Page 11 of Indecently Daring

Wrexham tugged off his fine leather gloves and laid them in his lap, his walking stick resting on the side of the chair. Then he remained silent for a long moment, his face turned towards the fire, and Emmeline could not help but study him. In stillness, one would never know he was blind. His eyes were undamaged and did not move restlessly back and forth as she had seen once on another person so afflicted. They were also beautiful, the darkest blue she had ever seen, almost indigo, and thickly lashed, a darker gold than his hair. Emmeline shifted restlessly, nervous, and wondering what on earth he wished to say.

He turned towards her, his expression sharp, as though he had heard her moving and knew she was anxious.

“Forgive me. This is most improper of me, and I am not putting you at ease, am I? Only I hardly know where to begin. I do not wish for you to think me… well, no doubt you will think me a lunatic, but there is no help for it. I have no other options left. We are alone?”

“Y-Yes,” she stammered, wondering what on earth he was talking about, and just how far she was risking her reputation for this man, for not all the servants were absent and this visit was bound to be remarked upon.

“I believe my stepbrother is trying to kill me, and I think my father is helping him.”

Emmeline gasped, horrified. She had known something was terribly wrong that day she’d found him alone in the snow, but this…. “Wrexham! Oh, my word. Whatever has happened? Have you been hurt? Is it safe for you to go home?”

Wrexham gave a choked laugh, his expression one of such relief and yet such pain, that Emmeline did not know what to think. So she didn’t. She got up and knelt on the floor before him, taking his hand in hers, and only then noticing all the little cuts and injuries on his fingers. She looked up, seeing a faint bruise on his temple that she had not remarked before. His fingers curled about hers, his grip warm and sure, and Emmeline’s heart gave a peculiar lurch behind her ribs.

“Miss Milly, you are the first person I have told who has believed me without questioning my sanity or asking if perhaps I was mistaken, if I was quite sure I hadn’t just let my imagination get the better of me.”

“I do not believe you are a man given to histrionics, Wrexham,” she said, aware she sounded annoyed and agitated, but now she was terrified for him.

“Thank you,” he said, squeezing her fingers tighter for a moment, his voice not entirely steady. “Even if you do not wish to help me with my mad scheme, I thank you for that, for believing me, with all my heart.”

“W-What mad scheme, my lord?” Emmeline asked nervously, uncertain if she was more scandalised by the idea his brother was trying to murder him, or that she was alone with him, holding his hand. Her gaze remained riveted upon their linked fingers until he spoke again.

“Ah, as for that, sweet Milly. I wonder just how courageous you really are?”

Alana walked briskly, tilting her face to enjoy the morning sun. It was beautifully bright again, if freezing. The ground was rock-hard beneath her boots as she strode out with Cat at her side. There had been another hard frost, and everything sparkled white in the glittering sunlight. Ordinarily, she would have very much enjoyed her walk, for being out of doors on such a fine day—and with such lovely countryside to enjoy—was Alana’s idea of time well spent. However, her journey had a purpose, and one she was not looking forward to in the least.

The church came into view. Alana sighed as Cat shot a grin in her direction.

“Well, you’d best get it over with,” Cat said, laughter behind the words.

Alana scowled and pushed open the gate, walking down the uneven flagstone path to the church doors. The huge door creaked a little as they entered, and Alana blinked at the dim interior as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. An older lady hurried down the aisle towards them, emerging from the gloom.

“Is that you, Miss Cadogan? Oh, and Lady Catherine, too. Good day to you!”

Alana smiled as Miss Dudley’s sweetly faded face came into view.

“Good morning, Miss Dudley, how do you do?”

“Oh, I am quite well, thank you for asking dear. And you ravishing creatures, are you well?”

“Hale as a horse,” Alana replied with a grin as Cat rolled her eyes, before gesturing to the armful of greenery that Miss Dudley held. “Flower displays for the altar?”

“Oh, yes, not that there are any flowers to be had at this time of year, sadly, but I’m doing my best with foliage, and I found some lovely holly with berries on, though they put up something of a fight,” she added sadly, lifting her hand to show her white woollen glove had a hole ripped in the thumb and the wool stained with blood.

“Goodness, you have been in the wars. Shall I clean it for you?” Alana offered, frowning.

“No, no, dear. I’m not the least bit squeamish about my own blood, it’s only… other people’s,” she said, swallowing hard and looking a little green.

“All the same, it needs seeing to at once, Miss Dudley,” Cat said, looking rather stern, which was usually most out of character. “You know a tiny cut can be a dangerous thing if it gets infected. One of Papa’s gardeners, a great strapping fellow, almost died because he let a silly little wound fester rather than get it treated. So, I would really be happier if we saw to it now.”

Miss Dudley paled, obviously caught upon the dilemma of being tended by the daughter of a marquess and wondering how on earth to say no to Cat. Alana well understood the problem.

“Oh, w-well, if you insist, my lady….”

“I do insist,” Cat said firmly. “My darling Pippin would never forgive me if I ignored such a thing, and you fell ill.”

“Very well,” Miss Dudley said, carried along by the force that was Lady Catherine Barrington. “B-But… isn’t she a witch?” she whispered the last words, as if she feared being struck down for uttering them in the house of God.

“I was looking for Revered Martin,” Alana said hastily, before Cat could reply, as the look in her friend’s eyes was a little daunting. She was exceedingly protective of Pippin, whom she viewed in the light of a beloved grandmother.