The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (20 page)

“Only time will tell,” the white-haired man closest to her said with a slight shake of his head. “She is weak.”

“She has been overtaxed with worry,” Uncle Sires’ voice boomed into the room. “I will not have you and your unseemly manner endanger her further, child.”

May carefully laid her aunt’s hand on the soft bed. She lovingly stroked Winnie’s smooth cheek and said a small prayer for her recovery before rising to face her uncle.

“I have more right than you to stay with her,” she said in an oddly calm voice. “You may be able to take away my money. You may be able to take away my future. But I will stand up to the forces of hell before letting you take Winnie from my life.”

“Please,” the doctor said, ushering everyone to the door. “She needs quiet. She needs to rest.”

The instant May stepped her toe outside the bedroom door Uncle Sires captured her wrist. He mercilessly dragged her through the hall and down the stairs. May tripped over her feet as she tried to keep up with the brutal pace. Lord Nathan stepped in and attempted to save her but was swiftly pulled away by two burly footmen draped in bright red livery.

“What do you mean to do?” May asked. She twisted her wrist, trying desperately to break free. There was a murderous gleam in her uncle’s eye that made her heart slam against her ribs. “What do you mean to do?”

“Something I should have done years ago,” he said and gave her arm a vicious tug. She stumbled down the last three steps. Her knees slammed against the hard, marble floor in the foyer. He didn’t give her time to pull herself back to her feet. His pace unbroken, he dragged her across the floor and into a dark, oak-paneled study.

The door slammed closed behind her. The lock clicked.

“You are an abomination . . . just like your father. I can’t stand to look at you, a grotesque mixture of his blood with mine.” He loomed over her. A menacing grimace transformed his features into a mask of pure hatred.

He leaned down until his lips were a mere hair’s breadths from her ear. His fiery breath struck her cheek as his voice crackled. “I cannot allow this willful existence of yours to continue, child,” he threatened, jamming a leather horsewhip just under her nose. “I intend to beat it from you once and for all.”

* * * *

Where were the blasted rains? The skies were darkening as evening approached, the pale moon rising, and not one blasted cloud to be seen. Radford didn’t wish to gaze on the moon as his open landau carried his mother and him to the Newbury townhouse in the center of Bath.

The moonlight reminded him of May and the night he first kissed her. She’d been bathed in the spectral glow of the heavens flowing in the tall window in the Newbury’s darkened library. A fey goddess illuminated by natural elegance.

An unattainable spirit, who would soon be engaged to a man very anxious to beat all that was special and loveable from her small body.

His hand curled into a very tight fist as the carriage bounced over a rut in the stone-paved road. Just picturing May married to another man . . . entering the marriage bed with another . . . it was too much to bear.

He much preferred the rains and the aching muscles and misery the damp weather brought with it than to gaze on the shimmering, oval moon and think of May.

A family ring, an ancient piece of art with a miniature crest etched into a cabochon-cut ruby, sat nestled in the breast pocket of his coat. Within a few hours he’d slide that ring onto Lady Lillian’s slender finger and pledge himself—body and soul—to a woman he may never be able to love.

His mother snuggled up beside him and cooed happily.

“Tonight will be magical,” she whispered. The landau’s driver slowed to turn onto Bennett Street. “Just a few more blocks, Radford. Your future waits for you in the Royal Crescent. I couldn’t be more proud.”

She squeezed his hand. Her grasp felt light, fragile through his leather gloves.

This night was for his mother. He would give himself to Lillian, vowing to her fidelity and security in exchange for a brood of children.

This was his gift to his mother. She’d suffered so much because of his injuries. Marriage to a beauty like Lady Lillian was no great a sacrifice in order to fulfill his duty to his family.

If only the rains had fallen. With that blasted moonlight shining down on his face and the stars twinkling mysteriously all through the nearly black sky, he couldn’t seem to keep his thoughts from straying to May, a most unsuitable woman.

Ah, May . . . a future with you is naught but a pretty fairy tale. Children may believe in such a romantically outrageous ending. Adults are trained to be far more practical.

His future waited a few blocks away.

“I am pleased you find pleasure in my decision,” he said warmly to his mother. “Your happiness is very important to me.”

“As yours is to me, dear.” She gave his arm a gentle pat. “As yours is to me.”

Lady Evers craned forward then, tilting her head one way and then the other. “Whatever could that be about?” she whispered while craning forward further still. She’d scooted so far off the bench she was in danger of falling off.

Radford searched the road. His landau was rounding The Circus. A few pedestrians, three young women giggling as they followed an older couple, were strolling on the sidewalk. A carriage rolled by in the other direction. Two carriages sat motionless in front of a couple of townhouses, with grooms attending to the waiting horses. Other than that, he could see nothing. Certainly none of the activity visible on the street was out of the ordinary.

“What is it? What do you see?” he asked when his mother gasped and fell back on the squabs in a near swoon.

“Shameful . . . disgraceful,” she muttered. “A harlot being tossed from a home, here, in this respectable area? I cannot believe my eyes.”

“Really? Where?” Radford asked more to placate his upset mother than out of any kind of perverse interest in viewing another man’s dirty affairs.

“There.” An accusing finger shot out to identify a townhouse a few doors into the circular row of houses known as The Circus.

What the devil?

Radford perched forward on the bench to get a better view. Time moved at a painfully slow pace as he watched a nightmare unfold.

May, dressed in the same burgundy gown she’d been wearing when he’d met with her earlier in the day, stood at the open door. A long, elegant sleeve had been ripped away. Part of the ruined bodice hung open. She tugged wildly at the wide, masculine arm holding her. A look of naked terror on her elfish face, dimly illuminated in the yellowy lamplight, froze the blood in his veins.

He rose shakily to his feet, prepared to leap from his landau while it still moved.

“Hold there,” he called to his driver and swung open the door.

“Radford!” his mother screamed and wrapped her arms around his strong leg. He fell back onto the bench as his damnable weakened leg collapsed under the strain from his sudden shift of weight.

He watched in horror as May tore free from her attacker, tripped down the steps, and ran blindly into the brick road. His horses, startled by her sudden appearance in front of them as they were slowing their pace, whinnied and reared. The landau creaked and jolted forward.

May screamed.

A deadly silence followed.

No
! Radford pried his mother’s hands from his body and jumped down to the ground.
No
! He dragged his weaker leg behind him, not caring what he looked like or how he moved. All he cared about was getting to May . . . to seeing her safe.

“There was naught a thing I could do to save ‘er, m’lord. I swear it. I didn’t even see ‘er,” his driver cried, wringing his hands as he gazed down at May’s crumpled body.

A trickle of blood oozed from high on her forehead.

“No,” Radford whispered. He dropped to the road and gathered May into his arms. Cradling her, he hugged her against his chest and felt for any sign of life, no matter how small. She was still in his arms, too still. “Live, damn it. If I have to cling to this cursed mortal coil, you do too.”

He glanced up pleadingly at the sky. His gaze chanced on the open door and the man who’d tormented her, the man who’d driven her to run in front of his horses.

The Earl of Redfield.

A horsewhip hung in his hand. A murderous gleam darkened his face. Why hadn’t Radford seen it? The bounder had been set on ruining May’s life from the start. His power and his comfortable lifestyle were being threatened. Radford should have worried about May’s safety after telling her the truth about her uncle. She must have confronted him and roused the greedy man’s wrath.

“I should have protected you.” He brushed her hair away from her bloody brow and pressed a handkerchief to her forehead. He’d never forgive himself if she died. Losing May would leave a gaping hole in his heart, which, like his leg, would never heal.

With a shout, Wynter pushed the earl aside and charged down the steps and across the road. Lady Iona followed closely behind, pausing only long enough to stomp the earl’s toe on her way past.

After that, time began to gush at a hell-or-high-water speed. It took all of Radford’s concentration just to keep up.

“Is she dead?” Lady Iona wailed and tossed herself into Wynter’s arms.

“No.” Radford pressed his palm to her chest and felt a strong, steady heartbeat move underneath her tattered gown. “But she does need immediate care.”

He glanced up again. The door to the Earl of Redfield’s townhouse had closed. The light in the front parlor had been extinguished. He’d get no help from that villain.

“Wynter, fetch the best doctor you can find. I’m going to take May back to Longbranch House. She’ll be safe there.”

“My father—” Lady Iona started to say only to be hushed by Wynter.

“Let Radford handle this.” Wynter unfurled his arms from Lady Iona’s shoulders and bent down to pluck May from Radford’s arms. Radford refused, holding tightly to May’s body. He unreasonably wanted to keep his woodland sprite pressed against his chest until he knew she was truly safe.

As if he could protect her. Hah! Her weight trapped him to the ground as surely as his dying horse had on the Peninsula. Radford reluctantly released his hold. As it was, he’d have a struggle to stand with his arms empty, which he started to do as inelegantly as anyone could imagine. He floundered like a fish out of water until Lady Iona offered him a hand. Swallowing pride and a goodly portion of his manhood, he reached out and allowed the slight woman to assist him back into the landau.

“Oh my, oh my,” his mother was muttering. She weaved on the bench. Her skin was as pale as the moon, and she appeared to be on the verge of collapse. Wynter and Lady Iona looked fairly ill themselves.

“I will come with you, Lord Evers,” Lady Iona said. She dabbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “I can help with May and your mother.”

Radford was grateful for the assistance. “Of course, please do.” He moved aside to make room while pulling May into his lap.

“Go Wynter! Get a doctor!” he barked the order, and as soon as Lady Iona was settled, he gave a nod to his anxious driver to put the horses back into action.

A block into the drive May’s eyes fluttered open and she sighed roughly when they bounced over a loose stone. Radford’s chest contracted tightly as she stared up at him with wide eyes. Such confusion tainted her lovely violet gaze. If only he could bathe her with kisses and wipe her fears away.

“Aunt Winnie . . . ” May whispered, turning in his arms. Fighting him. A perfect round breast looked as though it might fall free of her ripped bodice. “Please, Winnie . . . ”

“Hush, my love. Let me take care of you.” With no thought about the sharp gazes of his mother or Lady Iona watching his every move, he reverently cupped her breast and the soft velvet of her gown. Her chest rose and fell with deep regularity with each smooth breath. Radford took comfort in feeling her warm satiny soft skin. She felt very, very alive.

He didn’t realize how inappropriate it must look for him to continue touching her, lightly caressing her, until his mother, her lips set in a thin line, reached over and moved his hand. She placed his fingers so he’d clasp May’s shoulder instead.

Radford shifted slightly, embarrassed. What the two ladies with their set stares must think of him.

May blinked heavily. Her gaze settled on his face, and a slight smile creased her lips. The adorable look left Radford itching to cover her petal-soft mouth with his.

Here he was, a gentleman mere hours from proposing marriage to another, goggling over a half-conscious woman whose weak smile sent his heart tripping like some helpless lovelorn swain.

This was madness. Pure madness.

Chapter 18

May woke up in a strange bed feeling quite out of sorts. Her head throbbed, her arms felt painfully stiff, and her knees burned as if they’d been scraped raw. The strange bed had a full and luxurious down mattress that vexed her. She clutched the heavy comforter to her neck and worried her mind trying to remember what had happened.

“Aunt Winnie!” She jolted up in bed, only to be confounded by a spinning room. “Aunt . . . ”

Her head settled back to the silky pillow. A fire smoldered in the fireplace across the room. Clearly the coals had been recently tended. A painting of a happy sheepdog hung on the wall between two floor-to-ceiling windows. Snatches of sunlight stole into the room from around a pair of heavy burgundy drapes . . . drapes nearly the same shade as the velvet gown she’d worn.

Still feeling dreadfully confused, May slowly lifted the bedding and peered underneath. Her gown was gone. A soft lawn chemise with a satin tie at the neck now covered her.

A stranger’s house wearing a stranger’s nightclothes. The last thing she remembered—or had that been a dream—was being cradled in Radford’s arms. Had he truly called her
his love
? No, those fantastic memories could only be from some wondrous dream.

May closed her eyes and tried to conjure real memories . . . and push away those gentle thoughts created purely by some anomaly brought on by a blow to the head.

“Aunt Winnie had collapsed,” she said aloud as the events of the previous day slowly returned. A sob burst out as she remembered seeing her aunt lying on her uncle’s bed. She’d looked so pale. So very weak. “Oh, Winnie.”