The Scarlet Bride (38 page)

“You should never be ashamed of where you come from, Miss Prescott.” She settled on the bed and patted the coverlet. “Please join me.”

Apprehensive, Laura took a seat beside her.

“Let me tell you a story,” the countess began. “My family was large and as poor as church mice, though some would say the mice had better lodgings. I worked as a milkmaid and housemaid since I was eleven to help support my family. We all worked very hard to keep food in our stomachs.”

Laura pondered the information and waited for her to continue.

“Oddly, in spite of the harsh conditions, my family was
happy.” She smiled. “One afternoon I was walking back from Henley Hall when a man rode past on a large bay horse. I thought nothing of it until he turned the animal around and rode back to me.” Her eyes took on a faraway cast. “Though he was very, very handsome, I had been chased by some of the finest bucks in Ireland. I wasn’t about to be seduced and left with child by this arrogant Englishman with a charming smile.”

“The earl sounds very much like his son,” Laura said.

“He was, is. But he had other plans for me. He climbed down from that horse and for the next two hours told me about his life, his family, and his plans to marry me. By the time he returned me to my father, I was smitten. We wed a few hours later.”

“What a romantic story.” Laura sighed.

The countess nodded. “I took a leap of faith that day. I only knew that when I looked into his eyes, I would always be loved and cared for.”

Tears prickled behind Laura’s lashes.

“The point I am making with my long-winded tale is that I went from a tiny house my father had built to an estate in Kent. When I met my husband, I was barefoot and wearing a dress Lady Henley’s daughter had outgrown and gifted me.” She took a deep breath. “I will judge you for your character, not whether you have a large dowry or are weighted in jewels.”

Laura sat a little straighter on the bed. She smiled wryly. “I’m pleased, for I have nothing other than my character
to
judge.”

Lady Seymour stood. She peered askance at Laura through narrowed lids. “We shall see.”

C
aught up in the whirlwind that was Lady Kathleen, Laura spent the next two days in her company and in that of her daughter, Brenna. They shopped, went to a museum, and even called on Mrs. Fairchild, who had recently lost her elderly pooch.

Simon, His Lordship, or the guards were always present and wary. Though the outings were meant to bait Henry, Lady Seymour struggled to treat each as if nothing dark was lingering just out of sight. In public, she appeared more interested in learning about Laura than worrying that a killer might be stalking them. In the privacy of the town house, Lady Seymour fretted about Laura’s safety.

The family wanted to keep her sheltered. It was Laura who insisted they continue life as if nothing were amiss. After a long and somewhat heated argument, they reluctantly agreed.

“Is your mother always so enthusiastic?” Laura had asked Brenna after the visit to the museum when the two younger women slumped, exhausted, in the carriage.

“Always,” Brenna replied as her mother was helped inside. “Mother has the energy of six women.”

The countess righted her hat. “It keeps me young, dearest.”

Laura eventually discovered Simon’s plan to marry off Brenna to one Chester Abbot and, by his sister’s description of the man, stood firmly with Brenna against the notion.

“How can you consider him a husband for your sister?” Laura confronted Simon later that evening. She made a face. “He sounds positively dull.”

Simon scowled. “It is as I feared. You have come under the negative influence of my mother and sister. Soon you will be taking me to task for my choice of coat or how to better use my spoon. Perhaps I
should
consider moving you elsewhere until Henry has been captured.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She glanced at the open door of the sitting room and stepped close. She took his hands. “I feel safe here. If I promise not to speak a word about your spoon or coat, will you let me stay?”

Laura knew he’d not remove her from the town house and the threat was only jest. But it gave her an excuse to lean in, feel his warmth, and enjoy the touch of their hands together. In such a busy household, and with the lack of privacy, their contact had been minimal.

He let his gaze roam over her face. “An inn would be
more private. I cannot get close to you without tripping over Mother or Brenna.”

She warmed. It was comforting to know his ardor for her hadn’t waned. She intended to steal many more kisses.

“They want to assure themselves that you will not take advantage of my good nature.” She walked backward, drawing Simon behind the open door. She pulled her hands free and placed her palms on his muscled chest. “Or perhaps they hope to keep me from taking advantage of you.”

Simon growled low and dipped his head for a kiss. She moved against him and slid her arms around his waist.

The kiss deepened quickly, infusing her with tingles. Then just as quickly, it was over.

Laura didn’t try to hide her disappointment. “I’ve missed you terribly. Making lively conversation over meals or speaking politely about the weather is not enough.”

Her Grace’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

Cupping her face, he pressed a last hard kiss on her mouth and drew her back into the room. “I have employed an estate manager for my manor and the hiring of a staff has begun. I also have two pieces of news. Uncle Arthur has been returned to London and will be buried tomorrow.”

“That is good news. Your family has him home.” Laura sat in a chair. “And the second piece of news?”

“Crawford has discovered that Henry’s real name is Charles Henry Innes. He has passed the information to the Runners.”

“The name certainly fits with what I know. Westwick did slip once and call him Charles. But why the ruse?”

“We suspect Westwick and Henry of nefarious deeds beyond their desire to kidnap and sell young women for profit. There are rumors about cheating at cards and selling shares in worthless shipping investments, to name two. Charles may have used ‘Henry’ to keep his true identity secret. Both names are as common as tea is in England.”

“And yet Westwick had no such qualms about revealing his own identity,” she interjected. “He must have thought
his title would keep him safe if he was caught committing crimes.”

Simon snorted. “He got away with so many misdeeds in his life. Why would he not think he was safe from prosecution?”

Laura nodded. “And yet he wasn’t safe from an assassin’s knife.”

A
unt Bernie still has a touch of a fever and is sleeping,” the countess said. Clad in black, she pulled on her gloves. Her face was grim. “I have promised to take her to pay her respects to Arthur once she is feeling better.”

Laura nodded. Aunt Bernie was beside herself when she realized she’d have to miss the funeral. Unfortunately, she could barely rise from her bed to take care of her most basic needs. She’d never be able to sit or stand several hours upright.

“I will check on her frequently,” she promised.

Lady Kathleen patted her arm. “You are a dear.”

Simon stepped forward and took Laura’s hands. “I don’t like leaving you alone in this house. Henry could be anywhere.”

The family was gathered in the foyer, a sea of black. Miss Eva and the duke and Miss Noelle and Mister Blackwell had all come to travel together with Simon’s family to the funeral. The rest of the extended family had already gone off to the church.

“I am well guarded,” Laura said. She squeezed his hands. “I promise to stay inside and keep vigilant.”

“I’d rather you came with me,” he said softly.

“The funeral is for family and friends. Besides, I can comfort Aunt Bernie should she awaken,” she said. “The house is full of servants, and guards are posted outside. I am better watched than the king.”

Laura worked to present a confident tone. Henry was a man capable of any misdeed. If he wanted to find a way into this house, he would. She could only hope that the sheer volume of the staff, having been alerted to watch for anything suspicious, would ensure her safety.

“I will be back as quickly as I can.” Simon pressed her hand to his mouth as the family filed out the door. He glanced at Hardy. “Bolt the door behind us.”

“Yes, sir.” The butler did as he was told.

Her first order was to check on Aunt Bernie. She went upstairs.

The lady was sleeping, her cheeks flushed and streaked with tears. Laura placed a hand on her forehead. The fever seemed to be abating from a high the previous day. It was a happy sign of recovery. Laura tucked a blanket around her and left her to sleep.

Laura walked to her room and collected the volume of poems she’d finished last evening. She went downstairs to the kitchen and the cook made her a snack of scones with jam, left over from breakfast.

“These are the most delicious scones I have ever tasted,” she said and the cook smiled. “Perhaps you should take the rest away, lest I have to let my dress out.”

Satiated, she walked to the library to return the book and select another. After a thorough search, she chose a book that chronicled the history of pirates and walked to the parlor.

A footman stood at the end of the hall, clearly alert for trouble. Another was posted at the top of the staircase. Laura appreciated Simon’s thoroughness.

She wandered into the yellow parlor, took a seat on the settee, and was soon immersed in the fascinating tale of the life of Edward Teach.

An hour passed and then two as she delved in the stories of Calico Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny. She was halfway through the history of Captain Kidd when her unsettled nights caught up to her. Her head bobbed and the book hit the floor with a clunk.

The sound startled her awake.

Rubbing an eye, she bent to retrieve the volume and heard a noise from the open doorway connecting the parlor with the library next door.

Curious, she rose and walked toward the doorway.

She was nearing the opening when a shabby figure stepped into the room. Alarmed, she opened her mouth to cry out when the man lifted his arm and aimed a pistol at her face.

H
enry.” Laura’s heart raced.

Nodding, he lowered the weapon and stared into her eyes, his face tight. “Your lover is determined to protect you. It is lucky that I spent my youth as a housebreaker. There is not a wall I cannot climb or a window or door I cannot unlock.”

“How did you avoid the guards?” Laura took a step backward. Fear burned in her stomach.

“Save for one visit to the courtesan school, I’ve been hiding in the attic since I dragged myself out of the Thames. I figured the last place anyone would look for me was in this house. And I was correct. No one thought to look up there when they made a sweep of the house and grounds.” He shrugged and indicated his dusty clothing. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

She shuddered at the idea of him hiding in the upper floor for the last few days, with her and the Harrington family living below.

Clearly she’d underestimated him. They all had. A life of criminal pursuits had honed his ability to get in and out of every situation.

“Why did you wait to confront me until now?”

“There were far too many people about,” he admitted. “A few minutes ago, I noticed the house had suddenly gotten very quiet. I decided to find out why, so I snuck down the servants’ stairs and crept through the kitchen. Getting to you was simple with all these connecting rooms. No one thought to post a guard in an empty parlor or library.”

The man was brilliant. Insanely brilliant.

“I see I have finally done something you admire.”

“What do you want?” Laura snapped. She hated the quiver in her voice. She would beat him at his game. She had to win for the sake of them all.

“I have come for my due,” he said, moving across the room. “I watched Westwick put his hands on you, kiss you, and carry you to his bed. It’s my turn.”

Laura braced herself as he neared. The stench of stale sweat and dirty clothing permeated him. He was scuffed and water stained. “You will never have me,” she vowed.