Dangerous to Love (17 page)

He regarded her steadily, but made no attempt to reply to her accusations.

“I arranged everything, I know I did!”

“No, Serena. You only thought you did.”

“It couldn’t have been an elaborate plot! We were doing it for my brother Clive. Don’t say he is part of this too!”

“No. He merely provided the means and we used them.”

Closing her eyes against the threatening tears, she curled her fingers around the back of a chair for support. It was so devious that she could hardly follow all the twists and turns. Two nights ago, she and Flynn had been set to take delivery of Lord Alistair when word had reached them that his arrival would be delayed. And she had not thought to question any of it. “What happened to Lord Alistair, the real Lord Alistair, I mean?” There was a break in her voice.

“Drink the brandy and I shall tell you.”

She glared at him in tempestuous scorn, but she raised the glass in spite of her loathing, and obediently sipped from it. “Well?”

“I decided not to involve you in Lord Alistair’s escape. Frankly, your presence wasn’t necessary. Flynn and I took care of the matter two nights ago without your being
aware of it. Set your mind at rest. Lord Alistair should have reached a safe harbor in France long since.”

“
You
decided!
You
decided! And who gave you the right to meddle in my affairs?”

“I think you know the answer to that question as well as I do. Serena, you brought it on yourself.”

Her chest was so tight that she could hardly breathe. She had trusted them, and they had all betrayed her. She couldn’t believe it of Flynn, wouldn’t believe it of Flynn. Yet, none of it could have come about without his connivance. She remembered something else—Flynn’s conviction that it was Raynor’s duty to marry her.

The picture of Flynn coming to Raynor and begging him to do right by her made her feel nauseous. But Raynor hadn’t done right by her. “It was a Fleet marriage,” she said, “and that is no marriage at all.”

He folded his arms across his chest in that indolent way she thoroughly detested. “Come now, Serena. You would never have accepted a church wedding. Don’t you think we knew it? And I think you must not have been listening when I explained the nature of Fleet marriages to you. As I said, they are whatever the couples in question wish to make of them. You are my wife, Serena, and I have the marriage certificate and the witnesses to prove it.” His voice gentled. “It wasn’t a marriage that perhaps either of us wanted, but it will suit. You will be under my protection. My wealth will be at your disposal. You will be safe, Serena. I owe you that much at least.”

A cold, trembling paralysis held her in its grip. She heard his words, but her mind flatly rejected his logic. There was a more devious reason behind it all, if she could only discover it. No man went to such lengths to make restitution to a lady who neither desired nor asked for it. Knowing that she would never get a straight answer from him, she spun on her heel and stalked to the door.

As she reached for the doorknob, he said in a hard, authoritative voice. “Where do you think you are going?”

She answered him with all the contempt she could summon. “To hire a clever barrister. I believe you mentioned that also when you explained the nature of Fleet marriages.”

Laughing, he reached for her. Her hand came up like lightning, and she dashed the contents of her glass in his face.

The brandy dripped from his chin to the fine Michelin lace at his throat. Her head was thrown back defiantly, daring him to retaliate. He found his handkerchief and dried his face.

“Serena,” he said, and gave a long sigh of barely contained frustration. “I will allow that in this instance your anger is justified, up to a point.” He pocketed his handkerchief. “Frankly, my sweet, you are beginning to over-step that point. In the morning, after a good night’s rest, you will begin to see things differently.”

The amused tolerance in his voice acted on her temper like powdered sugar on an open blaze. “If it’s the last thing I do, I shall punish you for this. You think this is amusing! Ask Flynn, ask anyone! A Ward never forgets or forgives an insult.”

It was only temper speaking, but she took a savage delight in seeing that her words had some effect, then the look was gone from his eyes, and the amusement had returned.

“Then I look forward to our future battles.”

“You are .  .  .” She had run out of words to describe his villainy.

“Yes, I know. I think you will like my house in Twickenham. It’s on the Thames, did you know? You have”—he glanced at the clock on the mantel—”ten minutes to make yourself ready before we leave. Oh, don’t give a
thought to what you are to wear. I took the liberty of having Flynn pack a few things for you. Serena, don’t argue. For once in your life, give in gracefully, or I shall be tempted to resort to brute force.”

The ground seemed to be moving beneath her feet. He said her name, but she was no more ready to accept his concern than she was his high-handed commands.

“Don’t touch me!” she said fiercely, and his hand fell away. For a moment, she leaned against the door, battling the rage that choked her. Coming to herself, she flung the door wide, and went quickly to the small chamber which had been reserved for her use.

Serena had been hurt before, but never like this. It was so violent, so overwhelming, that her whole body was shaking in reaction. She had to clamp her teeth together to stop them from chattering. The sense of betrayal by people she had liked and trusted almost sent her to her knees. It was all an act! They had all been playing a part, and how easily they had duped her! Flynn, the constable, Lord Alistair! Even Julian! How he must have laughed when she had humbled her pride and thanked him for all that he had done for her. Thank him? She ought to have murdered him!

Calling herself every kind of a fool, snatching up the feathered mask she had worn earlier, with trembling fingers, she slipped it in place, adjusting the ties in the combs in her hair. She wasn’t ready to
give
up yet. Instinct had taken over. She moved like lightning, mounting the stairs to the landing with the door that connected Julian’s suite of rooms to the gaming house. Once she was through the door, she felt safer. There were plenty of people about who were either coming or going, or moving between the various apartments. Stumbling in her haste, she began to descend the great, cantilevered staircase. When she reached the spacious hall, and no outcry
had been given, she slowed her pace. Attaching herself casually to a noisy group who were on the point of leaving the premises, she made her escape.

Outside, hackneys and sedans seemed to choke the street, and linkboys with their torches held aloft were calling out their prices, offering to light their customers’ steps on their way home. She did not know how she was going to pay for a sedan, but she had a footman summon one for her just the same. She entered it quickly, gave the chairmen her direction, and slumped down so that only the top of her head could be seen through the windows.

She knew, as soon as they had turned the corner, that they were going the wrong way. Before she could make up her mind whether or not it was an innocent mistake on the chairmen’s part, the sedan was set down and the door was opened.

“Our carriage awaits,” said Julian. Reaching into the sedan, he grasped her by the wrist. “I would advise you to come quietly, Serena. My patience is almost at an end.”

So taken by surprise was she that she allowed him to help her from the sedan.

“Serena,” he said gently, “you did no more than I expected. Did you really suppose that I would let you out of my sight? I had footmen posted at all the doors with orders to watch for you.”

She saw that they were at the corner of Fleet Street. A coach was drawn up, close to the pavement. At Julian’s signal, one of the coachmen jumped down and went quickly to open the door. Serena pulled back sharply.

“No,” she said, struggling with him. “You’ll not abduct me!”

“Get in,” he commanded fiercely, and he gave her a shove.

She looked around wildly. The chairmen, she knew, would not lift a finger to save her, in spite of their pained
expressions. There were other people about, however, decent people she could appeal to who were coming and going from a coffeehouse farther down the street. From close at hand came the reassuring cry of the watchman as he called out the hour. She had to act quickly before it was too late.

Drawing a quick breath, she opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs. Julian’s hand clamped around her mouth, shutting off her next breath. She lashed out at him, giving him a glancing blow on the cheek. In spite of her resistance, he was maneuvering her toward the open door of the coach.

“Help me,” he said through gritted teeth to the coachman who held the door.

Two sets of hands were laid on her. She might have given up the struggle if she had not heard shouts of alarm and the thud of approaching feet. She tore out of Julian’s grasp just as he swung her in an arc toward the waiting carriage.

She lost her balance and went sprawling. She heard Julian shout her name. In the next instant, pain exploded through her as her head connected with the edge of the carriage door. Staggering to her knees, she made a feeble attempt to regain her balance, then the pain receded as a merciful darkness engulfed her.

Her last conscious thought was not that she hated Julian Raynor, but that he hated her.

H
er brain was reeling. Every bone in her body ached. She wished that they would have done with their questions so that she could lose herself in sleep.

“What is your name, my dear?”

Why did he persist in asking the same question, over and over? “Victoria,” she said. “Victoria Noble. Who are you?”

She was aware that the stranger had relinquished his place to someone else. “Drink this,” said a voice she recognized. Supporting her with one arm around her shoulders, he raised her from the pillows.

She forced herself to open her eyes. “Julian?” His face was very grave; his eyes shadowed with concern. When he put the cup to her lips, she sipped from it carefully, but the pain in her jaw was more than she could bear. She whimpered, and he gently set her back against the pillows.

The sound of voices whispering indistinctly drew her eyes to a man and woman silhouetted
against
the bright glare at one of the windows. She recognized neither of them, nor did the room look familiar to her.

“Julian, where are we?”

“Hush,” he said. “Don’t excite yourself. We are at my house in Twickenham.”

Reassured by his answer, she let her eyelids droop. She knew that her memory was hazy, but he was here, and for the present that was all that mattered. “Don’t leave me,” she murmured, and felt around on top of the covers until
she had found his hand. His fingers closed around hers in a comforting clasp. Sighing, she allowed the sweet oblivion of sleep to claim her once more.

When he was satisfied that she was comfortable and settled, Julian carefully removed his hand from her clasp. He gestured to the physician, then exited the room. Both men were silent as they descended the stairs. Julian led the way to his bookroom.

“Concussion,” said Dr. Ames, as soon as they had crossed the threshold. He was a short rather stout gentleman in his early fifties. His manner was respectful and at the same time confident. Dr. Ames had long since discovered that confidence begat confidence, especially when dealing with the upper classes.

“Your wife has taken quite a knock,” he said.

Julian poured out two glasses of sherry and handed one to Ames. Motioning the doctor to a chair, he seated himself. “She did,” he agreed, “but she seemed to recover from
it,
or I would never have brought her out here. In the coach, she was subdued, certainly, but there was no evidence that she had lost her memory, not until this morning when I tried to wake her. How serious is it?”

“In this instance, not very serious, I should think. I’ve seen cases like this before. She knows you, and she remembers her name, her maiden name, and that is very encouraging. In a few days, with rest and care, I’d say her memory will be fully restored. The thing is not to force it, but to allow nature to take its course.”

Since these words brought no change to his companion’s bleak expression, Dr. Ames went on more bracingly. “Come now, Major, you yourself must have some knowledge of concussion and its effects. In the aftermath of battle, there are always soldiers who don’t know who they are or how they got there, or even which side they are supposed to be fighting for.”

“And I also know that some of them never recover the full use of their wits.”

“That’s just my point. Mrs. Raynor
is
well on the road to recovery. She knows what is important to her.”

“Meaning?”

“As I already told you, she knows her name and she recognizes you. If it will set your mind at rest, I shall look in every afternoon to see how our patient is progressing.”

“I’m obliged to you,” said Julian.

Very little more was said after this, and the doctor was soon making his excuses. At the front door, he halted. “Victoria Noble,” he said. “Would your wife be a connection of the Nobles of Arden Park?”