Devil in My Arms (2 page)

“Harry,” Eleanor whispered, awed by how beautiful her sister had become. She’d always had the potential, of course. My God, how she’d missed her little Harry.

Harry gasped. “Ellie,” she cried, awkwardly shoving her way past the man in the doorway and out onto the walk. Eleanor met her halfway and fell into her arms, hugging her little sister for the first time in almost fifteen years.

* * *

Hil watched as Harriet Templeton ushered her exhausted sister into the drawing room after their emotional reunion on the front walkway. He’d left Wiley out front, watching to make sure no unwanted guests arrived looking for her. Now that she’d been found, he didn’t plan to lose her again. And, of course, after his behavior Wiley deserved to be left out there. In so many ways, Wiley was still the foolish boy he’d taken in off the streets of St. Giles several years ago, despite an education and Hil’s tutoring on the finer points of being a gentleman.

Mrs. Enderby hadn’t been at all what he was expecting. He’d been told she was quiet and shy. Nondescript and thin, with plain features and long, light-brown hair she wore simply. At least, that was the description they’d been given by her husband’s men when they’d come looking for her. They’d gone so far as to hint she’d recently gone a little off in the head, thus her mysterious disappearance. The woman who had confronted him and Wiley on the front walk with a cudgel was none of those things. Well, he
couldn’t determine her looks just yet because of the enormous hat she wore, but shy and retiring were not the first terms that came to mind. She was younger looking than he’d expected, as well. She was at least thirty-two according to Mrs. Templeton, though she didn’t look a day over sixteen in her current clothing. He attributed her wan, thin appearance to a life lived on the run for the last three months.

Harry Templeton had been suspicious from the start. Both she and Roger, one of Hil’s dearest friends, declared that the Eleanor Stanley they’d known prior to her marriage was none of those things. True, Harry hadn’t seen or corresponded with her sister in almost fifteen years, and for Roger it had been longer, but Eleanor had been uncommonly bright when they were children according to Roger, vivacious and outspoken. She’d been a quiet beauty, the kind of woman who was passably pretty until that inner fire lit her up like a firework. Harry had revealed that Eleanor had been unhappy about her marriage to Enderby, and was nervous about her future the last time she’d seen her, when Enderby had taken her back to Derbyshire after their wedding. She had never returned to her parents’ house, nor had she attended their funerals when they both succumbed to a fever several years later.

A man had arrived at the Templetons’ three months ago looking for her, claiming to work for her husband. Roger hadn’t cared for the fellow at all, saying he was crass and untrustworthy. The man had declared that if she was there they had best hand her over so she could be brought back to Mr. Enderby. Roger had told Hil the entire affair was suspicious. They had indignantly refused to allow the rude stranger to search the premises and they’d shown him the door. A week later a letter arrived from Mr. Enderby corroborating the fellow’s story. Eleanor Enderby was missing and her husband very much wanted her returned. Roger and his wife had formulated a polite response which, if one read between the lines, had more or less told Enderby to sod off, and they’d called Hil for help. A logical choice, of course. He was well-known for his knack for solving mysteries and locating missing persons. There was very little he loved more than a good mystery, be it academic or of a more immediate nature.

“Oh, Ellie,” Mrs. Templeton said with concern, “you look awful.”

Mrs. Enderby was wiping her tears with Roger’s handkerchief and sniffing loudly. Hil liked that she didn’t seem embarrassed by her tears and wasn’t trying to
pretend her nose wasn’t running. Honesty always received high marks from him. She gave a tremulous laugh at the comment. “Don’t sugarcoat it, dear,” she said wryly, folding the handkerchief over into a little square and dabbing her eyes some more. “But truly, you haven’t seen the worst of it.” She sighed and pulled the oversized hat from her head, revealing light-brown, curly hair that had been cut ruthlessly short, and badly, too. It looked like a blind man had taken scissors to her head.

Mrs. Templeton gasped. “Your hair!” she cried out. “Your beautiful hair.”

“Its just hair. It will grow back.” Mrs. Enderby shrugged with supreme nonchalance.

“Of course it will,” Roger said staunchly. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I suppose you’d like something to eat.”

Mrs. Enderby smiled at him and Hil was taken aback. Her mouth was a bit overlarge, and when she smiled her entire face was transformed. Despite her fatigue and general state of dishevelment, she was uncommonly pretty at that moment.

“I am starving,” she declared. “I haven’t eaten in two days, and it’s been even longer since I’ve slept.”

“I’m so sorry, Ellie.” Mrs. Templeton was obviously horrified. “I wasn’t thinking.” She motioned at Roger. “Go. Go and tell Cook to prepare a meal, and then tell Mandrake to have Mrs. Dempsey prepare a room for Eleanor.”

Roger smiled at both ladies. “I’m going,” he said, pretending to be put out about taking orders from his wife. Hil knew, of course, that his friend would do anything his wife asked him to do, and he’d do it gladly. Now that she was expecting, Roger was even more the besotted fool, and Hil didn’t blame him one bit. Mrs. Templeton was quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and a delightful person as well. Sometimes he envied Roger and his marital bliss.

Hil stepped away from the wall where he’d been observing the reunion. The sisters looked over at him, identical expressions of surprise on their faces, as if they’d forgotten he was there. “I shall take my leave, ladies,” he said with a bow. “Welcome, Mrs. Enderby, and may I say that I am relieved to meet you at last.”

She fidgeted and crushed her hat brim in her hands. “I have a favor to ask of you, Sir Hilary,” she said hesitatingly.

Interesting, Hil thought. “Of course. Whatever I can do to be of assistance.” Roger had stopped at the door and turned back to listen.

“I would ask that you keep my arrival in confidence,” she asked, her gaze flitting from Hil to Harry to Roger. “I am not ready yet to have it known that I am here.”

Meaning she didn’t want her husband to know, Hil surmised. It was as he’d suspected. “I shall keep the knowledge to myself,” he assured her. “As a matter of fact, I may be out of London for a time, and so I shall take the secret with me.”

“What?” Roger exclaimed. “Why?”

“Another favor I am doing for a friend,” Hil answered obliquely. “I expect to be gone for several months at the very least. I can call before I leave if you wish me to do so.” He could tell from Mrs. Enderby’s expression she understood exactly what he was saying. He’d take her with him if she needed to run even farther. He had no qualms about helping an innocent lady escape an undesirable marriage. Based on his investigation into Enderby’s background when he was looking for her and the gossip surrounding their marriage, he had no doubt that was exactly what she was.

She regarded him seriously for a long, drawn-out minute before answering. “No, thank you, Sir Hilary. I do not wish to delay your departure. I bid you farewell and a pleasant journey. Thank you for your help.”

“Madam,” he said respectfully, with a bow. “Please feel free to send a note to my secretary should you need me. He will have my direction. Shall I see you upon my return?”

“If all goes well, I hope we may renew our acquaintance in the future,” she responded, her answer almost as oblique as Hil’s had been. His respect for her grew. With another bow he departed the room, quite sure he would never see the mysterious Mrs. Enderby again.

* * *

Eleanor watched Sir Hilary leave with Harry’s husband, Roger. “Who is he?” she demanded as soon as the door closed. “Why was he looking for me?”

“That’s Sir Hilary St. John,” Harry told her. “Finding people and things is what he
does. He’s quite mysterious, and one of Roger’s dearest friends in the world. As soon as those horrible men showed up looking for you I sent for Sir Hilary. When even he couldn’t find you—” She stopped abruptly and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Ellie, I was sure you were dead.”

Eleanor tried to assess all that Harry had said. “What horrible men?” she asked quietly, dealing with most pressing issue first. “When were they here?”

Harry pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blew her nose. “They first came about three months ago, looking for you. Enderby sent them. They said you’d gone mad and run away from home or some such nonsense. I knew they were lying, and so I asked Sir Hilary to find you.”

“First came?” Eleanor asked sharply. “You mean they’ve been back? How recently?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, a couple of times. They became belligerent, sure we were lying when we said we didn’t know where you were. Sir Hilary said they were watching the house for some time. He had men watching them. Oh, it was all so confusing. But they left a few weeks ago. I suppose because they assumed the same thing we did, that you were dead.”

“Good,” Eleanor said with satisfaction. “That’s exactly what I thought would happen. That’s why I stayed hidden so long. Although I’d hoped the misleading clues I left as to where I was going would keep them away from you.”

“Eleanor,” Harry said with an exasperated huff. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Of course, dear,” she said, reaching for Harry’s hand. “I’ve run away, just as they said, but I am not mad. I am free at last.” She bit her lip. “Your new husband, he won’t make me go back, will he?” She hoped not. The Roger she’d known when they were all so much younger hadn’t been that sort. He’d been a good boy, a friend and often a confidante. Truthfully, she’d always rather hoped he’d grow up and marry Harry.

Harry looked utterly astonished. “Roger? Of course not! He hasn’t changed a bit, Ellie, from when we were children. He’d never do such a thing. He wouldn’t dream of it, not if you don’t want to go back. Why don’t you want to go back?”

“It’s a very long story,” she said. “So I shall condense it for you. Enderby is a pig.
I loathe him, and he feels the same way about me. The difference is, he can do something about it and I can’t. I have been a virtual prisoner at his house in Derbyshire for a decade. Which felt even longer than it sounds.” She sniffed, refusing to cry anymore over that loathsome fiend and what he’d done. “I can’t have children, you know,” she said calmly. “The fever, when I was five or six. The doctor said it did something to make me barren.”

“I didn’t know,” Harry said, her cheeks burning as she covered her obvious pregnancy with her hands, as if embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, and she meant it. “Bringing a child into that house would have been a disservice. He doesn’t deserve to be a father.” She smiled. “And I’ve accepted it. I heard that you had a baby with Lord Mercer. Is he here?”

“Oh, yes,” Harry said, glowing with maternal pride. “Mercy is upstairs, asleep. You shall meet him tomorrow.”

Eleanor looked away, and she was confronted with her own image reflected back in the window, the night pitch black outside now. She wished she could open one of the windows. It suddenly seemed so terribly hot and airless in the room. “I tried to meet him when he was born,” she said. “I heard that you’d had him, and I escaped and ran to Merveille House, to you and Mercer, hoping to find sanctuary.”

Harry grasped her hand in both of hers. “And you never made it?” she said sadly.

“Oh, I made it all right,” Eleanor said indignantly, turning back to look at Harry. “Mercer promptly locked me up and sent for Enderby. The next day I was dragged home.”

“What?” Harry asked incredulously. “But Mercer never told me. If I had known, Eleanor, I swear I wouldn’t have let them take you.”

Eleanor shook her head. “There was nothing you could do,” she said pragmatically. “It didn’t take but a minute in Mercer’s company to realize you were in the same situation I was. We were both sold, right and proper, to despicable men.”

Harry hugged her tightly. “We were.” She held Eleanor’s shoulders, facing her. “But I am free by the grace of God, and you are not. What are we going to do, Eleanor?”

She patted Harry’s hand. “Tonight? Nothing. I’m so dreadfully tired, Harry, dear, and my mind is in a bit of a muddle.”

Harry hugged her again and this time Eleanor found herself holding her little
sister tightly in return, overwhelmed that she had made it. She was here. With Harry. “Of course, darling,” Harry said sympathetically. “Come on. I’ll show you upstairs.”

* * *

Eleanor awoke in a cold sweat, her throat aching and her scream echoing off the walls around her. It took a moment to realize she was at Harry’s, not back in her locked room at Enderby’s. The wick still burned low in the lamp, and she could see the pale-green oriental wallpaper and delicate furnishings of the room she’d been given. It was much finer than anything at Enderby’s house. Rising from the bed on shaky legs, she stumbled to the window, opening it wide. She took a deep breath of the rather fetid London air. It smelled like heaven, like freedom at last. Closing her eyes she took inventory of her self and her surroundings. Her belly was full, her clothes clean and sweet smelling, and the window was wide open. No thundering voice yelling invectives as Enderby charged from his room at the interruption of his sleep. She smiled, and she knew it wasn’t pretty. It was an angry, determined smile. Just then there was a knock at the door.

“Eleanor,” Harry called out sounding rather frantic. “Are you all right?” She knocked again. “Eleanor?”

“Eleanor, open the door.” It was Roger.

She hadn’t realized the door was closed. Of course. That’s what woke her up. She’d opened it before she’d gone to sleep. The maid must have closed it. God, she hated closed doors. “Come in,” she called out, dragging her borrowed wrapper from the chair by the bed with shaking hands and pulling it on.

The door flew open and Roger charged in, Harry right behind him. Both were barefoot and obviously wearing hastily donned wraps. Suddenly Eleanor heard the cries of her young nephew from the floor above. “I’ve woken Mercy,” she said apologetically. “I’m sorry.”