Elizabeth Thornton - [Special Branch 02] (15 page)

“Listen to me, Gwyn,” he said. “You were shot tonight. You’re going to be fine, but the ball is still embedded in your side. We’re waiting for the doctor to arrive so that he can take it out. I’ll give you something to dull the pain, then you must try to lie still.”

She cried out when he raised her head and put a glass to her mouth. He didn’t coax her to drink the foul-tasting liquid. As was his way, he forced it past her lips and kept her head up so that she had to swallow or choke.

When he let her head sink back on the pillows, she whispered, “I’m dying, Jason, aren’t I?”

Her words obviously jarred him. “No! Gwyn, it’s a flesh wound. You’ll be up and about in a day or two.” He shook his head. “What put that wild idea in your head?”

She’d read it in his eyes. She must have said the words aloud because he murmured, “It’s long past midnight. I’m tired, Gwyn. That’s all.”

Her eyelids grew heavy, but the pain did not abate. She clenched her teeth, trying to lie still as Jason wanted.

“She has a point.” Brandon’s voice. “You look sick with fear.”

Jason straightened. “Well, just look at her: those marks on her throat; that bruise on her temple. I keep thinking of what would have happened if I hadn’t been there.”

“I can’t believe—”

Jason swore. “I don’t care what you believe. I’m not taking any chances.”

Brandon’s voice rose a little. “You can’t keep her here. You must see that. There will be gossip.”

“There won’t be gossip. No one knows she’s here. When she’s fit to travel, I’ll take her to Haddo.”

“Gwyn might have something to say about that.”

“I’m not giving her a choice.”

And just when she wanted to stay awake to give Jason a piece of her mind, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

She was a child again, and her mother’s face was smiling down at her.
I have to go away
, she’d said.
No, you can’t come with me this time. But you like it here at Haddo Hall with your cousins, don’t you?
Then her mother had kissed her.

She hadn’t understood at all. She’d gone riding with Jason, and when she’d returned to the house, it was all over. That night, she’d crawled into Jason’s bed and wept into his neck as he’d rocked her to sleep.

Other memories flooded her mind, other deaths that had shaken her to her very foundation. But tonight was different. Someone had tried to kill her. Someone had threatened Mark, someone who would try again, and she didn’t know how to fight back.

Jason—

Jason’s voice cut through the fog in her brain. “I’m here, Gwyn. It’s all right. Don’t fret. I’m here.”

She could feel the weight of his hands on her shoulders, pressing her into the mattress. There was another weight across her legs. Her eyelashes lifted and she stared into Jason’s taut face.

“Damn!” he said. “She’s coming round.”

A stranger’s voice answered. “Hold her still, man, or I’ll do more harm than good.”

The jagged pain in her side suddenly surged, engulfing her in fire. She tried desperately to throw off the hands that restrained her. She writhed, she arched away, but there was no escape. She bit down on her lip to stifle her screams.

“For God’s sake, be quick about it!” Jason’s voice, savage in its anger.

His lean, drawn face swam above her, then her eyes clouded over, and she was sucked into the darkness again.

G
wyn came awake by degrees. The comforting sounds of a house going about its daily business gradually registered. A door opened and closed. She could smell the pleasant aroma of freshly-baked bread and roasted coffee beans. Her mouth was dry.

She blinked away the remnants of sleep and opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed through a long window. There were pictures on the wall she did not recognize. When she moved slightly, the dull throb in her side blazed to a razor-sharp edge. She gasped when she tried to pull herself up.

A figure was setting a tray on a table. At Gwyn’s cry, she crossed to the bed. It was Maddie, her maid.

Maddie clicked her tongue. “You mustn’t haul yourself about like that or you’ll start bleeding again.” She adjusted the pillows at Gwyn’s back to prop her up. “Is that better?”

Gwyn nodded. As long as she lay still, the pain in her side faded.

“I’ve brought you a nice cup of tea, just the way you like it.”

As Gwyn sipped the weak tea, she looked around the strange room, her mind in a whirl. Her last clear
memory was of her own kitchen and Jason’s face hovering over her. This chamber was lavishly furnished in shades of white and pink. The bed she was lying in was immense, and its velvet bed hangings, with lashing of tassels, matched the curtains on the long window. The furniture was of French design, gilt-edged, upholstered chairs, and gleaming walnut commodes and chests of drawers. Porcelain figurines and urns were displayed in abundance.

It was a woman’s room.

“Where am I?” asked Gwyn.

“Don’t you remember? This is Mr. Radley’s house.”

Gwyn nodded uncertainly. It was coming back to her. Harry had tried to kill her. Mark was safe. Jason had promised to stay with her. Pain. She remembered the pain and a feminine presence bathing her, taking care of her needs.

She looked at Maddie. “I thought I heard Judith’s voice—Miss Dudley’s, I mean.”

Maddie nodded. “Miss Dudley has hardly left your side since that first night. She’ll be back shortly. She and Mr. Brandon are out walking with Mark.”

“She’s staying here?”

Maddie pointed to a door. “She’s taken over the master’s room, and Mark sleeps in his dressing room.”

Gwyn swallowed hard. “That’s very kind of her. I mean, she has so many social engagements.”

“She said that nothing could keep her away. And it’s not for long. You’ll soon be up and about. Now drink your tea.”

Gwyn drank her tea and handed the empty cup to Maddie. “What day is it?”

“Monday.”

“Monday?” repeated Gwyn faintly.

“You’ve been slipping in and out of sleep for two nights and a day.”

“And you and Miss Dudley have been here all that time?”

“And Mr. Brandon, too. Except for when he went to Sutton Row to get some of your clothes.” Maddie grinned. “I’m to be your personal maid. Mr. Radley fixed everything.” Her smile faded. “Who would have believed that Harry could be so wicked?”

Gwyn did not hear. She was still examining her surroundings.

Maddie picked up the tray. “I’d best go tell the master you’re awake.”

“No! Wait!”

Gwyn felt vaguely uneasy. “You did say this was Mr. Radley’s house,” she said. “Mr. Jason Radley’s?”

Maddie nodded. “Ain’t it lovely? Look at this.” Gwyn obediently looked at the pink-papered wall. “Can you see the concealed door? Well, on the other side is a lady’s dressing room with a porcelain bath big enough for a whole family.” When Gwyn merely looked puzzled, Maddie elaborated, “To bathe, you know, all at once? And the mirrors! They go right up to the ceiling.” Maddie giggled. “Miss Dudley said she was scandalized, but she winked when she said it. She’s ever so nice, isn’t she?”

A horrible suspicion was beginning to form in Gwyn’s mind. “Is this house on Half Moon Street?”

“Half Moon Street? Whatever gave you that idea? No. This is a beautiful little house on the edge of Marylebone Fields. If you look out your window, you’ll see fields and woods for miles around. It’s as good as living in the country, yet it’s only a short walk to the Oxford Road.”

Gwyn looked at the furnishings in the room and saw them in a different light. It was a feminine room, excessively feminine, but not, she would wager, furnished to Grandmother Radley’s taste, or to that of any of her female Radley cousins. She studied the pictures
on the wall, and the abundance of porcelain figurines. Venus and Cupid were liberally represented.

She threw back the covers, and stumbled to her feet, gritting her teeth against a wave of pain and dizziness. “Maddie, help me get dressed,” she said. “We’re going home.”

Maddie’s mouth gaped. Recovering quickly, she said indignantly, “You get right back in that bed! Is this any way to repay Mr. Radley for what he’s done for you? I never seen a man so shaken with worry. Go on! Get back to bed!”

“Because, if you don’t,” interjected a masculine voice from the open doorway, “I’ll put you in it bodily. Maddie, you may tell Cook that Mrs. Barrie will be ready for breakfast in about ten minutes or so.”

“I am not hungry,” said Gwyn wrathfully.

“Nevertheless, you
will
eat. Maddie, at once, if you please.”

Maddie darted Gwyn a look of deep reproach, bobbed a curtsy, and left the room.

Gwyn was as rigid as the porcelain figurines that adorned the room. Through clenched teeth, she got out, though rather shakily, “Tell me I’m imagining things, Jason. Tell me this isn’t your mistress’s house.”

“I don’t have a mistress,” he said quietly.

“Hah! I bet that unhappy state of affairs won’t last long! Just how many women have you brought to this house? Mmm?”

He didn’t answer, but crossed the distance between them and took a moment to study her. There were dark smudges under her eyes, and the graze on her cheek stood out against the pallor of her skin. The bruises on her throat were fading. He wanted to pull her into his arms, just to satisfy himself that she was all right, but the sizzle in her eyes warned him not to make the attempt.

A sizzle in Gwyn’s eyes meant that she was on the
mend, and base male that he was, he hoped the sizzle had a touch of green in it.

He was careful to keep the smile from his voice and lips. “Gwyn, I meant what I said. Either you get back in that bed or I’ll put you in it.”

Since her legs were beginning to buckle, she didn’t have much choice. She satisfied her pride by throwing him a resentful glare, then she edged to the bed, and stopped. She couldn’t sink into it because the mattress was too high. She was looking around for the steps, when Jason’s strong arms closed around her, and he hoisted her onto the middle of the bed.

A shaft of pain pierced her side and she cried out.

“I’m sorry,” said Jason, not sounding sorry at all, “but if you’d only ask for help when you need it, we could have done this slowly and painlessly.”

She drew the covers up to her chin. “Well, I’m asking for help now. I want to see my son. I want my maid. I want to leave this … this …” She looked around the opulent room and shrugged helplessly.

“This what?” He sounded distinctly amused.

“Whatever!” she snapped, “I have to leave before it becomes known I was ever here. Can you imagine what people would think, what they would say if they knew I’d been here? This is not a respectable house.”

He folded his arms across his chest and regarded her thoughtfully. “I never claimed to be a monk,” he said. “I’ve had my share of women. What did you expect?”

“Jason.” She inhaled a slow, calming breath. “It’s not your reputation that’s at stake here, it’s mine.” She paused, not to gather her thoughts, but because she felt as though a vise were squeezing her heart. How could her feelings betray her like this?

He said musingly, “Do you suppose anyone would mistake you for my mistress?”

Her eyes sizzled. “If this room is an example of her taste, I would hardly think so.”

Now he was sure he could see green in her eyes, and his lips quirked. He allowed his gaze to travel the room before bringing it back to her. “Now that I think of it, you never did approve of my taste in females, did you, Gwyn? I mean, when we were younger and lived at Haddo.”

“Approve of your taste?” She smiled sweetly. “Jason, you didn’t have any taste. If it moved and wore a skirt, you were smitten. No woman was safe from you, except, of course, the ones who were angling for marriage.”

“And you.”

He caught the flash of emotion in her eyes before her lashes swept down, and his amusement vanished. He grasped her chin and held her face up so that he could read her expression. “What is it, Gwyn? Why do you look like that?”

She slapped his hand away and said plaintively, “My side is on fire, my head aches, and this conversation is pointless. I’m grateful to you, Jason, deeply grateful for coming to my rescue.” Her voice grew husky. “If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know how it would have ended for Mark and me. I don’t mean to insult you. It’s not my place to find fault with your way of living. But you must see that I can’t stay here. If the parents of my students ever hear that I was living in this house, they would never darken my doors again. Then how would I earn my living?”

“Your living,” repeated Jason. His own temper began to stir. She could have died in that attack, and what was uppermost in her mind? How she would earn her living. Just remembering the agonies he’d suffered made him want to yell at her.

All this aside, he’d had a good look at her house. He knew genteel poverty when he saw it. She’d
fooled him for awhile because she’d never allowed him to venture beyond the front parlor. She was living a hand-to-mouth existence, and the legacy would barely make an impression because he knew that Gwyn had earmarked that legacy for her son. He’d wager his last groat that she would barely draw a penny on the interest for herself. Well, she’d have to adjust her thinking. She was a Radley, as was Mark. He was their trustee, and he’d be damned if he would allow Gwyn to live like the proverbial poor relation.

Her beautiful eyes were brimming. He couldn’t upbraid her when she looked as though she were about to shatter. Groping for his patience, he sat on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his.

“Listen to me, Gwyn,” he said. “You can’t go home. Think about it. The man who attacked you is no ordinary housebreaker. What if he comes back? And this time, I may not be there to help you. That’s why I brought you here, not to insult you, but to keep you and Mark safe. This house is off the beaten track. No one would dream of looking for you here.”

His words mollified her a little, but not entirely. “Couldn’t you have taken us to your house on Half Moon Street?”

“I thought about it, but there are too many servants, too many people coming and going. It’s only for a day or two. Once you’re fit to travel, I’m taking you down to Haddo to convalesce.”