The Rakehell Regency(23)

With her auburn hair tumbling about in all directions, and her cloak billowing out away from her thinly clad form swathed in white linen, she must have appeared a horrifying specter to the coachman. He brought the animals up so sharply that one horse reared and neighed, his hooves threatening to crash down upon Vanessa's skull.



She distantly felt her body being thrown to the ground as a large form knocked her out of harm's way. He began to roll with her in his arms so as to bear the brunt of the impact with his own sturdy frame.



"Vanessa? Vanessa! My God, what were you thinking! What's happened to you?" Clifford gasped as he saw her glassy eyes and the state of what was left of her clothing.



"So ill. So ill. Had tea. Dinner. Oysters, pork. Locked in the house for the night, on my own. Had to get away, find help," she managed to grit through teeth clenched by shivering and pain.



Clifford was aghast at what she had told him, but knew this was not the time to go after Gerald for neglect or even cruelty to his own sister.



"Barnes, turn the coach around. We need to get to Dr. Gold's house immediately."



His servant hastily complied.



Vanessa felt herself being lifted from the ground, and from thence into the carriage with the help of his companions.



Both of the other men exclaimed over her bedraggled state, and shut the carriage shades to ward off the draft. A heavy thrumming on the roof of the coach, and Clifford's soaked shoulders as he got into the carriage himself attested to the fact that the storm had at last descended upon them. The full fury of the rain and wind shook the coach as they rattled back toward the village of Millcote as fast as Barnes could drive the horses through the teeming tempest.



Clifford laid out Vanessa on the carriage bench facing, while his two companions sat with their backs to the team and pulled out the foot warmers from under their own seats to place beneath hers.



Clifford threw his own cloak over her, tucking her in like a small child. Henry immediately offered his own outer garment to place over her as well. Malcolm tugged open the small compartment which was concealed in his seat, and managed to find a traveling rug to give her as a pillow.



Vanessa lay stunned by the twist of fate that had caused Clifford Stone of all people to scoop her up from the road. Perhaps she was dreaming? For her companions looked like no less than heroes to her. All three men were stunningly handsome in their dark evening clothes.



Yet Clifford was the enemy, an inveterate gambler and vile seducer.



"I won't marry you. I know what Gerald said. I'll find a way to keep him out of debtors' prison. I won't let you ruin my family because of your greed and ambition."



"My dear Miss Hawkesworth, I think you misunderstand," Clifford said uneasily.



"Did you or did you not gamble for me and win?"



"Yes, but--"



He broke off his explanation as she began to heave dryly.



The pounding in her head nearly blocked out all rational thought. Vanessa lay back against the seat with a piteous groan. She hated feeling so weak and powerless, especially in front of the handsome but ruthless Clifford Stone. But she knew she had no choice. Fate had placed her in his hands now, for good or ill.



She struggled to remain conscious, fearing only the worst at his hands. But the darkness descended inexorably.



Clifford pressed his snowy linen handkerchief to her bloodless lips as she gagged, then lay still. All three men looked at each other, appalled by this shocking turn of events. Was she genuinely ailing, or had something worse befallen her?



Had Gerald actually beaten her? Clifford wondered furiously as he looked at the bruises on her arms, chest and shoulders.



Or was Vanessa really as mad as everyone said? She certainly seemed like she had taken leave of her senses. Her face as pale as the thin lawn chemise and petticoat she was clad in. She looked the epitome of a madwoman straight out of one of Mrs. Radcliffe's novels. What could have provoked her to wander the roads in such a state of dishabille?



Whatever the answers to those questions, Clifford knew that she had come to them by chance, and had to be protected as befitting a woman of her station in life, mad or no. If he had had any doubts about marrying Vanessa, they were put to rest as she groped blindly for his arm and begged him with her last ounce of strength, "Please, help me. Don't leave me."



He felt a pang of pity-the poor girl had to be terrified if she was begging him for help when a moment before she had been so accusatory.



He smoothed back her tumbled auburn hair soothingly. "We'll be at Dr. Gold's shortly. I promise not to abandon you. Nor will Malcolm and or my brother Henry. I give you my word as a gentleman."