The Major and the Pickpocket. Lucy Ashford
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chest. And all the time, as he pressed his lips mercilessly against hers, all the time, as his strong hands played across her back for the benefit of the constables, pulling her even closer, she’d felt an insistent ache of longing, a melting in the pit of her stomach, as though a flame had been kindled there…
Worst of all, though, had been the cold, shivery feeling that engulfed her when at last he let her go, and insulted her so hatefully in front of those leering constables.
They had some plan afoot, the arrogant Marcus and his friend Hal—something to do with a man called Corbridge. Then when she’d tried to run away, they’d kidnapped her and brought her here. Why? Oh, this was playing deeper than she’d ever intended when she planned her stunt with Lemuel last night. She had to get out of here.
Just then she heard the sound of footsteps coming towards her door. She jumped up, her arms folded defensively across her breasts as she heard a key turning in the lock. Her heart thumped so heavily she thought she might choke. The door opened, and a woman glided into the room. She wore a black gown, edged frugally with lace; her brown hair was gathered tightly at the nape of her neck. She was young, yet she was dressed like a middle-aged matron. Was she perhaps the housekeeper here? Behind her followed a thin female servant, also in black, but with a starched white apron over her skirt and a white lace cap on her head. She carried a tray of food, and her expression was dauntingly grim. But the first woman smiled at Tassie and, to Tassie’s astonishment, her unremarkable face was quite transformed by the kindness that shone from within her.
‘My dear,’ she said softly, ‘you should not have got out of bed! You should still be resting.’ She turned to the maid, who had put the tray down on a small satinwood table. ‘That will be all, thank you, Emilia. You may go.’
The maid gave Tassie a far from friendly look, which Tassie duly registered. Then she left, and Tassie waited, tense, silent. ‘You looked so ill, my dear,’ the woman was continuing, ‘when Hal and Major Forrester—Marcus—brought you here last night. You need to rest. And you need plenty of good, nourishing food.’
Major Forrester. An army officer. Tassie shut her eyes and opened them, both frightened and perplexed. If Hal and Marcus had brought her here, why hadn’t they told this kind woman—who clearly had authority—that Tassie was a common thief and a cheat to boot?
‘We thought you might enjoy a light meal after your rest.’ The woman pointed encouragingly at the tray. ‘What is your name, pray?’
Tassie took a deep breath. ‘Tassie. That’s all—ma’ am.’
‘Then welcome to this house, Tassie. Hal has instructed me to look after you until you get your strength back.’
Tassie muttered, ‘Saints and fiddlesticks, I don’t believe—’ She corrected herself rapidly. ‘I mean—why, ma’am?’
‘Oh, you poor thing, of course, you’ll hardly remember! You’re here because Hal and Marcus found you, hungry and near-frozen with cold, out on the streets last night. You fainted; they couldn’t just leave you there.’
Tassie blinked. So the two men hadn’t told this lady anything like the truth, and the omission did nothing to reassure her. She glanced quickly at the door, wondering whether to make a run for it right now. ‘They have acted very—nobly,’ she breathed.
Her irony was completely lost on the other woman. ‘Well, naturally!’ She smiled. ‘Hal is sometimes rash and impetuous, but he has a most generous heart. And so, of course, has Marcus. Gracious me, here I am, rattling on, and your food is growing cold! I’ll leave you to eat in peace—but first, can I let anyone know you are here? Friends, or family?’
‘No one, ma’am,’ said Tassie in a small voice. No one at all—she should be used to it by now, but even so she was caught unawares by the sudden ache in her throat. ‘But you are kind to think of it. My—my thanks.’
The lady in black frowned, her head a little on one side. ‘Strange,’ she murmured. ‘Hal and Marcus said you were from one of the poorest quarters of the city, but your voice, your manner of speaking, give that the lie. Surely you have not always lived in poverty?’
‘I was brought up in the country,’ said Tassie quickly. ‘I am an orphan.’
‘Ah, one hears such sad stories about orphans…Were you treated kindly?’
Tassie shrugged. ‘I was fed, and given a roof over my head, ma’am.’
‘I see. Tassie. Tassie. What an interesting name. Well, enough of my questions. Enjoy your food. I will visit you later; no doubt Marcus will also.’
The lady left the room, closing the door behind her. Tassie, bracing herself anew at the sound of Marcus’s name, heard her footsteps retreating softly down the corridor, and drew a deep, deep breath to steady herself. For the kind lady had helped her more than she would ever know, in that she had forgotten to lock the door…
Marcus, who had been restlessly pacing the first-floor drawing room as the afternoon sun sank low in the sky, turned questioningly towards the black-gowned Caro Blakesley as she came to join him. Hal’s sister was one of the kindest, sweetest people he knew, and the death of her husband in a riding accident a year ago was a tragedy she had borne with dignity. Now he asked her, quickly, ‘Is she awake, Caro? She’s not ill, is she?’
‘She seems well, Marcus. I think the girl slept for so long simply because she was totally exhausted, and weak with hunger, poor thing. I took her a hot meal and told her to rest. She was most grateful.’
Marcus’s grey eyes narrowed. ‘Grateful? Are you sure of that?’
‘Yes! Contrary to what you said, she seems to me to have a shy but sweet nature. Her name is Tassie. I was quite enchanted by—’
Marcus broke in. ‘Caro. You did lock the door to her room again, didn’t you?’
Caro hesitated. ‘Why, no, I did not. It seems so hard to keep her a prisoner, when she is such a meek, gentle thing! She was an orphan, you know, brought up in the country…’
But Marcus was no longer listening, because he was already heading for the hallway.
He caught Tassie at the top of the stairs. She turned to run, but he was on her in seconds, grasping her firmly as her arms and legs flailed amidst the loose folds of her voluminous nightdress. Breathing hard, a little too conscious of her strikingly feminine form beneath the enveloping garment, Marcus carted her back down the corridor and threw her on to the four-poster bed, then very firmly shut the door. Outside, the February dusk was gathering into chilly darkness; he quickly closed the curtains, and lit a candle from the low-burning fire, while Tassie lay there glaring at him.
He went to stand over her, his hands on his hips, and said in a voice calculated to frighten her far more than any ranting or raving, ‘I was informed that you were resting.’
‘Yes. Yes, I was!’
‘Caro—like her brother, Hal—is good, and kind, and far too trusting.’
Tassie heaved herself up. ‘Caro—that lady—she is Hal’s sister?’
‘Of course. Why, what else could she be?’
Tassie muttered, ‘I thought she was p’raps the housekeeper here.’
‘Housekeeper!’
‘Well, how was I supposed to know different? Nobody said!’ She felt her heart thumping rather hard again, but tossed back her loose hair defiantly. ‘Any rate, one thing’s for sure: Caro is kinder than you!’
‘Certainly I’m not so easily taken in by a cunning trickster.’ He smiled dangerously. ‘Trying to escape, were you? Decided to do a runner?’
Tassie bit her lip. She certainly wasn’t going to try to run past him, even if he did have a limp. She was nearly as tall as Lemuel, but this man towered over her, six foot of hardened muscle, shoulders forbiddingly broad beneath his riding