Dear Diary,
Joan can be so hateful sometimes.
I still remember when we were children
and she locked me in a closet.
As he reached Gowthorpe House, Nathaniel hesitated for a moment. Was he making a fool out of himself like he had said to Wortham, coming charging like a battalion at the slightest suggestion of something being wrong? But he couldn't quite shake the feeling of something being wrong, so he left the carriage and went up the front steps. A footman opened the door and let him in before he could knock.
"Is Miss Grafton available?" he asked immediately.
The footman closed the door before turning around. "I have been informed that Miss Grafton is not receiving any visitors."
"Has anyone seen Miss Grafton?"
"No, she has been in her room all evening. No one else is at home at present. Would you like to wait in the upstairs drawing room for someone, my lord?"
Nathaniel nodded. "Please. I can see myself there."
The footman gave a curt nod before disappearing into the house. The staff was so used to Nathaniel visiting Gowthorpe at all hours that they allowed him freedoms normally frowned upon. Taking the steps two at a time, he went upstairs, but instead of going to the drawing room, he walked down the hallway to the room he knew belonged to Angel. Staring at the closed door, he lifted his hand. This was the moment he would find out if he was a complete idiot.
"Angel?" he queried softly as he carefully knocked.
There was no response, so he tried again. Nothing. Maybe she was sleeping. If she had begged off with a headache, it was not impossible. He should leave. And yet, the uneasy tingle at the back of his neck wouldn't allow him to turn around. Hoping he would not come to regret it, he slowly opened the door and looked inside. The room was dim, with only a lone oil lamp lit on a table by the window seat. He couldn't see anyone in the bed, so he stepped inside. Where was she? Finding some matches, he lit a few candles.
"Angel?" He wasn't sure why he called her name, since she obviously wasn't there. It wasn't as if she would hide under the bed. Could she have gone out somewhere?
Then he heard it. An odd muffled sound came from the other side of the room, like something scratching against wood. He turned around but couldn't see anything in that part of the room. There was nothing but a bureau with porcelain figurines, a small vanity table, and a door to what he assumed was a dressing room. The sound came again, fainter this time, but appeared to be coming from the other side of the door. Frowning, he walked over and turned the key, hoping that Gowthorpe didn't have rats in his house.
The door swung open, and at first, he couldn't see anything inside the dark space, but as his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of a small form in a white dress and his heart skipped a beat.
"Angel?"
Other than a slight jerking movement, there was no response. She sat on the floor with her arms tightly around her, rocking back and forth as she stared unseeingly into space. The haunted look in her eyes sent a tingle of apprehension down his spine. Taking the steps separating them, he hunched down before her, but she still didn't react. Not knowing what to do, he scooped her up from the floor and carried her out. She was limp as a rag doll in his arms, and he could see tear stains on her cheeks. Her knuckles and hands were bruised and bloodied from where she must have been pounding on the door.
Bringing her over to the bed, he sat down with her in his lap. She felt small and fragile in his arms, and so incredibly cold. It was as if she didn't register his presence, or that she was out of the dressing room, instead staring at something no one else could see. Feeling helpless in the face of her unusual state, he sat there with her in his arms while stroking her hair with his hand, mumbling incoherent words of comfort. Hoping that, somehow, it would be enough to bring her back.
Eventually, her body trembled and tears streamed down her cheeks. She blinked once, twice, and then her eyes seemed to focus on him.
"N... Nathaniel?" she sniffled. "What are you doing here?"
Taking her face in his hands and wiping the tears away with his thumbs, he shook his head slightly. "What happened to you?"
"I..." Her voice broke, and she started crying in earnest. Violent sobs shook her body and her breath came quickly and irregularly. He held her close as she cried with her arms wrapped around his neck and her face buried against his shoulder.
"Someone locked me in the closet," she finally managed, as her sobs melted away and she relaxed against him.
"I figured as much. Who was it?" He was fairly certain he knew the answer to his question. It was rather obvious when one looked at the events of the evening. When she said nothing, he held her away from him so he could see her face. The pain and exhaustion evident made him want to go back to the ball and drag Joan out of there. Not for a moment did he think anyone but her cousin had locked that door. "Angel?"
Her eyes wouldn't meet his. "It doesn't matter," she mumbled as she wiped a few tears from her cheeks.
"It does matter," he retorted. "They cannot expect to get away with something like this."
"You'd be surprised," she mumbled, and he suspected he wasn't meant to have heard it. Finally, she looked up and met his eyes. "It's not the first time. She always gets away with everything she does, and the only one who ends up getting in trouble is me." Seeming to realise she had said too much, she made a wry face. "Please. Can we not talk about it?"
"If that is what you wish," he said, even as his insides seethed. But he didn't want to upset her further, so he would leave it. For now. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Could you please keep holding me for a moment?" Her cheeks tinted pink. "I don't want to be alone just yet."
He nodded and allowed her to lean her head on his shoulder, her body flush against his. She still sat on his lap with her legs to one side like a child, but she did not feel like a child in his arms, and it was starting to affect him. But he couldn't ask her to move just yet, not when she so obviously needed some human contact.
"I've been afraid of closed spaces for as long as I can remember," she told him, forcing him to rein in his wayward thoughts. Her voice was calmer now. "I panic and think I will die if I don't get out immediately."
"I've heard of people who have that problem. It must be awful."
"Even being inside a closed carriage makes me uncomfortable," she confessed with a brittle laugh. "But I'm fine as long as I keep looking out the window."
"What about rooms?"
"If they're large, I don't have any problems. Especially if they have big windows. Small rooms, especially without windows, cause it though..." She shuddered slightly, and he pulled her a little closer. "Sometimes when a room is too crowded, I feel uncomfortable as well. Even if it's a large ballroom."
"That's why you so often go out on the terrace." It wasn't a question as much as a statement.
"Yes."
"Do you know when it started?"
"No. I suppose I was born this way." She adjusted her head to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Thank you for helping me tonight."
"I'm glad I came. I wouldn't have wanted you to stay locked up in that room."
"What brought you here?" she asked. "I didn't think James was home."
"He's not. I came by to check on you when you didn't show up at the ball."
Her eyes widened slightly at the admission. "W... Why?"
Damned if he knew. He couldn't seem to leave her alone, even if he knew he ought to.
"In any case," she continued. "Thank you. That is very sweet of you."
He chuckled. "Men don't want to be sweet. We want to be dashing and handsome."
"You are that too."
Finding her faint blush too adorable, and her body against his too enticing, he lifted her off his lap and sat her down on the bed. "I should leave. It's not proper for me to spend time alone with you in your bedroom. I'll return to the ball before anyone misses me."
He leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her forehead before leaving.
Angel looked after Nathaniel as he walked across the room, and as he reached out to open the door, she called out before she could stop herself. "Don't leave!"
He turned around and looked at her quizzically, making her feel foolish, but the thought of being alone just then terrified her.
"Why not?"
"I just..." She tried to hold back the burning feeling behind her eyelids, but she could feel tears trickling down her cheeks again. "I don't want to be alone right now."
He seemed to understand because he came back to sit down next to her on the bed. Before she really knew what she was doing, she was clasping his shirt lapels and crying against his shoulder again. It amazed her how safe she felt with him. For most of her life she'd shied away from the touch of others, and no one had ever really offered to hug her or hold her since she lost her parents. Being close to Nathaniel was different. Instead of avoiding his nearness, she craved it.
The fear and panic from being locked in the dark dressing room had dissipated, and she wasn't even sure why she was still crying. Maybe it was the aftershock. Nathaniel kindly held her close and stroked her back while uttering words of comfort. As her tears abated, he placed a soft kiss on her temple, and without thinking, she turned her head and kissed him. He stilled when her lips touched his, as shocked by her forwardness as she was. But after the cold, isolating darkness of the dressing room, she needed his warmth. She needed to not be alone. Holding her breath, she waited to see how he would react.
"Angel, I..." He closed his eyes for a moment, a shadow passing over his face. Then he groaned and pulled her closer, returning the kiss with fervour.
There was no longer anything comforting in his touch as he buried his hand in her hair and kissed her deeply. It was a soul-stirring kiss that made her entire body tingle and her knees weak. Fortunately, they were both sitting on the bed, because she doubted she would have been able to remain standing. His hot mouth moved away from her lips as he placed a trail of fervent kisses along her jawline until he reached her neck. When he kissed and nibbled gently, she couldn't contain a small gasp. She'd never considered the possibility of her neck being so sensitive.
His lips found hers again for a long drugging kiss that scattered every thought. She barely registered when he lay her down on the bed, half covering her with his body. His hand found her breast and massaged it gently through the fabric of her dress, causing her nipples to turn into hard peaks. A moan broke free of her throat. Her body felt hot and sluggish, and she didn't want him to stop. The urge to touch him was overwhelming, so she slid her arms over his shoulders to caress the warm skin on his neck. When that wasn't enough, she undid a few of the buttons at the front of his shirt so she could slide a hand underneath. His skin was unbelievably hot and smooth against her cool hands, but he seemed to enjoy her touch, making a low sound at the back of his throat. When his lips left hers, she wanted to complain. Raising himself up on his arms, he looked down at her with dark eyes.
She felt wanton with her hair in disarray and the skirt of her dress slid up to her knees. Surely her face was a mess, with puffy eyes from crying and lips bruised by kissing. He moved his hand to touch her mouth gently with his thumb as he smiled wryly. "I seem doomed to lose my composure around you."
"You can lose it again any time," she replied shyly, making him chuckle.
"I wish I could, Angel. I really do." He rolled away from her to lie on his back next to her, just far enough so that their bodies weren't touching. Turning his head to look at her, he gave her a half-smile. "But you're still reeling from tonight's ordeal, and I would be a cad if I took advantage of that."
"No." She shook her head. "I enjoy being close to you. It has nothing to do with tonight."
He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "I can't do this. You may not realise it, but you're in shock and you need human contact. Anyone would. It would be despicable of me to take advantage of you while you're so vulnerable."
Watching him, she said nothing. Maybe she had not entirely recovered from the experience of being locked in a dark room, but she also knew that her need to be close to him had nothing to do with it.
"Very well," she mumbled. As much as she might want him to continue kissing her, she was fully aware of how scandalous it would be if anyone found them, and he had made it perfectly clear he was not looking for a wife. "You better leave before my family returns home."
"Yes, I ought to." He got off the bed after a final look at her. "I will make sure a maid comes upstairs to keep you company."
"Thank you." She couldn't look at him. Now that they were no longer touching, the embarrassment of having been so forward threatened to overwhelm her.
"I will come to call on you tomorrow to ensure that you're well."
Not trusting her voice, she nodded. He was quiet for a moment, and there was no sound of him making a move to leave. She had a feeling he was watching her, but she still couldn't bear to look at him. Then he sighed, and she heard him exit the room, leaving the door open behind him. A short while later, a maid arrived and began helping her prepare for bed while chatting lightly.
Angel stared at her reflection in the mirror as the maid brushed her hair out from the hairdo she had been meant to wear to the ball. Was it her imagination, or were her lips slightly swollen? Whatever had possessed her to kiss Nathaniel? He must think her very wanton indeed.
Nathaniel didn't leave the house. He stayed in the library downstairs, waiting for Gowthorpe to arrive. Since the viscount wasn't one to return home early—especially not after having left the ball with a woman—Nathaniel had plenty of time to curse himself to hell and back for his own stupidity. It was one thing to desire your friend's sister; it was another altogether to take advantage of her in her own bed when she was in shock from a terrifying experience.
Finding a bottle of brandy and a glass in a cupboard, he settled down in Gowthorpe's chair and made himself comfortable. With his feet on the desk, he took a sip of brandy, counting himself lucky that his friend had good taste in spirits if not in women.
That was where Gowthorpe found him several hours later. The viscount stared between him and the bottle, obviously not sure what to make of the situation. It probably didn't help the man's agility of mind, being still quite foxed after his night out.
"My butler said you were waiting in here." Gowthorpe walked over to his cupboard to grab another glass. Coming to the desk, he poured himself some brandy before looking at Nathaniel. "What I can't understand is what could be so important that you'd wait until three in the morning for me."
Sitting up straight, Nathaniel rolled his shoulders from spending so long in one position. "Do you know where I found Angel this evening?"
His friend frowned as he took a sip from his glass. "She was at home with a headache. Why would you have found her at all?"
"I came here to check on her."
"Why?"
"Not important."
Gowthorpe raised an eyebrow. "You are saying I should not be bothered by my friend calling on my sister late at night without my knowledge?"
"Let me get to the bloody point!" Nathaniel snapped, startling his friend and making him spill brandy on his hand.
"Get to it then," Gowthorpe grumbled as he wiped the brandy off with a handkerchief. "I will ignore the obvious questions for now."
"She was locked in her dressing room. In the dark. Alone."
"What?" The shout reverberated through the silent house.
"Quiet down. You'll wake the entire house."
"I bloody well should," Gowthorpe grumbled. "My sister was locked in."
"She's all right now, but when I found her she was quite upset... Shocked. I've never seen anyone like that." The memory of the haunted look in Angel's eyes flashed before him, and he closed his eyes for a moment. "She's sleeping now."
"I'm not surprised." Gowthorpe sank down in a chair. "She's had problems with small, closed-in spaces since..." He trailed off and finished the remaining brandy in one sweep. "How did it happen? How did she get locked in?"
"She won't tell me, but I have my suspicions."
"Why wouldn't she tell you?"
He had wondered the same thing. The only reason he could think of was that she was afraid of retribution from Joan. He shrugged.
"You said you had suspicions." Gowthorpe motioned with his hand to get on with it.
"I think it might have been your cousin."
"Joan?" Gowthorpe frowned. "There's always been rivalry between them, but to actually lock Angel away?"
"I suspect it was to keep your sister out of the way as Joan tried to trick me into marriage." The thought brought back his anger at her audacity, but he tamped it down to focus on his friend, who was staring at him.
"Pardon?" Gowthorpe let out a guffaw. "She what now?"
"Joan found me outside in the garden, and when she heard her mother approach, she threw herself at me and kissed me." He glared at his friend as the other man chuckled.
"I'm sorry," Gowthorpe said. "But the visual of that..."
"Fortunately, the only one who saw it was her mother. I think I convinced her to keep it quiet."
"Amazing." Gowthorpe stood. "I must speak to Angel. Find out if it was Joan."
"Now?" Nathaniel asked as his friend walked towards the door. "It's half three in the morning. Let the poor girl sleep."
"Oh, right." Turning back, Gowthorpe sat down again. "I will speak to her first thing in the morning."
"Good. Joan should not get away with this."
"Agreed. Now." His friend looked at him with narrowed eyes. "What made you think you could walk into my sister's bedroom?"
Nathaniel buried his face in his hands and groaned. "For the love of... Gowthorpe, you're such an arse when you're drunk. Does that truly matter now? I found her. I let her out. She's resting now."
A grumble was his only reply. Which was probably for the best. He didn't particularly want to share the particulars of what had happened that evening. How he had been unable to resist Angel—yet again. No one needed to know that. Least of all her brother.
~~~~~~