The Hopeless Hoyden (25 page)

             
Thus, when Gabriel heard Emily's cry of protest, he did not heed the closed door but barged into the room.  In two strides, he was beside the bed where Emily, on her knees, was trying desperately to pull away from the doctor's grasp.               

             
“"What's going on here?" he demanded.

             
“Leeches," Emily whimpered between sobs.

             
Indeed, the good doctor held one squirming specimen from a jar on the bedstead, letting the leech dangle from his fingers.  Looking over his wire-rimmed spectacles at his uncooperative patient, Doc Larson curtly ordered, “Get the laudanum, Miss Taber."

             
“No."  Gabriel stepped between Larson and a frantic Emily.  Sitting down on the bed, he pulled her to him.  “No leeches."

             
The physician trained his eyes on the Viscount and sadly shook his head.  “’Tis this," he said, waving the leech about for emphasis, “or I'll have to cup her."

             
Gabriel shook his head.  “She's endured enough torture for one day."              

             
“Trust me to know what's best, my lord.  In these cases, the bad blood must be drawn off.  Helps to calm the patient."

             
Gabriel looked at his wood sprite, wide-eyed and trembling in his arms.  “I think not, Doctor.  If you wish, give her laudanum to help her sleep, but nothing else."

             
Throughout the night, Gabriel remained by Emily's bedside while Jane Taber sat ensconced in a rocker by the fireplace to uphold propriety.  Sometime near dawn, Emily's fretful sleep gradually gave way to a peaceful slumber, and Gabriel gave up his vigil and slipped quietly from her room to seek his own bed, but only after getting Jane’s assurances that she would stay with Emily until morning when her maid arrived.

###

              Emily awoke mid morning, if not refreshed, at least rested and anxious to put yesterday behind her.  She'd ordered Jane to bed after catching her friend dozing in a chair.  When Mrs. Hopkins, the housekeeper, arrived shortly after Jane's departure, Emily deduced that Gabriel had set up a guard to watch over her.

             
An efficient matron, Mrs. Hopkins was all business, overseeing Emily's breakfast and bath before bullying her back between the covers.
              “And there you’ll stay for the day, Miss," Mrs. Hopkins informed Emily.

             
But less than an hour later, Emily could no longer endure only her own company.  Restless, she requested her jailer, for that was how Emily thought of the woman, to send for Miss Taber.

             
“I am sorry, Miss," the housekeeper answered.  “That's against the doctor's orders."

             
“Oh pooh!" retorted Emily, pitching
The Mysteries of Udolpho
to the foot of the bed.  Emily couldn’t read another word about Miss Anne Radcliffe’s heroine, who was also named Emily.   Though unlike Miss Radcliffe’s character, Emily unnervingly related to the terrifying events experienced by the heroine in a gloomy castle.               "I will become a Bedlamite, cooped up all day with no one to talk to,” she declared.

             
If the housekeeper was offended by Emily's words, she did not let on. “His lordship did say he would look in on you later to see how you're getting on," Mrs. Hopkins added before applying herself to the mending laying in her lap. 

             
The morning dragged on, and while Jane, Tom and Lady Spivey all knocked on Emily's door to inquire about her health, the housekeeper refused them admittance.  By lunch time, Gabriel still had not put in an appearance, and Emily had made up her mind to stage a rebellion when a firm knock sounded.  This time when the worthy Mrs. Hopkins answered it, she opened the door wider for the Viscount.

             
“Good day, Emily."  Gabriel was all smiles as he came into the room.  “Playing lie-abed?”

             
“Do you really want an answer?" Emily asked, directing a gimlet eye on the housekeeper.
              “Perhaps not," he said with a laugh before dismissing the hovering Mrs. Hopkins.  He followed the housekeeper's ample form to the door, shut it, and drew the chair closer to the bed.

             
Surprised by Gabriel's disregard for the proprieties, Emily was about to question him when he forestalled her.

             
“It will be better if no one else knows what we have to discuss, Emily.  Besides, I can promise you that Mrs. Hopkins is not two feet on the other side of that door and will come barging in her if she suspects anything untoward is happening.”               

             
“I could meet you in the library," she offered on a hopeful note.

             
“Absolutely not.  The sawbones prescribed a day in bed, and here you will remain.  You're still pale and, no doubt, the rest will do you good."

             
The mention of the physician brought unpleasant memories to Emily and heat to her cheeks.  “I know my behavior was horrible, but I wish to thank you for not allowing Doc Larson to put leeches on me."

             
“Think nothing of it, Em.  I don't hold with the theory of bloodletting, anyway.  I've seen soldiers, who'd already lost too much blood, soon die when bled by well-meaning surgeons."

             
Emily saw the pain in his brown eyes and instinctively reached out a hand, which he clasped between both of his.  “War is terrible."

             
“Some men are less bothered by the memories than others.  Still, war leaves its mark on everyone, soldiers and peasants alike.  But it's over now for me."  He lowered his gaze to study his thumb where it caressed the bruised knuckles of her hand.  When he looked up again, his eyes no longer held pain but a lusty spark.  “The problem you and I share is a quite different one."

             
Emily found the seductive tone of his voice and the banked fire in his eyes distracting.  But while she'd sat all morning waiting on Gabriel, she’d time to think back on yesterday’s events.  She remembered too much.  “You know Deborah was responsible for trapping me inside that shed."                

             
“Yes--"

             
“She knew all along where I was."

             
“Yes, but--"

             
“Yet you told everyone that I locked myself in, that it was my own fault."

             
“Yes, all for your own good.  Otherwise, I may find you dead next time."

             
“What are you saying?"

             
“I'm going to level with you, Em, but you must promise not to do anything foolish or brave."  His voice trailed off and his eyes pleaded with hers.  “Promise me you'll do nothing without telling me first."

             
Each word he spoke implied far more than he said, and she didn't know whether to be angry or relieved.  “You do believe Cecil tried to kill you?"

             
“Yes."

             
“And that he still conspires to see you dead as well?"

             
“Yes."

             
“Yet, you have not accused him of any wrongdoing?"

             
“Before today, I had no real proof.  Since Cecil was hunting with Chesterfield when I was shot, he could not have pulled the trigger.  I didn't know for sure if it was Cecil until you told me about him pushing you off the stones at Hailes Abbey." 

             
“How long have you known?"

             
“From the beginning," he said, then chuckled.  “There's no need for pitying sentiments, Emily.  Cecil and I have been devoted enemies since the cradle."

             
“Then, why did you deny it?"

             
“For your sake."  With a wry smile, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  “I feared for your safety once you appointed yourself as my guardian angel--which you did despite my best efforts to the contrary.  But I seriously miscalculated my cousins’ ambitions.  After the incident at the abbey, I realized that as my fiancée you were also in danger.  I honestly thought there'd be no threat to you at Winchcombe, surrounded as you were with your aunt, Lady Raines and the others.  After all, Cecil was with me at the cock fight.  I'm sorry, Emily."

             
“Oh pooh.  Yesterday was hardly your doing, and you did rescue me," Emily said, quick to come to his defense.  “The thing is, what are we to do about the Caldwells?"
              “For the moment, we do nothing."  His voice was harsh, his expression harder, his brown eyes unwavering.  “You will remember why I denied everything in the first place."  He held up his hand to stay her words.  “Cecil has done an admirable job of covering his tracks until now.  Trust me to know what I'm doing."

             
“Just what are you doing?"              

             
“Several things, actually.  One is a letter I’ve sent to Bow Street, informing them of attacks upon my person in London.  Also, certain members of my staff are on the lookout for strangers.  Only a select few have been apprised of my suspicions concerning Cecil's perfidy.  To do anything more at this point would be unwise."

             
Emily sat quietly, mulling over his words.  She saw the wisdom in not declaring what Gabriel could not prove and, thereby, tipping his hand to so cunning an enemy.  As she implicitly trusted Gabriel, she decided, for the time being, to accept his plan.  “So, what can I do to help?"               

             
Gabriel grinned in obvious relief to her answer before turning serious again.  “As I said, you must do nothing, nothing but be extremely careful.  As my fiancée, you pose a threat to Cecil inheriting.  Therefore, you must be sure never to be alone."

             
“What of yourself?"

             
“I shall follow the same advice and be most cautious.  Sooner or later, Cecil is bound to make another move.  This time, I will be ready."

             
She nodded her head, seeing no flaw in what he suggested.  Of course, the danger to herself could be eliminated if she broke off the engagement.  In fact, with all of Cecil's attention concentrated on Gabriel, she'd be free to catch Cecil and his accomplice.  Yes, she thought, that was the very thing to do. 

             
“My lord, about our engagement. . . ."

             
Watching her expressive face, Gabriel almost wanted to laugh.  She was adorable, so lovable, and the mechanizations of her mind were devious.  Thus, when she tried to withdraw her hand from his grasp, he held fast.  “What of it, Em?"

             
“Well, we both know that the reason we are betrothed is because of Cecil, and in all good conscience. . . I cannot, will not, hold you to it."

             
He searched the depths of her eyes, trying to discover love, yet all he saw was worry.  For a fleeting moment he thought of taking her up on the offer, not because he desired his freedom but to ensure her safety.  Cecil would have no reason to harm her if she were no longer his fiancée.  Yet, he admitted to being selfish, for she would likely go home to the grange with Tom.  He could not have that.  He had to have her near, for he found he could not bear the thought of life—nay, a day without her.   His world would crumble. 

             
Besides, as he eyed her in the large four-poster, propped up against a mound of fluffy pillows, she appeared so defenseless.  But he knew different.  Gabriel suspected the moment their betrothal was broken Emily would once again commence her investigations.

             
He knew his enemy now and vowed she'd be well protected.  Even if that meant protecting her against herself, Gabriel decreed silently.

             
But for now, he needed to win his wood sprite's love.  He chose his words with care, relying on her instinct to save him. 

             
“Emily, I don't think breaking our engagement would be a good idea.  You'd have to return to Pendleton."

             
“But Aunt Esmeralda is here, and Tom comes over daily."

             
“True, and you could come for visits as well.  But you must see that it would appear strange to the others as well as be awkward for both of us if you remained after breaking off our engagement."

             
For several moments, she chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought.  “I suppose you are right, though it will only make it that much harder to break later."

             
“Why do you say that, Emily?"  He still possessed her hand, stroking his thumb over her fingers, staring intently into her violet eyes.  He knew the moment her pulse began to quicken, for her eyes widened, her lips parted, and the rhythmic rise of and fall of her chest increased.  Slowly, he rose out of his chair, eased his weight onto the mattress, and pulled her to him.  With his eyes fastened on her mouth, his own took possession of hers. 

             
He was lost and he knew it.  The kiss merely fueled his desire.  As Emily offered no resistance, he crushed her against his chest, his tongue penetrating her lips.  She emitted a small moan, and he answered with a primordial one of his own as he tasted her sweetness, smelled the luscious scent of her honeyed curls, felt her passion rise to meet his own.   With fumbling fingers, he untied the strings at the front of her night gown . . . .

             
“Hey, Em?"  It was Tom, calling from the other side of the door, and Gabriel froze, not daring to breathe.  “Is that old dragon gone?"

             
Scrambling off the bed, Gabriel met the young man's startled eyes as Tom poked his head around the door.

             
“What the deuce's going on here?" Tom demanded.

             
“I was talking to your sister, my fiancée."  Gabriel used his body to shield Emily while she retied the neck of her gown.

             
“Don't look like you were talking to me," retorted Tom, craning his neck to see around Gabriel.  “You ain't married to her yet, and you better do what's right until you are.  I'll grant you Em's game as any rooster for a lark, but she ain't all that up on some things.  And, ah, courting is one of them."

             
“I assure you there is no call for worry, Tom."  Gabriel advanced toward the young man and took his arm, turning him about to lead him forcefully toward the door.  “You've my solemn promise that I will wed your sister and soon.  Very soon."

             
From the bed, Emily raised her hands to her burning cheeks.  She was about to protest when Gabriel winked over his shoulder at her as he fairly pushed her brother out the door.

             
Embarrassed and flustered, Emily climbed off the bed and hurried to the door to put her ear against it.  But not a sound could she hear.  What was Gabriel thinking, telling Tom he'd marry her?  But before she could dwell too much on this, the redoubtable Mrs. Hopkins returned.

             
“Now, you get back into that bed, Miss.  Here, I went and got you some tea and ordered some lunch.”  Mrs. Hopkins fussed over Emily until she climbed back under the covers.  “His lordship was most adamant that that’s where you’re to stay for the day.  And no company either, according to the doctor’s orders.”

             
Emily didn’t know whether to be miffed or relieved.  She hated being cooped up in her room yet figured Tom would surely find his way back to scold her.  Worst still, how could Gabriel promise her brother that they would marry—and soon?

###

              Despite the housekeeper's threats to keep Emily confined to another day abed, she was up and dressed early the next morning.  She was eager to have words with Gabriel and, after sending Mrs. Hopkins to the kitchen on a bogus errand for a breakfast tray, Emily tripped down the stairs, headed for the dining room.

             
“I see your appetite has not been affected."  Sylvia, with a smug expression on her face, was sitting between Gabriel and Chesterfield.  It appeared that the blond cat had become wise to Emily and Jane's early morning visits with the gentlemen over chocolate and warm muffins.  Even this early, Emily noted with disgust, Sylvia's toilette was immaculate, not a single curl out of place.

             
At least Jane seemed glad to see her.  “Should you be up so soon, Emily?"

             
“Jane is right, Emily," Sylvia added.  “I am sure any other lady would take to her bed for days after such an ordeal."

             
“But Emily is not just any lady."  Gabriel's warm, almost caressing, tone contrasted sharply with Sylvia's strident voice.  “You have recovered from your, er, experience, Emily?" he asked as his eyes took in her attire.  Then he chuckled as she felt a hot blush hit her cheeks at his scrutiny.

             
To keep Sylvia from probing with embarrassing questions, Emily turned to Chesterfield.  “Did I hear you say as I came in that there is a fair in Cheltenham?"

             
Luckily for Emily, this opened up a discussion on the merits of attending the fair over the more sedate alfresco lunch by the lake that had been planned for that day.  While the fair won favor from all, Emily found herself at loose ends for the better half of the morning.  Immediately after breakfast, Gabriel disappeared, supposedly to inform the other guests of the change in schedule as well as make arrangements with the stable for transportation.  In fact, Gabriel wasn't seen again until everyone gathered to leave.

             
It was nearing noon when the party set out.  The day was sunny and warm, and the ride should have been enjoyable.  But Emily was forced to ride beside the landau.  She listened to her aunt's strictures on the proper deportment of a young lady while watching Gabriel ride ahead with Sylvia.  Worse, Sylvia's trilling laugh kept wafting back and grated on Emily's nerves. 

             
The ride to Cheltenham seemed interminable.  However, after cresting the top of a high ridge, Emily spotted the fair pitched on a sloping meadow with its many tents and booths displaying colorful flags flapping in the light breeze.  Her excitement grew, and she barely resisted nudging Marabell into a gallop across the hillside.

             
What Emily loved most about a fair was that all the classes rubbed shoulders, from farm laborers and the lowest pot boys of the great houses to the titled lords and ladies themselves.  Nearing the fair grounds, a cacophony rose to greet them, the roaring of the crowd muting the shouts of hawkers from different side shows.  Boisterously, they advertised such attractions as a bearded lady, a man that claimed to be part monkey, and any number of dwarfs and giants, clowns and harlequins.

             
Eager to lose herself among the milling thong, Emily turned a deaf ear to Lady Spivey's last admonishment to stay with her party.  She kicked her boot free of the stirrup and prepared to slide off Marabell's back.  Suddenly, Gabriel appeared and circled her waist with his hands.  He lifted her off the saddle and possessively took her gloved hand to slip through his arm.

             
He must have sensed her excitement, for he turned to her aunt and said, “Don't fret over your niece, Lady Spivey.  I promise to keep a close eye on her."  He issued orders to the grooms about the care of their horses and the carriage before he proceeded to lead her into the heart of the fair grounds.  Almost instantly, they were swallowed up in the crowd.