She moved forward, bedwarmer raised.
“Stupid little bitch.” Crane was breathing very hard. His voice was tight with excitement. “You should be glad enough to have a gentleman bother to lift your skirts.”
Polly’s wild, terrified eyes swept to Emma’s face. Desperation and despair glistened in her gaze. Emma knew exactly what she was feeling. Rescue from her present dire straits might well mean dismissal, an equally disastrous fate, given the shortage of decent occupations open to females.
“Glad to see you’ve got some fight in you.” Crane used his weight to hold Polly hard against the wooden floor while he opened his trousers. “Makes it more interesting.”
“I trust you’ll find this equally interesting,” Emma whispered.
She brought the bedwarmer down hard on the back of his head.
There was a sickening thunk. For an instant, time seemed to stand still.
And then without so much as a gasp or a groan, Chilton Crane crumpled silently.
“Dear God, ye’ve killed him,” Polly breathed.
Emma looked uneasily at Crane’s motionless body. “Do you really think he’s dead?”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure of it, ma’am.” Polly scrambled out from beneath Crane. The flicker of relief in her eyes was quickly overwhelmed by an expression of congealing horror. “Now what will we do? They’ll hang us both for murdering a fine gentleman, they will.”
“I’m the one who hit him,” Emma pointed out.
“They’ll blame me, too, I know they will,” Polly wailed.
She might very well be right. Emma shook herself free of the panic that threatened to freeze her where she stood. “Let me think. There must be something we can do.”
“What?” Polly asked, clearly frantic. “What can we do? Oh, ma’am, we’re both as good as dead, we are.”
“I refuse to hang because of The Bastard. He’s not worth it.” Resolutely, Emma bent down to grab Crane’s ankles. “Help me drag him to the staircase.”
“What good will that do?” Nevertheless, Polly leaned over to grab Crane’s wrists.
“We’ll push his body down the stairs and say that he tripped and fell.”
Polly brightened. “Do you really think it will work?”
“It’s our only chance.” Emma heaved on Crane’s ankles. “Oh dear. He’s awfully heavy, isn’t he?”
“As big as the plump new pig me pa bought at market last week.” Polly shoved hard against Crane’s weight.
The body moved a few inches toward the door.
“We’ve got to work faster.” Emma took a firmer grip on Crane’s ankles and hauled with every ounce of strength she possessed.
“Would you ladies like some help?” Edison asked quite casually from the doorway.
“Sir”. Polly yelped and dropped Crane’s wrists. She took a step back, her hand at her throat. Tears welled in her eyes. “We’re doomed.”
Emma went very still but she did not let go of Crane’s ankles. It was too late to panic, she told herself. If Edison intended to turn her over to the authorities, she was already dead.
She looked at him over her shoulder. His enigmatic eyes told her very little. But when she saw his gaze go briefly to the bedwarmer, she knew that he understood exactly what had happened.
This was a man who was not overly concerned with fine points of law, she told herself. He climbed through windows, hid in wardrobes, and made deals of a less than scrupulous sort with ladies such as herself.
“Yes,” she said. “We could certainly do with some assistance, Mr. Stokes. Mr. Crane, here, attempted to force himself on Polly. I hit him with the bedwarmer, as you can see. It appears that I struck him a bit too hard.”
Polly moaned. “She killed him.”
Edison ignored her. “Are you certain that he’s dead?”
Polly whimpered. “He collapsed real sudden like, sir.”
“He does feel quite limp,” Emma agreed.
“Let’s make certain of our facts before we do anything so rash as to toss him down a flight of stairs,” Edison said. “Not that he doesn’t deserve it.”
He closed the door behind him. Then he crossed the small room to where Crane lay on the floor. He went down on one knee and pressed two fingers to Crane’s pale throat.
“A strong pulse.” Edison looked at Emma. “A very hard head, no doubt. He will live.”
“He will?” Emma dropped Crane’s ankles. “Are you certain?”
“Quite certain.”
“Oh, ma’am.” Hope leaped in Polly’s face. “We are saved.” The hope vanished again in the next instant. “But when he comes to his senses, he’ll surely complain to the authorities. He’ll say you attacked him with that bedwarmer, Miss Greyson.”
“No one,” Edison said calmly, “least of all Chilton Crane, will be complaining to the authorities. I think both of you have done enough. You must be quite exhausted after all your efforts. Allow me to tidy up in here.”
Emma blinked. “How do you intend to do that, sir?”
“I’ve always found that the simplest stories work the best, especially when one is dealing with creatures who possess simple minds.”
“I don’t understand,” Emma said. “What will you do?”
Edison bent down, grasped Crane’s inert body, and hoisted him over one shoulder with astonishing ease.
“I shall take him to his bedchamber,” he said. “When he awakens, I will tell him that he suffered an accident. In my experience, people who have been knocked unconscious, however briefly, rarely recall the precise events leading up to the event. He’ll be obliged to believe whatever I tell him.”
Emma pursed her lips. “He did not see me before I struck him, but he will surely remember that he dragged Polly in here and that he was attempting to abuse her when he had his, uh, accident. He may very well know that my chamber is on this floor. Mayhap he will guess that I—”
“All will be well,” Edison said quietly. “Leave this to me. The only thing you and Polly must do now is keep silent about what went on here in this closet.”
Polly shuddered. “I won’t say a word. I’d be afraid of what my Jack might do to Mr. Crane if he found out what almost happened here.”
“Rest assured, I won’t discuss the matter,” Emma said crisply. She frowned at the sight of Crane’s body draped across Edison’s shoulder. “But getting him downstairs to his own bedchamber will not be easy. Someone will surely notice you on the stairs.”
Edison looked unconcerned. “I shall use, the back stairs.”
A profound sense of relief swept through Emma. “I must say, this is really very decent of you, Mr. Stokes.”
He raised his brows and gave her a disturbingly thoughtful look. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
CHAPTER SIX
Chilton Crane moaned weakly on the bed. “My head.”
Edison turned away from the window where he had been keeping an impatient vigil. He drew his watch out of his pocket, opened the gold case, and glanced at the time.
“I do not think you were badly hurt, Crane. You were only unconscious for a moment or two. You were extremely fortunate not to break your neck in that storage room. Whatever possessed you to go in there in the first place?”
“Huh?” Crane stirred. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked several times and glared at Edison in evident bewilderment. “What happened?”
“Don’t you recall?” Edison managed an expression of mild surprise. “I was on my way to my chamber when I heard unusual sounds coming from the floor above. I went up to investigate. I was just in time to see you open a storage room and enter it. You tripped over an old trunk that had been placed just inside.”
“I did?” Crane gingerly touched the back of his head.
“You must have struck your head on a shelf as you went down,” Edison said smoothly. “I am told that head injuries can be a bit tricky. You’ll no doubt want to spend the rest of the day here in bed.”
Crane grimaced. “I’ve got a blinding
headache, that’s for certain.”
Edison smiled thinly. “I’m not surprised.”
“I shall have Ware send for the doctor.”
“You must do as you please, of course, but I certainly would not want to trust my head to a country doctor.”
Crane looked alarmed. “You’re right. Quacks, the lot of ’em.”
“What you need is rest.” Edison snapped his watch closed and dropped it back into his pocket. “You must excuse me. Now that you’ve recovered, I shall take myself off. Ware has invited the gentlemen to the billiard room.”
Crane frowned. “Could have sworn there was a maid in that closet. Nice, full-bosomed gel. I remember thinking she would be well suited to a quick toss. I wonder if she—”
Edison paused, his hand on the doorknob. “Good God, sir, are you about to tell me that one of the chambermaids refused your advances? How very amusing. I can only imagine what the others will say when you recount the events over port this evening.”
Crane flushed a dull, unsightly red. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that I was certain there was someone about—”
“I can assure you that there was no evidence of anyone else around when I found you, Crane. I saw only the trunk on the floor. Shall I summon your valet for you?”
“Bloody hell,” Crane muttered. “Yes, please, by all means get Hodges in here. He will know what to do for my poor head. Devil take it, what an evil day this has been. I lost a hundred pounds at that race meeting and now this.”
“I rather think,” Edison said very softly, “that you should be grateful you did not break your neck when you tripped and fell.”
Edison made his way back to Emma’s bedchamber, careful not to allow himself to be seen on the spiral stairs. He knocked softly. The door was opened at once.
“For heaven’s sake, get in here before someone comes along, sir.”
Amused by her sharp tone, Edison obeyed. Once inside, he turned to watch her lean out into the corridor to check the hall. When she was satisfied that no one had spotted him, she hastily shut the door and spun around to face him.
“Well, Mr. Stokes? Did Crane believe your tale? Is he convinced that he tripped over a trunk?”
Edison studied the chamber, absently inhaling the scent of herbal soap. It was the same fragrance he had savored last night in the close confines of the wardrobe. He was acutely conscious of the bed in the alcove.
He forced his attention back to the matter at hand. “Whether or not Crane is convinced by the details I gave him, I cannot say. But he has no wish to admit that a lowly chambermaid might have rejected his advances or that she might have overpowered him in an attempt to escape. Regardless of what he believes, he will not contradict my version of events.”
Emma’s brows arched above her gold spectacles. “Very clever, sir. Polly and I shall both be eternally grateful.”
“You were the heroine of the day, Miss Greyson, not me. I do not like to think of what would surely have occurred in that chamber if you had not intervened with the bedwarmer.”
Emma shuddered. “I am not the least bit sorry that I struck him so hard, you know. I cannot abide that man.”
“I assure you that Crane will eventually pay for his actions.”
She looked startled. “He will?”
Edison inclined his head. “I shall see to it. But these things take time to carry out properly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Have you not heard that revenge is a dish that is best served cold?”
Her eyes widened. “I do believe you mean that, sir.”
“You may depend upon it.” He crossed the small distance that separated them and came to a halt directly in front of her. “I only wish, Miss Greyson, that I had been close at hand when you encountered Crane in that linen closet in Ralston Manor. My vengeance would have been very swift, indeed.”
“I used a chamber pot on his head on that occasion.” She grimaced. “I did not succeed in striking him unconscious, only in dazing him. I must say, The Bastard has an extremely thick skull.”
He smiled. “Are you saying that you, ah, managed to save yourself from Crane when he assaulted you at Ralston Manor?”
“He did not succeed in forcing himself on me, if that is what you are asking.” She rubbed her arms briskly. “But he did cause me to lose my position. When my employer opened the door of the linen closet, we were both still on the floor. It was an awkward scene, to say the least. Lady Ralston naturally blamed me.”
“I see.” He inclined his head. “Allow me to tell you that you are an extraordinary woman, Miss Greyson.”
Emma stopped rubbing her arms. She dropped her hands to her sides and gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you for what you did this afternoon, sir. Indeed, I do not know what to say. I am not accustomed to being rescued.”
“It is obvious that you do not require rescue very often, Miss Greyson. I don’t believe that I have ever met anyone quite like you.”
Her eyes were luminous and disconcertingly perceptive behind the lenses of her spectacles. He sensed that he was being assessed and weighed in the balance. He wondered if he would pass whatever test she was giving him.
“The feeling is mutual, sir.”
“Is it, indeed?”
“Yes.” She sounded oddly breathless now. “I am quite certain that I have never met anyone like you, either, Mr. Stokes. My admiration for you is quite unlimited.”
“Admiration,” he repeated neutrally.
“And my gratitude also knows no bounds,” she assured him hastily.
“Gratitude. How nice.”
She clasped her hands together very tightly. “I promise you that I will never forget what you did for me today. Indeed, I shall make it a point to remember you in my evening prayers.”
“How very thrilling for me,” he muttered.
Her brows snapped together. “Mr. Stokes, I do not comprehend. If I have said anything to annoy you—”
“What the devil makes you think that I’m annoyed?”
“I suppose it is the way you are glaring at me. Oh dear, this is not going at all well, is it? Perhaps I should not try to explain myself further. I have not had much experience with this sort of conversation.”
“Neither have I.”
She raised her eyes to the ceiling in silent exasperation. Then, in a quick, wholly unexpected movement, she went up on her toes, braced her hands on his shoulders and brushed her mouth lightly against his.
Edison froze, afraid that if he moved he would shatter the spell.
It was Emma who broke the embrace. She gasped and blushed furiously as she stepped back. “Forgive me, sir, I did not mean to embarrass you with my boldness. I apologize. I have obviously disconcerted you.”
“I’ll get over it.”
“That is the way the heroines in the horrid novels always thank the dashing heroes,” she said rather gruffly.
“Is it? I can see I shall have to broaden my literary tastes.”
“Mr. Stokes, please, you really must leave now. If anyone were to come upon us—”
“Yes, of course. The virtue problem.”
She glared at him. “You would not find it amusing if your own living depended on your reputation.”
“Quite right. It was a thoughtless jest.” He followed her gaze to the door. He had no right to put her post as Lady Mayfield’s paid companion in jeopardy. If he got her dismissed without a reference, he would be no better than Chilton Crane in her mind. “You may ease your mind. I am on my way.”
She touched his sleeve as he stepped around her. “What brought you to this floor at that particular moment?”
He shrugged. “I noticed Crane making his way up the stairs. I was aware that your chamber was up here. I feared that he might have recalled where and when he had last seen you and had decided to …” He let the sentence trail off unfinished.
“I see. Very observant of you, sir.”
He did not respond. There was no point tell
ing her of the icy rage that had stormed through him when he had caught sight of Chilton on the rear stairs.
Emma took her hand off his sleeve and rubbed her temples. “Heavens, what a day this has been.”
Edison smiled slightly. “I just heard a very similar complaint from Crane.”
“Did you? Hardly surprising. After that blow to his skull, he is no doubt also feeling somewhat dazed and out of sorts.”
Alarm shot through him. “Are you feeling ill, Miss Greyson?”
“Not any longer, thank heavens. But I was rather unwell earlier. That is the reason I was up here resting in my room and thus heard Crane attack Polly.”
“Something you ate, perhaps?”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Something I drank. Lady Ames insisted we all try her special herbal tea and then she forced us to play some silly guessing games.”
Edison felt as if he had just shot to the surface of a deep lake and could suddenly see the shore.
“Lady Ames fed you a special tea?” he repeated very carefully.
“Ghastly stuff.” Emma made another face. “I cannot think why she would enjoy it. I don’t believe any of us actually finished a full cup. I could barely concentrate on her silly games.”
Edison reached out and grasped her. “Describe these games to me, please.”
Her eyes widened. She glanced uneasily at his hands on her shoulders. “I played only one of them. Lady Ames put a card facedown on a table. We all took turns trying to guess which one it was. I won, but I was, feeling so unwell that I could not continue.”
“You won?” Edison watched her. “You mean you guessed correctly?”
“Yes. Pure chance, of course. I have always been rather good at that sort of thing. Lady Ames wanted me to continue with the game. Indeed, she got quite annoyed with me when I insisted upon going up to my room. But I really had no choice.”
“Bloody hell.” Neither he nor Lorring had even considered the possibility that the thief who had stolen the recipe for the elixir might be a woman, Edison thought. It occurred to him that if he was, indeed, after a lady, a female assistant might prove extremely useful in his inquiries.
“Miss Greyson, last night you told me that you are working as a paid companion in order to recover from recent financial reverses.”