Ella, The Slayer (3 page)

"Shall we agree to a mutual disarmament?" he said and raised one eyebrow.

Slicing off someone's head versus bullet through the chest, our standoff could get messy. I would put away my weapon, but if he thought to take advantage of a lone girl in the woods, he was in for a surprise. I knew how to fight with my bare hands thanks to years of wrestling Henry.

"Very well," I said. He withdrew his arm, and I tucked the katana back into the scabbard strapped behind me.

He holstered his pistol and held out one hand. "Seth deMage."

I swear to God, all sense of logic and reasoning failed me. An arctic wind blew through one ear and out the other and numbed every thought in its path. I couldn't even move. Seth deMage was the new Duke of Leithfield. Or the not so new duke, as his father was one of the first to succumb to the virus the previous year while the son was still at war. The whole village gossiped about when he might return to take up his seat. His work in the armistice negotiations had delayed his return, but it appeared he was absent no longer. Step-mother would pitch a fit, she was angling for a dinner party invite for her and my step-sisters. A match with one of them to the young duke would secure her future.

And here was me, the dirty little scullery maid and the new duke was trying to shake my hand. Kicking my thoughts back into action, I dropped a curtsey.

"Your grace," I managed to stutter. My gaze darted around the clearing, and mentally I willed Molly to wake up, gallop over, and we'd affect our escape.

"Seth, please. I think having your sword levelled at my throat puts us on an informal method of address."

He laughed. He actually laughed at me, a deep chuckle so unfamiliar in these times that it sounded alien to my ears. I hadn't heard a man laugh since father departed for war. There had been little to laugh at since, and Henry only screamed.

I blinked. Nope, my reasoning returned to its deluded state. It seemed easier than trying to figure my way out of this mess, and the stubborn mare refused my mental summons.

He stepped forward and took my hand, placing it in his larger one for a firm handshake.

"Yes, your grace," I muttered, staring at where our flesh touched. So warm, it spread up my arm like an escaped fire.

When I looked up, he was still smiling as his gaze searched my face. "And you are?"

Mortified. I hoped a sudden earthquake would rupture the ground below my feet and swallow me whole. I paused – nothing. Apparently God was not going to help out with a convenient earthquake. I would have to rely on my wits to get out of this pickle. Assuming I had any left.

"Oh, um, Eleanor." I kept my breathing calm, while inside I ran frantic circles trying to find an exit from this horrible predicament. I could no more be introduced to the duke than I could knock on the door of Buckingham Palace and invite myself in for a cup of tea. Not only was I the local slayer with my hands covered in the blood of vermin, even worse, I was no lady nor would I ever be. As step-mother constantly reminded me, servant blood from my mother ran strong in my veins, and no amount of education my father supplied could remove that taint.

"Eleanor," he murmured my name, as though tasting the syllables on his tongue, which made me stare at his mouth. A shiver ran down my spine as I wished he would whisper my name again.

What was I doing? Oh bugger, that's right – trying to extricate my hand. Except, I really don't want to lose contact with him. His firm grasp on my fingers made me tingle with life, chasing away the last remaining images of struggling vermin. While he touched me, I was alive and not a hollow shell.

"Are you local?" he asked.

The tiny voice in the back of my head started laughing.
I'm local all right, a local servant.
Think Ella, think!

"Eleanor Cowie. I came from London last year to stay with distant relatives." Yes, that would throw him off the scent. Good thinking Ella. No one would suspect a Londoner of thrashing around in rural Somerset with a sword.

His gaze swept my body and seemed to linger on my blood stained boots. "You shouldn't be out in the woods alone. There are undead about, but I suspect you know that."

What gave it away? Maybe the piece of red matter stuck to my boot. Was that spinal column? I snorted back a giggle. "I can look after myself."

"Quite." His gaze stayed fixed on my face and he still held my hand. "What brought you here from London?"

Blasted questions, I needed a convincing story and quick. I was nimble with a blade, but never so quick with an untruth. His thumb was doing small circles on my wrist, and the tiny caress was going to make my knees buckle and my brain dribble out my ears.

Pull yourself together Ella. It's not like you've never been touched by a boy before.

Man
, my brain whispered back. This one is most assuredly a man.

"My family sent me away toward the end of the war, and I stayed when the pandemic broke out. Now it is too unsafe to return. You cannot tell the vermin in a crowd. Many more are being infected on the streets of our cities and towns."

He made a noise in his throat and let my hand go. "These are dangerous times. I thought the Great War would prove to be England's darkest days, until I returned to our shores." He tucked his hands behind his back, as though we had conversed at some society event. "Will you allow me to escort you back to your home?"

"No, thank you." Oh lord no, that's all I need, another reason for the wicked witch to flog me. "I must be going, I am late and I'm sure you have more important things to be doing." If morning tea were late there would be all hell to pay, I pulled out my old pocket watch and glanced at the time. Ten o'clock. Hell, I would be late unless we cantered all the way home. I lifted the reins from a nearby branch and tossed them over Molly's head.

"Let me give you a leg up then."

Before I could say a word, he closed the gap between us, standing so close I could smell his soap and cologne. It wrapped around me and I wanted to close my eyes and savour a moment untainted by death. One more memory I could add to my store and pull out when the tide threatened to overwhelm me and pull me under, like his gentle touch on my skin turning my legs to jelly.

Hands on the saddle, I bent my knee, and his strong hands slid along my boot.

"On the count of three," he said and counted down, popping me easily into the saddle on three.

"Safe journey, Eleanor." He smiled wide, showing even teeth. "I do hope we meet again."

"Safe journey to you too, Seth." His name on my lips made my heart stutter. Foolish, it was only because his touch produced such an unusual reaction in me. He was so far above me, I could no more catch a star than whisper his name. But I wanted to try, just once, before the world came crashing down around me and shoved me back in the gutter where I belonged.

Chapter Three

The horse's shoes rang out on the cobbles and the horses in the barn called out in greeting. Blasted horses, so much for sneaking back so no one knew I was late. Alice rushed from the backdoor and was at my side as I dismounted.

She stared up at me, even as she tried to check my limbs for bite marks. "Where have you been? She's in a right state that her scones are late and is most insistent that you must serve them. She made me take the tray back to the kitchen and come find you."

I held in the sigh. Of course, she'd want
me
to curtsey and serve her tea, there was less sport in lording her superior position over Alice.

"Sorry, I found a vermin that had tried to crawl under the wire last night, and it was trapped. I had to dispatch it and needed time alone after." Most vermin got hopelessly tangled up in the barbed wire during the night, giving us valuable time to dispose of them in the morning. Probably best not to mention that I nearly gave the new Duke of Leithfield a closer shave than any valet would dare.

"Where are the other two?" I asked.

Henry took the mare's reins and led her back to the barn, while I unslung the sword and handed it over. Alice gave me a clean apron in exchange. I had no time to change from my dirty clothes, step-mother would have to cope with me in trousers and not my drab-grey uniform.

Alice laughed. "Still abed. Deliver her morning tea, then we have to wake them up and dress the delicate princesses for whatever outing they have planned."

For nearly six years, Charlotte and Louise had been stuck in the countryside. They still thought they were part of the London set, those who had sufficient wealth and popularity to sleep late and stay up until the early hours. Except instead of balls, galas, and concerts, all they did was play havoc with Alice and I. We had to stay awake to help them undress, but still be up at six in the morning to reset all the fires and start our chores. I sighed and headed to the barrel of water by the back door. I plunged my hands in, scrubbed off the worst of the dirt, and sluiced water over my face. Thankfully my hair was short. I had hacked it off the previous year while nursing. Long hair was too much effort to maintain. Everything got a quick dry on the apron as Alice tied the ends at my waist.

"You'll do in a pinch," she said. "Just hope she doesn't look down at your boots."

Inside the kitchen, I grabbed the silver tray set for tea with scones, strawberry jam, and cream. Alice shoved my cap on my head and tucked my wayward hair underneath. Not quite presentable for her ladyship, but regardless, I headed up the back stairs to the parlour.

The hidden door to the entrance hall closed behind me, and I walked on the balls of my feet, so as not to drop mess on the carpet. I balanced the tray on one hand, opened the door, and entered her domain. In the last few years she erased the masculine touch of my father from the room, replaced it with chintz flowers, and crammed every surface with ornaments of leering cats. I like cats, we have two out at the barn. I just don't like hundreds of glassy eyes staring at me from every nook and cranny. At least she didn't touch the library. I could retreat there and breathe in his world, but for how much longer?

"Sorry, my lady," I said, setting the tray down on the delicate table next to the sofa covered in soft pink and palest green chintz. "One of the fences was broken and a vermin still lay trapped within."

She gasped and dropped the needlework into her lap. One hand flew to her chest. "I have asked you not to speak of those dreadful things in my presence. It really isn't fit conversation for a lady, although one would expect such uncouthness to pass your vulgar lips."

"Yes, ma'am." I dropped a curtsey and waited for my dismissal. Please let her be done with me. I preferred to feed father and tell him about the day's events as he sipped on his broth. I imagine he hears my words and is silent because he is weighing up the appropriate response to give, not because his mind no longer works.

"Oh Ella," she sighed. She waved a pale hand in my direction. The other clutched the cream lace collar of her dark blue tea gown. She wasn't beautiful, there was nothing delicate about her features, but she was a striking woman. With jet-black hair rising from a widow's peak to her piercing blue eyes, she made you stop and look twice. Now her gaze drifted downward and mercifully stopped before it reached my blood stained boots. At least I was still hoping it was blood, time had not yet allowed a closer inspection.

"You are such a state, child. And why must you insist on gallivanting around the countryside in trousers? I do hope nobody of our acquaintance spotted you."

Technically the person I met was not of our acquaintance, no. She would never understand that it was easier to do a man's job dressed as a man. Long skirts hampered movement. But then Elizabeth was of a different time, when women could afford to act as delicate ornaments and had no need to dirty their hands.

I hid mine in the cotton of the apron. I thought they were clean, but what the apron hid was definitely not clean. "Sorry, step-mother." The words slipped out and couldn't be recalled.

The scowl dropped over her face. "Do not call me that. Ever."

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry." I twisted my fingers in a fold of fabric, desperate to make my escape. I could face a vermin and remove its head, but I couldn't work up the courage to walk out of a parlour under her stare.

"Yes, well, can't be helped I suppose. You are farm-bred and ignorant. Not like my girls, such gentle hot-house flowers." She rolled her eyes and picked up the teapot.

I still hadn't been dismissed, and one topic gnawed at my insides like a loose vermin. "Why did you come here?"

Sometimes the words wouldn't stay in my head and they escaped before I could erase them. Given the amount of trouble I was already in, I figured I might as well pile a bit more on top of myself.

Her finely plucked eyebrows shot up, and she dropped the pot back to the tray with a clang. "Whatever do you mean?"

I scrambled for the right path to tread, the one that didn't end in a beating. Although just as all roads were said to lead to Rome, it seemed all of my questions led to the switch across my back. "You are so finely bred. I am sure you were the toast of London and could have had any man after the baron died. Why did you settle on my father?" Why the lowly knight, I really wanted to ask. The lowest step on the peerage ladder, with only a modest country house to his name. Why did you come here and ruin our quiet lives, when you could have stayed in the city, where lobbing sarcastic barbs was considered sport.