Dangerous Beauty

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  She pulled away from her father and Piggot’s grip, rushed around the carriage, and crossed the street.

  She heard her mother call out behind her and marveled that her mother would dare stoop to such crass behavior in public.

  Natasha picked up her pace. She was running now and flew passed the butler and his two men. Thank goodness she had not donned a corset this morning! There were discarded boxes at the foot of the fence and she clambered up them until she could grip the railings of the fence herself.

  Seth’s hand uncurled from the pike and reached for her. She gripped his hand fiercely. She knew she had seconds at most. “I didn’t understand,” she said quickly. “I couldn’t see why you did it.”

  “Why marry him?” he asked, and his voice held a rough burr, as if he had been abusing it lately.

  “I couldn’t see past my own hurt pride,” she confessed. “And my parents—”

  Two strong hands grabbed her waist. She was ripped away from the fence and from Seth’s grip on her hand, with a vicious force that she could not withstand.

  But she was content, for she had seen the relief in Seth’s eyes. And the warm regard behind that relief. He still cared.

  She staggered across the cobbles, stumbling to find her balance once more. Then Sholto Piggot was there, holding her up. Her mother gripped the carriage door as if she held it for dear life.

  Jones and his men rounded the fence and grabbed Seth by both arms. Seth fought them and for one breath-robbing moment Natasha thought he would actually get away from them.

  But then her father stepped in and between the four of them, they dragged Seth to the cobbled street. The two manservants held him steady, while her father confronted him.

  “Oh dear,” Piggot exclaimed. His face was flushed and he gave little flustered motions with his hand. There were people emerging from the houses around them, now. They crept closer to watch the drama.

  “Why are you watching my house?” her father demanded. His face was pink with fury.

  Seth just looked at him.

  Her father glanced at the butler. Jones was a big, heavy fellow and totally loyal to her father. At his glance, Jones stepped forward and drove his fist into Seth’s stomach. Seth doubled over despite the grip the two men had on his arms. So Jones swung his hand upwards and it caught Seth square on the face. His head was rocked backwards and his knees buckled. He would have fallen to the cobbles if the two servants weren’t propping him up. His head fell forward again, loose and uncontrolled.

  Natasha smothered the little cry of horror that pushed from her lips. Piggot gripped her arm. “You have no need to witness such things,” he said, pushing her towards the carriage.

  She wrenched her arm from his hand and stayed her ground. She would not leave Seth to face the next moments alone. Finally, Seth shook his head and lifted it. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth. He smiled at her father and spat. The glob of blood landed on her father’s snowy white starched shirt front.

  Rather than enraging her father even more, the defiance seemed to calm him. He studied Seth with a cool look, as if he were weighing matters. Then he nodded, decision made. “My daughter is to be married within the month. She has no interest in associating with someone of your…station. I don’t want to see you anywhere near my daughter again. But I can see that you’re a stubborn fellow, so I am going to offer you an inducement to stay away.”

  “You can’t buy me off,” Seth said. “You don’t have enough money for that.”

  Her father nodded, as if this confirmed something he’d suspected. “Yes, I rather thought you’d say that. My inducement isn’t money. Jones here and a few of his friends are going to take you back to the dock from which you crawled here. They’re going to beat you until you can no longer crawl. Then they will throw you back on your scurvy ship, have the ship towed out to open sea and the lines cut. I suggest that a man with your obvious intelligence take the lesson I am offering and apply it.”

  Natasha surged forward, alarm and horror spilling through her, but Sholto Piggot held her back with considerably more strength than she had thought him capable of using.

  At her involuntary reaction, Seth glanced at her. She saw his eyes narrow a little, the swift mind behind them assessing quickly. He shook his head a little. Just a little.

  She fell back, his message clear to her. She didn’t understand fully why Seth was not defending himself or speaking, but his tiny head shake confirmed that he had his own plans. She had to trust him…and stay silent.

  Piggot was forcing her back to the carriage, back towards her mother. Even though her heart was thudding with fear for Seth, she allowed herself to be manipulated into the carriage. From the tiny window, she watched him being hauled away for his beating.

  Surreptitiously, she wiped her eyes of tears with a hand that shook. She had to trust Seth, now. Trust that he would do what was best for both of them.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When they arrived home from the dreary visit with Sholto Piggot’s father, the duke, Natasha thought she would finally be left in peace with time to think. She had so much to think about now!

  The afternoon tea party at the duke’s city residence had strained her nerves. She had been the center of attention as Sholto’s wife-to-be and she was no longer willing to provide a false demeanor. She had learned the dangers of such hypocrisy just this morning.

  As she pulled off her gloves and slid the pin from her bonnet, her mother gripped her arm.

  It was the same arm that her father had pinched and that Sholto had pulled.

  She looked down at her mother’s hand on the silk and up at her mother. “You’re hurting me.”

  Her mother wordlessly tugged her up the stairs. Natasha realized she was being taken to her room and her heart gave a little hard trip-hammer. What now? In what way had she transgressed?

  She waited stoically for her mother to vent her fury and disapproval yet again. Instead, her mother lifted her hand and slapped Natasha across the face.

  The blow instantly numbed the side of her face and Natasha stood rooted to the spot, shock slithering through her with cold, icy fingers.

  She lifted her fingertips to her cheek and prodded it. She could feel nothing, but her eye watered freely.

  “You dare insult the Duke in that way!” Her mother’s tone was low and breathless and her bosom rose and fell against the tightly corseted lace tea gown.

  “Insult? I? How on earth did I insult the Duke, Mother? I barely spoke to him!”

  “You spoke to no one! You sat there without so much as a smile. You refused every morsel the Duke pressed upon you. You embarrassed him, and you embarrassed us all. Your father is shamed. Shamed!”

  Natasha let her hand drop, staring at her mother. It seemed that she would not even be permitted to simply comply with their wishes with minimal involvement of her emotions. They would only be satisfied with her full, enthusiastic embrace of everything they planned for her.

  Seth, oh Seth, how I wish I could run away with you! Even as she stared at her mother, Natasha rolled that revolutionary thought through her mind again. Yes…she would run away. She would go to Seth.

  “You will stay in your room,” her mother pronounced, “and reflect upon your ingratitude.”

  “Yes, Mother,” she murmured dutifully, her mind full of thoughts of Seth.

  Her mother flounced from the room and she heard the key turn on the other side.

  She sank down upon her bed and contemplated the window. It was a large sash window and on the wall outside was a strong vine…

  The key turned in the door again and her mother stood there with Natasha’s maid, Hailey.

  “Remove your dress,” her mother demanded.

  Natasha rose to her feet and walked behind the dressing screen. This was a tactic her mother had employed since a time when Natasha was fourteen and had unlocked the door by pushing the key out with the point of a knitting needle and brought it back under the door to her side on a shee
t of paper. On that occasion she had spent the afternoon with the stable boy, playing in the straw, rather than reflecting upon her lack of discipline upon her bed. By removing all her clothes from the room, her mother was ensuring that if Natasha somehow managed to sneak past the locked door again, she would be unable to proceed any further.

  Natasha silently removed the dress with Hailey’s help, thankful that the screen hid her corsetless state from her mother.

  Reduced to her undershift and stockings, Natasha reemerged from behind the screen, in time to see her mother sweep even her wrapper up into her arms and walk from the room. She had not left so much as a pair of shoes behind.

  Natasha sat on the bed and stared at the window. She could not use it for her escape—she could not possibly roam the streets of London in her shift.

  Three hours later, the door was unlocked and Hailey entered.

  Natasha smiled at her maid. Hailey carried a tray with a teapot and an unappetizing array of cold meat and cheese. It was of little matter, she had no appetite, anyway.

  “You look pale, my lady. Shall I get you a blanket?”

  Only a few years older than herself, NatashaNatasha’s maid had been a good friend to her over the years. She had few enough friends amongst her peers, for her mother had always been nervous about familiarity and intimacy. Her family spent the majority of the year in northern England, at her father’s estate. That was where she had met Vaughn and Elisa.

  “Have my parents gone to bed?” she asked Hailey. “No, miss. Your mother has retired for the evening, but your father is still awake. He’s in the study. Did you wish to speak with him?”

  “Hailey, would you do me a favor?”

  Hailey looked up, her brow furrowed in a frown. “Of course, my lady.”

  “When my father goes to bed, will you come back here and let me out?”

  Hailey gasped and put a hand to her chest. “I would lose my position.”

  The words were little more than a whisper, and the girl’s cheeks flushed with color.

  Natasha took the maid’s hand. “Hailey, you are the only one I can trust. I need to see Elisa—the Marchioness of Fairleigh. I need to speak to her.”

  “I could send word to her for you.”

  “My parents would not allow it. They know Vaughn and Seth are close friends.”

  Hailey shook her head. “I can’t risk it, Lady Natasha.”

  “Hailey, my parents are forcing me to wed Sholto Piggot. You have seen Mr. Piggot with your own eyes. Would you be content, having him for a husband?”

  Hailey dropped her gaze to Natasha’s shoulder. “It is not my place to say, miss.”

  “I can not marry this man. It would kill me to do so. I need to speak to Elisa and Vaughn. I need their help and they are the only people who can help me now. If you do this for me, I will never forget it. You will stay with me for the rest of your life. You will not regret it, I swear it.”

  Hailey chewed on her bottom lip. “You will take me with you when you leave here?”

  “Yes, I swear it. You have my word.”

  “All right. I shall return at midnight. That should give your father ample time to drink the carafe of wine he requested.”

  Natasha hugged her maid. “Thank you, Hailey. Thank you so much.”

  * * * * *

  Natasha threw Hailey’s worn, ragged cloak on over her shift.

  The cloak came to her ankles and hid everything except her bare feet, but Hailey’s shoes were too small for her.

  She slipped out the window, holding tight to the vine that hugged the brick wall. She did not dare look at the ground looming below. Instead, she focused on making her way down the vines.

  Once again on steady ground, Natasha fled into the fog-filled night, heading for Vaughn and Elisa’s.

  They did not live so very far apart, but Natasha took her time, making sure no passing carriage saw her—although at this time of night there was barely any traffic. The streets were dark, save for the few gaslights flickering, barely lighting the way.

  A forceful wind breezed through the thin cloak she wore and the even thinner shift. She had stripped off her stockings, for they were slippery underfoot on the cobbles and paving she hurried across.

  She must get to Seth with Vaughn’s help. She had to talk with Seth, to tell him how she felt. Then she could make plans for her future. Perhaps she could sail to Ireland with him and start a new life.

  For a moment she allowed herself the luxury of envisioning what that life might be like. She would be content with anything if she had Seth. Even a small cottage on the Irish Sea. No servants—well, Hailey of course, but just a handful of help…and children.

  She would love to have many sons and daughters. She knew what it was to grow up alone, an only child, starved for companionship.

  Gilroy answered Natasha’s knock immediately—almost as if he had been waiting for her to arrive. He opened the door wide for her as soon as he saw her.

  “Please come in, Lady Natasha. You look quite chilled.”

  Vaughn met her at the study door. “Natasha,” he said, taking her hands in his, looking over her shoulder as though he expected someone else. “What’s happened?”

  Embarrassed at the late hour, she shifted on her feet. “I have to see Seth. He came by earlier this morning and I’m ashamed to say my father saw to it that he would not come back. I fear Seth may be injured, or worse. Have you spoken to him today?”

  “What do you mean by your father making sure he wouldn’t come back?”

  “My father ordered his butler to beat Seth, quite badly. Seth could do nothing.”

  Vaughn swore under his breath. “Maybe we should go to the Artemis now.”

  “It won’t be there. That’s what I’m trying to tell you—”

  Vaughn put his finger against her lips and again glanced over her shoulder.

  “Later,” he told her. “Let’s go.” He took his coat from the peg by the front door, and called for Gilroy. The butler appeared swiftly. “We’re taking the buggy, Gilroy. Have it brought around, quickly.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gilroy went off to do his bidding. Vaughn fingered the cloak Natasha was wearing and tugged at the strings holding it together. “Take it off. You can wear Elisa’s.”

  He reached for the thick velvet coat hanging on the peg next to his, then his eyes widened. “Good god, where are your clothes?”

  As the cloak slithered aside, Natasha wrapped her arms about herself, suddenly cold. “I was locked in my room, and my clothes taken.”

  She slipped into the luxuriously warm coat that Vaughn held out and when she faced him once more, his face was neutral again, but his lips were tightly pressed together. “Are you angry with me?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not you, Natasha. Wait until we’re in the buggy.”

  The buggy was an open-topped one and Natasha was glad of her borrowed coat. She snuggled into the warmth, while Vaughn took the reins.

  He clicked the horse into motion and settled into his seat and glanced at her. “Did Seth say anything to you this morning?”

  “There was no time. My father pounced on him so quickly. Four of them held him down.” She shivered suddenly.

  “You must know, Natasha, that Seth cannot afford to let the world see any attachment between you. Until we know who it is that plays with us, we must assume that anyone might be that person.”

  “That is why you would not let me speak in your house? You do not trust even your servants?”

  Vaughn’s lips thinned again. “Only the people in our house—including the servants—knew that Seth was there, the night they broke in the window.”

  “Oh.” She frowned.

  “For the same reason, Seth can trust no one. He took an enormous risk, coming to you this morning.”

  “He paid for it,” Natasha murmured. She glanced at the road they were on, noticing it properly for the first time. “This isn’t the way to the docks.”

  “No,” Vaughn agreed,
but would say no more.

  Twenty minutes later, Natasha heard the sound of lapping water and the creak of rope against wood. Somewhere ahead of them, she knew, must lay the Thames.

  The heavy fog swirled and broke apart for a moment and she saw the thick masts of a great ship behind bushes and shrubs ahead of them. Then the fog closed in around them again.

  Vaughn halted the buggy and helped her out. He led her around the bushes, and up a wooden ramp. A dock, she realized. One of the little private docks found all along the banks of the Thames—used for small boats and watercraft. But moored next to this one, looming large out of the fog, was an oceangoing cutter, dwarfing the post it was tied up to.

  “This is the Artemis?” she asked, whispering. “How is it that it’s here? It’s surely too shallow for such a ship…”

  “Normally, yes, but this section of the river is deeper than most and Seth is an excellent navigator.”

  Vaughn brought her to the foot of a gangplank that rose up in a steep climb to the deck of the ship, high above them.

  “Seth is waiting for you, I’m sure.”

  She paused with one foot on the steep gangplank. “You are not coming aboard?”

  “I’ll return in the morning.”

  “What if Seth needs you? Needs help?”

  Vaughn just smiled. “Good night, Natasha.”

  She wanted to latch onto his arm and insist that he come aboard with her, but Vaughn was already walking away.

  She swallowed and climbed the gangplank. She was glad of her bare feet, which gave her a sure grip on the narrow planking, which seemed precarious despite the boards nailed across it at regular intervals.

  As she stepped onto the ship’s deck, a door opened and a large figure walked out into the fog. Seth wore similar clothes to the ones he’d worn this morning, but these were even more ragged. His hair was mussed, like he’d been abed and he looked very much like a pirate from one of her novels.

  As he came closer, she noted the bruises on his cheek and the cut on his lip. But that was all. Confusion swirled in her. “But they took you away to beat you! How is it that you’re here, and untouched?”