The Charmer (21 page)

Stupid, vain woman. It had been madness to think she might have any use in this world besides being a means to an end.

She caressed his face and battled an anguish that threatened to unhinge her. He had only tried to give her friendship and protection, and now he might die because of her.

Just like Brandon.

“We cannot leave him here,” she said. “The damp will do more harm than the blows. Two of you find something firm to put him on. Take down a door if you have to. Charles, send to Dincaster House for Colin Burchard, and get a physician here at once.”

They moved him to one of the footmen's chambers on the lower level. With Charles's help she stripped off his clothes. Horrible bruises covered his chest and stomach, as if he had neglected to defend himself. His breath rasped lowly and she worried that they had worsened his injuries by lifting him.

Weeping at her helplessness, she washed the blood from his head and placed cold towels on the worst of his blows and prayed desperately that he had not been mortally harmed.

Colin arrived alongside the physician. So did Daniel St. John.

“Do not worry. St. John knows how to keep secrets,” Colin reassured her. “We were about to ride out to Hampstead when your servant came for me.”

“Adrian and I have an old friendship, and I am in his debt, Your Grace,” St. John said. “I welcome the chance to aid him, if you will permit it.”

She did not really care who knew what now. She only cared about Adrian.

They watched the initial examination and heard the ambiguous description of Adrian's wounds. The physician then ordered everyone but Charles from the chamber.

Colin and St. John brought Sophia up to the library. Colin poured her some sherry. The little crystal glass seemed terribly heavy in her hand.

“Drink it. You look ready to swoon.”

“It is my fault,” she said. “He was coming here. Someone must have followed him, or been waiting.”

“It may have only been a thief.”

She withdrew the letter from where she had tucked it away. “This was near the door.”

Colin read the missive. His face hardened when he got to the part that specifically spoke of Adrian as a Tory pawn and warned that her intimacy with him would not be tolerated.

“I will kill this man when I find him,” Colin said.

“He knows about us. He must have been following Adrian, or watching this house. When Adrian arrived last night, he must have been hiding and overcame him.”

“No one follows Adrian without his realizing it, and no one hides from him either,” St. John said. He spoke with authority, as if he knew Adrian's abilities in this area very well. “More likely this letter was being left, and Adrian chanced upon the situation. This was hardly written in the dead of night while Adrian lay on the ground.”

“I do not see that it matters how it happened. He is lying below, terribly battered. Maybe dying. Because of me.”

“Do not blame yourself,” St. John said gently. “It would wound him even more to know that you did. If he confronted those men, it was his choice. The only blame here lies with the animals who would do that to a man after he was down.”

It took her a moment to hear him through the guilt fogging her perceptions. “Men?”

“There had to be at least two. One man could never succeed in rendering Adrian defenseless.”

They stayed with her until the physician came up to make his report.

“Two broken ribs, undoubtedly a concussion, and possibly some internal bleeding,” the man said while he adjusted his frock coat. “It should be worse. He should be dead. I gave the servants instructions for his care.”

Colin's eyes asked the question that Sophia could not bring herself to voice.

The physician flipped his hand in the air. “Impossible to say. If an organ was badly damaged . . . but my impression is that he will recover.”

A tentative relief flooded her, but the guilt still rippled, a current waiting to sweep her away.

“I brought him around. He asked for you, Your Grace.”

She ran out of the room while Colin began a quiet explanation of the need for discretion.

Charles slipped out of the chamber as soon as Sophia entered. Adrian's smile of greeting was a valiant, incomplete effort.

She sat in a chair beside the bed and took his hand in hers. “The physician thinks that you will be well soon.”

“It is not my first fight, so I can assess the damage. A few days and I will be up and about.”

She ventured a light caress on his face. “Are you in pain?”

“My chest is bound so tightly that I can barely breathe, but aside from that it isn't bad.” He glanced down her body. “They pulled you out of bed. You look beautiful. Very provocative. I feel better already.”

Tears puddled in her eyes. It was such a typically Adrian thing to say. It sounded so normal, and so out of place in the mood of dread that had fallen on the house.

His attempt at levity had the opposite effect. The fear and guilt rose so quickly that she could not control them. Keeling forward, she buried his hand between her face and the bed and wept into it.

He spoke words of reassurance while the worst of it poured out of her. Eventually she managed to stifle the sobs with ragged breaths. She rubbed her tear-soaked face against the rough skin of his palm, grateful that he had not been taken from her.

Sliding his hand from beneath her head, he stroked her hair with the gentlest caresses. Calmed by the soothing tranquility of that hand, she told him about the letter.

“St. John is right,” he said. “No one laid in wait for me. My untimely arrival caused this. And my carelessness. I should have suspected another man might be there, keeping watch.”

“Your friendship with me caused it. The letter is very explicit. He threatens to remove you and your influence. He found the chance last night and tried to kill you. He may have only failed to do so because in the dark he did not know you still breathed. Next time—”

“There will be no next time. I will be on my guard.”

She gritted her teeth and clutched the bed cloths beneath her cheek. She struggled for the strength to do what needed to be done.

Regret tore and burned her heart. She had been given a few weeks of happiness, but had not been brave enough to use them very well. How would she manage without him? How would she live with that void again?

How like you to think only about yourself. It has always been like that.
The condemnation pierced her memory. Alistair's words? No. Gerald's.

She could do this. For Adrian she could do it.

Her voice came out on shaking, broken breaths. “I cannot risk you. I could not live with the guilt if I caused more harm. I think that we—”

“No.”

She rose up on her arms and looked at him. His severe expression had nothing to do with pain.

“He wants to kill you.”

“Then he missed his only chance. We do not end it because of this. I will not accept that.”

She verged on weeping again. “Adrian, think . . .”

“No.” He had that look in his eyes.
This is what will happen. This is how it will be.

She had never been able to defeat that determination. She suspected that no one else had either.

He took her hand and pulled her forward. “Now, sit here with me. I may as well enjoy my infirmity by having you dote on me.”

She found a spot up near the bed board. Bent around him, half-reclining, she nestled his head gently with her breasts and stomach. Stroking his brow, she tried to give back some of the comfort that she so frequently took from him.

chapter
21

T
he evening was a success?” Adrian asked. He lay propped up on his bed, still enduring the three weeks of immobile boredom to which the physician had condemned him.

Colin gestured to the hose and pumps and short breeches that he had worn to the coronation ball. “Except that we all looked like actors in a play from the last century. It really is time for Court dress to accommodate the changing fashions.”

Adrian laughed, which did not hurt nearly as much as it had a few days ago. He had been back in his chambers for two weeks now. As much as he had enjoyed Sophia's unflagging attention, he would not compromise her by remaining at her house. Nor would he risk her safety if Captain Brutus had decided to make “the Tory pawn” his new target.

“Your duchess was lovely,” Colin said. “Her pale grays were a welcome rest for the eyes in that sea of jewels and bright plumage. She could not dance, of course, so she sat in elegant nobility to the side. The other women looked like cyprians in comparison.”

Adrian shifted uncomfortably. His infirmity had begun to annoy, a sure sign that he was practically healed. “You personally escorted her home?”

“Of course. Before you ask, let me assure you that the men whom you hired to protect her continue to make their watch very discreetly.”

“That is more than I can say about the men whom
you
hired to protect
me.
”

“Damn it, how—”

“I saw them from the window. They lounge in the same spots all the time. I certainly hope that my men are being more professional.”

“You are supposed to be staying in bed, not spying out windows.”

“Call them off. I can take care of myself.”

“The men outside are not hired. They are friends of yours. Julian Hampton, Dante Duclairc, and some others. Even Laclere has taken watches. St. John is in command and told them to be visible, so it is obvious you have protection. I doubt that I
can
call them off. You are stuck with them.”

“Do they know what happened?”

“Your absence from society was noticed, so St. John and I came up with an excuse. We told a select few that you were waylaid in a dark street. Some of the chaps who suspect about your missions concluded that it must have been agents of some unfriendly government seeking revenge.”

“That is preposterous.”

“I cannot account for the vivid imagination of others. Your pride will have to swallow it. Besides, that pistol you have under the sheet will hardly help you if there is another fire.” He held out his hand. “Give it here. It could go off accidentally in your sleep.”

“I am never that careless.” All the same, Adrian extracted the pistol and gave it to his brother. Just then the sounds of a carriage stopping at the building blew in the window on the night breeze.

Colin peered out. “It is the duchess. No wonder she wanted to leave the ball early. She is still in her ball gown.”

“You should have told her there were men watching.”

“Hell, most of them were all at the docks that night. Besides, when it is really necessary, we all know how to be silent.”

Colin left the bedchamber, to let Sophia in. Adrian heard the mumble of their brief conversation and then the light
swish
of petticoats approaching through the sitting room.

His heart leaped at the sight of her. Her silvery gray gown of raw silk barely reflected the light and cast off the most subtle of shimmers. Three discreet plumes in dark gray adorned her hair, but he could imagine how she had looked in the ducal coronet. She wore no jewels, but the fashionably cut ball gown showed off her luminous, beautiful skin. The Duchess of Everdon had turned the restraint required by mourning into an opportunity to enhance her subtle beauty.

She bent to kiss him. He captured her head so it lasted a long time. They had only been apart two weeks, but he had missed her badly.

“You should not have come, but I am grateful that you did. Colin said that you made the other women look like courtesans on parade and I can see what he meant.”

“Dot advised me on the color and fabric. We think that I am sufficiently subdued, although there were many who questioned the appropriateness of my going at all. Attending the coronation was one thing, but showing up at the ball was quite another. The Queen greeted me warmly, however, so that was that.”

“The ladies were just jealous that even subdued you could outshine them.” He patted the bed beside him. “Sit here and tell me all about it.”

She perched carefully. He inhaled her perfume and the underlying scent of Sophia the woman. His body responded to her closeness in a way that announced he definitely had almost healed.

She described the night, focusing on amusing confrontations and detailed menus, with occasional digressions about outstanding jewels and gowns. The tale animated her. While he watched her bright expression and excited giggles, his heart kept rising with delight and falling with foreboding.

She had finally taken her elevated place as a duchess in her own right. She had held her own among the highest of the high, and she knew it. He could practically see her spirit assessing what it all meant to her life.

Suddenly he wanted her. Desperately.

“Of all of the women besides the royals, I was introduced first to the visiting princes and dignitaries, of course. I confess that I enjoyed taking precedence, after all of the critical scrutiny these last months. Was it too naughty of me?”

“Not at all.”

“I could not have pulled it off without Dot. She has spent the last week exhorting me to flex my power a little, and to use this opportunity to put certain ladies in their place.”

That certain other ladies had learned their place would be good for her. That she was beginning to learn her own worried him. Not that he would change things. He was glad that the day had been a triumph. Glad for her, that was. Not necessarily for himself.

She darted him a pointed glance. “There were dignitaries from all over. Several from the Ottoman Court in Turkey. They wore magnificent robes. When I met them I almost giggled, because all I could think of was my silly
seraglio
in Paris.”

“It must have been very colorful.”

“One spoke with me, beyond the usual polite exchange. I gather he is an important member of the Sultan's government. His English is fluent. He told me that he has been here several times before, on embassies.” She spoke casually while she drew little patterns on the back of his hand. Inflaming, torturous designs.

“That would be my father.”

“I saw a resemblance. The same eyes. I expected to have to worm it out of you.”

“About a dozen people at the ball knew. You may as well too.”

“Have you always known about him?”

He lined his fingertips up her bare arm, entranced by her skin's glow in the candlelight. “My mother told me when I turned eighteen. She should have done so earlier. I had only to look in the mirror to know that I was not the earl's. His coldness to me told the tale as well.”

He let his fingers trail higher and lower, enjoying the sensation of her skin. Its texture and warmth were acutely tangible tonight. It affected him as if he used his lips. “When my father learned that my mother carried me, he went to the earl and offered to buy her. Fifty horses, I think it was, and ten thousand pounds.”

“I can imagine Dincaster's reaction to that.”

“There was no way he would let my mother leave. The humiliation would have been insurmountable.”

“Did she want to go away?”

“I think she considered it, but Gavin and Colin would be lost to her. So she forged an agreement with the earl that guaranteed I would not be repudiated and that he would accept me as his own before the world and the law.”

His gaze and light caress traveled over her shoulder to the skin exposed by the flaring top of her gown. It felt so soothing to touch her. She subtly angled for more, like a cat encouraging petting.

“He did not really accept you and give you a father's love, did he? Even now he does not treat you like a son.”

“His generosity did not extend that far. In return for being allowed to keep me, my mother agreed to stay. And, of course, she gave up her lover.”

His touching had raised a lovely tint on her cheeks, but she kept to the subject. “Have you met him?”

“The first time I was in that part of the world, he made himself known to me. I have spent some time with him.”

“I am glad for that, Adrian. It saddens me to think of you as a boy, receiving only sneers from the earl.”

“It was not as with you and Alistair. Dincaster had his reason, and it was a good one. I will not say that I was not wounded, but knowing there was a reason made it easier.” She looked distracted and sad. He slid his hand along her back. “Now, I do not want to talk about it anymore. Actually, I discover that I do not want to talk at all.” He found the gown's fastenings beneath a flap of silk and released them.

She straightened with a start. “You are in no condition.”

“I am in superb condition. Astounding condition. In fact, I am astonished at the heroic proportion of my condition.”

“I am sure it is not advisable.”

He laughed. “It is damn close to being essential.”

He reached for her and she scooted away. “Heroic condition or not, you know it is not wise. Besides, I want to talk even if you do not. I need to tell you something.”

“Tell me while you get undressed.”

“After I tell you, you may not want me to stay.”

His playful mood drained away. “What is it, then?”

She bit her lower lip. “I have decided to leave London for a while.”

“If you are running away to France, I will stop you as I did the last time,” he warned.

“Not to France. I have decided to visit Marleigh. I am leaving in two days.”

“Wait a few more. I should be able to travel soon.”

“In a few days Parliament will begin sessions again, and you must be there.”

“I can miss a week of debate.”

“You do not understand. I do not want you to come.”

She grimaced when she said it, as if she expected him to react badly. That was exactly what he began to do, but her expression checked him.

“I do not like it. It could be dangerous. We do not know that Captain Brutus has fully turned his attention on me.”

“I will take an escort of four footmen as guards, and Jacques and Attila will ride in the coach with me. Jacques is very good with a pistol.”

“I still do not like it.”

She moved until she sat very close to him. She took his face in her hands and touched her cheek to his. “Do not be angry with me. This is something that I have to do. It is time to face it all, and make some decisions, and find out who I am and who I will be.” She kissed him. “It is only because of you that I can do it. You have carried me halfway down the road. Now I must walk the rest of the way myself.”

She was right, but he resisted accepting it. She might not know what she would find when she looked for herself, but he did. He had seen it from the start, beneath all of those layers.

He doubted that the woman who returned from Marleigh would have any need of him. Once she came to terms with Everdon, she would
be
Everdon, and duty to Everdon would rule her life.

Hadn't he brought her back from Paris so it would be so?

He stroked his hands into her hair and gazed into her eyes. So many interesting shadows played in their glow. He held her head to a deep kiss and tried to keep her from sensing the apprehension of loss that drenched his climbing passion.

This might be their last night.

He lowered his hands to her shoulders and slid her gown down. “Get undressed.”

“Adrian . . .”

“I want you to lie here with me. You can hardly do so in these clothes.” He turned her so he could unlace her stays and release the petticoats. She glanced over her shoulder to begin a protest, but he gave her a look that warned her not to bother.

She got off the bed and slid the gown lower. “I suppose if you just intend us to lie beside each other . . .”

He said nothing to that, but watched as she stepped out of the gown and petticoats and shed the stays. She had been beautiful in the luxurious gray silk, but he drank in the sight of her feminine form emerging. The low light hinted at her curves beneath the chemise.

He memorized every inch of her, and every move she made while she carried the gown and laid it over a chair.

He let her climb in beside him still wearing her undergarments and hose, because to order them off would only set her scolding.

She snuggled under his arm and gingerly rested her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest.

“I thought about you constantly through all these days of coronation festivities. I wished you were with me today,” she said. “However, this makes up for it. This is very nice.”

It would be nicer soon, but he needed to know something first. “No more letters from our Captain?”

“None at all. Maybe what happened frightened him. Did you think I would not tell you?”