Regency Affairs Part 2: Books 7-12 Of 12. Ann Lethbridge
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‘It’s all right,’ he said soothingly to her. ‘It’s all right, sweetheart.’ He gazed narrowly at Rosalie. ‘You’ve nowhere to go, you’re not well and you have the child to think of. You’re what I’d call in trouble.’
‘Lord Maybury would have helped me!’
His lips thinned. ‘If you believe that, you’re even more foolish than I’d thought. And as Lord Maybury’s gone on his sweet way, I’d say you’ve actually no choice but to let me take you both to my house for the night.’
Fear jolted through Rosalie. She’d always intended to tackle this man. To enter his lair somehow, and find out all she could about Linette’s enemy. But, oh, Lord, not like this. Not with her legs shaking, and her stomach heaving, and her brain a woolly mess. And with—Katy.
Yet what else could she do? She had no money. No means now of even getting safely to Mr Wheeldon’s house. ‘Wonderful,’ she said bitterly. She pushed back her hair. ‘So it’s your basement again, is it?’
Her legs wobbled and he saw it. ‘Take hold of my arm,’ he ordered. ‘I’ve got the child safe. And this time, we’ll try to do better than my basement. Garrett!’ He was turning to call out to Eyepatch.
‘Captain?’
‘I want you to take the horses home. But first find me a hackney, quickly. I’m bringing Mrs Rowland and her child to Two Crows Castle.’
Garrett’s face was a picture of dismay. ‘My God, Captain, have you lost your wits?’
‘Button it, Garrett. Just do as I say, will you?’ Glancing down, Alec saw that Rosalie looked white as death.
The child looked anxious. ‘Mama?’
‘She’s all right,’ Alec said gently. ‘Your mother will be all right, Katy.’
Alec realised he was getting himself into a fine pickle. No wonder Garrett had looked aghast. But when Alec had seen her struggling to get out of Stephen’s carriage, he’d wanted to punch his brother into the gutter. She looked so defenceless in her drab wet cloak, with her rain-soaked hair clinging to her face. Yet not only had she paraded her wares at the Temple of Beauty, but she’d been with Stephen tonight. She’s no innocent, you fool. Young though she is, she’s a widow and has a child. What’s more, she’s a gossip-raking troublemaker who’s wrongly accused you of all sorts of rubbish …
The hackney summoned by Garrett rumbled to a halt close by. He thought he could see tears misting her eyes as she turned to him and whispered, ‘You promise me the child will be safe?’
‘I promise,’ he said, tight-lipped. God, she could barely stand. Grimly he climbed after her into the dingy hackney with Katy still secure in his arms and cursed himself for a fool all the way back to Two Crows Castle. His men would be far from delighted to see her after her last visit. But he couldn’t leave her out on the street. ‘Why not?’ loyal Garrett would say. ‘She deserves no better.’
Alec sighed. The trouble was that even now, bedraggled and sick and hostile as she was, she was still so eminently desirable that his loins ached. Dear God, she was prey to anyone like this, let alone his evil brother. She was clearly of gentle birth and educated. So what the hell was she doing, getting involved not only with the gutter press, but with Dr Barnard’s place and with Stephen? She could be big trouble. Could? She already was, damn it. Nowhere to go, apparently. No one to turn to except him.
The child slept in his arms. If he’d not tried to warn his father off his new wife, and if he himself had married that heiress as he was supposed to, he might have had a child of his own by now …
A hell of a lot of ifs. The coach was pulling up. They were there.
* * *
Rosalie’s heart plummeted as they pulled up outside Two Crows Castle. The smoky lanterns that hung on either side of the big front door did little to relieve the gloom. She insisted on holding Katy herself as soon as she was out of the cab. For one night. One night only.
‘What’ve you got there, Captain Alec?’ That big red-haired Scotsman—oh, she remembered him—was drawing closer, frowning suspiciously. ‘Och, now, you’re not forgettin’ she’s the one that accused you of all those bad things the other week?’
‘That was a misunderstanding,’ said Alec curtly, guiding Rosalie towards the door. ‘And she’s here to stay, Sergeant McGrath, just for a day or two.’
More men were gathering round. Rosalie clutched Katy tighter. ‘A child,’ they were muttering. ‘He’s brought in a child and that woman.’ Eyepatch was there, too; he must have stabled the horses, and his frown was equally dour.
Panic-stricken, Rosalie swung round to Alec. ‘Look. I’ve changed my mind. Katy and I will find somewhere else.’ Anywhere else.
‘We’ve been through this,’ Alec answered tightly. ‘Where else, exactly, would you find shelter at this time of night?’
Nowhere. She shrank back from all their cold stares.
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Rowland.’ Alec sighed. ‘You and the child will have a room of your own, with a key on your side of the door—not that you’ll need it. This place is far from luxurious, but at least we’re all honest.’
Suddenly Katy opened her eyes and reached out to Alec, who touched her chubby hand very lightly. And when just the smallest of smiles crinkled his sombre eyes, the result was so devastating that Rosalie felt her insides lurch again. He said to her, more gently, ‘Garrett will show you to your room. We’ll discuss what’s to be done in the morning.’
Already McGrath was trying to draw Alec to one side. ‘Captain, there’s more fellows needin’ rooms tonight. They’re waiting in the Rising Sun for you …’
She watched Alec’s tall, rangy figure disappearing from view, with red-haired McGrath at his side. And she felt as if her one pillar of safety was abandoning her.
Safety? Was she insane? Was this how Linette had felt? Still feeling sick, she held Katy close and struggled to gather her disarrayed thoughts as Eyepatch—oh, Lord, she must remember his name was Garrett—led her surlily up the stairs.
The accommodation she and Katy were to share consisted in fact of one small room. Garrett had lit a lamp before he left; as she looked around, she felt a tiny but welcome sense of relief. There was just enough space for two narrow beds; the blankets, though threadbare, looked clean and the floor was swept, with a closet for clothes and even a small mirror nailed to the wall over a washstand.
A middle-aged woman knocked on the door a few minutes later. ‘My name’s Mary, ma’am, and I’ve brought you both clothes, ‘cos the Captain said yours were soaked and here’s some milk and bread for your little one. You’ll be sure to let me know, won’t you, if there’s anything else you want? Bless her, isn’t she sweet! My little granddaughters, now—’
‘Thank you, that will be all,’ Rosalie cut in. Unable to find the promised key, she jammed the door shut with a chair after the woman had gone. On the one hand, she rebuked herself for being abominably rude. On the other hand—she was in the domain of her enemy.
And she was so tired, all she wanted to do was sleep. But first she changed Katy into those dry clothes, then took the plate of bread and, after hesitating—they wouldn’t stoop to poisoning an infant, don’t be a fool—she sat Katy on her lap and fed her.
That was when she heard the noise of men talking somewhere outside. Going over to the window with Katy still in her arms, she pulled back the faded curtain to gaze out.
‘Tick-tock man. There,’ Katy announced with satisfaction.
The window overlooked a large, overgrown garden at the back of the house. A flagged terrace was lit by the glow of a brazier, and gathered around it, with tankards of ale in their hands, were a dozen or so rough-looking men—and two young