Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
Briony's
eyelashes fluttered. She really did not wish to be drawn out of the safety of her slumber, she thought drowsily. If she refused to waken, she need never face the cruel world again. A hand lifted her head from the pillow and a cup was pressed against her lips.
"Drink this," said a soft, sweet, feminine voice. Briony opened her eyes and gazed at the angelic, smiling face.
"Am I in heaven?" she asked haltingly.
She heard the low, musical laughter.
"No, you poor girl.
But if you try to run down any more coaches, you will soon have your wish. What is your name? Your parents, your guardians will be worried about you. I must inform them of your whereabouts."
"Briony.
I
am . .
.
Briony
," she managed before slipping into a welcoming insensibility once more.
When Briony reluctantly awakened to full consciousness, the room was in semidarkness. Her head ached abominably and when she moved she felt a searing pain in the small of her back. She moaned softly. A cool hand was laid on her forehead and she recognized the charming countenance of the lady she was beginning to believe was her guardian angel. Briony pulled herself up to lie back on the pillows and groaned.
"Now, you
will
drink this," said the. Angel firmly and she pushed a cup of warm broth to
Briony's
lips. Briony greedily drank dawn the hot soup.
"Where am I?" she asked. "How long have I been here?"
The Beauty removed the empty cup from
Briony's
fingers and sat down on the edge of the bed. "You are in my home. Yesterday evening, you were run down by the hackney coach in
which
I was a passenger. You might easily have been killed, you know. You ran straight across the Oxford Road without a thought for your safety. I was on my way home from the opera with my two sisters."
'The three muses!" Briony suddenly remembered.
The lady bestowed a disbelieving smile on Briony.
"My sisters and I are not in the least alike," she
demured
.
"But you are all beautiful," responded Briony honestly.
"That's as may be. But you, young lady, have given us all a fearful fright! We might have killed you! Now will you please give me the direction of your parents or guardians so that I may put their minds at rest?"
Briony did so, and the Vision glided from the room. Briony heard her low, melodious voice giving someone instructions on the other side of the door.
She eased back into the soft, feather pillows and winced. Her emotional pain was as tangible as the physical pain in her bruised back. The events of the evening came back to her in a rush—the humiliating rejection of her peers and the contemptible proposal which Ravensworth had put to her. Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment when she recalled his tantalizing caresses and how shamelessly she had welcomed them. She hoped fervently that she would never set eyes on the ignoble nobleman again.
For the anxiety which Harriet and Aunt
Sophy
must be experiencing on her behalf, Briony reproached herself bitterly. It never entered her head that Ravensworth himself would be suffering worse agonies of remorse and reproaching himself even more bitterly for being the cause of her precipitous flight.
She blamed herself for having left the party unescorted, but she had been half delirious with wounded pride. The thought of it roused the same feelings of overpowering mortification and helpless fury. She repressed the sobs that rose in
h
?r
throat and she began to hiccup softly. She wondered how she could ever again face the world, and tears of self-pity coursed down her cheeks.
The Angel returned and halted abruptly when she saw her patient's overwrought condition. "My dear," she said solicitously, moving toward a trembling Briony to take her hands. "Tell me at once what ails you. Perhaps I should send for Dr. Pemberton again?"
Briony, who was habitually a diffident, constrained young lady, was completely disarmed by the note of genuine concern in her nurse's warm voice. Before she knew what she was about, she had spilled out the whole sorry story, omitting only the part about Ravensworth. She told of her mother and how impossible a task it seemed to reconcile her conscience and the frivolities of life in High Society. The Vision held Briony comfortingly in her arms and listened in silence. When Briony came to the end of her tale, the lady spoke reassuringly.
"People can be very cruel, as I know to my cost. You are right to follow the dictates of your conscience, Briony. Yes, even I, such as I am, have made it my only rule. But do be sure, my dear, that they are
your
convictions. Then you need never hang your head in shame. Stare the world down if you must, or snap your fingers under its nose."
Briony gave an involuntary giggle. "I did!"
"That's better," the Vision said with a smile in her voice. "No more self-pity, if you please. It really is an unconscionable waste of time and effort. Be true to yourself and let the world go hang. But do be sure, my child, that it is yourself that you are true to and not someone else's notion of what you should be."
Briony let the soothing words wash over her as the Vision stroked her hair. She felt immensely comforted and was overcome with a rush of gratitude to the stranger who seemed to have taken her interests to heart.
"Come now," the Beauty said at last, "we must dress you for going home."
"But what reason shall I give my cousin and Aunt
Sophy
for my running away?" Briony asked, alarmed in spite of herself.
"Never enter into long explanations, my dear. Stick to the facts. It is the easiest way. You went for a walk and were run down by a carriage. It is, after all, the truth."
Yes, thought Briony, it is the truth, but not the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
She was putting the finishing touches to her toilette when she heard the wheels of a carriage on the cobblestones outside. She could not as yet walk unaided and waited patiently for her aunt's footmen to fetch her down. When the door to her chamber opened, the last man on earth she wanted to see crossed the threshold.
"Ravensworth!"
Her breath was ragged. She saw the blinding look of relief in his eyes, but she would not look at him. She dropped her gaze and plucked nervously at the sleeve of her gown.
"I can manage now,
Harriette
," she heard him say in his familiar tone of authority. She looked up expectantly, supposing that her cousin had accompanied his lordship, but there was only the Vision smiling down at her. Ravensworth was acquainted with the lady then, thought Briony, her interest piqued.
She had already conveyed her thanks before Ravensworth's arrival. Now it only needed her to take leave of the stranger who had been so kind.
"I shall call on you one day soon, when I am in better fettle," she began, addressing the lady whom Ravensworth had called "
Harriette
.''
"No!" said two voices in unison.
Briony looked inquiringly from one to the other.
"It is not necessary," the lady replied smoothly, moving to the door to hold it open. "Besides, I shall be removing from town very soon. This is only a rented house and I am giving it up at the end of the month."
"But when shall I see you again?" asked Briony plaintively. "I owe you so much. Surely you will give me the opportunity of renewing our acquaintance? At least tell me your name."
As she spoke, Ravensworth put his strong arms around her and lifted her easily against his chest. "Please, put me down," she entreated. "I am not an invalid. I can walk." Every nerve recoiled at his touch. He ignored her request and maneuvered her through the open door. He turned to the Vision.
"Thank you. What more can I say? If ever you should need a friend . . .
" His
voice trailed off as he sensed
Briony's
attentiveness. "Your obedient servant, ma'am," he concluded stiffly and carried a protesting Briony down the stairs to the waiting carriage. Her fury boiled over.
"But—but—but. . ." She struggled feebly in his arms. "I do not know the lady's name."
He refused to listen and handed her into the carriage to the welcoming arms of her cousin, then he climbed in nimbly beside her.
"Oh Briony, thank God you are safe." Harriet enfolded Briony in her arms. "We were so worried about you. What happened? Why did you leave the party without saying a word to anyone?"
Briony sensed Ravensworth's keen regard. She did not have the courage as yet to stare the world down. She was careful not to let her eyes meet his.
"I went for a walk and was run down by a carriage," she said simply.
Harriet cried and laughed on the same breath. "How like you, my darling girl! I swear you can get into more scrapes than I ever did in my life."
Briony was lost in thought. "How is it, Harriet, that you waited in the carriage? Why did you not come up to be introduced to the lady who has been so kind to me?"
It was Ravensworth who answered. "I was deputized to perform the necessaries. We did not wish to put the lady to further trouble on your behalf."
The answer was far from satisfying Briony but she held her peace. She was conscious that Harriet was deeply embarrassed. There was a mystery here and she intended to get to the bottom of it.
The
Marquess
of Ravensworth was slumped in a chair in a small saloon, normally used as a waiting room, just off the foyer in Aunt
Sophy's
house in Half Moon Street. A two days' stubble covered his wan cheeks and dark circles accentuated his black, troubled eyes. The Viscount Avery looked only slightly less haggard. The ladies of the house had been finally persuaded to take their rest.
"What a conundrum," said
Aveiy
, observing the amber liquid in the glass he held up to the light. "If word gets around that Miss Langland was sheltered by London's most
notorious courtesan, that she slept in her bed even,
Briony's
character will be ruined forever."
"Word won't get around," said Ravensworth firmly. "
Harriette
Wilson is more of a lady than most of the titled females of my acquaintance. She never maligns the innocent."
"You should know, old boy, you should know," was the airy rejoinder. "But what possessed Miss Langland to go for a walk?" Avery cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Ravensworth. His lordship remained silent. "Good God," exclaimed Avery, "you didn't!"
Ravensworth drank off his brandy in one gulp.
"You were right, Avery, and I was wrong. I made a mull of the whole thing."
"Well, no real harm done," said Avery consolingly. "We got her back in one piece. She'll get over it.
Plenty more blossoms on the tree, what?'
"Don't tease
yourself
, Avery," Ravensworth replied heavily. "I haven't given up on the lady yet."
Avery blinked. "You cannot be serious!"
"Of course I'm serious!" was the savage rejoinder.
"Ravensworth, have you lost your senses? As I've told you before, the girl is too virtuous for what you have in mind. Let her alone. You must accept the fact, my friend, that some women would prefer death to having their virtue compromised. Miss Briony Langland
is . .
.well
. . .
too refined for one of your voluptuary tastes."
"That's all you know!" retorted Lord Ravensworth, smiling a little to
himself
. "Besides, you don't know what I have in mind."
Viscount Avery was lost for words. Presently an unholy gleam came into his eye. "Perhaps she won't have you under any circumstance. It could be, you know, Ravensworth, that the lady finds you not in her style."
Ravensworth was about to respond but changed his mind. "It's been a hard day," he said wearily. "I don't know about
you
, Avery, but I'm for bed."
They parted on the doorstep, and Ravensworth set off at a brisk pace. Half Moon Street was off
Picadilly
, a mere five minutes' walk to his rooms in Albany House. The cold air cleared his lordship's head.
He was convinced that the lady's heart was his, but winning her, he allowed, was a different matter. She had these infernal scruples. He knew that Briony thought that he, the heir to a dukedom, was quite beneath her touch. What a novel idea! Ravensworth smiled bleakly. She would expect
him
to reform. Damn it, he didn't
wish
to reform. He was, after all, a man of honor—not some unscrupulous blackguard who merely wished to have his way with her.