Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Fourteen

Hugh was just pulling on a new pair of pants when Carlson unlocked the door and came in.

The valet looked at the bed, wardrobe sitting askew, shredded clothes and splinters of wood littering the floor, and stiffened. "What happened?"

"After you locked me in, I found Miss Allen chained to my bed."

The old man's face drained of its color. He looked around as if he might find her mangled corpse. "The Huntsmans aren't as forward thinking as they led us to believe?"

Hugh nodded as he pulled his shirt on over his head. "I could smell Baines in here as well."

The old man's mouth disappeared. There was no love lost between the Connor and Baines clan.

"Perhaps he acted alone?"

"Mary too." Hugh felt a weight of sorrow on him. What this all meant about his friends. "Poor Constance," he whispered.

"Where is the young lady?"

Hugh nodded to the wardrobe. "There wasn't much time. I stashed her in there."

"Alive sir?"

"Yes, alive," Hugh snapped.

The old man let out a breath.

Hugh put on a pair of riding gloves and then went to the wardrobe. He strained as he unbent the fireplace poker.

"You should have been able to break through this piece of furniture." the valet said, taking the mangled piece of silver from Hugh.

Hugh lowered his voice. "I know. When I came back to my senses, I was laying in front of it facing the door. I know when I first turned I wanted her—to get to her, I mean. But I also have the vaguest sense that I was guarding her. I remember feeling that I must protect her. Does that even make sense?"

The old man thought about this as he stashed the poker under the bed.

"Well, she is a Huntsman relation. They are a very old traditional family."

"I thought of that, but she's related through her mother, not her father."

The valet stroked his goatee'd chin thoughtfully. "I'll look into it when we get home."

Hugh nodded. "Let's get her out of there."

He opened the door. "Miss Allen," he said softly. "It's alright you're safe."

There was no sound or movement from inside the dark confines.

"Miss Allen?" He crouched down, pushing aside some jackets that had fallen. He could just see her leaning against the side of the wardrobe, her bare legs at an odd angle. His heart sped. Had something happened he didn't remember?

He reached in and pulled her to himself awkwardly. He lifted her out in his arms and nearly cried in relief as her chest moved up and down, though she remained unconscious.

"Put her down on the bed and I'll get those manacles off her," Carlson said, pulling a small leather bag out of the desk.

Hugh laid her down gently.

"How can she still be asleep?" Hugh asked, worry growing in his gut.

Carlson came back and felt her pulse, checked her head for knots. "She seems alright, sir. Perhaps she was overcome. Either way, we need to get her back to her room." He set to work on the right cuff, his lock picks working in his gnarled old fingers. "It may seem inconsequential, all things considered, but it will ruin her reputation if she's caught in here."

Hugh nodded. He didn't want to cause her any more harm than he already had, and there weren't a lot of options for an unmarried woman. What Carlson didn't say was that if there was something wrong with her, it wouldn't end well for Hugh if she were found in his room, either. The supernatural set had aided England in countless ways, especially in their many wars and colonies, but it wouldn't take much for fear to bring back the old ways. Honestly, Hugh wasn't sure England was better off now. Certainly, his father wouldn't have cursed his own son if feelings about werewolves and vampires were different. What a strange thing to loathe the creatures he belonged to.

The first cuff sprang free. Hugh removed it gently, keeping hold of her small hand as Carlson moved on to the left restraint.

Please be okay, he thought, rubbing at her bruised wrist with his thumb.

"There we are, sir," he said, setting the shackles and piece of headboard aside. "I'm getting rusty in my old age."

"Nonsense, would have taken me twice as long," Hugh said, standing.

He gathered Miss Allen in his arms. The white lace of her shift against her bare skin sent a rush of heat through him. He swallowed. It was too close to the hunger from last night to be a comfortable feeling. He'd almost killed her. It didn't seem right to long for her now.

Carlson led the way out of Hugh's room and down the hall. He made Hugh wait as he checked around the corner and then waved him forward. They made their way as quickly as possible, Hugh trying and failing to keep his eyes off her décolletage. His insides were a mess of want and concern. You always feel off after a full moon, he told himself sternly. This is no different.

Carlson opened a door and motioned Hugh inside.

"You sure this is hers?" Hugh asked, ducking in.

"Does it smell like her?" The valet asked with one annoyed eyebrow cocked.

Carlson always knew the layout and key players of any place they went. It was one of his many skill sets.

"Sorry," Hugh said as Carlson pulled the covers back on Miss Allen's bed.

"Do you know what she asked me once she figured out what I am?" He said, laying her down as gently as he could. She stirred as he pulled the covers over her, but she didn't wake.

"What's that, sir?" Carlson asked as he moved back to the door.

"She asked if I'd take care of her family." He took her hand. Could feel the valet's gaze on him. "Facing death and she was thinking about them."

"It seems Miss Allen is made of substantial stuff," Carlson said. "You don't come across someone like that often." His words hung heavy in the air.

"I could have killed her."

"And yet, you didn't."

Hugh stood there beside her bed, her hand gripped in his, watching her chest rise and fall.

"We should go sir, the staff will be about soon."

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. He bent down and kissed her forehead, breathed in the scent of her, something greater than want filling him.

Hugh gave her one last look and then he and his valet slipped out as if they'd never been there.