The Vanishing Viscountess. Diane Gaston

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      Marlena stopped her with another request. “I would like very much to wash. Would it be too much trouble to bring me some water?”

      The woman looked heavenwards, as if she’d been asked for the moon, but she nodded and hurried out of the door.

      Marlena inspected the corset. Its laces looked as if they could be tightened to fit her. She lifted the dress to her nose and was grateful that it smelled clean. She was eager to be clean herself, eager to wash the salt from her skin. What she would not give for a nice long soak in warm bathwater, but she would content herself with a quick wash from a basin. She paced the room, thinking, planning. She could easily walk to Cemaes this very day, but what would she do then? She had no money.

      She must beg money from Tanner, she decided. It was her only choice. She was uncertain of him, although it was a good sign he’d not betrayed her to this farm family. If he discovered she was the Vanishing Viscountess, however, he would certainly want to turn her over to the local magistrate. It was best to slip away as soon as she could do so.

      A knock sounded, and Tanner walked in with her basin of water, a towel over his arm like a valet. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around the shift. He was dressed in what looked like his own shirt and trousers. His hair was damp. Marlena touched her still-tangled hair, envious that he had been able to wash out the salt and the memory of the sea.

      “Your clothes are dry?” she asked.

      “Dry enough.” He placed the basin on a small table in the corner of the room. “I thought you might like this.” He pulled a comb from the band of his trousers. “I’ve washed it, although these people seem clean enough.”

      She took it from him. “Oh, thank you!” She immediately sat back on the bed and attacked her locks. “Have they told you anything of the shipwreck?”

      He shook his head. “These people are a close-mouthed lot. The son left, but I hope it was merely to return to the beach. I gather these people are wreckers.”

      Like the man who attacked Tanner. The man she hit on the head. She remembered that suddenly, but it was like a murky dream.

      “The mother and son were out there during the storm last night.” He walked towards the door. “Is there anything else you need?”

      “My shoes,” she replied. “But do not leave yet.”

      He waited.

      She took a breath. “I need to ask you—to beg you—to let me go.”

      His brows rose.

      She went on quickly, “Mrs Davies—the wife—says there is a town five miles from here with a coaching inn. You may go on to Holyhead, but let them all think me dead. Please. I want only to go home. That is all I desire.” Not all she desired. She needed money, but she’d make that request only if he gave his permission to flee.

      He leaned against the door. “Where is home?”

      “Scotland,” she said truthfully and an image of her Scottish home jumped into her mind. Parronley, home of her ancestors and her carefree childhood.

      He peered at her. “You do not sound Scottish.”

      “I was sent to school in England.” This was true, as well. At lovely Belvedere House in Bath, where she’d met Eliza. She’d been very keen to rid herself of any traces of a Scottish burr in those days, so eager for the other girls to like her.

      He pressed a hand against his ribs. “Tell me why the Bow Street Runner was bringing you back to England.”

      Marlena flinched, feeling his pain. Her mind raced to think of a story he would believe. She borrowed one from a Minerva Press novel she and Eliza once read. “I was a lady’s companion to a very nice elderly lady. I was accused of stealing her jewellery.”

      His mouth twitched. “And you did not do it.”

      “I did not!” She was not guilty of stealing jewellery or any other crime. “I was wrongly accused, but there was no way to prove it. Her son placed the jewels in my room.”

      How she wished she had been accused of the theft of jewels. Far better that than standing over the bloody body of her husband and being accused of his murder.

      She made herself face him with a steady gaze. “I ran away to Ireland, but they sent the Bow Street Runner after me.”

      His eyes probed her. They were still that lovely shade of mossy green she remembered from those giddy assemblies at Almack’s. “They went to a great deal of trouble to capture you.”

      She gave a wan smile, but her mind was racing to recall the details of the novel. “Not all the jewellery was recovered. My lady’s son sold the rest. He made it look as if he was trying to recover it all, going so far as having me tracked down in Ireland for it.” She glanced away from Tanner, and her voice came from deep in her throat. “He placed the blame on me.”

      In truth, it had been her own cousin who contrived to have her blamed for Corland’s murder, and her cousin Wexin had once been a member of the Marquess of Tannerton’s set. That had been seven years ago, when Marlena and Eliza had had their first Season, but for all Marlena knew Tanner could still count Wexin among his friends.

      In that lovely Season, when she and Eliza had been so full of hope, she’d begged Wexin to present them to the handsome marquess. Wexin refused, although she and Eliza had been undaunted.

      “Who were these people who employed you?” he asked.

      “I cannot tell you,” she replied truthfully again. “For all I know, the son may be one of your close companions.” Like Wexin had been. “You would believe them and not me.” She fixed her gaze on him again. “Let me go, I implore you. Let me disappear. Let them think I am dead.”

      He stared back at her, not speaking, not moving. Panic spread inside her like a wild weed.

      “You have no money. How will you get on?” he asked.

      She took a breath. “I would beg a little money from you.”

      He gave her a long look before speaking. “First wash and dress and eat. We shall both leave this place, then we will decide what to do next.” He opened the door and walked out.

      Her nerves still jangled. He had not precisely agreed to help her, but he had not sounded as if he would turn her in, either. She had no choice but to wait to see what he would do.

      Marlena washed and dressed and managed to get her hair into a plait down her back. When she walked out of the bedchamber in her stockinged feet, the smell of the porridge drove all other thought and emotion away. She sat in a plain wooden chair across from Tanner at a small table. The old woman set a bowl of porridge in front of her. Marlena’s hand shook when she dipped her spoon into the steaming bowl. The first mouthful was too hot. She blew on the next spoonful and the next and ate as quickly as she could. Tanner ate as hungrily as she.

      The old farmer and his wife watched their every move.

      When they finished, Tanner turned to them. “Bring the rest of my clothing, my boots and the lady’s shoes. The СКАЧАТЬ