How to Please a Lady (15 page)

“Before you sleep, drink some water, my lady.”

Charlie held a glass to her lips and helped her lift her head. Weak as a kitten, she was.

“Now you may sleep. I think your fever is gone, or nearly so. I shall be extremely happy to tell Dr. Landsdowne you will recover.”

“Landsdowne,” she muttered. She had no idea what Charlie was speaking of.

Rose closed her eyes, but before she drifted back to sleep, she heard another man's voice. He sounded urgent. Rose tried to rouse herself, but felt herself sinking into sleep.

 

Daniel had never been one to enjoy confrontations, and he was about to be thrown in the midst of one. It was just eight o'clock in the morning and his butler had woken him from a wonderful and much needed sleep to tell him an angry gentleman was in his parlor waiting for him.

“A Viscount Granton is here to see you regarding the lady.”

“Oh, good Lord,” Daniel muttered, realizing Lady Rose's eldest brother was in his home. He realized the viscount must have left England shortly after Lady Rose and her head groom in order to have arrived just three days after them. “I suppose he won't wait for me to dress,” Daniel said, grabbing his dressing gown and shoving his feet into a pair of leather slippers.

He strode to the sickroom, calling out for Charlie. Her head groom looked the worse for wear; the poor man had hardly slept for two days.

“Her brother is here,” he said, whispering so as not to awaken Lady Rose, who had apparently fallen back to sleep. “Is she . . . ?”

“Better. How is it possible that one of her brothers is here?” The man looked visibly ill. “Which one?”

“Lord Granton.”

“Oh, God.” Mr. Avery looked like he might cast up his accounts. “I'm a dead man for sure.”

“Let's get this over with. I'm certain he wants to murder someone and I'd rather have it be you than me,” Daniel said, trying for a bit of levity.

Mr. Avery gave him a withering look before following him out the door.

When they arrived in the parlor, a masculine room with dark paneling and comfortable leather furniture, they found Viscount Granton pacing back and forth like a caged animal. Or like a man who was worried sick about his sister.

“Good evening, Granton. What a pleasant surprise,” Daniel said smoothly, choosing to ignore the reason Lord Granton was in his home. He couldn't imagine what was going through the poor man's head, but he doubted it was related to the truth of the matter at all. He looked haunted and angry, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were quite telling. Daniel had talked with Granton a handful of times and found the man to be pleasant, if not overly jovial. He was, like so many members of the peerage, entirely dedicated to his duty.

When they entered, Granton stopped his pacing and looked from one man to the other, reserving his coldest stare for Mr. Avery. Daniel was glad that look had not been directed toward him as it was absolutely fearful. To give Mr. Avery credit, he stood there, even when Granton marched toward them, even when he drew back his fist and swung with considerable force at Avery's face. Avery went down like a load of bricks. Daniel was frankly impressed, for he took the blow as if it was some sort of penance. Avery hadn't been knocked out cold, but he had the sense to stay down, lying on his back and propping himself up with his elbows.

Granton stood over him, fists clenched. “You bloody cur. If you have married her, I will kill you and make her a widow this day.”

“We are not married,” Mr. Avery said, sitting up and wiping a bit of blood from the corner of his mouth.

This seemed to incense Granton even more. “How dare you take my sister with you without the benefit of a wedding! You have ruined her, do you realize that? Weston won't have her now. No one will have her now. You are not fit to look at her never mind . . .” Raw pain was etched on the older man's face as he glared down at the head groom, fists clenched, as if willing the man to stand again so that he might strike him once more.

“I understand that you're upset,” Daniel said, stepping between the two men and handing Granton a glass of brandy. “But this man saved your sister's life. More than once, apparently.”

That gave Granton pause. “What do you mean?”

“Lady Rose is recovering now, but when she arrived, after Mr. Avery found her freezing on the street, she was quite ill,” Daniel said calmly.

“She wouldn't have needed saving if this piece of shit hadn't stolen her from her home and ruined her.” He stopped as if Daniel's words were just reaching his brain. “Ill, you say?”

“She very nearly died, and may still.”

Granton began pacing back and forth. “And why would she come here? To you? She only met you that once, at her ball. What the hell is going on here?” the man shouted.

Daniel saw that the younger man was about to stand, but he shook his head in warning. Granton was raring to strike again and Daniel didn't much care for violence or the sight of blood. “If you recall, I said Mr. Avery saved Rose twice. Apparently she was escaping Weston.”

“We know. Rose sent a telegram saying only that she could not marry him, but we are all baffled as to why. My mother is beside herself with worry and my father . . . let's just say it's a good thing for Rose that I volunteered to fetch her home. As far as I know, Weston remains unaware she's disappeared.” Granton turned to Mr. Avery, who still sat, his forearms resting on his bended knees. By the look of the man, he'd be able to hold his own against Granton, but Daniel had no wish for fisticuffs in his parlor; he had far too many valuable artifacts for that sort of activity.

“Tell me, Charlie, is there any reason Rose cannot still marry Weston?” The warning in his voice gave Daniel the chills.

“Weston hurt her,” Avery said, staring directly ahead.

Granton had gone quite still. “What do you mean? How do you know?”

“I was working with Moonshine in the stable and Lady Rose had been out walking with Weston—”

“His Grace,” Granton snapped.

Avery gave Granton a hard look but continued. “His Grace. When Lady Rose returned, she was clearly upset. I thought they'd had some sort of spat. But I didn't have a good feeling about it, so the next day, I followed them.” Mr. Avery stood and looked Granton in the eye. “When I came upon them, Weston was unbuttoning his trousers.”

Granton reared back as if Avery had thrown a blow. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I'll kill him,” Granton said in a tone that left no doubt that Weston's life was, indeed, in danger.

“She had bruises on her neck. He'd forced her . . .” Mr. Avery shook his head, unable to complete his thought.

“Fellatio, I believe,” Daniel supplied. Granton whipped his head around, his eyes so filled with rage, Daniel took a step back.

“Lady Rose was upset. She knew I was coming to America and she begged me to help her. I know it was wrong, but I couldn't very well let her marry Weston. She was very frightened of him.”

Granton bowed his head, his anger deflated. “My God, why did she not say something?”

“I cannot say, but I know she did try to tell your mother.” He stood, looking at Granton a bit warily.

“You could have come to me, Charlie.”

“Lady Rose was ashamed and she begged me not to say a word. And she didn't come out and tell me what happened; I guessed. And then there were the bruises around her neck and what I saw. I did what I thought was right at the time, my lord.”

“I suppose America seemed like a safe place for her,” Daniel said. “And she knew me, where I lived, knew you trusted me. I suppose it seemed like a safe alternative. She wants us to be married, and given that she's been under my roof without a chaperone for two nights, I think that is likely the best option.”

From the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Mr. Avery flinch, but he kept his eyes on the other man. The viscount's brows furrowed over his unusual golden-brown eyes, which seemed to look into his soul. “Is that what you want?”

Daniel nodded. “It is. I think we will get on quite well. I find Lady Rose charming and I need a wife who can move well in society. New York and Washington will adore her.”

“You know this from one conversation you had with her more than a month ago,” Granton said with skepticism.

“Yes, my lord, I do.”

Then Mr. Avery said something Daniel would never forget.

“Then she is safe.”

Granton looked at the head groom, then held out his hand. “I'm sorry about that punch, Mr. Avery.”

Mr. Avery took his hand and the two men shook, staring directly into one another's eyes.

“I appreciate that you've tried to keep my sister safe, Charlie, but I don't agree with the manner in which you accomplished the task. Even if she does marry Mr. Cartwright, her reputation will be ruined in England, though I can't say that it will matter much. Thank you, Charlie. You may leave and carry on with your life here. I wish you well.”

Mr. Avery looked taken aback, as if he hadn't thought that one day he would have to leave Lady Rose behind. “I would like to say good-bye to Lady Rose if I might,” Mr. Avery said, and Daniel had to give the man credit; he sounded as if he didn't care one way or the other, but Daniel suspected if he left without saying good-bye, a small bit of his heart just might die.

“Of course,” Granton said. When Mr. Avery didn't immediately move, the viscount said, “Now, if you please.”

 

So this was it. Charlie would say good-bye and never see her again. Never hold her hand, never hear her voice. Never hold her or kiss her or make love to her. It felt a bit like a death, he thought, walking up to where she lay sleeping. She would never know she held his heart. Harry had been right—if Rose knew how he felt about her, it would no doubt embarrass her. She would pity him.

The room was still dimly lit by the lamp, the heavy velvet curtain blocking nearly all the daylight. It was cold and damp outside, so there wasn't much light at any rate. He didn't want this vision of her to be his last. She was still so pale, still ill, though he knew she would recover when she opened her eyes at his approach and smiled.

“Your brother is here, Marcus,” he said, and hurried to add, “He understands and is not angry. I'll let him explain himself.”

“How did he find me so quickly?” Rose asked.

“I imagine when an earl demands information from a telegraph operator, that the information is given posthaste. I wondered the same thing, but then remembered you'd sent Mr. Cartwright a telegram right before we departed. I've no doubt your brother found this information out and knew precisely where you'd gone. Or at least had an idea of who you would be visiting.”

Rose looked at his lips, now slightly swollen and still bleeding a bit. “I take it he was happy to see you?”

Charlie chuckled. “It's fine now. I let him know you are safe and I was doing what I could to help you.”

“Did you tell him about Weston?”

“Only that he hurt you. I think he understands.”

Rose held out her hand and Charlie took it, willing himself to remember what it felt like in his. “Thank you, Charlie. You saved me twice.”

“I would do so again, if need be,” Charlie said, realizing that was more than he should say, more than he needed to. But he wanted her to know, just a bit, how he felt. “But now, I am here to say good-bye, my lady.”

She immediately frowned and tried to sit up, as if she, weak as a kitten still, could physically prevent him from leaving. “Can you not stay a bit longer? Until I am up and about? No doubt Marcus is here to bring me home, but it will be a few more days before I am well enough for such a trip.”

“I'm sorry, my lady, but I must go. I have stayed here longer than I should have already. I am due to begin my job tomorrow and haven't even seen my uncle's home, nor found a place to live.”

She looked downright crestfallen. “Then I shall never see you again?” she asked, her voice small, and damn it to hell, her eyes filled with tears. “What shall I do if I need someone to save me?” She tried for a tremulous smile.

Charlie swallowed, refusing to allow his own tears to show. It wasn't his place to tell Lady Rose she would not be returning home with her brother. She would find out soon enough. The truth was, he didn't want to see her again; it would hurt too damn much, knowing she was marrying another, better, man. She would insist he visit if she knew they would be living in the same city. It was better to cut it clean. “I daresay one of your brothers will readily volunteer to come to your aid.”

“Write to me and give me your address. Promise me you will write, Charlie.”

He looked at her, knowing it was a promise he could not make. What husband would allow his wife to receive correspondence from a single man who was not her relation? A man who had readily admitted he was in love with that man's future wife. “I'm not much of a letter writer, my lady.”

She nodded, the motion causing a tear to slip down her cheek. “I shall miss you.”

“The same.” Charlie tried for a smile that didn't quite work. His throat hurt as if something hard and sharp were lodged there, and he knew if he didn't leave immediately, he might not be able to hold back his emotions any longer.

He stood, then bent and kissed her on her cheek, lingering far longer than he had a right to. Then he bowed and said, “Good-bye, my lady, and God speed.”

 

Rose watched as Charlie left the room, fighting the urge to call him back, to beg him to . . . what? Return to England with her?
Marry
her? The daughter of an earl marrying a head groom? They would both be ridiculed by aristocrat and commoner alike. Besides, Charlie would never think of her as anything other than Lady Rose, and she couldn't bear it if he felt he was less than she. And he would, right or wrong.