Part 32 (2/2)
Following after the coach was one of Halstead Hall's grooms. She didn't want him to die for her sake. She wasn't sure if he'd seen what happened, but if he had, he would know the coach. He would know who had taken her.
He would tell Jackson, and Jackson would come after her. Ah yes, Jackson should be heading down this road any moment! They might even pa.s.s him-she would watch for him out the window. In the meantime, she had to survive until he could get to her.
Disgusted at how she'd put herself right into the viscount's clutches, she threw herself back against the seat. How could she have been so rash as to ask him about ”beauty”? She'd thought she was being subtle, and she'd wanted ... needed to know the truth about Mama, but it had been foolish under the circ.u.mstances.
”Where is your pistol?” he demanded now that she'd stopped fighting him. ”Give it to me, or I shall have my man search you for it.”
She thought about lying to him, but she didn't want that grubby servant touching her. ”I don't have it. I left it in my room, I swear.”
He ran his gaze over her, but her claim seemed to satisfy him. And why wouldn't it? She had no reticule, no ap.r.o.n, no pockets. She hadn't even thrown on her cloak.
Oh, what had she been thinking to run out of the house without anything, and especially without her pistol? That's what she got for being rash. Jackson was right-sometimes she did go off half-c.o.c.ked, and this time it would be her undoing.
”My family knows who you are,” she lied. ”They know what you did with Mama.”
He snorted. ”If that were true, you would not have walked with me. You would have run back to the house the moment you saw me.” He eyed her closely. ”It was the Elf that gave me away, was it not? A foolish mistake on my part. I did not realize your family no longer called you that.”
”That groom saw your carriage, you know. He may have even seen you carry me off. He'll tell my family, and they'll come after you.”
”Which is why we are racing so fast along the road. And why I told the driver to turn onto another route as soon as he has the chance.”
That meant Jackson wouldn't come across her on his way to the manor. Despair swept her. ”It doesn't matter,” she pointed out. ”They know where you live.”
”We are not going where I live,” he said in a hard voice. ”I am never returning there again.”
No, no, no ... if he went somewhere Jackson didn't expect, then he wouldn't know where to find her! Not that it mattered-she would probably be dead before they traveled very far.
Blast it, she was not going to die and let this scoundrel get away with it!
”If you stop here and let me out, you'll have plenty of time to get away. I promise not to tell a soul who you are.”
”You must think me a very great fool,” he said dryly.
”Please,” she said, not averse to begging for her life. ”If you ever had any love for Mama at all, you will not kill her daughter.”
He stared at her aghast. ”I have no desire to kill you, my sweet. These two days without you have been agony.”
She snorted. ”Is that why you had a loaded pistol in your pocket?”
”I only carried it because of what I heard in Ealing yesterday, about a couple shot at by highwaymen on the roads hereabouts.”
”Now who's the fool? We both know that wasn't highwaymen. You were the one who shot at us.”
”I haven't shot at anyone! And us? Who is us?” He looked genuinely surprised. ”How could you think I would shoot at you? I find you intoxicating ... wonderful. I have been seriously courting you!”
”And you think I would marry my mother's lover? Are you mad?”
”It is not so strange an idea,” he said, though he looked as if it had just occurred to him. ”Until you knew I was her lover, you accepted my attentions eagerly.”
Blast. Her foolish plan to use her suitors to force Gran's hand was coming back to haunt her. ”But I know now,” she said hotly. ”And that changes everything.”
”Ah, such fire, such pa.s.sion. You are everything I wish for in a wife.” His eyes held an almost feverish light. ”You are so much like her, beautiful and haunted.”
”I'm nothing like Mama,” she bit out, shocked that he was insisting he meant to marry her. ”Everyone says so. I'm taller and thinner, and my hair is darker-”
”It's not in your looks, but in the turn of your countenance, the way you smile. The softness of your eyes. She had soft eyes, your mother.” His voice grew bitter. ”And your b.a.s.t.a.r.d of a father never appreciated them.”
”So you killed him,” she whispered.
”What? No!” He scowled at her. ”I see what you're thinking, but it's not true. I did not kill your parents.”
Chapter Twenty-six.
Impatiently, Jackson paced the tiny drawing room in the lodging house where Elsie lived. Her landlady had told Jackson that Elsie had been searching for a situation ever since her arrival in London and was due to arrive back from an interview any moment.
”Sit down, Jackson,” his aunt said. She had come here with him because he intended to go to Ealing afterward. ”The woman will get here when she gets here. And Lady Celia will understand. You said she knew where you were going.”
”Yes, but it makes me nervous to leave her alone with a killer roaming about.”
”You determined that it wasn't the Plumtrees who shot at you two, so it's doubtful anyone else inside the house would try to hurt her, isn't it?”
He halted in front of her. ”I still don't trust Desmond and Ned. That man-”
The door opened, and a woman walked in, smiling. ”Good day to you, sir. My landlady says you wished to see me. Is it about a position?”
She couldn't have been more than forty, with fine features and a trim figure. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear that Lewis Sharpe had taken a fancy to her, although he didn't now believe that was the case.
”You're Elsie Watkins?” he asked.
She nodded.
”You once served as lady's maid to Mrs. Augustus Rawdon?”
Fear replaced the amiability in her face. ”I beg your pardon, sir, I believe you have me confused with someone else.”
She turned toward the door.
He took a stab at guessing the source of her fear and said, ”I'm not connected with the Rawdons. I'm here on behalf of the Sharpe family. And they have a right to know the truth about what happened to their parents.”
When she halted, her back stiff, he came up behind her. ”I'm Jackson Pinter, Lady Celia's fiance. You may remember her-she was the youngest of the Sharpe children. I'm investigating her parents' deaths, and I hope you can clarify a few matters about your former employers that would help my investigation.”
Slowly she faced him. ”You're the man who talked to Benny, aren't you?”
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