For the Sake of a Scottish Rake

by Anna Bradley

  Chapter Fifteen

  Five days later

  Lucy was sitting on her bed with her feet tucked under her skirts and the Gillray print Ciaran had given her balanced on her knees. She traced the edges of it with her fingertips. Perhaps not every lady wished to be given a print of a bloody, bare-knuckle bout, but it meant everything to Lucy.

  Ciaran was the only person in the world who could have given it to her. The only one who knew her well enough to know how perfect a gift it was. If only—

  “Lucy?” There was a soft knock on her bedchamber door, and a moment later Eloisa peered inside. “Oh, you’re awake. I thought you might be resting.”

  “No.” Lucy lay the print on the bedside table with a sigh.

  They’d been out all afternoon with Ciaran, Lord Vale, Lady Felicia, and Lord Markham, riding in Richmond Park. The day was fine and they’d lingered for some time, but it wasn’t Lucy’s body that was trembling with exhaustion.

  It was her heart.

  It was so much harder than she ever could have imagined, acting as though she wasn’t in love with her pretend suitor, and it grew harder with every day that passed. Every time he smiled or laughed, every time he touched or teased her, she fell a little deeper under his spell.

  Their courtship wasn’t real. In her head, Lucy understood that.

  But in her heart…

  Well, hearts were foolish organs, weren’t they? Even now hers gave an insistent thump just at the thought of him.

  Lucy hadn’t any doubt she’d outwit her uncle and escape Lord Godfrey, but would she ever truly be free of Ciaran? Would her heart ever recover from him? Wasn’t she in more danger from him than she’d ever been from Lord Godfrey?

  Perhaps this pretend courtship hadn’t been such a brilliant idea, after all.

  “Where did you get this?” Eloisa had taken up the Gillray print and was studying it, a faint frown on her lips.

  “Mrs. Humphrey’s Print Shop, on Bond Street. Ciar—ah, Mr. Ramsey gave it to me.”

  “A print of a prizefight? What an odd gift.” Eloisa returned the print to Lucy’s table and sank down onto the edge of the bed. “I suppose that’s where you and Mr. Ramsey disappeared to the other day. I did wonder.”

  “Did you? I wonder you noticed anything at all aside from Lord Vale,” Lucy teased gently, anxious to turn the subject away from Ciaran.

  She expected Eloisa’s nose to turn up and a scold to leave her lips, but to Lucy’s surprise, her cousin didn’t offer her usual immediate denial.

  Instead, Eloisa only let out a soft sigh. A soft, yearning sigh.

  Lucy’s eyes went wide. “Eloisa? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  An unexpected suitor, a hopeless passion, a broken heart? Eloisa hadn’t said a word about any of those things, but that soft little sigh said more than words ever could.

  Eloisa didn’t answer at once, but sat twisting a fold of her skirts between her fingers, her gaze on her lap. Long moments passed in silence before she drew in an unsteady breath, and blurted out, “I’m in love with Lord Vale.”

  Lucy sat bolt upright against her pillows. “You’re what?”

  It was the last thing she’d expected her cousin to say. Well, no. Not the last. She’d suspected for some days now Eloisa was partial to Lord Vale. But to admit it so bluntly? That wasn’t like Eloisa.

  “In love with Lord Vale.” Eloisa’s face flushed with misery. “Madly, hopelessly in love with him.”

  “Madly in love with him? My goodness, Eloisa.”

  “I don’t want to be. I—I don’t know how it happened, Lucy! I never would have thought myself in any danger from such a man! He’s a dreadful tease, and a wicked rake besides. Don’t you think he’s a tease and a wicked rake?”

  Lucy thought about it for a moment. “A tease, yes, but I don’t believe he’s wicked, or even terribly rakish. I never have thought so. A trifle high-spirited, perhaps, but good-hearted, just like his sister.”

  Eloisa’s laugh was bitter. “Not so good-hearted he wouldn’t amuse himself at my expense. He’s only toying with me, of course. A meaningless flirtation, in the way of all fashionable London gentlemen.”

  Lucy hesitated. She’d been watching Lord Vale these past few days. Whenever he looked at Eloisa—which was often—the sweetest, softest smile bloomed on his lips. He didn’t look to Lucy like a man who was toying with a lady. He looked like a man in love. “I’m not convinced he is toying with you. Eloisa. It looks like more than a meaningless flirtation to me.”

  “No, Lucy. You know as well as I do the Earl of Vale doesn’t marry plain Miss Jarvis.”

  “He does if he falls in love with her.”

  Eloisa’s voice caught on a sob. “Even if he were in love with me—and I’m not convinced he is—I would never accept his hand.”

  Lucy frowned. “But why? If he’s in love with you, and you’re in love with him—”

  “Because marrying me would ruin him, Lucy! He’d become a laughingstock among the ton. Did you know he has two younger sisters at home? How could he ever bring them out into society with me as his countess? Their prospects would be destroyed, and it would be my fault.”

  To Lucy’s horror, a tear ran down Eloisa’s cheek.

  “Oh, don’t cry, Eloisa!” She threw her arms around her cousin’s neck. “Why, I can’t think of a single young lady in London who’d make a lovelier countess than you.”

  Eloisa didn’t answer, only buried her face in Lucy’s neck, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Lucy held her, her own eyes filling with tears. She couldn’t bear to see Eloisa so devasted, but there was nothing she could do, nothing she could say, unless…

  Lucy had been stroking Eloisa’s hair, but now her hand stilled. There was one thing she could say, and it was nothing but the truth.

  She drew in a breath, and took Eloisa by the shoulders to hold her away. “I’m in love with Ciaran Ramsey. Hopelessly, madly in love with him, and he doesn’t love me back. You’re not alone, Eloisa. Both our hearts are broken. I’m afraid we’ve made a sad showing for our first season, cousin.”

  Eloisa stared at her. “Whatever do you mean, he doesn’t love you back? He’s courting you, for pity’s sake!”

  “No, he isn’t. Not really. He’s only pretending to court me, to keep Lord Godfrey at bay until I turn twenty-one and your father is no longer my guardian. He doesn’t love me, Eloisa. He’s a dear friend, and nothing more.”

  Eloisa’s mouth fell open with shock. “But he…I can’t believe he isn’t in love with you. No gentleman is that good at feigning a passion.”

  “Well, it’s not as if he’s pretending to care for me. He does care, but as a friend only.”

  “My goodness, Lucy. A pretend courtship?” A tiny, rueful smile rose to Eloisa’s lips. “That’s…well, that’s quite a brilliant idea.”

  Lucy sighed. “It would have been, if I hadn’t ruined it by falling in love with him. I think, Eloisa…”

  Lucy trailed off as her heart sank in her chest. She’d have to end her pretend courtship with Ciaran. It was the only thing that made sense. A sinking heart was, after all, preferable to an irreparably broken one. “I need to put an end to my pretend betrothal at once.”

  “What about Lord Godfrey?” Eloisa gripped Lucy’s arm. “If you end your betrothal to Mr. Ramsey, you’ll have no protection against Lord Godfrey. He’s as determined as ever to marry you.”

  It was true. Lord Godfrey still called on Lucy every day. He’d taken to raising her hand to his lips when he greeted her. It took all of her forbearance not to bring her palm down hard on his cheek.

  Lord Godfrey didn’t care for Ciaran poaching on his territory—that much was certain—but he was as smug as he’d ever been. It was curious, really. Her uncle wanted the match, yes, and Lord Godfrey was an earl, but Ciaran was far younger, far more handsome, a
nd the brother of a marquess. Given the circumstances, Lord Godfrey seemed awfully confident he’d prevail in the end.

  Perhaps it was time to find out why.

  She’d suspected for some time there was a good deal more to this business with Uncle Jarvis and Lord Godfrey than she knew. If she intended to outwit them, the time had come to do a bit of investigating.

  Lucy’s dark gaze met her cousin’s blue one. “I think, dear cousin, it’s time we followed Lady Felicia’s wise counsel.”

  Eloisa blinked. “What wise counsel is that?”

  “How are your spying skills, Eloisa?”

  * * * *

  “It’s fortunate the fate of England never rested in our hands.” Eloisa dragged herself across her bedchamber and flopped down on her back on her bed. “We’re dreadful spies. We’ve been prowling about the house like thieves all day and haven’t turned up anything incriminating, unless you count the amount of port my father consumes in an evening.”

  They’d spent the day eavesdropping, interrogating the servants, and prodding Aunt Jarvis for any stray bits of information. They’d lingered at closed doors, and crept down dim hallways. They’d ducked into alcoves and hidden around corners, hoping to glean whatever tidbits they could. They were both exhausted from the strain, and they’d discovered nothing of any import.

  “Dreadful enough. We’re not going to get anywhere creeping about and eavesdropping on the servants. We need to change tactics, Eloisa.” Lucy stared out the window for a long moment, thinking, then turned to face her cousin. “Your mother said my uncle dines out this evening.”

  They hadn’t gotten anything else of use from Aunt Jarvis, but she had been able to give them the details of Uncle Jarvis’s social schedule. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and Lucy intended to turn it to account.

  Eloisa sat up, bracing herself on her elbows. “Yes, and thank God for it. At least we won’t be obliged to sit through dinner with him. Have you noticed he’s always watching us, Lucy? He’s never paid me the least bit of attention before, but now he can’t seem to take his eyes off either of us.”

  That was true enough. Every time Lucy ventured a glance at her Uncle Jarvis, she found his hard, brown eyes fixed on her and Eloisa, his thin lips turned down in a frown. “Well, he won’t be watching us tonight.”

  “What are you plotting, Lucy? That look on your face is positively sinister.”

  Lucy crossed the room and sat down next to Eloisa on the bed. “Not sinister. Determined. I’m going to sneak into my uncle’s office tonight and rifle through his desk.”

  “What?” Eloisa struggled upright, horror written plainly on her face. “You can’t, Lucy! If he should discover you’ve been there, he’ll…well, I don’t know what he’ll do, but it’s bound to be awful. Why, he might lock you in your bedchamber and leave you there for the rest of the season!”

  “No, he won’t dare. Lord Godfrey’s courting me, remember? I can’t receive his lordship’s attentions if I’m locked in my bedchamber. In any case, my uncle won’t discover I’ve been there. I can be quite stealthy when I choose.”

  “I don’t doubt that, but to sneak into his office, Lucy! What if his desk is locked?”

  Lucy had considered that. She knew a way around that problem, but Eloisa would start lecturing if she knew what it was, so Lucy kept the information to herself. “If it is, I’ll, ah…I’ll find a way around it once I’m there.”

  Eloisa didn’t look convinced. “I don’t like this plan.”

  “Do you have a better one?” Lucy wasn’t any surer about the plan than Eloisa was, but she had to do something. Lord Godfrey’s attentions grew more pointed every day. Without Ciaran to protect her, she’d find herself the Countess of Godfrey by the end of next week.

  Lucy shuddered with revulsion. She loathed locked doors, but she’d rather be confined to her bedchamber for the remainder of the season than marry Lord Godfrey. She leaned forward and clasped Eloisa’s hands. “You’ll help me, won’t you? I can’t do it without you.”

  Eloisa’s gaze met Lucy’s pleading one. She let out a resigned sigh, then rose and crossed the bedchamber to make sure the door was closed. When she turned back to Lucy, her face was grim with determination. “Very well. Tell me what you want me to do.”

  * * * *

  As was the case with most villains, the hours between Lucy and Eloisa’s decision to commit the crime and the actual act seemed to drag on forever. As expected, they were not obliged to endure Uncle Jarvis’s company at dinner, but Aunt Jarvis’s high spirits at having escaped her husband’s presence for an evening made her chattier than usual. By the time she took herself off to bed, Lucy’s nerves were stretched tighter than piano wire.

  “We won’t have to worry about my mother catching us out tonight.” Eloisa had gone upstairs to bid her mother goodnight, but now she joined Lucy in front of the fire in the library. “She took a dose of Dr. Digby’s Calming Tonic. I left the bottle on the table beside her bed.”

  Lucy nodded. “Good. Let’s wait another hour, though, just to be sure. Your father won’t be back for ages still, and in an hour the servants will have settled.”

  They waited in the library for what felt like an eternity, but at last one of the downstairs maids snuffed the candles, leaving the hallway that led to the study and the library dim. Lucy waited until the house was quiet, then rose from her chair and signaled Eloisa to follow her. They crept down the hallway to Uncle Jarvis’s study. Lucy grasped the door handle, then paused, squeezing her eyes closed and praying it wasn’t locked.

  Ah, a stroke of luck! The handle turned easily in her hand, and within seconds she and Eloisa were inside.

  “It looks as if a hurricane blew through here,” Eloisa hissed. “How are we meant to find anything in this mess?”

  Lucy gaped at the untidy piles of paper stacked on top of her uncle’s desk, and her heart began an anxious pounding. She was terrified to touch a single sheet lest the entire mountain toppled over.

  “If we disarrange his things, he’ll notice it.” Eloisa eyed the papers. “Light the lamp, Lucy, but keep it low. We’ll see if we can read some of them without touching the piles.”

  “Yes, that’s a good start.” Lucy, who was impressed with Eloisa’s calm demeanor, did as she was bid. They held the lamp over the center of the desk and cast a quick eye over the stacks. “The papers on the top seem to be mostly tradesman’s bills.” Lucy leaned closer to read one of them. “My goodness, Eloisa. Your father can’t have spent that much on a single coat, can he?” She pointed to a bill from Weston that was balanced on the top of the pile.

  Eloisa leaned closer, saw the number and gasped. “You don’t think…” Eloisa swallowed as she took in the dozens of papers scattered across the desk. “You don’t suppose these are all bills, do you?”

  Lucy saw the dawning despair on her cousin’s face and wished with all her heart she could say no, but she did suppose it. How her uncle planned to pay for all his luxuries was a mystery, unless…

  “My uncle appears to be expecting a windfall, doesn’t he?” Odd, considering he was in debt to Lord Godfrey.

  Lucy caught Eloisa’s gaze, and saw she and her cousin were thinking the same thing. They both knew there was only one place Uncle Jarvis could lay his hands on the sort of money it would take to pay all these bills.

  Lucy’s trust.

  She hadn’t any idea how he thought he could manage it. He was required to give an accounting of expenditures from the trust to the court every quarter. He couldn’t just plunder it at will.

  Unless, of course, he found some way to do it without arousing suspicion.

  Lucy swept her gaze over the piles of papers. They might not all be bills—it was impossible to tell with the mess—but even at a cursory glance she could see there were dozens of them. Weston. Lock & Company Hatters. J Floris, perfumer. An extortionate bill from
Berry Brothers & Rudd. Well, that explained the dozens of bottles of port. Rundell & Bridge—

  Rundell & Bridge! Lucy pressed her lips together. Why should her Uncle Jarvis have a bill from Rundell & Bridge? He hadn’t given her aunt any new jewels.

  Not really a mystery, was it? Impotent anger rose in Lucy’s breast, but she forced herself to stay focused. There would be time enough to hold Uncle Jarvis accountable for his sins, but for now, they needed to see what he was hiding in his desk. Surely, a man careless enough to leave a chaos of tradesman’s bills lying about was also careless enough to leave his drawers unlocked?

  Lucy slid her fingers under the lip of one of the drawers on her side of the desk and pulled, but it didn’t budge. Not quite that careless then, blast him. “It’s locked.”

  “This one, too.” Eloisa was tugging on the drawer on the other side, but to no avail.

  “We’ve made it this far. I refuse to give up now.” Lucy scanned the top of the desk. There, laying on one corner was a letter opener.

  She seized it and was about to use it to pick the lock when Eloisa grasped her wrist to stop her. “No! You can’t break the lock, Lucy. My father will be able to tell.”

  Lucy blew out a frustrated breath. They were so close. “We have to, Eloisa. There’s no telling when we’ll get another chance. Perhaps he won’t notice it.”

  “Wait, Lucy. We didn’t try this one.” Eloisa took hold of the tiny gold knob of the middle drawer and pulled. It slid smoothly open, and both of them leaned over the desk to get a look inside.

  Lucy rummaged through the drawer. “Quills, some blank paper, an enameled snuff box…there’s nothing of any interest here.”

  “I beg your pardon, cousin. There is one thing.” Eloisa reached into the desk, plucked something up, and held it up to the lamp so Lucy could see it.

  Lucy’s breath left her lungs in a quiet gasp. It was a small key. The sort of key that might open a gentleman’s desk drawers. “Try it.”