Desire n-3

by Nicole Jordan

  Bypassing the desk, the clerk knelt and dug up a loose floorboard. Retrieving a leather pouch, he turned it over to Lucian. “They’re all here-all the instructions Sir Giles gave me for the past year.”

  Lucian thumbed through the scraps of paper. “I see nothing to connect these to Sir Giles. You could have forged these just as you forged my letter.”

  “But I didn’t, my lord, I swear it! I still have nearly all the money he gave me from the first time. A hundred pounds. Once I realized… I couldn’t spend it. I told Sir Giles I would no longer help. I pleaded- but he insisted. He said Caliban would kill my mother if I failed to do exactly as he asked.”

  His expression held such sincere misery, Lucian was inclined to believe him. Moreover, he knew very well what treachery Giles had been capable of.

  “If your contact is dead, how do you communicate now?”

  “My instructions are left anonymously… in a flowerpot outside my door. I never see who leaves them.”

  Lucian stared at him for a long moment, using his most intimidating scowl. The clerk visibly quailed but did not retract his story.

  “Very well,” Lucian said at last. “Tell me about this letter of authorization you wrote. You forged my hand?”

  “Yes, my lord. I obtained some of your correspondence and practiced for weeks.”

  “How did you manage to get my seal?”

  “I did not, exactly. I was supplied with several wax wafers with your seal already imprinted on them. It wasn’t difficult to transfer one to the letter. It requires only a hot brick and a razor-thin knife.”

  “Someone must have acquired your seal ring,” Philip observed.

  He kept a seal at his offices, Lucian reflected, and another in his study at home- He felt every muscle grow rigid as his mind flashed back to a morning some weeks ago when he’d found Brynn in his study with her brother. And the following day she had returned alone, claiming to be searching for a lost earring.

  God’s mercy… Was that yet another lie? He wouldn’t put it past Sir Grayson to have stolen his seal, but Brynn? Was she involved in treason?

  Lucian drew a sharp breath. His first instinct was to deny the possibility; his second, a desperate desire to shield her from discovery. She was his wife, the woman who carried his child. The one who owned his heart. It would devastate him to have to choose between her and his duty.

  Lucian clenched his jaw, knowing he no longer had any objectivity where Brynn was concerned, yet he didn’t want Philip to know he suspected his wife of treason. At least not until he had proof. He would have to discover the truth from Brynn. Meanwhile her brother might very well be preparing to transport the gold to France…

  Shaking himself from his stupor, Lucian eyed the trembling clerk. “You understand, I trust, the seriousness of your crime against the Crown? That the best I can do for you is to see that you are imprisoned or transported rather than hanged?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Jenkins whispered. “I understand. I… I would be grateful if you would spare my life.”

  “Mr. Barton here will see to your arrest. I suggest you gather whatever belongings will help ease your incarceration until your trial.”

  “Th-thank you, my lord.”

  When the clerk turned away, Lucian drew Philip aside. “I have a notion who might have had access to my seal,” he said in a low voice. “Sir Grayson Caldwell.”

  Philip stared. “But that is…”

  “My wife’s brother, I know. If Sir Grayson is the culprit, it’s possible this latest shipment of gold was taken to Cornwall, to be transported to France from there. Following him may be our only hope in finding it.”

  “Yes, I concur,” Philip said slowly.

  “I want you to take a half dozen of your best men and ride to Cornwall. Observe Sir Grayson from a distance, but do nothing to alert him that he is suspect. I don’t want you to show yourself at all, do I make myself clear?”

  “I understand, my lord. You will be coming to Cornwall, as well?”

  “Yes, I’ll follow you shortly. But I have a matter to resolve first,” Lucian said grimly. “One that can’t be delayed.”

  It required all Lucian’s acting skills to rein in his emotions and refrain from confronting Brynn the moment he returned home. He wanted to shake the truth out of her, to plead with her to deny her complicity. Yet given her propensity for lies, he knew he was wiser to observe her reaction, to see if she would reveal her guilt. He could only pray she would allay his dark suspicions.

  When he arrived, he went straight to his rooms and began to pack, not calling his valet because he didn’t want an audience.

  He sensed Brynn’s presence even before she spoke; she had entered his bedchamber through their connecting door.

  “Is something wrong, Lucian? You are so late, I had begun to worry.”

  “Yes, there is something very much wrong,” he answered tersely, scarcely giving her a glance. “Another shipment of gold has been stolen.”

  She frowned. “Another one?”

  Lucian stopped his packing and gave her a level look. “The circumstances are different from the earlier times-actually worse. My seal ring was brazenly used to forge a letter that authorized handing over the gold to the thieves.”

  “Your seal ring?” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper.

  He forced his expression to remain impassive. “Yes, mine. It implicates me in treason.”

  Her hand went to her throat. “Surely not… No one would believe you had anything to do with stealing government gold.”

  “Perhaps not, but it will behoove me to catch the thieves as soon as possible.”

  It was a clear opening for her to confess. Lucian felt his heart contract as he waited for Brynn to speak.

  She took a step toward him, her beautiful features wrought with dismay. But then she stopped and visibly collected herself.

  “Are you leaving tonight?”

  A sinking, hollow feeling clenched Lucian’s insides. “We have no real leads. I will make for Dover tonight. That seems to be the likeliest point for the gold to be smuggled to France. It will take some time to investigate. Forgive me, but I may be gone for several days.”

  “I…understand.”

  “Will you be all right here alone?”

  “Yes,” she murmured. “There is still a great deal to do to prepare for Raven’s wedding.”

  Closing his valise, Lucian gave Brynn a brief kiss on her forehead, not trusting himself to do more, but she seemed too distracted to notice his lack of intimacy or to return the salute.

  He had stepped back and picked up his valise when she apparently recovered.

  “Lucian, please… take care,” she said, sounding sincere.

  “I will,” he replied. “You take care as well, love.”

  Then, feeling a numbing chill, he turned on his heel and quit the room.

  Brynn stood where he had left her, fear and fury gripping her. Gray never had answered any of her letters questioning his dubious behavior during his visit some weeks ago, but she no longer had any doubt her brother had betrayed her. He had lied to her about the ring, claiming he needed the Wycliff seal to authorize transporting a load of brandy so he could elude the tax revenuers. Instead he had orchestrated an enormous theft, stealing a fortune in gold to smuggle to his country’s enemies!

  Even worse, his crime could implicate Lucian in treason. Dear God…

  Her mind and heart in chaos, Brynn returned to her own bedchamber, where she began pacing the floor as she tried desperately to think what to do.

  Lucian was determined to apprehend the traitors. If he couldn’t find the gold in Dover, he would look elsewhere. And the trail might very well lead to Cornwall and Gray…

  Brynn shuddered to think what would happen when Lucian confronted her brother. He would show no mercy. His duty was almost an obsession with him. Her brother would be arrested and possibly hanged… Or what if Grayson resisted Lucian as Giles had? It was an easy leap to imagine the two of them l
ocked in mortal combat like in her dark dreams. But this time Lucian might not escape with his life. Or her brother might not.

  An icy rivulet of fear ran down her spine. It terrified her to think of either one of them dying.

  She didn’t want Gray to be hanged, yet if he had committed such a crime, he deserved some measure of punishment. He was still her brother, though. Her flesh and blood. She had to try to save him if she could. But how?

  She couldn’t throw herself on her husband’s mercy. Even if she were to plead with Lucian to save her brother, she couldn’t believe he cared for her enough to sacrifice honor and duty for her sake. He had killed one of his closest friends who had committed treason, so why would he spare her brother?

  And in any case, Grayson had to be stopped. She didn’t want the stolen gold to fall into French hands any more than Lucian did.

  Sweet heaven, why had she not tried harder to stop Grayson weeks ago? She would never be able to assuage her own guilt. She was to blame for giving him access to Lucian’s private study. She should have insisted Gray return the ring at once, even if it had meant making a scene in front of her husband. At least then she could have prevented it from being used for treason.

  She had to do something. If only she could persuade Gray to abandon his plan and return the gold-

  Brynn stopped in her tracks. That was the only possible way. She had to try to reason with her brother, to convince him to change course.

  Shaking herself into action, Brynn turned to tug the bellpull for her maid and another for the butler, intending to summon a traveling carriage. She would have to go to Cornwall at once; there was no time to lose.

  She couldn’t divulge her true destination, however. Lucian would be suspicious if he discovered where she had gone. She would have to make up some other story-perhaps that Theo was ill. That was it. That lie would have to serve: she was going to Theo’s bedside. By the time Lucian learned of her absence, she would have confronted Gray-

  Brynn felt another shiver sweep through her. She didn’t want to think about how Lucian would react when he discovered what she’d done, or what would happen if she failed.

  Her sense of desperation rising again, she went to the clothespress and drew out a traveling costume.

  Farther along the darkened street, Lucian watched his residence from the shadows of an unmarked carriage. Stone lay where his heart belonged, yet he was driven by the sick need to learn the truth. To know whether or not Brynn would reveal herself as a traitor. With all his soul, he wanted to believe her innocent.

  He hadn’t long to wait before she emerged from the house and ran down the steps to the waiting Wycliff traveling coach. As it drew away from the curb, Lucian rapped on the roof of his own vehicle, ordering his driver to follow.

  He held his breath as they wound their way through the dark streets of Mayfair. When Brynn’s conveyance eventually turned southeast onto the London Road, Lucian had to concede she was making for Cornwall.

  He gritted his teeth, his emotions twisting from savage pain to raw fury. Fury at his lovely, scheming countess. Fury at himself.

  He had allowed himself to be bewitched by Brynn’s exquisite beauty. By the powerful sexual attraction that burned between them. By his growing feelings of love for her.

  He had wed a virginal young lady, hoping to sire a son. But Brynn wasn’t what he’d thought her to be, wanted her to be.

  He didn’t know the beautiful deceiver at all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cornwall

  Dusk was falling when Brynn arrived home. Although weary and travel-stained after the long journey from London, she immediately sought out her brother, fervently hoping to end the dread that had knotted her stomach for the past three days.

  She found Grayson in his study, staring morosely into a meager hearth fire.

  When she spoke his name, he gave a start of surprise. “Brynn? What the devil are you doing here?” He came up out of his chair. “Is something wrong? Theo…?”

  “Theo is well, to my knowledge,” she replied, her tone grim. “But something is definitely wrong, Grayson.”

  He stared at her a long moment.

  Studying him in turn, Brynn realized his face was flushed as if he’d partaken of too much wine. “As for my reason for being here,” she added more quietly, “I came to stop you from committing treason.”

  Gray made no reply, merely raised a hand to his forehead and sat down again wearily.

  Her heart contracted with pain. “You don’t deny conspiring with the French against your country?” she whispered, praying she was mistaken, that her brother would refute her terrible accusation.

  “No, I don’t deny it,” he said dully.

  “Dear God, Grayson…” Crossing the room, Brynn sank down onto the sofa, sick with disbelief. “How could you?”

  His mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. “To be honest, I’m not certain of that myself. God knows, I never intended to become a traitor.”

  “What… how did it happen?”

  Gray gave a heavy sigh. “Do you really want to know the sordid details?”

  “Tell me,” she murmured hoarsely.

  Before speaking, he took a long swallow of wine, as if seeking courage. “It began nearly a year ago. I was approached by a gentleman who offered me a large sum to rendezvous with another smuggling vessel and transfer a cargo. At the time I was desperate for funds. You can’t have forgotten the dire state of our finances then. How crushing our debts were? How we stood to lose this house? I feared being unable to pay and being thrown in debtors’ prison. And then what would happen to you and the boys?”

  She hadn’t forgotten those dark days when they’d faced their father’s increasingly relentless creditors. “So you accepted the offer, even though you knew it to be suspect?”

  “I suspected shady dealings, I suppose, but I rationalized that breaking the law smuggling unknown goods was better than being incarcerated for debt and leaving you all to fend for yourselves.”

  “Gray, was the cargo government gold?”

  “Yes… although I didn’t realize it then. I didn’t want to ask. Later… they used it to blackmail me. They vowed to expose me as a traitor if I didn’t follow their orders.”

  “They?”

  “An unholy alliance of spies and smugglers. I know little about them, except that some of the members are Englishmen of high social standing. The leader is supposedly a nobleman.”

  “A nobleman? Are you serious?”

  “Deadly serious. He’s referred to as Lord Caliban. My initial contact was a baronet.”

  “Was?”

  “Yes. He has since died-due to his nefarious activities, I have little doubt.” Grayson gave a short, bitter laugh. “Another man took his place. This one is a Frenchman, I’m certain of it, even though he speaks excellent English and calls himself Jack. Jack called on me shortly after you married. He ordered me to obtain your husband’s seal ring and make several wax imprints of the Wycliff seal. I refused, but Jack said I had no choice if I wanted to continue living.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “Yes, I believed him!” He eyed her sharply. “These are vicious men, Brynn. They tortured one of the fishermen who refused to aid them. Removed his skin piece by piece as an example to the rest of us. It took the poor bastard two days to die. I think I would rather face hanging than that fate.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “Do you realize they used Lucian’s seal on a forged letter to steal another shipment of gold?”

  “I feared something like that might happen.” Gray’s expression twisted in a grimace that was almost agony. “I wasn’t told their purpose, but I can’t deny I suspected sinister dealings.”

  “What of the gold, Gray? Do you know where it is?”

  “Here, in the caves below the house. Three strongboxes were delivered last night, which I hid among some other contraband. I am supposed to turn them over to Jack tonight.”

  “Grayson,” Brynn said h
oarsely, “you can’t deliver the gold into French hands. Napoleon will use it to fund his armies. Think of all the men who will die fighting when the war drags on because of that gold!”

  “I have no choice, Brynn. I can’t get out. I’m in too deep. Believe me, I’ve tried. As long as Caliban exists, I am trapped.”

  “But think of what you are doing! Treason…”

  “I know.” Gray took a gulp of wine. “You cannot say anything worse than I’ve said to myself a thousand times. I hate myself for what I’ve done. For what I must do. But I have to comply, or they will kill me-or worse.”

  “Worse?” Brynn repeated.

  He gave her a long, bitter glance. “I wasn’t the only one they threatened. After I gave them imprints of Wycliff’s seal, I told them I was through, but Jack said they would kill my entire family if I deserted them. Theo, you, our brothers…”

  “Theo?” Her voice held a note of alarm.

  “Yes, damn it, Theo! And you. Why do you think I’m so terrified? They proved their point very clearly recently. A carriage almost ran you over in London, didn’t it? Jack said it was a warning to me, Brynn.”

  She stared at her brother. That potentially fatal accident had been deliberate? She had thought Lucian’s life was in danger from the curse, never that she was the target of Gray’s enemies. Or that Theo was. Dear God.

  “The British government may hang me for treason,” Gray added, his voice almost fierce, “but at least my family will be spared. I couldn’t live with myself if one of you were to die when I could have saved you.”

  Horrified, Brynn swallowed convulsively, still trying to digest his revelation.

  “There must be something we can do,” she murmured finally in desperation, searching Gray’s face.

  His eyes glittered darkly. “There is nothing! Don’t you think I have tried?”

  “But you could be hanged for treason…”

  With a shrug, he stared down into his wineglass. “Do you know what I dread even more than hanging? What Theo would think of me, seeing me dishonored before the world. But I would rather hang than risk him being killed.”