Never Trust a Rebel(21)

Elyse swallowed. She had never undressed a man before and was sure Aunt Matthews would consider it most improper. But there was no one else to do it, and she could not leave the housekeeper to manage alone. She moved to the head of the bed and began to untie Drew’s neckcloth.

The old man stood watching her but she ignored him and after a moment he went out, closing the door behind him with a snap.

‘You mustn’t mind the master, my dear,’ said Mrs Parfitt. ‘He has very few visitors nowadays and has forgotten how to go on.’

Elyse considered the old man’s behaviour sprang more from animosity than a lack of manners, but she thought it best not to say so. She also made a decision at that moment. She would not leave Drew alone in this house. It was inconceivable she would abandon him to such an unnatural parent. She realised no one at Hartcombe knew her name and resolved that she would keep her identity a secret. That way Sir Edward would not be able to force her to leave, unless he cast her out on to the street, and somehow she did not think he would go quite that far. She hoped he would not.

Elyse cleared her throat and asked the housekeeper if she had known Sir Edward a long time.

‘Oh, that I have, my dear. I started as a maid when Sir Edward’s father was alive and worked my way up to housekeeper. They was happy days, and I had a house full of staff, too. Now I’m cook, housekeeper and maid of all work, but I couldn’t leave. I’ve been part o’ this family for nigh on forty year and as long as Sir Edward needs me I’ll be here.’

‘And is he really Mr Bastion’s—this man’s father? I am sorry, that is the only name I have for him.’

‘Castlemain,’ said the housekeeper. ‘That’s his real name.’ She smiled fondly at the unconscious figure on the bed. ‘Andrew Castlemain, and wasn’t he always a rascal? Oh dear, oh Lord, yes. I saw ’twas Master Andrew as soon as I comed in, for all the master said it was merely some gennleman with a bullet in his arm. And Dr Hall will recognise him, too, as like as not, since he has known the young master since he was a boy, but we need not worry about that, for he won’t tell anyone.’

‘And does that matter?’ asked Elyse. She had unbuttoned Drew’s shirt and was busy easing him out of it, trying not to notice the hard contours of his chest nor the crisp dark hairs that shadowed it. This was no time to be distracted.

Mrs Parfitt stood back and placed her hands on her hips.

‘Matter? Of course it matters, my dear. Why, if he’s discovered he’ll be dragged off to Lunnon and hanged as a traitor.’

‘Oh.’ Elyse leaned against the bed as the room began to swim. She stared down at Drew, studying his lean, handsome face. She could believe him an adventurer, even a rake, but a traitor? ‘Surely not.’

‘Aye, ’tis all too true, my dear,’ affirmed Mrs Parfitt as she rolled down Drew’s stockings. ‘He got himself mixed up in the ’forty-five and ended up with a price on his head.’

Elyse pressed her hands together. How much he had risked to come to England. And how much more so to escort her to Bath, so close to his old home. What if he were recognised and arrested? Suddenly it was not an unconscious man lying before her on the bed, but a corpse.

‘He must not die because of me,’ she whispered.

Mrs Parfitt chuckled, misunderstanding. ‘Oh, Lord, no, he won’t die. Strong as an ox, is Master Andrew. Dr Hall will have the bullet out in a trice in the morning, then a few days’ rest and he will be right as a trivet. Now, if you’ll give me a hand to get him out of his breeches we can tuck him up in bed…’



‘There, all done now.’

Mrs Parfitt gave the bedcovers a final twitch.

‘He looks peaceful enough, so now, miss, I’ll take you to the parlour and you can dine with the master.’

‘I would rather sit here with Mr Bas—Mr Castlemain.’

Recalling Sir Edward’s harsh words, Elyse had no wish to dine with her host. Mrs Parfitt was reluctant to leave her, saying that she would come and sit with the young master once she had finished in the kitchen, but Elyse was adamant and at last the housekeeper went off, promising to bring her a tray when dinner was ready.

‘And I’ll make up a bed next door for you tonight, rather than one of the guest chambers. Then you can lie down when you wish and won’t need me to show you to your room.’

The housekeeper hurried away and Elyse was alone with Drew. Calm settled over her, it felt like the first chance she had had to rest since they had left Marlborough. It was very quiet, the stillness almost unnatural as she pottered about. She collected up the clothes that were scattered over the floor and tidied the room, sending frequent, anxious looks towards the patient, who continued to sleep peacefully. Mrs Parfitt brought her dinner on a tray and came back some time later to collect the empty dishes. She glanced at the still form lying in the bed, touched his skin to ascertain there was no fever and after uttering a few reassuring words to Elyse she departed, promising to look in once more before she retired.

Alone again, Elyse pulled up a chair beside the bed and sat down, resting her arms on the edge of the bed and staring at Drew.

He was propped up on a mountain of pillows, still and unmoving save for the regular rise and fall of his chest. The bare skin of his head and shoulders looked dark against the white linen and he looked particularly boyish with his long dark hair flopping over his brow. But there was nothing boyish about his body. She had tried not to stare as she helped Mrs Parfitt to strip him, but it had been impossible to ignore the muscled limbs, broad shoulders and the flat, hard stomach. There were scars, too. Vivid lines inflicted by a sword or knife, and when she had lifted him she had felt ridged welts across his shoulders. From a flogging, perhaps? She looked now at his smooth, unlined face. What had he done for the past ten years, how had he lived?

You do not know me.

His words came back to her now as the shadows closed in and the candles guttered in their holders. She did not know him, but even if his heart was as black as sin and he had committed endless evil deeds, in his dealings with her he had been honest and honourable. He had risked his life for her sake.

Drew stirred and she was immediately alert. She placed the back of her hand on his brow and uttered up a little prayer of thanks when she found it was not fevered. He did not open his eyes, but he batted her hand away, as if it was some irritating insect. She fetched the horn beaker and held it to his lips.

‘Here, drink this. It is barley water and will refresh you.’ She wished it had been laudanum, but Mrs Parfitt had told her there was none in the house.

He raised his head and took a few sips, his eyes remaining closed as if in exhaustion, then he sank back against the pillows. Elyse returned the cup to the table and sat down on her chair again. There was nothing to be done until the doctor arrived.

‘Elyse.’

He barely breathed the word. She could not even be sure she had heard him correctly.

‘I am here.’ She reached out and clasped his good hand. ‘We are safe.’

He squeezed her fingers. It was the faintest pressure, but somehow infinitely reassuring.



Elyse woke to find the morning sun pouring into the room and bathing everything in a golden light. She was slumped over the bed, her hand still holding Drew’s. She sat up stiffly, blinking in the light. As she tried to pull her fingers away Drew’s grip tightened. He was awake and watching her.

‘Have you been here all night?’

‘I fell asleep.’ His gaze was oddly disconcerting and she felt the hot blush rising through her body to be so close, to be holding his hand as if they were…friends. Lovers.



Drew was aware of the nagging pain in his left arm. He had only the vaguest idea of what had happened last night. He remembered the explosion of pain as the bullet hit his shoulder, the struggle through the trees and the look of horror on his father’s face. Everything else was a confusion of pain and oblivion.

Until now. Now he was lying in a familiar room and Elyse was holding his hand. Her fingers were nestled beneath his and for some unfathomable reason he felt it was imperative that he did not let her go. He heard the door open and Elyse rose from her chair beside the bed. Reluctantly Drew released her hand as a familiar, cheerful voice addressed him, taking him back to his childhood.

‘Now then, Master Andrew, here’s Dr Hall come to see you.’

Mrs Parfitt came into the room with a rustle of black skirts, as large and cheerful as ever. Save for a few more grey hairs she looked no different than when she had waved him off from Hartcombe all those years ago. She had expected him back within a month, but it had been a decade, and he should not be here. His father did not want him here.

Pushing aside the unpleasant thought he raised his eyes to the tall, bewhiskered man in a black frock-coat and wide-brimmed hat following in her wake. The doctor had known him all his life, had treated him for his childhood illnesses and accidents and the housekeeper had wisely not tried to keep his identity a secret. Neither of them would betray him, Drew was sure of that, but what sort of reception could he expect from the good doctor? Drew waited warily for Dr Hall to speak.

‘Well, you young scamp, what have you done now?’

Immediately Drew was twelve years old again, having fallen out of a tree and broken his leg. His relaxed and managed a grin.