by Hatch, Donna
“Lord Amesbury,” she all but stammered.
Alicia’s heart pounded so noisily she expected Hannah to stare. She and Hannah climbed to their feet and sank into curtseys. The clouds darkened, covering the sun.
“Forgive me for interrupting. May we walk?” He bestowed that familiar, heart-thumping smile. Clearly, any conscience he might have possessed at birth no longer resided within him.
Alicia glanced at Hannah who could have lit up a large room with the intensity of her blush. Alicia wanted to run, to escape the unrelenting power of his magnetism. Her mouth dried and her palms grew moist, but she could hardly refuse. Fiend!
She reminded herself of her vow to stop running and drew herself up. “As you wish.”
The coolness of her voice brought Hannah’s head up in surprise. Lord Amesbury sobered and glanced back in the direction he’d come, as if second-guessing his mission. Alicia wondered if it were the first time any lady had been less than enthusiastic at the honor of spending time in his presence. Perhaps this would be put a dent in his arrogance.
He solemnly offered them each an arm. He slowed his pace to match their smaller strides, and they strolled down the garden paths, commenting on pedestrian subjects such as the gardens, the weather, and everyone’s health. He smiled down at her, his eyes almost a tangible caress. Again, gentleness shone there. Alicia wished heartily he would leave and take her swirling, chaotic emotions with him.
Finally, realizing that he would never mention the reason for his visit with Hannah next to them, she turned to her sister and gestured at the gardener on the path ahead of them. “Hannah, dearest, would you ask O’Leary when he plans to dig up the bulbs?”
Hannah blinked at the odd request, glanced at Lord Amesbury and murmured an assent. She curtsied prettily to the viscount before trotting to the gardener out of hearing.
The look of gratitude he gave her might have softened her heart if it had come from anyone but Lord Amesbury.
“Is there something you wished to discuss, my lord, or is this a social call?” Alicia could not decipher his sideways glance.
“I know it’s bold of me to pry, but I must ask, whom are you considering for a husband?”
She pressed her lips together. “You’re correct. You are both bold and prying.”
“Please oblige me.”
Alicia stared unseeing over the horizon, her heart sinking with each word she spoke, “Colonel Westin.”
“The cretin who spoke so rudely to you at the race?”
She let out her breath. “I have no choice.”
“Everyone has a choice.”
“I don’t. This will save us all from debtor’s prison. It’s the only way.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
How dare he think he understood her! He who was born to money and privilege had no right to utter such words. A surge of anger loosened her tongue as she jerked her hand from his arm and whirled on him. “Understand! You understand nothing! It’s your fault. If you hadn’t shot my twin in that ridiculous duel in London, he would be alive and I would not be subjected to my uncle’s problems.”
A brief pause followed her outburst and his features settled into a puzzled frown. “I only shot him in the arm.”
“He developed an infection from the wound and the surgeon had to amputate his arm at the shoulder. They gave him opium for the pain. It became an addiction. He faded further and further away. One night…” her voice caught and she tried to swallow. “One night he took too much. Whether he could no longer face life without an arm, or it was accidental, I will never know. I found him late that night ....” A sob tore through the lump in her throat. “You killed him just as surely as if you had put a bullet through his heart!” Her body shook and her fingernails dug into her palms.
Though she could not see him clearly through her tears, he remained motionless, without a word of defense.
“After my parents died, Armand would have inherited and I would be safe with him. But he died three months after they did and now I am at the mercy of my uncle who has ruined us!”
His voice hushed. “I’m so sorry. I truly did not know.”
Alicia turned away. She began walking faster and faster until she was running back to her home. Drowning in grief, she stumbled to her room and collapsed upon her bed.
What was Lord Amesbury’s game? Why did he act with kindness toward her when he was so clearly a man of depravity?
It did not matter. His handsome face harbored her brother’s killer and no amount of wishing would change that truth.
CHAPTER 10
As Alicia ran from him, Cole stumbled to a stone bench and sank his face into his hands. Emotion drained from his heart until only cold emptiness remained.
He had killed that boy.
He had killed him over a lightskirt in lady’s guise who demanded he defend her honor. After all the carnage of the war, the last thing Cole wanted was more blood on his hands. For that reason, he hadn’t lasted more than a year as a pirate. It was bad enough to kill in war; fighting over a bit of treasure seemed shallow, even for a hard-hearted cad like him. But he’d gone because his brother needed him. Now that Jared was in command and surrounded by a loyal crew, he didn’t need Cole to watch his back.
Instead of leaving violence behind when he returned to England, he’d foolishly issued the challenge to duel. He pointed a gun at a mere boy and had watched, recoiling, as Armand groaned in pain, clutching a bleeding arm.
The day after the duel, Cole had gone to the Palmers townhouse to inquire about his opponent. The servants had informed Cole that the bleeding had stopped and Armand would make a recovery.
Instead, he had lost his arm. And then he had died. Alicia had watched him suffer.
And now, one of the few truly genuine ladies he had ever met was defenseless, doomed to marry a man who would look upon her as an object and mistreat her.
It was his fault.
Rain began to fall, gently at first, but gradually increasing in ferocity. Alone in the garden now, Cole raised up and stared into the gloom and blinked as water hit his eyes.
She hated him.
He didn’t blame her. He hated himself.
Cole stumbled toward André, mounted, and urged the horse to a reckless gallop along the dark highway.
Alicia would marry another. He should not care. She was nothing to him.
But his actions directly affected her fate. Because of him she was alone, and that made her his responsibility. He had to act. The shame in her eyes as Colonel Westin publicly humiliated her angered him. The terror as she fled from Mr. Braxton at the ball enraged him. He had to do something to protect her. His honor, annoying thing that it was, demanded action. His heart had nothing to do with it.
He was also turning into a liar.
The only way he could save her would be to marry her himself. But she would never marry him, not even to escape a worse fate at another man’s hands. If only he could find another to marry her, someone who would treat her well and protect her from harm.
He ground his teeth. The thought of another man touching her made him ill.
The rain had progressed to a howling storm by the time he got back to Uncle Andrew’s house.
“Cole! Good heavens, what has happened to you?” Uncle Andrew said as Cole burst through the doors. “Go and change at once. Here, you need this.” He thrust a sherry into Cole’s hand.
Cole downed it in one gulp and handed the empty glass back. He strode upstairs to endure Stephens’ ministrations.
Stephens held his tongue longer than usual as he peeled off the wet clothing and helped him dry. “Met with the devil today?”
“Yes. His name is Cole Amesbury.”
“Ah. Skeletons out of the closet?”
“One I didn’t know I had.”
Stephens waited expectantly. He would no doubt suffer a breakdown owing to his curiosity.
Cole took pity on him and sighed. “Do you remember Armand Palmer from London?”
“The insolent boy who needed a lesson in manners toward ladies?”
“The same. He died.”
Stephens whistled. “And you just found out?”
Cole nodded glumly.
“Why wasn’t there an inquiry?”
“He died from an opium addiction. After they amputated his arm. The arm I shot.”
Stephens shook his head and swore like a sailor. “Incompetent English doctors. They probably just bled him and then puzzled over why his wound sickened.” He helped him into dry clothing. “Any relation to the Palmers here?”
“Alicia Palmer’s twin brother.”
Stephens paused. “Ooooh. The scuttlebutt among the servants’ circle is that she needs a rich husband.”
“Don’t they all!”
Her fate wasn’t his problem. Dozens of young ladies shared her predicament and he had never been tempted to rescue any of them. Thank heavens.
And yet, he killed her brother, however unwittingly, which made him responsible for her.
Cole clenched his jaw. He thought he had silenced his conscience years ago. If the war hadn’t done it, his year as a pirate with Jared should have. A conscience had proved a bothersome thing, and honor, even worse.
“She’s an orphan, isn’t she?” Stephens asked.
“Yes. So what? Another sad tale. Women love them.”
Stephens remained silent, but on days like today, Cole wished his valet would give him an excuse to thrash him so he could work off the frustrated energy burning his veins. Or maybe he did not need an excuse. “Let’s go box.”
Stephens recoiled, appropriately horrified. “In the mood you are in? Do you think I’ve suddenly gone barking mad?”
“Drop the valet guise for a few hours and fight with me like the prize pugilist you were meant to be.”
Stephens considered. “Does your uncle have any gear?”
“Do we need any?”
Stephens grinned. “Don’t hit me in the face. One of the cook’s assistants is pretty, and she thinks I’m a handsome fellow.” With his striking Romany looks, Cole knew Stephens seldom lacked for feminine company when he desired it.
Cole snorted. “She must be near-sighted. And if I hit your face, it will be because you were too slow to block me.”
They found an empty room and cleared away the furniture. After stripping down to their breeches, they began. If they were in a civilized club in London, they would have sparred in their shirt sleeves, but today they fought pirate-style in a way that tapped into the beast inside.
It soon became obvious that his former comrade-at-arms did not have his heart in it; he did not exploit obvious openings and remained mostly defensive to let Cole work through his self-recrimination. The pity tactic only fueled Cole’s anger.
Cole swung hard. “Come on, don’t go soft. My sister fights better than you.”
Stephens humored him. His valet excelled in fisticuffs, but tonight Cole’s frustration made him reckless, which made them evenly matched. By the time they were both too tired to stand, Cole felt like he’d been beaten with a tree trunk. Hurting in places he forgot he owned, he lay gasping on the floor and turned his head toward Stephens. His former shipmate lay with his eyes closed and dabbed at his lip, not looking any better than Cole felt. Their breath hissed harshly in the quiet room.
A servant cautiously opened the door. “My lord?”
Cole raised his head.
The footman moistened his lips nervously as he eyed them. “If you’re finished, the missus would have a word with you.”
Perfect. Aunt Livy’s tongue lashing would hurt as bad as Stephens’s fists. He should hand her a horsewhip and let her do her worst. He deserved it. He rolled over on the floor.
Stephens opened his eyes and grinned at him. “I haven’t had that much fun since we left your brother’s ship. It isn’t every day a valet gets to hit his master.”
“Don’t become too comfortable doing it.”
“Shall I draw you a bath, sir?” Stephens asked in his formal, valet voice.
“Indeed.”
Cole donned his propriety and rejoined the polite world.
CHAPTER 11
As dawn painted gilded edges on pink clouds, Alicia took the familiar path through the gardens on her favorite circuit. She stopped in the formal garden to chat with the head gardener, who likely couldn’t remember whether or not he’d been paid, as he talked to and nurtured his ‘lovelies.’
Alicia wondered how peaceful the wizened man’s simple life must be who gave no thought for anything other than caring for things that grew. Did he have hopes, fears, regrets? Did anyone alive not have those?
He turned back to his ‘lovelies’ and promptly forgot her. She moved on to the herb garden laid out in an order only cook would understand. Its smells of rosemary, sage, thyme, onions and other herbs made her mouth water in anticipation of savory dinners. She passed the stables which now only housed one horse, but still carried the sweet, musty smell of a full stable of horses.
Maman had loved to ride, but Alicia never became an accomplished rider. Only weeks before her death in the carriage accident, Maman had been in a riding accident, but, undaunted, she’d gotten right back on the horse without fear. She’d always been a woman to be admired.
Alicia tightened her shawl against a chill breeze that still accompanied the early morning hours. The goose girl called to her gaggle of geese as she herded them along a path, and the milkmaid sang as she carried her pails to the kitchen. There was an order to her life in these moments as everyone carried out routine duties. Taking her customary walk after dawn may not be fashionable, but it restored her sense of balance.
The gravel walkway gave way to smooth, spongy earth, still damp from yesterday’s rain. The shaded grove was cooler, chilly. Bracken grew thick along the path. Birds sang in a cacophony of sound.
As she walked, courage returned, and with it, a renewed determination to save her family, regardless of the cost to herself. If they were condemned to debtor’s prison, all the remaining servants would lose their homes and employment. So many people depended upon her. She refused to fail them. Conviction brought peace.
She stumbled over a bit of soft, uneven ground and glanced down at the sunlight-dappled path. There, in her path, lay a snake, hissing and poised to strike.
She let out a cry. She hadn’t stumbled on uneven soft earth, she’d stepped on the snake. Before she could react, the snake struck. Sharp pain flared in her leg just above her ankle. She cried out again and staggered backward. The snake moved its sinuous body in an S-shaped form as it recoiled, poised to strike again. Pain worked its way up her leg.
She fled back the way she had come. She glanced over her shoulder but the snake remained in the path. Nausea and dizziness closed in around her as she lurched toward the house.
“Miss Palmer?” someone asked.
The fog around her thickened, leaving nothing but the growing pain in her leg. She found herself in the kitchen, surrounded by concerned faces.
“What happened?” one of the servants asked.
“My leg,” she gasped. “A snake.”
Her shoe and stocking were removed. A feminine voice uttered a cry of dismay.
The gamekeeper appeared in her line of sight. “What did the snake look like?”
Alicia fought waves of nausea. “Dark, with a zigzag pattern down its body.”
He exchanged a concerned look with someone outside her line of vision. “Did it have a distinctive dark V or X on its back?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“An adder,” the gamekeeper pronounced. “They aren’t usually found so near people. Bring me cleavers and mistletoe.”
Moments later, a slender plant with tiny white flowers appeared in someone’s hand.
“Here’s some cleavers. I can’t find mistletoe.” Alicia recognized Cook’s voice.
“This’ll do.”
Alicia faded in and out of consciousness as the gamekeeper appli
ed a sticky paste to the snakebite on her sore, swollen leg. Alicia mentally blessed the elderly gamekeeper for not abandoning the Palmer family when so many other servants had. The man had been with the Palmer family since before Father was born. Perhaps the venerable gamekeeper had nowhere else to go. Alicia liked to think that he remained out of loyalty.
Cook pressed a cup of tea in her hand. Alicia breathed in the scent of chamomile and honey, and sipped the warm tea. Her stomach settled.
Robert leaned over her face. She wondered when he’d arrived. “I’ve got you, Lissie.” Surprisingly sober, he picked her up. He carried her as carefully as a bowl of milk up the stairs to her room.
Hannah fluttered in ahead of them, pulling back the sheets, fluffing pillows. Robert laid Alicia on the bed. Someone helped her out of her dress and stays. Wearing only her shift, Alicia curled up. Her leg throbbed. She pushed at the blankets, numbly wondering how she could be both hot and cold. Sweet oblivion enveloped her.
****
Alicia blinked at the late afternoon sun streaming in through the windows. A window stood open and a cool breeze stirred the curtains. Hannah lay fully dressed next to her on the bed. Alicia shifted, and the pain her leg reminded her about the events of ... was it earlier today? Yesterday? She remembered vague images of pain and fever and Hannah leaning over her, pressing tea or water against her lips.
Hannah stirred, opened her eyes and smiled in tentative relief. “How do you feel?”
“Better, I think. My leg hardly hurts at all.”
Hannah released her breath. “I was so worried. The gamekeeper said adder bites could be either mild or,” she choked, “or fatal. You ran a fever for two days.”
Alicia took her hand. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
Hannah smiled, relaxing a little more. “Cook helped. Robbie came in often to inquire about you. Uncle seemed anxious.”
“It’s nice to be loved.”
Hannah wrapped her arms around her and rested her head on Alicia’s shoulder. “Oh, Lissie, what would I have done if I’d lost you?”
Alicia hugged her back. “I’m well now, Hannah.”
