In Bed With the Devil

by Lorraine Heath

  “After all these years, your first words to me are chastisement?” she asked, insulted, hurt, and infuriated.

  “I’m afraid they’re deserved, Catherine. I’ve heard that you were spotted at Dodger’s gaming hell. That you danced with Claybourne, that you took a turn about the garden with him. And now this? Carrying you to your bedchamber as though he were accustomed to ravishing you at whim? Your reputation is ruined.”

  “Are you saying you engaged in no mischief while you were out gallivanting around the world?”

  “No man is going to take you to wife.”

  “Which works out wonderfully well as I have no intention of taking any man to husband.”

  “You will marry. I’ll see to it. It shall be my first act as the Duke of Greystone, to secure you a proper husband.”

  “I don’t want a proper husband.” She wanted an improper one: Claybourne. And if she couldn’t have him, she’d have none at all.

  “I don’t care what you want. I’m lord and master here.”

  “You’re not the young man you were when you left here. What happened to you?”

  “We’re not here to discuss me. We’re here to discuss you and your abhorrent behavior.”

  If she weren’t suddenly feeling lightheaded again, she might have charged out of the bed and smacked him. Instead, she forced herself to calmness and leaned back against the pillows. “Father is dead.”

  “I’m well aware of that.”

  “Yet we don’t seek to comfort each other?”

  “We each grieve in our own way.”

  “Are you grieving, Sterling?”

  He did nothing except clench his jaw.

  “Where have you been all these years?” she asked.

  “That is not your concern.”

  “How is it that you managed to hear about all these rumors in so short a space of time? How long have you been in London?”

  He suddenly seemed very uncomfortable. “A while.”

  “And you didn’t come see Father?”

  “There was much between us that you wouldn’t understand, Catherine, and none of it involves you.”

  “But you’re my brother.”

  “Which is why I’ll see that you’re married.”

  She grabbed a nearby pillow and flung it at him. “I’ll not marry a man of your choosing.”

  “Then you have six months to choose one of your own, before I do it for you.”

  He strode out of the room, without so much as a backward glance.

  Catherine flopped back on the bed and cursed him. Who the devil was that man? It seemed inconceivable that he was her sweet, generous brother.

  Chapter 23

  “Aren’t we somber in our mourning clothes,” Winnie said.

  Winnie and Catherine were sitting in Winnie’s garden, both of them dressed in black as was suitable for their recent status in the world, one a widow, the other mourning the loss of her father.

  “Even though you’re in mourning, you seem quite cheerful,” Catherine said.

  Winnie smiled slyly. “I’ve been speaking with Dr. Graves on occasion, and I’m thinking of trying to raise funds to build a hospital.”

  “Oh, that would be lovely and would give you something to occupy your time.”

  “That’s what I thought. He’s a rather nice man, even if he is a commoner, and I don’t think I shall ever get married again. I think you have the right of it. Be independent, do as you like, not be weighted down by a husband.”

  It all sounded so fine in principle, but in practice, Catherine spent far too much time thinking of Claybourne.

  As though knowing where Catherine’s thoughts had drifted, Winnie said, “I have it on good authority that Mr. Marcus Langdon has removed his petition to reclaim the estates as his from the courts.”

  “He’d have not won. Claybourne is the rightful heir.”

  “So people are saying. I’ve heard that he’s even being issued invitations to various functions. And it’s rumored that Mr. Langdon has been seen in Claybourne’s company on several occasions—laughing as though they’re dear friends. Is that not a strange turn of events?”

  “Claybourne can be quite charming when he sets his mind to it. And they are cousins, after all.”

  “I’ve also heard that Mr. Langdon is seeing after some of Claybourne’s business interests, and his income for his services is more than five thousand a year.”

  Yes, Catherine could see Claybourne being that generous.

  “For a widow who is not supposed to be out and about, you’re certainly keeping up with the gossip,” she said wryly.

  “I have visitors on occasion. Lady Charlotte stopped by just yesterday. She anticipates being betrothed before the Season is out.”

  “I thought she wanted a titled husband.”

  “I daresay she’ll settle for a wealthy one.”

  Catherine laughed lightly, enjoying Winnie’s company immensely. She was almost as lively as she’d been when she was a younger woman and she and Catherine had their coming out.

  “Is your brother settling in as duke?” Winnie asked.

  “Oh, yes. Although I’d forgotten how serious he can be. He still hasn’t forgiven me for all the scandalous gossip I’ve caused, which makes him rather difficult to live with.”

  “I can well imagine.”

  “Can you?” She leaned across the table and took Winnie’s hand where it rested beside the teacup. “Then you’ll understand why I can’t stay.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I’ve decided to go to America.”

  “For a holiday?”

  “No, for the rest of my life.”

  Winnie appeared horrified. “No, you can’t. Whatever will I do without you here?”

  “You’re stronger than you realize, Winnie, and you’ll come to know the truth of that much more quickly if I’m not here.”

  “But America—it’s so far away. What will you do there?”

  “I’m not certain. I suppose I shall have to find some sort of employment. Although Father did leave me a small bit of money that isn’t part of the entailment. If I invest and live frugally, I think I shall be able to manage.”

  “Stay here. You can live with me. Two single women—”

  “I can’t, Winnie.”

  “Why not?”

  There were so many reasons. But only one that truly mattered. She squeezed Winnie’s hand. “I’m with child.”

  Winnie’s eyes bugged, her jaw dropped. “Good God, no! Catherine, you’re not married.”

  “Believe me, I’m well aware of that.” Still, she smiled, unable to contain her joy and excitement.

  “Who’s the father? Oh, my God, it’s not Claybourne is it? Oh, it is.”

  Winnie was asking questions and answering them without giving Catherine a chance to respond.

  “And the blackguard won’t marry you?”

  “He doesn’t know, and even if he did, he loves someone else.”

  “It doesn’t matter who he loves. He brought this shame to you—”

  “I don’t feel any shame, Winnie. I want this child, I want him desperately.”

  “But he’ll be a bastard.”

  She shook her head quickly. “No one need know. I shall wear my mother’s wedding ring. I shall tell people I’m a widow. My husband died tragically in a railway accident. Lord knows we’ve had enough of those of late.”

  “It seems you’ve thought this through.”

  Every night, alone in her bed, yearning to have Claybourne beside her, she’d made plans for all she’d do to protect his son, to give him a kinder life than his father had experienced. She had no doubt whatsoever that she was carrying a boy.

  She’d learned a great deal that night in Claybourne’s library, included in the inner circle of scoundrels as they’d planned how to arrange Avendale’s death. She now knew who to go to if any papers needed to be forged. She had little doubt she could obtain a false certificate of marriage as well as one of dea
th. She nodded. “Yes, I have given it considerable thought and I’ll not be dissuaded.”

  “I could never have your courage.”

  “Oh, Winnie, I’m not so certain that it’s courage as much as it is love.” Love for her child, and love for his father.

  Luke hadn’t seen Frannie since the night they’d arranged to send Avendale on his merry way. It was strange how seldom during these many weeks he’d thought of Frannie, how often he’d thought of Catherine. Bill had assured him that Catherine was fine, but Luke was still haunted by what had happened. After all she’d been through, why would she swoon at the sight of her brother? His return seemed insignificant when compared with the times she’d been in danger of losing her life.

  It perplexed him, occupied his thoughts as he waited near the orphanage, waited for Frannie’s arrival. The building was completed. She’d sent him a note and asked him to meet her there. She wanted to take him on a tour of it. He supposed this moment, today, would provide the perfect opportunity to ask her to marry him. A children’s home was the fulfillment of a dream for her, and marriage to her had always been his fondest dream. It seemed appropriate that he propose today, here.

  He spotted the hansom, watched as it came to a halt near the building. The driver helped Frannie climb out. Reaching them, Luke paid the driver. Neither he nor Frannie spoke until the hansom was headed away.

  “You look lovely,” Luke said. And she did. There was a happiness, a joy to her. Being under Catherine’s tutelage had given her confidence, confidence to become his wife.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “You don’t come to Dodger’s anymore.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  She gave him a look that said she knew a lie when she heard one.

  “Who are we to judge what any of us would do to protect ourselves?” she asked. “He knew if you knew the truth that he would lose your friendship, and your friendship meant more to him than anything. You can’t imagine how he suffers these days.”

  “Do you love him, Frannie?”

  She appeared taken aback. “I love all of Feagan’s lads.”

  He didn’t doubt the truth of those words. She’d mothered them all, even though she was younger than most of them.

  “You know what it is to live as we did, to have so little,” she said. “We all have our secrets, none of us are completely honest with the others.”

  “Not even you?”

  “Especially not me. But Jack—”

  He was weary of discussing Jack, of having her defend him.

  “Eventually, I will forgive him, Frannie. Just not yet.”

  She nodded. “All right, then. Would you like to see the children’s home?”

  “Very much.”

  With her hand on his arm, she led him into the building. It opened into a large room with stairs leading up to other floors.

  “The children will sleep in rooms up there. Three floors of rooms.” She squeezed his arm. “Can you imagine how many children we’ll be able to provide for?”

  “Quite a number I suspect.”

  There were classrooms, a dining hall, a reading room. All of the finest quality. Sturdy. Well-made. Unknown to her, he’d paid the builder a good deal more than she’d originally planned to invest in order to see that it was so.

  She led him through the kitchen to the garden, a fence circling the large area. “Children will play here,” she said. “They’ll be safe.”

  “When do you plan to start bringing children here?”

  “Once I have the furniture.”

  “Order what you want. I’ll pay for it.”

  “You’ve done too much—”

  “Frannie, please, just do it.”

  “You’re too kind to me, Luke. You always give me everything.” Reaching up, she skimmed her fingers along his jaw. “You were always the best of us.”

  “Not true. I was only very different. My parents taught me right from wrong. It was never a game.”

  She feathered her fingers over his hair. “You were always special to me. From the beginning, I always knew you’d protect me. There was just something about you.”

  He took her hand, held it between both of his. “I adore you, Frannie. You know that. I always have.”

  She gave him the smile that had always warmed him, but it was not one that threatened to bring him to his knees. He would kill to keep that smile on her face. But to keep Catherine smiling, he would willingly die.

  “But you love Catherine,” Frannie said quietly.

  He felt as though he’d been slapped, but at the same time, relief swamped him. Yes, this was the perfect setting to ask Frannie to marry him, but he’d known he’d not take advantage of it. “How did you know?”

  “If you could see the way you look at her. You’ve always held your emotions so well, but with her, the love you feel for her, it can’t be contained. If a man were ever to look at me as you do her, I daresay, I would marry him—even if he were a king.”

  He took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Forgive me, Frannie, but after all these weeks of asking you to learn all you needed to become my wife, I can’t marry you.”

  “I never thought you could. Or should. I adore you as well, but as a sister would a brother.”

  “I did not want to fall in love with her. But you’re right. I have. It terrifies me to love her as much as I do.”

  “I suspect it terrifies her as well. Does she know how you feel?”

  “No, God, no. What if she rebuffs me? I don’t know how I will live with it.”

  “You’re a coward.”

  Chuckling low, he squeezed her hand. How many times had Catherine pointed out that same flaw in him? “When it comes to the heart, yes.”

  “She won’t wait forever, Luke.”

  “I know, but I fear I’m unworthy of her.”

  “If I were a petty woman, I could take insult at that. You considered yourself worthy enough for me.”

  He grinned. “I didn’t mean for that to sound as it did. Do you know I struggled for a year before asking for your hand?”

  “Don’t wait that long to ask for hers. If you truly want her, don’t wait another day.”

  Catherine strolled through the front door, a mixture of feelings dogging her steps. She was excited about traveling to America, sad about leaving England. But she had purchased her ticket that morning. She’d leave from Liverpool and arrive in New York in a matter of weeks. Once there she’d find lodging. It seemed a lot of Englishmen had begun to immigrate to America. She wouldn’t be alone and they could help each other along.

  She’d removed her hat and gloves and set her purse—with her precious ticket inside, along with the documents Frannie had prepared for her—on the table in the entry hallway.

  “Ah, there you are,” Sterling said, striding from the hall. “You’ve a visitor. He’s waiting for you in the library.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Claybourne.”

  Catherine’s heart kicked against her ribs. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Apparently he wants to see you. He’s been here for two hours waiting. What were you doing out and about?”

  “I don’t owe you an accounting of my actions.” She walked into the hallway, and Sterling fell into step behind her. She stopped and faced him. “Nor do I need you to accompany me when I speak to Claybourne.”

  “A woman does not go into a room with a gentleman by herself.”

  “Sterling, while you were enjoying your travels, I spent a good deal of time alone with Claybourne. I don’t need you now to oversee our meeting. I assure you there is no cause for worry. He’ll be a perfect gentleman.”

  He glanced toward the doorway where the footman waited, then looked back at her. “Catherine, I know I’ve not been the best of brothers, but I’m determined now to take my responsibilities more seriously.”

  If he took them any more seriously, she’d find herself locked in a tower.

  “There’s no need. I’m quite capable o
f seeing after myself. So, please, don’t disturb us.”

  She left him standing there and swept in through the doorway as the footman opened it. She was reminded of that first night in Claybourne’s library, only now he stood by the window and the room was filled with the warmth of sunshine rather than the coolness of midnight shadows.

  “My Lord Claybourne, it was so nice of you to come to call.”

  “So formal, Catherine, after all we’ve shared?”

  There was nothing mocking in his tone, rather it was decidedly sensual. Just the thought of all that they’d shared had her body growing warm, and she thought she might be in danger of swooning again. He looked so amazingly wonderful, dressed so formally. Handsome as sin. Her heart was stuttering at his nearness, her hands wanted to reach out for him. She would miss him terribly—but she would always have and cherish the precious memento of their time together that he’d unknowingly given her.

  “How is Frannie?” she asked, her words coming out in a rush, her fervent hope that he would leave before she came undone. Even though she’d seen Frannie only that morning, she didn’t want to raise his suspicions by not inquiring.

  “She’s well. I saw her late this morning as a matter of fact.”

  “Did you ask for her hand in marriage at long last?”

  He slowly shook his head. “I apologized to her.”

  “For what? You didn’t tell her what passed between us—”

  “No.”

  With the predatory prowl that she’d come to associate with him, he crossed over to her. “I apologized because I’ve done all in my power to convince her to become my wife, would do anything to have her as my wife, and I suddenly realized that I couldn’t marry her, that I had to marry you.”

  Her heart stammered. “Why?” Before he could respond, the truth hit her. “Damn them! They told you, didn’t they? I didn’t want this. I didn’t—”

  “What? Who? What are you talking about?”

  “Dr. Graves and Winnie. They’ve opposed my plans from the beginning. But it’s not fair to you, just because I’m with child—”

  “What?” Claybourne wrapped his hand around her arm, drew her near, and stood over her with fury undulating off him in waves.

  It occurred to Catherine that this might have been how David felt when he confronted Goliath.