Scoundrel of Dunborough

by Margaret Moore

  “Father Denzail and I agreed that it would be a fine idea to pay Eua to serve the mother superior. Eua will surely make life less than delightful for that woman.”

  “And you claim you have no gift for governance!”

  He tried to look modest and didn’t succeed. “It was one of my better ideas,” he agreed. “The other was asking you to be my wife.”

  “I love you, Gerrard,” she said, taking hold of his arm and leaning against him. “I only wish I could have seen the mother superior’s face when you jumped onto her carriage like a monkey.”

  He widened his eyes and made his mouth a round O, making Celeste giggle with delight.

  “Now, there’s a sound I hope to hear more of,” he noted as they reached the gate to the yard of her family’s house.

  “Eua looked as if she’d never seen me before in her life,” he added somewhat wistfully.

  “She had to or the mother superior might have been suspicious and not taken her to the convent,” Celeste said comfortingly, and with renewed determination to make her husband feel loved and cherished for the rest of his days.

  In the next moment, though, her thoughts were on what they had to do now. It was strange to think that her family’s house was going to belong to Ewald.

  “Take heart, my love,” Gerrard said softly, rightly understanding how she was feeling. “After today, you’ll be with someone who loves you with all his heart.”

  She gave him a smile and continued to the door, where she reached into her cuff and produced the key.

  Even with Gerrard beside her, she couldn’t help trembling a little as she recalled the last time she’d been there. Lewis’s attack, the struggle...

  “It’s just as well this will be someone else’s house,” she said as they entered the main room.

  The furniture was as it had been, and to her surprise, the ginger cat was sitting in front of the panel that had been broken in the struggle. Joseph looked as if he’d been waiting for her.

  “Will you come back to the castle with us, Joseph, or would you rather stay here?” she murmured, crouching down to stroke the cat’s broad back.

  “That is a rather miraculous creature,” Gerrard noted. “He showed me the peas that led me to you.”

  “Truly?”

  “Truly.”

  “Then we should take him with us, to bring us good— Gerrard!” She slid forward, staring with awe at the space behind the broken panel. “Gerrard, look!”

  She pulled out a leather bag covered in dust. It was large enough to hold a loaf of bread and clinked suggestively. “Oh, Gerrard, I think... It must be...”

  She undid the leather drawstring and poured the contents into her lap—gold and silver coins, a necklace of gold links, an emerald ring and a ruby necklace.

  Her father’s hidden hoard.

  “So it was here, after all,” Gerrard said quietly.

  “And Audrey never found it.”

  “She never spoke of it, so perhaps she doubted its existence, as I did.”

  “Yet it could have meant freedom for her, or at least a chance to choose a husband she could love,” Celeste replied as she began to gather up the treasure and put it back into the pouch.

  “What will you do with it now?”

  She raised her eyes to look at him and got to her feet. “Since you’re my husband, by law it all belongs to you.”

  Gerrard shook his head. “No, not mine. Yours, to do with as you will.”

  “Then I should like to make sure Audrey’s debts are all paid, and since it’s doubtful the mother superior will be at Saint Agatha’s much longer, I’d like to give some to Sister Sylvester for the medicines she needs, and more food and wine for the nuns and novices. The rest should be for the people of Dunborough. Your father spent all his money and tithes building the castle. I would have this spent on the village and maybe a new church, if you are willing.”

  “Indeed I am. The people of Dunborough are owed for all they gave my father and a new church is a fine idea. Perhaps it could have a bell and a stained glass window, too, something Father Denzail would like.”

  Clutching the pouch, Celeste felt her eyes fill with tears and she held him close. She had always known he was a brave and bold fellow. Lately she had learned he was honorable and worthy of admiration. Now she knew that he was truly kind and generous, and willing to change his ways if he was shown better ones. “Thank you, Gerrard.”

  As they embraced, she dropped the pouch, and some of the jewels and coins spilled onto the floor. One of the baubles caught Joseph’s attention and he began to pat it with his paw.

  “Dear God in heaven and all the saints, too!”

  Startled, they jumped apart. Ewald stood in the doorway staring with stunned surprise not at them, but at the treasure on the floor. “Is that... Are they...real?”

  As Celeste put the money and jewelry back into the pouch, Gerrard picked up a gold coin and dramatically bit it, then held it out to Ewald, the dent clearly visible. “It seems the rumors were true and there was a treasure hidden here.”

  “S’blood!” the merchant murmured, for once unable to say more.

  “I’ll fetch the deed, Ewald,” Celeste said.

  That woke him up from his stupor. He reached into his belt and drew out a purse considerably smaller than Celeste’s pouch. “I’ve brought the money.” His eyes locked onto the pouch in her hand as if by an invisible force. “Do you suppose there’s any more hidden somewhere else?”

  “I don’t think so,” she answered honestly. “But since this house is yours, you can search all you like.”

  “Does your husband agree?” Ewald asked.

  “The sale was Celeste’s to make, so I have no objection,” Gerrard replied.

  “Excellent!” the merchant exclaimed, regarding the room with renewed interest and a gleam of avarice in his eyes that made her think the walls would soon be torn asunder.

  She had a moment’s regret about selling the house, until she thought of her new home and life with Gerrard.

  She retrieved the deed and returned to find Gerrard holding Joseph. The cat jumped out of his arms and, tail swishing, sat beside him.

  When she handed Ewald the deed in exchange for the coins, he gave a perfunctory nod of acknowledgment, then immediately went to a panel and began to pull it from the wall.

  With tears in her eyes, Celeste hurried from the house, followed by the cat and her husband, who drew her into his arms.

  She wept a little, then sniffled and looked up into Gerrard’s sympathetic eyes. “I shouldn’t be so sad. I’m sure Audrey would be happy for me. And her spirit isn’t in that house.” Celeste touched her chest. “It’s here, with me, always.”

  He nodded and kissed her gently, holding her close.

  The November air was cold, and soon it would be dark and colder still. But here, as they started their lives together, it was spring.

  And it always would be.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from IN DEBT TO THE EARL by Elizabeth Rolls.

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Historical.

  You dream of wicked rakes, gorgeous Highlanders, muscled Viking warriors and rugged Wild West cowboys from another era. Harlequin Historical has them all! Emotionally intense stories set across many time periods.

  Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Historical every month!

  Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!

  Other ways to keep in touch:

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  HarlequinBlog.com

  In Debt to the Earl

  by Elizabeth Rollsr />
  Prologue

  March 1802

  ‘Damn it, Paget.’ James, Lord Cambourne, stared down at the battered, unconscious face of his young cousin, Nick Remington. ‘What the hell happened? Has the doctor been?’

  Nick’s manservant, Paget, nodded. ‘Yes, m’lord. I sent for the doctor immediately. He’s just left.’

  ‘And?’

  Paget tucked the blankets more securely around his young master. ‘Just bruising, a cracked rib and a knock to the head.’

  ‘Just?’ James took exception to the servant’s soothing tone. ‘For God’s sake, Paget! You’re taking it mighty calmly! Does the boy make a habit of this?’

  ‘No!’ Paget glanced at Nick, who shifted restlessly, and lowered his voice. ‘My lord, if we might go into the sitting room? Doctor Greaves said he ought to sleep—’

  ‘James?’ The voice was barely a whisper. ‘That you?’

  The blue eyes, one distinguished by a black eye of impressive proportions, were open, if bleary. Under the scrapes and bruises, his face was nearly as white as his pillow.

  ‘Yes,’ James said. ‘What the devil have you been about, you idiot?’ Relief roughened his voice.

  ‘Being an idiot,’ Nick got out through a split lip. ‘Did Paget send for you?’

  ‘Well, of course I did, Master Nick,’ Paget said. ‘You were attacked!’

  ‘What?’ James had been assuming a falling out of friends that had got out of hand. ‘Attacked?’

  Nick’s gaze fastened on Paget. ‘Tell me you didn’t send for the mater and pater. Please.’

  ‘No, sir.’ Paget’s tone was soothing. ‘Just his lordship.’

  ‘Thank God.’ Nick attempted to sit up and the bedclothes fell back, revealing his naked torso, even as he sank down cursing.

  James’s eyes widened and he swore savagely. Nick’s body was livid with bruises.

  ‘Looks as bad as it feels, does it?’ Nick managed a weak grin.

  ‘Stay on the damn pillow.’ James enforced the command with a gentle hand on his cousin’s shoulder. ‘I can’t blame you for not wanting to see your parents, but unless you wish me to send for them, you will do as you are told.’

  ‘Bully,’ Nick said with a half smile.

  ‘Believe it,’ James said. ‘Who beat you?’ Because that was what it looked like—a deliberate and brutal beating.

  Nick grimaced. ‘Did I mention that I was an idiot?’

  ‘You did,’ James said. ‘Unnecessary, but you did mention it. Go on.’

  ‘Well, I lost a bit of money.’

  ‘How much is a bit?’ James asked.

  ‘Er...quite a bit. A couple of monkeys.’

  James bit back several choice remarks. No doubt Nick was already thinking them anyway. ‘A couple of monkeys.’ His voice expressed polite interest. ‘You lost a thousand at— What? Cards? Dice? A horse?’

  ‘Cards,’ Nick said. ‘The thing is—’

  ‘You couldn’t pay.’ James failed to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. A thousand was more than Nick’s entire annual allowance.

  ‘No.’ Nick’s voice was weary, his eyes closed. James glanced at Paget, who gestured to the door. On the whole James agreed. Nick was safe and the story could wait. But Nick’s eyes opened again.

  ‘I couldn’t pay and he sold my vowels.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Chap called Hensleigh. Captain Hensleigh,’ Nick said.

  ‘Never heard of him,’ James said. But Captain Hensleigh was going to hear from him. ‘Navy or army?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What sort of captain?’ James asked.

  Nick grimaced. ‘Oh. Sharp, I should think.’

  A Captain Sharp. Wonderful. Nick had come up to town for the first time, lost more money than he could pay to a professional card cheat and been beaten up.

  James glanced at Paget. ‘Is there any coffee?’

  ‘I roasted and ground beans earlier,’ Paget said. ‘But Mr Nick fell asleep. It won’t take long.’

  ‘Thank you,’ James said.

  ‘Sorry,’ Nick mumbled. ‘Should have offered.’

  James snorted. ‘We’ll just assume your manners have gone begging in the same place as your wits.’

  ‘Get the coffee, Paget,’ Nick said. ‘There’s a good chap.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  James turned back to Nick. ‘Any chance those bruisers are coming back? Where did this happen?’

  ‘Off Fleet Street, near the Strand.’

  ‘What in God’s name took you down there?’ James demanded.

  ‘Looking for Hensleigh,’ Nick said. ‘He gave me a week and it wasn’t quite up.’ He met James’s gaze. ‘I couldn’t pay. I knew that and I was going to ask for more time.’

  ‘What? And stop in at St Clement Danes on your way back up the Strand to pray for a miracle?’ James asked.

  Nick flushed. ‘No. I was going to come to you and...and ask for advice. But I didn’t find Hensleigh and I ran into my attackers on the way back.’

  ‘My advice would have been to stay out of gaming hells in the first place,’ James said. ‘However, that’s done. Why the hell didn’t you stop when the play got too deep?’ A question for the ages, that one.

  He watched as Nick swallowed. ‘I... I thought I could win it all back. You...you see, I did win at first. Quite a lot. And then—’

  ‘And then you lost a bit. Not much, but a bit,’ James said. It was a familiar story.

  ‘Yes,’ Nick said. ‘And I won it back quite quickly, but then—’

  ‘Then you really started losing,’ James finished for him. ‘Haven’t you played enough salmon in your time to know when you’re being played?’

  ‘Apparently not.’ Nick fiddled with the bedclothes. ‘What do I do now? I can’t pay this debt and even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to pay for my lodgings, or eat, or—’

  ‘Precisely,’ James said. ‘Did you enjoy it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The cards. The play. The excitement.’ He needed to know if he was going to be wasting his money. He’d bail Nick out this first time, regardless, but if the boy was a bred-in-the-bone gamester, he needed to know. As things stood, Nick’s father, William, was his heir, with Nick next in line.

  ‘Oh.’ Nick grimaced. ‘No. Not much.’

  ‘Really?’ Was the boy just giving the answer he must know his cousin wanted?

  ‘Well, winning was fun,’ Nick admitted.

  ‘Winning is supposed to be fun,’ James said.

  ‘Yes, but I have more fun, say, steeplechasing,’ Nick said. ‘Even if I don’t win, the ride is fun.’

  ‘And gaming isn’t?’

  Nick shook his head. And winced. ‘No. I felt sick most of the time.’

  Relief flooded James. ‘Come down this summer and we’ll race. There’s a colt you can try out for me. He’s not up to my weight.’

  ‘If the pater ever lets me off the leash again,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll have to write to him. Tell him what I’ve done and—’

  ‘I’ll sort it out,’ James said. ‘No need to upset your parents.’ William and Susan were good people, but the boy would never hear the last of it and he suspected Nick had learned his lesson. Learned it the hard way, but at least he had learned it. Many never did. Also, William couldn’t afford to settle a debt like this. James could.

  ‘What? No!’ This time Nick did sit up, swearing at the pain. ‘Curse it, James!’ he went on, when James had helped him back against the pillows. ‘I wanted advice, not your money!’

  ‘If I didn’t believe that, you wouldn’t be getting either,’ James said. ‘Listen, you aren’t the first youngster to make a fool of himself in London, and—’ he grimaced slightly at the memory ‘—I don’t
suppose I was either.’

  ‘You?’ Nick sounded as though he could as easily have believed St Paul’s had heaved itself up off its foundations and walked away on chicken legs.

  James reminded himself that his cousin was nineteen. ‘I wasn’t born staid and respectable,’ he said. Far from it.

  Nick flushed to the roots of his hair. ‘I didn’t mean that! It just seems unlikely that you could have done something this stupid.’

  He’d been a great deal more stupid. ‘Believe it or not, you don’t have a monopoly on idiocy,’ he said. ‘But that’s beside the point. The point is that someone bailed me out and never let me repay her.’

  Nick stared. ‘Her? Who?’

  James cleared his throat. ‘What I’m saying is that I’ll sort this out and consider that I’ve done something towards clearing an old obligation.’ He was fairly sure Elizabeth would see it that way.

  ‘Now I feel like a worm as well as an idiot,’ Nick muttered. ‘I will pay you back, whether you like it or not.’

  ‘Fine,’ said James, knowing better than to tell the idiot boy that the money didn’t matter. If it mattered to Nick, so much the better. ‘Now, you’d better tell me who and where I have to pay. And while we’re at it you can furnish me with Captain Hensleigh’s direction.’

  Nick blew out a breath. ‘I don’t know it, but you’ll find the Cockpit easily enough.’

  ‘The Cockpit? Is that the hell?’ James asked.

  Nick nodded. ‘Yes. It’s in an old cellar. Used to have cocking there, apparently. He’s there most nights.’ He frowned. ‘You don’t need him, though. Fellow called Kilby bought the vowels. One of his bullies let the name slip, but they said to ask at the Maid and Magpie tavern with the money.’

  Paget’s return with coffee gave James a moment to think. He sat down on a chair by the bed and sipped. The first thing was to pay off the debt. Before Nick got another beating from this Kilby’s enforcers. After that...

  James’s jaw hardened. Then he’d go after Captain Hensleigh.

  ‘James?’

  He looked at Nick. ‘Hmm?’

  ‘You aren’t planning something stupid, are you?’