Eight
“Put that thing away!”
“It is my pistol, sir!”
“A damnably stupid toy for a female!”
“You did not complain earlier.”
“No, for I must have temporarily lost my wits. Put it down and come back here. I want to look at you.”
Tessie remembered his kiss, and hardened her resolve.
“I am going. Joseph shall be here shortly. It is not a long ride to Stipend. . . .”
“Over my dead body! You are here now, and here you shall stay, and damn with the consequences.”
“I cannot . . .”
“I feel faint.”
Tessie, finally, turned around and looked up. The man was sitting, and though he in no way looked faint, he did look bloody, his shirt stained brown and clinging tightly to his person.
She regarded him severely. “You are funning me, sir. A shabby trick, for which you deserve to be deserted mercilessly. Or perhaps I should offer you a restorative, like I did poor Lord Christopher?”
“God’s brew! What did your conniving little brain offer him?”
“Cod liver oil, and as it was purely in your service that I did it, I should thank you to be more grateful!”
“Come up here, little infant, and I shall show you grateful.”
“Now you are talking fustian besides taking great liberties. But I shall step up, for I need to look at your wounds.”
Nicholas instantly lay back upon his sheets. He would be loath to admit it to the infant, but he did have the devil of a headache and felt as weak as a kitten due undoubtedly to the wound he had incurred. Still, he had suffered worse during the abroad, and then there had been no beauty in a bedraggled nightrail to offer him succor. On the whole, he felt rather smug.
He heard some rustling and opened his eyes. Sat up. His head spun, but he ignored it. He glared. He frowned. He bellowed.
“What in tarnation are you doing?”
The smugness had quite vanished from his fine aquiline features.
“I am trying to make myself respectable, sir.”
“Respectable? In a mud-stained garment several sizes too large for you, and one, I might add, that almost certainly smells? ”
“It was good enough for you.” Tessie, who delighted in feathered bonnets and frivolous muffs, buttoned each tawny button with methodical decision. It was not, she knew, the most flattering garment she’d ever worn, but it would certainly dull Lord Cathgar’s ardor. Now, that, after all, was what she wanted.
Or was it? She eyed those teasing lips with decided disfavor, for they caused her resolution to fade like melted snow. Her reputation, she knew, was already in shreds, but the voluminous coat protected her virtue. She may be improper, but she was not impure.
“I was impersonating a Luddite.”
“And I am hiding from your view the sight of my ripped nightrail. A very serviceable coat, I find.”
“I shall have Joseph burn it. It did not serve its purpose for me, and it does not serve its purpose for you either.”
“Why ever not?”
“I have no notion why not, for it is truly hideous, but I find I still desire you.”
“My lord!”
“Climb up and box my ears.”
“I am not so green as that. I shall wait until you are asleep before I touch your wounds.”
“Very well, though I must warn you I believe I have reopened the wound, for it aches damnably and . . . yes . . . see here . . . it is bleeding again.”
Tessie eyed him suspiciously. But because she found she truly did care, she fetched a single taper from the washstand and drew it up close.
“Stand on the bed stair. You can’t see from down there.”
Tessie obeyed, taking care with the flame. The quietness of the room, coupled with their closeness, disturbed her. It was too intimate, somehow . . .
“See here? This patch is red rather than brown.”
He was right! Forgetting her shyness, she set down the candle close to the bedstead and touched him gently.
“I am going to have to remove your shirt. Or, at least, cut it open. Is there a knife?”
Nicholas nodded. “I shaved earlier. Look near the washstand, doubtless Joseph did something with it.”
It took Tessie not a moment to find what she was seeking, and to draw up the tub of tepid water and a fresh towel.
“It will hurt, but I will be gentle.”
“Are there no end to your talents, little one?”
“I cannot draw, I can sing, but only indifferently, and I am—was—the despair of my dance master.”
“How mortifying! I loathe young ladies who draw and sing, but I see I shall have to take you in hand with respect to dancing. My wife, you see, must be permanently in my arms.”
“But I am not you wife, my lord.”
“A mere technicality. You shall be just as soon as I can leave this damnable place and procure a special license. Ow!”
“It pulls as I tear off the cloth. Very soon it will be feeling better. I wish I had some of Finchie’s powder. . . . It is said to be a great balm, though its color is vile and the application often stings.”
“Then I am glad you did not think to carry it with your pistol.”
“No, a great oversight, though I am at a loss to know how I am to carry both ammunition and a vial . . . oh! You are teasing me again!”
“Only a little, and you shall have your revenge, for that hurts damnably.”
“Bother! I was trying to be gentle!”
“Ouch!”
“Sorry, I could not see, this light . . .”
“Step up closer, then.”
“But it is . . . indelicate . . .”
“Good God, you are missish, O brave of heart!”
“Yes, for though you may think me highly improper. . .”
“I do . . .”
“I am perfectly proper, only I can’t help tumbling into horrible scrapes . . .”
“From which I shall no doubt have to rescue you a dozen times . . .”
“No!”
“No?”
“No! For I am not so poor a person as to entrap you into marriage.”
“And I am not so poor a person as to ruin your reputation, then leave you on the shelf.”
“You have done no such thing. . . .”
“Step up closer. I can’t argue with the top of your head.”
“I forgot my nightcap!”
“Indeed, and very fetching you look too.”
“I should have remembered. . . .”
“Yes, and your forty-two gold sovereigns, too, but you were in a hurry. A pardonable offense under the circumstances. Now, climb up here before I throw you up!”
“You would open all your wounds.”
“Yes, so spare me the pain, if you please.”
“Oh, very well.”
Tessie climbed up gingerly and immediately averted her eyes. His chest, though covered in blood, was excessively masculine, peculiarly tempting, and damnably interesting, with muscles she never knew existed, giving it a contour she had somehow not expected. Or, perhaps, not permitted the odd wayward thought to guess at . . .
“Where does it ache?”
“Everywhere, confound it.”
“Can I help?”
Again the sudden spark of mischief that Tessie found more dangerous than a positive troop of Luddites.
“Perhaps if you stroke me just here . . .”
“You take liberties, sir!”
“Tell me your name.”
“No!”
“Then I shall take a great deal more!”
“You tricked me up onto this great lumbering big bed. I do believe there is nothing wrong with you at all!”
“And I do believe I was right. You are, despite your . . . unusual accomplishments, as green as a goose.”
“Which, I infer, means a complete innocent, however rag-manneredly you wish to put it. I’d rather be innocent than jaded, so I thank you, my lord, for the ill-turned compliment.”
“Ah, wits as well as beauty. Too bad my bed is not a place I traditionally reserve for semantics.”
Tessie opened her mouth, then shut it again. She had nearly, very nearly, fallen into his trap. But she was not so green as he thought, and she would not ask him what he traditionally reserved his bed for.
Nicholas, accurately reading her bluster, then blush, then tongue-biting silence, chuckled.
“Very wise, little chicken. Safer, I think, not to ask.”
“Safer to depart your chamber immediately!” Tessie sounded cross, for she hated being on the wrong end of a quarrel. And he did pique her so!
“Too late. I did try to tell you that!”
“Yes, but that was when I thought you might be dying.”
“And now?”
“Now I think you are shamming it, and I feel very ill used.”
“The blood is real, and I do feel faint. . . .”
“Yes, and I feel like the Princess Esterhazy!”
“Take off that revolting coat and tell me your name.”
“No.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I can’t get a special license for Miss Nobody!”
Tessie, recalled to her primary troubles, grew suddenly somber.
“That is just what I might be.”
“Nonsense, you might be minus forty-two gold sovereigns, but I would wager my rather considerable fortune you are nonetheless a lady!”
“One of dubious character, however. Recollect that in the space of twenty-four hours I have traveled unchaperoned, I have disgraced myself utterly by shooting two people, my attire makes me seem like a . . . like a . . .”
“Lightskirt?”
“Yes, though it is shocking of you to say so . . .”
“And of you to know of such matters . . .”
“My point exactly! I am simply not respectable! Look at me now . . .”
“I am.” The voice was like velvet, and his unspeaking, outstretched arms seemed like heaven, but Tessie, very virtuously, resisted.
“You are ridiculous! But you prove my point. No gentleman would look at a lady in that rakish fashion.”
“When you are my wife, I shall always look at you so. Unless I am glaring at you, of course.”
“I am not going to be your wife.”
“How much do you want to wager?”
“Nothing, for I have lost my sovereigns and can be sure of no more until I see my man of business.”
“Who is?”
“Sly, but I am up to snuff. You shall not know from me, sir.”
“Why in the world are you so stubborn?”
“It is my besetting sin; Grandfather always said so.”
“He was right. And I shall marry plain Miss Charity Evans.”
“The banns will not be binding.”
“Am I such an antidote? I am acclaimed most eligible in some circles.”
“You are not precisely an antidote, but you are arrogant and overbearing, and a shade uncivil . . .”
Nicholas ignored her. “Why can you not tell me who you are? Trust me.”
“You said you did not want to be bored by my tale.”
“Well, that was before you saved my life and I had the faintest inkling what a devilish fine shot you are!”
“A fine shot is no recommendation for marriage, my lord. And I told you. Saving your life was payment of the tab.”
“Extravagant payment.”
“Indeed, but then I was horribly hungry and sadly in need of a chamber. I do not deceive myself that I should have succeeded in either had you not intervened.”
“True, but it took little effort on my part.”
“Yes, it is a shocking thing what rank and a haughty demeanor can achieve.”
Nicholas grinned, but those subtle marks of pain were back. Tessie noted it instantly, for his brows furrowed, and there was telltale moisture upon his brow.
“I am sorry it hurts.”
“So am I.”
“Try sleeping. If there was some laudanum somewhere. . .”
“There is. Joseph always carries it. For . . . emergencies.”
“For acting the spy, you mean.”
“For acting government’s agent, Madame Sharp-Tongue.”
Tessie grinned, for he was obviously nettled.
“I shall get some, then. And a cotton shirt. You will feel better clean.”
She slid down from the bed, glad of something to do other than fall under the spell of those mesmerizing eyes and the sheer lines of his body, hardly decent under the bedclothes.
The laudanum helped, for though Nick would not admit it, the wound was starting to cause him some concern. It was a mere scratch by dueling standards, but it ached nonetheless, and his head felt like lead. He wiped away some of the perspiration and shut his eyes for a fraction of a second, noting that Miss Tessie had drawn up a chair, regrettably out of reach, but that her precious pistol was nowhere to be seen. She was not, then, going to abscond. He closed his eyes just for a fraction of a second. Tessie climbed up the bed stairs. Yes, he was sleeping. She was relieved and yet, curiously, disappointed.
Dawn dappled the room with faint shades of light. The candles were well burned now, but it was possible to see perfectly well in the morning shadows. A knock, rather hearty, woke Tessie from her dreams with a start. She hoped it was neither the innkeeper nor his detestable wife. It was too early for that, surely?
“Joseph?”
“Aye, mistress, back from Stipend, and with a jolly tale to tell.” His words were whispered but loud enough for Tessie to hear perfectly. She fumbled with the large key and opened the door, still resplendent in her borrowed plumes.
Joseph, entering, eyed her shrewdly.
“Dosed ’im with laudanum, did yer?”
Tessie shut the door. “How did you know?”
“If yer be all tricked out in that them togs,’‘is lor’ship must be right weary.”
“I had nothing else, only my ripped nightrail.”
“Aye. My point precisely.”
“Oh!”
Joseph grinned. “Now save yer blushes, lassie. ‘Is lor’ship is a right good gun, if a bit . . .”
“High-handed?”
“Yes. Took a right likin’ to yer, ’e did.”
Tessie brightened. “Did he? I thought he thought me a shimble-shamble hoyden.”
“Then he is a fool, ‘e is, not lettin’ on . . . but I should not be jawin’ with yer with ’is lordship wounded. Is it bad, then?”
“I don’t know. He says it is a scratch, but the wound seems deep and I have no restorative powder. . . .”
“Did ‘e take his laudanum gently, or did yer force it down ’im?”
“Joseph, I am a lady. I don’t force.”
Joseph grinned. “Aye,” he agreed blankly, but Tessie was not fooled. She tried to suppress a grin, but failed. “If you must know, he took the stuff meekly.”
Joseph sobered a little. “Then ’e is in a worse way than I feared.”
“I think he had a fever. I wiped his forehead several times but hesitated to call for help. One does not want talk hereabouts.”
“No, there will be enough blabberheads in the mornin’, when the barn is swept clean.”
“Shall they suspect?”
“No, for what gentry mort goes a jaunterin’ about up to mischief?”
“Ask Lord Cathgar.”
“Oi ‘aye, but ’e just laughs. Right infuriatin’ ’e be.”
“But you love him.”
“Now, don’t yer go tellin’ ’im any such tales.”
Tessie laughed. “I won’t. He is far too complacent as it is!”
Joseph walked up to the bed.
“Like as not ‘e will do, missy. You did a fine job with the bandaging, and there ain’t no seepin’ that oi can tell.”
“There was, and I had no liniment, but I cleaned quite thoroughly . . .”
“Oh, yer did, did yer?” Joseph afforded her a sideways glance that held the whisper of a smile.
Miss Hampstead, remembering her unsuitable garment, and worse, the unsuitable night spent in a man’s—albeit mostly unconscious—company, blushed.
“E’ll marry yer right an tight, e’ will. ’E may be a ’ard ’ead, but ’e’s a gentleman born.”
“Joseph, don’t put such thoughts in his head again! For your information—and I don’t usually gossip with servants, but you seem a very superior sort—I have already refused him.”
“ ’E took it meekly, did ’e?”
“No, you rascal, he did not. But when he’s recovered, he will see that I am perfectly right. I must go now.”
“ ‘E will ’ave my ’ide if I let yer go.”
“Then you shall tell him you did at pistol point.” With that, Tessie picked up the pistol, still nonchalantly lying upon the occasional table, and smiled sweetly. She aimed it, rather considerately, at his lapel. If she shot, it would not be at his heart.
“You are mad!”
“Maybe a little. Au revoir, Joseph. Take good care of your master.”
With a nod, she was gone.