The Wedding Chase (25 page)

She thought her neck would snap when she was
wrenched away from Ned and hauled into another set of muscular arms. Gasping in the scent of green woods, horses, and leather, she allowed herself to be compressed against a warm, broad chest.

“Wolfgang!”

She peered out from his solid strength to see a wiry little man facing Ned, knife aimed at his massive gut. The small man’s face looked as if it had met with the service end of a meat grinder, but his bared teeth gleamed brightly as his snow-white hair.

“This isn’t over.” Ned growled, and with speed amazing for his size, wheeled about and lumbered down the street.

Zel felt Wolfgang lurch forward. The white-haired man sheathed the knife inside his jacket. His voice rang out, clear and cultured. “Let him go. We need to attend to the women. Where is the little maid?”

“Maggie!” Zel pushed out of Wolfgang’s arms, darting off in the direction Maggie had run. A wild mop of red hair appeared from behind a shop door. Zel pulled her shivering form close. “He is gone. You are safe.”

“We’re drawing a crowd.” Wolfgang dragged both women toward his town coach, smoothly tossing them in, then pulling the door shut behind himself and the smaller man. “This is Jenkins.” He aimed Maggie at the seat with the man and drew the curtains.

Wolfgang grasped Zel’s arms and hauled her down beside him as the coach swayed into motion. When she drew a sharp breath through her teeth, he released her. “You’re hurt.” He pushed aside her shawl, unfastening the tapes at the back of her gown.

“What are you doing?” She jerked free with another gasp, nearly tearing her sleeve.

“I’m checking your injury. Your shoulder could be dislocated. You may have reinjured your ribs.”

“You need not bother. Maggie and my aunt will attend to me at home.” She cast a little warning snarl into her voice.

“You’re nearly as ferocious as my cat.” Wolfgang grinned. “Either I check or we make a visit to my doctor. Evers would be happy to see you and chastise you for such unruly behavior with your ribs still healing.”

Zel tried to glare coldly at him, but how could she be angry after he’d so fortuitously rescued them?

His silver gaze warmed her as he lowered his voice to an intimate whisper. “I’ve seen your breasts, and magnificent as they are, I’m more interested in your health right now.” His hand returned to her arm, rotating it gently as he continued in a normal tone. “Turn around if it will preserve your modesty. Our cohorts can watch the opposite carriage wall.”

Blushing, Zel faced the curtained window as he lowered a sleeve and lightly fingered her arm. She gritted her teeth, not against the pain, but against the sensations his touch evoked and the memories it stirred of his tender attentions only days ago.

“You’ll have an ugly bruise.” His voice was uneven. “What in Lucifer’s name were you doing this time?”

Maggie answered, surprisingly brave. “He’s my husband. I ran away.” She paused, drawing a shaky breath. “He beats me.”

“She will not go back to him. He will kill her.” Zel yanked her sleeve back into place. The carriage hit a rut in the road and pitched her back into Wolfgang’s arms.

“No one’s asking her to go back.” Wolfgang eased Zel forward and rotated her other arm before slipping the sleeve down to examine a second tender spot. “But you need to take care. If he found her once he may again.”

“She will not leave the house, unless well protected.” Zel peeked around to ensure that their companions still faced away from her. “Are you finished, Doctor?”

“Almost.” His long fingers stroked her throat and nape. “He shook you hard. Does your neck hurt? Did he strike you?”

“My neck is fine.” She swallowed, feebly batting away his hand. “I ducked fast enough to avoid his blows.”

“I suppose you’ll live.” His hand swept gently over her shoulder. She hoped he did not feel her responding shiver. “You know, you are the worst patient I have ever attended.” His hand continued down her back and snaked around her side, probing softly against her ribs under her left breast.

Zel jumped, gasping, “Stop!”

“Did that hurt?” Wolfgang released her but she could still feel his breath at her ear. “Isn’t the rib healed?”

“My ribs are well enough and in no need of your assistance.” She hissed a warning at him.

“Let me retie your gown and I’ll leave you alone.”

She sat stiff, ignoring the warmth of his fingers on her back and the smile in his voice. Arranging her shawl about her shoulders she turned back to the other occupants of the coach. The older man sat close to Maggie, her little hand resting in his rough one. Zel smiled, then directed her attention to Wolfgang. “Did we interrupt your shopping trip?”

“We were follow—”

Jenkins cut in. “His lordship’s wardrobe required a little refurbishing.”

Wolfgang smiled fondly at the smaller man. “Jenkins should know.”

“Oh, is Jenkins your valet?” Zel realized she felt no surprise at the informalness of the relationship.

Wolfgang nodded and, reaching past her, pushed the curtains open. “We’re home. But a word of caution before I return you to your aunt.” He lifted her chin with a knuckle. “Please don’t battle any more giants or ogres. At least not alone.” His lips grazed hers, soft as fairy dust.

He lowered her from the carriage, reaching back for her mangled umbrella. “Your weapon.” He eyed her quizically as he escorted her up the stairs. “I think we need to find you another physical outlet. All this fighting isn’t good for your health. In the meantime, if you must go out, send for me.”

As Smythe shut the door firmly behind Maggie and herself, Zel fought the urge to part the heavy draperies at the window by the door, fought the desire to watch his long, muscular form saunter down the steps and swing into the waiting coach. Zel twirled about, taking the stairs much faster than an adult should, rubbing at the little tingle on her lips. The other tingles she would just ignore.

“I don’t understand what he sees in her.” Isadora tossed herself daintily onto an overstuffed pastel pink chair. “He should have been bored after a few days.”

“You’re just too easy, my dear Lady Horeton.” Newton’s mouth curled, but only at the edges. “You don’t understand how much men enjoy the chase.”

“You think he hasn’t had the slut yet?” She tried to modulate the shrillness in her voice. It wouldn’t be wise to expose too much of herself to Newton’s cold scrutiny.

“Sheath your claws, Isadora.” Newton stretched his tall frame, sipping on his port. “I’m sure the chit’s intact.”

Isadora snorted. “Then you’re as big a fool as he!” She spread her skirts, knowing the rose of her gown coordinated flatteringly with the color scheme of her drawing room. Why this infernal preoccupation with Grizelda Fleetwood?

“No, your dear Northcliffe is no fool, but he is obviously confused.” Newton stroked the stem of the goblet. “I don’t think he knows what to do with a virgin.”

“You screw her, like anyone else.” Isadora nearly shrieked.

“What, you … what?” Melbourne rubbed his eyes, stretching his heavily padded shoulders.

“Isadora, your crudeness has awakened Melbourne.” Newton placed his glass on the sofa table and strode to the ornate liquor cabinet. He poured another drink, handing it to Melbourne before resuming his seat. “Perhaps he knows what to do with a virgin.”

“Virgin? What are you thpeaking of?” Melbourne downed the liquid quickly. “Bah!” He spat. “You know I hate port, Newton!”

“You see, Isadora, Melbourne doesn’t know what to do with a virgin either.”

“Regardless of how innocent she may be, she has no better reputation than a whore.” Isadora flashed her teeth. “I may be one of the few ladies of the ton to receive her.”

“Her? Are you talking about Mith Fleetwood?” Melbourne’s bright yellow form clashed so horribly with her rose settee, Isadora had to stifle an urge to forcibly remove him.

“Yes, she was shunned by Lady March as well as your own dear mother at the shops on Bond Street this morning.” Isadora patted her golden curls. “But I talked to her anyway. Afterwards she was involved in some sort of ruckus in the street.”

“Oh, tell us more.” Newton maintained his fashionably bored tone, but she knew she’d piqued his interest by the sudden gleam in his hard mahogany eyes.

“I didn’t see the start of it, but a crowd gathered and Northcliffe was there.” Isadora paused, wanting to prolong this bit of power over Newton. “He nearly carried her to his coach.”

“What was it about?” Newton’s haughty, demanding tone stirred a streak of rebellion in her.

“I already told you, I didn’t see the start of it.” She sniffed and raised her nose as high as his. “I thought you’d be pleased I was so kind to dear Grizelda.”

“It wath very kind of you.” Melbourne grinned vacantly.

“Yes, indeed, Isadora is renowned for her kindness.” Newton laughed harshly, pressing the tips of his long fingers together. “Poor Miss Fleetwood does need our support. Society can be so cruel.”

“Yeth, and Northcliffe can do ath he will and no one will cut him.” Melbourne’s lispy whine was so annoying,
why did Newton encourage his hanging on? “But how can I openly thupport her, after my mother thnubbed her?”

“But think, my dear friend, of the fun of defying your mother.” Newton smiled, his voice low and intimate. “She needs to understand she can’t keep you her minion forever.”

“Do you have any plans to help the young couple, Newton?” Isadora batted her eyelashes at him theatrically, grasping for his attention.

“Thtop, pleathe, you are creating a whirlwind.” Newton stood, looking down his patrician nose at her, batting his own lashes and patting his carefully disarrayed Brutus in imitation of her earlier affectation. Somehow, with Newton, even when she was party to the joke, it still seemed to be played on her. “You’ll muth my hair.”

Melbourne stared silently at Newton.

She tittered a bit uncertainly. “You are so droll, Newton.”

“Yes, I am, ain’t I?” Newton’s cold, dark eyes glittered again briefly before icing over. “I don’t believe our friends require our help at the moment. They seem to be doing a fine job all on their own.” He paused, fingering his dark brown mustache. “But the second they appear to need our assistance, I’m sure I can count on you both to lend a hand.”

“Are you certain this is the correct thing to do?”

“Oh, Wolfie, I’m pleased to see you concerned about Zel’s feelings.” Grandmama smiled wide enough to catch flies, and any of the tiny pests that missed the smile would surely be trapped by the honey in her voice.

“I just don’t want her hurt.” Wolfgang made a production of helping the elderly but still physically strong woman into the carriage, his voice barely a whisper.

“Don’t fuss so.” Grandmama snapped, tapping his leg with her cane, while still not completely losing her smile. “I’m not helpless yet.” She settled into the squabs. “That
week Zel spent housebound only served to convince the gossips they were right and she was hiding in shame.”

“But you know it couldn’t be helped.” Wolfgang signaled to the coachman and hopped in, slouching down across from Grandmama.

“Is she healed? And what about the new bruises?”

“She seemed to be healed. Evers told her it would be acceptable to go out. So she went shopping and jumped into a fight with another man twice her size.” He prodded the opposite seat with his boot as the carriage lurched into the flow of traffic. “But the bruise on her jaw is barely noticeable, and with a little powder, completely invisible.” He sat straighter. “Has there been any mention of that night in front of my house?”

“No, the scandal-broth was so filled with your previous antics, there wasn’t room for more.” She leaned forward, tapping his knee. “And don’t you provide more.”

“I don’t intend to.” Wolfgang frowned, not needing chastisement in addition to the guilt he’d already laid on his own head. “Jenkins found out from her maid that she was snubbed yesterday. I think she was surprised at how much it bothered her. She prides herself on not caring what others think of her. But reality was a little different.”

“Poor dear.” Grandmama narrowed her clear gray eyes. “She must rely on my credit tonight. There are many who will not seek her out but none will dare give her the cut direct when she is in company with me.”

“You can’t be with her all the time. It’s unfair.” He yanked on the window curtain. “Why don’t they just slight me?”

“But dear, you know, you have no reputation to lose, and the woman is always the favored target.” Grandmama grasped his hand. “Now stop worrying that curtain. You’ll have it in shreds.”

“Zel seems to think she can survive this, but society has
a long memory. I’m going to make it right for her.” He muttered under his breath, “Even if it kills me.”

“Don’t tease an old woman.” Grandmama’s hand tightened around his fingers, her eyes intent on his face. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I suppose so.” He pulled his hand free, rubbing at his shoulders and neck. “I feel like I’m tied up in knots.”

“Relax. Use your charm.” That damned honey dripped back into her voice. “It will all work out beautifully.”

“We’re here. She’s always prompt.” Wolfgang forced a smile, flinging himself out the door and up the steps.

The front door opened in its usual magical fashion. “How do you do it, Smythe? Do you realize I’ve only had to touch that door knocker once, in all the times I’ve been here?” He sailed past the red-faced butler. “Do you wait forever at the window, neglecting your other duties shamefully? Or are you truly clairvoyant?”

“Stop harassing him.” Zel’s husky alto floated down the staircase, followed by her lithe form wreathed in sea-green muslin. The beast trotted close behind.

“That animal is not coming with us.” Wolfgang whistled softly. The dog bounded down the steps snatching the treat from his outstretched hand. “Never go anywhere without these gems.”

“You’re spoiling him.”

“And you’re lovely.” He pulled her shawl off her arm, draping it over her nearly bare breasts and well-covered shoulders and arms. “But won’t you be chilly tonight?”

“One must suffer for fashion.” Zel frowned. “Can you see any bruises?”