Nicola Cornick Collection

by Nicola Cornick

  “I don’t keep them,” Susanna said. She tasted the brandy. It was surprisingly good for such a villainously rough inn.

  “No,” Dev agreed. “That is the interesting bit. You are not a fortune hunter after all. I misread you completely.” He rested his elbows on the table and looked at her. “The Susanna Burney I used to know would never have deliberately set out to break the heart of an impressionable young man solely for money,” he said. “She would never have ruined the future hopes of his childhood sweetheart simply because she was paid to do so.” He looked down at the brandy swirling in his glass and then up, directly into her eyes. Susanna’s heart jerked. “What happened to you, Susanna?” Dev said softly. “What could have made you become like this?”

  She almost told him. I lost your child, Devlin. I was alone, I was sick and in the poorhouse … I would have done almost anything I had to do in order to survive. She thought of the tiny body wrapped in the shawl, buried in the pauper’s grave. The pain ripped through her, dark, excruciating. She grabbed the brandy glass with an unsteady hand and took a gulp.

  “Susanna?” Dev’s eyes had narrowed. He was too quick, too perceptive. She had to be careful. She had to protect herself because to speak of Maura’s death would destroy her.

  She shrugged, turning her face away from the light of the candle, which suddenly seemed far too bright.

  “Nothing happened to me,” she said lightly. “I discovered something that I was good at. It was lucrative. That is all.”

  She saw Dev’s mouth turn down at the corners. Disapproval, dislike, disdain … She was accustomed to all those emotions. She had seen them on the faces of those she had jilted—and those who had paid her.

  “John Denham will find another lady to wed,” she said. “One frequently imagines one’s life ruined at one and twenty when it is no such thing.” She tried, and almost succeeded, in keeping the bitterness from her voice. Life carried on after it was ruined; she had learned that. It did not end. One had to fashion something new out of the ashes.

  “Perhaps,” Dev said. His mouth twisted. “But that is not really the point, is it, Susanna? The point is surely the cruelty of deliberately toying with Denham’s affections.”

  “I don’t think that I can be blamed for John Denham’s fickleness,” Susanna said with a flash of feeling. “If he had truly been in love with his childhood sweetheart then no power on earth should have been able to separate them. I merely demonstrated to them both that Denham was young and unreliable. No great catch, in fact.”

  “Just as you demonstrated to Chessie that Fitz was not worthy of her by taking him away from her and destroying all her hopes for the future?” Dev queried, his tone soft but lethal. “You think that you were doing her a kindness?”

  The candle flame quivered in the draught from the open window. Looking up, Susanna saw it reflected in Dev’s eyes. Saw, too, his loathing for what she had done to his sister. His face was taut with distaste.

  “No,” Susanna admitted. “I do not claim to have been doing Miss Devlin a kindness. That would be taking too much credit.”

  She saw a tiny amount of the tension seep from Dev’s shoulders. “I am glad that you see it that way,” he said, an edge to his voice. “Perhaps you do have some scruples left after all.”

  “But Fitz is not good enough for her,” Susanna continued. “He is a bad catch for any woman. He is spoiled and arrogant and thinks to please no one but himself.”

  “I agree with you,” Dev said. “But that does not justify what you have done.”

  “I know!” Susanna burst out. “Do you think I do not know that, Devlin?” She thought of Chessie looking pale and sick at heart. “I hurt her,” she said, more quietly, “and I am ashamed of that.”

  Dev shook his head as though he had not heard her words and certainly had not given them any credence. “I would have stood by and watched my sister marry an unworthy man,” he said roughly, “no matter how much it pained me, because I want her to be happy.” He looked up suddenly and Susanna’s heart lurched at the expression in his eyes. “I am not sure I can forgive you for what you have done to her, Susanna.”

  “Add it to the list of all the things you blame me for,” Susanna said bitterly. She stood up abruptly. “If that is all you wanted to say to me—”

  Dev caught her wrist, pulling her back down onto the rickety wooden chair, which squeaked in protest. “We have not even started,” he said pleasantly. “I want to know everything, Susanna. I do not believe that Denham was your first victim. Where else have you worked?”

  “Why should I tell you?” Susanna countered.

  “Why should you not?” Dev said. “I already know half the tale anyway. Consider it a confessional.”

  He did not know half the tale. He barely knew a quarter. Yet Susanna found herself dangerously tempted. No one knew the history of Susanna Burney and the trail of broken hearts she had left across Britain. It would almost be a relief to tell someone.

  She sat down again. The rowdy hum of the alehouse conversation rose in her ears. “I worked in Edinburgh first,” she said, “then in Manchester and Leeds and Birmingham …”

  Dev laughed shortly. “How fortunate for you that there are so many other towns and cities still unexploited.”

  “This was to be the last time,” Susanna said.

  “Of course.” Dev sounded courteous and entirely disbelieving. “Don’t criminals always claim that?”

  “I have done nothing illegal,” Susanna said.

  “No,” Dev said. “Only deeply immoral.”

  “Fine words,” Susanna flashed, “coming from a fortune hunter, a pirate and a thief!”

  There was a hairsbreadth of hesitation. “In what way am I a thief?” Dev inquired mildly.

  “You did not come by your original fame and fortune honestly,” Susanna said.

  “I think the piracy covers that,” Dev said. He put a hand out and touched her lightly on the wrist.

  “All right,” he said, “I concede. We are neither of us saints, Susanna.” He smiled, his wicked pirate’s smile, and Susanna’s treacherous heart missed a beat.

  “Tell me about Edinburgh—and Manchester and Leeds and Birmingham,” Dev said softly.

  Susanna hesitated. She was very conscious of his touch on her wrist, light and insistent, like a brand.

  “You’ve got nothing to lose,” Dev added. “Whatever you decide, I shall go to Fitz and tell him that his loving parents are paying you to dupe him.”

  “Would that be revenge for Chessie,” Susanna said, “or for yourself?”

  Dev gave her a lopsided grin. “A little of both, perhaps,” he said. He released her, picked up the bottle and refilled their glasses.

  “When I took the commission,” Susanna said slowly, watching the swirl of the dark amber liquid, “I had no notion that Chessie was your sister. The Duke and Duchess barely mentioned her by name.”

  “That does not surprise me,” Dev said. “They consider her beneath their notice, a problem to be swept away.” He looked at her. “They pay others to do the dirty work, whether it is to sweep their chimneys or seduce their son. It is all the same to them.” He placed his glass gently on the table. “How did it all start?”

  For a moment Susanna stared blindly into her brandy. It had started out of desperation and despair and the need to keep her inherited family together.

  “It started by accident,” she said.

  “You did not choose to break men’s hearts as a career?” Dev sounded cynically amused. “Do you expect credit for that?”

  “You wanted to know, Devlin,” Susanna snapped. The anger flared within her. “I thought that we had agreed that you are hardly on the moral high ground yourself!”

  A rueful smile tilted Dev’s lips. “Touché,” he murmured.

  “I was working in a gown shop in Edinburgh,” Susanna said. She looked at him defiantly. “I told you I had worked for a living when I had failed to secure myself a rich and titled husband.”

/>   “I thought—” Dev said. He stopped.

  “You thought I had become a whore,” Susanna said. “Well, I imagine you consider this to be little different.” She shrugged. “It is true that there were gentlemen who came into the shop, quite a number of them, and that some of the girls—” She could feel herself blushing under Dev’s steady gaze. Many shopgirls did supplement their earnings with wages of another sort but she had never succumbed. Sometimes, hungry and exhausted, with food to find for herself and for Rose and Rory, she had wondered at her own pride and folly. Yet somehow she had never wanted to sell herself so cheap.

  “I get the picture,” Dev said dryly.

  “One young man was most persistent,” Susanna said. “He wished me to be his mistress but I would not agree.” She raised her chin. She could not change the opinion Dev had of her but she was damned if she would let it go unchallenged. “I had no wish to be a whore,” she said, “and I never was.”

  Dev said nothing. She waited, knowing she wanted him to say that he believed her, knowing that it mattered to her more than it should, knowing, too, that he would not give her that approval she craved. When he did not, she resumed.

  “A few days later an older gentleman came into the shop asking for me by name. He turned out to be the father of my admirer. He was a cloth manufacturer, a rich and influential Edinburgh citizen. He was also in high good humor. He placed a bag of guineas on the counter and told me they were mine.” She took a deep breath, remembering. It had felt like a miracle. It was the only thing that had stood between her and another night without food.

  “His son had been betrothed to a girl he had met before the father had made his fortune,” she said. “The family had gone up in the world and wanted the son to marry into the gentry but the engagement stood in the way. When the son met me and—” she hesitated “—lost his head a little, I suppose, he boasted all over town that he would set me up as his mistress. His fiancée heard of it and broke off the engagement leaving the youth free to marry well, as the father desired.”

  “You took the money,” Dev said.

  “Of course,” Susanna said. She thought of the feast they had had that night—Rose’s little face greedy and excited in the candlelight, Rory stuffing bread into his mouth like a young wolf. New shoes, winter clothes …

  “I had not thought of what might happen next,” she said, “but within a few weeks another gentleman contacted me, a business associate of the first, who had heard the story. He was in a very similar situation—he had made money and was socially ambitious. His daughter was betrothed to a poor apprentice and was most stubborn in her affections. He wanted me to … distract … the fiancé, take him away from the girl. So I did.”

  “That was Manchester,” Dev said.

  “There are a great many newly rich and ambitious families in the industrial north,” Susanna said.

  “Leeds?” Dev asked.

  “Another young man who had developed an affection for an unsuitable woman. His parents were most grateful to me.”

  “And no doubt showed their gratitude financially,” Dev said.

  “Of course.”

  “Birmingham?”

  “Oh …” Susanna’s voice flattened. She had not enjoyed Birmingham. Most of the time she had been able to console herself with the fact that the young men she tempted were spoiled and unsteady in their affections, and that the girls had been better off without them. It was not an excuse but it had softened the guilt of taking money for breaking hearts. Birmingham, though … Birmingham had been very different.

  “That was more difficult,” she said. “There was a nabob’s daughter betrothed to a young gentleman of good family, a Mr. Jackson. Her parents should have been satisfied with the match but then Lord Downing came to visit and they decided that a mere gentleman was no longer good enough. They wanted to buy a title for her instead.”

  “Could she not simply have broken off the betrothal?” Dev asked. “Young ladies have that privilege where gentlemen do not.”

  Susanna shook her head. “Miss Price was very loyal. Like the young lady in Manchester, once her affections were fixed she did not waver in them. She refused to break the engagement so her parents called upon me to help.”

  “And what form did your help take?” Dev inquired, a hard edge now to his voice.

  “I …” Susanna hesitated. “I led Mr. Jackson astray.”

  She saw Dev’s mouth twist. “Dear me,” he said. “All the way into your bed?”

  Susanna’s heart was pounding. “It had to appear so, certainly.”

  She had hated that. In order to persuade Miss Price that the object of her affections was utterly unworthy, she had lured Jackson into her bed and arranged that they should be caught in the act. It had been easy; the man was a rake and eager enough to bed her. Her difficulty had been to hold him off long enough for Miss Price and her parents to burst in. She had barely escaped with her virtue that time, if she could still be considered to have any virtue left after so notorious a career. That, she supposed, was a moot point.

  “The girl must have been heartbroken.” Dev’s voice was soft.

  “She was.” Susanna’s throat closed. It had been horrible. Miss Price had not cried or screamed. She had uttered no words of reproach. Her face had turned parchment-white and she had looked so stricken that Susanna had felt sick with pity.

  “But he was a rake,” she added. “He really was unworthy of her.”

  “So that makes it perfectly acceptable to break her heart,” Dev said sarcastically. “I suppose you charged more for that one,” he added. “For the extra work of taking him to your bed.”

  Susanna’s lips set in a tight line. “I told you,” she said. “I was never a whore.”

  “No, of course not.” Dev sounded contemptuous. “To the edge, Susanna, but not over it? I congratulate you on your moral fortitude.”

  There was no answer to that one.

  “And then you came to Bristol?” Dev said. “John Denham.”

  Susanna shrugged. “There were a few others. One failure …”

  Dev laughed. “Someone resisted you? How piquant!”

  “I’m not irresistible,” Susanna said. “No more than you are, Devlin. I simply prepare my ground well. I talk to the parents and guardians, learn all my assignment’s likes and dislikes and plan my approach.”

  “You are the consummate professional, I am sure.” Dev was smooth. “So why did you fail?”

  “Because,” Susanna said, “one young gentleman was steadfast and absolutely loyal in his affections. Nothing and no one could separate him from the woman he loved. So …” She shrugged lightly. “I failed.”

  “How gratifying that you proved him worthy,” Dev said, the sarcastic edge back in his voice. “You must have been congratulating yourself on your role in showing the world what a faithful lover he was!” His voice changed. “Onward and upward. After Denham you progressed to the aristocracy. The ultimate challenge—Fitzwilliam Alton—the son of a Duke.”

  “Yes,” Susanna said.

  “His parents knew he was about to make Chessie an offer,” Dev said. “So they paid you to distract him.”

  “Yes.” There was no point in denials. “They suspected Fitz was on the point of proposing to Miss Devlin,” Susanna said. “They were anxious to prevent it.”

  She saw Dev clench his fists so the knuckles showed white. “Because she was poor and had few eligible connections.”

  “I imagine so,” Susanna agreed woodenly.

  “And now you have ruined Chessie’s hopes for the future,” Dev said, his tone hot with anger, “what next? Do you progress to the Royal Family? There are plenty of unsuitable alliances there for you to work upon. You might even catch a Royal Duke for yourself. They do have an eye for a pretty face.”

  “Very amusing,” Susanna said. She toyed with her glass before looking at him very directly. “I suspect that your plan is for my career to reach an abrupt halt now, is it not, Devlin?”

&n
bsp; Dev did not answer immediately and for a second her hopes soared dizzily that he would not betray her. But she could see his expression, determination and an odd sort of regret, as though despite everything it pained him to hurt her, and she felt those same hopes crash like a stone. Panic rose in her throat, choking her. She had come so close to success, to completing the job, claiming the fee, paying off the moneylenders and having enough spare to make a new life with Rory and Rose. If Dev gave her away now all would be lost. For a moment the candlelight wavered like tears and she felt the pain in her chest and the press of all those dark nameless fears.

  The poorhouse, the stench of death, the lost child …

  “Yes,” Dev said, and his voice was very quiet, “I shall expose you for the fraud you are, Susanna. You might have ruined Chessie’s future but at least I can prevent you from wrecking the hopes of anyone else.”

  This was the moment then. Susanna knew she had to stop him but she had so few cards left to play.

  “You cannot give me away,” she said. She could hear the desperation in her own voice. “We agreed at the start, remember? You know my secrets and I know yours. We both benefit from keeping silent. If you tell—” She fell silent again as Dev shook his head slightly.

  “Mutual blackmail,” he said, his mouth twisting. “It’s not pretty, is it? Well, I have had enough of it, Susanna. It ends now.”

  Susanna’s stomach dropped. She stared at him, disbelieving. “But Lady Emma—” she began.

  She saw Dev smile. “I have been trying to see Emma for the past three days to tell her that I have reapplied for my Navy commission,” he said. “I’ve written to her.” He met her eyes. “I told her about us, Susanna. I told her I had been unfaithful. I fully expect her to break the engagement. So …” His smile deepened. “I fear you have no grounds left for blackmail.”

  Susanna could feel everything slipping away. The fear grabbed her by the throat. “I don’t understand,” she said. “You have huge debts … And there is your sister to consider—”

  Dev gave her a contemptuous look. “You did not have the slightest concern for Chessie before so do not pretend to any now.”