Seaswept Abandon

by Jo Goodman

  She pulled her eyes away from him, embarrassed for even thinking that in spite of what she knew him to be, there was something attractive about him. "Oh, I would be ready, but no one has come to help me dress. I cannot manage that gown on my own."

  "Nor should you have to." He disappeared into his room and returned after he had rung for a maid. "My apologies, Rahab. I thought I had told someone to see to you."

  Rae believed she hated him most when he was being pleasant. His considerate manner could set her flesh crawling because she knew it was naught but a polished veneer, covering all manner of evil designs.

  "It is hard to believe the guests are upon us," he said smoothly. "Have you given consideration to my request?"

  Rae knew he meant the letter. Not a day passed when he did not remind her of it. "My answer is the same."

  The duke smiled thinly and walked farther into her chamber. Standing in front of her chair, he lifted his cane and drew its tip across her collarbone, pressing it lightly in the hollow of her throat. Rae did not move nor cast her expressionless eyes from his watchful ones. "Do you know that I am not sorry to hear your reply? I have come to look forward to the last day of this revel, when you will become some other man's property."

  "Then you do not intend to snare me for yourself," she said coolly. "I had wondered."

  The duke gave her a little poke with the cane for her insolent attitude, then turned on his heel and made himself comfortable on the sofa. "Snare you? My dear, I shall be happy to give you over to any number of men who are not as fastidious as myself. Or mayhap a woman. It occurred to me that your regrettable penchant for losing your meals might be only because you shun the male sex."

  "I should have known you would put such meaning to my natural disgust of you and the earl."

  "I would beat you for that remark if I were not concerned the welts would show. The others have faded, I see." There had been four thin, bruised lines on her upper arm and back where Nigel had viciously snapped her with his riding crop for answering him sharply once too often. That had occurred nearly a week ago, and today was the first evidence the duke had that the effects of the beating were wearing off. "I caution you not to ply your tongue with careless sharpness, for I can use a crop on your flanks just as simply, and no one will be the wiser."

  Rae's retort hovered on her lips, but the maid's entrance kept her from saying it. "Will you go, your grace, so that I may dress?"

  "No. I think I'd rather stay and watch the preparations. I find a lady's toilette rather fascinating."

  Rae fought to pretend his presence was of no account, knowing well the pleasure he could derive from ruffling her. The maid was little help, for the young girl was all thumbs under the duke's keen eye and became more so as he leveled criticisms upon her hapless head. He was not satisfied with the way the panniers were fastened or the quality of the undergarments the girl had chosen. Rae retreated twice behind the silk screen, murmuring encouragement to the poor maid while she changed into a gossamer chemise and adjusted the panniers herself. Three lacy slips were fastened to her waist before she stepped out from behind the screen.

  The duke's brows rose slightly in appreciation, and the look he leveled on her was one of desire. "You quite take my breath away, Rahab. I may consider taking part in the hunt, after all."

  At her side she felt the maid stiffen, but for herself she pretended not to hear. Rae eased into her gown and bade the girl not close the back until her makeup was applied and her hair dressed. She seated herself at the vanity and touched rouge with a light hand to her cheeks and lips. She had never worn any sort of cosmetics before and thought the artifice made her look the veriest sort of doxy. She did not mention this to Nigel for fear he would make her apply the color more deeply to emphasize her tawdry view of herself.

  Rae's glorious hair was pinned closely to her scalp and the maid slipped an artfully sculpted white wig over her head. Rae did not know the woman who stared back at her through the glass. Thick finger curls dusted with silvery powder hung to one side of her neck and lay softly against the creamy skin of her bare shoulder. Her eyes were brighter than she thought they should be, her lashes and brows darker. Her own flush heightened the color in her cheeks, and her lips parted in surprise when she saw she no longer looked a tart, but a woman of high fashion and some beauty.

  Nigel dismissed the maid and came to stand behind Rae, looking at her in the mirror. "Lovely." He fastened the tiny buttons at the back of her gown and watched with interest as Rae's breasts swelled about the tight line of the bodice.

  Rae's eyes lifted and met Nigel's in the mirror. She did the one thing she promised herself she would not do: she pleaded. "Do not make me go below like this," she begged softly.

  In answer the duke extracted a choker of emeralds from his waistcoat and laid them across Rae's throat. "I think these will do nicely. I have never had a tight purse where my mistresses were concerned." He lifted a few of the silver curls and fastened the necklace's catch.

  "Please. I cannot do this thing." She touched the slender stem of her neck and felt the cool stones. It reminded her of the collar she would wear on the last day of the revel.

  Nigel's hands rested on her shoulders. "At one time I would have said you only have to write the letter to be relieved of your duties as my hostess, but events have changed while you procrastinated."

  Rae half expected him to say that he wanted her to sleep with him, so she was a little startled, though immeasurably relieved, to hear him announce that he required her assistance at the gaming tables.

  "My assistance? In what manner? And more to the point, why should I render it?"

  Nigel's fingers tightened on Rae's shoulders. A little more pressure and he would leave bruises. At her soft gasp he released his grip. "I believe that answers your last question first. Unless you have a penchant for pain, you will do as I ask. Am I understood?"

  "Yes."

  "As to the manner of your assistance, I wish you to watch a certain player's cards for me and apprise me of their worth."

  "How will I do that?"

  "The necklace has four large stones. From your left to right they will signify the spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs. You have only to tap them the appropriate number of times to give me a fair idea of his cards."

  "Perhaps he will not let me see them. Most good players would not allow someone to stand over their shoulder."

  "It will be up to you to see that he does."

  "Why is this so important to you? I have heard Newbrough say that you are nearly unbeatable at cards. You trounce him regularly in the evening after dinner."

  The duke's smile was genuine as his fingers brushed Rae's fragile jawline. "Newbrough would not know how to play his hand if I diagrammed it for him. That is why I am playing for his gambling notes this week."

  Rae remained very still, afraid the slightest move would give her away. Until this moment she was not certain that Jericho was the player the duke intended to cheat. She feigned innocence. "But Newbrough is no match for you. Why must you cheat?"

  "It is not Newbrough I shall be playing against, but another gentleman, one Thomas Adams. His lordship has collected nearly all of the earl's notes and is threatening to ruin him. I mean to win them back. He sent his acceptance of the match only this morning and promises to arrive this evening."

  "It is very decent of you to help your friend."

  Nigel laughed. "You surprise me. I did not expect you to mistake my motives as decent ones. Or to suppose that Newbrough is my friend. He is a convenience, nothing more, a human joke who amuses me from time to time."

  Rae pretended to think that over. "I see. Then you intend to win the notes and ruin the earl yourself."

  "Clever girl. Actually, I have not yet decided which way I will go. I may choose to lose the bundle to Adams and have him do the thing himself."

  "And deprive yourself of so much pleasure? Surely I have heard wrong."

  "Naughty puss," Nigel said, not unkindly, giving h
er cheek a pinch. "I only know now that I want the choice. That is what you will provide for me by keeping a careful eye on my opponent's hand."

  Rae nodded. "As you wish, your grace."

  "So docile and compliant of a sudden," Nigel said. "Can it be you hate Newbrough more than me?"

  "Please don't ask me to choose, your grace, for I'm sure the pressure of it would send me into a faint."

  Nigel helped Rae to her feet and escorted her to the door. Her skirts rustled against his thigh. "Mind your tongue, Miss Saucebox, else I will turn you over my knee in front of my guests."

  For all that it was said in a teasing manner, there was nothing light about the harsh fingers on her elbow. Rahab knew he would do it if she crossed him in public. Gathering the remnants of her much abused pride, she lifted her chin haughtily and waited for him to ease his grip. He surprised her by laughing at her show of disdain and led her down the hallway to the grand staircase where they made a regal descent to greet the guests who were milling about the ballroom.

  Jericho had arrived at Linfield some ninety minutes earlier and like other early arrivals had been shown to his room in the great house's west wing so that he might freshen before the dancing began. Unlike the other guests, he had used most of his time to prowl the corridors, hoping to catch sight of Rahab among the flurry of black-skirted females who moved with frantic purpose through the hallways, fetching fresh linens and water and tisanes for an aching head.

  When he returned to his room, Drew Goodfellow, who was serving as his valet, saw that the tour had been without reward. He shook his head at the pain clouding Jericho's eyes and set about laying out his evening attire.

  "I'll have a look meself as soon as you've gone to the ballroom," he said. "It will be safer for me to find her and not so remarkable if I should stop to talk to her."

  "Tell Rae that I must see her." Jericho sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. "Convince her, even if she swears she will have none of me."

  "Now why would she say that?"

  Restlessly Jericho moved from the bed to the window. "I treated her most vilely when I saw her in Hemmings. She has good reason to want nothing to do with me."

  "And that's the reason you've been goin' about whipping yourself these past weeks. Why didn't you speak of it?"

  "And give you disgust of me, too?"

  "I do not think you could do that."

  "If you did not think less of me for what I did to Rae, then I would surely think less of you."

  Drew was silent as he considered Jericho's softly spoken recriminations. "So that's the way of it," he said at last. "You thought to use force when persuasion would not suffice."

  "Aye. And was most bitterly cruel before... and after."

  "I see. Then Rae is the reason you wrestled so long with the duke's invitation to play for Newbrough's notes. I wondered why you did not leap at the chance."

  Jericho nodded. "I thought to lure the duke to London when it became clear Rahab would not leave Linfield. I still do not know if I have done the right thing in coming here. Of late everything seems to be going awry. I originally thought to play Newbrough for the titles to his lands, but it appears the wily fox has chosen the duke to champion him. I strongly suspect the duke hopes to wrest the bulk of Stanhope's debts from me. The letter accompanying his invitation said as much."

  "The play will not be dull."

  "Without question," Jericho said dryly.

  "Well, let me turn you out, laddie, and then I shall see to the errant miss. I've got a smooth tongue when I've a mind for it, and I'll take care not to give her more offense of you than she already has."

  Jericho allowed himself to be turned out, as Drew suggested. He cut a fine figure in ivory breeches, white stockings, and black shoes with a large silver buckle. His waistcoat was also ivory satin with a delicate pattern of flowers raised in silver thread. He wore a neckcloth arranged in a simple fall, and his jacket was ice blue, which could not fail to draw comparison with his eyes. Jericho noted his appearance in the cheval glass critically and decided he looked every bit a blue blood. He picked up his ebony cane and made a ridiculous courtly bow to his valet.

  Drew laughed, taking a moment to arrange the ruffle at Jericho's wrist. "You'll do, laddie. Take yourself off and let me find Red. Good luck with your play."

  The lilting strains of violins from the stringed orchestra threaded in and out of the gay conversation of the duke's guests as Jericho entered the ballroom. It gave every appearance of being quite a squeeze, and economy played no role in the elegantly decorated ballroom. Bright silks hung from the walls and the chairs had been covered with complementing colors. Lush hothouse greenery was arranged on a number of tables and in the corners of the room, giving one the sense of being out-of-doors.

  Jericho was announced at the door by Stephens and quickly swept into the reception line by a trio of London acquaintances. "Wait until you meet the duke's latest amour," one of them whispered in Jericho's ear. "She's a stunner." Jericho found himself smiling at their enthusiasm, and the smile served him well, for it aided his composure as he was introduced to the duke.

  Jericho and Nigel took their full measure of each other in but the blink of an eye, and for his part the duke welcomed matching wits at the gaming table with an adversary of some strength. Jericho's thoughts were not so dissimilar, but he had no real liking for the match that lay ahead of him.

  Jericho's head tilted slightly as the duke turned to the woman at his side. "My dear, may I present Lord Thomas Adams. He is, for all intents and purposes, our most honored guest. His lordship and I will be playing for Newbrough's notes. Adams, permit me, this lovely lady is my hostess, Miss Rahab McClellan."

  There was an infinitesimal pause before Jericho acknowledged Rae's curtsy by making a leg of his own. "Your servant," he said coolly, even as he marveled that he could speak the words. He sounded as if he had ice water in his veins, when in truth his blood was boiling. Thoughts tumbled through his head over which he had little control. Folding her in his arms and kissing her senseless vied with reaching for the slender stem of her white throat and strangling the life out of her. The duke's hostess, indeed! She had become his whore, and if he was any judge she appeared to be enjoying the notoriety.

  "Honored, my lord," Rae said calmly, her composure never slipping. She had an advantage over Jericho, because not only had she been expecting him in the ballroom, she had watched him from the corner of her eye long before he realized it was she standing by the duke. "It was kind of you to accept the duke's invitation. Many of our guests would have been sadly put out if you had chosen not to come. They have remarked upon looking forward to the play between you and his grace."

  "Surely no more than I, Miss McClellan," Jericho responded pleasantly. He turned to the duke. "But how is it that your guests know my business?"

  "As to that," Nigel explained, "you only have to look at Lord Newbrough for the answer."

  "I might have known. I suppose there is nothing for it, though I can't say I like our game being made a sideshow."

  "I assure you, there will be privacy. I have invited only a select number of friends to view the playing, and you may choose any of your own friends to watch. Of course, the earl will be there. They are, after all, his notes. Miss McClellan will escort you to the library where the play will take place, and you may inspect it at your leisure. If there is anything not to your liking, I will alter it, if you but bring it to my attention."

  "You are generous," Jericho said. "I am certain the accommodations will be most satisfactory. Do not fear that I will keep your hostess long, no doubt you wish the first dance with her."

  "Indeed, I have claimed that honor."

  "Then mayhap she will give me the second." Jericho's composure was pushed to new limits when Rae did not respond of her own accord, but looked first to the duke for his permission.

  Upon seeing Nigel's nearly imperceptible encouragement, Rae smiled serenely at Jericho. "I will look forward to it." She
placed her hand on Nigel's arm briefly. "If you will excuse me, your grace, I'll show Lord Adams the library."

  Jericho and Rae said nothing until the library doors were closed behind them, and even then their tones were hushed.

  "You would do well to keep your voice down," she told him, breaking his tight grip on her elbow and moving several steps away. "There is no telling who is on the other side of the door."

  "I own to some surprise that you would mention it to me."

  Rae turned on him sharply. "What do you mean by that? Do you think I would betray you?"

  Jericho shrugged, his eyes wandering about the room. "You are his mistress now and seemingly comfortable in the role. I know not what to think."

  "You ass," she hissed. "If I am his mistress, then you are King George!"

  "What are you saying?" He looked directly at Rae, his cerulean eyes boring into hers, searching for the truth.

  "I am saying you quite ruined me for becoming any man's lover. I cannot stomach even the thought of being fondled by any of your sex, and the duke has discovered this on three separate occasions. It is quite a situation, is it not? Nigel cannot touch me because of what you did to me, and it is difficult to know whether to be grateful or sad. I see you do not know what to make of it, either. No, do not come near me, else I swear I will toss my dinner at your feet. An odd form of protection, isn't it, but I assure you its efficacy cannot be denied."

  Jericho's arms lowered slowly and he took a step backward. Inwardly he recoiled from the scorn and rejection in Rae's face and voice. He had not expected her to leap into his arms, but neither had he anticipated such virulence. She was right about him not knowing what to make of the tangle in which he had trapped her. His heart leapt with gladness that she was not the duke's paramour, but he could not rejoice that he had given her such a disgust of intimacy. "Mayhap it is only the duke who causes you to react in this way."