Too Scandalous to Wed (11 page)

H
enrietta squished closer to her maid for warmth. She was on her way to the abbey to look for Ravenswood. It was dark out. And cold. There was a brick beneath her feet to keep her warm; she had stuck it in the kitchen fire before setting out on the jaunt. That had been hours ago. Wrapped in a bearskin blanket, she was also spared from the lashing wind, boxed inside the sleigh.

“Where are we going, Miss Ashby?”

Henrietta sighed. Her maid had an unfortunate tendency to fret too much. “I already told you, Jenny, to the outskirts of London.”

“Are we going to see that woman again?”

Jenny had always referred to Madam Jacqueline as “that woman.”

“No, Jenny, we’re not. We’re going to an abbey.”

The girl sniffed, her nose runny. “But why?”

Henrietta handed her a kerchief. “I have to deliver a letter.”

“To whom, Miss Ashby?” Jenny blew her nose in the kerchief.

“To someone important,” she said softly.

Henrietta peered out the window, daydreaming. Even though it was dark, it wasn’t very late. About half past four, she reckoned. Still, her family would be worried about her. She had left behind a missive to ease their troubled hearts, indicating she was off to visit a “friend,” but was it enough?

It would have to be. Henrietta had to deliver the letter she clutched in her hands. She couldn’t trust the post or Peter to be messenger. This was too important. She couldn’t risk another blunder. She had to do this one thing herself. And she had to do it right if she wanted Sebastian to forgive her.

Would he forgive her?

A bereft part of her was not so sure. She had never seen Sebastian so filled with fury. What if she couldn’t get his temper to cool? What if he was still furious with her even after he read the letter? What would she do then?

Pestering doubts! And Henrietta had the whole of the journey to suffer with them.

A few hours later, the sleigh slid to a stop.

Henrietta peeked outside the window.

It was a large abbey, Gothic in architecture, with spiked towers and hideous gargoyles. A row of trees framed the path leading to the abbey door, and a tall iron gate bordered the wooded property.

The abbey appeared to be deserted. There was no light flickering through the stained glass windows. But perhaps the friars had retired early to bed? She hoped so. It would make things much easier for her. She could sneak inside the abbey without disturbing anyone and deliver the letter.

“Wait here, Jenny.”

The maid grabbed her forearm. “Miss Ashby, no!”

Henrietta patted her hand in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t fret, Jenny. I won’t be gone long. I promise.”

“But—”

“Please, do as I say, Jenny.”

The girl sighed. “Yes, Miss Ashby.”

Henrietta bobbed her head. She gathered her gloves and stepped out of the sleigh.

The snow was crunchy beneath her boots. She slipped on her gloves and lifted her hood, even though the wind had died. There was still a light snowfall dusting the earth.

After she bid the driver to wait, Henrietta scooped up the sides of her skirts and trudged through the snow.

It was quiet outside, the night still. Only her footfalls filled the silence, each step disturbing the frosty snow beneath.

The gate was open. A boon, for she had not the dexterity to scale the sturdy iron fence.

Henrietta peeled back the door, the icy hinges
creaking. She winced. In the eerie calm it echoed like a ghostly cry.

Quickly, though, she moved through the gate and followed the snowy path to the abbey door.

The looming trees hovered above her; their twisted branches sagged with snow, shielding the sky and the land from sight. It was like moving through a tunnel, she reflected, and she shivered at the chilling darkness.

She hastened her steps. Above the abbey door was a stone carving with the motif:
Do as thou wilt
.

Odd. Not the religious greeting she was expecting. But Henrietta had not come to contemplate dogma. She reached for the door latch and was surprised to find it unlocked. Another boon.

She opened the door and stepped inside the dark entranceway.

This is too easy
, she thought, apprehensive. She’d expected more resistance. Peter had vowed the friars were strict; they did
not
permit women inside the abbey. So why was the door unbarred?

Perhaps the friars had never dreamed a woman would be so brash as to enter the holy dwelling in the first place, hence they did not lock the door? Or perhaps the friars just forgot to lock the entrance?

Oh well. She needn’t fret too much. She was inside the abbey. That was all that mattered.

Henrietta skirted inside the great hall. The dis
tant hum of male voices snagged her attention. The cloistered monks must be having dinner. And Sebastian was with them, surely. Now how was she going to find his room?

She could always peek inside each of the cells, she supposed. If the friars were gathered for a feast, their rooms should be empty. Henrietta could just sneak from cell to cell, looking for Sebastian’s things. After all, the friars weren’t likely to have fine woolen breeches and gold-threaded waistcoats. It should be easy enough to spot Sebastian’s fine apparel among the plain monk garb.

Henrietta moved about the hall, looking for doors or a passage that might lead to the friars’ private rooms, but it was too dim to see anything.

She squinted, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the blackness. And just as a corridor came into view, more voices murmured outside the abbey door.

Panicked, Henrietta blindly dashed into a corner—and collided with a stone statue.

A bit breathless, she gathered her scattered wits and ducked behind the carved edifice, just before the door burst open.

Light streamed into the murky abbey.

Lantern in hand, an inebriated gentleman stumbled inside. A dandy of the highest order. And on each arm was a…nun?

Long black habits draped the giggling girls.

Girls?

Giggling?

Henrietta pinched her brow. What the devil was going on?

Eager for a better look, Henrietta eased out of her hiding spot and rested her palm on the cold, sleek surface of the icon for support.

She quickly recoiled, though. And it took a great effort indeed to keep from shrieking.

To her horror it was the smooth expanse of a woman’s bare bottom!

Henrietta eyed the blasphemous image in the dwindling light. The woman was perched on her hands and knees, legs spread wide, posterior thrust in the air.

Henrietta pressed her gloved hand to her lips, aghast. She had seen this kind of image before, in her naughty book of pictures. But
what
was it doing in an abbey hall?

The trio of peculiar characters moved through the passageway, taking the sole source of light with them.

Something was terribly amiss. And Henrietta was determined to find out what it was. She intended to be covert about her snooping. And she still intended to deliver the letter…but first she wanted to understand what was going on.

Stifling her distress and rampant heartbeats, Henrietta scurried after the party, keeping a good length behind them. She maintained her clandestine
presence, while moving through the abbey walls in search of answers.

Heavens, was Sebastian in
here
? Henrietta had deemed the abbey a refuge: a place of contemplation. But it was a strange and frightening haven. She had never been inside an abbey before, but she was sure it wasn’t supposed to have naked statues and giggling nuns scurrying about. So perhaps it wasn’t an abbey?

But if it wasn’t an abbey, then what was it?

And why would Sebastian be here?

Pulse tapping, she skirted to the end of the corridor. There stood an entrance to an underground passage.

Chortling, the foxed troop stumbled down the steps.

Henrietta raked her teeth over her bottom lip. She was taking a mighty risk, following the group. Sebastian might see her. Perhaps she should just turn around and go back to looking for his room? Forget about the dark abyss beckoning below?

But a boisterous cackle drifted up the spiral passageway, and Henrietta was firmly fixed on the idea of snooping some more.

Alone in the dark, she stared at the gaping chasm for a bit, listening to the din of unruly guffaws coming from the depths of the abbey.

After a moment of reflection, she stepped forward, and pressed her hand to the rough stone wall
for support. Just a quick peek, she told herself. A brief glance to see what all the hoopla was about, and then she’d get back to her task—delivering the letter. After all, Sebastian was a noble man, if a bit of a rogue. He had resisted her for many frustrating years! So he must have a good reason for being in such a chilling place. And just as soon as she found out what that reason was, she’d get back to mending their tattered relationship.

Henrietta made her way down the abyss. Torchlight flickered from the landing, revealing a narrow enclosure.

She adjusted her bleary vision to the illumination, and soon spotted a rack of habits dangling from hooks along the wall. Quickly she confiscated a black robe and slipped it over her mantle.

Camouflaged, she felt a bit better about making her way through the underground catacombs. Even if she stumbled upon Sebastian, he wasn’t likely to recognize her in the black robe.

As she moved through the dark tunnel, she reflected upon Peter’s words. It appeared Peter had been mistaken; ladies
were
permitted inside the abbey. Nuns, at least. But that did not explain the naked statue in the great hall.

Sucking in a deep breath to ease the tight knot in her belly, Henrietta sallied forth.

More statues lined the tunnel—clothed, thank heavens—their stone faces veiled, their lips stuffed
with gauze. No eyes? No mouth? What did it mean? One wasn’t to see, to speak of the abbey? Of the goings-on inside?

Wending through the tunnel, Henrietta followed the echo of spirited laughter. At the end of the passage, the hilarity boomed.

On the threshold of a great round hall, torchlight blazing, Henrietta placed her gloved hand to her mouth, stifling a horrified gasp.

Strapped to a long wood table was a woman—a naked woman!—her arms stretched high above her head, her legs spread wide.

Henrietta clutched her queasy belly. A terrible fright gripped her. The shackled woman didn’t seem alarmed, though, even with a horde of masked and heckling misfits surrounding her, groping her. In truth, she was cackling right along with her besotted admirers.

Henrietta grabbed the wall for support, vertigo brushing over her. She stared, stunned, as the men poured wine over the naked woman, squeezed fruit juice over her belly, then lapped up the sticky contents, using the woman as a plate.

It was a ghastly sight.

Henrietta pressed her back against the wall, hiding in the shadows. She slunk through the arena, desperate to see Ravenswood, to understand why he was here among such madness.

“Well, hello, luv.”

She bristled. Breath trapped in her throat. She
looked up to find a masked stranger, blond curls mussed, breath tainted with spirits, blocking her path.

“You’re a pretty little nun,” he breathed, stroking her trembling chin with his knuckle.

Like a fox cornered by a hound, Henrietta’s heart pattered. Sweat gathered at her back, under her arms.

Purple plumes covered his face, all except his eyes: dark green eyes, ever so cold. He said with a spurious smile, “Perhaps we should put you on the banquet table next?”

Appalled by the very thought, Henrietta stomped on his foot.

He yelped.

She skirted around him, dashing across the arena. She had to find Sebastian. She had to get out of this disgusting place!

Henrietta darted into another dark tunnel, tempted to scream Sebastian’s name and be done with it. To hell with Madam Jacqueline’s rule; Henrietta didn’t care anymore if Sebastian spotted her. She just wanted to get out of the catacombs—and to take the viscount with her.

But how the devil was she going to find him in this dark hell?

Moving through the unfamiliar tunnel, Henrietta cringed upon hearing so many rowdy voices behind so many closed doors. After months of perusing Madam Jacqueline’s naughty book of pictures, it
didn’t take much to imagine what was going on behind the barriers.

Henrietta stilled.

She recognized that male voice!

Taking a few steps, she pressed her ear to one of the doors. Drat! Her pulse was thumping so loud in her head, she could scarcely hear the goings-on.

But she had to be sure.

Henrietta reached for the latch and opened the barrier just a tad.

Her belly lurched. An overwhelming nausea gripped her.

Sebastian stood in the room, eyes closed, head tossed back. He was fully clothed, but for his parted trouser flaps. At his feet was a woman—a nun!—taking him into her mouth.

Henrietta cried out.

Sebastian’s head snapped up. “
Henry!
” he roared.

Henrietta staggered back, bumping into the damp wall. Sickness roiled in her belly. She quickly hiked up her skirts and dashed back through the tunnel, into the noisy arena.

“Henry, stop!” a voice boomed behind her.

Masked fiends grabbed at her as she struggled to make her way out of the arena, but they were too overcome with drink to stop her frantic flight.

Blinded by tears, Henrietta ripped the habit away. She stumbled back up the winding steps, desperate to get out of the gruesome catacombs, to be in the cool night air again.

But each footstep was weighed by the burden of her broken heart. She wanted to scream and pound the floor. To lash out in grief.

Henrietta found her way to the abbey door. She burst through it, into the winter night. She took one step, then two before the nausea overwhelmed her and she retched into the pure white snow.

Whimpering and bleary-eyed from fresh, hot tears, she staggered down the path, looking for the gate, her coach. She opened her mouth to call for Jenny, but a sob came out instead.