A Breath of Scandal: The Reckless Brides (15 page)

But she proved to be of cleaner, or at least less experienced, turn of mind than he.

“You know, you managed to get me completely off course,” she chided brightly. “You never did finish telling me everything of your life aboard
Ardent
.”

“You started a brawl, Preston. Forgive me if the topic of educating you about things which you really oughtn’t know anyway slipped my mind.”

“I told you, I didn’t—”

He brought a finger to her lips. “Damn but you’re persistent.” She was many things, but at the moment the salient thing that she was, was pressed up to his—

He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t let himself think like that. “You were right of course, uncannily so, about the hardship, and the danger, and especially about the smell. How did you know?”

She shrugged and he felt the delicate architecture of her shoulder move against his chest. “By reading.”

He found himself smiling into the bitter night over her head. “I’ve never read such books.”

“Not just books,” she went on. “Papa, my father that is, took a number of prominent newspapers, as well. We used to read the
Morning Chronicle,
the
Times,
and the
Edinburgh Review.
”

“He was a Whig, then, your father?” The
Edinburgh Review
was well-known, even to his disinterested knowledge, to be a Whiggish advocate of governmental and parliamentary reform.

“Not especially. He was a mathematician and scholar. What are your politics?”

“I don’t have politics,” he answered simply. “I have duty.”

He felt rather than saw her smile, and she tipped her head to the side just enough so he could slide his chin down onto her shoulder and take another deep inhale of her scent. God blast him, she smelled good.

She turned her head toward him and he was tethered there by the downy slight pressure of her cheek. “It seems to me,”she said thoughtfully, “with the constant dangers, that you must have led a very hard life.”

“Perhaps it is a hard life, but there are other compensations.”

“Such as?”

Such as being snugged up behind trim, athletically nimble maidens as comfortably as if he were in a hammock. “Such as knowing you are doing your duty to England, to keep your family, and all other families, safe from tyranny. But mostly it’s the camaraderie, the fellowship, that I miss the most. The sense of shared danger, and working together to accomplish something astonishing and important.”

Perhaps that was part of her appeal for him—the shared sense of danger, even if it was a country tavern brawl, and not any real threat to life and limb. Although the threat in the tavern had seemed real enough at the time.

On they walked for a good while in silence, neither of them in a hurry to disturb the warm intimacy that seemed to envelop them. For his part, Will wasn’t particularly anxious to see her back to Northfield any faster. The reckoning would inevitably happen, and it would happen whether they wanted it or not, so they might was well take their time. And enjoy themselves.

He nosed his way gently behind her ear, where her hair was soft and straight, and smelled of lemons. “I must say, you’re proving to be magnificently handy, keeping me propped upright, and steering me safely homeward. I might have to keep you around to perform the service every night. So much more convenient than a coach. Turn right ahead.”

He didn’t interfere with her direction of the mare upon the reins, only with the roads they needed to take. “You’ll want to take the next left turning.”

She drew the mare to a halt at the curve in Northfield’s drive, just where the house came into view. “This is close enough,” she said, and slid to the ground.

Will took a hard look at the house. At four o’clock in the morning, the house was still lit with the revels of the inveterate gamblers and professional drinkers amongst the guests. Even though the grounds appeared dark and quiet, Will wasn’t about to leave Preston’s safety to chance. And he wasn’t ready to let her go. His body was already protesting the loss of her lovely heat along his frontside. “I’ll see you up to the stables. I haven’t come halfway across the county not to see you safely inside. And I have to go there anyway to procure some sort of mount for myself.” He dismounted to stand by her side, fully prepared to use his height to intimidate her into agreement.

But she was stubborn as well as tall enough to tip up her face, and look him in the eye. “I can manage perfectly well. I have done this before, at home. And I’m no coward. I got out unseen, didn’t I? I can get myself back in.”

“Surely you are not that naïve? Surely you realize that you are in far greater danger than simply having your mother, or Lady Barrington, or how about even your visitor, Lord Aldridge”—oh, that was telling, that flinch—“find you out? Damn your eyes! It’s the middle of the night, Preston, and even in someplace as seemingly safe and tame as Northfield, something could happen between here and there. There are men here who have been drinking all night and have forgotten they are supposed to be gentlemen. You could disappear into places—bogs and hollows—in which your mother would never think to look, much less have a chance of finding you. Or your body.”

He could hear the heat in his own voice, and hoped she understood it for command. He was growing cold, and he was already wet, she was no longer sitting comfortably in his lap, and his easy patience was at an end.

Oh, but she was no ordinary girl to be intimidated, even by his very best bluster.

“You forget, Jellicoe.” She reached calmly into her pocket, and drew out her stick. “I’ve got my gun.”

Damn her confident, unblinking eyes. “Have you ever shot it?”

“Yes.”

He clarified. “Have you ever shot a man?”

It took a few moments, but finally she did blink and look down. “No.”

“Well, I have, so give it here.” He swiped the pistol out of her grasp before she could protest. “In your position, foolhardy courage is little better than no courage at all,” he snapped in the same tone. “It can only serve you ill. Drink if you must. Be as heedless of your reputation as you like and play dice with footmen, but for God’s sake, don’t be so careless of your personal safety. The dangers are very real. Don’t risk your life just to spite your mother or Lady Barrington. I wouldn’t think you valued her opinion so highly as to take the time to flaunt it.” He looked deep into her eyes, pinning her with the depth of his feeling. “Please don’t wander Hampshire alone at night. You must promise me. I’ll never get a lick of sleep otherwise.”

*   *   *

Antigone was shocked into silence. He saw too much and, at the same time, not enough. He was only half right about the dangers. How could she explain? How could she even begin to explain when she wasn’t sure herself? It was impossible.

“Please. It will be bad enough if I’m caught out, but it would be twice as bad if I were caught out with you. I may not have a care for myself, or my reputation, but I need to have a care for yours. You have a career at stake if your name gets dragged through the mud.”

“That is damned, bloody unfair of you to be so thoughtful. And generous. But at four o’clock in the morning, after a night out with a girl with a gun, I don’t particularly give a hang for my career.”

A wide smile broke free from her control, before she schooled it back. It was a small joy to aggravate him so charmingly. “You’re just saying that to be nice. I hope you do know my objection has nothing to do with you personally. If I were to be caught out, I would rather it be with a fellow like you.”

“Who could have any objection to a fellow like me? What parent would not be thrilled to have me provide a safe escort for their daughter? Just because I’ve taught their daughter to drink cognac and cider, and traipse all across the countryside in the dead of the night with a gun in her pocket? And engage in a tavern brawl? What possible objection could there be to that?”

“None whatsoever.” He was the loveliest, funniest, most remarkable man she had ever met.

“When they drew closer to the stables, he asked, “Now, how do you plan to get in?”

Antigone had no idea—she hadn’t thought it through. She hadn’t thought about
anything
she had done tonight—she had just made it up as she went along. So she kept quiet and started to lead the mare down the drive.

But when she didn’t answer, he stopped her with a hand to her arm, and simply repeated his question. Louder. “Preston, how do you plan to get into the house?”

“Shh. You’ll wake the whole neighborhood.”

“I won’t relent, so you had best tell me the whole of it. How do you plan to get back in the house?”

She could only give him a shrug as an answer. “If I can’t get in, I’ll just spend the night in the stable. I’ve done it before.”

“Slept in a stable?” He paused and narrowed his eyes at her, as if he had a new thought. “Alone?”

She had certainly slept in Redhill Manor’s stables with Velocity as her guard. But it was foolish of her to even try to give him the impression that she would do it at Northfield. Lord Aldridge might come back again to spend another while coveting her mare and find her. She had barely escaped notice before—she might not be so lucky again. “Actually, Jellicoe, you’re right.”

“I’m right?” He closed his eyes again, as if he had to blind himself to concentrate. He released a long, pent-up cloud of steamed breath into the air. “I’ll see you in.” He opened his eyes to pin her with his blue gaze. “No arguments.”

Even arguing with the man, she felt happy and alive. He was the most fun she’d had in years.

“Now then, Preston, the first rule of rule breaking is that you rely on the help of your confederates. I am your confederate. And I can boost you through a window if need be. I wonder if that would be refenestration?” With her gun in one hand, he took her hand up in the other, and began to tow her—and with her Velocity—up the drive.

There was something special, something magical about the feeling of her hand in his. As if all the immutable laws of the universe—all of Newton’s mathematics of gravity—had been recalculated so that she was lighter inside her own skin as she sped along beside him, pulled by his force alone.

But he let go of her hand when they reached the lit stable yard. The stable wing was dark and still—all the lanterns that had blazed from the walls earlier in the evening had been put out. In the quiet dark, one of the other horses stirred as she led Velocity past, back to her stall, but the animal did nothing more than stare at her balefully as she silently untacked the mare. Jellicoe left her to wait patiently at the end of the row of stalls, keeping watch, she supposed. But while he was so conveniently placed, she took a moment to unpin her cloth hat, and let down her hair. She pulled the long fall of her hair over her shoulder, and into a loose braid, and stuffed the cap back into her pocket. If anyone, servant or guest, saw her, she could say she had heard a noise and come down to check on her prized animal.

But what was she going to say to Jellicoe, who had ridden around with her all night, and had touched her, and even kissed her? A new version of nervous excitement set up jangling around in her belly.

But he didn’t seem inclined to any further talk. When she came up to his side, he simply took her hand again, and led her quietly toward the house, and she was floating by his side again.

Out in the courtyard, the first faint graying of the sky told her that dawn wasn’t far off. She liked the feel of his hand in hers, leading her through the ghost shapes of the colonnade. When they got close to the house he stopped and looked at her.

“The second rule of rule breaking,” he instructed in a low voice, “is that one should always try the most obvious solution first.” He took a firm grasp on the doorknob, and quietly gave it a turn.

The door slid silently open on well-oiled hinges. One thing at least, was easy.

The rest would be hard. Because she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do—her experience was inadequate to the situation. Because she didn’t want the night to end. But end it must. She really did need to go in before they were discovered. There were sounds of people still up in their revels echoing down the long, dark corridors.

“I’d best go in now. Thank you, Jellicoe.” It would feel silly to try and shake his hand after all they had already done. They were no longer acquaintances. “I had a marvelous time. I would tell you I couldn’t have done it all without you, but you already know that.”

“I do. But it pleases me no end to make you admit it.”

They smiled at each other until she could almost see the bright color of his eyes in the graying light of dawn.

“Promise me you won’t do this again.” As bright and light as his eyes were, there was something more than teasing in his low voice now.

“Won’t sneak out in the middle of the night, or won’t dice with footmen and start tavern fights, or won’t break back into country houses before dawn?”

“So you do admit you started the fight.” There was the brief flash of smile.

“No.” She shook her head, even as she felt herself smiling in return. “I won’t promise. I’ve never had so much fun in my whole life. Thank you.”

“I would tell you you’re welcome, but I don’t want to encourage you. But I had a rather exceptional evening, as well.” Jellicoe took her hand in his, and carefully handed her back her gun. “May I see you again tomorrow? Meaning probably not today, as we’ll both need to sleep until the afternoon. But somehow, I’m becoming unaccountably attached to your appalling company.” His thumb grazed over the inside of her wrist, sending delicious shivers skittering under the surface of her skin. Delicious, frustrating shivers. Because that was all he touched.

“Yes. I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

“Good. And I’m glad to see you left off your ring for the second mill of the night. Your knuckles will be a lot less bruised.” He was all easy, unruffled charm.

They smiled at each other, until the moment dwindled away into awkwardness. At least for her. She spoke in a rush, just to get it over with, and put her foot up upon the step through the door.