A Lady's Favor (10 page)

Everyone would know what she’d done, and a new scandal so quick on the heels of Mathew’s kiss would leave her all but ruined. Mama would never forgive her, Mathew would withdraw any warm feelings he had for her—assuming he had them at all—and she may very well never leave her house again just to avoid the whispered stares.

“She was such a nice girl when she was young,” people would say. And they would be right.

Oh, what have I done?

Bianca began rocking back and forth, unsure whether to focus on the numbness creeping into her legs or her fears of what tomorrow would bring. How had things become so horribly complicated? Mama’s words flitted back to her: “You cannot make all things right.” Indeed she could not.

Minutes passed and Bianca was still rocking, mired in regrets, when she heard something that was not wind or rain or thunder. She froze a moment, then lifted her head slowly and strained to hear the sound again, assuming she had heard anything at all.

“—onkah!”

Onkah? Be-onkah!
Someone was there; someone was looking for her.

“I’m here!” she yelled, through it sounded like a paltry bit of noise amid the storm. “I’m here!”

She sprang to her feet and was in the process of trying to push her arms back through the sleeves of her soiled and torn nightdress when thunder sounded, making her jump. A moment later, lightning lit up a figure standing in the doorway of the shed.

She stood stock-still, the wet gown hanging askew upon her shoulders as fear gripped her heart. What if this were not a rescuer?

“Bianca?”

Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open in recognition.

“Well, well, well,” Lord Strapshire said slowly, taking a step toward her.

She stumbled backward until she fell against the back of the shed. Lord Strapshire was close enough that she could see his face. He was not smiling.

THIRTEEN

“Strapshire!” Mathew yelled into the wind, keeping his chin down just enough that the worst of the rain stayed out of his face. He scanned the area, but Strapshire was nowhere to be seen. “Where has that buffoon gone?” Mathew turned his horse around and was heading back toward the road when he thought he heard something off to his left.

Mathew proceeded slowly so he wouldn’t miss the sound again. He’d seen Strapshire disappear into these woods a moment ago. That they were near Tampton’s Road—the scene of the Incident—was not lost to him, but he did not dwell on it either.

The search party had met not quite an hour ago in the center of the village before dividing into two groups of ten men each. They were just dispersing when a voice called after them. Mathew had turned to see Strapshire hurrying forward on his horse; his pure while stallion was not made for weather like this.

“I shall find her!” Strapshire had proclaimed, then spotted Mathew and hurried to reach his side—friends, now, apparently. “Where do we start?”

Mathew was tempted to beg off being partnered with Strapshire, but then thought better of it. He wanted to keep an eye on this man. What was he doing here anyway? Hadn’t Mrs. Davidson said he’d finally lost interest?

They’d been searching for nearly half an hour when Strapshire, after inspecting an old fence post at the edge of a copse of trees west of Tampton’s Road, spurred his mount to meet Mathew’s. “I think we should turn back,” he said. “The storm is getting worse.”

Mathew didn’t think it was worse than it had been when they started and shook his head. “Go back if you want. I’m continuing.”

“Suit yourself,” Strapshire said before kicking his mount forward. “I’ve already searched these woods—nothing here.” He waved toward the trees Mathew had avoided and headed toward the road.

Mathew turned back to his search area, but when he looked over his shoulder a moment later Strapshire was gone. But he should have still been on the main road that would take him back to the village.

Mathew went to where he had last seen the baron, searched a small perimeter, and then moved away. He did not have time to waste looking for that idiot. Bianca could be half frozen by now. He turned from the copse of trees when a bolt of lightning lit up the fence post where Strapshire had been right before he’d said he was leaving.

Mathew saw something amid that flash of light. When he reached the post, he dismounted and bent down to take hold of the small spot of pink cloth he’d seen. Upon attempting to remove the item, however, he realized it was a much bigger article than he’d expected. Perhaps large enough to be a woman’s dressing gown, though it was nearly unrecognizable with mud.

A closer inspection revealed two boots—servant quality—mired in the mud as well. Mathew caught his breath. Bianca must have been here. And Strapshire must have found these same items.

Mathew heard a horse’s whinny from the cluster of woods and, after tying his own mount to the fence post, he entered the trees, finding Strapshire’s horse tied to a tree limb.

Mathew turned to take in his immediate surroundings and groaned, low and deep. He had been in these trees before, and the old woodshed—a leftover relic from much earlier times when woodsmen would come out for days on end to gather a winter’s worth of firewood—was nearby. Mathew had feared he would die in that shed—and then a young Miss Bianca Davidson had come upon him.

Could she have remembered the shed? Would she know how to find the shed in the dark and rain? Might she be there even now?

Mathew stumbled around for a few minutes, frustrated to not have walked right to the shelter, but he had never wanted to see that shed again after what had happened there. He turned in a slow circle, looking for some indication of his direction, and heard something. Yelling? A woman’s voice?

Without hesitation, he moved in the direction of the voice, straining to hear it again and watching every tree and shrub for indication of that shed. Previously he and Strapshire had called Bianca’s name as they searched, hoping she would hear them, but he didn’t call for her now. If his suspicions were correct, it would not be
her
he would alert with his call.

“ . . . will not,” he heard on the wind and amended his direction slightly. “ . . . gouge your eyes out!” was the next thing he heard. It was a woman’s voice, loud with rage.

Mathew’s rising anger was tempered only by the remainder that Bianca was no helpless female. He saw the corner of the shed and quickened his pace. When he came around the front, he had only enough time to register Lord Strapshire pressing Bianca against the back of the shed before he lunged forward, grabbed the man’s collar, and pulled him back with the strength of three men, at least.

Strapshire nearly flew through the doorway of the shed and, in an echo of Friday night’s ballroom brawl, Mathew pulled back his fist and drove it as hard as he could into the other man’s nose. The snap he felt beneath his knuckles was extraordinarily satisfying, as was the squeal that Strapshire made as he fell backward, catching the edge of a tree on his way down.

Mathew turned immediately to find Bianca frantically trying to put her arms back into the sleeves of her nightdress, which was torn through the shoulder on one side. Mathew wasn’t sure whether to run to her, despite her state of undress, or stay where he was so as not to make things more awkward.

He settled on asking, “Are you all right?”

She nodded quickly and finally succeeded in pushing her arms through the sleeves. She tried to right the neckline of her nightgown, then looked at Mathew and narrowed her eyes. “You horrid excuse for a man! I will cut out your tongue for proposing such vile things!”

Mathew blinked, confused by her verbal attack, then realized Bianca was looking past him. He turned to see Lord Strapshire standing unsteadily on his feet behind him.

Bianca barreled forward, but Mathew put out an arm and caught her about the waist. She struggled, reaching for Strapshire with her fingers curved like claws, but although Mathew would not mind seeing her gouge the man’s eyes out, he wanted her nowhere near the cur. “You would dishonor me?” she screamed. “Force me to have no choice but you?”

Mathew pulled Bianca to his chest and held her there. “Stop,” he said in her ear. To his relief, she stopped fighting, though her chest heaved in indignation.

Strapshire lifted a hand to his nose, but when he pulled his hand back and saw it was covered in blood, he squeaked again before his eyes rolled back. He fell to the ground with a thud.

“Good heavens,” Mathew said in disgust. He released Bianca and turned her to look at him. She was still breathing hard, but she was also shivering. “Stay here, just a moment.”

By the time Mathew reached Strapshire, the baron was moaning again. Mathew hadn’t expected his faint to last long with cold rain falling into the man’s face. Mathew put a foot on Strapshire’s chest and waited until Strapshire looked up at him with frightened eyes. He might still be confused from the fall, but he would remember what Mathew said.

“If you are still in Brookborrow by morning, I will tell the world what you did tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything!” he defended.

“You tried!” Bianca said, coming around Mathew’s side. She used both hands to push her wet hair behind her ears. Mathew put out a hand to stop her from coming any closer.

“If you are still here by morning,” Mathew said to Strapshire again, “I will see you in irons. You will never be welcome in this village again, am I clear?”

For a moment Strapshire looked as though he might protest, but then he nodded, glaring past Mathew at Bianca. “I’m done with her anyway! The woman’s an ungrateful menace!”

Bianca harrumphed but did not attempt to lunge at the man again.

Mathew removed his foot from Strapshire’s chest and guided Bianca several yards away. He pulled off his coat and settled it upon Bianca’s shivering shoulders, pulling the sides together under her chin.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. “Your mother is worried sick over you.”

Her eyes went wide, and she looked so scared that he searched his mind for another solution. “But let’s first go to
my
home, clean you up a bit, and deliver you in better condition than this, yes?”

She nodded, relieved, and he ushered her away from the woodshed. Strapshire glared at them as they stepped past him, but made no move to interfere.

When they reached Strapshire’s horse, Mathew untied the reins from the tree limb and slapped the horse hard on the flank, sending it at a run toward town. Strapshire could use the extra time it would take to walk home to think of how he would explain the blood and his missing horse.

When they reached Mathew’s horse, he lifted Bianca into the saddle before settling himself behind her and pulling her tight against his chest. She laid her head against him, and he skirted the woods behind his home so that they wouldn’t be found.

“I’m s-s-so s-s-orry,” she said miserably.

“Shh,” he said, wrapping one arm around her and pulling her closer. “Everything will be all right.”

They rode in silence, then he felt her take a breath. “Wh-why were you in that shed all those years ago?”

Every other time Mathew had thought back to that day he had been filled with embarrassment, but suddenly it felt different. Perhaps she only wanted to fill the time, but he would not miss the opportunity to explain, glad to finally have the chance.

“I had two older cousins,” he began, settling a bit further in the saddle so she could turn her hips a bit more. “They did not like me very much and . . .”

“Mrs. Collins!” Mathew called when he opened the back door and ushered in a shivering, wet, and a bit less-miserable Bianca inside. He’d managed to make her laugh with his telling of his tale, and finally, after all these years, the matter was at rest between them. Now that they had arrived at his home, however, the seriousness of the situation was pressing upon them again.

The housekeeper appeared almost immediately, took one look at Bianca, and rushed her toward the kitchen fire.

“You poor dear!” Mrs. Collins said. She then looked to Mathew for additional information. He had had just enough time between his confession and their arrival to come up with a plan.

“Help Miss Davidson wash off the worst of the mud, provide her with a clean nightdress and dressing gown from Mama’s things, and return her to the kitchen. I’ll have Ambrose waiting with further instructions.” He took off his hat only long enough to push his hair up before settling it back on his head.

“You’re n-not stay-ying?” Bianca said through her chattering teeth.

He stepped toward her and smiled. “I am still part of the search party. It appears that
Ambrose
found you somewhere safe and dry. You’ll have to take over the story from there, I’ve not thought of an explanation, but Ambrose and my staff will support whatever story you create, and I shall simply be one of the many who will be glad you are safely home. No one needs to know the whole of what’s happened, or that you were alone in my company for so long a time and in such a state.”

She reached a mud-streaked hand from beneath the coat and took his. “Yo-o-u are doing th-this to p-p-preserve my honor?”