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BOOK: Edith Layton
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She ran a hand through her hair and looked down at herself. “I look terrible,” she said sadly.

He smiled. “What have I done? To think the re-doubtable Miss Gascoyne is more worried about her appearance than her life now.”

She grinned. “Well, no. If you can bear looking at me, I can. And come to think of it…” She tilted her head to the side. “What is the world coming to? The immaculate Earl of Drummond has a beard!”

He ran a hand over his chin and grimaced as he heard the rasp of his newly grown stubble. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, my dear. I lay in your bed for a very long time when we first met, remember?”

They smiled at each other.

Then he grew serious. “Morning’s the best time to try my scheme. A man’s energy is at his highest then.”

He didn’t mention the fact that as they had neither food or water, that energy wouldn’t be at its height very long. Which was why he’d decided on this desperate act. He’d coursed the room for an hour, looking for a way out. He’d found only two. He’d leave her his broken stiletto so she could try the other if he failed.
But his was the best chance to succeed. If he didn’t? He hated leaving her, even in death, but he couldn’t see any other way around their problem.

“I’m going to find that passage under the river door we came in through. Look,” he said before she could speak. “The tide runs swiftly now, see? It’s going out. I can let myself go with it, and seek an underwater exit. Dubbin’s body is gone. He was swept away sometime yesterday, as Fitch said he’d be. I intend to find that same route out—alive, you’ll see.”

“You can’t! He also said you’d never find it, remember?”

“He would say that, wouldn’t he? I’m a very strong swimmer, Ally. I have excellent breath control. I drove the other lads mad with envy when we were young. It was a game with me, I’ve held it for so long as three minutes, I can go down and look for an opening. If that fails, I can feel for one. But find it I will. It’s our surest way out.”

“But the others will be looking for us,” she argued. “There’s no need to court more danger. You could get trapped or caught on something down there. Don’t go now! They’ll find us, I know they will. Eric’s clever, and Gilly’s smart as she can stare. Damon is thoughtful and thorough, and Rafe’s brave and resourceful. Why, I’m sure your father will send out a huge search party when he hears. They’ll have half London looking for us soon. There’s no reason to take such a risk now.”

He put his hands on her shoulders, his expression sober. “Ally, by the time they search half London it will be too late for me to try. My strength will be gone.”

“We can chip away at the door,” she said stubbornly.

“And so you will, if I don’t succeed. But I will. We can’t wait. We haven’t the luxury. London’s a huge city, with a thousand places a man can hide or be hidden. I know, I’ve searched other cities for wanted men. I must try this, it’s our best chance. I have to take it.”

“And I have nothing to say about it?” she asked angrily.

“I brought this down on you,” he said reasonably, “all of it, from the first. It’s mine to mend. Even if I hadn’t caused this, I’m not the type to sit and accept my fate.”

She shook her head vehemently, seeking the right words to make him stay. The thought of him diving into that black water, perhaps never to leave it, made her cold to her bones. She had no claim on him and wouldn’t presume to make any, even now. They’d made love, he’d changed her life, but she knew very well that if they got out he’d go his own way. That wasn’t her real objection. It was because he was unique, a man of grace, charm, and wisdom. If she couldn’t have him, at least the world should, he was such a valuable man. He shouldn’t gamble with his life. She couldn’t allow it. She didn’t know how to prevent it—until she remembered his essential nature. If he didn’t care for himself, she knew he’d care about her.

“What’s to become of me if you don’t come back?” she demanded, her hands on her hips.

He touched her rumpled, tumbled hair. Such disorder was so unlike his fastidious Miss Gascoyne, his nurse, his friend, his lover. He remembered how she’d gotten so tumbled and wished with all his heart he didn’t have to face the cold embrace of the Thames now. But he knew what he had to do.

“If I don’t come back, you still have a chance,” he told her honestly. “I’d like to be here with you, no matter what happens. I don’t want the worst to happen, which is why I’m trying this. Maybe I’m being a coward, not wanting to face that eventuality. Perhaps I’m being selfish, because it would surely kill me to see you helpless and be helpless to do anything about it. But I have faith in you, as you must have in me. If you’re left alone, you’ll face it bravely. I’m going to try to see that you don’t have to. I think this is our only rational hope right now, and as hope is all we have, I have to try it.”

“You’ll leave me here alone in the dark to face death by myself?” she asked, hating her own insincerity because it wasn’t the thought of her death that terrified her now, but she was willing to say anything to keep him safe.

“Good try, Ally. But it won’t work. You know I have to try, so don’t make it harder, please.”

She did know that, but she hated it, and tears of anger and frustration sprang to her eyes.

He took her in his arms. “Now won’t you feel silly when I succeed?” he asked, tipping her downcast face up to his. He kissed her forehead, and set her aside. “Now, I’ll try to get back in by the door Fitch slammed shut as he tried to escape. He didn’t have time to lock it so it should be easy enough to lift the bolt from that side. Wait for me there. I’ll be at the door as soon as I can.”

He kissed her with all the fire of the night before. He kissed her again, with all the tender love of a friend. Then he stepped away. He went to the overturned crate that she’d never used for her bed last night and bent to
the waistcoat he’d folded and laid there for her pillow. He tenderly took his watch from a fob pocket. He looked at it a moment, then quickly rose, went out, and laid it on top of the neat little pile of his clothing that they’d slept on. It was that extra care, that little farewell gesture to a treasured piece of his history as much as anything that frightened Alexandria.

He misunderstood her look of dismay. “I don’t want anything to weigh me down,” he told her. “I’m leaving my breeches on only so I don’t shock anyone out for a boat ride on a fine morning when I come bubbling up under their craft, naked as Adam, asking for directions.”

He knelt, picked up the broken stiletto and handed it to her. “For any eventuality,” he said. “Now, I’m going to dive and look. If that doesn’t work, I’ll dive and feel for the door. Don’t worry if I don’t come up again, it won’t necessarily mean I’m drowned. It may mean I’m out for a swim on the Thames at last, and I’ll be back for you.”

She stood very still. “And if you’re not?”

“Ah, Ally, let’s not think of that.”

“I must,” she said, fighting back tears.

“Then know that I died trying to free you. And that’s the best way any man can go, trying to help a friend.”

She went very still. She nodded. He gazed at her steadily, kissed her again, then turned from her and lowered himself into the water. She watched him swim out toward the great river door. Then she saw him bow his head and submerge. His narrow high arched feet appeared where his head had been, then the water closed over them. She waited breathlessly. He bobbed
up again, waved to her, and went down again. She stood waiting.

He submerged and reappeared a half dozen times. Soon, she was able to hear his rasping breathing even from where she stood. She didn’t think she breathed at all as she waited for him to return each time. She simply stood and watched.

Then he dived, and she waited. And he didn’t appear again.

She stood waiting for a very long time. She watched the dark water for the smallest ripple. She counted to sixty, and sixty, and sixty. The fifth time, she sank to her knees. The tenth time, she put her head in her hands. Time crawled by. She counted to sixty ten times again in case she’d been too frantic to count correctly the first time.

He didn’t reappear. She didn’t hear a sound from the other door, not a scraping of the bolt, not a knock on its surface, not a shadow to fill any of its slivered slits of morning light.

She was too filled with horror to weep.

She remembered he’d said the best way a man could die was in an attempt to help a friend. Those simple words broke her spirit at last. She slumped to her knees, lowering her head into her hands, and wept bitterly. Because he might be dead. Because the thought of it almost killed her too. And because whatever she’d been for him, he’d said a man should be prepared to die for a friend. Even then, even at the last, he hadn’t said “love.” He never had.

A
LEXANDRIA SAT IN THE DARK IN A HUDDLE FOR
what seemed like hours. She couldn’t bear to look at Drum’s watch, because that would be admitting he never would look at it again. When she finally raised her head she saw that time had passed, the sunlight moving on to illuminate different slits and crannies in the door. She knew she should get up and try to find a way out of her prison, but she didn’t have the heart to. If she did succeed in getting free, then she’d have to live with the knowledge that Drum had died for nothing.

She tried not to think of what the end had been like for him. The darkness, the murky water…there were eels in the Thames. She tried not to think of them, either. Instead she saw Drum’s face in her mind’s eye as it looked in laughter and in seriousness, and remembered how it had been when he was in the throes of passion too. He’d felt that for her. She’d given him that much, at least. It was too painful to cry. She found it
hard enough to breathe. The silence was immense. She was the last woman alive in the world now that the only man she wanted to share it with was gone.

She heard a new sound, a rasping sound. She froze, and looked up. Someone was moving around outside the door! She leapt to her feet and ran to it, then stood with her hands clenched around the hilt of the broken stiletto, and prayed. It could be Fitch. Drum said he was dead, but Drum had said he’d get out, hadn’t he? It could be Dubbin or his friend, the unlucky man in the boat. It could be anyone. She waited, clutching the stiletto like a talisman, wondering who it might be, afraid even to hope it could be Drum.

The bolt was drawn back. The door swung open.

“What are you doing standing here in the dark?” Drum asked. River water ran down his naked chest onto his sodden dripping breeches. His hair was plastered to his head, and his face was pale as any drowned man’s. He smiled at her.

“You look terrible,” he said.

She cast herself into his open arms. It was a long time before she could speak. When she did she was as wet as he was, but reveling in the warmth of the flesh that glowed beneath his skin and slowly took the chill from them both. He stroked her hair and held her close. All he could say was, “Hush, you’ll get sick crying like that. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Why did it take so long?” she wailed.

“I had to find the opening under the gate. I did, but when I came up I found myself in a tight spot between two pilings. There was just room for my nose to poke up and get some air.” He chuckled. “It’s the first time it’s been of use to me. I don’t think I’d have been able
to breathe if I was one of your short-nosed chaps. So I had to dive again and again looking for a way to get the rest of my body out. But I’m here, please stop crying. I’m wet enough as it is.”

That made her smile. She took a steadying breath.

“And I’ve got a boat,” he said. “I dispossessed the previous owner. Well, he’d no use for it anyway, the only river he has to cross now is the Styx.” He felt her shiver. “Yes, the unlucky Mr. Hake. But we have a boat, it has oars, and I think we should go home now. All right?”

“Please,” she said.

 

Gilly greeted them ecstatically. She refused to let Drum go home to change his sopping clothes, ordering him to Damon’s room, telling Damon’s valet to find him something that fit. She sent Alexandria right up to her room with a maid, and then sent the footman to scour the city to find Damon, Eric, Rafe, and everyone else searching for them and tell them the lost couple was found.

They all met again in the afternoon after Drum and Alexandria had been washed, dried, dressed, coddled, and fed by an army of servants. Only then, with their friends sitting around them, and the door to the salon closed, did Drum tell them the whole story. Or, as Alexandria noted with relief,
almost
the whole story.

She felt comfortable, drowsy, and safe, with all her newfound friends close by. She hardly believed what had happened now. All of it seemed fantastic, except for the way Drum had loved her. That was fantastic too, but it was something she’d never forget that warmed her to her heart. She tried not to look at him
now because she didn’t want the whole world to know it. She couldn’t take her eyes from him, even so.

“We had some scares too,” Rafe said when Drum was through telling of their adventure. “The river brought up three corpses this morning. An old woman and two men. The river patrol said that was a light night’s haul, the Thames is the last resting place of many poor souls. The woman probably chose her own watery grave. We were afraid to look, but of course neither man was you. The one with the…ah…” He paused. Sliding a look at the women, he went on, “…indistinguishable face must have been your Dubbin, the other Fitch. He was a well-dressed older fellow with a neat dagger wound piercing his heart.”

Drum nodded. “I suspect it’s Fitch all right, but I’ll inspect him too, to be sure. When did you say they found them?”

“This morning,” Eric said, “washed onto the bank by the incoming tide.”

Drum nodded. “The next tide will probably give up Hake. I should have been on my guard. Let it be a lesson to all of you fellows. Peace is too new and fragile to take lightly. Be prepared at all times. Thank God for Ally’s bravery. I’m only sorry she had to share my misadventure to exhibit it. About that…” He paused and lowered his voice. “I’d like it to be put about that we made our escape at dawn. And that we couldn’t have done it sooner because I was literally tied up all night, and so was Ally.

“Our lives were at risk, but you know very well it doesn’t matter how dire our situation was, the old cats of both sexes are obsessed by the carnal, scandal, and gossip. No matter what else happened, they’ll start
whispering about the fact that we were gone together overnight unless we make it clear that nothing could have happened between us but murder. That way it will become a tale of terror, and nothing more. Agreed?”

“Of course,” Eric said, as the others murmured their assent.

Drum looked at them each in turn, and nodded with satisfaction. Then he looked at Alexandria.

She sat very still, suddenly ashen. He’d told them nothing happened. Of course. She understood why. It was what she wanted. It made perfect sense. But she felt as though he’d struck her. She managed a tiny smile. “Good,” she murmured.

Gilly glanced at her, then looked again. “Now I think we should let Ally get to sleep!” she said firmly. “Poor girl, she was brave as brass, but now the shock is probably setting in. That’s the way of it after a good fight. Even the winner starts to shake.”

The others grinned at the way Gilly expressed it, but agreed.

“Excellent idea,” Drum said, his gaze on Alexandria, “I could use some too, but I’m going home to have it. I’ll be back in the morning—after I make sure it
is
Fitch on that mortuary slab. I may make mistakes, but I don’t make the same one twice.”

He said good-bye to the others, waiting until they started walking to the door before he spoke to Alexandria privately. “Everything will be all right, you’ll see,” he told her as he took her hand. “You’ll forget the bad things, people always do. It’s the way we survive. Now, sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She nodded, hoping he’d think she was too exhausted to speak. His eyes searched her face. He fi
nally seemed satisfied with what he saw, said, “Get some sleep,” again, and hesitated. Gilly was returning to the room, though, so he only held Alexandria’s hand another moment, then bowed, and left.

“Gilly?” Alexandria said when the men had gone to the door, “may I speak with you a moment?”

Gilly frowned. She knew more about pain than most people, and there was something in Alexandria’s voice and more in her expression that alarmed her. “Of course,” she said. “Come, we’ll go upstairs and get you to bed, you can tell me there.”

But Alexandria told her the moment they got to the bedchamber. “I’m going home,” she announced. “I’d like to pack my things now. I know the ball you’re holding was supposed to be for me, but with all the best intentions in the world, I can’t stay. It would be wrong, and more wrong still if you made me. It’s time for me to return my life to normal.”

“Oh, bother!” her hostess said, stamping her foot. “Don’t be so poor-spirited! That’s not like you. So you had a scare, so what? It’ll fade, you’ll see. Running away will only make it worse. I’ve found that if a thing worries you, you must face it out and stare it down and only then will it go away. See,
it
has to go—not you.”

“No,” Alexandria said sadly, “in this case,
I
must. Trust me.”

Gilly looked at Alexandria solemnly for a long moment, her face sober. Alexandria felt her color rise, and looked away, unwilling to face that steady golden gaze.

Gilly’s eyes widened. “Oh. I see. I don’t know what happened, do I? If you want to tell me…? No? You can, you know, I keep secrets better than the deepest well. Well, you know I’d never do a thing to make you
unhappy. You’re certain?” She sighed. “But you will say good-bye to him first? I mean, leaving a note is craven. That’s not like you either.”

Alexandria was shaken by Gilly’s intuition. But how could she know the truth of it? She might think Drum had rejected her, then again, maybe not. The lady was quick and she’d a hard life in her youth, so she knew the best as well as the worst of men.

“Of course, I’ll speak to him,” Alexandria said, though she’d meant to leave a note. “I’m not a coward, at least not a very big one. I’ll say good-bye and explain it to him. But I really don’t have to, because I’m sure he already knows.”

“Oh,
damn
and blast!” Gilly said sadly. “He’s a good man, really he is. But he thinks too much of the proprieties and he cares too much for his father’s opinions, the stiff-rumped fool!” she concluded angrily. “He’d break rather than bend, and be sure, if he keeps this up, he will break one day. And that’s a shame, because he could be…Well, what does it matter? We all could be better than we are. That’s no help to you. I’m sorry, you can’t know how sorry, but I understand.
We
will stay friends though, right?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course.” Alexandria turned to her packing, because she couldn’t face Gilly’s perceptive stare. She knew what she’d said was only a polite fiction. Once she left London she’d be leaving all her connections to it forever. She had to, in order to save her sanity. Because she was also leaving the man she loved to save her self-respect and his pride.

 

He’d dressed with care, even for such a fashionable fellow. In fact, Drum looked so elegant and cool and
devil-may-care when he appeared the next morning that Alexandria almost hated him for it. Her whole world had been turned upside down. He’d changed her mind and body; she was a stranger to herself now.

But he stood on his own two feet and smiled down at her, the perfect picture of the perfect gentleman. Immaculate, unapproachable, entirely himself again. He wore a fitted blue jacket and half boots. Buff trousers covered his long legs, his neckcloth was high, his linen white. His waistcoat was a work of art in blue and green, making his eyes seem brilliantly blue. Only happiness could account for their sparkle, though. They grew grave when he looked at her.

Alexandria supposed he was worried about what she might say. So was she. She had to say it fast and get it over with. She wished she could look as fine as he did now, this was the last time he’d see her. Her hair was tidy, her face was clean, and she’d put on one of her old gowns to travel in. It was the one Mrs. Tooke had made that she’d been so proud of, but her sojourn in London had showed her there was nothing spectacular about it. She looked rested, she supposed, because she’d slept through the night after she’d packed her things, though
fainted
might be a better description for what had happened when she put her head down on her pillow at last.

But she was nervous and frightened and sick at heart, and could only hope she was a good enough actress to hide it.

“That’s one of the gowns you wore before you came to London,” he said before she could speak.

“Yes, it is. And that’s fitting because I’m going home. It’s time. Don’t blame yourself,” she said
quickly. “I have to get away from the scene of the crime Fitch almost committed. I miss the boys too. When I thought I might die, I thought of what I’d leave behind,” she said and flushed, because although it was true, the part about the boys was a black lie. She hadn’t thought of them at all, she’d only been thinking of Drum. And that was reprehensible too. That would change now, she’d devote the rest of her life to the boys.

“Because of what happened?” he asked. “Because I made love to you?”

She glanced nervously around the salon even though she knew no one else was there. “Yes. No—I mean, I understand.” She lifted her head high. “You don’t have to feel guilty, you’d never have done it if I hadn’t asked you to. I know that as well as you do. We were lost and alone and in need of comfort. But that was then. As for now? Things have changed, of course. It’s better that I go, you see.”

“I don’t,” he said sternly. “Ally. I came here this morning to ask you to be my wife.”

That shattered her composure. “Oh, no, you don’t!” she cried.

He stared at her, surprised.

“I mean, no thank you.” She looked at her hands, all hope of acting gone. She was upset and unhappy, but it didn’t matter if he knew it now. She had to free him.

“You don’t care for me?” he asked quietly.

“Too much to marry you,” she admitted. “You want to do the right thing. So do I. No, my lord, I will not marry you, but thank you for asking. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”


I
won’t be!” he said angrily. “And I’m not doing
the right thing. I never do anything that doesn’t please me. I came to ask you to marry me because I love you. Nothing more, nothing less. I assumed you felt the same way about me.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t be yelling at you, forgive me,” he muttered. “I’m new to this sort of thing.

“Do you know what
I
thought about when I thought we might die?” he asked, his eyes searching hers. “You, just you. You’ve tangled my thoughts and emotions since I met you. If I’d been alone yesterday, I might have got free sooner. I was a superior agent, I won commendations. Now I see a man can be brave when he has nothing to lose. But I couldn’t act with you there. I quaked at the thought of losing you. I almost went mad at the idea of harm coming to you.”

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