The Wicked Baron

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘I—I was not expecting to see you here, Sir Gilbert.’ Carlotta tried to sound innocent and bewildered. Could she convince him she was involved in a romantic intrigue? She thought not, since he showed no surprise at her presence. She began to talk rapidly. ‘I thought everyone would be gone by now. Were you delayed?’ She glanced at his stockings and buckled shoes. ‘L-looking for your boots, perhaps? One can hardly walk back through the park without them, can one?’

  ‘Reed has taken my boots back to Malberry Court. By now they will be lined up with all the others, waiting to be cleaned.’ His growing smile made her shiver. ‘Everyone will assume I am in my bed.’

  ‘R-really?’ She began to back away. ‘I—um—I told my maid I was coming here to collect something. She will be anxious if I am not back soon—’

  He laughed at her.

  ‘You are the most delightful little liar, Miss Rivington. We both know you did no such thing. The note said “tell no one.” You will have followed the instructions to the letter.’

  Carlotta stared at him. ‘How do you know what was in the note?’

  ‘Because Reed took the original off Darvell’s groom and brought it to me. I wrote the reply.’

  Her heart dropped. There had been a faint, unacknowledged hope that Luke might rescue her, but now that hope died. She swallowed painfully. ‘What is it you want with me?’

  ‘Not your virtue, if that thought is making you clutch your cloak around you so tightly. Unfortunately, you know my secret.’

  ‘Secret?’

  ‘Come, come, Miss Rivington—or should I call you Miss Durini? Let us pretend no longer. You of all people should know that the Tiepolo is a copy.’

  ‘Yes…but it is not so very bad; I dare say if you explained everything—’

  ‘Explain it? I have cheated, my dear—cheated on a debt of honour. The ton would have no mercy, I should be shunned, no member of society would acknowledge me, and how long do you imagine it would be before my creditors started hounding me? I would be ruined.’

  ‘But no one else need know of it,’ she said quickly, ‘I will say nothing—’

  ‘I am afraid, my dear, I cannot take that chance. You must be disposed of.’

  ‘You—you would not dare,’ she whispered, still moving away from him.

  ‘Oh, I would.’

  ‘But it will do you no good. Sooner or later someone else will notice, too.’

  ‘Before that happens I hope to have the picture back in my possession. I am sure I can persuade Ainslowe to sell it back to me.’

  Carlotta shook her head. ‘I doubt it; Mrs Ainslowe has already told you she has grown to like it.’

  ‘That is, of course, a minor problem, but she is not yet recovered. I think if Mrs Ainslowe were to take a turn for the worse, her husband might be far too overset to care about a mere painting—in fact, he might be pleased to be rid of it, if it reminds him of his wife. Yes, that might work out very well. At the time I thought it a pity that she should be in the gig with you, but now I see it could be an advantage.’

  ‘So the crash was your doing?’

  ‘Yes. I was waiting in the woods, ready to administer the final blow, should either of you survive, but those damn fool shepherds were up on the hill and decided to come so gallantly to your rescue. But there is no one here this time to rescue you.’

  Carlotta’s lip curled. ‘You are insane if you think you will get away with it.’

  ‘But I am getting away with it. The attack on Durini has been blamed on gypsies, and as for the gig—Ainslowe’s coachman was too drunk to do his job. If he were my man, I would have turned him off immediately for such gross ineptitude.’

  An icy chill spread through Carlotta as she listened to Sir Gilbert. He was rambling on, and she began to think he was truly deranged. She forced herself to consider her situation. Mattingwood stood before the entrance, blocking her escape. She guessed there would be a smaller, servants’ door beyond the warm room. If she could only reach the back room, then perhaps she could get out into the park. She turned on her heel and ran, heading for the inner door. She felt the tug as Mattingwood caught at her swirling cloak, but the ties were loosened and it slipped easily from her shoulders. The door was only feet away, if she could get through and slam it shut—it would give her precious seconds to find a way out.

  ‘Got you!’ A strong hand gripped her shoulder, yanking her backwards.

  ‘Let me go! Help! Help me!’

  ‘Scream all you like, there is no one to hear you.’ He pinioned her arms at her sides and held her against his chest. As she stared up at him, she saw the look in his eyes change. ‘Hmm, shame to kill you before I have sampled your charms.’ He leered down at her. His hold tightened and his head came down towards her. She turned her face away, squirming as she felt his lips on her skin. She tried to struggle, but he was too strong for her, pulling her closer until she could feel his body pressing against hers. Revulsion and fear shuddered through her. She stopped struggling, gathering her strength for one final, desperate push.

  ‘That’s right,’ his voice was muffled as he nuzzled her neck. ‘Relax and enjoy it, my dear.’

  His arms slid around her, binding her to him. She turned her head against his; the smell of the oil on his blond hair made her feel sick, but she ignored it. She reached round and sank her teeth into his ear. He yelled with pain.

  Savage satisfaction raged through her and she fought desperately to break away. She freed one hand and clawed at his cheek, her nails drawing blood before he pinioned her arms again and dragged her with him into the plunge pool.

  The shock of the cold water paralysed Carlotta, but it took only a moment to realise that Sir Gilbert’s vice-like grip on her had slackened. She kicked out and felt the stone steps beneath her feet. She struggled towards them, but before she could crawl out of the pool he had grabbed her again, pulling her back into the deeper water. She scrabbled wildly, her legs entangled by the clinging skirts of her gown. Sir Gilbert’s weight was on her shoulders, pushing her down. She ducked away from him and came up to the surface, gasping. Then he lunged at her once more and forced her head under the water again.

  Carlotta’s lungs were bursting, burning with the effort to hold her breath. She knew it must end soon. The blood was pounding in her ears. She began to exhale, allowing the air to slip from her body. She could see the bubbles rising past her face. Soon she would have to breathe in and the cold, deadly water would fill her up. She would drown. She tried to hold back, but it was impossible; the last of the air escaped her and the empty, burning void of her lungs screamed for her to take a breath. Give in, said the tiny voice in her head. Give in—a moment’s pain and it will be all over. She knew she was weakening as the blood and water pounded in her ears. It was too much effort to fight any longer.

  Then, miraculously, the weight above her was gone. Strong hands were lifting her, dragging her out of the water. She lay face down on the cold stone, coughing and gasping. When at last she dared to open her eyes, she saw she was lying in a pool of water that was expanding outwards as more dribbled from her clothes and hair.

  ‘Just in time, thank God.’ Luke’s voice was shaking, but his hands were firm and comforting on her shoulders as he helped her to sit up. Raising her eyes, she saw Sir Gilbert on his knees with James standing over him, a pistol in one hand. James met her eyes and gave her a little smile.

  ‘Thank heavens we did not have to jump into the pool to rescue you.’

  She shifted around to look at Luke. ‘How—how did you know?’

  ‘Billy came to find me—’

  Sir Gilbert raised his head. ‘Impossible. He’s dead.’

  ‘No, he is very much alive,’ retorted Luke, nodding towards the door where Billy stood, legs slightly apart, looking belligerent. ‘Reed thought he had disposed of him, but my man is not so easy to kill.’

  Carlotta reached up to touch Luke’s hand. ‘I wrote a note. I thought you had sent for me…’ Her voice trailed off and sh
e began to shiver.

  Luke helped her to her feet. ‘There will be time for talking later. Take Mattingwood back to the house and secure him, James. Billy will help you.’

  ‘You are not coming?’

  Luke swung Carlotta up into his arms. ‘No. I must get her warm, and quickly. I do not care if that villain catches a deadly chill, but I’ll not risk Carlotta. Tell her maid to pack up some dry clothes for her mistress and send them down in the carriage.’

  James nodded. ‘Very well, brother.’ He reached out to grab the back of Sir Gilbert’s collar. ‘Come along. It’s Newgate for you, my man—and a fate far worse than being shunned by society, I think.’

  He dragged Sir Gilbert to his feet while Luke carried Carlotta through the doors to the inner room. It was very dark, only moonlight from the high windows and a faint glow from the dying fire illuminating the furniture, but Luke did not hesitate. He walked swiftly across the room and gently laid Carlotta down on one of the couches.

  ‘First, we need some light, then we must get you out of those wet clothes.’

  Dazed, Carlotta watched as he pushed a taper into the embers and proceeded to light the candles. Soon a golden glow illuminated the disordered room. It was still littered with the remains of the gentlemen’s dinner party. Dishes, bottles and glasses covered the side tables. Luke moved to one of the chests and pulled out a large bathsheet and a brightly patterned dressing gown. ‘Here, take these. I will make up the fire; we shall soon have you dry again—and me.’ He grinned as he dragged off his frockcoat and threw it over a chair. ‘Just carrying you in here has soaked through my coat.’

  Carlotta struggled with the buttons of her spencer while he crouched before the hearth, feeding the glowing embers with kindling and small logs.

  ‘That’s better.’

  She glanced at the flames leaping upwards in the hearth. She had managed to remove her spencer, but was still struggling to unlace her sodden boots. She was shaking so much that her fingers would not work; they felt clumsy and terribly weak. Luke came across to sit beside her.

  ‘Here, let me do that.’ Gently he lifted her foot onto his knee, deftly loosened the laces and tossed the boot on to the floor. ‘I have had years of practice at removing a lady’s clothing,’ he said lightly, lifting her other foot. ‘One learns it from an early age, if one aspires to be a rake.’ The second boot followed its partner to the floor. He glanced up, a hint of a smile in his eyes, but she could not respond to it. Silently he pushed aside the wet skirts and gently moved his hand up to remove the silk stocking. She noticed how his fingers trembled as he tugged at her garter, but they did not linger. As soon as the ribbon came loose he quickly stripped off her pink stockings. ‘Can you stand?’ he asked her gently. ‘We need to remove your gown.’

  Obedient to the pressure of his hand on her arm, she rose. ‘I am afraid I have ruined the couch,’ she murmured, looking down at the damp mark where she had been sitting.

  ‘It makes no odds, there are plenty more in here. Turn around for me.’

  Soon gown, stays and chemise were all removed and Carlotta was wrapped in the heavy brocade dressing gown. It was much too big for her and crumpled in thick folds around her feet.

  Luke removed the remaining pins from her hair and spread it over her shoulders. He paused, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. ‘You look a veritable urchin, Miss Rivington.’

  For the first time that evening Carlotta managed a little smile.

  ‘You are still shivering.’ Luke pushed her gently down onto the rug. ‘Sit there, the heat will soon warm you.’

  She looked up at him. ‘You will not leave me?’

  He hesitated, then dropped down beside her. ‘I am here as long as you need me.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and, twisting her away from him, began to comb his fingers through her hair, lifting and separating the tresses so that they splayed across her back. Carlotta sighed. The combined effects of the fire and Luke’s gentle caresses began to relieve the tension in her muscles. She could even think about the events of the evening.

  ‘So Sir Gilbert was responsible for all the horrid things that have happened?’

  ‘Yes. He attacked your father and sent his man to set fire to their house and to loosen the wheel on the gig. Reed confessed it to us when we went looking for you.’

  She sighed. ‘All because of a painting. And he was willing to—to kill rather than lose face?’

  ‘Mattingwood lost what little fortune he had at the gaming tables and now exists on the goodwill of his fellows. To be pronounced a fraudster would ruin him.’

  She began to shake again. ‘D-despicable man.’

  His hands rested on her shoulders. ‘He is gone now, cara. You are safe.’

  ‘I know it.’ She dropped her cheek on his hand and rubbed it gently, closing her eyes. Luke’s grip tightened. He was very close behind her, so close that when she leaned back she found herself resting against him, the ruffles of his shirt pressing on her hair. She felt rather than heard his ragged sigh.

  ‘Carlotta.’ His breath was warm on her cheek. ‘Carlotta, I—what the devil is that noise?’

  Carlotta, too, heard a commotion in the outer room—voices and swift, heavy footsteps, growing ever closer. The door flew open and she smothered a gasp. There in the doorway stood Daniel Woollatt.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘In heaven’s name, what are you doing here?’ demanded Luke, helping Carlotta to her feet.

  Mr Woollatt pointed at Carlotta, a look of horror on his face. ‘More to the point, my lord—why is Miss Rivington dressed in that—that—?’

  ‘It is a gentleman’s dressing gown,’ explained Carlotta. ‘My own clothes are too wet, you see.’

  James slipped into the room, carrying a portmanteau. ‘It is as I told you, Woollatt. Mattingwood tried to drown Miss Rivington.’ He gave his brother an apologetic look. ‘Woollatt arrived just as I got back, Luke. He insisted upon coming with me.’

  Luke nodded and looked again at Mr Woollatt. ‘I am sorry, then, that you had to return to such bad news.’

  ‘I was never more shocked in my life,’ said Mr Woollatt heavily. He was still staring at Carlotta. ‘You came down here alone?’

  Carlotta found herself blushing. ‘It was very foolish of me, I know, but thankfully Mr Ainslowe and Lord Darvell arrived in time—’

  ‘Ainslowe tells me you thought you were meeting Darvell here.’

  ‘Yes, I had written a note, you see—’

  ‘A note?’ Even in the candlelight she could see the vein in Woollatt’s temple was standing out. He was clearly very annoyed. ‘What in heaven’s name possessed you to do such a thing? You are an unmarried lady, you should not be writing notes to a gentleman. One, moreover, of Lord Darvell’s reputation.’

  Carlotta blinked. ‘It was very urgent; I needed to tell him—’

  ‘You should have gone to your aunt and explained the situation. And then to compound your folly by stealing out to keep an assignation—!’

  Carlotta stared at him. A sharp retort arose to her lips, but she felt the pressure of Luke’s hand on her shoulder.

  He said coldly, ‘Surely at this stage you should be expressing your relief that Miss Rivington is safe.’

  ‘Well, I am thankful for that, of course, but such unbecoming behaviour—I am deeply shocked.’ He shook his head, a look of distaste twisting his countenance. ‘Not only that—Ainslowe was obliged to tell me of…your parentage.’

  Carlotta’s head went up at that. ‘Indeed?’ And just what is wrong with my parentage?’

  ‘I do not think you need me to tell you,’ retorted Mr Woollatt. ‘A runaway match, and to an artist, no less! I must say, madam, I think you have been less than honest with me.’

  Luke took a step forward. ‘Miss Riv—Miss Durini’s lineage may be a little unusual, but it is perfectly respectable. Lord Broxted would not be sponsoring her if he was in any doubt of it.’

  ‘I am well aware of that!’ replied Mr W
oollatt testily. ‘But there is something repellent about the way this matter has been handled. What my mother will say when I tell her—and it will have to be explained to her—I dread to think.’

  Carlotta heard Luke’s angry hiss, saw his hands form themselves into fists and she quickly touched his arm, giving him the tiniest shake of her head.

  ‘You are quite right, Mr Woollatt,’ she said quietly, stepping forward. ‘It would have been much better if I had been honest with you from the outset. I have no doubt that your mother would be most distressed to learn the truth about my—my family. Indeed, I am sure she would find such a connection most abhorrent. It is not to be thought of. Perhaps it would be best if you told her that it had all been a misunderstanding, that there is no engagement.’ She drew the diamond ring from her finger and held it out to him.

  There was a long silence. Carlotta knew that Luke, James and Mr Woollatt were staring at her and it took all her willpower to remain still, her arm outstretched. At last, with a little nod, Mr Woollatt reached out and took the ring. It was only then that Carlotta realised she had been holding her breath. Now she exhaled as quietly as she could, hoping it would not sound too much like a sigh of relief.

  ‘Perhaps we were a little hasty,’ muttered Mr Woollatt. ‘But all is not lost, nothing has been announced yet. We will take a little time to consider.’ He pursed his lips and looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps next Season I shall bring my mother to town and introduce you to her. Naturally, she will find it hard to forgive you for crying off, but once you are acquainted, and if you behave with becoming modesty, I have no doubt she will warm to you in time.’

  She forced a smile and was grateful to be spared a reply when James stepped forward, saying in a hearty voice, ‘Well, then, if that’s settled I think we should all drive back to the house. I have dry clothes for you here in this bag, Miss Riv—I mean, Miss Durini.’

  Luke took the portmanteau. ‘You go on, James, and take Woollatt with you. Miss Durini is still very pale. I would not risk taking her into the night air just yet. You may send the carriage down later to collect us.’