Regency Affairs Part 2: Books 7-12 Of 12. Ann Lethbridge

had Lord Maybury said? I’m afraid that Alec Stewart keeps company with the lowest of the low …

      Shivering with dismay, Rosalie turned away from the window, freshly appalled at the situation in which she’d landed herself. Katy was nodding off in her arms; Rosalie wiped her face and fingers clean and put her in the spare bed with her rag doll next to her. She remembered, with a wrench at her insides, how in the cab Katy had slumbered in Alec Stewart’s arms, her thumb in her mouth, her dark curls tousled around her angelic face. I envied her, in those strong arms … Don’t be stupid! Don’t be so utterly idiotic! She blinked away her own hot tears of weariness and despair.

      No matter how much she tried to tell herself that this was her heaven-sent opportunity to find out more about the dangerous master of Two Crows Castle, she was in a mess, she acknowledged bitterly, an almighty mess. She changed into the nightdress Mary had provided and settled herself awkwardly on the bed, preparing herself for a sleepless night. Why did Alec Stewart and Lord Maybury hate each other so? There was so much that she couldn’t make sense of …

      But suddenly something that should have been obvious struck her with a dreadful jolt. No wonder Katy was so happy in Alec Stewart’s arms. She had, after all, most likely found her father.

      Alec didn’t reach his bed until late. Tonight he knew he’d vastly added to his problems by taking in Rosalie—Mrs Rowland—and her child.

      Why had he done it, when she so clearly hated him? When she was preparing to go off for the night with Stephen?

      It was because Rosalie still struck him as Stephen’s victim, rather than his whore. And—though he despised himself for this—because he found her irresistible. He’d been fool enough to kiss her twice and both those kisses had been delicious. She was sweet, tenderly responsive, yet almost innocent … Impossible! For God’s sake, she’d been selling herself at the Temple of Beauty! Displaying herself, on stage, looking for the highest bidder!

      His raging doubts were succinctly echoed by Garrett, as the two of them went as usual round the big place one last time, to check all was well before locking up for the night.

      ‘You’ve let yourself in for a whole heap of trouble, taking that one in, Captain, if you don’t mind my saying,’ warned Garrett softly. ‘A whole heap.’

      Alec was awake early the next morning as ever and went down to breakfast, brushing aside that damned great dog, who’d jumped up to greet him from a warm spot by Mary’s cooking range. Quite a few men were already at the big table, eating. The newcomers were especially hungry and shovelled down the food as if they couldn’t believe their luck, while the two new women Garrett had hired to help out were cheerfully dishing out the plain but hearty food.

      They all greeted him warmly. ‘Mornin’, Captain!’ He nodded in reply. The dark-haired wench who’d tried her luck with him last night lifted her face for a kiss, but he’d already made it plain she was hired to work and nothing else. He couldn’t see Mary, though he knew she couldn’t be far away, because only she could have got so many pans full of sizzling fried bread and bacon on the big cooking range.

      He went to pour himself some coffee, then saw Mary coming through from the breakfast room—with Katy in her arms.

      ‘Where’s the child’s mother, Mary? Isn’t she down yet?’

      Kind Mary, a mother and grandmother herself, looked anxious. ‘She’s still a-bed, Captain. The little one was heard cryin’, so I went up to fetch her. Took her clothes to freshen up, as well. The mother, she didn’t wake!’

      Garrett entered just then. ‘Doubtless she’s not used to keeping early hours, Captain,’ he said pointedly.

      Alec whipped round on him. ‘She has a child. No mother normally sleeps when her child’s crying!’

      ‘This one does.’

      Alec said grimly, ‘In that case, I’m going up to her. She cannot be well.’

      But first, Garrett handed him the note.

      Hell’s teeth.

Chapter Twelve

      Rosalie was in an old dark castle, where every room was full of sneering soldiers and gaudily dressed whores. She was running along endless passageways in search of Linette, for ever glimpsing her, but unable to reach her; then she was faced with a door which turned out to be not a door, but a mirror. In it she saw herself wearing nothing but a silken underslip, through which her hips and her breasts were outlined. Her hair was tangled, her cheeks flushed, and Alec Stewart was coming up behind her, lithe and dangerous, pulling her to him, kissing her, plundering her mouth with his lips and tongue …

      Linette’s destroyer. A rackrenter, who sought out the company of loose women.

      Darkness enveloped her again. Flames were burning her. She could hear Katy crying, Mama, Mama, and Rosalie was struggling to get to her, but was powerless to save her. There is no hope, someone was saying, there is no hope.

      Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Weakly she hauled herself up against the pillows, still light-headed, still nauseous. Daylight poured into the room. And she saw that Katy’s bed was empty.

      She began to scream.

      The door opened and Alec Stewart was there. Instantly he strode to her bedside. ‘Rosalie. You’re having nightmares—my God, you look as though you’re burning up!’

      ‘Katy.’ The tears were still rolling down her cheeks. ‘What have you done with Katy?’

      ‘She’s safe. Do you hear me?’

      ‘I must go to her. I must …’

      He sat quickly on the chair by her bed and gripped her hands. ‘She’s downstairs, having breakfast. Mary is looking after her; she’s quite safe. You’re safe.’ He touched her forehead. ‘But you have a fever. You’re not fit to go anywhere.’

      She was trying to pull away. ‘I must get up, I must get out of here.’

      ‘And go where precisely, damn it?’

      She sank back, pulse thudding. She had no money. Helen’s house had been destroyed. And she was clad only in a loose nightgown—where were her clothes?

      Alec had gone over to the dressing table and was pouring something from a jug into a cup. ‘Here,’ he said, coming back to her, his face strangely shadowed. ‘Drink this. It’s Mary’s barley water.’ He sat on a chair next to the bed, supporting her shoulders with one hand and holding the cup for her with the other hand. She felt as weak as a kitten. Her throat was parched, and the barley water was cold and pure. His hand was unnervingly comforting against her back. But—

      ‘You will be all right here,’ he emphasised softly. ‘Katy will be all right. Mary has her two young grandchildren here nearly every day while her daughter works at a bakery in Bishopsgate. The little girls are playing with Katy now and Katy is perfectly happy. I’m going to send for the doctor.’

       ‘No.’

      ‘I know that you hate this place, and me,’ he said quietly. ‘But unless you can tell me of somewhere else you can go—somewhere safe—you really have no option.’

      She hesitated, her stomach pitching. ‘I will find somewhere …’

      He shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘If you insist. But I take it you’re going with a bodyguard to accompany you?’

      The blood pounded through her veins. ‘What—what nonsense is this?’

      ‘Not nonsense, unfortunately.