Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] (23 page)

L
ooking into her dark, shimmering gaze, Prescott realized, not for the first time, that Edwina Ross was a very complex woman. The fact that she shouldered some of the blame for the confrontation was a credit to her strong character. That she was examining her own actions in the hopes of improving how she dealt with others was downright inspiring.

“Whom are you preparing yourself to deal with, Edwina?” Prescott felt an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness. “Your father?”

She sighed, looking away. “Well, yes.”

“Is your father a spiteful man? Has he ever…” His gut tightened. “Hit you?”

“He hasn’t laid a hand on me since I was ten. And I certainly couldn’t blame him then, I’d just shorn my sister’s hair.”

“Really?” he asked, relieved. “Girlhood antics?”

“Nay. I was bemoaning my own dark locks and she very sweetly offered me a few of hers. I cut her hair and then glued it onto my own.”

“What were you thinking?”

“It seemed like a wonderful plan at the time. But in execution…” Her smile was tense. “Let us hope that my plans have improved over time.” She shook her head. “But getting back to Lady Pomfry…well, if I’m truly being honest with myself, she brings out the green-eyed monster in me and I handled it—”

“You’ve nothing to be jealous of, Edwina. What you and I have goes far beyond anything she’s even capable of.” He wrapped his arms around her, enjoying how she leaned into him. “My feelings for her never held a candle to the way I feel about you.”

She sighed and her body relaxed. They fit quite agreeably together, like two pieces of a puzzle. “Well, that’s certainly nice to know.”

“And how, my fair lady, do you feel about me?” He was holding his breath and he knew it, and was unable to do a bloody thing about it.

Leaning her head back, she toyed with his cravat, pressing the linen. “You’re trying to change the topic, Prescott Devane…”

“True, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish to know how you feel about me.”

She sighed, pretending to be greatly put out. “Well, if you must know…” She smiled shyly. “I’m really quite…fond of you. Quite…very much…a lot. A very lot.”

He chuckled, feeling inordinately relieved. “That’s quite a jumble of the King’s English…”

“I can take it back if you insist…”

He hugged her tighter. “Don’t you dare.”

She bit her lip. “Prescott?”

“Yes?”

“I was thinking that, perhaps when all is said and done here, that mayhap you might consider staying on with me for a bit.”

He blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “What are you asking me, Edwina?”

Busying herself with his cravat, she shrugged. “Well, you see…that transaction my cousin and I were trying to close in Cambridge. Well, I was thinking that you are so good with people and all, that you might help repair the damage.”

Prescott felt the disappointment like a musket ball stuck in his chest. What had he expected? She wanted his help in a business transaction in the same way she wanted his help in combating the blackmailer. She might be fond of him, but it was his
usefulness
that mattered. “We’ll see,” was all he could think to say.

“Well, it’s just that, I was thinking, that if you and I stay together, which I hope…I would very much like…well, then, at some point, well, I am going to have to face my father about it. Which brings me back to the topic that I seem to be mucking up so badly…

“What I’ve been trying to articulate, very poorly I might add, is that the run-in with Lady Pomfry…” She motioned toward the house. “It reminded me of how I often feel when I’m facing my father. All anger and no positive effect. So I want your guidance. Well, when it comes to you…us, I want to be clear, I want to be understood.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s important to me that it go as well as possible with my father.”

“Why?” He knew he sounded like a nine-year-old lad asking “why?” every other sentence, but he couldn’t help it. His heart hurt and he wanted to know “why” it ached so excruciatingly and how to make it stop.

She didn’t meet his eyes. “Because I want it, us, to be about you and me without a whole lot of everyone else butting in. I want us to…last.”

Licking his dry lips, he swallowed. “You wish to be together for a long time? Even after you no longer have a need for me?”

Her brow furrowed. “A need for you? I know that we started out as partners in an effort to the stop the blackmailer, but I would hope that our relationship, what we have now, isn’t as mercenary as that.”

Suddenly that musket ball in his chest didn’t feel quite so excruciating. “So you want to be with me, simply to be with me?”

“Of course. I care for you. Don’t you want to stay together?” She peered up at him, her eyes anxious. “Even after we’re finished with everything…?”

A knot deep inside his heart slowly unwound. “That would be…most acceptable to me.”

“
Most acceptable
…” Narrowing her eyes, she swatted at him. “You’re torturing me now, aren’t you? For giving you grief over Lady Pomfry.”

“No, just for the fun of it.” He smiled.

He kissed her temple, feeling giddy with relief. She wanted him just because she cared. Not for his usefulness or for convenience. Because she cared. She truly cared.

Inhaling her sweet lily of the valley scent, his heart
swelled with a heretofore unknown joy. But part of him still didn’t fully trust it. Joy was the underside of grief and despair, as he well knew. But he wasn’t willing to let this wonderful feeling go, not just yet, and he savored the moment, holding Edwina tightly in his arms.

“Hmmm.” Laying her head on his shoulder, she leaned into him, sighing. “You feel so good.”

Caressing her silky soft shoulder, he closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her soft body molded into his.

The earthy scents of vegetation, roses, hydrangeas, oranges and lemons filled the dark space and the moist air clung to Prescott’s skin. The air was thick tonight, charged with moisture as if a storm would soon be upon them.

Edwina shivered, her skin warming beneath his caressing fingers. “Hmmm.” She shifted against him, her skirts swirling about his legs.

Desire spiked through him, fierce, powerful and predicated on a need much deeper than simple passion. He wanted Edwina and needed her, more than he’d ever wanted another woman in his life.

“Do you think we might say our good-nights?” At the sensual cadence of her voice, his blood quickened even more. “People in the country keep country hours…”

Grabbing her hand, Prescott pulled her deeper into the shadows of the conservatory, the sounds of his shoes and her slippers echoing on the stone-flagged floors.

“Don’t we have to say—”

“To hell with good-nights,” he growled.

A blaze of light flashed in the distant sky.

Moments later thunder boomed in the night, the conservatory seemed to shudder, then all was quiet.

Halting, Edwina pulled on his hand and looked up at the glass ceiling. “That sounded close.”

He stopped. “Nay, it’s miles away.”

Lightning flashed once more in the distance.

“See?”

“Yes,” she breathed. “I do.” Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulled his head down to hers.

Cloaked in shadow, they clung to each other, seeking, needing and giving to the other all that they longed for themselves. While in the distance, nature played her orchestra, with flashes of light illuminating the darkness.

Digging his hands into her soft hair, Prescott kissed her until he was breathless with need, his heart pounding, his body thrumming, his shaft thick and insistent, straining against his breeches.

Prescott’s arms snaked around her bottom, lifting her, showing her how much she affected him, how desperately he wanted her. Her legs parted, wrapping around his hips so enticingly his shaft thrummed.

Her kisses deepened, her tongue mating with his. Her hips bucked against him, urging him to take her. He pressed himself deep into her, feeling her moist heat through the thin muslin of her gown.

There was only her soft body molding to his, the heat flaming between them, the heady scent of her desire overpowering all else, and the thunder playing on in the distance.

A small voice in his mind called out warnings that this was too feral, she was too much of a lady…

Catching his breath, he muttered. “God, if only the rooms were closer…”

“What’s wrong with here?” The invitation in her voice was unmistakable. But still…he couldn’t quite imagine taking her on the floor. Actually he could, and the picture wasn’t displeasing…

She licked her lips. “I heard once about a man and a woman, well…standing…”

He needed no further urging. Grasping the firm globes of her bottom, he lifted her higher and carried her over to one of the thick columns, pressing her back up against the smooth marble.

Pulling at his cravat and unbuttoning the top of his waistcoat, she pressed her soft lips to his neck, suckling.

As rain spattered on the glass ceiling above them, Edwina hitched herself higher on him, enclosing his shaft in such excruciating pleasure that his knees almost collapsed underneath him.

“Edwina,” he groaned.

She clung to him, her skin flaming, her mouth working on him until all thoughts escaped save for getting inside of her.

“Now, Prescott,” she breathed. “Please…”

His last shreds of control unraveled; he was mindless with need, driven to a passion that had to be sated.

Holding her aloft, he tugged at his breeches, all the while being urged onward by Edwina’s panting breaths and honeyed kisses.

Reaching beneath her gown, he found her drawers, seeking the ties behind.

“Just tear it open, Prescott,” she moaned. “Fill me.”

The rip screeched in the darkness, the very act making his body pulse with anticipation.

She groaned, clinging to him, parting her legs and wrapping them around his waist so that his member pressed against the moist heat of her inner thigh.

Groaning, she shifted, urging him inside. He locked his legs, his body quaking, his shaft pulsing and his heart beating so wildly he thought he might just die. She bucked, ramming him deep into her wetness. Moaning, Edwina squirmed, pulling his mouth down to hers.

He was consumed by the darkness, her heady-scented desire, her mouth on his, her tongue loving him, thrusting inside of him just as he rammed his shaft deep into her hot core. She took him, encased him, molded herself around him and ground him so deep inside of her he wanted to scream.

A cry filled the night, quickly muffled against his shoulder. Edwina clasped him so hard as he thrust into her again and again, spilling his seed.

Panting, they clung to each other in a sweaty, passion-scented muslin cloud, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Waiting for reality to breach the fantasy.

But when Prescott opened his eyes and looked down, Edwina was still there, still sweetly beautiful in the flashes of lightning. And still his. For the moment, at least, not all dreams faded into mist.

T
he next afternoon Prescott strolled down the carpeted hallway toward Edwina’s rooms, his mind filled with the memory of leaving her just a few short hours before.

As he’d slid out of the bed, trying not to wake her, she’d reached for him, her eyes closed, her breath heavy as she was obviously still under slumber’s spell. Her unconscious appeal had caused such a warm feeling in his heart that even after he’d slowly disentangled his arm, he’d been reluctant to leave her.

As he’d stood over her, watching her sweet sleep, he’d realized that when he was with her he felt connected to her and content in a way he hadn’t ever known. It wasn’t just the undeniable attraction between them. It was more than the head-spinning kisses and earthshaking passion. More than the sense of affinity that seemed to bind them. His feelings went deeper, to a powerful sense
of regard that Prescott had never felt for a woman, other than Cat.

Yet, somehow this was totally different from anything he’d ever had with Cat. His feelings for Cat had been an adolescent fascination. What he felt for Edwina wasn’t confused, up and down or immature in the least. It was fully developed, yet still ripe with promise. Whole, but as-of-yet undiscovered. It didn’t make much sense, but undeniably, it felt
right.
As if destiny had led him to Edwina.

He’d been so shaken by these unfamiliar thoughts, so foreign to his sense of who he was and how he fit into the world, that he’d quickly dressed and fled her room.

He didn’t believe in destiny, any more than he believed in Father Christmas.

Any more than he believed in true love.

The problem was, he seemed to be falling into the very thing he didn’t believe in.

“Oh, pardon, sir.” A maid exited Edwina’s chambers, her arms loaded with a tray. Quickly, the stout, black-haired girl dipped into a curtsey.

Prescott promptly stepped back, knowing enough maids to understand that finding herself alone with a male guest might not be an auspicious situation. “Good afternoon. By chance, do you know where Lady Ross might be?”

Eyeing him warily, the maid held the tray before her like a shield. On the platter were the remnants of a meager breakfast: half a piece of toast, saucer of jam and a white mug stained with evidence of cocoa. A similar brown coating adorned the young maid’s upper lip.

Delicately, Prescott raised his finger to his mouth, indicating that she should clean it.

Her dark brows knitted and her lips twisted. “’Ave you got an itch, sir?”

“Cocoa.”

Her dark eyes narrowed and then widened, and then she hastily swept her sleeve across her mouth and looked to him for confirmation.

“All clean. Now I don’t want to keep you any longer from your duties…” Prescott tried to keep the eagerness from his voice. He told himself that he simply wanted to share his interesting news with Edwina, that any person in his situation would feel the same. “Do you know where might I find Lady Ross?”

“I heard the butler mention battledore, an’ the mistress ’ad the lads set up nets on the west lawn.”

“Very well. Then to the west lawn I shall proceed. Thank you.”

A short time later, Prescott spotted Edwina in the distance. She was standing beneath an old oak tree with battledores and shuttlecocks scattered about the ground. The rackets lay in assorted piles with a play-piece beside each, as if group play might be in the offing.

A few of the guests huddled near her and Prescott would have to pass them to get to Edwina. He approached, wondering how long it would be before he could politely get a moment alone with Edwina. To tell her his news, of course.

“Just so long as I’m not on Lady Pomfry’s team.” Janelle tossed the shuttlecock in the air and swung the battledore, whipping the play-piece aloft. A young
liveried servant raced to fetch the piece and bring it back.

Mrs. Greene adjusted the ribbon of her straw beehive bonnet and then picked a leaf from her fawn cloak. “There’s not enough money in all of England to place me on her team.”

“That woman’s a menace,” Ginny agreed, nodding.

“Then whose team will she play on?” Mr. Todd shielded his eyes with his hand as he watched Lady Kendrick directing the servants in securing another net. The hostess was like a battle commander, ordering everyone to and fro.

“We cannot cut her out,” Mr. Greene declared, his neck flushing slightly pink. At the stormy look on his wife’s face, he argued, “What will Lady Kendrick say?”

“Of course we can cut her out.” Sir Lee smiled, drumming his fingers on his gold-topped cane. “Since she’s already gone.”

“What?”

The group turned to stare at the old gent, just as Prescott stepped close to join them. “Lady Pomfry’s gone?” he asked, careful to use her surname.

Sir Lee swung his cane, an impish look on his weathered face. Obviously he liked being in the know as much as the next person, if not more. “She left a short time ago. It seems the woman somehow couldn’t manage to stop sneezing, and her nose itched her so that she rubbed it bright red and her eyes swelled so tightly she could hardly see.” His gaze traveled the group. “Lady Kendrick swears that she doesn’t have any cats in the house, yet Lady Pomfry insists upon contradicting her. Did any of you happen to bring a favored pet along?”

“A cat to a house party?” Mr. Todd scoffed. “I think not.”

Negative responses went all around, yet Ginny was eyeing Janelle with a very speculative gleam and the storklike matron was studying her battledore as if divining the world’s secrets.

What had Janelle done?

When Ginny noticed Prescott watching her, she quickly turned to Edwina, asking, “You’re awfully quiet today, dear.”

Prescott turned to face Edwina. “Yes, my dear, how are you this morning?” To his alarm, Edwina’s complexion was ash white and she leaned heavily on the tree with one arm while holding the other to her middle. “Are you all right?”

She closed her eyes and swayed.

Fear twisted in his gut as he reached for her. “Edwina!”

“Don’t touch my stomach!” she cried, her voice panicked, her eyes flying open.

“What’s wrong?”

“I feel…” She was panting, her cheeks were now flushed bright red and sweat lined her brow. “…ill.”

“Sit, darling, sit down.” Prescott gently eased her to the ground, being careful to hold only her arms. “Tell me what ails you.”

“Back away!” Janelle waved for the others to disperse.

Lady Kendrick came bustling up in a burgundy muslin storm. The hostess’s long oval face was filled with concern. “Step back! Give Lady Ross some air!”

“I’m so queasy…” Edwina groaned, closing her eyes.

“Might she be in the family way?” Mr. Todd muttered under his breath.

Prescott glared daggers at the man, and if he hadn’t been holding Edwina, he would have trounced the bastard.

Nevertheless, a whisper of a hope threaded through his heart.

“I was once sick as a dog when I ate some bad mutton,” Sir Lee countered, then turned quickly to Lady Kendrick. “Not that I am blaming it on your wonderful cuisine, my lady. All I’m saying is that before rumors get started, let us get the lady some help!”

Prescott could have kissed the old gent.

Gently mopping Edwina’s brow, he urged, “How does it feel? What exactly are your symptoms?”

“Pain,” she panted, motioning to her middle. “Here.”

“Sharp?”

Her face suddenly turned green as chard. “Oh, my Lord, I feel like I’m going to…” Pushing him away, she jumped up and raced around to the back of the tree.

Mr. Greene’s lip curled. “Someone should get Lady Ross back to the house.”

“If you’re so disgusted, you go to the house!” Ginny glared. “The lady’s sick, for heaven’s sake!”

Prescott found Edwina leaning back against the tree, her face frighteningly pale. She was panting, sweat had broken out all over her face and neck.

Fear sliced through him, and a terrible sense of impotency. He knew as well as any that fatal illnesses gave no warning, that they did not distinguish between their victims. But his fear would not help Edwina; what she needed was his comfort.

Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket, he gently
swabbed her forehead and mouth, then folded the cloth and set it aside. “I’m going to carry you back to the house, Edwina. Lady Kendrick,” he called out. “Will you please send for a doctor?”

“Call for a doctor?” Mrs. Greene cried. “A weak stomach does not necessitate such an extravagance.”

“I’ll pay for it,” Prescott ground out.

“No, I’ll pay for it.” Ginny crouched down beside him, concern marring her face with lines of worry. “How is she?”

“Not good.”

All of the color had washed from Edwina’s face and she was deathly pale.

Sir Lee circumnavigated the tree and leaned over to examine the splattered brown evidence of Edwina’s illness. “This looks like it was only recently digested.”

“Sir Lee!” Prescott could not contain the disgust from his voice.

Edwina groaned, pressing her forehead into Prescott’s arm. “Oh, can everyone please just leave me alone to die in shame?”

Prescott felt his heart contract. “Don’t say that!”

“I’m sick as a dog in front of a crowd! It’s…ooooh…appalling.”

The old gent looked up. “Did you happen to ingest anything with garlic this morning, Lady Ross?”

“Garlic for breakfast?” Lady Kendrick peered from around the tree, made a face and then her head disappeared. “I think not!”

Edwina shook her head, looking so sickly green that Prescott’s chest constricted with anxiety. “Just toast…oooh, I can’t even think about food…oooh…”

Sir Lee quickly stepped away, just as Edwina leaned over once more.

Prescott did what he could to keep her hair from her face and to hold her steady while she did her business. He felt so bloody impotent, so damned useless, it killed him just to see her suffering so.

When she was done, Ginny used her handkerchief to help Edwina clean herself up while Prescott held her close, being careful of her sensitive middle.

Sir Lee stepped near once more. “Did you, by any chance, take any antimony salts today, Lady Ross? You know, the kind for digestive ailments. One must be very careful to take the correct dosage, very little, in fact, since too much can be exceedingly harmful.”

Edwina leaned so heavily on Prescott’s arms he worried that the retching was weakening her. And no wonder, the fits were violent and he feared that she couldn’t take many more of them. But she was strong, she just had to be.

Edwina shook her head. “No salts. Nothing. I have…” she corrected herself, “I had no digestive ailment before now.”

Exhaling noisily, Sir Lee scowled. “Then I do believe that you, my lady, have been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Mr. Todd cried from the other side of the tree. “A deed most foul!”

“My dearest!” Mr. Greene exclaimed, then there was a rush of movement.

“Someone bring my smelling salts for Mrs. Greene!” Lady Kendrick commanded. “Straightaway!”

“What makes you say that it’s poison, Sir Lee?” Prescott demanded, hugging Edwina close.

“I smell garlic, indicating antimony salts. Antimony
salts are used primarily for digestive issues, purging and the like. But they can also be a dangerous poison if administered improperly. They cause nausea, vomiting and abdominal pain, which fit Lady Ross’s symptoms. Indications usually start within thirty minutes to two hours from ingestion. The vomit…” He waved his gold-topped cane toward the ground. “Is dark brown, signifying cocoa, which would have been consumed at breakfast and would have hidden the flavor.”

“The cocoa did taste a little odd,” Edwina muttered. “Oooh…”

Setting his cane down and leaning on it with both hands, Sir Lee nodded. “Which bolsters my conclusion that Lady Ross has been poisoned. In her cocoa, this morning.
Intentionally.
”

Prescott blinked as his brain scrambled to make sense of this. Had the blackmailer discovered their plans? But Edwina hadn’t done anything. And the only people whose rooms that they’d searched had been Lord Cunningham’s and Sir Lee’s…

“If you’re behind this!” Prescott growled at the old man.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Sir Lee waved him off. “Why would I tell you that I believe she’d been poisoned if I’d done it? Besides, I bear no ill will toward Lady Ross. Someone else, however, obviously does.”

Prescott couldn’t dispute the logic of Sir Lee’s argument, all he knew was that he wanted to hurt someone, and badly.

“Who would want to harm Edwina?” Ginny clutched her fist to her mouth. “If I’m somehow—”

His gaze caught Ginny’s and Prescott reached over and squeezed her hand. “We don’t know that any such
thing has happened. Or why. So let us not jump to conclusions too quickly. Or lay blame.”
It’s certainly not your fault,
he hoped his eyes conveyed.

“I have to disagree with Sir Lee,” Lady Kendrick stepped around the tree to join the old gent. “I cannot see it as poison. It’s just too far-fetched. Too impossible to believe.”

Sir Lee dipped his head. “I am confident in my conclusion.”

“She might have simply caught something, and stomach ailments are most foul.”

“Call for the doctor, Lady Kendrick,” Ginny begged. “We must do all we can for Edwina.”

Lady Kendrick moved toward the house. “I will do so at once.”

“Wait!” Prescott cried. “There was a maid in Edwina’s rooms! I think she drank some of Edwina’s cocoa. If she’s sick, then we’ll know!”

“Good thinking, my boy!” Sir Lee nodded approvingly. “If the maid is ill and they both drank from the same cocoa, then we will know with a considerable amount of certainty if poisoned cocoa was the cause. Let us hurry to the house and find out if I’m right.”

“You go ahead, I’m staying with Edwina.” Prescott reached beneath her and gently lifted her in his arms. She felt like a rag doll, she was so limp, and his heart fluttered with concern. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “Just let me know whenever you need to stop, darling.”

Her eyes welled up with tears. “What if I don’t tell you early enough? What if I—”

“I don’t care, Edwina. We’ll just do the best we can.”