Fenella J Miller (21 page)

“Alex, I need to relieve myself. It has been hours, and I cannot wait another moment.”

“In which case, sweetheart, let me guide you to a suitable corner. I promise I shall not see a thing.”

If she was not so cold she would have laughed. “We have done some extraordinary things together, have we not? Although I much preferred what we did in the charcoal burner’s house, to being obliged to relieve ourselves on the remains of your ancestors.”

He chuckled, the sound echoing strangely around the building, giving her a much-needed boost to her confidence. Botheration! The hem of her dress was wet. That was insignificant compared to all the indignities she had suffered today. He held out his hand and guided her back to their hiding place.

“Pray excuse me, my darling, I must follow your example.”

The splashing in the darkness made her smile, it was so much easier for a man to accomplish these things standing up. Beside her in moments, he crouched in the corner again, his back hard against the wall, the marble tomb protecting them.

“Sit down, sweetheart. This is the only enjoyable part of our experience.”

She snuggled into his lap, enfolded tenderly within his embrace. They had been whiling away the time asking each other riddles, talking about the children, the future. If anything was going to happen, it could be at any moment.

“How long have we been here, Alex?”

“Several hours. I have tried to keep a mental check, I believe it could be as late as nine o’clock.”

“Jane and the children will be so worried. If nothing happens tonight, then we will know it is my brother’s intention to leave us here to starve.”

“It will not come to that. Foster will search this place eventually.”

His hold tightened and she tilted her face to receive a gentle kiss. There was something she needed to know, and she would not have dared to ask in any other circumstances.

“Alex, tell me, what was Anna like?” She thought him offended, the tension in his body was palpable. He sighed.

“She was nothing like you. Anna was small and blonde and gloriously rounded. She came out in Society the same season I did. That was when we met. It was love at first sight for both of us. My father was alive then, although ailing. My mama and two younger sisters were killed in a carriage accident when I was twelve.”

“How dreadful! I had no idea your family died in such a tragic way.”

“Anna was the only child of doting parents; they were delighted she wished to marry me. We were both so young, I was scarcely eighteen when I met her, and had not reached my majority when we married. She, the same age as I.”

Eleanor wished she had known him then, but she would have been in the schoolroom.

“My father died soon after, fortunately I was one and twenty and was able to take over the estates without the need of a guardianship. Somehow Anna and I learnt the secret of the marriage bed together. I admit it was some time before we both enjoyed it.”

Eleanor was not sure he should be discussing such things with her, but he was engrossed in his memories, hardly aware of her at all.

“A year and a half after our wedding, Lucy was born. Her birth was a perfect moment to hold the product of our love in my arms. We were so happy. However, Anna was with child again immediately, Elizabeth is only eleven months younger than Lucy. Alexander arrived two years later.”

“You were young to have so much responsibility.”

He ignored her comment, lost in his reminiscences. “I could not keep away from her. She had been told that nursing the baby herself would prevent her from conceiving. This is a fallacy, at least in our case it was.” He swallowed.

“Please, darling, don’t continue if it distresses you.”

“No, you should know everything.
You
are my wife now. This last pregnancy was fraught with difficulty and Anna went into labour prematurely. Both she and the baby died.”

“I’m so sorry. That must have been an awful time for you.” His embrace tightened and she reached round to stroke his cheek.

“I was heartbroken, Alexander was a few months old, Elizabeth three, Lucy not even four. I abandoned them and moved into my townhouse. I could not accept her death. I almost killed myself with drink, went down rarely to visit, left them in the clutches of that dreadful nanny. I should be horsewhipped for my neglect.”

“My darling, you must not blame yourself. Grief does strange things to people. How did you recover? What saved you?”

He didn’t answer immediately, then laughed ruefully. “I met a beautiful widow, she became my mistress. Sarah saved my life, I shall always be in debt to her.

“And I too, had she not stepped in your children would be orphans and I would not have met you. Do you still see her?”

“God! Of course not. I wrote to her and told her that our liaison was over and thanked her for her good advice. I also wished her well.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Sarah told me to look for a complaisant wife; she said I would not be happy until my children were properly taken care of. My intention was to marry someone who would make no demands on me and then to live the life I wanted in Town.”

She was about to answer when he stiffened his hand on her lips as warning. He had heard something. Sure enough, there was a slight scrape as the key was turned in the lock. Silently he lifted her from his lap, placing her in the corner away from danger. He had already told her whatever happened she must remain where she was.

He was rummaging in his pocket. There was a loud click. He was cocking a pistol.

He was armed. Thank God! Perhaps they did have a chance of escaping with their lives.

Edward crept two yards behind his minions. They smelt rank as did most of their kind. As long as they did what he wanted, he would be satisfied. He had no intention of committing the murder personally. He was quite prepared to shoot either of them, but putting a pillow over a face, pressing down whilst legs and arms flailed helplessly? He hadn’t the stomach for that.

The man in front gripped the key. It grated noisily in the lock. Edward cursed silently. Would the noise have alerted Bentley? The lanterns they were carrying were blacked out on three sides like the ones the smugglers used. The lit side was facing him, the glow falling inside his cape. He dare not risk a glimmer showing in the darkness and alerting any searchers.

The door inched open. He peered over the shoulders of the two men. The darkness was impenetrable, totally silent. No pleading, no shuffling, no noise at all.

Damnit to hell! Where are they
?

He didn’t fancy shuffling around the mausoleum. Bentley was dangerous; his fists could do damage if he managed to spring out on them.

They were three to one; the odds were in his favour. He edged his way forward. With the light inside his cloak he could only see his feet. Anyone else would be hard put to benefit. He stopped dead as something occurred to him. That bastard Bentley was armed.

“He’s got a gun,” he whispered.

The man in front froze, his companion cannoned into him and fell backwards. Edward dropped his lantern. It tipped open and the flame caught the corner of his cloak. Before he could douse it, he was on fire. The pain in his legs was excruciating. He tore at the fastening and, wrenching it free, threw it away from him.

The door was opening slowly. Alex moved forward, crouching low, waiting to see his target. From the sound, there was more than one man to deal with. Kill the leader, and the others would make a run for it.

The lantern light glimmered on the floor. After the pitch darkness, the light was enough for him to see they were coming in his direction. Then the two men in front halted, Thorrington stumbled and somehow his lantern set fire to his cloak.

Alex levelled his pistol. He guessed what would happen next. When the cloak was flung in a fiery arc it illuminated his target bright as day. With icy calm he aimed, and pulled the trigger. Thorrington reeled backwards, crashing to the marble floor. Alex reached down and removed the stiletto from his boot. There was no time to reload his gun.

The two ruffians who had accompanied Thorrington seemed undecided, then surged forward, deciding to finish the job. They couldn’t afford to be identified. There was no chance of taking both of them, but he would do his damnedest. With the door wide open there was a chance the noise of the attack would be heard, sound travelled further at night.

“Scream, Eleanor, scream as loud as you can. Whatever happens, don’t stop—our lives depend on it.”

Before he was ready, she began. The noise split the air so horribly that if he had not known it was her he would have been terrified. The din was enough to distract the first man. Alex dived in the darkness, kicking out the man’s feet from under him and sending his pistol skittering across the marble floor. He had no wish to kill again, but would if he had to. He had the man around the throat, his knife pressing into his neck. “Tell your friend to drop his gun, or you’re a dead man.”

The man grunted. “Save yourself, Davie. Kill the cove; if we’re taken we’re done for anyway.”

Alex had no choice, he plunged his knife into the man’s neck, dropping with the corpse to the floor in the hope this would confuse his opponent. He would make a smaller target crouched as he was. He was too far away to reach the remaining man. The mausoleum still echoed with unearthly screams. He had seconds to live, and sent up a fervent prayer for deliverance.

Running feet on the gravel alerted him. Someone had heard Eleanor. A small figure exploded into the mayhem and launched himself on the back of the remaining villain. The man’s pistol exploded harmlessly, the bullet ricocheting off a nearby tomb. Alex was on his feet, his blood-stained knife at the man’s throat before he could move.

“Ned, you saved my life. Well done, my boy. Let me have him now.”

The boy remained firmly attached to the man’s back. For a moment Alex was too shaken to move. The screaming continued, unabated. “Stop, sweetheart, it’s over. We’re safe.”

Thankfully the noise ceased. Then others were around him. Ned was lifted from the stinking man and rough hands took the villain’s arms, dragging him away to lock him up. The mausoleum was unexpectedly full of light. He dropped his knife and wiped his blood-stained hands on his breeches.

Eleanor hurtled across the floor, launching herself into his arms, sobbing wildly. “I thought he killed you, Alex, I was so scared. I love you so much. Is it finally over?”

He lifted her, pressing her shaking body against his. “Yes, my darling, it’s done. Let me take you away from here, you’re freezing. Plenty of time for talking later.”

The body of her brother on the floor caused her no regret. She snuggled into Alex, thanking God for sparing them both. Now was not the time to consider the ramifications; how things must be arranged to avoid a scandal. Such thoughts must be left until she was warm again.

She kept her face pressed into his shoulder as he bounded upstairs and along to his own apartment. He walked straight to the bedchamber, placing her tenderly in the centre of his bed. To her astonishment he grabbed the front of her gown and ripped it in two, tossing the pieces to one side, leaving her in her undergarments.

“There, my love, those are relatively clean and dry. Get under the covers. There are things I have to do; I shall join you as soon as I can. I will send your girl to attend to you.”

He hurried off. She wished he had stayed. As soon as he left the room, her teeth started chattering. Whether from shock or cold she had no notion. She had been a veritable castanet these past few weeks. She thought she might be shaken apart by the tremors that rocked her.

Then Jane was there, and Sally. “My dear girl, what a dreadful business. Come, there’s a bath drawn in Bentley’s dressing room for him, yours is waiting in your own chambers. But as you are here, you might as well use his.”

Part lifted, part guided, by the two women Eleanor arrived in his dressing room. There, they removed her undergarments and helped her to step into the bath. This was far bigger than her own, made to accommodate a man. The water was not hot, but warm enough to wash away the grime. The bath restored her equilibrium after the hours spent in that vile place. However, it was not hot enough to linger. A voluminous nightshirt was dropped over her head; she looked at it in astonishment.

Jane laughed. “Well, my dear, if you will come to your husband’s apartments, rather than your own, you must make do with what’s available.”

The bedroom was ablaze with candlelight, two maids rubbed warming pans between the sheets. Eleanor stretched out with a sigh of pleasure. Then her delight in the moment faded. “Jane, I have some painful news for you.”

“There’s no need to tell me, my dear. My husband is dead, and I’m glad of it. My son is the Earl of Tendring. There is only one Edward Thorrington now. And
he
is a hero.”

A deep voice echoed her remark. “Indeed he is, my lady. He saved our lives with his bravery. He is nothing like his father. I believe your husband was deranged.” He smiled at Eleanor and her insides melted. “Lady Thorrington, everything has been arranged in order to avoid a scandal. The governess was your husband’s mistress. It will be said he was a victim of a lover’s quarrel. It makes no matter, the girl will hang anyway. Better it is thought he was a philanderer than a murderer.”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t care who knows about my husband as long as my children are safe. I’m glad there will be no gossip. I don’t blame you in the slightest for shooting him. I would have done the same myself if I’d been there. I shall return to my own home immediately. I’m hoping you will still stand guardian to my children.”

“I would be honoured, my lady. Please, do not rush off on our account. We are happy to have you here; stay, at least until the dust settles.”

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you, I should be glad to. It’s late, we should all have been abed long ago. I will see you in the morning.”

The bedroom door shut softly and Eleanor was alone at last with the man she loved more than her life. He removed his jacket. Apart from some suspicious dark patches on his breeches he looked remarkably unscathed. She recalled the frightful moment when Smithson had stabbed him in the back.

“Alex, has anyone seen to your back?”

“Not as yet, it was a mere scratch, I can no longer feel it.”

She scrambled out of bed her odd nightgown ballooning out around her. “Quickly, remove your shirt and let me look. There’s water in the jug, I can clean it for you.”

He grinned. “It had been my intention to undress, my darling, but not for that purpose.”

His shirt was tossed carelessly to the floor, but not before she saw the patch of red on the back.

“Turn round, I shall clean the punctures for you.” Carefully moistening a clean linen cloth she sponged his back. “Now the blood is removed I can see you were correct, Alex. I was worrying unnecessarily.”

Slowly he twisted to face her, a smile playing around his lips. “My darling, I have seen you in some extraordinary garments but my nightshirt has to be the most outlandish of them all.”

“That is easily solved, my dearest.” She raised her arms.

“In which case, sweetheart, I shall remove it for you.” This was the first time
she
had been totally unclothed in his presence. His eyes glowed and she felt her breasts harden under his gaze.

“There’s a bath in my dressing-room, I’m afraid I have used yours.”

As she spoke he was stripping off his final garments. “With your permission, sweetheart, I shall dispense with my ablutions until the morning. I have more urgent business to attend to.”