The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection 6

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "Never, George, never."

  "But Miranda, I've done things--"

  "That's who you were in the past. It's not who you are now. That's all any of us can ask for, the here and now. The past is dead, and the future hasn't happened yet. And we make our own future, every day that we love each other and share this bliss."

  She moved under him restlessly, seeking, questing and finally getting the elusive stroke she had been so craving. "That's right, perfect. Mmm. Mmmmm. George! That's right. Forget about anything but us. They've tried to pull us apart, and failed. Never again, never, George. We've vanquished our foes. It makes no sense to then defeat ourselves with our own doubts."

  Geroge's head was swimming with the sensual sensations shared with his beloved. "You're right," he gasped. "Devil take the whole lot of them. They can't hurt us any more if we don’t let them."

  "That's right, dearest, never mind them. Think only of me."

  He laughed heartily then. "As if I can ever thing of anything else."

  But despite their brave words, Oxnard and their other enemies hadn’t done with the lovers quite yet. About two months after they had pledged themselves to one another, when a small announcement appeared in The Times thanks to Lady Pemberton which declared that George and Miranda were engaged, Oxnard knew it was time to act.

  And this time he would arrange for some more effective help…

  Castlereagh threw down the paper in disgust. Damnation. The one thing he had ever feared had now come to pass. Once George was in the Rakehell set in earnest thanks to his new wife, there would be hell to pay. It was just too great a risk, to England, and his own political career. He had to stop them. Separate the two of them before it was too late.

  George had moved heaven and earth to find his brothers for so many years, he knew it would not be easy. He had thought her married to another would not only break their alliance, but stop him from seeking her.

  Castlereagh knew if he lost her a second time, he would never rest until he found Miranda, dead or alive. As long as she was alive, she would serve as a conduit to the Rakehells. Therefore, it was clear what had to be done.

  What a pity. Such a good family. But this was war, after all. War against France, and war against Radicals such as the Rakehells, who dared question the decisions of their betters.

  With men of talent such as the Duke of Ellesmere and the Earl of Hazelmere, things were being shaken up enough. They had already gathering far too much attention to themselves with their heroic war record and personal examples respectively. If George were ever to come out of the shadows to follow their example, well…

  He had already proven himself a powerful leader of men. Too powerful. If he should ever achieve a government position, what would become of Castlereagh himself and all his cronies?

  Castlereagh grimaced and shook his head. Unthinkable. He stood up and pulled the bell with a decisive air. As soon as the servant appeared, he ordered, "Send for Edwards at once."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And Morrison too," Castlereagh added, with a smug smile.

  The servant stiffened, but said, "Yes, of course, sir. At once."

  He hurried out of the room and away from the chilling presence of the Foreign Office Minister. He had heard him railing about the newspaper announcement concerning George's engagement. Now Sebastian was being sent for.

  It could only mean one thing. The game of cat and mouse was now in its final stages. And Castlereagh was going to use Sebastian against his best friend, the better to bring both of them even further under his own power.

  He quickened his steps and broke into a run as panic seized him. Damnation, he had not been given enough time to find the information George had been seeking so desperately. Now all hell was about to break loose, but why and in what form, he had no idea.

  As he ran, he prayed Sebastian might have some clue, for if not, he was sure George Davenant's lovely new fiancee was a dead woman.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Though the popularity of their Othello had been so great that they never could have imagined besting it, The Tempest proved, if anything, even more popular. Sebastian as theatre manager was now run ragged.

  He had received a panicked message from the contact George had planted in Castlereagh's office, warning him to be careful, and a more official missive from the Foreign Office Secretary himself, which had also set alarm bells ringing in his head.

  He wished now that he had never agreed to take a role in the theatre. Between his worry over what Castlereagh was up to now, and his own fears that things had almost been too quiet of late, he was already on edge. This evening he was half-demented trying to maintain the security in the theatre given his rather skimpy costume.

  Now a bold orange wench with the most enormous fruit thrusting out of her busk began to fondle him and drag him away into the alley.

  "Er, no, thank you, madam, I have duties--"

  But her other companion clung on fiercely and he was around the corner before he could dig his heels in. Sebastian never suspected a thing until the blow landed on the back of his skull, by which time it was far too late.

  Hugo nodded to Georgina, who caught Sebastian’s huge weight against her voluptuous body, and decided that even unconscious a handsome man like him would be worth a tiddle or two.

  She dragged him into the noisome alley behind the theatre, and removed her stockings in an instant. She trussed his hand behind him, spread his legs, and she and Kitty, with time on their hands and lust in their loins, fell upon him like two ravenous gluttons at a feast.

  Hugo got rid of Daniel with one well-placed blow to the head as he came down into the pit to snuff all the lights. Then he began to fan him as if he had fainted, and shunted out all the hangers-on after the performance.

  "Please, everyone has had enough for one night. Come back tomorrow." To a pile of ashes and dead bodies, he thought with a smirk.

  As soon as they had gone, he dumped lamp oil all over the pile of logs being used as George’s props in the woodcutting scene, and struck his tinder box. With a satisfying whoosh, the conflagration began to devour the woodpile and the timber stage in an instant.

  He made his way down the corridor to his former dressing room, and after a small scuffle, knocked out Bart.

  Then he called, "It’s all right. You can come out now. I’ll go in this way, you that way. We need to hurry, though. We haven’t much time."

  Miranda was undressing and removing her make-up as fast as she could, eager to get home to spend time alone with her beloved. George had promised her a night of bliss the likes of which she would never forget, something featuring chocolate, he had said with a grin, and a few more surprises that had her breathless with anticipation.

  But not all surprises were welcome ones. She looked over her shoulder in the mirror and saw Oxnard enter the room. She gasped and ran into the corner instinctively, looking for anything to protect herself. Her sword from Twelfth Night almost leapt into her hand like an old friend.

  "Get out! I never want to see you again!" she shouted, brandishing the weapon even though it was still in its scabbard.

  "Now I’ve warned you before, that’s no way to speak to your husband."

  "You are nothing to me! It was all a pack of lies. One ruse after another from the moment we met. You let me think you cared, that you were showering me with gifts, when all along it was someone else. The notes were all signed with just the initial. I thought it was you. How could I have ever been so blind? The only person you’ve ever loved is yourself."

  "Damn it, Miranda, I want you back."

  She shook her head. "You’ve never had me. Oh, you pretty much kidnapped me and used me for an hour or so in your vile games. But love? There was no love or sharing or tenderness. There was only perversion and brutality. I don’t belong to you, and I never shall."

  "Yes you do!"

  Her gaze daggered him. "That was no legal ceremony. You told me yourself! You wanted to cast me aside like a used breechclou
t after you’d besmirched it. Well, I’m worth more than that."

  "My intentions were always honourable, but—"

  She scraped the sword out of her scabbard then. "I’ll just bet they were. Like so many men. To spoil and defile. Or was it to rob a lady of her fortune by way of marriage? But you're already married. And I shall have far more with—"

  "Hah!" he scoffed. "What could be more than being the wife of an Earl?"

  "The wife of a man who loves me, and would never harm or degrade me. Or let his friends watch. Join in," she fired back furiously as he moved back and forth in a semi-circle, just waiting for his chance to grab her.

  "If you don’t come with me now, I’ll ruin you, you bitch!" he snarled. "I'll tell everyone--"

  Miranda didn't even flinch. "No you won’t. You can't ruin me without ruining yourself. Ruin me? You don't have the power, Oxnard. You've already tried and failed. I’m not ruined. In fact, I ought to thank you for expanding my education. Now that I know what depravity and debauchery look like, I can take my utmost pains to avoid it."

  "Oh, come now, it wasn’t so terrible. I’ve seen worse. You’ll get used to—"

  "The joys of the Marquis de Sade?" she said with a sardonic smile. "I don’t think so. I told you over and over again when you first pursued me that I would never give myself to anyone out of wedlock.

  "So you tricked me. But it was even before that that you had wanted me, wasn’t it? The first night you ever saw me as an orange seller. You helped organise the men to snatch me off the street."

  Oxnard's lusting eyes lit up in surprise at that. "Not entirely. That blonde bitch with the big oranges and blue eyes put the idea in everyone’s heads. Yes, your friend Georgina. I was the seventh man to tag along. It wasn't my idea, but it was a good lark, to be sure. Only George saved you."

  "Why would Georgina do that?" she demanded, not really believing him, but eager to keep him talking in order to buy herself more time.

  Oxnard shrugged. "She hates any woman more beautiful than herself. All the men who caught sight of your fresh fruit wouldn't want to waste any time with her rotten wares."

  "So it was you with Maggie, too?"

  "Maggie?"

  "Maggie the actress, the leading lady when I first came here. She didn’t fall. She was attacked. She was wearing my outer garments. She must have put up a struggle," she guessed, watching his expression as she did so. "You realised your mistake, and shoved her off the stage so she couldn't accuse you. She could have died from the fall alone. Or died of neglect if we hadn't found her in time."

  "No, she’s lying!" Oxnard insisted, but the look on his face said it all.

  The word "she" immediately alerted her to a new danger. Miranda suddenly realised they were not alone. Hugo came out from behind the curtain of her closet area, having cut through the partition dividing the two rooms and made it into a door to enjoy more easily his dalliances with Maggie and Bart when Maggie had had this dressing room.

  "She may be lying. I don’t care at this point. I’m going to have my fun and get even with the little bitch and so are you. Grab her. Then we need to get out of here. This place is about to become an inferno. "

  "Not if George’s has anything to say about it," Miranda said with unmistakable pride.

  Oxnard hefted the other sword now in his reach since Hugo had backed Miranda into the opposite corner. "So that’s the way of it. Well, George won’t be saying much of anything in a minute."

  Miranda’s eyes widened. Thanking all the gods for the fact that she had never returned her weapon to the prop room, she lunged. He batted it away with his own weapon as if it were an annoying fly.

  Oxnard shook his head. "Come, my dear. Don’t force me to hurt you more than I have to. You bled enough the last time I stuck you." Oxnard sniggered at his own double entendre. "Though I do rather like it when you squeal like a pig. Put that sword down and let’s duel with my other one, shall we?"

  "Never. I’ll cut my own throat with this blade before I let you assault me again." Her eyes turned almost black with fury. "And I think I’ll try your blade first."

  She slashed at him with the weapon. It was dull enough, but the force of the blow managed to rend his coat.

  "By God, you little trollop!" he gasped, livid at her defiance.

  "You tried to make me one, but I escaped your clutches. I’m hardly going to allow myself to be used so cruelly again. I want a real man, not a pale imitation with a big—walking stick."

  He glared at her and tried to get her to drop her weapon by slashing at her wrist. She lifted a small stool and threw it at him, attempting to make her way to the door.

  Hugo barred her way, but now a huge shove from outside sent him sprawling forward into Oxnard.

  Miranda saw with relief that it was George. But she also watched in horror as Oxnard spun round and stabbed him in the abdomen before George even had a chance to react or defend himself.

  "George, no, no!"

  She stabbed Oxnard in the shoulder, and threw her sword handle-sideways toward George as she felt herself knocked to the ground by Hugo’s hard body.

  George caught the weapon neatly with his left hand, but it was not his best side and he was winded by his wound. He parried every blow just in time, but soon found himself driven back down the hall by Oxnard.

  The desperate earl knew now that George would never rest until he killed the man who had taken Miranda from him. And take her he would.

  George retreated into his office to try to regroup. Oxnard slammed the door and padlocked it from the outside. Then he looked around.

  The corridor was now filling with billowing black smoke. Oxnard, given a choice between his life and Miranda, panicked and fled for the exit.

  Miranda struggled with Hugo as the smoke began to curl inwards through her door. She could hear George roaring her name in terror and fury. From his banging and rattling she knew he was trapped in his office.

  She grabbed Hugo’s arm, twisted it up behind his back, and rammed him face-first into the wall. Then she dived for her ivory box and snatched the pistol from it. She thanked the gods Sebastian had given her and taught her how to use it.

  "Don’t move. I don't want to have to kill you, but I will if you take another step!"

  "No you won’t," Hugo said arrogantly. "A little milksop like you—"

  The pounding against the plaster he had taken had not deterred him in the least. In fact, he was so aroused his hands were already fumbling with his waistband fastenings when any sane man would have tried to disarm her first, or get out of the burning building.

  Miranda had no qualms now. She raised the pistol and shot him straight between the eyes. His look of surprise would have been amusing had his brains not flown in every direction.

  Now Miranda was running away in disgust and terror, charging through the corridor to find her friends and the man whom she loved enough to kill for.

  The whole theatre was now wreathed in choking ebony plumes, but she groped her way to his office and began to yank on George’s door latch.

  There was pandemonium as the rest of the cast fled from the acrid smoke. Becky and Liz were struggling with the unconscious Bart. Milly was dragging along two of the others who were already overcome by smoke.

  "Miranda! Come on!" Liz shouted.

  "I can’t. I need to get George. He's locked in."

  Liz paused for a minute. "I'll try to help."

  "No, go on, get everyone else out now. I've got him"

  "Where’s Daniel?" Milly asked tearfully. "And Sebastian?

  Miranda shook her head. "I don’t know. Hugo and Oxnard tried to kill me. Find them now. Stay low on the ground. Hurry."

  The whole exchange had taken less than ten seconds, during which time she had looked around for something to free George’s door. She shouted through the portal, "I’m here. I’m all right. Hang on."

  "Where are the others?" he rasped.

  "Gone, I think. Damn, I can’t get this open."

 
; "Get the fire axe at the corner of the stage. Hurry."

  She ran for it and came back a moment later. "Stand back, darling."

  She hacked at the door until she created a hole large enough for him to start rending the wood with his hands. In a moment they had worked together to create a hole big enough for him to squeeze through.

  After one quick kiss the couple started running for the stage. The smoke billowed all around them, stinging their eyes.