Read Online Just Another Lady (Xcite Romance) by Penelope Friday - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Penelope Friday
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smelt rankly of alcohol, and Elinor pulled away hastily.
‘It’s all right, my lovely,’ the woman croaked. ‘I only want to help you.’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Elinor said, disentangling herself as hastily as she could, and feeling a wave of guilt about her mistrust of the woman’s motives. Most likely the woman really did want to help – but what if she did not? ‘Thank you,’ she called again, louder, as she walked swiftly away.
‘Come back, lovely.’ The words drifted out to Elinor on the air, but she did not turn.
She walked further and further, pretending that the dampness of her eyes was due to the smoky surroundings and not to her own fear and tiredness. Darkness was coming, and Elinor had never been more afraid.
‘Mrs Crozier!’
Elinor froze to hear her name spoken in the refined accents of a gentleman. For a couple of heartbeats she feared that Sir Hugo Mansfield had discovered her; for a couple more, she wondered whether that might not be preferable to what she could face otherwise.
‘Elinor?’ the voice said, gentle and shocked.
It was a familiar tone, certainly, but it was not Sir Hugo. Elinor looked up to see Octavius Wootten, and almost flung herself into his arms.
‘Mr Wootten!’ She rubbed a grimy hand across her face. ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘take me home.’
Elinor knew few gentlemen who would manage what Wootten did. He asked no questions of her, but led her out of the back streets until they found a Hansom. It was evident that the cab driver was not inclined to be so reserved, but a look in Wootten’s eye made him think twice about saying the words on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he drove them in silence to the Crozier residence, and Wootten and Elinor were equally quiet. When the driver pulled up, Wootten helped Elinor down and paid him.
‘I’ll see you in,’ he said; the first words he had spoken to her since they got into the cab.
‘Thank you.’ Elinor wondered what he must think of her.
The footman opened the door, and recoiled as he saw his mistress, torn and bedraggled, with Octavius Wootten beside her.
‘Is your master in?’ Wootten asked calmly, as if he often experienced such situations.
‘Yessir,’ mumbled the footman, all in one word.
‘Perhaps you would be good enough to fetch him?’ The footman almost fell over himself in his hurry to get away. Wootten looked down at Elinor, and Elinor wondered again what he must be thinking.
‘Why were you there?’ she asked, realising all at once that she had never asked him. It had seemed like a miracle too incredible to be questioned.
‘It is near the workhouse. There was a governor’s meeting.’ Wootten’s expression was gentle. ‘I won’t ask the same of you, but I’ll ask you one thing.’
‘I owe you that,’ she said, unable to meet his gaze.
‘Talk to Lucius,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes.’ Elinor’s lower lip trembled, and she feared for a second that she might disgrace herself further by crying.
Wootten’s hand grasped her arm for a second. ‘Trust him,’ he murmured, as Lucius came down the stairs. ‘He trusts you.’
‘Elinor!’ The tone of Lucius’s voice was one Elinor had never heard from him before. His usual swaggering walk broke down as he ran towards his wife.
‘Lucius. Oh, Lucius.’ Wootten was forgotten as Elinor found herself swept up into Lucius’s arms. ‘I look a mess,’ she murmured, burying her head on his shoulder.
‘Yes.’ Lucius held her even more tightly. ‘Elinor, love, what happened?’
‘I ...’ Elinor lifted her head and caught sight of the footman, standing open-mouthed and staring. Wootten had disappeared, and Elinor thought that she would have to show her gratitude to him another time. She was not sure what might have happened if he had not been there. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she urged.
Lucius lifted her up and carried her to her room, setting her down on the bed as gently as if she were made of glass. Elinor tried to
‘It’s all right, my lovely,’ the woman croaked. ‘I only want to help you.’
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Elinor said, disentangling herself as hastily as she could, and feeling a wave of guilt about her mistrust of the woman’s motives. Most likely the woman really did want to help – but what if she did not? ‘Thank you,’ she called again, louder, as she walked swiftly away.
‘Come back, lovely.’ The words drifted out to Elinor on the air, but she did not turn.
She walked further and further, pretending that the dampness of her eyes was due to the smoky surroundings and not to her own fear and tiredness. Darkness was coming, and Elinor had never been more afraid.
‘Mrs Crozier!’
Elinor froze to hear her name spoken in the refined accents of a gentleman. For a couple of heartbeats she feared that Sir Hugo Mansfield had discovered her; for a couple more, she wondered whether that might not be preferable to what she could face otherwise.
‘Elinor?’ the voice said, gentle and shocked.
It was a familiar tone, certainly, but it was not Sir Hugo. Elinor looked up to see Octavius Wootten, and almost flung herself into his arms.
‘Mr Wootten!’ She rubbed a grimy hand across her face. ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘take me home.’
Elinor knew few gentlemen who would manage what Wootten did. He asked no questions of her, but led her out of the back streets until they found a Hansom. It was evident that the cab driver was not inclined to be so reserved, but a look in Wootten’s eye made him think twice about saying the words on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he drove them in silence to the Crozier residence, and Wootten and Elinor were equally quiet. When the driver pulled up, Wootten helped Elinor down and paid him.
‘I’ll see you in,’ he said; the first words he had spoken to her since they got into the cab.
‘Thank you.’ Elinor wondered what he must think of her.
The footman opened the door, and recoiled as he saw his mistress, torn and bedraggled, with Octavius Wootten beside her.
‘Is your master in?’ Wootten asked calmly, as if he often experienced such situations.
‘Yessir,’ mumbled the footman, all in one word.
‘Perhaps you would be good enough to fetch him?’ The footman almost fell over himself in his hurry to get away. Wootten looked down at Elinor, and Elinor wondered again what he must be thinking.
‘Why were you there?’ she asked, realising all at once that she had never asked him. It had seemed like a miracle too incredible to be questioned.
‘It is near the workhouse. There was a governor’s meeting.’ Wootten’s expression was gentle. ‘I won’t ask the same of you, but I’ll ask you one thing.’
‘I owe you that,’ she said, unable to meet his gaze.
‘Talk to Lucius,’ he said quietly.
‘Yes.’ Elinor’s lower lip trembled, and she feared for a second that she might disgrace herself further by crying.
Wootten’s hand grasped her arm for a second. ‘Trust him,’ he murmured, as Lucius came down the stairs. ‘He trusts you.’
‘Elinor!’ The tone of Lucius’s voice was one Elinor had never heard from him before. His usual swaggering walk broke down as he ran towards his wife.
‘Lucius. Oh, Lucius.’ Wootten was forgotten as Elinor found herself swept up into Lucius’s arms. ‘I look a mess,’ she murmured, burying her head on his shoulder.
‘Yes.’ Lucius held her even more tightly. ‘Elinor, love, what happened?’
‘I ...’ Elinor lifted her head and caught sight of the footman, standing open-mouthed and staring. Wootten had disappeared, and Elinor thought that she would have to show her gratitude to him another time. She was not sure what might have happened if he had not been there. ‘Let’s go upstairs,’ she urged.
Lucius lifted her up and carried her to her room, setting her down on the bed as gently as if she were made of glass. Elinor tried to
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