Chapter 12
CAPTAIN JOHN CALDER
Evelyn Blackwell must be the most stubborn woman to ever hold a battledore.
She reached the shuttlecock just before it hit the ground, flicking her wrist and popping the shuttlecock back up into the air.
I’d only halfheartedly followed her, certain she was going to lose the game before she even got a chance to hit the shuttlecock once.
Nothing went as it was supposed to with Miss Blackwell.
The two of us couldn’t even play shuttlecock and battledore correctly.
I still couldn’t believe the woman had locked me in my room.
Had she no shame? I dashed forward, caught the shuttlecock even closer to the ground than she had and sent it back into the air a few feet.
She’d shadowed my movements, running just behind me, instinctively knowing if she had stayed where she was I would have sent it as far from her as possible, and so it was easy work for Miss Blackwell to reach it this time.
I hadn’t tried to do anything but keep it from dropping to the ground.
Which left her with an easy hit, and she took advantage of it.
She whipped her battledore forward, sending the shuttlecock as far to my left as her power would let her.
She gave it no loft, just strength, leaving me with almost no time to catch up to the blasted thing.
We took off running again, but this time I made it with just enough time to wind up and send the shuttlecock even farther in the same direction.
I gave it too much height, though, for she reached it once again.
She sent it in the opposite direction this time, but with just as much force.
I pivoted and reached it just in the nick of time.
She was right beside me so it didn’t matter which direction I chose.
I swung at it with all my might in the direction that was most natural to my arm, and this time I got the most distance with the least amount of altitude.
But even with my hardest hit the feathers slowed the shuttlecock enough that I couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t reach it.
She sprinted for it, and I chased it as well.
We were both breathing heavily. This was the first time I’d had any real exertion since my illness, and I couldn’t imagine Miss Blackwell making a habit of running around in her garden.
Although, it might not take me completely by surprise if she did something similar.
Perhaps she and her father made marching a habit in their free time just as they had done with shooting.
She struck the shuttlecock and I braced myself for another mad dash in whatever direction she chose, but instead, she sent it sailing high and almost straight up.
I stood still, sucking in breaths that weren’t deep enough.
The last thing I should be doing is running around like this, but I’d be sent to the devil before I would allow Miss Blackwell to beat me in this ludicrous game.
We stood together for several breaths. I didn’t take my eyes off of the shuttlecock floating its way back down to us, but I could feel her beside me, her breaths as ragged as mine.
I needed another moment without running, so I gave her a similarly high and easy shot.
Her chest was still heaving, but her eyes caught mine just as the shuttlecock hit the apex high above our heads. By the fire in those dark eyes of hers, I knew our respite was over. She thrashed the shuttlecock, sending it to her left as hard as she could. I took off in a sprint once again.
The wind kicked up and the shuttlecock veered right. I barely managed to reach it in time. I struck a defensive shot high in the air again. If she questioned my reasons for not making us run when it was my turn, I would claim chivalry. Not that she would believe me.
A drop of rain landed on my cheek, but I ignored it. Once again she struck the shuttlecock with such force we both ran to catch it.
More droplets landed on us. I caught sounds of surprise and movement coming from the group by the house, and it sounded as though the turn in weather was forcing them back inside.
Hang chivalry. The next time I reached the shuttlecock, I simply tapped it in Miss Blackwell’s direction with no force whatsoever. It didn’t even rise into the air. She’d followed me, but not close enough to get the shuttlecock on its way down from my battledore.
It landed on the ground in an anticlimactic plop.
We both stared at it for a moment, the only sounds our harsh breathing and raindrops dropping on the grass beneath our feet.
My vision was starting to tunnel, but I forced my eyes up to meet hers.
Miss Blackwell stared at me with eyes full of fire and brimstone, her fists on her hips.
Several raindrops had landed on her cheek and I was surprised they didn’t hiss and fizzle in the heat of her blatant wrath.
The dark corners of my sight constricted. With a low curse, I bent at the waist, one hand on my knee and the other held out in her direction. “My key, Miss Blackwell,” I managed.
She lifted her chin, remaining upright. Perhaps I was wrong about how winded she was. “I never said I have your key.”
“Well, then.” I straightened, even though my head spun with the movement. I’d done too much too soon after being ill. “Find me someone who does have one, so I can open the door.”
“Of course. No one wants your valet trapped in your room.” She shrugged and turned toward the house. General Blackwell and his guests had already made it inside and those who’d been playing bowls were nearly there as well. Our game had led us farther and farther from the house.
I shook my head, trying to clear it. I stepped forward to follow her, but the darkness that had been hovering around the edges of my eyes intensified and my vision narrowed to just what was right in front of me: Miss Blackwell.
I put a hand out and caught myself on her shoulder. She spun, grabbing my wrist with her hand and throwing it away. I stumbled forward, stopping myself from tumbling down by dropping both hands to my knees.
Miss Blackwell let out a curse I’d only ever heard in the barracks, and despite my rough condition, I barked out a laugh.
“You’re ill,” she said. A statement.
“No,” I shook my head just slightly. Bending over was helping, my vision improved. “Just recovering from being ill.”
She made a rough noise in her throat and crouched down to my level. “I didn’t save you from Walcheren fever only to have you die at my home from exhaustion.”
That was rich, coming from the woman who’d locked me in my room and sent me chasing shuttlecocks. “Then perhaps you should stop exhausting me.”
“I didn’t ask you to climb out of your window.” She glanced up at the sky. It was raining in earnest now. “You could have stayed in your room.”
“And I didn’t ask you to save me that night. If you despise me so much, why did you take care of me at all?”
“Simple,” she said, examining my face with the seriousness of a physician. “I didn’t know you then.”
I chuckled again. “Well, you know me now. Leave. I’ll manage on my own.”
She made that frustrated growling noise again.
“I’m not going to leave you,” she said with such conviction I was pulled from my haze.
She lifted one of my hands and draped it over her shoulder.
It was too easy to lean on her. Dangerous, even.
She didn’t know the effect of those particular words on me.
I sank into her, even though I shouldn’t have.
I shouldn’t count on her a second time to care for me and we shouldn’t be seen walking back in such a familiar manner.
She started forward. I shook my head, hating that once again I was in need of her strength. I wasn’t a weak man, not usually, but Miss Blackwell had only seen me when I was. “You can’t help me like this. Everyone in the house can see us.”
“I have no qualms about advertising how ill you have been. Half of the party already knows, thanks to Brookhouse’s loose tongue.”
“But I don’t want Harriet—”
“You won’t be able to romance her if you are dead.” She glanced heavenward. “Come on.”
We shuffled forward again and this time something about the movement felt familiar.
She felt familiar. Her citrus smell had been intensified by the rain falling around us, and her stubborn strength holding me up felt like a hazy dream that I’d lived in once before.
Not only that, she hadn’t corrected my use of Harriet’s Christian name.
I was going to think too much about this concerned version of Miss Blackwell once I was alone.
I took a deep breath. My vision was completely cleared. I’d overexerted myself too soon, but I didn’t need Miss Blackwell to assist me all the way back to the house. I pulled to a stop and removed my arm from her shoulder. “I can manage. Just give me a few moments.”
She glared at me. “If you faint, I will leave you.”
Rain beaded on her dark lashes and several locks of her hair had escaped her coiffure.
Two rogue droplets joined into one on her cheek and then traveled down her face and neck.
I stopped following it when it reached her collarbone.
How could one woman look so fierce and yet bewitching at the same time? “You know, I don’t think you would.”
She sighed. “But I would want to.”
What had I said to her in that croft to make her distrust me this much?
“Why is that?”
“Because I once had the chance to protect Hattie from pain and I didn’t. I’m not going to make that mistake twice.”
“What kind of pain? Is she well? Has she been ill?”
I barely knew this woman, but I could see her mind working behind those dark lashes of hers. She didn’t want to trust me. “She isn’t ill. Her sister eloped with a man far beneath her station two years ago.”
Harriet’s sister had been at Eastmoor, but she hadn’t been as interested in walking. I had only the vaguest of memories of her. “Matilda?” I asked.
Miss Blackmore frowned. I’d taken her by surprise. It was almost as if she didn’t want to believe Harriet and I had shared a past. “Most of London knows, so I’m not telling you this as gossip.”
“I wouldn’t think that of you.”
That only made her frown deepen. “Matilda’s weakness should have no bearing on Hattie’s prospects, especially when it was never in her power to do anything about it and it was in mine.”
A flurry of movement from the house caught my eye. Two servants were headed our way with umbrellas. A moment ago I would have welcomed the sight, but I’d finally obtained a piece of the puzzle that was Miss Blackwell and I needed more time. “You blame yourself for Matilda Pryor’s elopement?”
“No. Not completely.” Her face dropped in a way that made me doubt the verity of that statement. She was haunted by her choices. “But I should have told someone. I shouldn’t have kept secrets that caused so much damage. If I had said something . . . ”
No wonder she was so adamant about protecting Harriet. I reached for her left hand to reassure her, but there was something inside her glove. I squeezed it, taking in the hard lines and shape in her palm.
She pulled her hand away and put it behind her back.
I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you didn’t have my key.”
“I never said I didn’t. I simply didn’t say I did.”
She’d personally locked my door. How brazen was this woman? She’d strode into a part of the house where only men were quartered, retrieved my key while I was dressing and locked Henry and me in. Dash it all, didn’t she have the sense to ask a servant to do such work for her? “Give it to me.”
“Give what to you?”
“Don’t be obtuse.” I held my hand out. I’d known she was the one behind the scheme of locking me in, but to know my key had been there in her hand this whole time? Infuriating. “My key.”
“I’ll ask our butler to fetch your key when we get in the house.”
The two servants were only about twenty-five yards away. They would be upon us any moment, and I was determined to get the key before that happened. “Why would you do that when you could simply give it to me now?”
Her eyes met mine, and I knew exactly why. Because then she would have to admit she was caught, and in her mind, that would be losing to me again. For heaven’s sake.
“As I said, I’ll make certain you get your key as soon as we return.”
I stepped closer to her. I’d had enough games. She kept her hand behind her back.
“I consider myself a gentleman—”
“Do you?”
What did she mean by that?
“I do. But I will forcefully remove that glove of yours and take my key.” It turns out I didn’t like to lose either.
“I’d like to see you try.”
I took one menacing step toward her. She held her ground, unwavering. There was only room for another half-step. I took it.
“Do you really want me to try?” I asked, my voice so low I didn’t recognize it.
Her eyes dropped to my mouth and my mind went blank.
If it weren’t for the fact that I could see every freckle, every trace of rain on Miss Blackwell’s face, I would have thought I was lightheaded again.
My hand snaked around her left side, but she turned away, and I only grazed her waist, missing her hand completely.
Her eyes flashed and then at the sound of marching footsteps on the wet grass she turned.
The servants had arrived.
Just in time to stop me from doing something completely foolish. What did I think I was going to do? Wrap my arms around her and force that glove off her hand? In full view of the house?
“Captain Calder, Miss Blackwell,” one of them said, as each of them placed an umbrella over our heads. “Mrs. Blackwell sent us to fetch you.”
“Thank you,” I said. And I meant it. These two men had saved me from sabotaging my own goals and perhaps hurting Harriet.
I took one of the umbrellas from the servants and held it over Miss Blackwell’s head. We practically marched back to the house. When we were halfway there, she stopped to inspect her shoes. Other than being damp from the rain, they looked fine. Her gray eyes flashed up to me in quick assessment.
If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought she was slowing the pace on purpose for my sake.
She stopped again only twenty feet closer to the house, this time to adjust her gloves.
She was slowing our pace for my sake. I’d never met a more confusing woman. I took her arm, wet and cold from the rain, and we strode the rest of the way at marching speed. I’d recovered completely. She didn’t need to coddle me.
Just before we reached the house, I felt a slight pressure against my side.
I looked down. Miss Blackwell held my key in her hand.
I glanced up quickly at the windows and doors of the house, but it was hard to make out through the rain if anyone was watching.
As surreptitiously as possible, I slipped the key from her hand and into my pocket.
For a woman who didn’t like to keep secrets, Miss Blackwell had a bad habit of finding herself in situations that demanded them.