Read A Necessary Deception Online
Authors: Georgie Lee
Mary curled her fingers around his wrists, wanting to pull his hands off but she couldn't. The excitement and carefree wonder of their night together echoed in every flicker of his pulse against her fingertips. It summoned her to him like a bell in a fog did the boats to the shore. For the first time in too many years, the echo of the happy young woman she’d once been sounded again. She wasn’t gone and he could coax her out, if she let him.
“Do you remember the last time we were here, when I told you my fears about my sister and my men?” His tone was low and smooth like the rumble of casks against the taproom floor.
She nodded, not trusting her voice enough to answer.
“Tell me what’s wrong with you. Not the debts or the pub or your mother, but you,” Charles urged, his tenderness as heady as his nearness.
“Th-there’s nothing wrong.”
It was difficult to surrender to his gentle entreaty, and to open up to him as she’d done before. It was clear he cared for her, deeply, but so had her mother and it hadn’t stopped her from scorning Mary and giving the pub to Paul who’d betrayed them.
Charles isn't Paul
. He'd shown John affection where Paul had ignored him. He'd risen to her defense when he could have left her to fend for herself. He’d tried to win money not just for himself but for her and their son. She’d been foolish to push Charles away. He would have helped her if she’d let him, as he wanted to now. If she’d allowed it then maybe the last three years would have been different. If she trusted him tonight, the next few might change as well, and for the better.
“I’m afraid,” she breathed, her voice trembling like her entire being as she at last revealed the truth, the one she’d hidden from everyone, including Aunt Emily.
“Of what?” He stroked the line of her jaw with his thumb, the gentle pressure reaching deep inside her to melt the frost which had covered her for so long.
“Of being wrong about myself, the pub, and you,” she admitted, more vulnerable than if they were standing together naked.
He didn’t laugh or dismiss her concerns as her mother had done. He didn’t try and reason them away as Aunt Emily often did. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. She laid her head on his chest as his wide hands stroked her back, and closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart and reveling in the comfort and peace of his embrace.
“You’re not wrong.” His words vibrated through his chest and hers, soothing the last of her doubts.
She leaned back, the eagerness in his eyes as strong as the one in her heart. “I see that now.”
She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his in a kiss as light as the morning mist.
Relief filled Charles as powerfully as desire. The dream he’d carried in Spain and across the channel was at last in his embrace. She finally trusted him as much tonight as their last one together, except the sunrise wouldn’t see him bidding her goodbye, but melding his life with hers. He drew her deeper into the curve of his body as he savored her lips. She didn’t tug away but laced her fingers behind his neck, allowing him to guide them both towards surrender. He slipped the buttons of her dress through the tiny holes, eager to be one with her as they’d been before. She followed his lead, pulling his shirt over his head and moving them closer to one another.
When they were at last free of breeches, boots and her chemise, he laid her on the small bed and covered her body with his. The light play of her fingertips along the line of his shoulders, the flicking of her tongue against his, evoked the young woman who’d captured him before. He swept her skin with his tongue, tasting her like he had the fine food and wine the officers had given him to celebrate his return to the regiment. This homecoming meant more to him than the one with his men for this was where he belonged. As he traced the curve of her hips up to her waist, the anxiety of the day and the long weeks before began to fade. The future wasn’t settled, but he’d see to it the stern Mary who’d greeted him this morning was banished for good, and the sensuous, tantalizing woman beneath him thrived once more. He’d never in his life given in to doubt or fear about himself or his situations and he wouldn’t now. Nor would he allow her to continue to be plagued by the oppression of worry. She didn’t deserve it. Despite her mistakes and the small lies, she was willing to fight for what she wanted which was the best for her son, their son. She hadn’t give up as her mother had but struggled on, doing so even today when it’d seemed there was no hope for her to succeed. He’d make sure she did, that they both did together.
~*~
Mary clung to Charles as they moved together as one, no longer clashing but embracing. Alone with him, there was nothing but his breath in her ear, his stomach against hers, and the exhilaration of their lovemaking. She hadn’t thought of the consequences of their intimacy before and she didn’t tonight, losing herself in the steady pace of his movement. No matter what happened, he would be here for her. He’d help her take care of John and share her burdens in a way not even Aunt Emily had done. He would be a wall of strength for her to lean on and duck behind when threats arose. All would be well. She didn’t know how or in what way but as they cried out together in their mutual release, their bodies entangled, she believed in it as she did his determination to make her a true wife.
“Were you scared when you were in Spain?” Mary asked as she intertwined her fingers with his over his bare stomach. The light of the full moon fell in through the window and turned everything a glittering shade of silver. She lay next to Charles, resisting sleep and the arrival of the harsh morning light. Their last night together had ended with parting tears, and even though he would remain beside her come dawn, she wasn’t ready to end this special time together.
“Every day,” he admitted with a long exhale.
She squeezed him tight, wanting to banish the bad memories like he’d tried to banish hers. “How did you fight it?”
He shrugged. “By always continuing on. There was no other choice.”
She admired his steadfastness and wanted to share in it. “And how will we continue on?”
He placed a kiss on the top of her undone hair then drew her deeper into the curve of his shoulders. “First, we’ll plan a wedding in secret so no one is the wiser about it. I assume your aunt will act as a witness?”
He raised her hand and circled her ring finger with his.
“Nothing would make her happier.” She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him. “She’s been after me to accept you.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked her.” He cuffed her playfully under the chin and it brought a wide smile to her lips, the first genuine one she’d dared in ages.
“And before the wedding? How will we deal with Mr. Pratt?” She wanted to hear his solution.
He pushed her hair off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. “We’ll think of some way out of this muddle.”
“Yes, we will.” She snuggled against him, not heartened by his answer, but with the weight of his arm around her, the sense of safety and hope which had eluded her for the last three years returned.
~*~
Charles stared at the rough ceiling beams as he listened to Mary’s steady breathing beside him. Even with her warm body tucked against his, he couldn’t find enough tranquility to fall into a deep sleep of his own. Despite his assurances they would be fine, the only solution he had to their problems was his determination to see her through this as he’d seen his men through the long month behind enemy lines, and a single idea he didn’t wish to entertain. He prayed she’d gained enough confidence in him to at least consider the suggestion which kept coming to him no matter how many other solutions he tried to concoct in order to set it aside.
No, it won’t come to that.
He’d say nothing about it until he was forced to. Like her pawning and his gambling, he believed something would happen to change everything. It had in Spain when the farmer who’d held Charles and his unit at gunpoint while the French had crept through the nearby forest had turned out to be a sympathetic Spaniard. As Charles had faced down the old musket barrel, he’d thought their succeeding at getting back to the fort was over, but he’d been wrong. With any luck, he’d be wrong again. Tomorrow, a solution would come to him. It had to.
The easy conversation which had floated between them as they’d helped each other dress and then broken their fast ended when they entered the common room. Mr. Pratt waited for them at the bar, smug as a conquering general.
Charles strode up to him, refusing to be intimidated by the man. "What are you doing here?"
"You said to bring ya' proof and I have it." He shoved a wrinkled paper at Charles who snatched it from his meaty hands. Mary came up beside him and read the document too. It outlined her stepfather's debt, his payments and the interest he'd accrued along with his mark and the placing of the Marquis of Granby as collateral.
"Is this Paul’s signature?" Charles asked, not willing to take the man’s word. Sadly, Mary nodded, the color which had lit up her face during their time above stairs draining away. Charles fixed on Mr. Pratt. "It wasn't the hundred you claimed, but fifty." It was still too much.
"I can't name all of me clients' debts off the top of me head," he sneered, before he seemed to cheer. "But I hear you're in need of money. I could loan it to you, add it to what's already owed by this place and then you’d have a fine posting with the Army and could well afford to pay me back."
The memory of the sallow man who'd eavesdropped on Charles’ conversation with Aaron rushed back to him. He stared at Mr. Pratt, working to appear more jovial about his money troubles than he really was. "You heard wrong, I’m quite capable of purchasing my commission without your assistance."
Mr. Pratt snatched the paper out of Charles's hand."Think you're too proud to take money from the likes of me, are you? Well, if you have enough for your commission then you have enough to pay me back, and you'd better do it by tomorrow morning or I'll summon the bailiff and claim my due, then you'll be wishing you’d accepted me offer."
He turned on one thick heel and stormed out of the pub.
Charles pressed his fingertips into the cool top of the bar, the unease which had filled the early morning hours while Mary had slept beside him returning. Between then and now he still hadn’t thought of some way out of their predicament, and an opportunity for earning money had yet to present itself, except the one he’d avoided considering.
“What are we going to do?” Mary asked, the small crease between her eyes deeper than before.
Charles hesitated. After Mr. Pratt’s visit, there appeared to be only one option left and he was certain she wouldn’t like it. He hated having to propose it, but he had little choice. Without money they would lose the pub anyway. He straightened and turned to her, calling on his experience leading men in the Army to steady him. There’d been many times in Spain when he’d had to command things of his soldiers they hadn’t liked or which were dangerous, but they’d been necessary. He hadn’t flinched there and he wouldn’t do so here.
He drew her into the tap room and shut the door on Mr. Ogden and the few other patrons’ curiosity. Then he faced her and with all the composure of an officer laid out his idea. "We can sell the Marquis of Granby, repay Mr. Pratt from the profits, and use the rest to start our life together.”
"Sell the pub?" Shock stole the vigor of Mary’s voice before she reclaimed it and with it the raging fury she’d been forced to hide every time she’d faced down Paul and one of his disastrous decisions. “I won’t. My grandfather established this pub with the money he received from the Marquis of Granby for fighting with him in the Seven Years war. I won’t give up on his dream, or mine for John. Someday, I want my son to be his own master and not beholden to anyone else for his livelihood, the way my mother and I were to Paul.”
“I want those things for him too, but maybe this isn't the best way for him to achieve it. If you sell the pub before Mr. Pratt seizes it, we’ll have the profit and be able to pay the debt. I’ll support us with my pay until we can establish another business.” He remained steady, not provoked by her indignation. His calm didn’t influence her.
She twisted her white apron between her hands, worry and fear making her thoughts spin. “And what if a fever steals you away like it did my father and leaves me without any means? Then where will I or John be?”
“You’ll have my pension.”
“We can’t live of the pittance paid to captain’s widows?”
He swallowed hard, hesitating before he answered. “I’d be a major, and stationed in London where I can earn a proper living and support a family and have a much larger pension.”
Understanding made her drop her hands to her side before anger tightened them into fists. “No wonder you were so eager to gain my trust last night, you needed it to convince me to give up the Marquis so you could purchase a better rank.”
He jerked back, indignant at her accusation. “This isn’t a plot to get what I want.”
“Then what is it?”
He took her by the arms, as tender as he’d been last night before they’d made love. “It’s a way for us to start anew without the pub and all its problems crushing us. There’s no other way. You must see that as well as I do.”
She didn’t respond, but her tight arms eased under his grip. He was right. With only hours left to repay the debt, and no more valuables to sell, there was little either of them could do. If they didn’t sell the pub, they’d lose it and any profit they might gain from its sale.
The profit.
She tugged her arms out of his grip and stepped back disgusted by him and his proposal. He made it seem like it was the best decision but it wasn’t. Like Paul’s marriage to her mother, her selling the pub was all to Charles’ benefit. He would have the money for his commission and she and John would be bound to him for everything. He could hawk her things like Paul had done or send John away to school as was a father’s right. No, she wouldn’t allow it.
“If those are the terms for having you in my life then I don’t accept them, or you.” She slipped out the door before he could answer, desperation driving her into the street. The time wasn’t gone yet. She could still save the Marquis. Perhaps one of her father’s old friends could lend her the money in exchange for a share in the pub. It would be trading one debt for another but it would give her more time and another chance to hold on to it and her dreams for John. Her own dreams and the calling of her heart to go back to Charles, to believe in him and his affection, to follow him as she had last night and allow him to share her burdens and her life were drowned out by her fears.