Taken by the Wicked Rake

by Christine Merrill

  ‘But you do not understand,’ Verity said. ‘None of you. It is all nothing more than a mistake. I can explain it all.’

  ‘But not now, darling,’ Hal said, putting a brotherly arm around her shoulders. ‘There will be time, I am sure. For now, you must rest. And later, when you are ready, you may tell us anything you like. Or nothing at all, if you so prefer.’ And for a moment, he seemed rather pale, as though he would just as soon not hear the story he was expecting from her.

  ‘Hal is right. A rest in your room. A nice meal. A warm bath, if you wish…’ Marcus was trying to guide her to the stairs, as though she could not find her own way to her room.

  ‘I am quite clean enough, I assure you, and not the least bit hungry. I had a lovely dinner, just an hour ago. And a nap in the after noon. There is nothing wrong with me, Marc. And yet, you sound ready to offer me a posset laced with laudanum.’

  She had meant to joke him out of his fears. But her brothers looked past her, from one to the other. Her calm mood seemed to upset them more than it assured them. At the rate they were going, if she continued to resist help, she was liable to end the night in a doctor’s care.

  She shot a helpless look to Diana, who had the presence of mind to reach out a hand to her. ‘Maybe it is better, if I go to my room for a bit,’ she said, signalling to Diana with a squeeze of her fingers that she wanted company. She gave the rest of them what she hoped was a reassuring smile, although properly frail so as not to arouse suspicion. ‘But I promise. I am quite well. Totally un hurt. You have nothing to fear, and there is no need to go gallivanting off in search of justice. Not until after we have talked, at any rate. But for now?’ She smiled at Diana, and Nell and Julia, as well, to include them in the retreat. ‘My room, I think.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Maybe you can talk sense to her. For I despair of it.’ Marc closed Verity’s bedroom door with a slam, leaving her alone with Hal.

  It was the middle of her first day at home, and it was not going as smoothly as she had hoped. Diana and Nell had been as understanding as possible, although rather short tempered with her for de fending Stephano—or as they called him, ‘that horrible Gypsy.’ Eventually they had given up trying to convince her, allowing that rest was the solution to many things.

  With the change of day, they had turned her over to her brothers.

  Now, Hal sat on the bed and stared at the closed door. ‘I have never seen him so angry. And certainly not with you. You never give him reason.’

  ‘Not with Honoria, either. He did not make nearly so much fuss, when she had to go to Aunt Foxe.’

  ‘Because what she did was little fault of hers. But you, Verity?’ Hal shook his head and sighed. ‘I know you did not run away with the Gypsy. Do not think we blame you for your own kid nap ping. But you do not understand how worried we were. Or the horrible message he sent.’

  As they had lain together in the vardo after making love, Stephano had explained the reason for his injured hand, and the note he had sent. It had been wrong of him, of course. But her family seemed far too sensitive about it. ‘What exactly did it say?’

  ‘It involved a threat to your honour. The exact words are not fit for a lady’s ears.’

  ‘And so you will keep me in the dark about them, just as you have everything else. That is the root of all the troubles I have had, I think. People keep trying to protect me to a degree that makes it impossible for me to make up my own mind. At least, Stephano was open with me about what he was doing.’

  ‘Stephano is it?’ Hal gave her a sharp look. ‘Do not give the man more credit than he deserves. He is as skilled a liar as he is a thief.’

  ‘You assume, just because he is a Gypsy, that he is a liar and a thief. It is most unfair of you, Hal.’

  ‘I assume he is a liar and thief, and a hundred other kinds of villain, because of the evidence of my own eyes. You should be the last one to defend him, Verity, after what he has done to you.’

  ‘He did nothing to me, Hal, other than take me away from the party. While I was with him, he treated me with respect.’

  ‘And did not lay a hand upon you? For if he touched you, Verity, I swear…’ Hal was speaking gently enough to her, but she could see that he shook with rage.

  She laid a hand on his arm. ‘It is all right. Do not trouble yourself.’

  Hal drew away from her and stared into her eyes in shock. ‘Do not think yourself so sly, Verity. You did not answer my question. And I suspect there is a very good reason for it. It is because you cannot answer truthfully and get your way. I will not trouble you further about what happened, and neither of us will discuss this with Marc. But do not think that by hiding the truth, you will prevent us from taking action to prevent other young ladies from this…predator.’

  She gripped his arm even tighter. ‘You do not understand at all, Hal. Stephano would never do any thing to hurt me. His ways are unusual, of course. But he is most gentle and kind.’

  ‘I am sure it appeared as such while you were there. There are things that can be slipped into food or wine that make one behave in a way most un like one’s normal self. And he might have used such on you, to keep you docile while a prisoner.’ She could see the lines of strain appearing around Hal’s mouth, as though he were imagining her drug-induced submission. ‘But now that you are home, the effects will pass, and you will see things clearly. Do not allow the truth to upset you, when it comes. Whatever occurred, you are not at fault.’

  ‘How utterly ridiculous, Hal. I ate the same food as the others did, and my head was clear as a bell the whole time I was gone. If you are imagining some dramatic scenario of locked doors and drugged coercion, you must stop it immediately. The truth is very simple. I love Stephano, and he loves me in return. Once you get to know him…’

  Hall looked as angry as Marc had been, and al most ill in his efforts to contain the rage. ‘I have no intention of getting to know him, Verity. I know quite enough. As you would, if the man had not bewitched you. It is time someone explained to you the sort of man that has captured your heart. Then you will see why we are so angry and why we will not allow him to escape justice for what he has done.’

  And he began, slowly at first, and with in creasing speed, to list the offences of which her husband was guilty.

  It was horrible. And she was sure that the stories were true. Because she had seen the contents of his heart and known him capable of it. Threats, lies, kidnap ping and assault. And, although she’d known her sister’s disgrace was at the hands of a rake, she had not known of Stephano’s part in it.

  ‘If you had seen her,’ Hal shook his head. ‘Marc told me her dress was torn. She was shaking with fear after having to fight for her honour. She was weeping and humiliated. It was only a fortuitous interruption that prevented her ravishment.’

  ‘I am sure that he did not mean for it to come to that.’ But how could she be sure, knowing how he spoke of the curse and how driven he had been to deliver it?

  ‘Your precious Gypsy tricked her into straying off alone that night.’ Hal gave a snort of disgust. ‘I doubt he gave a thought to what would happen to her after. And it was not bad enough that he took you from us. Do you wish to know what was in the note we received?’

  She could not speak to stop him. She could barely breathe. She had always hated the over protection of her brothers, but now that it was gone, she felt vulnerable and frightened by what might come.

  Hal stared at her with angry, hurt-filled eyes. ‘He sent us your chemise, and said that it was stained with your virgin’s blood. He de scribed in detail how he had used you. And said that when he was finished, he strangled you with one of his damned silk ropes and left your body in the woods to be further de filed by scavengers.’

  She knew her brother would not lie. Even if he did, he would not look as he did now. For speaking of this had so affected Hal that he was near to tears. But his version of the story was nothing like Stephano’s. She reached out a hand to comfort her broth
er. ‘There is a mistake, somehow. I am sure of it. Because the man I know…’

  And Hal saw the confusion in her and seized upon it. ‘You do not know him Verity. No one does. Ask Nathan Wardale if you do not believe me. At one time, they were as close as brothers. But when the Gypsy showed up with his silk rope, Nate made the mistake of helping the bastard, thinking their friend ship would protect his sisters from that idiotic curse. And Stephen Hebden turned on him like a mad dog.’

  ‘He betrayed a friend?’ That was more damning than anything. For she’d have sworn, if she knew nothing else about the man she loved, that the bonds of affection once forged, were not easily cast off.

  ‘He threatened Nathan’s sisters,’ Hal said, as though this explained it all. ‘The man has no honour, and has at tempted to abuse or seduce any woman he’s had contact with. You are young, Verity. But we cannot protect you from this truth. Your Romany lover petted you and coddled you and filled you with sweet talk. And with each breath, he was lying. He tried to kill Father with worry. When he did not succeed at that, he sent you back to us, to be a traitor in our midst. It is the ultimate insult, to corrupt our most precious member and then watch us rot from the inside out.’

  What could she say to relieve his anguish? The truth was in adequate. ‘I did not know.’

  ‘And now you do. Think on it, Verity. And if you cannot do it to save yourself, then for the good of your family. Forget Stephano Beshaley and the time you spent with him.’

  The next days passed slowly, for they were empty and devoid of happiness. Everyone in the house, down to the lowest scullery maid, was watching her intently as though expecting some outburst of anger or tears that would prove she was ready to awaken from the night mare of the previous week and come back to her old self.

  But it seemed that her current life was as much a night mare as the past they imagined for her. If the time in the Rom camp had been a lie, it had been a beautiful one. She had loved and thought she’d been loved in return. Even if it was nothing more than a cruel trick, she preferred it to the truth.

  Here, everyone smiled and laughed and was careful not to speak of anything that might upset her. From the looks in their eyes, she could see that they were as close to cracking as she was. They were all des per ate to return her to normal, even going so far as to send to the Veryans for her benighted harp.

  And now, it seemed likely that Father would get out of his sick bed and would arrive in London along with it. He had heard rumours from Alexander Veryan of her mysterious absence, and insisted on travel ling to see that she was well. The family was beside itself with the fear that an idle word might bring on the attack that would finish him for good.

  She spent much time in the garden, hoping that it would clear the cold confusion of her heart. But the tailored nature of the plants and the perfect order of it all made her even more melancholy. Places that had seemed wild and natural before seemed full of artifice now that she had lived in a beech grove and slept under the stars.

  She must learn to love her home again. She would play the harp and smile, if only to help calm Father. If her brothers were to be believed, Stephano was like a poisonous wine made with sweet fruit. Delicious, but deadly. He had used his charms on her, just as he had tried with Julia and others. But she had been the only one young and foolish enough to believe the things he had said to her. For the good of her family, she must accept the fact that this was home, and that the world she had known and loved was a betrayal of everything she had been raised to appreciate.

  Stephano appeared out of the shadows, by the garden wall. Verity gave a start of fear, for a moment unsure that what she was seeing was real. But as he walked towards her, smiling and arms out stretched, her fear turned to anger. ‘You.’

  ‘Yes, me,’ he said. ‘You have not for got ten me, have you? Or your promise to send for me?’

  She felt a moment’s guilt, and a sudden desire to reassure him. I have not for got ten. Never.

  Then, she remembered her brother’s words. And she hardened her heart against the memories, for they were as false as the Gypsy. ‘I made my promise before I heard how you treated my family.’

  His smile disappeared, and his arms dropped to his sides. ‘You knew how it stood between us. And you knew of the curse. I never claimed innocence to you. Nor can I now.’

  ‘But you did not tell me the details, nor would any one else. But now, I know what you did to Honoria.’

  The man she thought she’d loved scoffed in disdain. ‘I did nothing to Honoria.’

  ‘Liar.’ How could he be so blind to the pain he had caused?

  He shrugged. ‘I did not touch her, if that is what you fear. Any problems that she encountered were her own doing.’

  The indignity bubbled fresh in her. ‘She was very nearly raped.’

  ‘I was hiding nearby. I would not have let it come to that. And after her escape, she went on to find love and a new life. As have they all.’

  Which was true. But she remembered how lonely she had been, and how her brothers and parents had worried. ‘She lives apart from her family. And apart from her honour, as well.’

  ‘But she is happier for it,’ he said. ‘The loss of honour is not such a big thing. What is it, really? Naught but an idea. A myth.’ He reached out to touch her arm.

  She pulled away from him. ‘A funny statement, coming from the most proud man I have ever met. If you had no belief in honour, you would not work so hard to defend your own. What did I hear last week, other than the honour of your family and the catalogue of wrongs against you? You have de voted your life to punishing others. You are un happy, but you think nothing of leaving a trail of misery wherever you go.’

  She could see the hurt on his face, as though her betrayal meant something to him and was not just another vengeful plan gone slightly awry. ‘You were happy with me. But now that you are back with your family, you are miserable? Whose fault is that?’

  ‘Yours. For if you had not parted me from them…’ I would never have seen…I would never have felt… She was too close to telling him the truth: lacking things that she had never known she wanted was leaving her almost sick with longing, in a place where she had known nothing but contentment, however bland it might have been. ‘You tried the same with the others, did you not? Julia and Nell.’

  His smile was triumphant, now. ‘Is it jealousy, then, my sweet? They were nothing to me, and so it does not matter whether they succumbed to my charms or no.’

  ‘It matters to me. For it seems I was the only one foolish enough to be dazzled by you, and to fall into your bed like a trollop, and let you…’

  ‘Let me?’ He gave a small laugh. ‘Do you remember how it was when we parted? If anyone fell, it was not you. As I remember it, you did what you wished with me, with a great deal of enthusiasm.’

  ‘Only to find that you laughed to my family about using me. And let them believe… You…horrible…disgusting…Gypsy.’ She said it as though it were the worst thing in the world for him to be exactly what he was—and exactly what she loved about him. And it must have hurt him deeply. For otherwise, he would have no reason to pretend it didn’t.

  His eyes narrowed for but a moment. Then his smile returned brilliant as ever, and he nodded as though her response was exactly what he had expected to hear from a Carlow. ‘After a few days of separation, you find you did not know me? And you are sickened by our association?’ He gave a small, mocking bow. ‘Then I shall consider our time together a complete success. I take full credit for the pain I caused you, and by extension, the anxiety it brought to the house of Narborough. It is no less than I wanted, after all. To see you humbled.’ His forehead creased suddenly, as though another headache had come upon him, taking him unawares.

  Without thinking, she reached out to soothe his brow, wishing she could press her lips to him until the pain relaxed from his face, as it had in the wagon.

  He saw her response and laughed at her, but it seemed as though it caused him effort.
He could not manage to make a sound of mirth or even mocking. The laugh came as a pain-choked gasp. ‘I can see how glad you are, to return to your family. I have watched you for days. You sit here in the garden, crying for me. Even now, I could have you, if I wished. I have but to stretch out my hand and you will follow me back into the wilderness. Your family will never see you again. How amusing that would be…’

  But the words sounded shaky, as though he’d said them to reassure himself, as much as to taunt her with them. ‘How great a joke it would be, to take you right out of the bosom of your family. But I grow bored with your company, and am un willing to saddle myself with a useless gadji, not even to satisfy my mother’s spirit.’ He waved his hand in a gesture that seemed an almost ceremonial dismissal. ‘I release you. Run back to your brothers. And I hope your freedom brings you all that you de serve.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  As Stephano turned to leave, he could hear the sound of Verity sobbing as she ran toward the house. But it did not matter. Nothing mattered. The head ache that had been gone for days had returned. It was a death knell in his skull. He did not care who saw him or who heard his muttered curses as he stumbled towards the garden gate. He was too angry to remember his object in coming here in the first place. But he was sure that he must have had a better reason to risk his life than the des per ate and growing need to see his wife, if even for a moment.

  His life, his health, his happiness were all there, inside the house. The love for her had come upon him so suddenly that he’d hardly believed it possible. Stronger than the fever, stronger than even the curse. He had been sure, for years, that there could be nothing stronger than the curse. But now he was Verity Carlow’s puppet, just as he had been his mother’s.