Читать книгу The Viscount's Kiss - Margaret Moore, Paul Hammerness - Страница 12

Someday, we may learn what forces move the salmon to make that dangerous journey upstream to spawn, or why a dog will sit for hours by the bed of its deceased master. Yet for now, there remain instincts and emotions, reactions and defensive intuitions, unknown and mysterious, that govern every living creature upon the earth.

—from The Spider’s Web, by Lord Bromwell

Panting, aghast, Nell’s whole body shook as she faced him. Yet in spite of her distress, she stayed silent, for the footsteps came up the stairs, then past the room. Another door opened farther along the corridor. Mrs. Jenkins’s voice mumbled a sleepy greeting to her husband, who muttered something about a sick horse before the door shut again.

“Get away from the door,” Nell ordered with quiet ferocity, gripping the handle of her valise, prepared to swing it at Lord Bromwell’s head. She had been trapped by a man before and fought her way free, and she would do it again if necessary.

Unlike Lord Sturmpole, however, the viscount addressed her not with arrogant outrage, but as calmly as if they were conversing in a park on a summer’s day. “Are you planning to walk to Bath in the dead of night?”

His tone and his distance were a little reassuring, but she wasn’t willing to trust him. “I’ve told you what I’m doing. Now let me pass!”

“There’s no need to be frightened,” he said, still not moving any closer. “I won’t hurt you. I’m hoping I can be of service to you.”

Service? What kind of service did he have in mind? Lord Sturmpole had claimed she would benefit from his attentions—and suffer if she refused.

Yet there was one important difference between her situation in Sturmpole’s study and this. She had been horrified by Lord Sturmpole’s advances; she had not been by Lord Bromwell’s.

Nevertheless, she wasn’t about to let him know that, or to have anything more to do with him. “Perhaps my impulsive reaction to your impertinent embrace has given you the wrong idea, my lord. I assure you that I do not go around kissing men to whom I’ve not been introduced. Or those to whom I have been introduced, either,” she added.

“I’m delighted to hear it, but the service I wish to offer is not the sort you seem to be assuming. Despite my lapse of manners earlier today, I’m not a cad or scoundrel who seeks to take advantage of a woman. It’s obvious something is amiss here, and my only intention is to find out what it is and help you if I can.”

“By holding me prisoner?”

He ignored her question. “If all is quite well, why are you travelling alone, wearing gowns that don’t fit properly and neglecting to use your title? And why, my lady, are you attempting to leave this inn in the middle of the night?”

It felt as if the room had grown very cold. “I am not a lady.”

“You’re not Lady Eleanor Springford?”

Nell struggled to hide her growing panic. She wasn’t Lady Eleanor, or any kind of lady. She’d heard that name in school, from one of her fellow students who was forever bragging about her lofty, if distant, relations. Nell had thought it wise to use a name similar to her own because it would be easy to remember.

That seemed the most ridiculous of reasons now.

But surely if he had met Lady Eleanor, he would have known at once that she was an impostor and said something before this, or summoned the law.

“No, I’m not and I never said I was,” she replied, wary and determined to reply with more care. “Nor am I running away. I’m going to visit my uncle in Bath. As for my gown, I thought you were an expert on spiders, my lord, not ladies’ fashions.”

“It is my nature to be observant.”

“My modiste had a terrible seamstress in her employ. Unfortunately, there was no time to find or hire a better one before my departure.”

She crossed to the window and turned with an indignant huff, despite her trembling legs and the trickle of perspiration down her back. “There is the door, my lord. Now that I’ve explained, please use it.”

He planted his feet and crossed his arms. “Not until I’m sure you’re not in trouble.”

Oh, God help her. She believed he meant that, and that he had no selfish, licentious motive—but why did she have to encounter a chivalrous gentleman here, and now? “Your aid is quite misguided, my lord. I am in no trouble.”

“Then, unfortunately, I must assume you’re attempting to renege on the payment of your night’s accommodation.”

She stared at him, aghast, her mind working quickly. He was right, after all, but of course she couldn’t admit that.

She thought of one excuse he might accept. “There may be another explanation for my wish to leave this room, my lord.”

He raised a querying brow.

“Has it not occurred to you that I might be afraid to be sleeping so near the man who so impertinently kissed me? Who can say what else you might be capable of, as your presence in this chamber attests?”

His eyes widened. “You fear I would attack you?”

“Why should I not believe you are capable of such an act? You did, after all, embrace me without my consent or invitation, accost me in the corridor, follow me into this bedroom and you refuse to leave.”

“I’m a gentleman, as my friends and associates will tell you, or the Jenkinses.”

“I don’t call your behavior today very gentlemanly.”

He ran his hand through his hair before he answered. “Nor can I,” he admitted. “However, it is not unknown for people to behave under duress as they never would otherwise. I believe it was so in my case. I was not quite myself after the carriage overturned.”

Neither was she.

Still, she wasn’t going to let him think he could behave any way he would, and she would accept it. “The women on that island you were describing at supper—would they consider you a proper gentleman, if they knew what behavior was expected of one?”

“Yes, they would,” he firmly replied. “I acted in complete accordance with their customs and beliefs.”

“As I have done nothing wrong.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, “but either you are some kind of cheat or criminal, or you’re running from someone or something. If it is the former, I am duty-bound to hold you here. If it is the latter, I ask you again to allow me to be of assistance. But whatever your answer, I’m not going to allow you to go wandering about the countryside at night. It’s too dangerous and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Whether he was genuinely concerned for her safety or not, she could see his determined resolve and realized he wouldn’t leave until she gave him an explanation that was both feasible and believable.

She would have to come up with one.

Remembering what the driver had told her about Lord Bromwell’s father and the way he’d chastised his son, she put down her valise, which contained her clothes, her toilet articles and three of Lady Sturmpole’s gowns.

Spreading her arms in a gesture of surrender, she spoke as if reluctantly revealing the truth. “Very well, my lord. You are quite right. I am Lady Eleanor Springford and I am running from someone—my parents and the Italian nobleman they’re trying to force me to marry. The count is rich and has three castles, but he’s old enough to be a grandfather and lecherous into the bargain. He has twice as many mistresses as manors and, despite his age, gives no sign of wishing to be loyal to a wife. That’s why I ran away and have no maid or servant to accompany me.”

“This is the nineteenth century, not the Dark Ages,” Lord Bromwell said, his brow furrowed. “Surely you could simply refuse the betrothal rather than running away alone and putting yourself in danger.”

She walked to the washstand and toyed with the end of a towel. “I suppose one can’t expect a man who’s been free to travel the world to understand the pressure than can be brought to bear upon a woman to marry, especially if the groom is a very wealthy aristocrat and her family not as rich as people believe.”

“Actually, I can,” Lord Bromwell said from where he still stood by the door. “My parents were far from pleased with my choice of career and my mother begged me not to go on my last expedition, so I do know something about parental expectations and coercion. Yet surely they would have relented in time. I daresay they’re frantic with worry about you now.”

“Perhaps. I’m unfortunately certain they’re searching for me, although I hope they’re still looking in Italy.”

“You’ve come all the way from Italy by yourself?” he asked with undisguised awe.

She’d really come all the way from Yorkshire, but she couldn’t admit that, either. “Yes, our family went there for my father’s health.”

That was what Letitia Applesmith had told them and Lady Sturmpole had confirmed during an afternoon of gossip with a friend that Nell had dutifully endured.

Lord Bromwell’s frown deepened and she wondered if he knew something she didn’t about the Duke of Wymerton or his family, until he said, “Yes, I believe my mother mentioned that.”

“Travelling alone wasn’t as difficult as I feared,” Nell said, relieved. “Most people were very kind, especially the women, who guessed, I think, that I was fleeing an unhappy domestic situation. Sometimes a man made an unwelcome remark, but no one touched me until…well, until you, my lord.”

He blushed like a bashful boy, and she hurried on, not wishing to dwell on that encounter. “It must have been the shock of the accident that made me tell you my real name and I beg you not to reveal it. You’re so famous, the press is bound to hear about the coach overturning, and perhaps learn who was with you. I’m hoping to get to the home of my godfather, Lord Ruttles, in Bath as quickly as possible. He will take my side and protect me, I’m sure.”

“I see,” the viscount said, regarding her with such genuine, kind sympathy, she felt like the worst, most degenerate criminal in the world. “Do you have any money? Or is the lack of it the reason that you’re sneaking out?”

Trying to ignore his sympathetic expression, she said, “I have a little money left, but not enough to pay for this room.”

“I shall gladly assume that cost.”

She was sure he could afford it, so she didn’t protest. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Despite your success thus far, I am not comfortable allowing you to continue your journey alone and short of funds. Would you consider accepting an invitation to my family’s estate? It’s a few miles outside Bath. You’ll be safe from pursuit there, and you can send a message to your godfather to come to you there.”

His cheeks colored and his gaze drifted to the floor. “You need not fear that I shall attempt to take advantage of the situation, or of you.”

Recognizing his generosity for the disinterested kindness it was, she was grateful, even if she couldn’t accept his offer. “Thank you, but I couldn’t impose and I think it would be better if I don’t involve you or your family in my troubles, my lord.”

“As you wish,” he replied, his disappointment obvious, although his tone was still kind and concerned. “However, you must allow me to pay for your room tonight and provide you with sufficient funds for the rest of your journey.”

He reached into his trouser pocket and produced a wallet of thin, soft leather. He opened it and drew out several ten-pound banknotes.

She didn’t want to accept, but she needed the money. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, taking the bills he held out to her and folding them in her hand. “I shall never forget your generosity.”

Or your kiss.

“I shall repay you as soon as I can.”

Whenever, if ever, that might be possible, and provided she wanted him to learn that she had deceived him.

He smiled, looking incredibly handsome and virile in the moonlight. “I must say I didn’t expect to have such an exciting, eventful coach ride to Bath.”

“Neither did I. I don’t know what we would have done after the coach overturned if you hadn’t been there.”

“I’m sure you would have managed. You’re obviously an intelligent, resourceful woman.”

Coming from another man, that might not have seemed a compliment. Coming from him, however, she was sure it was. “As you are a most courageous, chivalrous man.”

He began to walk closer. She waited, holding her breath, expecting—hoping for—another kiss.

Until he immediately halted a few feet away. “I had best get back to my room before I’m discovered here and explanations are required. I wouldn’t want our reputations to be ruined, although mine is already subject to some speculation.”

Tucking the notes into her bodice, she followed him to the door, sorry for the lies, wanting him to know she was truly grateful, because she would never be able to repay him. After tomorrow, she would never see him again. “I really do appreciate your kindness and generosity, my lord.”

A cock crowed in the yard below and he gave her a wry little smile as he eased open the door. “Good day, my lady.”

“Wait!” she cried softly.

He turned back, his blue-gray eyes wide with query.

She couldn’t help it. She had to do it.

She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him forward and kissed him. Not lightly and tenderly, as he had kissed her in the coach, but passionately, fervently, as her desire demanded.

Lord Bromwell stiffened, motionless with either shock or dismay. For a terrible instant, she thought he was going to push her away—but then his arms went around her and he held her close, deepening the kiss, his tongue probing until she parted her lips. She relaxed against him, her knees soft as pudding, her breasts pressed against his hard, muscular chest.

How he could kiss! Excitement ran along her veins, her flesh, setting it tingling with need. She had recoiled from her former employers’ unwelcome embrace with all the force of her outrage, but she wanted nothing more than for Lord Bromwell to pick her up in his strong arms and carry her to the bed and lay her down and…

As if he could read her mind, Lord Bromwell moved farther into the room, taking her with him and shoving the door closed so that her back was against it. Still kissing her, he slid his hand around her side to cup her breast through her pelisse and gown.

Her breathing quickening, her body warming, she slipped her hand under his shirt, feeling his heated skin, the muscles bunching beneath. She had never been this intimate with a man, had never wanted to be, but every part of her mind urged her to tear off his shirt and press her lips to his naked skin.

She began to bunch the tail of his shirt in her hands and lift it until, with a gasp, he broke the kiss and stepped back, his eyes wide in the dawning light.

His chest heaving, his brow furrowed with scholarly concentration. “Once again, forgive me. Being a civilized human being, I should be able to overcome my primal urges.”

His primal urges? This time, she had been the one to act upon hers.

He put his hand on the latch. “I wish you well, my lady.”

“And I, you, my lord,” she whispered as he slipped out of the room.

Nell moved away from the door toward the bed. She had never been more ashamed, not even when she was stealing from Lord Sturmpole.

What came over her when she was with Lord Bromwell? How could she behave with such wanton disregard for the risk she was taking, and that his fame engendered?

She had barely sat on the end of the bed before Mrs. Jenkins blew into the room carrying a steaming pitcher of hot water.

“Good morning,” she said as she set it on the washstand. “All ready for an early start, I see. It’s a fine day for travelling, I must say. Breakfast will be ready shortly. I’ll just make up the bed, if you don’t mind.”

Nell quickly went to wash.

“Quite a fine fellow, isn’t he?” Mrs. Jenkins asked.

“Who?” Nell asked, although she was sure she knew to whom Mrs. Jenkins referred.

“Why, Lord Bromwell, o’ course,” the woman replied as she plumped the pillow. “You’re a very lucky woman, my dear.”

“We were fortunate he was with us with the coach overturned. We might have worsened Thompkins’s injuries if he’d not been there to tell us not to move him.”

“That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t born yesterday, my dear,” the innkeeper’s wife replied.

“He’s never brought a woman here before, though, nor have any of his friends,” she continued as she worked, “and a fine lot of scoundrels they can be, or so I’ve heard, all but the lawyer. He’s as grim as a ghost, that one. Hard to believe he’s married now, but then, I’d have said I’d never see the day Lord Bromwell would bring his—”

“I fear you’re under a misapprehension, Mrs. Jenkins,” Nell interjected, wondering why she’d let the woman go on for so long. “Lord Bromwell didn’t bring me and I am not his anything. I was merely a passenger in the same coach.”

Again, Mrs. Jenkins straightened, but this time she frowned. “Say what you like, my girl, but the floors creak something fierce. You weren’t alone in this room.”

“I was upset after the accident and couldn’t sleep. You simply heard me moving about. By myself.”

Mrs. Jenkins shook her head. “There’s no point lying to me. I’ve never seen Lord Bromwell look at anything the way he looked at you last night, ’cept the time he caught the biggest spider I ever laid eyes on in the stable.”

“I hardly think it’s a compliment or a sign of affection if he regards me as he would a spider,” Nell retorted in her best imitation of a haughty young lady. “If indeed, he does regard me with anything more than mild interest.”

“You sound just like him, too, when he’s going on about his spiders,” Mrs. Jenkins said with a sigh, apparently not the least put off by Nell’s imperious manner. “Can’t follow the half of it. He’s got a lovely voice, though, ain’t he?”

He did, but Nell wasn’t going to agree in case the woman took that for additional confirmation of her suspicions.

The innkeeper’s wife fixed her with a worldly-wise eye. “And then, I saw him leaving your room.”

That wasn’t so easy to explain. Nevertheless, she tried. “He merely wished to ascertain if I had been able to sleep despite the accident.”

“You’re a smooth one, I must say,” Mrs. Jenkins replied with a wry shake of her capped head as she wrestled the featherbed back into place. “But there’s no need to lie to me. I don’t blame you a bit, even if others might. Why, if I was twenty years younger and unmarried, I’d be the first to…”

She cleared her throat and her broad cheeks pinked. “Well, I’m not, so never mind. I just wanted to say this before you go. He’s a good man, and a kind one, so I hope you won’t break his heart.”

“I am in no position to do so,” Nell firmly assured her, “nor will I ever be and I say again that he came to my room only to ascertain if I was all right.”

“Have it your own way then,” Mrs. Jenkins replied, clearly still not believing her explanation.

This situation was getting worse and worse, Nell thought with dismay. She was a decent, respectable young woman—or had been until six days ago. Now she could be branded a thief and immoral into the bargain, especially if Lord Bromwell paid for her accommodation.

On the other hand, Lord Sturmpole would never suspect the woman he was chasing was the same woman others believed to be the mistress of the famous Lord Bromwell.

“Have you informed Lord Bromwell of your conclusion?” she asked.

“If it was anybody else,” the innkeeper’s wife replied, “I’d have thrown them out the minute I realized what was goin’ on. Jenkins and I run a respectable inn, we do.”

So she had kept her suspicions to herself, which was a relief. “Thank you for your kindness and discretion,” Nell said. “Lord Bromwell and I are most grateful, especially if you’ll continue to keep our secret.”

“Worried about losing sponsors for his next expedition if word gets out, is he?” Mrs. Jenkins asked with triumphant satisfaction.

Nell hadn’t known the viscount intended to sail again, but she hid her surprise and nodded, for a scandal would surely hamper such efforts despite his previous success.

“Well, my dear, you can count on me. But mind what I said about breaking his heart, or you’ll have me to reckon with!”

“I shall,” Nell promised, even as she noted the good woman didn’t seem to care about the state of her heart. Perhaps Mrs. Jenkins considered her simply mercenary, with no heart to break. “Do you know where Lord Bromwell is now?”

“In the stables, I think, probably looking for another spider.”

Nell suppressed a shiver as she hurried from the room.

It didn’t take her long to find Lord Bromwell. He was standing by the stables, talking to one of the grooms.

He still wore no hat, and his hair ruffled slightly in the breeze. He also had on dark trousers, white shirt, light green vest and the same shining boots and well-fitting gloves. He leaned his weight casually on one leg, and she could hear him laughing.

His laugh was as nice as the rest of him.

She hoped he never found out the truth about her. That way, he might remember her with affection, as she would certainly remember him.

Before she could catch his attention, a large black coach with an ornate coat of arms on the lacquered door came barrelling into the yard. The driver, dressed in scarlet and gold livery, shouted and pulled on the reins with all his might to stop the coach, while the footmen at the back held on for dear life as it came to a rocking halt.

No one in the inn’s yard moved—not even the dogs—or spoke as one of the livered footmen leapt down, staggering a bit as he went to open the door of the coach and lower the step.

A tall, imposing gentleman appeared, wearing an indigo greatcoat with four capes and large brass buttons. As he stood on the step, his gaze swept over the yard until it came to rest upon Lord Bromwell.

As if announcing the end was nigh, the man threw out his arms and cried, “My son!”