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Authors: Patricia Bray
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botched kidnapping attempt. But he swore that no matter who was responsible, he would find that person and make him pay.
Chapter 5
Magda woke to the long-forgotten sensation of warmth and comfort. She opened her eyes to find herself lying in bed under a satin coverlet. A soft light seeped through the pale pink curtains, while a month’s worth of coal burned merrily in the fireplace. This must be a dream, she thought to herself. But pleasant as it was, she could not linger. She stretched her arms in an effort to wake up.
The movement caused a sudden, searing pain in her neck. Magda sat up abruptly, hands reaching for the bandage at her throat, as the events of the previous night came flooding back. The attack on her, Matt’s death, and then the strange encounter with Lord Kerrigan, who seemed to menace and then to rescue her. Looking back, it seemed unreal, something out of a Drury Lane play. But the bandage on her neck proved otherwise.
As did her presence in this bedroom. She must still be in Lord Kerrigan’s townhouse, and Magda blushed at the realization that she could not remember how she had gotten to this room. She remembered his unexpected gentleness as he bandaged her wound, so strange when contrasted to his ruthless questioning as he tried to get her to admit to some imagined crime. But she could not remember how the conversation had ended, or when indeed she had fallen asleep.
If she was still in his house, then the enigmatic earl was bound to come looking for her. She jumped out of bed, mortified when she realized that she was wearing only her thin and much-mended chemise. Her clothing from last night was nowhere to be seen, but someone had thoughtfully laid out a brown wool dress and half-boots by the dressing table. The dress, undoubtedly some maidservant’s Sunday best, was too loose around the bosom and the hem dragged on the floor. But with judicious use of pins she was able to make herself presentable.
She debated over waiting in the room till she was summoned but decided it would give her host the wrong impression. She didn’t want him to think that she was cowed by her surroundings. Grateful for his help, yes. But intimidated? No. It was not in her nature to show such weakness, especially toward someone whom she still did not trust.
She descended the stairs, reasoning that Lord Kerrigan was most likely to be found in the living quarters below. A gentleman crossing the foyer witnessed her descent and paused at the foot of the stairs.
“Good morning, Mademoiselle,” the stranger said. “We didn’t expect to see you awake so soon.”
The man seemed close to her age, with close-cropped dark brown hair and brown eyes that hinted at a sense of mischief. His clothing was plain but of excellent quality, making it difficult to tell if he was a servant or a gentleman. Magda decided to err on the side of politeness. “Good morning, sir,” she said, giving a half-curtsy. “Can you tell me where to find Lord Kerrigan? I must speak with him.”
“I can do better than that. Let me take you to him.” He gave a half-bow and gestured with his right arm for her to proceed him. “Luke Stevenson at your service, milady.”
“Thank you,” she replied. She did not give her own name, not knowing what story Lord Kerrigan had told his staff to explain her presence.
Luke Stevenson led her down a corridor, passing several doors, till he came to the end of the hall. He tapped once and then threw open the door with a flourish. “My lord! I bring you a damsel in distress,” he announced, bowing her into the room.
Lord Kerrigan looked up from his breakfast. A faint grimace crossed his features.
Now that she was face-to-face with him, she knew not what to say. How do you thank someone for saving your life? Especially if you’re not sure why he did it.
Magda took a few steps into the room. “My lord, I must thank you—”
“That’s not necessary.”
Magda crossed the few feet that separated her from
Chapter 5
Magda woke to the long-forgotten sensation of warmth and comfort. She opened her eyes to find herself lying in bed under a satin coverlet. A soft light seeped through the pale pink curtains, while a month’s worth of coal burned merrily in the fireplace. This must be a dream, she thought to herself. But pleasant as it was, she could not linger. She stretched her arms in an effort to wake up.
The movement caused a sudden, searing pain in her neck. Magda sat up abruptly, hands reaching for the bandage at her throat, as the events of the previous night came flooding back. The attack on her, Matt’s death, and then the strange encounter with Lord Kerrigan, who seemed to menace and then to rescue her. Looking back, it seemed unreal, something out of a Drury Lane play. But the bandage on her neck proved otherwise.
As did her presence in this bedroom. She must still be in Lord Kerrigan’s townhouse, and Magda blushed at the realization that she could not remember how she had gotten to this room. She remembered his unexpected gentleness as he bandaged her wound, so strange when contrasted to his ruthless questioning as he tried to get her to admit to some imagined crime. But she could not remember how the conversation had ended, or when indeed she had fallen asleep.
If she was still in his house, then the enigmatic earl was bound to come looking for her. She jumped out of bed, mortified when she realized that she was wearing only her thin and much-mended chemise. Her clothing from last night was nowhere to be seen, but someone had thoughtfully laid out a brown wool dress and half-boots by the dressing table. The dress, undoubtedly some maidservant’s Sunday best, was too loose around the bosom and the hem dragged on the floor. But with judicious use of pins she was able to make herself presentable.
She debated over waiting in the room till she was summoned but decided it would give her host the wrong impression. She didn’t want him to think that she was cowed by her surroundings. Grateful for his help, yes. But intimidated? No. It was not in her nature to show such weakness, especially toward someone whom she still did not trust.
She descended the stairs, reasoning that Lord Kerrigan was most likely to be found in the living quarters below. A gentleman crossing the foyer witnessed her descent and paused at the foot of the stairs.
“Good morning, Mademoiselle,” the stranger said. “We didn’t expect to see you awake so soon.”
The man seemed close to her age, with close-cropped dark brown hair and brown eyes that hinted at a sense of mischief. His clothing was plain but of excellent quality, making it difficult to tell if he was a servant or a gentleman. Magda decided to err on the side of politeness. “Good morning, sir,” she said, giving a half-curtsy. “Can you tell me where to find Lord Kerrigan? I must speak with him.”
“I can do better than that. Let me take you to him.” He gave a half-bow and gestured with his right arm for her to proceed him. “Luke Stevenson at your service, milady.”
“Thank you,” she replied. She did not give her own name, not knowing what story Lord Kerrigan had told his staff to explain her presence.
Luke Stevenson led her down a corridor, passing several doors, till he came to the end of the hall. He tapped once and then threw open the door with a flourish. “My lord! I bring you a damsel in distress,” he announced, bowing her into the room.
Lord Kerrigan looked up from his breakfast. A faint grimace crossed his features.
Now that she was face-to-face with him, she knew not what to say. How do you thank someone for saving your life? Especially if you’re not sure why he did it.
Magda took a few steps into the room. “My lord, I must thank you—”
“That’s not necessary.”
Magda crossed the few feet that separated her from
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