Color of Danger (The Sullyard Sisters Book 2)

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Just at me.

  A shiver ran through Lydia’s shoulders. How odd, how strange that the other woman would single her out. Like she hated her. Perhaps she did, because of Kitty.

  No matter. Lydia had already wasted precious moments she’d never get back wondering anything about the haughty socialite. Time to focus on something else.

  Or someone else.

  As if Lydia had summoned him with her mind, Stratford Bexley strolled into the room. Suddenly the space in which they all stood or sat appeared smaller. The man was bigger than life in stature, presence, and attitude. Stratford was handsome and knew it.

  Although he was the farthest type of man Lydia should ever be interested in, that mattered not. Something about him had captured her heart long ago, and she couldn’t quite give up thinking about him.

  Stratford strode across the room right past them and headed straight for the refreshment table. Lydia clenched her hands together in her lap. Her muscles bunched, as she readied to leap up from her chair and stalk her prey.

  Lydia! Stop thinking like that. You are not a wild animal. You’re a civilized young woman.

  She shook her head. Why couldn’t she get over her infatuation with a man who so obviously wanted to only be friends?

  “Is something wrong?”

  Lydia blinked, shook her head to rid herself of the strange idea, and looked at Patience. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re frowning.”

  “You and Kitty say I always frown.” She supposed it must be true, as often as her family pointed it out.

  “Well…” Patience’s face turned pink.

  Suddenly the impulse to be nearer to Stratford overtook Lydia. She tapped her foot in a quick rhythm against the floor. “I’m going to get some lemonade.” She stood abruptly. “Would you like some?”

  “Yes, I’ll come with—”

  Lydia hurried away before her sister could join her. Rude? Yes. But at the moment all she could focus on was Stratford. He was speaking to an older gentleman, someone she’d never met. The two men were laughing. Lydia squeezed in between a tall potted plant situated beside the table and Stratford’s back, which was turned toward her.

  Without her consent, Lydia’s hand slowly reached out, longing to touch the fabric of his dark coat. A thrill shot through her at even that. Had she gone so far over the edge that feeling the cloth he wore on his person made her shiver?

  Yes. But try as she might, she couldn’t change the way she felt when in the same room, much less standing a few inches away.

  With a tremor to her hand, Lydia reached for a glass of refreshment. She took a sip, wanting something with which to occupy herself. Willing Stratford to turn around, she stared at the back of his head. To her amazement, he reached around with his hand and brushed at the nape of his neck as if he’d felt her staring at him.

  Was it a sign of some sort? That they had a connection? An unknown bond between them that time and distance could not break?

  She rolled her eyes. For Heaven’s sake. Get control of yourself.

  If she were ever to speak her outrageous thoughts out loud to anyone, even her sisters, she’d be laughed out of town. Her usually stoic, prim composure dissolved whenever Stratford was near. Like she was a different person when he was around.

  Stratford nodded to the other gentleman, and the man walked away.

  That was her opportunity. “P-pardon me.”

  He didn’t turn or acknowledge her. At all.

  She dared to lightly touch the back of his sleeve and spoke a little louder. “Excuse me.”

  He did turn then, a smile on his lips. “Oh. Good day.”

  She gave what she hoped was an acceptable curtsey, but with the way her legs felt like melted butter, she couldn’t be sure. “Good day.”

  Now what? Should she comment on the weather? Ask after his family or—

  “I see you’ve been summoned to the family’s party, as well.”

  “Yes.” Why couldn’t she utter more than a word or two at a time? When she was with her sisters, there were times she couldn’t seem to keep quiet. Even when they asked her to.

  “Did you enjoy the ball last month?”

  “Yes.” Especially when she had danced with Stratford. She knew he’d only asked her out of obligation, but the few minutes he’d held her in his arms had been pure heaven.

  “How is Kitty doing today? Still in good health, I trust?”

  “Fine.” Lydia cleared her throat. “Thank you for asking.”

  Stratford peered over her head and frowned. Was her hair amiss? Sticking out at all angles? There had been a strong breeze when they’d alighted from the carriage. She reached up to smooth it down but didn’t feel anything out of place.

  “Say, pardon me for rushing off, but I see a gentleman over there who keeps waving his arm, trying to gain my attention. He’s someone connected with the magazine that my father has been after me to see.”

  “Oh, um, certainly.” Lydia sighed as Stratford left her standing alone. He’d always been polite, but they’d never spoken beyond platitudes, the usual boring talk about the weather or family matters.

  When she first met him and Nathaniel, Stratford had seemed interested in her. For about five minutes. He had kissed Lydia’s hand and they’d had what she’d believed at the time to be a meaningful conversation. She later discovered it was to try to make Kitty jealous.

  But it hadn’t worked. Kitty only had eyes for Nathaniel.

  With a sigh, she drank more of her lemonade and made her way back to Patience.

  “Is that for me?” Her sister pointed to the glass.

  “Hmm?” Lydia blinked. “Oh. Yes.” She handed it to Patience.

  With a peek inside the glass and an accompanying frown, she said, “It’s nearly empty.”

  Oh, she must have had more than she’d realized as she’d stared at Stratford. “Is it?”

  “Didn’t you notice?

  Lydia shrugged, not wanting to admit why she’d neglected to get a drink for her sister. “I guess not.”

  “What’s come over you?”

  “Nothing.” She slumped down in the chair next to Patience and sighed.

  “You’re acting grumpier than usual.” Patience eyed the small amount of lemonade, must have decided it wasn’t worth drinking, and placed the glass on an empty chair to her right.

  “Thank you so much.” Sarcasm had always been Lydia’s first line of defense, and she used it often.

  “Sorry. It’s just… Ever since we got here, you’ve seemed like your mind was elsewhere. Were you speaking to Stratford just now?”

  Lydia sat up straight, wanting to act as if things had gone well with him. How embarrassing it would be to admit he’d hardly given her notice. “Why yes. I was.”

  “What about?”

  “You’re full of questions.” Perhaps that would silence her sister, and Lydia wouldn’t have to answer anything more.

  Patience let out a harrumph, and Lydia did the same. What a fine time they were having.

  The shushing sound of rapidly stepping slippers on the hardwood floor snagged Lydia’s attention. She glanced up. Miss Eleanor Queensbury had sidled up to Stratford. He looked down and gave her a nod but went back to his discussion with his father. Miss Queensbury had the audacity to place her hand on his sleeve. The gall! And now she was actually speaking to the man.

  Isn’t that exactly what you did only a few moments ago?

  No, it wasn’t the same. Not at all. The other woman appeared to be trying to gain Stratford’s attention for some reason. Lydia had only been… She huffed out a loud, frustrated breath.

  “Now what’s wrong?” Patience leaned over and bumped her shoulder lightly into Lydia’s.

  “Who’s to say there’s anything wrong? Why do you always suspect the worst of me?”

  “Um, I…” Patience blinked rapidly.

  Oh no, she’s going to cry. Her younger sister often teared up at the slightest provocation. Guilt engulfed Lydia,
and she placed her arm around Patience’s shoulder. “Forgive me. I’m just not pleasant company today, I’m afraid.”

  “It’s fine.” Patience shrugged. “Shall we see if there’s any cake or biscuits over there? That will brighten our day.”

  “Of course.” They stood and headed that way. Lydia tried her best not to roll her eyes. When wouldn’t cake and biscuits take the place of longing with every fiber of her body to gain the affections of the man Lydia loved?

  She couldn’t tell her sister that. Better to let her assume that eating something sweet would carry away all of life’s hurts and disappointments.

  If only Lydia was still young and naive enough to feel the same. With relief she noticed Nathaniel had arrived. Thank goodness. At least she could be sure he would talk to her and Patience.

  Chapter Two

  June, 1818

  One month later

  Stratford Bexley nodded at the footman who opened the door for him to enter the Bexley Estate. After being away on business for several days, he was ready to relax a bit. He’d barely given his hat and coat over to the servant before his cousin, Nathaniel, raced down the stairs, nearly stumbling on his lame foot when he reached the bottom.

  “What’s the rush?” Stratford grinned at his usually staid, quiet cousin.

  Nathaniel took a moment to catch his breath and then grabbed Stratford by the upper arms.

  “Say, what’s this?” He flinched at Nathaniel’s hard grip. Something was definitely amiss.

  “Listen… I need you to do me a favor.” Sweat glistened from Nathaniel’s brow. Was that from his hurried nature or whatever had upset him so?

  Stratford lifted one eyebrow. “And why would I do that?” His words had a bite to them, but he was only teasing. Ever since he’d foolishly tried to gain Kitty’s affections before she had married Nathaniel, Stratford had done his best to make up for past mistakes.

  “I’m serious. This…” He took another deep breath. “The situation is dire.”

  “Dire?” He widened his eyes. “Is it Kitty? Is she—”

  Nathaniel held up his hand to stop Stratford’s words. “For now, she and the baby are stable. But the physician feels it’s best if I don’t leave her side. She’s quite distraught at the thought that something might go wrong during labor and delivery.”

  Oh no… Stratford had never truly loved Kitty, but he did think very highly of her and wanted only the best for his cousin’s family.

  “So, the favor I’d mentioned… I need you to deliver a message to Bedlam.”

  Stratford retreated a step. “Pardon?” He’d heard the horror stories of that place. The stench, the filth. The cruel treatment the patients often received. He had no desire to step foot in that place.

  Nathaniel must have seen Stratford’s reluctance. “Please. It’s not for me. It’s for Kitty. She’s so concerned about her sister. Patience has tried to see her, but the last two times, they forbade her entrance. We’re not sure why. We’re doing everything we can through the solicitor, but so far we’ve not been able to get Lydia released. Since we can’t visit her at the moment, Lydia needs to know how Kitty is faring. Along with that, Kitty needs to know how her sister is doing. You can imagine that worrying about Lydia isn’t doing Kitty any good right now. Stress seems to be making her ill. We fear for her and the baby.”

  “What about their great-aunt? Or Robert? Couldn’t he—”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Great-Aunt Anne spends more time napping than she does talking to family. Kitty doesn’t think it wise to send her out on the errand. And Robert is still in prison. Even if he were released from Newgate, the scoundrel would refuse to visit her. When he got wind of Lydia’s plight, he said Lydia must be truly insane to have been housed in Bedlam. His own cousin.” He gave Stratford’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Lydia is not insane. She doesn’t belong there.”

  “Of course not.” But did Stratford really know that for sure? He’d never taken the time to get to know her. Had only had surface conversation with her when they were together. Still, if Nathaniel believed she wasn’t truly insane, Stratford was more inclined to believe it. Nathaniel was the most practical man he knew.

  With pleading written in his eyes, Nathaniel stared steadily at him. “Please. You’re the only one. I’d send a servant, but Kitty insists it must be family and no one else is about. I’m trying to do everything I can to appease her and keep her calm. We need your help.”

  Stratford let out a long breath. Much as he loathed the idea of going to that despicable hole, he would do it. For his family. “Very well.”

  Tears glistened in Nathaniel’s eyes. “Bless you.” He reached into his pocket and handed a sealed note to Stratford. “When you go, you’ll most likely have to bribe a keeper to get in to see her. Hopefully they won’t turn you away as they did Patience.”

  “Must I actually go into—”

  “I’m afraid so. No one can be trusted to see that she gets the note. Normally, they allow family, but for some reason, they’re being difficult in Lydia’s case. A bribe has worked sometimes in the past. Here, let me give you some money.”

  Stratford held up his hand. “No. Keep it. You’ll need it when the baby comes.” He gave a slight grin, hoping to remind his cousin of something positive that would happen soon in the family.

  “Thank you. This means so much.”

  A door squeaked open from somewhere above them. “Darling?” Kitty’s panicky voice floated down from upstairs. “Where are you?”

  Nathaniel glanced in that direction and back. “It sounds like Kitty has gotten out of bed again. The physician is already irritated with her because she left and went to Bedlam against his orders. I must return to her.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll go deliver the letter straight away.” What have I just agreed to? It took all of Stratford’s will not to tremble at the possibility of entering that terrible hospital. But wouldn’t it go a long way toward his goal of becoming a better, more responsible man?

  Stratford watched his cousin bound clumsily back up the long staircase. With purpose in his own steps and before he could change his mind, Stratford turned, retrieved his coat and hat from the footman, and ordered his carriage brought around once more. He should change horses after his trip, but it seemed time was of the essence. At least the journey wouldn’t take too long, and then his horses could rest.

  As he sat in his carriage watching the scenery go by, he wondered what he would say to Lydia. What did one discuss with a person who was housed in Bedlam?

  Good day.

  Lovely weather we’re having.

  May I adjust your shackles?

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. Now is not the time for levity. To his own embarrassment, he’d not given the poor girl much thought other than the initial horror upon hearing of her plight. Should he have offered to visit her before now? They were extended family, after all. But he hadn’t.

  What does that say about me? Nothing good. That needed to change.

  Ever since Stratford had tried to gain Kitty’s affections in spite of the fact that he knew Nathaniel had feelings for her, Stratford had been struck by how horrid his lifestyle had been. He’d definitely earned his title of rake. After bedding more women than he cared to remember, he’d ruined them and tossed them aside. Now, the memories sickened him. When he’d seen the toll his flirtation had taken on Kitty and Nathaniel, it had done something to Stratford. Had cracked the protective armor he’d always worn to keep out his feelings of inferiority.

  His cousin wasn’t aware of the fact, but Stratford had always been intimidated by him. By Nathaniel’s superior intelligence. That was Stratford’s excuse for going the other direction and putting his full energy into being a rake. At least it’s what he told himself. He’d even avoided work in his father’s magazine office because he couldn’t stand to be near his smart, efficient cousin. Didn’t want to be compared to him.

  If anyone knew the truth of why Stratford did everything he
could to avoid doing paperwork, they’d surely be shocked. Shame coursed through him at the reminder of what he was. And wasn’t.

  His thoughts scattered as the coach slowed and stopped at the entrance to the huge, ornate structure that was Bedlam. As attractive as the building and grounds were from the outside, if what he’d heard of the inside was true, the difference would be as light to darkness. Goodness to evil.

  Stratford alighted from the carriage and instructed the coachman to wait. He didn’t know how long he’d be but had no desire to spend more time than was necessary inside the sinister place. In Stratford’s mind, the letter nearly burned in his pocket, longing to leap into Lydia’s hand so Stratford could escape. How he hated the thought of entering that building. He steeled himself against what was to come as he walked to the entrance.

  As soon as he stepped inside, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Correction — not smell — stench. Unwashed bodies. Excrement. Blood. Fear. With a deep longing to cover his nose with his hand, he pushed away the desire in favor of politeness and tried instead not to dwell on the fact that he might very well lose his last meal in an embarrassing manner.

  After he looked around, however, he realized that the patients, at least a good number of them, probably wouldn’t have noticed had he done so anyway. Some moaned as they lay on the floor, while others sat with arms around their knees, rocking back and forth, mumbling or weeping. A few unfortunate souls were locked inside hideous looking contraptions that gave every appearance of being left over from the medieval age. Stratford shivered, thanking God that he was in his right mind and on the safe side of the cell bars.

  A large woman dressed in drab grey attire with keys jingling at her waist approached. Must be the matron. Stratford gave her Lydia’s name. The woman held out her hand, palm up, and waited. Ah… She wanted the bribe. He placed the money gingerly in her open palm, careful not to actually touch her. Anything or anyone connected to Bedlam suddenly seemed tainted.