by Kruger, Mary
"Of course you'll give in. It's inevitable, my dear. Ah, for someone who is so thin, you're all woman, aren't you?"
"Stop it!” Futilely she pushed at his hand, fumbling at her bodice, and he caught her wrist, holding it behind her. "Please, let me go—"
"Give into me, Cecily. You want to, you know you do."
"No!” Badly frightened now, knowing she was fighting for her soul, she twisted her head, eluding his kiss. "No! I won't give in. I don't wish to marry you, sir."
Edgewater went quite still, though he didn't loosen his grip. "I don't believe I heard you aright, Cecily. Of course you want to marry me."
"No. I don't—"
"And the sooner, the better,” he went on, relentlessly. "I believe I will secure a special license. Yes.” He nodded. “That’s what I’ll do. Soon we will be man and wife—"
"No! I'll never marry you, you—toad!"
"A toad, is it?” Edgewater's voice had gone dangerously quiet. "A toad? No one calls me a toad, madam!” His hands gripped her shoulders, hard. "No one, do you hear? Now you will marry me, I'll make certain of that. And you'll pay."
"No!” Cecily pushed against his chest, just as his painful grip on her shoulders loosened, and twisted free. There was a tearing sound, as of fabric being rent, but she couldn't stop to assess the damage. Without a backward glance, she took to her heels and ran, towards the house and safety.
Edgewater started to his feet, took a few steps forward, and then stopped. Damnation! That hadn't gone at all as he had planned. It was all her fault, the little jade. If she hadn't encouraged him before, he wouldn't have attempted what he had. And she had called him a toad. His hands clenched into fists at that, the ultimate insult. No one called him toad, not since his boyhood days in the village. He had since learned there were other ways of getting revenge beyond fighting openly. Cecily would realize that herself, quite soon. He would make certain of that.
In the dim light he pulled out his watch, and frowned. No time to go after her, now; it was nearly time to meet with the members of his conspiracy. Pulling a mask from his pocket and reaching up into the trellis for the domino he had secreted there earlier, he cloaked himself in his disguise. Cecily had served her purpose, allowing him to leave the ball on a quite reasonable pretext. On her, now, would rest the burden of why she had been in the gardens, at night, apparently alone. Served her right, he thought, and stepped out onto the path, the folds of the domino swirling around him. She would soon learn the consequences of spurning his advances. And, his satisfaction increasing with the thought, it would be his pleasure to teach her.
Edgewater walked down the path towards his destination, his face grim and yet smug, his mind determined. Nothing would stop him now.
And, near the bower, a shadow detached itself from the foliage and followed noiselessly behind.
The path was dark, but Cecily headed unerringly towards safety, somehow avoiding branches of trees that seemed to reach out to grab her, roots that rose to trip. She knew only that she had to reach the house, and never—never!—did she want Edgewater to set hands on her again. He had hurt her, and, not only hadn't he cared, he had expected her to like it! A shudder went through her, making her knees go weak, almost making her crumple to the ground, but sheer willpower held her up, kept her going. She didn't care about the scandal, about the plans that had been made. All she wanted was never to have to see him again, and to be safe.
She rounded a turn in the path, and there, still some distance ahead, was the house, the brilliant glow of its light spilling out onto terrace and garden, the strains of a country dance reaching her distantly. Edgewater wouldn't dare accost her now, so close, she was thinking, when of a sudden a man appeared before her on the path.
She gave a little cry, but even as she did so she recognized him, knew him with every fiber of her body. Alex. Safety. Without thought, Cecily ran straight into his arms.
Chapter Ten
Alex rocked back as Cecily hurled herself against him. “God’s teeth! Cecily—”
“Hide me!” She clutched at his lapels. “Don’t let him find me.”
“Edgewater?” He looked over her shoulder, but there was no sign of the other man.
“Please! Don’t let him find me. Please!”
A ruse, that was what this was. He forced himself to think, past her soft, rounded body pressed against his, past the fragrance of lilacs that rose from her hair, past the warmth of her breath on his neck. He wanted nothing more than to put his arms around her and hold her close, promising her safety, promising her—what? Whatever it was, he couldn’t afford it. He had not come to Richmond to hold a dangerously attractive woman in his arms, pleasant though it might be. “Where is he?” he rasped, holding her away from him.
“I—don’t know.” Cecily shuddered in his grasp. “I thought he was behind me, but—”
“He’s not,” Alex said calmly, stepping away, determined to learn what was behind this. Only then did he take in her appearance, and his breath hissed out through his teeth. “God’s teeth, Cecily, what did he do to you?”
“He—” Cecily glanced down, and saw for the first time that her bodice was torn. With a little moan, of mortification, of protest, she put her hands up to her face. “Oh, no.”
“What did he do to you?” Alex’s hands on her arms were as urgent as his voice. He could see other signs now of what she had been through: her disordered hair; the bruises that stood out starkly on her shoulders; and, most telling of all, her eyes, huge, dark, blank with shock. This was no ruse. “Tell me. What did he do to you?”
“He—he wouldn’t let me go, and I struggled, I really did—”
“Did he hurt you?” he demanded, rage getting the better of him, and she recoiled. He forced himself to relax, making his voice gentle and patient. “Cecily. Did he ravish you?”
“N-no. B-but he tried, and if I hadn’t got away—oh, Alex, I was so scared!”
“Hush, Cecily, hush.” He drew her close against him, wrapping his arms about her, rocking her back and forth. “You’re safe, little one. I’ve got you now. Nothing’s going to hurt you.” Slowly he backed up, until he was leaning against a tree. With any luck, they would be seen neither from the terrace nor the house. The last thing Cecily needed just now was to have a scandal break about her.
“If he comes after me—”
“He won’t.” Alex’s voice was unintentionally grim. As outrageous as Edgewater’s behavior towards Cecily had been, Alex suspected it had been intended to cover some deeper, darker purpose. He couldn’t go after Edgewater to find the evidence he so badly needed, not with Cecily shivering in his arms. Alex, who let nothing get in the way of his work or his pleasure, was at last putting something else first. “If he does, he’ll have me to deal with.”
Cecily’s hold on his lapels tightened. “When I was running, so scared, all I could think of was getting someplace safe, and then I saw you, and I knew I was safe.”
“Did you, little one?” His fingers smoothed her hair comfortingly, feeling her curls soft and silky under his fingers. She felt so good in his arms, so right. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise.” My darling, he almost added, and just as nearly dropped a kiss on those soft, luxuriant curls. God’s teeth, what was wrong with him? “What we’ll have to do now is get you home.”
“But—” Cecily pulled back and looked at him, the blank look gone from her eyes. “I thought, if I could get back into the house, I could fix my gown—”
“Little fool,” he said, tenderly. “Someone would be bound to see you, and you’d be in the suds for sure. This is too interesting a tit-bit for the gossips to ignore. You’d have to marry Edgewater, then.”
Cecily’s hands flew to her face. “No!”
“Or me.” At that, she looked at him through her fingers. “The scandal, you know. Did you come in your own carriage?”
“No, Edgewater brought us. Oh, dear, how we’re to get home—”
“With me, of course. I’ll find your m
other and sister—”
“You won’t tell them!”
“No, little, one, I’ll think of something. The important thing now is to get you to my carriage.” Slowly, reluctantly, he let his arms drop. “Are you feeling more the thing?”
“Yes, but I must look a sight.”
Alex’s teeth gleamed briefly in the moonlight. “It has been my experience that when a woman begins to worry about her appearance, she is recovering.”
“Your vast experience, sir?”
“Indeed. Come, little one.” He took her arm. “We’ll go find my carriage.”
Sometime later, Alex’s carriage drew up in front of Marlow House. “I can’t thank you enough, sir,” the duchess said effusively, clasping Alex’s hand between hers. “To think that Cecily took such a bad fall! Well, I always have thought that Lady Radcliffe’s gardens weren’t well-enough lighted. I’m just grateful you were there, sir, to help my dear daughter. Think of the scandal if anyone had seen her!”
“Indeed,” Alex murmured, glancing over at Cecily, who had sat, quiet and pale, during the ride home.
“And if she had been seen with you, sir! No offense, of course, but your reputation—”
Alex’s lips twitched. “Of course, madam. Let me help you.” He stepped down from the carriage and held out his hand, aiding each lady out. His own inclination was to leave, now that he’d seen them safely home. Cecily needed rest, not an endless recounting of her adventures tonight. The duchess, however, would have none of it. Nothing would do but that he come inside and receive the duke’s gratitude. At that, it had been Cecily’s lips which had twitched. Alex found he was rather looking forward to meeting the redoubtable Duke of Marlow.
The duke was sitting in the drawing room, comfortably ensconced before the fire with a book and a glass of brandy, when his wife and daughters trooped in. He rose to greet them, after only one brief, regretful glance at his book. “You’re home early,” he commented. “Was the ball not to your liking?”
“The ball was wonderful,” Diana said. “But Cecily—”
“Cecily had a mishap,” the duchess broke in, frowning at her younger daughter. “You know how clumsy she can be, Marlow. Fortunately Lord St. Clair was there to help. I don’t know what we would have done without him.”
“I see.” Marlow took in Cecily’s appearance in one quick, comprehensive glance, and then smiled. “Go to bed, puss. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”
“Yes, Papa,” Cecily whispered. Both girls dropped brief curtsies and then left, shepherded out by their mother. Marlow watched them go, frowning thoughtfully, and then turned to Alex, who stood near the door, apparently at ease. In reality, he was wondering how the duke would feel about his daughter having been rescued by a rake.
“St. Clair,” the duke said easily, extending his hand. “I don’t believe I’ve had the honor, though I knew your father. A fine man.”
“Yes, Your Grace, he was,” Alex said.
“Please, sit. Care for a brandy?”
“Yes, thank you.” Alex chose an armchair across from the duke, and watched as he poured the brandy. Marlow was a spare, mild-looking man, not above medium height, with fair hair thinning at the top, and none of the airs one would expect from a man in his exalted position. A modest man, in fact. Alex, however, was not deceived, and he eyed his host carefully as he sat down again.
“Who was it?” Marlow asked, without preamble.
“Edgewater,” Alex answered, equally terse, after recovering from his momentary surprise.
“That man-milliner? I’d not have thought it.”
“There’s more to him than one would think.” Alex took a sip from his glass, aware that the duke was watching him keenly. “Fine brandy, your Grace.”
“Thank you. What is your interest in all this, St. Clair?”
“I happened to be there when your daughter needed help.”
Marlow’s eyes, the same golden color as Cecily’s, held his. “I see,” he said, finally, and Alex wondered just what it was the duke did see. “Wellington spoke well of you, I understand,” he went on, apparently at a tangent. “Said that without the work that you and others like you did, we might well have lost the war.”
“I was just doing my job.” Alex gazed into his glass, acutely uncomfortable with this turn in the conversation. There was nothing so very heroic in what he had done.
“I see. Still, it makes me wonder why you were in the Radcliffe garden. Watching my daughter? Or—someone else?”
Alex looked up at that, to see Marlow regarding him shrewdly. A dangerous opponent, he thought, and, he would wager, an even better ally. “I can’t tell you, sir,” he said, frankly. “Except that it might be a good idea to keep Cecily—Lady Cecily—away from Edgewater.”
“Like that, is it?”
Alex’s face was very innocent. “Like what, sir?”
“Nothing.” Marlow rose, extending his hand. “We are in your debt, St. Clair. Be certain that I won’t forget it.”
“I’m glad I was there, sir. Lady Cecily is a fine girl.”
“So she is. The best of all my children, between you and me. So it is fair to say that you like her?”
“I hardly know her, sir. I do have a great deal of respect for her. She’s very special, if you don’t mind my saying so. She’ll need someone more special than Edgewater.”
“Quite.” Marlow’s eyes twinkled with the same mischievous sparkle that Alex had often seen in Cecily’s. “Am I to take it, then, that you would like to pay your addresses to her?”
Alex looked startled. “I, sir?”
“Yes, you. I never liked Edgewater, but Cecily seemed to have her heart set on him. However, I think you would be good for her.”
“It’s not something I’ve thought of,” Alex said, slowly, but the memory of Cecily in his arms this evening gave the lie to his words. It felt good. It felt right. “However—”
“However, it’s early days yet. No need to say anything to Cecily just yet.”
“No. She’ll need time to recover from tonight. Sir.” Alex turned in the doorway, his shoulders squared. “You’ve surely heard of my reputation. What makes you believe I’d be suitable for your daughter?”
Marlow eyed him for a long moment without speaking. “I made a mistake, allowing her to become engaged to Edgewater,” he said, finally. “I don’t make the same mistake twice. Besides,” he added, grinning suddenly, “my reputation wasn’t much better when I was young.”
“You, sir?” Alex said, grinning as well.
“Yes, I. You’ll be better for her than Edgewater.”
The smile faded from Alex’s face. “Sir, it will be best if you handle Edgewater carefully. He’s a dangerous man.”
Marlow’s face darkened. “Frankly, I’d like to take a horsewhip to him.”
“I wouldn’t advise it, sir. Be assured he’ll pay for this. Other people are watching him.”
The duke eyed him keenly. “Like that, is it?”
“Possibly. And that’s all I can say, sir. Except—keep him away from Cecily.”
“You may be certain I will,” Marlow said, grimly. “Thank you, St. Clair, for your help.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Good evening,” Alex answered and, bemused by the evening’s events, made his way home. God’s teeth! He was practically engaged. How had that happened?
The old cottage, tucked deep into the woods bordering the Radcliffe estate, looked completely abandoned. Tiles had fallen from the roof, the weatherboarding badly needed a coat of whitewash, and the shutters were tightly closed. Not tightly enough, however. Age and weather had warped one of them, so that from it streamed a narrow, golden beam of light, showing that, on this night at least, the cottage was not deserted. Parsons, creeping closer with great care, wondered how Lord Edgewater had known of it. A smart man, the marquess. Inclined to think himself above everybody, too, and that could make him careless. Like now, not realizing that the same chink in the shutter that let out light would also a
llow someone to listen in.
“Gentlemen, there is no longer time for such squeamishness!” Edgewater’s voice. Parsons knew it well by now, as he knew a great many things about the man. He wondered how Lord St. Clair had known enough to set watch on Edgewater, but he no longer shook his head over it. St. Clair had an instinct for such things; ‘twas what had made him so invaluable in the service of his country.
“I don’t like it, that’s all.” Another voice, Cornish by the sound of it. Parsons carefully put his eye to the chink. Aye, a fine group of traitors. He wished he had more men here, so that each could be followed, though that would increase his own chances of being discovered. Best now to watch each man carefully, cloaked and masked though they were.
“Our aim was decided long ago.” Edgewater again, his voice edged with ice. “If you want out, I’m sure we can find a way to manage it.”
“And have the same thing happen to us that did to the Cockney?” Another voice, with the accents of London. A Cit, Parsons thought. “Oh, yes, I have my sources, too. I heard of his end.”
“Our leader thought it was necessary,” Edgewater said, smoothly, and let the silence build. “The Cockney, it seems, was a spy.”
Uproar. Parsons couldn’t help grinning at the reaction of the men inside, their voices raised in panic and outrage, though he at last had the proof that the conspiracy had been behind Barnes’s death.
“Gentlemen!” Edgewater brought the flat of his hand down on the table, hard. “Obviously we have not been discovered, or we would not be here now, would we?”
Slowly, the hubbub faded. “Aye,” said another man, finally. “I’ve not had no one watching me.”
“Or I,” another chimed in, and other voices agreed. True enough, Parsons thought, but by tomorrow, they would be watched. By their accents, most of the men had traveled great distances to come to this meeting. It would be easy enough to check the local inns, see which had a man from Lancashire staying there, which a man from Wales, and identify the conspirators accordingly. A widespread plot, encompassing all of Britain, apparently. Parsons felt the same surge of satisfaction and excitement he’d experienced in previous assignments, when the long, tedious hours of watching and following had at last begun to pay off. They’d clean up this nest of vipers, see if they didn’t!
