His Christmas Match (A Gentleman's Guide to Once Upon a Time) (28 page)

“Let’s
discuss your future and put this argument aside. We both know the truth.”

 
“You do not know the truth nor is my future
any concern of yours.” This time she pushed back at him with her free arm with
enough force to break free. He slipped on the snow dusting the floor and fell
striking his head on a beam. When he straightened, blood trickled down from a
cut on his forehead.

Her
hands began to shake anew. She just injured a peer. A future duke.

Broadridge’s
eyes darkened, and his mouth tightened.
 
She had never seen anyone so angry in her life.

Rosalind
slowly took on step back and then another until she was sinking into the snow.
She couldn’t go back to the house. She couldn’t face the other guests
especially if Broadridge decided to paint the story that displayed him in the
best light thus further ruining her.
 

What
was she to do?

Tears
sprung to her eyes, and Rosalind knew she couldn’t stay there a moment longer.
He was liable to come after her to punish her for her insolence.
 
Turning on her heel, Rosalind took off
running for the woods ignoring the ache in her ankle. She had to find a place
to hide until she could sneak back into the house and up to her room. Let
Broadridge explain why he had a cut on his forehead. She wasn’t going to be
part of the tale.

* * *

Noah
leaned back against the wall beside a large window and cradled a glass of
brandy. The evening had been enjoyable and a nice break from the ladies. In
here, the gentlemen could say and act the way they wished without fear of
upsetting the sensitivities of the fairer sex in attendance.

Firelight
from the torches danced on the undisturbed snow.
 
Further, he could see the moon reflecting off
the blanket of white.
 
He pulled away
from the wall and walked to the door leading outside. He could barely make out
the gazebo from this distance but strained to see if anyone was out there.
 
Broadridge had left that way not long ago,
yet long enough that Noah wondered why the man had not returned. He assumed he
had gone outside for a cheroot, but Broadridge should have finished with it by
now and returned.
 
Noah glanced toward
the terrace brightly lit by torches, but Broadridge was nowhere to be seen.

His
footprints led across the terrace and into the snow. Noah wished the man would
return because they needed to have a discussion. Broadridge had commented in
passing that he was glad to see that Noah and Lady Jillian were getting on so
well.
 
Others had come into the room, so
Noah didn’t feel it was the time or place to tell Broadridge he would not be
asking to court his sister. He decided he would need to do so tonight so the
man could begin to consider someone else for Lady Jillian.

There
was a light knock at the door, and Noah turned as Meadows sauntered forward and
opened it. A moment later he called for Demetrius. Had something happened to
Rosalind?

He
could not hear what was being said on the other side of the door, but Demetrius
nodded and stepped into the hall.
 
Meadows turned back to the group and frowned.

“What
is it?” Parker asked.

“Apparently
Miss Valentine went out for air and didn’t come back inside.
 
Lady Penelope has grown worried.”

Noah
turned back to look outside. Surely she wasn’t walking the grounds.
 
Though there was light from the moon, she
shouldn’t be out alone this late.
 
Should
he go after her?

Demetrius
returned pulling his great coat on and made for the door.
 
“Rosalind hates to be cooped up. No doubt she
has wandered a bit farther than most.” He turned the collar up and strode for
the door leading outside.
 
“I’ll bring
her back.”

The
door opened before he reached it, and Broadridge stepped inside.
 
Blood trailed down the side of his face.

“What
happened to you?” Demetrius asked with alarm.

Broadridge’s
eyes met Demetrius.
 
“I slipped and
struck my head.”

Noah
narrowed his eyes on the man.
 
There was
also a red mark on his face that did not come from a fall. Almost the imprint
of a hand.
 
“Did you happen to see Miss
Valentine while you were out?”

Broadridge
shot him an angry look. “Yes. She was one her way inside, by way of the
kitchen. She wanted to retire.”

“Well,
that is it then,” Demetrius said as if the mystery had been solved.

“I’ll
get a maid to clean up that head wound,” Meadows said as he moved for the bell
pull.

Demetrius
shrugged out of his coat and flung it across the back of a chair no longer
concerned with his sister.

Noah’s
gut tightened. He didn’t trust that Broadridge was telling the truth, but he
didn’t want to accuse the man if he were.
 
Yet, he knew something wasn’t right, and it had everything to do with
Rosalind.

He
tipped his glass back and drained the contents. “If you will excuse me, I need
to speak with my sister for a moment.”

Noah
left the room before anyone could question him. They had already returned to
their drinking and cards and paid him little mind.

Noah
strode down the hall and stopped when he came to the parlor. The ladies were
inside sitting in separate clusters in conversation. Only his sister stood by
the door leading outside.
 

“Lord
Felding, are you going to join us?” Lady Jillian asked happily, sliding further
down the settee as if to make room for him.

“I’ve
come to have a word with my sister.”
 
He
strode across the room and leaned down to whisper in his sister’s ear.
 
“Broadridge claims that Rosalind returned to
the house by way of another door and said she was going to retire.”

Penelope
glanced up worry in her eyes. “Do you think she did?”

“I
am not certain.” Noah didn’t want to tell her he suspected something was wrong
with Rosalind or that he was worried without a reason to substantiate his
concern. “Could you check on her?”

“Of
course.” Penelope pulled herself from the door, and Noah followed as she
marched across the room and up the stairs.
 
He waited outside of the chamber while Penelope entered. She returned
within a moment. “Rosalind is not here, nor has she been.”

Alarm
shot through him. Broadridge had done something to Rosalind, and it was bad
enough that she didn’t wish to return to the house.
 
Noah considered alerting Demetrius, but
thought better of it. If he were wrong, then he would be made to be the fool,
and one didn’t go about accusing the son of a duke of nefarious deeds without
proof.

Noah
gently grasped Penelope’s upper arms. “Do not let anyone know that Rosalind did
not return and that she is not in her room.”

“Why?
What is going on?”

“I
am not sure, but I fear if anyone learned that she had been outside when
Broadridge had also been away from the house, her reputation might suffer.
 
Until I know for certain that she is
unharmed, and that this is not a misunderstanding, it is best to remain quiet.”

Penelope
nodded. “Are you going to look for her?”

“Yes,”
he answered already pulling away to find his coat. “Did she leave by way of the
parlor?”

“I’m
not sure what door she used only that I saw her pass in front of the salon and
then caught a glimpse of her walking toward the gazebo.”
 

Noah
nodded. He would start there and would hopefully be able to follow her
footsteps.

Twenty-Three

Rosalind
sank down onto the cushioned bench at the back of the orangery.
 
She had never been in a place like this. Even
though there was snow and cold outside, it was warm and comfortable within.

She
clasped her hands together to make them stop shaking, but it was of no use.

She
had injured the son of a duke. What if he pressed charges? It wouldn’t matter
that he was making unwanted advances. He was a peer, and she was the lowly
daughter of missionaries. If the courts dug deeper, they would learn that
wasn’t even the truth, and then her entire family would be ruined.

No,
she couldn’t think that way.
 
She had to
hope that Broadridge said nothing and didn’t blame her for the cut on his head.

More
tears welled in her eyes. How had this visit gone so terribly wrong?
 

The
squeak of the door being opened alerted Rosalind that she would not be alone
for long.
 
It closed with a thud and
heavy footsteps sounded as if they were coming in her direction.

She
jumped to her feet and looked for a weapon.
 
She would not allow Broadridge to harm her.
 
He was the one who advanced on her despite
her objection, and she would not allow him to touch her again.
 

Rosalind
glanced quickly around for some type of weapon because the plants were of
little use unless she managed to pick one up and bash the pot over his thick
head.

At
the back of the room was a table, and she quickly edged toward it and scanned
the items.
 
Gloves and loose dirt were
not helpful. Did the gardener not have tools in here? She stepped to the side
and spied a garden hoe. Grasping it in her hand, she leveled it out in front of
her much like a sword. She would use it on Broadridge if necessary.

“Rosalind?”
a quiet voice called.

Her
heart stilled.
 
Was that Felding?

“Rosalind,
are you in here?”

“Lord
Felding,” she choked out. Her heart hammered in her breast. What was he doing
here? Would he now believe the rumors too? What had Broadridge told him?
 
Felding had said he wished to speak with her.
Was he planning on making the same insulting offer? Could she blame him after
the way she had settled on his lap and allowed him to kiss her?
 
Rosalind’s face heated and tears of
humiliation filled her eyes.
 
Oh, she
just wished the ground would open and swallow her whole.

“Where
are you?” He called.

Rosalind
didn’t want to face him or what he might say to her, but Felding already knew
she was here and would keep looking until he found her.
 
“I am in the back.”

The
footsteps hastened as he neared.
 
Rosalind grasped the hoe tightly in her hands as she tried to gain
control of her emotions.

Felding
stepped into the opening by the bench where she had first rested. Moonlight
shone through the glass planes and reflected off of his dark hair.
 
She didn’t know what she expected, but the
worry in his eyes was almost her undoing.

“What
happened?” he demanded.

Her
eyes grew wide.
 
Did he not know?
 
“Nothing,” she lied and swallowed hard. She
couldn’t bring herself to tell her the truth.

He
eyed her askance and reached for the hoe. “So you decided to leave the party
and come out here to do some gardening?”

Her
hands went slack as he pulled it from her.
 
Rosalind hadn’t even realized she was still brandishing it as a weapon.

He
placed it against the table and stepped closer. “What did Broadridge do to
you?”

A
wave of tears flooded her eyes again. Felding wasn’t accusing her of anything
but assumed the blame lie with Broadridge. Nobody, other than her family, had
ever automatically come to her defense, and it was all she could to do remain
upright as relief washed through her.

Before
she knew what was happening, Felding pulled her into his arms holding her
tight.

* * *

Noah
held Rosalind close as her body racked with sobs.
 
It took a good deal of effort to keep in
control of his anger.
 
What had
Broadridge done to her?

He
was afraid to ask but needed to know. Would the man have a slow death or a
quick one?
 
He had studied Rosalind when
he first came into the room. Her hair was not mussed nor were there any marks
on her face. But that didn’t mean Broadridge hadn’t hurt or insulted her in any
other manner.

He
breathed deep trying to remain calm. He would care for Rosalind first, learn
what details she wished to share, and if the situation warranted it, he would
call Broadridge out.
  

Of
course, Demetrius may wish to do the honors first as he was Rosalind’s brother
as long as Noah got his chance at Broadridge as well.