“My pleasure, Lady Gisborn,” the man said. He tipped his hat and bowed before taking up his shovel and returning to work.
That last act by an overworked man had her nearly in tears as she made her way back to the stables. And now, she found her nerves were raw. She’d spent far too much time wondering about Lily, worrying about Henry, chastising herself over not having mentioned the maid’s disappearance. Had she done so when she first realized Lily was gone, Henry might have sent a footman or Billy after her and not gone himself.
Because Henry had gone after Lily, Hannah realized he wasn’t doing it because she had asked him to – he obviously thought Lily was in some kind of danger from the Babcock boy. Hannah wondered what he knew. What had Thomas Babcock done in the past to make Henry go after the couple? Would Mrs. Batey know? If not, Mrs. Chambers would certainly know. The cook seemed to know the village gossip, and she seemed willing to share it when it was asked of her. Too late to seek her out tonight, Hannah decided she would pay a visit to the kitchen first thing in the morning. She planned to, anyway, to be sure the cook had enough stock on hand to bake another round of biscuits for the laborers. It was the last coherent thought she had before collapsing into sheets. “Harold, up,” she murmured.
The dog lumbered to the side of the bed and pushed himself onto it, settling himself into a curled mass on the side of the bed where Henry usually slept. With Harold’s weight in the bed, Hannah was quick to fall asleep.
Henry rode at least another mile before coming up to an abandoned dog cart, one wheel broken and the horse gone. Dismounting, he led Thunder around the cart as he surveyed the damage. Lily’s valise was still in the back. Glancing around, he dared a peek inside. Once he confirmed it was merely filled with ladies things – clothing, mostly, – he hoisted it from the cart and attached it to the saddlebags on Thunder. Then he was off again, heading north.
Had he allowed Thunder full rein as the horse seemed to suddenly want, having been fed some grain and an apple, Henry would have missed the body sprawled in the grass along the side of the road. Instead, he was almost past it before steering Thunder to stand next to it. Henry knew even before he dismounted that the boy was still alive; there was a steady rise and fall of his upper body as he breathed. In the field beyond, an old horse with a pronounced swayback stood regarding him. As if he was being summoned, the horse began making its way to the road, finally stopping as Henry bent to turn over Babcock’s body.
There was a mournful moan as the boy’s face appeared in the growing twilight. His nose bloodied and a purpling bruise shown around one eye, it looked as if Thomas Babcock had taken several punches to the face, and the way a hand went to his chest made Henry think he might have been kicked as well. “Can you stand?” Henry wondered as he regarded the boy.
Frowning and finally making the effort to raise himself on one arm, Babcock sat up.
“Forster?” the boy managed to get out, a drop of blood forming where his lip was split. He reached up with the back of his hand to wipe it away.
Henry stiffened. “That would be Lord Gisborn to you,” he countered, allowing some annoyance to color his voice. “Where’s Lily Parker?” he demanded, wondering if the rake would admit what had happened. If Billy had followed his orders, the groom and maid might be in Stow by now. He had said they would spend the night at the White Hart; with any luck, Billy would be able to secure rooms before Henry arrived. The horses needed to rest, and he knew Lily needed a bath and a comfortable bed.
Babcock stared up at him, a look of astonishment on his battered face. “I ... I don’t know. She .. she left,” he stammered, his eyes darting about as if he was surprised she wasn’t nearby.
“She left?” Henry repeated, his manner becoming more impatient. “Did you ... did you ruin her?” he asked, his ire increasing as he stared down at the boy.
“No!” Babcock answered, his brows furrowing. “No,” said again, his voice quieter. “She wouldn’t let me near her,” he added, his eyes lowering. He’d pulled one knee up and had an arm resting on it. There were scratches across his forearm.
Henry regarded Babcock for several seconds, wondering if the rake would admit anything. “And why was that?” he prodded, wondering if Babcock would tell him what happened.
“I didn’t have enough blunt for the trip,” Babcock hissed. “I thought she had some, but she claimed she didn’t, and when I told her we’d have to stop and earn some, she ... she got angry.”
Biting his lip in an attempt to stifle his growing impatience, Henry inhaled. “And just how did you expect to earn money, Babcock?” he countered. A moment before, he had taken pity on the boy, thinking to aid him in mounting the old nag that stood grazing nearby. Now, he felt such contempt for Babcock, he wasn’t about to see to his welfare.
The anger in Henry’s voice had been impossible to ignore. Babcock braced himself. “When we got to Moreton, I suggested she offer herself to a gentleman in the pub where we ate dinner,” he explained, his voice becoming stronger as he relayed the details. “Seeing as how she was going to be giving up her virtue to me in a few days anyhow, I thought she could make a pretty penny – men like virgins. She could earn enough to get us to Scotland ...”
The back of Henry’s hand struck Babcock so hard across the jaw, it sent the boy reeling backwards. The boy’s howl pierced the growing gloom of night. When the sound faded, Henry took another deep breath. “If you ever so much as touch another girl from my earldom or from even Witney, I will have you drawn and quartered in the public square,” he vowed, having a hard time keeping his voice even, “And I’ll allow Lily Parker to do the honors,” he added, wiping the blood from the back of hand with his handkerchief. He took satisfaction at the look of fright that filled Babcock’s eyes, the nod the boy gave from his position on the ground.
With that, Henry mounted Thunder and sent the horse flying south toward Stow.
Chapter 16
Billy Declares His Intentions
As Lily slept against the front of his body, Billy couldn’t help but wonder what she had done to make her believe she had killed Thomas Babcock. The lifeless look of her eyes when he’d first found her haunted him. It was as if her soul had left her body.
On the way to Stow, she had regained consciousness a few times, one of those times asking if she could turn around in the saddle and ride the opposite direction. Billy had quickly reined in his mount, helping her to turn around and get as comfortable as she could. She clung to him as he increased their pace, her head resting against his shoulder. Not wanting to be caught traveling after dark, Billy was relieved when lights appeared ahead. Once he was in front of the White Hart, he managed to dismount as a stable hand rushed out to greet them. Billy helped the maid down, holding her up when her legs refused to do so at first.
“The Earl of Gisborn will be along shortly,” Billy said to the stable boy. “Are there two rooms available?” he wondered. He fished a coin from his pocket, one Henry had given him the day before when he’d brought his horse back from the fields. “Until then, here’s all I’ve got.”
The stable boy pocketed the coin and gave him a nod. “Go on in and see Mr. Fisher.”
“Thanks,” Billy replied. He led Lily up to the entrance, hoping the innkeeper wouldn’t ask too many questions. The man was quick to meet them at the door, his face showing displeasure when he took in the sight of a weary traveler and a girl who looked as if she’d been spirited away from a gentleman’s household. “The Earl of Gisborn is on his way. This here is one of the maids from Gisborn Hall. She was kidnapped,” he claimed before the man had a chance to ask. “We need two rooms please, and a bath for the lady.”
“Oh, my,” Mr. Fisher replied as he turned to call out to another employee. “And just who are you?” he asked as he returned his attention to Billy.
“Billy O’Conlin. I’m a groom at Gisborn Hall. This is Lily Parker. She’s the new countess’ maid. Wasn’t even in residence two days before she was taken,” he said with a sh
ake of his head. Although Lily seemed wide awake, she didn’t offer additional information nor refute what he was telling Mr. Fisher. Tiredness overwhelmed Billy. “I’m sure she could use some tea and ... something to eat,” he added, his own stomach growling at the thought of eating a decent meal.
The innkeeper must have noticed. He finally took action, leading them to a room on the second floor. A servant carrying a can of steaming water entered the room ahead of them, pouring the water into a beat-up copper tub in front of the hearth. A fire was already set and warming the room. Another servant followed, pouring more water into the tub while the innkeeper’s wife appeared with flannels, linens, and a ball of soap. “Is it true we’re to have an earl stay with us this evening?” she wondered, her eyes alight with excitement.
Billy gave her a slight grin and a nod. “Henry Forster, Earl of Gisborn,” he acknowledged. “He should be here any moment. He had ... business just north of Moreton. He said he would meet us here at the White Hart.”
Mrs. Fisher beamed. “I’ll get my best room ready right away,” she offered, taking her leave of the room. “And dinner will be ready in an hour.” The servants exited and the innkeeper gave him one last look suspicious look before he, too, left the room.
Lily seemed to lose any strength she had, slumping against him. “Bath,” she sighed.
Taking her meaning, Billy realized she wasn’t going to be able to undress herself if she was half asleep. Glancing around, he moved her to the edge of the bed and got to work undoing the fastenings of her apron and gown. He knelt before her and removed her shoes, noting the holes in the bottom of both soles, wondering how long they had been there. Sliding his hands up her calves, careful not to lift her skirts too high, he set to undoing the garter ties. Then he began rolling her stockings down her legs, trying to ignore the feel of her skin as he did so. Standing her up so her back was to his front, he pulled off her apron and peeled the bodice of her dress down her body, trying to seem nonchalant about removing her clothing. She wore no corset, just a chemise. He stifled a gasp at the sight of her body in the translucent garment. Through the fabric, he struggled with the fastening of her drawers while trying to avert his eyes. If his gaze lingered too long, Lily would think he was ogling her, and he didn’t want her thinking he was trying to take advantage, especially after her ordeal. Her fingers soon replaced his, and the drawers slid to the floor.
“Should I ... leave your ... gown on?” he wondered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Weary, Lily leaned against him. “It will get wet,” she answered in a weak voice. “Just ... take it off,” she said. Tears welled in her eyes, as if she had lost all her strength and any sense of modesty.
“Shh,” Billy whispered, holding her up as he undid the ties and pulled the chemise from her body. “I’m not looking,” he said as he reached down to capture the back of her knees with one arm before lifting her to the tub. Then he carefully lowered her, trying to avert his eyes and finding he simply could not. She was beautiful in the lamplight, her skin milky white, her honey gold and brown hair glinting. With most of her body submersed in the water, he concentrated on her face. “Is it alright if I ..?” He glanced around and found the ball of soap on top of the flannels. Lifting it in front of her, he continued, “Wash you?”
Tears still streamed down Lily’s face as she glanced away and nodded. Billy reached over and kissed her forehead, recognizing her blush for what it was. “It’ll be alright, Lily. We’ll be back at Gisborn Hall tomorrow,” he promised, dipping a flannel into the water before smoothing it and the soap over one of her arms. He gently followed it with a flannel full of water, rinsing her arm as he lifted it from the water. He did the shoulder closest to him before moving to the end of the tub to do her back. “Lean forward,” he whispered. She did so, wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her cheek on her knees. An occasional sob wracked her body as he smoothed the soap over her smooth skin, gently rubbing the slick suds with his palms before rinsing away the bubbles.
He had moved to other arm when a small knock sounded at the door. Before either he or Lily could react, the earl peeked in. Suddenly aware he was all alone in a room with Lily Parker, with Lily Parker naked, Billy swallowed.
At least Lily’s back was to the earl.
Henry regarded his groom with a cocked eyebrow, wondering for just a split second if the boy had witnessed the bath he’d taken with the countess only a few nights ago. “Is she ... alright?” he wondered in a whisper. He wanted to ask far more, like how the hell Billy had managed to get the girl completely undressed and into a tub without her being comatose, but he bit his tongue.
Billy glanced at Lily’s face, realized she was dozing. “She will be, once she has something to eat, my lord,” he whispered.
The earl nodded, suddenly feeling bereft at not being able to share a bed with Hannah that night. He’d thought of her far more than he expected to on this trip. Christ, he had only known her a week and she was already consuming his thoughts! Which, he supposed, was why he understood perfectly well what Billy was going through, thinking the girl he loved was lost to him.
“Did you intend to ... stay with her tonight?” Henry wondered, his voice a hoarse whisper. “I can arrange for another room for you.” He was confident Lily was still left with her virtue, no thanks to Thomas Babcock, but he would require the boy to marry his wife’s maid if they shared a room. He thought perhaps Billy knew damned well he would be expected to offer for Lily.
“That won’t be necessary,” Billy replied with a shake of his head. “I’ll sleep in a chair. I ... I don’t want to let her out of my sight, my lord. And I have every intention of making her my wife when I can afford to do so.”
His eyes widening at this proclamation, Henry gave Billy a look of admiration. “I don’t suppose Lily has any say in the matter,” he teased as he slid Lily’s valise through the opening. His arms crossed as he continued to peer through the crack in the door.
Billy didn’t reply, but gave the earl a shake of his head.
“Ask Lily if she still has her ten-pound note,” Henry demanded, his manner again serious. He was worried that Babcock might have stolen it, or gambled it away their first night on the road.
Cocking his head to one side, astounded to hear the maid would have that kind of blunt, Billy regarded his future bride.
Lily lifted her head from her knees and whispered, “It’s ... safe.”
Billy turned his attention back to the earl, nodding.
“That’s a relief,” Henry breathed. Pushing himself away from the door jamb, he added, “Don’t dawdle. Mrs. Fisher is bringing dinner up to the parlor in a few minutes.” Then he pulled the door shut.
Smiling at the earl’s comment, Billy continued washing Lily, his strokes gentle, especially when he moved to lay her back against the tub so he could wash her hair. With her eyes closed and her breathing slow, Billy realized she had fallen asleep. When he had finished rinsing her hair, he moved to her front. Awakening slowly, Lily stilled herself, stunned to find the groom’s soapy hands smoothing over and around her breasts, down her front, around her ribs, and to the fronts of her thighs. And just as carefully, he used the flannel to rinse the areas that peaked above the water. Then he moved to her legs, his ministrations slow and deliberate, so careful and reverent, she wept. He ended with her feet, rubbing the soles where her shoes had worn through. Standing up, he reached for a linen and unfurled it. “Give me your hand,” he whispered, holding two corners of the linen so that it hung down in a curtain in front of him.
Lily looked up and glanced back down at the water. She reached up and felt his hand grasp hers. She held the other across her breasts, realizing almost at once that it was far too late to be modest. Not only had Billy seen her entire body unclothed, he had touched almost every inch of her with his soapy hands!
Once she was standing, Billy wrapped the linen around her body and then lifted her from the tub the same way he’d put her in there, eliciting a squeak of
surprise from Lily. He put her down on the bed and hurried to get her another flannel from the pile. Wrapping it about her hair, he found her gazing at him with tear-filled eyes. “It’s alright, Lily,” he said. He kissed her on the forehead before retrieving her valise from where the earl had left it. “I can help you dress if you’d like,” he offered.
“I can do it, Billy,” she murmured, nodding as she made the claim. Suddenly spurred into action, she opened her valise and began removing several items. When Billy didn’t make a move to at least turn around, she cocked an eyebrow at him. “I dress myself every day,” she hinted, holding her finger out and spinning it around to indicate he should turn around and give her some privacy.
“Oh!” he acknowledged as he turned away from her. “You know, though, that when we’re married, I’ll be more than happy to help you with your buttons and laces and ... fastenings,” he offered lamely. When Lily didn’t reply right away, he went on, “I think the earl would allow us larger quarters in the main house, now that I’m a groom,” he added, a hint of pride coloring his voice when he mentioned his promotion. When she still hadn’t said anything after another long pause, he sighed. “Of course, I realize you haven’t yet agreed to marry me.”
The Seduction of an Earl Page 21
