Page 13 of One Night in Vauxhall Gardens (Singular Sensation #11)

Theresa twisted the strings of her reticule around her fingers as she sat in the Earl of Hedgecomb’s closed carriage.

A half hour ago, his driver showed up at her home demanding to see her, much to her mother’s chagrin. When he’d told her that the earl sent his regrets that he hadn’t been able to call on her due to being beaten and struggling with a day terror, she immediately took matters into her own hands. After grabbing her bonnet, spencer, and gloves, she told her mother she was needed at the earl’s home and that she would be back in time for dinner.

The driver had offered up a faint protest, but truth to tell, he seemed relieved that she was coming back with him to take charge of the matter.

By the time she arrived at his home, knots of worry were pulling in her belly. How bad was it this time? At the door, she was met by a tall, thin butler with thinning brownish gray hair.

“I am Lancaster, the Earl of Hedgecomb’s butler. His Lordship is not receiving visitors just now, especially unaccompanied young women,” the man said in respectful tones, clearly hoping she would turn away. “He doesn’t need the scandal.”

She narrowed her eyes. Did that mean unaccompanied young ladies often dropped in to call? “In the event you don’t know, I am Lady Theresa Bollinger, the earl’s fiancée, so please let me in. His driver told me he was having a crisis, and I have some experience in that since I helped guide him out of the last one.” It was quite presumptuous and imperious of her, but time might be of the essence.

“His fiancée.” It wasn’t a question as the man’s eyes rounded with surprise. “We were just informed two days ago of the fact and I, for one, wasn’t quite certain it was true.”

Well, that is annoying.

Huffing, Theresa frowned. “Clearly, I’m real and the news is true.” To go a step further even though it wasn’t necessary, she whipped off her gloves and showed the man the ruby and diamond ring on her finger. “This is the ring he gave me upon our engagement. Now, if you please, step aside. I would like to check on the earl.” Even as she said the words, her stomach quaked with fear, and the same twisted down her spine.

Would the confidence she’d showed work?

Finally, Lancaster opened the door wide and stood to one side in order to admit her. “My apologies, Lady Theresa. Of course we would be grateful if you took a moment to look in on His Lordship.”

“Thank you, Lancaster.” She lightly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. “Has the earl been given any sort of care? The driver said he’d been beaten.”

“When he came in, he ordered clean clothes and warm water. I would have no idea if he’s been ministered to. Viscount Winteringham lingered with him for a half hour but has since gone.”

Why were men so inept about looking after themselves?

“Very well. If the housekeeper has peppermint or comfrey salve, please have it brought up to his rooms, as well as some chamomile tea.” As she spoke, she removed her bonnet and handed it to him along with her gloves. “I assume he is alone?”

“Yes, of course, my lady.”

Since her spencer had gotten a bit damp in the rain, she removed that as well and gave it over to the butler. “Make certain the items I’ve requested are sent up immediately.”

“I will, of course.” He followed her to the foot of the grand staircase of the large townhouse. “Please, my lady. Help the earl.” When she glanced at him, Lancaster’s expression had fallen. “His Lordship hasn’t been the same since he went off to war. Above all, he deserves peace and the ability to relax. Merely sleeping through the night would do him wonders.”

Poor man.

“I will do my best. That I can promise you, for I agree. Every returning military man deserves to pass a night without horror.” With a nod she hoped he thought was encouraging, Theresa made her way up the staircase to the third level.

Finding the earl’s suite wasn’t difficult, for his was the only one who featured a closed door. As she moved along the corridor to the end, she glanced into the two rooms on either side of the house. They were all decorated in tasteful colors with oil paintings in gilt frames featuring scenes from the country or seascapes to provide soothing, contemplative viewing.

At the door, she rapped lightly and then pressed the brass door latch before he could bid her nay. “Harry? Are you awake, and perhaps more to the point, are you decent?” She hadn’t given thought about what she would do if he were naked or in a bath. The rustle of bedclothes indicated he was lying on the large four-poster bed, but before she could cross the room, a man came to the door of the adjoining dressing room.

“Who the devil are you?” the man demanded with a frown.

Clearly, Hedgecomb’s staff were very loyal.

“Theresa?” Her name on his lips sailed through the air and sent shivers of need down her spine. When she peered through the gloom—for the curtains at the windows had been drawn—she was able to spy him struggling to push himself up against a mound of pillows. “What the deuce are you doing here?” He looked at the other man. “Stand down, Hutton. That is my fiancée.”

“But she is here, in your rooms.” No doubt he was the valet.

The earl snorted then quickly followed the sound with a groan. “And we have been alone twice before. To say nothing of already being engaged. What else could possibly happen?” He sighed. “Thank you for the concern, though. Please feel free to take the remainder of the afternoon off, since I will be worthless.”

“Very well, Your Lordship.” Hutton regarded her. “As you can surmise, I’m Hedgecomb’s valet, and he was attacked outside an hour ago. He’s been in and out of nightmares as well.”

“That is what his driver told me, and why I rushed over here. I’ve ordered some tea and salve, thought to see to his comfort and healing, but if you would rather take on the task?”

“No.” Hutton waved away her offer. “I have a few errands to run, and you should probably spend the time with the earl anyway.” There was a speculative light in his eyes that gave Theresa pause. “I’ll see you aren’t disturbed as soon as the required supplies have arrived.”

“Thank you.” Once the valet left the room, Theresa crossed the room then opened the curtains at both windows. As anemic light came in and raindrops dotted the glass, she smiled. “That’s better. You shouldn’t lock yourself away in the gloom.”

Before he could answer, a scratching at the door preceded the arrival of a footman into the room bearing a silver tea tray. “Mrs. Dumphrees said you needed these items,” he said as he laid the tray on a bureau top and then pointed to the jar of salve resting there.

“I did, and thank you for bringing it up so quickly.” Once more, she crossed the room and when the footman stepped into the corridor, she softly closed the door behind him.

“Why are you here, Theresa?” Harry asked again, and there was a fair amount of exhaustion in his voice. “I only wanted my driver to tell you I couldn’t call today.”

“I asked him why, of course, and because he was worried about you, he told me what happened.” Then she turned and finally looked at him. Her breath caught, for the only article of clothing he wore was a pair of fawn-colored breeches. That was distracting enough, but his torso and face were decorated with dark red marks which would turn into horrid bruises on the morrow. “Dear God, you must be in so much pain.”

When he waved away the comment, she noted his red knuckles. “One grows used to it.”

“Why were you attacked?” Grabbing the jar of salve off the tea tray, she moved to his bedside and then perched on the edge of the mattress tick. “Was it the same man who shot at us?”

“I don’t believe it was. He had a more cultured way of speaking.” Harry shied away from him when she would have taken his hand. “As for why? Because Lady Stover has somehow taken an intense dislike to the men of the Rogue’s Arcade. None of us are quite certain why, but she won’t stop until we’re all dead… and possibly everyone we are connected to. The threat was implicit.” Panic shadowed his eyes. “That is too large a responsibility to place on one man.”

“You are sharing that with your friends, your brothers-in-arms.” When she laid her free hand on his knee, his whole body jerked. “You are not alone, Harry.”

“Many times, I feel like I am.” The whispered admission drew her forward in curiosity. “And as many times, I feel like I’m back at war.” As he lifted his gaze to hers, ghosts haunted his eyes, left tears behind. “That nothing I went through, nothing that I fought for, mattered if this is how things are now.”

“Ah, Harry.” After setting the jar of salve on his bedside table for later use, Theresa crawled into the bed with him, sat next to his solid form and put her arms about his middle. The lingering scent of his cologne teased her nose while the crisp feel of the hair on his chest had awareness dancing over her skin. “That isn’t true. There are many of us who are quite grateful for the work and sacrifice you and the others made for England.”

“I left the war shattered and wrecked, Theresa. I’m no longer whole.” There was a choked sort of sound in his throat before he continued. “In many ways, the struggle to survive now is more difficult than doing that on the march.”

Oh, dear. He was headed into a rant or perhaps a downward spiral. Putting a palm to the side of his face, she turned his head until their gazes connected. “Tell me why you feel that way.”

“Ever since I’ve come back to London, even after spending time in Rome, I have seen nothing but hatred and apathy in almost everyone I’ve met. Men only want me to recount stories from the war that glorify the violence and paint the players into heroes when they—we—weren’t. There is nothing honorable about killing, nothing honorable about coming home without your friends.” He clung to her, had an arm about her waist. Moisture shined on his cheeks as tears fell. “Women think we’re larger than life, until those realities intrude, and they can’t square with the by-products such as broken minds and haunting by the demons of the past.”

It was obvious he’d taken in everything he could, and now he was at his tipping point. “I understand.” Of course, there was no way she could possibly understand, but it helped her stall for time. “People tend to glorify the world’s disasters because that is the only way they can make sense of it. As for your reception in Town, don’t put much stock in the people who ignore you or tear down your reputation. They don’t matter. The people who care about you accept you just as you are. Deep down you know that.”

“And my fractured mind? Not being able to separate the past from the present, which leads to dangerous problems?”

“You must constantly strive to rise above it, or sit with someone you trust, someone who makes you feel like you won’t lose yourself. But you must ask for help; we can’t know that sometimes unless you tell us.”

“It’s not that simple! Sometimes I can’t ask… Don’t want to appear weak in front of you or my friends.”

“What you are going through? How you share that? It’s not weakness but strength, and I’ll be damned if I don’t impress that upon you every chance I get.” And because it had worked for her before, Theresa half-turned toward him, surged into him, and fit her lips to his.

With a groan, Harry dragged her into his arms, hauled her against him, and he kissed her back with so much vigor and intensity, she came alive in his hold. It was remarkable that being in this man’s embrace could transform her that much. Before she knew him, she was practically dead inside, but with every touch, each kiss, he gave her back pieces of her soul—her humanity—she feared she’d lost long ago.

“Don’t do this to me, Theresa,” he whispered against her lips.

“Why not? It is the only way I’ve found that keeps you from slipping further away.” Myself included.

“Why do you care?”

So much rode on that tiny question that she didn’t know how to answer at first. Instead of using words, she caressed her hands over the broad expanse of his naked chest, bent slightly to draw her lips along that skin, explore him as she hadn’t been able to do that day in the British Museum. Just like on his back, his chest and torso featured many scars.

“Because you are worthy right now, as the man you are. One doesn’t need to be hero or unmarred to gain that.” She peppered his skin with kisses as she spoke. “You survived the war for a reason, Harry, and to discount that by saying you shouldn’t have is to do yourself disfavor.” This time, she came back up to claim his lips again. After the kiss, she whispered, “Never discount that you are a good man who built yourself up on the difficulties and ugliness you’ve gone through. The state of your mind doesn’t mean you aren’t worthy. The scars you bear don’t mean that either. You are here, you are alive, and you have much to offer this life, your life—our life. You are worthy regardless.”

His eyes bored into hers, and those blue depths promised peace and sanctuary. Was it too good to be true? “Why are you so adamant about this?”

“I need you to believe it, for if you do, then I might do the same regarding myself.” Tears filled her own eyes. “It is quite difficult to pull oneself out of the darkness by oneself, so help me as I help you, hmm?”

“God, I don’t deserve you.” His body tensed. Seconds later, he’d flipped them both over, and as she gazed up at him, trapped between the soft mattress tick and the hard wall of his body, she framed his face between her palms. “Not at all, but I appreciate you all the same.”

“Let me decide if you do or you don’t.” Then she tugged his head down until he kissed her, and once more she was lost.

Or perhaps found was the more appropriate term.

It might have been the high emotion, it might have been the circumstances, perhaps it was the fact they were two people shunned by the world for different reasons or the broken pieces of her fit snugly against the broken pieces of him, but before she knew it, passion had carried them both away until soft moans and sighs sounded in the room.

The earl’s mouth and fingers were seemingly everywhere, and she followed suit, for it gave her such power-and dare she say happiness- to make him shiver and gasp with pleasure. Then the hardened length of him was between her splayed thighs, and she bumped her hips against his in anticipation.

With a kiss apparently designed to remove her from reality, he aligned the head of his member to her opening, and as she clutched desperately at his shoulders, he flexed his hips, and with a powerful thrust, speared into her, penetrating her as deep as he could go. Pleasure swamped her, for how could it not? He was big and hard, and he filled her completely.

They were both well-primed, and the need to belong, to fit in, to find acceptance drove the coupling. His movements were frantic; they crashed together like a summer storm. In and out, over and over, he worked her body, stroking faster and faster while she clung to him and tried to receive him the best she could, but he was like a man possessed.

A wave of release swept through her before she was ready. That energy had the power to steal her breath and sent her pulse pounding through her veins, but she wanted to scream in frustration, for during that dance as old as time, she felt more like herself than she ever had before. He must have heard her inhalation of breath, for he kissed her fiercely, took her cry into himself, and when he spent, once more, he did it outside of her body. The hot, sticky jets of his seed splattered on the outside of her thigh, but then he used the top sheet to cover the mess, wipe it from her skin before catching her into his arms and rolling them both to their sides.

“Good heavens, that probably did you no favors in easing the aches and pains, hmm?” Theresa asked with a certain breathless wonder, for he remained a conundrum.

“It was more than worth it, for you are quite the surprise, a definite balm.” He pressed his lips against her temple. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Despite herself, she offered a grin before resting her head on his shoulder. “I’m not sure what I’ve done, but I think we are good for each other, at least in this way.” What did that say about her?

“You inspire me to many things. Whether I achieve any of them is another story.”

Though he was odd, she appreciated that. “May I ask you a personal question?” The fact he hadn’t freely shared his past history bothered her, but not overly much. Some men weren’t all that gregarious, but in what he didn’t say? Oh, that was glorious!

“Of course.”

She drew restless patterns on his chest, and at some of those passes, his muscles clenched. “Why did you withdraw when we coupled, both today and at the museum? It is because you don’t truly wish to marry me?”

“It is not.” Harry rested a hand on her hip, pulled her slightly closer to him. “The answer is quite simple, really. I don’t know your stance on having children, don’t wish to put you through more pain and suffering if you simply can’t go through that again after what you did in your past.”

That made sense. However, part of it rankled. “Yet we are engaged. Since both you and Leo are intent that you and I will wed, it is your right as a man to beget an heir.”

“Yes, but what if all we have is girls?” When he shrugged, he stifled a groan of pain. “I won’t put that on your shoulders. It would mean you’d spend half of your married life either pregnant or bearing children, all in the effort to give me something you assume I want.”

“But you—”

“Hush, Theresa.” He lifted her chin with a finger beneath it and then brushed his lips over hers. “Besides, you said you wanted to travel for our wedding trip. That will be even more complicated if you are increasing. We haven’t talked of what we’d like with our future, and I refuse to give you one thing if you truly desire another but are too frightened to speak up.”

“Oh.” In that moment, she lost a piece of her heart to him. In his own way, he was truly a hero who might have stepped from a fairy story. “You are a good man, Harry. I don’t know what you did while in the military or as a spy, perhaps I don’t need to know, but I can see that goodness, that bravery, that honor when I look at you, when I’m with you, in how you treat me and touch me. There is no one like you and…” Her voice broke, and she hid her face in his shoulder. “I’m so grateful for you. I fear that no other man would understand me as you do. Even if our relationship hasn’t been decided yet.”

Since they obviously couldn’t keep their hands off each other, especially when emotions or the past were involved, the engagement couldn’t be strictly in name only.

Was that what she wanted? Did he? She was too much a coward to ask.

“That is a problem for another day.” The earl wrapped his arms around her and simply held her. “Suffice it to say, I feel much the same, and what’s more, you managed to keep the darkness from winning, at least for today.” His sigh ruffled her hair, and oddly enough, she felt… content.

That had to mean something.