Chapter 15

In Pursuit of Mr. Trenchmouth

She opened one eye. Sometime between Martin bringing her upstairs and him kissing her, she had come through the fog. Oddly, she was not in the least bit embarrassed or ashamed of the happenings of last night. My gosh , it was wondrous. She never knew a kiss could be so exhilarating. She wanted more. When he kissed her breast, she had a feeling that was like an aching, or a longing that was emanating from her...her honeypot. It was screaming out for something. She could only surmise that Martin had what was needed. She had seen breeding horses. She understood the mechanics; she never knew there was some kind of yearning that took place. It was a sensation she wanted to experience again and again. She opened both eyes to see Martin had left her. She had no idea when he left. She fell right to sleep. The last thing she remembered was looking up at him and saying‘ ‘good night.'

Martin had offered her one of his shirts. She wished, now, that she had agreed. Without a chemise or robe, she was at a loss as to what she should put on. She was going to wrap herself up in the bedclothes. She would not want to cause the upstairs maid more work. She sat up and looked around when she heard a knock on the door. Not from the hallway. It was coming from the adjoining room. "Come," she called out. A handsome face peeped around the door.

"Are you feeling well, my sweet?"

"I'm feeling marvelous. How are you this morning?"

"You feel marvelous?" He shrugged. Of course she does. I suppose angels never get crop sick. "Well, it is closer to good afternoon then good morning." He walked toward her. "I feel concerned for you." He walked over to the bed and sat down facing her. He was so handsome. Why did she not notice how magnificent he was? He is so tall, so broad, and wow, his kiss. He pushed her hair back from her face, reached behind her, took a handful of her hair, held it up to his face, and took a deep breath in. "Why do you smell like sugar? Do you always?"

"Sugar?" She never thought that she smells like sugar. She pulled some of the hair he had left behind and took a whiff. "It smells like...hair...to me."

"You tasted like sugar last night when I kissed you. Do you remember that?" The way he looked at her made it clear to her that he remembered it. She did not think it was a casual kiss. To be honest, she was unsure.

"I do. I remember everything. I thought the kissing was wonderful. I loved it." She wanted to reach for his hand, then she suddenly felt coy. "Is that the way you kiss all your lady friends?"

He began to laugh. She wondered if she had accidentally said something funny.

"No, my sweet. That kiss was only meant for you. You said you loved it. Well, I did too." He sat on the edge of the bed looking at her. "It is approximately ten-thirty, more or less. I have a day dress coming for you. I believe it will be here within the hour."

"Where did you get a dress for me? Martin, I have an odd shape. One can't get a dress for me off the rack, unless you know someone that is about my size. Do you?"

"Do I what?" She knew he was playing with her.

"Do you know someone else that has a rather odd shape such as mine?"

"No, I don't." He put his hand under her chin. "Where would a person find a woman with a shape as glorious as yours, hmm?"

"You are teasing me. You ... well, you saw...you saw most of me last night. I'm odd shaped." Her face suffused a lovely glow of pink and her cheeks felt hot.

"No, my sweet. I saw all of you last night. You are perfect. Shall we speak of other things before I embarrass myself."

"Alright then, you mentioned that you were worried about me. Was that because of the oaf? Or was it because of Mr." She had to laugh. "Mr. Trenchmouth." She could not help herself. It was a perfect name for him. She made him laugh.

"You make me laugh. You have the cutest...everything." He seemed to stop himself. "I received some rather disturbing news about your Mr. Trenchmouth. I asked Lord Windham and Mr. Stewart to go to his office this morning at nine o'clock."

"Yes, I recall – and that is what you told Herbert last night at the ball.

So what happened?" He took both her hands and held them in his.

"He was not there."

"Was he home? What happened? I thought he might not show up. He clearly has done something with Papa's money."

"His office was ransacked. Frank, Fred, and I agree that Trenchmouth would not have ransacked his own office. So there must be another character in this mystery."

She was unsure what a ‘ransack' was; she had never heard the word. She would look it up when she got home. Home! She had to go home. "I must go home. I will be in so much trouble." Momentarily forgetting she was unable to get up. She had no clothes. How can something be so very nice and troublesome at the same time?

"Listen." He still had her hands in his. She liked that. "Frank went by your home and asked to speak with your mother."

"Oh, no. What could he say to her. She is so fragile right now." She pulled her hands from his. "I must go home."

Martin reached for her hands again. "My sweet." She struggled to pull away from him. "Muriel. Look at me. Please." She needed to go home. She needed clothes. She needed a coach. She was beginning to panic. "Muriel." He shook her hands. "Please listen to me. I took care of it."

Now, she was more confused. "What could you possibly mean? You keep throwing me off. Confusing me."

"Let me finish, please. Frank went to your home and spoke to your mother. He told her that the oaf tried to take you while you were at the ball. Frank took you somewhere for your own safety.

Somewhere that no one would know. So, Lady McDonnell asked a few questions. She had received a note that you were staying with Helen. Frank explained that he sent the note, fearing the note may have been intercepted."

"Did she believe that?"

"Well, for the most part, it is the truth." He let go of her, scooted closer to her, and stroked her hair. "I wanted you to stay here for your own safety. At least until Frank could get his people in place."

"Did Frank explain the extra footmen and the men watching the house?" Mama would feel safer knowing we had all this security.

"To the best of my knowledge, he did. Honestly, I did not ask. Fear not, my lady, Frank is thorough so I would consider that he did."

"You took care of everything. That is a relief. Thank you." She leaned into him and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Do you always take control of things? I have been having to do that since Papa died. It can be burdensome from time to time. Would you not agree?"

"Wait. First things first." He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and kissed her. Really kissed her. Oh, gosh, she was going to melt into his arms. How could she allow him to do something so intimate when she met him less than twenty-four hours ago. "God, sweet. Your sugar lures me; draws me to you." He put both hands on her face. "And I have such a sweet tooth."

"Now, wait. We have only known each other for what...twelve or thirteen hours? This is not good. You could easily ruin me. I would be destroyed. Worse, it would destroy Mama, Amina, Rosa, and Curtis. I'm responsible for the McDonnell family right now." He still held her head in his hands. "I know I'm not doing the best job of it. In my defense, Papa, for some unexplainable reason, hired Mr. Trenchmouth. Now you say he is nowhere to be found and his office was sacked, or what was that word?"

Martin suppressed a chuckle. "It is ‘ransack,' it means going through things illegally. Usually quickly. It is Saturday, so Frank was going to his flat after he reported to me about the conversation he had with your mother. He has yet to return."

There was a knock on the bedchamber door. "Wait a moment." He stood, bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "I will be a moment. Don't go anywhere." He laughed. Of course, she was not going anywhere. She needed clothes.

She decided to go ahead and put on the ball gown. She sat up and looked to the floor. It was not there. She looked to the couch where Martin had tossed his clothes last night. It was not there. So he must have taken it. Why would he do that? She sat back and wondered how in the world she had gotten here. She was unsure whether this was a dream come true or a nightmare. Everything seemed to be converging at once. She felt like a bystander; as if she was watching some Shakespearian play in which she had a lead part.

There was a knock on the door. She knew it was Martin. "Come." She called out. When the door opened, it was Miss Christopher.

"Lady Muriel? I have come to dress you. You poor thing. Lord Claymont gave me the beautiful dress. I feel there is not much I can do for it; Lord Claymont has asked that another one identical to it be made. He is such an impressive gentleman, is he not?"

"How would Lord Claymont know to contact you about my gown?" She wondered if he could have been her Benefactor . He could not be. She had only met him last night. "Your name was on the inside of the gown. I forgot."

"I brought a day dress with a warm, matching pelisse. I think you will be very happy with it." "Did you happen to bring a chemise with you? I have nothing here. Of course, the beautiful gown of yours I wore last night had everything stitched inside the gown. It did create a bit of a problem this morning. I have had to stay abed until you arrived." Christopher gave her knowing smile as if understanding Muriel's dilemma.

"I understand, Lady Muriel. I have everything here that you will need." She helped Muriel up, got the chemise and handed it to her. Muriel slipped it on.

"This is a beautiful chemise. Is it silk?"

"Yes, Lady Muriel. It feels like heaven, does it not?"

"It is very nice." Miss Christopher picked up the lovely light, blue-colored day dress and helped Muriel with it on. "I failed to ablute. I had no idea if it would even be appropriate. And there is no chamber maid...well, for understandable reasons, nonetheless, I laid in the bed and waited." She lowered her head and shook it slightly. "I waited for something to happen. Someone to help. I guess that is what Lord Claymont does. He is a doer. A fixer, of sorts."

Miss Christopher was busy trying to finish dressing her. When she was done, she finally spoke. "I believe that is exactly the kind of gentleman he is – a doer; a fixer of problems. it would be nice. I would be happy to find a man like that." She stood back. "Turn and let me see you. How does it feel?"

"Good." She looked around. "There must be a mirror somewhere." She walked through the connecting door to find a full-length mirror. "Miss Christopher. This is lovely. Now I need to do something with my hair." She picked up two handfuls of hair and lifted it up to the top of her head. "And I need shoes."

"I have a brush. That is the best I can do. If I even attempted to coif your hair, you would be even more reluctant to go outdoors. I did bring you shoes."

"How did you get all this done so quickly?" Muriel was amazed.

"I already had your measurements, remember? I made your ball gowns. Lord Claymont's footman was at the dress shop when we opened. He had a note explaining you had been accosted, which I'm most sorry about, and said he needed a dress for you as soon as possible. He preferred a blue of some shade. He did say you look beautiful in any color, so if I had no blue, anything I liked would do. I'm very impressed with him, Lord Claymont. You are a beautiful lady; I have to say, he seems very devoted to you. You are very lucky."

"Well, if I can get the shoes, I believe you and I are done. Am I correct? And I'm sure you wish to get back to your shop. You certainly were not expecting to make a dress first thing in the morning and then deliver it. I'm so very grateful."

"I have been expecting more orders from your benefactor, so I was well prepared." Miss Christopher reached in one of the bags she had brought full of fripperies for her perusal and pulled the necessary shoes. "So I think we are done. If you think of anything else you might need, send a message and I will take care of it for you." She picked up the bags and looked at Muriel. "I don't want you to worry about my discretion. I think what occurs between a client and me and the circumstances surrounding that meeting is strictly confidential. I wish you to know that." She turned. "Have a good day, Lady Muriel."

"Thank you."

She was dressed. The dress was the very color he had asked for – blue. She wondered what she should do next. Should she go downstairs; wait for him to retrieve her; she was unsure. She decided, since this most certainly was not her home, she would wait until someone summoned her. Looking around the room, she had hoped to find a book. As she scanned the room she saw nothing. She sat down on the settee and wondered what her mother would ask about the oaf attack. In the light of day, she was becoming even more concerned about his attempt to abduct her. Perhaps he may have wanted to kill her, or use her to get into the house, or God knows what. Her mind switched to last night's protector. She had been trying to keep the financial issues plaguing the home under her control, yet after last night, it became clear to her that she was going to need the help Martin offered. She only wished she knew how she would be able to repay him.

For so long, she had lived such a happy, privileged life. The very moment Papa died, Mama went into a deep depression, the money disappeared, and everyone looked to her for answers. She had tried. She had done the best she could. Being a woman had such disadvantages.

She was most disturbed about the beginning of this relationship, if it was the beginning of a relationship. Oh, gosh. What if he really did decide he rather not. I acted like a wanton. Maybe he thought I did that with everyone.

Men. I better tell him, or did I tell him. Anyway, there are so many problems going on with the McDonnell family. He surely does not wish to take on the burden. What if I close my eyes, I could turn into a Peregrine. They can fly very far. I would miss Rosa and Mama, everyone. And now, maybe even Martin. I suppose I will stay.

She sat on the edge of the bed, considering everything when she heard another knock from the inner door to the bedchamber. "Come." That handsome face entered the room. He was handsome. Like a Greek god. Which one was the strong, handsome one? Apollo! With raven hair. And Apollo had a calm demeanor but could have a bad temper when provoked.

"You are Apollo with raven hair. I thought of it when you walked into the bedchamber just now."

"My, I'm most flattered. What color hair did Apollo have?"

"He was a blonde; maybe like me."

"No one is like you, my sweet."

"Oh, that reminds me. Will you sit down next to me, please?" How could he ever turn down that alluring face.

"Shall we sit over here?" He pointed to the settee. "I think we will be much more comfortable."

And I will not think about ravaging you...as much.

She got up. Martin waited until she was seated, then sat down next to her. "May I hold your hand?"

"Yes – I...I want to say something to you that you might think about me that is not true about me however, I behaved like you might think I am...that way. Because I'm not."

He smiled at her. He knew what she wanted to say, he thought. She spoke in her own kind of English language. "Alright, Muriel–Lady Muriel. What is it that you think I might think, or whatever it was you said."

"Well, first, I have never had scotch before. I'm little so I should have known better than to have as many glasses as I had. I'm not saying that I would not have kissed you because I probably would have...kissed you. You should not have been responsible for assisting me out of my...gown. I know you have seen ladies in the...nuuude. I have never had anyone ever see me in the...nuuude."

"My sweet–"

"Please, let me finish before I become too embarrassed to finish. I want you to know, all that we did last night, I have never done, not ever, not with anyone, not even a kiss. I promise. Do you believe me? "

He put his arms around her. He kissed her forehead, both her cheeks, nose, then he sweetly kissed her lips. She responded and he allowed himself the luxury of a more passionate kiss. He wanted so much more. How would he get through courting this wraith? Hopefully, it would not be a long courtship. He not so easily pulled his lips away from hers. "Muriel, you never had to tell me that. I knew. I knew you had saved all that for me and I'm the most honored man in the universe."

"No, Martin, you picked me?" She looked up at him with such sincerity. He pulled her to him and hugged her.

"We best get you home." He stood and held out his hand to assist her up. Oh, we can go downstairs, I want to wait until Frank, Mr. Stewart returns. He was supposed to go by Mr. Trenchmouth's flat and return to let us know if Frank was able to speak with him."

"I understand. Is your privy in the dressing area?" She blushed again. "I would like to use it if you would be so kind."

She was not real. "Yes, my sweet. It is right through there. Take your time. I will be downstairs." He closed the bedchamber door, then leaned up against it. I learned something else this morning – Angels do that, too . He chuckled to himself and started down the stairs.

He went into the drawing room and used the bellpull. "May I be of service, My lord?"

"Lady Muriel requested breakfast. Can you have Cook put something together for her?"

"Of course. Right away."

Martin sat thinking what business of his own he needed to address. He had spent an inordinate amount of time on this Mr. Trenchmouth problem in the last few days. With all his enterprises, he could not let more than a couple of days go by without giving each one its due diligence. He would need to spend the rest of the day doing only that. After what had transpired between Muriel and him, he feared she might think he had been some type of lying cad. He did not want that thought to enter her head. He could send her flowers, candy, something so his words would be affirmed by his deeds. And he would explain. Certainly, he would do that.

He looked up to see her standing in the doorway. "You look breathtaking. What did you do with your hair?"

"Does it look awful? I had to search the rug for the pins. And Rosa is much better than I'm at doing my coif. Rosa is very good at so many things. We help each other."

"Your hair looks wonderful. Believe me, no one would notice your hair." He patted the couch, indicating he wished for her to sit next to him. "I have ordered breakfast for you. It will be here shortly."

"Thank you. I'm hungry. I like food. Do you like food?" He gave a quick chuckle. "I certainly do. Very much."

"That is something else we have in common." She looked up at him as if waiting for confirmation.

He laughed out loud. "Yes–yes it is." He pulled her to him and kissed her. A quick kiss on the lips.

"Do you think I'm funny?"

If they lived together for a few years, perhaps he might be able to understand the way she thought. He had his doubts. "No, sweet. Well, yes, sometimes the way you say things. It is funny. Cute funny."

"Alright. That is acceptable."

"I'm so glad." He hugged her and kissed her again.

"Excuse me, my lord. Shall I come back?" The butler, Mr. Rogers, was unaccustomed to seeing Lord Claymont acting in such a way.

"No, is the food ready?" Martin kept his eyes on Muriel as he asked Mr. Rogers.

"Yes, my lord. Would you have me bring it in here or would you prefer the small breakfast room."

"Mr. Rogers, I will be happy to break my fast in the breakfast room. Thank you."

Martin gave Mr. Rogers a nod of approval and Mr. Rogers left. "Shall we?" He stood and assisted her up.

"Thank you, My lord." She smiled up at him. He kept his large hand across her back to guide her to the room. The food was already on the table. The footman, waiting to assist her with her chair.

"Tom, I will do that. I will ring if we need you."

"Yes, my lord." Tom quickly disappeared. Martin pulled out her chair. Took her beautiful, monogrammed napkin, shook it, and laid it on her lap.

"What is your wish, My lady? A rasher of bacon?"

"Yes, please. I love bacon."

"Note to self, buy more bacon. Cook made a cheese omelet for you. Would it please you to have that on your plate?"

"It looks delicious. I love cheese."

"Note to self, buy more cheese." "Scones, toast, or croissant?" "Yes!" She answered excitedly.

"All?" He laughed again. He would never have to worry about being humored with her around. "Yes. And butter. Lots of butter, if you please."

"Do celestials gain weight?"

"Celestials? No, I believe that they stay as they are. They can eat anything, like me."

"You never worry about your weight? Most ladies I have known are always conscious of their weight. You never worry?"

"No. Rosa does. Margaret does. I like to eat. Maybe because I fail to worry, I stay the same. But I have a strange-shaped body anyway. I'm like Mama. But she is beautiful."

"And you are not?"

"No, no. It is alright that I'm not. Is it alright with you?"

"It is perfectly fine with me. Now, I'm going to sit down and watch you eat all that breakfast."

"Thank you. I will."

Mr. Rogers entered the breakfast room. "Mr. Stewart to see you."

"Have him come in."

Frank entered the room. "Breakfast?" He looked at Muriel's plate. "Are you going to eat all that?"

"Yes, Mr. Stewart, I will give you some of my bacon."

He looked at Martin and shook his head. Martin shrugged. "Have you eaten? You have been busy since early this morning." Martin pulled a chair out for Frank.

"As a matter of fact, I could eat. If there is enough." Frank looked to Muriel. "I think there should be enough for you, too, Mr. Stewart."

Martin rang the breakfast bell. Tom entered immediately. "Yes, my lord."

"Another setting for Mr. Stewart. Frank, would you like coffee or tea."

"Coffee, please."

"Now, we have that settled. What of Mr. Trenchmouth. Was he at his flat? What did he have to say?"

"The news is not good, Martin. He was not there. The same as his office; his flat was ransacked. A real mess. I would think that Mr. Trenchmouth's clerk would have keys to his office. I will be there at nine o'clock to speak with him. So, unless someone spots Trenchmouth or he returns to his flat, we will have to wait until Monday."

"I have another favor to ask, Frank."

"Oh, Lord. What now?"

"I would like you to take Lady Muriel home."

"What? How do we court? You wish me to have Mr. Stewart court me?" She was, again, confused .

Again, Martin tried to choke down as laugh. "No, no, my sweet. I think it would look best if he delivered you home. Your mother might raise her eyebrows, would you not agree?"

"Well, If Mama was out of bed, she would. Rosa and Curtis would. Curtis had to leave for school so he could not be able to raise his eyebrows. Rosa will always raise her eyebrows. So, Mr. Stewart should take me home. Would you agree?"

"Martin, what just happened?" Frank looked at Martin in utter amazement.

"I'm most unsure, but I like it. What say you, Frank."

"Yes, I agree. Ethereal."