Читать книгу Compromising Miss Milton - Michelle Styles, Michelle Styles - Страница 10

Adam fastened his gaze on the slender wrist and the embroidered glove of the woman. Until his fingers closed around her, he had been nearly convinced she was another apparition, part of the never-ending parade of ghosts and phantoms that had plagued him ever since he had found a log to cling to, to keep his head above water. Always mocking him and then vanishing, always keeping that elusive answer of why the attack had happened beyond his reach.

He glanced upwards, following the line of the shiny black sleeve to the white collar fastened at her neck with a blue cameo and finally coming to rest on her glorious eyes. For a brief heartbeat, her features blurred and merged with the shadows, becoming the countenance of one of the dead. He blinked and the image vanished.

He swallowed, tasting once again the foul residue in his mouth. It had been at the last inn where his driver had insisted they change horses. Newcastle by mid-morning, Hawkins had said with a laugh, pressing a pint of foul ale on him. Had Hawkins survived? Or had the thieves saved Adam a job and slit his throat?

He pushed the thought from his mind. Later there would be the time for vengeance and retribution. Now, he had to survive. To get away from here. Alive.

His captive moved her hand upwards and silently tried to break free.

Adam regarded her with a jaundiced eye. The fates were definitely laughing at him. He had asked for help as he had struggled against the current, and this is what had appeared—a governess, someone who was more concerned about propriety and giving lip service than actually aiding anyone. Or, worse yet, a parody of a governess intent on harm. She had been about to search him for valuables. He was certain of it. The woman was no angel of mercy, but a black-hearted harpy.

‘Who sent you here?’ he asked, grinding out the words. ‘You might as well confess. I will find out in the end.’

‘Let go of my wrist,’ the woman said, her hideous straw bonnet slipping to one side and her golden-brown hair tumbling free.

Her tones were clear and precise like a bell, echoing in his mind, reminding him of someone, someone he should know. Adam willed his mind to clear. He had never seen this woman before. Ever. He would have remembered the eyes and the heart-shaped face.

‘Let. Me. Go. Now. Before I scream very loudly indeed.’

Adam concentrated on tightening his grip. It would come to him in a moment, the connection. He drew in a breath and his body protested once again at the pain of moving. He had thought lying in the river that he might have been in India again, lying in a pool of blood, waiting for the final blow, when he had been unable to get to Kamala, but had desperately wanted to. When he still thought Kamala might have feelings for him and he could redeem his earlier failure.

He was supposed to die then but didn’t. If he could cheat death once, he could do it again. But he had to know if this woman was friend or foe.

‘I am warning you.’ The woman tapped her foot and her eyes shot sparks. ‘Cease this nonsense immediately.’

‘I doubt anyone will hear you, save the odd sheep. Possibly a hawk.’ He permitted a smile to cross his lips and promptly regretted the pain. ‘Unless you have friends nearby.’

‘Friends?’ Her voice went up an octave and her being quivered. ‘Do you think I would have dragged you from the river if I could have sent a man? I saved your life—an act of mercy and one I will regret to my dying day.’

Adam levered his body to a sitting position and concentrated on the frivolous daisies embroidered on his captive’s gloves. Would a governess really wear such gloves in contrast to her severe costume? Not any that he encountered. But then the ones he remembered had too-big teeth or casts in their eyes. And their figures were not like this woman’s.

Suddenly he wanted done with it, to face his enemy instead of having him lurk in the shadows. He nodded towards the river and empty riverbank on the other side.

‘Go head, scream. Or else keep silent.’ Adam glared at her. ‘My head aches enough as is. I have no desire to hurt you. I only require a few answers—Answers you will give me sooner or later.’

She caught her bottom lip with neat white teeth, worrying it, but no sound emerged from her throat.

‘Thank you for confirming my view that you have no intention of screaming,’ Adam continued. ‘It always pleases me when I read women correctly.’

Her lips curved upwards, transforming her face, making it seem far too lively. ‘You harbour odd beliefs.’

‘It is never good to make threats that you do not intend to follow through. If you were going to scream, you would have screamed immediately and without warning. Perhaps you are hoping for a kiss.’

‘Do you always follow through on your threats?’ Her voice held the faintest tremor.

‘On my threats and my promises.’ Adam dropped his voice to seductive purr. There was more than one way to get an answer from a woman. ‘The kiss is a promise.’

Her cheeks flushed. ‘I have no desire…’

‘Ah, you wish to test my theory.’ Adam smiled. This supposed governess was behaving exactly like other women. It was disappointing in a way. He had hoped for more.

‘Please,’ she whispered.

Adam touched her shoulder and felt the black stuff give way under his touch and the warmth rise up from her. Her large grey-green eyes met his. A sense of satisfaction went through him.

Her next move would be a few false pleas combined with batted lashes and a single tear down her face to elicit pity and to appeal to his better nature. But that nature had vanished seven years ago in India. He would discover which of his enemies had sent her. And then they would pay. Slowly.

‘Shall we begin?’ he asked. ‘And I want the truth.’

She leant forwards, so that her mouth was inches from his. Her eyes danced with a sudden light. ‘Yes, let’s.’

Her piercing shriek rose and echoed back from the rocks above the waterfall, paining his ears.

He raised an eyebrow and glared up at her, concentrating on the few escaping tendrils of dark brown hair rather than the superior expression. ‘Did the scream make you feel better?’

‘Only if it hurt your ears. Like you, I keep my promises. I have been a governess for long enough to know how to handle awkward children.’

‘I am not a child. I am a grown man.’ The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He sounded like he was not yet in long trousers. He concentrated on keeping hold of her wrist.

‘Behave like one and let me go.’ Her eyes flashed, transforming her face and making him want to stare. There was something so alive about the woman. ‘Shall we repeat the exercise or do you release me?’

Most women of his acquaintance would have fainted by now, or at the very least declared their intent to faint, but not this woman. She appeared positively triumphant in her scream.

He cocked his head slightly, his body stilling. Adam’s fingers itched to shake her shoulders until she revealed everything, but he remained in control of his emotions and waited for her next move and to see what aid came to her rescue.

The woods were silent. No one was coming. Was she innocent? Could he take the chance?

‘Are you always this stubborn? Who knows who you could have alerted?’

Her chin tilted upwards. ‘It is my intention to alert someone. There are laws against this sort of behaviour. Molesting women.’

‘Someone? Someone in particular? Who?’

‘Does it matter?’ Her bonnet ribbons trembled slightly.

‘You can tell me. Who sent you? What secrets am I supposed to tell?’ He pulled her close, so that each one of her eyelashes was highlighted against her pale skin. Up close and unencumbered by the shadow of the bonnet, her face was striking—thin curved eyebrows, a straight nose and full lips that did more than hint at passion. ‘Give me his name. Who is your lover? Where does he hide? What does he want from me? What does he seek?’

‘I am unmarried, sir!’

‘Marriage has never been a requirement for taking a lover.’

‘It is with me.’ Her nostrils quivered with indignation and her cheeks flamed pink. ‘That is to say, I wish for no other lover than my eventual husband.’

‘And does he have a name? This fiancé of yours?’

‘I have no fiancé.’

‘No lover, no fiancé and no prospects. Is it any wonder you are a governess?’

‘I am a virtuous woman, whereas you are naught but a scoundrel and a rake.’

‘A woman of virtue! Truly a rare prize!’

‘My elbows are quite sharp.’ Her voice became shrill. ‘And I will not hesitate to use any means at my disposal to fight you. To the death if necessary. What is a woman when she has lost her virtue?’

‘What is she, indeed?’ Adam lifted his other hand and traced a finger down the rim of her bonnet. An errant curl brushed against it, surprising him with its softness. ‘More interesting? Yes, a woman who has lost her virtue is infinitely more intriguing.’

‘Let me go. I am…am not that sort of woman. Nor will I be—ever.’

‘Rest assured, ma’am, I have no designs on your virtue.’ He allowed his hand to drop. ‘But I will keep the suggestion under advisement.’

The woman’s mouth opened and closed several times. ‘You are impossible.’

‘My nurse proclaimed me a devil at the tender age of two.’ Adam permitted a smile to cross his face. He leant forwards so his head touched the brim. ‘I have made no attempt to improve.’

‘I saved your life, sir! Do not ruin mine! Let me go and I will answer your questions.’

The governess gave one last frantic tug and he let her go. She tumbled backwards and gave him a view of a neatly turned ankle, far neater than the dress suggested. The woman had something to hide. He could feel it in his bones. He would discover her secrets and destroy her if needs be.

‘Are you satisfied? You are free.’ He gathered his legs under him and wondered if they would have any power.

She gave a loud disapproving sniff and scuttled backwards. ‘You did not have to let me go that quickly.’

‘A proper gentleman never refuses a lady’s reasonable request. My dear mama taught me that.’

‘Are you a gentleman?’ She tilted her head and then shook her head in wonderment.

‘I was born one.’

‘Then behave like one.’ Her eyes slid away from his. Almost imperceptibly she began to inch towards her basket, shuffling backwards on her hands. Her fingers reached out towards it and then hesitated as she saw his face. Her white teeth worried her bottom lip and her eyes slid between his face and the basket. Then she gave a small sigh. He realised with a start of surprise that she intended on keeping her promise. A woman of integrity. Most unexpected.

‘I will answer all your questions, but I can shed no light on why you are here,’ she said with quiet firmness.

Adam frowned. He prided himself on being immune to feminine wiles. How many times had he seen the false pleas, the crocodile tears for yet another bauble? But this woman was sincere and willing to keep her promises. ‘You have no idea why I might have been attacked?’

She nodded vigorously, sending her bonnet sliding to one side of her face. ‘I give you my word as a governess and a lady brought low by family circumstance.’

The last words—family circumstance—hung in the air. Adam immediately recalled India. Then, too, Kamala had claimed to be a lady, brought low by family circumstance. She, too, had begged and pleaded with him to save her, but he had refused to act. Then he had taken her proof to his commander and had lost her for ever. Even now he heard Kamala’s voice whispering, begging him to forgive her. He refused to have another death on his conscience. The parade of ghosts was long enough already. He shook his head and willed those particular shades to go.

Adam looked up at the sky. He attempted to regain his balance, his famous cool demeanour. The events seven years ago had nothing to do with today.

What was it that was said about him in the clubs in London? Adam Ravensworth never loses his temper and always maintains control. Hah! Here he was attacking governesses, or whatever she was pretending to be. Had he fallen that far?

‘Why do you feel compelled to wear such ugly clothes? What are you attempting to conceal? Your magnificent figure?’

Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks and her hands went to automatically smooth her skirts and straighten her bonnet, hiding the glorious gold-brown hair that had spilled free. ‘Are you always this rude?’

‘I ask the questions. You answer them. It was our bargain.’

‘Your question is…personal.’ Her hand plucked at her skirts. ‘I am a governess. I wear what I wear because…it is appropriate. Your time is up.’

‘My questions are not finished.’

‘But I am.’ In one swift movement, she picked up her basket and started to stalk off. ‘I have no doubt that you will find your own way back to whatever hole you crawled from.’

His head pained him as he attempted to rise and sank back down again. Adam loudly cursed his weakness. The woman merely lifted an eyebrow and continued walking.

Adam winced. With her went his best hope of getting out of this hellish nightmare alive.

‘Thank you for saving my miserable life,’ he called out. ‘Allow me to show you my gratitude.’

Daisy hesitated. She had planned on running, but the wet black-stuff material made moving swiftly next to impossible.

‘Change, become a pleasant person now that you have been given a second chance,’ Daisy retorted and knew the instant the words left her mouth they were mistaken. She should have ignored his plea.

‘I did not ask for the carriage to be set upon.’ His soft words sent a warm pulse down her spine, holding her there. ‘Nor the beating. I am an innocent man. On my honour as a gentleman, I need your help desperately. Must I be reduced to begging? Forgive my sins and trespasses. At first I was convinced you were an apparition sent to plague me. Then I was certain you belonged to the gang. I suffered from malaria when I was in India.’

An apparition. Tears pricked Daisy’s eyelids. She remembered her brother Tom using the same sort of words when he was home on leave from the East India Company and suffering from a recurrence of the ague. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the man sitting there, bruising beginning to show on his face.

She glanced upwards and saw the hawk was now but a speck in the sky. Had all this happened so quickly?

Could she blame him if he had thought her somehow involved? How would she have behaved if she had been thrown into a river and left for dead? If she had not been sure a person was truly there, or their intent was peaceful?

You are too quick to judge, Daisy my girl. Give people a chance to prove their worth before leaping to conclusions. You might be pleasantly surprised. Her brother’s voice reprimanding her for some long-forgotten misdemeanour echoed in her brain. Her brother would never have left anyone in this condition, and neither could she.

Daisy retied the strings of her bonnet, making sure it was firmly on her head, reminding her of her position in the world. ‘You have not improved with age. You have ended up like your nurse predicted. The very devil.’

‘Hoisted by my own words.’ He shivered as he shook his head in mock despair. ‘There are devils and then there are demons.’

Daisy resisted the impulse to smile. His hair had flopped forwards, making him seem like a little boy. But there was nothing boyish about his mouth or his hooded glance. Here was a man who was aware of the seductive power he could wield over a woman. Daisy forced her shoulders to relax. He would be surprised when she proved immune.

‘I will listen to your story and then decide if you are deserving of my help. But I want facts and not embellishments. When did this start?’

‘There are simply not enough hours in the day to begin to explain, even if I knew where to begin.’ Adam ran a hand through his hair. A vast tiredness swept over him. Where should he begin? In India with Kamala, the necklace and its aftermath? But everyone save him was dead now. There could not be a connection. If he knew the why behind the attack, then he could give the woman some reason. No, it was best to keep things simple. ‘But like any law-abiding person I object to being beaten and robbed.’

Her full lips became a disapproving line. ‘Are you always this irritable? Or did drink contribute to this situation?’

Adam regarded the waterfall with its treacherous rocks. He should have died last night. He could see that now. A few inches to the right or left and the log he had clung to would have gone over. His head would have been dashed opened on the rocks. He closed his eyes, unable to bear the glare of the water any more. Arguing with this woman was the only thing that was keeping him from collapsing in a heap.

‘I don’t generally make a habit of jumping into fast-flowing rivers at night—drunk or sober.’

‘It is good to hear that you can be sensible.’ The woman’s voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘Are you from around here? How far do we have to go before I can bid you adieu?’

‘Where is here?’ Adam gazed at the crashing waterfall and the broad-leaf wood. How far had the coach had travelled and in what direction before they had stopped? He wanted to think the time had been short, but all his brain could summon was confused images. The carriage stopping, the shouts, the rude awakening from confused dreams.

‘You are near Gilsland in Cumberland.’ She put her basket down and shielded her eyes. ‘Shaw’s Hotel is no more than two miles from here.’

Gilsland! Adam raised his eyes heavenwards. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly. His attackers had made an error. In Gilsland he was known and could procure the means to go after the gang with relative ease, provided he could discover their lair.

‘The area is not noted for its thieves,’ he said slowly. ‘The border raids stopped over a century ago.’

‘Then you must have enemies.’

Adam considered the question. Who hated him enough to want him dead? He had broken with his mistress before he had left for Scotland, but she had received a good pay off and had gone into the arms of a baronet. The poor fool was welcome to her. His business associates would not dare. There was no one. No reason he could think of. His imaginings about the Indian thuggee—those long-dead murderers who attacked innocent travellers—were hallucinations brought on by the drugged beer. Had to be. But who wanted the necklace enough to bribe his driver? Who would take that sort of risk?

‘None that I felt would take such drastic measures.’ Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and bade the pains in his head to go. ‘It must be this area.’

‘Impossible, despite Sir Walter Scott’s tales to the contrary.’ The governess began to straighten her hideous bonnet as she expounded on her theme of the area being safe and very refined. Adam inched his way over to the basket. He touched the handle and secreted the necklace in between the lining and the wicker basket. Later when they had reached safety, he would retrieve it, but for now, it was best that it resided there, hidden. If she had no connection to the gang, then she would not be in danger. If she did, the thieves would deal with her.

‘A very pretty speech, but I was attacked here and, therefore, discount your theory,’ he said, bringing the recital of Gilsland’s virtue to a close.

The governess gave a loud sniff and straightened her mud-splattered gloves. The ring finger split open. She wrinkled her nose. ‘Bother!’

Adam lowered his voice to a seductive purr. ‘Allow me to get you another pair.’

Her cheeks flamed. ‘I could not possibly accept. It is not done. Ever.’

‘You have decided that I am a ruffian.’ Adam put a hand to his head and winced at the lump. Each breath he took pained his ribs. But he would procure another pair of gloves for the lady and she would accept them. It was the least he could do.

‘I am being practical.’ The governess picked up the basket and primly held it in front of her. ‘Without a formal introduction, I have no knowledge of your antecedents.’

‘It is my fault your gloves have become spoilt; even you will have trouble denying that.’ Adam regarded her with a practised eye. His manoeuvre had been a success. She suspected nothing. ‘Miss…’

‘Milton. Miss Daisy Milton…governess to Miss Prunella Blandish.’ She ignored his outstretched hand.

‘Adam Ravensworth, the third Viscount Ravensworth.’ He inclined his head. Lord knew, right now he needed an ally. He might be near Gilsland, but he was not in the hotel. He could remember the walk to the waterfall from the hotel took nearly the entire morning, not a prospect to be undertaken lightly, even in the best of health.

‘I had not realised that the second viscount—Lord Charles Ravensworth—had died.’

‘My grandfather died two years ago.’

‘Ah, that explains it. I recollect his despairing of his grandsons. Which one are you? The elder one who would not settle or the younger one who went to India?’

Adam started. Of all the responses, he had not expected that one. His grandfather had been well known once, but his gout had made it difficult for him to go out in the final years. Sometimes, he had spoken querulously about everyone but his immediate family considering him long gone from this world. Had he once long ago met this woman? It would explain the strange air of familiarity. He half-smiled—nothing to do with India and everything to do with Warwickshire and home. ‘How did you know my grandfather?’

‘He was a client of my first employer. Years ago. He came to dinner once.’ Miss Milton gave a distinct nod. ‘You have a certain look about your nose and eyes that recalls his features. He, however, was a perfect gentleman.’

‘Why did you sit next to my grandfather?’ Adam ignored the gentleman remark. He never thought he’d have occasion to bless the old man, but right now, he blessed his grandfather’s foresight in attending that dinner party.

‘They needed a spare woman to make up the dinner party and felt I had the necessary qualifications.’

‘Your employer was…’

‘His solicitor.’

‘Which one of Marsden, Flyte and Wainwright?’ Adam held up his hand, stopping her words. ‘Allow me to guess—Flyte has two little girls. He recently remarried after being widowed, but is reckoned to have an eye for the ladies.’

Miss Milton drew in her breath sharply and her cheeks flamed. Adam made a mental note to send Mr Flyte’s wandering eye a case of the best port once he reached civilisation.

‘The late Mrs Flyte gave me a good reference when I felt it necessary to depart, as well as invaluable advice on the proper attire and conduct for a governess.’

‘I take it you did not plan to become a governess.’

She picked at the edge of her glove. ‘My father was a solicitor. After his death, quickly followed by my brother’s, it was apparent that my annuity would not cover everything.’

Adam did not need to see the slight nod. Her story was probably a familiar one. Dead father with little or no family. Forced to become dependent on the good will of others and her spirit crushed. Not completely, he corrected his thoughts, but only allowed in small flashes. How could anyone enjoy such an existence? But it would take a more determined man than he to free her from the shackles of governess servitude.

‘You may consider me safe. I was the one who went to India and returned with a fortune.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘My brother died in a boating accident. The gloves are a promise, Miss Milton, as you spoilt them to save my life. You will admit that we have a connection.’

‘But our slight connection does not permit you to replace my gloves.’ Miss Milton drew back.

‘A pity.’ Adam ignored the pulling on his shoulder. ‘You will have them and you may then throw them in to the fire. But never let it be said that I did not honour a debt.’

‘Indeed.’ Her lips became a thin white line. Adam wondered why he kept glancing at them, and at the outline of her figure. Despite the hideousness of the gown, she could not quite conceal her curves. ‘And what else do you want for these gloves?’

‘I need your help, Miss Milton. I ask for it based on your past friendship with my grandfather.’

‘What sort of help?’ Miss Milton put her hands behind her back and took a step backwards, stumbling over her basket. She picked it up and held it out in front of her like a shield.

‘I want to get away from here, from this river.’

‘You want me to hide you.’ A frown appeared between her eyebrows. ‘You want me to protect you from the law.’

‘No, I want you take me to Shaw’s Hotel in Gilsland.’ Adam bit out the words. Slowly. ‘Your involvement will end there. I will endeavour to see your reputation does not suffer from being alone with me.’

‘You want nothing more from me?’ She tilted her head to one side.

‘Nothing at all.’ Adam ignored the vague pricking of his conscience about the necklace. What she didn’t know could not hurt her. ‘Do we have an agreement, Miss Milton?’