Surrender The Night (15 page)

“Are you saying you’re new to this, er, vocation?”

“Since this month past. Nor am I here by choice.”

He frowned at that, then settled more deeply into his chair. “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. You’ve neither the speec
h nor the learning of a girl born to this life. But then—how came you here? Why don’t you tell me what happened?” When she turned her head away, he leaned forward and tilted her chin toward him. “Confession is good for the soul. And yours needs healing.”

Fat tears swelled in her eyes. “I don’t deserve to be healed.”

“Come, wallowing in self-pity accomplishes nothing but the ruin of a clean handkerchief. You’ve dirtied my best one, I might add.” He waved a chiding finger at her.

“Then take it back!” She looked as if she might throw it at h
im, and her tears began to dry.

He cast a jaundiced eye upon
the wet, crumpled square of linen. .“You keep it.” When she ran it through her fingers nervously, he leaned forward and covered her hands, soiled kerchief and all, with his. “Please, Katrina, let me help. I can’t unless I know what brought you here.”

Those blue eyes, that handsome face, were so earnest that they drew from her a reluctant response. At first she gave him bare details, but he asked pertinent questions and eventually coaxed the entire dreary story from her. When she was done, she felt drained but fully sane again. Her anger at Devon, however, was exacerbated by the telling.

Wrath had transformed Will’s perfect features until he resembled an adolescent Mars more than an angel. “Do you think he had you brought here?’ ’

She blanched and shrank against the pillows, dizzily ill at the very idea. “No!” Then, with quiet bitterness: “No, because I was still a valuable ‘commodity’ to him. He hadn’t tired of me yet.”

Will slapped his hands upon his knees and stood. “Well, who is responsible for your presence here scarce matters at the moment. The most urgent piece of business is to get you away.”

Katrina’s eyes showed their first glimmer of hope in five days. ‘ ‘Can you help me? I tried the door in one of my cogent moments, and it was locked.”

“Yes, I fear Madame Lusette expects to make a fortune with you. She’s also having the door guarded.” When Katrina looked angry. Will expounded, “As much to keep men out as to keep you in. Already the news of your presence has reached the other, er, residents here. I’ve informed the madam that it will be a good month before you can be put to work, so we’ve time. But you need to eat to get your strength up as quickly as possible. Leave the other details to me. ” With a polite tip of his hat he was gone.

Katrina closed her eyes and courted sleep, but with no result. Her confession had cauterized the wound of her experience with Devon; soon she could heal, but in the meantime she ached like the very devil. Tears came to her eyes again despite her best efforts. Devon was not the only one who had lost.

With the babe had gone her youth, and, perhaps, the best of her femininity. Never again would she be able to lie, mindless with pleasure, in a man’s arms and not care of the consequences. Never again would she sacrifice what she knew to be right in the feeble hope that she could hold a man’s wandering affections. And saddest of all, never again would she offer her body and her heart in hopes of winning the same.

Perhaps Devon had been right about one thing; Love was folly. It weakened rather than strengthened, stole rather than gave, ruined rather than built. She was a living testimonial to those truths, her babe a macabre warning of the danger of denying them. As she resolved never again to forget, her tears dried. Peace, of a sort, stole over her. That it was an expedient, spurious peace didn’t occur to her. She knew only that she drifted off to her first untroubled sleep since she’d left Devon.

The remainder of her stay at the bawdy house was quiet. Whenever the madam entered to check on her progress, Katrina took care to keep her voice weak. Once, however, curiosity got the best of her. “What’s happened to Viscount Sutterfield?”

“The slimy blackguard threatened to call the magistrates when I wouldn’t let him have ye,” the woman returned. “I give him what we agreed upon and told him his coin ’tweren’t good here no more. He’s too rough on me gals, anyway. I run a decent house. I’ll be fair wi’ ye, gal, I promise. Just ask any o’ the girls if ye don’t believe me.” With her own brand of kindness the madam tapped Katrina on the cheek with a rough finger and departed.

Will visited her daily and finally, two weeks later, proclaimed her strong enough to travel. After she’d blushed at his usual impersonal examination, he pulled the covers up to her waist and sat on the edge of the bed to take her hand.

“I’ve all in readiness, child, if you think you’re up to trying to get away,” he said.

“More than ready. Will.”

He played with her fingers, his bent head indicative of his unusual indecision. “And where will you go once you’re away, Katrina? What will you do?’ ’

She sighed. “Leave London, I suppose. I’ll probably have to take work as a maid since I don’t have a reference—”

“You’ve no family to aid you, then?”

“None.”

He let her go, stood, then began to pace the room. She frowned. He’d always been so calm, so collected. His very composure had helped her regain her own. What had put him in such a stir?

Finally he whirled and blurted, “Then come with me.” When she looked surprised, he strode to the bed and took her hands again. “I’m going home to Cornwall, where I’ve obtained a position as a mine doctor. Our way of life is not an easy one, but you’d be needed there. You could help school the children—” He broke off when she paled, then hurried on, “Or even the miners. Many of them are eager to learn.” His body tensed as he awaited her reply.

For long moments she stared blindly at their clasped hands. To be useful. To be needed. To be wanted. At this point in her life she could ask no more. Nay, nor did she want more. The decision was easy, in the end. She owed her very life to Will Farrow. If she could aid him and his people in return, then maybe, one day, she could atone for the weighty sins that had almost sunk her to perdition.

She lifted her head and squeezed his hands. “Yes, Will Farrow. Gladly will I come with you. And I thank you for honoring me with your trust.”

He looked as if he might embrace her for a moment, but then he returned her clasp and drew away. He went to his physi
cian’s case and said over his shoulder, “Dress under your gown and give me whatever essentials you can’t bear to part with. I’ll put them in my case. We’ll not have room for all, I fear, if my plan is to work.” He stayed across the chamber with his back turned, repacking his case to make the most of its capacity, while she dressed.

“Ready,” she said.

He swiveled and gave her a critical appraisal. Her long, enveloping gown hid her dress, and she’d wisely left off her stockings. “Give me your shoes.” He packed them and the underclothes, Bible, reticule, and one good dress she gave him.

He stepped up to her, mussed her hair, then pinched her cheeks until they reddened. He moved back a pace, cocked his head as he studied her, then nodded. “You’ll do.” After fetching a small bottle that she’d seen him set aside earlier, he approached her again, uncapping it as he came.

“What’s that?” she asked, eyeing the bottle with foreboding.

“Blood.” He chuckled at her horror-stricken look. “I’ve not murdered anyone, Katrina. It’s only pig’s blood that I took from the dissection room at my school. Wrap yourself in the blanket.”

Her disgust receded only marginally, but she obeyed, now that she understood what he was going to do. Her nose wrinkled as he splashed the blood on the blanket near her hips. Then he hung his case over one wrist, cracked the door open, and held out his arms.

The little smile playing about his lips was a fine blend of irony and mirth. “Faith, this is not the way I’d choose to embrace you, but ’tis, under the circumstances, the most convincing.” When she wrapped her arms about his neck, he flushed, but seemed to lift her easily enough.

“Put your arms at your sides, keep your neck relaxed, and on no account open your eyes. The guard has gone to lunch, so it’s now or never.” Then, with a deep breath, he shoved the door open with his foot and stepped into the hallway.

Katrina heard nervous whispers and even a titter or two, but she’d counted seven descending steps before she heard Ma
dame-Lusette’s voice. “Here now, doc, where ye goin’?”

‘ ‘This girl has got fever again, and her wound has reopened. Unless I get her to a cleaner environment, she’ll die. A more experienced colleague of rnine has agreed to look at her—”

“Then let him come here. She don’t leave.”

“He won’t come. I
’ve already asked. Do you want her to die?”

Katrina could feel the madam’s indecision and sensed her piercing examination. Will’s arm nudged her, and she let her head fall back so that her hair streamed over his arm. Finally a heavy sigh came. “Very well. When will ye bring her back?”

“As soon as her fever is gone.” Will began walking again. “Please, open the door.” The woman complied.

Katrina felt herself being set in a carriage, then the depres
sion of the springs as Will got in beside her. “You can visit her at my school, if you like.” Will gave her directions, then shut the door.

As the driver pulled them away they exchanged a triumphant glance. “Well, that was easy enough,” Will said. His little smile deepened. “What I wouldn’t give to see those fusty old sawbones’ faces if Madame Lusette goes to the school.”

Katrina’s own smile broadened. She flung off the soiled blanket, exuberant in her freedom. Her sideways glance was mischievous. “Oh, I don’t know. They might be glad to see her.”

When he quirked an inquiring eyebrow, she finished dryly, “I imagine she could teach them a thing or two about anatomy.”

Will threw back his blond head and roared with laughter. Katrina joined in, a bit rustily at first, but at least she hadn’t lost the ability.

Will gasped between chuckles. “And . . . doubtless in a much . . . more pleasurable . . . fashion. I can see them now . . . upon the dissection table.
...”
And he was off again. Their laughter mingled pleasantly as the hired coachman took them to the westerly road out of London.

However, they’d not gone far upon it before Katrina’s laughter died. She kept the smile upon her face so Will wouldn’t realize that her tears of mirth had a different source now. She watched London retreat behind her. The houses thinned, then faded to a flat greensward broken only by the serpentine dirt road.

The future stretched ahead. Whatever came in that future, this part of her life was over. No more emotional torment for her; no more joy, either. Every step took her away from Devon. By her own choice, she told herself fiercely, yet the regret only deepened. Try as she did to tell herself she hated him, her heart knew truth from fiction.

Never again to be held by him, to be wanted by him—how would she bear it? part of her cried. Yet the cool, logical part she vowed would rule her ever after assured her that this distance was best. Any chance for happiness they might have had had perished with the death of their child. God intended other things for her. More important things.

She snatched her eyes away from the road receding behind them. She turned, proud and straight, and gazed only forward.

Miles away, in London’s most exclusive district, Devon Alexander Tyrone Cavanaugh was reviling her in a remarkably similar manner. He stood in the salon of his town house, one booted foot upon the empty fireplace grate, and rested his forehead on the arm he braced upon the mantel. He twirled a forgotten glass of port in his hand.

“Damn you, Katrina. Damn you for lying. Little coward, how could you throw away all we might have had out of some . . . pusillanimous, false modesty? Pah! You’re like all other women—you don’t know the meaning of the word
honor.
Promises made are as easily broken. You lost, dammit! You should have stayed. . . .’’He clenched his glass tightly.

For weeks now they’d searched for her, but she’d vanished without a trace. He and Billy had co
mbed every street about the litte house, looking for someone who recalled seeing her. She was, after all, quite distinctive, but it had been late when she left. Even now Billy was searching. He’d only recently returned himself to change and eat. Dear heaven, what if he never saw her again? His hand convulsed about the glass. He heard a snap, then felt a sharp pain in his hand.

With an oath he flung the glass away, aware but uncaring that the port stained his expensive rug. He sucked his palm, then stared vaguely at the wound, remembering the last time he’d seen blood. Had he known she was virgin, would he have let her be? Nay, he’d not lie to himself. He’d have been more tender, but he’d have snatched what, even now, instinct cried out was his. And still he’d be standing here, wondering how he had gone wrong. Fearing for her safety. Praying sincerely, for the first time in over twenty years, for another.

Not since his parents died had he known such despair. And the fact that he’d brought this upon himself alleviated his anguish not a whit. How could he have known the chit was lying? She’d seemed as rapacious as the others in that last, rending confrontation. She’d
wanted
him to believe her mercenary. And he, like a besotted halfling, had fallen neatly into her trap. He’d awakened, determined to start afresh with her and woo her gently, only to find himself alone, Billy unconscious. The jewels and fur he’d gifted her with were still very much in his possession; the one thing he’d wanted above all others in his adult life had slipped from his grasp. Only now, when she was gone, did he understand how deeply, how passionately, he had wanted her. . . .