Don't Bargain with the Devil (14 page)

 

“I do not believe you.” He took a stab at the truth. “She does not even remember her real father.”

 

“Of course not; she was only four when he died. But I had already turned eight. I remember Sergeant Thomas Crawford very well.”

 

Diego’s world tilted on its axis. Hunforth actually had a name for the man? How could that be? “And Lucy’s Spanish mother? You remember her, too?”

 

“Catalina? Yes, why?”

 

His pulse quickened. Catalina? Could the nurse have had the same name as Lucy’s mother? No, that was too much of a coincidence. But she might have taken her mistress’s name to comfort the child.

 

Still, would that not draw attention to her and the girl she had stolen? It made no sense.

 

“If you and Lucy traveled with the same regiment, then you must have known Lucy in Gibraltar, too, where she was born.”

 

“No, I was never in Gibraltar. My father’s regiment was the one Colonel Seton transferred into. I first met her and her real parents in Spain when both regiments were on the same march.”

 

That might explain the earl’s strange memories. If Hunforth had only met her “real parents” in Spain, then they might have been anyone. Perhaps the colonel had not been the nurse’s lover after all. Perhaps it had been some other soldier.

 

But why would an unmarried officer take on the stolen child of another soldier? And it still seemed odd that the nurse would have used Dońa Catalina’s name. Then again, perhaps she had felt safe to do so once they left San Roque outside Gibraltar. He sighed. This grew stranger and stranger. What if he and Gaspar had the wrong woman?

 

There was only one way to be certain. Get a look at Lucy’s thigh to see if she had the birthmark.

 

“I say,” Hunforth broke into his thoughts, “what the devil does this have to do with anything?”

 

“That should be obvious, given my interest in her.” Remembering Hunforth’s cruel words to Lucy about her “blood,” Diego said, “I wish to know more about her real family, especially if one of them was Spanish. Her mother may have come from nobility.”

 

Hunforth snorted. “I seriously doubt that. Sergeants don’t marry so far above their station. Besides, judging from how her parents behaved around each other, their marriage wasn’t particularly warm. I’m sure Catalina was just some little Spanish whore who got her hooks in Crawford when she went whining to him about being with child, and he was foolish enough to marry her for it.”

 

Diego nearly choked on his sudden rage. He remem
bered all too well the soldiers calling his own mother a “little Spanish whore.” And she, a lady! “Is that why you think it’s acceptable to treat Lucy with disrespect? Because of her mother?”

 

“How I treat Lucy is not your concern.”

 

“I am making it my concern.” Diego glowered at the man. “You had your chance with her, and you were too foolish to see her worth. So leave her alone.”

 

The earl sneered at him. “Or what?”

 

“I will tell your fiancée about your ‘close friendship’ with Miss Seton.”

 

The color drained from Hunforth’s face. “She wouldn’t believe you.”

 

Diego flashed the man a cool smile. “I have never had trouble persuading a woman to believe me before. I cannot imagine it being a problem now.”

 

“Why, you bloody, scheming—”

 

The sound of a side door opening made the earl break off. Gaspar strolled in, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Diego, you have to try the food. I don’t know where the duchess found her cook, but he can season a haunch of pork as well as any Spanish…” Gaspar trailed off when he spotted Hunforth.

 

“It’s about time you got back,” Diego said, ready to be rid of the earl. “We have much to do before the performance.”

 

“This is not over, Montalvo,” the earl growled as Gaspar climbed onto the stage.

 

“I did not think it was,” Diego shot back. “Now, if you will excuse me…”

 

And turning his back on the earl, he headed for the wings.

 

He ought to be pleased that the earl had answered some crucial questions about Lucy’s background, but he was too furious that the man thought to continue pursuing her while wedding another woman.

 

He could tell himself he was only angry because Hunforth’s interference could ruin his own plans. Or that he considered himself Lucy’s friend and did not want to see her misused.

 

But honestly, he simply didn’t like that
cretino
going near Lucy. It was jealousy, pure and simple.

 

Besides, the earl would continue to be a thorn in Lucy’s side if Diego did not take action, so Hunforth was in for a surprise. Once Diego was through with that damned Englishman, the man would never dare to trouble Lucy again.

 

 

 

ďťż

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Nine

 

 

 

 

Dear Charlotte,

 

I don’t know how to tell you, but Pritchard is unlikely to sell Rockhurst to you. There are things you don’t know about the man, things I cannot reveal. All I can say is, be careful how you deal with him. He cannot be trusted.

 

Your concerned cousin,

 

Michael

 

 

B
y the time Lucy returned to the ballroom, Peter had vanished, thank heaven. Diego and his assistant, whom she remembered seeing once, were so busy setting up for the performance that they didn’t spare her a glance. She listened to them a moment, surprised to understand some of their Spanish quite well. Papa had said that her mother had often crooned to her in Spanish, and she’d certainly heard a great deal of it in the regimental camp, but she hadn’t expected to remember it.

 

She wished she could stand there longer, but she had other matters to attend to. Regretfully leaving the delicious sight of Diego in rolled-up shirtsleeves, she headed for the gardens. Sighing over him would only encourage him to take further liberties, anyway.

 

Though she hadn’t minded the liberties he
had
taken. What an amazing feeling to have Diego kissing her breasts! Even now, heat rose at the memory. The harem tales hadn’t prepared her for the full glory of
that;
reading about it wasn’t nearly as exciting as doing it.

 

She almost wished Peter hadn’t come in and interrupted them. Though Diego had probably had many such encounters, it had seemed to mean more to him than a mere dalliance. Especially after Peter’s arrival. Diego had seemed overprotective, possessive, even jealous. She’d actually feared they might come to blows. It made no sense. Peter had a fiancée, and Diego claimed not to be free to marry.

 

She didn’t care why Peter had behaved like an idiot. After how he’d betrayed her to Lady Juliana, she could never forgive him anyway. And when he’d gone on about their being old friends, she’d realized that he meant to keep her dangling on a string forever, an admirer he picked up and discarded at whim. Which she would not allow.

 

Diego was another kettle of fish entirely. She’d assumed that his nonsense about not being free to marry meant he only wanted meaningless dalliances. But he didn’t talk like a man who saw her merely as a conquest. Even before Peter had started insulting him, Diego had been downright rude to the earl, defending her as fiercely as Papa would have done.

 

And why had he wanted to speak to Peter? She fervently wished she could have heard their conversation. According to Mrs. Harris, men talked one way around women and quite differently around other men, but she hadn’t explained why. What else had the schoolmistress left out about men?

 

Like why they were so confusing. Lucy sighed. Mrs. Harris often warned that they might have ulterior motives for their attentions, but she hadn’t said it would be so very hard to figure out what those motives were.

 

Half an hour later, as people took seats in the ballroom, Lucy still hadn’t figured out either man. Although Lady Juliana latched onto Peter like a barnacle to a ship’s hull, he cast Lucy furtive glances that made her distinctly uneasy.

 

Diego stood deep in conversation with the duchess while also shooting Lucy glances, but his sent a jolt of excitement to her senses.

 

Why must he always look so fine? He’d changed into evening attire that sent her pulse stampeding like a cavalry charge. How did he manage always to be perfect? It wasn’t as if he dressed to impress—his attire was spartan compared to the other gentlemen’s flashy satins and colorful waistcoats. His figured waistcoat was plain white, as were his shirt and simply tied cravat.

 

But his attire was also of the highest quality, from his fine top hat and perfectly tailored black tailcoat and breeches to the black dress shoes with silver buckles. The ruby pin in his cravat, winking blood-red whenever it caught the sunlight, gave credence to his claim that he was a count.

 

A Spanish count—how could that be possible? Wouldn’t someone in the press have discovered it if it were true?

 

She glanced around, noting half a dozen newspapermen with notepads ready. Even Charles Godwin, the owner and publisher of
The London Monitor
, was here. He’d probably attended only because he was Mrs. Harris’s good friend, but if anyone could find out about Diego’s past, it was Mr. Godwin.

 

Then again, it was one thing to uncover secrets in England and quite another to uncover them in Spain. The war, followed by a series of conflicts, had kept that poor country in turmoil for some time.

 

Besides, while Diego might tease and evade, he never lied. He seemed to follow a code of honor all his own. Perhaps he was indeed a count. At this point, it would scarcely surprise her.

 

Either that, or she’d badly misjudged his character. She prayed not, because if he didn’t keep his promise not to make them look like fools…

 

Too late now. The duchess was signaling the footmen to turn up the gas lamps at the foot of the stage and close the curtains, dimming the sun’s rays to a thin wash of light that instantly transformed the room into an enchanted hall.

 

Lucy waited tensely for Her Grace or Mrs. Harris to introduce Diego, but he apparently had persuaded them to let him introduce himself. He strode up the stage steps, and the audience broke into applause as he bowed and doffed his hat. “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. I am told that you already know who I am”—more applause ensued—“so I won’t bore you with an introduction. I will only say that I am happy to participate in raising money for such a worthy cause.”

 

Around her, people began speculating about whether he actually knew what he was raising money for.

 

He continued, “I am sure it comes as a surprise to you that I am advancing a cause so opposite to my own aims. You have Miss Seton to thank for that. She has spent the past few days arguing so eloquently on behalf of Mrs. Harris’s lovely academy that I sometimes quite forget what my aims even are.”

 

That brought laughter and more applause, this time for her. Lucy’s heart began to race, though she wasn’t ready to let down her guard just yet.

 

“I have decided to be open-minded and let you voice your opinion about my pleasure garden in the only way that matters,” he went on. “At the back of the room are two donation bowls. The contents of Mrs. Harris’s will go to the fund to buy Rockhurst out from under me. The contents of Lady Norcourt’s will go to the Newgate Children’s Fund, an equally worthy cause.”

 

Lucy wasn’t sure what to make of this new turn.

 

Diego flashed the audience his charmer’s smile. “I, of course, prefer that you fill the second bowl, but since Miss Seton and her friends hope you fill the first, I will be a gentleman and not try to influence your decision. In either case, the duke and duchess have agreed to match the amount in whichever bowl has more money. So choose well.”

 

“And you, sir?” Lord Kirkwood called out, having managed to drag Silly Sarah to the breakfast despite the lack of card playing. “Will you agree to match the amount, too?”

 

Diego feigned a look of horror. “I said I was open-minded, sir. Not insane.”

 

That brought another round of laughter.

 

Fixing his gaze on Lucy, Diego struck a pose of exaggerated seriousness. “I know that there are some in this audience who think my character very bad. And to those people who call me the devil and such, I can only promise that…”

 

A fit of giggling at the front of the room made the others strain to see what was going on.

 

A pair of horns had begun to emerge from beneath Diego’s hair. He talked on as if he didn’t realize it, but the
horns soon rose so high that everyone in the room could see, and laughter drowned out his words.

 

Several ladies who’d heard her comments at the tea turned to smile at Lucy, but she didn’t mind his little joke at her expense since it brought such pleasure to the audience. And when he finished his speech with a formal bow, then turned to head upstage, displaying a long barbed tail that stuck out from beneath his tailcoat, the crowd roared with laughter.

 

That set the tone for his performance.

 

Lucy could only watch in awe as a succession of astonishing tricks followed. First, he took four cards chosen by audience members, restored them to the deck, placed the deck in a goblet, and then, from several paces away, made the chosen cards dance out of the deck at his whim. He poured a seemingly endless flow of different wines from one ordinary bottle into wine glasses, passing them out among the audience. All the while, he interspersed his tricks with amusing remarks that had people laughing with delight.

 

Then came more ambitious feats: coaxing eggs into strolling up and down a cane taken from someone in the audience, removing a man’s shirt without removing his coat, making cards disappear from a deck only to appear again in the donation bowls at the back of the room.

 

Things got really interesting when he brought out his pistol. He had someone choose a card and restore it to the deck before he tossed the deck into the air and pinned the selected card to the ceiling with one pistol shot.