"I see." Lucia fingered Sir Winston's card with disgust and gingerly turned it over as it lay on the tray. 'This concerns Your Grace's innocence,' was written on the back in a flowery hand.
How lovely it would be to surprise Robin with the gift of vindication! She stared hard at the card, willing it to yield up any information about the duke its owner might possess. If Sir Winston really did have some proof of Amberley's innocence, perhaps she could buy it from him. She knew the man too well to believe he would give away such a prize.
But if she received Rochedale, she would have to be alone with him. Robin was out as usual. Lady Easterbury was making her customary morning calls and Miss Twyll was lying down with another of the frequent headaches she'd suffered since the attack in the park.
Although Lucia knew how vicious the villain who presently styled himself 'Sir Winston Rochedale' could be, the words, 'Your Grace's innocence' blazed up at her from the card. She desperately wanted to prove that innocence. "I will see Sir Winston, Laddock," she said, "but you must linger in the foyer as long as he is here. Interrupt us in ten minutes' time to say that a crisis in the kitchen requires my immediate attention."
"A crisis, Your Grace?"
"Make something up, Laddock! I will not spend more than ten minutes in that snake's company."
Laddock followed Lucia downstairs, making a great show of inspecting the foyer for dust as she entered the Blue Salon, her heart pounding. Although panic threatened to choke her, she pasted an insincere smile onto a deceptively calm countenance..
"You've come a long way from thieving in the streets or palming cards in some gaming hell, dear girl!" Sir Winston said, his oily grin reminding her of a crocodile she had once seen at a zoological exhibit.
"I understand that you have some information regarding His Grace's innocence..." she said.
"That I have! But it's more than information! It's vindication! I have a letter! And it shall be yours for a mere five thousand guineas."
"A letter...?" Lucia's mind leaped to Giles's exonerating letter, supposedly lost during Robin's mad dash across England.
"From Lord Mountheathe to Lord Robert Amberley," Rochedale obligingly confirmed. "It proves beyond any doubt that Bridland abducted Lady Malkent and that Amberley rode to save her."
"I have heard of such a letter, but I was told it had vanished. How did you acquire it?"
"Let us merely say that I...er...'found' it during a visit to Heathe House."
Lucia stared so long and hard at him that he began to squirm. "How did Lord Mountheathe get the letter and why would he preserve such damning evidence of his guilt?" she asked. "Were I in his position, I would have burned a document of this nature the instant it was in my hands."
"How should I know? Giles Bridland is not always a rational man! Perhaps he wanted a souvenir of his famous adventure! Do you want the letter or don't you? My price is five thousand guineas!"
"Five thousand!"
"Surely the wealthy Duchess of Lynkellyn does not find a paltry five thousand daunting? I daresay you spend that much a quarter just on clothes."
'Daunting!' Lucia frowned. 'Impossible', belike!' Robin chose not to share his magnificent fortune with her in the form of pocket money and he would never agree to give her five thousand guineas, even if he were home long enough for her to ask him for it. Nevertheless, she felt she had to have that letter...if it existed. "It will take me a few days to get the money and, of course, I'll want to see the letter before I give you a penny."
"Very well. Lady Malkent's ball is three days hence. We can meet there. If you have the blunt, we can discuss the exchange."
"We will talk in the ballroom, sir. No more gardens!" Lucia tried to ignore the twisting pain that knotted her stomach. Was she walking into a trap?
"As you like. Until then, dear girl." Sir Winston gave her a predatory smile. Bowing, he captured her hand and brought it to his lips.
When he was gone, Lucia pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve cuff and rubbed at her hand, desperate to scrub away Rochedale's filthy kiss. Her stomach still roiling, she sank into a chair, her mind full of questions. Why had Mountheathe kept such a damning letter? How had it fallen into Rochedale's hands? Why hadn't he blackmailed Mountheathe with it? The letter was surely worth more as an instrument of blackmail than as an item for sale.
Lucia rang for Laddock and ordered tea, sitting back with a steaming cup in hand to consider how she might raise five thousand guineas to buy Rochedale's letter...if it existed. As she sipped her tea, she staunchly ignored the queasy twisting in her stomach that dealing with a man like Gaston... Rochedale... invariably induced.
***
Hailing a chair to leave Berkeley Square, Sir Winston smiled. The duchess was falling neatly into his trap; he had Mountheathe's twenty-five hundred tucked safely away; and his future promised even greater profit.
Sir Winston had decided that Giles's plot was a bit shortsighted. Instead of killing the wench, a damned sorry waste of prime flesh in Rochedale's opinion, he intended to spirit her out of England, forcibly induce a miscarriage and sell her into a brothel or perhaps an Arabian harem.
Arabia! The very thing! he thought. With her blue eyes, ivory skin, and voluptuous figure, Lucia Lightfingers would fetch a pretty penny amongst the sheiks, assuming he could keep childbearing from thickening her waist. Then, of course, one had to mourn the loss of her maidenhead. "Damn that Gus!" Sir Winston muttered disgustedly. Amberley had lessened her value by at least a thousand guineas.
After a moment, Rochedale smiled again. With the wealth Lucia brought him and the money he had milked from Mountheathe, he could live like a nabob in Arabia, a land full of enjoyable memories for him. Life was good!
***
Riding in Hyde Park, Norworth reined in his horse on a bridle path that intersected the main thoroughfare and glared at what he considered the passing circus. Sir William Blayne stopped beside him, following his gaze. "What's amiss?"
"Damnation! Hasn't the man got the least consideration for his wife?" Peter growled as he watched the Duke of Lynkellyn flirt outrageously in an open carriage with three under-dressed, over- painted ladybirds. Their raucous guffaws were attracting stares from the promenading gentry.
Laughter crinkled the corners of Sir William's eyes. "Since when do you censure faithless husbands, sir?"
"Since Her Grace acquainted me with the anguish of faithful wives!" the viscount snapped, then relaxed a bit. "I'm sorry, Will. It's just that Her Grace has managed to adopt me as some sort of older brother and confides in me as though...as though I could actually lend her assistance. The devil of it is, I do want to help her, but I can't light upon a way."
"Help her?" Blayne's brows knit with suspicion as he studied the viscount.
"Although she won't admit it, she wants to win the heart of that unrepentant reprobate!" His mouth tightening, Peter nodded at Amberley's carriage as it trundled away. "Odd as it seems, she holds him in affection."
"Not planning to seduce Her Grace yourself, are you? Wouldn't do at all, Peter!"
Norworth smiled. "She's a devilish beauty, I'll grant, and when I first met her, I was tempted, but now... It would be like seducing my sister. The duchess has made me care about her, though, and I'd like to see her happy. Why she must needs waste her love on such an unworthy...'rogue' for lack of a better word...as Amberley..." He shook his head, frowning.
Lord Mountheathe and Miss Lannington bowled past in an open coach and Peter's frown deepened. Giles tipped his hat to Norworth, a smug smirk upon his face. Peter itched to knock it off.
As Peter scowled at Mountheathe, Sir William said, "You've developed a tendre for Malkent's niece? Taking little thing, I'll admit, but she's hardly in your usual style, is she?"
"If, by that, you mean that she isn't some over-painted, under- dressed Cyprian to flash on my arm at Vauxhall or the theater, you're quite right." Fury rumbled in Peter's voice. "Miss Lannington told me she couldn't drive out with me today because she had
a prior engagement. I should have known it was with that snake."
"Snake! Mountheathe? I say! Giles is a most worthy gentleman!"
"He'll be worthy of my steel if he insults Miss Lannington!"
"Now you sound just like the Rogue. Too hot-headed by half!"
"His Grace and I are in happy accord regarding Giles Bridland. The man is vermin!" Peter turned his horse toward the park's exit. "I am for home, Will, before I am driven to issue a challenge to both the duke and his cousin!"
***
As Giles's carriage flashed past Viscount Norworth, Concordia swiveled her head around to catch a glimpse of him. Norworth's attentions were more marked of late, she thought with measured optimism, and the time they spent together seemed magical, but despite his reputation as a rake, he had never pushed beyond the mildest flirtation with her. Perhaps his frequent calls were merely intended to irritate Lord Mountheathe. She knew that the gentlemen were not on the best of terms and Peter was constantly warning her that Mountheathe could not be trusted.
Giles, however, was not a suitor to toss cavalierly away. He was rich, titled, handsome, charming...and her heart sank at the prospect of a lifetime spent with him. During the last few weeks, she'd caught frightening glimpses of an ugly, savage man beneath his polished veneer and if she married him, she was certain she'd see a great deal more of that lurking beast. Nevertheless, she squared her shoulders, determined to accept if he offered. Any husband was better than no husband!
***
Having searched Lynkellyn House, to no avail, for any money Robin might have stashed away, Lucia decided to lay the entire matter of Rochedale's letter before him. The night after Sir Winston's visit, when the house was quiet and the servants sleeping, she crept down in her nightgown to sit on the stairs and wait in the cool darkness for him to come home.
As the clock chimed three in the morning, she stood on the upstairs landing, watching him stagger into the house and cross the foyer to the library. Wrinkling her nose at the stench of stale brandy wafting through the air, she silently followed him, pausing uncertainly on the library's threshold.
Having thrown his coat across one overstuffed leather chair, Robin sprawled in its companion. His head rested against the back and side wing, one of his legs dangling carelessly over the arm. His eyes were closed and his stertorous breathing filled the room.
Lucia edged forward, her gold robe de chambre glinting in the faint light of the banked hearth fire. Tiptoeing across the room, she bent over him, distressed at the dark circles under his eyes and the deep lines of unhappiness etched around his mouth.
With a sighing breath, she steeled herself to wake him. Reaching out to touch him, her hand brushed against his coat pocket and she heard a distinct clink. She whirled to see if the noise had roused him, but he only shifted in his chair without opening his eyes.
Lucia touched the outside of the coat pocket again, feeling the unmistakable outline of coins within. Withdrawing a heavy purse, she opened it to see dozens of guineas gleaming in the firelight. She found another bulging purse in his other pocket and smiled, imagining his joy when she handed him Mountheathe's letter.
Then she frowned. Not only was she stealing from Robin, she thought dismally, but she would have to lie to him if he ever thought to tax her with the missing money. Although she knew she had the best of motives, she was still thieving.
With a sad little shrug, she scooped up both purses and hurried to the door. She had just crossed the threshold when a slurred voice drawled, "Where away, lovely Jezebel? No, don't tell me! 'Dear Lord Peter' waits impatiently in your bed, n'est-ce pas?"
Lucia tossed the purses into the hall, slamming the library doors shut to cover the sound of their fall, and whirled to face her husband, endeavoring to hide a guilty conscience with a bright smile. "I...I heard you come in, Robin, and I wanted to be sure you were...comfortable."
"I'm content to while away my time in the library until you've escorted your lover from the premises, if that's what worries you." Robin straightened in his chair and gazed at her from beneath sleepy lids.
"I don't have any lover!"
"Tiens! Well, I daresay Norworth isn't much, but I wouldn't dismiss him entirely!" Robin laughed as he staggered out of his chair and lurched toward her.
She took an involuntary step back. "I am exhausted, Your Grace. I'm going to sleep. We'll discuss this in the morning."
"I won't be here when you waken, my sweet. Previous engagement."
"Where are you going?" she asked, backing a little further.
He gripped her arms, holding her fast. His breath was hot and rancid on her face and the menace in his eyes made her cringe. "Do you really care, ma petite Jezebel? After all, while I am out chasing whores, you are free to share your favors with your 'dear Lord Peter'. I only hope he isn't diseased! After raising eyebrows with my fastidious tastes, 'twould be ironic, would it not, to catch the pox from my pretty Jezebel at home. That is, naturellement, if Your Grace ever deigns to let me touch you again!"
A thunderous fury had replaced the drunken lethargy in his eyes. Lucia's heart drummed with terror, but anger stiffened her spine. "You're touching me now, Your Grace, and it is most painful!"
He laughed and his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. "Bon! You deserve a little of the pain! Shall I tell you how I spend my nights while you dally with Norworth, Lucia? I begin with wenches and wine, as much of both as I can stomach, then when I've drunk enough to deaden the agonies of my past and my marriage, I frequent London's finest gaming hells...or its lowest ones. I'm not particular, you see, because I detest them all. I may have lost you, but I've won steadily at the tables for the past week. Your endeavors at reforming me have failed! Perhaps I should reform you! Teach you that a dutiful wife doesn't take up with every rakehell she meets and, most important of all, she never lies to her husband! About anything!"
The steely fury in his eyes panicked Lucia and she struggled against his hold. "I am telling you the truth, Robin. I have no lover. I have never been unfaithful to you and you know it!"
"I can smell Tallant's cologne in your hair, Lucia! You have been with him recently!" he accused her.
She paled. "H-he escorted Aunt Corrina and me to Lady Chantwell's musicale, but I assure you he spent the whole evening at Concordia's side." Glaring a defiant challenge at Robin, Lucia surreptitiously tried to gauge the effect of this reluctant confession upon him.
The anger in his eyes slowly disappeared, chased away by a much warmer look, and his grip on her arms became a massaging caress. He stroked her cheek with one trembling hand and lowered his head to find her mouth. His lips brushed hers, gently beguiling, and her mouth opened invitingly. He plunged his questing tongue deep inside, his groin tightening with desire as her body arched against his.
Straightening to stare into the endless blue depths of her eyes, he let his soul drown in the tantalizing illusions of love that swirled there, beckoning him, welcoming him so sweetly... so serenely... so falsely...
Suddenly the tender light in his eyes died and he pushed her away. "Mon Dieu! What a maudlin fool I've become! You've bewitched me enough for one night, I think! Get you gone! Get out of my sight!"
"Robin!" Lucia's stricken tones were hardly above a whisper. She started toward him, moved by the bitter hurt in his eyes.
He flung himself back into his chair and reached for a decanter of brandy on a nearby table. He shakily splashed some of the golden liquid into an accompanying glass, downed it, and refilled the goblet.
"Robin... Why don't you come to bed? I am certain you must be exhausted..." The words died on her lips as he turned a face overflowing with loathing upon her.
"Get out!" he snarled.
With a sob, she fled. Outside the library door, she grabbed her stolen guineas and ran up the stairs, promising herself that once Robin's innocence was proven, she would indeed get out. Forever!
Chapter 23:
In Which His Grace Quarrels While Mountheathe Plots
"I can't believe the Rogue would do this!" Shaking his head, Tracy watched his guests circle to the strains of a small orchestra. "A fortnight ago, Robin was raging on about ridding himself of his cane so he could lead Her Grace into the dance and now he hasn't even the decency to make an appearance at our ball!"
Sir William gazed past the dancers at the duchess, who sat beside Lady Easterbury. "Her Grace seems to be doing quite well without him, Tracy."
"Too well!" the earl snapped. "If that boy doesn't attend to his wife, he's going to lose her and, devil take it, it will be his own damned fault!"
Malkent and Blayne watched as a gentleman approached her grace, bowed, and led her into the set just forming. Sir William said, "Thing is, the Rogue believes Lucia has taken up with Norworth or someone like him and..."
"Norworth!" Tracy snorted. "That's a hum! Peter's dangling after our Connie! Practically haunts my drawing room!"
"That doesn't worry you? After all,... rakehell, you know."
"Amazing as it sounds, Will, I believe Tallant is in earnest. He asked my permission to pay his addresses to Concordia this morning." Tracy's eyes followed Peter and Concordia through the intricate weavings of a contre dance. "He had better mean marriage! I'll not have Connie in a decline over that wild, young pup."
"That bad, is it?"
"Thank God he's so eminently eligible! I'd be at my wits' end and frantically writing to her father else." Tracy gave Sir William a long-suffering smile, then glanced at his niece. She curtsied to the bowing viscount as the music ended, then straightened to take his arm, her cheeks flushed a becoming pink, her eyes sparkling dreamily, and a large, lovely smile curving her lips.
"Love seems to agree with her," Will said, "and with him."
"Much more so than with our sweet little duchess." Malkent grimly watched Lucia's dance partner return her to Lady Easterbury's side. Sauntering over to the duchess, Sir Winston Rochedale bowed and offered his arm. Smiling nervously, she allowed him to lead her to some empty chairs in a quiet corner of the ballroom. "Damn!" Tracy's features tightened with anger. "Damn!"
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