Bedford Street Brigade 02 - Love Unbidden (21 page)

Hugh stood at the side of the bed and watched as she slept. During the past three days, she’d thrown off her covers when her fever raged, then shivered uncontrollably when chills overtook her.

Several times during the past three days he feared she might not survive, but she was still alive. He was more hopeful today than he’d been yesterday. She didn’t seem as restless as she’d been earlier.

More than once he’d tried to force her to take nourishment, but she’d refused. The one time he had gotten a bit of broth into her mouth, she’d choked, then spit it back up. Since then, he’d only tried to get her to drink water or tea.

“How’s the lass doing?” Mrs. Grady asked when she entered the room.

Hugh tucked the covers beneath her chin. “About the same, although for a while I had my doubts she’d be here this morning.”

“I thought the same,” she said placing a large platter of eggs and bacon and toasted bread on a table beside him. “There’s warm broth in that pot in case she wakes enough that you can get something down her.”

“I’ll try, but she didn’t keep down anything I gave her earlier long enough for it to do any good.”

When Mrs. Grady finished arranging the food she’d brought up, she turned to leave. “The lass is lucky you found her when you did,” she said before she opened the door. “Call if you need anything.”

With a soft push, the door closed and Hugh was left alone with Lady Lorna Willis.

He watched her while he ate the food Mrs. Grady brought him. He still couldn’t believe that she’d been brave enough to venture this far from London alone. The bag she had with her sat in the corner. Mrs. Grady had laundered the single change of clothes it contained. Other than a few intimate items, there was nothing of any value: a brush to tame her hair; a small oval portrait of what appeared to be her mother and father. And a small pistol. But there was nothing valuable. No money. No jewels. Nothing she could pawn to provide her with food to eat, or a night’s lodging.

When Hugh finished his meal he rinsed a cloth in the fresh water on the bedside stand, and placed it on her forehead. The moment the cool cloth came in contact with her fevered flesh, she jerked beneath him. Her eyes opened wide and she looked at him with a startled expression. Before he could react, she fought to push him away from her.

“No!” she cried.

Her voice was raspy and hoarse, but the terror he heard in that one word clutched at his heart. He pinned her arms at her sides and held her.

“Don’t worry, Lorna. You’re safe. No one will hurt you.”

She thrashed beneath him, struggling to break his hold.

Whether she realized what she was doing, or was reacting out of the survival instincts that had gotten her this far, he wasn’t sure. But she exhibited an amazing amount of strength in her efforts to escape.

“No! Don’t…touch…me!”

“I won’t hurt you. I knew your father. He wanted me to find you.”

She stilled. “Papa?” Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Papa. Help me. Please, help me.”

Hugh sat on the bed and held her hands in his. “I’m here to help you, Lorna.”

She calmed. “I’m so frightened, Papa.”

Hugh swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I know you are. But I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

“Don’t leave me again, Papa. Promise?”

Hugh brushed the backs of his fingers down her damp cheek. “I promise, Lorna.”

Her breathing slowed. Finally she released a shuddering sigh, then closed her eyes and slept.

. . .

Lorna woke in stages. Even though she didn’t see him, she knew he was here. He’d been here since she’d gotten ill.

She opened her eyes, then closed them again. She knew he was near. His male presence was more powerful than any man she’d ever been around. She felt it in his touch, heard it in his voice, and saw it in the few glimpses she had of him.

She thought of the endless hours he’d spent caring for her. The intimate acts he’d helped her perform. Her cheeks turned hot with embarrassment. She wasn’t sure she could face him. But she knew she didn’t have that choice.

She opened her eyes again and searched the room. Her breath caught when she found him.

He stood by the window, tall and commanding. His broad shoulders and magnificent form filled the opening and blocked the sunlight from filtering into the room.

She evaluated the outline of his physique. His long, muscled legs were firmly planted in a wide stance, and he held one outstretched hand braced against the window frame. His pose pulled the fabric of his white lawn shirt tight across his broad shoulders. It was evident that he was powerfully built, more exquisitely formed than any male of her acquaintance.

The sleeves of his shirt were rolled midway to his elbows, his muscled forearms exposed enough for her to notice a shadow of dark hair.

His waistcoat hung over the back of the chair along with his excellently tailored jacket. He wore only a shirt and slacks. His shirt hung open at the neck, exposing enough of his chest that she could see a dark patch of hair in the V below his neck.

An unfamiliar stirring shifted inside her chest. She wasn’t sure what it was, since she’d never experienced such a sensation before. She told herself that no doubt it was the fact that she was alone in a room with a stranger while wearing nothing more than a thin night robe.

She lifted her eyes to study more of him. That’s when her gaze locked with his and she realized he’d been watching her.

“I’m glad to see you’re awake,” he said as he stepped closer to the bed. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yes. Please.”

Lorna hated that her voice sounded so weak. Hated more that saying those few words took such effort.

He poured some water into a glass and held it to her lips. She drank two swallows, then coughed. The water spewed from her mouth and he pressed a dry cloth to her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she gasped for air.

“Don’t be.” He sat in the chair beside the bed. “I’m glad you’re awake enough to drink. I was afraid you’d decided to sleep until spring.”

“How long have I been ill?”

He smiled and that strange knot inside her chest shifted again. This time the shift resembled a jolt.

“Five days. How much do you remember before that?”

Lorna thought. “I remember walking. And being cold.” She closed her eyes. “And hungry.”

A wave of panic crashed into her. She was running away from her cousin. She stared at the stranger. He knew who she was. He’d called her by name. Her cousin must have hired him to find her.

She made an attempt to rise from the bed, but she was too weak to lift even an arm. And even if she could have found the strength to rise, he was at the bed before she could shift beneath the covers.

“Lie still. I won’t harm you.”

Lorna didn’t believe him. She couldn’t. “Of course you won’t. Killing me now would ruin everything.”

. . .

Hugh sat in the chair at her bedside with his legs stretched out before him. He was glad Mrs. Grady had brought a tankard of ale when she’d come with a tray. He needed it.

What the bloody hell did she mean when she said that killing her now would ruin everything? Why on earth would she think her life was in danger?

He lifted the tankard to his lips and took another swallow as Lady Lorna shifted beneath the covers. She was waking and he was glad. Maybe she’d be stronger now than she’d been earlier. Her fever had broken early in the day, and he’d managed to get a few swallows of water down her without her spitting them back up. But she hadn’t stayed alert enough to answer any questions. Hopefully, she would this time.

“Are you still here?” he heard her whisper.

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“I hoped you were only a dream…and would be gone when I woke.”

Hugh rose to light another lamp. He set it on the table beside her bed, then poured some water into a glass. “Here, drink this.”

He lifted her to a sitting position and let her drink from the glass. “Are you strong enough to sit for a while? You need to eat some of the broth Mrs. Grady brought up earlier. You need the nourishment.”

“Is that her name? Mrs. Grady?”

“Yes. She and her husband own the Ale and Inn.”

Hugh dipped a spoon into the broth and brought it to her mouth. She ate it, but winced when she swallowed. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes. My throat just isn’t used to having to work.”

He fed her another spoonful. “No, I don’t imagine it is.”

He fed her another spoonful of broth, then another. On the fifth spoonful, she shook her head and turned away from him.

“Please, tell Mrs. Grady that was very good. I’m just not hungry.”

“I’ll tell her. She’ll be glad to know you ate at least a little.” Hugh set the bowl back on the table and lowered her back into bed. When she was settled, he returned to his chair.

She closed her eyes, but he knew she wasn’t sleeping. Her question confirmed it.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“My name’s Hugh Baxter.”

“Did my cousin hire you to find me?”

“Yes. I’m an investigator with the Bedford Street Brigade, and Lord Chillbrooke hired us to find you and bring you safely back to London.”

“Well, you found me. But I have no intention of returning with you.”

“Your cousin said that might be your reaction.”

She sighed. “I’m sure he did.”

They were silent for several moments, then Hugh asked the question he’d waited all afternoon to ask. “What did you mean when you said that killing you now would ruin everything?”

She shifted beneath the covers, then opened her eyes. “What reason did my cousin give for hiring you to find me?”

“He was concerned over your safety, of course. And he explained that you were about to marry, but got cold feet at the last minute and bolted. Your disappearance caused quite a scandal as well as an embarrassment to your fiancé.”

She turned her head on the pillow and focused her gaze on him. “Yes, I imagine it did.”

“If it will ease your mind, your cousin mentioned that the man you were to marry has agreed to forgive your indiscretion and proceed with the wedding.”

A smile crossed her face. “Yes, the Marquess of Burlingdon is known for his kind disposition.” She hesitated, then asked, “Did my cousin explain why it was so important to return me to his loving arms as quickly as possible?”

“He only mentioned that the sooner you were married the faster the gossip would shift to some other scandal.”

“And, of course, he offered you a bonus if you found me and brought me back before…?”

“Before February twentieth.”

“Yes, that would be in plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what?”

“Before my twenty-first birthday.”

Hugh studied her. Her complexion still lacked color, and she seemed to have a difficult time keeping her eyes open. But she possessed an inner strength he found impressive.

“Did my cousin mention why he and Lord Burlingdon consider me such a valuable commodity?”

“No, that was none of my concern.”

“Oh, Mr. Baxter, my worth is everyone’s concern.”

Hugh waited for Lady Lorna to explain herself. When she did, her words stole the air from his lungs.

She closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. “According to my solicitor, my worth to the fortunate man who weds me will be somewhere around three hundred thousand pounds.”

Hugh remained silent for several tense moments. He wanted to ask her to repeat what she’d said, but knew he’d heard her correctly. She was worth a bloody fortune.

He waited until she opened her eyes before he asked the first of many questions he wanted to ask. “I think you need to fill in some details for me. Such as: If you’re worth that much, why did you offer to do kitchen work to pay for food? Why aren’t you traveling by carriage? Why are you alone and without a chaperone?”

There were several other questions he wanted to ask, but he stopped to let her answer these.

“My father was the late Earl of Chillbrooke. I don’t know if you were acquainted with him…” She paused.

“Actually,” Hugh said, “I was. My father had several business dealings with your father. He greatly admired your father’s business acumen and advice.” When a frown deepened her forehead, Hugh bid her to continue. He didn’t want to veer away from her explanation with talk of himself and his family. “Please, continue.”

“Since my father never remarried after my mother’s death, he knew that when he died, his title and entailed property would go to my cousin, Randolph, the current Earl of Chillbrooke.”

“Did this please him?”

She hesitated before answering. “No. For most of his adult life, Randolph lived as if he’d already come into possession of Father’s wealth. Father covered Randolph’s gambling debts and excess spending on more than one occasion. Which was the reason Father doubted Randolph would provide for me when he was gone.”

“So he left you a large part of his fortune.”

She shook her head. “Father left me his entire fortune.”

Hugh sat back in his chair. “I see.”

“Of course, I can’t touch the money until I turn twenty-one, but I don’t think Father expected that he wouldn’t live to see me reach my majority.”

“What happened to your Father? How did he die?”

“If you’re asking to make sure Randolph didn’t have anything to do with Father’s death, I am sure he didn’t. Father complained of not feeling well one evening, and on his way up the stairs, he stopped and clutched his chest, then collapsed. The doctor said it was his heart. It gave out on him. Randolph wasn’t even in London at the time.”

Lady Lorna’s eyes turned wet and Hugh handed her a dry cloth. He knew she needed time, so he poured some water into a glass, then placed his arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her so she could drink.

“Thank you,” she whispered when she finished.

Hugh lowered her again then returned to his chair.

“Randolph was furious when he discovered all the entailed properties were his, but the fortune he assumed would come with them was mine. He is desperate to get his hands on it. Which is the reason he is determined to see me married to Burlingdon.”

“Because your fortune will go to Lord Burlingdon when you marry?”

“Yes. The law has no regard for females when it comes to inheritances. It doesn’t consider women intelligent enough to manage either property or finances.”

“But you know differently?”

“I am my father’s daughter, Mr. Baxter. I took lessons from one of England’s finest businessmen.”

Hugh let his smile answer her point. “I take it you weren’t agreeable to marrying Lord Burlingdon.”

“I am not agreeable to marrying anyone. I have been courted by countless suitors, all of whom professed to love me—but didn’t. They only wanted to marry the money they knew came with me. One only has to look at me to realize I am not courted for my beauty. And please, don’t tell me you disagree. Every mirror in my house proves my point. I decided long ago that I would not marry.”

“Was Lord Burlingdon one of your suitors?”

Lady Lorna breathed a deep sigh. Hugh knew she was tiring, but he needed to hear everything. Knowing every detail was the only way he could determine what steps to take.

“No, he was never a suitor. Burlingdon is in love with Clarise Spalding, the Earl of Renfrow’s daughter. Burlingdon and my cousin are friends. Close friends.”

Hugh watched the color drain from her face and recognized a hint of the fear he’d seen before. Something terrified her, and it wasn’t just the thought of marrying her cousin’s friend.

“Everyone knows that Burlingdon and Clarise are in love and want
to marry, but Lord Renfrow has refused Burlingdon’s suit because he is penniless. Marrying me would solve that problem.”

Hugh relaxed back in his chair. He couldn’t quite follow what she was telling him. “I can see where marrying you will solve Lord Burlingdon’s financial difficulties, but that wouldn’t enable him to marry the woman he loves. I also can’t understand why your brother would agree to the marriage. On your marriage, your dowry would go to your husband, and Lord Chillbrooke would lose any possibility of gaining any part of the three hundred thousand pounds. Unless, of course, he and Lord Burlingdon have entered into an agreement whereby they each receive a share of your inheritance.”

“Yes, there’s an agreement.” Lady Lorna closed her eyes and took several unsteady breaths. “My cousin and Lord Burlingdon have agreed to share my inheritance equally. Lord Burlingdon will receive seventy-five thousand pounds on the day of our marriage, and another seventy-five thousand pounds on the day of my death.”

“The day of your death? But—” Hugh asked, then stopped short. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, unable to keep the words from escaping. He leaned forward in his chair. “How do you know this?”

“I overheard my cousin and Burlingdon discuss the details.” Her face paled even more and she turned away from him. “In Burlingdon’s defense, he refused my cousin’s plan at first. He didn’t want anything to do with my…murder.” She swiped at a tear that trickled down the side of her face. “But Randolph said he’d take care of that detail. All Burlingdon had to do was marry me.”

Hugh pushed himself to his feet and walked to the window. He pulled back one corner of the drapes and stared out at the stark winter countryside. “Does your cousin know you’re aware of his plan?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Hugh turned to face her. “Where in Scotland were you headed?”

“Edinburg. My mother had a cousin who lived there. She’s deceased, but I hoped there were still relatives there who would put me up for a while. I just need to stay hidden until after I turn twenty-one.”

“When will that be?”

“In a month. On the twenty-fourth of February.”

Hugh looked out of the window again. Snow was starting to fall. He was glad he and Lady Lorna were inside where it was warm.

“Rest now. I’ll send Mrs. Grady up. She said she’d help you wash and change into something clean.”

Hugh walked to the door and turned the knob. Her voice stopped him. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not going to take you back so they can kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He heard her deep sigh all the way across the room. “Yes, that’s what I’m asking.”

“You have my promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

And Hugh opened the door and left her. Except he couldn’t forget the promise he made her. He meant to keep her safe.

. . .

A week passed since she’d told him that her cousin wanted her dead, and Lorna concentrated on getting stronger each day. She’d eaten even when she wasn’t hungry, and made more than one attempt to get out of bed on her own.

Although Hugh Baxter had made it clear that she risked falling if she got out of bed by herself, how could she build her strength if she didn’t use the muscles of her arms and legs? She had to get stronger if she intended to continue on to Scotland—which she did.

His routine each morning was to take the breakfast tray to the kitchen, then see to his horse. Once he left the room she could get out of bed without him knowing. And today she intended to see how many times she could walk across the room before she had to rest.

She waited for Mr. Baxter’s footsteps to grow fainter as he made his way down the stairs, then she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

She was amazed at how much easier it was to stand on her feet today compared to how difficult it had been at the beginning of the week. She smiled as she took her first unassisted step. It wouldn’t be long now and she’d be able to leave. If only she could make her escape without him knowing.

She needed at least an hour’s head start to stand any chance of getting away from him. The fact that he’d followed her here after all the care she’d taken to hide her trail was evidence of how good he was at tracking someone who didn’t want to be found.

She walked across the room and looked out the window. She only had to watch a few seconds before she saw him walk from the inn to the stable. The fact that he took such good care of his horse worked to her advantage. And she couldn’t waste one minute of the time she had to herself.

Lorna walked from one side of the room to the other, checking each time she passed the window to make sure he wasn’t returning. She couldn’t miss his broad shoulders and towering height as he walked from the barn to the inn. The long, muscular length of his legs ate up the ground in a fraction of the time it took most other men to cover that same distance. She couldn’t help but recognize him. And if by some chance she did, her body would tell her he was approaching. For some reason she didn’t understand, an instinct inside her became instantly alert whenever he entered the room.

She didn’t know why he affected her like he did. Maybe it was the way he’d cared for her. Or perhaps it was the co
nviction of his promise to protect her. Not that she could allow herself to trust him that completely. She couldn’t trust anyone but herself for seventeen more days. She wouldn’t be safe until she turned twenty-one.

She continued from one side of the room to the other, back and forth, faster and faster. When her forehead dampened with perspiration, she picked up a cloth from the bedside table and wiped it away. She was pushing herself harder today than she’d pushed herself before, but she was running out of time to build up her strength. She had to take advantage of every free minute she had.

She walked to the window and looked down. Still no sign of him. She turned to make one more turn around the room, but stopped when the door opened and he entered the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, closing the distance between them.

“I needed…”

Lorna struggled to find the words to say, but the room suddenly shifted around her. She reached out to steady herself against the nearest piece of furniture but there wasn’t anything close enough to help her. Just when the floor seemed to give out from beneath her feet, his strong arms wrapped around her.

“You little fool,” he whispered as he lifted her into his arms. “You’re freezing cold.”

Without releasing his grip, he grabbed a cover from the bed and carried her across the room. When he reached a chair close to the fire in the grate, he sat down and wrapped the blanket around her.

“What did you think you were doing?” he asked, taking the cloth still in her hands and dabbing at her forehead.

“I n…needed to g…g…get out of b…bed,” she chattered. “I wasn’t c…cold until just n…now.”

He wrapped the covers closer around her. “You’ll be lucky if you don’t get sick again.”

“I won’t,” she assured him. “I’ll be f…fine as soon as I g…get warm.”

“You are the bravest little fool I’ve ever met.” He tucked the quilt beneath her chin.

His arms held her more securely and she snuggled closer to him.
The heat radiating from his body felt wonderful and she buried her face against his chest and breathed a sigh of contentment.

Being held in his arms awakened emotions she only dreamed of ever experiencing. For a few moments, she allowed herself to imagine that he was truly concerned for her, that he’d lifted her in his arms because he wanted her there.

Her blood warmed as it rushed through her veins. She relaxed against him and for as long as he held her, she let herself pretend that she could rely on Hugh Baxter to keep her safe. She closed her eyes and imagined that Hugh Baxter was the one man on earth who could care for her, and not the money that came with her. She tilted her face upward and opened her eyes.

Her gaze met his. Locked with his.

The look in his eyes held an emotion she couldn’t explain: wonder, confusion, amazement, bewilderment.

“Ah, hell,” he whispered.

Then he lowered his head—and kissed her.