The Wedding Chase (20 page)

“But I thought we had more time.” She pulled her spectacles off, rubbing her eyes. “My father asked for more time for me to make a good marriage.”

“But you ain’t doin’ it.”

“It has only been three weeks since that agreement was struck.” Her voice stretched tight but she met his eyes. “A marriage cannot be arranged in such a short time.”

“My mates are patient men, but it’s wearin’ thin,
Miss
Fleetwood.” His little round reptilian eyes touched her. “You ain’t got a marriage proposal. The way I see it, you ain’t gonna pay the notes that way.”

Zel crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you know about my marriage plans?”

“Just that you ain’t got ’em.” He scanned her from head to foot. “Been watchin’ you, followin’ the talk of the town. You’re gonna have to work off the debts.”

“What do you mean? I make little from my writing.” She stood, warily stepping behind her chair, Remus close by her side.

“Writin’?” Fawkes laughed crudely. “I’m not talkin’ about writin’. I mean the kinda work you do on your back.”

Hands clenched at her sides, she sucked in a rough breath. “I think you should leave.”

He rose and walked toward her, lips curling suggestively. “We could come to an agreement. Earn you a little more time.”

Remus growled.

“Leave now!” Zel gripped the chair back as Mouse stepped forward and bared his teeth.

“You’re makin’ a mistake.” Fawkes backed through the door, Remus sniffing at his legs. “Your brother’ll be in prison by week’s end.” The door slammed behind him.

Zel dropped back into her chair. “Good dog, Mousey.” Remus laid his head in her lap. She lowered her cheek to his muzzle, whispering, “What am I to do?” Curling her legs beneath her, she pulled the dog farther onto her lap, burying her face in his shaggy coat. Lord, she was out of time and choices. She could no longer delude herself that even with more time she had the slightest chance of marrying at all, let
alone finding a man wealthy enough to pay Robin’s debts. If she did not think of something now, Robin would go to prison. There was no money to pay the bribes to keep him in comfort, and she feared he did not have the kind of strength needed to survive such a place.

“Oh, Remus. I cannot do this alone.” She sat there as minutes ticked away on the mantel clock, wetting the dog’s hair with silent tears.

“Zelly, Smythe says Fawkes was just here.” Robin strode into the room, pulling her from the chair, surveying her swollen eyes and tearstained cheeks. “Good Lord! Did he hurt you?”

“They are calling in the debts.” Zel clasped his hand. “We have only days to raise the money.”

“I’d flee the country, but it won’t help. They’d still come after you and Father.” He smiled weakly. “Suppose they’ll let you visit me in prison.”

“Robin, I will not let that happen.”

“You’re powerless to stop it.” Robin stroked her hair. “There are things even you can’t do. Can’t take care of me forever.”

Zel looked into the face so like her own. “There is one more thing I can do.”

“There is nothing.…” He caught her look and gripped her hand tightly. “No, Zelly! You won’t do it.”

“ ’Tis the only way.”

“Won’t let you. Dammit!” Robin’s eyes narrowed as he lowered his face to within inches of hers. “You won’t become some man’s mistress for me!”

“We can be discreet, no one will know. He has enough money to pay your debts without blinking an eye.” Zel laid her forehead on Robin’s cheek.

He shoved her away, choking on the fury in his voice. “Northcliffe! You mean to become Northcliffe’s whore!”

“I cannot let you go to prison. You would never survive.”

He grasped her shoulders as if to shake her, then stopped, his eyes harder than she had ever seen them. “I’ll kill him!”

“Robinson!”

But he was gone, footsteps echoing in the hall, the front door banging behind him.

Wolfgang buried his forehead in his hands as the carriage clattered along the cobbled streets. Every strike of wheels and hoofs on the stones thundered through his head, still muddled and throbbing from last night’s overconsumption of brandy.

Hades and Satan take the woman. He’d waited at that bloody ball tonight for hours, watching the door for her arrival, wishing desperately he carried a sword to fend off the matchmaking mamas and their pasty-faced daughters. Even with his reputation, an earldom was a prize. Grandmama’s disappointment only added fuel to his growing anger.

They had stopped in at two other parties, believing Zel may have changed her plans, but no sign of her. Wolfgang grumbled continuously about needing to get away from female company, until Grandmama had wisely sent him off to Brooks’s.

He had sat with a few acquaintances, gulping down a glass of Brooks’s best port, feigning an interest in faro. But he had been too restive and bored with the less than stimulating company and the even less stimulating game. Newton’s vaguely hostile glances from across the room even failed to amuse. Making brusque excuses, he had finally turned in his markers and called for his coach. He would call on Zel tomorrow.

The carriage ride seemed to stretch out longer than the few blocks to Hardwicke Hall on Berkeley Square. Wolfgang massaged his temples. Why this dreadful confusion? Why couldn’t he decide what to do and do it? He knew he wanted
Zel, wanted to slake his desire on that long, slender body. Yet, when he had the opportunity, when she lay beneath him, half-naked and fully ready, he had stopped.
He
had stopped! But had his amazing bout of restraint been appreciated? No. She had called him an animal! Wolfgang shook his head, wincing at the sudden stab of pain. Maybe he should have been a bit more of an animal and given her real cause for complaint.

Beelzebub’s tail, she had no idea how she teased and taunted him. How thoughts of her warred in his head. How thin was the thread of his control. One of them needed to leave London. It wouldn’t be him. He had pressing matters in the House of Lords and with his business holdings. Zel could easily leave. He could send her off with Grandmama to Winchelsea. There had to be old, rich country squires by the score for her to marry in the Sussex countryside. Men she could happily lead about by the nose. He slammed a fist against the heavily padded squabs. And if they ever touched her, he’d break their goddamned hands.

The coach lurched to a stop. Wolfgang swung open the door, leaning halfway out to chastise his coachman. “Harris, why have we stopped? Pull in the drive.”

Gloved hands roughly seized him, yanking him unceremoniously from the carriage. Stumbling, he fell headlong into the street. He rolled to his back, narrowly dodging a blow from the caped, hooded figure hovering above him. A flash of silver shimmered in the man’s hand. Reflexively, Wolfgang reached for his own dagger, only to have his grasp come up empty. Raising his forearm, he deftly deflected the downward arc of the footpad’s knife, then whirled from a second villain’s pounce.

“Harris!” But a quick survey of the scene showed the brawny coachman had his hands full with two more assailants. Wolfgang backed to the coach, narrowly avoiding another deadly blow.

A fifth cloaked figure stepped out of the darkness, arms
upraised, brandishing a bulky, unrecognizable weapon. Wolfgang grunted in surprise when the weapon came down hard on the shoulder of the man with the knife. The accompanying yelp of pain was punctuated by the sharp clatter of the knife striking the cobblestones. The footpad jerked about, his fist smashing Wolfgang’s new ally in the chest. The gasp of air leaving lungs had a decidedly feminine tone. Wolfgang eluded a thrust from the other villain, as his new companion took a crushing punch to the head. The hood of her cloak fell away as she crumbled to the ground. “Zel! My God, Zel!”

He struck out wildly, fear and rage nearly blinding him. The sound of bone crunching told him his fist had found its home. The man hadn’t hit the street before Wolfgang was on the other villain, knuckles meeting face with unleashed fury. Two down. In one seamless movement he bent, hefted the abandoned knife, straightened, and hurled it toward one of the footpads assaulting his coachman. He smiled grimly when a cry confirmed the weapon had found its mark. The man would live, although for a few days as he nursed a wound to the shoulder, he would wish he hadn’t.

Odds evened for Harris, Wolfgang whirled toward Zel’s still form. Stooping, he placed a shaking hand to her throat. The pulse was soft and even. His arms slipped beneath her, bringing her to his chest. Wolfgang covered the remaining distance to his house in a dead run, oblivious to any weight in his arms. He kicked at the door. “McDougall! Open up!”

The front door cracked. Mrs. Soames peered out. “My lord?”

Wolfgang shouldered the door, knocking the sturdy housekeeper nearly off her feet. “Get McDougall, now!”

A booming voice preceded the big figure of his butler, and former sergeant, down the hallway. “Captain, I’m here.”

“Check on Harris outside, then get Dr. Evers.” He strode down the hall. “Mrs. Soames, get hot water and clean cloths.”

Wolfgang thrust into the library, laying Zel gently on the silk-cushioned settee. Perching on the edge, he pushed aside her loosened hair to examine her face, running his hand over a red splotch on her jaw. She’d have an ugly bruise, but the bone did not appear to be broken. With stubbornly slow fingers, he pulled off her cloak and placed his hands on her chest, probing the rib cage for signs of fracture or serious injury. He first skirted around her breasts, then rested one open hand over her left breast searching for the heart beat.

Zel jerked, eyes snapping open, hands snatching his hand from her chest. “God, what are you doing?” Her face crinkled in pain as she tried to sit.

Wolfgang shifted his hands to her shoulders, effortlessly holding her in place. “Keep still, you’re hurt.”

“I feel dizzy.” Her body relaxed back into the pillows and he released her shoulders.

“What in the name of Satan were you doing?” His initial fear flowed out beneath a flood of anger. “Are you bloody insane? What possessed you to attack a man holding a knife?”

She winced. “Please do not yell, my head hurts.”

He lowered his voice only slightly, sustaining his tirade. “You’re lucky to have a damn head left to hurt. Did you think to best him with this?” He lifted her surprisingly heavy reticule, unwrapping the ties from her wrist. “What the devil do you have in the blasted thing?”

“I always carry a book, and some writing materials.”

Wolfgang ignored the breathiness in her voice and continued, “A book is no match for a knife and a man twice your size.”

“He was not twice my size.” Zel’s voice sounded stronger now. “I can hold my own.”

“You’re a little fool. You may be tall but you weigh no more than a child.” He leveled his voice and stood, roughly shrugging off his dark evening jacket. “Fires of hell, I don’t mean to shout at you, but you scared me.”

“Scared you?”

“A lady doesn’t rush headlong into a fight, my dear, even armed with a deadly reticule.” Wolfgang yanked out his cuff studs and rolled up his sleeves.

“Hhrrmmf.” Mrs. Soames stood in the open doorway, steaming washbowl in her hands, cloths drapped over her forearm.

“Set the water here.” He motioned to the nearby red lacquered table. “And you may go.”

Mrs. Soames shook her steel-gray hair and slowly laid out the water and cloths before she turned to go. “Are you sure there is nothing else, my lord?”

“Nothing at the moment. McDougall will be back here shortly with the physician.” Waving the housekeeper away, Wolfgang dipped a cloth in the hot water and resettled on the edge of the settee beside Zel. “Does anyone know where you are?”

“I can do that myself.” She brushed away his hands as he tried to wash her face. “I am not hurt that badly.”

“Do I have to sit on you to keep you still?” He brought the cloth to her face, pushing her hair back with his other hand, fingers brushing the top of her ear. “It’s pointed.”

Zel shook his hands loose, moaning as she tried to ward him off.

“Stay still.” Wolfgang pressed his hip tight against hers and pulled the hair off her other ear. “Your ears are pointed!”

“Leave me alone.” Zel tugged her hair down, freeing the last of the pins.

“Your hair is always pulled over them. You try to hide them, don’t you?” He squelched a laugh, amazed at the tight expression on her face. “You shouldn’t, you know. They really are quite, ah, unusually attractive. Elfish. They go with the rest of your face.”

Zel grimaced. “Elves are terribly undignified and they are not inches short of six feet tall.”

“Ah, sweet …” He stopped, reminded by her grimace
of her injuries. “Let me take care of you.” He slipped a knuckle under her chin, tilting her face to look at the darkening bruise. “Does anyone know where you are?”

“Yes, I told Robin I was coming to see you.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper. “But he did not know when.”

“You were coming to see me?” Wolfgang grinned at her. “I’m exceedingly pleased. But so late at night? Where is your coach, your maid?”

Zel swallowed hard. “I came alone in a hired hack.”

He opened his eyes wide, allowing his jaw to drop. “Am I to be forever lecturing you on correct behavior? What are you about, Miss Fleetwood, visiting a man alone, after midnight?”

“Oh, stuff it. I need to talk to you.”

He laughed. “A few things first. I’ll send for your brother to fetch you home. Your family should know where you are.” He dipped the nearly forgotten cloth into the water and gently blotted it over her face, then tossed it into the bowl. “No cuts. Now about those ribs.”

“You are doing nothing with my ribs.” Zel tried to rise again, and his hands went back to her shoulders. She grumbled loudly, sinking into the cushions. “And Robin is not to come for me. I can get home on my own.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He removed his hands from her shoulders, leaning across her to rest his elbow on the back of the settee. “Why did your brother allow you to come alone?”

She bristled. “My brother does not dictate what I do.”

“Perhaps you need someone to tell you what to do. This escapade may not have killed you, but any news of it will do further damage to your reputation.”