The Unaffected Earl Page 14

  “Probably. But that might be overshadowed if they’ve seen our wedding announcement.”

  “You did that? Given the scandal attached to my family…”

  When she didn’t finish her sentence, he completed it for her. “You thought I’d want to hide the connection.” He gave his head a shake. “I placed the announcement in all the papers. I want the whole world to know we’re married.”

  “The whole world or just Lord Standish?”

  Her doubt bothered him more than a little. “Everyone, Rose.”

  When he drew her into his arms, she rested her head on his chest. “I shouldn’t say this, but I feel fortunate to have you. Given what my parents are going through, I feel like a traitor to my family for admitting that.”

  Brantford pulled back and tilted her chin up so she could meet his gaze. He hated the sadness he saw reflected in her blue eyes. “There will always be bad things happening in this world. Unfortunately, some of them will touch those we care about. But life would be a sad thing indeed if we didn’t try to hold on to whatever happiness we could each and every moment. Never feel guilty for that.”

  She tilted her head to the side and examined him for several seconds. “Are you happy?”

  “You can doubt that?”

  She lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “You’re very good at hiding your emotions.”

  He brushed a thumb over her lower lip and smiled. “I’m happy. Never question that. I hate what you are going through right now, but I can’t regret that it brought us together.”

  Rose was tired of waiting. After having dinner sent to their room, she had to wait there, alone, while Brantford went downstairs to gather what information he could.

  She hadn’t argued with him, but she wasn’t happy about spending another day away from home. Especially since her husband had told her that their carriage driver and several of the outriders who had accompanied them on their journey were occupying all the rooms in the small inn. She had no doubt they would all come barging into the room at the slightest indication of distress on her part and could just as easily be doing the same thing at her family’s estate. The servants would also be present to ensure her safety.

  She hated being idle, but he’d told her the delay was only for the one night and that they would depart for her home the next day and then they could search out whatever information her father had hidden there.

  But when the morning came, Brantford received a message that had him changing their plans.

  “Stay here,” he said. “Breakfast is already on the way up. Someone will bring all your meals up to you if I don’t return soon.”

  With a distracted kiss, he hurried from the room.

  After locking the door behind him, she began to pace. She wished Ellen had come with them. At least her sister-in-law would have been able to keep her company as the hours passed. She might even have been able to talk Ellen into going with her to her family’s estate without Brantford.

  Rose stopped pacing as soon as that thought entered her mind. There was no reason why she couldn’t go on ahead without Brantford. He’d told her to stay at the inn, but there wasn’t any danger. Standish was in London, after all, and had no reason to follow them to Norfolk. They’d left word with the staff that they were heading to Brantford’s estate in Surrey, and her husband had asked Ellen to spread the news. By now everyone in London would know about their supposed plans.

  She considered asking the carriage driver to take her, but she had no way of knowing if Brantford was traveling on horseback or if he’d taken the carriage. In addition, she wouldn’t be surprised if he’d told his men that she wasn’t allowed to leave the room.

  She was still debating the matter a few minutes later when a knock sounded at the door. She opened it to find a servant with her breakfast tray. One of her husband’s men stood behind the young woman. His eyes never strayed from the servant, and he acted as though he expected her to grab the butter knife and try to stab Rose right in front of him.

  She barely refrained from rolling her eyes at the man’s overzealousness. She knew in that moment that no one would accompany her that day. If they even suspected she wanted to leave, she had no doubt they’d take turns standing guard outside her room.

  She thanked the woman, who was more than a little unnerved by the man watching her every move, and closed the door. She pressed her ear against it, waiting to see if he would remain in the hallway, but after a minute passed she heard the heavy tread of his footsteps walking away. The sound of a door opening and closing had her releasing the breath she’d been holding.

  So that meant she didn’t have a guard stationed outside her room. If she was very quiet, she might be able to sneak away from the inn and make her way to her family’s estate. Once there, she’d be safe with the servants present.

  Since it would take her the better part of an hour to walk there, Rose sat down to eat her breakfast. There was no point in having it go to waste.

  She took some time deciding what to wear. Pulling one of Brantford’s coats from the trunk that had been deposited in their room, she shrugged into it and went to stand in front of the looking glass.

  She looked ridiculous. No one would ever believe she was a man. Sighing, Rose returned the garment to the trunk and chose a pale yellow dress she hoped wouldn’t bring too much attention to herself. She took care to scrape her hair into a severe bun. As she did so, she wished again that Brantford’s sister were there. Ellen was quite skilled with makeup and would have been able to make her look older. She searched through her belongings and found a plain fichu that she could use to tie around her hair. She also made sure to remove her jewelry. After taking off her earrings and the gold necklace she wore daily, she looked down at her wedding ring and hesitated.

  The stone was light blue in color and reminded Rose of her husband’s eyes. It was silly, but she felt almost superstitious about removing it, so instead she turned it around so the stone would be hidden if she closed her hand.

  When she was done, she scrutinized herself in the mirror. If she kept her head down and her shoulders bowed, she might pass for a servant. This whole endeavor would have been much easier if she could don a cloak, but since it was almost summer, she’d only draw more attention to herself if she wore such a heavy garment.

  She’d have to move quickly and hope that none of her husband’s men heard her departing. But first she had to convince them that she had no intention of leaving the room.

  She opened the door and set the tray of dishes, complete with the uneaten portion of her husband’s breakfast, out in the hallway. After placing the tray on the floor with an audible jangle of sound from the crockery, she stood back, hidden in her doorway. As she’d suspected, several of the doors opened immediately, and she made sure to close and lock her door with as much noise as possible. Heavens, were the men all sitting next to their own doors? If so, she’d have to be careful.

  She waited several minutes, hoping all the doors had been closed. If one of the men had left the door to his room open, she’d never be able to sneak past them as her room was at the end of the hall.

  Finally she decided she’d just have to brave it. She’d only get one attempt at this. If Brantford’s men saw her trying to leave the inn, she wouldn’t get another opportunity.

  Holding her breath, she slowly opened the door and waited, thankful the hinges didn’t squeak. Nothing happened. Feeling more than a little ridiculous, she closed the door with exaggerated care and made her way down the hallway at a slow, even pace. With every step she expected a floorboard to creak or a door to be thrown open, but she reached the top of the stairs without being discovered. She anticipated finding someone stationed at the bottom of the stairs, but she reached the main floor without being stopped.

  Her heart was racing now, and she had the sudden realization that she was acting like a heroine in a horrid novel. For a moment she considered turning around, but she pushed back her doubts. This was real life, not fiction. She w
as only going home, and once there she’d be safe. After she arrived, she’d have a footman deliver a note so Brantford wouldn’t worry when he returned.

  Her pace quickened as she left the inn, shoulders hunched, and she turned toward her family’s estate. She passed a few of the villagers, but no one paid her any attention.

  With every step, she expected to hear footsteps chasing her, but of course nothing of the sort happened. She let out a sigh of relief when, fifty minutes later, she finally reached the house.

  She took a moment to compose herself, removing the fichu from her hair and tucking it away. The servants would be surprised to see her and they’d wonder why she was arriving on foot, but they wouldn’t question her. Perhaps they’d heard about what happened to her father? She pushed back the thought. Servants gossiped and if they’d heard, then of course they’d have discussed it among themselves. As long as she didn’t receive any pitying looks, she could pretend that nothing was amiss.

  She pushed open the door and waited for the butler or one of the footmen to investigate the new arrival. When no one appeared, she moved down the hallway toward her father’s study. Every second she expected to run across someone, but there was no movement, no sound. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and for the first time she questioned the wisdom of coming here alone.

  But she was already standing outside her father’s study. She wouldn’t examine the whole house on her own, she’d just have a quick look inside her father’s study and then return to the inn.

  Besides, if one of the men had discovered she’d left, it was likely someone was already on the way there. It would be fine.

  Chapter 20

  She knew where to search only because Brantford had asked her about the layout of the house. She’d wondered if her father had another hidden location under the floorboards in the library or in another room, but Brantford had wanted to know about her father’s study.

  She tried to shake off her unease, telling herself she wasn’t alone in the house. The servants hadn’t been expecting her arrival, so they were probably busy doing something else.

  Brantford had told her mother that Papa had correspondence he needed to see. He hadn’t said anything to her about what he expected those letters to contain, and it would have been pointless to ask him. She’d have to read the letters herself to learn what they contained.

  She’d ask for her husband’s forgiveness later. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was easier to ask for absolution than for permission. Especially when it was clear that permission wouldn’t be granted.

  As she opened the door to her father’s study, a sense of gloom settled over her. She didn’t think she’d ever been in this room when her father wasn’t present, and it occurred to her that he might never return.

  Ignoring her unease, she walked toward the windows and drew back the curtains, hoping the clear light of day would dispel the darkness and help her to shake off her negative thoughts.

  She opened a window for good measure, taking in a deep breath of the fresh air outside before turning to face her father’s desk. She hesitated only for a moment before bending to open the bottom drawer on the right.

  Brantford hadn’t told her where to look—neither had her father—but she’d recalled the morning before they left for London. She’d walked into her father’s study with a message from her mother, and he’d almost jumped out of his skin at her interruption. She’d apologized for surprising him, but he hadn’t acknowledged the fright she’d given him. Instead, he’d gathered a small sheaf of papers and deposited them in that bottom drawer. Now that she thought about it, they could have been correspondence.

  Hands shaking, she opened that drawer now. The papers inside were just as he’d hastily placed them all those months before. She took them out, surprised there were only a few sheets, and stared down at them. The first one was a letter from Admiral Heddington, an old friend of her father’s whom she’d met several times over the years. Her eyes scanned down the page, curiosity taking hold.

  “Catherine was supposed to be mine.”

  Rose jumped, her heart in her throat at the unexpected voice. When she looked up, Lord Standish stood just inside the doorway, his dark hair unkempt in a way she’d never seen it. He’d always struck her as being fastidious about his appearance. But worse were his eyes. His tone had seemed casual, but something in the way his eyes were narrowed—trained on her with unrelenting focus—told her that he was anything but calm. She moved her hands behind her back, hoping he hadn’t taken note of the pages she was now gripping tightly.

  She straightened her shoulders and tried her best not to betray just how much his presence unnerved her. “Lord Standish, what are you doing here?”

  He tsked. “Come now, don’t tell me you weren’t expecting me. Or perhaps you were expecting someone else. A certain fair-haired gentleman?”

  She tried to ignore the sneer in his voice, but her own was not quite steady when she replied. “It is highly improper for you to be alone with me. You will have to leave.”

  “Are you going to make me?”

  The look he gave her warned her that she just might not come out of this encounter with her life. Still, she had to try.

  She moved closer to the bellpull hidden behind the curtain. “I won’t have to,” she said, giving it a sharp yank with one hand. “The butler will be here momentarily.”

  He laughed and moved farther into the room. “You’re going to have to try harder if you expect me to believe your lies. I can see your heart racing from here. And we both know the house is empty. I made certain to send word, in your name, of course, giving the staff the day off. Those who chose to stay behind… Well, they won’t be interrupting us.”

  She tried not to think about what Standish might have done. The man was clearly insane. She couldn’t help remembering the evening she and Brantford had consummated their marriage. How he’d stormed into her room, his concern for her safety very real. Why hadn’t she heeded his warning not to leave the inn?

  Fear hollowed out her stomach, and her hands began to shake. “My husband—”

  “—received some information that took him elsewhere, so it is just the two of us.”

  He smiled then, and a frisson of ice slithered down her spine.

  “I don’t know what you want from me.”

  “Don’t you? If you hadn’t ended your betrothal with that self-important blighter, Catherine would have been mine by now. You are a poor replacement, especially now that you’ve allowed yourself to be sullied, but I suppose you will have to do. When I’m finished, I expect you to thank me and then hand me the papers you’re trying to hide behind your back. And if you’re a good girl, I might make your death quick.”

  She struggled to keep her rising panic at bay as she ran through the exits in the room. Brantford had told her that Lord Standish was dangerous, but she hadn’t truly believed he was capable of murder.

  Standish stood between her and the door, and there was no way she could reach it without him intercepting her. She recalled then the window she had opened. If she created a distraction, she might be able to escape through it. She’d opened it quite wide, and her father’s study was on the main floor. Standish was much larger than her. If he couldn’t follow, he’d have to exit through the main door. She knew she wouldn’t be able to outrun him, but those few precious seconds might give her the opportunity to hide somewhere on the estate.

  She didn’t like her chances of success, but she couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. She had to at least try to escape.

  She began to edge toward the door, and as expected, Standish moved to intercept. Moving quickly, she overturned a small table, hoping it would buy her enough time, and turned to the right. The open window was only a few steps away and her hand was on the sill, the pages still clutched within her grasp, one leg poised to climb out, when two arms captured her about the waist. Panic streaked through her, and she cried out in fear as she tried to claw at his hands, scatt
ering the pages around them. Her ineffectual attempt to escape only seemed to amuse him.

  His laughter, tinged with more than a slight hint of madness, had her twisting in his grasp and attempting to bite his arm. His amusement didn’t end, but he spun her around and raised a hand to strike her. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the blow, but it never came.

  He released her suddenly and she stumbled, opening her eyes to see Brantford struggling with Lord Standish. Her heart almost stopped when she saw the latter raise a pistol, but before she could call out a warning her husband had disarmed the man in a series of moves that left her jaw hanging open. He’d told her once when she’d expressed concern over his own safety that he was proficient in some form of Eastern self-defense, but watching the ease with which he disabled the other man shocked her.

  Standish was lying facedown on the floor, breathing heavily and no longer laughing. Brantford held the man’s arms in an iron grip and leaned into him, a knee pressed into his back. Her husband jerked Standish’s arms upward, eliciting a sharp grunt before turning to face her.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No,” she said, realizing only then that she was shaking. “You arrived in time.”

  His eyes moved over her as though he was trying to convince himself of the truth of her words before he turned, again, to look down at the man he’d so easily incapacitated.

  “If you could give me something to bind him…”

  Standish started laughing again, and despite the fact that he was no longer a danger to her, Rose couldn’t stop the shiver that went through her at the maniacal sound.

  “I didn’t really want her anyway. She’s used goods… You can have her.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks as she turned away to find something, anything, that Brantford could use to secure the man who’d bragged about doing unspeakable things to her. Her eyes moved to the curtains, but she remembered that her father’s study didn’t have decorative cording to tie them back. A flurry of movement had her turning back toward the pair in time to see that Brantford had rolled Standish over and smashed his fist into the man’s face.