Midnight (12 page)

“Good afternoon, Miss Kingston.”

Not a dream. “What am I doing here?” she asked. “Where are we?”

“You’ve been ill and we’re in my bedroom.”

Her eyes widened. He didn’t say anything else so she asked, “Did you bring me here?”

“Yes. I found you outside in the storm.”

With those words everything rushed back to her. The fight with her father, her flight from the inn, the storm. Her whole world had suddenly tilted and she forced herself not to acknowledge the ache in her heart. “How long have I been here?”

“This is the evening of the fourth day.”

The span of time was shocking. That she’d become so ill after what she’d endured wasn’t. Had her father looked for her, or simply said good riddance? That thought brought pain, too, along with the renewed memories of her flight. She saw her herself trying to make her way through the icy rain and how horrible an experience it had been. She was lucky and grateful to have survived. She was still so tired though. She felt as if an apple blossom could knock her over. Her eyes slid closed.

“Are you hungry?”

She never answered. She’d fallen asleep.

Nicholas noted that her breathing sounded more even than at any time since her arrival, and it made him believe the crisis had passed. Getting her back on her feet would now become his focus. After that, he didn’t know, because he had no idea why she’d been out in the weather. His mind went back to that first afternoon and her fever-fueled delirium. Whom didn’t she wish to marry? Had Case been bedeviling her again, and was he somehow tied to her being out in the weather? Once again, Nicholas had no answers, so he retook his seat and resumed eating his stew with the hope that she’d awaken again soon.

It was dark inside the room when Faith reopened her eyes. This time, the sense of disorientation only lasted for a moment; she knew where she was. She was lying by the fire in Nicholas Grey’s bedroom and she’d been ill. The images of the argument with her father flooded through her mind again and she placed her hand against her cheek. It still stung where he’d struck her, but the mental slaps he’d meted out were more hurtful. Elizabeth Sutter. To his credit, during the years he’d raised her, he’d never dallied with anyone, or at least as far as she knew. Their lives had centered around each other and the inn. Now he was feeling like a buck in rut, proposing to have new children and toss away the old. She brushed away the tears filling her eyes. She refused to cry. She turned her head and found Nicholas watching her from that same chair. He didn’t speak and neither did she, but it was yet another situation she’d have to face eventually. She still felt as if she’d been left for dead.

“Thank you for saving me,” she said to him. She had no remembrance of telling him that before, but she owed him thanks and more for his help.

“You’re welcome. Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

“I have stew for you warming downstairs.” He got to his feet, adding, “There’s a chamber pot behind the screen over there. If you’re not strong enough yet, I’ll help you when I return.”

Faith was embarrassed to her toes. “I believe I can manage to get there myself,” she countered, not knowing whether she could or not, but certain she’d faint dead away if he had to assist her with something so personal.

She looked up at him looming above her in the shadows, and for the first time, her vision was clear enough to see the weariness in his eyes. “Have you slept?”

“No.”

“Have you been the only person taking care of me?”

“Yes. I didn’t want to alert your father until you could tell me why you were out in that storm.”

“Then no one knows I’m here?”

“Only my neighbors, Arte and Bekkah Clegg. Bekkah brought over some food.”

She met his eyes again. “Thank you,” she whispered emotionally.

“I’ll get you some stew.”

As soon as he departed she forced herself to a sitting position to try and make it over to the screen before he came back. As she sat up straight, the sheets and quilts wrapped around her body slipped down. For the first time she realized that she didn’t have a stitch on! Beneath all the covers she was naked as a newborn. All manner of questions screamed at her for an explanation, but it didn’t take an advanced education to unravel how this had come about. Nicholas Grey had removed her clothing! She almost did faint then. The implications left her dizzy and appalled. She understood that it had been undoubtedly necessary; she’d probably resembled a shipwreck survivor when he found her, but the ramifications were legion. Realizing time was wasting, she forced herself to stand and on shaking legs rewrapped the blankets around her and made her way to the screen.

Her mission accomplished, she was lying on her back panting from the exertion when he returned. He took one look at her and asked, “I assume you took care of your needs without assistance.”

“I did,” she whispered.

“Stubborn woman.”

“Embarrassed is more applicable.”

He showed a small smile and shook his head. “Here’s the stew.”

“Can I sit in a chair? Maybe that will help me stay awake longer.”

He set the bowl down and carried the chair he’d been sitting in over to the fire and set it close. He scooped her up gently, quilts and all, before she could protest. His strong arms and her knowledge that he knew she had no clothes on were both so distracting that it took her a moment to realize that she was not in the chair, but on his lap in the chair. Startled, she tried to get up, but he stayed her gently.

“I’ll wield the spoon, you eat.”

“I can feed myself,” she protested. Although the trip behind the screen had drained the small amount of energy she’d awakened with, this was far too intimate for her to allow. “You must let me up.”

Instead, a spoon filled with a delicious-smelling stew floated in front of her face and she looked up into his waiting eyes. Her stomach growled in response to the tempting offering, and she knew she was going to surrender; she was too hungry not to. His intense gaze made her aware of intimacies associated with other kinds of personal surrenders as well, but she chose to concentrate on the food instead.

Nicholas fed her slowly. As she chewed and swallowed he saw the small signs of rebellion in her eyes, but the show of temper proved she was on the mend and that pleased him.

“More?” he asked.

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “I believe I’ve had enough for now.”

He set the bowl on the floor. She’d eaten far more than he’d expected and that pleased him, too.

As the fire filled the room with flickering light, he gazed down at her and ran his finger gently over the angry bruise on her cheek. It had bloomed to life the first evening and he’d been waiting to ask her about it. “Who struck you?”

She ducked away, eyes downcast.

His touch light, he raised her chin so he could study her face. “Was it Case again?”

For a moment she didn’t respond. He could see her mental struggle so he waited calmly. With her hair matted and the signs of sickness showing itself in her tired eyes, she looked awful, but he still found her absolutely mesmerizing.

“ ’Twas my father.”

He stiffened and searched her eyes with wonder. “Why?”

So she told him the story.

He listened without comment and when she finished Nick was furious. He tenderly gathered her closer, and she let herself be held without a fight.

Faith had never been held this way before. His embrace seemed to offer her both the strength and the solace she’d always sought. For her entire life, she’d taken care of her own emotional needs; eschewing her tears, sadness, and fears because there’d been no one to share them with, not even for a little while. However, his arms were like a balm to all the years alone, and for a moment, in the quietness of the room, she let go of being strong and dutiful, and allowed someone else to help her with her burdens.

Next she knew, she was crying. Where the tears came from she didn’t know, but they were rolling silently down her cheeks. Her father had finally broken her heart, and with her world turned upside down the future loomed dark.

“You are the bravest woman I’ve ever known, Faith Kingston,” he whispered above her head, and she felt his lips press reverently against her brow.

He raised her chin and looked down at her face as she slowly wiped at her tears. He kissed each wet eye with equal reverence before asking, “Do you think you will be all right here alone if I leave you for a short while?”

She dragged her palms over her cheeks. “Where are you going?”

“To your father’s to retrieve your belongings.”

She stiffened with alarm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll leave him alive.”

“He isn’t going to let you take them.”

“It doesn’t matter what he wants. You need your things.”

He was right, of course, but she didn’t see her father letting him take them without a confrontation, providing he hadn’t already disposed of them. She also didn’t see Nicholas taking no for an answer. Added to those worries were the spy inks and stationery hidden in her bedroom desk drawer. Had they been discovered? They had to be retrieved as well. Her widow’s weeds were kept beneath her mattress but she didn’t want to have to explain why they were hidden away. She stopped herself before the worry list grew longer. She was too tired for all this thinking.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Tired.”

“I’ll lay you back down.”

Faith was surprised at how comfortable she’d become and in reality would have chosen to stay where she was, but he was neither her husband nor her intended so she had no business even thinking along that vein. If word got around about where she’d been for the past few days it wouldn’t matter that he’d saved her life, she’d be shunned at church, and the subject of scandal-fed gossip, maybe for the rest of her life.

“You’re certain I can leave you alone? I’m sure Bekkah wouldn’t mind sitting with you until I return.”

“I will be fine. The less people who know where I am, the better for us, I believe.”

He gave her an agreeing nod. “I’m glad you’re on the mend.”

“So am I. Thank you again for coming to my aid.”

“Again, you’re welcome. I’m simply glad I was at home.”

And she was as well. He laid her back down on the pelts as carefully as he’d picked her up earlier. Tracing his finger down her unbruised cheek, he said, “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”

“Would you bring the contents of my writing desk, too, please?”

“Yes.”

Faith watched him depart and then slid back into sleep.

Chapter 12

N
icholas knew he could have easily waited until morning to see Kingston, but his anger was too high. Not only had the man’s selfish ultimatum nearly cost Faith her life, he’d struck her hard enough to leave her bruised. That alone made him a candidate for gutting. The vivid memory of how cold and still she’d been when he found her added to the fury. Had the man no heart at all? He didn’t care about Kingston wanting to marry the little tart he’d been introduced to at the reception, but he took great exception to the plan to sell Faith to Case as if he she held no more value than a milk cow. The most difficult challenge would be keeping himself from strangling the Tory toad with his bare hands.

Arriving at the inn he saw a wagon parked out front. He had no idea whom it belonged to, nor did he care.

Inside, Kingston was seated at a table with the cadaverous-looking Will Case. The urge to horsewhip them both rose within him.

Kingston looked up with surprise. “What brings you here, Grey?”

“I’ve come for Faith’s things.”

Kingston visibly froze. “What things? Where is she?”

“From the story she told me, I’m certain you don’t care.”

Case snapped. “If you know where she is, I demand you take us to her.”

“I’ll take you to hell first.” He turned his attention back to Kingston. “Where’s her room?”

Kingston eyed him for a long moment. “Is she at your home?”

“Again, I ask why you care. You demanded she leave here, and she did, almost at the cost of her life. When I found her lying in the road she was near death!” The force of his fury seemed to blow Kingston back. “And let this be a warning to you. Never put your hands on her in anger again. Now, direct me to her room.”

Kingston countered smugly, “She deserved what she got for being disobedient and disrespectful.”

Nicholas flashed across the room like lightning, hoisted Kingston up by the lapels, and slammed him into the closest wall. “You outweigh her by nearly a hundred pounds! How dare you hurt her!” He slammed him again.

Kingston whimpered.

“Now where’s her room!” Nicholas demanded in a cold, wintry voice.

Kingston pointed. “Back of the house.”

Nicholas tossed him aside, not caring that he landed on the floor in a heap.

Fury ruling, he entered her room and lit a lamp so that he could see. As he looked around the quiet interior, his anger momentarily ebbed. His eyes touched her bed that was made up so neatly, and the threadbare patchwork quilt on top. He viewed the polished mahogany armoire and the red shutters on the window he’d watched her sneak through the night that now seemed ages ago.

Removing the slips from the two thin pillows on her bed, he filled them with the frayed stockings and mended underwear he found in the armoire drawers. He wrapped the larger items like her few skirts and blouses in the familiar gray cloak she should have been wearing during the storm. The memories of the way she’d looked when he found her so close to death rose again and his emotions did the same. Forcing away the disturbing images, he walked to her writing desk. She had specifically asked that the contents be retrieved, so he made sure the ink pots were closed tightly before placing everything he found inside the desk drawers into one of the pillow slips. As beautiful and unique as she was, the fact that her personal items didn’t even fill up two pillow slips tightened his jaw.

Hefting her things into his arms, he doused the light and walked back to the front of the house. He found Kingston eyeing him angrily over a raised musket. Case had an axe.

The ludicrous scene caused Nick to chuckle softly. He slowly placed Faith’s items on a table beside him, and when he turned back to the men across the room he had two silver French pistols, one in each hand. He saw Kingston’s eyes go wide before they quickly settled on him once more.

Nick said casually, “Muskets are notoriously inaccurate. Even soldiers have difficulties hitting their targets. Did you prime it correctly? Did you pack the load well enough? Will the bore pull to the left or to the right? Will it blow up in your face?”

Kingston’s eyes widened again and the gun shook in his nervous hands.

“Pray you don’t miss, because these,” and he raised the pistols, “are very accurate. The first shot will be for you, and the other for your friend.”

Kingston and Case shared a quick look of panic.

“Put the gun down, sir, before I have to kill you both, and while I may be pleased with that outcome, Faith may not.”

Kingston grudgingly drew the gun down.

“Very smart,” Nick said. “And yes, Faith is at my home. If either of you set foot on my land I will shoot you without a thought.”

He picked up Faith’s things and made his exit without a backwards glance.

Kingston came running out. “You can’t do that! Damn you! Primus took Adeline from me. I’ll not let you make Faith your whore, too!”

Nick stopped. “What did you say?”

Kingston charged him, but Nick being younger and the better fighter had no trouble besting the innkeeper. His rage high, Nick stood over the man on the ground, and the cold air was thick with the streams of their breaths.

“I curse you!” Kingston stormed, wiping blood from his split lip. “May you and that whore of a daughter both rot in hell!”

Case came out and helped Kingston to his feet. Nicholas ignored them as he tied Faith’s things to his saddle and mounted.

“This isn’t the end, Grey!” Kingston promised, and continued to hurl threats and curses as Nick rode away.

His fury full-blown, Nick thought back on Kingston’s surprising revelation. Could his claim be true? Had his mother, Adeline, really been Stuart Kingston’s intended at some point in her life? If so, how had she ended up married to Primus? And could this be the reason for their acrimonious feud? He had no answers, so he put the riddle away for the moment and made his way home to Faith.

W
rapped in the thick quilts Faith watched the glow of the fire while the silence of the house echoed around her. The warmth in the room felt good. Physically she still wasn’t up to snuff, but her mind was clearer and she felt stronger, probably due to the stew. She wondered how Nicholas was faring with her father. She just hoped they hadn’t had a fight because there was no way her father would come out on top. Not that she wanted him to after what he’d done and said, but he was still her father, and her heart ached at his selfishness, so she put thoughts of him away and turned them towards herself.
What am I going to do?
Being penniless and homeless left her very few options. She knew she could count on Blythe to take her in, but Blythe wouldn’t be coming home until after the birth of her grandchild, and there was no way of knowing how long that might be. Of course, she could ask Ingram and Charity to take her in, and they would, but she didn’t want to impose on them. Their home was small, and like most people in the area they were bringing in just enough income to get by. Having to house and feed another adult would place them under a serious strain and she loved them both too much to add to their burden.

So where did that leave her? She had no other family, so there was no option of seeking shelter with anyone of that nature. She supposed she could make the round of taverns and inns in Boston and the cities nearby to see if someone would hire her. She could wait tables or pour ale; she’d been doing that most of her life. She could also hire herself out to someone’s kitchen or do day work as a housekeeper.
Where would I live?
Some of the tavern owners allowed their women employees to lease rooms on the premises, but many of the women offered themselves as prostitutes to supplement their wages, and the owners often took a cut. She didn’t see herself doing that, however. She sighed sadly. All because she refused to marry a man she couldn’t abide and because her father— She moved her thoughts away from him again.

The clock on the fireplace mantel showed it to be nearly midnight. Because she had no clear recollection of how long Nicholas had been gone, she wasn’t sure if she should be worrying over his absence or not. She was still uncertain about what day it actually was. He’d said she’d been ill for four days. Was this the night of the fourth day or the fifth? She decided not to worry about that since she had so many other pressing things to occupy her mind.

She looked around at what she could see of the well-appointed bedroom. She’d never been in Primus’s home before. She’d never been in a man’s bedroom before, either; ever. Her presence was going to cause a lot of tongue wagging if word got out, but if her father’s anger held, she was certain he’d have no trouble painting her as having deserved his banishment for not surrendering to his demands. She strongly believed her bread making would have been profitable, given the chance, and she vowed to make a go of it once she got back on her feet. There were doubts, of course, but she didn’t plan to let that scare her off. All she needed was a plan of action and funds, and eventually life would be good again.

A short while later she heard footsteps on the stairs. Nicholas had returned. She took in a deep breath to steady herself. He entered the room quietly, and upon seeing her and the quilts cozied up in the chair by the fire, walked over to her.

“I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“I’ve been awake for a little while.”

“I have your things.”

“Was he difficult?”

“Of course.”

Silence rose for a few moments.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better. I’m still a bit weak but I’m hoping it will pass quickly. Is he still angry?”

“Yes.”

“So am I,” she declared with a small blaze in her eyes.

He gave her a smile. “I have your things downstairs. I remembered your desk items, too.”

“Thank you.” To the layman’s eye, the paper and inks looked very ordinary, so she had no worries of him tying them to her spying activities. Another facet of her life that might be changed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, and took a seat on the arm of the chair.

“How my life is going to be altered. I need to find work.”

“Let’s get you up on your feet again first.”

“I can’t stay here with you.”

“At the moment you’re in no condition to do anything else, but let’s suppose in a few days that you are. Where will you go?”

She shrugged. “If I can hire in at one of the taverns, I may be able to work and live there.”

When he didn’t offer a response she turned back to the fire. “Or I could do day work, or housekeep, or do laundry in someone’s home. Maybe the people I work for would let me lease a room. I don’t know. I’ve never had to contemplate any of this before.”

He still didn’t respond so she looked up at him. “Have you nothing to say? Suggestions? Anything to offer?”

He showed his amusement. He shrugged his shoulders. “I have a solution. You stay here.”

Faith almost laughed. “In what capacity?”

“My housekeeper.”

“Your housekeeper,” she echoed doubtfully.

“I’m looking for one. Blythe didn’t know of anyone and I haven’t found anyone in the area on my own, so the job is open.”

Faith held his eyes. “I thought you were looking for a wife.”

“Truthfully that was more Blythe’s idea.”

She studied him in an attempt to glean the seriousness of his offer. “Even if I was addled enough to say yes, I’m still in need of a room.”

“I’ve three here that you may choose from.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I am. If you think about it, it is the perfect solution.”

“I can’t live here alone with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s just not done. Have you any idea of the scandal that would cause?”

“I thought you told me you weren’t a fleeing woman.”

She quieted. Thoughts of that day returned and she was again under the birch trees being set on fire by nothing more than the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, and the gentle touch of his fingers on her chin. She blinked to pull herself back to the present. “I’m not. Some people have thought me scandalous for varying reasons, but never for salacious behavior.”

“Who says it has to be that?”

“Because you’re involved, Nicholas.”

He laughed. “Then I’ll promise to keep my attraction under control.”

“And you lie. You’ve already admitted that you do to get your way.”

He paused and said nonchalantly, “There is that.”

Faith shook her head and turned her eyes back to the fire.

Nicholas was enjoying her and couldn’t wait for her to be fully recovered. This last bit of conversation had him all but convinced that he’d miss out on something very special if he let her leave, and no matter the end result of the attraction between them, his offer of employment continued to be the perfect solution.

“Not to mention, my father would undoubtedly come here and shoot you if he knew I was openly living here with you.”

“He’s already made an attempt.”

Surprise flashed into her face. “When?”

“Tonight, when I was retrieving your things.”