Chapter 24
She didn’t want to let him go. Ambrose was strong. He’d keep her safe. No one could hurt her again. Tilly clung to him like she’d seen small children do to their parents. Right then, he was the reason she was out of that box. Nothing else mattered.
Free.
“Sssh, now, sweetheart.” He continued to whisper words in her ear as Violet pressed closer, one large hand rubbing up and down her spine.
Safe.
“Let’s go. We need to get her warm in a carriage and home to her parents,” a voice said from behind her.
Tilly fought the tears and the need to stay where she was clinging to Ambrose. He felt so warm and solid, and he had found her. She tried to make herself let him go, but fear still held her in its claws.
“Tilly, we have you,” Violet said softly.
Ambrose began walking with her still in his arms, and she knew she should make him put her down. Even opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. They would. She’d be herself again soon—she had to be.
She heard the sound of carriage wheels minutes later, and then Ambrose was climbing inside with her. Move now, Tilly. She tried to, but the arms that held her tightened.
“Not yet,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me hold you.”
She heard the voices of whoever was in the carriage, then felt the blissful warmth as something was wrapped around her. Closing her eyes, Tilly inhaled the scent that clung to Ambrose and felt steadier finally. She was safe with him, with Violet, and whoever else had come to find her.
The carriage rolled on for a while, and then she eased back, making him release her. His eyes were the first ones she looked into. “Thank you for rescuing me.”
He didn’t reply, just nodded. Turning on his lap, she saw she was in the carriage with Alexander Nightingale, Violet, and Charles.
Tilly was aware of the fact that she was draped over Ambrose’s legs. She scrambled off, his hands steadying her as he helped her to the floor. She then moved across to sit between Violet and Charles.
“They hit you?” The words were like a rumble of thunder from Ambrose.
“I’m all right now.” Looking down at her torn and bloodied nails and hands, she tucked them under her thighs.
“Can you tell us everything that happened, Tilly?” Alex asked.
She did, recounting what she remembered. “Those men knew I was involved in The Iris Club.”
“So, to my mind, there are two scenarios for that. The first is, someone wants you to close The Iris Club simply because it is a woman’s club beside a man’s one,” Charles said.
“And the other scenario is that someone wants it closed due to what is beneath, and in achieving that, they would regain access through your secret door.”
“But I don’t understand why they took Tilly,” Violet said. “Surely they must know if something were to happen to her, we would continue doing the work and keep the club running.” Her friend hugged her hard then. “Not that I want anything else to happen to you, of course.”
She could feel his eyes on her. Ambrose was not talking, just watching her, the green depths smoldering with emotion. She looked at his chest and saw the smear of dirt she’d put there on his necktie. Now that sanity was returning, she was fully aware of the way she’d behaved when he’d rescued her.
Had she given anything away? Because while she’d been huddled in that dark crate, she’d come to a realization about how she felt about Lord Talbot. Tilly cared far too much for the man she could never have. Which told her that from now on, she must keep her distance from him.
Excellent in theory, considering you just clung to him and wept all over his clothing.
“One thing you must take heed of from now on, Tilly, is that someone wants you harmed. Therefore, you cannot leave your house unescorted.”
Ambrose had spoken the words like an order. Had she been herself, she might have rejected his right to order her to do anything, but right then, all she did was nod.
Tomorrow she would be strong again.
“I would like to find time over the next few days to talk to you, Tilly,” Alex said, and she knew why. He wanted to know the identity of the person coming through for her, but she could never tell him that.
“Of course,” she whispered. Exhaustion had her eyes closing then, and she leaned on Violet’s shoulder. But she didn’t sleep. She simply rested, safe at last.
When the carriage stopped, it was Ambrose who climbed out first. He then held his hand out for her to join him.
Violet followed and then they both walked to her family’s town house with her.
She didn’t lean on him, but she didn’t pull away as his hand settled on her back.
Tilly would enjoy his strength at her side for perhaps the last time.
Her parents were at the door when she reached it.
“Tilly, oh my dear.” Her mother wrapped her in a sweet-smelling embrace.
“We can never thank you enough for finding her,” she heard her father say.
“I will call again soon, and we will discuss the matter,” Ambrose said. “For now, I’m sure she wishes food and sleep.”
Easing back, she looked at Ambrose and Violet.
“I can never thank you enough for finding me.”
“You would have done the same for us,” Violet said, stepping in to kiss her cheek. “Sleep, my friend, and I will go to the club tomorrow. You need a few days rest now.”
She didn’t argue, and they all turned and walked back to the carriage. As if she’d willed it, Ambrose looked over his shoulder one last time before he reached it, and their eyes met. And then he was inside and soon rolling away.
She did not leave the house for four days, and in that time, Tilly slept, ate, and bathed.
She had scrubbed her skin raw and still felt dirty.
The nights were the worst. She’d wake suddenly, believing herself back there in that crate, shaking with terror, and not return to sleep until the grey light of dawn settled over London.
“Tilly, Mr. Howard has called to see you,” her mother said on the fourth morning from the doorway of her bedroom. “I will have a tray prepared and meet you in the parlor.”
“Mother, I am not ready.”
“You are, and it will do you good to talk to someone other than your parents. It will help, child. Trust me.”
As she’d left before Tilly could tell her to send him away, there was little she could do but tidy her appearance and join her. Minutes later she was entering the room with large windows that looked out over the street to the grey day beyond.
Mr. Howard rose to his feet. “Miss Wilson,” he greeted her. “I heard you were unwell and called to see you.”
“I am much better, thank you.”
“You have a bruise on your face—”
“I merely walked into the door in my delirium,” she said.
“I shall see where that tea tray has got to,” her mother said, leaving the door wide open as she left the room.
“We have yet to take our drive around the park, Miss Wilson. Would tomorrow suit you?”
“Mr. Howard—”
“Well now, we have another visitor,” her mother said, returning. Behind her was Ambrose.
“Tilly.” He bowed before her, taking one of her hands and squeezing it. “Howard,” he added in a voice several degrees colder than the one he used for her.
“Tea,” her mother said, reentering with their butler.
It was the most strained twenty minutes of her life, Tilly thought, filled as it was with forced conversation from her mother and Mr. Howard.
Ambrose, however, barely spoke a word and kept his eyes on her the entire time.
Did he have news? Was something else wrong?
Tilly wasn’t sure she could take any more bad news.
Her nerves were strung tighter than piano wire when, finally, Mr. Howard rose.
“I shall call tomorrow and take you driving, Miss Wilson.”
“Oh—ah, thank you. I shall be waiting,” Tilly said, unsure how to dissuade the man.
Her mother rose with him and saw him to the door, leaving her alone with Ambrose.
“What’s wrong, Ambrose? Has something happened?”
He walked toward her and took one of her hands in his, touching the other to the bruise on her cheek, his face darkening as he studied it. “Are you well, Tilly?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“We are trying to find who abducted you, but so far, no leads. Gray is on the case, and we have employed a private investigator to find answers.”
“I am grateful,” she said.
“I don’t want your gratitude,” he said in a harsh voice.
“I don’t understand.” Tilly dug her toes into her shoes to stop from moving at the fierce look on his face.
“You will not go driving with Howard, Tilly. Promise me.”
“Why? What possible reason could you have to speak that way? Mr. Howard is a nice man and no threat to me.”
He closed his eyes briefly, and her heart sank. Something had happened.
“What has happened? Is someone hurt, or abducted. Is it—”
“No, it is nothing like that.” He seemed to collect himself before continuing. “This will come as a surprise, as it does for me, considering our relationship, but I must be honest with you now.”
“Of course. Please continue.” This man had saved her, and for that, she would listen to whatever he needed to say.
“I am not the easiest man, or so my sisters routinely tell me, and am quite set in my ways.”
He looked nervous now, and for the life of her, she could not fathom why.
“They say that love and hate go hand in hand,” he continued. “So I’m just going to ask what I need to, Tilly.”
She nodded, suddenly tense.
“I love you. Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage, Miss Matilda Wilson?”
The shock of those words had her mouth falling open.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, and finding you inside that crate will haunt me for the rest of my life. I want to marry you and keep you safe. We will argue, but—”
“No!” She pulled her hands free, heart thumping. “I-I can’t marry you.”
His frown was fierce now. “No? I know you care for me, I have seen it in your eyes. Our kisses—”
“No.”
“Damn you, yes.” He grabbed her, pulling her close, and kissed her again. It was hard and wonderful, and she wanted desperately to hold him close.
“Put your hand on my chest,” he whispered against her lips. “I want to feel it there.”
She nearly complied. Nearly wept, but instead, she found the strength to pull away.
“I cannot marry you, Lord Talbot. I have my reasons, but as I have made my wishes clear to you, please do not approach me again. Good day.”
“No, damn you! You are lying to me. Why?”
She didn’t answer him, just walked from the room.
“Tilly?”
“See Lord Talbot out please, Mother,” she said, heading to the stairs. “I am going to my room, as I have a headache.”
She ran then, picking up her skirts and fleeing up the stairs to her room, where she shut the door and braced herself against it.
Ambrose had asked for her hand in marriage, and she had refused because she’d had to. There was no other choice. Pressing a hand to her chest, she felt like it was caving in on itself. The pain was strong. Her heart ached, and she was shaking now.
Stumbling to the bed, she fell face-first onto the soft coverlet.
Dear God, the only man she’d ever loved—she could acknowledge that emotion now, knowing what she was feeling and that she’d never feel it for another—had asked her to be his wife, and she’d had to say no.
The sobs started, and this time she wasn’t sure if they would ever end.