Carnal Deceptions (18 page)

“One more thing, miss,” the last of the men said as he was leaving. He pulled from his pocket what looked like a fur ball.

The fur ball yipped. She took the puppy from the man’s grimy hands. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.

“’Tis I who should be doing the thanking, miss. Your admirer bought out my entire cart.” He pulled a wad of banknotes from his pocket and riffled the edges with his thumb. “Generous fellow.”

“I’ll trade you one of those pound notes for three guinea,” Lord Marcliffe offered.

Tess turned to see Lord Marcliffe striding toward them, knocking the petals off the flowers on the mantel with his broad shoulders. A couple of petals caught in his long, shaggy hair. She giggled at the sight of him. He scowled in return.

Lord Marcliffe handed the flower seller the gold coins.

“That’s a handsome exchange.” The man peeled off a bill and eagerly gave it to the earl. He wrapped his fist around the coins. “I can keep a confidence, that’s for certain.” The man glanced meaningfully from Lord Marcliffe to Tess.

Tess found Lord Marcliffe’s gesture suspect. Had the money been meant as a gratuity or as a means to keep the man silent? And why did he ask for a pound note in exchange?

She watched him tuck the banknote into his waistcoat pocket.

“What is that—a rat?” he asked, directing his gaze to the small bundle she held. “It’s an adorable puppy.” She rubbed her face in the snow white fur.

“I wouldn’t think you would be so easily won over.”

Too much stimulation and not enough sleep were making her feel giddy. “You must admit, it is beautiful.” She spun around, letting her fingers skim the flowers. “It makes me wonder if I couldn’t just get him to ruin himself by spending like a madman.”

His scowl deepened. “The thief’s amassed a fortune. A pretty smile may have gotten you this wagonload of flowers, but imagine what you will have to do to bankrupt him.”

“Must you always be so cruel to me? You are only angry because my plan is working.”

“Your plan is heading into very dangerous territory. And without me, you will eventually find yourself unhappily wed to the bastard.”

“Well then, I do hope you find something out soon so that I may end this alliance,” she said.

“So, despite the gifts, you are still disenchanted with Sloan?”

“I was speaking of this alliance.” She used her forefinger to gesture between Lord Marcliffe and herself.

With one sweep of his arm he cleared the entire mantel of vases. The crash was tremendous.

The scared puppy nearly leapt from her arms and she clutched it tighter to her chest. It was her fault. Why was she always goading him? Hearing the servants on the stairs she spoke quickly. “That was a ridiculous thing to say and there’s no truth to it.”

“Then give Sloan back the ring,” he said. “You know I can’t do that.”

“How long do you think I’m going to be satisfied with the crumbs of passion you toss my way? I want full possession of you and nothing less will do.”

He’d finally admitted it. It was lust driving him and not affection, as she’d hoped.

How she wished her heart was as indifferent to him.

“All your want of me would be more believable if it hadn’t taken you two weeks to get to London.”

“Actually, two weeks and two days,” he corrected. “Your father’s finances were in a greater state of disarray than I had anticipated.”

“My father’s finances? I don’t understand.” “His debts are cleared now,” he said.

His forbidding look warned her that she dare not thank him. But she had to wonder what he expected in payment. Suddenly she needed air. She stepped over the broken glass and fled with the dog into the garden.

Lord Marcliffe returned to his club, but his surrogate remained. Tess looked across the room at Cyrus who was leisurely paging through a book as though the library was one of his usual destinations. Constantly attended to, she felt like a child on leading strings. After several minutes, Cyrus’s head fell forward and his heavy snores soon made it impossible to read. Tess set her book aside. Not that she could concentrate anyway. She kept reliving her last conversation with Lord Marcliffe. Knowing he only wanted her to fulfill his needs did not lessen the ache she felt in his absence.

Jane stuck her head in the doorway and motioned silently so as not to rouse Cyrus.

Once Tess was in the hallway, Jane kept her voice low. “I heard your little dog barking in the garden. I hope there’s nothing wrong.”

Tess draped her shawl over her shoulders and followed Jane.

“’Tis a shame about all those flowers,” Jane said with a sideways glance.

Tess ignored the comment and, leaving the prying maid behind, hurried out into the dark yard. There was no sound or sight of the new pup. She clapped her hands and moved deeper into the garden. “Flurry, where are you?”

From behind, she felt the sudden warmth and presence of someone. It was as though her wishes had made Lord Marcliffe appear. His arm snaked around her waist. The scent of sandalwood enveloped her.

“Tallon,” she said, and pressed her head back against his chest. The arm tightened immediately around her waist, and she knew in an instant she’d made a terrible mistake.

“I wanted to surprise you and I’m the one surprised. How interesting that you mistook my hands for his. I didn’t know we had so much in common.”

“William, you are jumping to conclusions. I’ve never even kissed the man,” she said, her voice quavering.

“Don’t trouble yourself. You’ve only confirmed my suspicions.” He rubbed his body against her. “I doubt any woman would decline a proposition from Lord Marcliffe.” Sloan pushed her head roughly to the side and his mouth clamped down on her throat. He punished her with hard, bruising kisses, his teeth scraping her skin. She gasped.

“My ship will be ready to sail earlier than expected. In a month’s time, we will take a coach to Gretna Green and from there to port.” He’d never spoken to her like that. He’d always been supercilious before, ingratiating to the point of being sickening.

She struggled to pull away, and his grip tightened, squeezing the breath from her. “You would not like to see me challenge your dear friend, the earl. You may think him a better shot. After all, he was a soldier. But he hasn’t my cunning. I can make situations bend in my favor. So it’s best, you see, not to purr the man’s name like that.”

He gave her a brutal squeeze and she felt as if her ribs might break. And then he released her and slithered back into the shadows.

A tug at her skirt made her jump. A little white ball of fur stared up at her. She lifted the dog into her arms and buried her face in its fur.

She was certain Sloan would arrange murder rather than face Lord Marcliffe on a dueling field. She had wanted to entrap Sloan, but now she was the one caught in the snare.

*

The next day, Tess convinced Lady Stadwell to take some fresh air with her. But the afternoon in the park did not sweep the terrifying encounter with Sloan from Tess’s mind. Having little appetite, she skipped dinner and retired early. She found the monstrous headboard with the wrought iron ornamentation gone. In its place stood a sleek, cherrywood bed. She wondered if she imagined it, but the bed seemed peculiarly sized, as though it had been built especially for the man who’d purchased it. Suspiciously longer than normal, it would hold a man as tall as Tallon comfortably. But the width was narrow. Two people lying side by side would have to sleep very close. She envisioned his long body curled around hers and thrilled at the notion.

Then she had a very different vision of Sloan occupying that same bed. She imagined herself crushed against the wall to avoid him. The thought made her want to wretch. She couldn’t leave the room fast enough, nearly tripping down the stairs in an effort to distance herself from the disturbing idea.

The parlor fire had long since died away and Lady Stadwell had gone off to bed. Tess wrapped her heavy shawl around her shoulders and took a seat before the cold hearth. She heard heavy footsteps and frowned with frustration knowing that Cyrus would soon invade her solitude.

“Cyrus, I’m perfectly fine. You need not…” She sighed with pleasure at the sight of Lord Marcliffe. He looked disturbingly handsome in his stark black attire.

He strode to the hearth, hunkered down on his haunches and proceeded to build a

fire.

Her delight in seeing him quickly devolved to worry. She was certain that Sloan was

not only watching the house but contemplating a murderous deed against the man she loved. Knowing too well that Lord Marcliffe would misinterpret her concern, she still needed to ask, “If Sloan finds out about your late night visitations, what then?”

The moment he sat down, Flurry leapt onto his lap. He ruffled the dog’s fur. “Do you think I care a damn?”

She’d half expected his answer. There was nothing she could say to warn him off. The man was too mule-headed. “What’s come of the packet of opium?” she asked hopefully.

“He’s purchasing the narcotic from Turkey. Plans on smuggling it into China.” “Smuggling? There must be some penalty for that.” She could not curb the eagerness

in her voice. If Sloan were imprisoned then Lord Marcliffe would not be harmed.

“Sorry to disappoint you, my little trickster, but it’s done all the time. The fact that opium trade has been outlawed in China means nothing. He will simply conceal the contraband with legal cargo. Then all he needs to do is pay squeeze money to the opium buyers who pass it along to the Chinese officials.” The puppy was now sleeping in the crook of his arm.

“Whiskey?” he asked hopefully.

“We have some sherry, I believe.” That offer did not please him. She felt inadequate.

With certainty, his mistress had the cupboard stocked with the things he enjoyed.

“An American is financing the entire venture. Sloan will be sailing under the company’s banner. This way he won’t risk the ire of the East India Company, which owns the English opium trade. It is possible that the American will never see his boat again. But you cannot imprison someone on a supposition.”

Tess felt defeated. It seemed a bleak future with Sloan was assured. Tess got up and walked over to the cigar box. She handed him a cigar and moved a lit candlestick within reach.

His dark blue eyes assessed her. He seemed surprised by the gesture. Dipping his head to the candle flame, he lit the cigar carefully so as not to disturb the puppy. She watched mesmerized as the smoke streamed from his firm lips.

“By the look on your face, one would think that you are anxious to be done with this thing,” he said.

“Don’t toy with me. You know I’m terrified that this might go on too long.” She reached over and swirled her fingers in the white fur on the puppy’s head.

“There is another business Sloan might be involved in.” He dug into his pocket then tossed a folded banknote onto her lap. “Do you remember when I traded for that?”

She nodded.

“For a closefisted bastard, he was oddly generous with that flower seller. Take a close look. That note is counterfeit.”

She inspected it carefully, but found nothing obvious.

He sat forward and pointed out the discrepancy in the design of the Bank of England seal. “The engraver did a near perfect job. But I’ve had experts confirm it for me.”

“Is this enough to put him in gaol?”

“This is a hanging offense. Unfortunately, this single banknote is not enough to convict him.” He plucked the banknote from her fingers. “I suggest you break the betrothal before you find your reputation tainted by his criminal acts.”

“What? And give up the opportunity of discovering more of these notes?” She made a grab for it, but he held it just out of reach.

“A moment ago you said you were terrified.”

“Well, I am. But my desire for revenge trumps any fears I might have.” Tess marveled at how convincing she sounded, since destroying Sloan was no longer a motive. Once she’d realized her own stubbornness had put Lord Marcliffe at risk, revenge had become meaningless. She flashed one of the smiles that always managed to soften his mood. It worked. He reached over and lightly stroked her cheek.

“Stubborn chit. Play this game too long and you might find yourself not only sharing his bed but the scaffold as well.”

The softening effect had worn off sooner than she’d expected. “I may have played too long already.” She forced a laugh. “We are to be married in a month.”

He set the dog down and leaned forward, his arms resting on his spread thighs. “In a month. Well isn’t that fucking lovely?”

“We are to be married at Gretna Green. Then we will take the carriage back to his cottage and set sail when the boat is ready.”

“A fucking lovely marriage and a fucking lovely honeymoon in a fucking lovely cottage. How sweet.” He stood abruptly and stalked over to the glass-fronted cabinet. He swung the door wide, cracking it against the wall, causing a forked fissure in the pane. He stared inside.

“You’ll find nothing stronger than sherry.”

He paced angrily across the room before turning around and facing her. There was a look in his eyes she’d never seen before. “Terrified. Bollocks! You seem altogether too pleased with the notion. Perhaps you’ve fallen for that criminal. The man who caused your father’s death.” He flung his cigar into the hearth and gripped the mantel. Holding himself rigid, his knuckles whitening, he stared into the flames. “I’m sorry, that was cruel.”

She could easily forgive his harsh words because he looked so miserable.

He turned to her. “I ask one favor of you. Don’t do anything rash until you hear from me again.”

Tess nodded, but knew she’d lost control of the situation, and that Sloan might, at anytime, follow through with his threat.

*

Shadowed by the rotting eaves of an abandoned storefront, Tallon thumbed back the brim of his hat and surveyed his surroundings. The bleak view fit his mood perfectly, the crumbling buildings with their nearly opaque, soot-encrusted windows and the crooked street reeking of gin and offal.

Tallon spotted Gibbs alighting from a hackney coach and stepped out to greet him.