Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
S he heard him shout. “Miss Talbot!”
She couldn’t face him. As she’d stared up at him in the library vestibule, not a single word had come to her mind. All she knew was that she had to get away.
He’d already made a fool of her once. And now she’d discovered that her situation was even worse than she’d known. The only way that she could think to avoid more damage to her heart was to leave as quickly as possible.
As she rushed along the wet pavement, the heavy novel that she’d fetched for Mrs. Ellesmere made her large reticule bounce painfully against her hip. Surely a gentleman wouldn’t chase a lady down a public street!
“Miss Talbot!” He was shouting her name.
She hurried onward through the downpour, the puddles on the pavement splashing the hem of her gown and beginning to soak through her worn boots. Her heavy veil flapped wetly against her face, half obscuring her vision. She kept her head down.
“ Miss Talbot !” Keynsham shouted again. “ Look out !”
Look out?
She glanced up.
Two men were coming straight at her. The larger was Dick Fenton. He had two fading black eyes and wore an almost apologetic expression.
The smaller man’s hand was already outstretched to grab her arm.
She didn’t pause to think. She swung her reticule at the small man with all her might. The heavy novel inside connected with the side of his skull with an audible thunk . He staggered backwards, clutching his ear and howling curses.
A blur flew past her. One moment Keynsham wasn’t there. The next he was—and he was dealing out blows. Fenton swung at him, but Keynsham wove out of reach. His fist caught the big man under the chin. Fenton staggered backward. A knife appeared in his hand.
A scream froze on Celia’s lips as Fenton slashed at Keynsham. Keynsham dodged again and smashed his fist down on Fenton’s forearm. The weapon clattered to the pavement, spinning into the torrent of filthy water that filled the gutter. Fenton backed away, shaking his hand as though it had gone numb.
Though they’d lost the advantage of surprise, the smaller man tried to grab Celia again. But as his hand clamped onto Celia’s wrist, Keynsham’s fist caught him square in the face. He let go and crumpled to the wet pavement.
“Come with me!” Keynsham’s hand closed around hers. She couldn’t speak. Everything seemed to have happened in a single instant. There was no sign that anyone else had even noticed the fight.
“Quickly!” He un-looped the reins of a gig from a hitching post and jumped in after her. She back fell against the seat as the horses sprang forward.
They passed the motionless heap that was the small man—scarcely more than a bundle of dirty clothes. Fenton had vanished. Her mind didn’t seem to be working properly. All she knew was that they were racing westward through streets half emptied by the sudden, violent downpour. Rain and spray blew into her face.
Fenton… Wilkes’s thugs… They’d known where she would be. But somehow, so had Keynsham. How… why…?
She risked a glance at him. His jaw was set as he guided the horses through the slick streets. She opened her mouth to say something, realized that he was grimly focused on driving, and closed it again.
They passed Chancery Lane, where she usually turned on her walk home. She was expected back in Red Lion Square! But they were going so fast that the turn was behind them before she could speak, and she was too shaken to know what to do or say.
What seemed only moments later they drew up before an imposing house. He sprang out of the gig, handed her down, escorted her to the door, and unlocked it. The rain dripped off the broad brim of his hat. “I must go around to the stables and unhitch the horses. I did not bring my tiger, and I cannot leave them standing in this rain.”
It seemed an oddly commonplace thing to say after their wild flight. Numbly, she nodded. He showed her inside, shut the door and disappeared.
Now she recognized the place: His father’s mistress’s former establishment. It seemed larger by daylight—a hushed hideaway of heavy gilt furniture and tasteless art.
She tried to avoid her own pink-nosed reflection in the enormous looking glass as she removed her soaked and battered bonnet. She looked dreadful. Her hands were shaking with nerves and cold. She tried to unbutton her sodden pelisse, which was dripping onto the white marble floor.
A door from the back hallway opened. “Miss Talbot.” Keynsham paused long enough for a curt bow and then strode toward her. He wore a country-style jacket, a check waistcoat and a blue-spotted neckcloth. His expression was stern. “It has been some time since we saw each other.”
She’d forgot the dimple that appeared and disappeared at one side of his mouth when he spoke and the narrow scar that ran through one eyebrow. His face was lightly tanned now, as though he’d been spending time outdoors. He took off his soaked hat, leaving his damp hair sticking up at odd angles. She tried to force herself to look away, to stop staring, to stop drinking in the sight of him, but she couldn’t make herself obey.
“Please assure me that you have suffered no harm. I have suffered the greatest anxiety on that score.”
“Oh. Yes.” She was trying not to let her teeth chatter. “They… they did not hurt me.”
“No. I mean, have you been safe, these past two months?”
She had a wild vision of Keynsham meeting Mrs. Ellesmere. “I—I have been—safe.”
His face relaxed, but only slightly. “You cannot know how relieved I am to hear that.”
She managed to strip off one of her wet gloves, but her cold, stiff fingers weren’t fully obeying her.
He blinked. “What are you doing?”
“I cannot… I cannot…” Her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.
“Why, you are half frozen! Why did you not…” And then he was unbuttoning her pelisse for her, his big fingers hurrying over the many small fasteners, his face full of concern. His warm hands brushed hers. “You are shaking!” He slipped the sodden garment from her shoulders. “You will catch cold.”
She would have protested, but shivers wracked her in a way that scarcely seemed possible for this time of year. Some small, unfrozen part of her brain was able to reason that she was reacting as much to the shock of the attack as to the unseasonable weather.
Keynsham disappeared again through the back hallway door. She ventured a peek at herself in the glass. Loose strands of wet hair hung lankly about her pallid face. Lovely.
A moment later, he strode back into the entry hall, this time carrying a blanket. “My mother is giving a ball tomorrow night, and I have had to send the servants there to help.” He wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. Though his hands didn’t touch her through the thick fabric, a thrill ran down her back and arms. “There is only a man of all work to look after this house until they return. I have put water on to heat for a bath.”
She took a step back. “Do you mean to say that we are alone here?”
He folded his arms. “Miss Talbot. However justifiably low your opinion of me may be, it must be plain that I did not plan these circumstances in order to take advantage of you.”
Despite her chill she felt her face heat. “No, I…”
“I was running an errand for my sister. The next thing I knew, I was fighting to save you from being snatched off the streets of London. For the third time , I might add.”
It was then that she registered the red mark on the left side of his jaw. “Oh!” Her hands flew involuntarily to her mouth. “I—I am sorry!”
“For what?” He leaned toward the hall mirror. “Ah. I see. Scarcely has one bruise healed than I find myself with another.” He straightened. “Do you know, I have never been a poetic sort of fellow, but I am certain that there must be a metaphor in here somewhere. The whole of our… I do not know what to call it.” He thought a moment. “ Association . The whole of our association has amounted to moments of recklessness—interspersed with longer intervals of pain.”
Their eyes met. His were dark with emotion. “Miss Talbot, certain… circumstances have changed in my life. I hope that you will hear me out. But before anything else, I must apologize for my behavior at the inn. I have regretted it every moment since then. When I saw that you had gone, and realized that I was to blame…” He broke off for a moment. “I then knew that if you came to any harm because of my selfish actions I—I should never be able to live with myself.”
She opened her mouth to answer.
And what came out instead was a sneeze.
It was, of course, inappropriate to let him prepare a bath for her. She wouldn’t even have thought that a viscount would know how to do such a humble task. But as she let the hot water ease the cold and some of the fear from her body, Celia knew that she had no choice but to depend on Keynsham—at least, for now.
She hugged her knees, dreading the conversation that she’d have to have with him. When he’d told her that his circumstances had changed, he must mean that he was married. As much as she’d tried to brace herself for the moment when she’d learn that his wedding had taken place, now that the moment had arrived she wanted to run away rather than hear the words from his mouth.
But she was only making it worse by delaying. She got out of the bath, dried herself, dressed in her chemise and began drying her hair. The expensive soap had left a fragrance of jasmine behind, and just for a moment she closed her eyes, imagining what it would be like to return to a time when she could take hot, scented baths for granted… a time when she hadn’t had to try to keep one step ahead of Wilkes.
She pinned up her damp hair and put her gown back on. The hem was still wet, but she smoothed the bodice down and made herself look as presentable as possible. She would have to leave London again. That was all that was clear to her. How to find another position, how to retrieve her meager belongings from Mrs. Ellesmere… somehow she would have to solve these problems, too.
She found Keynsham in seated at the window of the bedroom across the hall, his booted heels upon the sill. He’d set a tea tray on a low table before the fireplace. “I am keeping watch on the street.”
“Oh.” She hung back in the doorway, almost afraid to come closer. What was it about him that was so attractive? Was it the alert yet relaxed manner in which he sat? Was it that his hair was still tousled in a way that suited him? “Do you—do you think that we might have been followed? Or traced here?”
“I cannot know. I doubt it. But I have learned that it does not pay to underestimate Wilkes.” He looked at her, and she would have sworn that his eyes softened. “I have made a fire, as you see. You must not become chilled again. The tea may be rather strong by now, but there was plum cake and gingerbread in the pantry—and there is a wrap there for you as well, if you would like.”
“I… thank you.” She perched on the edge of the chair. Rain lashed the windows. The fire began to warm her.
Keynsham cleared his throat. “As I began to say, in the past few days my situation has changed. I wish to explain that…”
“You cannot owe me any explanations, your lordship,” she said, too quickly. Her heart was thudding with dread.
He studied her. “I see. Well, perhaps you will humor me by listening anyway.”
“Are—are you not expected elsewhere?”
“My time is quite my own, Miss Talbot. I shall spend the rest of the day guarding you.”
“But…” She pulled the shawl tighter around her. “Could you not simply drive me to where I have been staying? Then you would not be… inconvenienced.”
“That would be most unwise. We must assume that you were followed to the library. Indeed, Wilkes may already know where you have been living.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.” She felt foolish for not thinking of this herself. Still, the rage that Mrs. Ellesmere would fly into, when Celia didn’t return, was almost impossible to imagine. Mrs. Ellesmere would hate her more than she hated Lady Morton and her niece combined!
“Miss Talbot, forgive me—perhaps it is none of my business—but where have you been living?”
She hesitated. But he might as well know her real position in life. “I am employed. As a lady’s companion.”
“I see.” She couldn’t tell what he thought. She risked another glance at him. His jacket was hanging over a chair by the fire and his shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow. She dragged her eyes away from his tanned forearms.
“Well.” He seemed to be having difficulty looking at her, too. “We have a chance to speak now. So let us be honest. You may think that I do not deserve to be heard, but I wish to apologize. I ought not to have… well, forced my attentions upon you.”
“You did not force…” She stopped. “I was as much to blame as you were for… for…” Her face heated. Already they were on dangerous ground. They were discussing—without actually saying the words—the fact that they’d kissed each other.
Was it her imagination, or did he flush slightly? “Well, I am the one who took advantage of the situation. And as to the—well, the circumstances of my… the engagement.” He cleared his throat. “At the time, I believed that any explanations would have been ungentlemanly. Unfair to the, er, lady involved.” He frowned down at the street.
“But surely our spending time together now is equally as unfair to her!” She thought quickly. “Perhaps you might drive me to a coaching inn? Perhaps one outside of London—so as not to alert Wilkes? I do not wish to create complications in your life.”
“A coaching inn outside of London!” He swiveled to face her. “Miss Talbot, why is it that your solution to every problem in life seems to be to catch a stagecoach?”
“I… well...” But sometimes leaving was the solution. After all, leaving Talbot Hall and its bitter history behind had saved her from Wilkes. She rose, agitated, and moved closer to the fire.
Keynsham was frowning. “Do you still resent me so much that you refuse to listen to my explanation at all?”
“What possible good can an explanation be when you are married?”
“Married? I am not married!” Once again, he suddenly found something very interesting to look at out the window.
He wasn’t married? He wasn’t married! At least… not yet. “But your… your fiancée—would no doubt object.”
“No doubt she would. But I have no fiancée. In fact, I never did.” He turned to face her again. “Miss Talbot, it will take less time and be less confusing if you will let me tell you what happened. I was accused of compromising a young lady. And, of course, the remedy for that is always the same: immediate marriage.”
“ Compromise! ” That hadn’t even crossed her mind.
His tanned cheekbones reddened again. “Yes. Well. No doubt you believe me capable of it. However, I did not touch her, or… Well. I wish to be clear on that point. I was caught alone with her—in someone else’s library, at a ball. I do not need to explain how the ton views such a situation. And I was prepared to do my duty, and marry her. But before the marriage settlements could be agreed, she… er, cried off.”
“ Cried off ? But… how is that possible?”
“Well, er… I myself am not certain how it is possible. But she has managed it.”
“Oh.” She tried not to imagine Keynsham infatuated with some other lady… someone young, and beautiful, and rich… “Well, I—I hope that in time you will recover from your disappointment.”
“ Disappointment ?” He rose from the chair and leaned on the window frame, apparently intent on the street below. “No.”
“I do not understand. How could you not be disappointed, if you were… in love?”
“ In love ? No! I scarcely knew the young lady at all.”
“Oh. Oh .” An odd noise came out of her throat—but whether it was a suppressed laugh or a sob, she couldn’t say.
“Miss Talbot?” In three strides he’d crossed the room. “Was that a cough?”
She turned away, unwilling to let him see her emotion. “I thought… I thought…”
“Miss Talbot?” He put his hands gently on her shoulders and turned her back to face him, ducking his head to gaze searchingly into her eyes.
She could only shake her head. If she opened her mouth to speak, she might begin to cry.
“I apologize for my manner of telling the story. I am not… well, you must know by now that I am not the most eloquent of fellows.”
But that didn’t matter—because once again, the magical silent conversation had begun between them. Each glance and each touch made every awkward pause and half-formed sentence unimportant.
She ought to say something. She ought to break the spell. But her throat was too thick. Perhaps she had caught cold after all. Perhaps that was the reason that shivers seemed to be flying over her skin.
His hands slid from her shoulders to her upper arms. A current of warmth spread from them—down to her elbows, across her back, up her neck. They were so warm, and his touch made her feel so safe and yet so alive at the same time. He held her gently, his thumbs stroking her arms. “The fact is, Miss Talbot, that I… well, I had no interest to spare for another lady.”
She dared to look up. Their eyes met, and she was startled by the bolt of heat that went through her, warming her from the inside. He took a breath. “Miss Talbot, we met over a year ago. And my feelings and wishes have not changed since—well, since shortly after we met.”
Surely he could not be… Her heart seemed to be beating too quickly. She felt almost as though she might faint.
“I have no choice but to speak now. After all, you are already planning your next disappearance via stagecoach.”
His hands were on her shoulders. She didn’t know what he was about to say—only that whatever it was, it might change her life.
“And I must be honest: If history is any guide, as soon as you leave I will suffer pangs of remorse and despair. And then at some point in the future you will reappear—which will be wonderful, until I find myself in another fistfight.” For a moment, the corners of his mouth twitched. “So. I shall speak now. Because I must confess that I am growing rather tired of being punched in the face.”
His words were light… but there was a look in his eyes that made her think that he wasn’t joking. He picked up both her hands in his. “Miss Talbot—will you marry me?”