Page 23 of Undoubtedly Reckless (Rebel by Night #2)

The Past Haunts

He felt her flinch and held her close, lest she fall. Roland had been watching her, drinking in the sight of her wonder. He had seen fireworks before but it was certainly a treat for her. There was so much more he wanted for her, more than these stolen moments.

Roland looked away for a second and she flinched at something. He looked around. The fireworks and the crowd were loud but that was not what distressed her.

“What is it?”

Roland asked, his mouth close to her ear. She was trembling, but not from the cold.

“I need to leave,”

Sabina said shortly, and lifted her skirts to dismount the balustrade. Roland stopped her, leapt down, and deftly lifted her after, then she ran away. Roland rushed after her, barely keeping pace. She was fast, and from the way she kept looking over her shoulder, she must think she was being followed.

“Why does he want you?”

Roland asked, guessing wildly. She grimaced and shook her head, refusing to answer. “Sabina, you must tell me.”

“Don’t ask me. Please, you cannot ask,”

she said, stopping to hail a cab. Two passed before Roland raised a hand and a cab immediately stopped. He could see her exasperation and helped her into the cab.

“Mayfair,”

Roland told the driver, and closed the door of the cab. He stared evenly at the woman he was coming to love, the one with secrets, and waited until she looked at him.

For a while, he thought she would not tell him.

“It’s an old story, a very unoriginal one. My father died. My mother remarried my father’s brother. My uncle is a very bad man and he wanted everything my father had. Mama became ill, so ill. When she was gone, there would be no protection for me. My nurse and my tutor could see what was happening far more clearly than me and took me away when mama was on her deathbed. By the time we left, I could see it too and left gladly.”

Sabina stopped. Her eyes were blank, her mind had traveled back to a time when she was small and vulnerable. Roland stayed quiet. It was not his turn to speak and she was having a difficult enough time.

“The night we escaped was the first time they tried to kill me. I think my uncle had my father killed too, I’m not sure. I will not take that risk with you,”

Sabina said fiercely. “One of the men who attacked us, I thought I saw his face tonight, at New Spring Gardens. My guardians took me to England and we spent years running. Three times we had to leave suddenly in the middle of the night because we thought my uncle had found us. Three times I learned a different name to call myself. When we moved to Hornsea, it felt like a place we could stay. For ten years, I thought we were safe.”

“Then you saved me,”

Roland realized. She shook her head.

“I couldn’t stay in Yorkshire after my nurse and tutor died anyway. It was time for me to leave. You only made the parting more dramatic.”

“Why do they want to hurt you? Or do they wish you returned?”

Roland asked.

“They want to kill me for what I will inherit. At my next birthday, when I turn five and twenty, I claim my inheritance.”

They rolled along in silence, along the cold night streets of London.

“I want you to come live with me,”

Roland said. She made an exasperated noise.

“We have talked about this,”

Sabina said.

“No, you told me what you were going to do and I allowed it, but the situation has changed.”

“You allowed it? We owe each other nothing, certainly not permissions,”

Sabina said.

“I owe you my life and you have been mine to protect since we became intimate. Please, I shall call on you the morrow and remove you to my demesne.”

“None of my misfortunes are your fault,”

Sabina said. “I am safe in the ducal house. What would I be in your home?”

“You shall be my betrothed,”

Roland said, intent on safeguarding her. There was quiet for a long moment and Roland started to believe she was swayed.

“Oh, will I?”

Sabina said. He caught the dangerous timbre of her voice and stopped.

“We can discuss it on the morrow but it is my fondest wish that we be wed,”

Roland said in gentler tones. Surely she would see reason, but she said nothing. He frowned, growing concerned.

“I will exit here,”

Sabina said, and rapped the roof of the cab sharply. “My lord,”

Sabina said in neutral tones before she exited and made her way into the dark night.

He could not pursue. They were close enough to the ducal house that he was not greatly concerned for her safety but he wished to see her to her destination safely. He could not, and still be called a gentleman. He had to consider her reputation.

Roland banged his head against the back of the cab. He had handled that badly.

He was still deep in thought when he let himself into the kitchen door of Schofield Manor. The hour was late, or early depending on one’s perspective. Pinkie already had fresh bread cooling and Roland felt soothed. Nothing untoward could happen when the air was scented with yeast and crust.

Roland was reaching for a loaf when he heard the discreet cough behind him. He had a kitchen knife in hand and was facing Tristan before he realized he was standing in his own kitchen. He should not have to defend himself in his own kitchen. Tristan sat at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow at Roland’s undone cravat and boots.

“Obviously, you had a good morning, so I shan’t wish you one,”

Tristan said. Roland blinked. Tristan sounded tired but sober for a change.

“How are you faring?”

Roland asked, putting down the knife carefully. As with all knives in Pinkie’s kitchen, it was deadly sharp.

“Fit as a fiddle,”

Tristan said, with all the assuredness of youth. He pointed at the coffeepot and Roland sat down next to his brother to pour himself a cup. Pinkie’s coffee was perfect and fragrant, warming him from the inside out.

“Why are you in the kitchen?”

Roland asked.

“Because this is where the coffee lives. No one caught you leaving the duke’s house, I take it?”

Tristan asked. He laughed at Roland’s expression. “No, I am not a complete idiot. I do need to know if we must prepare for a ducal attack, however. Forearmed is forewarned and all that.”

“It’s forewarned is forearmed. I came from New Spring Gardens, not the ducal house,”

Roland replied, and then yawned. He took a mug of coffee. A brief respite was in order before he offered for his future bride. The Darewood men obliged Pinkie when the cook banished them from the kitchen, albeit with fresh bread and butter in hand.

****

Sabina let herself in through the servants’ entrance and swiftly made her way to the back stairs. She listened for the noises in the kitchen that let her know if the morning shift had begun the bread and kept on her path.

A path that was blocked by a large figure. Sabina immediately had Roland’s knife in her hand but stopped when she saw who it was.

So it had come to this.

“Mrs. Kembrooke,”

the duke said gently. She dared to look up at his stony face, dread filling her belly. Oh, her recklessness. She had done this to herself.

“Your Grace,”

Sabina said and bobbed into a graceful curtsey. “Good morning.”

She said nothing more. These were her mistakes and she would not beg or belabor the issue. The duke looked at her gravely.

“I heard you were in New Spring Gardens this evening. While it is not my intention to police the lives of my staff, the governess of my sisters must be held to a higher standard, you understand.”

“I understand, Your Grace. May I have the night to pack and arrange for lodging?”

Sabina said, with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances.

“You may have until Thursday, madame.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Sabina curtseyed again and left before a proper dismissal.

****

Roland let a yawning Daly wage a thorough toilette upon his person and was dressed properly when he sat at the breakfast table. He breathed in the scent of perfectly coddled eggs, crisp bacon, mushrooms in butter, and began spreading cherry jam on his toast.

Aria entered the breakfast room, shuffling cards again. Roland looked up when she stopped by his seat, staring at him in weighty consideration. Just one bite. He wanted only one bite of breakfast before someone wanted something from him. Why his family insisted on having earth-shattering conversations at breakfast was beyond him.

“We are going to have another weighty conversation, aren’t we,”

Roland said blearily. “This is not a custom that can continue, Aria. Have mercy on a man before he has had his first cup of coffee, I beg of you.”

Aria snorted, then took something out of her pocket. She set a small velvet box on the table next to his coffee cup. Roland felt the pressure behind his eyes and steeled himself to not cry. He knew this box.

Reverently, he picked it up and opened it. After more than a decade, he was looking at his mother’s wedding ring. The little garnet glimmered in gold, buttressed on either side by a trio of seed pearls.

“I thought,”

Roland started and stopped to clear his throat. “I thought she was buried with it.”

Aria left his side to fill her plate at the sideboard. Roland pretended not to hear her staggered breath, the type that told him she was trying not to cry.

“It was willed to you, which you would have known if you had read the will,”

Aria said, without judgment.

Roland looked at his baby sister, a child no longer.

“You will need it, if you are intent on taking a wife. Be warned, though, if any woman scoffs at this ring, she is not fit to be a member of our family and I will be taking this ring back,”

Aria warned, sitting down with her kippers and toast. Two soft boiled eggs appeared at her elbow and she poured herself coffee.

Roland shook his head, unable to form coherent thoughts or words.

“Thank you, Aria,”

he finally said, his words wheezing out more than he cared to admit.

“It is only fitting that you followed the family tradition and chose someone not for their rank, but because they are the right person,”

Aria said slowly. She smiled a little and met his eyes. “I am very pleased that she makes you happy. Perhaps she may induce you to stay.”

“Aria,”

Roland started. “I’m not leaving.”

“There’s no guarantee that you won’t leave again. You have no reason to stay,”

Aria pointed out. “Respect me enough to not give me false promises.”

Roland only held up the ring box as an answer. Aria gave him an exasperated look that every younger sister learns from birth.

“Even I know that staying for another person isn’t the same as choosing to stay,”

Aria said. “There’s even less guarantee that she will stay.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t pretend ignorance. You know she’s hiding. There will come a day when she will not hide anymore. I’ve helped her as much as I could but she won’t tell me who she’s hiding from,”

Aria said.

“I will protect her,”

Roland said. “I intend to visit the duke’s home this very afternoon to assure her safety. Which reminds me, we will need a room readied.”

“The viscountess chamber has been readied for weeks,”

Aria said. “When did you say you would visit the duke’s house?”

****

Sabina would miss them so much. The Villiers girls were finishing their ices in the carriage and idly looking out the window at a beautiful January afternoon. They were wrapped in furs with heating bricks under their feet. She had been content, if not happy, at Verdon House. In fact, she should have never been selected for the job if not for the strong affection the girls showered upon her.

And now it was coming to an end. Miraculously, there was no snow this new year and Piccadilly was cold but clear of slush. They were in one of the plainer coaches at Sabina’s request, to thwart unwanted scrutiny. The twins giggled at the inanity of eating ices in the winter and Sabina smiled convincingly.

Oh crumbs, she couldn’t tell them here, Sabina realized. They could not be seen weeping in front of a café. Sabina would tell them when they returned to Verdon House. They would retire to the sitting room that connected the twins’ bedroom. Sabina would tell them there. Her bags, such as they were, were neatly packed. Sabina would let them know and then depart.

The duke had given her a generous severance, more than she deserved. His recommendation letter had been short, and, while not a ringing endorsement, not derogatory. She would take rooms at a boarding house and then consider her next step. She had no wish to write Roland and beg for rescue from a situation of her own making.

The bergamot and lemon ice tasted like chalk in her mouth. Sabina had felt as safe as she had ever been at Verdon House, almost as secure as when Roland was with her in Hornsea. Now it was over.

They finished their ices and handed the cups back to the shivering waiters. Sabina knocked on the roof and they were on their way.

When they heard the shout and the carriage rumbled to a jerking halt, Sabina said nothing and did nothing. Her blood ran cold as she steeled herself. She reached out both hands and took the girls’ hands. To their credit, they were not screaming or fainting, but very clearly confused and afraid. This was her fault. They were her responsibility.

“You must be brave,”

Sabina said, her voice calm. “You must be the women I know you to be. Chin up.”

“What is this?”

Lenoir asked, more steel in her voice than Sabina expected from the quiet girl. “Should we leave the carriage?”

The carriage swayed as someone jumped into the driver’s seat and swayed again after several thumps. Isolde and Lenoir gripped Sabina’s hands grimly. The assailants were shoving the footman and driver off the carriage, Sabina surmised.

Sabina knew, with utter certainty, they were being kidnapped in the middle of London of all places. She reached for the door handle and was thrown back into the seat when the carriage jerked to a start. They could hear the horses being lashed and they accelerated to breakneck speed.

Sabina looked out the window and saw the buildings speed by. They must make haste.

“Listen to me carefully,”

Sabina told the girls. She looked into their pale faces, so young, and her heart broke. “You must roll as you jump, just like in Romney when we rolled down the hill. You’re going to jump out and you must roll, or you will break when you land.”

“This is mad!”

Isolde burst out. “We can’t jump out of a carriage!”

“You can’t wait for them to finish kidnapping you and rape you for days before cutting your throat,”

Sabina said grimly. She dragged Isolde up by an elbow. “Remember: protect your head and neck, and roll,”

Sabina ordered, and pulled Isolde’s hood low over her face. If they live through this, perhaps the gods would grant this small mercy and protect their reputations.

She didn’t wait for Isolde to acknowledge her and opened the carriage door. Without preamble, Sabina shoved the duke’s sister out of the carriage. She thought Isolde may have landed on a pile of refuse. It did not matter. The girl was safe.

Sabina turned to Lenoir. Lenoir stared at her governess and did not fight when Sabina pulled her to her feet. The quieter Villier twin pulled her own cloak down over her face.

“Go straight to home,”

Sabina ordered and shoved Lenoir out also. She heard the shouts from onlookers as she looked after the girls. Isolde was already back on her feet and running toward her sister. Sabina turned forward, the wind whipping her dark hair every which way.

From the driver’s seat, the one of the two hard-faced mercenaries stared at her. Sabina glared back. Idiot criminals. They should have put someone in the carriage with them instead of assuming they would stay inside.

Sabina stayed. If she was with them, they would not stop for the duke’s sisters. She closed the carriage door with herself inside and sat down. As she predicted, the carriage continued on its way.