Kissing Lady Atkins was wrong, but desiring to kiss her once again was madness; madness Noah knew he needed to find a cure for.
He must leave London, he concluded, raking his fingers through his hair as he paced the length of the room. His presence had caused more than enough damage, and he was afraid if he remained, he would ruin things irredeemably. He couldn't trust himself to stay away from Lady Atkins if he remained, and with his absence, perhaps it shall ease the effect of the scandal the kiss he shared with Lady Atkins tonight had caused.
Ignoring the odd feeling of sadness at the thought of never seeing Lady Atkins again, he crossed the room to his bedside and pulled the bellpull, summoning his valet. Roger, his valet, appeared at his door several minutes later, tiredness dimming his brown eyes.
"Yes, my lord?"he asked, rubbing his eyes with his sleeves. Noah felt slightly guilty for disturbing his servant's sleep, but he didn't believe he had a choice.
"You must ready my things for my return to Camden at dawn. Let Thomas know of my planned trip once you're done," he instructed and waited until the valet nodded his understanding, before leaving the room to his study downstairs. There was no point trying to fall asleep when his mind was so troubled by the happenings of that evening, that it left him wide awake with a headache.
Noah worked all night, but even work proved incapable of ridding his mind of Lady Atkins. He wasn't certain why he was incapable of forgetting the kiss they shared—it made little sense. Noah was the Marquess of Camden, a rich, sought after bachelor in England. His wealth and position had seen many women falling at his feet, some of which he had taken advantage of; he was no stranger to a woman's lips.
What was it about Lady Atkins that plagued him so? Lady Atkins, a woman whose physical appearance could barely rival the women Noah had been with; a woman who was from the lowest class of society with an ill-reputed father; a woman widowed and rumored to have killed her husband...
A woman whose lips tasted like honey and whose eyes were more beautiful—much more captivating—than gemstones. A woman who spoke without fear of wrath or retribution; who held her head high in the face of scorn.
She intrigued him. She captivated his mind enough to deprive him of sleep, and although Noah hated to admit to it, he knew there was something about Lady Atkins that attracted him.
But he was wrong to be attracted to her; he reminded himself. She was Oliver's widow; Oliver, with whom Noah had grown up. The two had been so close, they had often been mistaken for brothers. When Oliver's parents died, Lord Camden, Noah's father had held their estate in trust until Oliver was old enough to take possession of it. It was nothing short of barbaric for Noah to set his interests upon Oliver's widow when Oliver wasn't even a year old in the grave...
It was cruel to be interested in Lady Atkins at all.
For propriety's sake Noah would be on the road to Camden in—he pulled out his pocket watch and stared at the time—the next three hours.
Rising to his feet, he decided it was best to try to fall asleep. Balancing his accounts wasn't working, perhaps he could try lying in bed.
He reached the door, pausing in his tracks when a loud pounding sound drifted to him from the end of the hall. He frowned, confused. Weren't his servants already asleep? Or perhaps they got up earlier than he imagined to get started on their chores. His home in London was big, so he wouldn't be surprised if his servants had started their chores.
Stepping out into the hallway, he closed his study behind him and began making his way to the stairs, his gaze sweeping the building for signs of a servant. He found none.
Confused, he glanced up the stairs, back down the hallway and into the drawing room for signs of the source of the sound he had heard. Still, he thought he was alone and perhaps had imagined it.
Where had the sound come from?
He turned to the front door, a small frown creasing his face. Perhaps it was a knock on the door? It was a silly thought, for it was the middle of the night, but it was the only logical thing to think. Noah know he hadn't imagined that sound; it was too loud and too real to have been imagined.
Crossing the hall to the door, his fingers paused on the knob. Perhaps it was foolishness to unlock the front door in the middle of the night. For all he knew, he could be letting a scoundrel—or two—into his house, giving him access to rob him.
But curiosity won over common sense, and heaving a nervous breath, Noah opened the door.
At first, he wasn't certain what he was looking at. But the longer he stood staring at the pile of familiar red fabric draped over a still figure, the more realisation sank in.
"Lady Atkins!" Noah exhaled sharply, hurrying forward and falling to his knees before her. She laid motionless on his porch as he patted her arm in a useless attempt at waking her up. Blood trickled down from her nose and a cut on her hairline.
"My God, Lady Atkins!" He shoved her red hair aside, exposing her bruised face.
She groaned as his fingers brushed her cheek. "Don't—" she winced.
"My lady," he breathed. "What happened to you?" He didn't understand it, only that she appeared to have been beaten to an inch of her life. He had never seen a woman so bruised, so wounded...
"Hm..." she moaned in response, her lips trembling as her tears slipped down her bloody cheeks.
Knowing he needed to see to her wounds, Noah leaned down and carried her in his arms. She cradled against his chest. So frail, so vulnerable that Noah felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility to protect her, even if he wasn't certain what he was protecting her from.
*
She must have been dreaming. It was a painful dream, filled with aches in every inch of her body, forcing her to become aware of parts she didn't even know existed.
Groaning, she coughed, her lungs burning as her mouth filled with the unpleasant taste of copper; blood perhaps, she thought as she spat it out.
Strong arms encircled her then, brushing her hair soothingly as he held her in his arms.
Warmth... Safety...
Lord Camden!
Even with her eyes closed and pain coursing through her body, she knew she was in his company. She knew it was his chest her head rested upon and his arms that held her.
Reveling in his closeness, she leaned further against his muscular chest and listened to his heartbeat, falling asleep to the sound.
Her weary body drifted back and forth consciousness. Most times, she was unaware of her surroundings, her mind floating in darkness and nothingness. But there were other times she was aware of the pain that coursed through her limbs, times she heard unfamiliar footsteps.
Where was she?
She listened for clues of her environment but heard none; nothing but hushed voices that appeared to be weary of the thought of waking her up.
Drifting back to sleep, she was woken up by a heated argument.
"I couldn't leave her to die!" Lord Camden; she thought, recognizing his voice.
"Bringing her here wasn't the best thing to do, Noah!" An unfamiliar voice. He sounded exasperated as well—annoyed even. Beatrice gathered she was the reason for both men's sour mood.
"Forgive me, Race, I didn't believe I had a choice!" he snapped.
Silence.
The silence that followed was long enough for Beatrice's mind to shift from the argument going on around her, to the pain in her limbs. She tore her sore lips apart and groaned. Something brushed her forehead.
"Forgive me, Bea, I shouldn't have been so loud."
Bea. An unfamiliar rendition of the shortened form of her name. Yet he said it with such familiarity and gentility, she welcomed it.
She opened her mouth to speak of her need to be held by him, but all that came out was indecipherable sounds.
"Perhaps you must leave." He turned his attention to the stranger in the room. Yes, Beatrice thought, agreeing as she leaned against Lord Camden's side. She wanted to be alone with him and in his arms.
"Noah..."
"I won't have this argument here, Race."
"Have you thought of the scandal this shall cause?"
"I wasn't thinking of the scandal when I came to find you and to bring you here to Camden."
Camden?! They were in Camden?!
"Do not throw my misfortune in my face, Noah! This is different! Society shall forgive you for sharing a part of your fortune with your father's bastard! But I'm in doubt it shall forgive your decision to turn your cousin's wife into your mistress!"
Beatrice winced. She wasn't Oliver's wife; she wanted to protest. Oliver had never loved nor treated her like a husband should treat his wife!
"Leave now, Race," Camden finished, his hold around Beatrice tightening as he held her to himself.
Beatrice didn't hear the stranger's footsteps as he exited the room. She could hear nothing past the loud pounding in her chest as Lord Camden cradled her in his arms.
Copyright © 2021 Lily Orevba All rights reserved.
Did you know people can be in so much pain, they'd become aware of parts of their bodies they didn't even know existed? This, according to my sister when she first discovered that she had lupus.
Small reminder to please vote if you liked this chapter.
Have a lovely day❤️