THREE HEROES

by Jo Beverley

  With Captain Lavalle it had been a plan again, but a huge mistake. Physically it had been nothing.

  Worse than nothing.

  It had been disgusting.

  Now, without even touching Con, she ached, she burned for him. Out there in the garden, she’d longed to touch him, to press against the hard muscles his wet shirt had so tantalizingly revealed, to embrace him, to comfort him, to be comforted and healed....

  She thumped down on the edge of her bed, still in her damp corset and shift, trying to understand this unexpected force.

  She knew she loved. That was a force of its own, but it was one she could rule with willpower. She loved, and because she loved it was possible not to show it, not to distress him with it, and to let him go to the woman he had chosen.

  But this ... this was more elemental. Part of the ache, she was sure, was from struggling not to act, as if battling a fierce wind, or the pull of a stormy sea. It seemed all too likely that the force could overwhelm her, sweeping her into disaster.

  Disaster for them both.

  She shuddered, then stood to strip off the rest of her clothes, to rub herself sternly with a towel until her skin burned and the ache subsided.

  She had to leave. Immediately. She had no explanation she could give anyone, but Con would understand. She’d return to the manor, and then go elsewhere—

  She stilled, seeing many problems.

  She had no money until the Horde was prosperous again.

  She had nowhere to go, and no easy chance of employment....

  It didn’t matter. For both their sakes, she had to at least leave Crag Wyvern. Mrs. Gorland could manage the household until a new housekeeper was hired.

  She’d claim she was ill.

  At the moment she felt almost ill.

  She pulled on a dry shift and added another working corset. She took out her second gray dress and put it on. If she was leaving she could dress in ordinary clothes— but this was armor.

  Yet it hadn’t protected her from Con....

  She thrust away memory and added a starched fichu. She redid her hair, pinning it up tightly, and put on a cap, tying the laces.

  It wasn’t enough.

  There could never be enough.

  There was no protection except distance.

  She looked at her possessions—books, needlework, ornaments. What could she carry them in?

  She couldn’t delay to pack them. She had to go now.

  She walked out into the kitchen.

  “We’re almost out of butter, ma’am,” Mrs. Gorland said. “And I could do with a nice sirloin.”

  Susan longed to rush by but duty made her pause. “Send down to Ripford for the beef, and buy as much butter as you need from the village.”

  “Very well, ma’am.” Then the cook looked at her. “Are you all right, dear?”

  The switch from business to personal was almost too much for Susan, but she found a smile. “Yes, of course, but I need to go down to the manor again.”

  “That’s all right. We can manage fine.”

  “I know. Thank you.” Susan left, wishing she could take a proper farewell of them all.

  She felt she should sneak out by one of the small doors, but the main entrance was closest, so she headed there via the great hall. When she walked into that space a man was waiting.

  Con!

  No, not Con, thank heavens. Just Lieutenant Gifford. But he was someone else to talk to before she was free.

  “Lieutenant. May I help you?”

  He looked at her and blushed. She’d swear it was a blush. She looked down at her hastily put on clothes, but she couldn’t see anything embarrassingly amiss.

  He reached up and tugged at his military stock. “I came to speak to the earl, Mistress Kerslake. A maid is looking for him. For me ...”

  Speak to Con? About smuggling? And Con probably knew David was Captain Drake and might say something. Surely he wouldn’t...

  She couldn’t deal with this now.

  Dear heaven. Con would be coming here at any moment!

  “Then if you’ll excuse me, sir, I have an errand to run.”

  She moved to one side to go around him, but he blocked her way.

  “I ... I would prefer you kept me company for a while.”

  She looked up at him, trying to focus her mind on this. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I would prefer your company,” he said more firmly, looking a little alarmed, but also a great deal determined.

  Insane humor tried to bubble up.

  Was he going to propose to her?

  Here?

  Now?

  She stepped to the side again. “My errand is urgent, Lieutenant—”

  He blocked her again. “So is mine. Please, you will want to hear what I have to say.”

  Devil spit. Con could be here at any moment, or the maid returning to take Gifford to him! She pushed him hard on the chest with both hands, prepared to run if necessary. But he only fell back a step before grasping her wrists.

  “Release me!” she hissed, wishing she dared scream for help. “Lord Wyvern will be here directly. He will not like to see you holding me prisoner like this.”

  “Got to you already, has he? That’ll have to stop.”

  “What?” Either she was mad or he was.

  He looked around wildly, clearly checking to see if anyone could see them. He was flushed again, but this time with excitement. It glittered in his eyes.

  “I couldn’t quite believe it,” he said rapidly, quietly, as if they shared a secret. “But I saw you and the earl out in the courtyard. Only lovers look at one another like that, Susan. And to think I was advancing on your defenses so politely.”

  “Lieutenant—”

  “Giles, Susan. Giles.”

  “ Lieutenant...”

  The flash of fury in his eye stole words for a moment. She made herself relax in his grip and look at him calmly. “Lieutenant, I’m very sorry but I could not possibly marry you—”

  His eyes widened, and then he laughed. “Dear lady, I’m not after marriage. I want what Captain Lavalle enjoyed.”

  Heavenly mercies. Her legs threatened to betray her. She’d always feared this, that the cad would talk of it to other officers. It had been so many years, though....

  Too late, she tried to bluff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Oh yes you do. Keen for it, Lavalle said, and now I see how right he was. The earl’s only been here two nights and he’s clearly had you. So now it’s my turn. You’re a fine looking woman, Susan. I find you a real cock-stirrer, especially in your starchy gray and white, your hair all tucked up under that cap....”

  He was pushing her backward and she went, unable to think what to do. Her hips hit the center table and he trapped her there, licking his lips as he did so, pressing himself against her, trying to part her thighs.

  “Are you mad?” she said in a frantic whisper. “Release me immediately!”

  “A mere lieutenant not good enough for you after an earl?” He pressed harder so the table dug into her.

  “Stop or I’ll scream,” she hissed, meaning it, though then he’d tell Con about Lavalle. Oh, God. Oh, God...

  “No, you won’t. Or I’ll arrest your brother as Captain Drake.”

  Her throat seized up.

  He knew.

  No, she realized, her wits sharpening—he guessed.

  She made herself meet his eyes and look astonished. “David? A smuggler? You are mad.”

  “David, son of Mel Clyst, Susan, just as you’re daughter of Mel Clyst.”

  He stepped back and let her free, clearly confident now that she wouldn’t run. Should she run to prove David’s innocence?

  Before she could decide, he said, “I wondered why you weren’t respectably married by now, but you’re not Miss Kerslake of Kerslake Manor, are you? You’re the bastard daughter of a smuggler and a whore, and truly your mother’s daughter, by what I heard from Lavalle.”

&n
bsp; “Whatever he told you, he lied. I assume men often boast of these things if they think they can get away with it. He tried to seduce me, yes. Five years ago, I think. He did not take my rejection well.”

  She saw a flicker of uncertainty and pushed her advantage. “I’d thought better of you, Lieutenant, than to believe such doubtless boozy talk.”

  Uncertainty disappeared. “He wasn’t drunk, Susan, he was dying. We shared a mat on the ground in the crowded surgeon’s tent after Albuera. I survived, and he didn’t. But we talked of home, and one of the things he talked about was you. A beautiful, well-bred lady who’d just about begged him to tumble her. But he’d found out later she wasn’t really a well-bred lady, and her mother was a whore, so it hadn’t been such a miracle after all.”

  Susan couldn’t think what to say, but relief was washing over her in a dizzying wave. It was possible that Lavalle hadn’t talked of her in every mess tent in the Peninsula.

  But she still had Gifford to deal with.

  “Be my whore, Mistress Kerslake, and your brother will be safe.”

  Lord, and she’d thought Gifford a good man! Surrender? Or fight.

  Fight, of course.

  “My brother is the earl’s estate manager,” she said flatly, “and you, sir, are a cad.”

  He paled, but his lips tightened. “But you won’t be telling the earl what I’ve done, will you?”

  “He’d probably think that I’m as mad as you are. I doubt you’re brave enough to admit your words to him.”

  “So he is your lover, is he?”

  She met his eyes. “No. If I try to continue on my way, Lieutenant, are you going to manhandle me again?”

  She had him rattled. He even bit his lower lip.

  But then he stood straighten “A week from now,” he said. “When the moon is too full for the plaguey smugglers. Come to my rooms at the Crown and Anchor.” His grim smile showed that he had his nerve back.

  “The local smugglers have been trying for months to find a way to pay me off,” he added. “Well, now they have it. For as long as you please me, Susan, you can be the payment.”

  Footsteps saved her from having to find a response. Both she and Gifford turned as Con walked in.

  He paused.

  What did they look like, standing so close together?

  Con’s face was expressionless as he came forward. “Lieutenant Gifford.”

  Gifford bowed. “My lord.”

  He sounded half strangled by sudden nerves, and Susan felt a bubble of laughter threatening. She kept forgetting that Con was an earl, that he was supposed to be regarded with awe and trembling.

  Ah, no. She could do the awe and trembling very well indeed.

  She knew that if she told him what Gifford had threatened, showed him the marks that had to be on her wrists, he would destroy Gifford for her. Doubtless here and now.

  But she couldn’t, because she’d have to tell him why.

  And she didn’t want to bring about Gifford’s destruction. He’d been led astray by Lavalle’s story, which had been essentially true. As with her other sorrows, she had brought this on herself.

  Now, however, flight to the manor seemed pointless. The enemies were outside as well as in.

  Con and Gifford had been speaking together, and now Con indicated that Gifford should accompany him. “Mrs. Kerslake,” he said to her with chilly formality, “please have refreshments sent to the library.”

  She pulled on the manner of the perfect housekeeper, and curtsied.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Con led Gifford across the garden to the library, wishing he had an excuse to plant the man a facer. Gifford and Susan? Damnation, why would a Preventive man take up with a smuggler’s daughter?

  Perhaps he didn’t know.

  Gifford made some inane remark about the garden, and Con replied. He could drop the information into conversation. He assumed they were about to talk about smuggling.

  They were passing the fountain basin and he remembered what had been there. He could not betray Susan. He was a dragon, but not a dragon of the foulest sort. Gifford was bound to find out soon, and if Con was any judge, that would be the end of any chance of a marriage, but it wouldn’t come at his hands.

  But then he wondered, if Susan was encouraging Gifford, did she truly not want Crag Wyvern anymore?

  Or was she encouraging Gifford in the Dragon’s Horde’s cause?

  The momentary hope faded.

  Of course she was.

  Poor Gifford.

  Victim of the dragon in another way.

  Susan gave the order for the refreshments, then scurried off to hide in her room.

  What in the name of heaven did she do now?

  She circled her haven, clutching her useless cap. She needed to warn David, but she didn’t want to tell him about Gifford’s threat. David always seemed levelheaded, but no man was going to stay levelheaded if told about his sister being blackmailed into whoredom!

  He might challenge Gifford to a duel.

  As Captain Drake, he might order Gifford killed out of hand.

  That would be so wrong, and it would be disastrous to have yet another riding officer die on this stretch of coast. They’d end up with troops every few feet, and once the local smuggling master was caught, they’d find a way to hang him. If not, he too would doubtless fall off a cliff.

  Gifford’s threat was hollow. He couldn’t arrest David. He had no proof. But now he’d be watching David and this area like a hawk.

  She dropped her hands and sighed. She couldn’t tell David any more than she could tell Con, because she’d have to tell them about Lavalle. Of all the things she had done of which she was ashamed, Captain Lavalle was the worst.

  She wanted no one to know, and now it appeared that Lavalle had talked of it.

  While she’d been speaking with Gifford she’d felt sure that Lavalle had only spoken about her when he’d been dying, but what if he’d shared the story with dozens? Or what if Gifford had spread it about since? No, no, he wouldn’t do that. It was his weapon. But what if... ?

  She recognized the ache of weak tears and fought them. But they broke free and she collapsed in a chair, trying not to sob out loud, trying to keep the storm quiet with her hand. That seemed to force the misery back painfully into her chest, into her bruised and aching heart....

  She managed to control it in the end, but Lord, she hurt. Her chest ached, and her throat, and her eyes burned. She couldn’t imagine where the term “a good cry” came from.

  But slowly she did begin to feel better.

  Not good. But better.

  She’d learned in the past that some things couldn’t be changed and that the world did not crash to its end because of one person’s anguish. She’d learned that life must be dealt with as it was, not as she wished it to be. She’d learned that she could not take life in her hands like wet clay and mold it.

  This was simply another bruising lesson.

  She stood and blew her nose. Her mirror showed her red and swollen eyes. How could she face anyone like this?

  She ripped off her scratchy fichu, however, and her confining cap. Clearly they were not armor at all. In fact, she remembered with a shudder, Gifford had said they excited him!

  With a shock of laughter she wondered if she was going about this in the wrong way. Perhaps if she flitted around the place half-dressed Con would not be affected, and men like Gifford would shy away!

  But no. Her low bodice last night had not been safe either.

  Gifford had given her a week.

  A week to decide what to do.

  A week to find the gold.

  Which meant a week here, with Con, and already in two days things were getting out of hand. That force, that power that had driven her to run was still swirling through Crag Wyvern.

  But the gold was the answer.

  With the gold, David could lie low for months. Gifford could watch him until his eyes dried to raisins and not find a thing.


  And with the gold, David could pay back the loans she had made. She could move far away. In fact, she thought, excited by the idea, she’d ask David to come with her to help her settle.

  Bath perhaps. No, too close.

  London.

  Scotland?

  Could she get him to take her to Italy?

  The farther the better.

  Perhaps she could keep him away for weeks, a month, even more. He’d have to return, of course. He’d have to be in danger in the future, but the critical danger would be past.

  Gifford would surely forget about her once she was far away. He’d still suspect David, but the Preventives had more than suspected Mel. They’d simply not been able to catch him at it or prove anything.

  Until helped by the old earl, apparently, damn his black heart.

  Yes, that was a plan. For now, however, this was an excellent time to search for the gold.

  Con was with Gifford in the library, and de Vere was presumably in the office engaged in his love affair with accounts. The bedrooms upstairs should be deserted.

  She slipped out of the kitchen area without attracting attention and headed for the circular stairs. As she passed a window into the garden, however, she saw movement.

  It was de Vere, out of the office, for once. It was one of the rooms she knew best, and had searched most carefully. She was almost sure that the money could not be hidden there, but she had better check one last time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As soon as Susan entered she saw the effects of a new hand. The standish and pens were arranged differently. Piles of papers stood around the desk, each with a note on top. She glanced at them and saw one note saying, Further investigation.

  What had de Vere found?

  She flicked through that short pile but found nothing about smuggling. It contained mostly bills, and she supposed there was no record of payment.

  It only took moments to assure herself that there was no hiding place she’d overlooked. However, she saw a small wooden box on the desk that had been tucked in a drawer for years. She opened it and found it half-full of scraps of paper, even chunks torn out of printed books.