The Masked Heart (Sweet Deception Regency #2) (29 page)

Lip curled in disgust, Drew turned his back on the unconscious figure, searching the room for Blaine. The sight of her worried face above the well-padded costume of Lady Yates, gave Drew a moment of amusement. He blinked at the psyche knot of silvery-blond hair that shimmered in the lamplight, a perfect compliment to her lovely features. He much preferred it to the brown curls of the woman at the Rose and Trellis and hoped that this was her natural color.

Despite her ridiculous costume, she was beautiful. There was a look in her golden eyes that weakened his knees more surely than any of his injuries. Her lips were parted, red and swollen as if she had been biting them. Even in his battered condition, he could feel his body's response to her at the thought of kissing her rosy mouth. He started toward her but the sudden movement sent a searing pain through his ribs. He stopped in his track, narrowing his eyes until the agony passed.

Blaine caught her breath as the expression on Drew's face changed from joy to anger. She moved away from Sarge, crossing her arms over her padded chest as if she could warm the sudden chill of her body. Drew had wanted to come to her, she had seen that but she had also seen the moment he changed his mind. She should have expected such a reaction. She had kept her identity from him, knowing how he would feel about her, once he discovered her background.

In the world into which Blaine was born, an actress was no better than a courtesan. Perhaps she had not known that when she first trod the boards but eventually she had observed the way the gentlemen of the
ton
treated women of the theatre world. Actresses were playthings, unacceptable in polite society and given little respect. Now in Drew's eyes, she was no longer La Solitaire, an actress he desired. She was, instead, Blaine Margaret Meriweather, a respectable woman who had debased herself by going on the stage. Even the thought that he had wanted to come to her was poor consolation for the pain cutting through her. Even in the crowded room, she felt terribly alone.

"What a dust-up!" Val shouted as he catapulted into the room, followed by Tate who stared around the room in disgust.

"Val! Tate!" Blaine cried. "What on earth are you doing here?"

The boy's face lighted up at the sight of her and he ran across the room to hurl himself into her arms. She took comfort from his presence and tried to pull her mind from her personal agony to deal with her brother. She had taken in his dirt-streaked appearance and, over his head, she cast a questioning glance at her dresser.

"Lord Farrington brought us," Tate said. Assured that Blaine was unharmed, she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Your brother is the hero of this piece, madam," he said. "He followed you here and then returned to London for help."

"What an amazing lad you are, Val," she said. She tipped his head back and smiled at the grubby face turned up to her.

"Jamie helped, too."

"And after all of the terrible things I've said about the boy." Blaine laughed at the affronted expression on her brother's face. "Obviously I owe him an immediate apology. I shall never say another word against him."

"Even if he swaps me for his snake?" Val asked, peeping up at her through his mop of hair.

"Wretched child!"

At a groan from one of the bodies littering the floor, the attention of the party was returned to the devastation of the room. There was very little that had survived the fray. Chairs and tables were splintered and, what few knickknacks there were, lay shattered on the floor. The only item standing, was the table that contained the lamp.

"Oh, I wish Jamie were here," Val sighed, his voice heavy with regret. Then his face brightened as he beamed up at Drew. "You certainly gave him a leveler, Lord Farrington. I saw it all through the window and it was the finest fight I ever saw. 'Course it was also the only one I've seen," he admitted, wanting to be totally honest with his hero.

"I thought I told you to remain with Tate," Drew said.

"Well, I did, at first, but then I considered the fact you had only taken one pistol and I thought you might need the other."

Val reached in his pocket and pulled out the pistol and Drew was torn between wanting to beat the child and wanting to thank him. He gingerly removed the loaded gun from the boy's grimy hand, unloaded it and then threw it to Sarge. The big man grinned as he slipped it into his pocket.

"You definitely need a firm hand, brat," Drew snapped but he clapped the boy on the shoulder to remove the sting from his words. Then looking around the room, he stroked his chin in thought. "I do not quite know what to do for the best."

"You can't turn them over to the magistrate," Blaine blurted out. As all eyes shifted to her face, she blushed. "In the first place, Romulus and Remus were good to me."

"I don't believe it," Drew said in amazement.

"Well, it's true," she said defensively. "They made me tea and lit the fire and... ."

"Oh, I believe that part," Drew interrupted. "Is that really their names?"

Blaine chuckled at the skepticism in his voice. "I swear to you. The one over there is Romulus and the other one is Remus. They're twins. I believe the names were courtesy of a mother with a penchant for Roman mythology and Blue Ruin."

"Devil you say!" Drew laughed aloud as his eyes swung back and forth between the abominable giants. "Surely, madam, you're not pleading for clemency for these ruffians?"

"Yes, I am!" She stamped her foot impatiently. "I would have been in worse case, had they not taken my part. When they are not trying to kill anyone, they are both rather sweet. They've had a very hard life and I am quite sure they will receive no pay for their work today. Besides, their mother has just died and I hate to make things any more difficult by turning them over to the constabulary."

By the end of this breathless defense, Drew's eyes had taken on a glazed look. Blaine ignored him totally and waved Val off to the kitchen in search of Tate. She fixed Sarge with a jaundiced eye and he shrugged in resignation.

"All right, Miss Blaine. There's a cart out back. I'll lug 'em out and put 'em in it. The nag will find her way home. More, I'm not prepared to do."

"Thank you, Sarge. And thank you for your aid in subduing the men. You acquitted yourself well."

"I would say, miss, you did a fair bit. Sorry about your cane," he said, chuckling as he set to work. He reached down with his enormous hands and grasped Romulus by the neck of his coat, dragged him across the floor and out the door.

"What about him?" Drew said, nodding to Stoddard who was still unconscious.

"I don't know." Blaine stared bleakly at the crumpled figure on the floor. After his beating, Lord Stoddard would be twice as eager for revenge. He would take great delight in regaling the
ton
with the news of La Solitaire and the children would have to live with the dishonor of their name. She had become an actress to protect Val and Fleur from financial ruin, but, by her actions, she had destroyed them. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion. She swayed and Drew grasped her shoulders to steady her.

"Are you all right, madam?"

"Don't call me that," she snapped.

"I am uncertain of exactly which of your names to choose. Lady Yates? Blaine Margaret Meriweather? Maggie Mason? La Solitaire?"

"Hush! Val doesn't know." She threw an agonized glance at the door to the kitchen. Then she turned back and caught sight of Stoddard and her shoulders sagged in defeat. "I wanted to keep this from him but there is no way now to keep Lord Stoddard from making it known."

"Would you really have become his mistress?" Drew asked. His voice sounded politely curious but his green eyes were angry.

"Yes." Blaine held his gaze, refusing to feel ashamed.

"I wonder with what he threatened you? Scandal? Bodily injury? I think not. You would never have weakened under such a threat. Dear God, it was Fleur." In his fury, he shook her. "It was Fleur, wasn't it?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Blaine staggered when he released her and stormed across the room. He grabbed Stoddard by his bloody cravat, dragging him to his feet. He shook him like a terrier with a rat. Stoddard's head bobbed like a rag doll's but he finally came to his senses. His eyes were glazed, staring groggily around the room and Drew waited until Stoddard's eyes focused and before he spoke.

"Listen well, you scum," he said in a voice far more chilling for its softness. "If you ever say one word about La Solitaire, Lady Yates or any of the Meriweathers, you will rue the day you were born. If one hint, one rumor, comes to my ears, I will strip you of every penny you possess and make your name anathema in London. Then, Lord Stoddard, I will kill you."

Without another word, Drew pushed him toward the door. He shoved Stoddard outside and followed him, leaving Blaine alone in the empty room. She sniffed back a tear as she surveyed the wreckage of the room. She wondered how soon they could leave for she was weary to death of this pitiful place. After they returned to London, she, Val and Fleur would pack up and return to Wiltshire. Perhaps there she could find some measure of peace, before she left them forever.

Sarge stamped into the room, giving her a sour smile before he reached down for Remus. Like his brother, the enormous giant was dragged across the floor and out the door.

"Tate made us all tea," Val chirped as he wobbled through the door with a tray of mugs.

Blaine looked around the scene of devastation, then raced across to the table and removed the lamp. "Set it here," she said as she placed the lamp on the mantel.

Manfully navigating through the piles of debris, Val plunked the tray down with a grin of triumph. Blaine removed her mittens and shoved them into the pocket of her skirt. Picking up a mug, she sipped slowly and reveled in the warmth that radiated through her body. She had her back to the door but she was aware of Drew's presence, the moment he entered the room. She stiffened as he crossed the floor to join them but she could not resist one quick look to assure herself he had taken no terrible injury.

He had taken time to wash the worst of his injuries. There was a cut on his eyebrow but it was no longer bleeding. His cheek was red and swollen beneath one eye. Aside from a lump on his forehead, near his temple, he was blessedly free of marks. He moved stiffly as he picked up a mug and went to lean against the mantel. She caught her breath at sight of the cut and swollen knuckles of his hand as he raised the tea to his lips. She would have cried out, if Val hadn't spoken.

"Did Lord Farrington tell you about Fleur?"

"If you recall, halfling, I have been rather too occupied to make polite conversation," Drew said .

"Right, sir," Val said, then turned to his sister, smiling broadly. "Robbie came up to scratch!"

"That's a perfectly dreadful expression." It took her a moment to take in the significance of his words but when she did, she smiled warmly. "What incredibly splendid news. What did Fleur say?" she asked Drew.

"I do believe, madam, that your sister will be an extremely damp bride. After a substantial bout of tears, she went on a bit about what an idiot she had been not to have realized that she was in love with Robbie. It would seem that the visit to London was instructive. The frivolous dandy set did not come off well when compared to the solid worth of the landed gentry. She said, and I quote, 'Robbie is the kindest, sweetest and best of friends.' Then she burst into tears. How can she possibly cry so much and still look so lovely?"

He looked totally bemused and, knowing their sister well, Val and Blaine laughed.

"Through it all, Robbie stared at her with a glazed look of adoration that will hopefully remain in place until after the honeymoon. They have decided to be married in Wiltshire and the date for the glorious event is set for next month after the banns have been called."

When he finished, there was silence as the threesome sipped their tea and considered the happy couple.

"How's your eye, sir?" Val asked over the rim of his mug.

Drew reached up to touch the puffiness under his eye. "A bit sore but otherwise fine."

"It's going to be very colorful. A regular painted peeper," Val said with relish.

"Go away, brat. I want to talk to your sister." Seeing the boy's speculative glance, Drew winked. "Sarge is out in the kitchen with Tate. Tell them to be ready to leave shortly."

"Aye, sir" Val said as he carried his cup toward the door.

"And don't come back until I call."

"Spot on!"

Blaine watched the disappearing figure with a feeling of abandonment. She curled her fingers around her mug and stared into the murky liquid. She was worn out, both physically and mentally. She did not want to be alone with Drew, now that she knew how he felt. The thought that he might discover she was in love with him, was too painful to contemplate. She dropped her head to avoid his eyes, swallowing back tears of self-pity. When Drew removed the mug from her hands, she stepped back in apprehension.

Drew observed the droop of Blaine's shoulders and wanted to run to her and take her in his arms. But he was puzzled by her behavior. After the fight with Stoddard, he had been convinced that she returned his love. Could he have misunderstood the flash of emotion in her golden-hazel eyes? Was it possible that she did not share his feelings and would reject his suit? He stared at her in bewilderment.

"Can you not look at me?"

"No," she said lifelessly.

"Why not?"

"I cannot bear to see the contempt in your eyes."

Suddenly everything was clear and Drew was washed by a wave of relief that erased all his doubts. He grasped Blaine's shoulders and shook her until her head came up and she glared at him, her eyes flashing with their usual fire.

"You birdwit!" he shouted. "Can you know me so little that you would think that I could ever look at you with contempt? I love you, you impossible woman! Do you hear me?"

"You love me?"

There was such a look of wonder on Blaine's face that a lump rose in Drew's throat. Her golden-hazel eyes blazed like twin suns and a flush of pink tinted her cheeks like the petals of a rose.