The Mysterious Governess (Daughters of Sin Book 3) (26 page)

Her hopes were confirmed that there was no one about on the nursery floor.

The next floor down, where the bedrooms were, ought to be empty too. It was this floor where Ralph had made his entry, for Lissa could feel the breeze from an open window. Now she realized that it was toward this very window Ralph was drawing her, and she froze with horror.

There was a tremendous drop to the pavement. How would she navigate the descent in her skirts? She tried to resist but he was insistent, albeit without making a sound.

“Trust me,” he whispered in her ear when they drew closer. “I have secured a rope. Just hold on to me and let me do the work. We can’t go down the stairs. There is no way we’ll not be seen.”

As the window was already half open, there wasn’t the fear of it making a sound. The rope was securely tied from the bannister a few feet into the room, and further secured to the window handles themselves, but the drop looked outrageously high. Her breath started to come in rasping gasps until Ralph turned and, in the dark, held her close against him. For several seconds they simply stood, taking in the warmth and comfort of each other, holding hands, eyes closed.

“Trust me, Lissa. If one of us falls, we both fall. But it is the only way out of a perilous situation. You must believe me.”

She nodded, sick with fear. “Before I go out of the window, will you kiss me properly, Ralph? Just in case I break my head on the cobblestones and never get another chance again.”

He didn’t answer, just tipped her face upward and brought his mouth gently down upon hers, kissing her sweetly at first, and then thoroughly, and, finally, with resounding passion.

They were both trembling when they drew apart and Ralph whispered, almost matter-of-factly, “Take your skirts in one hand as I help you onto the window ledge and keep steady until I join you there. Then put your arms around my waist, hold as tightly as you can...and just trust me.”

***

“I
s everything all right, Miss? Were the fireworks grand? You’re back earlier than I’d ‘spected.” Jane, who was polishing the silver bottles on her mistress’s dressing table, looked up nervously as Araminta entered the room.

Without a word, Araminta brought one arm across the entire surface and sent powder bottles, perfume vials, hairbrushes and jewelry boxes crashing to the floor.

Then she threw herself onto her bed and burst into noisy tears.

“Oh, Miss, I take it things didn’t go to plan,” said Jane, going down on her knees to start to clean up the mess before changing her mind and putting a tentatively soothing hand upon Araminta’s back.

“No, they did not!” Araminta shrieked, beating her fists upon the counterpane.

“So, His Lordship didn’t ask you to marry him, then?”

“Yes he did!” Araminta rolled onto her back and glared at Jane. “He asked me to marry him and then said he had to go away on important business for two months! Two
months
! Where does that leave me? In an impossible situation, I don’t need to tell you. I might as well throw myself in the river, except the water’s far too cold and I’m hardly about to copy bacon-brained Edgar. There must be another way.”

“Poison?”

“I mean to get
out of this mess
, you stupid girl!” Araminta screamed. Feverishly, she began to bite her fingernails before realizing the damage she was doing to an important asset. “Oh, Jane, don’t look like you’re related to a mule. Come up with a plan, for dear Lord’s sake!”

Jane took a seat by the bed. “Well, Miss, you could always go and see him and suggest you marry earlier or that you elope. I know it’s not respectable—”

Aramaminta was ready to clutch at anything right now. “Well, Hetty eloped it, didn’t she? And no one seems to be condemning her for her deplorable behavior.” She sat up, thinking. “So you think I should go now, do you?”

“Now?” Jane frowned. “No, of course not now. It’s the middle of the night. But...later on.”

“What do you mean, later on? He’s leaving in a ship for some distant land at dawn. So, of course I must go and talk sense into him tonight. Excellent plan. Quick, Jane, we must waste no time! I don’t know why I didn’t entreat him more artfully than I did. I was simply too shocked and horrified by what he was telling me.”

“But, Miss, how can we simply go out on the streets in the middle of the night?”

“We put on long dark cloaks and cover our hair and faces and we slip out of the door. Have you no imagination, Jane? No common sense? Now, where’s that lovely crimson-lined black cloak of mine? Or should I wear the ermine-edged? Yes, that will do, in case he suggests we elope this very minute.”

“And what would I do then, Miss?”

“Go with me, of course. I can’t possibly elope without a maid.”

“But I can’t leave Jem without telling ‘im.”

“You’d have to, because I’d need you. Now stop this nonsense, Jane, and do as I say. Yes, that’s the one. And I’ll take some of my jewelry. One never knows when one might need pin money, but oh, Jane, he’s even richer than I’d thought. Why, that down-at-heel baby brother of his, the secretary to dreadful, awful Lord Debenham, made me think Lord Ludbridge was one of these titled chaps with not a feather to fly with. But you know, his mother was dressed in the first stare, not last season at all. And I’d do anything to have a ruby necklace like the one she was wearing.”

“You certainly would, Miss.”

“Now, stop dithering, Jane. Are you ready?”

***

E
nsconced in a hackney cab outside Lord Ludbridge’s townhouse, Araminta was feeling immeasurably reassured by the success of her new plan as Jane made her way down the stairs to the servants’ entrance to knock upon the kitchen door. Jane would glean the necessary information, Araminta’s desperate note to Lord Ludbridge would be passed on and all would be well.

The moon was high in the sky and Araminta thought again of the burst of fireworks that had first thrilled her, just hours ago, before her world had come crashing down. Soon she’d be experiencing fireworks again, but of a different kind. Fireworks that would culminate in success, not disappointment.

She shifted impatiently on the uncomfortable leather seat.

Araminta’s last clandestine encounter in a hired hackney cab with Lord Debenham had had her weighing up her options between him and Sir Aubrey as she’d suggested His Lordship might like to make it worth her while to give him the letter. But now, only Lord Ludbridge would do.

Lord Ludbridge was wonderful and kind...and he was manageable and rich enough. Araminta thought she’d acquired a great deal of wisdom in just a few short months to be happy making such compromises. Her mother would have been proud of her.

She put her face to the window. Where was Jane? Probably gossiping with the scullery maid, and completely forgetting that her mistress’s life and happiness were hanging by a veritable thread.

A few minutes later, she heard the quick tapping of Jane’s shoes upon the cobbles and then Jane hauled herself into the dark space opposite her.

“Well?” Araminta demanded. “Shall I go to him now? Or in the morning? You took so long, I can only imagine you were waiting for an answer to my letter.”

“Oh miss, your letter ain’t going to get to His Lordship in time.”

“What do you mean, in time?”

“I mean His Lordship left more ‘n an hour ago on horseback. He took his valet with him and together they rode through the moonlight to catch the boat to Dover.

“Then we must follow them!”

“It’s impossible, miss. They’re on horseback. They’ll cover three times as much ground as we would in the same time. Besides, we’d need to hire a chaise and I don’t know how we’d do that. No, it simply can’t be done.” Jane’s voice trembled. “I’m afraid, miss, there’s nothing for it. You’ll have to make another plan.”

She rapped on the roof for the jarvey to pick up his reins and get moving, partly so the occupants of Lord Ludbridge’s London townhouse would not hear her mistress’s hearty wails, which did not subside for a full five minutes.

They were three blocks from home when Araminta finally raised her head, wiped her cheeks and, with a gasp, pressed her nose once more to the window.

“I say, Jane, stop the carriage this instant! Is that Mr. Woking I see walking along the pavement?”

J
ane had been highly reluctant to let Araminta step out of the carriage and into the street, alone, in the middle of the night while she continued around the corner.

Indeed, for Araminta, the idea of stepping out onto a deserted street without company would have been unthinkable a few hours ago. No, a few moments ago, even. Jane had wailed that Araminta was grasping at straws. Right now, Araminta was grasping for anything or anyone, and Mr. Woking might just answer.

“Please, sir! A terrible accident has happened!” she cried, appearing in front of him with her face lowered, her hood covering her head. “The carriage conveying me and my chaperone has bolted. Please help me!”

“Good god, madam! And you are alone?”

Araminta huddled into herself and gave a little sob. “Entirely sir! I don’t know what to do.” She paused, raised her face as she let her hood fall from her head, and uttered in shocked tones, “Mr. Woking!”

“Miss Partington!” he cried at the same time, before looking desperately around. “You really have no chaperone?” he asked, sounding even more aghast.

“Yes, and I’ve hurt my foot. Please help me.” She put out both her hands in a gesture of the utmost entreaty and limped several steps, before losing her balance and falling into his arms.

He held her while he looked around again, wildly. There was no carriage in sight, no sign of anyone. “I...I don’t know what to do,” he said lamely. “My residence is right here but I can hardly take you there, Miss Partington.”

“Yes, you can. It is this one? I need to sit down and see if my ankle is injured. Just for a moment. Can you not do this one thing for me?” She tried to keep the acid from her tone as she gazed soulfully into his face while maintaining her firm grip on his wrist.

Yet still he glanced about him, furtively, as if he were terrified and about to refuse. Araminta began walking him toward the portico steps. If he needed her to lead him on to do anything that required some backbone, she’d have an easy time with him in the future, she thought, grasping for consolation at what she being forced to do.

When the butler opened the door with a mild grunt of surprise, Araminta kept her head well down and covered by her cloak while Mr. Woking nervously explained that he was rendering a friend assistance; that medicinal brandy was required, and perhaps a doctor, but that Doderidge could retire for the night.

A couple of lamps burned low in the drawing room where he led her, easing Araminta onto a sofa before fetching them both a glass of brandy. The room was furnished in sparse, masculine style, not to Araminta’s taste, but the brandy was another matter, and after two in quick succession she felt much more up to the task ahead of her.

“Is there bruising or swelling around my ankle, Mr. Woking?” she asked in a small, timid voice, extending her leg. “It is painful but not so very that I think it necessary to call a doctor.” She took a shuddering breath. “I don’t know what has become of my chaperone but I thank the good Lord I was lucky enough to be rescued by you.”

He hovered uncertainly in the center of the room, his wits clearly addled, for he did not blush at her praise as he might have done otherwise. Indeed, he seemed positively doltish as he continued to shy away from the tremendous opportunities she was clearly offering him. “You want me to look at your ankle?”

“That’s right.” She smiled her most disingenuous smile as she raised her skirt to just above her slipper. “I don’t know why, but there was something comforting about seeing it was you, Mr. Woking. I mean, because we know one another so well. It made me feel...safe. Yes, put your hand around it and see if you feel any bones sticking out. I’d hate anything to snap if I put pressure on it when I try to stand.”

Obediently Mr. Woking went onto his haunches and gently grasped Araminta’s ankle. He began to run his hands over the contours, almost reverently, and Araminta reached forward and put her hand gently on the top of his head. He looked up in surprise.

“I have never given you credit for being such a fine gentleman,” she murmured.

His eyes widened and his stupid mouth dropped open. Gritting her teeth, Araminta forced a tender smile. “You were always so kind to Hetty, who then repaid us with such unexpected, scandalous behavior. She didn’t deserve you but you are so worthy, Mr. Woking.”

“Worthy? Of what, Miss Partington?” His eyes were even wider now as Araminta leaned closer. It seemed that unconsciously his hands had strayed a little higher toward her knee. Araminta tried to keep from shuddering; tried to keep from her mind the rapture of just hours before, which she could never relive. Her life was in ruins, or it would be unless she could find a father for her child.

“Of love, Mr. Woking,” she murmured, closing the gap between their faces and touching her lips to his wet, flaccid mouth.

He might be a ninny but it seemed he came alive to all possibilities at such a touch. With a low groan, Mr. Woking’s arms wrapped around Araminta’s shoulders and before she knew it, he’d joined her on the sofa.

Dear God, it was a nightmare, the feel of his slimy tongue plunging into her mouth, but she had to keep up the charade. Somehow it felt less personal if she could get him to concentrate on doing what she needed him to do, away from her face.

He was still slightly in his cups, she realized. He’d been stumbling along the pavement though apparently very much aware of the dangers to her reputation during their initial encounter, but now it seemed such reservations were put to rest by her encouragement. The bodice whose cut she was so keen to ensure could comfortably fit Lord Ludbridge’s hand was now tugged and mauled to accommodate Mr. Woking’s eager, seeking, hairy hand, and her fuller skirts, smoothed and pressed with such care with thoughts of Lord Ludbridge’s advances proving the prelude to a glorious marriage proposal, were now nearly ripped from the high bodice by Mr. Woking in his haste to do what Araminta needed but despised him for.