Wicked Rake, Defiant Mistress

by Ann Lethbridge

  But she’d have to get Martin out of the way.

  Once inside the cottage, Martin put his hands on his hips and glowered. She braced herself for a lecture. She was actually surprised he’d lasted this long before taking her to task.

  “What is it you want to say, Martin?”

  “I’d like to know what you thought you were doing with that lordling. Don’t you understand? He could…” He took a breath. “You don’t know what these men of the world are like.”

  A flash of heat scalded her cheeks. Martin thought of her as an innocent, but what had happened out at the barn wasn’t all one-sided by any means. Where the Marquess was concerned, it seemed she didn’t have an iota of control.

  “It wasn’t what you think,” she muttered. “There was a spider.” Martin knew how she hated the horrid crawly things.

  “Well, if you hadn’t been rolling around the grass you wouldn’t have seen a spider. I know what I saw, and he had his hands on you.”

  And she hadn’t resisted. Not for a minute. Shame flooded through her at the look of disgust in his eyes, even though she knew he was trying to hide it.

  “Give up this nonsense, my lady,” he pleaded. “Before you end up on the gallows, or worse.”

  Unfortunately, worse seemed to be the only alternative. She avoided his gaze, fearing he would sense something amiss. “You are right. This is not going to work.”

  Martin let go a long breath. “Thank God. I’ll go and set him free.”

  “No. I’ll do that first thing in the morning.” She took a deep breath. “I need you to take a message to William. Right away. Then go to Lady Sissy and wait.”

  “You will be there when I get back?”

  “No.”

  He looked startled, then worried. He opened his mouth to argue.

  She forestalled him. “It is all in the note to William. I’m going to Scotland to visit Molly MacDonald—you know she’s been begging to see me for weeks. I can’t risk the Marquess discovering my whereabouts.”

  The worry on his face didn’t ease. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I know I am.”

  She pulled out paper and a quill and sat down at the kitchen table while Martin paced back and forth, as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind. She ignored him. First she wrote a short note to Mr Jarvis, telling him the money was on the way. Next a note to Molly, asking her to forward her letters on to William when they arrived and promising to explain the whole when she arrived in a few weeks’ time. “I want you to post these for me in the morning.”

  Martin halted and nodded.

  The next letter was to William. Explaining the mess she’d caused and begging him to wait with Sissy until he heard from her that all was resolved. She sanded and sealed the note. “You will take this to Portsmouth and leave it with the harbour master. Stress that it must be put into William’s hands the moment his ship arrives.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he understands. You will take care, my lady? Setting him free and all?”

  “Yes, Martin. I know exactly what I have to do. Give me the key.”

  She handed him the letters and he gave her the key to the Marquess’s shackles.

  “I’ll wait until you have time to get well on the road,” she said. “Tell William not to worry when you see him. And, Martin, whatever you do, do not bring him here. The Marquess is not to blame for this.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Something tells me you are keeping something back. You should go to your brother yourself. Tell him the whole story to his face.”

  No fool, Martin Brown. “Martin, do this and I promise I will never ask you for aught else. Now make haste. You don’t want to miss William’s arrival.”

  He sighed. “Very well, my lady. But I will keep you to your word.”

  Chapter Four

  Another night in the pitch black with only his mare’s soft breathing for company. Instead of kissing the wench, he should have forced her to untie him. Used her as a hostage. Instead he’d let his lust overcome reason.

  That and her tears. He hated to see any woman cry. Something that had cost him dear over the years in farewell trinkets.

  Where the hell was Le Clere? Surely a ransom note would have had him scouring the countryside? And Dan knew of this place. He would have told Johnson where to look.

  An owl hooted. Had something disturbed it? Garrick listened. Nothing. He returned to his fingertip exploration of every board in the wall behind him, every crevice within reach on the floor. One little nail to poke in the padlock was all he asked.

  A splinter drove under his fingernail, sharp and agonising. He cursed.

  “Is that you, my lord?” The whisper came from the direction of the door.

  Puzzled, Garrick peered into the impenetrable darkness. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me. Dan.”

  Thank God. “Have Johnson or someone break open the door, boy.”

  “There’s only me, my lord. You told me it was a secret.”

  Not what he wanted to hear. “Go for help. Hurry up.”

  The sound of splintering wood drowned out his words. Would the lad never listen?

  “Where are you, my lord? ‘Tis so dark, I see naught.”

  “Over here.” Garrick kept talking until Dan stumbled into him. He grasped the boy by the arm. “Has there been no hue and cry at Beauworth? No one out searching?”

  “No, my lord. Everyone thinks you are visiting friends.”

  No ransom note? How bloody odd. “Very well. Take my horse and ride back to the Court. Tell Le Clere he will need a hammer, a chisel, tools.” Garrick rattled his chain.

  “Nay, not so much, my lord.” Pride filled the boy’s voice. He fumbled with the chain, his breathing a dry rasp in Garrick’s ear. “Gimme a tick,” he muttered. The sound of metal against metal, scratching, a click. The padlock fell with a clunk, followed by a rattle of iron.

  “Good God. I had no idea you were so accomplished.”

  “No, my lord.”

  Garrick got to his feet. “Come on, show me where you got in.” He followed as Dan felt his way along the walls to the broken plank. By widening it, Garrick was able to crawl out.

  “What on earth brought you?” Garrick asked, looking around for signs of his captors. The waning moon lit a silver path across the pond and stars winked a greeting.

  The boy shuffled his feet. “I was afeared you was goin” to tip the old fellow a double. I thought you’d gone off and left me.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I weren’t goin” to stay there on me own. So I followed. I didn’t know where else to start.”

  Garrick ruffled his hair. “Well, I’m bloody glad you did.”

  “I brought this.” Metal glinted as Dan handed Garrick a pistol. “I borrowed it from Mr Johnson. If yer joining the army, I wants to go, too.”

  The weapon dated from the last century, but looked serviceable and clean. “Did you ask Mr Johnson?”

  He shrugged. “He would’ve said no.”

  Incorrigible. “I don’t suppose you thought to bring bullets and powder?”

  Dan’s teeth flashed white. “That I did.”

  “Damn me, boy, you are a marvel.”

  “I got a blade, too.” The boy pulled forth a knife. A sliver of steel with a bone handle. A deadly weapon in the right hands, and also useful in opening padlocks.

  “Where did that come from?”

  “It’s mine.” Dan caressed the blade with a fingertip. “A friend gave it me. I were going to use it on him if you ‘adn’t come along.”

  “Then I saved you from hanging. May I borrow it for a while?” The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to teach his captors a lesson they wouldn’t forget. And with surprise on his side, they were in for a nasty shock.

  The boy handed over the knife and Garrick tucked it inside his boot.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to ambush them inside the barn. Wait for me in the trees yonder,” Garrick said. “Wa
tch carefully. If anything goes wrong, ride for help. Can you do that?”

  “I’d sooner hide in the barn with you.”

  “I need you to stand watch. It’s an important job.”

  Dan looked unconvinced, but he finally agreed and Garrick squeezed back into his prison. Dan replaced the broken plank behind him. “Be careful, my lord,” he whispered.

  “I will. Try to stay awake.”

  A snort greeted his words, then he heard the boy move off. Once back in his corner, he lay down in the straw with the manacle loose about his ankle. He was going to enjoy giving these rogues a taste of their own medicine. They deserved a little bit of terror, before he got his property back.

  ———

  Dawn lightened the eastern sky, but it was still dark in the valley as Eleanor pulled back the barn door with shaking hands. If she had any sense she’d send Le Clere a note, tell him where to find his missing nephew and flee.

  And they’d be out on the streets with no money and deeply in debt. No. Taking advantage of his attraction was the last arrow in her quiver. The fact that she found him equally attractive wasn’t a bad thing either. It would make playing her part easier, perhaps even enjoyable, although thoroughly disgraceful. She shivered.

  She touched her mask. If only she could keep it on. But she couldn’t. He would have to know she was both Lady Moonlight and Ellie Brown. She’d have to tell him as much of the truth as she dared without actually admitting to her real identity. Once it was over, she’d disappear.

  She took a deep breath and perched her hat on top of her boy’s wig. It must look strange with her blue dimity gown, but she wanted to break the news gently.

  Dust motes danced in the fingers of light poking through the knots and gaps in the walls. The Marquess lay on his back in the straw, his chest rising and falling as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His lashes lay like dark fans above high olive cheekbones. So peaceful. His horse blew out a breath, a snort of disgust no doubt.

  She shook his arm. “My lord.”

  He mumbled and opened his eyes, slowly gazing around.

  “What is it? It’s still the middle of the night,” he grumbled. “The deuce.” He stared at up her, rather warily, she thought.

  “My lord, you must listen, I—”

  He sprang to his feet and grabbed her by the arm. She felt something cold and hard against her neck. A pistol.

  “Cry out and you are dead,” he whispered.

  The breath left her body in a terrified rush. He sounded angry enough to shoot her. Disaster. Her plan made no provision for this. She opened her mouth to speak and found her mouth drier than the well beside the barn. Her knees seemed to have lost all their strength.

  “Where is he? Ben?” he asked.

  His warm breath was hot in her ear, his arm a steel band around her waist. He brought the muzzle around to her face. “Answer me, wench.”

  She swallowed hard, managing to salvage some moisture for speech. “He’s gone.”

  He squeezed her harder, crushing her ribs with his steely grip. “When will he be back?”

  “He left for good this time.”

  She made no struggle as he propelled her towards the door.

  “Let’s hope he values your life,” he said with the pistol still pointed at her head. His body partly shielded by hers, he eased her out of the door. His heart knocked against her ribs, slow and steady, unlike hers, which seemed ready to leap from her chest. One false move on her part and she would find herself with a bullet to the brain. Not a preferred solution to her problems.

  After a long pause, he thrust her away from him with such force she fell to her knees. Unmoving, she watched him check the vicinity of the barn.

  Apparently satisfied, he returned to where she knelt, close to the spot where they had kissed the day before. He cast her a look of suspicion. “He won’t get far. When I catch him you’ll both be up before the beak.”

  He was going to cart her off to prison. She reached into the pocket of her skirt.

  He levelled his pistol. “Careful, wench.”

  She froze. Her heart seemed to forget how to beat. “I brought you something.”

  One eyebrow went up. “How sweet of you, my dear. A token of appreciation for helping you yesterday, no doubt.”

  She opened her fingers. They shook and she steadied her wrist with her other hand. Beside the key in her palm lay his signet ring, a large solid circlet of gold mounted with heavy claws grasping the Beauworth shield. “I was going to set you free. I hid the ring from Ben after you told me you wanted it back.”

  The Marquess’s lip curled. “Admit it. You lost your nerve. Very clever of you to realise I would come after you for the ring. I suppose you expected me to forget the whole thing in exchange?”

  This was not going according to plan. He clearly hadn’t needed her to set him free and he accorded her only the worst of motives for returning his property. Even as it hurt, she acknowledged his right to think her despicable. She swallowed. What a fool she had been to risk everything on his seeming attraction, when a nobleman of his rank and physical beauty could have any woman he wanted.

  She’d failed. Again. Moisture burned at the backs of her eyes. She sniffed. Whatever he decided now would be her punishment for letting William and Sissy down.

  “Tears?” he said. “You don’t expect me to believe those are real, surely?” He sighed and took the ring from her hand. “First, let’s see who you are. Then we’ll decide what comes next.” He grasped the edge of the mask and whipped it over her head in one swift movement. Her hat and wig fell to the ground. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders. Now he would know everything. Hot-faced, she lowered her head, hiding behind her hair’s silky screen.

  “No,” he said. “It cannot be.”

  A cool hand cupped her chin. He lifted her face, swept back the hair.

  “Bloody hell. Ellie Brown?” He could not have looked more appalled to see Satan himself. “There must be some mistake. This is some sort of trick.”

  The disappointment in his expression took her aback. It was almost worse than his earlier disgust. Confused, she lowered her gaze, searching for the strength to follow through with her plan. “It is me. I’m sorry, my lord.”

  He reached out to touch her face as if he couldn’t believe what he saw. “Hell’s teeth. You certainly fooled me finely. What game are you playing?”

  For one mad moment she felt the urge to tell him the whole sordid story, to throw herself on his mercy. But she’d done that before, written to him asking him for more time to pay the mortgage without effect. No, far better to stick to her plan to bargain than beg for kindness. She dashed away tears that had somehow spilled over and took a deep breath. “Ben was angry about what happened yesterday. He took all the money. Whatever will happen to Master William now?”

  He blinked. “Master William?”

  “Lord Castlefield. He got into debt. The bailiffs came and threw us all out, because of the mortgage due on the estate. I was trying to raise money to help him, but it got out of hand.”

  His glowered. “More than out of hand, I would say, you little idiot. Why isn’t this man taking care of his own debts?”

  “He’s away. Fighting in Spain.”

  He cursed softly. “Who holds the mortgage?”

  She stared at him. How could he not know? Perhaps he just wanted to make her suffer. “You do.”

  His jaw dropped. “Me?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Don’t tell me. You were going to use my money to pay me back? You really are one brazen hussy.”

  If she didn’t know better, she might have thought the glint in his eye was admiration. The straight line of his firm mouth and the hard set of his jaw said otherwise.

  He looked down at the toe of his riding boots, scuffed and dirty, his thoughts hidden. “Why come here today? Why didn’t you cut your losses and run?” He frowned. “Why not simply ask me for help without all this nonsense?”

  “His lordship’s lawyer wrote to you.
You insisted the debt be paid or the house would be forfeit. When you said your uncle wouldn’t pay the ransom, I thought of something else.” She winced as he narrowed his gaze on her face, his fingers playing with the strings of her mask.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “I was going to offer to…” Heat spread from her face all the way to her feet. It had sounded so easy when she had gone over it in her mind. Now it sounded horrid. She swallowed what felt like a feather pillow stuck in her throat. “To do whatever you wanted in exchange for the mortgage.” The words came out in a rush.

  The thin black ribbons stilled. The silence lengthened. “This Lord Castlefield must be very important to you.”

  “Yes, he’s—”

  “Enough.” He squeezed his eyes shut briefly. “I really don’t want to hear the sordid details.” He stared down at the ring. “I really have been seven kinds of a fool about you. I respected you, Ellie. Thought you were a very different kind of woman.” He shook his head. “You and Ben must have enjoyed your little jokes at my expense.”

  “I was desperate.”

  He stilled. “Desperate enough to offer yourself to me in exchange for this Lord Castlefield’s debts.”

  Spoken so softly, without emotion, it sounded dreadful. Her heart contracted, it grew small, and tight, all the joy and hope squeezed out of it as he laid out what she had become. “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure it’s a compliment. How much does he owe?”

  Her chest felt tight. “A thousand pounds.” Her voice came out in a very small whisper.

  “An expensive roll in the hay.” His gaze reflected some kind of cynical amusement. “And for how long am I to receive the benefit of your services?”

  Shame emblazoned her face. She closed her eyes briefly. What was one more nail in the coffin of her pride? In a panic, she picked a number at random. “Three months. More if you want.”

  Too much? Too little? She couldn’t tell from his wooden expression.