Tarnished, Tempted And Tamed (Historical Romance)

by Mary Brendan

  That steely announcement stunned Fiona into silence for a few moments. ‘What does she know about us?’ she eventually asked hoarsely.

  Luke rubbed a hand about his bristly jaw; Fiona recognised then the weariness about him and his dusty dishevelment. He looked like a man who had ridden hard and had little rest. Suddenly she felt ashamed of her behaviour.

  ‘We’ll talk about that later. I’ve some news about your stepfather that I think you should know immediately although I’m loath to upset you.’

  Fiona put an unsteady hand to her forehead. So, gossip about Cecil Ratcliff’s bigamy had already spread. ‘I know what you are going to say,’ she murmured. ‘So it will not come as a shock...although it is a surprise that the scandal is already out.’ She sighed in defeat. ‘The Duke of Thornley reported to my mother yesterday that Ratcliff is a bigamist who uses aliases.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t travel on to Dartmouth? Did you forgo your employment to comfort and support her?’

  Fiona guessed that he’d been to the Pig and Whistle looking for her. He would have learned from the landlord that a crested carriage had taken mother and daughter to His Grace’s home. Luke obviously didn’t know, though, that her employer had also turned up at the inn with no good deed in mind.

  ‘Mr Herbert learned of my kidnapping and came to the Pig and Whistle to say he thought me unfit to be near his daughters following the incident.’ Fiona’s voice betrayed just a hint of the hurt she’d felt at being so rudely rejected.

  ‘He insulted you? The bumptious dolt! I’ve a mind to go to Dartmouth and—’

  ‘You will not!’ Fiona interrupted quickly, gripping Luke’s arm in emphasis. ‘Please do not... It will just make matters worse.’ She allowed him to draw her closer in comfort, leaning into his warmth and strength as though it were the most natural thing to do. ‘I would have had no option but to quit the position in any case when Mama showed up.’

  ‘Bad luck and heartache seem to dog you, don’t they?’ Luke said softly, gently soothing her with caressing fingers that moved from her cheek to cradle her scalp. ‘Did you mother travel west looking for Ratcliff, or for you?’

  ‘Ratcliff?’ Fiona raised her eyes to Luke’s face. Then her puzzlement transformed to horror. ‘Oh, no! Never say the swine is close by.’ She gazed back at the inn, inside which her mother was comfortably ensconced with the Duke of Thornley.

  ‘He is...but there’s no need to fret, Fiona. He is under guard and can’t bother you.’ In as few words as possible Luke explained how he had come across Ratcliff as Jeremiah Collins’s prisoner and recognised him as a thief and deserter who’d served, under a different name, in his regiment.

  Their eyes remained locked together for several moments after Luke stopped talking. Finally Fiona dragged her wide amber gaze up to the heavens. ‘It is too much!’ She took a pace away, then quickly returned. ‘So not only is he not my mother’s husband, but he is not Cecil Ratcliff, either? That name is one of his aliases, I take it.’

  Luke gave a grave nod. ‘He has changed his name several times to escape justice. His crimes are many after all and he knows a long prison sentence is the best he can expect once apprehended.’

  ‘Why did Collins kidnap him?’ she asked in despair. ‘The spendthrift has nothing but IOUs to hand over.’

  ‘I gather he pursued your mother towards Devon because she stole a painting from him. He believes it valuable...and Collins somehow came to hear about it. He wanted to attempt to trade Ratcliff for the canvas.’

  ‘Stole it?’ Fiona burst out in an outraged hiss. ‘That small painting belonged to my father, and whatever that odious man might think about his rights to it, we believe it to be ours.’

  ‘If Ratcliff were your mother’s legitimate husband, the law would see it differently, but never mind that now,’ Luke added gently on noticing moisture beading Fiona’s lashes.

  Fiona smeared away the angry tears and composed herself with a little sniff. ‘The fiend should rot in gaol for what he has done.’

  ‘And will your mother feel the same way about his fate?’

  ‘I think Mama would like the chance to throw the key to his cell into the depths of the sea!’ Fiona replied flatly.

  Luke released her and prowled to and fro, looking reflective. ‘Do you want me to turn him over to the authorities?’

  ‘Why...where is he?’ Fiona marched after Luke, cocking her head to read his expression. ‘What have you done with him?’

  ‘Nothing...yet. He’s locked away in a barn and can’t escape. Drew’s gone off to guard him. But I wanted to speak to you first before delivering him to the magistrate.’ He gazed solemnly at her. ‘I couldn’t add to your woes and I couldn’t be sure your mother wouldn’t choose to stay loyal to Ratcliff, no matter what. If you want him set free...just say.’

  ‘You would do that for me even though he has a catalogue of crimes to answer to?’

  ‘I’d do anything for you, Fiona...you should know that by now...’ Luke said huskily. Suddenly he was again before her and his mouth swooped, covering hers in a hard swift kiss. ‘If I let him go he’ll simply disappear from your lives. It’s how he operates. Once his fraud is uncovered he runs for cover, then emerges elsewhere to prey on another unsuspecting female.’

  Fiona bit her lip, thinking. She glanced up at Luke and gave him a faint smile; he had been very kind, considering their feelings before making any decision on Ratcliff’s fate. ‘He should be punished...’ she uttered slowly.

  ‘I agree...’

  ‘But it is up to Mama, she must decide.’

  ‘Shall we approach her now and bring an end to the matter?’

  Fiona nodded. ‘Mama is sitting with the Duke of Thornley...’

  ‘Thornley’s inside?’ Luke snapped his gaze to the inn.

  Fiona smiled ruefully. ‘He’s been very good to us. We overnighted at Thornley Heights and he is accompanying us to London in order to help sort out the mess we’re in.’ Fiona shook her head ruefully. ‘We none of us had any idea that the mess has met us halfway.’ Fiona sighed. ‘Perhaps His Grace might turn back when he finds out and that will disappoint Joan. She is very much looking forward to her sojourn in town.’

  ‘Joan is inside, too?’ Luke’s dark eyebrows shot up.

  Fiona suddenly clapped her hand to her mouth in consternation. She had forgotten her promise to Joan to run an errand.

  ‘I was out in the corridor looking for your friend, as a favour to Joan. She caught sight of Mr Rockleigh and wanted to warn him to keep his distance from her father.’

  ‘You know about that fiasco, do you?’ Luke’s tone held a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

  ‘The kidnapping plot had some bad consequences,’ Fiona said with some understatement.

  ‘And His Grace is obviously feeling very guilty over the way it affected you,’ Luke observed. He dipped his head, teased a delicate earlobe with his lips and warm breath. ‘I rode this way looking for my friend simply to enlist his help. I’d rather have followed you to Thornley Heights, but I needed Drew to guard Ratcliff while I attended to other things. Drew and I served under Wellington together so he knows of Charlie Rowland, as we knew Cecil Ratcliff to be.’

  ‘You have put yourself to some trouble over the vile wretch.’

  ‘I had to—I knew you would never be content until the matter was settled. So you may tell Joan that my friend Drew is out of harm’s way and no need to fret on that score.’

  ‘And Becky Peake?’ Fiona breathed.

  ‘No need to fret on that score, either.’ Luke dropped his hands away from her, but his loving expression intensified. ‘Becky might claim that she wants only me...and she does...but we both know it’s not true. She appreciates the things I give her and I’ve appreciated her company. But for me it’s over. And for her...another generous man will do.
’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I caught up with her and Drew quite quickly because they’d been enjoying staying at a variety of inns on their leisurely return to town.’

  Fiona’s lips softly parted in astonishment. ‘You mean, your friend has stolen Becky from you?’ she burst out.

  ‘Not exactly—he’s providing a service,’ Luke answered diplomatically. ‘And I’ve no objection to that whatsoever. Neither has Becky, although she was delighted to see me, as you witnessed. She likes to keep her options open—it’s what women in her position do.’

  ‘I see...’ Fiona could feel the heat travelling from her throat to her cheeks. Was he obliquely giving her a first lesson in the ways and expected behaviour of his paramours? Had he just hinted that his mistress was expected to go quietly when her time was up? ‘I should return to the others,’ Fiona said. ‘They will all be wondering where on earth I have got to.’

  On cue, Joan appeared in the doorway that led back inside the tavern. ‘Oh, there you are, Fiona,’ she called. ‘I thought I spied your bonnet behind that bush.’ Joan rushed outside, then came to an abrupt halt on seeing somebody else, better concealed behind the privet.

  ‘Major Wolfson!’ Joan beamed and gave Fiona a rather arch glance. ‘Well, this is a nice surprise. You are travelling with your friend, I expect.’ She turned to Fiona. ‘Have you warned Rockleigh off?’ She grimaced. ‘Papa is sinking some brandy and one never knows how that might affect him. He’ll either be very mellow, or a bear with a sore head.’

  ‘Mr Wolfson has just told me that his friend has already left,’ Fiona quickly informed her. ‘There was no need or opportunity for me to speak to him.’

  ‘Oh...’ Joan sounded a trifle disappointed and slipped her hand through the crook of Fiona’s arm. ‘Perhaps he will turn up in London.’

  ‘We might not need to travel on...’ Fiona shot a glance at Luke, hoping he might take over explanations. Her head had started to pound with the amount of information crammed within it. And then there was the question of her future with Luke, if indeed she had a future with him. She believed that his relationship with Becky was finished and that he still wanted her to replace the brunette. But for how long? Would he allow her to be taken on by one of his friends when he grew bored with his buttoned-up spinster?

  ‘Let’s go inside and find the others, then everybody will hear what I have to say,’ Luke said, leading the way back to the tavern.

  * * *

  ‘So...the blackguard is safely apprehended?’

  The moment Luke had finished his concise account of capturing Jeremiah Collins the Duke of Thornley demanded absolute confirmation of his arch-enemy’s fate.

  ‘Delivered to the magistrate and under lock and key,’ Luke replied before taking a sip of brandy.

  ‘Capital! I owe you a sum of money, sir,’ Thornley boomed out. Then he glanced at the ladies. ‘We’ll speak of it later.’

  ‘There’s no need. I went after Collins on my own account rather than yours.’

  His Grace looked rather taken aback at that blunt comment, but appeared not to take offence. He employed the decanter instead, then offered Luke a refill.

  ‘What of Dickens and Ruff?’ Fiona asked. She knew that the young smuggler deserved his comeuppance, yet still felt sad that, with his life before him, Sam might have forfeited his future with Megan for the noose...or if he were lucky, years of hard labour.

  Luke shrugged. ‘I told the dragoons where to find them tied up. I imagine Collins’s two cohorts have now joined him in gaol.’

  ‘Quite rightly!’ His Grace announced. ‘Those types deserve no quarter. With Collins gone I expect another gang will form in time. It is the unfortunate way of things along this coast.’

  Fiona knew it to be true; she recalled how savage young Sam had been when she made her escape from her dank prison. If pushed to choose between obeying his master, or sparing her life, he would have followed Jeremiah Collins’s orders.

  After a moment Fiona realised that her mother had remained very quiet, seated alone on the sofa. She sat down beside Maude and took her chilly hands between her palms. The woman had listened quietly to Luke’s account of finding Cecil incarcerated by Collins. She had looked too shocked and despondent to speak a word on hearing that he had followed her simply to lay his hands on the painting she had in her possession. Fiona guessed that her mother harboured a grain of duty, if not affection, for the man she’d believed to be her husband.

  ‘What should Mr Wolfson do with Ratcliff, Mama?’ Fiona asked quietly enough for their conversation to be private. ‘He will free him on your say so—’

  ‘No!’ Maude hissed in an undertone. ‘I would not have some other poor wretch go through what I have had to endure at that man’s hands. I have some concern for Cecil. I’m not sure why after the way he has treated me. But both men must be punished. It is the only civilised way.’

  Fiona’s fingers tightened on the thin digits in her clasp. ‘You are right...and I’m proud of you for being so strong.’ She gave her mother an encouraging smile.

  ‘I’m so proud of you!’ Maude croaked, raising her glistening eyes to her daughter’s face. ‘I cannot describe how sorry I am that any of this came about, my dear.’

  ‘Hush...’ Fiona rubbed vigorously at her mother’s quivering fists, clasped together in her lap. ‘All will get better now.’

  ‘Are we still to go to London, Papa?’ There was a great deal of persuasiveness in Joan’s voice, indicating the answer she hoped to receive.

  ‘I suppose so, my dear, if it is what you all want.’ He glanced at Maude.

  Maude turned her enquiring eyes on her daughter.

  ‘Miss Chapman?’ The duke turned to Fiona for her decision.

  ‘Yes...let’s carry on to town, if we may.’ Fiona gave Luke the most fleeting of glances and thought she saw him respond with an almost imperceptible nod. From that she drew comfort that he wanted her to know that once his business in Devon was finished he would come after her.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Wake up, Fiona... Wake up!’

  Fiona blinked her heavy eyes. Then, as the sound of a voice calling her name penetrated the fog in her mind, she pushed herself on to an elbow amidst plush coverings on her comfy feather bed. Her mother’s wide-eyed visage wavered into view behind the burning candle the woman was holding aloft.

  Fearing yet another disaster was about to be revealed, Fiona swung her legs over the edge of the bed, ready to get up.

  ‘What has happened, Mama?’ There was a tinge of weary resignation in Fiona’s tone as she searched for her slippers in the wavering light brightened by a glow of logs smouldering in the grate.

  ‘The duke has asked me to marry him.’ Maude sank down on the edge of the mattress.

  So vacant-eyed did her mother seem that Fiona sensibly removed the flame from her weak fingers lest she dropped it and set fire to the blankets. Having deposited the sconce on a side table, she sat beside her mother, studying her expression.

  ‘Do you think he is a madman?’ Maude slurred in a whisper.

  Fiona blinked, moistening her dry lips. ‘Perhaps you misheard him, Mama.’ She was aware that her mother smelled of sherry.

  ‘Will you marry me, Madam, were his exact words.’ Maude livened herself up. ‘He has taken quite a lot of port. Perhaps he is drunk, not mad.’

  ‘And what response did you give?’ Fiona breathed.

  ‘Well, I said I would marry him, of course, before quickly retiring for the night. I thought it best to humour him in case he acted yet more bizarre.’ Maude giggled. ‘Me...a duchess...just think, Fiona—’

  ‘You would marry him?’ Fiona interrupted. ‘But you don’t love him and are barely acquainted...’ She bit her lip, aware of being a hypocrite. She barely knew Luke Wolfson but she believed she loved him and wanted to be his wife.


  ‘I didn’t know that vile creature I walked down the aisle with a year ago; yet I thought I did.’ Maude gave a fierce wag of the head. ‘Love! Pah! I need no more of that. I loved your papa and now I know that was enough! At least the Duke of Thornley has his credentials all about him.’ The grand furniture and velvet bed hangings in the chamber drew Maude’s appreciative eyes. ‘No person would dare gossip about you if you are the Duke of Thornley’s ward.’ Maude sighed. ‘I doubt the fellow will recall it in the morning when he is nursing a sore head.’ She stood up unsteadily and started to disrobe. ‘That will be a shame, for he is a nice gentleman... He reminds me of your papa.’ Maude unlocked her packing case and haphazardly pulled out some things in search of her nightgown.

  ‘Had Joan retired for the night at that point?’ Fiona found it hard to believe that His Grace would have proposed while his daughter was listening.

  ‘She went up to bed just after you, so we were alone. There were no witnesses.’ Maude sighed, pulling ineffectually at her gown in an attempt to get her arms out of the sleeves.

  Fiona helped her mother with her buttons, then to don her nightgown. She watched the woman climb unsteadily into the other huge four-poster and draw up the covers to her chin. Although shocked by what she’d heard Fiona could find no questions to ask.

  Her mother might fear His Grace was under the influence, but Fiona doubted the Duke of Thornley, drunk or not, would blurt out something so consequential without realising the enormity of what he’d done. The man had said he wished to make amends to them, but to offer her mother marriage? Fiona couldn’t deny it was a solution that would rectify everything in one fell stroke. Her mother’s shame and embarrassment over Cecil Ratcliff’s bigamy would disintegrate and her own situation would be vastly improved. There would certainly be no need for the stepdaughter of a duke to become a gentleman’s mistress...unless she really wanted to...

  On hearing the first soft snore coming from her mother Fiona massaged her tired face with her fingers. She wished she, too, could climb back into bed and fall fast asleep, but she knew such comfort would be denied to her. She had slumbered for more than an hour already and now felt depressingly alert following her rude awakening.