Heiress for Hire, page 25
“If Brigsby is here, where is Chase?”
Beth stood and took the tray and turned to set it on a table. She fussed with the dishes. “I expect he will be back soon. Maybe he went to talk to his cousin.”
After a very long while facing that table, Beth returned to her chair beside the bed. She reached into the bowl for a newly dampened cloth.
“No more, please.” Minerva removed the cloth still dripping water onto her nose. “I don’t think I need these anymore. In fact, I don’t think I need to be in this bed anymore.”
“Since it is night, where else would you be?”
“Doing something other than this. I am not tired at all. I slept all day. I am not an invalid. I was well shocked and very shaken, but I am recovered now.” She cast the bedclothes aside. “In the least I will sit in a chair, not this bed, and light more lamps so I can read.”
“You are to remain in bed,” Beth said, blocking her from rising with her body. “Two doctors said so. Two.”
“Oh, what do they know.”
“More than you do.”
“I’ll go mad if I have to stay here when I am not even tired. Now, stand aside so I can—”
“What do you think you are doing?”
She froze. Not Beth’s voice. Chase’s.
She looked up to see him at the doorway to her chamber, looking in. He appeared tired, disheveled, and not happy.
“Back in bed, Minerva.” He stepped in. Beth gave her a self-satisfied look and left with the tray.
“It is not necessary.”
“Bed rest. One week. The doctors were explicit.” He held up the bedclothes and gestured. She swung her legs back on the bed and punched the coverlet.
He sat in the chair. “Your restlessness is a good sign, though.”
It was not only restlessness that she experienced this moment, but also sharp annoyance. “You did not rest in bed after you were hit on the head, so why should I have to?”
“That was different.”
“It wasn’t. Not at all.”
“You bled profusely.”
“You bled enough. Head wound, you said. They always bleed a lot, you said.”
He tried to appear sympathetic, but only looked stern. “You were unconscious. There could be damage inside your head.”
“You were unconscious. Did you not worry about damage inside your head?”
“I could tell there was none. And I was only unconscious for a few moments.”
“It was many moments. And if you could tell there was no damage, so can I. My headache is almost gone, and the light does not bother me. Watch, I’ll stare right at the lamp.” She did just that. He reached over and moved it so she no longer could.
“I am telling you it is not the same,” he said firmly.
She punched the coverlet again. “It is not the same because I am a woman, is what you mean.”
“Exactly. Also because if anything happened to you because you ignored the doctors’ advice, I would never forgive myself. So indulge me, and do as you were told.”
She didn’t like it, but he had a look about him that did not encourage more rebellion. “I will stay resting in bed three days. However, if after that I am myself again, and have no pains or anything else, I will decide I am fully recovered and I want you to admit as much too.”
He closed his eyes in forbearance, but nodded.
“Now please move the lamp back next to the bed so I am not in shadows.”
A big sigh, but he did so.
She took his hand in hers. The knuckles looked red. “Where were you?”
“Out and about.”
She ran her thumb over those knuckles. “Did you kill him?”
“No.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I brought Jeremy. His mission was to make sure I didn’t, much as I wanted to. There were some fisticuffs, however, in order to subdue him.”
She pictured him walking into that fetid chamber, hard and angry, with Jeremy at his side. Mr. Marin must have panicked at the sight of two men looking for vengeance. “What did you do with him?”
“I gave him a choice. He could enter one carriage that was waiting, that would take him to the establishment in the country where his cousin hoped he could be treated. Or he would enter another one, and be taken to the magistrate to answer for attempting to kill you.”
“I trust he chose to go to the country.”
“As I said, there were fisticuffs. I’m sure when it was over, he agreed with me that would be the better decision.”
She looked him over again. “You had better not let Brigsby see you, if he is still here. He will insist on bathing and grooming you within an inch of your life if he has the chance.”
“That is why I came right here. That and so I could make sure you were not being disobedient. Which you were.”
“Was it your intention to stand watch all night to make sure I did not move from here?”
“My intention was to stay here all night and lay cool compresses on your head. I did not expect to find you so recovered.”
She looked at her body making hills in the bedclothes. “You don’t have to sit in that chair. I have been ordered to stay in bed. I have not been ordered to stay in bed alone.”
He laughed a little. “Unfortunately, I was ordered not to impose on you. It was the last thing the physician said before going out the door.”
“Sleeping beside me is not imposing. I am sure I will recover all the faster if you hold me.” She moved over in the bed. “It isn’t big, but you should fit.”
“I’m sure I will.” He stood and shed his frockcoat and waistcoat. He untied and pulled off his cravat. After removing his boots and turning out the lamp, he lay down next to her.
“You could get under the sheet with me.”
“Beth is sure to arrive at dawn to take my place by your side. Better not to.” He did turn and slide his arm under, so he could embrace her. That felt unbearably good, as if his hold made the whole day’s ugliness go away.
“I realized something today,” she said. “When it was happening, I remembered something I had forgotten. It was just there in my head.”
He yawned, and turned on his stomach. “What was that?”
“That day when I was given that money, he said something to me. The boy who brought it. I forgot it almost at once. But when he handed that box over, he said something. ‘I was told to tell you, next time, fight back.’ I heard that in my head today. And I wonder—”
“Wonder what?”
“I wonder if whoever sent that money knew what was happening in our house.”
“I think he did know. I even think I know how. He had to know.”
“Because otherwise he would not have given me that money?”
“Because when he died he left you enough to take care of yourself.”
She stared at the ceiling. The notion did not shock her as much as it should. “It was the duke, you think.”
“I am almost sure of it. It is the only possible connection between the two of you that I have found.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I was going to, but you got yourself hit on the head and it became something for another day.” He yawned again. “It still is. Now go to sleep.”
She pretended to, but she didn’t. He soon slumbered beside her, however. She listened to his breaths, and hugged the arm draped over her, and dwelled on the poignant emotions his presence raised in her whenever he showed how he cared for her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“I demand that I be allowed to leave this chamber.”
Minerva spoke with determination. Her eyes blazed. Beth turned to Chase, holding out her hands like a woman beset by big troubles. “Called for you to talk some sense into her.”
Chase faced Minerva across the chamber, the bed that they had shared for two nights now neatly and crisply made. She wore the undressing gown he had bought her, and had attempted to dress her own hair. One of her ensembles lay on the chair. He doubted Beth had put it there.
She looked much herself. Other than the bruise surrounding the poultice high on her forehead, nothing appeared amiss. Her whole manner spoke of her irritation at her confinement. At most they could hold her here one more day. After that, she might well tie the sheets together to make her escape out the window.
“You agreed that after three days if I felt recovered I could stop being an invalid,” she said.
“I lied, to ensure you rested at least three days. However, if you promise to do it my way, perhaps you can leave this chamber for a short while.”
Beth opened her mouth to object, but shut it just as quickly. Minerva eyed him as if to see if he was trying to trick her.
“What is your way?”
“You will only go down the stairs with me. You can take some air in the garden if you dress warmly. And you can go for a carriage ride with me this afternoon, and a short walk, if you swear you will admit when you get tired or if at any time you are in distress of the slightest amount.”
“Your way doesn’t sound like much fun.”
“The alternative is we lock you in.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He said nothing to that. She assessed his mood with a long look. “Fine, but it is very unfair. You are allowed to get hit on the head and still go about your business, but if I get hit on the head I become an invalid. Beth, help me to dress. I intend to eat breakfast down below.”
He stepped out while they took care of that, then escorted Minerva down the stairs, watching for any indications that her balance did not hold. In the little morning room, food awaited. She helped herself to a full plate, then sat to enjoy her freedom.
He joined her. As soon as he sat, Brigsby arrived and set down a high stack of mail and paper. Chase had already checked two letters when he realized what had just occurred. “How did you get these?”
“I sent the young man for them.”
“Jeremy is not your lackey, Brigsby.”
“He didn’t mind going. I said he could take your carriage and gave him permission to allow the young lady to ride in it too.”
“You gave your permission?”
“You were otherwise occupied, sir. I thought it unwise to disturb you.” A little cough punctuated his pride in his discretion.
“Young lady?” Minerva asked.
“Miss Turner. She visits on occasion. I saw them chatting in the garden yesterday. I thought she would like a ride in the carriage.” He went to get the coffee and poured into both of their cups. “You needed a new frockcoat, after the disaster you made of the one we had here. I asked the young man to fetch your blue one, and to see about the mail while he was there. The newspaper I went out and procured on my own.”
Pleased that his morning duties had been completed to his own satisfaction, Brigsby left the chamber.
“Jeremy and Elise?” Minerva said.
“They live near each other, and worked at Whiteford House together and also now for you. It is not surprising that they have formed a friendship. Surely you do not disapprove.”
“If there is something more there, it could complicate my inquiries.”
“How so?”
“Jeremy might become protective and worry about her. He might interfere with assignments I have for her if he thinks she will be in even the slightest danger.”
He flipped through more mail, making his stacks. He saw one from Peel. Damnation. “I’m sure that won’t happen. He is reasonable enough and you would never endanger her anyway.”
He had almost finished with the mail when he noticed the silence coming across the table. He looked over to find Minerva regarding him with high skepticism. He quickly reviewed their brief conversation for whatever he had said to provoke that expression.
“I am happy that you are sure Jeremy will not become too protective. If you think that is the response of a reasonable man, I am reassured you will not now become too protective about me.”
That is different. It really wasn’t but, then again, it was. He had no intention of being careless regarding her safety, and fully planned to ensure she was not either. This, however, was not the best time to broach that topic, or the little list of changes in her habits regarding inquiries that would ensure she never was hurt again.
When he failed to react in any way other than to smile, Minerva raised the subject of her day’s activities. “I do not want to sit in the garden all morning,” she said. “I want you to explain what you said two nights ago, about being almost sure that the duke was my benefactor. You said it was a topic for another day. Well, here we are in another day.”
He looked out the window and checked the weather. “We will take the carriage ride now, not this afternoon. It will be easier to show you what I mean than only explain it with words.”
She finished her meal quickly. “I will fetch my bonnet and cape and return shortly.”
He made it to the door before she did. “I will get them. You sit here and do not go near the stairs.” He aimed for the stairway, hearing a long sigh behind him.
* * *
“I do like this carriage,” Minerva said. “I am very snug here.” Too snug. Not only was she encased in her cape, but Chase had tucked a carriage blanket all around her. He now sat across from her while they rode west.
“You are to tell me if the sway or jostling in any way—”
“Yes, yes, I promise. And the next time you are conked on the head you are to tell me if in any way riding in carriages, or on horses, or walking, or reading, or anything at all gives you discomfort.”
He did not like her repeated references to her unfair restrictions, and it now showed in his eyes. She only returned to the topic because she was sure that he was going to be a problem now, and attempt to issue edicts on her movements and decisions.
She could hardly conduct her inquiries if she had to answer to him about every move. She had no intention of explaining herself that way, to anyone. His concern and care touched her deeply, but she dared not allow either to turn her into a weakling.
She had been careless. She admitted that. Mrs. Jeffers had not been as forthcoming about her history with Mr. Marin as would have been wise. She could be excused for assuming this was a reconciliation that a man living in such a state would welcome. However, she knew that when she had seen him, in that first moment, she should have heeded her better sense which told her to retreat.
Had she been fully attentive to the matter at hand, she might have. A month ago, she most likely would have feigned finding the wrong door, or used some other excuse to turn and leave. Instead at least half of her mind had dwelled on Chase, and their affair, and on the way her heart weighed her love for him against the potential danger still hanging over her.
Love. She smiled to herself. She had not called it that before, but now it had simply emerged as part of her thoughts. She did love him, though. She marveled at that.
She looked across to find him watching her, his gaze warm and the smallest smile on his face. What did he think when he saw her? Did he still wonder about Algernon, and whether she had arranged that her estranged husband could never hurt her again? He had said that he hoped she had killed him, but that was a retort made after she questioned his belief in her. He had not said that he was sure she had not killed him, the way he was sure she had not harmed the duke.
The carriage rolled down Oxford Street. Since it was morning, it was fairly quiet. The afternoon would bring out many more people. She gazed out at the shops lining the street, their owners preparing for the customers who would arrive later in the day.
Chase opened the trapdoor and told the coachman to stop at the next crossroads. Minerva looked at the shops here, and across the way. She knew this crossroads very well.
Chase pointed out the window. “If you look at the rooftops over there, you can see that of Whiteford House. It faces Park Lane, but the back is very close to where we are. When my uncle went into town, to Oxford Street or most places in Mayfair, or even toward the City, he would not go down alongside the park. He would come out this way on one of the streets, east.”
“I expect so.”
He slid over to the other window and bid she do the same. She was so bundled that she could not slide. It was more a matter of waddling her rump. She knew what they would see from this side, though.
“I was told you lived up that street, Old Quebec,” Chase said. “Not far from my uncle at all.” He reached for the door latch. “If you are feeling up to it, let us take a turn.”
She fought her way out of the blanket and let him hand her down. The fresh air felt wonderfully crisp and the sun shone brightly. Chase escorted her across the street until they stood at the bottom end of Old Quebec.
“He often went out at night, Minerva. In the country he spent time at that parapet. I think here in town he went into the squares and parks. Portman is actually the closest, but he probably wandered some distance at times. So I can see him going to Portman Square, or walking through it, gazing up at the stars that are so hard to see in much of London.” He took her hand. “Let us walk to the square, if you can manage it.”
“Of course I can manage it.” She began striding off, to prove it, but halted in her tracks as if she had hit a wall.
“We can walk up the next street over, if you do not want to see that house,” he said.
She could see the house, and a bit of its door.
“Come this way instead.” He guided her back down Oxford, to the next crossroad. “Now, use your imagination. He leaves his home and walks. He aims for the square. Most likely, he walked past your house some nights. I think he passed it many times.”
She stopped on the street, at about the spot of that house on Old Quebec. “You think he saw or heard something, don’t you?”
“I do. This area is quiet at night. Sounds you might never hear during the day can be clear. Lamplight inside the houses reveals more than one ever sees in daylight.”
It sickened her that others might have seen or heard what happened. “How would he learn who I was?”
