“Are you enjoying the ball so far, Lady Meredith?” Lady Clarissa asked.
“I have…only just arrived.”
“So have I,” she said. “My dance card is full but I am taking a short rest. If I don’t, I will be dancing all night.”
Meredith blinked. Her dance card had no hopes of being full, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t believe she was having a conversation with someone other than her father and Jenny.
“Would you…would you like for me to bring you a drink?” Meredith asked her.
Lady Clarissa looked surprised at that. “Oh, heavens, would you? That is so kind!”
Meredith almost smiled. She turned away, trailing along the long refreshments table towards the drinks. A hint of confidence sparked within her. It had been so long since she’d spoken to someone outside her home, to a real girl. She’d been so afraid, so bogged down by her pain that she hadn’t opened herself up to the thought. She was shaking, but she couldn’t tell if it was a good thing this time.
As she continued along, she heard her name. It gave her pause. Meredith looked up to see a pair of eyes on her before they quickly looked away. Her heart sank.
They’re gossiping about me.
It was a small group of ladies, clearly not bothering to hide that fact. Meredith felt the room close in on her and, on stiff legs, she turned.
As if through some wicked fate, she heard her name again. It drifted from somewhere else, another group of gossiping ladies. They looked much older and they stared openly at her, some with disgust, others with fear.
She heard what they were saying. Suddenly, it was as if she could hear what they were all saying. The whispers swirled around her head, droned in her mind, reinforced the things she’d told herself a thousand times.
They were talking about her trial.
She heard the words murderer and her heart seized with pain. She started walking again, trying to escape it.
But she couldn’t. Murderer. Freak. Killer.
She heard it all. Or perhaps those were words that were rising within her, words she’d tried to suppress. They were all talking about her, all saying the things she refused to think about herself.
Tears blurred her vision. This time, she couldn’t stop them from overflowing.
“Lady Meredith?”
Lady Clarissa’s voice was distant as she streaked by her. By now, Meredith knew that more people were looking at her. How could they not when she painted such a vision, dressed in red like the killer they thought her to be? She grabbed ahold of her dress, not caring how far she ran, just as long as she could escape it.
Meredith gulped a large breath of fresh air the moment she escaped the ballroom, but she didn’t stop. She heard someone shout, but she kept going, her slippers unprepared for the harsh slap of the driveway. She dashed past the carriages and kept going until she was completely off the manor grounds.
She was heaving, crying and running. How could I have thought they would forget the scandal? The reputation that follows me everywhere I go...
Her father was foolish to think they could repair it. The trauma was not the only thing that could rip her to shreds. The aftermath would, as well. And that was a brand that she would carry with her for the rest of her life.
Chapter 4
The night was young and the members of the Red Fiends gang were growing antsy. A few of them had gone out to do some easy pickpocketing, just to curb the antsy feeling they had. Most of them had decided to go down to their usual pub, where Phillip had drunk to his heart’s content.
Heath crossed his arms, watching his friend stagger from side to side. There was a hum of low chatter around them as the other members engaged in their own conversations. “You think he will fall over into the street?” he asked aloud, not caring if no one answered.
He was surprised, however, when the leader of their little gang, Victor Cook, saddled up to him and said in a mirthful voice, “I think he will bang his head when he does.”
Heath chuckled. Phillip whirled sharply, so sharply that it was a wonder he hadn’t taken a nasty fall. “You two keep talkin’ about me,” he slurred. “An’ you will see what comes after ya’!”
“To think that he gets quieter when he’s intoxicated,” Victor said, his voice a deep rumble. His mouth moved around, as if he was chewing on something, but Heath couldn’t see what it was. They were in the shadows, of course, where people like them belonged.
“Because.” The whiff of gin on Phillip’s breath had Heath crumpling his nose. “I have somethin’ in store for ya’.”
“Is that so?” Victor sounded amused. He had nothing to fear. All the members had a special reverent fear of him that kept them in line, even a wild one like Phillip.
Except Heath. It wasn’t loyalty to Victor that kept him there, but loyalty to Heath’s cause.
“Ya’ just wait,” Phillip slurred. “When I’m good an’ ready, I’ll have ya’ tremblin’ in fear of me.”
Heath’s answer to that was to give him a gentle push. Phillip went careening to the ground. Laughter rose up around them and those foolish enough to be walking the streets at night cowered away from them.
They had nothing to be afraid of—not tonight. The gang had had a good week, and after Heath and Phillip had brought in that carriage and that expensive necklace, they would be drinking well for a while.
Phillip scrambled to his feet and slung his arm around Heath’s neck, pulling him into a headlock. His pungent breath was enough to kill a weaker man. Or perhaps just knock him out.
Heath felt rare laughter bubble up his throat as he struggled to get out of Phillip’s hold. They roughhoused for a while, and the others didn’t bother to wait for them. When finally got himself out of Phillip’s hold, he saw that they had all walked ahead of them.
Phillip sighed, looking up at the sky with a happy grin. “Ah, we will be rich if we keep this up, Heath.”
“I suppose so.”
“Oh, I nearly forgot. You are already rich, aren’t you? I guess that is a feeling that you don’t have to wonder about then.”
Heath neglected to respond to that. Instead, he said, “Your speech has suddenly gotten better.”
“Yes, well, our little skirmish has sobered me up some.”
“I would not call that a skirmish.”
“Nor would I call what did at that pub there drinking.” Phillip punched him in the arm. “You only had one drink, Heath.”
“I wasn’t in the mood.”
“How can you not be in the mood for drinking?” Phillip demanded. Heath could feel his eyes on him. “Are you certain you are fine? You’ve been acting oddly ever since we stole that carriage.”
Actually, he’d been acting oddly before that. The day was coming, the day he had found his mother dead so many years ago. It was a never-ending story in his mind, one he carried in his heart along with his hatred. For the killer and for the world who had moved on without her.
He said none of that to Phillip and he didn’t have to. They’d finally arrived at the abandoned building they used as their hideout. The others were already filling the small space with lively chatter.
When he walked in, he realized the lively chatter was just arguing. He exchanged confused looks with Phillip before he approached the corner of the room where they had all gathered.
“All right, all right, settle down, you loudmouths!” Victor bellowed. Heath couldn’t see him above the heads of all the others. He went to the threshold that led to the kitchen and sucked in a silent breath.
There was a woman here. A lady, evident by her beautiful gown that resembled the color of roses. She was cowering against the wall, her head bowed, her fingers twisting around themselves. Victor was sitting on one of the crates next to her, looking completely at ease, if not a little annoyed.
“What the—” Phillip bit back his curse, anger sharp in his voice. He pushed his way to the front, Heath behind him. “What the hell is happening here?”
“A Lady,”
Victor said calmly, “has entered our building. And we are deciding what to do with her.”
“What do mean deciding? That answer should be obvious enough!”
That started up the noise again, as one set of them thought they should do one thing while the other disagreed. The Lady flinched at the noise, glancing up for a brief second. Then she pressed herself back into the wall as if she wanted to disappear within it.
Heath had caught a glimpse of her face when she looked up. He went utterly still.
He recognized that face from his childhood. Lady…yes, Lady Meredith. The beautiful girl who had once tried to race him on her horse. Who would smile brightly at him whenever they met. Who would always be so eager to walk through the gardens, and who he’d always been so eager to join.
A memory drifted to the forefront of his mind. He arrived at Pebblebrook Manor to find Lady Meredith standing in the foyer with a wide grin on her face. Confusion spread throughout him, but before he had the chance to say anything, his father had drifted away with hers, leaving him standing there to face her alone.
He noticed she held something behind her hand. He ventured closer. “What do you have?” he asked.
Her grin, as impossible as it seemed, grew wider. Suddenly, she pulled her fist forward, opened it, and blew petals into his face. “My father says it is your birthday today,” she chirped. “Did you think I wouldn’t celebrate it with you?”
So many memories with that face bombarded him at once. They had been youths when they’d met and become fast friends. She had been everything he wanted to be—bold and warm with a taste for danger. It hadn’t taken him long for him to develop an infatuation on her but then, when he’d found his mother dead, they hadn’t met with each other again.
From time to time, his mind wandered back to her, wondering if she was married now. If she had borne children. He hadn’t expected to find her shivering in a gang’s hideout in a dusty dress, hardly able to look up from the floor.
“Would you all shut your traps?” Victor bellowed, effectively cutting into the arguing. He turned to face Lady Meredith and she clutched her dress. Heath wondered if she truly was holding her breath or if it only looked like it
“What’s your name?” Victor asked her.
She didn’t respond.
“If you don’t tell me your name, woman, then I’ll pick one man in his group and let him decide your fate.” Even though his words were tantamount to a death sentence, Victor’s voice was soothing. “Now, what’s your name?”
“Meredith,” she whispered. Heath hardly heard it himself. He doubted the ones in the back did.
Victor accepted it with a nod. “How did you get in here, Meredith? And why?”
She pointed a trembling finger at the door, looking up. Heath saw that her eyes were glassy with tears. “The door was unlocked. I…I thought it was abandoned. I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize,” Victor said easily. “It’s Andrew’s job to lock up behind hm.”
“I forgot,” said Andrew, who stood on the other side of the group. He didn’t look apologetic. Heath suspected he was a little too drunk to completely understand what was going on. “And who would try to come in here? They know this is your turf.”
“Clearly, this Lady doesn’t,” Victor said.
“She’s a spy!” came another voice, filled with accusation. Heath recognized it as Franky. “Why else would she be hiding away in the corner of the room? We were talking about sensitive things when we came in here, Victor. She must have overhead it all.”
Meredith made an audible gasp. She shook her head. “I didn’t,” she murmured. “I truly didn’t.”
“Lies,” someone hissed. Heath secretly agreed. He remembered she’d once been much better at lying than that.
“Relax, relax,” Victor said. He sighed. Heath knew Victor was an upright man, despite what he did for a living. He would not hurt Meredith unless he had a reason to.
Being labeled as a spy was a good enough reason. Heath stepped forward. “If you are not a spy, then why are you here?” he asked.
Meredith looked up at his voice. Her eyes were just as he remembered them, so large they seemed to take up half her face. Right now, they were wide with recognition, the swimming tears refusing to flood past her lashes. He knew she would recognize him. It had been a while since they’d last seen each other, but their time together had been impactful. At least, he thought so.
“I…” She didn’t seem to know what to say. She stared at him, in awe. It was an understandable reaction. The last she’d seen him, he had been a Marquess, set to inherit the Dukedom. It made little sense that he was here amongst hoodlums.
“Your reason?” he asked sternly, folding his arms. If he didn’t get the answer soon, they would do with her what they wanted.
She visibly swallowed. Then he watched as she pulled her cowed shoulders back slightly. “I was crying,” she said. “I ran in here without thinking because I wanted to get away from everything.”
“Everything?” came Victor. Heath could almost hear Phillip grinding his teeth behind him.
“Something happened.” She lowered her head again. The confidence she had built vanished in a second. “I couldn’t stay there any longer and ran away. I ended up here and came in without thinking. Again, I’m very sorry.”
“Seems to me like you were in the middle of a rather fancy ball,” Victor pointed out.
She nodded without a word.
“She sounds very genuine to me,” Heath said. Even though it didn’t quite match up with the memory of the girl he once knew. “It doesn’t sound like she’s lying about that.”
“She’s a woman,” Phillip said. “Lying is what they do.”
“You should get a woman in your life, Phillip,” Victor said idly. “And then, we might be inclined to listen to you.”
Victor was studying Meredith. “Sounds very foolish of you, you know,” he said. “To run away like that. In those little slippers too. If you had run into the wrong crowd, they might not have treated you as leniently as we do.”
She squeaked. Heath frowned.
Heath studied her as well, more closely this time. He could see the dried tears on her cheeks, corroborating her story. But she could very well be an easy crier, a useful tactic to lie her way out of these situations. The smart thing to do would be to steal her things. To strip her off all the expensive jewelry he saw she was wearing. The others, he knew, were eyeing her just as closely.
But instead, he said, “I’ll take her with me.”
Victor looked at her, lifting a brow. “Will you now.”
Meredith’s head shot up at that. She took a step forward, her eyes as wide as saucers, but then she took a step back. “No!” Heath lifted a brow. Her brows furrowed. “I do not want to go back. I will not go back. Please.”
“Do you think you will stay here, then?” Victor asked, his tone a little amused.
She blanched at those words. Heath watched her eyes roam the room before lowering again. She was clearly just realizing the mess of a place she was in.
Heath sighed inwardly. He knew he shouldn’t say these next words, but he couldn’t’ stop himself. He felt an odd sense of protectiveness come over him, something he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“She can stay with me,” he declared.
“Nonsense!” Phillip protested instantly, but Heath ignored him.
“I do not mind,” he went on. “Even if she came in here on accident, there is no guarantee that she did not overhear us speaking. She may very well know things that she shouldn’t. Am I right?”
He directed the question at her. She had been staring at him as he spoke, still awed by the sight of him, but when his eyes fell on her, she looked away. Slowly, she nodded.
“If I take her,” he went on. “I can keep her from saying anything she shouldn’t.”
He watched Victor mull it over . Heath didn’t think Victor would say no to the proposal but it took him a few moments to shrug and
say, “Go ahead then. No one is stopping you.”
“I am!” Phillip stepped forward. His face was red, angry. “This is a terrible idea, Heath.”
“Do you think?” Heath asked noncommittally.
“You cannot take her with you. I think we should simply get rid of her.” Phillip dragged his gaze down Meredith and she shivered.
“Please.” To Heath’s surprise, she stepped forward, close enough for him to see the streaks of dirt on her face where she had unknowingly mixed it with her tears. “Please, take me with you. I do not want to go back there.”
Captive to the Kiss of a Wicked Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 3
