A knock sounded at the front door, and the lady’s maid answered. Crispin could be heard announcing himself and his purpose in calling.
Regina hopped up from the chair. “There he is now. Let me see you to the door.”
Crispin stood inside the foyer; his strong dark blond brows were drawn together. “Your lady’s maid is answering the door now?”
“Of course not.”
Regina discreetly shooed Joy away before Crispin took it upon himself to question the help. Because he was Uncle Charles’s godson and had spent much of his young adulthood at Wedmore House, he had a tendency to think he had authority over the ladies of the house. They neither wanted nor needed a caretaker. Regina was already fulfilling the role, and she would see that a new butler was hired soon—although she feared there might not be anyone left who wanted the position. Between Uncle Charles’s suspicious nature, Aunt Beatrice’s tendency to speak her mind, and Cupid’s general dislike of strangers, it had been difficult to keep a butler.
When her sisters and Aunt Beatrice came into the foyer, Crispin seemed to forget about the oddity of the lady’s maid manning the door and came forward to greet them. Cupid tore into the foyer, dashing between Evangeline’s and Sophia’s skirts to reach him first. The little dog adored him. Unfortunately, the love affair had been one-sided ever since Cupid ripped the viscount’s pant leg in an overzealous bid for attention. Crispin commanded him to sit, but like all the other residents at Wedmore House, he didn’t believe he had to obey the viscount.
Regina scooped Cupid into her arms then kissed her sisters’ and aunt’s cheeks. “Enjoy yourselves and don’t worry about me. I will be retiring early.”
Once her family and Crispin were in the carriage, she closed the front door and turned the lock. Joy walked out of the shadowy corridor where she’d retreated to wait until everyone left.
“Would you like to change into a nightrail, miss?”
“I can manage on my own,” Regina said. “Go help your sister with the baby. Your plans shouldn’t be altered because I’ve decided to stay home. I had Deacon ready the carriage earlier, so you won’t need to hire a hack tonight.”
Joy nibbled her bottom lip, a nervous habit that made her seem younger than six and twenty years. “I’m afraid your aunt wouldn’t approve of me leaving you alone. My sister will understand.”
When Cupid began to squirm, Regina placed him on the marble floor and he dashed back into the drawing room. The poodle had a short memory. He would spend the next half hour searching the house for her aunt and sisters.
“I insist you go,” Regina said. “You will return before Auntie, and I will be fine on my own.” She held up a finger when Joy started to argue. “Please. If you refuse to leave me alone, I will feel obligated to attend the ball, and I would rather not. You only see your family when we are in London. I know you must miss them.”
Joy sighed. “I do. I miss them terribly sometimes.”
“It is settled then.”
“At least allow me to loosen your corset before I go.”
Regina agreed, although she could remove it herself if needed. Joy accompanied her above stairs and helped her strip down to her chemise. “I want to wash up before bed,” she said and playfully nudged Joy toward the door. “Run along to your sister.”
Joy smiled, ducking her head shyly. “Thank you, miss.” She slipped from Regina’s bedchamber, pulling the door partially closed behind her.
When Regina was finally alone, she took a cleansing breath. She would have to return to the ballrooms soon, but tonight she welcomed the peace and quiet. Stripping her chemise over her head, she moved toward the washstand to fill the basin with water from the pitcher. She kicked off her slippers before removing her drawers and stockings.
Her door swung open when Cupid nosed his way inside. His black curls glistened in the candlelight as he crossed the thick carpet en route to her canopied bed.
“You little rogue,” she chided. “Don’t you know better than to disturb a lady during her toilette?”
The poodle paid her no mind and hopped on the mattress, turned several circles to find the most comfortable place on the luxurious counterpane, then plopped down to nap while Regina prepared for bed.
She wet a cloth and drew it over her bare skin. When she reached for a sliver of her favorite soap, she accidentally bumped the dish and knocked it off the stand. Cupid jerked awake with a yelp. His large round eyes were like wells of ink. He snapped his head from side to side as if searching for the culprit responsible for disturbing his nap.
“It is all right, sweetheart,” she cooed as she retrieved the soap and unbroken dish from the carpet. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
She held the soap to her nose to draw in the spicy orange scent. It was the most delicious smell in the world, and she hated that it would be all used up soon. If she was lucky, Uncle Charles would bring back a whole crate when he returned. He never arrived home from his travels empty-handed.
Cupid continued to stand at attention with his floppy ears twitching. First his right, then left, then right again. Before she could utter another word to soothe him, he leapt from the bed and tore out of her chamber.
“What has gotten into you, you silly dog?”
She dipped the soap in the water then scrubbed it against a cloth to make suds. Just as she touched the cloth to her cheek, the loose tread on the servant’s staircase creaked.
Regina’s heart bolted into her throat and she froze.
“Joy,” she called softly. The maid didn’t answer. Regina strained to listen for evidence she was not alone in the house until the high-pitched ring of silence vibrated in her ears.
Cupid’s sudden deep-throated growl outside her door caused goose bumps to rise along her arms.
A muttered curse carried on the air.
Cupid’s growl grew more ferocious.
Regina’s heart pounded so hard she could barely hear anything over its drumming. She snatched a bath sheet draped over the dressing screen and covered herself, debating if she had time to grab a wrap from the wardrobe before the intruder reached her doorway. Her gaze landed on the fire poker next to the hearth. Making a hasty choice, she hurried to grab the iron weapon and tiptoed toward the doorway.
“There, there. You seem like a reasonable pooch,” the man crooned in a thick accent. “Could I trouble you to move aside? You are blocking the path.”
A snappish bark made her jump.
“Damnation. That was unnecessary.”
Cupid whimpered as if truly contrite for making a fuss.
“There. That is better.” The man’s deep, smoky voice washed over her, leaving her slightly breathless. “You should know, I like dogs under normal circumstances, so do not take offense. But nothing was said about a dog.”
Regina furrowed her brow. He was uncommonly chatty for a thief, not that she’d met many. It just seemed counterproductive to be talkative when one’s success depended on his ability to sneak into homes unnoticed.
Cupid apparently tired of the man’s nonsense and renewed his efforts to deter the man. His barking grew more frantic and he dashed into her chamber a second before tearing back into the corridor.
Faith!
In just a few steps, the intruder would be at her door. She tightened her grip on the poker and held it aloft. The element of surprise was on her side, but for some unfathomable reason, she hesitated. Perhaps the way he spoke to the little dog as if he were a person gave her pause. Or maybe it was simply curiosity over what ridiculous thing would come out of his mouth next.
Before she could sort it out, Cupid dashed back into her chamber, and the man lunged to grab the door handle to shut him in the room. He spotted her standing just inside the threshold with the poker raised.
His jaw dropped. Vibrant green eyes locked with hers and her breath froze in her lungs. He looked nothing like she’d pictured. He had the appearance of a gentleman, except for the unruly dark curls ringing his rugged face. But his eyes
were most unexpected. They were clear and kind and filled with... regret? No, her mind was playing tricks, and she couldn’t afford to be fooled.
He was here to steal from them, plain and simple—his gaze slid to the bath sheet draped around her and his eyes darkened—or worse.
She clutched the bath sheet tightly and adjusted her grip on the poker with her other hand, brandishing it. “Leave here or I’ll—”
She couldn’t bring herself to utter what she’d do if he took one step closer. She would defend herself, but he wouldn’t fare well if she struck him with the iron poker. In all the years she’d prepared to protect herself and her family, she’d never considered what it would mean to be called to action. It was one thing to discourage a persistent rake, tarnishing his pride and perhaps leaving him with a bruise or two. But the reality of hurting someone—possibly fatally injuring another—caused her stomach to pitch.
Cupid was barking like a rabid beast now, snapping the air close to the thief’s ankles. The man’s gaze never strayed from her, however. He released the door handle and held his hands up in surrender. Deep creases appeared between his thick brows. “I beg your pardon, miss. There has been a mistake.”
A mistake seemed like too mild a term for breaking into someone’s home.
He backed into the corridor with his hands still raised. “Please, don’t be alarmed. I am leaving.”
She held her breath as he kept his word, retreating without turning his back to her. He was almost to the servants’ staircase when Cupid flashed his needle-like teeth with a harsh growl and attacked. The dog latched on to the man’s pants leg, tugging with all his might.
“Cupid, no!” Regina lowered the poker and hastened into the corridor.
The intruder blurted a string of words she couldn’t understand as he shook his leg to dislodge the poodle. Cupid refused to relinquish his prey, planting his paws on the carpet runner and jerking harder while the man hopped on one foot and increased his efforts. The heel of his boot came down on the edge of the stairwell. His eyes flared wide. He tipped backward and grabbed for the railing. His fingers grazed the polished surface, but he couldn’t hang on.
Regina stood rooted to the carpet, helpless to stop his fall. Cupid released him before he, too, was dragged down the stairs. The impact of the man’s body shook the floor beneath her bare feet. More bumps and a loud boom broke her trance, and she rushed to the stairs. He lay crumpled in a heap against the landing wall. A muffled moan came from him.
“Oh, thank God!” She dropped the poker and scurried down the steps. He was alive. Kneeling beside him, she held the bath sheet together with one hand and grabbed his shoulder. “Can you move?”
He slowly rolled to his back; his face twisted in pain. A large, shiny knot was already peeking through the curls lying on his forehead. His glassy gaze wandered around the stairwell as if he couldn’t locate her voice.
“Sorry I frightened you,” he muttered between gasps.
His dark lashes fluttered. He was losing consciousness.
“No, wait.” She gingerly patted his cheek, fearful of causing further harm, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Sir, you cannot die here. Wake up!” Emboldened, she smacked him harder.
His eyes opened to slits.
She grabbed the front of his jacket to shake him. “I say, you cannot die in Uncle Charles’s stairwell.”
“I understand. The scandal...” His eyelids drifted shut.
She frowned. Since when did thieves concern themselves with causing a scandal? “Sir, please wake up. I don’t know what to do. Is there someone I should summon to come for you?”
He gripped her hand. “I cannot go back. Please. I need...rest. Then...then I will leave.”
His fingers relaxed and he dissolved against the floor.
“This week couldn’t get any worse,” she grumbled. Cupid sat at the top of the stairwell with his tongue flopping from the side of his mouth.
“I hope you are pleased. This is another fine mess you’ve made for me to clean up.”
Only this wasn’t a shredded pillow or puddle on the marble floor. This was a man. Battered and bruised. She turned back to him, flummoxed. His inky lashes fanned against olive skin, and his chest rose and fell with regular breaths. He was no longer gasping, much to her relief.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping forward. It seemed she would get no help deciding what to do with him. If she could rouse him, perhaps he could climb to the upper floor with her assistance. The closest bedchamber was only a few feet from the stairwell. The unused room was small and likely smelled musty from being closed up, but he wasn’t a guest and he wouldn’t be staying long.
Clutching his shoulders, she shook him until he opened his eyes again. “I need you to sit up. Can you climb the stairs? There is a bed where you may rest a short while to catch your breath, but then you must go.”
He nodded and struggled to his elbows. With Regina’s arm behind his back, they managed to get him upright. More effort was required to help him to his feet and support his weight. The bath sheet slipped, and she frantically grabbed for it to cover her exposed breasts.
“Magnifique,” the intruder murmured. His eyes were open now.
She scowled up at him. He was no different from the scoundrels that had been plaguing her all Season. “Stop looking at me.”
His gaze lingered a moment longer then he glanced away. “I beg your pardon, mademoiselle.”
With a tighter grip on the bath sheet, she helped support his weight as they climbed the stairs. When they finally reached the bedchamber, he collapsed on the bed.
“Merci,” he said on a breath and succumbed to unconsciousness with his legs draped over the side of the bed.
She shouldn’t trouble herself with his comfort, but he might be in worse shape when he woke if she left him that way. And she needed him to leave as soon as possible. He couldn’t stay past an hour at most. She visited her own bedchamber to don a wrapper before returning to tug off his boots and wrangle his legs onto the bed. He was lying on the coverlet, so she couldn’t draw it over him, but the room was stuffy anyway. She moved to the window to throw up the sash with the hope fresh air would help to revive him.
There was movement in the hedge below. A large shadow shifted and a stick cracked. “Who’s there?” she called out. Likely, it was an accomplice, another thief stationed outside to keep a lookout for anyone passing by on the street. “I have your man.”
Her tone sounded taunting even though she hadn’t intended it that way. Or perhaps she had. She’d tolerated quite enough foolishness this week.
“A Runner has been summoned,” she lied. “You’ll be tossed in gaol along with your partner before the hour is out.”
The hedge parted, and the bulk dashed across the lawn, moving much faster than she would expect for someone so large.
“Are you sending me to gaol?” Her captive’s rough whisper tugged at her heart even though he didn’t deserve her sympathy. In his condition, however, he wouldn’t fare well in gaol.
“No.” She returned to the side of the bed and looked down into his glassy green eyes. He really didn’t appear well at all. “Your accomplice needn’t know I am taking mercy on you though.”
He blinked, his brow creasing. “Why?”
“That is none of your concern.” Her reasons were self-preserving. If anyone learned she had been alone with a man, her reputation would be ruined. The fact that he was an intruder made the situation worse, because everyone would assume he’d had his way with her.
“You promised to leave after you rest, so try to sleep.”
A weak smile eased across his rugged face, and he closed his eyes, slipping back into oblivion.
When Regina checked on him half an hour later, he was sleeping too deeply to rouse. The subsequent times she tried to wake him were no more successful. Eventually, she had to face the truth. He wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
She changed into an apron front gown and waited in the dark drawing room
for her sisters and aunt to return from the ball. As she’d predicted, Joy arrived home first. Regina could hear the maid hurrying up the servant’s staircase to turn down the beds and light the oil lamps as she did every night.
The mantle clock chimed at half past midnight. When she heard the clopping of horses’ hooves on the street, she went to the window to peer out. The carriage stopped in front of Wedmore House. Regina didn’t alert anyone to her presence when Crispin saw her family to the door and bade them a good evening.
Cupid yipped as he raced down the stairs to greet Aunt Beatrice.
“There you are, my good boy,” her aunt crooned. “Cupid and I are off to bed, girls.”
“Goodnight, Auntie.”
Once Regina was certain Aunt Beatrice was out of hearing range, she came out of the drawing room.
Sophia gasped. “Regina, what were you doing sitting in the dark?”
Evangeline took one look at her, and her mouth set in a firm line. “Something is wrong.”
“One might say that, yes.” Regina held her hands out toward her sisters with her palms up. “There has been an unusual development this evening, and I don’t know what to do.”
She ushered her sisters into the drawing room and lit a lamp. When she told them about the encounter the day before with Lord Geoffrey and the thief in the bed upstairs, they were appropriately appalled.
“Perhaps he is awake now,” Evangeline said. “If so, we will sneak him out the backdoor once Aunt Beatrice has turned down her lamp.”
Sophia tugged on the fingers of her gloves to remove them. “And if he is not?”
Evangeline’s gaze locked with Regina’s. “I am afraid we will be forced to allow him to stay overnight.”
Regina nodded. They often spoke of Sophia’s aims to marry, and Evangeline or Regina would do anything to see that their little sister was happy. A scandal of this magnitude would certainly hurt Sophia’s chances of marrying well. None of them would be received any longer.
Secrets to a Gentleman's Heart (Uncle Charlie's Angels Book 1) Page 3
