An Improper Seduction (12 page)

Gertrude turned quickly toward her. “Lady Angeline, are you not well? May I assist you?”

“Of course not, Gertrude. I am fine and I do not wish to take you away from the party. You need practice dancing and flirting with the eligible gentlemen. I’ll just take a brief rest and return to you shortly.” She turned to go but was stopped by a hand on her wrist.

“Be wise, Lady Angeline.” It was Miss Patience, who concluded her warning with a knowing wink.

Angeline blushed, leaving the sisters nodding to each other as she retreated.

The library door was ajar when she reached it. The lighting was soft, with only two lit candles in tarnished brass candlesticks on the mantel. The draperies, of worn burgundy velvet, were drawn back to let the starlit sky show through the two windows flanking the large desk at the end of the room. The threadbare rug hushed her footsteps as she crossed to the windows.

There was no one in the room.

She stood by the glass peering into the garden, occasionally looking at the reflection of the door on the pane. Minutes passed as she calmed her fluttering nerves. Surely the marquess would do nothing untoward here where they could be discovered. Would he force her hand in such a caddish manner?

She saw the door move in the reflection. Turning toward the door, the smile on her lips froze as her eyes took in the leering form of Viscount Hexford.

“I knew you would not dismiss my invitation, Angeline.” His hand shut the door quietly behind him.

Did he lock it?

“I have much been looking forward all evening to having you to myself. You look ravishing tonight, my dear. Fit for the likes of a viscount.” He moved forward. Angeline shifted behind the desk.

Hexford continued to advance. Angeline tried to move around the desk but she brushed up against the large leather desk chair, which did not seem to move as she pushed her weight against it. She turned to take an arm in each hand and guide the chair out of the way.

Hands stole around her waist and grabbed her breasts painfully. She felt the weight of the viscount at her back and the threat of his manhood, hard but not near as great as Geoffrey’s, against her derrière.

Damn. How did she get herself into such a predicament?

The pain ceased as Hexford released her but the relief was short lived as he spun her around and cornered her against the desk.

“My dear,” he crooned in her ear, his breath reeking of drink and dinner, “you have kept me waiting far too long.”

He leaned against her, knowing his greater weight would keep her immobilized.

Angeline shuddered as she felt his hand on her leg pulling up the fabric.

“I think we will take the time to seal the proposal right now, right here.” His other hand came up to painfully squeeze her breast.

“No. Whatever you do, I shall not marry you.” She squirmed, her hands shoved against his chest to free herself.

“When we are done,” he sneered, “I doubt you will have any choice in the matter.”

“Let me go.” Angeline slapped at his face, pushed his hands away, and continued to fight her assailant. “I will not have you.”

“But I will have you. And when the matter is settled, it will not be so bad. I’ll get you with an heir and the proverbial spare and you’ll be happy enough raising the brats and staying out of my way. After all, women aren’t much good for more than bedding and breeding anyhow.”

“You are the most loathsome male I have ever met. Your ideas are absolutely archaic as well as distasteful.” She continued to struggle. “Let me go. Wedding me will do you no good.
I
will still be in charge of my fortune. My father made it so. And, I would give you not a farthing if your very life depended upon it.”

“There are ways around such inconveniences, Angeline. But we need not enumerate them here. Now, let me have you.”

Losing all patience, she screamed at him, “No, let me go.” With no hesitation and all the strength of her body, she raked her nails down the right side of his face.

The door swung open, hard against the wall.

“At last,” sneered the viscount. “Now we’ll see who will be bested.” As he looked up Angeline saw his face redden in rage. She turned her head. Geoffrey was rapidly advancing toward them.

“Angeline, are you all right?” He demanded. “Has he damaged you? I’ll cut out his heart if he so much as—”

“Geoffrey.” She shoved the viscount aside and went into his open embrace. Looking up, she said, “I’m fine. Nothing happened. You arrived just in time.”

Geoffrey moved her behind him. “I’ll deal with this bastard.”

“It was not to be you,” said the viscount, finally coming to his senses. “It was to be. . .”

“Yes, yes. Who was in on your little game? Who was to back up your dishonorable claim for Angeline’s hand?” Geoffrey heard movement at the door, but when he and Angeline spun, around no one was there.

“She should be mine,” raged Hexford. “I have waited all these years for her to give over but I can’t afford to wait any longer. Who are you but some rakish upstart from London? You can have any of the chits who come out every Season. Angeline is mine and I shall have her.” The viscount’s face turned purple with his anger. “Get out of my way and let me finish my business.”

The hard look in Geoffrey’s eyes told Angeline Hexford was being foolish daring the marquess to lose his temper.

“She’s not yours. At this moment she belongs to no one and neither you nor any other shall force her into it.” Losing all control Geoffrey pulled back his arm and smashed his closed fist into the same side of the viscount’s face that Angeline had soundly scratched. The viscount reeled back and fell into the leather desk chair.

“Stay away from her, Hexford. Or I’ll have the pleasure of calling you out. I guarantee, if I do, it will be the last day of your life.”

Geoffrey turned back, and grabbed Angeline by the arm to pull her from the room. Heat radiated from him like the sun and his face was set in such a way it looked like it had turned permanently to granite.

Down the hall, down the steps to the front door, without giving her a chance to say a word, Geoffrey called for his carriage and led her down the steps.

“My father. . .” she pleaded.

Geoffrey turned to a footman and mumbled a few words as his coach drew up amid a bustle of activity by every servant in the area. Geoffrey threw the carriage door open and roughly helped Angeline inside.

After settling into the cushions across from her, Geoffrey stared at her. He stayed quiet for some moments while they pulled away from the manor. Geoffrey banged on the ceiling and gave orders to take them to her home. Then he resettled and looked at her.

He took in a deep breath. Quietly, he asked, “What in bloody hell were you thinking?”

His subdued tone warned Angeline this was a matter to be handled very carefully. She took a deep breath of her own.

“Did you think to make me jealous of that crude lout?” The rough driveway jostled the two of them and almost threw her into the marquess’s lap.

“I thought no such thing, my lord.” She had fire in her voice. She was not about to be accused of actions in which she had no part. “I would never step so low, over you or any man.”

“Well, then, what happened?” His voice was under control now but danger still lurked there.

“I received a note.”

“A note. From whom?”

“I thought it was from you, Geoffrey.” Maybe using his name would disarm him a little.

“From me?” He roared. “Would you think I was so callous or selfish I would work to compromise you in Hexford’s house?”

“Well, my lord,” Angeline took another deep breath to sustain herself through the next onslaught. “There is the circumstance at the inn. . .”

“The inn?”

“Well, we were alone. We were unchaperoned. The public rooms were filled with villagers. Anyone could have thought anything.”

“Nonsense, Angeline. The innkeeper was free to come and go as he pleased. The door was unlocked.”

“Geoffrey, I hardly see the difference and I had the note.”

“Where is this note? Could you not tell my writing? You’ve seen it often enough?”

“I dropped it. And, true the writing was not exactly like yours but I thought you might be hurried or someone might be watching. I thought it was from you.” She could feel the heat in her face and the embarrassment in her heart. It had not been he who had sent for her. It was a near thing.

Geoffrey was quiet and took a number of deep breaths as if straining to control himself. He gazed out the window at the passing countryside illuminated only by the waxing moon and twinkling stars. He let go of a heavy sigh as he ran his hand through his thick locks. A curl fell over his forehead.

Angeline had the strongest desire to push it gently back and run her fingers through his hair. He was so dear to be upset for her, but nothing truly had happened. She was fine. And, even if he hadn’t arrived when he did, she had gained enough room between herself and the viscount if he hadn’t let her go her knee would have done him a serious injury.

“Geoffrey, I am sorry. I am all right. I did think the note was from you and I was so looking forward to a few minutes alone with you.”

He turned then as the carriage moved up her father’s driveway. His dark gaze met hers. “I was so afraid, Angeline. He could have hurt you. He could have compromised you amidst all the local gentry.” He leaned forward then and took her hands in his. “I know you say it wouldn’t matter, but if it were Hexford, he would never let you live it down. He would force your hand and you would be compelled by everyone. Except, possibly your father and me. You must take greater care. You must stay away from him.”

The carriage stopped before her front steps.

“I am sorry, Geoffrey. I had thought, hoped, it would be you in the library.”

She looked to the door. “You brought me home. Should I not come to the cottage tonight? Should we go there now?”

“Darling, I think we have both had enough excitement for one evening.” He squeezed her hands gently, then moved to open the door and step down. He turned to take her round the waist and plant her on the gravel driveway in front of him. “You need rest. I will come by tomorrow. For luncheon, if you desire. We can walk in the garden and talk. Then, tomorrow night, I will meet you at the cottage. I will think up something very special to entice you.”

“Oh, Geoffrey.” Angeline sighed as he drew her into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. She could hear the steady beating of his heart. So precious was he to her now. She turned her face up for his kiss. It was the merest brush of his lips. There were people present. Thomas had opened the front door.

Geoffrey walked her up the steps, then bowed as he said, “Goodnight, dearest. I will see you tomorrow.”

She waved to him, then turned to go inside.

Chapter 13

Geoffrey settled against the black leather squabs to contemplate the error of his ways.

He could have killed Hexford.

It had been a near thing. It had taken every ounce of his formidable control to refrain from beating the viscount’s bloody brains out. As it was, the punch he had thrown should have blackened his eye, if not broken his jaw.

He tried to resettle on the seat but could not get comfortable. He hadn’t felt such rage, such hatred since his days in the Burmese War. It seemed Great Britain’s desire to conquer the world would always generate conflict and interests in India and the surrounding territories gave ready excuses. Young and unfettered, he and his friends bought commissions so they could travel and slake their need of adventure. Little did they know the horrors they would experience during their quest.

He remembered one day in particular in 1825, and too clearly at that. One of his best friends, George Standish, had been shot dead beside him. Right between his eyes. Fortunately for George, death had been instantaneous. But for Geoffrey it had been a nightmare.

In a mere matter of seconds, he had reloaded and turned toward the Burmese troops. He shot and reloaded with a speed and precision he had never experienced before. Despite the enemy advance, Geoffrey decimated the oncoming troops. When some survived to fight with sabers, he drew his sword and continued his onslaught. His company won the day and he received commendations from the commanding officers.

It had taken him hours to clear the blood from his mind. And the hatred—it had taken days to regain control of his rage.

Tonight he had felt that hatred and rage surge forth again. He had almost lost his grip upon it. If he had, Hexford would surely be dead.

In all his years in the
Ton
he had never, ever been so close to violence over a woman. True, he had fought duels with outraged husbands. It had only happened twice, when he was younger and not as adept at reading the intentions of married ladies willing to dally. He learned quickly he would resist those who only had aims of making their husbands jealous. He had no desire to die as a pawn in some woman’s games of
amore
with her husband. From then on, he only concerned himself with wives of men who had their heir, their spare, and no interest in further intimate dealings with their spouse.

Sad to say, there were quite a few women in London in just such a predicament.

All of that did not explain this evening. Of course, he would have come to any woman’s aid if her honor was in jeopardy. But there would not have been the anger, the madness.

But then he knew the answer to his own dilemma. He refrained from accepting it, even though he knew exactly why he was so overly protective of Angeline.

And it was much more than just wanting her for his wife.

The carriage jolted to a stop, fracturing his reverie. He leaned over, opened the door, and started the climb to the front door. Geoffrey expected to let himself in since he had instructed Graham, his butler, not to wait up.

What he did not expect, once he opened the door, were the many candles lit in the front hall and up the staircase. What the devil was going on here? Taking the stairs two at a time, he rapidly ascended and continued to follow the trail of lit candles.

Had guests arrived?

He bounded up two more sets of stairs and toward the open door that led to the attic rooms.

He heard a woman’s heart-wrenching scream come from the servants’ quarters.
Not more drama!
he lamented as he headed for the rooms his staff occupied.

On the topmost level a scream scorched his ears again as he ran down the hall toward another open doorway spilling light. To his astonishment he discovered not a man and woman in the throes of some passion, but his butler and housekeeper attending Brenda, the maid.

In the light of two oil lamps, Brenda’s face was wet with sweat and red with effort as Mrs. Nash took a damp cloth and wiped her cheeks and forehead. The pregnant woman lay on her back, her belly huge atop her as her hands grabbed and clutched at the babe held within, and another scream was released.

Graham stood to one side, staring as if the poor woman would explode right in front of his eyes.

“Mrs. Nash, how long has she been in such pain?” demanded Geoffrey.

“It started about an hour ago, my lord. It was rather sudden and we rushed in as soon as we heard her first cry.”

“Graham, has someone gone for the doctor?”

“Not yet, my lord. Not all the masters will get a doctor for their servants.” The butler’s face was as white as the sheet Brenda lay upon.

“Well, I will. Graham, go get Lester and his brother. Bring them both to the blue bedchamber.” Graham started to move toward the door. “And, be quick about it.” Geoffrey had the satisfaction of seeing the aged butler hasten his step.

Geoffrey approached the bed and took the girl’s small white hand in his. “Brenda, I know you are in pain but I will get you help. I’m going to lift you now. I’m going to take you to a more comfortable place to have your baby.” As he bent over to slide one arm behind her back and the other under her knees, he commanded the housekeeper, “Mrs. Nash, go before me and open the doors. As I said, we will take her to the blue room. She’s in a fine state and she should be made as comfortable as possible.”

“My lord, you are too generous. But it’s just not right to put one of the hired help into a manor bedchamber. This young thing is sure to get uppity when this is all over.”

“We will worry about that when the time comes. At present, this girl is in pain and it will continue until her child arrives. Then we will see what happens next.”

Geoffrey followed Mrs. Nash through the door, down a flight of stairs to the chamber he had appointed. Once through the door, Mrs. Nash hustled to the bed and drew back the covers. Geoffrey laid Brenda down with the worn woolen blanket that had covered her from her own room. “Mrs. Nash, remove this rag and have it burned. If every other servants’ blanket is in such a state, have them burned too. Have them all replaced within the week.” He lit the candle next to the bed. then walked over to the mantle and lit two more.

“Yes, my lord.”

Geoffrey turned as he heard footsteps trundle down the hallway. Lester and his brother, Michael, spilled through the doorway, then Graham made a dignified entrance after them.

Another scream pierced the air. “Graham, start a fire in this room.” Geoffrey’s eyes lit on Lester in a stern stare.

“Lester, the babe is coming.
Your
babe is coming!”

“My lord, I can explain . . .” Lester’s face paled and his hands wrung nervously before him.

“I want no explanations. I am perfectly aware of exactly where babies come from and how they get there in the first place.” Geoffrey took a step forward and was gratified to see the ostler flinch. “Now, there is much to be done and it had better be done quickly if we are to assist this mother and her child. Lester, I want you to go back to the stable, saddle Zeus and ride as quickly as you can to Hartfield. Do you know how to get there?”

The stunned lad mumbled, “Zeus? Hartfield?”

“Lester, get hold of yourself.” Geoffrey grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a quick shake. “Do you know how to get to Hartfield?”

“Yes, yes, my lord, I know the way.”

“Good. Now when you get there, bang on the front door.”

The lad started again.

“That’s right, I said the front door. Bang on the front door until someone answers it. Tell them where you are from and have them rouse Lady Angeline. Don’t leave until you’ve talked to the lady and told her we need her here at Colburn Park. Can you do it?”

“Yes, yes, my lord. I can do it. I will do it.”

“Now, don’t go just yet. Saddle up the next fastest horse in my stable and have Michael ride for the doctor. I have no idea where he is but start at his house and then track him down.” Geoffrey turned to Michael. “You do know how to ride, too, don’t you, lad?”

“I do, my lord. I’ll take Spit Fire. Next to yours, he’s the fastest one. I know where the doctor lives. He’s not too far from me mum’s. I can get there right quick. I’ll ride like the wind.”

Geoffrey ruffled the twelve-year-old’s hair as he said, “I know I can count on you. And you too, Lester. Your babe’s life may depend upon it. Now get going.”

Feet ran from the room as Brenda grunted from the bed and then screamed again.

“Mrs. Nash, is it always like this?” Geoffrey moved back to the bedside and looked down on the girl whose face showed pain and fear.

“I’m afraid, my lord, this is only the beginning. It can get much worse than this. I hope Lady Angeline gets here quickly. I don’t know how long Brenda can hold on.”

“My thoughts exactly, Mrs. Nash. Now, I expect Lady Angeline will be needing a few things when she arrives. Do you happen to know what they might be?”

“Hot water, clean rags, scissors or knife, maybe some thread.” The housekeeper tucked the counterpane up under the maid’s chin. The roundness of Brenda’s belly resembled a small mountain amid the large expanse of bed. Geoffrey was sure the girl had never lain in a bed so fine. It would be a wonderful story to tell the child when it was older.

“You go collect those items. I’ll stay here with Brenda.”

“My lord, that’s not right. It’s not your place to stay.”

“Nonsense. I could not locate the items you feel will be needed so you must do that task. I can stand here and console the chit as well as anyone. Go get what is needed so all will be ready when Lady Angeline and the doctor arrive.”

Mrs. Nash gave a slight curtsey. “As you wish, my lord.”

Once the housekeeper was out of the room, Geoffrey pulled up a chair from near the window and sat down next to the bed. He picked up Brenda’s hand just as another contraction rolled through her. The girl grabbed onto his hand with a strength that belied her small frame. The piercing scream assaulted his eardrums. Did every woman go through such pain?

“Brenda, take deep breaths. That’s what they tell us in the army when we are shot and the pain is great. Breathe deeply. Come on, girl, you can do it.”

Brenda turned her face toward him. One minute it was ashen, the next, when a contraction occurred, it turned red from the trauma. “My lord,” she whispered, “it is much greater than I ever expected. And they are coming quicker now.” She took a deep breath and tried to exhale but the pain was too great; another scream emerged.

“Brenda, help is on the way. Hold on to my hand. Grasp as tightly as you need. Just hold on until someone is here to assist you. I know nothing of delivering babes, but Lady Angeline is on her way and she has done it many times before. Hold on.” Geoffrey reached out his other hand to wipe the damp cloth over the maid’s face. He felt so helpless. Never had he felt so utterly useless and unprepared.