by Cheryl Holt
She had no idea.
“Should I walk to Oakley and talk to him?” Alex inquired. “He and I are friendly too, and I can ask his opinion about us straight out.”
“No, I don’t need you to talk to him. I’ll see him later. I’ll pester him until I receive some answers.”
Actually, she was hoping she’d see him much sooner than that. She hoped he’d stop by, and she refused to think he wouldn’t come.
Their conduct had been incredibly intimate, and she felt all jumbled on the inside. She was desperate to converse with him about what had transpired. She wanted to squeeze his hand and listen as he promised her that everything would be all right.
“If he kicks out Mrs. Carter,” Alex said, “where would she go?”
“I suppose to town to stay with Clayton.”
“Then what if Mr. Shawcross kicks us out too? Would Mrs. Carter invite us to go with her? Would my father allow us to stay with him?”
Rebecca had never lied to Alex, and she wasn’t about to start. “I can’t predict what’s about to occur. This situation seems quite unreal to me. I can’t imagine Beatrice departing or you and I having to make emergency plans for ourselves. Let’s not panic.”
“Not yet anyway.”
“Not yet,” she agreed. “Now I have to show my face downstairs. Would you try not to stir any mischief please?”
“I never stir mischief.”
Rebecca scoffed. “If only that were true.”
She left him and went down to the kitchen to grab a scone. The room was mostly deserted. Everyone appeared to be walking on eggshells, worried and murmuring in whispered tones about Clayton.
It would take days to get the manor in order, to repair the drapes and other items Clayton had damaged in his rampage. She was repeatedly asked about Raven and what might happen, but she kept her expression blank, not anxious to scare them.
As she’d mentioned to Alex, she felt she was dreaming. If the family was evicted, what would become of the servants? Would they be terminated? When Raven had seized Carter Imports, he’d fired the employees. Would the house servants suffer the same fate?
Rebecca couldn’t guess how he’d behave, but she’d have a frank chat with him about the staff. Some of their relatives had worked on the property for generations. It would be cruel to send them packing.
She’d spent her life yearning for something exciting to transpire, for something to change, and she’d finally gotten her wish—merely to learn that she didn’t care for change at all.
A maid came down to fetch her. Beatrice had emerged from her bedchamber, and she was in the library and commanding Rebecca attend her. At the news, people cast nervous glances. Beatrice’s temper was always foul, and Rebecca bore the brunt of her low moods.
“I’ll discuss Mr. Shawcross with her,” she told them. “I’ll share her comments with you as soon as I can.”
“Find out if we’ll be leaving,” a footman said. “If that’s Mr. Shawcross’s scheme, where are we to go?”
Rebecca patted him on the arm. “Don’t fret until we have solid information. For the moment, it’s just gossip and innuendo.”
She flashed a tepid smile and hurried up to the library. Even a short delay was an eternity to Beatrice, and it fueled her ire so sane discourse was impossible.
She was seated at the desk, and as Rebecca entered the room, she said, “Close the door.”
Rebecca shut it and went over to sit in the chair across. “I’m glad you’re up and about. We have to review several matters—especially Mr. Shawcross. The servants are pestering me with questions, but I don’t know what to tell them.”
Beatrice smirked derisively. “I’m not concerned about them. Nor am I concerned about Shawcross. He ambushed me at Carter Imports, so I was defeated there, but I’m ready for him now.”
“Meaning what? How are you ready for him? And what about the servants? They’re in a dither over whether or not they’re about to lose their jobs.”
“Shawcross believes he owns Clayton’s business, and I’ve allowed him to think so, but he’ll never take Carter Crossing from me. I’ll kill him before I’ll permit him to have it.”
Rebecca could barely keep from rolling her eyes. “You’ll kill Mr. Shawcross? Don’t be melodramatic. Let’s confer about real options that might help to resolve this dilemma.”
Beatrice simply glared and asked, “Have you seen Millicent?”
“No.”
“How about that impertinent scoundrel, Lucas Shawcross?”
“No.”
“Over the past few days, have you noticed Millicent cozying up to him?”
“I’ve observed them chatting occasionally. Why?”
“Has she mentioned him to you? Has she been gushing about him?”
“Not to me, but then, I’ve been busy with our hosting such a large group of visitors. I’ve hardly spoken to Millicent.”
“Yes, you’ve been very busy, haven’t you?”
There was a caustic note in Beatrice’s voice that set Rebecca’s senses on alert. Clearly, she was about to be scolded for an infraction. What had she done?
“Well, I have been busy,” she said.
“I’m not talking about your usual chores.”
“What are you talking about then? It’s obvious you’re angry. Have I distressed you? If so, I apologize for whatever it is. You’ve been under a lot of pressure recently, and I would never deliberately make it worse.”
“You’re such a liar.” Beatrice almost hissed the words. “You’re not only a liar, you’re a whore too.”
Rebecca blanched. “What?”
“I’ve warned you for years,” Beatrice said. “I’ve warned you about your mother and her immoral tendencies. You have her same blood flowing in your veins.”
“Yes, and I’m weary of hearing you denigrate her. I wish you’d stop.”
“Stop now? When you’ve proved yourself to be just like her?”
“What are you complaining about?”
“Whore!” Beatrice seethed again.
Rebecca’s own temper flared. She’d frequently engaged in horrid discussions like this with her cousin. She’d sat through them, steaming with fury, then spending weeks afterward calming down. But the patience she had to muster to tolerate Beatrice’s insults had vanished.
“As I just stated,” she said, “you’ve been under a lot of pressure, so I will forgive you for hurling such a despicable falsehood, but I won’t listen to it. Summon me when you’re feeling more yourself, and I’ll return, but so long as you intend to chastise me for sins I haven’t committed, I can’t heed you. I don’t have the composure to endure your diatribe.”
She stood to march out, and Beatrice prevented any exit by demanding, “Tell me about your pathetic…fling with Raven Shawcross. How often have you spread your legs for him?”
Rebecca was stunned by the charge. Her affair had been discovered? Beatrice was aware of it? How could she be?
Rebecca’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “Who told you that?”
“Did you think I wouldn’t find out? This is a small household and a quiet neighborhood. Did you think you could revel like this and no one would know?” Beatrice scoffed. “I suppose that’s what he claimed when he was seducing you. Is that how he coerced you into it? Did he insist no one would ever learn of your disgrace?”
Rebecca steadied her breathing. She didn’t dare reveal—not by the slightest hint—that Beatrice possessed valid information.
“I have no idea why you’re leveling such a spurious allegation against me,” Rebecca said, “and I’m very hurt by it. I’ve tried to—”
“Be silent!” Beatrice shouted. “Have the decency to admit your shame to me. Don’t pretend to be innocent, not when your guilt is so clear.”
“I am innocent,” Rebecca declared, even though her cheeks were heating.
“Raven Shawcross, Rebecca? The man is here to ruin me! It’s his specif
ic purpose! He’ll seize everything I have and leave me with nothing.”
“I realize that, and I’m sorry you’ve been forced into such a difficult predicament.”
“He’s determined to destroy me, yet you have blithely climbed into his bed. Are you his ally in this devastation?”
“No!”
“How can I believe you? Have you been feeding him details about me? As the two of you snuggle under the blankets, have you been whispering my secrets? How much worse will the damage be because you were on his side?”
“There are no sides. I want to help you. I want to smooth over this impasse with him. I don’t want you to be evicted, and I don’t want the servants to be terminated. He and I are friends! I can speak to him for you. Perhaps I can convince him to cease his torment.”
“I took you in when you were three years old,” Beatrice said. “I didn’t have to. Your lofty Blake relatives were eager to be shed of you. I could have refused to assist you. I could have let them put you in an orphanage.”
“Well, you didn’t, and I’ve always been grateful.”
“I have given you shelter and support for twenty-four years, and this—this!—is how you repay me!”
“Would you calm down? I hate it when you’re in such a lather.”
Beatrice snorted with contempt. “Still, you sit there and lie to me. Shall I send for Mr. Melville so he can describe what he witnessed?”
So…Preston had tattled after all.
Rebecca sighed. “You needn’t summon Mr. Melville, but he merely saw me kissing Mr. Shawcross. That’s it. We were only…kissing.”
Even as Rebecca voiced the paltry defense, she understood how awful it sounded, and it certainly had no effect at dampening Beatrice’s fit of pique.
“At least you’ve confessed that much. What about the rest? You decline to acknowledge the full scope of your transgressions. Shall we have the midwife in Frinton examine you? Is that what’s required to drag the truth out of you?”
Rebecca flinched with alarm. She couldn’t tamp it down. Could a midwife discern whether a maiden had been deflowered? The notion had never occurred to her, and she was terrified that Beatrice might demand it.
“Beatrice, honestly!” Rebecca scolded. “What a thing to say to me.”
“You’re exactly like your mother. Don’t pretend you’ve simply been kissing Mr. Shawcross. With such a handsome rogue showing you a bit of attention, you couldn’t have resisted him.”
Rebecca’s cheeks heated to an even hotter temperature. She held Beatrice’s gaze, not glancing away, for she recognized that any retreat would be construed as an admission.
“Mr. Shawcross and I are friends,” Rebecca repeated. “He’s been cordial, and I’ve reciprocated his amiable gestures.”
She would lie to the very end and had to hope Beatrice grew weary of the quarrel before it ascended to a cliff from which they couldn’t step away.
“Friends…” Beatrice muttered. “You look me in the eye and brag that you’re friends with my greatest enemy! The man who would crush me, the man who would wreck what my husband and I built! You kiss him behind my back. You ruin yourself behind my back.”
“I didn’t.” Rebecca would deny any affair until she exhaled her last breath.
“What has he promised you?”
“Nothing!”
“Is it marriage? He must have claimed he’d wed you and install you as the mistress of Carter Crossing. Is that what you’re expecting? You’ve always chafed over your lowly status in this house. Will you gleefully take my place?”
“No! You’re being absurd.”
“You’ve constantly thought you were better than me. You and your lofty Blake blood!” She pronounced the name Blake as if it were an epithet.
“Mr. Shawcross and I have never discussed marriage,” Rebecca insisted, “and I don’t want anything that’s yours.”
“Know this, Rebecca. Shawcross is a rogue and a scoundrel, a liar and a thief, a fraud and a criminal. Whatever he’s promised you, whatever trick he used to entrap you, he’ll never follow through.”
Rebecca stared at Beatrice, wondering how they’d go forward after such a hideous conversation. They’d had many unpleasant chats over the years, and Rebecca always forgave the slights and snubs. She’d never had much choice but to pardon her cousin, but she didn’t think it would happen this time.
Beatrice had persuaded herself that she’d been betrayed, and she was partially correct. Rebecca viewed herself as being allied with Raven. In any scheme he was pursuing with Beatrice, Rebecca would be on his side.
Her antics the prior night had left her feeling bonded to him in a manner she’d never been with anyone else. They were intimately connected, attached forever, so they could never be separated.
She belonged with him. His goals were her goals. While she was sorry for Beatrice and would guide her through the ordeal, Rebecca would assess it from Raven’s vantage point.
As he carried out his plans, she would intervene quietly so he didn’t wreak quite as much havoc. It was the maximum effort she could extend for Beatrice. It was an important benefit for the servants who’d been kind to her.
“It pains me when you’re so angry,” Rebecca said, “and I’m sad that you’ve accused me of immoral conduct. I can’t imagine how we’ll interact in the future.”
“You needn’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Get out of my house.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving—especially not when Mr. Shawcross is inflicting himself on you. I’ll arbitrate for you to calm him down.”
“Get out!” Beatrice rose from her chair, like a judge passing sentence. “Get out now. Pack your things and go.”
“Go where? I don’t have any money or acquaintances to offer shelter.”
“Run to your precious Mr. Shawcross. I’m sure he’ll welcome you.”
“I doubt it,” Rebecca felt compelled to state, even as she silently vowed to do exactly that. She would march across the promontory and stay with him at Oakley.
“You have one hour to be out.”
“Beatrice Carter! This is my home. I’m not about to let you evict me on the spur of the moment simply because you’re upset.”
“When that hour is up, I will come upstairs to check your bedchamber. If your belongings are still in it, I will summon the law and declare you’ve been stealing from me. I’ll have you arrested, and you can be removed from the premises that way—with the servants watching you dragged out in disgrace.”
“Why would you treat me like that? Why?”
“Because I can. Because I want to,” Beatrice coldly said.
Rebecca hovered, eager to continue the argument, to plead her case, or to defend herself. Why would she?
Beatrice was cruel and malicious. She’d worked Rebecca like a slave, had repeatedly abused her with taunts and insults, had exploited her gentle nature and sunny personality, but they’d arrived at the final junction in their relationship.
For her whole life, Beatrice had warned Rebecca that she’d turn out just like her mother, and isn’t that precisely what had happened? It was embarrassing to admit how right Beatrice had been, but Rebecca—to her great astonishment—was very much in love with Raven Shawcross.
He might have seduced her, but she’d been a willing participant. She’d proceeded in order to make him happy, to encourage him to understand that they should be husband and wife.
They’d be wed at the earliest opportunity, so she needn’t fret. And wasn’t it time to depart Beatrice’s home? Hadn’t she been yearning to leave for ages? Here was her chance.
She would go to Raven, and he would take her in.
Unfortunately for Beatrice, when he rode to Carter Crossing to impose his penalties, Rebecca wouldn’t be present to temper his wrath. But that was Beatrice’s problem and not Rebecca’s. Not anymore.
“Fine.” Rebecca nodd
ed, and she whipped away and headed out.
“One hour, Rebecca. Don’t force me to send for the law.”
Rebecca glared over her shoulder. “Trust me, Cousin. You’d receive too much enjoyment from having me arrested. I’d never give you the satisfaction.”
She exited the room and slammed the door behind her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“What shall I tell Mrs. Carter?”
“Why would it matter to me what you tell her?”
Raven glared at Preston Melville. They were in the front parlor at Oakley, and the carpenters were working in the kitchen, so he and Melville were alone. There was no one to overhear their conversation.
Melville was quite intrepid. He glared right back and said, “Miss Millicent was in your brother’s carriage, and they appeared to be headed to London. Would you like to explain why that would be?”
“I’m not doubting you. I’m sure you couldn’t lie if your life depended on it.”
“Is it your opinion that he’s absconded with her against her will?”
“No!” Raven scoffed. “Females trail after him like hens pecking at their feed. He doesn’t have to kidnap one of them to obtain what he wants.”
“She accompanied him of her own accord?”
“I don’t bloody know! He left for London an hour ago. I assumed he was traveling by himself.”
“She didn’t stop by here? She didn’t”—Melville gulped with dismay—“spend the night so they could get an early start?”
“I haven’t seen that silly girl since the afternoon I took her on that carriage ride.”
“Your brother has certainly seen her plenty. They’ve been sneaking into the garden every evening—after her mother went to bed.”
The news lit a spark to Raven’s temper. Shortly after they’d arrived at Carter Crossing, when they were still pretending to be horse traders, he’d caught Lucas flirting with Miss Carter, then Rebecca had mentioned a possible tryst between them. Raven had questioned him about it, and Lucas had insisted he’d been trifling with a housemaid. And Raven had shrugged it off.
It was the common tenet of their relationship: Lucas would dance out onto the edge of trouble, and Raven would nag at him about it. Lucas would lie through his teeth, and Raven would believe him. Why was that exactly?
