Surrender (29 page)

Read Surrender Online

Authors: Amanda Quick

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

 
I have always been a great believer in

the benefits of intellectual inquiry," he said

grimly.

 
Oh, Lucas, how can I ever thank you?"

She threw her arms around his neck and

hugged him fiercely.
 
You are always so

good to me."

Swearing silently, he succumbed to the

allure of her obvious delight. He was

beginning to realize that it would always

be difficult to refuse Victoria whatever she

happened to want. He would do well in

the future to remember his weakness in

that regard.

Reluctantly Lucas pulled her arms from

around his neck, kissing her reassuringly

on the tip of her nose.
 
Then
 
tis settled.

Now, my sweet, you had better get back

into the house. I think I hear a carriage

coming down the street."

 
Oh, dear, that must be Aunt Cleo. I

must go." She turned swiftly, the cloak

whirling around her sadly dampened

slippers. Then she swung back with a

quick frown of concern.
 
Do be careful

of your leg when you go back over the

wall, Lucas. I worry about all this climbing

about. It cannot be good for you."

 
I'm inclined to agree." The damned leg

was already aching from his first assault

on the wall this evening. Now he must

repeat the process.
 
I look forward to the

night when this wall climbing is no longer

necessary. Good night, Vicky."

 
About our plans for our first, uh,

liaison
 
." She glanced anxiously toward

the conservatory door as she, too, heard

the carriage in the street.

 
Don't fret, Vicky. I will arrange every

thing."

 
You will?"

He paused, straddling the garden wall,

and looked down into her upturned face.

He bit back an oath.
 
Yes, Vicky, I will.

That's my job, is it not?"

 
You will let me know just as soon as

you have got the details worked out?" she

called out hopefully.

 
Believe me, my dear, you will be the

first to know." He cleared the wall and

dropped down into the alley. His thigh

protested strongly and his limp was more

pronounced than usual as he made his

way back toward the street where he had

left the carriage. One way or another he

definitely had to put a stop to this wall

climbing.

Lucas checked the street and saw no

one. He crossed it and started around the

corner. He very nearly walked straight into

the man holding the knife.

The footpad appeared equally surprised

at the suddenness of the encounter. He had

obviously been lounging in the shadows,

waiting for his quarry, and had not

heard Lucas approach. But he reacted

immediately, lunging forward with the

blade held low.

Lucas was already diving to the side,

cursing as he felt his bad leg give away.

He landed hard on the knee of his injured

leg and forced himself to ignore the pain

while he reached up and grabbed for his

attacker's knife arm.

The man yelled in rage and surprise as

Lucas rolled onto his back and tugged

hard. The assailant slammed into the

brick wall of the darkened house on the

corner and the knife clattered to the paving

stones.

Lucas kept rolling, moving up onto his

knees. Then he staggered to his feet,

bracing himself with one hand against

the brick wall. Raw agony tore through

his left leg.

The footpad was already thudding away

into the darkness, footsteps echoing harshly

in the night. He did not stop to retrieve

his knife.

 
Ere, now," the coachman yelled, pound

ing up the street as he belatedly realized his

passenger was in trouble.
 
What's goin" on?

What'appened, m'lord? Are ye hurt?"

 
No." Lucas glanced down at his expensive

Weston jacket and swore again. He

had just paid a fortune for the damn

thing and now he would have to purchase

a new one.

 
Some footpad lookin" to prig a gennel

man's purse," the coachman declared,

reaching down to scoop up the knife.

 
Wicked-lookin" thing. The cove meant

business, didn't
 
e?"

 
Yes," said Lucas.
 
But I am not certain

just what sort of business he had in

mind."

 
Streets ain't safe for man nor beast,"

the coachman remarked.
 
You
 
andled him

right proper m'lord. Saw the way you sent

 
im flying."
 
Learn that sort of thing at

Gentleman Jackson's academy, did ye?"

 
No. I learned that sort of thing the hard

way." Lucas started toward the coach and

sucked in his breath as his left leg nearly

collapsed again. He summoned up a vision

of the bottle of port waiting in his library.

 
Let's be off, if you don't mind. It is not

my intention to amuse myself standing

around the streets at this hour."

 
Certainly, sir. But I'd just like to say I

never met a member o" the fancy could

 
andle
 
imself as well as you just did

in a street fight. Most of the nabobs I

run across would o" ended up with their

gullets slit."

Victoria stepped back into her room and

closed the door quietly behind her. Then

she shut her eyes and leaned back against

the wooden panels. Her heart was racing

and she felt as though her legs were going

to melt.

She had done it.

It had taken more raw courage than she

had dreamed it would, more than she had

even believed she possessed, but she had

done it. She was going to have an affair

with Lucas Mallory Colebrook, the Earl of

stone vale.

Her hands were trembling as she came

away from the door and walked a little

unsteadily across the room to stare out of

the window into the darkness.

Now that she had accomplished her goal

after days of agonizing over the matter, she

discovered she was weak with reaction.

There were so many dangers, both for

herself and for Lucas.

But the chance to discover passion in

Lucas's arms was worth any risk.

Such an admirable man. He was not a

silly, foppish dandy or a callous rake hell.

He cared about her reputation yet he

accepted her desire to avoid marriage.

He was not after her fortune, it seemed,

only her.

 
Dear God, listen to me. I sound as if I

am in love with the man." Victoria caught

her breath as the realization momentarily

swamped her.
 
I am in love with him."

She hugged herself with the wonder

of this latest adventure. To be in love

and yet to be free. What more could a

woman ask?

She stood at the window for a long time,

trying to see the future in the darkness.

But everything seemed cloudy and without

solid form. After a long while, she went

to bed.

At dawn she came awake suddenly,

sitting bolt upright against the pillows.

Demon bitch. I will send you back to hell.

The knife.

Dear God, the knife.

She did not remember much about the

nightmare that had jolted her from sleep,

but she did not need to recall the details.

She'd had similar dreams often enough

during the past few months and they

always ended the same way, leaving her

restless and disturbed, filling her with a

sense of dark, brooding menace that could

not be logically explained away.

At least she had not cried out this time,

she thought in relief. Occasionally she

screamed in the middle of the terrible

dreams and poor Nan would come running

to check on her.

Victoria got out of bed. She knew from

experience that daylight would banish the

disquieting sensation. In the meantime

there was not much point in trying to

go back to sleep.

She reached for her wrapper. It was

a clear day and soon the morning light

would be streaming into the conservatory.

A perfect day for painting. When all else

failed, she could frequently find peace of

mind by losing herself in her art.

Dressing quickly, she hurried downstairs.

The household was just beginning to stir.

She could hear cook clattering the pans in

the kitchen.

Her
 
easel,
 
paintbox,
  
and
  
sketchbooks

were just where she had left them. Victoria

stood looking around the lush conservatory

for a moment and then her eyes fell on the

glorious blooms of Strelitzia reginae.

In the morning sunlight the flower was a

wonderful cross between gold and yellow,

a fabulous shade of amber touched with

highlights of royal blue.

She quickly set about shifting all her

equipment to a new vantage point where

she would have a clear view of Strelitzia.

She remembered how Lucas had admired

it that first day in the conservatory.

She was going to paint it for him,

she decided on a sudden impulse. He

had appeared genuinely pleased by her

botanical watercolors and sketches and

there was no doubt about his new

enthusiasm for horticulture. Perhaps he

would like Strelitzia reginae as a memento

of their first night together as lovers. It

would be her gift to him on that memorable

night.

Almost like a wedding gift, came the

unbidden thought. She banished it quickly

and sat down to go to work.

She saw the snuffbox inside her paintbox

the moment she raised the lid.

For a few seconds she simply stared at

it, astonished, and wondered why anyone

would deposit a perfectly good snuffbox in

her paintbox. It was as odd to find such an

object here as it had been to discover the

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