by Mary Brendan
‘And whereabouts is this friend in London?’ Peter asked rather curtly.
‘My niece didn’t say,’ Agatha replied truthfully. ‘I believe the woman is a relation of the Reverend Holly.’
‘I see...’
‘I’ll tell her you called, Mr Collins, when she returns.’ Agatha opened the door, shutting it behind him as soon as he’d passed over the threshold.
Peter strode to his phaeton, unaware that he was being observed, though he did give the sleek curricle and prime horseflesh a covetous glower. The driver had disembarked and had headed off somewhere; only the liveried tiger occupied the vehicle. Cursing beneath his breath at having been unable to speak to Faye, he clambered aboard his ride and used the whip on the horse.
Ryan stepped out from beneath the branches of a lime tree. He’d arrived in the street just as Collins was knocking on Agatha’s door so had loitered in the shade, waiting for him to leave before approaching the house himself. The speed of the fellow’s visit indicated that either Faye had refused to see him or she wasn’t at home with her aunt. A rueful smile tilted his lips. Knowing her as he did, her courage wouldn’t have allowed her to shy away from a difficult meeting, even if she had now found out she was betrothed to a duplicitous character. So, he concluded that she was out somewhere. He watched as the tired old nag pulling the battered phaeton was whipped to a faster speed. He despised Peter Collins just for that—mistreating any animal was a sin in his eyes.
Springing aboard the curricle, he took the reins and turned the equipage to follow Collins in the direction of Cheapside.
As he joined the queue of vehicles he watched his quarry’s back, loathing Peter Collins with every fibre of his being. He had no right to have won the heart of a woman like Faye Shawcross.
And neither had he any right to want her the way he did, Ryan thought. She deserved better than both of them.
But he did want her...he did love her...and pretending that a liaison would satisfy him, knowing that he craved so much more, was no use. At first he’d wanted to protect his pride, propositioning her rather than proposing. She’d seemed unshakably loyal to the man she’d agreed to marry and, admirable as that was, Ryan had felt frustrated...and hurt...by her inability, or unwillingness, to see beneath Collins’s facade to the cheat beneath. But just lately she’d not championed her fiancé so forcefully and he’d seen something in her eyes...a spark of doubt that had given him hope that her feelings for Collins might be wavering. He’d seen something in her eyes when she looked at him, too, that went beyond that mix of wariness and longing that could set fire to his loins in a way that made it hard for him to keep his hands off her. Once or twice she’d looked at him in a way that warmed his heart, too, with a glimmer of trust and tenderness that persuaded him all was not lost. He had reason to hope that she might not feel disgust when he revealed the truth about himself...that she might understand what had driven him to act with abominable selfishness when he’d been the same age as Donagh Lee.
* * *
‘Oh, so it’s you come back again, Miss Shawcross.’
‘Good day, Mrs Gant. Would you take me to my fiancé’s lodging, please?’
‘I’m afraid he isn’t here, my dear. I saw him leave some while ago.’
‘He might have returned though as I believe he was expecting me.’ Faye felt awkward uttering the fib. But her need to get to the bottom of things overrode her conscience. She’d come with a list of questions to fire at her fiancé. ‘I’d be obliged if we might check upstairs to see whether he passed by unbeknown to you.’
Mrs Gant raised her eyebrows. ‘If such behaviour does not offend your sensibilities, Miss Shawcross, I’ll escort you to his room so you might satisfy yourself that I know what I’m about.’ She gave an indignant sniff, then set off up the rickety treads at some speed.
Faye followed closely behind, averting her face as a gentleman squeezed past them, raising his hat and giving her a lecherous look. On the second landing Mrs Gant came to a halt and pointed along a dank corridor.
‘Third door on the left. I’ll wait here while you see if your fiancé has slipped by me.’ With pursed lips, she folded her arms over her chest.
Despite her cheeks smarting in embarrassment, Faye gave Mrs Gant a nod. The landlady now suspected they weren’t really betrothed, but were conducting an illicit liaison.
After a couple of bangs on the door that brought no response from within, Faye turned to glance back the way she’d come. Mrs Gant had poked her tongue into a cheek and was giving her an I-told-you-so smirk.
Faye retraced her steps, slowly, although nervous excitement was pumping blood through her veins at an alarming rate at what she intended to do. ‘I know Mr Collins would be delighted to return and find me waiting for him, Mrs Gant. Might I ask you to open up, please? And say nothing if you see him...or it will ruin the surprise.’
‘I understand, Miss Shawcross...oh, yes, I do understand.’ The landlady gave a ribald chuckle. She held out a palm and when it was not immediately crossed with coins she jerked her head at it.
Realisation dawned and Faye pulled some cash from a pocket.
Mrs Gant’s fingers snapped shut on the bribe and she swept past, using one of the keys jangling at her waist to unlock the door. Without a backward glance she then took herself off.
Faye quickly entered and closed the door behind her with her heart trembling in her ribs. There was an unsavoury atmosphere within the room. The air smelled of stale smoke and strong drink. The sight that met her eyes was equally unpleasant. Wedged beneath the window was an unmade bed with candle stumps adorning the floorboards at its base, as were stained tankards and wine glasses. Various items of clothing had been discarded on to the bedcovers and the frayed armchair was home to a pile of newspapers and documents.
Faye felt disappointment ripple through her as she viewed the mess. She knew Peter was only a temporary resident at this lodging house, yet he had always seemed disciplined and his personal standards high. This was not the living quarters of such a person.
She approached the bed, quashing an urge to straighten the covers and fold his clothes. She was not his servant or his wife.
She perched gingerly on the edge of the hard mattress and looked about at discarded shaving equipment and a comb lying on the washstand. She had wanted to gain entry to try to find some clues as to why Peter was still in London; she sensed it was not all to do with his promotion and there was something underhand in it. Now she had got into the lion’s den she felt uncomfortable. It was completely foreign behaviour for her to use deception and sneak about. If she was prepared to act so, it could be claimed that she was no better than he was. She sighed, about to leave when her eye landed on the document on the top of the pile on the chair. She went quite still. The red ribbon tied about it had a distinctive ink stain at the very end that she recognised.
Faye jumped to her feet and snatched it up, unfolding it. She had been right to snoop for clues! It was the investment that Mr Westwood had told her he’d had to sell at a loss because the fund was performing badly. Her fingers became insensate with shock and the parchment dropped back to land on top of the others.
‘What in damnation do you think you’re doing here?’
Faye jerked about, emitting a tiny startled scream. She’d been staring in disbelief at her bond certificate and the thud of blood in her ears had prevented her hearing Peter’s arrival.
‘Oh...I came to see you,’ Faye rattled off breathlessly, forcing a smile to her lips.
‘So I see, my dear,’ Peter drawled. ‘Oddly, I went out to visit you at your aunt’s. Had I not, I would have been here to receive you.’ He strode closer. ‘Mrs Banks told me you were to be found at a friend’s, not rifling through my personal belongings.’ He scooped up the papers and flung them all on to the washstand.
‘Your personal belongings?’ Faye s
uddenly felt her temper rising and with it her suspicion that she had been duped. Not only by Westwood, but by the man who had professed to love her. Boldly she picked up the parchment and thrust it towards him. ‘I believe that to be mine. Why have you got it in your possession, Peter?’
‘Are you accusing me of something?’ He turned his back on her and took out his snuff box, using a pinch.
‘I believe I am,’ Faye said clearly. ‘I’m accusing you of being reticent and evasive at the very least. One of the reasons I came to London was to tell you that Westwood had lost half of my money in bad investments. But I get the feeling that I had no need to do so. You already knew of it, didn’t you?’ Faye tilted up her chin. ‘Please explain why you have this bond in your possession. Westwood told me it had been sold at such a loss as to be valueless. Did you buy it? How much did you pay?’
‘I’ll not beg your pardon for some maggot you have in your head about my affair with his cousin.’
‘Miss Pettifer is only part of the problem as far as I can see. And I’m not asking for an apology. I want you to explain what you and Westwood have been up to. If I’m wrong in thinking that something bad has gone on behind my back, then I will apologise.’
‘Do you think I will forgive and forget that my future wife has made it abundantly clear she does not trust me...that in fact she believes me a fraudster?’
‘I didn’t say that, Peter,’ Faye quietly replied, going cold. ‘But I know you have a better understanding of the facts than I.’ She pivoted away from him and, on heading for the door, realised she’d never before felt nervous in his company...but she did now.
Peter blocked her path in a single stride. ‘Where do you think you are off to?’
‘I’m going home to Wilverton. It makes no difference whether or not you have a fancy for Miss Pettifer, I’m not going to marry you.’ She took the sapphire ring from her finger and put it on the washstand before again attempting to pass him.
Deliberately, and strongly he pushed her back.
‘Oh, you are going to marry me, my dear,’ he drawled through lips flat against his teeth. ‘If you think I have waited all these long years for you to walk away now, you are a fool.’
Faye felt prickles of real fear ice her complexion, but she met his narrowed eyes with a fierce gaze and a bold question. ‘Have you waited for me...or my inheritance?’
‘Both,’ he growled. ‘And I will have both...’ He lunged at her, his mouth swooping down to kiss her with savage demand. ‘I’ve longed to do this,’ he whispered against her bruised lips, his fingers plucking at her buttons. ‘But I denied myself and treated you with the respect your station deserved. Now, if my desire has wandered to others, it is your own fault for making me endure such a blasted long engagement. A man has needs that must be satisfied.’ He thrust his lips against the warm silk of her throat, restraining her fists battering against his chest. ‘If it hadn’t been for those brats we would have married years ago and no subterfuge would have been necessary. It wouldn’t have come to this. Can’t you see what you’ve done...what you’ve made me do?’
Faye was becoming exhausted from attempting to free herself. He was stronger than she was and her hands were firmly pinioned to her sides. With all her might she stamped her small booted foot down on his instep. He howled and his grip loosened, allowing her to wrench free and dash for the door. He was in front of her before she could open it. ‘What on earth has got into you?’ She spread her trembling hands in appeal. ‘Have you no decency at all, Peter? You should calm down and try to regain your senses,’ she panted. ‘Let me by or I will scream and create a scene. Your landlady will call the Runners, wondering what is going on.’
‘You can yell your head off if you want...she won’t come,’ Peter scoffed. ‘If that crone let you in here, then she thinks you’re a doxy and the more noise you make the better fun she’ll think we’re having. You’re thoroughly compromised already, my dear.’ He laughed harshly. ‘And when I’ve done with you you’ll beg me to marry you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Faye burst out, fists clenched at her sides. Her fear was dissipating beneath her fury. She wouldn’t be threatened by any man, especially not the one she’d, for so long, trusted cared for her.
‘What I mean, my sweet, is that I’m ready to consummate our nuptials, right now, even though it is a little premature.’ He smiled lasciviously. ‘I think beneath that dutiful exterior of yours might beat the heart of a fiery wanton...and all it needs is to be released from the constraint of duty and etiquette. You liked me kissing and touching you, didn’t you?’ He shrugged off his tailcoat, flinging it to the floor. ‘Cissy Pettifer will make a fine mistress, but she hasn’t the class to be a gentleman’s wife. You on the other hand could admirably fulfil both roles once properly schooled to do so. In fact, now you say you no longer want me, I find you quite irresistible.’ Peter possessively stroked her cheek.
Angrily, Faye slapped away his fingers. ‘I doubt you have told your mistress that she has no class, have you?’ she challenged tartly. ‘Yes, I’ve guessed there is more to it than you admit. You have become besotted with Miss Pettifer but, alas, she has no dowry...that is the truth, isn’t it?’
‘She’s not got a bean...but she has some qualities to make up for it,’ he growled coarsely, manhandling Faye backwards to the narrow unkempt bed. He pushed her on to the mattress and followed her down, stopping her shout by slamming his mouth on hers.
Faye squirmed towards the edge of the bed, her hand flailing over the side. As it came into contact with a tankard she grabbed the pewter handle and instinctively swung it up at his head. He howled and rolled off her, allowing Faye to scramble to her feet. She sped to the door, blindly pulling it open. Within seconds she’d raced the length of the wonky corridor and hurtled down the stairs. She rushed past an open-mouthed Mrs Gant and straight out into glaring sunlight.
Two large hands were suddenly fastened on her shoulders, gripping tightly, and with a cry of alarm she raised the weapon she’d kept hold of. This time her arm was arrested at the top of its trajectory and the tankard held aloft.
‘It’s all right...hush...’ an accented voice soothed. ‘Faye...calm yourself...what in God’s name were you doing in there? Has that villain hurt you?’ But Ryan could stab a guess at what had happened if Collins had returned to find her waiting for him with awkward questions. He removed the tankard from her rigid fingers and cast it to the gutter, drawing her comfortingly closer. ‘Oh, sweetheart, why have you risked meeting him like that?’ He sounded anguished. ‘Do you know him for the villain he is now?’
Unable to speak, Faye simply nodded her head vigorously against his shoulder.
‘You must go home to your aunt’s, out of harm’s way,’ Ryan said urgently. ‘I’ll deal with Peter Collins.’ The savagery in his tone was at odds with the gentle finger that stroked a loose blonde tendril back from her face. Spotting a passing cab, he hailed it, inwardly castigating himself for not having followed Collins inside the lodging house instead of waiting outside for him to reappear.
‘I should have listened to you...you tried to warn me about him,’ Faye burst out. She tilted her face up to his. ‘You said you wanted to destroy a fantasy I had in my head about him; it’s true I didn’t know him...not really. How could I have been so stupid for so long?’ She clenched her fingers tightly, her nails digging into her palms.
Ryan raised her quivering knuckles to his lips. ‘We’ll speak of it later,’ he said, opening the cab door. ‘I promise I will sort this out, then come directly to you.’
Still Faye stood where she was, her breathing and her distress coming under control. Suddenly she felt empty and very sad that her betrothal to Peter had finished in such an abrupt and dreadful way. ‘You were right about me. I am a fool!’
‘No... I’m the fool for not saying more when I had the chance. It might not have come to this had I told
you sooner of my feelings. My damnable pride’s to blame...not anything you’ve done.’ He placed a finger on her lips as she would have questioned him. ‘You’re trusting and loyal, and those qualities aren’t faults, Faye.’ Ryan’s head drooped forward as he asked a question, dreading to have the answer to it. ‘Did he attempt to force himself on you? Is that why you hit him?’ he croaked.
Faye gave a nod, gazing up into a pair of intense blue eyes. She could see that he was appalled at what she might have suffered and she wanted to throw her arms about his neck in comfort.
A maelstrom of unpleasant emotions had fractured her mind from the moment that Mrs Gant had let her in to Peter’s room; her senses could have been numbed by the onslaught. But a wave of love for this man washed over her. And a wonderful hope was burgeoning within that she was loved in return and she knew if that were true she would be completely blessed and would want no more.
‘You must go home, Faye,’ Ryan said huskily. ‘Please go away so I can deal with him.’
Faye placed her hand in his, letting him know she was ready to get in. Before he closed the cab door, something occurred to her out of the blue. ‘Shouldn’t you still be escorting your sister and the girls to the port?’
‘I turned around at the halfway house and let them journey on. Never fear, the party will now be close to the coast and have plenty of servants accompanying them.’ He discreetly touched her flushing cheek. ‘I had to come back and speak to you... I couldn’t wait. And God knows I’m glad now that I did return.’
‘I’ve wanted to talk to you, too. Please come to my aunt’s, she lives at...’
‘I know where she is. I’ll come, I swear.’ Ryan gave the driver Mrs Banks’s address and coins to cover the fare.
It was only as Faye was settling her throbbing head back against the squabs that she remembered that she should have begged him not to get into a fight with Peter. Another rumpus was the last thing her family’s reputation could stand.
