by Marie Laval
She placed the dainty pastries onto a china plate she handed over to Harriet. Harriet muttered polite thanks but left the plate untouched next to her. Lady Callaghan toyed with the tassels of the dark green silk shawl that covered her slim shoulders.
‘You simply must make more of an effort, dear girl,’ she entreated, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘I know you are grieving for your father—we all are—but you are getting wed soon and Archibald doesn’t deserve a tearful bride. I always find that if I smile, no matter how terrible I feel, I end up feeling better.’
‘I promise to do my best, Lady Callaghan,’ Harriet answered, trying not to wince at the mention of her impending wedding.
It wouldn’t happen, of course. She wouldn’t let it happen. She had already started making plans to leave England and find Barbarossa’s treasure on her own. As Archie and his associates had never seen the map, they had no idea where the corsair had hidden his loot and wouldn’t know where to look for her. With her gone, they would have no incentive to destroy her father’s reputation and Aunt Elizabeth would be spared the humiliation of a public scandal. At least, that’s what she hoped. She would endure the next few days at Lord and Lady Callaghan’s country manor and make her escape as soon as she was back in London.
‘When I think of the terrible ordeal you have been through in that Godforsaken country, how that wretched French rebel abducted you in the middle of the desert as Archibald and his men tried to rescue you…’ Lady Callaghan shuddered dramatically before leaning closer to Harriet, her eyes gleaming.
‘Was that man really as beastly as he said?’ When Harriet didn’t answer, she shook her head. ‘Thank God, Archibald managed to disarm him and shoot the rogue before he could kill you.’
Harriet took a deep breath, clasped her fingers tightly, unable to put up with Archie’s lies any longer.
‘Lucas Saintclair wasn’t a rogue, but a man fighting for a just cause,’ she said, looking straight into Lady Callahan’s eyes.
The woman pursed her lips, doubtful.
‘Maybe it’s preferable not to talk about him at all…’ She paused. ‘Archibald might have told you already that my husband decided to give him a place on the board. This is of course a giant leap for his career, but no less than he deserves.’
Harriet gasped. So Archie had deceived everybody, including his employer. She really should warn the Callaghans about him, tell them he was involved in a criminal organization, but would they believe her?
‘Of course,’ Lady Callaghan resumed, interrupting her thoughts, ‘with the work still underway at Great Russell Street, he will be extremely busy in the next few months, but don’t worry, Lord Callaghan is giving him a couple of weeks’ leave after your wedding so that you can enjoy each other’s company.’
Even if the construction of the museum’s new wing was nearing completion, the disruption caused by the building work was still considerable as whole collections had to be catalogued and moved, stored in the vaults, or put on display in the new building.
‘You know that in your father’s absence, Lord Callaghan is only too happy to give you away,’ Lady Callaghan resumed. ‘He was very upset by what happened to your father, he can’t help feeling responsible.’
‘Oh no, he mustn’t blame himself,’ Harriet exclaimed. ‘It was very generous of him to organize the rescue expedition and provide the ransom money. He couldn’t have known that—’
She stopped just in time. What she wanted to say was that Lord Callaghan couldn’t have known that Archibald Drake, the man he had chosen to lead the rescue, was in fact determined to make sure Oscar Montague would die, and that his generous efforts to bring back her father were doomed from the start.
‘My father would have a heart attack,’ she finished.
‘Anyhow, we are delighted to have you with us. It’s such a long time since you were our guest.’
‘I don’t remember ever coming here.’
‘You stayed with your father once when you were a very young girl.’
Lady Callaghan flicked her silk and ivory fan open and waved it in front of face a few times.
‘Really?’
Puzzled, Harriet looked around. She had only seen the drawing room so far, having just arrived from London with Archie less than an hour before. It was a grand room indeed. Crystal chandeliers, deep gold and dark red silk on the walls, heavy velvet drapes at the windows and colourful silk rugs on the parquet flooring gave Lord Callaghan’s country home the opulence of a palace fit for a king. Lord Callaghan was a very wealthy man indeed.
‘Your poor mother had just passed away and your father thought a few days in the countryside might do you good. As it turned out, you caught a chill one evening when you stayed too long on the terrace and your father had to take you back to London in a hurry. You were quite ill.’
Harriet felt the blood drain from her face. This couldn’t be the same house, could it? The house where her father had argued with men in dark evening suits, who wore green rings with a snarling silver wolf. If it was, it would mean that…
She looked towards the tall windows, open to let a gentle cooling breeze in. It was unseasonably warm for September. Maybe she could plead a migraine, tell Lady Callaghan she needed fresh air and wander outside. She might recognize the terrace and the park.
Unfortunately, Lady Callaghan had other ideas. After offering her more tea and frowning at her for not eating all her petit fours, she decreed she would take her upstairs for a surprise.
‘It has been very hard for Archibald and your aunt to keep the secret, but I am sure you will agree it was worth it,’ she said in conspiratorial tones whilst leading Harriet up a majestic staircase.
‘What secret?’ A shiver of dread crept along her spine.
Lady Callaghan smiled. ‘Follow me.’
As they went up the stairs, her eye was caught by the full-length portrait of a silver-haired gentleman in a black hunting suit. His green eyes glowed with a cruel, sinister gleam.
‘Don’t look at that painting, my dear, or you will have nightmares for weeks. I have begged my husband many times to hang it somewhere else but he won’t hear of it,’ Lady Callaghan said. ‘For some reason, Charles is absurdly proud of this ancestor of his.’
‘Who is he?’ Harriet leaned closer to the portrait.
‘My husband’s great-grandfather. I can never look at him without a certain frisson,’ Lady Callaghan remarked. ‘With his wild hair and the cruel way he treated his family and staff and the peasants on the estate, it’s no wonder they called him the Silver Wolf,’ she added.
Harriet started. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘He did all kinds of truly terrible things, or so the story goes. Thankfully, his children and grand-children were nothing like him. I just can’t imagine Charles riding on a black stallion, sword in hand, intent on causing mayhem in the village, can you?’ She let out an unconcerned chuckle.
Harriet cast another glance at the portrait.
This was the house. Lord Callaghan himself must be involved in the brotherhood named after his ancestor. In fact, he was probably their leader. Her father never stood a chance. The whole rescue mission had been a sham from the very beginning. Far from arranging her father’s rescue, Lord Callaghan had commissioned his execution. When his men had failed to kill him, he had sent Archie to make sure he would not come back alive from the Barbary States.
Her legs were shaking when she reached the first floor. Lady Callaghan opened a door.
‘Now, this is your big surprise, Harriet,’ she announced dramatically as she opened the door to a large room dominated by a four poster bed.
‘Your wedding will take place this very evening.’
‘What?’
The woman nodded.
‘Everything is ready. Your Aunt Elizabeth took your measurements from one of your new dresses and I arranged to have this beauty made for you especially by Mademoiselle Saint-Pons, Lady Dunmore’s seamstress herself,’ she added, smiling smugly.
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br /> In other circumstances, Harriet might have been irritated by the way the woman continually dropped names of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting into the conversation, but in truth she hardly heard her. She stared in horror at the ivory silk and lace wedding dress spread out on the four poster bed and clutched at her chest, unable to breathe. The trap was closing in.
Lady Callaghan stared at her and patted her arm.
‘You are awfully pale, dear. It’s a wonderful shock, isn’t it? Your fiancé clearly loves you so much he cannot bear delaying your marriage any longer.’
She carried on chattering about whirlwind romances, young brides and adoring husbands as she led her to the bed and helped her sit down.
Harriet heard that the Aylesford vicar would officiate at the wedding and a few select friends would attend the wedding supper. Her aunt would be joining them too. Lady Callaghan’s voice sounded distant, yet the woman was right next to her. Feeling dizzy, Harriet sat down on the bed.
‘I think I need to lie down.’
‘Of course, have a rest. There’s plenty of time. The ceremony isn’t until nine o’clock tonight.’
Harriet curled up on the silky green counterpane, squeezed her eyes shut and pretended to fall asleep until she heard the woman walk away and the door close. Immediately, she sat up. There wasn’t a minute to waste. She had to leave before the wedding. Her legs shaking, she walked to the case she had packed for what Archie had told her would be a few restful days at his employer’s country house. It was far too heavy for her to carry on her own so she pulled a few items out—a plain dark, grey dress and some undergarments, a toiletry bag, her jewellery, and her money pouch—and stuffed them in her tapestry bag. She would find a way of going back to London tonight. There was something very precious she needed to retrieve from her house, something Archie desperately wanted—the Barbarossa map. She would take it and disappear.
She fastened her bag seconds before a maid came in to help her get ready. All she could think of was her escape. For now, however, she would play the part of the blushing, nervous bride-to-be.
The maid pinned the ivory lace cap on her hair, which was loose and fell in soft, shiny strands onto her shoulders and in the middle of her back.
‘You look beautiful, Miss,’ she said, stepping back.
Harriet looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She tilted her head up defiantly, but her eyes filled with tears. The dress was stunning, with a heart-shaped décolleté, and a full skirt which rustled when she moved. Her Fatima’s hand pendant gleamed against her skin. She touched it, lifted it to her lips, just like Lucas had done time and time again.
‘What is that? It looks strange,’ the maid asked, wrinkling her nose.
Harriet smiled sadly.
‘It’s a good luck charm from a far away country, although it failed me in the end.’
‘Are you ready to go down, Miss?’
Harriet glanced at the window. It was getting dark. Now was the time to take her bag downstairs and sneak out.
‘I will follow you down in a minute,’ she said.
When she was sure the corridor and staircase were deserted, she grabbed her bag and cloak, went down the stairs and sneaked out through a patio door.
This was definitely the house, she resolved, as she walked across the terrace. She recognized the gentle slope of the lawn, the ruined folly in the distance. As she turned to take her bag and her coat, a sound nearby startled her.
‘Who’s there?’ she asked, alarmed. Quickly she put her bag and cloak on a bench. If anyone saw those now, they would know she was planning to escape.
‘So it’s true, you are marrying Drake.’ It was hardly more than a whisper, but it was his voice.
She cried out, spun round.
No one was there. Did she imagine it?
Frantic, she peered into the gathering shadows. She must be losing her mind.
‘Lucas? Is that you?’ Her voice trembled as she called.
He stepped out from a dark corner at the edge of the terrace.
She lifted her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry.
‘I am dreaming,’ she whispered, her hand clasped the balustrade hard.
‘You’re not.’ He walked closer.
He seemed taller, leaner than she remembered. In the blue-grey dusk, his face was sharp, severe and unsmiling.
She raised a hand to touch his cheek. He caught her wrist mid-air and gripped it tightly.
‘Congratulations, Harriet. You make a beautiful bride.’
‘I thought you were dead,’ she whispered, her heart bursting with wonder, with love and sheer joy. Everything was going to be all right. Lucas was there, he was alive and he had come for her.
‘If only you knew how happy—’
‘Save your breath,’ he interrupted, releasing her. He studied her face.
‘I didn’t want to believe it was true until now. Somehow I didn’t think you would agree to marry the man who betrayed your father and left his dead body in Tin Hinan’s tomb, the man who shot me in the back.’ He shrugged. ‘I see I grossly misjudged you.’
The scorn in his voice cut like a knife.
He got it all wrong. She loved only him. He didn’t know, he couldn’t know that Archie was forcing her into this marriage.
‘It’s not what you think, I don’t want to—’
‘I said save it!’ he growled.
She felt the heat from his body. One step and she would be in his arms. Only he didn’t seem to want to take her in his arms. He looked at her like a stranger...or worse, an enemy.
‘This is just so unexpected, so wonderful.’ She paused to give herself time to control the trembling inside her. ‘How did you survive? There was blood everywhere, on your chest, on your back, after Archie shot you. Mortemer said you were dead.’
He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t, at least not completely. The Tuaregs rescued me, took me to their camp and healed me.’
She gasped. ‘What about my father? Was he…’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. They couldn’t do anything for him. He was still alive when I got to the tomb, though.’
The silhouette of a man stood at the patio door and threw a long shadow across the terrace.
‘Harriet? Are you out there?’ It was Archie.
Lucas cursed softly and retreated in the shadows. ‘Get rid of him.’
She rushed back to the house, praying that Archie wouldn’t spot her bag and cloak on the stone bench.
‘What are you doing?’ Archie asked when she reached the patio door. ‘You should be inside, with us.’ He looked at her, his eyes became warmer and a smile appeared on his lips.
‘You look lovely, my dear. So what did you think of my surprise?’ He wrapped his arms around her waist. ‘I must say I can’t wait until tonight,’ he said before bending down to nuzzle her neck.
She recoiled from the unpleasant sensations caused by his wispy moustache and his greedy, wet lips on her skin.
‘Not now, Archie. Please.’ She pressed her hands against his chest, tried to push him away.
He laughed, drew her closer. ‘You won’t be able to push me away for much longer, you know.’
She stiffened and turned away from him.
‘Come back inside,’ he ordered. ‘We are having drinks while we’re waiting for your aunt and the vicar. They shouldn’t be long.’
She shook her head. ‘I have a migraine Archie. I need quiet and fresh air before the ceremony.’
He frowned but let her go. ‘Very well. I’ll send the maid out for you when we are ready.’
She made sure he had gone back inside before returning to the far end of the terrace.
He observed the scene from a distance, his fists clenched at his side, ready to pounce on Drake. He couldn’t hear what the man was saying, but the way he groped Harriet made his blood boil. It would be so easy to take him out here, walk up to him and punch the life out of him, or push his dagger through his heart.
Yet it couldn’t
be done. Harriet was marrying him. She must love him after all, maybe she had all along. His chest tightened and he realized he had been holding his breath. He hadn’t expected to feel this way. He should despise her, loathe her even. He couldn’t. There was a vast, dark hollow in his chest.
As soon as he regained consciousness in the Tuareg healer’s tent, he had started making plans to go after her. The thought of seeing her once more had given him the strength to pull back from the deadly abyss and recover when there had barely been a breath of life left inside him. Even if she could never be his, at least he would make sure she was safe and well provided for.
And now she had chosen to marry Drake.
Well, he wouldn’t hang around for the wedding. However much he wanted to kill the Englishman, however unworthy Drake was of her, he wouldn’t interfere. He would leave. There were however a couple of things he had to do first.
‘Lucas?’
She came back towards him, threw her dark cloak over her wedding dress and pulled the hood down. He narrowed his eyes, puzzled to see that she was carrying a bag.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Take me away,’ she said, glancing back towards the mansion as if she was afraid. ‘I was ready to escape before I saw you. I must leave before Archie forces me to marry him.’
‘Hang on a minute.’ He put his hand on her arm. ‘What did you just say?’
She looked up. ‘I never wanted to marry him, but he said he would destroy my father’s reputation. He is after the Barbarossa map. He knows I won’t be able to keep it from him once we are man and wife.’
‘Drake is forcing you to marry him?’
She nodded.
He stepped closer. All he wanted was to press her hard against him, kiss her lips and breathe in her scent, rose and woman. He had dreamt about it often enough these past few weeks. He didn’t. Instead, he hardened his heart.
She waited for his reply, holding her breath. Please don’t leave me here, she wanted to beg, nestle in his arms, press her body against his. She loved him, couldn’t he see?
