Coleen Kwan - Darke London

She winced even as she tipped up her chin. “You’ve been urging me to venture abroad, and yet you’re displeased now that I have. How contrary of you.”

“Do not twist my words, Nellie.”

“Heavens above, I am married to a man whose father tried to do away with me. Is it any wonder that I’m chary of trusting people again?”

“I saved your life. Doesn’t that put me in a category beyond mere ‘people’?”

She swallowed. If only he knew how important he was becoming to her. Every discovery she made of her weakling husband only exacerbated her growing tenderness for this dark-eyed, golden-skinned man scowling before her.

“Julian,” she slowly replied, “you are in a category all of your own.”

“And what category is that?”

The keenness of his gaze became rapier-sharp, peeling back her layers. Her veil and the darkness were no defence against him. Did Julian want more from her? How shocking and exciting and terrifying all at the same time. Her blood fizzed at the idea of him wanting her, of she giving him everything, but fear and melancholy tamped her desire. A man so handsome as he surely couldn’t desire a woman so disfigured as she. No, it was madness. Besides, how could she bring herself to put her heart and trust into another person’s safekeeping again?

She moistened her lips. “Champion, saviour, hero.”

“Humpf.” His frown remained. “And yet, after all my championing, you seem quite cavalier about your safety. You must promise me to cease these nightly trips at once.”

She couldn’t do that, not when she was so close to uncovering the truth, but neither could she lie to Julian. “Your concern is duly noted, and I’m eternally grateful to you, but I absolve you of any further responsibility for me. You’ve done more than enough for me. From here on I must solve my problems on my own.”

“You seem quite willing to involve Gareth with your problems,” he shot back, his gaze becoming acrimonious. “I didn’t realise you and he were so intimate.”

Her cheeks burned under the sting of his words. It was true that her initial dealings with Gareth Derringer had been rocky, but the man had gone out of his way to mend fences. He’d insisted no favour was too much to ask of him, and when she’d tentatively enquired where she might find some means of independent transport, he had directed her to a small inn a half mile away from Monksbane. She was merely to mention his name to the innkeeper, he informed her, and the fellow would provide her with a reliable horse, no questions asked. She would not even have to pay, as the innkeeper was somehow in Mr. Derringer’s debt, the circumstances of which Mr. Derringer did not elaborate upon.

“Mr. Derringer and I are not intimates,” Nellie said steadily. “He merely helped me to find a mount for the night.”

Julian snorted. “Mr. Derringer ,” he stated with heavy sarcasm, “is a man of many connections, not all of them entirely reputable.”

“I myself am hardly reputable these days, so who am I to complain?” She tucked the ends of her veil inside her jacket. “Now, I’m sure you’re as tired as I am, and we’re miles away from home. Perhaps we should continue this discussion elsewhere.”

He frowned at her for several more moments. Eventually he shrugged as if he’d tired of her and all the trouble she’d caused him. “I stabled my horse at the same inn where you left yours. Let’s go.”

As she fell into step, his weary countenance pinched at her heart. How could she have imagined that spark of passion in his eyes a few minutes ago? She’d caused him nothing but concern, and he had his own problems to deal with, problems which were just as vexing as hers. Was she becoming a tiresome burden to him? She hoped not. She wanted them to be the best of friends. In truth, what she felt for him was far more than mere friendship, but considering the circumstances and what he’d already done for her, she had no right to ask for anything more. No right, no courage and no hope, either.

They reached Monksbane as the moon was waning. Julian’s mare jingled her bit and picked up her pace as she sensed that her stable, water, and a feed of oats were close by. Beside him, Nellie sat astride her raw-boned nag. Julian had already suggested she ride all the way back with him, that Figgs would return the mount to the inn the following day, and she’d readily agreed. They clip-clopped down the gravel drive towards the darkened house. At this hour everyone would be asleep, and Julian was loath to drag Figgs from his bed. He dismounted and turned to help Nellie, but she’d already slithered down from her saddle.

“Go to bed,” he said to Nellie, taking the reins from her. “I’ll see to the horses.”

He led the horses into the stable, where he busied himself unsaddling and watering them. He was rubbing his mare down when Nellie reappeared just outside the stall.

“Julian,” she began hesitantly. “I realised I hadn’t thanked you for coming to my rescue—yet again. That was churlish of me.”

On the ride home she’d discarded her hat and veil, and the night wind had brought colour to her cheeks and teased her hair until it fell in loose curls around her shoulders. The sight of her dishevelled hair gleaming in the lamplight made his heart behave queerly. He worked his cloth harder over the horse’s flank. Devil take it, why did she have such an effect on him?

“Will you make contact with your husband?” he asked, deliberately emphasising the last word.

Nellie plucked a wisp of dried grass out of the mare’s hay net and twirled it between her fingers. “I…I’m not sure.”

“Why not? It’s plain you wish to.”

“It is?”

“Is that not why you fled from the medium? Because you were all aflutter at the thought of Phillip?” He made himself stare at her. “I had a good gander at him tonight. He’s a fine-looking toff with those blond curls and milky complexion and soft hands. I can see why you married him.”

Her lips tightened. “Sarcasm does not become you, Julian.”

“No? But then, I’m just a rough-and-ready fellow, a swarthy cove who likes to tinker with bodies and machines, not a pale and sensitive milksop with a rich papa like Phillip Ormond.”

Her cheeks flamed. “I did not marry Phillip for his money!”

“Why the devil did you marry him at all?”

At his harsh outcry, the mare skittered sideways and knocked over her pail of water. With a muttered curse Julian lunged for the fallen bucket. When he rose, Nellie was still standing there, her arms wrapped around herself, a stricken look on her face. His jaw dropped, the pail tumbled to the straw as he strode forward and put his hands tentatively on her shoulders.

“Nellie…” All the rancour he’d worked up on the trip home dissolved as he stared down at her. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t know why I married him. I was naive and yearning to escape from the asylum and my father…” Gulping, she pressed her fingers against her face. “I had these girlish notions of what it was to fall in love, and Phillip appeared, and I transferred all those fanciful ideas onto him, but—but it was a fantasy, I realise that now, for both of us. He was looking for solace, and I was seeking an escape from the loneliness of my life, but I should never have eloped with him. And then I insisted we get married with all possible haste. I badgered and pestered him. That’s why…” She broke off, her distress causing his gut to clench.

“What? What are you trying to tell me?”

She lifted darkened eyes to him. “Mr. Derringer sent me a note earlier today. You recall he offered to find out the truth about my marriage, whether Pip had concealed a prior betrothal from me. Well—” she drew in a quick gulp of air, “—it appears Sir Thaddeus was telling the truth. Pip has been engaged to a Miss Montague for more than two years and the wedding was to be held this spring.”