* * *
Christina made her way to the domestic quarters where the entrance to the cellars was located. Servants hurrying about their duties found nothing unusual on seeing the mistress in the kitchens, although they might have raised a curious brow on seeing her don a shawl and slip through the door to the cellars. Here, casks and racks of wine were stored. Candles flared in lanterns fastened to the walls, should more wine be needed for the festivities. Lifting her skirts, she hurried on her way, wishing she didn’t have to face Mark.
Few people ventured beyond the wine cellars, where a small, narrow door was located in the roughly hewn wall, unnoticeable to the eye unless it was known to be there. With every nerve in her body vibrating, Christina raised the iron catch and it opened without a sound on its well-oiled hinges. The ancient tunnels, unused for many years, were narrow, dark and dank. They had a tomblike atmosphere and a deathly chill, as if a frigid breath of winter moved like an invisible spirit along the passageways. Having set a flame to the wick of a lantern, she held it high to light her way, the tiny flame dipping and dancing in its glass chamber against the draught that flowed towards her. She drew the shawl up close about her neck as her gaze tried to penetrate the total blackness beyond the meagre glow of the lantern.
Her nerves were stretched taut as she hurried along the twisting tunnel, stumbling frequently on the uneven ground. She hated being so confined, feeling as if the walls were closing in on her. She was relieved when she saw a vague, dim illumination some distance away and the muffled sound of men’s voices. The chill of a draught invaded her clothing, the airy rush touching her limbs beneath her skirts, but she was scarcely aware of it as the light ahead of her became bigger and brighter.
Shaking with cold and her own apprehensions, she eventually stepped into the light, then halted, holding her breath. The tunnel opened into a large room with a vaulted ceiling. It was accessed on a low hillside in a thickly wooded area away from the house. It was secluded, the trees providing cover for horses and men. The room was stacked with boxes and chests of every description, full of coins, jewels and household treasures—for Mark did not confine his thievery to robbing vulnerable travellers, and house-breaking was a lucrative occupation.
He ran an effective intelligence system, and the time spent watching and listening in parlours and wayside inns and employing reliable spies was the best way to acquire information about which travellers to target and which to leave alone. All the spoils were to be taken to London and sold.
The son of a lawyer, it was Mark who had found out about the tunnels in some old deeds of Oakbridge kept in his father’s office in Reading. Knowing they were the perfect place for him to expand his illegal operation and hide his ill-gotten gains, he had targeted the vulnerable and gullible young owner of Oakbridge, bringing about his downfall and honing in for the kill when he was ruined with an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Christina focused her eyes on the scene before her, barely conscious of the flickering light of the lanterns or the pervasive chill of the tunnel. The air was thick with the fug of tobacco smoke and the unpleasant stench of unwashed bodies. About a dozen of Mark’s loyal vassals were present, accomplished thieves each and every one. All except the leader were black-clad and each equipped with a brace of pistols. Some were seated on upturned barrels and boxes, while others squatted on the floor, idling the time away with a throw of dice.
Her sudden appearance surprised them and had them springing to their feet, their hands automatically going to their pistols. Their leader turned and looked directly at her and said with a note of mockery in his harsh, baritone voice, ‘Easy, men. Calm yourselves. ‘Tis Miss Atherton herself come to call. Although as to the reason…I can only surmise it is my own charming self she has come to see.’
Her look was one of intense dislike, but Mark Bucklow appeared not to notice. There was something about him that physically revolted her. She hated it every time she had to speak to him, to see the lust in his eyes and to hear the lechery in his sneer when he addressed her. As he threw off his cloak and swaggered towards where she stood with her legs trembling, she clamped her jaw, shrinking inside, realising it would gratify him too much if she showed her fear. Better to hold her ground, unpleasant as the next few minutes would be. He seemed to have the power to get right under her skin, and she hated herself for letting him.
A man who enjoyed the robust, earthy pleasures of life, he liked to cut a dash, did Mark Bucklow, and dressed in outrageously extroverted fashion. Tonight he was flamboyantly dressed in scarlet velvet and gold braid to draw attention to himself, a froth of lace at his throat and wrists. Two pistols were thrust into a gold sash about his thickening waist, and a dagger showed above the deep cuff of his boot. He was tall and stout with long and curling sandy hair. Some would call him quite handsome—not in a gentlemanly way, with fine chiselled features, but with broad, strong cheekbones and a wide mouth. Grinning his wolfish smile, he was the very picture of what her mother had taught her to fear.
Taking the lantern from her, he set it down, placing his hand on her elbow and drawing her away from the others, who had resumed their seats and once again began to throw the dice.
‘I am indeed honoured that the mistress of the house should seek me out, Christina,’ Mark drawled mockingly, ‘and looking as pretty as a picture, too. I’d like to think it was for my benefit.’
‘We are entertaining—on your say so for what can be gained from it. It cannot have slipped your mind,’ she uttered with cold sarcasm, her eyes flashing irately.
Reaching out, he ran one of his heavily jewelled fingers down the curve of her cheek, laughing softly when she cringed and drew back. ‘Ah, you show your claws, Christina,’ he murmured. ‘I like that. You are so adorable when you are angry. But enough of this,’ he said on a sharper note, knowing it would have to be a matter of considerable importance for her to brave the tunnel. ‘The evening is going well, I trust?’
‘Yes, perfectly well—only…’
He cocked a brow, his dark eyes assessing and gleaming sharply. ‘What? Do I detect a problem? Is something amiss, Christina?’
‘William sent me to tell you—to warn you—that we have an unexpected and uninvited guest by the name of Lord Rockley. He has been appointed by the Lord Lieutenant to investigate the increase in robberies in the area.’
Mark stared. For a practised scoundrel who was never at a loss for a quip, he suddenly found himself with nothing to say. He kept his face expressionless through sheer strength of will-power. He didn’t need to hear anything about Rockley. Mark had heard of him, though he’d never seen him in the flesh. Rockley was a powerful, ruthless man, whose exploits were talked about throughout Europe. Mark did not fear him—indeed, Mark feared no man—but he was fully aware of Rockley’s strength. To take on such an assignment, Rockley had set himself against him as his full-blown enemy. Undaunted, Mark was ready for the challenge. He would crush Rockley as easily as he would an insect.
Mark shrugged unconcernedly. ‘The infamous Lord Rockley. What do I care? He isn’t the first to come after us, and he won’t be the last. If he interferes in what I do, he’ll find himself food for carrion before the dawn. He will be dealt the same treatment as any man who tries to get the better of me—friend or foe.’
‘Even those who work for you?’
‘Especially those who work for me and attempt to double-cross me or shirk a hold-up—as I’ve made clear to your brother. Their weakness would render them an encumbrance—an encumbrance to be rid of.’ He sneered as his eyes did a sweep of the men sitting around. ‘You know the expression, I am sure—there is no honour among thieves. It must also apply to thief-catchers.’
With a complete contempt for authority, and pouring scorn on the law and its representatives, Mark wouldn’t be unduly worried by the appearance of this particular thief-catcher, but after meeting Lord Rockley, Christina thought that perhaps in this instance he should be.
‘Now that I have delivered my message,
I must go back. How is Toby, by the way? I hope he was returned to you and is recovering from the injuries incurred yesterday.’
Mark nodded towards a corner where the little dog was sleeping soundly on a heap of sacking. ‘Toby’s like me. It will take more than a bramble bush to defeat him.’
‘Yes—I’m sure,’ Christina remarked tartly. ‘I must go. Soon the guests will be coming in from the firework display and I must be there to receive them.’
‘What? You will leave me so soon?’
‘Yes, I must.’
He growled in exasperation. ‘Such cruelty, Christina, when all I want is to take care of you. Of all the women in the world that I could have, doesn’t it mean anything to you that you’re the one I want?’
‘No, Mark, it doesn’t.’
‘Come away with me and you can have me and my money.’
‘I don’t want you or your money. I want you to move away from Oakbridge—to leave us alone.’
‘And be reduced to poverty and penny pinching,’ Mark sneered. ‘I don’t think so, Christina. That would never do for your precious William. He always did like the good things in life, which was what I noticed about him from the start. We have an arrangement. Oakbridge serves my purpose.’
‘Only until the authorities catch up with you—as they will one day.’
‘Me and your brother. If they catch me, I’ll take him with me.’ His eyes narrowed and gleamed. ‘You can count on that, Christina. You won’t come out of it unscathed either, I promise you.’
‘And that doesn’t bother you, I suppose,’ she said scathingly.
Mark shrugged. ‘Not in the slightest. I’m not moving from here. As I said, it suits my purpose.’
‘And if we want to contact you for any reason, where can we find you?’ William had told her he often used the Black Swan Inn at Wakeham for his meetings, but where he actually lived was a mystery to her.
He leaned forwards, saying for her ears alone, ‘If I thought you might find your way to my lair to help me while away the daylight hours, I would tell you, but since you aren’t too friendly and might take it into that pretty head of yours to turn me in, you’re better off not knowing. Let’s just say it’s an out-of-the-way place where a man can come and go without any questions being asked of him.’ He raised a speculative brow. ‘Do you think you might come looking for me, Christina?
‘Never. I know too well what you are, and I want none of it.’
A gleam of anger flashed in Mark’s eyes. ‘It’s too late for that. You’re part of it whether you want to be or not, and should you take it into that pretty head of yours to hand me in, I swear you will pipe a different tune. But I am not the devil that you should show such hostility, Christina. You’d be better employed in being more like your brother and joining forces with us.’
‘William wants no part of this business any more than I do, and you know it.’
‘You’re right. You’re a proud one,’ Mark said, with a quick, dangerous sneer, but he schooled it to a taut smile. ‘Very well, Christina, elude me if you will, but you will submit to me. Not now. Not tomorrow. But you will, and you will no longer speak to me with such haughty disfavour.’
She stared at him, emotionless and defiant. ‘Threaten me all you like, Mark, but you will never have me.’
He laughed, a horrible, brittle sound that bounced off the rocky walls and caused the rest of the thieves to glance his way. ‘Sweet, foolish Miss Christina Atherton.’ His lips angled upwards in a confident leer as his eyes moved possessively over her body. She was, after all, such a tempting young thing. It would be a shame not to taste her. ‘You claim to know my nature. Don’t you see that the more you run away from me, the more lusty I grow for the chase?’
Picking up the lantern, she took a backward step, gripping the shawl at her throat with her free hand. ‘Stop it. I don’t want to hear it. I’ve said what I had to say and now I must go back before I’m missed. We don’t want Lord Rockley becoming suspicious by my behaviour.’
‘Oh, yes, the man whose exploits are talked of from here to China. He’s earned himself an admirable reputation in his field—espionage, if I’m not mistaken. How convenient that he happens to be a personal friend of the Lord Lieutenant and that the work is within his professional competence. He is probably the best qualified man in England to attempt to track me down.’
‘He may very well succeed.’
‘Not if I can help it. Describe him to me so I shall know him when we meet—perhaps when I waylay his coach when he takes his leave. Where does he live so I know the road he will take? I shall take care of him myself.’
Christina paled, thinking it incredible that Mark would go so far as to try to rob the very man who was looking to arrest him. ‘Lord Rockley’s home is too far away for him to travel back tonight. He is to stay at Oakbridge overnight.’
Mark looked surprised and most displeased by her revelation. ‘Is he, now? Well, if he becomes inquisitive and comes looking, there will be nothing to find. I’ll make sure of that. In the meantime it is up to you to keep him amused so we can go about our business without interruption.’ His eyes were appreciative as they caressed her face. ‘Looking as you do, that shouldn’t be too difficult. Tell me, is he young, this Lord Rockley?’ She nodded. ‘How young?’
‘A-about thirty or a little older, I believe.’
Mark’s eyes narrowed. The mockery had gone and his voice was purposeful, a man whose mind was already telling him that this Lord Rockley might pose a threat in more ways than his investigations into his criminal activities. ‘And is he handsome?’
Christina knew her face had pinked when she recollected Lord Rockley’s handsome looks, but she was unable to do anything about it. She stiffened, looking utterly wary. ‘I—I suppose he is—passable.’
Mark’s eyes were full of feverish suspicion. ‘Passable? My instinct and the flush on your cheeks tell me his lordship is more than passable.’ He grasped her wrist, his fingers closing like a vice. ‘Have a care what you do, Christina—what you say. Informers can expect harsh treatment from me.’ He released her wrist as quickly as he had grasped it. ‘And don’t forget your own interests are at stake.’
She tossed her head and glared at him in defiance. ‘If it was up to me, I would have you gone from here and never see you again.’
Suddenly Mark’s hand shot out and he caught her roughly by the chin, cupping and squeezing her soft flesh and thrusting his face close to hers. ‘Do not defy me, Christina. You would only regret doing so. A face such as yours does not bear well under a fist. It is too fine and fragile.’
‘Your threats do not frighten me,’ she hissed bravely.
‘No? They should. I have ways to convince you,’ he sneered, releasing his grip and thrusting her away. ‘Now go. You can tell your precious William that I shall heed his warning and I thank him for letting me know, but nothing is changed. We have a busy night ahead, and make sure you get rid of Rockley in the morning.’
About to turn away, she hesitated, her chin still throbbing from his grip. ‘There is one thing I must ask you. Will—will you promise me that there will be no bloodshed? Some of the guests are elderly and I hope very much that they will go unmolested.’
‘I can’t promise that. I’m not in this business to pick and choose who I will and will not waylay. If they become difficult, it’s often necessary to—frighten them a little. Sometimes it’s the only way to get them to part with their valuables.’
‘I beg you not to,’ she said, before turning and hurrying away. Knowing Mark was watching her and afraid that he would come after her and waylay her in the tunnel, with the sure-footed speed of a hunted animal she moved swiftly on, not stopping until that awful tunnel was behind her and she was back in the wine cellar, where she could hear the servants in the upper part of the house going about their business.
Slipping past the wine racks, she suddenly noticed the large, swarthy-skinned man who had just stepped out from the shadows. He was well withi
n her sights and, judging by his stillness, he’d clearly been taking full advantage of that fact. She didn’t recognise him and wondered who he could be. She approached him, determined to find out.
‘I did not see you there. Are you lost? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I’m Miss Atherton, Lord Atherton’s sister.’
‘And I’m Henry, Lord Rockley’s valet, Miss Atherton, at your service. I’ve just been to the kitchen for my supper.’
‘I see.’ She noted that he was well turned out, despite having the appearance of a large hound, and had his deceptively sleepy eyes fixed on her—she suspected he was far from being the idle man he looked. ‘I hope you were accommodated.’
‘Very well, thank you.’
‘This, as you see, is the wine cellar and some distance from the kitchens.’
‘I know. I couldn’t help myself. This is a fine house. I was just taking a look around.’ He stepped back. ‘Excuse me. I’ll find my way back.’
Christina watched him go, wondering what he had really been doing in the wine cellar. How much had he seen? Never had she seen a valet who looked less like a valet. Servant he might be, but there was a single-minded determination in his face and in the set of his thick jaw that reminded her of his master. Most certainly he was just as arrogant, because he had not troubled to lower his eyes when he had spoken to her.
When she reached the hall, she was relieved that everyone was still outside watching the firework display, which was lighting up the night sky in a fantastic array of colour. Feeling the need to compose herself, she took refuge in her own cosy sitting room, closing the door behind her. The only light was from the fire, which she had insisted on being lit despite the warmth of the summer night. Drawing out this moment of quiet solitude, she sank into her favourite chair next to the hearth.
The fear her meeting with Mark had left in her heart was more than she could bear. She closed her eyes and his face appeared with such terrifying clarity she found herself trembling. The picture was so clear that she opened her eyes to make it go away, but they were misted with tears and she seemed to see him in the shimmering firelight, and even thought she heard him laugh.
The Bride Wore Scandal Page 5
