was an effort to keep the fury out of his voice as he described what had happened.
His housekeeper cast her bonnet and cloak into MacDonald’s hands. ‘Poor young lady! I’ll stay with the doctor.’ She flapped her hands at Alex and Byfleet as though they were a couple of stray small boys underfoot.
Alex made himself get up and walk away, out into the hall. It was ridiculous to feel concerned. Tess was in good hands and he obviously couldn’t stay in the room while the doctor checked her over. But still it felt wrong to be doing nothing and the only things that occurred to him—descending on the convent and giving the Mother Superior a piece of his mind and then scouring the Soho area for a couple of men with scratched faces—were obviously equally unlikely to prove effective.
Besides, she was not his responsibility. He had delivered her safe and sound. Oh, for heaven’s sake! Of course she’s my responsibility. If I hadn’t decided it would be amusing to have the company of an innocent for a while, she’d never have been in this fix.
‘I will rouse the kitchen staff to produce some soup, my lord.’ Byfleet vanished through the service door. Trust his valet to come up with a helpful suggestion when all he could do was contemplate violence. Alex resisted the urge to kick the hall hatstand and went into the drawing room to wait with what patience he could muster.
Chapter Seven
To Alex’s relief Dr Holt emerged after only ten minutes. He accepted a glass of brandy and the offer of a chair by the fire. ‘An alarming assault on the young lady, but she is more shaken than hurt. There was no…er…interference with her person, if you understand me.
‘The bruised area will heal without a mark, although it will be temporarily painful and disfiguring, I have no doubt. Miss Ellery’s ankle appears to have been healing well after a slight sprain, from what she tells me, but the sudden strain has wrenched it again. She must put no weight on it for several days until the swelling subsides. I have left instructions with your housekeeper.’
Alex made a conscious effort and pulled himself together. ‘That’s a relief. Poor Cousin Teresa.’
‘A cousin, is she?’ The doctor rolled the brandy glass between his palms, then inhaled the vapours and leaned back with a sigh. ‘Excellent cognac, this. I didn’t like to encourage her to speak. It will be painful.’
And thank heavens for small mercies. ‘She came up to London to visit an old friend on an impulse, I gather, hoping for an introduction as a governess,’ Alex improvised. ‘Found her away from home, became confused, ended up in the wrong place at definitely the wrong time. I’m a distant connection, but this was the only address she could recall in her distress.’ He leaned across to top up the other man’s drink. ‘I’ll send her home in my carriage as soon as she’s up to it.’
‘Awkward that, you being a bachelor and so on,’ Dr Holt remarked. ‘Still, who’s to know, eh? And you’ve an excellent housekeeper in Mrs Semple.’
Did he believe that piece of invention about Tess being a cousin? Not that it made much difference whether he did or not, considering that the presence of even a first cousin in the house would be considered shocking when there were only servants to chaperon her.
‘Damned awkward,’ Alex agreed. He made himself lean back casually, crossed his legs to appear relaxed. ‘Still, not much to be done about it at this time of night. Glad I could find you at home and didn’t have to call out someone upon whose discretion I cannot rely.’ The hint was as much of a threat as he needed to make. No society doctor was going to risk the wrath of a titled patient, especially when the young lady in question was some drably clad poor relation and not a source of fascinating speculation.
There was a tap on the door and Hannah Semple came in and bobbed a curtsy. ‘I’ve made up a bed in the Blue Chamber, my lord. Shall I get MacDonald to carry the young lady up?’
‘I’ll be with you in a moment, Mrs Semple.’ Alex shook hands with the doctor and saw him out, then went back to the study. Tess was lying back against the chaise longue cushions, her face pale, the bruise on her swollen cheek coming out in red-and-purple patches already. ‘I’ll take you to your room. You’ll feel more yourself in the morning.’
‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,’ Tess murmured again.
‘Stop talking and stop apologising.’ Alex bent and gathered her up. She was too thin, he thought as he went up the stairs, careful not to knock her foot against the wall. Didn’t they feed them in those blasted nunneries? No more than a wisp of a thing, for all her height and those distracting curves. He’d knocked her for six in Ghent, injured her, then two louts had set about her, and in between she’d had a tiring sea voyage with another attempted assault and a nasty shock when she reached what should have been a safe haven. Any other female of his acquaintance would be distraught by now.
What the devil am I going to do with you, little nun? he thought, looking down at the tangled mass of hair that obscured her face from him. Tess was safe for tonight, but by this time tomorrow he had to have a plan—and her out of the house.
‘Here we are.’ The door to the Blue Chamber was ajar and he shouldered his way in to find that a fire was burning cheerfully in the grate and the covers were turned back. Hannah Semple had even thought to provide a stool to go over Tess’s ankle to keep off the weight of the blankets.
‘What about Noel?’ Tess tipped her face up so she could look at him. ‘Poor thing, he was so upset with all the banging about.’
‘I’ll look after Noel,’ Alex promised, staring into the deep blue eyes fixed so earnestly on his. For some reason his breathing was all over the place. Must be out of condition. I’d better get along to Jackson’s for some exercise.
‘Oh, thank you.’ Her arm tightened around his neck and, before he could react, Tess’s soft mouth was pressed to his.
Heaven. Hell. Alex struggled against temptation and felt it slip under his guard like an opponent’s rapier entering his side. The smell of Tess was famili
ar, but the taste of her was like a new drug, a draught of best champagne, a mouthful of summer berries. He ran his tongue along the join of her lips and felt her surprise, swallowed the little gasp as she opened to him. There was innocence in that reaction, but this was no girl, this was a grown woman in his arms, a sensual woman, who was exploring her natural instincts, and the effect, after so many assured and experienced women, was deeply erotic.
His hands tightened on the soft, slender body as he took one long stride towards the bed, his mouth still on hers. Her tumbled hair brushed over the knuckles of his right hand, the one around her shoulders, and it was every bit as soft and tactile as he had imagined. When it was all down it would reach her waist, would brush over his naked chest—
His foot hit the bedpost and jarred him back to the reality of what he was doing, with whom he was doing it. Alex snapped back his head, laid Tess against the pillows and stepped away as though a chain had jerked him.
‘I’m sorry. I did not mean to do that.’ As an apology that was wrong in so many different ways he couldn’t begin to count them. What the devil was the matter with him? He wasn’t usually this clumsy.
‘It was my fault.’ Tess was trembling, her face flushed, her eyes wide. On her cheek the ugly bruise was deepening. ‘I meant to say thank you and I didn’t think… I meant to kiss your cheek.’
Of course she had. After the day she’d had now he had taken her innocent gesture and turned it into another assault and she was blaming herself. ‘Tess—’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ Hannah came in, brisk and efficient and smiling, her words a clear dismissal. She had known him since they had both been children and, it was quite clear, she was going to take no nonsense from him now. ‘You can leave Miss Ellery to my care.’
‘Goodnight, Miss Ellery,’ Alex said formally. ‘Mrs Semple will look after you excellently, you may be sure.’
‘I’ll be sleeping in the dressing room, my lord.’ Hannah nodded towards the corner of the room. ‘With the door open. Then if Miss Ellery becomes alarmed in the night I am close at hand.’
