“I can afford this.” He shifted the pieces in his hand and they glittered in the moonlight. “This was given to me by my father on my last birthday before he and my mother were killed. I have always cherished it in the belief that it kept them close to me even in death.” He chuckled. “Foolish, I know.”
“Not at all,” she said, touched by his words.
“I knew we would be apart, at least for a short while, and I thought…that is, I hoped…”
“That if we each took half of the coin, it would keep us together, in spirit if not in body?”
“Something like that,” he said gruffly as if embarrassed by the sentimental gesture. “I love you, Rachael.”
“And I love you.” She took one of the halves, still warm from his hand, and closed her fingers around it. “And I shall keep this forever.”
“Forever,” he echoed, and drew her back into his arms. Her lips met his once again. She lost herself in the joy of being in his arms and ignored a tiny feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that such sheer happiness was far too wonderful to believe.
Or to last.
Two
LADY BRADBOURNE’S BALL was as exciting as Rachael had imagined, but she knew full well the magic in the air, the promise the night held, had little to do with welcoming the New Year.
“Lord Gresham, may I offer my compliments to your daughter.” The portly gentleman addressing her father cast her an appreciative, but not impertinent, glance. “She is looking exceptionally lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, Lord Caruthers.” Rachael offered him a genuine smile. She could well afford to be gracious tonight.
“Indeed she is.” Her father surveyed her carefully, his look cool and assessing. “She seems to be having an exceptionally good time as well.”
“It is the start of a new year, father,” she said lightly. “And what better way to welcome 1805 than by indulging in festivities such as these?”
“And enjoying them.” Lord Caruthers beamed and raised his glass.
“Of course.” Her father’s eyes narrowed as if he could see inside her soul. As if he knew what she was thinking. As if he knew her plans. Unease shivered through her.
She ignored it and raised her chin, meeting her father’s gaze directly, her courage fueled by the knowledge that it would be a very long time before she saw him again. If she ever saw him again. “It’s a night to look forward to the future.”
“And is there anything in particular you are looking forward to in the coming year, Miss Gresham?” Lord Caruthers said.
A new life. Freedom. And love. “Why, my lord, I suppose I wish for no more than anyone else. Peace, of course. Prosperity. Happiness. Health—”
“A suitable marriage,” her father said with a hard, firm tone.
“Indeed.” Lord Caruthers chuckled. “What else would one wish for a daughter than a match with a man of good fortune and respectable title? Although I daresay there should be no end of eager suitors for Miss Gresham’s hand.”
“Why, my lord, you will quite turn my head.” Rachael laughed, confident in the knowledge that she did indeed look her best this evening. Her dark hair was pinned on top of her head in a cascade of curls, and a glimpse in a mirror had showed her a complexion that glowed and eyes that sparkled. She alone knew the anticipation and excitement that put the blush on her cheek had nothing to do with the ball.
“Would you honor me with a dance, Miss Gresham?” Lord Caruthers offered his arm.
“I should be delighted.” And why not? This would be her last ball in London for a very long time.
She took Lord Caruthers’ arm and allowed him to lead her to the floor. She tossed her father a brilliant smile over her shoulder and was rewarded by the dark look on his face. Of course, he was not used to seeing her as animated as she was tonight. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. The simple knowledge that love and freedom waited for her at the end of the evening infused her with a recklessness that could not be denied.
She and Lord Caruthers started the steps of the country dance and she wondered if anyone besides her father had noted the difference in her manner tonight and if they’d remark on it in the days to come.
And wondered, as well, where she and Jason would be when they did.
Much later that evening, Rachael paced before a discreetly placed stone bench in the garden where she and Jason had arranged to meet, and fought to stifle a growing sense of panic.
She’d surreptitiously retrieved her cloak and slipped out of the house shortly before the appointed hour. When the time of their meeting had come and gone, she’d refused to entertain so much as a moment of worry. Any number of annoying but inconsequential things could have delayed Jason. She’d been confident he would arrive at any moment.
But half an hour passed, then an hour, and now he was more than two hours overdue. It was growing late and soon she’d be forced to return home with her father. She drew her cloak tighter around her against the crisp night air and the small but distinct beginnings of despair.
Where is he? Surely there was some rational excuse for his failure to appear. Perhaps there was an accident with his carriage. Why, at this very moment he could be lying unconscious by the side of the road, the victim of a still-undiscovered mishap. Or he could have been set upon by thieves. Injured in some grievous manner and be, even now, struggling to make his way here.
Or he might not be coming at all.
She tried not to consider the possibility, but with every minute that passed, it was harder and harder to ignore a nagging fear in the back of her mind, a scornful voice growing ever louder.
He’s not coming. He never planned to come. He’s had his fun with you and now he’s gone. You’ll never see him again.
“No,” she said, barely conscious of speaking the words aloud. “He loves me.”
Love? What does he know of love? He’s a man just like every other man. Men want women only for their own purposes. To advance their ambitions. To slake their lust. He is no better than any of them. No better than your father.
“No!” She curled her hands into tight fists and forced the doubts away. Jason wasn’t at all like her father. Jason loved her. She knew it. And how could she possibly be wrong about something this important to her life? To her heart?
“Miss Gresham?” The call came from beyond the bend in the garden walk and was no doubt a servant sent to find her. It was obviously time to return home. Very well. She squared her shoulders. The evening had not turned out as she had planned, but it was only a single night, after all. She and Jason would have a lifetime together. There was a good reason, an excellent reason, why he hadn’t met her. Perhaps he had left word at the house. Or he would arrange to see her tomorrow. He would explain what had happened and someday they’d be amused by it all. Somehow, someway, he would come for her and then they would be together always. She refused to consider any other possibility.
Rachael started down the path, trying to come up with a plausible explanation as to why she’d spent half the night in a garden on a cold winter eve. Hopefully her father hadn’t taken note of her absence until he was prepared to leave. Perhaps he’d believe she simply wanted fresh air. It was rather stuffy inside. Yes, of course, he’d accept that excuse. All she needed was a bit of luck.
She hurried toward the house, trying her best to ignore the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach that on this first morning of the New Year, luck was in remarkably short supply.
“Rachael.” Lord Gresham handed his greatcoat to the butler and nodded toward the library. “Take off your things and join me.”
“Couldn’t it wait until morning, Father?” Rachael pulled off her gloves with a careful deliberation that belied the unease that had built within her throughout the carriage ride home. Her father had said little, but there was a familiar air of anger about him and she’d taken pains not to cross him in the close confines of the vehicle. His mood aside, in spite of her best efforts, her own emotions were far too unstead
y to face him tonight. “It has been a long day and I am exceedingly tired and—”
“No.” His voice rang hard and cold in the shadowed foyer of their London house. “Now.”
“Very well.” She took off her cloak and handed it to the butler. A gleam of sympathy shone in his eyes. Everyone in the household knew that particular tone of her father’s did not bode well.
She stepped into the library and closed the doors after her. Her father seated himself behind his imposing mahogany desk, situated in such as way as to be the first thing that drew the eye upon entering the room. A desk as intimidating as the man who sat behind it.
She steeled her nerves and met his gaze. “Father, I should like to retire, so if—”
“You didn’t really think he’d come, did you?” The question rang in the room.
She caught her breath. He knows? “What do you—”
“Do not compound your lies with yet another.” His clipped words were cool, but rage burned in his eyes. “I know all about Norcross. And you.”
“How could you possibly know?” The words slipped out before she had a chance to stop them. She knew better than most that the best way to deal with her father—the best way to survive her father—was to hold her tongue.
“You underestimate me, my dear.” He picked up a pen and toyed with it idly, much as he toyed with her. His gaze never left hers. “I thought you would have learned by now. Indeed, I thought I had taught you better. It is my business to know everything that goes on in my household. My servants are well paid to make certain I do. And servants tend to note far more than the rest of us.
“I know you’ve defied me in the matter of Norcross. I know you’ve been meeting him and I know you’d arranged to meet with him again tonight.”
She gripped her hands in front of her to keep them from trembling. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, this would be the last time she’d face his anger. Once she left for America with Jason, she’d very likely never see her father again.
“I know you planned to run off with him.”
Fear caught in her throat.
“And I further know he booked passage on a ship set to sail by dawn.”
“By dawn?” she said without thinking. If Jason didn’t come for her soon—
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
It might have been disappointment or dread or the simple weariness of struggling against panic, but abruptly something inside her snapped. “What do you want me to say?”
He raised a brow. “Ah, the sharp-spoken chit from earlier this evening returns. But perhaps I was ahead of myself. Perhaps it is best if you simply listen for the moment.”
He rose to his feet. “As I said, I know of your plans to meet Norcross tonight, but I’m not entirely certain you know of his plans.”
Her heart stilled. “His plans? I don’t understand.”
“It’s really quite simple, my dear, although I’m rather surprised you haven’t realized it yourself by now. Particularly since the hour is late and he has not seen fit to appear.” He strolled casually to the fireplace and peered closely at the cased clock on the mantel. “Norcross only purchased one passage.”
“One passage?” Why would Jason purchase only one passage? That made no sense whatsoever. “You must be mistaken. One passage would mean—”
“One traveler. Only one traveler.”
Her eyes widened with the shock of his words. His lies. “I don’t believe you.”
“Regardless, the fact of the matter remains.” He shrugged. “He never intended to bring you with him. Nor did he intend to meet you tonight.” He nodded at the clock. “In another few hours he will be on his way to America alone. And out of your life forever.”
“No.” Panic swelled from deep inside her. “It’s not true. Jason loves me. He would never—”
“He would and he has.”
“You don’t know that!”
“Rachael, will you never listen to me?” His tone hardened. “I know everything. I always will. You can hide nothing from me.”
“You’re lying,” she said, past caring as to his reaction. “You must be. He would never leave me. He loves me.”
“Love?” He snorted in disdain. “Don’t place your hopes on love, girl. Love doesn’t exist outside of the words of poets too stupid to understand the ways of the world. Power and wealth are all that matter, not silly sentiment. Now then.” He stepped back to the desk. “This incident has made it clear it’s past time I choose a husband for you—”
“I’m going to marry Jason!” Her voice rose in newfound defiance.
“Then where is he?” Her father emphasized every word; the ominous tones reverberated in the book-lined room and hung in the air. And clawed at her heart.
“He’ll come for me,” she said under her breath.
He’s not coming. He never planned to come.
“He loves me.”
He’s had his fun with you and now he’s gone. You’ll never see him again.
“Believe as you wish for the moment. You will accept the truth soon enough.” He glanced at a few papers lying on the desk. “And you will marry whom I choose. When I choose.”
“No, never!” Anger born of a desperate pain swept through her.
“Oh, much sooner than that, I should think.” His manner was almost casual. “Lord Fenton has shown a certain amount of interest, and I—”
“Lord Fenton’s interest in marriage will not last.”
Her father froze. “Why?”
“No honorable man will have me now.” She smiled with a bittersweet sense of triumph.
His eyes narrowed. “What are you saying?”
“Why, Father.” She fairly spat the words. “How can you ask? I thought you knew everything.”
“He has ruined you?”
“No, Father.” Her chin jerked up. “I have ruined myself. And I am more than willing to let the entire world know of my indiscretions to avoid marriage to a man of your choosing. As I said: no honorable man would marry me now.”
He stalked toward her and it was all she could do to keep the terror that held her motionless from showing on her face. He gripped her chin and forced her gaze to his. Never had she seen such enmity in his eyes. “You should have been a son. If your mother had had more than one brat in her, I’d have an heir and not a worthless slut of a girl. Pity she died before doing her duty.”
He stared as if looking at her for the first time. “She was a pretty thing, though. You quite resemble her.” His grip tightened and he turned her head to one side, then the other. “You are indeed just like your mother.”
Without warning, he released her and cracked the backside of his hand across her face. Pain shot through her and she staggered under the blow. “She was a whore, too.”
Her face throbbed, but she resisted the need to cover it with her hand as well as the urge to cower before him. If indeed Jason had left her, if her heart was broken and her life ruined, she’d rather die here and now than let her father believe he had won. A courage she’d never suspected sprang from the sure and certain knowledge that she had nothing to lose.
She straightened and smiled. “Perhaps it is better to be a dead whore than live in your company.”
A glimmer of what might have been admiration flashed in his eyes. “Well, well. Can it be? Is it possible that I have underestimated you? Not that it matters.” Her father considered her for a long silent moment. “You will leave for the country within the hour.”
“I prefer to remain here.” This was where Jason would look for her. If she were sent to Gresham Manor, it would be days or longer before he could reach her.
“And I would prefer not to have my name at the center of a scandal. Besides, you could well be with child.” He turned away in disgust and then glanced back and studied her curiously. “You think he’ll still come for you, don’t you?”
She met his gaze defiantly but held her tongue.
“Women are such fools. You deser
ve what you get. All of you.” He shook his head. “It is unfortunate, though. This is not at all what I had planned.” He seated himself behind the desk. “You are of little use to me now.” Dismissal sounded in his voice and he pointedly turned his gaze to the papers on the desktop.
“Then the night has turned out well after all.” She whirled and moved toward the doors, flinging them open as quickly as possible. She would not put it past her father to spring from his seat and come after her, but she heard nothing to indicate that. She snapped the doors closed and at once her bravado vanished.
She sagged against the doors. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her father’s words echoed in her head.
She didn’t believe him, of course. Not for a moment. Jason would never leave her behind. He would never leave her at all.
Then where is he?
Three
WHERE IS HE?
The question had pounded in her head since the night of the ball and the confrontation with her father. For three long days, every hour, every minute, over and over like a discordant melody.
Where is he?
Rachael paced the length of the upstairs parlor. With its tall windows overlooking the countryside, it had always been her favorite room at Gresham Manor. Now it was little more than a prison. She’d considered taking a horse and riding back to London to find Jason, but the servants had been instructed to watch her every move. And indeed, what choice did they have if they wished to keep their positions? They were not unkind, merely diligent. Besides, even if she could have engineered an escape, she had no hope of finding Jason on her own.
She had managed to scribble a quick note to Lord Lyndhurst before she’d left London, imploring him to find Jason and let him know where she was. She’d begged her maid to deliver it to the earl at his home in the city, but she couldn’t be completely confident the girl had done so. Still, it was the only hope she had.
Where is he?
She tried not to think about her father’s claims. Tried not to dwell on the possibility that Jason had never intended to take her with him to America. It was absurd, of course. She knew him better than that. Didn’t she?
Secrets of a Perfect Night Page 14
