DefeatedbyLove (3 page)

“Fetch some wine,” Daniel snapped at his butler. He led the
way back into his library and pointed at, appropriately, a fainting couch in
the corner. “There.”

When Matheson returned with a bottle and a glass, Daniel
took them and immediately poured a glass. He downed it in one swallow.

“I believe the lady might need some of that,” Robert said drily.

“Wake her up first,” Daniel said, pouring another glass.
“She can hardly swallow it now, and since I’m about to make a very stupid
promise I need the fortification.” He paused with the glass halfway to his
mouth. “Do you think I ought to fetch a surgeon? Considering her condition.”

“Yes.”

Daniel looked up at Matheson, who stood quietly near the
door. “Go find one.” The butler left to do his bidding, or so Daniel hoped.

Robert kneeled down beside the patient and patted her hand
gently. “What is her name?”

It took Daniel a moment to answer. “Ashbury. Mrs. Christine
Ashbury.”

“Mrs. Ashbury,” he said as he patted her hand again. “Wake
up. You don’t wish to frighten me, do you?” He glanced at Daniel. “Smelling
salts?”

“What on earth were you doing in Bloomsbury?” Daniel asked
as he rummaged through his desk for smelling salts. Strangely enough, he was
relatively sure he had some in there.

“I’m a constable now, working out of the police office at
Queen’s Square,” his old friend said, sliding onto the couch and lifting Mrs.
Ashbury half across his lap. He tapped her cheek lightly. “I didn’t know you’d
moved back into your father’s house. I was as surprised as you when I saw you
racing down the street hollering.”

“I figured it was time,” Daniel said. “The place has been
empty since Father died ten years ago.”

“I know,” Robert said, rubbing Mrs. Ashbury’s hand between
his. “I still live down the road with Mother.”

“Do you? It will be like old times. Except while you’ve
hardly changed a bit, I’m a stranger to myself. Ah ha!” Daniel said in triumph,
holding a vial of vinegar aloft. “It’s a bit old. I hope it’s still potent.” He
brought it over and took out the stopper. When he sniffed it his eyes nearly
watered. “Ugh. I think it’s more potent.” She was moaning a little and her lids
were fluttering. “Should I?” he asked.

“Just a little wave,” Robert said. “She’s coming around
already.”

Daniel did as advised and she gasped and turned her head
sharply and then moaned louder. Daniel backed up. He had no idea how to deal with
pregnant women. They were unpredictable and usually unstable. Robert just
chuckled and sat up straighter. With her head on his shoulder she had no choice
but to sit up as well. Her eyelids opened slowly and she blinked repeatedly.

“I’m sure I didn’t faint,” she muttered. “I never faint.”

“You fainted,” Daniel said flatly. “But under the
circumstances, it was to be expected. I nearly fainted.”

That earned him a ghost of a laugh. “You lie, but you are a
gentleman to do so,” she said, struggling to sit up on her own. Robert helped
her and then moved away.

Daniel handed her his glass of wine. “Sip it. Slowly.”

She obeyed and in minutes her color had returned. “Thank
you.” She turned to Robert. “And you, too.”

“My pleasure, Mrs. Ashbury. Constable Robert Manderley at
your service.” He bowed, and when he straightened he smiled reassuringly at
her. “Shall we send someone for Mr. Ashbury?”

“Only if they’ve got a boat,” she muttered, smoothing her
hair back into place. Daniel supposed she was quite pretty, with her fair skin
and big blue eyes and her dark hair. Robert certainly thought so, if Daniel was
reading him correctly. “I mean, he can’t be reached right now. He’s out of the
country.”

Robert raised an eyebrow in an apparent shock. “I see. Odd
time for that, isn’t it?”

“I believe many people travel in July,” she replied
evasively.

“Did you know those men?” Robert asked, his voice curious
but hardly interrogating.

“No,” Mrs. Ashbury said vehemently, as if he’d accused her
of the kidnapping. “I’ve never seen them before in my life.” She turned to
Daniel. “I was just here visiting my husband’s dearest friend, Mr. Steinberg,
while he’s away.”

“Why?” Robert inquired. He included Daniel in his question
with just a glance.

“Yes, why?” Daniel asked her, curious as to what she’d say.

She laughed, a light and airy laugh. She was quite an
actress. “Oh, Daniel, don’t be silly. You know Harry worries so when he’s
gone.” She turned to Robert then. “I’m sure you can understand his concern,
especially now. The only person he trusts to watch over me is Daniel.”

“I can see why.” Robert’s comment was bland but the look he
shot Daniel was amused. He was well aware of Daniel’s proclivities, and had
been since Robert had discovered girls and Daniel had discovered boys when they
were both thirteen or so. “You’re staying here, then?”

And there it was, the foolish, stupid promise he was about
to make. He looked longingly at the wine bottle. “Yes,” he said, closing his
eyes and hanging his head in defeat. “She’s staying here.” He opened his eyes
and pinned a now grinning Mrs. Ashbury with a hard stare from under his lashes.
“But only until Harry returns.”

* * * * *

Christy peeked around the door into the breakfast room to
see if Mr. Steinberg was there. The butler, Matheson, simply stood holding the
door for her, impassive as all good servants. When she saw the room was empty
she breathed a sigh of relief and entered. It wasn’t that she was ungrateful to
Mr. Steinberg. She had truly been desperate when she’d come to him yesterday,
and the truth was she’d had nowhere to go when she left. In a disturbingly odd
way she supposed she owed those would-be kidnappers a thank you. She shuddered.
She’d hardly slept a wink last night thinking about what dire fate might have
awaited her had Mr. Steinberg and Constable Manderley not been there to rescue
her. She thought longingly of the tall, handsome, dark-haired constable. A year
ago she would have flirted outrageously with him and he most likely would have
found her equally appealing. Now…she rubbed her stomach and sighed. Well, now
was now.

She found being around Mr. Steinberg…awkward. After all,
they had, in a roundabout way, shared a lover. After meeting him, she couldn’t
really blame Harry. Mr. Steinberg was extremely dashing. A little short, but
trim and fit. His brown hair was slightly curly and shot with gray. It made him
look distinguished. He’d probably looked a little different ten years ago,
younger. But he was decidedly handsome with deep-set brown eyes surrounded by
thick lashes and strong features, as if his face had been chiseled from stone
and then given life. He wore the most expensive attire she’d ever seen. His
jacket last evening was probably worth her entire wardrobe.

She hadn’t told him that she and Harry had consummated the
marriage before he left. Now
that
had been awkward. Harry had been
reluctant but determined and had broken down afterward and confessed all to
her. She’d sort of fudged the truth a little last night. Harry hadn’t told her
before the wedding. He’d told her after the wedding night. She winced,
remembering her dismay and disillusionment. The real reason Harry had left and
gladly supported her was guilt on his part for his behavior that night. But she
hadn’t wanted to give Mr. Steinberg another reason for being mad at Harry. No
matter what he thought, Harry had loved him, terribly and it had broken his
heart to leave him and to marry her. It may have taken years and an unfortunate
indiscretion to force her hand, but Christy was determined to make things right
for Harry.

Exactly how she was going to make that happen when Harry was
God knew where was the one obstacle to her plan. She sat down with a sigh and
rested her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand. Harry was supposed to be
back months ago. She wrinkled her nose. All right, she’d lied about that too.
She’d actually heard from him last year, when he’d written to say he was coming
back. His expected return, however, never happened. She really did need
protection from his vicious family; that was no lie. But if Mr. Steinberg had
known that Harry was expected home he might have refused to offer her
sanctuary. Well, he did refuse, but he might have refused a second time after
the almost-kidnapping. That had taken her a bit by surprise. Her father-in-law
hadn’t tried that one yet. It was probably Theo’s doing, he was certainly
dastardly enough.

“Tea, madam?” Matheson inquired.

She jumped in her chair. “You startled me.” She’d forgotten
he was there. Back home, where it was just her; Bess the maid and cook; and
Harold the footman, groom and general laborer, she served herself.

“I’m sorry, madam,” Matheson said in the same tone he used
to ask if she wanted tea.

“Yes please, tea.” She felt as if she’d made a huge
decision.

“And breakfast?” Matheson waited expectantly.

She glanced at the sideboard and saw several steaming
covered dishes. “Yes please. A bit of everything.” She was starving. This baby
business was hard work.

When she began to eat she nearly fell out of her chair in
blissful rapture. She’d never, ever had food so divine. It was just eggs and
beefsteak and crumpets. Did Mr. Steinberg eat like this every day? And if so,
how was he still so trim and fit? Before she knew it her plate was empty and
she was fighting the urge to ask for more.

She was sitting there frowning at her empty plate when the
door opened. She jumped out of her seat and backed up like a cornered doe. The
gentleman who came through the door wasn’t Mr. Steinberg, as she’d assumed it
would be. But he definitely looked at home as he walked in, whistling under his
breath, looking as if he owned the house. When he saw her he stopped abruptly
and the whistling tapered off. He looked as surprised to see her as she was to
see him. Tall and muscular with dark-blond hair and masculine features, he was
quite possibly one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen and she suddenly
felt gauche and as large as a barn. She’d lost her one bag yesterday, and so
was still wearing the same clothes she’d almost been kidnapped in.

“Well, hello,” he said with a huge smile. “And who do we
have here?”

“I’m…” She wasn’t sure what to say. Did this man know Harry?
If so, did he feel the same way Mr. Steinberg did? Was this Mr. Steinberg’s new
lover? If he was, he would surely not be happy to hear her full name.
“Christy.”

He waited a moment or two and then his smile grew, which she
wouldn’t have believed possible. It made him seem…more approachable. For
someone as good-looking as he was that was rather startling. That sort of
person always seemed so out of reach to normal people like her.

“I see. Christy is it? Got something to hide, have you? Your
secret is safe with me.” He closed the door behind him and his smile changed
into something conspiratorial and he accompanied it with a wink. “Where is
Daniel? Still abed? I must say, you surprise me. Not what I’d expect to find
here at all. I do believe Daniel has misunderstood the intent of our new plan.”

He was walking her way, smile still in place, and
involuntarily she took another step back. His approach slowed but his smile
didn’t falter. He glanced at the table. “Oh, you’ve already eaten?” He frowned
and made a sad face at her. “Now I shall have to eat alone, I suppose.”

“Oh no,” she rushed to assure him, her manners returning. “I
shall keep you company, if you wish.”

The smile he gave her this time was triumphant. She wasn’t
sure what to make of that. Was he flirting with her? She glanced down at her
bulging stomach and back at him in confusion. Good Lord, were his eyes
twinkling? How on earth did he do that? “My name is Simon, by the way. Mr.
Simon Gantry.”

“How do you do?” she said politely.

“How do you do?” he said right back. She wasn’t sure if he
was mocking her or not. He pulled out a chair for her and she automatically
walked over and sat down. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. “More breakfast?
Tea?”

“Tea, please,” she said. She was relatively sure that was
always the correct answer here. If she wasn’t careful she’d get used to being
waited on like this. No wonder wealthy people acted privileged. Perhaps she
should ask for more money from Harry? She inwardly cringed at her avarice. She
was becoming a terrible person.

Mr. Gantry poured her tea himself and brought it to her. It
was then she realized the butler and the footman had disappeared. How odd. He
filled his own plate then and sat down right next to her. She was amazed at the
amount of food he’d taken. Did everyone in London eat twice as much as a normal
person? And if so, why weren’t they all as big as she was?

He began to eat and motioned with his fork for her to drink
her tea, so she did. He nodded his approval and she felt as if she’d won a
trophy of some kind. The silence between them was companionable, which gave her
a moment’s pause. She hardly knew him and yet here they sat, him eating and her
sitting and watching as if they were an old married couple. She blushed at the
thought and looked away.

She took in the room around her. She’d been so caught up in
avoiding Mr. Steinberg, trying to figure out what she was going to do now, and
then eating and the arrival of Mr. Gantry… Well, she’d hardly had a chance to
appreciate the house in the daylight. It was a stunning establishment. Rich
furnishings in midnight blue and olive green combined with a dark wood gleaming
with polish made her feel as if she ought to mind her manners and not touch
anything. But she loved it. She’d never stayed anywhere so fine, not even Mr.
Ashbury’s house. He had a great deal of money, but he loathed spending it.
There was a beautiful watercolor of the seashore on the wall and she sighed in
longing. She would love to be able to escape there and forget all her troubles.