The Love List (20 page)

“Let’s go then, shall we?”

Her lips pressed together, she nodded.

He felt an echo of it again, as he took her arm—that sensual jolt that had his whole body tightening in shock. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded.  “We’ll have to be careful.  Thus far we’ve been a step behind and I’m damned tired of it.  I have a good idea of where Tru might be hiding, if he’s making forays about the city like today’s.”  He glared down at her.  “Tomorrow we’ll search him out.  You can come along, but you will follow my instructions to the letter.  Marstoke could still be a threat.”

She murmured her agreement.

And he marched on, ignoring the small voice in his head as it struggled to gain volume. 
Do you not remember? 
It whispered and worried, intent upon its warning. 
This is meddling of the highest order—and you already know the consequences of such folly.

But Aldmere pushed away the voice—and the sudden image dredged up from the murky depths of his mind.  The small cottage, once his second home, stripped of its usual genial warmth.  A green coat, hanging forever empty on a rough peg.  The wretched sobs of a shaking woman.  The quiet, accusatory anger of a man helpless to express it.

He cursed and forced his clenched fists to relax.

“We’ll have to be careful,” he repeated.  And this time he said with all the fervor and intensity of a vow.

Eleven

How could I know, the first time I met the despicable Lord M—, what havoc those few minutes would wreak upon my life?  It happened in the Pump Room.  Captain Wilson introduced us, although he appeared almost reluctant to do so.  Of course, Lord M— had not yet come into his title.  But the arrogance was already there, and the cruelty.  I did not like him.  I let him know it.  We engaged in a brief, verbal battle, in which I was sarcastic, the Captain was agitated and the future Lord M— was both angry and intrigued.  I left them both behind in a fit of disgust and returned to my mother.

—from the journal of the infamous Miss Hestia Wright

The dream reached for her.  Even asleep, Brynne recognized it.  The nightmare that had gripped her after she left home and had returned repeatedly in those early days.  Yet, even knowing, still she found herself helpless to escape.  Like struggling to break water’s surface, she fought towards wakefulness, but icy fingers dragged her back.  Down, toward the depths where her limbs would be struck stiff and solid with paralyzing fear and her soul frozen in terrifying loneliness.

Suddenly, light shone above.  A soft voice spoke.  With a gasp, she awoke, calming at the sight of her room in Hestia’s house, at the tantalizing smell of fresh, warm bread and . . .

“Rosemary?” she asked, rolling over.

“It’s growing wild in that sunny corner of the kitchen garden.”  Callie set a loaded tray down on the small table in the corner.  She pulled a small chair in from the passageway and beckoned, leaving the favored, padded chair for Brynne.  “I chopped it fine and threw it into the mix this morning.”

Sitting up, Brynne took in the drawn skin of Callie’s face and the dark circles under her eyes.  “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Oh, you know how I get.  My mind gets to gnawing on a problem and I can’t rest.”

“And this is a particularly tough and chewy problem.  What does Hestia say?”

“Exactly the sort of refined and ladylike oaths you’d expect,” Callie said with a laugh.  “But she’s already throwing buckets of water over the fire that hasn’t started yet.  She has an idea that it will be possible to prevent the public sale of the List.  She must have written a dozen letters last night, and this morning she left early to pay strategic visits and start to call in favors.”

“It looks like you were up even earlier,” Brynne yawned.

“I think better when I’m mixing something.”

“Or pounding something,” she answered, wry.

“Well just be glad I kept to pounding the dough and not your door.  You got in so late.”  Disapproving, Callie flicked back the covers of Brynne’s bed.  “Come and eat and tell me everything.  The girls will be up soon with water for a bath.”

Brynne paused in reaching for her wrap.  “Truly?  Bless you, Callie.  A thousand times.”

“We all agreed you would need one after dealing with Hatch.”  Her friend grimaced and sat.  “Was it as bad as we’ve imagined?”

The question triggered an avalanche of rapid recollections.  Brynne remembered the misery in the dirty streets, the feel of Francis Headley’s thin arm, her embarrassment at the furtive coupling in Hatch’s entry hall, the sour stench of the bawd’s office and the cold hate in her eyes.  She shivered.  “Yes.  It was bad.” 

She paused as she took her seat, relishing other images from the day.  Aldmere, pulling her close and fending off that man and his knife with little more than a look.  The duke standing stalwart and determined, facing down Hatch’s bully.   Even against Hatch, when he couldn’t use force against the vicious, empty woman, he’d cowed her with nothing more than the power of his words.  “But Aldmere gave her a taste of her own.”  Her mouth curled in satisfaction.  “Seeing that was worth all the rest.”

Callie snatched back the basket of fresh rolls she’d been handing over.  “Wait just a minute, Brynne Wilmott.  You are being careful, are you not?”

Brynne reached again.  “Careful about what, exactly, Callie Grant?”

“You know perfectly well what I mean—careful about that duke!  He seems capable of acting as big a bully as Hatch—and high-handed and arrogant in the bargain.”

“Oh, he’s all that.”  Brynne replied around a mouthful of fresh roll.  “Good heavens.”  She tilted her head.  “Do you know, I think that fully half the girls who choose to stay on here do it just for your bread.”

“Don’t try to distract me,” her friend complained.  But Brynne could see the pleasure she took in the compliment.  “Tell me about the duke.”

She shrugged.  “He’s everything you’ve said.  He definitely has his domineering moments, and he seems continually willing to take control of any given situation.”

“Aren’t they all?” Callie asked with a sneer.  “I’ll wager he was more than eager to put his own interests first, as well.”

Brynne sipped her tea.  “Well, in this case we have to be fair.  His interest was all regarding his brother’s welfare.”

“And yours is in your future.  Don’t forget that.  Don’t make the mistake of placing yourself second again—behind anyone.”

“I won’t.”  She scanned the tray in search of a letter.  “Speaking of which, has there been word from the land agent?”

“Not yet.”  Callie poured for herself and sat back.  “You have a good plan, Brynne.  Oh, there will be talk when you first set up your establishment, if only because of everything that’s happened to you.  But you’ll have time.  While the first children prosper and grow, while they train and choose a new direction for their lives, you’ll have time to win people over.  And you’ll do it with your vision and hard work and your obvious wish to help.”

Brynne pushed the duke’s dissenting voice from her head.  “I hope you are right.”

“The worst thing you could do would be to continue to swim in the scandalbroth.”

“I have no plans even for dipping my toe in.”

“Good.  For you are no Hestia Wright.  You don’t have the backing of princes and powerful friends.  You’ll have only your passion and your character.  And like it or not, your character will inevitably color that of the girls you wish to help.”

“My character has already been shredded by hundreds of people that I’ve never met,” she answered sourly.  “Society rejected me when I failed to live by their rules.  So guess what that means, Callie—it means that I no longer
have
to live by their rules.”

Her friend folded her arms.  “That’s the first wholly naïve statement I’ve ever heard you make.”

“I’m bitter, not naïve,” she returned.  “But don’t worry, I’ve no intention of misbehaving.”

“Intentions are one thing.  And a handsome duke is another.”

Brynne lifted her cup again.  Aldmere was handsome at that, with his powerfully broad physique and his dark eyes that showed more than he meant to.  And what of his famous remote and brooding nature?  Clearly it was a comfortable fit, one that he used to remain distant—and safe, she’d wager—from those around him.

But he’d been willing to set it aside for her yesterday, at least for brief snatches of time.  And while it was true that he was prone to be officious and certain of his own opinions, he’d never dismissed hers.  He’d disagreed with her, argued with her, but he hadn’t once made her feel small or powerless.  He’d even agreed to carry her along today when he might have taken the chance to be done with her.

“Oh, no.”  Callie said.

Flushing, Brynne reached for another roll.

“We’re quit of him just in time, I think,” her friend said.

“We’re not quit of him.”  She sketched a brief history of all that had happened yesterday.  “I’m traveling with him today, and hopefully we’ll find his brother and both manuscripts.”

“I don’t think you should go.” Callie said with a note of finality.

Brynne blinked.  “This could be the end of the matter.  If we locate Lord Truitt today, we might yet escape this mess without a scratch!”

“We might.  Or you might end up in more trouble than ever.  You might roll right over and do something foolish for this . . .
duke
.”  Her tone turned the title derogatory.

She sighed and set down her roll with regret.  “I’m not a fool.”

“No, you are not. You are a woman.  And one who happens to be in a fragile spot.”  Callie looked away.  “I don’t want to see you taken advantage of.”

“I won’t be.”  Brynne reached across the table and touched her friend’s hand.  “I promise.  My eyes are open.  I see Aldmere clearly.  He’s a powerful man with a goal.  And though his aims might be better than Marstoke’s or my father’s, I still sense a similar sort of single-minded determination in him.”  She shivered.  “That’s not something I want to get too close to, ever again.”

Callie ducked her chin.  “He’s a nobleman, Brynne.  They all share the ability to focus on their own wants and needs—to the exclusion of all else.  And they share the willingness to do anything to see them met.”

“Do you think me so weak, then?” Brynne asked quietly.

Her friend sighed.  “I suppose not.  But I’ve seen women lose themselves over a handsome face so many times.”

“Well, I won’t,” she repeated.  “I can be just as single-minded and determined as any man.”  She sat back and let her mind drift, remembering.  “And I’m not going to lose sight of my own goals just because of a kiss.”

“He
kissed
you?” Callie leapt to her feet, horror etched across her face. 

Brynne cursed silently.  She fought to keep calm and prevent her color from rising.  “It was nothing.”

“It’s never nothing with a man like that!  God in heaven, this is exactly what I was afraid of.”  She walked away, to the window facing over the tiny back garden.  “I don’t think I can bear it.”

“Your imagination is running away with you.  There was no grand seduction.  It was just a kiss.  It wasn’t planned.  He was happy and I was . . . curious.  And now it’s forgotten.”

Her only answer was a wild and derisive laugh thrown over her friend’s shoulder.

“Oh, come now.  I’m not a silly girl, mistaking a tiny spark for a roaring flame.  Nor am I likely to trade everything important to me for something so fleeting.”

“There may be no trade involved.  Too many of these noblemen take what they want with no regard for anyone or anything else.”

“Aldmere is not such a man,” Brynne said, rearing back.  “It’s true he can be remote and overbearing, but he possesses other qualities as well.  Yesterday he was both respectful and protective of me.  He could have ignored our plight altogether, but he listened.  It wasn’t easy for him, but he let down his guard a bit and even relaxed enough to include me.  He even managed to be amusing at times.”

Callie sniffed.  “Well then, of course you should marry him and spit out fifteen little ducal babies.”

“Don’t be sarcastic.  Not all noblemen are monsters and no one is all one thing, be it good or bad.”  She folded her arms.  “Eventually you are going to have to face that truth.  Someday you will meet someone, and you are going to have to open your eyes and see all of him.”

“I believe we are talking about
you
.”

A knock sounded on the door.  Frustrated, Brynne rose to allow Isaac to enter.  He carried in the copper tub and set it down by the fire.  Behind him trooped a trio of girls with hot water.  They poured, and left, giggling, to get more.

When the door was closed again, Brynne approached her friend.  “Please, I don’t want you to worry.”  Callie continued to stare out the window.  Brynne came close and set her hand on her shoulder.  “It was just weeks ago that I huddled in that chair, almost unable to leave it.  Only you and Hestia know the extent of the fear I felt.  How I was frozen with hurt, and the pain of betrayal.  I thought that I had no future, no purpose.  Can’t you understand that this is what all of this is about for me?”

Callie didn’t answer.

“I learned so much from you two.  I watched you persevere against a nearly endless problem and I began to see that I could move forward, that I could make a difference.  Now that future is at stake.  And yours, as well, and Hestia’s and so many others’.  It’s partially due to my actions, too.  So I have to follow this through.  I cannot go back to being helpless and alone, at the mercy of Marstoke and his wicked plans.  I cannot sit and allow someone else to take care of this for me.”

She didn’t have to.  Because Aldmere
had
listened.  And he had understood.  And if Callie could comprehend how thoroughly that simple fact warmed her—almost as much as the memory of his heated kiss—then she would never have relented and turned, nodding her head and grasping Brynne’s hand.