Page 14

CHAPTER 13

H is toys , Maria thought, her stomach wobbling. Francis wanted to play with?—

Before her thought could be completed, the man lunged, his lips pulled back in a gleeful snarl. Pulse jumping, she braced for his attack.

She held one arm up in defence and drew her dagger-wielding arm back, preparing to strike. His sudden blow glanced off her elbow while his other hand struck her fist, knocking the dagger from her grip.

His eyes flared with triumph, and he wrapped one hand around her neck. “Not so brave when you’re unarmed, are you?”

A beat of fear pulsed through her, but she squelched it.

His sharp, rum-and-cake–scented breath wafted over her cheek as he leaned in to watch her eyes.

“How shall I play with you?” he asked slowly. “What would cause more pain to our dear Jasper?”

Maria glared at him. She could not concede defeat, yet.

With as much strength as she could muster, she lifted her knee into his cods.

Francis howled and released her with a string of curses.

She stepped back in retreat but caught her heel on the leg of the low table and toppled backward onto her arse. Pain lanced up her spine and rattled her teeth. With a groan, she scrambled to her knees and reached for her fallen dagger.

Pinpricks of pain shot through her scalp and neck as Francis wrenched her head backward, her mobcap and hair caught in the cur’s fist. Fear clawed its way back into the forefront of her heart, briefly squashing her steely determination.

The man clutched wildly at her hair and frock, dragging her backward along the carpet. A hoarse cry tore from her lips before the man settled his weight against her back, his panting breaths sounding increasingly like enjoyment .

The breath rushed from her lungs on a wheeze, and terror fluttered in her heart. No fear , she reminded herself. Not now . Remember your training .

The muscles of her arm burned and strained as she reached, her fingertips just brushing her dagger’s handle. There! She slid it toward her with the tips of her nails and clutched it tightly, prepared to stab wildly over her shoulder. Then searing pain lanced through the flesh connecting her neck and shoulder.

Maria screamed, bucking again and finally throwing off his weight. They both clambered to their knees, a thundering noise in her ears drowning out the heaving of her own breaths. With one hand pointing the dagger at the bastard and her other holding her neck, she cursed.

“Did you bloody bite me?” She staggered to her feet. The man was like an animal, for Christ’s sake!

“ Maria !” Her heart flipped over at the sound of Jasper’s voice.

“In the parlour, Jasper!” she called over her shoulder. “Francis is—” Her words died as she turned her gaze back to where the man had been, and saw nothing. “Gone.”

* * *

“Are you well, Maria? Where is he?” Jasper asked breathlessly as he rushed into the parlour, Harris and two other men at his back.

With a racing pulse and a twist in his gut, Jasper took her in. She had her blade at the ready and was clutching at her neck. Alarm sparked in his chest. Was she hurt? Christ, please don’t let her be hurt .

Eyes wide, Maria shook her head then hissed a breath. His gaze narrowed on her.

“I am well enough,” she said. “Francis left the same way in which he arrived: shrouded in darkness and all but entirely silent.”

Jasper’s spine stiffened and his stomach churned once more. “Is he armed?” His feet moved, carrying him into obscurity.

Harris and the others spread out through the room, looking for traces of Francis.

“Not that I could ascertain,” Maria said with a wince.

Cool air blew about his ankles and sent gooseflesh skittering along his skin, tightening his nipples into little nubs.

Movement caught his attention from the edge of his vision, and he swung toward it. Air billowed the heavy green curtains, and he silently cursed.

“The window is open.” Tugging the fabric wide, Harris exposed the opened window, which led out to the shadowy, moonlit gardens. “Had this room been inspected?

“No,” Maria returned. “I entered through the sitting room’s adjoining door and heard a noise. I opened the door and ventured briefly into the corridor, and when I returned, the window had been opened and Francis was inside.”

Jasper turned toward Harris. “Do you suppose he was waiting for us to leave Maria alone in the home?”

Harris’ jaw bunched. “I imagine so. No doubt he knew you and I had ventured into the stables and the others had begun their rounds out of doors.” He sighed self-deprecatingly. “My apologies, Maria, Your Grace. He slipped past us somehow.”

“Acknowledged.” Maria sheathed her dagger. “What I would like to know is how he was aware of our movements, and how it was so easy for him to slip past. From now on, we ought to have at least two of your men keeping guard within the house, as well as those without, regardless of shift change or rounds.”

Despite the circumstance, warmth rushed through Jasper at once again seeing Maria take charge. And yet, she continued to hold her neck…

Harris nodded. “Of course.”

“Are you certain you are well, Maria?” Jasper asked.

She waved her free hand insouciantly through the air. “Of course.”

Another gust of cool wind brushed past him, and with another lingering glance at Maria, Jasper strode to the window. He slid down the sash with a thunk and turned the lock. But it kept turning. “Bloody hell, the lock’s broken.”

“The staff checked the locks in the windows belowstairs, and I tested the others on this floor, but found none with a broken lock. This must have been his only access point,” Maria offered from behind him.

“Who among my staff broke the lock from the first?”

Maria returned his frown with one of her own. “When Francis is apprehended and your guard relieved of duty, I daresay we ought to conduct interviews of your staff to ensure your safety. Come to it, we must uncover Francis’ method of escaping the noose—for, once caught, he could very well do so again.”

Jasper hummed in agreement. “In the meantime, we require a wedge to keep this window shut until the lock can be repaired.”

“I’ll see to it,” Harris offered. “None of my men have reported any unusual activity. However Francis is gaining access through your gardens, we have yet to discover it. I apologize again for the oversight. We’ll seek to rectify this at once.”

Jasper returned to Maria’s side and nodded at Harris. “Thank you.”

Harris turned to the men behind him. “Fetch some wood to bar the window in this room, and search the grounds beyond this parlour. There must be evidence of Mr. Sinclair’s escape and his means of reaching the sash. I expect a report in three quarters of an hour.” He turned back to Jasper and Maria. “I apologize once more for the incident this evening.”

The three men uttered their assurances and swiftly departed, leaving silence in their wake.

Maria rubbed at the back of her head, catching Jasper’s eye.

“You’re hurt,” Jasper noted, his chest constricting. He stepped closer to her side and peered at her neck, and the redness rapidly staining her fichu.

“It doesn’t pain me greatly,” she muttered.

His gut clenched as the gentle moonlight revealed the bleeding crescents on her skin. “He bit you?”

She nodded once. “Yes. The women on Bow Street require further aid in learning combat. I was taught a number of actions meant to surprise or disarm potential attackers, but Francis was able to block and overpower me rather easily. I’d managed to gain some footing only due to training with my dagger and sure aim with my knee. Grace is often occupied elsewhere, however, and there are newer recruits with far less instruction than me.”

Fury burned behind his chest. How this woman could countenance educating herself and facing off with his cad of a cousin again was beyond him. And hell, but she’d just fought the bastard off—been sodding injured —and was calm and in command. Would that he had her steadiness, for at the moment, he was veritably buzzing with anger and trepidation.

“Come along,” he urged. “My chambers are warm and private, and your wound requires cleaning and bandaging. I’ve also the implements you will need to write your superior.”

She nodded with a grimace, and the stone in Jasper’s stomach dropped further as they quit the room.

Her injury was his fault, damn it. If he’d but remained at her side that evening, Francis would not have… He internally sighed. There was no way of knowing what Francis might have done had Jasper been there. And, hell, if Jasper had failed to show up at all, mayhap Maria would have gutted the bastard, and they would be done with this nonsense altogether.

Indeed, there was no sense in considering the things that might or might not have occurred had he behaved differently. He ought simply to accept things as they came, and move forward with his support of this…remarkable woman.

He didn’t have to like that she put herself in danger—particularly on his behalf—and his guilt would undoubtedly remain, but she had managed to live a life independent from her family for nearly a decade—having apparently begun her independent pursuits at age sixteen—and was clearly capable. He’d learned his lesson in attempting to protect women from the difficulties of life when he’d arranged for Juliana to be wed and she’d absconded into the arms of Lord Livingston. And hell, Maria hadn’t been too fond of him at the time, either.

This, now, was Maria’s life. If he intended to be a part of it—which he most decidedly did —then he ought not only to resume his old practice of pugilism, but also to learn more about administering to wounds. The woman was worthy of so much more than he could currently offer…so he must make himself worthy.

Jasper led her through the house and into his bedchamber. He guided her to the armchair nearest his writing table and then set about lighting the candles around the room with a taper. The knot in his stomach twisted tighter as he caught sight of her in the flickering light. There was far too much blood for his liking.

Hurrying to the washbasin, he poured in fresh water and dipped a clean cloth, wringing it out before returning to Maria’s side.

“Will you permit me to…” He gestured lamely at her wound.

“Oh,” Maria breathed, tugging her fichu free and setting it on the nearby table. “Yes, thank you.”

Jasper dragged the other chair toward her, sat with his knees straddling hers, and—decidedly not looking at her distinctly immodest bodice—bent to his task. She hissed a breath at the first swipe of the cool, wet cloth, and he murmured an apology.

“There’s rather a lot of blood,” he said. “Though most of it appears to have soaked into your fichu.”

“Mmm,” Maria hummed, another grimace contorting her features.

“I can’t believe the fucker bit you,” Jasper said gutturally, his guilt gnawing at him.

It was only once she’d turned her wide grey gaze on him that he realized he’d said the thought aloud.

“Bugger it, I’m sorry. I wanted to be there, I oughtn’t have gone with Harris to?—”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for. This ”—she indicated the angry red bite mark that slowly seeped blood—“is not your fault.”

She touched her fingertips to his hand, and heat spread up his arm.

“You are not responsible for the actions of your cousin. You are a good man, Jasper.”

* * *

Several emotions passed across Jasper’s features, his blue-and-brown eyes glittering with something impossible to name. It was the gratitude in his smile, however, that made her heart twist.

The words had tumbled from her lips, but did she truly mean them? When it came to his sense of duty and his desire to protect his family and acquaintances, certainly he was a good man. But—though it was years past—Maria had seen the side of Jasper that was willing to make a wager over a woman’s heart and virtue. He was still a gentleman who believed them to have agreed upon a marriage of convenience, and she had best remember that.

With a self-deprecating smile, she rose and strode to his mirror, a huff of agitation escaping her as she examined her maid’s uniform. The costume was all but entirely ruined: blood-soiled and marred by small tears on her bodice, waist, hem, and… “Drat.” Some hooks had been torn off entirely, leaving the back of the uniform to gape in places.

She detested the thought of having to request a new commission from Grace. Mayhap she ought simply to have Thomas repair it.

Her gaze slipped past her reflection and into Jasper’s bedchamber. She was in his bedchamber , for pity’s sake! It smelled of him. She inhaled deeply, taking it in.

Another pair of reading spectacles sat upon the table at his bedside, which also sported a short stack of books—one of which she recognized on sight: another by Mr. Mystery. Her heart fluttered and she hid a grin.

The space was decorated to match his eyes: dark brown furniture and blue fabric. She wondered if it was designed so apurpose.

Soft footfalls approached, and fluttering erupted in her abdomen. Blimey , but she felt as though she’d been caught spying on him—which, of course, she hadn’t.

Dipping the cloth back into the washbasin and wringing it out, Jasper appeared at her side and continued cleaning and examining her wound. It bled quite a lot for what it was, and while the skin was swollen and already bruising around the bite, she believed that it would heal adequately—so long as infection did not set in.

“How is it?” Jasper asked, appearing at her elbow, his eyes clouded with concern.

Maria set aside the cloth and turned toward him. “It will be well; I shall simply have to don a fichu for a sennight or two to hide the marks from my family.”

He nodded, catching her gaze. His eyes were earnest, yet troubled. The air around them was warm and filled with his fragrance of bergamot and lemon. She breathed deeply of the scent, and his eyes flared with heat.

The man was so close, so warm and inviting, and memories of their encounter that morning caused desire to bubble beneath her skin.

Would he renege on their agreement? If she gave in to her desires and made love to him, would he then leave her unwed and deflowered? If the duke spurned her, it was unlikely that any other man would have her. Then, no doubt, her parents would force her to become a companion to her aunt…unless she eschewed all feminine aspects to her personality and became Duncan. She could then pursue her life as a runner while concurrently providing a home for Thomas and writing as much as her heart desired. It was not ideal—as Duncan was just a much a part of her as Maria was—but it was better than losing the life she’d built, and losing Thomas.

Indeed, if she gave her virginity to Jasper, there would be no angry future husband to feel deceived.

Her lips quirked, and his gaze dropped to follow the movement. His chest rose and fell with a quick breath and, all at once, she became abundantly aware that they were standing alone in his candlelit bedchamber.

She ought to speak, to break the spell by reminding him that they needed to arrange a plausible story for her parents and the newspaper’s gossip column about their attendance at the opera. But the words wouldn’t come; she didn’t want them to.

The air between them grew thick with need, and Maria grew dizzy with the smell of him. She caught his gaze once more. It was heavy-lidded and sparking with desire, and her instincts took over.

Surging upward on her toes, she kissed him full on the mouth. There was nary a heartbeat of surprise before a deep growl emanated from his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.