The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 6

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  "I’m not a brothel keeper or a pimp, not really. I never took a penny of their money, and I’ve protected the people who willingly went into that career. You have no call to be ashamed of me in front of your family on that score.

  "No, I deal in a different kind of currency under the cover of the different establishments I run. I've been a spy for the English against the French for many years. I've gathered information, translated documents, written code, and yes, I’ve killed people when I’ve had to. I still help run the agents for Lord Castlereagh."

  Her deep blue eyes widened, again, but still she dared not speak.

  "Sebastian was one of the other agents, but once his sister Viola was safe with Alistair there was no reason for him to continue. For me, I’m still in the service because they’ve blackmailed me into remaining. I'm not quite English, so not quite trustworthy, don’t you know," he said with a sneer, his accent suddenly become even more plummy than his normal, well-educated one. "But there’s more to it than that. They also have my two brothers and have forced me to do their bidding because of them."

  Miranda gaped. "Have them? I don’t understand."

  "They spied as well, Jason in Spain and Portugal, Simon wherever the British camp brought him. He was a master at codes, numbers. He was an exceptionally intelligent young man."

  George now recalled with a fond smile, "We could scarcely find any tutor bright enough to keep up with him. I’m afraid I was the dolt of the family compared with Simon. Yet he was shy, quiet, unassuming, a truly gentle man.

  "He probably still is all those things and more. I shouldn’t talk about him in the past tense. I know he’s alive somewhere. He was captured by the French at some point during the war. I've never been sure precisely when. All I know is that someone betrayed their camp and him. But he’s still alive, and Castlereagh has had me by the gonads ever since he was captured. He told me that if I ever wanted to see Simon alive again, I had to keep on living the squalid life I’ve led.

  "Oh, I know you’ve seen the scars. You’ve been too polite to say anything. And the tattoo. My initials on each arm and leg. Thought I was religious, didn’t you? GOD. Georges Oliver D’Ambois. Common enough in the army in case one is killed. Even if the body is stripped they can get word home to the family that you’ve been killed.

  "I’ve been waiting for the news for at least six years for Simon, over eight for Jason. I don’t know what to believe any more, except to say I don’t want to live the way I have a minute longer. I’m ready to give up the game now and walk away.

  "The life I've led trying to do my duty to my adopted country has been a hell on earth. I admired the idealism of the French Revolution, but disagreed with their methods. To allow a man like Bonaparte to have had power here, well, it was unthinkable to me after all I had seen in my homeland.

  "He may have dismissed England as nothing more than a nation of shopkeepers, but it's that spirit of independence, resourcefulness and keeping on going day after day that kept me going. But then I met you, and I could see it was never and could never be enough. I had done all the right things for the sake of liberty, equality and fraternity, yet my only reward had been nothing but misery. It's very nearly cost me everything I’ve ever loved. I lost my brothers a long time ago, but last night was truly the last straw. I know now that without you my life is nothing more than a wasteland, my lovely Miranda. I don't ever want to take the risk of them trying to harm you again to get to me."

  Miranda gazed at him steadily. "So you’re telling me that all the terrible things that have happened to us since we met are all because, what? They wanted to show you who was your superior? Follow their instructions, or else?"

  He nodded tearfully.

  Miranda was furious. Not with him, but the men who had chosen to play God with their lives. "So you report directly to Castlereagh the Foreign Office Secretary. And he was the one who told you that I was missing, that you’d lost me forever?"she guessed.

  "Aye."

  "So he was the man who took me from you, put Oxnard up to what he did? Who nearly had us killed last night in that fire, us and all our friends?" She could feel her blood boiling with fury.

  He nodded miserably. "I’m afraid so, darling."

  "And did he tell you who I was? Am, I should say."

  He shook his head. "I don’t think he found out until recently."

  "And do you know?"

  He smiled and stroked her cheek. "You’re the woman I love. The rest doesn’t matter. Even if you have something to be ashamed of... Have run from... I don’t care."

  She kissed his hand, running her tongue along the back of it until he shivered. "Nothing like that, darling. No scandal, no taint, I swear."

  "So tell me then, darling, who are you?"

  "I’m a novelist. I agreed to the whole orange wench lark to gather material for a book and have a bit of fun, that’s all. Then you offered me a job and I wanted to be with you, so I stayed. I’ve written most of the apart from what happened with Oxnard. I think it’s all too grim and melodramatic to continue in that vein. I want a happy ending. Do you think you can give it to me?" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  "Oh, my love, I surely am going to try." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her ravenously.

  At last he lifted his lips. "So tell me, my darling, who are you really?"

  "Miranda Lyons Dane."

  His brows knit. "Dane." He frowned for a moment. At last his eye widened. "Dane? Dane? Oh no, good lord, not—"

  She nodded. "One of the Rakehells. And yes, Lady Augusta Pemberton is my aunt."

  "Oh, good God." He shook his head incredulously. "But you said your name was Lyons!"

  "It is. My parents were estranged. Father rejected us. We took our foster-parents’ name and have been referred to as that ever since. We've only recently reconciled and that was why I was here in town, for my Season now that I'm of age. I can't tell you how grateful I am to have been spared it and the Marriage Mart."

  He rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Spared? How can you say so after what Oxnard did to you?"

  "I know what you mean, but seriously, I've been so happy with you, that despite all the bad parts, it's been more than worth it. I stepped into a cesspool, and found a diamond."

  "Yes, and also a hell of a lot of sh--"

  She stopped his mouth with a kiss.

  "--too. Oh, Miranda." He sighed and shook his head. Then his eyes widened. "So your family is vastly wealthy and they’ll be appalled when they find out all you’ve been through!"

  "Not quite. They know already. Philip is my brother Matthew’s close friend. Lawrence Howard is my brother-in-law."

  "God Almighty! And I thought he was lusting after you." Then it dawned on him. "So Juliet is your sister. So similar, yet so different. Bugger, I feel like such a fool. I was wondering why she seemed so familiar. Why didn’t you tell me!"

  She shrugged. "I thought you knew. That Viola or Philip had told you. Or since you seemed to know everything that happened in Southwark, that you had investigated me. It’s a great sign of trust that you didn’t."

  He drew her tightly into the circle of his embrace. "I ought to have suspected you, especially after the last woman I ever got involved with came to a dreadful end. But I didn’t dare. And didn’t care. If you betrayed me, love, my life would be over anyway. I knew you were a gentlewoman, good, kind and true. That was enough for me. It always will be. The money and everything else make no difference."

  "Oh, George, I would never betray you. I love you so much, you truly are the best part of me."

  He kissed her passionately, and she could feel herself melting again. But now was not the time to be distracted. They had been through hell, and it wasn’t going to stop unless they took steps to ensure that it ended once and for all.

  She could still feel her ire bubbling away under the surface at all her beloved had suffered. She dragged her mouth away at last and demanded, "Tell me about Castlereagh, and Oxnard again. Tell me everything.
I need the truth. And then we’re going to see if we can find a way to break free of him. Both of us."

  George confided it all, the threats, the night at Simpson’s, and Castlereagh’s summons when he had been waiting for her to come home so he could propose to her. He went further back, and told her all he knew about the Cato Street Conspiracy, when he had first met Alistair and Philip and saved the two prominent Rakehells the Earl of Hazelmere and the Duke of Ellesmere from an assassination attempt.

  During the Cato Street Conspiracy, Castlereagh, and Lord Sidmouth, in charge of the Home Office, had led some unsuspecting political reformers into an abortive rebellion which had cost several of them their lives and resulted in transportation for the rest. They had hoped to blame the assassinations of the Duke and Earl on them, but fortunately they had been stopped in time.

  Miranda was appalled at all she learned. Despite her intrinsic timidity, her fierce sense of justice and fair play hungered for revenge. Revenge for all the Rakehells…

  When they had finished their confessions and revelations, George felt as though he were clean for the first time since the French Revolution had robbed him of his homes, family and identity.

  Now he had the chance, not to gain it all back again, for that could never be possible, but at least to make the most of the second chance he had been given with Miranda.

  He could hardly believe his luck. To have fallen in love with a woman so above him, and yet won her for his own. He tried to hold back, feeling he had never given her a choice about marrying him, making love to him, but as she nestled against him so trustingly, George could not resist her nearness any longer.

  Heedless of his wound, he made love to her tenderly, and would have happily spent the rest of the day in bed had she not reminded him that if he refused to rest, he needed to see in the stark light of day just how much damage had been done to the theatre.

  They dragged themselves out of bed, dressed, and took a carriage to survey the site for themselves. The roof had gone, but some of the walls and stage were still standing. The New Rose would bloom again, she told him, if only they had the courage to face up to their enemies.

  George shook his head. "I don’t know how my heart could possibly be in it now. Not to mention the fact that you deserve a better life—"

  "Our friends can run it. But they need you to make a few decisions. So go on. I'll send the carriage back for you. Just don’t overdo things, and I’ll see you at supper."

  "Where are you going?"

  She kissed him, and with a last little wave headed back to Fulham House for a council of war.

  With George out of the way, Miranda rounded up the male residents of Fulham House to confide in them all she knew.

  Sebastian was still mildly concussed, and white as a sheet. Alistair and Philip looked at her expectantly.

  She said without preamble, "George’s going to do something dreadful if we don’t get to the bottom of all this. We need to stop Oxnard and find George’s brothers. Get George and them out of Castlereagh’s clutches once and for all. Will you help me?"

  They all looked shocked, but nodded.

  "We would, if only we knew how," Alistair said.

  "I think I have a plan," Miranda revealed. "It was something you said in the past, Sebastian. About not killing a man outright, but destroying him in other ways."

  Sebastian nodded. "I did say it. I still think—"

  "And about what happened last night."

  "Aye, the fire."

  "No, I meant the women who attacked you."

  He shuddered. "Sex as power. Those two women bloody ravished me before I even knew what hit me!"

  "If sex is power, then maybe power is sex," she said with a glint her eye.

  All three men shook their heads. "I don’t follow," Alistair said.

  Philip flashed him a grin. "That’s because you’ve led a sheltered life. Go on, Miranda, tell us what you’re thinking."

  "Just the vaguest outline of an idea. But in the meantime, take me through the rest of the Rakehells. You can leave out my brother Matthew and Lawrence Howard, my brother in law. And yourselves. We all know none of them or you are either of George’s brothers. Are there any other acquaintances in your circle who could possibly be French or have some sort of shadowy past that isn't fully accounted for?"

  Alistair thought for a moment, then shrugged. "There’s really only one of us in our immediate circle. Alexander Deveril. I think his real last name is Davenport but I'm not sure. He's the brother-in-law of Jonathan Deveril the vicar. Then there are the two Olivier brothers, who are friends with Thomas Eltham’s brother-in-law. They're decidedly French."

  "Two brothers, you say?" she asked with interest.

  Philip nodded. "Thomas would be able to tell you a lot more, but they are friends of Wilfred and Vevina Joyce. They came from a large family of boys, apparently. Vevina married Thomas’ cousin Stewart Fitzgerald, who spent years with the army in India and fought well against Napoleon. Wellington mentioned he and his wife in his dispatches on several occasions. Wilfred too was mentioned. He married Elizabeth Eltham, and by all accounts helped stop an invasion of Ireland several years back.

  "I know Alexander was there with them when it all happened. It was very strange. I mean, his wife Sarah was vastly pregnant at the time, and they picked up and left Somerset for no reason we could see. They went over to France for the Hundred Days as well, until Napoleon was defeated again at Waterloo, and sent to St. Helena."

  Miranda nodded to Philip. "He’s a start. But that would only account for one brother. What about the two Oliviers?"

  "They’re clearly genuine brothers, and both back in France, both married so far as I know. They came from a big family of something like seven boys, dozens of cousins."

  Miranda shook her head. "No, if George had a big family he certainly wouldn’t be wasting his time here in England all these years. The Oliviers don’t seem to be hiding. Shadowy in any way."

  "I wouldn’t be so sure of that. The Joyces and Stewart were involved in some interesting things during the war so far as I’ve heard," Philip said with a grin.

  "But your first instinct was Alexander Davenport. Why?"

  Alistair explained, "So far as we know, he had no memory, or said he didn’t. He was blind when he came to Somerset and Sarah took him in. She called him Deveril, claimed he was a cousin. They fell in love. He really had no clear idea of who he was or much about his past. Jonathan came home from his honeymoon and sorted everything out."

  "But we only have Jonathan’s word for it?"

  "Well, Clifford and Thomas also. The three of them were friends at Oxford and started the Rakehell set. Jonathan gave me the impression that Alexander was a younger son and that they went to school together at some point. He got to be even better friends with him on the Continent during the war, from what I can gather. Alexander lost his first wife and sons in the war. He was pretty devastated."

  "Did he ever mention brothers?"

  Philip thought for a moment, then nodded. "Said they were dead, though. I remember it because one of his cousins tried to take over his property, Ferncliffe Hall. Though they did actually try to kidnap him, bring him to Dorset. They were working with the French, wanted to start an invasion on the south coast."

  "Dorset? And who is they?"

  Alistair nodded. "Yes, that was where they had been raised originally. Traded on the south coast. As for they, you would need to ask Sarah. She saved him, by all accounts."

  "Hmm. Dorset. I come from Dorset. My sister and I traded. Juliet more than me. I always wondered why George sometimes looked at me as if we’d met before."

  They all stared at her for a time, waiting expectantly.

  "So there's a connection with Dorset and Ferncliffe. And George said he was a trader who had spent time with his father in Dorset, and was the named heir the Earl of Ferncliffe, and therefore entitled to the property, which he described as a Gothic monstrosity.

  "It has to be Alexander. Don
’t you see?" Philip argued now. "It all makes sense. Jonathan welcomed him back, knew he was a spy and had to be protected, especially blind, with so many gaps in his memory. He gave us as little information as possible about what he had done where in the war.

  Then Alexander and Sarah were married. They’re a very private couple. The initials do fit, though. I’ve seen his tattoo. JAD," Philip said. "We thought the J stood for Jonathan and the D for Deveril. Jonathan’s middle name was Alexander, so that’s what Sarah rechristened him in order to avoid confusion. Most people in Somerset still think he’s a genuine Deveril."

  "All right, I think we’ve made the best case possible for Alexander Deveril being Jason Davenport, or D'Ambois. But what about their other brother Simon? Where on earth can we even begin to look for him? And why have none of them looked for George all these years while he's been looking for them?" Miranda wondered aloud.