The Temptation of Laura (18 page)

Emily slowly nodded. “I see. Then I’ll contact my aunt. She knows lots of people with estates in Saltford and Colerne. We’ll get you a position in one of the houses. Will that suit?”

Laura smiled. “That would be perfect.”

“Then consider it done.” Emily grinned and squeezed Laura’s hand. “It really is good to see you.”

 

It was early Tuesday morning when Adam paid the carriage driver and picked up his case from the cobbled walkway outside his home. He stared at its façade and trepidation rippled through him. He had been gone three days longer than anticipated and he longed to see Laura again. Self-hatred burned his throat and he swallowed hard. First, he would tell her the play had an investor—and then he would draw a very deep and very hot bath.

Climbing the steps, he took his key from his pocket and opened the front door. He tossed it onto a side table and shrugged off his coat. “Laura? Where are you? Is this any way to greet a man coming home from a longer than anticipated trip?”

The house remained eerily quiet.

His smile slipped and Adam frowned. Maybe she and Nurse had taken Bette for a stroll into town. He moved along the hallway into the drawing room. Although there wasn’t a single cushion out of place, the scent of wilting flowers hung in the air. He shot his glance to the side table and then the windowsill where a vase of roses withered.

Foreboding stole through his gut. “Laura, where are you?”

He rushed into the hallway and took the stairs two at a time. He pushed open the door to the guest bedroom. Laura’s bed was neatly made, the wardrobe doors open, revealing the absence of her small amount of clothes.

“You said you would not leave.” He stormed across the landing to the room Bette had slept in. It was empty. “Goddamn it, Laura. You promised.”

Slamming the door so hard it shook on its hinges, he ran downstairs and into the drawing room as though expecting, by some miracle, for Laura to reappear. An envelope propped on his writing bureau caught his eye. He raced over and ripped it open.

He read and reread the unfamiliar handwriting. Who wrote this for her? Nurse? Regret pinched hot at his cheeks as he gripped the paper and ripped it into pieces. He tossed the shards in the air and stormed from the room. What the hell had he done? Why had he gone to Bristol? Why had he seen Annabel?

He snatched up his keys and left the house, slamming the door behind him.

Hell would freeze over before he would let Laura leave after what he had done to make the play happen sooner rather than later. He had done it for her as much as for himself.

The last three days had nothing to do with Laura. It was only him who had succumbed to the easy route to ensure his dreams came to fruition. Laura would never have been so bloody weak. The woman would be honest and true to who she was. She would take each day as it came and cherish it, be thankful for it. Her perseverance through poverty and obstacles made shame course through his veins and pound at his temple. He had to find her. Had to return her to his home where she belonged, where she could grieve for Bette and know she still had a future without her beloved friend by her side.

He would never leave her again. He would be loyal and help her realize her potential.

Adam sprinted along the streets into town and made straight for the theater. If Laura had moved on, there was a small chance she would have handed in her notice to the theater manager—or at least her friend Tess might know where she was headed.

Upon entering the theater, he barged straight into the auditorium.

The play being shown was a farce, and the audience laughed and cheered along with the actress gracing the stage. Keeping his mind focused, Adam scanned the crowd for Tess and soon spotted her blond curls. He hurried up the aisle just as she finished a sale.

“Tess?”

She turned and her eyes widened. “Mr. Lacey. Are you all right?”

“I’m looking for Laura.”

“Laura? She’s gone.”

Impatience made him curl his hands into fists. “I know. Where is she?”

Tess stepped back and Adam controlled his temper.

He forced a smile and pushed his hand through his hair. “I am sorry. I just need to see her as soon as possible.”

Tess quirked an eyebrow, an all-knowing glint lighting her eyes. “You sure have a thing for her, don’t you?”

Adam met her smile. “What can I say? She is a beautiful woman. Do you know where she is?”

Her smile dissolved and she shook her head. “No, she came in a couple of days ago to say she was leaving and to thank me for everything I did for her. She was cut to pieces about poor Bette. She was her nearest and dearest friend. Died, she did. These few days past.”

“She did not say where she was going?”

She shook her head.

“Damn it.” Adam squeezed his eyes shut, his mind whirling. She could be anywhere by now. On her way to Bristol. London. Anywhere.

“I wouldn’t have thought she’d leave without seeing Bette buried properly.”

He snapped his eyes open.

Tess lifted her shoulders. “God only knows what kind of funeral Laura could afford for her, but I did see her talking in earnest with Miss Danes just before she left. Maybe she knows something.”

Adam stared. “Miss Danes?”

Tess nodded. “They were talking in the foyer. I was a bit taken aback because Miss Danes put her arms around Laura, she was trembling so hard.” She shook her head, her eyes glazing with tears. “I ain’t never seen Laura tremble over nothing before. Strong as an ox, she is. She won’t get over losing Bette easy, that’s for sure.”

His heart kicked painfully and Adam squeezed Tess’s hand. “I will go find Miss Danes.”

“Wait. There’s something—”

He sprinted along the front of the stage toward a door leading into the corridor backstage. Pushing and shoving through the people gathered around, he headed for Monica’s dressing room. He knocked and pushed the door open without waiting for her permission.

Stephanie, Monica’s dresser, was packing boxes.

“Stephanie? Where is Monica?”

The girl spun around. Adam immediately stiffened. Tears shone wet on the woman’s cheeks and her pallor was white.

“What is it? What is wrong?”

“She’s not here.”

He glanced around the room. Monica’s dressing table was empty of makeup, hairdressings, everything. “Where is she? What has happened?”

“He came after her again. After all this time. He came after her and beat her in her home.”

“What? Who did? Where is she?”

“At home. Recovering. I don’t know what that Baxter animal wanted, but there was no way Monica was going to give it to him. The commotion caused her neighbor to come running from next door. The poor man near beat the door down, but Baxter scarpered before he could catch him.”

“Baxter.” Adam whispered the bastard’s name from between his teeth and his vision tinged red at the edges. “Monica worked for him? In the past?”

Stephanie pursed her lips together.

Adam glared. “Stephanie, please. Tell me Monica’s connection to Baxter. The man is a leech who deserves to be punished.”

“She loved him.”

He stiffened. “Loved him?”

She nodded. “It was a long time ago and she despises him now. I think he wanted something to do with Laura, but Monica refuses to tell me what caused him to come after her the way he did.” Her voice cracked.

Adam pulled her into his arms and held her tightly as she sobbed. He stared blindly ahead, rage pouring into his blood. If Baxter had gotten to Monica, he would get to Laura, too, sooner or later. For the first time since he arrived back from Bristol, Adam prayed Laura had already fled the city.

He eased Stephanie back and held her at arm’s length. “I will go and see Monica now. Do not worry. She will be all right.”

“What if Baxter comes back? I’ve told her to leave. Get out of the city, but she won’t hear of it.”

He tightened his jaw. “The Monica I know would not run from anyone. Have no fear, I will put an end to this.”

Releasing her, he turned and stormed back along the corridor and out of the theater.

Adam flagged down a passing hansom cab and got in. Anger beat a pulse inside his head, hammering against his skull in a never-ending barrage of noise. How had Baxter become such a disruption? Adam had stumbled across a chance meeting with one of the most beautiful women to grace God’s earth and was falling hopelessly in love with her, had a four-year friendship with another, yet this piece of scum unfathomably linked the two.

The carriage jolted across town, stopping and starting; the roads became busier as noon approached. Shouting salesmen and women, and the screaming of playing children mixed with the slamming of carriage doors and the pealing bells of the abbey. Adam dropped his head back against the seat and focused on regaining control of the rage bubbling inside, threatening to spill over.

He would find Baxter and get the man arrested once and for all. First, he needed to see Monica. See what the bastard had done to her and learn the parting words she had spoken with Laura. Baxter was the catalyst to them both being hurt. Adam curled his hands into fists on his thighs. The scum’s control over them ended today.

The carriage turned onto the street where Monica lived in a modest three-bedroom house. Adam inhaled a deep breath. A house she was so proud to be paying for by her own means. It was ironic he had helped her obtain this home, yet very soon he would have no choice but to downsize to something much smaller.

It was a time for change. He could not go on like this. Laura’s disappearance was like a punch to his damn heart. He was falling in love with her and had absolutely nothing to offer her as enticement to take a chance on him.

Closing his mind to the words reverberating in his head, Adam alighted the carriage and paid the driver. He had to focus and deal with one problem at a time. Right then, Monica took priority. He approached her front door and knocked.

The soft tap of footsteps came from the other side and Adam tensed, preparing for what he was about to see. Lord only knew what sort of state Baxter’s beating had left her in.

“Who is it?”

He stared at the door as his anger hitched up a notch. He had never known Monica to check who called on her before opening the door. “It’s Adam.”

A second or two passed before a lock clanged back and a key turned.

The sight of Monica’s abused face and glazed eyes stole the air from his lungs. Nausea rose bitter in his throat as he stepped inside, words momentarily failing him. A purple-gray bruise shone on her cheek, and an angry laceration showed scarlet above her eye.

She closed the door. “Do not ask me how this could have happened. Nothing you say will be any more than what I have already told myself.”

He reached out and ran his thumb over her injured cheek and a single tear escaped her eye.

He brushed it away. “He will pay for this.”

She covered his hand with hers and lowered it. “Come, let’s take a seat in the parlor.”

Adam’s blood boiled with suppressed rage. Whilst he was in Bristol, an invisible demon had spread its wings over two people he cared about, leaving them bereaved or beaten in its wake. This was undoubtedly God’s punishment for Adam selfishly pursuing his dreams over everything else. Well, now he understood His message loud and clear. Nothing was circumstantial. Everything happened for a reason.

They entered Monica’s parlor and sat side by side on her upholstered settee. She winced and clutched her hand to her ribs as if she struggled to find a comfortable position.

“When did this happen?” He spoke the question from between gritted teeth.

“The day before yesterday.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“There is no need.”

“There is every need. Look at you.”

She met his eyes and hers darkened with irritation. “I can look after myself. Baxter’s a coward. A bully. He made a critical mistake coming to my home. The police will soon find him.”

“They know he did this to you?”

“Yes, unfortunately for Malcolm, he came here so angry, so steered by frustration, he did not foresee I might have neighbors who care about me. I did not take his beating lying down. I fought back and made as much noise as possible. He only got away because my neighbor is twenty years his senior. If his son would have been home he wouldn’t have been so lucky.”

Adam stared as he balled his hands into fists. “Well, much credit to your neighbor. Is he all right? He was not hurt?”

She shook her head. “No, they grappled at the doorstep before Malcolm fled, but no punches were thrown. Thank goodness.”

Adam nodded. “That is something, I suppose.” He looked toward the window. “However, despite your neighbor’s efforts to accost Baxter, there is no guarantee the police will follow this through. On the other hand, I will.”

“Let the police take care of it, Adam. Malcolm’s days are numbered. Do not let him number yours.” They fell into momentary silence before Monica spoke again. “Have you spoken to Laura?”

His heart picked up speed. “Do you know where she is?”

“I have no idea where she is staying at the moment, but I know where she will be”—she glanced at a wall clock above the mantel—“in two hours.”

Adam frowned, anticipation churning up a storm inside him. “Where?”

“The cemetery.”

Of course. Bette.
“Bette’s funeral is at two?”

“Yes, I insisted Laura take some money from me, and I think a doctor friend of hers also helped so she could at least give her friend a decent burial. You should go to her.”

He clenched his jaw. “I will.”

The confirmation seemed to relax something within her and Monica shifted back against the settee and slumped against the cushions.

Adam frowned. “What did Baxter want? What did he say to you?”

She met his eyes, her gaze wary. “It does not matter.”

“I know he asked after Laura. I will find out one way or another, so you might as well tell me.”

“What happened in Bristol?”

Change of subject. Shame burned inside him, but Adam forced his eyes level with hers. “The part was given to another.”

“I’m sorry.”

“After what has happened here, I am glad. This is where I am needed. My time would be wasted in Bristol.”

Monica nodded. “And what of an investor? Did you find one?”

The knowing look in her eyes was filled with accusation and he looked past her toward the window. “Yes.”

“Were conditions attached?”

Adam pushed to his feet and approached the window. “Why don’t you just spit out whatever it is you are really asking me? You know I went to see Annabel, don’t you?”

“I guessed as much, yes.”

He turned. “I did what had to be done.”

“I see.” She stared. “And do you feel better for it?”

Self-hatred furled inside him, but Adam held her gaze. “That is neither here nor there. I did what I did, and now my play will soon have a willing director. Annabel will see that happens and after the play is shown, I will not have to go down this godforsaken route again. My work will speak for itself.”

“And you will tell Laura as much?”

He glared. “I do not need your judgment on this, Monica. I am doing enough of that myself. You know what my writing means to me. I have to get my play onstage if my life stands any chance of taking the turn I desire.”

“If you truly believe that, you have nothing to fear from telling Laura, do you?”

He tilted his chin, knowing his defiance was weak and his gumption even more so. “Like I said, I have done what was necessary. Laura will understand.”

Monica exhaled a heavy breath. “Then I wish you luck and hope you do the right thing. Laura’s lovely, Adam. She is special. I would like to think I do not need to tell you that.”

His heart was lead in his chest. “You do not.”

“I pray this hunger for an investor does not ruin whatever might be going on between the two of you. Sometimes there are more important things in life than ambition. I would hate for you to jeopardize what could be the best thing that has ever happened to you for the sake of your career.”

Their eyes locked and silent understanding hummed between them. They had become firm and honest friends, and he could not deny Monica’s words were said with concern. He inhaled a long breath. “I need to go.”

“Where?”

He stood. “There is something I need to do before I go to the cemetery.”

She gave a satisfied nod and smiled. “Give Laura my love. I will be thinking of her.”

He closed the space between them and kissed her gently on the cheek. “I will be back to check on you tomorrow. Get some rest.”

Leaving the room, he strode through the hallway and out onto the street. He closed Monica’s front door firmly and put on his hat. He drew in a shaky breath. He needed to find Baxter. The bastard did not deserve to roam free for another damn second. Scowling, Adam marched along the pathway toward Laura’s old address.

His determined footsteps pounded the pavement, his mind void of anything except how good it would feel to have his hands around Baxter’s neck. On and on he strode until the bustle of the town center lessened and the residences grew in number. He had no idea if his rationale would lead to wasted time, but as Baxter relentlessly pursued Laura, it was possible he did others in the alley too. Hopefully, Adam would find him there or if not, someone would be able to tell him where else Baxter was likely to be found at this time of day.

Eventually, the richer residences gave way to less extravagant red-brick houses. Adam slipped into the alley where Laura once lived. The stench fueled his resolve, and the pitiful laundry hanging above him on lengths of rope reminded him again of a life Laura lived without complaint or fear. The passion to fill her life with laughter and love, abundance and applause, burned inside him. Determined, he stormed forward, his hands fisted at his sides.

The alley was empty but for some raggedly dressed children kicking stones back and forth to one another. He reached the door of Laura’s house and knocked.

No sound came from within. Cursing, he was about to turn away when the material at the window twitched. Narrowing his eyes, he whirled back and rapped his knuckles against the door a second time.

“I mean you no harm, I just have a few questions I would like to ask. I am here about Malcolm Baxter. Do you know him? I am not asking for money, just information.”

The door swung back on its hinges and Adam stared straight into the ugly and twisted face of Malcolm Baxter. “What the hell do you want?”

“I want you.”

Baxter sneered. “Never took you for a nancy boy, Lacey. I thought you would want a female whore rather than me.”

The rage that tore through Adam’s blood rendered him incapable of thought or speech. He lunged forward and gripped Baxter’s lapels. With an almighty roar, he yanked the son of a bitch off his feet and tossed him onto the cobbled street.

Baxter stumbled and cursed but did not lose his footing. He lifted his fists. “Come on, then. I’m ready for you this time. If you think you’ll get a second chance of damn near strangling me, you can think again.”

The children’s cheers reverberated from the soot-coated walls around them. “Fight! Fight!”

Each time he inhaled, Adam’s breath caught like broken glass in his throat. His mouth was coated with the bitter, arid taste of vengeance, and his vision was tinged crimson with fury. He took a moment to absorb the sight of scum lower than filth. This ended now.

He charged forward and slammed his fist straight into Baxter’s nose. Bones snapped and blood flew.

“Jesus Christ!” Baxter hit the ground.

Adam ripped at Baxter’s collar, raising his fist a second time. He caught him a beautiful blow to his scrawny, woman-beating jaw. The nose was for Monica; the jaw, Laura. The third would be for him. Smiling, Adam raised his fist again.

A police whistle pierced the air, sending the growing crowd of adolescents scuttling together in a huddle. The copper was built like a bear—big and broad and decidedly hairy. He dragged Adam off Baxter with a hand at the back of his jacket.

“Right, you’re nicked, sunshine.” He glared into Adam’s face before his eyes widened with surprise. “Well, I never. Mr. Lacey? What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” He released Adam’s collar and looked at Baxter, who attempted to stem his bleeding nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Adam clenched his jaw. “He had it coming. I want this man arrested for battery and assault.”

The policeman scowled. “I think the man who gave the beating was you, Mr. Lacey, don’t you?”

“In an effort to right a wrong, yes. This man beat my friend, sir. In her home.”

The policeman’s eyes darkened. “A woman?” He reached down and gripped Baxter by the arm and yanked him to his feet, heedless of the blood pouring from his nose. “Is this true?”

Adam’s heart hammered as he glared. Baxter grunted and sniveled, coughed and spluttered something unintelligible that might have been admission or argument but was too garbled to understand. The policeman’s face twisted with contempt and spun Baxter around, pushing his free arm, the one not held to his nose, up his back.

He looked at Adam. “I will take this
gentleman
in for the time being, Mr. Lacey, but the woman involved will have to come to the station and press charges for us to take this further. In the meantime, it will be my duty to retain Mr. Baxter at her majesty’s pleasure for a day or two.”

Adam nodded, satisfaction seeping like a balm into his stomach. “It is appreciated, sir. I will make sure the woman concerned comes to the station later today.”

“Right you are. Come on, Baxter, there’s a nice cell waiting for you.”

Baxter huffed and cursed as he was frog marched away with blood dripping from his nose onto the stones.