‘Marie-Claude. So this is the woman you sought. She’s lovely.’ Harriette looked up, puzzled, cold fingers gripping her throat. ‘Who is she?’ Would he tell her, at last, that this was the lady who owned his heart? She ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips. ‘Is she your lover?’
‘She is—’ Taking the miniature, Luke placed it on the desk, hesitated, then began again, choosing his words carefully. ‘It’s possible that she is the woman Marcus married. That she is my brother Marcus’s widow.’
Harriette found that she could breathe again. Marcus’s widow. Luke’s sister by marriage, not his estranged and lost love. Yet what did that matter now? Marie-Claude de la Roche might claim no place in Luke’s heart, Harriette acknowledged with hard cynicism, but then neither did she. Then she remembered.
‘But Adam said that Marcus was not married.’
‘So we thought. Yet I am told that this is the young woman whom Marcus inexplicably married at some point in the campaign in Spain before he met his death. Without telling any member of his family who she was, where he had met her or why he had felt the need to wed her in haste in such difficult times. This has come into my possession, too.’
Luke placed before her a document, stained, travel worn. Opening it, Harriette read the proof of marriage between Marcus Hallaston and Marie-Claude de la Roche.
‘I don’t understand why you must keep this secret,’ Harriette stated flatly.
Luke prowled restlessly to the window and back again to lean against the carved marble of the fire surround, hands dug deep in the pockets of his breeches.
‘At some point after Marcus died, his wife—Marie-Claude de la Roche—fell into the hands of a Frenchman who goes by the name of Jean-Jacques Noir.’ He nodded as Harriette drew in a breath. ‘Yes, the same. A man who made it his business to discover her history and her connections. Those connections led him to me. It was Noir who sent me the miniature and this.’ He pushed himself upright, walked to her and held out a letter. ‘You see it is addressed to me specifically.’
And Harriette, smoothing the much creased document, read:
This is Marie-Claude de la Roche, the legal wife of Captain Marcus Hallaston. There is a child from this marriage. A boy. The woman and her child are at present living under my protection. If you wish to make contact with her, there will be a price to pay. If you are not willing to pay my price, you will never see her or the child, your brother’s son.
Harriette raised her eyes as the words struck home. ‘So there is a baby, as well?’
‘So it seems.’
‘And this is blackmail?’
‘Yes.’
‘But…’ she frowned, unwilling to accept the truth in the brutal words ‘…how do you know the truth of this? Could it not just be a mercenary ploy to gain money from you?’
‘It could. Read on.’
You might consider that this is all falsehood, the document a forgery, and that I have no proof of my claims. Dare you risk it? Do you dare to allow the child, your brother’s son and your heir as it stands, to be brought up in my care?
‘Monsieur Noir knows how to twist the blade, does he not?’ Harriette shivered at the thinly veiled threat in the words. ‘Do you think the marriage licence is genuine?’
‘It could be a forgery—but dare I take the chance? He holds all the cards. And, to change the image, I am working blind, dancing to every tune he plays because, as he says, I dare do no other.’
‘I understand that, Luke. But why did you not tell me? Why did you allow me to think you were engaged in something so despicable as spying for Napoleon?’
‘Read on to the end,’ Luke advised heavily, turning his back to stare unseeingly at the view of cliffs and sky from the window.
Harriette did so, blood chilling to ice as the tone of the letter grew infinitely more threatening.
It will cost you heavily to release Marie-Claude de la Roche from my control. I will inform you of the terms in due course. I advise you not to speak of this to anyone or instigate a search. If I hear any evidence of this, I will have no compunction in taking immediate action. It would be no difficulty for me to hide a young woman and her child from you. She could be very useful to me. There are valuable opportunities for so pretty a girl and her protector in a town where the French army is billeted. Her youthful attractions would fetch a high price. I am sure that you understand me.
And Harriette—as must Luke—understood the threat very well. She ran her eyes down the single page once more, taking in the vicious cruelty behind it. From the moment this package had been delivered, Marie-Claude de la Roche must have filled his mind. Who she was, where she might at this moment be, if there was indeed a child from a legal union with his brother—Luke would have no true idea. But Jean-Jacques Noir had the right of it. Luke dare not risk it being the truth. The girl being at the man’s mercy, with her youth and innocence being offered for sale to soldiers in an army town, and Luke doing nothing to prevent it—well, that was too terrible an outcome to contemplate.
‘So that’s why the gold was delivered. Monsieur Noir’s price for the girl’s freedom.’
‘Yes. I would buy the woman and her child, even at Noir’s extortionate price, if I could rescue them in no other fashion. And if the marriage lines are genuine…Well, I have no choice, do I?’
‘And his letter to you—the one that I read?’ Harriette had the grace to blush.
‘Fixing time and place for the deal to be done.’
Harriette frowned. ‘So why did you need Captain Henri? I presume he is tied to this?’
Luke cast himself into the chair opposite Harriette, leaning forwards to stare at the floor, arms resting on thighs, and began an explanation in curt, flat sentences. Hiding a tight anguish that wrung Harriette’s heart.
‘I had to do something to take back the initiative in this appalling game. Hence Captain Henri Lefebvre—the young man hiding out in the guest bedchamber until a passage could be found for him to cross the Channel. He was more than willing to break the terms of his parole and his word of honour, to return home to France and freedom with a purse of gold and a set of instructions to travel the Channel ports to seek out a man who might be Jean-Jacques Noir, travelling with a woman and baby.’
He looked up at her, face a mask. ‘Should I have felt guilt on my conscience at asking a man to break his word of honour? Many would say that I was guilty of treachery, helping the enemy, but had I a choice? The boy was driven by a need to return to his mother and sisters who had no one to protect them or fend for them.’ Luke shrugged, his voice hard-edged. ‘I should feel guilty, but I cannot. And, yes, I would do it again tomorrow if I could discover and rescue Marie-Claude de la Roche and her child. It was a deliberate decision on my part. I don’t choose to make an excuse since I decided it was worth any risk, even if it tainted my own honour and name. Even to embark on that disastrous episode at Port St Martin.’
‘So that was why you were in France,’ she murmured at the end. ‘Noir had promised to negotiate the handing over of the girl.’
‘Yes. And what a débâcle that turned out to be. Noir played with me, luring me to meet him, only to rob me and have me set upon by club-wielding brigands. A sharp warning for the future, I surmise. The bullet in the arm was not to kill, but to warn.’ He laughed, a harsh sound in the quiet room. ‘I admit I was disastrously naïve in going there and expecting to bring the girl back safely with no violent confrontation. What had I expected to achieve on my own? I was not even certain that she was there with Noir. It was an appalling mistake on my part. But now Noir has raised the stakes and I dare not refuse.’
‘I can see why you have no choice but to go along with the demands.’
‘Not if there is any chance of the girl being Marcus’s widow. If I did nothing and she was abandoned or used by Noir as he threatens—then the responsibility for the loss of Marcus’s widow and child would be on my head.’ He surged to his feet again, striding away from Harriette, but she could hear the raw e
motion in his voice. ‘I could not bear it. Losing Marcus was bad enough. I couldn’t lose this young woman and her child if there was the least chance of their being Marcus’s genuine wife and son.’
Flooded with compassion for him, Harriette still chose to play devil’s advocate. ‘It could be that you are being played, a trout on a line, because Jean-Jacques Noir knows you to be rich enough to bleed and honourable enough to rise to the bait.’
‘Do you think I have not told myself that? I know all the arguments that he is merely a rogue whom I should consign to the devil.’ Disgust lay heavily on Luke’s tongue. He turned his head to look at Harriette and added simply. ‘I can’t ignore his threats and possibly condemn an innocent young woman to a life of whoring and menace.’
‘No,’ she admitted softly. ‘Of course you can’t.’ He had too much honour, as she had always known in her heart. Too much care for those he loved. Harriette folded the letter carefully and placed it on the table with the miniature. ‘Why have you told me this? Why have you told me the truth now?’
‘The letter that you read. Noir sent to inform me that I could make a deal for the woman at Port St Villets. But since then I have had news from Captain Henri who has fulfilled our agreement admirably. That Noir is not in Port Les Villets, but at this moment he is staying at the inn, Les Poissons Rouges in Port St Martin.’
‘Port St Martin. Ah…I begin to see.’
‘I can only presume that it is an ambush, sending me to the wrong place, to strip the gold from me when he has no intention of handing over the woman who is being kept elsewhere under some form of restraint. If I could get to Port St Martin without drawing attention to myself…’
Harriette finished the line of thought for him. ‘And I have connections in Port St Martin with Marcel and the smugglers.’
‘Yes.’
‘You need my help.’
‘Yes, I do. Will you help me, Harriette? Will you organise a run in the Ghost as a disguise, a cover for my movements? So that I can be in Port St Martin on the night before Noir’s assignation, and Noir will suspect nothing. If it comes to Noir’s ears that there’s a contraband run, well, he’s unlikely to make a connection with me.’
Harriette sat silently, eyes focused on her clasped hands, running over all Luke had said, all his revelations. Yes, she understood his dilemma . The heart-wrenching anxiety of it all. The fact that he had told her—but only because he needed her help. They were as far estranged as they had ever been.
Suddenly he was there on one knee before her, stilling her fingers beneath his. His eyes were dulled with shadow. ‘Look at me, Harriette. Tell me what is in your heart.’
‘In my heart?’ No She could not do that. At last she looked up, only to lose herself in his gaze, but she forced herself to reply with magnificent composure. ‘You should have told me all this at the beginning.’
‘Yes. I should.’
‘But you did not trust me.’ Her words were severe.
‘I have no excuse. Other than to protect the lady.’
‘Did you think I would betray your trust?’
‘I have dared trust no one.’
‘Well, I suppose if you believed me to be a Wrecker, you would consider me far beyond trust, wouldn’t you?’
An agonising silence fell between them, finally broken by Luke.
‘All I can ask is your compassion for a young woman who is being used as a pawn in a game that could lead to her humiliation and ultimate destruction.’
Her lips twisted, ‘I cannot refuse, can I?’
Luke rose, to stand before her. ‘I would offer an inducement. Something I think you would find hard to reject.’
‘What could you offer me, Luke?’ If he heard her sharp phrase, he did not react, unless it was by a deepening of the lines that bracketed his mouth.
‘I will give you your freedom. To live the sort of life you choose. I wed you to save you from slanderous gossip and innuendo. I will set in process a divorce and take the blame, so there is no guilt attached to you. And I will give you a settlement sufficient to restore this house, so that you might live here in comfort.’
It came to Harriette with the shock and suddenness of a thunderclap. A slap to the cheek. ‘You are very generous,’ she managed. Cold planning, icy cold. So sharp and precise like the blade of a knife to sever, to divide. To cast her adrift.
‘I don’t think you want to be tied to me any longer.’
‘No?’ A query. ‘You have not asked me.’
‘I said things to you that were—are—deplorable. I cannot expect you to consider life with me, can I? I think I have wounded you too much for you to accept any excuses I might make. You left me—and I know the blame is entirely mine.’ The tension in the room wound tighter yet with the slick of bitterness.
‘As you said, I left you.’ She took a breath, held it until she knew she could control her voice. Harriette dare not even blink, certainly not when Luke momentarily lifted a hand to her as if he had heard the catch in her voice.
‘Harriette…’
Adam opened the door and came in, ending whatever might have been said.
‘Have you decided, Harriette? By the by, I’ve arranged for some food—probably when your ancient butler has finished his port.’
‘Decided?’ Her smile for the young man was bright, her emotions held miraculously in check. Pride put an edge on her voice. ‘How could I refuse? To rescue a young woman and with such inducements as my freedom and a substantial settlement.’ She slid a glance to Luke, whose face was turned to stone. ‘With such an offer, of course I will do it.’
He sighed, a slow exhalation, and at last took her hand and raised it formally to his mouth in a stark caress. ‘You can’t know what this means to me.’
‘Oh, I do know what it means to you. Marcus’s widow and son rescued, your duty to your dead brother fulfilled—in return for your freedom, as well as mine.’
‘No! That’s not what I—’
‘That’s not what you said, but I think it’s what you meant.’ Harriette was already moving swiftly to the door. She looked back over her shoulder. ‘What did it take for you to swallow your reluctance, Luke, to ask a smuggler for help? How could your Hallaston pride stomach it? But I will do it because of Marie-Claude de la Roche and her child. I will take you to Port St Martin.’
‘No!’
Harriette halted abruptly, brow creased. ‘But surely that’s what you wanted?’
‘No…I want George Gadie to sail the Ghost. Your work is done when the run is set up. You do not come with us.’
‘And why should I not?’ Her voice flat calm, dangerously so, Harriette turned slowly round. Luke sensed her rejection, but knew his own mind.
‘It’s too risky, the outcome too uncertain. I’ll not have your life put in danger, Harriette.’
Her spine stiffened, her eyes fixed on his. ‘The Ghost is mine. I decide who captains her. If I do not lead this run, the Ghost does not sail.’
‘I’ll not allow you to put your life in danger.’
‘Allow me? You have no choice in the matter.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘If you want the Ghost, Luke, you get Captain Harry, as well.’
‘Gadie can do it,’ he insisted.
‘Yes, of course he can. But you’ll not dictate to me who sails the Ghost, Luke.’ She hesitated, but only for the space of a heartbeat. ‘I’ll sail without you to rescue the widow, if I have to.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
‘Will you risk it?’ she snapped back. Her palms were damp with sweat, but Harriette was clear in her mind. Luke would not sail into the jaws of Jean-Jacques Noir’s trickery without her.
And Luke, accepting that he had no power over her decision, drew in a deep breath. ‘Damn you, Harriette! You leave me no choice, do you?’ A wry smile, perhaps even with the hint of cold amusement at the trap he had found himself in, touched his features. ‘So we sail together. But when we get there, you follow my orders. It is my operation. Do you understand?’
With ferociously brisk steps, Harriette made her escape before she could howl her grief.
Luke watched her go, thinking as the door closed on her that it was as if he had lost the most precious thing he owned. He had done it all wrong. Here was the chance to defeat Noir and solve the mystery of Marie-Claude de la Roche, once and for all, and yet he felt no satisfaction in its planning. Harriette had leapt at the chance to be free of him with startling alacrity, but then he could hardly fault her, the manner in which he had offered her the bargain. What silent message had he delivered to her in his proposition? In retrospect, he knew full well.
Oh, I do know what it means to you, she had said. Marcus’s widow and son rescued…in return for your freedom, as well as mine.
His freedom from her was the last thing he wanted. He had just destroyed his own chance of happiness, but he would try to redeem himself in her eyes, if not in his own, by giving her her heart’s desire, a step that would cost him more than he could ever have imagined. To live the rest of his life without her.
‘So we have our passage to Port St Martin,’ Adam observed, stepping carefully through the undercurrents in the room. ‘Will it be dangerous?’
‘Yes,’ Luke replied harshly. ‘If the storms and tides and rocks don’t get you, the Revenue men will. And now we plan to put into a foreign port in a country with which we are at war. Yes, it is dangerous.’
For all of them. For Harriette, since it appeared that he had been given no choice but to take her with him. That was yet another unbearable responsibility to weigh on his conscience.
Harriette shut herself into her room and sat on the musty cushions of the window seat to stare out across the bay, which she did not see because of the tears that coursed down her cheeks. Tears for the young widow and her child, abandoned and helpless, robbed of the man she had loved enough to wed in the midst of battles and conflict in Spain, now at the mercy of such a man as Jean-Jacques Noir.
Compromised Miss Page 20
