Bedford Street Brigade 02 - Love Unbidden (10 page)

Every day was a living hell.

Being with her, yet pretending that he didn’t notice her, that he wasn’t fascinated with her drove him to distraction. Watching her every move, her every expression, her every false smile was driving him mad. Sitting in the same room with her, eating at the same table, walking side by side was a torture greater than he could bear. And every day the torment continued. She was the first to join him at the breakfast table each morning.

It had been more than two weeks since they’d arrived at Redwood Manor. The Dowager Countess of Plainsworth and the Dowager Viscountess of Shillingsham had arrived the following afternoon as expected. What wasn’t expected, was the guard Lord Stepmoore, with Mack Wallace’s help, no doubt, had sent with them—fellow Brigade investigator, Roarke Livingston.

Briggs had never been happier to see anyone in his life. Maybe Roarke would help him take his mind off of Polly Jordan. Maybe Roarke would help him forget the hurtful things he’d said to her. His cruel words.

His lies.

“What are the plans this morning?” Roarke said when they dismounted after they’d ridden the perimeter of Redwood Manor to make sure that everything was secure.

“The ladies need to go for a walk. They need to get out of the house and enjoy this fine morning.”

Roarke laughed. “You mean Lady Pauline needs to get out of the house and enjoy this fine morning.”

“Which she does,” Briggs countered. “She spends too much time indoors. She’s losing her color.”

“You would notice.”

Briggs stopped. “What do you mean by that?”

“Just that you seem inordinately interested in the lady.”

“I’ve been hired to protect her. Of course I’m interested in her. It would hardly be to my advantage to protect her from an assassin’s bullet, yet have her fall ill because she was kept indoors too much.”

“Is that all there is, Briggs?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t be like that. I’ve got eyes in my head. It doesn’t take a mind reader to know the two of you are attracted to each other.”

“We’re not attracted to each other. We can’t be attracted to each other. She’s the daughter of an earl. I’m the son of a tenant farmer.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that matters to the lady.”

“Well, it has to. It doesn’t matter how we might feel about each other. Nothing can develop between us. I’ll lose everything if it does.” Briggs slapped his hand against his thigh. “Now, get something to eat and make another round. I’m worried about the east border. We might have to post another guard there. There are more places for someone to sneak through than I realized.”

Roarke nodded, then went inside the house.

Briggs stayed outside for a few minutes to give himself time to compose himself. He was being too sensitive. He knew he was. But where Lady Pauline was concerned, he couldn’t help himself. She’d changed, and it was his fault.

The smile that lit up the room when he first met her wasn’t there any longer. Oh, she still smiled. In fact, there was something that resembled a smile pasted on her face every hour of the day. But it was the most insincere smile imaginable. She wore it like a puppet wears the expression painted on its wooden face. A smile that never slips, or wavers. Or allows anyone to notice that the person wearing it is not really happy.

The sparkle in her eyes was gone. When he’d first glimpsed her across the room the night of Mack’s dinner, her eyes had sparkled with a noticeable zeal and enthusiasm for life. That radiance was no longer evident. All that remained was a dull reminder of the glimmer that had once glowed with dazzling brilliance. And he was the person who had stolen that life from her smile and her eyes.

Briggs wondered if her aunts noticed it, too. But doubted it. They were too occupied enjoying each other’s company and discussing the latest society gossip to take note of the unhappy Lady Pauline. In their defense though, he had to admit that they were exemplary chaperones. Each lady took her job with the utmost seriousness. Lady Pauline was never out of their sight.

That didn’t mean that they included her in their conversations, or their activities. If Lady Pauline went to the library, they accompanied her. While she quietly read, the two elderly dowagers visited. If Lady Pauline indicated she wanted to take a walk, Briggs of course accompanied them. He wouldn’t allow them out of the house without him.

And so it was that every day Lady Pauline distanced herself from what was going on around her. So far removed that Briggs was getting worried.

“You are very quiet, my lady,” he said as they walked on the paths that wound through the massive garden behind Redwood Manor.

“Am I?”

“Yes. Are you worried for your safety?”

She stopped mid stride and turned to face him. “With you to protect me, Mr. Murdock? How could I be, knowing how seriously you take your job?”

Briggs felt the barb of her words strike at his heart. “I do take my job seriously, my lady.”

“I know you do, sir. I imagine, however, that this isn’t the exciting case you’re used to solving. I doubt you thought you’d be forced to accompany me on tedious walks around the park.”

“I have not been forced to do anything I have not found pleasure in doing. Nor have our walks been tedious.”

“Ever the diplomat, aren’t you, Mr. Murdock?”

Without waiting for him, she continued down the path. He caught up with her quickly enough. “I know these last three weeks have not been easy for you, Lady—”

She spun to face him. “No, they haven’t, Mr. Murdock. They’ve been bloody horrible.”

She turned away again and continued down the path. He caught up with her again. “Is there anything I can do to make them more pleasant?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said without stopping or turning to face him. “You can go back to London and leave Mr. Livingston here to protect me.”

He followed, making sure to keep a few steps behind. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, my lady.”

“Why? Are you afraid you will not be paid your very generous wage? Don’t worry, Mr. Murdock. I’ll make sure father pays you what you agreed on. And more.”

“I’m sorry, but I have to refuse.”

She marched on. “Why?”

“Because I have always seen every assignment through to its completion. I refuse to let you be my first.”

She slapped her fist against her skirt. “Oh, please. I’d love to have that distinction. At least there would be one reason for you to recall
having met me.”

Her words came back as forcefully as a slap across the face. “Enough, Polly!”

She stopped. Turned. Then glared at him with the angriest, most contemptible expression he’d ever seen. One he never expected to see on her face.

“How dare you!”

She took one, then two steps in his direction.

“How dare you call me Polly!” She took another angry step toward him. “No one calls me Polly! My father doesn’t even call me Polly.” She clenched her hands into tight fists. “How dare you ref
er to me in such a familiar manner.”

“I dare because that’s how I think of you.” He clasped his hands around her upper arms and held her. “I dare because you’ve been Polly to me since the night we met.” He pulled her closer so she was forced to lift her chin and look at him. “I dare because Polly is the only name that fits you.”

Then he did the dumbest, most irresponsible, most careless thing he could imagine doing. He pulled her to him, lowered his head, and kissed her.

His kiss contained all the anger and frustration that had been building inside him since the moment he’d discovered who her father was. Her kiss contained all the hurt and righteous indignation that had been building inside her since he’d told her she meant nothing more to him than the money her father promised to pay him.

He deepened his kiss, wishing he could erase all the hurt he’d caused her. He moved his lips over hers, hoping he could show her how deeply she affected him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him. He didn’t know what he wanted her to understand. What he wanted to show her. Give her. Tell her. Because he could never be anything to her. He could never mean anything to her.

A bolt of reality shot through him with the force of a battering ram. What the hell was he doing?

With an abruptness he couldn’t control, he lifted his mouth from hers as if her lips had burned him.

Their ragged gasps
hovered in the country air. His chest heaved as violently as hers did. His heart thundered violently enough that he knew she could hear it beating beneath her ear. Feel it beating against her cheek that rested against his chest.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered as he held her. “What the bloody hell have I done?” He sucked in a deep breath. “Polly, I—”

She stepped out of his arms. In a swift move, she held up her hand to silence him. “Don’t! Don’t. Say. One. Word. Don’t you dare!” Then she turned her back on him and walked away.

Briggs watched her walk down the path that led into the garden and he let her go. Kissing her had been a monumental mistake.

He took one step toward her, and another. Then stopped. What could he say to undo the damage he’d done? What words would erase the hurt he’d caused?

“Briggs!”

Briggs stopped short when he heard Roarke holler in the distance. He turned when he heard him running toward him.

“Where are Lady Pauline and the dowagers?”

“Lady Plainsworth and Lady Shillingham stopped a ways back. Lady Pauline is up ahead.”

“You go after Lady Pauline. I’ll get the dowagers. I found tracks. Someone broke through the guard line. I lost them. But they’re close.”

Briggs ran toward Polly before Roarke finished his sentence. If something happened to her it would be his fault.

He raced down the path she’d taken. He didn’t
call out. He didn’t dare. He couldn’t risk alerting anyone as to where she might be.

She wasn’t down the first path he took and he doubled back to search a second. His heart raced faster in his chest. He’d never battled such raw, uncontrollable fear in his life. Never been consumed by such overwhelming terror as was devouring him now.

He stared down the path before him, praying that he’d see her there. But the path was empty.

He turned, not knowing where to search next, and he saw her.

She’d stepped off the path and stood still as a marble statue as she stared out across a small pool of water.

The relief he felt was unimaginable. He raced toward her, anxious to get to her before something happened.

She turned to face him before he reached her and he knew from the cold expression on her face she wasn’t pleased to see him. He also knew she wasn’t in any frame of mind to cooperate. He used the only words he hoped would break through her hostility.

“They’ve found you. You’re in danger.”

Her expression changed on a breath. Briggs was thankful she didn’t argue, but turned to follow him.

That’s when he saw it. The glint of something to his right. A slight movement of something…someone, in the bushes. Realization struck him that it was too late to escape.

Briggs pulled Polly to him and pushed her to the ground. He heard the muffled pop of gunfire behind him. Felt the fiery sting of a bullet tear his flesh. Knew he was wounded enough to lose consciousness if he gave in to the intense pain. But he couldn’t. Polly wouldn’t be safe if he did.

“Stay down,” he whispered. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.”

A wave of relief washed over him. “In my pocket,” he rasped. “My pistol. Can you reach it?”

“I think so.”

He felt her reach into his pocket and pull out his pistol. He took it in his hand, but had trouble supporting it. The bullet had entered his flesh on his shoulder. His body screamed in pain with every move.

“Don’t get up no matter what happens.”

He pushed her down flat against the ground, then rolled to his uninjured side. The gunman chose that moment to lift his pistol to take another shot at them.

Briggs fired and the man yelled.

“Briggs!” Roarke yelled.

Briggs could hear his fellow investigator race toward him. “I’m here.”

“Are you all right?” Roarke asked as he ran past them.

“Good enough.”

Briggs tried to get to his feet but couldn’t manage. He lay back down on the grass beside Polly. “You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asked her.

“No.” She sat up and looked down on him. “Thanks to you.”

He tried to smile but wasn’t sure he managed. Thankfully he heard the clatter of footsteps racing down the path from the house. “Is someone coming to help?” he asked.

“Yes, several of the staff.”

“Good.”

“Briggs?” she asked. There was a frown on her face now. “What’s wrong?”

He felt her trembling fingertips touch his forehead, then the side of his face. She placed her hand beneath his jacket to help him sit. He struggled to keep the moan from escaping, but wasn’t able to.