Breaking the Rake's Rules

by Bronwyn Scott

  Crenshaw broke in. ‘Gentleman, an internal squabble is hardly beneficial to us at this point. We have more important concerns. Selby, I think there is no purpose in doubting Sherard’s information in this instance.’

  Kitt gave Crenshaw a curt nod of thanks and backed away from the table. ‘You all have much to discuss and you know my opinion. Rutherford, I’ll avail myself of the hospitality of your garden while you talk amongst yourselves.’ He shot James a look. ‘I don’t want to unduly influence your decisions.’

  Rutherford began to protest that he was on the board of directors, too. Kitt raised a hand to stall any further comment. ‘I am and I have offered my opinion. My boat and my services are at your disposal. Perhaps you would discuss things more freely in my absence.’ He wanted to go in search of Bryn and there was truly nothing more he could say. He would go after Devore no matter what their decision.

  In the garden, the air was cooler, the heat of the afternoon had not yet settled. The smell of sweet hibiscus was on the breeze and it soothed his temper. He drew a deep breath, letting some of the tension go from his body. Selby deserved a thrashing for his comment. He stilled. Someone was in the garden with him, behind him. He could feel them.

  ‘I want to know the answer to Selby’s question.’ Bryn’s voice was quiet.

  ‘You were eavesdropping. I thought you might be.’ He could not look at her. If he did, he’d be lost. He held himself rigid, willing her not to move into his line of sight.

  ‘Don’t make this about me, Kitt. You told me you were involved in a land swindle. I did not press you then for an answer, but I am asking for one now.’

  ‘Why should I tell you? If you’re asking, you’ve already assumed the worst. Obviously you have doubt.’

  ‘I have what you’ve allowed me to have.’ There was some steel, some heat in her voice. ‘I think you want me to believe the worst. When I first met you, you led me to believe you were nothing more than a housebreaker, only for me to discover you a few hours later in the company of gentlemen.’

  Kitt snorted. ‘Your logic is ludicrous. Why would I want that?’ But she was far too close to the truth.

  ‘It’s how you keep people at a distance, how you ensure you’re alone.’ Bryn didn’t hesitate with her answer. She’d thought this out and that frightened him. What else had she thought out? What else had she realised despite his attempts to obfuscate it?

  ‘I’m not in the habit of keeping beautiful women at a distance.’

  ‘Only the ones that upset you. I disturb the balance of your universe,’ Bryn argued.

  ‘I suppose you upset a great many men then.’ They were moving ever so slowly away from the intent of her conversation. Kitt was beginning to feel a little relief. Maybe he could distract her after all.

  Then she ruined it. She pulled on his arm, forcing him to face her. ‘Dammit, Kitt, tell me—did you swindle men out of their money or was it you who was swindled?’

  She was furious. Her face was flushed, her eyes almost feverish in their intensity. He’d pushed her further than he’d realised. ‘Tell me. Everything depends on it.’

  Everything did. The board’s belief in his information, his credibility, more than that, his future depended on it. If he told her, he could win her, he could outbid Selby. But she’d never be able to tell another. Could he trust her with that? Why did everything that happened between them in this garden come down to trust?

  ‘I can’t tell you because my life depends on it, Bryn,’ he said simply. He felt tired, defeated, as if he’d fought this battle for too long.

  Bryn sat down on the bench and motioned for him to sit beside her. He didn’t. He didn’t want to be that close to her. ‘It’s hard, isn’t it? To trust another. You wanted me to trust you. It didn’t seem so difficult when you were asking it because you knew I could trust you. But I didn’t know. Now, the shoe is on the other foot. I know you can trust me, but you don’t know, not for sure.’ She reached for his hand, not willing to accept his resistance. ‘I trusted you with my body and with my reputation. That is a woman’s life. You can trust me with yours, Kitt.’

  But he wasn’t going to. Bryn felt defeat lurking. She was going to lose, not just this argument, but him. He wasn’t going to tell her and she simply couldn’t tolerate that. He knew it, too—this was a decision not only about sharing his secret, but a decision about them. It was his last defence in pushing her away. Then suddenly, he sat and he began to talk.

  ‘My name hasn’t always been Kitt. My brother was involved in the Forsythe scandal in England in thirty-one. Do you remember it? It was over a Caribbean island that was supposed to be colonised. Unwittingly, my brother invested and convinced several families to invest heavily as well. As a consequence, a lot of people lost a lot of money. Some lost their lives. Some had invested so deeply they committed suicide. One young man had a nervous breakdown. He never recovered. He’s in an asylum today.’

  She watched Kitt’s profile, the firm line of his jaw working as he spoke. It took all her discipline not to prompt him. He would share in his own time. ‘I could save my brother, but I couldn’t save them. My brother and I are identical twins born two minutes apart. I took the blame and I fled. He and my family would be exonerated by my departure and by my assumption of the guilt. People will pity them, but people will hate me. I can never go back to England. Some of those people may even hate me enough to hunt me. I may not have to go back to England to seek death. It may find me. Do you understand? People believe I cost them their loved ones, their livelihoods.’

  Bryn nodded. She understood other things, too—the depth of commitment to family it took for him to make that sacrifice. The hidden depths of nobility, real nobility, that had nothing to do with rank. His sacrifice made hers look minute in comparison. He was a bold man, a brave man, who had doomed himself to exile for the sake of his family. She was not foolish enough to argue platitudes with him, that perhaps there was another way or that maybe in time things would be different.

  ‘Maybe I could have saved more of them if I had stayed.’ Kitt’s gaze was faraway. ‘Perhaps I could have helped some of the families, maybe I could have done more if I’d stayed, but I couldn’t bear to see my brother suffer, couldn’t bear to see my family become outcasts. No matter how many people I helped, I wouldn’t be able to save my family. In the end, I chose my family over others—the few instead of the many. And maybe I chose my own freedom over all of it without fully understanding the price.’

  He turned to look at her. ‘Now you know why I know so much about land swindles.’ She knew a lot more than that.

  ‘Thank you. Your secret is safe with me, always.’ She squeezed his hand. He had told her much, but not everything. He was protecting her still. It had not escaped her attention that he’d omitted names, his real name particularly. But it was enough. He would tell her more when he was ready.

  Kitt rose. ‘I should go. I’ll be leaving to go after Devore in a day or two no matter what they decide in there. Until then, it would be best if we kept our distance from one another, I think.’

  If he came back. She heard the underlying message. Going after Devore was dangerous. She’d seen that danger first-hand. ‘Do you have to go?’ It was a stupid question, but it made Kitt smile.

  ‘If Ren or Emma, or you, want to be safe, I have to go. Devore is a menace to us alive. He’s a menace to your father and the bank as well.’ He bent forward and placed a kiss on her cheek. ‘I will see you again and we will talk when it is settled.’ He swept the back of his hand along the line of her cheek. ‘Don’t look so glum, Bryn. You have victories enough to celebrate today.’

  It was a significant victory to know he was not guilty. At the end of the day, he was a good man who cared for others no matter how he tried to muddy the waters to the contrary. Her conscience was free to love him and she would. For now, that would be her secret. She reac
hed up for his hand where it lay against her cheek. ‘Be safe.’ She would tell him the rest when he came back.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was safe to assume Sherard knew the island didn’t exist and by now he must surely know they were behind the plantation swindle. Hugh Devore paced the floor of what passed as his office, nothing near as elegant as the one he’d had on Barbados. That was one more sin to lay at Kitt Sherard’s feet: the lack of any luxury, any comfort. It had taken months to get this far. Just when they were making progress, Sherard had to interfere again.

  It proved he was right. They should not have waited to go after Sherard. But Blakely had made a strong case of operating from a position of strength and Devore had agreed. At the time, it seemed sound. Now, Hugh Devore wondered otherwise. A position of strength also meant there was more to lose. They had the business to protect from exposure. The scales had tipped. No longer were they hunting Sherard, he was also hunting them. Their offence had been minimised.

  ‘We have to act now and we have to act fast.’ Devore spun on his heel to face Blakely and the first mate. Damn, but his forces were reduced. He had to act fast for other reasons, too. He’d lose the first mate once the man’s brother was free. He had no illusions the pair would stay around after this last run in with Sherard. He’d temporary lose his ability to chase Sherard on water until he could find another captain.

  ‘Beyond revenge, killing Sherard won’t stop the swindle from leaking out,’ Elias Blakely put in weakly. He was getting nervous and Devore worried about losing him, too. Blakely had no ethical qualms about swindling people on paper when it was just numbers in a ledger, but when lives were on the line, the man became positively squeamish.

  Devore whirled on him with a hard stare, enjoying how it made the man squirm. ‘Is revenge not enough? Have you forgotten what Sherard has done to us? Have you forgotten what you had? The luxury in which you used to live? Sherard took that from us, dropped us off on an island with only what we could carry. He made us no better than worms.’

  ‘He let us live,’ Blakely answered. ‘We escaped a trial.’

  ‘At a price!’ Devore roared. ‘It is no small thing.’ This was not the time for Blakely to have cold feet. But he was right about one aspect: there were more people involved. Silencing Sherard would not prevent others from knowing. By now Sherard would have told Rutherford and Rutherford would have told Selby.

  If he was lucky, it would stop there, the two investors being too embarrassed to confess it publicly to the bank board. If he was unlucky, the bank board would know, too. Devore felt a moment of stinging regret. If not for Sherard, if not for the failed sugar cartel and the debacle at Sugarland, he too might have been asked to sit on the board as one of Barbados’s leading financiers. Heaven knew he’d had the money to do so at one time. Sherard could pay for that, too.

  Blakely piped up one more time, a sure sign of how nervous he truly was—nervous enough to stand up to him rather than face Sherard. ‘We should take what we have and go. Barbados is dead to us, we can never go back there. In fact, the whole Caribbean is dead to us. Sherard will not rest until he finds us. We should go up to Florida or to New Orleans and start again.’

  It wasn’t a bad idea, but being chased off left a sour taste in Devore’s mouth. He nodded, a plan starting to form. Blakely was right. Now that things had come to a head, there wouldn’t be anything left here for them even if they did have their revenge. ‘All right, two days, Blakely. You have two days to organise our departure.’

  Blakely gave a tremulous smile, hardly daring to believe he’d won an argument. ‘What will you be doing?’

  Devore fingered the sharp blade of his letter opener. ‘I will be picking up a passenger, a little insurance to make sure Sherard keeps his distance.’ He motioned to the first mate. ‘You’re with me. You and I have a trip to make to the mainland. I’ve decided a new start requires a new bride.’

  * * *

  The start of ‘life without Kitt’ hadn’t gone well. Bryn had lasted in the house all of a half-hour after yet another bankers’ meeting began before she’d grabbed her market basket and stormed out to shop. Not that it counted as truly storming out. There’d been no one to see. The men had all been gathered around the big table in the dining room, deep in conversation. No one had paid her any attention or known she was gone, or for that matter even known she was in a temper. Not even Kitt, who had greeted her with stiff politeness when he’d arrived in the company of Mr Harrison and Mr Crenshaw as if they’d not shared an incredible conversation the day before, in some regards a life-changing conversation. Apparently, ‘life without Bryn’ was going better for him than ‘life without Kitt’ was going for her.

  She’d not thought it would be like this. She’d imagined something more tragically romantic when she’d pictured them meeting in the interim—eyes full of soulful, secret looks of longing, of regret that there couldn’t be more all in hopes that some day it might be possible. Good lord, she’d never thought of herself as the swoony type. She was supposed to be more practical than this, more like Kitt. It would get better. In a week or two this would all be over. She and Kitt could move on to exploring other possibilities.

  Bryn selected some fruits from a stall and put them in her basket, realising too late one of them was rotten. She had to pay attention! She couldn’t wander around absentmindedly thinking about Kitt. She’d get herself run over by a cart or...

  ‘Miss? Could you come with me?’ a big beefy man said at her elbow. Where he’d come from was anyone’s guess. She’d not been aware of him when she’d started shopping, then again, she’d not been aware of much. His tone was polite, but he was not familiar to her. ‘I have a message I need you to relay.’

  Bryn studied his features, trying to recall if she’d seen him before, someone perhaps from the gala dinner. No, she did not know him. ‘I’m not expecting any messages. Forgive me, but we have not been introduced. Perhaps you should arrange a meeting with my father directly.’ It was a bit haughty of her and she smiled to soften the politely delivered blow, but her instincts cried out that such a tactic was necessary. Something about him made her uncomfortable. Perhaps it was simply that he stood too close to her, crowding her. ‘If you’ll excuse me? I’m meeting some friends.’

  He didn’t budge. His eyes narrowed, sending a chill through her in spite of the warm sun. ‘Liar. You left the house alone and you’re meeting no one.’

  Cold fear came to her. She’d been followed and she hadn’t even known. This was her fault. This was what she got for letting her thoughts daydream over Kitt. She needed to get away. She had no weapon to hand, no real weapon at least. Her hand closed over the rotten piece of fruit in her basket. It would do.

  Bryn took a step back and threw the slimy missile, hitting him squarely in the face. He yowled in disgusted surprise, his hands clawing at his face to wipe away the oozing fruit, his attentions distracted momentarily. Bryn dropped the basket and ran...straight into a solid wall of unfriendly muscle who wasted no time wrestling her into a quiet alley away from the eyes of the market. There was no time to scream, barely even time to fight before she was shoved rather roughly into a dark interior, the door of the old storehouse clanging shut behind her taking the light with it. She could see nothing, but her captor was still with her. She could hear him breathing in the dark.

  ‘What is the meaning of this?’ she railed, trying to get her bearings, her mind reeling. She was certain now that this was an abduction attempt. Had anyone noticed? Was someone from the market even now on their way to her father?

  ‘You will see, the boss has plans for you,’ came the reply, thick with an island accent.

  ‘Who is the boss?’ she tried, desperate for information. Anything she could learn would help her escape and, if not escape, then help her negotiate. What did they want?

  Light flooded the little chamber for a momen
t before it was cut off by a bulky form. ‘I am the boss.’ The man from the market. She recognised the voice and the shape.

  He approached, walking with a pronounced limp. That limp should mean something to her. Her mind raced, trying to recall the memory. He was close, crowding her again in the dim room as he had in the market. She stood her ground, refusing to back up. In the small space there was nowhere to move, no way to evade him that wouldn’t make her look foolish. To back away would appear cowardly and give proof to her fear. Better, she reasoned, to meet him with her chin up.

  He chuckled at her show of defiance. ‘Sherard has himself a spitfire this time.’ He put his hand beneath her chin, turning her face this way and that in the dimness. ‘A pretty one, too.’

  Devore. The name came to her. Kitt had told her once that Devore limped as a result of a bullet he’d put in the man’s knee. She understood much of this now. Thwarted at sea in an attempt to keep Kitt from reaching land, knowing Kitt would expose the swindle, Devore had decided to take her hostage. Perhaps he thought to use her as leverage for Kitt’s silence. Perhaps he thought to blackmail Kitt into abdicating his claim of fraud. Perhaps she was to be the lure to draw Kitt out into the open. Perhaps he simply wanted to strike back and take something of value. He might have misjudged her worth if that was what he hoped.

  ‘You assume too much if you think Kitt will come for me,’ she said with a nonchalance she didn’t feel.

  He started to move about her in a predatory circle, his eyes crawling over her form with undisguised lascivious intent. ‘I don’t assume too much at all. I saw him on deck with you that first night out, before you knew we were there.’

  Her cheeks burned, but Devore wasn’t done. ‘Now that I know what you like, I’ll be sure to provide you with the same service.’ Bryn cringed inwardly at the thought. Outwardly, she remained stoic, her eyes forward, focused on the wall. Even with a theoretical understanding of her role in Devore’s private battle with Kitt, his next words were chilling.