Rakes and Rogues

by Boyd, Heather

  Apart from dust and a few ancient cobwebs, there wasn’t much to see. Almost immediately to her right, the passage narrowed drastically and ended at a wall. She pondered, remembering the broom closet next to her bedchamber. No doubt it was behind that wall, and there might be a way to squeeze through it to the corridor, but that didn’t interest her for now.

  To the left, the passage turned the corner, widened to a few feet, and led to a short flight of stairs. Judging by the surreptitious sounds she had heard, Sir Colwyn North and Lord Hadrian had carried the unconscious Mr. Tatlow in this direction. A pallet lay propped against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, a couple of blankets heaped next to it. Several yards later another short flight led upward.

  She climbed it. Far along the passage, a faint light showed. Soon Lord Hadrian appeared dressed in shirtsleeves and breeches, his hair disheveled, wearing a disgruntled expression. A glance told her that Colwyn was no longer with him, but no doubt her former colleague was at least partly to blame for Hadrian’s annoyance.

  “Your friend went out by another exit.” Hadrian stood at the bottom of the steps, looking up at her.

  “How many exits are there?” she asked.

  “Several,” he said, his voice cool and non-committal. No doubt the passage and its entrances and exits were a family secret.

  “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she said.

  He mounted the stairs. “It was nothing, Miss Raleigh.” He paused when he reached her, his eyes bleak. “Pilgrim says you don’t need my help.”

  Damn Colwyn! “He said that to annoy you. Yes, I can defend myself, but I hate it.”

  For a long moment he seemed to digest what she had said. “Who is he?”

  She turned away. “I can’t say.”

  “Why? I already know he’s a spy and possibly an incubus, and that you’re a succubus. Don’t bother to deny it. Val explained it all to me years ago.”

  It seemed that Hadrian knew almost everything. “Don’t call me a succubus. I loathe that word.”

  “Very well, I won’t.”

  “Thank you.” She sighed. “As for his identity, it is his business to reveal, not mine.”

  “I’ll know soon enough. I recognize his voice. Before long, I’ll remember where I’ve heard it before.”

  She shivered and hurried back along the passage. “I wish you weren’t so nosy.”

  He followed. “Are you afraid I’ll unmask him and have him sent away?”

  No, that you’ll despise me even more than you already do. “Perhaps.” They came upon the pallet and blankets. “It’s extremely kind of you and much appreciated, but you needn’t sleep in the passage, Lord Hadrian. I’ll be safe now that I’m on my guard.”

  “You won’t be safe until you leave this godforsaken house,” Hadrian said.

  “I’ve survived far worse,” she said. “It’s only a few more days.”

  “You needn’t stay any longer. Pilgrim says he doesn’t even know how he’s supposed to help you, nor do you know how you’re to help him.”

  Colwyn had been remarkably forthcoming with Hadrian. “True, but I expect it will become clear—it usually does. If I haven’t been able to help him by the time the rest of the guests arrive, I’ll return to London and spend Christmas there.”

  “I’ll drive you to London tomorrow, and then I’ll return to help him. Will that do?”

  “No,” she said. “For all I know, my talents may be required.”

  “You’ll have to seduce someone?” Anger flushed his face. “No, Lettice. No, you mustn’t.”

  She gaped at him. “He won’t ask me to seduce anyone—not that it’s any of your business.”

  “You’ll send someone tawdry dreams?”

  How dare he? “They’re not tawdry!” she cried.

  He loomed over her, furious now. “Gentry, perhaps? Or, God forbid, my father? I shan’t let you.”

  “My dreams are—are sensual and beautiful and—”

  “Only if you send them to me.” Lord Hadrian took her by the shoulders and kissed her hard.

  A wave of desire shook her. She gave an astonished little moan. He wrenched his lips from hers, panting. He set her aside and put his hands behind his back. She knew that if she could see those hands, they would be clenched hard. Her own hands itched to clutch him to her, to plunge once more into a river of desire.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said stiffly. “That was unwarranted.”

  She couldn’t stop staring at him. A tiger of passion roared inside her, both wonderful and terrifying. She had never, ever truly wanted a man before. Was this how it was supposed to feel?

  “The dreams you sent me were a sensual delight, but I can’t bear the thought of you sending them to men such as Tatlow.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “No doubt many men have uttered such idiocies to you before,” he added bitterly.

  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his mouth, from his gaze, from his mouth again. “It’s not idiotic when it comes from you.” She’d never been shy about kissing a man before, merely determined to get the job done. Tentatively, she pressed her palms to his chest. His shoulders relaxed and his arms fell to his sides. Before her courage deserted her, she kissed his mouth and quickly withdrew. “Hadrian, I–”

  From down the passage came a thud, followed by a curse.

  “Sounds like my father just tripped over one of Tatlow’s shoes. Let’s go.” He retrieved the pallet and blankets and with a hand to the small of her back, steered her around the corner to the entrance to the cupboard in her room. He followed her through, shut both doors behind them, and swiftly began to replace the shelves.

  “I wondered what those boards were,” she said, “and why the hatboxes were piled higgledy-piggledy. Someone must have taken the shelves down this evening before I came up to bed.”

  “My father,” Hadrian said, “or perhaps he sent one of the footmen. I cannot apologize enough for him.”

  “You needn’t,” she said. “You’re not like him.”

  He closed the cupboard door and stood facing her, his hands once again behind his back. “I trust not, but I very much fear I shall appear to be.” He took a deep breath. “Miss Raleigh, if you insist on staying longer, you will have to accept my protection.”

  She stared, dismay warring with longing.

  “Not that kind of protection,” he said with a frustrated huff, “but it will look that way to my parents. It is the only way to stay my father’s hand. He couldn’t bear the scandal if our supposed liaison became public.”

  “I see.” She should be relieved—she was relieved–but she shouldn’t be so disappointed as well.

  “I must stay in this room with you at night,” he said, “but I swear upon my life that I will not force my attentions on you. My only desire is to keep you safe.”

  “Your only desire?” she asked.

  ~ * ~

  “No,” Hadrian said. “I cannot help wanting to make love to you, but I am in control of myself.” Was that wistfulness in her voice? Perhaps, but her wringing hands told another story. She had kissed him of her own volition–but only a tiny kiss followed by an immediate withdrawal. What did she truly want? What held her back?

  He wasn’t much better. He didn’t know what he truly desired. To bed her, yes, but other emotions clawed at his insides—revulsion at her wanton past and anger that she had been forced by patriotic duty to give herself to God knew how many men.

  “It wouldn’t be force,” she said with a deep, sad sigh. “At least, I don’t think so, but…”

  Indignation seized him. “It would certainly not be force. Didn’t I just say that?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  True, he should stop dwelling on his own maze of feelings and try to comprehend hers. “I understand that you’re afraid.”

  She nodded, staring at the floor.

  “I don’t think this will make your reputation any worse,” he said. “You know my father’s horror of scandal, and my mother–”
r />   “He will force her to shun me completely from now on,” Lettice said. “It will sadden me, but I’m used to being shunned.”

  Hell, yes. She’d already been scandalous for several years when the worst blow-up came. She’d openly spent a night with Sir Colwyn North, one of the worst scoundrels in or out of the beau monde. Her likeness in compromising positions with that notorious cheat had been the prime attraction of the broadsheets for weeks—all while playing chess, of all ridiculous activities, as that had been their explanation of that night together. Few people recognized her after that.

  All at once he knew, and sick fury roiled over him again. Heedless of propriety, he dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands. “Pilgrim is Colwyn North.”

  “Yes.”

  After a long moment, he stood again and spread the pallet close to the cupboard. “Is that why you’re afraid? You knew I would find out. You dreaded my outrage, or my disgust, or both.”

  The blood drained from her face.

  “Well, now I know, so you can stop worrying.”

  “No, that’s not why I’m afraid.”

  He put up a hand as if to fend off her words. He sensed that he was as white as she. “Of course it is, but now the secret is out. I could accept your wanton behavior in the service of our country, but Colwyn North? Don’t try to convince me that you bedded him out of patriotic duty, because I won’t believe it.”

  She drew herself up, pale and still. “I shan’t ask you to. The truth is that I didn’t bed him at all.”

  “Oh, come now,” he said, more outraged by this blatant lie than by anything else she’d done. “Surely you don’t expect me to believe that you played chess with him all night. I’ve never heard a stupider story in my life. It was the jest of London for weeks.”

  “No, I don’t expect you to believe me. Why would you? I thought you were different, but you’re just like all the rest.”

  He felt himself flush. He wasn’t a gossip. He didn’t judge people on hearsay…and yet perhaps he had, not only since her arrival, but years before with the rest of London. How could he possibly know for sure?

  “You have no right to judge me,” she said, wrapped in a dignity so simple it rent his heart.

  A sham dignity, he told himself, or at least tried to.

  “My behavior, quite simply, is none of your business,” she said.

  “I concur,” he said stiffly. “It’s not.” He wanted it to be, wished with all his heart that everything could be otherwise, but it wasn’t and never would be. He shook his head and spread out the blankets.

  “I refuse your protection,” she said. “Take your pallet and leave.”

  He paused, eyeing her. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” He blew out a breath. “Why, for God’s sake? If you can stomach North in reality, surely you can tolerate some pretense about me.”

  “I can tolerate nothing about you. If you can’t bring yourself to believe me, you don’t deserve to protect me.” She pointed to the door. “Get out.”

  “No,” he said. “I cannot reconcile it with my conscience to leave you alone.”

  “What conscience?” she cried. “You refuse to even consider the truth. You don’t really care what happens to me. You just want to best your horrid father. Well, you can do it without my help.”

  “No,” he said again. “I do care what happens to you. If I haven’t tried to best my father for the past twenty-seven years, why would I start now if not because of you?”

  She huffed. “You have bested him. You didn’t destroy scandalous material in the archives. You carried on a correspondence with Val. You arranged for Val to meet with your mother.” She gave an unconvincing little laugh that tore through the remnants of his indignation. “It has nothing to do with caring about me.”

  “That’s not so,” he said. “Yes, I defied him in secret, but never openly until now. Then you came here, and I grew to like you in sp—”

  “In spite of the gossip? How kind of you.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t judge the women with whom I had liaisons—widows who missed bedding a man.” What was so different about Lettice? “You have the right to the same desires.”

  “How magnanimous, but it is precisely what you meant.”

  “Perhaps,” he admitted, “but I didn’t mean to mean it.” He laughed unhappily. Why couldn’t she understand? God help him, he didn’t understand himself at the moment. “Whatever your past actions, I can’t stomach my father’s present ones.” He’d put that wrong too, but he soldiered on. “His plans to harm you were the last straw. I intend to leave Staves when you do, and I won’t return until my father is dead.”

  “Surely you don’t expect me to believe you.”

  His mouth twisted. “I have no right to expect that, but nevertheless it’s the truth. It will be difficult for my mother, but maybe my brother Gentry will find the courage to take over and arrange for Val and me to visit her in secret. I hope so.”

  He lay down on the pallet and covered himself with the blankets. “Sleep well, Miss Raleigh.”

  She didn’t move. “I asked you to leave.”

  “And I told you I cannot. Short of threatening me with a weapon, you won’t get rid of me, and even then I’ll stand guard outside your door.”

  “You’re mad,” she said.

  “Possibly.” He was beginning to wonder about that himself. He closed his eyes. “Good night.”

  He heard her sigh, listened to her footsteps as she retreated to the bed and the creak of the ropes as she climbed in. She snuffed the candle and drew the bed curtains. If only she knew how much he wanted to believe her, but this last revelation was too much. She must have known he would find out about North, assume they were lovers now as then, and think the worst of her.

  Except that…she hadn’t known who was coming. His eyes popped open. She had only known the man’s nom de guerre, not his real name. Hadrian would swear on his life that she hadn’t known which of her colleagues might need her help.

  She’d been afraid last night, well before North had come.

  From the depths of the bed, he thought he heard a sob. His heart turned over.

  He sat up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry, darling Lettice.” He got up, lit his candle and crossed to the bed. He spoke through the closed curtains. “Very well, you were playing chess, but why? That episode put the cap on your ruined reputation, as you must have known it would.”

  After a long moment, during which the only sound was the rustle of sheets, she said, “It was that or be hanged for murder.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Murder,” Hadrian repeated, aghast. “Of whom?”

  “I shouldn’t have told you that.” Lettice separated the bed curtains. Her eyes were huge and shimmering in the candlelight. “I wish I didn’t like you. I wish I didn’t want you to like me. It makes me reveal things I shouldn’t.”

  He got himself under control. “I know that spies sometimes have to kill people. My own brother was an assassin.” He paused. “I do like you, very much.” Rashly, he added, “And I promise to believe you this time.”

  “It was a man named Sir Wallace Allsop.”

  Hadrian nodded slowly. “I was slightly acquainted with him. A bit of a loose screw.”

  She nodded. “He was suspected of involvement in arms smuggling, and my mission was to cajole information out of him.” She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “If he believed I would accompany him, you see, he might tell me where we were bound, and…”

  He set the candle down, longing to hold her, concerned she would once again take fright.

  “We were at a card party, and he took me aside on the pretext of showing me our host’s collection of porcelain. He became amorous far too quickly. Usually I was able to fend a man off, to persuade him that I would give in to him later at a more discreet time and place, but he would have none of it. He…” She seemed to shrink into herself. “To make a long story short, he tried to rape me.
I had a knife in my reticule, and I used it.”

  Hadrian suppressed a curse. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.

  “I shouldn’t have panicked. A competent agent would have found a way to control him or disable him or simply escape. A truly dedicated agent would have submitted to him for the good of England, but I couldn’t, I simply couldn’t, and…” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I am not going to cry.”

  He pulled her into his arms. “To hell with the good of England. You did what you had to.”

  She shook in his embrace, and the tears came anyway. He rocked her and kissed her hair, and then got properly onto the bed, propping himself against the pillows. He put his arm around her and waited while she collected herself. He reached under the pillow for her handkerchief and pricked his finger on her knife.

  “Ouch!” He sucked his finger. “You don’t have to sleep with this under the pillow while I’m here.”

  “It’s a habit.” She blew her nose.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said, “but wasn’t Allsop’s body found washed up somewhere down the Thames?”

  “Yes, thanks to Colwyn North,” she said. “He was at the party, too—it was one of those horrid affairs where the cheats try to best each other and end by brawling. He had a bad feeling about Allsop and came to check on me.” She sniffled and blew her nose again. “He found me covered in blood, tying the curtains together so I could climb out the window.”

  “Good God.” He rubbed his face with his free hand, feeling totally inadequate. She’d been through so much.

  “It was stupid of me, for many people had seen me go with Allsop, but panic makes one foolish. Colwyn said we would pretend I had left the party with him. He wiped all traces of blood from the floor as calmly as could be—but he’s used to violent death, so it didn’t faze him. We tipped Allsop out the window and climbed down after him. Colwyn arranged to have Allsop dropped in the river. Just to make sure I wasn’t suspected, we concocted a juicier story about where I’d been.”