What a Gentleman Desires (17 page)

A door opened, then slammed shut.

“Thank God she left. What will we do, Davinia? She’s so angry.”

“Not at us,” the maid answered. “We did what was right. It’s that fool of a husband of yours. He let the new gentleman get away, and we’d all better hope they find him soon. That’s one too many mistakes, you know.”

“What...what does that mean? He’s to be eliminated? But what about me? I...I could have gotten away from here. I didn’t have to tell him, not if he’s going to be dead. What happens to
me?
”

Daisy was becoming more awake by the moment, but felt it best to continue the way she was, slumped in the chair, all but asleep and unresponsive.

“They still need this place. They still need the stones. Me and you,
my lady,
we’ll do just fine, as long as you do what they say.”

“Oh, I will, I will. I’ll do anything they say. Anything!”

“Good. Start by helping me lock this one in the preparation chamber, and then pray she’s alert in time for the ceremony. If there is one, if they catch him. Hammer swears he’ll come back for her. Then come with me while I check on the others. One or two of them might need some of our special drink if they’re to put on the show we want him to see.”

What was Davinia talking about? She was talking about Valentine, wasn’t she? And about her...how he’d come back for her. She was in a nest of spiders, helping them weave a web to ensnare Valentine....

Daisy allowed herself to be rudely lifted beneath her shoulders and half carried, half walked into another room, then pushed into a large wingback chair.

“There. She’ll keep until they want her. Now come with me.”

“Davinia? I don’t think you should be the one giving orders. Once Charles is gone, I will truly be the mistress of Fernwood. You just said you need me, remember? You must show me respect.”

Daisy dared to peek up at the two women, just in time to see the maid turn around at the open doorway and sharply box Lady Caroline’s ears. “There’s your
respect,
you stupid cow.”

The door closed on Lady Caroline’s howls of pain and a key turned in the lock, throwing the small room, and Daisy, into darkness.

She waited until she was certain the two women were gone, and then sat up, took several deep breaths of heavily perfumed air, and decided she could chance standing up. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light and she believed she could see the outline of moonlight against a pair of closed draperies.

As she tugged back the heavy draperies one at a time and secured them with their tie-ropes, the full moon illuminated the room just enough for her to see she was in a dressing room of sorts. There was only the single door, the chair she’d been dumped on, a full tub sitting in the middle of the room, scattered piles of damp toweling and a single dresser with several glass bottles and vials arranged on top of it.

So this was the preparation room. Had Rose been here? Did they only bring virgins here? And what did it matter? She simply needed to be
out
of here so they couldn’t use her to trap Valentine, use him to do something against his will. Nothing else mattered.

Well, one other thing mattered.

She also needed some sort of decent covering. Even with only the moonlight to illuminate the room, she could see her naked body beneath the filmy material. How ridiculous, and most certainly impractical. Escape was her plan, but she wasn’t about to make a spectacle of herself while she was about it!

What did she need to do first?

She looked up, to see the ceiling was slanted. All right. She was in an attic, but not the attics of Fernwood; those ceilings were covered with plaster. This one was raw wood, and supported by huge wooden beams. But where was she? Looking out through the uncovered window confirmed she wasn’t at Fernwood. She was only a single story above a strange landscape made up almost entirely by moonlit rocks.

She had no idea which way lay the manor, or the waiting Valentine. If he was still waiting, which he most probably was not. He’d search for her, she knew that, just as the Society knew that.

She doubted he’d search for her in an attic.

“Stop it. Your mind has already spun in too many circles tonight,” Daisy warned herself, partly only so she could hear her own voice, pressing her palms against her temples. “You heard them. Mailer had Valentine in his clutches, but he somehow escaped. So he’s not waiting for you, he’s looking for you, while they search for him. Just think. Calm yourself, and think! God help me, there has to be an answer.”

She looked around the room once more, hoping to see something she hadn’t seen before. Tub, chest, chair, windows, draperies.

Draperies?

God helps them who help themselves
.

Yes, Papa, I remember.

It was one thing for brave, valiant Valentine to take another go at playing the knight in shining armor, but she couldn’t just sit here as if she was some princess in a tower and then lower down her hair to him. She was no princess. She’d been on her own since the age of seventeen, and she had learned to fight her own battles. She’d even found her own way to Fernwood. There were dozens, hundreds of things she couldn’t do, but she should certainly be capable of getting herself shed of an attic!

“I wonder if I’m intoxicated, because I’m feeling awfully brave,” she mumbled as she dragged the chair over to one of the windows and climbed up onto it.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

P
IFFKIN
HELD
UP
Valentine’s sopping wet jacket and gingerly sniffed at it. “Laudanum, yes. But also something more. Besides the smells of vomit and wet horse, of course.” He then tossed it into the bushes. “You do realize that jacket is ruined.”

“Stubble it, Piffkin,” Valentine said, raking his fingers through his hair as he sat on the ground, which, thankfully, seemed to have at last stopped moving. “Why are you here, anyway? You’re supposed to be at the inn with the children, with Robert and Luther here.”

“Yes, sir, but there was a change of plans. I decided to send Robert off with the children, as I thought Luther sufficient once I was also here. The children are safely with their nurse, supposedly investigating the pond behind the inn. They’re hunting amphibians, sir.
Frogs.
”

“Frogs.” Employing the trunk of a thin scrub tree to aid him, Valentine climbed to his feet. “I’m not even going to ask whose idea that was. So where are the ladies? And, no, don’t answer that, Piffkin. I know where they are. They’re up to their necks in trouble.” He reached into his waistcoat pocket before remembering it was empty. “What time is it?”

When Luther had first asked his question about Daisy, Valentine had gone cold to the marrow of his bones, and wretchedly sober. But his body had taken longer to recover from the effects of whatever in hell Mailer had been trying to make him breathe. The sky had gone completely dark now, but full of stars abetting the light of the full moon. He’d add the helpful shine reflecting off Piffkin’s hairless pate, but this was neither the time nor place for levity.

And while Valentine hadn’t been doing much more than holding on to the ground for the past quarter hour (to keep it steady), his mind had been racing: fighting panic, considering options, cursing himself for a fool for not having come up with a better plan. Thinking about Daisy...fighting panic.

“Nearly nine, sir,” Piffkin said, having consulted his new pocket watch. Then he looked at Valentine, and frowned.

Valentine knew the look, and ignored it. Piffkin really had to stop worrying like a hen with only one chick. “All right. Nine. They begin at nine, although I may have put somewhat of a crimp in that. Luther, it’s more than time we were off.”

“And me, Master Valentine,” Piffkin put in as the trio headed down the path to where the outrider had left the horses. “I’m going with you. Someone has to watch over you.”

Next thing he knew, his keeper would be pulling a set of leading strings from his pocket.

“Thank you for that sterling vote of confidence, Piffkin, but no. We don’t have to travel far, only to a cottage of sorts hidden in the trees below the cliff. But it will be quicker if we take the horses, and we only have the three mounts. Correct, Luther?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Redgrave. One for you, one for her ladyship and the last for me.”

“There, you see,” Piffkin said rather triumphantly. “Three horses. I can ride, you know. I’ll more than keep up.”

Valentine kept walking. “No, you won’t. I’ve known you all my life, and I’ve never seen you ride.”

“You only know me all of
your
life, as you say. I had a life before your grandmother made you my charge, unbelievable as you may find that. I’m perfectly capable of riding a horse.”

“Piffkin,” Valentine pointed out as they neared the waiting horses, “Luther here was to ride his own horse, I was going to take Daisy up with me as far as the inn, but since I’ve already seen Lady Caroline ride in Hyde Park, we provided the third horse for her.”

Piffkin nodded quickly, as if anxious to be moving again, rather than talking. “And I will ride her horse. It’s this one, correct?”

“Yes, Piffkin,” Valentine said as the man circled the bay mare, most probably in search of a stirrup. “That one. The one with a sidesaddle strapped to its back.”

Luther snorted. “Shall I help boost him up, sir? I’ll be sure to mind his skirts.”

Unbelievably, as his heart was filled with fear for Daisy and feeling a blood lust rising in him for any member of the Society he found, Valentine laughed.

Piffkin left the mare and walked over to point a finger at the outrider’s smiling face. “You may snicker, young man, but Mr. Redgrave here is always the better man for a chuckle or two, isn’t that correct, Master Valentine? We’ll find Miss Daisy and her ladyship, and we’ll do what must be done. Not by worrying and blaming yourself, and not by knocking on their door and politely turning yourself over to them—and I know you were thinking just that—but by being the man I know you to be. Although I would like to put forward the idea we
walk
to this cottage that isn’t so far away. Giving you more time to clear your head, as it were.”

“Thank you, Piffkin. I was about to go charging in there like a mad bull, wasn’t I? I could have gotten us all killed. I promise you, I won’t just hand myself over to them in exchange for Daisy.”

The manservant shrugged. “Not your fault, sir. Between whatever they were rubbing on your face and fearing for your lady love, there’s not many a man who’d have his brain straight.”

“Daisy is not my lady love. She’s in this mess because of me and it’s up to me to set things right.”

“As you say, sir. Why, that touching embrace I walked in on was probably only something you did out of a sense of duty. Buck her up for the trials to come and all of that. Good on you, sir.”

“Piffkin, I swear I’ll— Never mind.”

“Yes, sir? You were about to say, sir?”

“Enough, you’ve made your point. Luther, those pistols are loaded, correct? Hand me a pair and let’s be on our way. Piffkin, I probably should ask. Do you shoot as well as you ride?”

“If at least one of us is being truthful, about the same, sir, yes. But I do have this.” He reached into his pocket and drew out a—

“What in bloody hell is that?”

“My best crimping iron, sir. I hope you’re correct and we’ll soon be able to recover the remainder of our belongings, but I couldn’t risk my best crimping iron to Dame Chance. It will make a tolerable weapon, if necessary.”

“No wonder you and Daisy get along so well. I must be out of my mind. Come on, we head this way. And God help us all if I can’t come up with a course of action between here and there.”

He already knew his first order of business, and that was locating and rescuing Daisy and Lady Caroline. The Society hadn’t wanted him dead, had believed they’d lured him here while also somehow knowing he wanted to be here, so they’d obviously had a plan for him, had intended to use him in some way, so that it stood to reason they also now needed Daisy alive to use to bend him to their will.

“And if
that
didn’t make my head hurt, I suppose I must be better,” he muttered to himself as he led the way uphill through the trees, to the standing stones.

“Sir?” Piffkin asked from behind him.

“I was thinking out loud. They had me, but they lost me. Now they have Daisy. Their only option now is to use Daisy to get me to do whatever it is they wanted me to do all along. Correct?”

“It would seem so, yes. You’re saying they know you aren’t on your way back to London, happy for your escape.”

“They somehow know I wouldn’t leave here without her, yes. Do you know what I think that means?”

The older man was huffing and puffing a bit, but Valentine pretended not to notice. “Please enlighten me.”

“I think it means Lady Caroline betrayed her somehow, either deliberately or by accident. I’m only surprised the children got out safely.”

“I will say her ladyship doesn’t care much for the children, sir. Agnes, their nurse, told me as much as we walked to the inn and Miss Daisy went off to fetch her ladyship. She kept referring to them as those
poor little souls.
”

Valentine looked back over his shoulder at Piffkin. Something wasn’t right, and he had a feeling whatever it was, it was important. “But you all were to leave together, Lady Caroline and the children.”

“Her ladyship was at first reluctant, fearing they’d be caught, and then insisted on some time to pack a few belongings. I last saw Miss Daisy at her attic window, watching as the children joined me in the trees. Then she was off to fetch Lady Caroline while Luther here sneaked across the lawn to gather up the baggage Miss Daisy tossed out her window. When Miss Daisy didn’t appear, Robert escorted the nurse and the children to the inn, and Luther and I waited for the ladies, and for you—and I won’t apologize again for that. I know your head hurts, sir, but why must we go over and over this?”

Valentine thought about this as they covered the quarter mile to the standing stones, running it all over and over in his mind. He arrived at a conclusion.

“Until and unless Daisy tells me otherwise, consider Lady Caroline one of the enemy,” he said at last as he stood at the edge of the cliff, knowing it would be impossible to see the roof of the cottage, as he hadn’t been able to see it in full daylight. But Charfield had told him where it was, and how to get down to it. God help the man if he’d lied; because if he had, Valentine was going to take him apart, piece by piece.

“There’s a path to our left, gentlemen, the same one used by the Society when they leave off killing chickens to go have their fun. I doubt there will be more than a half dozen opponents inside, one of them a woman. She’ll most likely be the only woman wearing a mask...or much of anything else. Luther, keep your mind on business, understood, and then prepare to forget anything you see.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll do my best.”

“If you see a weapon drawn, Luther, fire. And shoot to kill. Don’t hesitate. That includes the woman.”

“Sir?”

Valentine ignored him. They’d turned another corner in the path that kept curling back on itself through the trees, each turn taking them a level lower, toward the flat, stony land below, the floor of the abandoned quarry. He held up his hand to stop the other two, and went down on his haunches. “There it is. Clever, I suppose. See it?”

Beside him, Piffkin squinted into the darkness. “Not at all, sir.”

“Charfield told me it was built half into a natural cleft in the quarry wall, with the roof itself camouflaged with stone from the quarry. But that’s it, I’m certain of it. I don’t see any guards, which makes sense.”

“How so, sir?”

“Three reasons. One, whoever can be is out hunting for me. Two, whoever’s inside thinks they’re safely hidden. And three, thank God, we’re either smarter or luckier than they are. I believe Daisy hasn’t as yet decided which one. Let me circle around to the front while you stay here. There’s probably only a single door, which will make things easier, as they truly have their backs up against the wall. Once I have the lay of the land, as it were, I’ll come back to you and we’ll decide what to do next.”

Piffkin nodded his bald head. “Agreed.”

Valentine grinned. “Difficult as this may be for you to contemplate, I wasn’t applying for your permission. Luther, give me your jacket. This white shirt is too visible in the moonlight.”

‘My mum made this for me, sir.”

“Then I’ll be doubly certain not to get blood on it.”

Yes, I’m definitely feeling better. Daisy’s close, I just know it,
Valentine thought as he made his way down the remainder of the hill, leaving the twisting, switchback path in favor of the cover of the trees.

Even if the now nicely decimated Society was going to stick to its ritual, they only could have gotten as far as their damn procession and posturing. He’d be content to wait until they were all naked and vulnerable before crashing down the door, but with Daisy somewhere inside, he’d rather spare her that sorry spectacle. He wouldn’t even imagine her as a part of it, not when it was so obvious they’d be using her to draw him in.

He crept out from the trees, holding on to the stone wall as far as it went until his hand touched wood and he came away with a splinter the size of a nail. Clearly they’d built themselves no great palace. The
cottage
as Charfield had called it, once Valentine had reached a corner, was longer than it was wide. About halfway down, he could make out a single door with a narrow window on either side. Uncurtained, as the light from inside cast square shadows on the ground outside. A second story displayed several windows, one of them just above him.

All right. A single entrance, a single exit. Luther and Piffkin at the windows, pistols and crimping iron at the ready, and himself kicking down the door. But first, he wanted to go have a look through one of the narrow windows.

Suddenly Valentine’s body tensed as he heard a sound coming from somewhere. But where? And there it was again. A soft, kicking sound. Both his pistols drawn from his waistband, he attempted to make himself invisible as he hunkered down, looked to his right, then to his left.

“If you’d consider looking
up,
Valentine? No, wait, I forgot. Don’t look up. Just catch this.”

Naturally, he looked up, just as something heavy and damp landed on his head.

“What in bloody hell...?” he whispered as he pulled off what seemed to be a large sheet of toweling. He rose to his feet and slid the pistols back in his waistband.

Daisy was above him, hanging above him, doing her best not to swing about in circles as she slowly lowered herself down some sort of improvised rope, her apparently bandaged feet dangling beneath bare legs and white, billowing— What happened to your clothes?”

“You should pretend not to notice,” she countered, managing to make her whisper sound absolutely
prim
as he raised his hands to catch her as soon as she dropped closer to him.

“Daisy,” he hissed. “Let go.”

“Only if you don’t look. I was hoping to get down with no one noticing, decide where I am, and then go looking for you. This is embarrassing. Close your eyes.”

“For the love of God,” Valentine pleaded quietly. “Let’s go. I won’t look.”

Touch, but not look. Imagine, but not look. Dream, but not look. Oh, hell, just one more quick look....

And then he grabbed onto her bare calf, smooth and soft, and even slippery with some sort of oil, halting her slow rotation, and obediently, reluctantly, closed his eyes. And then he had both hands on her narrow waist. And then her slick, perfumed body was sliding down the length of his, and was just as suddenly gone.