by Connie Mason
She regained her wits slowly. Julian hovered over her, his face taut with purpose as he eased her down upon the seat. Then he was inside her, moving forcefully, his breath exploding from his lungs in tortured gasps. Something inside her reawakened. Feelings intensified and sensations returned with renewed brilliance. Flames seared along her nerve endings. A shimmering light exploded inside her, until her body became one with it.
She felt Julian stiffen, felt his hot seed flood her body, heard him shout, then her mind went blank. She burst into a million pieces and died a little. Long moments later, she sighed and opened her eyes, dimly aware that someone was calling her name.
“Lara, wake up, sweeting. Someone is coming along the path.”
“Oh, God, what have we done?”
“We made love. Let me help you.”
Gathering her scattered wits, Lara sat up with Julian’s help and began fastening her clothing. Julian had already put his clothing to rights, for he looked as impeccably dressed as he had before they’d set out for the park.
“You had no right! I’ll never forgive you. Look at me, I’m a mess.”
“You look adorable,” he replied. “When we are husband and wife we can make love whenever the mood strikes us.”
Lara smoothed her hair and shoved it beneath her hat. “I was your wife, I am your wife, but you never saw it that way. I’ll not give you another opportunity to thrust me aside, my lord.”
“Fear not, sweeting, I will do what’s right this time.”
Julian pulled the rig back onto the path. Moments later another rig rolled past. The two male occupants nodded in polite greeting. Julian paid them little heed but before Lara turned away, something in her brain seemed to click. She recognized the man! He wasn’t dressed in rough sailor garb, but she’d vowed never to forget his face that day he and his companions barged into their camp looking for Julian.
“Is something wrong?” Julian asked. “Did you recognize those men?”
Lara shook her head. She could be mistaken. If she told Julian about her suspicions, he would insist upon investigating. Obviously Julian hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.
“I’m just … upset, Julian. I never expected to encounter you in London, and after what just happened between us, I’m not sure we should see each other again.”
“A month should be sufficient time for the ton to get used to our engagement,” Julian said without any indication that he had heard her. “We’ll marry one month from Saturday at my country estate. There hasn’t been a wedding in the chapel since my grandparents were married there in the sixteen hundreds. We’ll make it a grand affair.”
“I hope you find the perfect bride,” Lara snapped. “You’ve said nothing to convince me that I should marry you.”
Lara bristled with suppressed indignation. Why couldn’t Julian accept the fact that they were already married? Why couldn’t he let the past go and love her? His fiancée was dead, life went on, the future beckoned. But there might not be a future if his enemies found him.
“Your father won’t object,” Julian continued. “We’ll announce our intentions in a few days.”
Lara gave a forlorn little sigh as Julian joined the line of carriages leaving the park. She wouldn’t be opposed to Julian’s plans had he indicated that he cared for her. Lust was a powerful emotion, but not substantial enough to bind two people together for a lifetime.
Julian pulled the carriage into the driveway and halted before the imposing entrance of the Stanhope mansion. He leaped to the ground and walked around to hand Lara down, but she hadn’t waited for him.
“Good-bye, my lord,” she said stiffly.
“I will call for you at nine tonight to escort you to the Ailsworth musicale.”
“I’m sure I’ll have a headache,” Lara defied.
“Lara,” Julian reminded her, “after this afternoon, you could be carrying my child.”
Lara sent him a frosty look. “I doubt that. Find yourself a woman more worthy than I of your exalted title. Excuse me, I feel that headache coming on already.”
“Nine o’clock, Lara, be ready,” Julian said in a tone that brooked no argument. “I’ll speak with your father tomorrow about our engagement.”
Lara tossed her head. A wealth of dark curls tumbled down from the top of her head as she stormed into the house. Julian stared after her. This stiff-backed, elegantly clad young lady looked nothing like the scantily garbed Gypsy temptress who had captured his fancy, but all the elegant clothing in the world couldn’t mask her fiery nature. He recalled with aching clarity how her lithe body, flashing legs, and unfettered breasts had tempted him beyond redemption. He wanted desperately to peel away the exterior layers of refinement and bare her wanton Gypsy soul.
Julian climbed into the carriage, picked up the reins, and tooled down the driveway. He hadn’t meant to take advantage of Lara this afternoon. He didn’t know what had gotten into him. For a man admired for his control, his lack thereof this afternoon had been a breach of his strict moral principles.
Two men watched avidly from their closed coach as Julian drove away from the Stanhope mansion.
“Are you quite certain Stanhope’s daughter is the same woman you saw in the Gypsy camp?” a tall, well-dressed man in top hat asked.
The second man, looking uncomfortable in formal servant’s garb, nodded enthusiastically. “Aye, my lord, the very same. She’s wearing fancy dresses now, but ’tis the same wench who insisted that the sick man named Drago was her husband.”
“Bah,” the nobleman scoffed. “They duped you. It had to be Mansfield, and I’d bet my best racer that he was wounded, not ill. The Gypsies were protecting him. Mansfield has the devil’s own luck. I want him dead, Crockett, is that clear? He infiltrated our ranks and is becoming a painful thorn in my side. It took persistent sleuthing to identify Scorpion, the agent bedeviling my operation, and now that I know Mansfield is Scorpion, he must be gotten rid of. He’s too close to unmasking me for comfort.”
“Aye, my lord. Leave him to me.”
“He won’t be easy to run to ground. He’s too canny.” The nobleman tapped a finger against his chin, his pale blue eyes narrowed in thought. “Perhaps the Gypsy wench holds the key. He’s already lost one woman he cared for. Should another be threatened, he may decide to give up his investigation. Our enterprise is too lucrative to let one man destroy it.”
“What about the girl’s father?” Crockett questioned. “Won’t he be a problem?”
“Leave Stanhope to me,” the nobleman said. “Here’s what you’re to do.”
The nobleman tapped on the roof with his cane and the coach lumbered forward. Inside, the nobleman whispered his plan to his henchman.
A message was waiting for Julian when he arrived home. Farthingale told him it had been delivered by a street urchin who swore he didn’t know the man who had paid him to deliver it. Julian stared at the missive, then took it into his study to read.
The note was a strongly worded warning. A threat, really. Whoever had sent it knew too much about Julian. The note, written in sprawling script, suggested that if the Earl of Mansfield valued his life and the life of a certain female close to him, he’d be well advised to drop his investigation.
Julian let out a string of curses. The implication of the message was clear. The Jackal knew he was Scorpion, knew he was close to unmasking him, and also knew that Lara was the Gypsy woman who had protected him. A nerve clenched in his jaw. His first thought was that he had to protect Lara whatever the cost. His second was to wonder if Stanhope was capable of harming his own daughter.
Julian sat at his desk and dashed out a note to Lord Randall, requesting a secret meeting, either during the musicale, if he was attending, or later that night. He sent it off with Farthingale, whom he trusted implicitly. An hour later Farthingale returned with Randall’s answer. Randall was going to attend the same musicale and agreed to meet with Julian sometime during the evening.
Lara’s first inclina
tion was to plead a headache when Julian arrived that night to escort her to the musicale. But she feared he wouldn’t accept no for an answer. With her father pushing her toward an alliance with Julian, she had little hope of getting her own way in this. No one could force her to marry Julian, however. Not as long as a dead woman still held his love. He could beg and plead all he wanted, insist that she needed protection, but nothing short of a declaration of love would change her mind.
Another thing that bothered Lara was the fact that Julian considered their Romany marriage invalid. Well, two could play that game. If he refused to acknowledge it, neither would she, but she wouldn’t marry him for the reasons he had given her. It was obvious to Lara that once Julian had discovered she was an earl’s daughter, he’d felt obligated to marry her.
Furthermore, Julian’s line of work worried Lara. She had inherited a bit of her grandmother’s canny ability to “see” things, and she saw danger surrounding Julian. No matter what she did or did not feel for Julian, she was compelled to admit that she feared for his life. Therefore, she decided, it was up to her to see that nothing happened to him. With that thought in mind, she bathed and dressed for the musicale that night.
Julian arrived promptly at nine o’clock, looking splendid in blue satin coat, gray breeches, silver vest, and white stockings. Lara saw admiration in his eyes as she came down the stairs to join him and her father. Her own costume was an elegant confection of green and gold tulle with short puffed sleeves, fitted waist, and neckline that dipped provocatively low over the rounded tops of her breasts.
“You look stunning,” Stanhope beamed, moving forward to grasp Lara’s hand. “Mansfield will be the envy of the ton tonight.”
A footman handed Lara’s cape to Julian and he placed it over her shoulders. Lara felt the warmth of his palms as they rested a moment longer than necessary on her arm.
They were on their way out the door when another carriage pulled up behind Julian’s.
“Who in the world could that be?” Stanhope asked.
Lara felt Julian stiffen beside her and wondered if he was expecting trouble.
The carriage door opened and Lord Tolliver stepped out. “Ah, I’m just in time. I have something of importance to discuss with you, Stanhope. ’Tis about the bill we’re sponsoring in Parliament.”
Stanhope looked annoyed. “Can’t it wait? I’m accompanying my daughter and Mansfield to the Ailsworth musicale tonight.”
Tolliver nodded at Julian, then returned his attention to Stanhope. “I’m going there myself after we’ve spoken. You can ride with me.”
Stanhope appeared torn.
“Go on, Papa, have your talk,” Lara urged. “You can join Lord Mansfield and me later. Don’t keep him too long, Lord Tolliver.”
“Indeed I won’t, my lady,” Tolliver said smoothly.
Lara shivered. The more she saw of the man the less she liked him. There was something oily about him. He was too smooth, too sure of himself. And she didn’t like the way he looked at her, as if he could see through her clothing.
Lara sensed Julian’s tension and wondered if he felt the same about Tolliver as she did. She glanced at him beneath a fringe of spiky lashes, but his expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. She did know, however, that something about Lord Tolliver bothered Julian.
“Shall we go?” Julian said, offering Lara his arm.
“Go on, my dear,” Stanhope urged. “I’ll be along directly.”
Lara cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder at her father, then moved off with Julian. The night was damp, and Julian had arrived in a closed coach with a driver and his tiger hanging on to the back. Julian handed her inside and climbed in after her. He seemed preoccupied as he stared out the window.
“Is something bothering you, my lord?”
Julian turned his midnight blue gaze on her and smiled. “ ’Tis nothing to be concerned about.”
“Are you concerned in some way about Lord Tolliver?”
A long pause. “Perhaps.”
“When are you going to stop being so secretive? Are you in danger? Is Lord Tolliver involved?”
“Don’t pry, Lara. And don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“From whom do I need protection, my lord?”
“Your father, perhaps?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I wish you wouldn’t interfere in my life.”
“ ’Tis too late. Our lives became entangled when you brought me into your camp. One woman lost her life because of me and I won’t let it happen to another.”
Julian’s pain was palpable and Lara’s heart went out to him. He must have loved Diana dearly. Losing her so tragically had altered the fabric of his existence. His life now revolved around finding her killer and bringing him to justice. He was opposed to opening his heart to another love, and she was a fool to think she could change him.
They arrived at the Ailsworth mansion and Julian handed Lara down from the coach. The butler opened the door and they ascended the stairs to the music room, where chairs had been set up for the guests. The featured entertainer for tonight’s performance, a busty Italian diva, was standing beside the pianoforte, preparing to deliver her first aria.
“I’ll fetch you something to drink,” Julian whispered as he settled Lara into a chair beside a young lady in pink organza.
The diva began her recital and Julian drifted away. He hated opera. At the refreshment table he helped himself to whiskey and poured a cup of punch for Lara. He started to walk away when Lord Randall joined him.
“I see we both have the same idea,” Randall said jovially. “My wife enjoys opera, but I find it tedious.”
“As do I,” Julian remarked.
Randall leaned close. “Meet me in the garden in ten minutes. Look for the statue of Venus.”
Julian nodded and Randall disappeared into the crowd.
Julian returned to the music room and pressed the cup into Lara’s hand. She smiled her thanks and returned her attention to the diva, who had hit a high note that almost perforated Julian’s eardrums. Glancing furtively about to make certain no one was watching, he sidled toward the door.
Moments later he exited through the pantry on the lower floor and worked his way around to the garden. He spied the statue of Venus keeping watch over a fountain and hastened toward it. Lord Randall was already there, sitting on a bench beneath the shadow of a boxwood.
“Make it fast, Mansfield,” Randall said. “It wouldn’t do for someone to notice we went missing at the same time. Have you learned something?”
“What do you know about Clay Merritt, Earl of Tolliver?”
“Tolliver? He’s not exactly a confidant, but he has important connections and we meet occasionally. He knows nothing about Scorpion. He’s aware of the smuggling situation and is using his connections to gather information. He agrees that the loss of government revenue is a threat to the crown.”
“Who else knows about our investigation?” Julian asked.
“Lord Dunbar, the Duke of Crawford’s second son. He’s been in my service nearly as long as you have.”
“What about Stanhope? Is he one of your confidants?”
“No. Stanhope is active in Parliament but he knows nothing about our investigation.”
“Could any of the men just mentioned be the brains behind the smugglers?”
Randall remained thoughtful. “I suppose anything is possible, but I’d hate to think one of those men is a traitor. Be very careful, Mansfield. We don’t want to accuse unjustly.”
Julian removed the note he’d received earlier and handed it to Randall. “It’s too dark here to read, so I’ll tell you what it says. It’s a warning against continuing the investigation. I can handle the threat to my own life, but the threat was also directed at Lady Lara, Lord Stanhope’s daughter. The Jackal must know that she is the woman from the Gypsy camp who aided me.”
“Good Lord!” Randall said, aghast. “We can’t involve another innocent victim in our investigati
on. You told me the lady saved your life by claiming you were her husband. Just how involved are you with her?”
Julian’s jaw stiffened. “I’m going to marry her. I had no idea Lara was an earl’s daughter when I … when we … Needless to say, I owe her my name.”
“You’re relieved of duty immediately, Mansfield. Keeping you on the case now can endanger your life and hinder our investigation. Your future usefulness is questionable. I don’t want your death on my conscience, Julian.”
“I can’t quit now, my lord,” Julian argued. “I’m on the threshold of unmasking the Jackal. I’m convinced I can protect myself and those I care about. I just wanted you to be aware of a traitor within your ranks. Keep an eye on both Tolliver and Dunbar. I’ll take care of Stanhope. Don’t give them any useful information.”
“I’d feel better if you got out of this now.”
“I’ll contact you again in a few days,” Julian replied, deliberately ignoring Randall’s suggestion. “I’m getting closer every day.”
Lara dragged her gaze away from the diva, searching the room for Julian. A prickling sensation tickled the back of her neck. Something dangerous was afoot. Where was Julian? What mischief had he gotten himself into now? Without a thought to her own welfare, she rose and slipped from the room. Julian was not in the hallway. She descended the stairs. A few couples lingered in the open doorway leading to the garden, fanning themselves.
Something in the waiting darkness drew Lara’s attention. She could see nothing, hear nothing but silence, but her nerve endings sent a silent warning to her brain.
Julian was out there.
Lara slipped past a couple obviously engrossed in one another and strode purposely down a path toward a statue of Venus standing guard over a bubbling fountain. Footsteps crunched in the gravel behind her. She whipped around. There was no one. Her imagination was working overtime. She continued down the path, then stopped abruptly when she sensed someone behind her, close enough to feel his breath touch the back of her neck. A hand on her shoulder.
