by Kelly Boyce
“I think not. You see, I know your father is heavily in debt. He’s made several bad investments over the past five years and has had to borrow heavily to pay back his creditors. Do you know how I know this? Because my grandfather is one of those people he begged funds from due to his familial connection with my grandmother’s side of the family.” Spence crossed his arms leaned against the oak bar and smirked. “How humiliating that must have been, begging like a pauper.”
“That is—you have no right—”
Spence ignored Billingsworth’s attempt to mount a defence. “You proposed to Lady Caelie because she had a significant dowry and when her father’s accounts began to dwindle, you broke off the engagement in the hope of finding a more lucrative bride.”
“Glenmor lied to us. It was he who breached his promise and therefore I was under no obligation to keep mine!”
“And what of honor?”
Billingsworth reddened. The color did not suit his pasty countenance. “Her father’s behavior only brought dishonor upon their family.”
“Is that the argument you used with Lady Caelie? Did you use guilt to keep her from crying foul?”
“She did not have a leg to stand on.”
“She had two legs to stand on and you well know it.”
“Two legs she happily wrapped around me in an attempt to convince me to change my mind!”
The words took a moment to sink in but when they did, disbelief took hold and the rashness Bowen so often cautioned him against raged forth. Suddenly Billingsworth staggered backward like a drunken fool and landed with a thud on his aristocratic ass. Spence’s knuckles burned and he glanced down at them to find them inflamed. Billingsworth remained on the floor and bandied between touching his bloody nose and staring up at Spence with an equal mix of loathing and fear.
“Have you gone mad?”
It was quite possible, though Spence had no plans to announce that fact in front of the patrons of the inn who had stopped whatever they were doing to stare at him and Billingsworth, who had yet to get off the floor.
Mr. Brampton leaned against the bar and fixed Spence with a stern look. “I’ll be having none of that in ’ere, yer lordships. This is a respectable establishment.”
Spence corralled his anger as best he could and nodded in Mr. Brampton’s direction. “Of course. My apologies, sir. But this particular lordship gave great offense to a lady of our mutual acquaintance and I merely responded in kind. Forgive me.”
Mr. Brampton nodded and returned to drying the glasses lined up on the back shelf. The din of the main room lifted once again when it appeared there was nothing more to see. Had anyone else recognized him?
Spence offered Billingsworth a hand and when he took it, he hauled the other man to his feet bringing them nose to bloody nose. Spence kept a smile on his face for the benefit of anyone who still watched, his words were delivered as fair warning.
“If I ever hear you speak ill of Lady Caelie, if I ever hear you have spread such filthy lies, it will be the last thing you ever do.” He squeezed the hand still in his grip until Billingsworth winced in response. “I will have you shanghaied, dragged on board one of my grandfather’s ships and dropped in the middle of the ocean where you will become food for the fish. Do we understand each other?”
“What do you care what I say about Lady Caelie?”
“I care because no lady deserves to be slandered in such a way and certainly not by the likes of you. Now I ask again, have I made myself clear?”
Billingsworth looked as if he wanted to protest further. Spence squeezed his hand tighter. “Very well. I shall hold my tongue, though doing such does not change the truth of it.” He yanked his hand from Spence’s and jerked at the cuffs of his jacket. “Good day, sir.”
* * *
Spence left the tap room of the inn and made his way to the stables. His mind raced and spun. He could not deny Billingsworth was a first class ass, but something about what he said would not leave him.
“Two legs she happily wrapped around me in an attempt to convince me to change my mind!”
He wanted to toss the words out with the rest of the garbage Billingsworth spewed, but…
Marriage to Billingsworth would have saved her from the worst of her father’s scandal—put a stopper in it more quickly by making her the respectable wife of a future earl. When Billingsworth tried to back out, would desperation have compelled her to do what she must to force him to stay? Would she have bartered her body for a husband?
Spence dodged the growing mud puddles and slipped through the slightly opened door of the stables. He found a lantern near the door and fumbled around until it lit. It provided a small glow around him too weak to penetrate the dark interior. Somewhere close by a horse nickered at the intrusion, but beyond that the stables were quiet.
Spence walked further inside and found a stray bale of hay and sat down. He set the lantern at his feet. His encounter with Billingsworth swirled in his head and refused to rest.
Was there something to what the fop had said? He didn’t like to think of Caelie as being that mercenary, but…
But she had kissed him. Without provocation from him. She had enticed him into revealing a piece of his past that left him vulnerable and exposed and then she had kissed him. Had that been a ploy on her part? Had she kissed him knowing he had a reputation as a rake and would likely take it further, forcing them into a compromising position where he would have no recourse but to offer marriage? And he had walked right into it, hadn’t he?
Her feigned refusal could easily be another ruse to make her appear altruistic so that he would beg her to do the right thing, then she would come away as the one who had fought for his freedom to save him from his own sense of honor.
He dropped his face into his hands and groaned.
“Well played, my dear. Well played.”
“Talkin’ to yerself, my lord?”
Spence’s head shot up and he stared at Garron who stood just outside the halo of light. He had not heard his approach. For a large man, he moved with much stealth.
“Garron. Yes, I suppose I am. What are the chances you have some type of libation on your person?”
The bigger man chuckled, a thick, rumbling noise that emanated from deep inside his barreled chest and took a seat on another bale of hay. “Don’t take to the stuff, I’m afraid. ’Sides, looks as though ye’ve ’ad enough.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“How does our lady fare? Well, I hope.”
Spence scowled. “Well enough.”
Had the illness been a ruse as well? But no…not even a consummate actress could have faked that. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t used it to her advantage. He’d known from the moment he set eyes on her, the way she gazed longingly at the docks and the hope that soared in those beautiful green eyes when he suggested they leave the ship, she did not want to make the trip to Italy. When she fell ill, did she see that as her way out? Had she played it up enough to make him believe she banged on death’s door?
Did she know her mother would refuse to accompany her and he would be forced to? If so, he’d played directly into her hands.
“Ah, then we shall leave soon?”
“Sooner than expected. We’ve been discovered. Or rather I have.” He told Garron of his run in with Billingsworth, though left out certain pertinent details and the fact he’d left the man with a bloody nose and an earful of threats. Whether either would keep him from spreading what he’d told Spence, only time would tell.
“Best we be on our way as soon as possible. We wouldn’t want ’er ladyship to be seen as well.”
Spence nodded. Not that it mattered now. If she intended to trap him, she had more than ample ammunition to do so.
“M’lord?”
“What?”
“You look like death, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
“Thank you, Garron.” He didn’t bother arguing. Even if he didn’t look like death, he now sta
red down into its gaping maw. Marriage. He shook his head. “Have you ever been married, Garron?”
“Oh, aye. Once upon a time.”
Spence straightened and looked at him. “Truly?”
“Don’t look so surprised, m’lord. I ’aven’t spent me whole life on the sea. I was a smithy once upon a time,” Garron said. His voice took on a faraway quality and something akin to sadness filled his dark eyes. “Married a lovely lass. Mellie was her name. Far too good for the likes of me, so she liked to remind me.”
“Were you happy?”
Garron laughed, but a sadness had seeped into his voice when he spoke. “Ah, no, m’lord. As it turns out, we were not, though I suspect she was far unhappier than I.”
“What happened?”
“She took off. I went into town one day and when I returned she had left.”
“Did she say why?”
“Left me a note. Said she and my cousin, Fergus, were in love and leaving for Yorkshire to live as man and wife.”
“Oh. Do you miss her?”
Garron gave a sly grin. “I miss him more, I think. Much easier to get along with. And I suppose I couldn’t fault him for falling for her. I had done the same.”
“Where is she now?”
“Dead. She caught a sickness a year after leavin’ and never recovered. Fergus was heartbroken. I almost felt bad for the lad.”
“Is that why you ended up working on the Windswept?”
“It is. But I’m ready to go back now, I think. Maybe I’ll find meself a new lassie.” He winked. “Mayhap I already have.”
“Truly? You would do it all over again?”
Garron laughed. “Mellie might not have been the right lass for me, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another one out there who is. ’Sides, a man likes to have a warm body to come home to each night, doesn’t he?”
Spence had never given it much thought. He preferred the warm bodies he shared his nights with to be gone by morning. At least he had. In recent days, he’d found a strange peace in waking to find Caelie nearby.
At least he had. Before Caelie’s machinations put the shackles of marriage on him so that the best he could hope for now was an early death or a life filled with misery.
“Off ye go now,” Garron said. He reached over and patted Spence on the knee as if he were a small lad who had just been told a goodnight tale. “Ye best be gettin’ back to her ladyship and lettin’ her know we should be leavin’ on the morrow.”
Spence nodded. He did indeed need to have a conversation with her ladyship, but it wouldn’t be about their departure. She had refused his marriage proposal and he did not plan on coercing her to change her mind. He would not be hauled into marriage like a blind fool.
She would know he had discovered what lay beneath the timid miss she had pretended to be—a woman who had played him as expertly as any skilled courtesan. But like any such mercenary, the best she could hope for from him was a few coin tossed her way as he left her for greener pastures.
Chapter Nine
Caelie gave up on sleep and rose from the bed, wrapping the quilt around her to ward off the chill. The fire had long since burned down, but she didn’t bother trying to restart it. She wandered over to the window and glanced down toward the stables. In the pitch blackness of the night a lantern bobbed along the pathway between the two buildings. As it drew closer, she recognized Lord Huntsleigh. She watched him for a moment until he disappeared beneath the awning of the inn.
A nervous thrill shot through her.
She would accept his proposal. A bold move, and not one she had intended, but she could not deny the sense in it. He needed to marry to procure an heir and she needed a husband lest she wanted to spend the rest of her life scraping out an existence as a governess or teacher, or worse, being a poor relation.
She would be a liar if she denied something had developed between them. She lacked the naivety to call it love, but she hoped, in time, it would eventually reach that destination. She would be a fool to turn away from such an opportunity.
Lord Huntsleigh did not feel the same way toward marriage as she, but surely she could convince him of its merits. Why, they already had people in common. One of his closest friends, Nicholas, had married her cousin, Abigail. And they got on well. They were able to talk to each other without the banality of societal small talk. They laughed together. Surely it was a strong basis to start out with.
Yes. As soon as Lord Huntsleigh—Spencer—stepped through the door to their room she would give him the news. She would be more than happy—honored, in fact—to accept his proposal to be his wife.
She did not have to wait long. The door opened and closed quietly. Spencer’s boots echoed softly in the quiet of the room as he set the lamp on the table next to the door and turned down the wick. She watched him from the shadows as he struggled out of his coat, his uncoordinated efforts taking longer than she had expected. He tossed it aside as if angry. His waistcoat and cravat soon followed. Then he sat down on the chair by the fire and pulled at his boots with far less success.
“Would you like some help?”
“Bloody—!” His foot hit the floor with a loud thwack, the boot having refused to budge. “How long have you been standing there?”
He sounded cross. “Since you arrived. I couldn’t sleep.”
He grunted something under his breath, but she couldn’t make it out. He returned his attention to yanking at his boot.
“I wanted to speak with you.”
Again, silence. Had she done something? Had something happened? His last boot finally released his foot and he dropped it to the floor. He looked quite a sight standing there in his stocking feet and shirt. Rather appealing, really.
Silence lingered in the room as he stood there staring at her. Her nerves increased. Was he waiting for her to say what she had to say? Caelie took a deep breath and forged ahead before she lost her courage.
“I have given what you said serious thought.”
“What I said?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. She had not anticipated how difficult this would be and his rather remote manner did not make it any easier. “Your proposal.”
“My proposal?” He drew the word out as if it was new to him and trepidation crept up her spine. She had not seen him like this before. Something was…off. “My lord, are you…are you drunk?”
He smiled at her but it lacked the warmth of the smiles he had gifted her with earlier that evening. This one held no mirth to it at all. “Drunk?”
Frustration erupted within her. “You keep repeating my questions back to me, my lord. Are you having difficulty understanding them?”
His eyebrows raised slowly and he took a few steps toward her. She pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders. She did not like the glint she saw in his eyes once he was close enough the shadows did not interfere.
“I am having difficulty understanding,” he said. Again the smile. Again the sense of trepidation. Caelie wanted to dive back into bed and pull the covers up. Something had gone horribly wrong between the time he had left the room to when he now returned. But what? He took a step closer and the scent of brandy wafted off him. “You see, I had it in mind that you were a rather lovely lady, an innocent as pure as the driven snow and as such I was horrified at my treatment of you. So much so, that I took the unprecedented step of proposing marriage.”
“Yes, I know. That is what I wanted to—” She didn’t get to finish.
“Which you thankfully declined.” He placed a hand over his heart and laughed lightly as if it were all a silly misunderstanding.
“I did, my lord. But you see, I—”
“Thankfully, I say, because you see I’ve come across some rather disturbing information and this information has placed a new light on our situation.”
She stood silent a moment. “Information?” Ice filled her veins.
“Hm.” He turned away from her and walked back toward the fire. His hand waved in the air. �
�Oh, I ran into an old friend of yours, by the way.”
“An old friend?” Now she had become the parrot.
He spun on his heel to face her. “Lord Billingsworth. You remember him, I’m sure. Former fiancé. Jilted you after the heinous scandal with your father became public knowledge.”
Tiny black dots pricked at the corner of her eyes. She tried to blink them away. “Yes, I remember him.” How could she not after everything that had happened? After he had tossed her aside like yesterday’s old newspaper.
“He told me the most amazing story.”
Bile burned in her throat. “What did he tell you?”
“He told me—while I was defending your honor, I might add, and which in hindsight I find rather comical and I’m sure you’ll agree—but he told me that you had tried to convince him not to break your engagement by giving yourself to him.”
Caelie’s heart burst in her chest then fell silent. Or she thought it had but perhaps she simply couldn’t hear it over the blood rushing in her ears.
Spencer cocked his head. Was that disappointment she saw or only shadow? “So it is true then? You are not the innocent you claimed to be.”
She had no defense. “I never claimed to be an innocent.” She had let go of that title when she had allowed Billingsworth to make use of her body, trading on promises he had no intention of keeping. But Spencer had the wrong idea. She had never bartered herself. Not that it mattered. In the end, nothing changed. She was soiled goods. And now he knew it.
How long before everyone else did as well?
“No, I suppose you didn’t. Not in so many words, but you certainly acted the part. Tell me, were you horribly disappointed when your ruse with him did not work?”
“You think me quite mercenary.”
He crossed the room to stand in front of her. “Are you not? You tried to convince Billingsworth not to break off your engagement and tonight you tried to compromise yourself to exact a proposal from me. Well, well done. Great success.”
“I turned down your proposal.”
He let out a short laugh. “Indeed, you did. But tell me, were you standing here in the dark tonight because you intended on accepting it when I returned? I’m sure you had any number of practical reasons to give me, clever little minx that you are. I suspect you would layer each one with a heavy dose of guilt, using my reprehensible behavior toward you, an innocent.” He spat the last word out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.
