The Viscount's Kiss (4 page)

Sighing, Nell crept cautiously into the hall and closed the door behind her. The hall was as dark as pitch. Putting her hand to the wall, she carefully made her way toward the stairs.

“The coach isn't due to depart for some hours yet.”

There was no mistaking Lord Bromwell's voice.

Nell turned. Although she couldn't see his face clearly in the dark, his body was as close as it had been in the coach, and if she could only see the vague outline of his body, she could feel his warmth as if he were embracing her.

Fighting to calm her racing heart, she gave him the excuse she had prepared. “I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd see if I could find some wine.”

“You felt it necessary to wear your pelisse and bonnet, as well as take your baggage, to get a nocturnal beverage?”

“I was afraid I might be robbed if I left my valuables in my room.”

He stepped closer and she could see him better now, although it was still dark. He wore only his boots, buff trousers and shirt open at the neck. “You must have a lot of valuables.”

“No, but I can't afford to lose what little I have. I'm sorry if I disturbed you,” she said, continuing toward the stairs.

He put his hand on the wall ahead of her, so that he blocked her way. “Something is wrong,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I wish to be of service, if I can.”

He wanted to help her? He sounded genuinely sincere, yet how could she trust him? How could she trust anyone?

Besides, she'd lied to him about who she was. “The only thing amiss, my lord, is that you won't let me pass. Let me go or I shall call for help.”

His voice dropped even lower. “No, you won't.”

Sweet heavens, had she completely misjudged him? Was he a man to be feared after all?

But she didn't dare rouse the innkeeper or other guests, either, so she kept her voice low as she commanded him again to let her pass.

A door opened below and heavy footfalls sounded on the wooden floor of the taproom, then started toward the stairs.

She mustn't be found here, especially with him, especially dressed as he was.

She turned and ran back to her room. He followed and before she could get the door shut, he was inside the room, closing it behind him.

P
anting, aghast, Nell's whole body shook as she faced him. Yet in spite of her distress, she stayed silent, for the footsteps came up the stairs, then past the room. Another door opened farther along the corridor. Mrs. Jenkins's voice mumbled a sleepy greeting to her husband, who muttered something about a sick horse before the door shut again.

“Get away from the door,” Nell ordered with quiet ferocity, gripping the handle of her valise, prepared to swing it at Lord Bromwell's head. She had been trapped by a man before and fought her way free, and she would do it again if necessary.

Unlike Lord Sturmpole, however, the viscount addressed her not with arrogant outrage, but as calmly as if they were conversing in a park on a summer's day. “Are you planning to walk to Bath in the dead of night?”

His tone and his distance were a little reassuring, but she wasn't willing to trust him. “I've told you what I'm doing. Now let me pass!”

“There's no need to be frightened,” he said, still not moving any closer. “I won't hurt you. I'm hoping I can be of service to you.”

Service? What kind of service did he have in mind? Lord Sturmpole had claimed she would benefit from his attentions—and suffer if she refused.

Yet there was one important difference between her situation in Sturmpole's study and this. She had been horrified by Lord Sturmpole's advances; she had not been by Lord Bromwell's.

Nevertheless, she wasn't about to let him know that, or to have anything more to do with him. “Perhaps my impulsive reaction to your impertinent embrace has given you the wrong idea, my lord. I assure you that I do not go around kissing men to whom I've not been introduced. Or those to whom I
have
been introduced, either,” she added.

“I'm delighted to hear it, but the service I wish to offer is not the sort you seem to be assuming. Despite my lapse of manners earlier today, I'm not a cad or scoundrel who seeks to take advantage of a woman. It's obvious something is amiss here, and my only intention is to find out what it is and help you if I can.”

“By holding me prisoner?”

He ignored her question. “If all is quite well, why are
you travelling alone, wearing gowns that don't fit properly and neglecting to use your title? And why, my lady, are you attempting to leave this inn in the middle of the night?”

It felt as if the room had grown very cold. “I am not a lady.”

“You're not Lady Eleanor Springford?”

Nell struggled to hide her growing panic. She wasn't Lady Eleanor, or any kind of lady. She'd heard that name in school, from one of her fellow students who was forever bragging about her lofty, if distant, relations. Nell had thought it wise to use a name similar to her own because it would be easy to remember.

That seemed the most ridiculous of reasons now.

But surely if he had met Lady Eleanor, he would have known at once that she was an impostor and said something before this, or summoned the law.

“No, I'm not and I never said I was,” she replied, wary and determined to reply with more care. “Nor am I running away. I'm going to visit my uncle in Bath. As for my gown, I thought you were an expert on spiders, my lord, not ladies' fashions.”

“It is my nature to be observant.”

“My
modiste
had a terrible seamstress in her employ. Unfortunately, there was no time to find or hire a better one before my departure.”

She crossed to the window and turned with an indignant huff, despite her trembling legs and the trickle of perspiration down her back. “There is the door, my lord. Now that I've explained, please use it.”

He planted his feet and crossed his arms. “Not until I'm sure you're not in trouble.”

Oh, God help her. She believed he meant that, and that he had no selfish, licentious motive—but why did she have
to encounter a chivalrous gentleman here, and now? “Your aid is quite misguided, my lord. I am in no trouble.”

“Then, unfortunately, I must assume you're attempting to renege on the payment of your night's accommodation.”

She stared at him, aghast, her mind working quickly. He was right, after all, but of course she couldn't admit that.

She thought of one excuse he might accept. “There may be another explanation for my wish to leave this room, my lord.”

He raised a querying brow.

“Has it not occurred to you that I might be afraid to be sleeping so near the man who so impertinently kissed me? Who can say what else you might be capable of, as your presence in this chamber attests?”

His eyes widened. “You fear I would
attack
you?”

“Why should I not believe you are capable of such an act? You did, after all, embrace me without my consent or invitation, accost me in the corridor, follow me into this bedroom and you refuse to leave.”

“I'm a gentleman, as my friends and associates will tell you, or the Jenkinses.”

“I don't call your behavior today very gentlemanly.”

He ran his hand through his hair before he answered. “Nor can I,” he admitted. “However, it is not unknown for people to behave under duress as they never would otherwise. I believe it was so in my case. I was not quite myself after the carriage overturned.”

Neither was she.

Still, she wasn't going to let him think he could behave any way he would, and she would accept it. “The women on that island you were describing at supper—would they
consider you a proper gentleman, if they knew what behavior was expected of one?”

“Yes, they would,” he firmly replied. “I acted in complete accordance with their customs and beliefs.”

“As
I
have done nothing wrong.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, “but either you are some kind of cheat or criminal, or you're running from someone or something. If it is the former, I am duty-bound to hold you here. If it is the latter, I ask you again to allow me to be of assistance. But whatever your answer, I'm not going to allow you to go wandering about the countryside at night. It's too dangerous and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Whether he was genuinely concerned for her safety or not, she could see his determined resolve and realized he wouldn't leave until she gave him an explanation that was both feasible and believable.

She would have to come up with one.

Remembering what the driver had told her about Lord Bromwell's father and the way he'd chastised his son, she put down her valise, which contained her clothes, her toilet articles and three of Lady Sturmpole's gowns.

Spreading her arms in a gesture of surrender, she spoke as if reluctantly revealing the truth. “Very well, my lord. You are quite right. I
am
Lady Eleanor Springford and I
am
running from someone—my parents and the Italian nobleman they're trying to force me to marry. The count is rich and has three castles, but he's old enough to be a grandfather and lecherous into the bargain. He has twice as many mistresses as manors and, despite his age, gives no sign of wishing to be loyal to a wife. That's why I ran away and have no maid or servant to accompany me.”

“This is the nineteenth century, not the Dark Ages,” Lord Bromwell said, his brow furrowed. “Surely you could simply refuse the betrothal rather than running away alone and putting yourself in danger.”

She walked to the washstand and toyed with the end of a towel. “I suppose one can't expect a man who's been free to travel the world to understand the pressure than can be brought to bear upon a woman to marry, especially if the groom is a very wealthy aristocrat and her family not as rich as people believe.”

“Actually, I can,” Lord Bromwell said from where he still stood by the door. “My parents were far from pleased with my choice of career and my mother begged me not to go on my last expedition, so I do know something about parental expectations and coercion. Yet surely they would have relented in time. I daresay they're frantic with worry about you now.”

“Perhaps. I'm unfortunately certain they're searching for me, although I hope they're still looking in Italy.”

“You've come all the way from Italy
by yourself?
” he asked with undisguised awe.

She'd really come all the way from Yorkshire, but she couldn't admit that, either. “Yes, our family went there for my father's health.”

That was what Letitia Applesmith had told them and Lady Sturmpole had confirmed during an afternoon of gossip with a friend that Nell had dutifully endured.

Lord Bromwell's frown deepened and she wondered if he knew something she didn't about the Duke of Wymerton or his family, until he said, “Yes, I believe my mother mentioned that.”

“Travelling alone wasn't as difficult as I feared,” Nell
said, relieved. “Most people were very kind, especially the women, who guessed, I think, that I was fleeing an unhappy domestic situation. Sometimes a man made an unwelcome remark, but no one touched me until…well, until you, my lord.”

He blushed like a bashful boy, and she hurried on, not wishing to dwell on that encounter. “It must have been the shock of the accident that made me tell you my real name and I beg you not to reveal it. You're so famous, the press is bound to hear about the coach overturning, and perhaps learn who was with you. I'm hoping to get to the home of my godfather, Lord Ruttles, in Bath as quickly as possible. He will take my side and protect me, I'm sure.”

“I see,” the viscount said, regarding her with such genuine, kind sympathy, she felt like the worst, most degenerate criminal in the world. “Do you have any money? Or is the lack of it the reason that you're sneaking out?”

Trying to ignore his sympathetic expression, she said, “I have a little money left, but not enough to pay for this room.”

“I shall gladly assume that cost.”

She was sure he could afford it, so she didn't protest. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Despite your success thus far, I am not comfortable allowing you to continue your journey alone and short of funds. Would you consider accepting an invitation to my family's estate? It's a few miles outside Bath. You'll be safe from pursuit there, and you can send a message to your godfather to come to you there.”

His cheeks colored and his gaze drifted to the floor. “You need not fear that I shall attempt to take advantage of the situation, or of you.”

Recognizing his generosity for the disinterested kind
ness it was, she was grateful, even if she couldn't accept his offer. “Thank you, but I couldn't impose and I think it would be better if I don't involve you or your family in my troubles, my lord.”

“As you wish,” he replied, his disappointment obvious, although his tone was still kind and concerned. “However, you must allow me to pay for your room tonight and provide you with sufficient funds for the rest of your journey.”

He reached into his trouser pocket and produced a wallet of thin, soft leather. He opened it and drew out several ten-pound banknotes.

She didn't want to accept, but she needed the money. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, taking the bills he held out to her and folding them in her hand. “I shall never forget your generosity.”

Or your kiss.

“I shall repay you as soon as I can.”

Whenever, if ever, that might be possible, and provided she wanted him to learn that she had deceived him.

He smiled, looking incredibly handsome and virile in the moonlight. “I must say I didn't expect to have such an exciting, eventful coach ride to Bath.”

“Neither did I. I don't know what we would have done after the coach overturned if you hadn't been there.”

“I'm sure you would have managed. You're obviously an intelligent, resourceful woman.”

Coming from another man, that might not have seemed a compliment. Coming from him, however, she was sure it was. “As you are a most courageous, chivalrous man.”

He began to walk closer. She waited, holding her breath, expecting—hoping for—another kiss.

Until he immediately halted a few feet away. “I had
best get back to my room before I'm discovered here and explanations are required. I wouldn't want our reputations to be ruined, although mine is already subject to some speculation.”

Tucking the notes into her bodice, she followed him to the door, sorry for the lies, wanting him to know she was truly grateful, because she would never be able to repay him. After tomorrow, she would never see him again. “I really do appreciate your kindness and generosity, my lord.”

A cock crowed in the yard below and he gave her a wry little smile as he eased open the door. “Good
day
, my lady.”

“Wait!” she cried softly.

He turned back, his blue-gray eyes wide with query.