Chapter Four #2
Still . . . he was a stranger to her. And she was alone with him in a carriage.
She’d never been able to stop her imagination from running rampant.
It was one of the reasons she’d believed she could write a good novel.
And look how that had turned out. She’d labored so long over The Dragon and the Blue Star, editing and re-editing each scene to make the words sing, the metaphors sparkle.
She’d thought it was a good story. Now, no one would ever read it.
Except, the man sitting across from her had read the chapters she’d sent to her father.
She wanted to ask him if he’d liked them but at the moment wasn’t prepared to listen to another man pronounce judgment on her fanciful musings.
She shivered. She was only wearing a thin cloak and she’d stepped in several puddles as she ran from him.
Her feet felt icy cold, the wet seams of her stockings chafing against her skin.
The events of the last day were mounting, stretching her so tightly she felt as if she might leap out of her skin.
Scream. Sob. Wail for the shattering of her few remaining dreams and the uncertainties glaring her in the face.
She flinched as he abruptly leaned toward her. He wrapped a soft, woolen blanket around her shoulders then retreated to his seat again, leaving her enveloped in warmth.
“Don’t be fearful,” he said gruffly. “I mean you no harm.”
“I’m in a carriage with a strange man.”
“I’m not a stranger. I’m your legal guardian. The paperwork was completed years ago.”
“Requiring no signature from me, apparently.”
That was the way of the world, and she knew it. What had her father been thinking, handing her future over to this grim, silent man? She was his possession as surely as if he’d purchased her from a bawd.
“No, your signature was not required, nor your approval or your participation in any way. But from this moment forward you will live as a wealthy heiress.”
She snorted. “I’m not wealthy.”
“But I am. And as your guardian I’ll ensure you never want for anything ever again.”
“What I want, Your Grace,” she said, emphasizing the honorific with proud defiance, “is to not be beholden to you. Or to any man. I will find my own means of supporting myself and my own way forward in the world.”
“Oh? Is that why you’re staying at that veritable palace of respectability?”
Her cheeks flushed and she was glad he couldn’t see it. “It was all I could afford, true, but I will soon be earning better money.”
Doubt was evident on his face, even in the shadows of the carriage. “And what exactly is it that you will do for this money, Miss Crewe?”
“Don’t look at me like that,” she bristled, “as if I might be engaged in unsavory activities. Didn’t I just fight you off when I thought you intended to ravish me?”
“Only because I allowed you to.”
“Ah, so you allowed me to stab you with a pencil? That was part of your plan?”
“That was a surprise, I’ll admit. I didn’t know you carried a weapon in your coiffure.”
“Admit that I had you on the defensive.”
“I could have inactivated you at any moment. Should have done so sooner.” He wiped more blood from his cheek. “If you’d managed to stab me in the eye, we might not be having such a civil conversation.”
“You call this civil? I find you extremely domineering and uncommunicative. You rapped upon the door of the boarding house so forcefully it almost broke off its hinges, exhibited monstrous manners and employed no pleasantries, chased me down the street, cornered me against an alley wall, pressed your enormous body against me, making me feel trapped and . . . and small.” She finished, suddenly unsure. He’d made her feel small and helpless.
But once she’d known who he was and that he was there to help her, there’d also been a strange and exhilarating sense of excitement.
Especially as he vanquished those loutish men in the alleyway.
Her body had responded to his words, thrilling with the knowledge that he was willing to defend her with his fists.
She wouldn’t tell him that part.
“You are small. Too small. You could do with a hot meal. You’re half-starved.”
Food. Her treacherous belly clamored at the thought, emitting a long growl. Embarrassingly, he heard it, glancing down at her midsection. She wrapped the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
“Are you listening to me, Your Grace? I’m telling you what you did was wrong, so that the next time you try to rescue an unsuspecting girl, you won’t terrorize her half to death.”
“Believe me, I didn’t choose to rescue you. I made an oath.”
“If I’m such a burden, stop the carriage right now. Reimburse me for the pencil and I’ll be on my merry way.” Braver than she felt.
“I’ve just told you that you are now an heiress with a substantial dowry who will live in my house. Your days of being preyed upon by unscrupulous landladies are over. I’ll personally pay a visit to Miss Flanagan and ensure she never attempts to recruit another desperate young lady for her sister.”
“I hardly think you can change the tide of the world. Young girls with no money have targets on their backs.”
“I have my ways.”
No doubt he did. She remembered the terrifying look on his face as he stared down the men in the alleyway.
“Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you, Miss Crewe?”
“Obviously not. I had no idea anyone cared to track my whereabouts.”
“I know you wouldn’t have chosen a battle-scarred beast of a guardian. But I’m all you have.”
“Why do you look so angry? You don’t want to be my guardian?”
“I’m not angry with you, Miss Crewe. I’m angry because I couldn’t fulfill my promise to your father sooner. I was unconscious, and when I awoke, you’d already left the finishing school.”
“I couldn’t stay there. Miss Pincheon hated me. When my father went missing, he’d only paid for one more month of my tuition. She told me that I’d be forced to become a scullery maid at the school if I stayed on.”
“Another visit to pay, then,” he said darkly, fists clenching. “She told you a lie. Your father had paid your tuition for a full year. She must have pocketed the remainder of the funds. Where did you go when you left the school?”
“The celebrated authoress, Lady Claridge, had visited our academy several months previously, doing research for one of her novels. She read one of my stories and told me that I had promise as a writer. We struck up a correspondence and when she heard of my plight, she offered to employ me as her companion and secretary. I traveled with her to her estate in the wilds of Cornwall and lived there with her. I became her faithful companion, secretary, and amanuensis. It was enjoyable work.”
“You were in Cornwall this entire time? Did she not read the papers? I placed advertisements seeking you.”
“She required utter peace and quiet for writing her novels. She didn’t want the outside world to intrude.
She was very reclusive. I was the only one allowed to read her novels before they went to her publisher.
She didn’t want them tainted by the outside world.
She said that if she read the scandal sheets, or even books by other authors, those things might seep into her writing without her knowledge and the books wouldn’t be wholly her brain children, as she called them.
She was very eccentric, you see. But I loved her.
She was like a grandmother to me. She passed away two months ago of sudden heart failure. ”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Ana thought of Lady Claridge’s kindly blue eyes and nearly burst into tears, stopping herself by remembering that she couldn’t show any weakness.
This man sitting across from her held her future in his battle-scarred hands.
If she were to maintain even a modicum of control over her life, she must appear to be strong and capable.
“And so you returned to London?”
“I had no choice. Lady Claridge’s nephew, Lord Thomas Claridge, inherited her estate and he . . .”
She tried desperately not to think about it, but the memory crouched in her mind like a vulture, waiting to pick her apart.
Lord Claridge, weaving unsteadily on his feet after drinking half a bottle of brandy, chasing her down the hallway into her bedchamber, grabbing her by the hair, thrusting his hand down her bodice.
You’re a sly wee thing. Looks like I could break you in half. You’re going to scream nicely, aren’t you?
“What did he do to you?” Warburton’s voice was like tempered steel, his gaze boring into her.
You’re mine, Analise. I own you.
“He attempted to . . . He didn’t succeed. I-I struck him in a delicate area.”
Dex grimaced. “I recognize that maneuver. You do have a gift for close combat.”
Despite herself, she smiled. The brief flash of unexpected good humor fortified her. “I was able to lock him out of my chamber. Waited until he drank himself into a stupor. Left in the middle of the night under cover of darkness and fled to London.”
The stillness as she crept down the hall, his lordship’s snores echoing from his chamber. Her heart beating loudly in her ears. The terror. Fear roughly scouring away her good humor, her hope.
She stirred restlessly, waiting for the duke to say something, anything. Waiting for confirmation that she’d been in the right, that taking matters into her own hands to remove herself from the nightmare wasn’t too far outside the bounds of proper societal norms for him.
His silence deafened her.
“You’ve gone even more quiet and thundersome.”
“I’m making a list.”
“All of the ways I’m no longer an innocent young lady, fit for polite society?”
“A list of everyone who has wronged you.” He slammed his fist against the padded carriage wall. “You shall be avenged.”
His voice, his air of total authority. The way his dark brows knit together over cold silver eyes. He was the Dragon from her book, a creature of great power and purpose. The lines etched into his cheek, like claw marks.
She wrote about epic clashes and deadly curses. The duke had lived it. He had killed to survive. He bore the scars of battle. He had a wounded heart.
“You’re safe now, Miss Crewe. Do you hear me?” He leaned forward and his knees grazed hers. He held her gaze in a cold iron grip. “Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. Not on my watch.”