Only Scandal Will Do (6 page)

“You were dressed as you are now?”

She gave him a baleful stare. “I was dressed in this gown, yes. It hardly looked as it does now.” He shifted uncomfortably at her censure, but she continued. “I also had a half mask of silver that they discarded when they–”

“Do not get ahead of your tale, my lady. How far had you gone when you were accosted?”

She scowled at his impertinent interruption. “I am not at all familiar with London, sir. I cannot tell you where they stopped the carriage. But we had been traveling perhaps ten minutes? We were near a stand of trees. Jack and I were planning to ride in one of the parks tomorrow and I was insisting we go into the countryside instead so that we could have a long gallop like we used to in Virginia.” She stopped abruptly, glanced away. “I told my brother just this morning I wished we had never left.”

Matthews took one of her hands and rubbed it. “I can see how that statement would now seem almost prophetic.”

Kat allowed him the liberty, until it reminded her of the man in the black cloak. Startled at the memory, she withdrew her hand and forced her thoughts away from that dangerous road. “You are kind, sir.”

“And then?”

“We heard horses approaching, but thought nothing of it. People do go about on horseback. But then the carriage slowed. Jack rapped on the trap and asked what was wrong. We heard a pistol shot, a dueling pistol, and...”

“Your brother mentioned this?”

Katarina clenched her hands into fists and pressed her lips together so tightly they hurt. “
I
mention it now, Mr. Matthews. I heard the shot myself, and in my opinion it was a dueling pistol, not a carriage pistol. I have fired enough of both to know the difference in the sound of the caliber.”

Matthews’s eyes widened and he peered at her as if studying her anew. “Your pardon, my lady. I had no idea you were schooled in weaponry. And after the shot was fired?”

His cool acceptance of her claim sent him up several notches in her estimation and mollified her somewhat. “The carriage stopped and both doors were jerked open. One man pulled Jack out and the other grabbed me. I heard my brother cry out, then nothing.”

Matthews inclined his head. “You fought them?”

“I tried. You may have gathered I am not one to easily acquiesce to force.” She flashed him a brief smile. “But I was taken by surprise and could not get to our pistols before they dragged me from the carriage. If I had, the evening might well have turned out differently.”

“What did the kidnappers look like?”

“I don’t know.”

His eyebrows rose then drew together. “You cannot tell me what they looked like?”

She shook her head and studied her hands in her lap. “They knocked me out. I woke up by myself in a strange room.”

Kat risked a glance at him. His incredulous stare said he had a hard time accepting her story. But a gentleman never called a lady a liar. Especially one to whom he was related.

“Can you describe the room? The furnishings? The walls?” His calm voice carried an undertone of frustration. She sympathized, but needed to stay her course.

“A small room. Plaster walls, nothing distinguishing. One window, but it had bars on it. Some little furniture.”

“A bed?”

She met his eyes, unflinching. “Assuredly.”

Matthews waited, but she continued her silence and stared at him, daring him to press her further. “What happened after the kidnappers left you?”

“I waited, I don’t know how long. Then I tried the door, and it opened.”

The stony look on Matthews’s face indicated his displeasure with her. “The kidnappers went to the trouble to kidnap you, bring you to this house, then left the door open so you could escape?”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t think they left it open, Mr. Matthews. I think it didn’t latch properly when they shut it. A fortunate occurrence for me. When I discovered there was no one in the hall, I managed to slip out into the street. Then I found the watch and ended up here.”

Matthews’s smile was not pleasant, but something in his eyes said he understood her reluctance to tell the truth. “You are certainly the most resourceful young woman I have ever met.”

She shook her head. “Had I been truly resourceful, I would not be here at all.”

“And I might never have had the pleasure of meeting you, my lady.”

Mrs. Dove bustled in with the tea tray and a bundle under her arm. “Here’s your fresh tea, my lady.” She set the tray down and unfolded the parcel until it became a simple gray dress. “I’ve found a gown what should do you to go on with. Might be a bit plain, but ’tis clean and serviceable. Shoes too.” She placed them on the floor beside her bare feet. “Maybe a bit big, but they’ll do to get you home.”

“My thanks, Mrs. Dove. Both are greatly appreciated. Might I have some warm water to wash with before I put them on?” Kat scrubbed at her dirty hands with the handkerchief in a forlorn attempt to make herself presentable.

“Gracious, my lady. I should have had you cleaned up long ago. Come with me down the hall here. I’ll get you all set so you can have a wash and change.” Mrs. Dove fussed, pulled the blanket closer around Kat, then bundled up the dress and slippers once more and led the way to a small necessary room.

Half an hour later, Kat reentered the interrogation room with a clean face, no longer clutching the dirty blanket to her chest. The coarse gray dress chafed her skin, but was worlds better than that disgusting gown. She walked up to Mr. Matthews, smiling. “I cannot thank you enough for your help and hospitality. I actually feel almost civilized again.”

“You were never in danger of being a savage, Lady Katarina.”

She laughed, short and sharp. “Tell that to my brother. May I go to him now? I am worried about him.”

“I have a carriage readied, along with an armed escort. You’ll not meet more misadventure under my watch.” He raised her hand toward his lips. “I will keep you apprised of my investigation. Someone will pay for this night’s work.”

Mrs. Dove entered, carrying a grubby garment. “You left your gown when you changed, my lady.” She held out the small parcel of filthy white cloth.

Seeing the odious gown made her want to retch. “It is beyond repair, Mrs. Dove. Would you please dispose of it for me? I suggest you burn it.” She turned on her heel and swept out of the room, barely managing to not run.

Chapter 5

Once the Bow Street Runner’s carriage moved away from the curb, Kat slumped in her seat with a groan. Thank goodness the inquisition was over. Mr. Matthews had been kind and considerate, and she wished she could have told him the truth. But relation or not, when she’d escaped that...house, she’d vowed never to tell the whole truth to anyone.

Her life had changed irrevocably; even though her attacker had not violated her, she was ruined by society’s standards. Merely talking to a man without a chaperone present spelled disaster for a woman. To be sold on a public auction block, then sequestered with a man in a bedroom tolled a death knell to her reputation. She drew a quick breath as the feel of the stranger’s warm mouth–on her lips, her neck, her breast–resurfaced. Her body flushed with heat. Oh yes, she was ruined.

But society didn’t have to know that. Only two other people knew she had been in that brothel. Mr. Matthews wouldn’t betray her secret, and because she had given no details, he could not find the house or her kidnappers. Once he realized this, there would be no point in pursuing the investigation. The other man, her purchaser, didn’t believe her story about who she was.

Katarina shook her head, recalling how his eyes had widened as he rubbed the rope burns on her wrists. Maybe he had believed in the end. But he would hardly want it known he had compromised a lady. He would be much more likely to keep his silence, or be forced to marry her. Perhaps she could put the whole sordid evening behind her and still make something of her life. If only no one else found out.

The carriage slowed to a halt and one of the mounted guards escorted her to the door of the stately townhouse Jack had inherited from Uncle William. Simons opened the door, his delight evident. “Oh, Lady Katarina, we are so glad to see you safe at home.” But he looked askance at her dull gray dress, hardly the clothing in which she had left.

“Thank you, Simons.” She turned to the Runner, whose gaze even now swept the dark, hushed portico, alert to any danger. “Please convey my thanks once again to Mr. Matthews, sir. Tell him I will send word immediately if my brother’s condition changes.”

The man bowed and departed, leaving her with Simons and the cavernous house.

“How is his lordship, Simons?” She forced a brisk, no nonsense tone. No one must suspect her distraught state. There would be enough questions and speculations to deal with. “Mr. Matthews told me Jack remains unconscious.” Her voice rose as she desperately hoped to be contradicted.

“That is sadly correct, my lady. He has not stirred since they brought him home.” Simons’ shocked gaze slid away from her when he moved the lamp closer to light her way.

She had forgotten her bruised face, now probably even more garish in the yellow light. “You sent to Bow Street, Simons?”

“Yes, my lady.” The butler kept his eyes forward now. “When Lawrence ran in with the news about the assault, we first tended to the earl of course, then everyone was looking to me for what to do. I remembered the old earl speaking of his relative who was at Bow Street. And I believed the family connection would persuade Mr. Matthews to help recover you. Lord Manning was impressed with his thoroughness. No case unsolved, Lord William remarked more than once. Such a lucky happenstance for us that still holds true.”

They were on the stairs, heading for Jack’s suite, when Simons cast another furtive glance at her. “Dr. Pritchett has been here twice since the earl was brought in. Will you send for him again, my lady?” Might Simons believe she needed the physician as much as her brother?

“No, that won’t be necessary. But have Margery prepare a bath for me and tell her to fetch me when it’s ready. I’ll be with Jack.” The last was uttered as she pushed open the carved, gilded door to her brother’s bedchamber. She walked unsteadily to the head of the massive mahogany four-poster, its bold crimson coverlet cocooning the still form lying there.

Jack’s dark head lay on the pillows, as if he were peacefully asleep. Kat lifted his hand, kneaded his warm, limp fingers through hers. “Wake up, Jack,” she commanded, raising his hand to her cheek. “I have such a tale to tell you! Some of it’s even true.”

Gazing at the beloved face, now slack and vulnerable, tears threatened once more. This time she knew she could not banish them. “Oh, Jack. Please wake up. I need you so very desperately.” She eased onto a chair drawn up next to him, laid her head on his pillow and let the tears come.

When the door finally opened, she raised her head, dashing her hand across her achy eyes, to find Margery beckoning. Kat followed the woman as wearily as if she had aged fifty years. Soon she slid into the welcoming water, delicious in its heat and scent of roses. Her sore, bruised body relaxed in the comforting warmth, while she tried to empty her mind of memories of the night past.

She was contemplating washing her hair when Margery appeared, more excited than Kat had ever seen her. “Oh, my lady. Your brother is awake and asking for you! Will you come to him?” The woman grabbed a piece of toweling to assist Kat, who all but fell out of the tub in her eagerness to get to Jack.

Ten minutes later, clad in fresh night rail, wrapper and slippers, she burst into her brother’s room. The doctor straightened from the patient at the interruption to reveal Jack’s eyes were open. His head held gingerly–as he frequently did after a wild night of drinking–he cut his eyes toward her and cringed.

“No sudden moves, Kat, I beg you.” Jack recoiled from the sound of his own voice. “Are you all right?” he continued in a whisper.

She stalked over to the bed. “A damn sight better than you are.” She smiled, her first genuine one of the night. “But of course I always was.”

He gave a wan attempt at a grin, seeming to enjoy the badinage. God willing, it was a sign he would mend. “What happened to you?”

The concern in his weak voice plucked at her heart, so she hastened to reassure him. “That is quite a tale, but will keep for tomorrow. Or later today, rather. It must have gone three already and I’m dead on my feet. But as you can see, I am safe and whole and not much the worse for wear.”

“Your face is a mess, Kat.” His concern seemed to be escalating.

“I told you it’s a long story. But I will mend, never fear.” As the doctor took his pulse, she said, “He needs rest now, doesn’t he, Dr. Pritchett?”

The rotund little man nodded in agreement and replaced Jack’s hand on the coverlet. “Rest and no excitement is the prescription for his lordship, my lady. I’ve given him something to help him sleep, but do keep him quiet for the next week or so. Head wounds are touchy. We must make sure he does not excite himself and cause more damage.”

So much for her tale. She’d have to stall Jack on that; even the made-up version of her adventure might give her brother apoplexy. Kat nodded to the physician and leaned over to kiss Jack’s forehead. “Rest first, adventure later.”