O'Roarke's Destiny (Cornish Rogues Book 1)

by Shehanne Moore

  Actually? A good point. Why had he done that? He blamed her for Rose.

  "I mean, as you must surely see ..." She swallowed. Was referring to the bounce, bounce such a good idea? But he was staring at her intently as if she'd said something of great value. "What you said that ... that exciseman wants, is the name of the man who put the barrels in the summerhouse. Correct? Not the sodding path he wheeled them along from the beach. Because that wouldn't just make me even more complicit, more vulnerable, than I am already, it would land me in big trouble with more than that same exciseman, whatever his name is. In short, I'd be lynched."

  "So? You're not going to tell me?"

  "Hello? What did I just say?" Was he post deaf, or plank thick he hadn’t heard it? But maybe it was the concept of her being vulnerable he was struggling to get his head around?

  Didn’t he know what death it would be for her around here to say any more? Why the hell did he think she was playing on it? The truth about Rose and Chancery, wasn't a card she could play.

  "Anyone would think you were in that man's pay the way you’re panning me head in about it. Because frankly, truly, what's a plain, ordinary house and garden designer needing names and all sorts for? Well? I’ve tried me best to be thankful. But if you thought I needed help out there, you were mistaken.”

  “Because that plain, ordinary house and garden designer needs something other than a name to give that exciseman."

  "What? So I can hang?"

  "I don't think it's unreasonable—"

  "No. I'm sure you'd like that as revenge for your precious Rose, who, if you did but know--"

  "I did see you out the other night is what I me--"

  "And?" All right, so she'd lost her amenability somewhat but no sodding wonder. "Let’s not forget, I saw you. Far as I know it's not a crime. Last night? Last night you as good as offered me a position in exchange for something vital. Turning a blind eye."

  Well, he had. She averted her gaze. My God. Was that why he was after a name? To divert suspicion from himself? Because he wasn’t a house and garden anything? How shocking sodding was this? And how stupid was she to have said so when he hated her guts? But then again he’d thrown her taking her place.

  "Well then ..." The glass clinked as he set it down and rose crisply to his feet. "I daresay he will find out what he needs from getting that name."

  Especially if he gave it. And actually if her head wasn’t so sodding done in by this, surely even she could see that where this left her was quite nicely placed in just about every way it was possible to be nicely placed? If he was a smuggler? If he wasn't? Well? Forgetting everything else and where the pieces landed.

  “Just refresh my mind will you?" he added, placing his hands on the back of his neck so he could stretch his obviously cramped shoulders.

  She raised her chin. “What about? Tom Berryman and how he gets the barrels up from the beach? And all these other things you think I know?" And probably wanted for himself?

  “What you said the other evening."

  "The other evening? What's the other evening got to do with Tom--"

  "This house, Destiny."

  And actually if her head wasn’t so sodding done in by this, surely even she could see that where this left her was quite nicely placed in just about every way it was possible to be nicely placed?

  When the words stopped ringing in her ears maybe? Now ... Now would be a good idea. Task one. Let a smile play even if her eyes felt as if they'd sunk to the back of her head. Trust him? As you would a poisonous snake. At least she hadn’t waved her drawers about thinking he’d taken her place because he liked her. On both counts, that would be right. That she should hope for better things too.

  “Oh, I’m quite sure you’ve not forgotten, Divers, so why don’t you just drop everything about the children and renovations, Tom Berryman and all your other plans? Hmm? And get to what you’ve been dying, since you came here, to say? Trying too. I mean, muffed it a bit, I must say. But now you've done what you just did for me earlier there's no need to be shy." She drained her own glass.

  "That's very good of you to say. I hope you think I am."

  “What? Good, Divers? Well, you must be shy. I mean, do you seriously think that curse or not, I don't know you’ve never been able to resist me? Well? Because the thing is?" Although her legs shook, she rose to her feet. "I'm not good."

  Did that take him off guard? The new commanding sodding bastard that was Divers O'Roarke wouldn't want to look scared now, would he? Certainly not before little old her.

  "Then I won’t resist you. Be in my room at ten tonight. Is that acceptable to you, Destiny?”

  Acceptable? Really funny this whole thing. Touse was the local exciseman here. Not this lot from where Divers O'Roarke had so recently hailed. London. What if they weren't excisemen at all? And he'd paid them to ...what? Only hail up here and threaten her, so he could then nip round the sodding corner with them for a bit, before popping back in a cart--that's what. Having had a good laugh about threatening the widow.

  Better still, maybe they were all in this together and who they really wanted to be in it with was Tom Berryman?Best? These men had set about searching the place like hounds after a fox. As if they knew exactly what they were looking for, where to find it too. As if they'd been tipped off. Tom Berryman would not have dug his own grave that way.

  So if he expected her to baulk? About his room? About tonight? Giving her every reason now to walk out that door, wouldn't he be waiting till kingdom come? She gilded her lips in the brightest smile she could manage. She even fingered his shoulder, hard in its covering of soft wool. Leaned up on tiptoes to do it too. Specially.

  "I can't wait are the words on my lips." Even if she wished his breath wouldn't hang on her like that when it came to special things.

  "Well, then ..."

  "Provided you do one thing."

  "And what's that?"

  "Get rid of these children. Who knows what I might find myself remembering then? Feel more disposed to talk about too."

  Gathering herself, she glided from the room.

  After all, he played with her. It did no harm to return the favor. Carrots and donkeys. Play her cards right and this house would be hers sooner than she’d thought, without him, and the sodding children in it too. As for telling him about Rose and Chancery? Pigs would fly round the Moon first in pretty little silver bows.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The sharp rap on the door, dragged Divers O’Roarke, from nursing the final dregs of the warm amber liquid in the crystal goblet.

  His gaze shot to Gil, sitting in the battered leather armchair opposite, before he could stop it.

  “Christ.” The word spilled from Gil’s mouth. “Not—”

  Divers held up a warning finger. “It won’t be her but I swear to God if it is and you snitch a syllable of it to Lyon—”

  “Me?”

  “Like you did earlier--”

  “Divers, I was just worried about you, man. Look … after Eirwin, do you blame me? I know her death cut you deep, I know you felt to blame, that you were involved because that’s what the job demands. You can say what you like about that. It’s obvious—”

  “What is?”

  He wasn’t about to hear another word on the subject of Destiny Rhodes. Especially when this might not even be Destiny Rhodes, although equally, he’d sent the servants packing, who the hell else could it be? He set his jaw. A little menace did no harm sometimes. “Well?”

  “Nothing.” Gil ran his fingers through his lank dark hair. “You know you can trust me. I thought--I thought that--”

  “Then I’ll trust you to get the hell out and let me deal with this. My way. Now.”

  Lowering his voice, he flicked his gaze and his thumb

  to the adjoining door. Gil could find his way out from there. Divers had had it out with him and had known him too long to believe he had anything less than Divers’ best interests to heart. Besides, snitch to Lyon about certai
n things and he’d be dangling alongside Divers. The court didn’t exist that would spare either of them. And however much Divers appeared to be messing this up, it was a surface apparition. He had this.He had to.

  “And don’t say, I told you so, either.” Divers set the empty glass down on the side table.

  “I won’t.” Gil rose. “But if there’s anything—”

  “Saddle a horse for her. She’s not staying. And find where her brother is—”

  “Penvellyn.”

  “Good. I want him out of this house tonight too. Throw a bag for him onto the lawn and lock the main door.”

  Another rap. Of course there were those who might say he shouldn’t have come upstairs but why should he skulk downstairs, giving her the advantage? No. If Destiny Rhodes was at the door, he’d open that door, looking as if this was what he expected, even if it wasn’t just the last thing he expected, it was the last thing he wanted.

  Fortunately she was hardly going to get into bed with him. Even if she was, he wasn’t going to let her. He’d sooner dig his grave with a tea leaf.

  Besides, not only did he remember that curse, he intended on living to a ripe old age, although sometimes he wondered. If it was worth it too.

  He waited till Gil had gone before opening the door. Take her? With that hatchet-jaw, dead eyes and that dowd’s, plain as crow’s feathers and looking like them too, dress? The world would grind to a halt and die on its axis, if women presented themselves to their potential lovers like this. He wrinkled his nose. Or would it?

  “Destiny.”

  “Well, Divers, as you can see, it’s not Grandfather Austell's stuffed parrots."

  “And charming as always. Or is that something that doesn’t come with the house?”

  “I didn’t put it on the table." And yet she spoke in that earthy way that meant it really didn’t matter whether it was or not. As for the lavender scent? Please don't let his nose follow it. "I didn’t know it was required. You did say you wanted me here at ten. You never said I had to be civil about it.”

  “Well, that’s where I’m sorry to disappoint you but—”

  “What? You want me to be civil?”

  “Why change the habits of a lifetime?”

  “So what's the disappointment?"

  He stared at the passageway as she swept past him through the door.

  “The children. Yes. You specified my sending them away. I didn’t. Well … I mean, I said they can come back again tomorrow morning. If you think I am going back on that, you can think again. So really Destiny, given your terms and what, you must understand, I want for Lydie, I don’t see …”

  “Oh, that?” His heart sank to match the armchair the squeak said she'd doubtlessly sat on. He just didn’t want to drag his gaze around to check. But when he'd decided he didn't want, or need, to hear what she had to spill either, 'oh that?' wasn't expected or nearly good enough. Obviously she was disappointed. She just wasn't going to say so.

  "Yes. That. So?"

  "Well, I don't know about you but that was just something I said. On reflection, I quite like children. They are actually very nice. Well, some of them anyway. Yes. Ennis and I had very much hoped for some. But that never happened this side of hell. God help them if it had, I hear you thinking. And you'd be right. But God would have been helping you too. I wouldn't have had to come back here if it had happened."

  He turned to face her, ignoring the fact she sat there like a black shroud. A sad day when Destiny Rhodes didn’t know she should dress for a lover, though. Should sit there, her eyes like desolate stars in the candlelight bleating her and Ennis’s great love of children, too, like a plaintive sheep with its backside stuck on a wire, except she wasn’t a sheep and her backside was stuck here.

  "Anyway?" She cleared her throat, thin in the mourning brooch at it. “You did say to be here at ten and it’s ten. So?"

  “I’m glad you can tell the time. I wouldn’t have liked to go to sleep not knowing.” Fortunately it wasn’t Divers’ place to let pity trickle into a single ventricle of his heart. These chambers were already dead as the dead they housed. “I wouldn’t like you to go to sleep not knowing either that—"

  “What? That I’m so very unappetizing you want me to go?” She flicked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, bit that suddenly succulent lower lip. When she'd as good as killed Rose too. "Well?"

  “Frankly, do you want me to answer?”

  "If you feel you must."

  Truly? It would be nice to leave her with something, despite everything she’d done, everything she’d said, the fact Rose would find even more corners to ambush him from, she wasn’t unattractive. But how could he? Lyon had spoken and he would speak some more too if he got wind of some of the contents of that conversation earlier. In fact he’d do more than speak. Divers had a name. While it would be nice to have some more--and Lyon would want more--he hadn’t thrown down this gauntlet for that. Maybe he was simply seeing spectres that weren’t there? Destiny Rhodes had always been a great player of men, their hopes, their fears. Despite the dull eyes, the fact she seemed, on the surface to be sleepwalking through life after the great blow it had given her, last night had proved she was also fighting for her life here when she had turned tables on him. So chances about what she knew about this operation, were things he wasn’t prepared to take. Not after Eirwin. Not when Lyon could be on to him.

  “The question is this. I cursed you. I cursed you and your brothers –”

  “One of whom—”

  “Blew his brains out at midnight. Do you seriously think I didn’t trouble myself to find out?”

  “Oh, I’m sure—"

  “May everything you touch, turn to dust.”

  “Sorry? These words are not ones I remem—”

  “But I do. So, on reflection, given how many people have done just that around you, how even this place has pretty much done the same, and there’s your other brother, a sad drunk—"

  “I am sure there is no need to talk about Orwell that way, even if it sadly is the truth, because of--”

  “Do you really think I’m going to let you touch me with so much as a twenty foot pole? Now, you have half an hour. Gather your things, take whatever little tarnished trays, or cross-eyed parrots—”

  “Cross-eyed parrots?”

  “--you want. And go. Leave. Hell if it’s money you want, I’ll even give you some.”

  He dug in his breeches’ pocket.

  “I hope you think I want your money.”

  Just as well when he’d have to write her an ‘I owe you’. But maybe it just eased the amusement flickering in his veins, to be magnanimous when he’d scored one about these bloody awful parrots, belonging to her equally awful, bloody chiselling, peg-legged, frog of a grandfather, who, to even have one parrot, never mind five of the fecking damn things, must have been a pirate.

  Divers could quite picture the old skunk with them sitting on his shoulder. No wonder his stepmother had run away. Hell, the pity was she’d ever run back. A nice woman from all he remembered. As good to him as his own might have been had she lived. In a way thank God she’d died before he’d uttered that curse or he’d feel responsible.

  “No.” He eyed her squarely, spoke in his deepest, most impressive voice. “What you want, is me here tonight. But as I said--"

  “Oh, you always were the cocky one."

  “It’s not cocky, it's not self flattery. Me here tonight, falling into your trap. A woman whose heart is blacker now than it was then, which is really saying something, who thinks she can waltz in here and lead me like a siren onto the rocks. Please don’t look as if you’re astonished. I know the pretence that is. Just think of the fact you gave that name.”

  “Because you sodding asked me to. Do you really think I’d have done—"

  "A first for you to do anything someone asks you.”

  “As for that night, that one you seem incapable of

  forgetting—”

  “Can we just leave that
night out of this? You see, I think what you did earlier shows the kind of woman you are and what you’re prepared to sacrifice in order to stay here. Perhaps have your revenge, in some way? Correct? For Ennis?"

  “Me? Oh, chance would be a fine thing. Especially what I'm starting to thin--"

  “And if you were prepared, why would that be?” That she should sit there and say what she had, shouldn't just cause alarm to creep like a vine from his fingertips to his face, it should send it snaking back down again, squeezing the breath from his body. When the most she could resort to, without any kind of proof and Lyon at his back, and her mixing with smugglers, was cheap trickery though? No. The thing was to face her down with his usual cool. After all, what rabbit could she pull from the hat that would change that? What hat did she even have, let alone rabbit? “You tell me, " he added, "when if anyone deserved to be where they are now, I’m looking at that person. So that sacrifice won’t include me. Now … ” In case she was in any doubt, he stood to the side of the door. He held it open too. “This isn’t about revenge but I do want you out of here within the hour.”

  “Really?” He’d the satisfaction of seeing her throat tighten. Unfortunately his groin did too. “Oh I think it’s about revenge all right.”

  “Now Destiny, nothing is further from the case."

  “What? When you won’t even hear me out about all the things I have to say?"

  "I don't need to."

  "The things I know."

  "You told me earlier."

  "No. I never did. Not the things, the real things, the things I know that—"

  “Destiny, there is nothing. Nothing you can say to me here tonight that will make me change my mind about letting you stay here in this house that you don't own because your brother threw it away in a game of cards. A game that was not rigged, contrary to what you think.”

  Because there wasn’t. So if she got a little fraught, that bright, glazed manner crumbling like a sea wall that had stood so long it didn't know how to fall down? Well? It wasn't his concern. It was on her to stop being wilder than that same sea that hit it. The most she could do was take her fists off his chest before leaving. So long as it wasn’t his broken ribs it wasn’t exactly anything to fear.