Edenbrooke (6 page)

I shook my head.

“Let me help,” he said persuasively.

“I can manage on my own,” I insisted. I did not want him to think me weak and helpless. I was my grandmother’s heir, after all, and I was more like her than I cared to admit.

“I have no doubt you would be able to manage, Marianne, considering what I have seen of you tonight. But I would like to be of service to you.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Isn’t that what a gentleman does? Rescues a damsel in distress?” His tone was light, but his eyes were solemn.

“I am not a damsel in distress,” I said with a laugh.

“But I
am
trying to prove that I am a gentleman.”

Now I understood his persistence. It came back to the insult I had thrown at him. He should not have taken it so much to heart. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

He looked heavenward with a sigh. “Are you always this stubborn?”

I thought about it for a moment. “Yes, I think I am.”

Philip’s expression wavered between exasperation and amusement. Amusement won with a reluctant laugh. “I relent. You will never say something predictable. But I do agree with your plan. You should get some sleep and worry about all of this in the morning. It will all wait.”

He sounded very reasonable, and it was a relief to think that I could put it off until I was better rested.

“You’re probably right,” I said. “I think I will take your advice.”

“Good.” He smiled at me. “Can you make it up the stairs on your own?”

“Of course.” That reminded me of something. “I fainted on the stairs earlier, didn’t I?”

He nodded.

“And then what happened?”

“I caught you and carried you here.” Amusement lit up his eyes.

“Oh.” I was not sure what to think. I felt embarrassed and strangely pleased at the same time. I looked at him from under my lashes, noting the strain of coat against the muscles in his shoulders and arms. Yes, he certainly looked strong enough to carry me . . . probably quite easily, I imagined. My face grew warm at the thought. “Well, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he murmured, a smile teasing his mouth again.

I decided to pretend I hadn’t heard that. “I believe I can make it upstairs by myself. I’ll not be needing any more of your services tonight.”

He looked unconvinced. “Stand up then.”

I tried and found I was grafted to the chair with exhaustion.

“Just as I suspected.” He stood and took my hand, pulling on it to help me up.

I sucked in my breath with the sudden sting of his hand on mine and flinched. Philip’s look sharpened with concern, and he quickly turned my palm over. The wounds looked worse in the firelight than they had upstairs. Red scrapes and welts covered most of my palms. They throbbed, and there were a few places where several layers of skin had been scraped off.

“I thought you said he didn’t hurt you.” His voice was harsh. When he looked into my eyes, my heart turned over. He looked angry and rather dangerous, and all the more handsome for it.

“He didn’t. It was the reins, mostly. The horses were spooked, and I’m not accustomed to driving four of them. And then I fell when I was trying to hurry and James was so heavy . . .” I stopped as I noticed the look of amazement on Philip’s face.

“You lifted your coachman?”

“Well, my maid helped.”

He looked at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I saw him. He is more than twice your size. And I also saw your maid. I wouldn’t think it possible.”

I shrugged. “It had to be done. I couldn’t leave him there.”

He held my gaze for a long moment. I realized that the fire was very warm, and that I was standing very close to a very handsome gentleman who held my hand in his. Philip looked down.

“You brave girl,” he murmured, running a light finger along my palm. It was so soft a touch that it did not hurt at all. But it did send a wave of feeling through my hand, up my arm, all the way to my heart. I had never experienced such a sensation before, and I found it completely unnerving.

I pulled my hand out of his grip and tried to comprehend what had just happened. But my exhaustion was beginning to feel like a fog in my head, and I could make no sense of my reaction to him. Perhaps I was becoming feverish. Even delirious.

“You must be exhausted,” Philip said, as if he could read my mind. “Come.” He took my elbow and steered me toward the open door.

I wanted to insist that I could walk up the stairs just fine on my own, but I was no longer certain that I could. Not tonight. Philip only let go of me when we reached the landing.

He bowed. “Good night, Marianne.” I smiled at the sound of my name on his lips. It had somehow become not shocking at all.

“Good night,” I said. “And thank you. For everything.”

I felt like there was something else I should say to him, but I couldn’t think what it was. All I could think about was falling into bed. I walked to the door of the bedchamber where Betsy was still snoring.

With my hand on the door handle, I heard Philip quietly say, “Lock your door before you go to bed.”

A chill of alarm spread through me, reminding me that I had been in very real danger not so long ago. It sharpened my thoughts, and I realized what I should say. I turned around to ask Philip if I would ever see him again.

But he was already gone.

Chapter 6

I awoke feeling far from rested. Betsy had been all legs and arms in the night, and I was sure she had caused at least a few of the bruises I felt. She must have awakened before me, for she was not in the room, and I was tempted to fall back onto my pillow and sleep some more. But there were things that only I could take care of, and I couldn’t put them off any longer.

So I blinked against the bright morning sunlight, stretched, and sat up, groaning as I did. My body hurt everywhere. The door opened quietly and Betsy tiptoed in. When she saw me awake, though, she shut the door and hurried to plop down onto the bed beside me.

“Miss Marianne,” she cried, bumping into my sore shoulder. I winced. “I am so sorry I fell asleep before you last night, but there was nothing so shocking as shooting at that man, and I declare I do believe I hit him, although I am not entirely sure as it was so dark last night.” She paused to draw in a breath, and I quickly interrupted before she could start up again.

“No, Betsy, please don’t apologize for anything. Now, if you will please help me dress, I must see to James.”

“Oh, of course, miss, but you needn’t worry about James because a woman came here early this morning saying she was sent to offer her nursing services and she has taken over the sickroom as if she owned it.”

“A nurse?” I pulled my gown over my head. “But . . . who is she? I have not had a chance to speak to anyone about it. Did the doctor send for her?”

“Oh, no. He was here when she arrived and seemed quite as surprised as the rest of us.”

I dressed quickly, ignoring my protesting muscles, and walked across the hall to the room James had been in. The door stood open and a small, plump woman bent over the bed. She turned at the sound of my footsteps and hurried to the door.

“Ah, you must be the young lady he spoke of,” she said in a soft voice. “Much too young to be taking care of such things. I can see he was right, yes, he certainly was. Now, don’t worry about a thing, I have everything under control.”

I blinked in surprise. “Thank you, I am very grateful you have come . . .” I paused, waiting for her name.

“Oh, pardon me, I’ve forgotten my manners. I’m Mrs. Nutley.” She bobbed a curtsy, holding out her skirt with clean, small hands. Her round, rosy cheeks jiggled a little with the movement. Her brown hair was pulled into a neat bun. I liked her immensely.

“I am so happy to meet you,” I said, “and so grateful to have your help. But if I may ask—who engaged your services?”

She pursed her heart-shaped mouth and clasped her hands together. “No, no, I cannot tell, I promised I would not. And you mustn’t question me any further, my dear, for I do hate to be impolite, but I must keep my promise.”

I rocked back in surprise. “Well, then . . .” I was at a loss for words. I looked over her shoulder and saw James in bed, looking pale, his eyes closed. “How is the patient?”

She put her arm around me and nudged me out the door. “He is well, but resting right now. Go on downstairs, and please don’t worry about a thing. I have it all under control, and you will be able to say good-bye to him later.” She smiled, her red cheeks like apples beneath her merry eyes.

I felt no qualms about leaving James in her care. But as I went downstairs, the mystery of who had arranged for her service bothered me. It was like when Philip had refused to tell me his full name last night. That still bothered me as well, now that I thought about it.

I found the innkeeper in the taproom and asked if I might have my breakfast served to me in the parlor. I tried to sound nonchalant as I asked, “Do you know the name of the gentleman who dined with me last night?”

His expression was instantly guarded. “I don’t know who you mean, miss.”

Before I could respond, he made a hasty retreat into the kitchen. I looked after him, puzzled by his reaction. It appeared the mystery would continue a bit longer.

I made my way to the parlor, finding the room bright and sunny. In the center of the table stood a vase of fresh wildflowers, and propped up next to the vase was a letter with “Miss Marianne Daventry” written in a strong, elegant hand across the front. I picked it up and turned it over, examining the seal in the red wax on the back. It was a crest, but one I did not recognize. I broke the seal and opened the letter.

Dear Marianne,

I have engaged the services of a respectable nurse to care for your coachman during his recovery. A carriage will arrive at noon to convey you and your maid to your destination. The carriage you arrived in will be transported back to Bath. I have also taken the liberty of sending a message to Edenbrooke to inform them of your impending arrival. I trust I have left nothing undone.

Your obedient servant,

Philip

I stared at the letter in surprise. This was impossible! I had refused his assistance, and still he had persisted in giving it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. To go to so much trouble to help me was very kind, I had to admit. But then there was his closing—
your obedient servant.
I could easily imagine him laughing as he wrote the words.

I was still flustered when the innkeeper’s wife entered with my breakfast. I looked up from the letter. “Do you know the name of the gentleman who stayed here last night?”

She shot me a strange look. “No gentleman stayed here last night.”

What was this? I held up the letter as proof that I had not imagined him. “There was a gentleman who dined with me. He caught me when I fainted?”

“He did not stay the night, miss.” She set the dishes on the table with a rough clatter. “He left close to midnight.”

That seemed strange. Why would he travel so late? Why not sleep here and start his journey in the morning?

The innkeeper’s wife turned to the door, and I called out.

“Wait. Do you know his name?”

“I’m not at liberty to say, miss, and I’ll not take any badgering, not after the night I had and the morning too.” She glared at me, as if daring me to argue with her, and then quickly left the room. I stared after her with wide eyes. This was the strangest inn I had ever known.

I reread the letter as I ate breakfast, feeling more irritated with Philip with every passing moment. I convinced Betsy to take a walk with me to pass the time, and, later, I sat for a while at James’s bedside, until Mrs. Nutley shooed me away. Finally a knock sounded at the parlor door. It was the innkeeper, coming to tell me that a coach was here to collect me.

The coachman stood in the taproom. He doffed his hat when he saw me. “Pleased to be of service, miss.”

“Thank you. But before we go anywhere, I must ask you who engaged your services.” I was determined to discover Philip’s identity from someone. This was my last hope.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, miss.”

I glared at him. “Do you mean to tell me that you are not at liberty to disclose the person’s identity?”

“Yes, miss.”

I huffed. “Very well. If you refuse to tell me, then I refuse to go with you.” I heard how childish I sounded, but I did not care. That Philip was too much, making everyone play along with his little mystery and making me the object of his game. I could imagine everyone here laughing at me behind my back.

The coachman cleared his throat. “I was warned that I might encounter such a response, in which case I am to forcibly put you in the carriage myself.”

I gasped. “He did not.”

“He did.” He allowed himself a very small smile.

My frustration turned to anger. Philip was a heavy-handed, impertinent, odious man! What right had he to meddle so much in my affairs? I turned on my heel and tried not to stomp my feet as I climbed the stairs. Betsy was just finishing packing our things. I said good-bye to James, who assured me he was perfectly content to stay right where he was for the time being.

The last thing I had to do was to settle our bill with the innkeeper. When I approached him with my reticule, however, he said, “No, miss, I’m not to take it. I’ve already been paid handsomely for your stay as well as for anything your coachman might need.”

I seethed. “I see the gentleman who was here last night thought of everything.”

The innkeeper hefted my trunk and gave me a big smile. “Aye, that’s right.”

I muttered insults about Philip under my breath as I climbed into the carriage with Betsy. As we drove away, I was glad to leave behind the strange inn and everyone I had met. In fact, I hoped I would never have to see these people again. Especially Philip. Though if I did, he would surely get an earful from me.