CHAPTER FIVE
“ABBY, THERE IS no other way,” Tynan said quietly, unrelenting in his determination to provide her the means to save her brother. They were now back in his carriage on their return ride to her home.
Abby knew she ought to have leaped at Tynan’s offer, but something held her back. That something was her growing affection for him. She was like a moth to his bright flame and knew she would be burned by him if she got too close. “I liked your cousin and Sophie very much. Thank you for introducing them to me. I think Sophie and I will become good friends.”
Tynan shifted his large frame to lean closer. “Why won’t you accept my loan? You know it makes sense. I’m not asking for anything in exchange.”
She nodded. “I know, but that’s part of the problem. Your wonderfulness is overwhelming.”
He laughed and groaned at the same time. “My wonderfulness? Abby, I’m a wretched hound.”
“To others, perhaps. But you’ve been an answer to my prayers. You’re an angel who swooped down from the heavens and rescued me. You are magnificent and generous and intelligent. The only thing wrong with you is that you don’t know how to tie a proper knot in your cravat, but that doesn’t really count since you have competent servants to do that for you.”
“Wonderful and magnificent?” He arched an eyebrow, seeming to be genuinely surprised. Didn’t all the women he seduced feel the same way? Was he not constantly being told this?
“You are so much more, Tynan. I’ve never met anyone as exceptional as you, and doubt I ever will. Of course, I want to accept your offer. I’d do anything to save my brother.” She debated whether to say more and decided to simply tell him everything she was feeling because he’d probably guess it soon enough. “But if word got out that you had done this for me, I’d be ruined. Everyone would believe that… you know… they’d believe I had given myself to you.”
“You’re worried about that now? How is my loan different from your running off on your own at night? Or ending up in my private chamber at my club?” He folded his arms across his broad chest and awaited her answer.
“I’m a mere footnote. My actions are not newsworthy. Nobody knows me and nobody cares about me. But if I’m suddenly associated with you, London’s most eligible bachelor, my every action will be splashed across the front pages of every gossip rag.” She shook her head and sighed. “Even I read those scandal sheets. Everyone reads them. I am alone, as you well know. I own nothing but my good name. I’d like to hold onto it even if I lose everything else.”
He unfolded his arms and ran a hand roughly through his hair. She was coming to recognize this habit of his whenever he was dismayed. “I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted.
“Just give me time, Tynan. I will say yes. My brother is more important to me than the respect of Upper Crust strangers who don’t care about me or my plight. But it isn’t something I can blithely surrender in one afternoon.” In truth, the worst part about losing her reputation was to lose it without the pleasure of truly being ruined.
He took a moment to digest her words, but his expression remained just as dogged and determined. “I know how to be discreet, Abby. No one will find out.”
She rolled her eyes. “Everyone will know within a matter of days.”
“Not if the funds appear to come from a respectable third party.”
She inched forward in her seat. “What do you mean? That the funds would appear to come from your cousin? It is one thing to seek his guidance, but to involve him and Sophie too deeply in this plan is not a good idea. What if things go wrong? I don’t want to create a problem between the two of you.”
“I had someone else in mind, actually. Someone who will meet all your requirements. Not family. Very respectable. No hint of scandal will attach to him or you.”
“Who is he?” They had almost reached her home and she was running out of time to ask questions. Even if she invited him in, Tynan would refuse. He had his own affairs to attend to. She’d already taken up his entire afternoon.
“I’d rather not tell you just yet,” he said. “I’ll speak to him tonight and let you know the outcome of our discussion tomorrow.”
She nibbled her lip in worry. One more night lost in saving Peter. What if this man Tynan believed was the perfect solution said no? She’d simply have to trust Tynan’s powers of persuasion, for he was persuasive indeed when he wanted to be. “Until tomorrow then. I usually wake up early. Call on me any time. Or sooner. I’ll be home tonight taking care of the Whitpool business affairs that Peter has neglected. My door is always open to you.”
He reached out and tweaked her chin. “Your open door? This evening? Now that’s a tempting invitation. A little too tempting for me to handle. I’ll let you know the gentleman’s response tomorrow.”
His carriage drew up to her front door. “I’ll walk you in.”
She allowed him to help her down, eager for the opportunity to touch him or be touched by him, no matter how casually it was done. In truth, her heart was not in the least casual about Tynan. She’d meant it when she’d told him that he was the answer to her prayers.
“I think your brother would enjoy Falmouth,” he said, placing her hand in the crook of his arm as he walked her to the door. “It will suit all your requirements nicely. I think you will enjoy it as well.”
“Falmouth? That’s where your friend’s property is located? I hear it’s lovely there. Thank you, Tynan.” That he’d been thinking of her situation throughout their carriage ride, even while peeved that she hadn’t immediately agreed to his offer, touched her heart. “I’ll write a note to James and Sophie to thank them for the lovely luncheon. Despite the difficult topics of conversation, it was the nicest afternoon I’ve had in ages. I wish you a pleasant evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The door opened and she expected to find the Whitpool head butler, Jameson, standing beside it, but it was her own maid who’d flung open the door. “Sally, what’s wrong?”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “It’s his lordship. He’s running a raging fever.”
“Since when?” She hurried inside and hastily tossed off her hat and cloak. “It can’t have been too long. He was fine when I left him a few hours ago.”
Tynan followed her in and began issuing instructions to Sally. “Have the footmen bring up a tub and fill it with cold water. Ice, too. As much as you have available. Send one of the footmen to Dr. George Farthingale’s office. Tell him the Earl of Westcliff wishes him to come at once.”
He turned to Abby. “Where is your brother’s bedchamber?”
“Top of the stairs. Follow me.” She made no comment about the propriety of having him, a stranger, come upstairs. Peter’s life was in chaos, and because of it, so was hers. She’d somehow gained the assistance of this rakish guardian angel, and knew her neighbors had just seen him follow her indoors. Rumors would begin to circulate within a matter of hours.
The only good to come out of this situation was that Peter might be too ill to visit his opium den for the next few days. “This is his door,” she said, not bothering to knock before she barged in. The odor of vomit struck them as they walked into his room, an overpowering odor that permeated the air and struck Abby with the full force of a tidal wave.
Tynan strode across the room to draw aside the drapes and open the windows. “Abby, come here. Are you all right? You’re turning green.”
She wasn’t all right. She was gagging and suddenly feeling weak in the knees.
He came back to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, quickly guiding her to the open window. She poked her head out and gasped for fresh air. “I think I can manage now.”
“Are you sure? Take your time. Breathe deeply, Abby. I’ve got you… for as long as you need.”
She nodded. “It reeks in here. The odor caught me by surprise, that’s all. I felt as though I was about to toss up my own meal. I’m better now.”
“Do you want to wait downstairs for the doctor?” His manner was one of gentle concern and she wanted to thank him again for saving her as he’d done last night. She wanted not only to thank him, but to hold onto him with all her might because he was her gladiator angel and she didn’t want to lose him. “Your footmen and I can discard his clothes and put him in the tub.”
“No, I’ll stay and help. He’ll need fresh clothes. Vickers will put those out for him. I’ll have one of the maids change his sheets.” Within the hour, Peter was once more back in bed, this time a clean bed with clean sheets, and clean nightclothes. The ice water had done the trick to lower his fever and reduce the risk that he would once again fall into convulsions.
Abby had ordered the family cook to prepare a light broth in the hope that Peter might be able to hold some of it down in his stomach. She’d just gone downstairs to see about the broth when Dr. Farthingale entered. “Thank you for arriving so promptly,” she said, letting out the breath of relief she’d been holding in all this time. The doctor was just as Tynan had described him, from his serious but gentle demeanor to the intelligence behind his deep blue eyes. “Lord Westcliff speaks so highly of you. He’s upstairs now with my brother. Let me show you the way.”
Abby escorted him into her brother’s elegant baronial bedchamber, and wanted to protest when the doctor asked if she would mind leaving for a few minutes while he examined her brother. But Tynan took her arm in his and was already nudging her out of the room. “I’ll walk downstairs with you, Abby. Dr. Farthingale will summon us if he needs us. Give him time to speak to Peter alone.”
Of course, Peter would never open up to this man if she were hovering. “I’ll ring for Jameson to bring us refreshments in the drawing room. In truth, I feel as though I need something stronger than tea.” She gave a short, mirthless laugh, uncertain what would happen next. Peter was near death, his body too weak to fight the fever or convulsions now gripping him.
Tynan kept her arm in his while they made their way downstairs, and appeared reluctant to let her go once they entered the drawing room. “Sit down, Abby. I’ll ring for your butler.”
She sank onto the sofa, glad that Tynan was still here. She watched as he crossed to the bellpull to summon Jameson. After tugging the cord, he paused by the decanter of port sitting on a corner table. There were four crystal glasses beside the decanter. He took one and poured a little of the port into a glass. Wordlessly, he held it up to offer it to her.
She nodded. “I’ve never had it before.”
“I think you can handle half a glass,” he said with a small smile, handing her the glass and then returning to the side table to pour one for himself. “You’ve handled far more difficult matters on your own.”
She twirled the glass slowly between her fingers. “Do you think Peter will confide in Dr. Farthingale?”
“I hope so. If anyone can get him to talk, it’s Dr. Farthingale. He’s seen it all, served in the military treating the wounded. I’ll wager that your brother isn’t the first injured soldier in dire straits that he’s encountered.” He took a swig of the port and moved to stand beside the fireplace, gazing into the flames for a moment before returning his attention to her.
He pursed his lips in thought as he studied her. She knew he was worried about her, or considering what to do with her, for she’d no doubt become a terrible nuisance to him. But he wasn’t protesting or desperately striving for an excuse to leave and never come back. There was a quiet nobility about him, despite his wicked reputation, and she knew that he was going to remain by her side while the doctor was upstairs tending to her brother.
She took a sip of her port, coughed lightly and then grimaced before setting it down on the table beside her. “You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to. Indeed, how can you stand to be around me?” She clasped her hands together and gave another mirthless laugh. “At this time yesterday, we hadn’t met. You were blissfully unaware of my existence and the havoc that was to come.”
“I’m not sorry I met you, if that’s what concerns you. It obviously does since you keep mentioning it and your every look is tentative, as though waiting for the moment I’ll throw my hands up in frustration and simply walk away.”
She said nothing in response, for he’d stated her thoughts precisely.
“Nor are you my pet project or charity case.” He pursed his lips again as he gave his next words some thought. “You’re a meaningful purpose, that’s what you are. I’ve been given everything, an earldom, a loving family, decent looks,” he said with the arch of an eyebrow.
She rolled her eyes. “Divine looks, you mean. There’s no denying you’re handsome.”
“As I said, I’ve been given everything at little cost to myself. So do I just go forth and enjoy my bounty without a care for others? Or have I been given my advantages in order to do something worthwhile that no one else can do?” He crossed the room and settled beside her, his nearness causing her body to flood with warmth. “Abby, you mentioned earlier that your brother’s situation worsened as his life became easier. Although his situation is far more perilous than mine, it is not much different from how I feel.”
She met his contemplative gaze and listened intently as he continued. “My wicked reputation is earned, I won’t deny it. But these frowned upon pursuits I engaged in were for the purpose of finding something to fill a void that has long existed inside of me. I enjoyed my carefree bachelor ways, but they were mere amusements. I didn’t know how to fill this void until you came along.”
What surprised Abby most was that he spoke of his bachelor activities as though they were a thing of the past. Was he done with the club and the idle pleasures it offered? Should she point out this slip of words to him?
She gave a little grunt, for it was not possible that she was responsible for adding purpose to his life. “Are you suggesting I’ve done you the favor and not the other way around?”
He shrugged his big shoulders and then casually rested his arm across the back of the sofa. When he stretched his long legs in front of him, she realized that he was making himself comfortable. He was showing no inclination to leave.
He took another swallow of his port, the deep red liquid sliding down his throat with an easy familiarity. It had tasted sweet, but too strong for her when she’d taken a sip, and now she felt a little lightheaded. Having never tasted anything stronger than ratafia before, she had yet to develop a tolerance for this simple dessert wine. The mix of spirits and stressful days had left her raw and vulnerable. All her worries were piling up and taking a toll on her.
“I would call our meeting one of mutual benefit,” he said, drawing her attention back to him. “You needed help and I needed someone to need me. Well, damn… that sounds rather pathetic, doesn’t it? I’m fine with my life. I’m not some wretch who is seeking constant attention or approval.”
He rose abruptly and raked his fingers through his hair. “The thing of it is, had you truly been needy and grasping, I would have found a reason to back away. But you’re brave, and I admire that in you. You’re resolute in your purpose and are willing to sacrifice so much to save your brother, even at the cost of your own peril. You appreciate my assistance, yet you don’t demand it of me. There’s a strength in you. That’s what draws me to you. Er, to your situation.”
He drained his drink and crossed the room to pour himself another.
Abby took another sip of her own port. Where was Jameson with the tea cart? That Tynan admired her only increased the heat flowing within her body. By his own admission, he was a hound and that improper part of him would eventually come around to asking for something more from her, perhaps even her innocence, which was the only thing that was truly hers to give.
The sad part about it was that she hoped he would ask.
She set aside her glass and scowled at the ruby liquid that was putting reckless thoughts into her head.
Tynan knelt beside her. “Your cheeks are a bright pink. Are you all right?”
She put a hand to her cheeks. “Yes, I’m fine.”
His smile was tender. “Your nose is a bright pink, too.”
She gasped and her hand shot to it, but he took her hand in his to nudge it off her nose. “You’re sensitive to port,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oh, dear. I must look a mess.”
“No, you look adorable. Like a little pink rabbit.”
Her eyes grew wide as teacups. He was kneeling so close and she’d never expected him to be playful with her. “Are you going to kiss me?” Although why would he? She had a brother upstairs who had been vomiting and convulsing a mere hour ago, her face was a blotchy mess because she couldn’t handle spirits in her system, and she was now hiccupping. Did handsome as sin earls kiss blotchy, rabbit-looking young ladies with hiccups?
His emerald eyes darkened and he cast her a smoldering glance. “Do you want me to?”
Yes.
“Only if you would care to.” Her heart shot into her throat. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. She ought to have given him a firm rebuke, but he was her savior and she did not wish to deny him anything. Besides, what harm could there be in one kiss?