Devil's Lady

by Patricia Rice

  Thomas winced as his own idea was spoken aloud. He gave the window another glare before turning a bored expression back to the room. “And bring a highwayman’s bastard up as the next marquess? How droll you are, Cuz.”

  Edward shrugged. “Well, then, perhaps you shall marry her. But you must share the wealth with which you will undoubtedly be rewarded, for it is I who found her, after all.”

  Over his dead body, Thomas muttered inwardly, reaching for the decanter. Or better yet, over Edward’s dead body.

  Contemplating that pleasantry, Thomas smiled again. He could marry or dispose of the missing heiress, it made no matter. One way or another, he would have his hands on her wealth. Then he would have all the time in the world to accomplish the rest of his goals.

  Giving the fat earl’s bent head an almost benevolent look, Thomas sipped his wine. Being a marquess should be a very pleasant thing indeed.

  ***

  “The man who nabbed Morgan is a runner, but he is also in the employ of your uncle, Lord Stepney.”

  Faith gripped her fingers and stared at her plate as Miles explained what little he had been able to find out about Morgan’s arrest. The family she had hoped to find only a little less than a year ago now made her stomach roil and churn, and she could barely stand to hear another word.

  Miles couldn’t explain why they would hunt and badger Morgan while making little or no attempt to find herself. He couldn’t even swear that Morgan had been the target of their trap, but Miles wasn’t a believer in coincidence. Although Faith believed the Lord moved in mysterious ways, this wasn’t the Lord’s work. Her uncle had counted on being robbed, and planned for Morgan to be followed.

  “Perhaps, if I were to go to him and plead Morgan’s case, he would drop the charges,” Faith suggested, terrified of the idea but willing to try anything.

  Miles reached across the table to pick up her neglected fork and hand it to her. “Haven’t you heard a word I said? Your uncle is a dangerously clever man. Your cousin is merely dangerous. I know little or nothing of the marquess other than he has a heart of stone. Are these the kind of people you wish to plead with? Don’t you think they might possibly be hoping you will do just that? I cannot imagine how they might have made the connection between you and Morgan, but it seems very reasonable to believe they have.”

  Miles hadn’t mentioned the bank account to Faith, but it was only one more piece of the puzzle. Those papers at the bank verified her existence. He had been very careful to keep Morgan’s name away from that account, but the connection was there somehow.

  When Faith halfheartedly lifted a forkful of food, Miles tried to explain his intentions. “Morgan wishes to keep you protected. Your family has not yet acted in your behalf, and it seems reasonable to assume that they will not. It also seems reasonable to assume that they believe there is some association between you and Morgan. I believe if we can convince them that you are not who they believe you are, we can divert them from your trail. With any luck, they will lose interest in Morgan after that. It will be much easier to pry him out of prison if there are no wealthy Montagues breathing down the judge’s back.”

  “I do not understand how my family’s intentions can make a difference to a judge. Morgan is in all probability guilty. Even I cannot deny that. Shouldn’t we just be planning some way to help him escape?”

  Toby’s eyes lit at this suggestion, but Miles frowned. “He would have to live in hiding for the rest of his life if he escaped, and that’s not what Morgan wants. Leave the British system of justice to me. It might be costly, but I can arrange things, if only the Montagues are out of the picture.”

  “I’ll admit, I do not understand, but if you can arrange things, what do I need to do to help?”

  Miles wondered how to broach the subject that would save Morgan and shackle this innocent to a notorious reprobate for life. Or if he should. Shaking his head at the thought of denying his client for a woman he scarcely knew, Miles launched into his argument. “There is a way you can help, but it is asking a great deal of you. Morgan has never explained his relationship with you, and I hesitate to ask without knowing your place in his life.”

  Faith looked up and caught his eye at that. “I daresay whatever you are imagining is close enough to the truth. I cannot speak for Morgan, but he saved my life and I would do anything for him. Does that answer your question?”

  “Would you have any objection to marrying Morgan?” Miles watched the shock appear and disappear in her eyes. The question was an old one, then, and only shocking in his presenting it. Good.

  Faith fought the battle within herself only briefly. Morgan was a thief and she had told him she would never marry a thief. It didn’t matter. She could not allow him to hang. Slowly she nodded her head.

  “I would hear that said more firmly, Miss Montague. Once the ceremony is performed, you will be legally bound. Think hard on what that means.”

  Remembering Morgan’s hungry eyes on her and the threat that lingered between them, Faith knew what Miles was asking. A wife became her husband’s property. She understood that much. Morgan had no wish to give up his occupation for her, nor share her bed if it meant keeping him bound to the cottage. That was not a basis on which to build an everlasting marriage.

  Yet in her heart there was no other choice. Raising her head, Faith met Miles’s eyes. “I will marry him. How will that help?”

  Miles took another sip of his drink before giving her the rest of his suggestion. “By giving you a new identity. I mean for you to marry him under the name you are known by outside of here. I want it on record that you are one Alice Henwood of Epping Forest. With Morgan married to such an obscure personage, your family will no longer have to worry that he conspires with a Faith Henrietta Montague.”

  Before Faith could reply, Toby shoved back his chair. “Now, wait a minute!” He glared from Faith to the lawyer. “Jack... Morgan ought to marry her right enough, but all legal-like. Faith’s a lady; she deserves that much.”

  Faith covered Toby’s hand reassuringly, but it was Miles who replied. “The legality of what I have in mind has never been tested in court. On the face of it, they will be legally wed. If they wish, they can have another ceremony later with their real names. My main concern is that it be done immediately and made known.”

  Faith frowned. “But there is not time for banns, and how can we be wedded if Morgan is in prison? I thought there were all sorts of complications in getting married. How can what you suggest be legal?”

  Miles smiled. “The law is a fascinating field, Miss Montague, one that criminals and rascals delight in twisting to their own use whenever profitable. Parliament has been trying to shove legal, proper marriages down the throats of the English citizenry for these last fifty years, but they have not yet succeeded. All they have succeeded in requiring is a license and that the ceremony be registered. The church demands banns and so forth, but the church has no jurisdiction over everyone. That’s where the loophole begins. I will find someone who will not only marry you but also do it without asking for your documents or caring what name you use, and, for a sum, will date the certificate to any time I request. As I said, the legality of such a marriage has never been tested, but they are performed by the hundreds every day.”

  Faith could tell by Miles’s expression that this would not be the kind of marriage she had in mind. It would be a piece of paper that could be produced in court, and no more. But if that was what was required to free Morgan, she had little choice.

  “If that is what it takes to save Morgan, I will agree.” She said the words firmly, although her insides quaked. Whatever the legality of the ceremony, she was committing herself for life. Her beliefs would allow no other choice.

  “Are you certain? I will hold you under no misapprehension, Miss Montague. The ceremony could very well be valid and lasting. Even should you decide to return to your powerful family, they may not be able to break it. You might wish to consider this awhile longer.”


  “I am trusting you will make it as valid as can be, Mr. Golden. And I was under the impression that haste was of importance. How soon can it be done?”

  Miles set his chair back down on all four feet and stood up. “Be ready first thing in the morning, Miss Montague. I have yet to talk to Morgan of this, but sometimes it is easier to confront him with the inevitable, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Faith bent her lips in a weak imitation of a smile. “I agree.” Morgan would be furious. They both knew it. He would be climbing the walls and bending bars and forcing his escape more certainly than Jack Shepard ever did should he learn of their plans. Jack Shepard ended up on the gallows.

  ***

  Morgan stared in astonishment when the little conclave poured into his narrow cell the next day. He rose from his bench, shoving his shirt into his breeches and brushing his hair back from his face as he studied their faces, acutely aware of the humiliating chains on his wrists. The man wearing a priest’s robe and carrying a little black book was like no priest he had ever seen. His double-chinned jaw still sported yesterday’s beard and his filthy full-bottomed wig hadn’t seen soap in many a day. The man’s black smock and white collar bore the stains of half the food that had gone to fill his stout stomach.

  Morgan scarcely spared Miles a second glance, but turned directly to Faith. She looked pale and nervous, but someone had given her a small bouquet of Michaelmas daisies. She had exchanged her dowdy linen for a lace scarf that revealed enough of her glorious curves to make a blind man drool. A hood hid her hair but framed her enormous eyes and tiny chin.

  Toby had slicked his frizzy red hair back into a queue and borrowed a frock coat to cover his dirty leather jerkin. He also sported a gentleman’s neckcloth, although it was arranged in an odd knot that showed his inexperience with such niceties.

  Morgan would have laughed had not the expression in Toby’s eyes been such that he had serious cause for concern. The lad who had once followed him about like an adoring puppy now met his gaze with nervousness and a defiance that did not bode well.

  Morgan turned back to Miles, who had been whispering instructions to the disreputable priest. Or vicar. Or whatever in hell he was. Morgan had a very good suspicion of what he was from the little book. That was no Bible. Characters like that were an everyday occurrence in the street below, although they operated more frequently in the vicinity of Fleet Prison.

  For a coin or two, they would marry anyone, no questions asked. He had heard it said that they didn’t always require the compliance of both parties. All it required was a license and the names of both parties in that little black “register.” That thought tightened Morgan’s lips to a grim line.

  “Miles, I don’t know what the hell you think you’re perpetrating, but I’ll not be having Faith in the same room with the likes of that one. I told you to keep her away from here. Do I need to persuade the weapon from our gallant warden to show you what I mean?”

  The guard’s face blanched a shade whiter as he hastily stepped from the cell and slammed the door closed. That would teach the man to let his curiosity get the better of him, but it would not ease Morgan’s temper. Faith watched him warily.

  Miles confronted his irate client. “We’ll be gone shortly. Even my friend here requires both parties for this ceremony. Once it’s over, we’ll be on our way, and the lady needn’t return. Just a few words and we’ll be done. Are you ready?”

  It was the look of hope in Faith’s eyes that did him in more certainly than any word of the lawyer’s. Morgan resisted, but he knew his weakness.

  Furiously he turned back to Miles. “Out,” he demanded. Raising his voice, he yelled to the guard just beyond the door, “Get them out of here, you dolt, or I’ll carve my initials in your bloody heart!”

  There was a gulp and the scrape of a key on the other side of the door. Miles waved another golden guinea. The coin disappeared and the door closed again.

  “You bloody damn fool! That’s my money you’re wasting! You’re dismissed, Golden. I want you to turn over all my papers to Toby here. Toby, go find another man to handle my business. Find two men. I don’t trust any of them. If there’s anything left after this rascal is done, perhaps you’d better find three men. Then there might be something left for the lass when I am gone.”

  “There will be nothing left for me when you are gone,”

  Faith intervened, stepping forward until she nearly touched his lace jabot. Miles had seen to that symbol of gentility. Morgan should have been suspicious when the clothes arrived.

  “Look at me, Morgan, and tell me you would deny me what you have offered and should have given long ago.”

  Morgan had never turned down a challenge, but he was seriously tempted to turn down this one. The only way he could ever dream of keeping Faith was by giving up the means to earn back the money Miles was spending to save his unworthy life. She deserved better.

  “I take back my offer, cailin. It was a cruel one. It may not seem so now, but you will be better for my absence. If that cad Miles”—Morgan threw the disgraced solicitor an angry glance—“leaves you enough, you can go to the colonies with Toby as you wanted. Your family will never look for you there, and you can make a new life. We are even now, little one. You don’t need to do this for my sake.”

  Faith met his angry expression and found the pain behind the shadows of Morgan’s eyes. He was being deliberately cruel, and he was very good at it. Had he railed and shouted, she could have defied him easily. These calm, cajoling words were harder to fight, for they almost seemed reasonable. She could almost feel the men around her nodding in agreement. Without giving thought to what she did, she knotted her fist and punched Morgan in the solid, flat expanse of his abdomen.

  Morgan scarcely gave an “oof” of breath at the blow, but his eyes lit with an unholy gleam. “You’ll pay for that, brat.”

  “And you’ll pay for my virtue, Black Jack. Give the man your vows. I would hear them said properly.”

  When Morgan raised his head with that terrible glow in his eyes, Miles had second and third thoughts about this contest. When the chained highwayman clasped the delicate lady by the arm and dragged her to his side, the solicitor almost called the whole thing off.

  But when the lady removed her mantle and the hood covering her hair to reveal the shimmering copper waves hanging down her back and raised her chin in defiance of Morgan’s harsh hold, Miles held his words and signaled the self-described clergyman to start the service.

  Somehow, he had the feeling the Irishman had finally met his match.

  Chapter 24

  Faith scarcely heard or understood the clergyman’s thick accents as he rumbled off the words to the Church of England’s marriage ceremony. Her whole being seemed centered in that hard hand circling her upper arm, crushing the skin until she knew she would be sorely bruised. Morgan had never treated her with anything but tenderness before, but she had never tested him this severely, either. She didn’t know where she had found the courage. She wished she could find it again.

  She felt Morgan’s jerk as the clergyman uttered the name Alice Henwood. She didn’t want to see what was in his eyes as they burned through her while she made the response. Let him think what he would. Miles would explain it in all due time. She just wanted that piece of paper that would disown her family’s claim and free him from their scrutiny.

  Morgan’s voice rumbled in reply, and she realized Miles had not given Morgan’s full name either. She would be Mrs. James O’Neill on the marriage records. It was all a lie. There was nothing here that made a real marriage. It was just a piece of paper. She didn’t know whether to be sad or glad over that knowledge.

  There had been so much between them that was good and honest and right. How had it come to this? She could remember the night of the falling stars as if it were yesterday, but looking back on it from this viewpoint, she knew Morgan had seduced her as surely as he had held his mare for the stallion’s use.

  That he had offered to ma
rry her afterward was even more suspicious. He had probably known about her wealthy family then. But she’d rather think about the times he had loved her, the times he had held her and poured sweet words of praise into her ear. Morgan had merely taken what she offered. For that, she had no one to blame but herself.

  As she had no one to blame but herself in this. They had both had their choices. If the truth be told, Morgan had slightly less choice than she. He could go to the hangman’s noose, or he could marry her and hope Miles could work the proper magic to see him free.

  The final sonorous words of the ceremony brought Faith back to the moment. Her heart did a backhanded flip and fell flat as Morgan’s grip loosened at the same time as the words “I now pronounce you man and wife” quivered in the close air. Then both Morgan’s hands were on her arms and she was drawn up against him, her flowers crushed flat as his mouth swooped down to take the possession she had just granted with her vows.

  Morgan’s kiss was hot and fierce and knowing, and Faith trembled as she realized they had an audience. Whether the marriage was a mockery or not, all recognized the intimacy of their relationship. Morgan’s arms bent her backward in his embrace, forcing her to cling to his shoulders. She tried to deny the excitement of his proximity, but she had denied his touch too long. Heat rushed over her, and her struggles died as quickly as they were born. Even the rattle of chains and the flames of hell couldn’t keep her from him.

  Sensing her surrender, Morgan returned her to her feet and dared the gazes of their witnesses. Faith saw Miles put his fist to his mouth and cough politely. Toby looked pale and angry and the clergyman merely scribbled in his book.

  His mouth hardening into a bitter smile, Morgan glared at the intruders.

  “Out, the lot of you. A man’s entitled to some time with his wife after they’re wedded.”

  It was Miles’s turn to look stricken and offered in warning, “If the marriage is consummated, there is less chance of annulment afterward. I can plead the irregularity of the license, but—”