Saying I Do To The Scoundrel. Liz Tyner
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clasped her gloved hands in front of her and spoke, stepping back. ‘Thank you for your time and I will send someone around with a parcel of soap as a memento of our conversation.’
He picked up the bottle and blew across the opening to make the low, whistling sound.
Miss Wilder captured his attention again as she brushed at her sleeve without thinking, and spoke. ‘Sir, I hope after we complete our business you use the money to find an honest endeavour.’
With those words, she rose as if leaving her subjects. He didn’t even stand as a courtesy.
The door closed softly when she left. Brandt walked to the door, took the key from the wall and locked the latch. That would teach him to come home with enough drink in him to splash up to his ears.
He refused to get bathing water, or his razor.
He settled back in his chair and put his elbow on the table, and made a fist but extended two fingers and put his forehead against them.
Miss Wilder solicited him for a crime, the likes of which he had never even contemplated before, and then chided him to find honest work.
And she made him feel something—something different than a peaceful drunkenness or the black crevasse of desolation. He preferred their companionship.
He took another swallow. Then, he pressed back, again raising the front legs of his chair off the floor, trying to recapture a moment of sitting unconcerned and relaxed. But the image of the woman standing at the door, condemnation in her eyes, would not go away. Anger rolled throughout his body and he could almost hear emotion rumbling in his ears.
He moved, letting the front legs of his chair jar the floor, and stood. Grabbing his hat from the peg, he pulled it on so it covered much of his head. ‘Not as much sense as a tavern wench,’ he muttered, not knowing if he talked of himself or her. He clutched his frock coat and slipped it over his bare arms. He unlocked the door and buttoned the coat as he hurried, hoping he could still catch sight of the bonnet. He wanted to know where she lived.
He wouldn’t let Miss Wilder fashion a noose for him. He’d at least select his own rope for the hangman.
As soon as Katherine turned the corner and knew she was away from the windows of his home, she grabbed the arm of the older woman and pulled her to a stop. She gulped in breaths of air, concentrating on the movement of her lungs. ‘You must steady me as my knees are trembling.’
Mrs Caudle put a hand on Katherine’s arm, and squeezed. ‘All of you is trembling.’
Katherine closed her eyes, straightened her back and then looked into Mrs Caudle’s face. ‘I will not let Augustine destroy me. I will use him to grow stronger and then I’ll use that strength against him.’
‘You are as wilful as he is.’
Katherine shrugged away the talk of her stubbornness and they crossed the street, moving towards the cared-for shops.
The older woman kicked at a dried pod of horse dung. ‘You’ve got to move from your stepfather soon or Fillmore will have you in his grasp.’
A carriage rumbled past, drowning the words.
‘I know,’ Katherine spoke. ‘And he is determined that Gussie be sent to a madhouse. As soon as I get the ransom, the very next time he tells you to take her away, do so. I will have a house for the three of us.’
She shook her head. ‘Gussie’s his own blood and he wants her put away.’
‘He thinks she’s damaged because she doesn’t speak and hides from him,’ Mrs Caudle said. ‘But since she first toddled about, he would throw something at her or shout when she got in his way. She’s much better when he’s away, and he refuses to let her leave the house. I don’t know if it’s because he’s afraid someone will see her and think his blood tainted.’
‘Or because he thinks I will run away with her.’ Katherine nodded, stepping faster to hurry them past the windows. ‘We must separate her from Augustine. Otherwise, he’ll likely put her in St. Mary’s and she’ll be locked away.’
‘The sooner she gets away, the better,’ the governess said. ‘Another footman left the house this week because Augustine threw a dish at him.
‘If that wastrel doesn’t do this...’ Katherine tugged at her bonnet ties ‘... I will handle the kidnapping on my own. I just need someone who looks like a rogue and he does. I’ll prop him up if I have to. Augustine has to believe it is true.’
Katherine pushed back a strand of hair which had escaped from her bonnet. She slowed and tried to catch her reflection in the windows as she walked. She wanted no hint showing of where she’d been.
The old woman laughed. ‘You have to admit he doesn’t wish to kidnap anyone. That speaks highly of him.’
‘Yes, but we...’ She groaned, increased her speed, and put a hand to her hip. ‘I will just have to do it myself. I can, I’m sure.’
‘You need ransom money and a place to hide. And Fillmore has to believe it. The only way your stepfather will pay anything to have you returned is if his nephew says he must.’
‘We have to have someone Augustine doesn’t know,’ Katherine agreed, searching for a hackney. ‘That scruff of a man can do it.’
‘I wouldn’t call him a scruff. If you’re going down an ill-got path, he’d be the place to begin.’
‘I don’t want to go down any paths. I want to hide. Peacefully. In the country. With you and Gussie.’
A donkey and cart awaited them, a young man with obsidian hair holding the reins of the donkey.
Few people were on the street and she didn’t want any of Augustine’s friends happening upon her. She’d known better than to request the carriage. Augustine would have needed it for some reason or other. Or worse, he might have insisted he would go along. When they were trapped in a carriage, he complained or chastised with every turn of the wheels.
‘Child. The lad will kidnap you,’ the old woman insisted, helping Katherine into the cart. ‘He’s got the sight of you and he won’t be able to walk away. Remember, when you find yourself alone with him—don’t breathe the same air as he does. Men put off an elixir or something. I’ve thought on it for years and can’t get it figured for sure. I think it’s the way they breathe and it blinds us. Blinds us. Pulls our senses right out of our body. Makes us forget about all else, but having our way with them.’ She shook her head. ‘You don’t need to be wasting your virtue.’ She raised her voice. ‘And do not breathe in when he’s close enough to sniff.’
The old woman jumped into the cart with the same spry step as the youth and called to the donkey to move.
She mopped her brow with a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. ‘Lad’s rather sturdier looking than I expected.’ She mumbled something else, turning her head sideways so Katherine couldn’t hear her over the hooves.
Katherine thought back to the man. ‘I’d like to see him cleaned up a bit.’
‘Ho. Ho. Take my word for it. This one would clean up sparkly as a new guinea. You’d best be hoping he don’t clean up none around you, child.’ She nudged Katherine’s foot with her booted one. ‘I’ve not seen many like him in my life. You be keeping your toes on your hem when he’s about or your skirt might be flying over your head on its own.’
Katherine raised her chin. ‘I’m not a jade.’
‘Don’t matter. He’s full of elixir. I could tell that the moment I laid eyes on him.’
* * *
The house welcomed Katherine, but only from the outside. At the front, filigree bowers for ivy stood almost