Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (27 page)

She finally gathered the courage to steal away to
her mother’s house.  Her sister was livid that she’d come to visit in the
daylight.  Her mother was worried that Anne would ruin her sister’s chances for
a good marriage.  Even when Anne told them about the beatings, her mother said
it was best that she worked out the problems herself.  Perhaps her next
protector would be more kind.

Her mother turned her out that night.

A week later, Anne’s lover came to visit and flew
into a rage.  He’d known all along about her mother and sister.  In fact, he’d
paid the sister to keep him informed of her whereabouts should she disappear.  He
gave Anne a beating so severe, she wanted to die to stop the pain.  Then he
sliced her face and body.

The next day, be broke the contract with the madame,
claiming Anne was so ugly he wouldn’t get any pleasure from her anymore.  He
demanded another girl to take her place and that Anne be thrown out of the
house he was renting for her. 

Bloodied and barely able to walk, she took the few
possessions she’d owned before she met him.  She sewed the money she had into
her clothes, then ventured out into the streets.  She knew no one who would
take her in.  She slept during the day wherever she could, and tried to keep
safe in the alleys of Mayfair at night. 

On the third day, she was barely able to walk.  Her
wounds were infected and she was running a fever which grew so severe that she
collapsed on the street.  Then the greatest miracle of her life occurred.  The
servant of an eccentric recluse found her.  Anne woke up in a soft bed, with
her wounds being tended by a surgeon.  She was in the boarding house owned by
Mrs. Mitchell, who came by to check on her.  The lady told her she could stay
there until she recovered and found work.  When Anne became distressed by the
thought of looking for employment given her wounds, Mrs. Mitchell kindly
allowed her to stay in exchange for working as the housekeeper.

The past three years had been the happiest she’d
ever known.

Even if she never did go outside.  Even if she
feared seeing him.  She heard about him from time to time, but he never tried
to contact her.  He made appearances in her nightmares, but she’d so far been
safe from him.  She prayed she would never see him again.

Not surprisingly, her experience had made her wary
of men.  She interacted with very few, mostly tradesmen and the occasional
footman from Mrs. Mitchell’s home.  No men were allowed in their boarders’
bedchambers since that would hardly be conducive to reforming their ways.  She
had initially been nervous to meet Lord Henry Kellington, even though he was a
friend of Mel’s.  But while she found it difficult to trust her instincts, she
felt Lord Henry would not harm her or any woman.  She even began to feel safe around
him.

Mr. Parker was another matter all together.

Not because she feared him.  In all their brief
interactions, he’d been quiet and polite, even respectful, despite her past.  
He wasn’t just deferential because he was a gentleman.  It was as if he understood
her fears, which embarrassed her even as it endeared him to her. 

She’d never taken the lead speaking to him, knowing
as she did the vast differences between them not just in class, but the fact
that he was a gentleman and she’d been a whore.  But he often tried to gently
engage her in conversation and she found herself enjoying their talks.  They
didn’t last long and were often about the most mundane of matters, such as what
the weather might be like or sights he should see in London.  But somehow those
simple conversations were some of the most meaningful in her life.

If she had to be completely honest with herself, she
hadn’t just stayed up past midnight to finish the darning.  She was waiting for
Mr. Parker.  She’d wanted to see his smile and hear his voice again, even if it
was just to tell her whether he’d like a meal before he retired.  She knew she
was being foolish.  But it had been so long since she’d felt this way.  It was
wonderful to have a secret
tendre
for him.  It was foolish, but it was
also healing.

She heard the sound of someone fumbling with a key
at the front door.  Her heart lurched and she cursed herself for the first
thought she always had when she heard an unexpected noise in the night.  It
always scared her.  It was a constant underlying fear that her former protector
had found her and had come to finally kill her.  But that was foolish.  It was
probably Angela or Lydia, even though it was early for either of them to come
home.  And, best of all, it might be Mr. Parker.

She set aside her darning and was halfway down the
hall when the door lurched open and Mr. Parker all but fell into the house.  He
was injured and looked to have been in a fight.

She ran to help him into the house, then closed and
bolted the door behind him.

“Mr. Parker!” she said.  “What happened?”

“I am proud to say it took four ruffians to do
this,” he said with a half-smile, wincing as he limped down the hall, “although
I’m ashamed to admit they got away with my purse.”

“You’re lucky you came away with your life!” said Anne,
as she put her arm around his waist and helped him walk.  “Come to the
kitchen.  I want to examine your cuts.”

“I cannot put you to so much trouble,” said Parker,
who nonetheless leaned on her.

“Hush,” said Anne.  “You are a guest in this house. 
The least I can do is help you.”

“Perhaps I just wanted to lick my wounds in
private.  It’s not very manly of me to have to rely on your assistance.”

“No one could ever doubt your manliness,” said Anne
without thinking, then immediately wanted to melt into the floor.  “I mean, no
one would presume to question someone who’s injured.  London is unsafe, Mr.
Parker.  Perhaps I feel the need to make amends for my city.”

She set him on a bench by the table, then busied
herself with gathering the supplies to clean and dress his wounds.  She was
relieved that he didn’t seem too badly injured.  Nevertheless, her hands shook
as she poured the water, then she dropped the roll of bandages on the floor. 

“Please, permit me,” said Parker, as he bent to pick
them up.  His fingers brushed hers as he gave her the bandages and she felt the
touch throughout her body.

“Thank you, Mr. Parker,” she said, as she moved the
candles closer so she could better see what she was doing, as well as give
herself a chance to catch her breath.  He was handsome in the bright light of
day.  In the evening he looked like sin.  She must focus her mind on other
things.  “Did you tell the Watch about the theft?”

“No, I came straight home.  Do you think it would do
any good if I report it tomorrow?”

Her slight smile was apologetic.  “Probably not. 
They might pay you some heed since you’re a gentleman.  But in this
neighborhood, not even all the murders get attended to.  But Lord Henry’s
brother is with the Home Office.  There may be something he can do for you.”

“I shan’t be asking Kellington for any favors,” said
Parker, right before wincing as Anne touched a wet rag to his face. 

“I’m so sorry.  I’m trying not to hurt you,” she
said, as she tenderly washed his cuts and scrapes.  She knew it was much too
intimate of a situation for her own good.  “Perhaps we should send word to Miss
Sutton tonight.  I’m sure she would like to be informed.”

“Tomorrow will be soon enough to let her know.  I
wouldn’t even like to tell her then, but fear there will be no hiding the
evidence.”

“You should heal well.  The cuts don’t seem deep enough
to leave bad scars.”  Anne froze for a moment, because she never said or did
anything that would direct attention to her own scars.  He also stilled and she
wanted to kick herself for speaking without thinking. 

He gently turned the left side of her face to the
light.  She resisted.  “Please,” he said.  “I’d like to see you.”

*                    *                    *

Richard could tell it took much of Anne’s courage –
and she was a woman with no short supply of it – to show him the physical scars
of her earlier life.  He knew she must also have emotional scars that eclipsed
the ones he could see.  As he carefully examined her cheek, he could see that most
of them were faded to a light pink.  But there was an especially deep and
savage scar that bisected one cheek and ran down to her lip.

“It must have been terrifying and excruciatingly
painful,” he said, aware of the inadequacies of his words.

She shook her head, as if to minimize what had
happened.  “Many have suffered worse on the streets.  Some don’t survive.  Or
worse, wish they were dead.”

Richard brought up a finger as if to trace the red
marks, but stopped before touching her when she flinched.  “I hope the bastard
who did this is dead.  Please excuse my language.”

She smiled and the scarred portion of her lip went
downward as always.  “I thought Quakers were a peace loving people.”

He smiled in spite of the situation.  “I am not a
Quaker.  And I am a man.  I would dearly love to get my hands on the person who
did this to you.”

“He is not worthy your thoughts,” she said.  “But
thank you.”

“Good,” said Richard with some satisfaction.  He
wanted to say more.  He found himself wanting to do more.  But, instead, he
pulled back from her.

After a moment’s hesitation, she did as well.  The
spell was broken.  “If you need anything further,” she said over her shoulder
as she walked toward her rooms, “please ring for one of the servants.  I’m sure
they should be able to attend to you.”

Richard watched her leave, then walked to his own
room.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Melanie looked up at the imposing mansion before
her.  Riverton House was one of the most elegant homes in Mayfair.  Her uncle’s
carriage had just dropped her off and was preparing to leave again.  For one
panicked moment, she considered jumping into it again and going back home.  But
she wasn’t a coward, even if she very much felt like one at the moment.

The invitation had been a complete surprise and had
sent her Aunt Evelyn and cousin Mary into the boughs.  The new Lady Riverton
had been almost a recluse since marrying, although it was rumored that was due
to her not feeling well because of her pregnancy.  Of course, no one ever used
that word.  But Mel was still an American and felt language should do more to
convey meaning than cover it up.

The invitation was, surprisingly, addressed to her
alone.  At first she thought it had been a mistake.  She’d never been
introduced to Lady Riverton, so that in itself made the invitation highly
unusual.  The fact that it excluded her aunt and her cousin bordered on being
rude.  But they’d been only too happy to overlook any boorishness since they
were drawing conclusions based on the fact Lady Riverton was Lord Hal’s
sister.  To them, it seemed only natural that she would take an interest in a
lady her brother was courting.  Mel didn’t think he was courting her, but
couldn’t tell her relations that since his visits enabled her to do her work.

She realized suddenly, that the door was open and
the butler was waiting for her to enter.  She took a deep breath, then ascended
the stairs and entered the house.

She was shown to a sitting room that was rather
garishly decorated in the Egyptian style so popular from a few years earlier. 
She wondered what Lady Riverton had been thinking.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” said a lovely woman who
entered the room, followed by two other striking women, one of whom was quite
clearly pregnant.

The first woman, while a bit pale, had black hair
and green eyes and was clearly Hal’s sister.  She also had a warm, welcoming
smile that was so different from most women of the
ton
.  But then, so
did the other two ladies with her.

“I am Elizabeth Redmond, but everyone calls me Lizzie. 
Please forgive me for a whole list of offenses, not the least of which is
making you wait in this horrid room.  I’m very slowly renovating the house and
this room hasn’t been touched yet, though it sorely needs work.  These are my
sisters-in-law, Jane, who is married to my second eldest brother Ned…”  She
indicated the very pregnant woman with blonde hair and light brown eyes.  “…and
Vanessa, who is married to Arthur.”  The other woman had dark red hair and
beautiful sapphire eyes that were studying her with some curiosity.  “Would you
care to have a seat?  I’m afraid I must sit down as I’m not feeling
particularly well.  Jane must sit also because she’s rather pregnant.  And
Vanessa deserves a seat from listening to us complain about our conditions these
many hours.”

Melanie immediately liked Lady Riverton just from
the use of the word “pregnant” alone.  But all three women were so free of the
artifice of society, that she felt more comfortable here than at any place
other than her uncle’s house.

All four ladies took their seats, then Lady Riverton
rang for tea.  As soon as the servant left, Lizzie turned to Melanie.  “Are you
in love with my brother?”