Page 3 of One Kiss in the Shadows (Singular Sensation #12)

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M ay 20, 1819

Stoneybrooke Home for the Deranged

Surrey, England

Nathaniel sat in his closed traveling coach as he frowned at the double doors of the manor house with their iron ring knockers held in brass lion paws.

Am I a nodcock for attempting this?

His driver cleared his throat at the open door to the coach. “Is all well, Your Grace?”

“Difficult to say, Baker.” Finally, he roused himself, nodded at the driver, and then exited the vehicle to the semi-circular drive. The skies spit rain, so he turned up the collar of his greatcoat. “I don’t expect to be inside for more than an hour. With any luck we can be on our way and back home by dinner.”

“That’d be lovely. My missus has promised a shepherd’s pie tonight.”

“Ah.” His stomach rumbled at the mention of food. When the hell was the last time he’d eaten? Unable to remember, Nathaniel nodded. “I’d best get to it.”

“I wish you well, Your Grace.”

Yes, for I’m going to need it.

With measured steps, he went up the stone steps until he reached the doors. Then he rapped upon one of the panels with the rusting iron ring. Moments passed while he cooled his heels on the landing, with only Baker and the coach for company. After another knock with the iron ring—more forceful this time—a man of indeterminate years finally swung one of the doors open.

“About damned time,” Nathaniel muttered.

The aside apparently didn’t affect the other man. “May I help you? No one is allowed inside this institution unless by express written consent.”

They would not waste any more time this afternoon. Nathaniel shook his head. “My good man, I am the Duke of Strathfield. I wait for no man’s consent or permission. Now lead me inside and take me to whomever is in charge of this place.”

“As I said, no one is allowed to come inside without permission.”

“Then take me to the person who gives out said permission,” he said from around clenched teeth. His hand tightened on the silver head of his cane. “This is asinine and ridiculous, for this is an asylum not a prison, correct?” One of his eyebrows rose in challenge.

The other man stared him down with an impassive expression.

Nathaniel blew out a breath. “I assume the patients housed within are allowed visitors?”

“Of course. We are not ogres here, Your Grace.”

He nodded. “Then, if you please, allow me to speak with Lady Mallory Lambert for a few moments, all will be well.”

“I can’t do that.” The other man shook his head. “It matters not what you think goes on behind these walls. If you wish to speak with Lady Mallory, you will need to return bearing a written letter from Lady Stover, since she is that lady’s guardian, but if you wish to speak with anyone else, you will need prior authorization.”

What a fucking annoyance, but at least he had the confirmation the countess was indeed involved in this place. That was both good and bad. “When is the next time Lady Stover is expected here? How often does she visit?”

The impassive mask slightly wavered, but only just. “She comes by once every two weeks or so.”

“And?”

“She will be in residence sometime in the next few days.”

They stared at each other, but neither of them gave ground. Finally, Nathaniel nodded. “Very well. I shall petition for permission.”

With a nod, the other man closed the door in his face without ceremony.

After glaring at the wooden panel with its iron knocker, Nathaniel stormed down the steps and then threw himself into his coach. He’d stood in the rain for no reason at all, and that made him beyond grouchy.

Baker peered into the interior of the vehicle. “I assume your request was denied?”

“It was.” But it only made him want to try harder the next time.

“Are we headed back to London?”

“We are not, and I’m also afraid your dinner will be delayed tonight, so I hope your wife is the understanding sort.”

“She is. A real brick of a woman, and she knows that anytime I’m out driving you, it’s for an important cause.”

“I don’t know about that.” He rubbed a hand along the side of his face as he regarded his driver. “In the meanwhile, let’s go into the village to a tavern for a pint. We need to strategize.”

Surprise lined the other man’s face. “For what?”

“I intend to break into this damned asylum after sundown.”

“To steal something?”

He nodded. “To steal someone.” If they refused to allow him entry or to even speak with Lady Mallory, then he’d simply remove her from the situation. It didn’t matter how.

A couple of hours after sundown

Nathaniel sat with Baker on the driver’s bench of the coach as they slowly made their way up the country lane that would eventually lead to the asylum. “Stop here.”

“But we’re a half mile out, Your Grace.”

“Exactly.” He’d also told his driver not to light the lanterns, which would announce their presence prematurely. “I’ll walk from here, but what I need you to do is turn the coach around so we can make our getaway quickly. While I’m gone, put down the steps since I plan to return with a lady. My hope is that I can get in and out as stealthily as I can before being detected.”

“There are bars on the windows,” the driver was quick to remind him.

“I realize that, Baker, but I’m not planning on going in through a window.” Though he didn’t have lockpicking tools with him, that didn’t matter. There were other ways to access the inside of the building. Then he vaulted down from the box then winced when he landed a bit too hard with his left leg. The old injuries ached, but there was nothing he could do about it. “Look for me within the half hour. Once we’re underway and reach the main road, then we can light the lanterns to make our passage back to London safer.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” The driver nodded. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Anticipation buzzed at the base of Nathaniel’s spine, for it had been an age since he had a mission and a purpose. At least with the basic map the lady had provided with her letter, it would be easy to locate her, which would save time. Gripping the head of his cane, he set off along the country lane in the spring darkness. Thank goodness the rain from earlier had stopped, at least for the moment.

Sounds of nocturnal life erupted around him. The croaking of frogs blended with the hoot of an owl as well as the soft chitters of animals in the shrubberies and the buzzing of insects. By the time he reached the manor, knots of worry pulled in his gut. The building lay in deep, impenetrable shadows in places, and as far as he could tell, there were no candles lit inside, but to make certain, he took a tour around the perimeter, watching the windows and peering into doorways. At some point, he startled a red fox as it came up from the rear gardens. Each of them froze and stared, but then the fox went one way and Nathaniel continued in the opposite direction. No, there was no golden glow of light in any of the windows, especially on the two upper floors. There were a few glimmers on the ground floor, but as he waited, even those were snuffed. Clearly, the people within the asylum—both as patients and workers—didn’t keep Town hours.

Again, he took another turn about the perimeter, being sure to stick close to the walls and in the shadows. There were no guards at any of the doors. And there were no iron bars on the doors either. The windows, yes, but not the doors. That was a mistake. Whether there were guards stationed on the inside was unknown, but it didn’t appear the owner of the property wasn’t concerned. All the better. If they’d already let down their guards, things would go easier for him.

He moved through the flower gardens until he came to a set of French-paned double doors. No doubt they led to a library. In fact, he was hoping that was true. With another glance around the immediate area, Nathaniel put a shoulder to the door then used the silver head of his cane to break one of the French panes. The sound of breaking glass was slightly muffled by his shoulder, and when no one immediately came to investigate the noise, he relaxed by increments.

Once he put his gloved hand through the hole in the jagged glass, he easily manipulated the lock on the other side of the door then swung the panel open, left it that way for a quicker escape as soon as he had the girl. As expected, there was no one inside what was indeed a library, and a rather poorly stocked one at that.

Remembering the brief set of instructions in the margin of the letter, Nathaniel slowly and quietly made his way through the darkened room to the corridor beyond. And damn if he didn’t count his steps, just like the instructions included. Lady Mallory’s stride was obviously shorter than his, so he arrived at the grand staircase ahead of the count she’d jotted down.

Again, he paused, listening, but other than the sounds of a house settling or the faint rumble of snoring from somewhere above. When he was confident he wouldn’t be intercepted, he eased himself up the stairs, counting the treads for no other reason than it took his attention off the screaming tension in the muscles of his left thigh and hip. They always pained him more fiercely when it rained. At the second-floor landing, he continued up to the third floor, where he was once more presented with a darkened corridor.

Which door was it? The sound of snoring was louder here, but he rather doubted it emanated from a female. Trying to make his steps light and his passing nearly unnoticeable, he moved along the corridor. Midway down, he extinguished a lantern that burned on a shallow table beneath a rudimentary painting of a seascape.

He counted the doors on each side, then he counted them again to make certain he’d chosen the correct one. When he pressed the latch, surprisingly it released the catching mechanism. Either the powers-that-be trusted this particular patient, or she’d found a way to unlock the panel from the other side.

After he sneaked into the room and paused just inside due to a squeaky floorboard, he partially closed the door behind him.

“Get out, or I’ll bash in your skull.” The whispered demand sounded overly loud in the darkness and silence.

To his right, a shadow loomed, but when he peered harder at it, the blob morphed into the rough shape of a woman with a pitcher raised over her head. In a whispered tone, he asked, “Lady Mallory I presume?”

A gasp betrayed her identity. She slowly lowered the pitcher. “Edenthorpe?”

He scoffed but said nothing. “Pack a bag. You’re leaving. Now.”

“Oh!” Quickly, she moved to the wash stand where she put the pitcher next to the basin. “Then my letter was received.” It wasn’t a question, but she did reach beneath her bed and withdrew what looked like an odd half-moon shaped wicker basket.

“Clearly, for why else would I be here? I assume you discovered a way to unlock the door?”

“It’s a wonder what one can do with a hairpin hidden away.”

He peeked out into the corridor from the nearly closed doorway. It was still empty. “Is there a guard on this floor?”

“There usually is, but sometimes they’re lazy and spend their time drinking out with the stable hands.”

He nodded. “Let’s go. Time truly is of the essence. The guard could return at any time.”

“I can’t leave Peri.”

“What the hell is that?”

A huff of annoyance escaped her. “Not a what, a who. My cat.”

Only then did he see a feline standing at the foot of a narrow bed, staring at him. This mission had suddenly become an inconvenience. “Fine. Put the fucking cat in a bag or basket.” Aggravation threaded through his whisper. “We need to go. Now . Else you’ll be trapped here or worse once someone overhears us.” It was too dark in the room to see her features or form clearly, but her tones were dulcet enough.

She blew out a breath. “No need to come the crab. I’m the one helping you , remember?” After taking the willow basket over to the bed, she gently encouraged the feline into it, then she manipulated the leather straps and the buckles fo the lid. “For that matter, who are you? I rather doubt you’re the Duke of Edenthorpe.”

“I’m not.”

“Ah good, the strong silent type. Tell me your name unless you plan on disappearing into the night the moment we’re free of this place.”

He snorted. One corner of his mouth twitched but he didn’t give into the grin. “Duke of Strathfield. I served with Edenthorpe and the rest of the rogues at different times during the war.”

“I see. Do I have time to pack a bag?”

“No. You should have done it already.”

“It would have called undue attention to me.” As she spoke, the cat in the basket began to howl. No doubt it didn’t enjoy being trapped.

I know how you feel.

“How do you feel about the Countess of Stover?” she asked as he eased open the door and once more peered into the darkened corridor beyond.

“I dislike her. Immensely.” In fact, just being here when she could be under the same roof right now had the hairs on his nape prickling.

“Good. So do I, and if I can assist in bringing down her network and end the reign of terror she has enacted on innocent people, all the better.” A rustling noise had him glancing through the gloom at her as she removed something hidden inside her mattress tick. Seconds later, she hiked up the skirting of her night dress and wrapped then buckled on a leather sheath to her thigh where the hilt of a dagger winked in the faint moonlight.

“What the devil are you doing?” It was an unnecessary delay.

She shrugged. “It’s best to always be armed when dealing with that bitch.”

“Ha.” Despite the danger-fraught circumstances, Nathaniel couldn’t help the soft bark of laughter that left his throat. “You and I will get along just fine.”

“That remains to be seen. I’m not in the habit of trusting anyone.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he led her out of the room then softly closed the door behind them. In silence, he ushered her and the cat in the basket along the corridor. Every muscle in his body was taut and ached, for any moment he expected to come into contact with the missing guard. But that didn’t happen, and bit by bit he eased off the worry as they quickly and quietly made their way down the stairs.

“Through the library and mind the glass on the floor in that room.”

Christ, had she even put on footwear? He hoped so because he wasn’t in the mood to pick her up and carry her out the door. With a glance down the stairs to make certain they were still alone, he urged her along as fast as they could go. The damned cat continued to howl, but he refused to risk discovery due to an angry feline.

As they moved to the library, he caught sight of a long, thick braid of brown hair that hung down her back. The stark white of her night clothes made her resemble a ghost, but he was pleased to see she’d donned a pair of half boots before leaving her room.

It took less than no time to cross the room. The slight crunch of broken glass beneath his boot soles was the only evidence of their passage. Once outside, he closed the door with the broken pane.

“Keep to the shadows. Follow the drive until you get to the country lane.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check the perimeter once more and ensure we haven’t been followed. I will catch you up on the lane.”

“But—”

“Damn it, woman, go!” he urged in a whisper brimming with urgency and annoyance.

As she did what she was told, Nathaniel vanished into the shadows, once more going around the building, fully prepared to take down anyone he encountered. One couldn’t be too careful in dealing with anything remotely related to Lady Stover or her goons. Aside from a man he found sleeping off his drunkenness midway between the house and the stables, there was no one else abroad.

That he knew of.

Eventually, he reached the lane where she stood, a quarter of a mile away from where he’d left the travelling coach. Only then did the realization of what he’d done hit his consciousness. How the hell did he think any of it would work? He couldn’t exactly drop her off somewhere once they reached Town. She had nowhere to go, no one to trust, and absolutely no possessions or coin. In this state, she was as vulnerable as a newborn babe.

Well, shit.

As he drew abreast of her, Nathaniel said, “One more thing.”

“What?” She turned toward him with the cat basket in hand, and in the dim moonlight, it was all too obvious she was a young woman. Plain faced with horribly wrinkled nightclothes that had seen better days, but her eyes were wide and rounded. She might have a bold attitude, but fear lay stamped on her pale face.

“All hell will break loose once your mother realizes that you have escaped, which will be shortly after breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“There is nothing we can do about that. I’d rather be well away from this prison and face whatever will happen to me than die there.”

“While that might be true, neither of us need a highly public scandal to call society’s attention to us. Additionally, there will already be far too many questions sent our way.” He paused, frowning. Why hadn’t he thought further than her rescue? And why the hell was he even considering this next bit rattling around in his brain? There was nothing for it, and perhaps Edenthorpe knew that when he’d sent Nathaniel out on this task. Damn the man’s eyes! “In order for me to protect you, I will ask that we marry.”

“Ha!” She snorted, and her expression suggested he go off himself. “I don’t need your protection. I have been plotting my revenge for years, and for each one of those years, I have seen to my own safety as well. Secondly, I don’t know or trust you. And I’m certainly not willing to marry a stranger or anyone, for that matter. I’ve only just gained my freedom.”

There was that. “I understand. Believe me, I do, but in this there will be no argument. If you wish to commit to the mission and revenge therein, this is a part of it.”

“Why?” She set the basket on the ground at her feet then propped her hands on her hips. “You are not my keeper.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that.” In fact, any man taking her on would need to keep his wits—and patience—about him. He wasn’t that man, but he would make this sacrifice because the end result was more important than his future. There were others to think about beyond himself. That was what a man did for his brothers-in-arms. “Lady Stover is a powerful woman. She will think nothing of having you killed, because away from that asylum, you are a liability. Nowhere is safe, not even my club.”

For long moments, she regarded him, and it was too dark for him to discern the color of her eyes or the finer features of her face. “I want no more blood spilled because of my mother.”

One of his eyebrows rose. “Unless it’s hers?” His lips twitched once again with the urge to grin, but he didn’t give in to it.

“Exactly.”

He nodded. “Then marry me. Go under my protection. Even Lady Stover cannot dare to breech that bone.” God, he was a nodcock, and he was in a bind, but for the sake of his friends, he’d do anything. “It can be a marriage of convenience. Or rather a marriage in name only. You'll be taken care of, I promise you that, especially after the treatment you must have already endured.”

“I...” Her chin quivered but she didn’t say more.

There was a story there, no doubt, and one that shaped her history and turned her into the woman she was today. She’d essentially been a prisoner for the past ten years, and for that he felt a kinship with her. “Once the threat represented is neutralized, you can live your life at any of my properties—wherever you wish—but keeping you safe is of top priority because I suspect you know more of her plans than she is even aware of. You know who is high up on her staff.”

And he would have those names. If she thought to betray him, if she was working with her mother and playing on the rogues’ heartstrings, she would pay, and dearly.

A sigh left her throat. “Unfortunately, your words make sense, but I need something from you first. As a sign of good faith.”

Of course there were negotiations. “What?”

“A kiss.”

What the hell? It was such a nominal thing. “Why?”

Once more she shrugged, and the ill-fitting nightdress briefly pulled taught over modest breasts. “Why not? I refuse to marry if my husband, no matter in what capacity, cannot kiss. We might not have a marriage in the true sense of the word, but a woman needs a good kiss every now again, along with a gorgeous gown, which I will also demand once we’re safe.” One of her eyebrows raised. “Are you capable of that, Strathfield?”

This time, he did chuckle even if he didn’t grin. The cheek of her and that penchant for plain speaking was captivating. Concerning but captivating. She might prove a good companion after all... once he trusted her. “Fine.” Though they were wasting valuable time, Nathaniel pulled her close, being mindful of the cat in the basket, then he brushed his lips over hers. “You’ve been kissed.”

“Hardly.” The lady huffed, which ruffled the collection of longish curls on her forehead. “I might have been shut away from the life I should have had, but even I know that was a poor showing. If you can’t do better than that then my answer is no.”

Why did he have a feeling that she would be the death of him? “Rather a managing baggage, aren’t you?” Before she could answer, he put her more firmly into his arms, wrapped her braid about one of his hands, tugged on it enough to tilt her head back, then he lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that had more stick to it.

Immediately, he realized he might have made a mistake, for though she was wildly inexperienced in what was a rudimentary embrace—dear God, it might be her first kiss with any man—there was a certain something that flared between them as she stood stock still in the middle of the country lane. In another lifetime, he would have relished the opportunity to teach her how to kiss him back, but they were very much out in the open and vulnerable here, and such a thing would have to wait.

Still, heated interest shivered along his shaft as he set her at arm’s length from him. “We need to find the traveling coach. The longer we tarry here, the more likely our discovery.”

“Right.” She covered her confusion by bending to pick up the cat basket. “Do you, uh, know where I’ll stay once we’re in London?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “At my townhouse. We’re engaged, so there is not that much scandal there, and you’ll have your own room and privacy.”

Clearly, I am well on my way to madness. Yet what wouldn’t he do for the men who were closer to him than blood brothers?