Too Hot For A Rake (22 page)

The chill she felt turned to heat. She touched her head to test for fever, but she felt cool. Helena put her hands on the floor to shift her weight, astonished to discover that they were covered by an inch of water. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts of Waverley, she hadn’t noticed the slowly rising water on the cellar floor.

Why was it taking him so long to return? Helena tried to stand, but her strength failed her. Instead, she crawled on her hands and knees in the direction of the cellar steps as the water began to creep up to her wrists. Her morning gown was drenched, which made it difficult to continue.

Where was Waverley? Perhaps he’d been prevented from returning by the rising tide. She sat up long enough to unfasten the sodden gown, for it was slowing her progress. She wriggled her way out of it, leaving her only remaining garment, the water-soaked chemise, to clothe her body.

When she reached the bottom step, she put her knee on it and tried to pull up to the next one, but the ancient wood cracked beneath her weight. She reached for the third step, grasped it with uncommon strength and hung on with all her might. She pulled hard, tearing the hem of her chemise in the process. As she inched her way up, she tested each new step with the weight of one knee, to make sure it wouldn’t collapse under her, like the first one had.

When she reached a higher step, she was above the rancid water. It was then that she noticed the makeshift wrapping on her aching, swollen ankle. It had torn and come undone along the way, leaving only a small piece remaining. She tried to wind it tighter for support, but it too fell away in shreds.

Helena took deep breaths and tried to rest a bit. She could not shut her ears to the sound of water rising as she alternated between shivering from cold and perspiring from heat. A last wave of exhaustion overwhelmed her. She rested her back against the wall and closed her eyes, but they flew open again at an unfamiliar sound. Mice? She couldn’t be sure. The scratching sound, at first a mere whisper, grew louder, a quiet rumble. She tried to concentrate, to discover where it came from. Her head swiveled round to search for the source.

Metal on wood! Helena knew that sound. Someone was trying to unlock the cellar door. She turned and scrambled up the last two steps, nearly losing her balance, but she managed to hang on with her hands, by this time full of splinters.

“Waverley!” she cried as the door swung open. “You’ve come at last.”

A faintly familiar voice answered, filled as it were with mockery. “No, Lady Fairchild. I’m here to claim you for my bride, just as I promised I would.”

Helena screamed, but the sound was muffled when someone threw a blanket over her. She kicked and struggled all the while she was carried up the back stairs to her chamber. Once there, the sounds of several female voices assaulted her ears.

“Here’s the bitch now,” a woman said, her voice ominous yet recognizable.

Later…

“Stop strugglin’, milady. Won’t do you a bit o’ good,” said Mrs. Trasker, removing the blanket imprisoning Helena. “Hurry up and get the bath ready for milady, Belinda. The earl’s impatient to be off with his
bride.
” She chuckled at her jest.

“We’re doin’ our best,” said Belinda in a resentful tone. “C’n we help it if she won’t stop wrigglin’ and be still?”

Mrs. Trasker had enlisted only the maids loyal to her. Nell, Eliza, Rose and Belinda helped prepare Helena for her abduction, but it wasn’t easy, for Helena struggled, kicked and fought with all her might. By refusing to cooperate, she hoped to buy enough time for Waverley to reach her.

“Just you let me slap her around some, and she’ll stop wrigglin’ like a fish soon enough,” said Belinda after the maids had managed to put Helena into the tub. They were drenched from the bathwater Helena had splashed all over them. Belinda and the other maids had been trying to wash her dirt-encrusted body, but Helena persisted in frustrating their efforts.

“No rough stuff, mind. His lordship wants her clean, but not beat up. Not even one bruise. He’s fixin’ to marry her, though why anyone would want a hellion like her is beyond me. She ain’t even fit for my Harry when he becomes the marquis.”

“Harry fancies her, though,” said the saucy Belinda.

“Mind your tongue, girl, and get on with it.”

Helena glared at Mrs. Trasker as all four young women pulled her from the tub and began to rub her dry, none too gently. “You’ll regret this to the end of your days, Mrs. Trasker. And…and, what have you done with the dowager?”

Mrs. Trasker turned her nose up at her. “Never you mind about the dowager.”

“May I see her before I go?”

Mrs. Trasker thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No. Don’t think the earl would like it.”

Helena pressed her when she detected a slight hesitation. “Where’s the harm? I just want to say good-bye to her. The earl wouldn’t have to know.”

Mrs. Trasker saw some advantage in this proposal. “Will you stop yer strugglin’ and let my girls finish dressin’ you proper?”

“All right,” said Helena. A spark of hope eased her heavy heart. “If you give me your word of honor you’ll allow me to say good-bye to the dowager, I’ll stop struggling and cooperate.”

“I can give you only a few minutes with her ladyship. Can’t spare any more time than that, else My Lord…er…his lordship will have my head.”

London: Fairchild House

Georgiana crept into his bed and straddled him. “Wake up, you abominable stuffed shirt,” she whispered into her brother’s ear.

Still wrapped in the fog of sleep, Edward forced one eye open. “Who’s that?” He tried to sit up, but something heavy prevented him. His arms were in captivity, for she held them down over his head.

“Dare you to hit me, you beast. Telling Father on me! How could you do me such a miserable turn?” She burst into a familiar laughter.

“Get off me, you shameless hussy!” Edward said sternly, the corners of his mouth quivering.

“I knew you couldn’t stay mad at your favorite sister for long, My Lord Stuffed Shirt. Can’t let a stupid pair of boots get in the way of your hopeless adoration of me, now can you? Besides, wasn’t it you who taught me all those devious tricks, odious brother of mine?”

Edward put his hands on her hips and lifted her off. “You owe me for those boots, Georgie, and for the clothes you so carelessly ruined.”

She crossed her legs as she sat on his bed, for she was wearing pantaloons. “Guilty as charged, love, but I have one small problem. I haven’t the blunt to pay you for them. Thanks to you, Father has cut off my allowance, not to mention my riding privileges. He has ordered me to beg your forgiveness. So here I am. Do you have any sackcloth and ashes in your wardrobe? May I borrow them?”

“So that’s why you’ve invaded my chambers, you incorrigible brat,” he muttered, trying to climb out of his bed. “Let’s see. You’ve no blunt to spend. You may not ride like the wind in the Park. What next will you do in the way of mischief? I know you can’t live without stirring up trouble.”

“We can always think of something if we put our heads together, love, can’t we? The way we used to when you weren’t such a dead bore?”

Edward donned his dressing gown, but before he could knot its belt, Georgie jumped on his back, flung her arms around her brother’s neck and wrapped her legs around his waist.

This act was too much for his composure and he burst into a shout of laughter. “Get. Off. My. Back. You detestable monkey.”

Waverley Castle

When the marquis returned for Helena, she was nowhere to be found. How was that possible? He called her name yet heard just the hollow echo of his own voice. Unspeakable thoughts invaded his mind as he stood alone in the dark surrounded by nothing but a bleak emptiness.

He raced up to the first cellar, taking care to avoid the rotted steps, but the door was locked. He put his shoulder to it, but he was too weak to budge the door. He bent to peer through the keyhole where a glimmer of light revealed shelves neatly stocked with jars of food. He allowed himself a grim smile. Cook and her staff had lost no time in filling the new shelves Helena had ordered. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach would not go away. Was his darling safe? Perhaps someone had already rescued her. If that was so, why did they lock the door again? Something felt wrong.

He made his way back down the steps and found a shred of Helena’s petticoat clinging to one of them. The feeling of dread continued to clutch at his heart as he hurried back out the way he came, but the rising tide slowed him down.

Casper was waiting for him. “You look a sight, milord. Where’s milady?”

“She’s gone, Casper. I don’t know where.” Waverley was grateful to see Casper holding the reins of two horses in one hand, Waverley’s coat and boots in the other. “Let me have those boots, Casper. My feet are bloodied and raw.”

“Brought you some dry clothes, milord. A mite big, ’cause they’re mine. Dry yourself with this cloth. It’s clean if a bit ragged. I carry it with me to wipe my horse down.”

Waverley managed a grin. “Give it here, you prince of a fellow, and thanks. I’m soaked to the skin.” He stripped bare, dried himself and put on Casper’s clothes, grateful for their warmth. When his boots were on, he mounted.

“What’s happening? Have you any idea where Lady Helena might be?”

“No, milord. I’m afraid the news isn’t good. The castle’s under siege by the worst lookin’ bunch o’ goons I ever seen. What’s more, they’re armed. Milady must be inside still, for Lemuel hasn’t seen any sign of her. He and some of our men are hiding in the woods just outside the front steps of the castle. I’ve left others watching the kitchen door.”

Helena fought back tears as the maids dressed her, but she kept her word and didn’t struggle. Belinda combed the tangles from her hair, nearly scalping her in the process, yet Helena refused to cry out. That would give the revengeful maid far too much satisfaction. Mrs. Trasker had chosen one of Helena’s ball gowns, the pale blue moiré silk etched with tiny seed pearls.

When the maids helped her into the gown, Mrs. Trasker held up a heavy blue velvet cape lined with sable. “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Trasker. It’s May. The weather’s too warm for fur.”

“The earl ’specially sent this here cloak for you to wear. He said the sea air can be quite chilly. You should thank yer stars you’re marryin’ such a thoughtful gent, to my way o’ thinking.”

Helena bit back her tears. She would not let them gloat over the terror she felt. Instead, she forced herself to say, “His lordship is too kind.”

Mrs. Trasker examined her prisoner critically. “You’ll do, I suppose. Still can’t unnerstand why the earl chose you for his lady. Let’s go.” She held the door open for Helena while Belinda and the others surrounded her. There was no possibility of escape.

“But the dowager! You promised to let me say good-bye to her,” Helena cried as the maids dragged her toward the grand staircase.

“I lied.” Mrs. Trasker flung the words over her shoulder as she led the way.

Helena screamed as loud as she could.

“Save yer breath. Won’t do you a bit o’ good ’cause there’s nary a one to hear you. I gave all the new servants you hired a half-day holiday in honor of your wedding. We locked Mrs. Hubley in with the dowager, but we couldn’t find Cook and her nieces. They’re hidin’ somewheres, but no matter. We’ll get them later. Help her keep that cloak on her shoulders, girls. Be sure to fasten it tight so she can’t wriggle out of it.”

When she was satisfied, Mrs. Trasker opened the door and stepped aside. “Farewell, milady. Pleasure to know you.”

Keller and Winkle, Mrs. Trasker’s ruffians, dressed in full livery, each took one arm and lifted Helena, intending to carry her down the steps to the earl, who waited at the door of his carriage.

“Put me down, you traitors! I can very well walk without your help,” she hissed.

They hesitated but stepped back at a signal from the earl. “Good evening, ma’am,” he greeted affably. “You look a far sight lovelier than when I first discovered you rooting around that nasty old cellar.”

Helena clenched her fists inside the cape. “So. You resort to abduction. Do as you will, but I won’t marry you, Glynhaven. It’s Waverley I love. Not you.”

The earl turned mean at the sound of the hated name on her lips. “Oh, you’ll marry me all right, my dear. The captain will do the honors once we’re under sail. We’re going to France, you see. Lord Saltash—you remember Lord Saltash, don’t you? He’s invited us to stay at his chateau for our honeymoon. He and his friends—you remember his charming friends? Of course, you do. You met them at my ball. They have all sorts of delightful entertainments planned for us. Have you ever participated in an orgy? No, of course not. A well-bred lady like you would never resort to such forbidden fruits. Harry tells me you are a lusty wench. He informs me that you’re no longer a virgin, thanks to the marquis. I regret I wasn’t the one to deflower you, but not enough to give you back to my enemy. I promise you that Waverley will never have you again. After I get through with you, my dear, he may never even want you.”

Stall for time. Keep him talking.
“The marquis will come after you. I’m sure he’ll find me and then what will you do?”

Glynhaven laughed, but there was no joy in his eyes. “I think not, my bride. Never mind him. You’ll learn to like our particular games. Don’t worry your pretty little head too much. Your bruises will heal quickly, I promise.”

“It doesn’t bother you, my lord, that I despise you and I always will? We Fairchild women have tempers, sir. Best take care once we are married. I’d advise you to stay awake lest I scratch your eyes out.”

The earl laughed maliciously. “Fairchild women must be lusty creatures, then. What good news. Be as wild as you like, my dear. I look forward to bedding Waverley’s whore.”

“So it’s revenge you yearn for. Too bad you’ll suffer disappointment. Or won’t it trouble you that when you bed me, I shall think only of Waverley’s caresses? And what of his child growing within me? Won’t it be lovely to see him inherit your title and all your worldly goods?”

Glynhaven turned pale. He slapped her face hard enough to leave a mark. “So you’re carrying his bastard, are you? If it’s a boy, he won’t live to inherit, I assure you. If it’s a girl, someone else will raise her. I’ll see to it. If you persist in disobeying me, milady, once I take a whip to you, you’ll change your mind quickly enough.” He turned at the sound of horses’ hooves, a look of surprise on his face.

When the marquis and Casper reached the men hiding in the woods near the front entrance, Casper asked, “What’s to do, Lem?”

“The Earl of Glynhaven’s carriage is out front. There are men with guns protectin’ him. Best be careful and make your way through the back woods. You can enter through the kitchen door. Tom Wells is guardin’ the door there with his lads.”

“Lady Helena? Have you seen her?” the marquis asked.

“Not hide nor hair. She may still be inside, I’ll wager, for she can’t have stepped a foot outside without our notice. My guess? The earl’s fixin’ to abduct her, but he won’t be goin’ anywhere, or my name ain’t Lemuel. I promise you that.”

The marquis and Casper nodded farewell and made their way through the woods to the kitchen. There they met Tom and a group of burly young farmers holding rakes and pitchforks for weapons, all too eager for the excitement of battle.

“Go in through the kitchen, but go quietly. Cook is in there,” whispered Tom.

When Sebastian received the marquis’ letter, he and Olivia made haste to leave London that same day. They left their baby with the duke and duchess, claiming they had urgent government business elsewhere. They also enlisted the aid of four trained men from the home office and took off on horseback at breakneck speed for Land’s End, stopping only long enough to change horses, dine hastily and sleep a mere few hours before starting out again. Thus they reached Land’s End in record time.

As they neared their destination, Olivia set her worries about her sister Helena aside to admire the change in their surroundings. The trees had given way to the open sea. The wind kicked up blustery gusts, bringing with it the sharp tang of the sea as seagulls screeched their discordant songs.

“You’re frowning, Livy. Don’t worry so, my love.”

“I can’t help it, Sebastian. I’m making an effort, though. Trying to admire the scenery, as it were.”

They came to a fork where one branch of the road stopped at the cliffs of Land’s End and the second branch continued toward the fishing village of Sennen Cove. Sebastian examined the map he had procured from ordinance at the home office. “We must take the road on the right.”

Sebastian gave orders to two of the men to reconnoiter on ahead and report back. The rest turned their horses and were soon treated with their first glimpse of Waverley Castle. It rose above the cliffs, ancient but proud. As they spurred their horses on, Olivia said a silent prayer for her sister’s safety.