The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Jonathan shrugged one shoulder. "I just assumed he loved you, it was a good match, the usual reasons."

  "I'm not asking you to break a confidence-"

  He shook his head. "No, I'm aware of that. But I am telling the truth. I was not aware of anything untoward with your marrying. He seemed most happy, and has been so ever since. In fact, he's been more and more with the passing weeks, until today of course. Now he looks, well, odd, and you've come to see me in some obvious distress. I know all sorts of things can go amiss in a marriage, from the little to the great. I've never been married myself, but I'll try to help if I can."

  "I must start at the beginning, then. The whole truth is that I got married to Thomas purely by a trick of circumstance. I know that this does not reflect well upon me at all, but I was in fact eloping with another gentleman when he intervened."

  Jonathan looked flabbergasted. "Oh my. I had no idea."

  There, now she had said it. She pressed on with her sad tale. "Thomas appeared at the rendezvous point, and we headed off in the coach. We hadn't gone far when he kissed me. Truth to tell, I most certainly kissed him right back. Then my family came along, caught me in the most dreadfully compromised position, and Thomas offered to make good. The rest is as you have seen."

  The vicar's sandy brows knit. "Except for me being clear about his motives. I mean, you are a most lovely woman, but it seems rather impetuous for my old friend, to say the least. He's never been much of one in the petticoat line in all the years I've had the privilege of knowing him."

  She nodded. "Indeed, that confirms what I thought at the time. He was always so punctiliously correct in every aspect of his life and deportment, I couldn't think that he would let bad judgment or, well, lust cause him to behave so. And certainly not greed."

  The vicar looked stunned at the very idea. "Greed? No, never," Jonathan said firmly.

  "I know that now. But at the time he told me that he stepped in because my fortune was too tempting."

  Jonathan's eye widened even further.

  She shook her head. "I know it can't have been the truth, not then, not now. It didn't take me long to discover more about his personal affairs, and discern that that was not the reason either. For one thing, he is most moderate in his manner of living, so I cannot see, unless it was to help an impoverished relative or friend, that he would have needed or wanted to marry solely for money." "That would be my impression as well."

  "I also discovered recently from my aunt, and the, um, other gentleman in question, that they knew I was permitted to have discretion with regard to my own income. It was more than I knew myself, and certainly an unheard indulgence for any wife. I could not be sure if that was true. I have had so few needs as Thomas's wife. He has been a most kind and generous husband always.

  "So I tested the information. I went to the bank to withdraw a few sums, and they were indeed given me without a murmur of dissent. So it appears that it might well be true. Therefore my question has to be, if he did not marry me for my fortune, why did he wed me, and why did he lie to me about his motives?"

  Jonathan looked astonished at the facts she had imparted. "Being in any financial trouble is most untypical of him. I have known him since childhood, through thick and thin as the saying goes. I would know if he were in Queer Street, or in some sort of serious trouble. Your aunt and the, er, gentleman. Were they attempting to importune you for money?"

  "Yes, they were," she admitted with a sigh, folding her hands into her lap. "I suspect they were acting in concert. I believe my aunt and a woman I thought to be my friend actually helped plot and scheme with regard to the proposed elopement. Thomas told me as much the day of our wedding, but I thought he was being uncharitable to my aunt at the time, and did not pay him the heed I should have.

  "Oh, Mr. Deveril, Jonathan, if I may, I fear I have been terribly naive, far too trusting in reference to people I thought were my friends. I believed my aunt was concerned for my well being, but she has raised me to be far too worldly, interested only in beaux and not the state of my soul. She actually encouraged me to run off. What decent woman would ever want anyone she cared about to court scandal in such a manner?" "No right-minded woman, certainly," he said with a shake of his head. "Aye, you're right. I have no doubt they have been putting their heads together to see how best to secure my money for their own purposes."

  "This is very bad indeed," he said with a rueful sigh.

  "And she persisted in encouraging me to see the man in question, even when I was already respectably married. She even tricked me into it, bringing him to my own garden under the guise of wanting a tour of the grounds.

  Jonathan's handsome mouth drew downwards. "Very bad."

  She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and leaned forward earnestly. "I ran away at the first opportunity every time, but I can't be sure she won't keep trying. I don't want to complain of her to Father or Thomas, for I don't wish her to end up homeless, but nor can I think of a way to get her to stop badgering me. She has no conscience and morality."

  Jonathan, nodded. "Indeed, none, to scheme against you in such a manner."

  Charlotte let out a shaky sigh. "Thomas saw her for what she was long before I did, I'm ashamed to say. She tried to drive a wedge between my husband and I from the moment we were married. A true friend would never have refused to stand up with me at my wedding. And they certainly would not have behaved in so mean-spirited a manner to the man who gave her a fine home to live in. A decent allowance."

  "No, indeed. She has shown a dreadful lack of care for you, and a lack of gratitude most unbecoming in a woman whose little status in the world has been solely through your good father's offices, and now your husband's."

  Charlotte nodded miserably. "My own aunt only interested in controlling me, and my fortune. It is too terrible."

  "But tell me, have you done anything to be ashamed of with this other man?" he asked gently.

  "No! Never! My aunt and my friend Agnes sadly deceived me upon a couple of occasions. Set up a clandestine meeting without me being aware he would be present. I always ran away."

  "You did well to," he said approvingly, and visibly relaxed.

  "Thanks to my improving study, I came to understand how wrong the notion of eloping was, the idea of adultery grew even more abhorrent to me than it had been already," she said, sniffing piteously. "All this nonsense about lover's vows, and giving up everything for love, it's, well, not at all proper or decent after all, now is it. Most of these tales are of illicit passions. Even beyond losing my place in society, there is a question of losing one's place in Heaven."

  Jonathan nodded approvingly. "Just so, my dear. I'm so glad you realised it in time."

  "I was never truly tempted, not really," she said shyly. "The more time I spent with Thomas, the more I compared him with the other gentleman and found him lacking in every respect."

  "Still, passion is a hard thing to resist," the vicar pointed out mildly.

  She shook her head. "Only if it is felt. I have never wanted any man the way I do Thomas. It is the difference between girlish fancy, and womanly desire."

  He looked surprised, but nodded. "Indeed."

  "I just wish I could get him to believe that. Or that I was chaste to begin with," she confessed.

  Jonathan's brows knit. "Ah, I see. So he thinks that your original protestations of love for another were sincere, and a sign that things might have progressed to a more, er, physical admiration. Hence the elopement."

  "Yes. But I swear-"

  He waved away her protestations. "Well, a man can usually tell these things, you know."

  "I promise you, I am truly chaste. It's just, well-" She trailed off with a blush.

  "Go on," he urged gently.

  "While we traveled some distance in the coach, things got a little, um, warm. I never intended to kiss him, respond to Thomas. But some devil in me went almost mad with desire. I think I must have shocked him. But what we share is the difference between,
oh, I don't know, the flap of a butterfly's wings and a hurricane."

  He smiled despite himself. "Hmm. With Thomas the hurricane, no doubt. That would appear to be a good thing, I think. Tell me, my dear, before you married, did you know each other well, you and Thomas, I mean?"

  She shook her head. "Only to nod to. He is always so, well, aloof with me."

  "And in these past four months or more, have you had any cause to regret marrying Thomas? It's all right, I will not tell him anything you say."

  She blinked her tear-filled blue eyes. "I regret only that I'm not the woman that Thomas deserves. I have been self-centered and vain. And willful and cruel. I was so foolish, so utterly blind to the faults of the man I thought I was in love with, that I reproached Thomas for not being that man.

  "But I'm glad he isn't," she said firmly. "I would have been miserable if I had eloped with the other. He seemed so perfect, so dashing, but it was all a facade. He is selfish, violent. In short, he frightens me. He has pestered me to be unfaithful. To run away with him, then forced me to help him with money. I feel sure he will lie to Thomas and tell him I have been unfaithful, when I haven't."

  Jonathan felt a cold hand squeeze his heart. It suddenly made a terrible sort of sense, so obvious that he wondered why he hadn't guessed in an instant. He could think of only one reason why Thomas would have intervened in the elopement of a girl he hardly knew. To save her from a fate worse than death, of course...

  "This other man," he asked, his voice coming out a reedy croak. "Can you tell me his name?"

  "Yes, I might as well now, since I want to make a clean breast of everything and no longer have anything to hide. His name is Herbert Paxton."

  He smacked his forehead with the palmof one hand. "God's above. I've been so blind." He rose almost blindly and staggered over to the sideboard as she stared at him.

  Once there, he poured himself a glass of sherry without even offering her a libation, and downed his drink in a single gulp. "Good Lord, I had no idea he was even in Somerset," he said at last, his hand trembling with suppressed emotion.

  Charlotte stared in confusion. "You know him?"

  He snorted in derision. "Know him? All too well, for the foul fiend that he is. I certainly wish to God I didn't know him, for he's done nothing but blight our lives since we came across him in the war."

  "Foul fiend?" she echoed, feeling a chill run from her spine down to her toes, like an icy fist imprisoning her.

  "Aye, fiend. Paxton is nothing more than a blackguard, a vile seducer, and to my mind, little better than a murderer."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Charlotte's eyes widened in alarm. She stared at the handsome young vicar in shock. "I don't understand. Paxton is a murderer?"

  "As good as."

  Jonathan poured himself another sherry, and one for her as well now, and sat down heavily. He pressed the glass into her trembling fingers, shaking so badly himself that the liquor sloshed all over their hands. Neither heeded the spillage.

  Jonathan swallowed hard. "This is difficult for me. Not all of the affair is mine to tell. But I think Thomas has been silent long enough. Too long. It has blighted his life all this time, and might ruin any chance the two of you have to be happy if it's allowed to fester any longer. I must tell you quickly. Please forgive me if I appear distraught. There is a great deal at stake here."

  "Tell me, please."

  "Has Thomas ever told you how he was wounded in the war and sent home?"

  She shook her head. "No, he hasn't. We discussed it before my wedding, remember, but it was not a subject he wished to embellish upon. I knew he was injured, but he never told me the whole tale."

  "He wasn't just injured. He was dead. He and Clifford."

  Charlotte's blue eyes rounded. "Dead?!" The flesh on the back of her neck prickled. "I don't understand. You mean a mistake was made. You thought they were dead."

  "No, they WERE dead. As sure as I'm sitting here, they were dead. We had gone into the breach at the siege of Cuidad Rodrigo in January 1812, even knowing how dangerous it was. Our commanding officer gave the order we would be first to go in. He said the way had been cleared for us, but the French were waiting. We were led like lambs to the slaughter. There was a huge trench, with evil spikes at the bottom of it. Clifford went first, fell in and was impaled through the back and stomach.

  "They had a small cannon. As Thomas stepped into the breach, it went off, peppering him with shot. His legs were both mangled messes, blood pumping everywhere. I knew even if he lived, they would both have to be amputated.

  "I dropped down into the trench, all thought of fighting gone. Thomas said goodbye to me, and I could see the blood spurting out of both his legs. His pulse grew fainter, and I could feel him slipping away from me.

  "Clifford was no better. I could see, well, his innards," he said in an agonized whisper. "He was gritting his teeth against the pain as he clasped my hand and gave me messages for his loved ones." Jonathan trembled as he spoke and swallowed hard.

  "I felt the pulse at his wrist getting weaker. I put my hand on Thomas's legs to try to stop the bleeding, and prayed as I never had before. I asked God to spare them both, to take me instead. I told the Lord I would make any bargain he liked. Turn my back on my old life, my worldly ways. Devote myself to the sick and the poor and the helpless, so long as he spared the two men who were like brothers to me.

  "I don't know how long I knelt there praying. But when I finally looked at my surroundings once more, I saw something I never thought I would see."

  "What was it?" Charlotte whispered in awe.

  "A miracle. Clifford groaned and stirred, and sat up. The blade was gone, and he had only a ragged tear in his coat to show where he had been pierced, and a jagged scar front and back. He was still in a lot of pain, but was actually whole on the outside.

  "But Thomas's recovery was even more miraculous. His breeches were shredded, but when he finally came to at the field hospital, they said he would be fine. They washed his legs. They were completely peppered with little piercing wounds, which have left small scars. He could hardly bend his legs at first, and had much pain, but they improved over time in the field hospital in Spain. But he was dead, I tell you. Had bled to death right before my eyes."

  Charlotte clasped her hands as if in prayer, too moved to speak.

  "It was a miracle, I'm sure of it," Jonathan said firmly. "After that, I did the only thing I could do. I kept my promise to God, and became a minister.

  "Clifford and Thomas were both invalided out of the war after a few months in hospital. Since then they have dedicated themselves to all the causes they have espoused. Even if they are considered dangerous Radicals, they follow the dictates of their conscience. They've done a great deal of good for their tenants and children, and the poor slaves in this country and elsewhere."

  "This is a remarkable story you've told me. I can't quite take it all in. It shows what I always knew, that Thomas is a special man." She shook her head in wonder. "But I'm not sure what it has to do with me."

  "I told you that Herbert was a murderer. It was he who sent his men into the breach, all of us who were serving under him, without any regard for our lives. He was not just following orders. He knew what was waiting for us behind those walls. The French had bribed him, you see. Bribed him to betray our troops."

  "Are you sure?" she gasped, unable to grasp such unspeakable evil.

  Jonathan nodded. "He vanished after the battle, and was reported dead. It is easily done. You plant some of your possessions on a body with the right uniform, and everyone believes it. That's why the Rakehells have tattoos. In case the worse ever happened on the battlefield, at least our families would know for sure what had befallen us.

  "Unfortunately, we've never been able to prove the bribery. We do know Herbert turned up here in England shortly thereafter, pretending to be a wealthy man with a title, but was really only an unscrupulous fortune hunter. You can imagine where he turned up."


  "Not at your home, surely. Sarah-"

  "No, he tried to woo Thomas's sister Jane."

  She stared at him in confusion. "But Thomas doesn't have a sister Jane."

  The vicar sighed deeply. "Not that you know of. And not any longer for all intents and purposes. Herbert was convinced that Thomas was dead. After all, he had sent him into a deadly trap. He had no reason to expect a miracle, any more than I did.

  "Jane was next in line to inherit Eltham Castle and the title. What better way to triumph over a man you had always seen as a rival than to take for yourself everything he valued?"

  At last, it all became clear to Charlotte. The rumors of the strange woman Thomas was associating with, the things her aunt had said, his sister Elizabeth's slip of the tongue, his monthly payments to a mysterious woman... A sister!