His Lady Midnight (7 page)

“That is a relief.” She started to smile, but her smile vanished when he drew her down to sit beside him. When she would have jumped to her feet, horrified to be perched on a bed with a man who was little more than a stranger—and a notorious one at that—he kept her next to him. His strong arm curved around her waist.

When his fingers encountered a rip in the side of her gown, they slipped into it. Fear erupted through her. He had been a gentleman when they were in London. Recalling the stories she had heard of his dalliances with other women, she berated herself as a goose. He might only have agreed to bring her from Town so he could treat her with such boorishness.

“Galen, stop!”

“Stop? I have not started anything.”

“You are being overly presumptuous!”

His brows shot up. “In what way?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just what I said.” His lips twitched. “Just what I asked.”

She plucked his fingers away from her. “I think you are pushing the bounds of propriety by reaching beneath my gown.” Fire scored her face at her own crude words.

“Beneath your gown? I would never presume to treat a lady so.”

“But your fingers were here where no gentleman's would be.” She pointed to the tear in her dress.

His eyes widened, then he chuckled. “What is your dress made of, Phoebe?”

“Silk.”

“And your undergarments?” He laughed again. “Do not blush at such a prosaic question.”

“It is an impertinent question.”

“Mayhap, but I do believe I have a right to ask it when you have already labeled me a scoundrel and have given me not the slightest chance to defend myself.”

“You are glib, my lord.”

“And you are avoiding giving me an answer, my lady. Could it be because you realize that you have misjudged me? That because both your gown and your undergarment are made of silk, what you called my presumptuous action was nothing more than an innocent error.”

She lowered her eyes. “Forgive me. You are quite right.”

He put his arm around her again, cupping her chin with his other hand. Slanting toward her, he murmured, “Trust me, Phoebe. If it had been anything other than a mistake, you would not have been the only one who was aware of where my fingers were.”

“You should not speak so. Even in jest.”

“'Twas no jest. You are a beautiful woman. What man can resist playing your hero?”

“I do owe you a debt, Galen, for all you have done for me.”

Instantly he drew back, but kept his arm around her shoulder. “Is obligation the only reason you let me hold you even this chastely?”

“Should there be another? I barely know you, and I do not make it a habit to be found in strangers' arms. Let me go, please.”

“You are the one who said I am no gentleman, Phoebe.”

“You certainly are no gentleman if you taunt me when I am fearful about what has happened to my household.”

“To own the truth, at a time like this, when I am with a beautiful woman in an inn beyond the environs of London, I should be kissing her warm lips.” When she gasped at his brazen words, he added, “However, you do not need to be fearful. I assure you, that despite your fears to the contrary, I am very much of a gentleman, and you shall leave this inn with your virtue intact.”

When he chuckled, her face became stiff with fury. She should have heeded the tales she had heard about him and spun him a tale of a tryst gone bad. Then he would have taken her home to Grosvenor Square and taken his leave.

Phoebe shivered at that thought. If she had been at home when those three men who had been chasing called, she was not sure what would have happened. She had talked herself out of difficult situations since she had embarked on this attempt to save those who had done so little wrong. She had to be grateful that Galen had been so nice as to offer her a way to flee.

From under her lowered eyelashes, she regarded him. No, nice was not the word for Galen Townsend. With his eyes that missed nothing around him, he reminded her of the sleek tiger cat that ruled the barn on her family's country estate. The cat never tried to subdue those around him with his claws, but all knew under his purring, self-satisfied exterior was a fierce fighter that would protect his domain. The comparison made her even more uncomfortable.

Galen stood.

She looked up at him, wrenched from her uneasy thoughts. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I thought I might find something for us to eat while you take a nap.”

“I am not sleepy.”

“Not sleepy?” He frowned as his hands settled on her shoulders. “If I did not know you better, I would say you were quite mad, Phoebe.”

“Know me better? You do not know me at all!”

“I suspect I know you better than most people do, because you have divulged to me the most precious secrets you keep in your heart.” He smiled. “That is why I know you should get some rest now while you can.”

“I cannot sleep.” She came to her feet. “I am too worried about my friends. I know Johnson—”

“Who?”

“My butler Johnson. He would have answered the door to those three beastly men.”

“You are worrying needlessly about your allies. They should be quite safe because without you, there is no proof of any wrongdoing.”

“That is true. Why have I not thought of that?”

“Because you have not slept in two days.”

“I cannot when I worry so for them. It is an unending circle I cannot escape.”

“If you do not sleep, you will make a mistake.”

Phoebe limped to the room's single window. She opened it, but odors from the open sewer at the back of the inn shoved through. Closing it again, she sighed. “I have already made a terrible mistake, Galen. If I had trusted Jasper to handle those men alone, he might not have been hurt and those we had planned to help would be on their way somewhere safe in England.”

“Have you considered how many times you have eluded trouble and assisted those who had no one else to turn to?” His voice warned he was right behind her. Before she had a chance to react, he turned her to face him. With a single fingertip, he tipped her chin up so her gaze met his. “And how many you hope to help in the future?”

“Why are you helping
me
?” she whispered. “Your title will offer you no more protection than mine.”

“I cannot keep from admiring you for doing what you believe is right, even though everyone else would condemn you.”

“As you do with your brother?”

He recoiled as if she had struck him. When she put her hand out to him, he walked back to sit on the bed. Her outstretched fingers curled into a fist, and she slowly lowered it to her side.

“I should not repeat gossip I have heard either,” Phoebe said, hobbling back the few steps to where he sat. “I know how many untruths there are amidst the hints of truth.”

“But the fact that my brother is worrisome to me is true.”

She knelt beside where he was sitting, trying not to groan as she moved her leg. “I am sorry to bring up this subject which clearly bothers you.”

“It is not easy to be thought of as addle-witted.”

“Kindness is never addle-witted.”

“The exact response I would have expected from you.” His voice took on a jaunty tone as he said, “I am hungry, but I do not wish to go downstairs and leave you alone while you change.”

“What?”

He pointed to the door. “The latch on that would be easily overmastered by anyone intent on getting in here. I doubt you would be interested in meeting an intruder while you are dressed in your smallclothes.” A devilish twinkle came into his eyes. “Your
silk
smallclothes.”

“You expect me to change while you are in the room?”

He went to the window. “If you blow out the candle, you can change in the corner beside the bed. I do not have a cat's eyes, so you need not worry about me seeing through the dark.” He turned to look out the window. “My eyes will not shift from this charming view of the stableyard.”

“You could go—”

“Where? Downstairs? Even if I were willing to leave you alone here, do you want to create more gossip, Phoebe, by having me wandering about the inn while my supposed wife is changing?”

She sniffed. “Now there was a poor idea.”

“What was a poor idea?”

“Telling the innkeeper that you were my husband. That was a poor idea.”

“Do you think so?” He crossed the room toward her, his boots striking the floor sharply on each step. “I thought it would be much less remarkable if a gentleman sought a room for his wife to rest in while the carriage was repaired than to let our host believe we were seeking privacy for an illicit tryst.”

“Really, Galen!”

“Do not tell me that you are embarrassed by such plain speech. Surely you have heard its like and far worse during your visits to …” He smiled abruptly, but there was no warmth in his expression.

“You are right. I have heard its like and far worse, but I do not ever find it pleasant.”

He laughed and sat once more on the bed. Folding his arms on the simple footboard, he shifted one arm. She wondered how badly he had hurt it when the carriage had nearly turned over. He rested his chin on left arm and looked up at her. “How have you managed to do this for so many years and still maintain this gentility?”

“What I do to save a few families does not change who I am.”

“No?”

“I would like to think not.” She rubbed her hands together. “Yet I am certain I have been changed in so very many ways. This all started because my heart was broken for one family. Now I am so deep into it that I am unsure I could stop, even if I wished to.”

“And do you wish to?”

“No! For each person I help, there are scores more who are just as innocent of a heinous crime but are unable to get off the ships.”

“So you will continue with this once the furor dies down?”

“What choice do I have?”

“The same choice you have always had. To continue or to stop.”

She touched the stains on her gown. “There is only one real choice. I must continue.”

Six

The sun had set hours before, slipping into view from behind a bank of clouds that threatened more rain, but Galen had not called a halt to the day's journey. After the disgusting place where they had spent last night, he wanted to be sure that tonight the inn where they stopped offered clean bedding and a decent meal.

“And some ale that does not taste like thin broth,” he muttered to himself.

Hearing a murmur from beside him, he looked over to see if his hushed words had roused Phoebe. She had lost her fight to remain awake about two hours ago, which was another reason he had let Alfred continue driving along the road leading into the sunset.

He smiled. Phoebe's eyes were still closed, so she must have been talking in her sleep. Were her dreams haunted by what had sent her fleeing into his carriage?

Leaning back, he stared up at the carriage's roof. What had seemed like the best solution to an intolerable problem was proving to be insufferable as well. He had forgotten how the featherbed lanes between London and Bath left every bone jostled and aching.

He cursed when the front left wheel bounced into a chuckhole. That was the one that had been damaged yesterday. The carriage needed only to hold together until they could reach Hamdenford, which should be the next village. The lad had said he could ride to Bath and deliver Galen's orders in ripping time, so a carriage from Thistlewood Cottage should be waiting at the inn there.

Voices of a choir practicing pulled Galen from his doze. He realized the carriage was slowing to a stop. Looking across the carriage at Phoebe, he saw she was still asleep, her hand curled under her cheek. The dress from the poor box did not fit her well, but the color flattered her.

His fingers longed to stroke her soft skin as he woke her with an eager kiss. How many other women had he teased with kisses that meant less than the bubbles in a glass of champagne? He was surprised that he could not recall the last one. Watching over his brother had kept him too busy for the past few months to enjoy a few escapades of his own.

Hearing the echo of his brother's laughter, Galen knew what Carr would say about this gallant effort to save Phoebe Brackenton. Carr would have given him a dressing-down for risking his life for a stranger. For a moment, Galen envied his brother's focus only on himself.

Galen stepped out of the carriage as soon as it came to a complete stop. Looking at the inn, he smiled. It was cleaner than where they had stayed last night, and the aromas coming from it did not threaten to create an upheaval in his stomach.

Hearing a creak from the carriage, he said, “Alfred, despite all odds, we have made it this far.”

“Yes, my lord.” He jumped down from the box.

“Thanks to you, the carriage lasted until we reached Hamdenford. Will you be able to get it back to London to be repaired?”

Alfred nodded his grizzled head. “I believe so, although I shall have to go even more slowly than we did today.”

Galen chuckled. “I suspect you were much bothered this afternoon at the thought that the lad and his flock of sheep might pass us by.”

“I was.”

Slapping his coachee on the shoulder, Galen said, “I shall tell the innkeeper to make sure that you are served the best ale he has.”

“Thank you, my lord.” He hesitated, then glanced inside the carriage. “She is asleep, I see.”

“At last.”

“Odd sort of lady, if you do not mind me saying so.”

“Not as long as she does not hear you say so.” He laughed quietly.

Alfred's eyes grew wide. “My lord, I would never speak so in a lady's hearing.” He faltered, then asked, “Do you wish me to help get her into the inn?”

“She weighs less than Carr. If I can lift him into the carriage when he is completely foxed, I can lift her out.”