"Healey, you can't be leaving just yet! There's still a pot to be won!" Garrett raised his hand and waved it above his shoulder in a firm goodbye to whoever had shouted at him as he made for the door.
All around him, the shouts of consternations and cheers of exuberance interspersed, creating a cacophony his aching head needed a break from. He left behind the plush rugs, round tables filled with the elite men and their money, and headed for the main doors.
After he instructed the footman manning the door to pass his driver the top hat and gloves that were currently being held by said footman, he stepped out into the London streets. Not waiting for his carriage to be called around — he wondered why he'd chosen it when a curricle would have sufficed; certainly it would have been less cumbersome in this horrendous traffic — he began his stroll down St James's Street. Also, he hoped the walk might do his pounding head some good. Besides, he knew his driver would still be able to spot him from the perch and eventually catch up. If not, the carriage and his servants would find their own way back eventually.
The night was still early yet — by the ton's standard at least — despite it being nearly a hour more to midnight. If he'd been so inclined, he'd have stayed longer at Brooks's but something was bothering him. He knew not what, just that his head pained him and he wanted his bed.
Rotating his shoulders under his dark brown evening coat, he shook out his hands, hoping the blood flowing faster would aid in releasing some of the tension in his neck. Maybe that was what caused the pain. Or it could likely be the restless energy coursing through him. He wished he could be at Gentleman Jackson's but the boxing saloon wasn't open at this late hour. Maybe he should call upon his brother-in-law and persuade him to engage in a bit of sport. He knew Dover liked fencing and the occasional bare-knuckled fight.
Slightly cheered at the prospect of ridding himself of this bothersome head ache, his steps seemed to feel lighter each time. He glanced about, noting the men that strolled about him. His eye caught the lone cloaked figure standing under a lamppost some distance away on the opposite side of the road, hood up and back facing him. Usually he'd think nothing of it, but the way she was standing — no man would wear a hooded cloak — made him pause. That, and the fact that there were two men — drunken ruffians from the looks of it — who were approaching her with leers on their faces.
He changed directions and headed for them swiftly. And not a moment too soon for one of them reached out and grabbed her arm to pull her towards him, the lecherous grin on his gaunt face illuminated by the firelight.
Her protests had the undesired effect of encouraging them rather than dissuading them. Their laughter — which rang loudly in his ears despite them being a ways away — suddenly turned to angry growls when she kicked the one holding her such that he doubled over, holding onto his crotch.
The other man — who was slightly stocky than the one currently bent over — lunged for her and would have nearly caught her if Garrett hadn't rammed into him from the side. He stumbled and fell on behind, indignant curses slurring from his lips.
"Leave now or I will call the constable on you."
The man was either drunker than previously thought or he was of slow mind because he got to his feet — after a great deal of swaying — and lifted his fists into a boxing stance.
Garrett sighed. Fighting this man would be like kicking a wet, bedraggled puppy caught in a storm. And the animal would still look infinitely better than the person opposite him.
Sidestepping the drunkard neatly when he rushed forward, Garrett turned and grabbed the man's collar, and with his other hand on the man's breeches, used his momentum to pitch him forward so he landed on the footpath.
"That is a spectacular dive, my good man, and I am endlessly entertained." He clapped as he kept his eye on the other man raising from his curled position on the ground, his hand still cupping his nether region. "Shall we continue? I'm certain we will provide the lady here with no lack of entertainment. No? Have a good evening then, lads." They shouted a few obscenities over their shoulders as they stumbled away.
Garrett watched them until they turned the corner before moving so he faced the woman who stood diagonally behind him. He noticed she quickly turned her head so that the side of her hood faced him. Some stray hair peeked out from the side though he couldn't tell what colour it was in the dim light. "Are you alright, miss? I hope they didn't hurt you."
Her curls danced as she shook her head. Odd that she spoke no words. Maybe she was mute. "Do you require assistance?" Again, she shook her head silently. "Are you certain?" She nodded. "I will take my leave of you then." Her vigorous nod — as if she couldn't wait to rid herself of him — coupled with her persistent silence disconcerted him. Did he frighten her? He hoped not. "I bid you a good evening." He tipped his head and inclined his head although she wasn't looking at him.
Just as he was about to turn away, something barrelled into him from behind and he lurched forward, his legs nearly folding in half, his hands outstretched, flailing about as he struggled to keep his balance. He grabbed the closest thing to him which happened to be the woman he'd save. Her hands came around his forearms the same time he grasped her upper arms. The words "Be careful, my lord" drowned out the hurried apology shouted by a young boy who'd run into him.
His head snapped up at that familiar voice that haunted his dreams and he found himself staring right up at the face he didn't think he would see again. He blinked, unsure he wasn't seeing a mirage. "Miss Blackmore?"
"Good evening, my lord." She curtsied. "What a coincidence."
"It is you. I can hardly believe it." He shook his head, a rueful laugh escaping. Just when he'd resigned himself to giving her up, she stood in front of him in the flesh. Not that he could have her since she was already married, but it didn't diminish the joy he felt at seeing her again. "What are you doing out here alone?"
"Yes, it is I. And I can assure you, my lord, that I'm not an apparition. Hence, if you could unhand me, sir..." She looked pointedly at him before directing her gaze sideways.
He followed her eyes and saw that he was still holding onto her. Realisation dawned on him. He let go of her, a hurried apology emerging from his lips, and his hands fell back down to his side.
"My lord, I'm certain you are aware that staring is not de rigueur..." Her voice penetrated his thoughts and then her words registered.
He blinked. "My apologies, Miss Blackmore. I mean Mrs Brookfield." At her quizzical stare, he frowned, "that is the name of your husband, is it not?"
She nodded. "Yes, yes of course." She looked away. "How do you know his name? I don't recount having told you."
"My sister informed me. Although long overdue, you have my felicitations."
A curt nod met his words. "Thank you, my lord. But I'm feeling a bit overwrought at the moment and not quite myself I'm afraid. If you could excuse me, I must be on my way." She made to move away but he quickly stayed her.
"Let me escort, Miss...Mrs Brookfield? It's not safe here."
She bit her lip, her eyes casting about in hesitation. "I..."
"Please. I cannot in good conscience allow Adelaide's bosom friend wander about London after dark alone. And I'm certain Adelaide wouldn't want me to either." He knew it was a dirty trick to bring his sister's name into this, but he wasn't above using such methods. Not if it meant the safety and wellbeing of the woman who'd captured his heart. Even if she couldn't be his now, it'll have to be enough that he could keep her safe.
After a long silence, she nodded. "Yes, Adelaide wouldn't like that, would she?" At the shake of his head, she smiled, "Thank you, my lord."
A warm glow suffused him. "Where to then, Miss...Mrs Brookfield? We will take my carriage."
She rattled off an address. He nodded and raised his hand to hail his coach to him.
"It might take a while to reach us in this logjam." She nodded briskly, looking about and around him, as if she were desperately trying to avoid his gaze. It made him desperate to do something to keep her attention on him, and so he asked, "are you in London long, madam? Might I call upon you? As a friend." He added hastily in reply to her raised eyebrow. "So that I might be able to inform Adelaide of your well-being. I'm certain she would be pleased to know of any news of you, considering that she hardly hears from you as often as she would like."
Frederica felt her eyes narrowing. Had he guessed her ploy to distance herself from him? If he had, she had underestimated his deviousness for it was damned insidious of him to make use of her friendship with his sister to manoeuvre her into meeting him.
But she wasn't going to allow him to manipulate her so easily. "My apologies. I will endeavour to write her more frequently from now onwards. Having said that, I'm certain Adelaide understands that I'm busy with my duties as a shore wife." Her lips curved into a placid, polite smile that she reserved for acquaintances, designed to put him firmly in the social category where she wanted him. "I'm certain she wouldn't hold that against me."
His tight smile made her feel both satisfied yet guilty at the same time. She pushed aside the guilt. She'd successfully made her point. She was determined to only feel triumph.
Suddenly, a force that pushed her from behind had her lurching forward into his arms. His nearness did all sorts of things to her, her chest squeezing painfully as her senses tingled with his familiar scent as it wound itself around her nipples. She hurriedly straightened and his hands that were clasped around her forearms slipped to her wrists.
"Are you unharmed?"
She nodded. "Yes, thank you for catching me." Did he realise he was caressing her wrists? "What were we discussing?"
"We were debating about whether I might call on you. And you have yet to answer my question. And that, to me, is fairly suspicious."
She raised her brows silently.
His eyes darted back and forth. "Is there a reason for your avoidance of me?"
"My lord, I'm certain you are a smart man. You will be able to guess the reason for my behaviour."
"If I harboured any sort of ill intention, your steering clear of me would be logical. However, I only wish that we might strike up a friendship, and that my calling upon you is to cement that. Nothing more."
"Is that so?" He was steady in the face of her arched tone. "And you believe that we will be able to remain friends without you wanting more from me?"
"Have I given any indication that I wish for more?"
She looked down at his hand still wrapped around her wrist. "This subtle caress that you have been doing for the last couple of minutes. Are you aware?"
The stillness in his body rivalled the lamppost they stood beneath. "My apologies." He released her abruptly as if he'd been burnt and stepped back. She interwove her fingers tightly together to remind herself to have the fortitude to refrain from undoing her work even as her traitorous body longed to remain near him.
"As you are well aware, it would not do for a married woman to have a friendship with an unmarried man."
He moved his hands to behind his back. "I find that I'm not at all aware of such a fact. In fact, this would be the first time I've heard of such a thing."
"I'm a happily married woman, my lord. And-"
"And if you are a happily married woman, why would you then be afraid of a mere friendship between a man and a woman?" He paused. "Unless you are wary of the man leading you astray. If that be the case, how is it that you still claim to be happily married? From what I understand, a man cannot induce a happily married woman to indulge in an affair any more than he can command the sun to rise from the west instead."
She scowled.
To his credit, he didn't smirk at having bested her. "As I recall, propriety has never been your friend. Can we not be honest with one another then, Miss...Mrs Brookfield?" He looked like he was bracing himself to deliver some bad news. "I-" And then the heavens opened and a torrential downpour happened without so much as a by your leave.
Before she was able to react, he grabbed her by the hand and ran. Dragged along, she found herself quickly stuffed into a carriage. "Home" she heard him shout before he climbed in and settled himself opposite from her. A bang of his fist on the roof and the vehicle started.
Her cloak had sheltered her person from much of the rain though the hem of her dress, shoes and half of the arm that had been attached to Healey hadn't been spared.
The man himself only looked a little worse for the wear. His hat had protected most of his head so only droplets clung onto some curls at side of his head. His evening coat of deep green seemed to be made of velvet so most of the water hadn't managed to soak through that quickly. His trousers seemed to have caught the worst of it for the clung quite indecently in certain spots to his thighs.
She wrenched her eyes away from it when she realised she'd been staring. A glance up told her that her gaze hadn't gone unnoticed. She rearranged her features into a bored, neutral look though that was difficult for in the enclosed space, his unique masculine scent intertwined with bergamot teased her nostrils, reminding her of the night he'd pressed himself into her and took her mouth in a hungry kiss that still invaded her dreams at odd moments. And with that memory, a whole chest of emotions she thought she'd buried spilt open like a picnic basket packed too full with delicious goodies. Except that this wasn't a treat she wanted at all.
She lowered her eyes quickly, hoping he'd not read anything from her face. The last thing she wanted was to give him encouragement. She wasn't certain she was strong enough to fight on two fronts.
And to give in was to lose everything.
Tugging on the edges of her cloak so it covered her peaked nipples, she said, "You were about to say something earlier, my lord? Something about being honest with one another?"
"Yes. I did say that." He looked into her eyes, the dark blue orbs unwavering. "Can we be honest with one another?"
"What about?"
"I have made no secret about what I've wished we could become. And although you are married now, I do still wish that, if we cannot be friends, that we can still be friendly with one another."
"I'm not the same person I was two years ago when you first became acquainted with me, my lord. Your insistence to continue our association is of no benefit to anyone."
"I do not believe that you have changed entirely. I-"
She sighed. "I will speak plainly, my lord. The Frederica Blackmore you met was a woman who had not a care in the world beyond enjoying herself. That woman is no more. She has more pressing concerns at the moment and has no room in her life for harmless flirtations and-"
"Then let me be of assistance. Whatever concerns you have at the moment, I will gladly be of service to help you alleviate them."
She needed to push him as far away from her as possible, for his own good. A friendship with her would only serve to taint him and his good name should the truth of her birth ever come to light. "I'm not certain that my husband and your future wife will be pleased to know you are so willing to...to prostitute yourself out to other women so readily," she sneered at the word, putting in every ounce of haughtiness and disdain into her tone even as the words rubbed her insides raw. "It is degrading, sir, to see you so willingly submit and prostrate yourself before my feet, like a stray dog scavenging for scraps of food. You, a viscount, begging for affection. It is quite unbecoming."
His expression grew shuttered and she swore she saw Garrett Kendall physically draw himself in, like a snail retreating into its shell, and suddenly all she saw in front of her was Viscount Healey.
It should have gratified her. It was what she wanted, after all. But it left her feeling hollow and nauseous. She held his hard, sapphire-like gaze, allowing herself to absorb all the hurt she'd caused him even as she continued to put as much contempt as she could in her demeanour.
The silence in the carriage was punctuated only by the thrums from the wheels against the cobblestones and the horses' hooves striking the ground.
Finally, he spoke. "I must have forgotten myself, Miss...Mrs Brookfield." The silence between them resumed, loaded and oppressive. He no longer looked at her directly, but at the empty seat next to her. "Is your husband at home?"
She couldn't stop the suspicion from creeping into her voice. "Is there a reason for your curiosity?"
He shook his head. "So that I might be able to safely deliver you back into his loving embrace."
Was that a hint of sarcasm she heard? She deserved as much. "He is around. And would be happy to have me back early."
"If that be the case, I would be happy to make his acquaintance at the same time."
Trying to suppress her panic, she scrambled to find a good enough reason to keep him from entering the house and discovering her deception. "I...I'm...not certain that's a good idea."
"Whyever not?"
"My husband...he was...is...er...he is...indisposed. And not well enough to receive visitors."
"Is that why you were standing alone outside of Brooks's at this hour?"
"N...Yes. Yes, that's precisely why."
"And pray tell me what was so important that a husband would send his wife out alone at this hour and endanger her in this manner?"
The sudden menace in his voice startled her. "I...I'm afraid I don't quite follow."
"You said so yourself that your husband is currently unwell and hence you were by yourself, without any chaperone, on the streets of London at this hour where there are drunkards and ruffians and all sorts of criminals waiting for a chance to prey on the helpless such as yourself." He folded his arms. "What possible reason would there be for you to be alone if it were not because of your husband?"
It was laughable that she felt insulted on her husband's behalf, a man who existed only in name and not in flesh any longer. Or maybe it was because by criticising her "husband", he was inadvertently criticising her and her choices — though he wasn't aware of that. "My husband hadn't sent me out alone on that errand. He would have ensured my safety!"
His glower deepened. "Are you then admitting that you voluntarily put yourself in harm's way?"
She bit her lip, belatedly realising the implications of her words. Glancing away, she stared out of the window. "I fail to see how that is any concern of yours."
"You fail..." his grunt of frustration rubbed against her already raw nerves. "Even if we cannot call ourselves friends, you are still very dear to my sister. And I cannot in good conscience allow you to...to endanger your life! It is one thing to flout propriety, Mrs Brookfield. It is quite another to court danger."
"I did no such thing."
"You were accosted by two men! Two men who were physically stronger than you, and lacked the reasoning power to behave in a gentlemanly manner! Or did that incident happen to another woman I'm unaware of?"
He was right but she was no longer ruled by reason. She only knew that she didn't like the fear that skittered across her skin as she remembered the ball of terror and alarm that had lodged in her throat not too long ago.
And so she did what any person overwrought with emotion did — she lashed out at the one closest to her. "I would have been able to dispatch them without your help! I'd already succeeded with one and would have kicked the other man too had you not arrived on scene!"
He looked ready to tear his hair out. "And if you had failed? What would have happened to you then?"
"I still have my voice. Certainly my screams would have attracted enough attention so that others would come to my rescue."
He gnashed his teeth. "A man can very easily restrain a woman and cover her mouth before she can make a sound. And that would have spelled the end of you!"
"You are treating me like a helpless rag doll that cannot think and move of its own volition. I-" Suddenly, he was upon her, knees bracketing her thighs, a single hand manacling hers, while the other was over her mouth, pressing down hard so that his little finger was pushing against her nose, nearly suffocating her.
She struggled to compose herself and jerked her knee up. But she missed her mark as he twisted to one side and in one smooth motion, had her back pressed against his front, all the while still holding her hands captive, his gloved palm covering her lips.
"And what will you do now?" His voice was dark and velvety, his breath brushing against the shell of her ear. She couldn't stop the involuntary shiver that ran down her spine and she was certain he felt it too.
Composing herself, she slammed her head backwards, connecting with some soft and hard parts of his head. Her own head spun a bit but she knew the effect on her wasn't as huge as it was compared to her current captor.
The impact and shock had him grunting and releasing her from his grip. Twisting quickly away from him, she lunged for the other end of the carriage so she was as far away from him as possible.
Settling down in her seat, she grinned triumphantly at him. "This is what I'd do." His hands were cradling the left side of his eye and forehead. "I hope I haven't injured you too badly, my lord." Her saccharine sweet voice only served to deepen his scowl, which broadened her smile.
"I think you gave me a black eye." He ran his fingers over the skin around his eye, pressing gently at certain parts. At his soft hiss in a couple of places, her triumph grew.
"I'm not defenceless, you know."
"I never said you were." He stared at her. "You could have broken my nose."
"And I probably would have had you been seated right behind me." She tugged at her cloak. "It would hardly be my first."
A few seconds of silence passed, after which he raised his brow. "Will you not care to elaborate?"
"Must I?"
"Yes, you must! It quite boggles the mind that a genteel lady of good breeding and a member of the gentry needs to know how to break noses. And why has she had the occasion to do so? Multiple times, I should add."
She lifted a shoulder. "It was necessary to learn in order to defend myself."
"Against whom?"
"Against the people who might harm me."
Apparently the finality in her tone did nothing to deter him for he followed it with another question. "And who might those people be?"
The carriage slowed to a halt. She glanced out to see that they were on the street where she was living. Thankfully the rain had slowed to a drizzle.
When the door to the carriage swung open, she made to leave but Healey reached forward to stay her while closing the door. He all but growled. "You cannot think I will allow you to leave without first explaining what you mean."
She pulled her hands out from under his. "My lord, I think you have once again forgotten yourself. You need not style yourself as my protector for I already have a husband who-"
"Is indisposed."
"Yes, but only at the moment. And I'm talking about the past. Before I met him. And I no longer meet such people at present."
"Save those two."
She huffed out a breath. "That was an aberration. I assure you that I'm usually well and quite safe."
"It need only happen once." The quiet tone, coupled with his stillness, took the wind out of her sails. "If I hadn't been there..." His hands flexed, worry emanating from him.
The logical part of her understood that his words stemmed from fear. She understood it and felt it too for she wasn't immune. But she'd vowed to herself that she'd no longer allow it to rule her. She was not in the position to afford such a luxury.
She modulated her voice so she only reflected calmness. "Yes, I'm well aware of that. That is why I possess the knowledge to incapacitate men long enough for me to flee the scene or get help. I'm not pig-headed enough to stand my ground and fight them. I'm not ignorant of my physical limitations."
"But-"
"I thank you, my lord, for your concern. And your help." She pushed open the carriage door. "I shan't keep you any longer from your prior engagement." And alighted from the carriage.
She half-expected him to call out after her or chase her but when she reached her door without any further incident, she ignored the warring emotions in her heart and stepped into the house.
Climbing up the stairs to her room, she sat quietly as Mary Dutton, Lady Leyland's abigail, removed her accessories. She met Mary's eyes in the mirror, and quietly asked, "how was William? Was he a terror before bed?"
"No, Mrs Brookfield." The girl smiled. "He was kept quite occupied by his lordship. William tired himself out."
She nodded, satisfied. Although it was hardly the first time she'd left him with someone else, she still worried about it, especially since she hadn't a nursemaid. The Leylands had very kindly offered to hire one for her, but she didn't want to impose on them anymore than she already was. Hence, when she had to attend the Season's events, one of the servants would mind him. Sometimes, like last night, Sir John would offer to entertain him.
She chewed on her bottom lip. She really needed to accomplish her mission as quickly as possible. Only then would she be able to assuage her guilt.
"Let's hope he sleeps through the night and won't wake up with more crying."
Mary nodded as she brushed out Frederica's hair. "Aye, though it might be his new teeth that are coming out that's causing him pain. Me mum used to have me rub some gin around me siblings' mouths when they cried many." She began to put away the accessories. "Mayhap you want to try that, Mrs Brookfield."
Frederica nodded. "Thank you, Mary. I'll bear it in mind." She moved to her bed and slowly moved the coverlet so as not to wake her sleeping son. She climbed gingerly into bed, freezing when William twitched, but he only let out a huff before stilling again.
She let out a little sigh of relief and managed to blow out the bedside candle before sliding gently under the covers, turning on her side to look at her son. Itching to touch him, to reassure herself that he was well, she laid her hand on her son's clenched fist, softly stroking the back of his hand.
He huffed again, his legs kicking under the covers but his eyes didn't open and she smiled. She marvelled at the wonder of this tiny being who was growing bigger and learning new things every day. And she was thankful that she'd managed to come back to him unharmed tonight. If she hadn't...
At the sudden flood of emotion, she pressed her lips together but couldn't stem the tears that welled up and flowed over quickly. She really did owe Healey her gratitude. If he hadn't stepped in when he did, would she have emerged unscathed from the incident? She rubbed her forehead, sighing. How could she have repaid the great service he rendered her with a black eye? And to denigrate his kindness with her caustic words? She definitely owed him an apology. A note should suffice, shouldn't it? After all, having prolonged contact with him was unwise.
But that would be entirely churlish of her. She sighed again. It would seem she had a morning call to pay. Soon.