Compromising Miss Milton

Her mouth went dry. By the time she returned with help, the man would have been washed downstream, and any hope of survival gone. He needed to be lifted clear of the river immediately.

‘Do you think he is dead? He has not moved.’ A thoughtful expression came into Nella’s eyes. ‘I have never seen a dead person before, not even when Grandpapa died and they laid him out in the best parlour. I was considered too young.’

‘I have no idea.’ Daisy watched the man for another breath. The faint breeze ruffled his hair, but she could not discern the rhythmic lifting of his chest. On one of his hands the dull gleam of metal showed. What had happened to him? A swimming accident? Had he misjudged the swift current? Surely no robber or thief would have left a ring. ‘It is impossible to say from here. But there does not appear to be any blood. A closer look is needed. Remember, Nella, hard facts and not guesswork. Ladies do not make assumptions.’

Daisy shifted the basket so it was tighter against her hip and the blanket secure. A narrow bramble-strewn path wound its way down to the river and if she was careful she would be able to reach the man…the corpse without too much difficulty.

‘Shall I come with you? Or am I needed elsewhere?’ Nella asked, pulling her bonnet towards her nose. ‘I mean, I think I would rather go back to the house. Mama may have need of me.’

‘What a clever idea, Nella.’ Daisy forced her voice to be brisk. Propriety demanded that Nella be kept away. ‘It would be best if you stopped at Shaw’s Hotel. Tell the innkeeper about the man and ask him to send some assistance. You can do that, can’t you, Nella? You can find your way?’

Nella stood straighter and positively glowed. ‘I know the way. I am twelve and not a baby of ten, after all. We came here last year for Mama’s nerves. Mademoiselle Le Claire often had a poorly head and so I wandered about on my own. The innkeeper and I became great friends.’

Daisy clamped her lips shut. She knew all about Mademoiselle Le Claire and her habits. The woman had returned to France and Nella had been through three other governesses since, each with their own particular quirk. ‘Nella, you should walk quickly and not run. A lady always proceeds at a dignified pace—even lady explorers.’

A mutinous expression passed over Nella’s face, but she obviously thought better of it. ‘Of course, Miss Milton.’

‘That’s a good girl. Remember to tell the innkeeper without delay or embellishment.’

‘I will, Miss Milton,’ Nella sang out, lifting her hand in farewell.

Daisy pushed the slight sense of trepidation from her mind. Nella would enjoy the attention of being the heroine of the hour. Nella set off walking at a quick pace, but before she had gone thirty paces, the girl began to run. Daisy shook her head and turned her attention to the injured man. It was definitely not her imagination. The log had started to move towards the waterfall.

Daisy put her boot down on a loose rock, half-slid and half-ran two more feet. A distinct ripping sound resounded as the black stuff fabric in her skirt gave way. Daisy winced. Another bit of mending to do. And she hated to think about the state of her gloves. Felicity and Kammie had given them to her for her last birthday. Kammie had carefully stitched the daisies about the cuff. She wouldn’t have worn them, but, after last week’s thorn-bush incident, the pairs of serviceable gloves she owned were distinctly limited.

As she reached the riverbank, there was a huge creak and the log pulled free of the anchoring rock. With hesitating, Daisy plunged in, grabbed the man’s arm and tugged. His body refused to move as the current began to pull the log ever closer to the waterfall. Daisy watched as two black objects broke free, swirled once and then went over the waterfall to their doom.

Daisy closed her eyes, readjusted her hold on him and pulled with all her strength. At first the log seemed to be trying to carry her with it as well. She went further into the river, and planted her feet more firmly. Suddenly his body moved with her, coming up against her. Immediately Daisy redoubled her efforts and forced her mind not to think about the impropriety of having his chest so close to hers. She stumbled backwards, and his heavy body landed on top of her. Her hands pushed him, rolling him off her. He gave a faint groan.

She turned her head in time to see the log crash over the waterfall, splintering as it hit the rocks. A violent shiver racked her as she thought how narrowly he had escaped.

He gave a violent cough, bringing up water. Daisy rapped him sharply on the back until his breath appeared to come easier.

His linen shirt was translucent and moulded to his back. He wore a pair of fawn-coloured trousers and so gave the illusion of being naked. He lay on his stomach, head turned away from her. His black hair curled slightly at his neck. His chest rose and fell slightly. Alive. A soft noise arose, a cross between a snore and a snort, and he mumbled something incoherent about clubs and railways—the same sort of noise that her father had made in his wingback armchair after several glasses of port.

A deep rage filled her. She had risked life, limb and reputation to save this man and he was drunk. More than likely uninjured. She should have let him drown.

She coughed softly, but when he did not move, she tried again, reaching forwards to prod him with her basket as water dripped from her gown.

At the sound of her squelching boots, his lashes fluttered and his amber gaze pierced her. His eyes were a myriad of shifting browns and golds and his lashes provided the perfect frame.

The sound of laughter filled the air—his laughter, low and husky as if they were sharing some private joke.

‘Are you hurt? Or merely drunk?’ she asked through gritted teeth. ‘I have spoilt my best gloves and soaked my gown in the rescue attempt. The least you can do is answer civilly instead of laughing at the spectacle.’

The man groaned and buried his face in his arms. ‘Do you have to speak so loudly? You would wake the dead, ma’am, with your tones.’

‘Not the dead, just you.’ Daisy raised her eyes heavenwards. English, and with the arrogant tones of someone well bred. That was all she needed—a rake who had made a drunken wager to swim the Irthing. All she asked for was a bit of common decency, but when had a rake ever possessed such a thing? ‘Do you know how you came to be here?’

‘Not by choice. Wrong sort of clothes to swim in for a start. Always swim in my birthday suit.’ A great cough racked his body. ‘Swallowed most of the river as well. Definitely not my preferred tipple. It lacks a certain something, don’t you agree?’

Daisy wrung out the hem of her skirt. Definitely a rake and one of the worst sort. Her only hope was that he would begin to make a certain amount of sense and she could leave him. ‘Have you any idea why you are here?’

‘Carriage halted. I escaped and the dogs followed. So I went into the river.’ His frown increased and his hand fumbled about the rocks as if he were searching for something. ‘My boots! What have you done with my boots?’

‘I have not touched your boots. A pair may have gone over the falls, but forgive me as I was otherwise occupied with saving you.’

The man swore, loud and long. Daisy made a tutting noise at the back of her throat, so that he would understand that curses were always unnecessary in the hearing of a lady. She then made a great show of picking up her basket.

‘Someone stole those boots.’

‘You still have your signet ring.’ Daisy pointed at the dull gold band he wore on his little finger. Did he take her for some green girl? Easily conned by a smile and a pair of fine eyes? As if she would take a pair of boots. He was probably the sort that could not take his boots off without a valet. More than likely the boots were with his friends.

A frown appeared between his two dark eyebrows. His fingers curled about his ring. ‘Not that. Curious.’

‘Why did they do that? Why not take it if they were thieves?’ Daisy shifted the basket to her other hip and watched him through narrow slits.

‘You would have to ask my attackers. I was too busy trying to stay alive.’ The man’s sardonic voice echoed in her ears. His long fingers explored the back of his head. ‘And while you are at it, you can ask them why they left me with a lump the size of a goose egg on the side of my head. The violence was unnecessary.’

‘If that is the case, then perhaps I had best go and find them immediately. You are obviously in no need of assistance from me.’ Daisy opted for her most withering tone.

‘Why did this attack happen?’ His hand shot out and encircled her wrist. ‘The truth this time, phantom of my mind, or I shall be forced to destroy you.’

Chapter Two

Adam fastened his gaze on the slender wrist and the embroidered glove of the woman. Until his fingers closed around her, he had been nearly convinced she was another apparition, part of the never-ending parade of ghosts and phantoms that had plagued him ever since he had found a log to cling to, to keep his head above water. Always mocking him and then vanishing, always keeping that elusive answer of why the attack had happened beyond his reach.

He glanced upwards, following the line of the shiny black sleeve to the white collar fastened at her neck with a blue cameo and finally coming to rest on her glorious eyes. For a brief heartbeat, her features blurred and merged with the shadows, becoming the countenance of one of the dead. He blinked and the image vanished.

He swallowed, tasting once again the foul residue in his mouth. It had been at the last inn where his driver had insisted they change horses. Newcastle by mid-morning, Hawkins had said with a laugh, pressing a pint of foul ale on him. Had Hawkins survived? Or had the thieves saved Adam a job and slit his throat?

He pushed the thought from his mind. Later there would be the time for vengeance and retribution. Now, he had to survive. To get away from here. Alive.

His captive moved her hand upwards and silently tried to break free.

Adam regarded her with a jaundiced eye. The fates were definitely laughing at him. He had asked for help as he had struggled against the current, and this is what had appeared—a governess, someone who was more concerned about propriety and giving lip service than actually aiding anyone. Or, worse yet, a parody of a governess intent on harm. She had been about to search him for valuables. He was certain of it. The woman was no angel of mercy, but a black-hearted harpy.

‘Who sent you here?’ he asked, grinding out the words. ‘You might as well confess. I will find out in the end.’

‘Let go of my wrist,’ the woman said, her hideous straw bonnet slipping to one side and her golden-brown hair tumbling free.

Her tones were clear and precise like a bell, echoing in his mind, reminding him of someone, someone he should know. Adam willed his mind to clear. He had never seen this woman before. Ever. He would have remembered the eyes and the heart-shaped face.

‘Let. Me. Go. Now. Before I scream very loudly indeed.’

Adam concentrated on tightening his grip. It would come to him in a moment, the connection. He drew in a breath and his body protested once again at the pain of moving. He had thought lying in the river that he might have been in India again, lying in a pool of blood, waiting for the final blow, when he had been unable to get to Kamala, but had desperately wanted to. When he still thought Kamala might have feelings for him and he could redeem his earlier failure.

He was supposed to die then but didn’t. If he could cheat death once, he could do it again. But he had to know if this woman was friend or foe.

‘I am warning you.’ The woman tapped her foot and her eyes shot sparks. ‘Cease this nonsense immediately.’

‘I doubt anyone will hear you, save the odd sheep. Possibly a hawk.’ He permitted a smile to cross his lips and promptly regretted the pain. ‘Unless you have friends nearby.’

‘Friends?’ Her voice went up an octave and her being quivered. ‘Do you think I would have dragged you from the river if I could have sent a man? I saved your life—an act of mercy and one I will regret to my dying day.’

Adam levered his body to a sitting position and concentrated on the frivolous daisies embroidered on his captive’s gloves. Would a governess really wear such gloves in contrast to her severe costume? Not any that he encountered. But then the ones he remembered had too-big teeth or casts in their eyes. And their figures were not like this woman’s.

Suddenly he wanted done with it, to face his enemy instead of having him lurk in the shadows. He nodded towards the river and empty riverbank on the other side.

‘Go head, scream. Or else keep silent.’ Adam glared at her. ‘My head aches enough as is. I have no desire to hurt you. I only require a few answers—Answers you will give me sooner or later.’

She caught her bottom lip with neat white teeth, worrying it, but no sound emerged from her throat.

‘Thank you for confirming my view that you have no intention of screaming,’ Adam continued. ‘It always pleases me when I read women correctly.’

Her lips curved upwards, transforming her face, making it seem far too lively. ‘You harbour odd beliefs.’

‘It is never good to make threats that you do not intend to follow through. If you were going to scream, you would have screamed immediately and without warning. Perhaps you are hoping for a kiss.’

‘Do you always follow through on your threats?’ Her voice held the faintest tremor.

‘On my threats and my promises.’ Adam dropped his voice to seductive purr. There was more than one way to get an answer from a woman. ‘The kiss is a promise.’

Her cheeks flushed. ‘I have no desire…’

‘Ah, you wish to test my theory.’ Adam smiled. This supposed governess was behaving exactly like other women. It was disappointing in a way. He had hoped for more.

‘Please,’ she whispered.

Adam touched her shoulder and felt the black stuff give way under his touch and the warmth rise up from her. Her large grey-green eyes met his. A sense of satisfaction went through him.

Her next move would be a few false pleas combined with batted lashes and a single tear down her face to elicit pity and to appeal to his better nature. But that nature had vanished seven years ago in India. He would discover which of his enemies had sent her. And then they would pay. Slowly.

‘Shall we begin?’ he asked. ‘And I want the truth.’

She leant forwards, so that her mouth was inches from his. Her eyes danced with a sudden light. ‘Yes, let’s.’

Her piercing shriek rose and echoed back from the rocks above the waterfall, paining his ears.

He raised an eyebrow and glared up at her, concentrating on the few escaping tendrils of dark brown hair rather than the superior expression. ‘Did the scream make you feel better?’

‘Only if it hurt your ears. Like you, I keep my promises. I have been a governess for long enough to know how to handle awkward children.’

‘I am not a child. I am a grown man.’ The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He sounded like he was not yet in long trousers. He concentrated on keeping hold of her wrist.

‘Behave like one and let me go.’ Her eyes flashed, transforming her face and making him want to stare. There was something so alive about the woman. ‘Shall we repeat the exercise or do you release me?’

Most women of his acquaintance would have fainted by now, or at the very least declared their intent to faint, but not this woman. She appeared positively triumphant in her scream.

He cocked his head slightly, his body stilling. Adam’s fingers itched to shake her shoulders until she revealed everything, but he remained in control of his emotions and waited for her next move and to see what aid came to her rescue.

The woods were silent. No one was coming. Was she innocent? Could he take the chance?

‘Are you always this stubborn? Who knows who you could have alerted?’

Her chin tilted upwards. ‘It is my intention to alert someone. There are laws against this sort of behaviour. Molesting women.’

‘Someone? Someone in particular? Who?’

‘Does it matter?’ Her bonnet ribbons trembled slightly.

‘You can tell me. Who sent you? What secrets am I supposed to tell?’ He pulled her close, so that each one of her eyelashes was highlighted against her pale skin. Up close and unencumbered by the shadow of the bonnet, her face was striking—thin curved eyebrows, a straight nose and full lips that did more than hint at passion. ‘Give me his name. Who is your lover? Where does he hide? What does he want from me? What does he seek?’

‘I am unmarried, sir!’

‘Marriage has never been a requirement for taking a lover.’

‘It is with me.’ Her nostrils quivered with indignation and her cheeks flamed pink. ‘That is to say, I wish for no other lover than my eventual husband.’

‘And does he have a name? This fiancé of yours?’

‘I have no fiancé.’

‘No lover, no fiancé and no prospects. Is it any wonder you are a governess?’

‘I am a virtuous woman, whereas you are naught but a scoundrel and a rake.’

‘A woman of virtue! Truly a rare prize!’

‘My elbows are quite sharp.’ Her voice became shrill. ‘And I will not hesitate to use any means at my disposal to fight you. To the death if necessary. What is a woman when she has lost her virtue?’

‘What is she, indeed?’ Adam lifted his other hand and traced a finger down the rim of her bonnet. An errant curl brushed against it, surprising him with its softness. ‘More interesting? Yes, a woman who has lost her virtue is infinitely more intriguing.’

‘Let me go. I am…am not that sort of woman. Nor will I be—ever.’

‘Rest assured, ma’am, I have no designs on your virtue.’ He allowed his hand to drop. ‘But I will keep the suggestion under advisement.’

The woman’s mouth opened and closed several times. ‘You are impossible.’

‘My nurse proclaimed me a devil at the tender age of two.’ Adam permitted a smile to cross his face. He leant forwards so his head touched the brim. ‘I have made no attempt to improve.’

‘I saved your life, sir! Do not ruin mine! Let me go and I will answer your questions.’

The governess gave one last frantic tug and he let her go. She tumbled backwards and gave him a view of a neatly turned ankle, far neater than the dress suggested. The woman had something to hide. He could feel it in his bones. He would discover her secrets and destroy her if needs be.

‘Are you satisfied? You are free.’ He gathered his legs under him and wondered if they would have any power.

She gave a loud disapproving sniff and scuttled backwards. ‘You did not have to let me go that quickly.’

‘A proper gentleman never refuses a lady’s reasonable request. My dear mama taught me that.’

‘Are you a gentleman?’ She tilted her head and then shook her head in wonderment.

‘I was born one.’

‘Then behave like one.’ Her eyes slid away from his. Almost imperceptibly she began to inch towards her basket, shuffling backwards on her hands. Her fingers reached out towards it and then hesitated as she saw his face. Her white teeth worried her bottom lip and her eyes slid between his face and the basket. Then she gave a small sigh. He realised with a start of surprise that she intended on keeping her promise. A woman of integrity. Most unexpected.

‘I will answer all your questions, but I can shed no light on why you are here,’ she said with quiet firmness.

Adam frowned. He prided himself on being immune to feminine wiles. How many times had he seen the false pleas, the crocodile tears for yet another bauble? But this woman was sincere and willing to keep her promises. ‘You have no idea why I might have been attacked?’

She nodded vigorously, sending her bonnet sliding to one side of her face. ‘I give you my word as a governess and a lady brought low by family circumstance.’

The last words—family circumstance—hung in the air. Adam immediately recalled India. Then, too, Kamala had claimed to be a lady, brought low by family circumstance. She, too, had begged and pleaded with him to save her, but he had refused to act. Then he had taken her proof to his commander and had lost her for ever. Even now he heard Kamala’s voice whispering, begging him to forgive her. He refused to have another death on his conscience. The parade of ghosts was long enough already. He shook his head and willed those particular shades to go.

Adam looked up at the sky. He attempted to regain his balance, his famous cool demeanour. The events seven years ago had nothing to do with today.

What was it that was said about him in the clubs in London? Adam Ravensworth never loses his temper and always maintains control. Hah! Here he was attacking governesses, or whatever she was pretending to be. Had he fallen that far?

‘Why do you feel compelled to wear such ugly clothes? What are you attempting to conceal? Your magnificent figure?’

Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks and her hands went to automatically smooth her skirts and straighten her bonnet, hiding the glorious gold-brown hair that had spilled free. ‘Are you always this rude?’

‘I ask the questions. You answer them. It was our bargain.’

‘Your question is…personal.’ Her hand plucked at her skirts. ‘I am a governess. I wear what I wear because…it is appropriate. Your time is up.’

‘My questions are not finished.’

‘But I am.’ In one swift movement, she picked up her basket and started to stalk off. ‘I have no doubt that you will find your own way back to whatever hole you crawled from.’

His head pained him as he attempted to rise and sank back down again. Adam loudly cursed his weakness. The woman merely lifted an eyebrow and continued walking.

Adam winced. With her went his best hope of getting out of this hellish nightmare alive.

‘Thank you for saving my miserable life,’ he called out. ‘Allow me to show you my gratitude.’

Daisy hesitated. She had planned on running, but the wet black-stuff material made moving swiftly next to impossible.

‘Change, become a pleasant person now that you have been given a second chance,’ Daisy retorted and knew the instant the words left her mouth they were mistaken. She should have ignored his plea.

‘I did not ask for the carriage to be set upon.’ His soft words sent a warm pulse down her spine, holding her there. ‘Nor the beating. I am an innocent man. On my honour as a gentleman, I need your help desperately. Must I be reduced to begging? Forgive my sins and trespasses. At first I was convinced you were an apparition sent to plague me. Then I was certain you belonged to the gang. I suffered from malaria when I was in India.’

An apparition. Tears pricked Daisy’s eyelids. She remembered her brother Tom using the same sort of words when he was home on leave from the East India Company and suffering from a recurrence of the ague. She looked back over her shoulder and saw the man sitting there, bruising beginning to show on his face.

She glanced upwards and saw the hawk was now but a speck in the sky. Had all this happened so quickly?

Could she blame him if he had thought her somehow involved? How would she have behaved if she had been thrown into a river and left for dead? If she had not been sure a person was truly there, or their intent was peaceful?

You are too quick to judge, Daisy my girl. Give people a chance to prove their worth before leaping to conclusions. You might be pleasantly surprised. Her brother’s voice reprimanding her for some long-forgotten misdemeanour echoed in her brain. Her brother would never have left anyone in this condition, and neither could she.

Daisy retied the strings of her bonnet, making sure it was firmly on her head, reminding her of her position in the world. ‘You have not improved with age. You have ended up like your nurse predicted. The very devil.’