Regency Surrender: Scandalous Return: Return of Scandal's Son / Saved by Scandal's Heir. Janice PrestonЧитать онлайн книгу.
I allowed you...’
‘Quite. You believed my claim and you showed me into what was supposed to be a private parlour for the use of these ladies. I must inform you—and this is not to be spoken of outside this room—that we already had grave concerns over Lady Ashby’s safety.
‘Now then, I told that lie in order to see how easy it might be for an intruder to gain access to Lady Ashby whilst she is staying here. I not only tricked you into revealing her whereabouts, but also persuaded you—with little difficulty, I might add—to allow me to enter her private parlour unannounced.
‘I must inform you, Brooke, that you have failed my test miserably. Had I harboured evil intentions towards Lady Ashby, there would have been nothing to prevent me carrying out my worst. I am extremely disappointed.
‘Lady Rothley happened to be with her niece at the time, but you were not to know that. Anything could have happened and, as a result of your failures, I am afraid we have no alternative but to move to another establishment for the night.’
‘No, I beg of you, sir, ladies, please do not leave. A thousand apologies, milady—’ Brooke bowed to Eleanor, wringing his hands in his anguish ‘—for my failures. I can promise you it will not happen again. I shall place guards on each door. You are our only guests tonight and I swear to turn any latecomers away. I shall have a man patrolling all night long. The George will be more secure than the Tower itself, of that you have my word.
‘Do please reconsider. My wife has prepared a feast for tonight—it is ready to be served, and it is dark outside and beginning to rain. Surely you would prefer to stay here in the warm than go out in search of other accommodation?
‘Besides,’ he added, ‘if there is someone out there who means you harm, he could attack you more easily outside than if you remain safe and snug in here, especially now I am aware of the danger.’
He looked eagerly from one to the other.
Matthew heaved a sigh, concealing his relief that Brooke had fallen for his ploy. ‘Well, if you promise you will put guards on the outer doors—and for the whole night, mind, not just until we retire—we will stay. Although, make no mistake, my man, you are still on trial. If I discover any lapse in attention, it will be the worse for you.’
‘Yes, my...sir.’ Brooke bowed his way out of the door.
Matthew looked at Eleanor and Lady Rothley. ‘Well? Have we come through unscathed?’
‘I believe so. Well done,’ Eleanor said and smiled at Matthew. ‘The poor man didn’t know if he was coming or going. I don’t think it even crossed his mind to question that Aunt Lucy was in here the whole time.’
Aunt Lucy was not so quick to forgive. ‘Let us hope this doesn’t get back to Lizzie and Matilda,’ she warned, ‘for I doubt they will be so easy to deceive.’
* * *
Dinner was served at a table set for three in the private parlour. Brooke had not lied when he promised them a feast and they were served with dishes of succulent roast meats, pigeon pie, vegetables and rich sauces, followed by stewed apples, blancmanges, dried fruits and nuts, all accompanied by some very palatable wines.
Conversation at the dinner table was necessarily stilted, with the serving maid and Brooke himself in and out of the room. As the last dishes were cleared away, Eleanor heard Brooke murmur in Matthew’s ear, ‘Brandy, sir?’
They had eaten in the parlour, so it was impossible for Eleanor and her aunt to leave Matthew to his brandy, as was customary. As he pushed his chair back and stood, presumably to go through to the taproom, Eleanor said, ‘If you would care for some brandy, Mr Thomas, please do not feel obliged to leave.’
‘No, indeed,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘In fact...Brooke, my good man, would you bring two glasses, please? A little tot will help me sleep, I make no doubt. My niece and I shall retire very soon, Mr Thomas, and leave you to enjoy your brandy in peace.’
‘Thank you.’ Matthew said. ‘I doubt I shall be long in following you to bed. It’s been a long, eventful day.’
Brooke soon returned with a full decanter and two glasses. After drinking her tot, Aunt Lucy rose to her feet. ‘Come, Ellie, it is time for us to retire. Mr Thomas, may we leave you with the task of checking Brooke’s security arrangements? We shall see you in the morning. Goodnight.’
‘My pleasure,’ Matthew said. ‘Goodnight, ladies.’
As soon as the door closed behind them, Aunt Lucy said, ‘I wonder who our Mr Thomas really is?’
Eleanor paused, her foot on the bottom stair. ‘What do you mean: who he really is?’
Aunt Lucy looked back at the parlour door. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘But there is something...oh, I don’t know...something almost familiar about him. And, just as I think I’m on the brink of grasping it, it slips away again. Never mind. I am sure it will come to me in time.’
They continued up the stairs to the first landing and Eleanor wished her aunt goodnight at her bedchamber door. Lizzie helped her to undress before leaving and Eleanor climbed into bed, exhausted, ready for a good night’s sleep. As soon as her head hit the pillow, however, her mind sprang to life, reliving the fire and the accident, fretting at the attack on that young girl—could it truly be connected to her? Was James responsible? No, she could never believe it of him. Not attempted murder. But the very thought that someone might wish to kill her was too much to bear and she tossed and turned until finally, still wide awake, she decided to go downstairs to see if she could sneak a tot of brandy for herself. If it helped Aunt Lucy to sleep, mayhap it would do the same for her?
Relighting her candle, she found her slippers and wrapped her large woollen shawl around her. Taking up the candlestick, she stepped softly on to the dark landing and crept to the head of the stairs. Stomach churning uneasily, despite Brooke’s promise to post two guards at every external door, she tiptoed down the stairs to the parlour. Surely everyone must have retired by now? She could hear nothing but the distant rumble of snores—a comforting sound, confirming there were people within reach should she need them.
She hesitated a moment at the parlour door, listening, before lifting the latch and pushing the door open.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
Matthew stood before the fire, one booted foot on the fender. He had removed his jacket, leaving him clad in shirt, waistcoat and pantaloons, which clung to his buttocks and muscular thighs. His left hand was propped against the mantelshelf as he stared down into the glowing embers and his right cradled a goblet of amber liquid. Eleanor had not thought for one minute he would still be up, for had he not said he would be retiring soon after them? Thank goodness he had not heard the door open. Her fingers tightened, clutching her shawl closer around her. She must leave. Now. She would be foolish to remain.
Still she hesitated. Something about the way he was standing and staring into the fire tugged at her heartstrings. He looked a little...lost, somehow, and the urge to offer comfort was strong. The memory of his kiss set her lips tingling, despite her confusion over his subsequent reaction when he had said he did not want complications. Eleanor bit her lip, considering.
No. She must go. They had tempted fate once already today. She must not do so again. She stepped back but, before she could close the door, something—a slight noise perhaps, or just the movement—betrayed her. Matthew looked up. She caught a glimpse of loneliness and sorrow before his mask slipped back into place.
She swallowed hard, her nerves in shreds. Why, oh, why, had she lingered? Why did she not retreat the second she saw him? It was too late now. She stepped inside the room and closed the door.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, Mr Thomas,’ she whispered. ‘I was unable to sleep and I thought to come down for some brandy, in the hope it might