Wicked With the Scoundrel

by Elizabeth Bright

  Yes, Claire knew that to be true.

  “What do you suggest, then?” she asked.

  “Simply refuse to marry him until he comes to his senses.” Riya set her tea down with a harsh clink. “It’s high time Colin learned that his way of doing things is not necessarily the right way. Sometimes a man must cede the lead, even if it is to a lady. And you, my dearest Claire, are just such a lady.”

  “A lady who what?” Mr. Mukherjee asked as he entered the room. He looked about. “I thought I smelled tea.”

  “I’ll ring for another dish,” Adelaide said, reaching for the pull.

  “Thank you. A lady who what?” he repeated.

  “A lady who can make Colin be reasonable,” Riya said. “If such lady exists, that is. I am not yet entirely convinced.”

  “Ah.” Mr. Mukherjee studied Claire. “You are not happy to stay in England with your family and friends?”

  She gave him a look full of reproach. “You know I am not. And you might have warned me.”

  “My loyalty is to my partner, my lady.” He lifted his shoulders apologetically. “Even if he has parted ways with his senses.”

  She could hardly fault Mr. Mukherjee for that. But—

  She straightened as a thought occurred to her. “Your partner?”

  “Yes. Did you not know?” He looked puzzled.

  “I suppose I did, yes, but I never gave much thought to his business arrangements. Are you equal partners? That is, do you have the same power to make decisions?”

  He laughed. “Yes, although I must say we are not always of a similar mind, and it therefore takes some doing to make decisions to which we both agree.”

  “Hmm.” She pondered that as she sipped her tea. “Mr. Mukherjee, I find myself in need of your services. I would like to hire you.”

  He cocked his head. “Oh? And what do you require of me, my lady?”

  “Why, to take me to Egypt, of course.”

  For a long moment, Mr. Mukherjee said nothing. Then, slowly, he grinned.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Colin awoke to an empty bed—which was disappointing but expected, considering they were not yet married—along with the feeling of being watched, which was alarming and not expected at all. He bolted upright and found Deb reclining in the wingback chair, his long legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles.

  A quick check beneath the bed linens confirmed Colin’s suspicions. He was naked.

  “I haven’t any breeches,” he said.

  “You haven’t any brain,” Deb replied. He seemed disinclined to help with either problem.

  “Don’t be an ass.” Colin leaned back and stared at the ceiling. His stomach ached, reminding him of last night’s events. Damn it all, he needed his clothes. Somewhere in this house was Claire, and doubtless she was still angry with him. “Why are you here, in my room, before breakfast?”

  “I’m leaving for Egypt. I thought you might want to know.”

  Colin stilled. “When?”

  “Today.”

  The single word came like a blow to his gut. “But I am to be married tomorrow. You will not stand up with me at my wedding?”

  “Ah. About that. Where did I…?” He patted his legs, then his chest. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded packet of paper. “We have been hired to oversee an expedition to Egypt. It leaves today.”

  Colin narrowed his eyes. “We are already overseeing an expedition to Egypt, which also leaves today. Or rather, we were. Why in God’s name would we lead some nob’s venture when we have a venture of our own? How can we possibly do both?”

  “We combine them. The payment is too much to decline.” Deb lifted one shoulder. “This nob wishes to join the expedition in person and requires two men as guides. I am one. You could be the other.”

  “No, I could not,” Colin growled. “Because I am to be married tomorrow.”

  Deb tilted his head. “That will be difficult, considering your bride-to-be is the nob.”

  Colin stared at him blankly, trying to make sense of the words. What was Deb saying? That Claire—

  No. No, it wasn’t possible. Claire couldn’t have hired Deb to take her to Egypt. That would mean she intended to jilt Colin. That she intended to leave him.

  Hell, no.

  With a roar, he tossed back the linens and leaped, naked, from the bed. “She will do no such thing! Where are my bloody breeches?” He stalked to the wardrobe and threw it open. It was empty. “Where the fuck are my clothes?”

  Deb ignored the question. “Ah, but she has. The contract is signed and right here in my hand. You may take a look at it, if you like.”

  Colin ceased his surprisingly futile search for trousers and snatched the papers from his traitorous friend. He scanned the words quickly at first, without success. He started again, slower this time. But he was too enraged to make sense of the letters. Frustrated, he turned the page. And there, just as Deb had said, was Claire’s signature.

  “Aha!” He waived the paper triumphantly. “The signature is hers! She has no right to sign anything. The contract is—” There was probably an official word for it, but he didn’t know what it was. “Nonsense.”

  “She is of age,” Deb reminded him, “and commands her own fortune. And, since she is not yet married, she has not ceded all her rights to you. It is perfectly legal.”

  “No. It is not. It conflicts with the betrothal contract her father signed.”

  Deb arched a dark brow. “So it does. What will you do about it? Bankrupt her father?”

  Colin scowled. “If need be.”

  Not for very long, of course. He would return the money when she came to her senses and married him.

  “No, you will not.” Deb was on his feet and across the room before Colin could prepare. He delivered several light, quick slaps to Colin’s cheek. “Have you lost your mind? Get hold of yourself, man!”

  The slaps did not hurt, but they woke him up a bit. He blinked. No, of course he couldn’t sue her father, nor any other horrible thing that would only break her heart.

  He sank to the bed, defeated. “What am I to do?”

  Deb reached for the bell pull. A maid appeared almost instantly. “Mr. Smith’s clothes, if you please.”

  The maid nodded and was gone.

  “Lady Claire is going to Egypt,” Deb said, as though that were perfectly reasonable. “Which leaves you with a choice. You can stay here and trust that I will return her to you safely in a few years or so. Or you can accompany us, marry the girl, and live happily ever after.”

  “Unless she dies,” Colin said darkly. His chest squeezed painfully at the very thought.

  “People do, sometimes,” Deb agreed. “But I don’t understand why you think it is more likely to happen in Egypt. People die everywhere. Even in England. I once heard of a viscount who died from a bee sting. Imagine that!”

  “Precisely my point. If anyone were to die from a bee sting, it would be her. She is a lady. She was not bred for hardship. Her hands have never even seen the sun! We walked less than a quarter mile, and her foot bled. The ton is not like us, Deb. They are ridiculously fragile.”

  “Like us? You seem to forget, bandhu, that the Mukherjee family is just as wealthy as Chatwell. And yet, I survived the ocean. I survived Egypt.” He threw his arms wide. “I have even survived England, so far, and that was a much harder task.”

  “You are different,” Colin said crossly. “You cannot deny you have an unusual knack for survival, Deb. What would kill an elephant leaves you unscathed. Anyway, you are a man.”

  “Riya is a woman.”

  Damn it. Colin raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I would not have allowed it. If she had been my sister, I would have made her stay safely at home.”

  “Fortunately for Riya, you are not. You would make a very bad brother, Colin. Quite selfish. Lady Claire has told you that she wants to see Egypt,” Deb said. “I suggest you take her at her word.”

  Colin looke
d up. “But what if what she wants will destroy her?” he asked quietly. “How am I to bear that?”

  “Ah. I believe—”

  He was interrupted by the maid returning with Colin’s clothing. Deb took the breeches, top hat, and other items and shooed her away. “An hour, perhaps, but no more than two,” he said cryptically before turning back to Colin.

  “I believe,” he began again, “that this is not about Lady Claire. Not remotely. It’s certainly not about her fragility. It’s about yours.”

  Colin bristled. “Say that again,” he growled.

  “It’s yours,” Deb repeated, unperturbed by the angry, now only half-naked man. “You’re afraid of being hurt.”

  Colin made a derisive sound and gestured to his bandaged stomach. “I can take pain. To keep her safe, I would die for her, if it came to that.”

  “No doubt,” Deb agreed quietly. “But then, it is so much easier to be the one who dies rather than the one left behind to grieve. And I think the thought of losing someone you love terrifies you.”

  Colin angrily pulled the shirt of fine white lawn over his head. “I am not alone in that.”

  “Indeed. But some of us deal with such fear better than others. And you— Well, I happen to remember how you came to be imprisoned in Calcutta. It was the day you received your mother’s letter, the one telling you she was now mostly out of danger.”

  Colin closed his eyes briefly. “I hadn’t known she was ill.”

  “No. It was as though a storm had caught your soul. You couldn’t sit still, couldn’t speak. And when you bumped against an Englishman and he called you a name, you broke his nose. Thank the gods it was only the man standing next to him, and not Lord Moira himself, else you would be dead right now.”

  Colin probably would have been dead, regardless, had Nick not needed his language skills and somehow found a way to free him.

  “Any other day you would have ignored him. But you wanted a fight. You couldn’t prevent someone you loved being hurt, so you chose to hurt someone else or be hurt yourself. Your only solution for feeling pain is to create more pain. Foolishness.” He took the snowy white cravat from Colin’s hands, looped it around his neck, and tied the proper knot with a flourish.

  “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?” Colin demanded. God, the cravat was choking him. He pulled at it, and Deb swatted his hand like he was an unruly child.

  “Marry her.”

  Colin wrenched away. “You don’t understand.”

  “Because I’ve never lost anyone, do you mean?” Ice crept into his friend’s voice. “I’ve lost friends to war, my homeland to your tea pirates, and my parents to sheer bad luck. Do you think I did not grieve every one of them? My misery was so great I thought I would drown in it.”

  Colin grimaced. God, he truly was an ass. Of course his friend knew what it was to lose a loved one. It was the death of his parents that had sent them on their journey to Egypt to begin with.

  Colin opened his eyes and asked, “How did you bear it?”

  “I do not fight the rising of the sun, nor its setting. I wake up every morning accepting that terrible things might happen to myself or to those I love. I go to bed accepting that someone I love might die the next day.”

  “That is not helpful,” Colin said bitterly.

  “And I accept that it is better to have death and terrible things than not. Because the only way not to is to be entirely alone without even so much as a dog to love. I am glad I had all those days with my friends before they died. I am glad my mother kissed me good night. I am glad that just yesterday Riya told me I was an insufferable ass, and I will have that memory if tomorrow she dies.”

  Colin swallowed hard. “I feel so helpless.”

  “That’s because you are,” Deb said pragmatically. “We all are.”

  Which meant, of course, that the only choice Colin had left to make was what to do with his missing bride. He could chase her to Egypt, knowing she might die from…well, from anything, but hopefully not a crocodile. And that her death would leave him in hellish pain.

  Or he could…stop loving her?

  Stop loving the woman whose laugh was the sound of joy reincarnated after sorrow.

  Stop loving the woman who believed in the possibility of mermaids.

  Stop loving the woman whose dresses cost more than his mother’s wages for a year, yes, but who did not flinch from sweat or dirt.

  No. That was impossible.

  And he didn’t even want to try.

  Deb, damn his poet’s soul, was right. Colin didn’t want to live without loving Claire. She was the best part of being alive. Even five minutes of being with her was worth the risk of despair.

  He needed to find her.

  Now.

  He tugged on his boots and stood. Deb handed him the top hat. For a moment, he just stared at it. Then he looked at the rest of his clothing.

  “What the devil am I wearing?” he asked.

  “I wondered when you would notice.” Deb smiled beatifically. “As we speak, Lady Claire is boarding a ship to Egypt. Perhaps if you beg very, very sweetly, she will allow you to join her.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Claire considered herself to be a sensible, realistic sort of person. The reality of her life was that wealth and breeding gave her every reason to expect a positive outcome in nearly all of her endeavors. If she wanted a hat, she got it. If she wanted an invitation to dance, she got that, too.

  She had never asked for much. When one could have everything one wanted, there was very little actually worth wanting. Certainly, she had never wanted anything in her life so much as she wanted Colin to appear this very moment. And she was very much afraid that for the first time in her life, she might not get what she wanted.

  “I ought to have taken your idea, Adelaide, and used ether,” Claire said miserably. “Surely, he should be here by now? Mr. Mukherjee sent word.”

  “It’s only been a quarter of an hour,” Adelaide said complacently. “He will be here.”

  Claire smiled gratefully. That was the wonderful thing about friends. When one lost hope, friends picked up the mantle.

  “Oh, here they come now,” Adelaide said, holding a hand above her brow to shield her eyes from the sun.

  Claire turned to see Colin stalking toward them. Beneath the brim of his top hat, his brows were drawn together in a scowl that might have rivaled Zeus when he discovered Prometheus had been set free.

  Her pulse gave a nervous jump.

  Oh, dear.

  “Mr. Smith looks rather…um— I’ll just go see that everything is ready,” Adelaide said hastily. She scuttled off, leaving Claire to face Colin alone.

  “My lady.” Mr. Mukherjee bowed slightly. “As promised.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She smiled at him before shifting her gaze nervously to Colin.

  Mr. Mukherjee likewise looked at Colin. He cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be…elsewhere.” He retreated to the gangway, hastily boarding the ship.

  Colin said nothing.

  Claire waited, her heartbeat thrumming painfully hard in her chest. Around them hummed the sounds of a ship being readied for voyage. Birds squawked, men shouted, wood creaked and groaned.

  But Colin remained silent.

  “Would you like to come aboard?” Claire asked timidly.

  His eyes narrowed as he pinned her with a hard stare. “What I would like to do is throttle you.”

  She had expected him to be angry. Only, perhaps, a little less so. She clasped her hands in front of her and gazed at him beseechingly. “I love you, Colin.”

  A dark flush spread across his cheekbones. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “But?”

  Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Pardon?”

  “You love me, but…?” He waved a hand, gesturing for her to continue. “Finish it.”

  She shook her head. “No. I love you, Colin. And I am going to Egypt. There is no exception. Those two facts are not m
utually exclusive. They can survive together. They can thrive together.”

  His shaking hands took hold of her arms. “I won’t let you go without me. I’ll follow you, on this very ship. You agreed to marry me. Hell, you proposed to me. I’ll be damned if I let you wiggle out of your promise.” The words were harsh and demanding, but his tone was vulnerable and pleading. “Please, Claire.”

  “I am not trying to wiggle out of anything.” Certainly not his arms. If anything, it was a struggle not to wiggle closer. “It is you who broke faith. Do I need to remind you that this was always the plan? We would marry and then go to Egypt. And that is exactly what I intend to do.”

  After a brief hesitation, his grip loosened, and he leaned back to study her carefully. “You intend to marry me?”

  “Of course I’m going to marry you,” she said as if he had grown horns. “The banns have been read. The captain can do the honors.” A lock of Colin’s hair had escaped his hat. She tucked it back, her fingers lingering against his cheek. “What, exactly, do you think we are doing here?”

  “I—” He peered at her uncertainly. “I thought you were leaving me.”

  “Never.” Now that she had her hand on him, she couldn’t seem to stop touching him. She caressed his cheek, then shook herself free of his grasp to loop her arms about his neck. “I am never leaving you.”

  “But you were going to Alexandria.”

  “I am going to Alexandria,” she corrected. “And I’m taking you with me.” She stretched up onto her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I’m abducting you, my love.”

  “Are you?” A hint of incredulity, then amusement, crept into his voice. “But I am so much larger than you, darling. However will you manage it?”

  “Adelaide suggested ether.” Claire moved her lips to the hinge of his jaw, where his pulse beat hard against the skin. “But Mr. Mukherjee thought I needn’t be so rash, that you would come willingly enough. How did he persuade you?”

  “He told me you were aboard the ship and intended to leave without me. It was quite motivating, I must say,” Colin said drily.