Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith
Laura frowned and smoothed out his coat at the shoulders, where she’d crumpled it with her hands.
“You should have asked the driver to take the longest route.” She adjusted his cravat where it had gone askew. “I don’t want this to end.”
Simon touched her mouth with his thumb. “If I’d have known what was awaiting me on the ride back, I would have.” She made a regretful sound and rubbed her cheek on his palm. “Why do I feel this way? You torment me like no other. I cannot think when you touch me, Simon.”
He grinned and tugged a curl. “And you are a beautiful witch who has wriggled into my mind and taken control of my body. This game we play has no satisfactory conclusion.”
“I know.” She nodded. “I have no expectations.”
“Were we a smithy and milkmaid…” He left the rest unsaid. “Come, I must return the coach before my friend requires it.”
The borrowed conveyance was chosen not for comfort but because it had no markings to lead back to his family. With Laura in danger, they had to keep vigilant, especially in public. Hackneys and hired coaches helped to keep from drawing attention to his family and the school.
Sadly, Primm was waiting in the open door. There would be no more kisses. She collected the package. Simon opened the door and climbed down, turning to assist her.
He took her hand. “I will ask Noelle to help you ready yourself for the party. The rest of the details will be mine to prepare.”
Laura watched him lift her hand to his mouth and press a kiss on her gloved knuckles. She ached to kiss him again. Unfortunately, the street was not the place to steal kisses.
“Until the party then,” Laura said. She stepped back.
“Until then.” Simon tipped his hat, returned to the coach, and climbed inside. As the coach rumbled away, she hugged the package tightly to her chest and sighed long and deep.
If she didn’t gain control of her actions, she’d soon find herself in love with the man.
And that would be entirely unacceptable.
T
he day of the party had arrived as any other day, with daylight seeping into her window and a bird or two peeping outside the pane. Laura assumed there was a nest hidden somewhere in the tree and smiled while thinking about downy baby birds.
It was many hours later when Miss Noelle arrived to help her dress that Laura wished she could climb out that very same window, make the great leap to the tree, and disappear into the garden.
At present, her stomach flip-flopped beneath the brown dress and threatened to sour her midday meal. This added to the tremors in her hands and wobbling knees.
“Thank you for your assistance, Miss Noelle,” Laura said, placing a hand over her abdomen. The gesture did nothing to settle her worries. “I cannot help thinking this ball is a mistake. I know nothing about being a companion. My ineptitude will certainly give me away.”
The two women locked eyes in the mirror. “I’m not happy you’re being put into this situation,” Miss Noelle said glumly. “Unfortunately, Simon believes this will help your case.”
Laura twisted her fingers together. “I’m not so certain I shouldn’t flee from London and take my chances in hiding. I understand America has vast wildernesses and mountains that climb up to the clouds. There are many places there for one woman to hide.”
Miss Noelle took her elbows. “You must decide this for yourself. If hiding is your choice, I’ll see that you are sent to someplace far from here. If you choose to stay and attend the party, you will be well guarded in Collingwood House. Eva will make sure of it.” She leaned back and scanned Laura from head to toes. “There, finished.”
With those parting words, Miss Noelle left her.
Laura slumped on the bed. Having had everything dictated to her by the earl, her decision making was out of practice. Before that, her father had been her guide. Now that she had some control, this possibly life-altering decision left her baffled.
She could easily choose coddled eggs over poached or tea with or without sugar, but deciding whether to endanger her life for the chance at complete freedom went beyond such simple choices.
Stay or flee? Simon would be arriving shortly and she wanted to be confident in her decision.
If she fled, her life would never be completely hers. There would always be moments when she’d jump at every sound, peer behind every door, and look under every bed. This unknown stranger would be no better than Westwick. His control would be complete.
However, if she did stay, she could be killed. That was the part she couldn’t settle in her mind.
Laura sat for a quarter hour struggling to find a solution when Westwick’s face welled in her mind. A chill rippled through her and, with it, memories.
With her defiance came beatings. And there were moments when she couldn’t fight him and had curled up like a wounded kitten, braced for more abuse. But through all of that, she’d not succumbed to his will. Not completely. No matter what he demanded of her, deep inside, she’d known she’d someday be free. That distant light had kept her alive when her sanity was threatened.
Never again would she be that kitten. No matter what troubles arose from the murder investigation, and beyond, she’d face them with an unbroken spirit.
As she straightened slowly upright, Laura knew what she had to do. She would fight. She’d fight her fear, she’d fight her weaknesses, and she’d fight the killer. She deserved nothing less than a life without darkness.
B
y the time Simon arrived, Laura was ready for battle.
He stared at her as Sophie found an old blue cloak and settled it around her shoulders. In addition to the severe dress, Sophie had secured her hair in a tight knot at the base of her neck and Noelle had settled on her a pair of spectacles. They’d powdered over the few freckles on her nose and deemed her disguise complete.
“Keep her safe,” Sophie warned and left them.
Simon continued to stare.
“Is there something the matter?” she asked. She patted her hair. Everything seemed in place.
“There is something different about you.” Simon looked puzzled. “And it has nothing to do with the dress.”
She pushed the spectacles in place. “You wanted drab and you have drab. Unless you wish to put a sack over my head, there is little else we can do.”
He shook his head. “The disguise is not it. You have changed somehow since I saw you last. I cannot put my finger on what it is exactly.”
Laura shrugged. “I have done nothing but reclaim my spine. This killer will not frighten me anymore. It is time I stop jumping at shadows and floor squeaks. And if the murderer has his way and I am killed, at least I will have put up a strong fight.”
While Laura watched, a slow smile drifted over his face. Dressed largely in black, he was immeasurably handsome. Her fingers twitched to touch him.
“Bravo, love. Though I intend for you to survive this ordeal intact, I welcome knowing that you will not fall to the floor in a frightened puddle in the face of danger. The lamb has claws.”
This time Laura smiled. She reached down to bunch up
her hem, exposing her garter and a small pearl-handled knife strapped to her thigh. “Claws…and this. I am not entering the fray tonight without protection.”
His bark of laughter caused her to giggle. “You continue to shock and surprise me,” he said. “I know of no woman who goes to a ball with a knife. I fear for the safety of our killer.”
Laura’s eyes took on an evil glint. “I worry less about him and more about the rest of the guests. I have heard that members of the Ton can be a brutal lot. Even a simple companion can fall prey to jabs and barbs from abusive tongues.”
Simon shrugged. “The gossips
can
cut to the quick. But they will hardly notice a companion.” He led her outside to the waiting hackney. “Truthfully, you will be so busy looking for familiar faces, and making sure that Aunt Bernie doesn’t trip and fall flat, that you’ll not have to worry about catty women and their bitter gossip.”
“Aunt Bernie?” She climbed into the coach and settled on the seat. “Is she the aunt you mentioned before? The one who enjoys too much sherry?”
Simon waited for the coach to start before answering. “She is the one, my maiden aunt. I assured her that the only way she would be allowed to go to the party is with a chaperone. She gets into mischief, and my female relatives have refused to escort her out anymore.”
“Excellent,” Laura grumbled. “This explains why you have held back more dismal details of the plan until I was trapped in this coach. She is not eager to play your game.”
“To be fair, I did mention her tippling at the dress shop.” He leaned forward to pat her hand. “You need not worry, love. Aunt Bernie is an amiable sort and quite entertaining. If you steer her clear of the port, she should do quite well.”
Laura desperately wanted to tell him what she thought about his idea. Instead, she said nothing as they rolled toward Berkeley Square.
She’d accepted that she’d spend the evening looking for auction guests. As a drab companion, there was little
chance that anyone would recognize her as Sabine. And if she was exposed, the presence of Simon and the duke and duchess would minimize the danger.
The chances of drawing attention to herself would rise if his aunt misbehaved. That was what most concerned her.
In spite of his assurances, she was quite certain the woman wouldn’t be pleased to have Laura foisted upon her. It appeared as if she was already resentful over her withdrawal from society.
“Don’t look so grim, sweet.” Simon remarked. “Aunt Bernie does not have fangs. She is looking forward to the party after months of exile in Kent.”
Minutes later, Laura’s mood lightened considerably when she met the tippling Aunt Bernie.
The woman was somewhere near sixty, clearly favored the color yellow, and had gray and brown hair that defied any attempts by her maid to sweep it back into some semblance of order. Several strands danced in tight coils around her head, where yellow feathers had been tucked into the curly mass.
It looked as if she’d been caught in a tussle with the wind, and the wind had won.
Laura pressed her fist to her lips as the woman flounced down the staircase on the arm of a footman. Simon had mentioned his aunt’s lengthy exile. By the look on her face, the woman was clearly impatient to be freed of her opulent cage.
“It is about time you returned, young man,” she snapped. “I have been waiting for several hours.”
Simon snorted. “I was gone and back in no more than an hour. It probably took that long for the maid to put those feathers in your hair.”
Aunt Bernie lifted her nose and glared. “It takes longer for a woman of my advanced age to look presentable. The feathers are meant to distract from my wrinkles.”
Laura bit her lip to keep from laughing. The grousing woman was delightful. The evening ahead looked brighter.
He walked to his aunt and pressed a kiss on her cheek.
“You look lovely. All the other matrons will envy your plumage.” He took her hand to lead her to Laura. “Aunt Bernie, I’d like you to meet Miss Prescott.”
Aunt Bernie looked Laura over quite thoroughly. “So you are my guard for the evening? I have been told by my nephew that I am not allowed out without a chaperone.” She sniffed. “Tripping Lady Marbry was an unfortunate accident. No harm done.”
“No harm?” Simon sighed. “She sprained her wrist as she toppled over her new Chippendale chair. That is why you were sent off to Kent. We clearly cannot leave you unattended.”
“I sent Lady Marbry flowers,” the aunt said with another sniff. She plucked at the lace on one wrist. “She sent around a note that I’ve been forgiven.”
Laura felt badly for her. Obviously the woman wasn’t mean-spirited. She’d made mistakes.
Stepping around Simon, Laura presented herself to Aunt Bernie. “I am so pleased to meet you, My Lady,” she said. “I think tonight we will have a grand adventure together.”
Aunt Bernie’s eyes widened as an invisible cloud of rose-scented perfume whirled around her. “Oh. It has been months since I’ve had any adventure, grand or otherwise. I have been collecting dust in the country.”
Laura nodded. “Then we shall dust you off. According to Simon, this will be the event of the season. There will be no sitting in the corner. We shall laugh and be gay. And by the time the clock strikes three, there will be no adventures left to experience.”
Aunt Bernie’s face slowly melted into a smile. With an up-tipped nose, she turned her back to Simon and slipped her arm through Laura’s. “I like you. My nephew is far too stuffy. He wouldn’t know fun if it nipped him on the bottom.”
Laughing, Laura watched Simon scowl at his aunt.
The two women proceeded out of the town house, Aunt Bernie condemning Simon, and all the Harringtons for that matter, for their lack of understanding of her condition.
Her stiff hands and sore feet required an occasional nip from the bottle.
“Have you ever sat through a musicale where the family daughter had the voice of a strangled cat?” Aunt Bernie said as Simon helped her into the Harrington coach. “If there was ever the need for the sherry, a musicale is the perfect time.”
Laura laughed and wondered if she should check the aunt’s reticule for bottles.
By the time they’d made the short ride to Collingwood House, the two women were fast friends. Simon’s mouth twitched as he watched them. Laura sent him a secretive smile as his aunt chattered on and Simon grinned his approval.
T
he foyer of the mansion was already filled to the seams when the trio entered with the flow of guests. The duke and duchess had only a moment to greet Simon and Bernie as the crush pressed in behind them. They gave no notice of Laura, per her lowly position. However, as they moved on, Miss Eva did indicate her approval of the disguise with an almost imperceptible nod and Laura knew she’d passed inspection.
Collingwood House was as she remembered, yet different, too. There were flowers on nearly every surface, and guests filled every nook and corner.
“It is overwhelming,” Laura said, her heart beating hard in her chest. “I shall look for drapes behind which to hide.”