Page 31 of The Devil’s Waltz

Chapter Sixteen

He wondered whether she was going to pull the trigger in reaction to his taunt. Sooner or later he was going to provoke someone enough that they’d actually kill him, and it was no more than he deserved. But he didn’t want it to be his dragon.

“Put the pistol on the table and sit down, my pet,” he said, not moving. “You’re shaking so hard it might go off by accident, and you wouldn’t want that. If you truly want to shoot me then have at it, but if you’re undecided I wouldn’t want you to do it by mistake. Think of the guilt!”

“I’d get over it,” she said through chattering teeth. But she set the pistol down on a table, out of his reach but well within hers, and glared at him.

She looked enchanting, like a drowned rabbit. Her wet hair was hanging down her shoulders, her spectacles were steaming up. She was muddy, shivering with cold or perhaps fury, and he wondered what she’d do if he tried to kiss her. Probably shoot him.

“Sit down, Annelise,” he said gently. “I’d ring for a servant to bring you a blanket but I’m afraid this house is very poorly staffed, and the Brownes are probably in bed. What time is it, anyway?”

“Past dawn.” There was a chair just behind her, a little closer to the fire, but she wasn’t moving.

“I must have drifted off.”

“Where’s Hetty?”

“Upstairs, presumably asleep. Or did you think I‘d strangled her and tossed her in the Thames? Come to think of it, that might have been a good idea.” He heard the slam of the door and the clumping of boots with resignation. Of course she hadn’t come alone.

The young man stormed into the room, spied Christian sitting in his chair and started toward him with a murderous expression on his face.

Fortunately Annelise stood in the way. “Wait, William,” she said, putting a hand on the boy’s arm to stop him.

It was a firm hand and she used a lot of force, or Christian expected the young man might have attempted to pound him mercilessly.

Not that he’d be able to do it—not only had Christian whiled away a number of leisure hours studying the noble science of boxing, but he fought dirty when the occasion called for it.

“I’m going to kill him!” William said fiercely, pulling his arm from her grip but too much a gentleman to yank himself entirely free. Silly child. Then again, the Honorable Miss Kempton was surprisingly persuasive. “What have you done with Hetty?” he demanded.

“Listened to her incessant prattle, complaints, tears, demands, artless conversation and recriminations for more than twenty-four hours. You will be pleased to know I didn’t touch her—if I had I would have throttled her.

Take her away, if you please. I’d rather spend the rest of my life a pauper than have to spend even another day with the divine Miss Chippie. ”

William glared at him in clear disbelief. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs in bed, sound asleep, if I’m not mistaken. Go and find her—I expect she’ll welcome you with open arms. Up the stairs, turn left, four doors down at the end of the first section of hallway. Go along, there’s a good lad. Miss Kempton is safe with me.”

That managed to startle an unladylike snort from Annelise, but after a moment’s hesitation William fled, leaving the dragon to his wicked lures.

“Sit down, Annelise,” he said again in a bored voice. ‘If you don’t then manners decree I should probably rise, and I don’t feel like doing so.”

“I’ve been sitting for hours,” she snapped.

“And is your backside in a delicate state? Trust me, my chairs are a great deal more comfortable than the jouncing seats of a hired carriage, even a good one.”

Her eyes opened wide in outrage that he would mention such an indiscreet part of her anatomy. He tilted his head to get a look at that particular area, and she sat quickly, denying him his curious gaze.

“You’ve ruined Hetty,” she said. “And now you no longer want her? Do you realize how truly despicable that is?”

“Did you want me to marry her? If you say so I expect I will—I do have an interest in pleasing you, but I really don’t think the marriage would last terribly long.

If I didn’t strangle her I’d bludgeon her with a candlestick.

And if you wanted me to marry her, that was my original plan.

Why did you bring Saint George with you on your noble quest? ”

“Stop trying to confuse me. Saint George and the dragon were dire enemies. If anyone is Saint George—” She halted.

His smile widened. “Were you about to suggest I might fit the role? I know this comes as a shock to you, but I am far from saintly.”

Perhaps her fury would warm her, he thought absently as he watched her grit her teeth.

She was no longer trembling, but she really did need to get out of those wet clothes and preferably into a warm bed.

He doubted he was going to manage that much, but he was ever hopeful.

He might as well salvage something from this debacle, and a romp with the Honorable Miss Kempton was well worth it.

If he were frugal he could live quite comfortably on the money Chippie used to bribe him.

Of course, he had never been particularly frugal.

And Chippie would probably keep trying to kill him until he succeeded.

He would have shrugged, but it was too damned French.

He smiled at the mortal enemy still glaring at him.

She was exhausted, poor thing. And yet she wasn’t complaining or whining or demanding.

Well, she was demanding Hetty, and perhaps Christian’s head on a platter, but apart from that, her own personal discomfort seemed the least of her worries.

“William will marry her. And if there is any premature issue you will simply have to keep your mouth shut and?—”

“Didn’t you listen to me, wench? I said I didn’t touch her. Miss Chippie is still as pure and virginal as the day she was born. Unless someone else got to her first. I have been nothing but a perfect gentleman.”

“A gentleman who abducts young ladies?—”

“In truth she’s the only young lady I’ve ever abducted, and she came with me quite willingly. I was surprised I didn’t have to persuade her, but she simply got up from her dressing table and said yes.”

“You were in her bedroom?” Annelise was scandalized.

“My sweet, I have been in a great many bedrooms. And I was merely standing in the doorway like the gentleman you doubt that I am, asking if she wanted to run away with me. She said yes and that was that.”

Annelise was tired. He could see the shadows under her eyes, despite the spectacles, and she was paler than usual. She wanted to keep arguing, berating him, but she was running out of energy.

“How did you get here, the two of you? On horseback, I presume? In this downpour?”

“No,” she said, and this time her shudder was from something entirely new. “I don’t ride.”

“So you came by carriage? Where is your driver?”

“The wheel broke. Or perhaps the axle. I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention—I just came ahead.”

He rose languidly, towering over her. She stifled a yawn, and she didn’t bother to move—she just looked up at him with a delightfully disgruntled expression. Interesting—he found her distemper enchanting. Hetty’s was merely tiresome.

“Then I’d best see what I can do to help. Harry Browne and a lad from the village take care of the stables when I’m here, and I imagine they can help your poor driver. I expect you’ll be wanting to take your little princess and escape from the ogre as soon as possible.”

She was falling asleep, a fact that astonished him.

Women didn’t fall asleep on him, particularly when he was baiting them.

At least, not at this stage in the proceedings.

“Stop living in a fairy tale,” she murmured, leaning back against the chair.

“I’m not a dragon, Hetty’s not a princess, and you’re closer to a troll than an ogre. ”

Christian laughed. “Trolls are very ugly, dear heart. I may be conscienceless, degenerate, selfish and shallow, but I’m actually quite pretty by all accounts.”

“Go find our driver,” she muttered. “The sooner we get out of here the less likely it is that I’ll kill you. I can still reach the gun.”

“And you can actually use it?”

“My father taught me.”

“Ah, yes, your father,” he murmured, about to provoke her further. But she’d closed her eyes for a moment, just a moment, and he realized she was sound asleep.

He stared at her thoughtfully. And then he stripped off his rumpled coat and placed it carefully over her. It still retained some of his body heat, and he found he liked the idea of warming her, even vicariously. But that would have to wait for another time, another day.

He strolled into the hallway, following the trail of wet, muddy footprints, and opened the front door. It was very old and quite heavy, but Annelise had clearly managed it without difficulty. He liked that.

He could barely make out the shape of the overturned carriage through the murk of early dawn and the heavy rain.

The last thing he was about to do was wander out into the downpour and offer help, no matter how much he wanted to get rid of Hetty, but he could go find Browne and his wife, since none of the bellpulls were working.

Besides, he found he was starving—kidnapping heiresses and battling dragons worked up an appetite.

Browne was sitting in his wife’s kitchen, drinking his morning ale, but he was ready in less than a minute, while Mrs. Browne looked at him with her usual motherly expression.

He’d bribed them away from his grandfather—when he was growing up, Browne had been a stable lad and one of the few servants willing to ignore orders and be kind to a lonely boy.

And Mrs. Brown had been a scullery maid, always willing to sneak extra food to him.

The moment he became of age and inherited his mother’s house he asked them to come with him, making the uncertainties of his fortune clear. And they’d come without question.