His Jilted Bride (Historical Regency Romance) (30 page)

“
When we finish, perhaps you should make a visit to the little
room Caroline set off for ladies of the family to retire in for a
bit and read your note.”

“
Yes, I think I shall,” she agreed. She'd been wanting to
since he'd given it to her but hadn't found the right time, yet.
From the corner of her eye she saw Henry shoot a wolfish grin at
the young lady dancing next to them. She swatted him. “If you want
to pretend to be Elijah, then you'd better have better manners than
that.”

Henry ignored her and quickly spun
Amelia around so her back was to the lady and his eyes could focus
on the side of the beautiful young lady's very generous
curves.

A moment later, the music ended and
Henry abruptly loosened his hold on Amelia in favor of making the
acquaintance of the young lady who'd caught his
attention.

Amelia scowled at him. If he didn't
stop his wandering eyes and lustful looks while pretending to be
Elijah, she’d brain him.

Putting it from her mind, she walked
as slowly as she could to get into the little room. She'd been to a
few balls in London held by some of the Banks ladies and always
heard they set off a private room for family at balls. Amelia
didn't know why. Perhaps there were better foods waiting or
Caroline's personal lady's maid to mend a ripped flounce as opposed
to hired help. She didn't really know, and would be slightly more
interested if only she wasn't so intent on reading the slip of
paper she'd tucked in her glove.

She closed the door to the dimly lit
room behind her and sat down beside a candle, then removed the
folded paper. It smelled of Elijah, spicy and of the fresh
outdoors. Slowly, she unfolded it.

PLEASE, TRUST ME. I LOVE
YOU.

Her heart pounded. He
loved her? Why he hadn't just told her, she'd never know, but he
loved her! She looked down at the note and read those three simple
words again and again. He loved her. He loved her. Elijah
loved
her
. She
took a deep breath and refolded the note. She couldn't sit in here
and reread it over and over again like a ninny. She needed to go
back out there and find him and tell him that she loved him,
too.

She tucked the note back into the top
of her long white glove and stood.

Just then, a floorboard creaked. Her
pulse raced. Was someone in the room with her?

Slowly she turned around to a pair of
cold grey eyes in a demi mask. She opened her mouth to scream, but
her cry was lost, buried against a firm, gloved hand.

***

Elijah stood motionless as Amelia
scurried away from Henry. Elijah had wanted to be the one at her
side, but Henry had convinced him that he was the better person to
be down there with her because it'd be easier for Henry to drive
her away to the room, nor would he appear besotted.

Which was true. Henry was better at
keeping his feelings separated from his duty; not to mention he
didn't love Amelia, and Elijah's love for her might have given
himself away.

Still, he wished he'd been down there
by her side and able to confirm she was locked safely in the
drawing room, away from Philip and any danger he might present.
Instead, he'd spent the last hour lurking behind a giant marble
statue on the balcony which overlooked the top of the two-story
ballroom, waiting and watching.

Just as they'd planned, when Philip
approached them, Henry took Amelia off to dance and suggested she
visit the blue saloon after the dance. Of course, Henry might have
gotten a little too dramatic with his ogling of Lord Mobley's
daughter, but it helped build credence for why Amelia was stalking
off, he supposed.

Henry was supposed to have slid the
lock once she was safely inside, keeping her secure. And if he
didn't, so help him, Elijah was going to kill his own
brother.

A boot scraped against the concrete
and chills ran up Elijah's spine. Remaining stock-still, he shifted
his eyes. It was Bertie, the footman he'd bribed to tell him who
arrived with Philip.

Elijah stepped out from behind the
statue and into its shadow. “Well?”

Bertie scanned the throngs of people.
“I—I don't see him now, sir.”

“
How was he dressed?”

“
Black. All black.”

Elijah sighed. That could be half the
gentlemen here. Costume balls, he'd learned, were generally
attended only to appease one's wife. No gentleman enjoyed dressing
up in anything different than he'd typically wear and most usually
opted to wear black and a demi mask. “Anything else? Was he tall?
Short? Did he keep his hat on?”

“
Tall, sir. Taller than most, six foot, mayhap.”

“
Are you sure you're not describing Philip?”

“
No, sir. This man was taller than Lord Kirkham, he
was.”

“
All right,” Elijah said with a sigh. He and Henry had agreed
that Henry wouldn't collect Amelia from Caroline's sitting room
until he'd seen Philip's coachmen park the carriage. Their best
chance to catch either of them now would be to wait for them in the
east lawn where the carriages were parked.

Elijah slipped out the side door to
the exterior balcony and jumped. He bit off a vile curse when his
feet collided with the hard ground, then dusted off his trousers.
He was getting too old to be jumping off second story balconies. He
slipped behind the tall bushes that lined the house and walked in
the thin alley between the bushes and the house. Truly he didn't
have to walk this way. In fact, it would have been faster to have
gone the other way, but call it years of always being careful or
perhaps love that he felt compelled to peek in on Amelia and make
sure she was all right. A part of him wished he could have been
hiding in that room and seen her reaction upon reading his missive.
Did she smile? Did she cry? Or did she sigh with uncertainty? She'd
seemed interested in their physical activities and spending time
together, but did she love him, too? Or was her love only that of a
friend? The uncertainty was enough to kill him.

Stepping carefully so not to alert
anyone to his presence, he crouched down to stay hidden behind the
bushes as they decreased in height from six feet tall down to three
as he neared the window of the blue saloon.

He came to an abrupt halt.

The window was open.

Every ounce of blood in Elijah's veins
pumped through his body, carrying with it, rage, fury, and nervous
excitement.

“
Calm down.”

Elijah jerked his eyes to the right
and in the moonlight locked eyes with his twin. “What are you
doing?”

“
The same thing you are,” Henry whispered.
“Waiting.”

Elijah recognized the warning right
away and it took every ounce of strength he possessed to stay still
long enough to hear what Henry had to say.

“
Someone's in there,” Henry whispered again.

Elijah's heart slammed in his chest.
“Why?” It was the only word he could form.

“
I don't know. After I locked the door and asked Andrew and
Benjamin to have a conversation right outside it and keep it
guarded, I came out here to meet the constable. Just as I was
walking past, I heard the sound of breaking glass and watched
someone go in there.”

“
And you just let them?” Elijah hissed.

“
Yes. I have Andrew and Benjamin guarding the door and I gave
Hiram my best pistol and stationed him to wait in that room and if
any foul play happened, he was to start shooting.”

That would have made Elijah feel
better if Hiram was a crack shot and not a chubby stableboy. “Do
you realize he could shoot Amelia?”

“
Not likely,” Henry said, his voice calm as could be. “I told
him to start shooting—and I specified not in the direction of a
person.”

A measure of relief washed over Elijah
but was gone in less than a second when a shot rang out. Then a
second. And a third. Followed by a fourth.

Elijah and Henry momentarily locked
gazes, but not for more than a fraction of a second. Just long
enough for Elijah to make sure Henry understood that if a hair was
harmed on Amelia's head, Henry had better run into
exile.

“
Wait,” Henry whispered, grabbing Elijah's shoulder to keep
him from crawling into the window.

The force of Henry's grip held Elijah
back just far enough that a booted foot coming out of the window
missed his face as the intruder jumped out, taking a squirming and
kicking, but silent Amelia with him.

“
Now,” Elijah and Henry whispered in unison, lunging for the
duo who'd just come through the window.

The foursome tumbled into the grass;
shrieks and grunts erupted as everyone struggled. The man at the
bottom struggled to get up, Amelia struggled to get free and Elijah
and Henry struggled to let Amelia get up while holding her captor
down.

Elijah placed his hand firmly on the
man's throat and rolled off to the side. “Go, Amelia.”

Amelia scrambled to get up and ran to
where a small audience had gathered a few feet away. Just then, a
flash of silver caught Elijah's attention. He released his hold on
the masked stranger and began chasing after who he was certain was
Lord Kirkham. The crowd of onlookers was too large now for the
other man to get away. Besides, Henry and his small army of
constables were there. They could handle it. The only person Elijah
cared about right now was Philip, Lord Kirkham. He still didn't
understand what Amelia had to do with any of this, nor did he want
her hurt ever again, and the only way to ensure that was to capture
Philip who was running toward a little cusp of trees near the
conservatory.

A twig snapped, followed by a
whispered curse. Elijah froze. Philip was near. Very near. Elijah
moved behind a thick tree and waited. Philip obviously knew to be
careful while walking in the wooded area, but his mistake had been
running into a grove of trees he was unfamiliar with, especially at
night. Elijah crept closer to where he thought Philip was standing
until he glimpsed what appeared to be the back of a human form
through the shadows. At his side, Philip's left hand clenched and
unclenched, while his right hand stayed hidden in the
darkness.

Elijah lunged forward, taking them
both to the ground and a shot rang out. Elijah reached for Philip's
gun, but was stopped when an elbow collided with his right cheek.
He grunted through the sharp pain and reached again, pressing down
on the middle of Philip's back with the heel of his left
hand.

Philip half-gasped, half-grunted and
threw the gun. Not far, but far enough that Elijah couldn't reach
it without allowing Philip a means of escape.

“
Damn you,” Elijah grunted.

“
No, damn you,” Philip countered. “She was supposed to marry
Friar, then I'd be free of this mess.”

Elijah placed his arm down on the back
of Philip's neck, adding just the slightest amount of pressure as
he continued to pin him to the ground. “Explain
yourself.”

“
Amelia. She was supposed to marry Friar. Until you got
involved, that is.”

“
Why?” When Philip didn't immediately answer, Elijah added
more pressure to his neck with his arm.

“
She was to be the madam,” Philip shrieked, his body trying
fruitlessly to move under Elijah's weight.

“
Why?” he bit off again.

“
People were starting to question Friar's
activities.”

“
People? What people?”

“
The ones he was selling the girls to.”

Elijah pressed down a little harder.
“What were they questioning?”

“
Their willingness.”

That's because they
weren't willing!
“And how does Amelia fit
into all of this?”

“
She was to act as the madam, say she'd recruited the girls
and that they were willing.”

Elijah's skin crawled at the very
suggestion. “And Friar thinks he could have made Amelia bend to his
will.”

“
Physical force is a powerful weapon, wouldn't you say, Mr.
Banks?”

Elijah had the strongest urge to punch
him in the side for that remark, but had long ago decided he'd only
use as much force as was necessary to complete his tasks. That
night in Brighton he'd only bloodied the man so badly because there
were two against one and the only gun in sight was in the hands of
the enemy. “All right, and was it by physical force that you took
those other girls?”

“
Of course. We couldn't very sell them as virgins.”

A bitter taste filled Elijah's mouth
and this time he did punch Philip in the side, eliciting a
high-pitched shriek that echoed through the night. “That's for what
you did to those girls. And this—” he punched him again, so hard
this time he broke a rib— “is for enjoying it. And this—” he
punched him again— “is for even thinking about involving Amelia in
this filth.”