Duke of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) (10 page)

D
erek was furious. All his carefully made plans had been destroyed by one little minx playing a game.

He picked up the clothes he had worn the night before and threw them into his trunk, not caring how they fared on the journey back to London.

A soft knock sounded at the door. “Come!” he bellowed, and then he promptly turned his back on his visitor and continued his packing. The cloying fragrance of flowers assaulted him, and without turning he said, “Lady Foxworth, it is kind of you to visit, but as you can see, I’m packing to leave. Perhaps we can chat another time.”

He heard the sound of the door closing and blew out his breath in a long sigh of relief. He had no idea what the woman wanted, but he wasn’t interested. Everything he had worked so hard to set up during the past six months had slipped through his fingers.

What was Louisa’s game, anyway? Why was she in his bed? Surely he’d have remembered seducing her, even if he had been in his cups. The fact was, he remembered coming to his bed alone, so she must have come in later. But why? And how did it happen that their hosts showed up so conveniently?

The whole thing reeked of a set-up, but why?
Why?
Were his true identity known, he would think Lady Louisa hoped to catch a duke in her matrimonial net. But a privateer? Surely no respectable Englishwoman would want to wed an American privateer.

Perhaps that was the key. Perhaps she was not respectable. Would a respectable young lady be locked in her room? Would a respectable young lady hatch some scandalous scheme to obtain her independence? Would a respectable young lady flirt like a practiced whore?

He slammed shut the lid on his trunk. He could mull this over for the rest of his life, but without knowing the girl or her circumstances, his thoughts would be pure conjecture, and in truth, he was being unfair. He wasn’t even sure Lady Louisa had been flirting purposefully, let alone like a practiced whore. What had she done, really, except smile and converse with the marquess? No longer under the influence of drink, he wondered if he had misinterpreted the entire scene. Perhaps she’d been watching Vanburton’s lips, the better to understand him because the room was noisy and the gentleman’s tone was low. But how had she ended up in
his
bed and why?

He moved to the window and stared out, trying to clear his thoughts of Louisa’s motives. There were more pressing matters to attend to now.

Was he expected to offer for her? What nobleman in his right mind would accept Captain Wainright as his niece’s betrothed? To make an acceptable offer, he must reveal his identity, and that would be an impossible state of affairs. Not only would the revelation endanger
his
life but Stephen’s as well. The criminals would recognize the threat he and Stephen posed, and having murdered before, they would have no compunction about killing again. That was a risk he couldn’t take.

Yet how could he walk away? A young lady’s reputation had been destroyed because of her association with him. Had he not flirted with her to begin with, none of this would have happened. No matter the rest, the fact remained that she was still a ruined young woman and he was duty-bound to set things right, even if he had to reveal his identity to do so.

It didn’t really matter what he did at this point anyway. He had lost the advantage the masquerade had given him, for if he didn’t marry the girl, he’d be ostracized by London society. Some invitations would be withdrawn regardless, but the gentlemen would not give him the cut if he did the right thing. Interaction with society was vital to his scheme. If he couldn’t move freely about the gentlemen’s clubs, he couldn’t interact with the men mentioned in his father’s journal.

It was ironic, really. Gentlemen who might cut off their association with him unless he did the honorable thing could be traitors and murderers. But he had no proof of their abominations, whereas several guests, those standing in the corridor outside this very room, had proof of Derek’s dishonorable behavior, even though he hadn’t done what he was being accused of.

He thought quickly, desperately. The plot to root out his father’s murderer had consumed his every waking moment, and he’d planned it all so well. Now he would never catch the men responsible, and that knowledge almost crushed him. He was letting his father down one last time, and this time perhaps the most important of them all.

He slammed his fist against the wall. There was nothing he could do but travel to Chelton’s town house and broach the subject of marriage. He would keep his identity a secret unless Chelton’s refusal forced his hand. And it probably would.

He turned to leave and started at the sight of Lady Foxworth standing there. She had closed the door, but had not departed as he assumed. The entire time he had been contemplating his situation, she had waited in quiet expectation.

“Captain, I must speak with you on a matter that cannot wait. It concerns Lucy—Lady Louisa—and is of direct significance to your present predicament. May I continue?”

He threw a curt nod to her. At this point he had nothing to lose.

“You have, of course, realized you were set up. However, the reason for this trap will have escaped you, since you are unaware of Louisa’s situation, and that is what I wish to share with you. You see, her father bestowed on her quite a dowry—fifty thousand pounds—”

“Fifty thousand pounds! What kind of fool gives his daughter a dowry of fifty thousand pounds? He may as well have put in an advertisement for fortune hunters.”

“I am certain he expected to be around when the time came to choose the proper man,” Lady Foxworth said softly. “In any case, according to her father’s will she receives her dowry at the age of one and twenty if she is unwed. She does not wish to marry and has been planning to wait out the time. Yet her uncle has betrothed her to Lord Harlech and threatened Louisa about the matter. She decided her only recourse is to destroy her reputation so Lord Harlech will withdraw his offer.”

Her dark eyes gleamed. “It was a good plan, and you arrived at the opportune time to fit well into it. You are a man who does not need her money, a man who cannot be compelled by English society to wed, a man who is known to take his pleasures as he chooses, without contrition.”

Derek closed his eyes as he realized the well-planted gossip about Captain Wainright was responsible for this trouble. “Go on,” he said, too weary to protest her accurate assessment.

“What Louisa does not know is that her uncle plans to seize her dowry, by whatever means necessary. There is no doubt in my mind this information is accurate. I suspect it is why Lord Chelton arranged the betrothal. I don’t know the particulars of his arrangement with Harlech, but I do know Lord Chelton uses odious means of
persuasion,
if you will, to get what he wants. I also know Harlech has much to hide, more than enough to make it worth his while to forgo the dowry.”

“Blackmail?” Derek was incredulous. “Chelton is blackmailing someone to marry his niece?” He shouldn’t be surprised, he realized; Stephen had mentioned such rumors.

“Yes, blackmail. Louisa knows none of this. She plans to remain unwed so she will receive her dowry in two years. Lord Chelton cannot let that happen. I suspect he has already pledged her dowry against his debts. It is a sad state of affairs, n’cest pas?”

Derek’s thoughts tumbled through his mind. So, Louisa hadn’t been trying to snare the marquess as a husband, as he had presumed. The knowledge only increased his confusion until he recalled the conversation in the gardens. She had wanted the party to be over, her words implying that she would be involved in something distasteful, but something necessary to thwart her uncle. She had said futures depended upon it.

“Why does she want the money rather than a husband?”

“For Stonecrest, of course. She loves that estate and the people . . . You heard her yourself. It was a dream of her father’s to restore the manor to what it once was. She cannot do that without the money, and she will not take the chance of marrying a man who may squander it.”

If there was anything Derek understood, it was the compulsion to carry on a father’s work. His mind raced over the facts. If he wanted Chelton to accept his offer, then it must be more tempting than the one in hand. Perhaps offering the man money in addition to giving up the dowry would do the trick. An offer of an extra ten thousand pounds and Chelton would probably leap at the chance to throw his niece into matrimony with anyone, for a man who would steal his niece’s dowry was a man of weak and greedy character. Such a man would be easy to manipulate.

Perhaps he needn’t reveal his identity after all. If he could buy Louisa, so to speak, he could reveal the truth to her later when this other business was settled. Surely she would be thrilled to learn her husband was really an English duke and not an American privateer. His frustration lifted, replaced by hope.

He studied the widow as she turned to peek out the door, preparing to leave. “Lady Foxworth, may I ask why you tell me this? Is marriage to an American privateer better for Louisa than marriage to an odious Englishman or no marriage at all? And what about our previous conversation about Louisa, the one at the ball?” Lady Foxworth had stated matter-of-factly that she intended to pursue Louisa as a romantic conquest. In fact, Derek had assumed that was the reason for the woman’s clumsy mishap with the wine.

A ghost of a smile played across Lady Foxworth’s lips. “I knew of Louisa’s plan; I’d overheard her discussing it with Lady Sara. And so I was toying with you, Captain, trying to discern your character. Can you blame me? Rumors about you were rife. I am quite fond of Louisa, in a sisterly way, and the thought of her wed to Lord Harlech . . . ” She shuddered. “Yet, there is no doubt Chelton means to have her fortune. It can be the only reason he fought for her guardianship, and you may be assured he will do whatever it takes to reach that end. He is her guardian and uncle, and as such, her heir. If he cannot get the money through a marriage agreement . . . you must not mistake my meaning.” She pulled open the door and swept from the room, leaving the scent of her perfume to linger.

Derek stared after her. Was she implying Louisa’s life would be in danger if he didn’t make the proper arrangements with Chelton? The thought chilled him. It also prompted another thought: if Chelton were that ruthless, he might well be the leader of the smuggling gang. Either way, Derek’s mind was made up. He must go to Chelton and negotiate for the marriage.

Having made the decision, he quickly realized his new plan was even better than the original. Married to Louisa and living at Stonecrest, he could search for information about her father and uncle. An additional boon was that his mother would be thrilled over his marriage—though not over the circumstances which caused it—and he had to admit he wasn’t unhappy himself.

An arousing memory of the few moments he spent in bed with the young woman flitted through his mind, and he realized he was actually pleased at this turn of events. He had been irresistibly drawn to Louisa from the first moment he saw her. Besides, his mother was right. He needed a wife, and though this one was a little too independent, he would be able to handle her.

He rang for a footman to fetch his trunk, smiling to himself at the way the disastrous situation had been so easily resolved. As he had told Stephen many times, good planning and flexibility were the keys to every successful venture.

N
athan Barrick studied his reflection in the ornate mirror in the library of his London town house. He smoothed his curls over his brow, then tipped his head to one side and smiled at himself, obviously pleased with what he saw. It was enough to make Derek want to vomit.

The man was a cool customer indeed. Surely Lady Callister had told him of his niece’s situation the moment they arrived home, but he acted as though Derek were paying a social call.

Derek scrutinized the earl, noting the emerald ring that glinted in the firelight and the not-so-negligible size of the diamond in his stickpin. He’d already taken in the Chinese hand-painted wallpaper and expensive Oriental rugs and vases. The man enjoyed fine living and the baubles that went with it, and if what Stephen and Lady Foxworth had implied were true, he didn’t care how he supported that existence. Derek would have no trouble buying him off. Best to get straight to the point.

“My lord, I have no intention of wasting your time or mine. I have compromised your niece’s reputation and am prepared to marry her.”

Chelton’s jaw dropped open for the briefest of moments, and then he quickly snapped it shut. Derek could almost see the man willing his expression into one of indifference.

“I suppose you have heard of the dowry,” Chelton said mildly. He moved to the side table, poured two brandies, and offered one to Derek before motioning him to sit. “I should have thought you, of all people, above this charade. I understand, of course, that you’d be pleased to make an additional fifty thousand pounds during your trip to England, but surely you cannot expect me to consider your proposal. Besides, it is out of my hands. She is betrothed to another man.” He took a leisurely sip of his brandy, still feigning disinterest in the conversation, but the gleam in his eyes belied his ennui.

“And does this other man know she was discovered in my bed, both of us without our clothes, by the Duke and Duchess of Bellingham and several of their guests?”

Lord Chelton choked, spewing out brandy on his snowy white cravat. “Blast it!” he said, slamming his glass down and jumping to his feet.

Derek held back a smile, saying nothing while Lord Chelton rang for a servant to send for his valet and a fresh cravat and then once again took his seat. Derek could hardly fathom it, but Chelton had evidently not heard the news. What, then, had he thought the purpose of Derek’s call?

“Look, I’m prepared to forgo the dowry, Chelton. In addition, I’ll pay you five thousand pounds for your blessing.”

Lord Chelton’s scowl vanished, replaced with a look that was an odd mixture of surprise and greed. “I’m shocked you would presume to purchase my permission to marry the only niece I shall ever have. My poor brother’s only child. Her welfare is of the utmost importance to me. I daresay she would have difficulty gaining acceptance into the best houses married to a pirate—
er
 . . . privateer. I shall have to convince quite a few of the
ton
to keep her on their lists.”

“What do you want?” Derek asked bluntly. The conversation was already tiresome, and he wanted to get to the business of informing Louisa.

Chelton drew back as though shocked over Derek’s reaction. “It’s not a matter of what I want, Captain. We are speaking of my darling Louisa’s reputation. Gaining society’s support shall be quite expensive, but I shouldn’t like to quibble about that, not with her future at stake. Still, I haven’t the funds to ensure those invitations. Restoring her standing could cost as much as fifty thousand pounds.”

Derek arched a brow. “I’m prepared to marry her, but I’m no fool. Ten thousand is surely sufficient to guarantee her acceptance by several members of the
ton.
Once a few are secured, the rest will follow.”

“Forty thousand is barely enough to cover the expenses I shall incur, sir,” Chelton responded, lifting his chin. “For people to jeopardize their own reputations to sponsor a chit”—he coughed into a silk handkerchief—“a young
lady
who has gone astray, even if she does the proper thing about it, is expecting too much. I will have to make it worth their while. I doubt I can cover everything with that sum, but I would try. For my niece’s sake, of course.”

Derek wanted to tell Chelton to go to the devil, but he knew he must continue playing the game. “Twenty thousand is my final offer,” he said. “I shall not pay a shilling more; it’s a seventy-thousand-pound loss for me. You’d be wise to take my offer, for you won’t find a better one now that her reputation has been soiled.”

Chelton’s lips settled into a smug smile. “We will shake on it and I’ll have my attorney draw up papers. You realize I can’t guarantee society will open their arms to her again, no matter what sum of money I have at my disposal? I will try my best, as I’ve said.”

Derek could hardly look upon Chelton without showing disdain. The man had no intention of doing anything with the money but spend it on himself, but Derek swallowed his retort. He arose from his chair and Chelton followed suit.

“Where is she?” he asked. “Still abed?”

Chelton’s brow furrowed, then smoothed as he realized Derek’s meaning. “She didn’t return here. She must have gone directly to Stonecrest. No need for her to come to London; she surely realizes she cannot continue in the Season’s events.” He set his glass down, dabbing lightly at his lips, and then folded his handkerchief neatly and slipped it back into his pocket. “If you’ll wait, I shall have my man write out directions.”

“You aren’t coming with me to inform her of her duty?” Derek couldn’t believe the lack of concern in the man’s words and actions. It was obvious he didn’t care what happened to his only niece, as long as it didn’t inconvenience him.

Chelton shrugged. “Whatever for? You can tell her as easily as I.” He started toward the door where his valet stood waiting with a fresh cravat and then stopped and turned back to Derek. “By the way, I hear you have enough orders for your trip to the West Indies. Is that so?”

“Yes, my lord.” The orders had come in quickly, though Derek hadn’t been able to ascertain whether any of them had come from the leader of the gang he sought.

“I had no idea you could work so fast, or I’d have looked into the matter sooner. If you have a cancellation, let me know. I might want to trade a few hundred bushels of wheat for brandy, lace, and other finery,” he said. He fingered the lace edging on the cuffs of his expensive silk shirt. “The quality to be found in London isn’t what it used to be.”

“Wheat?” Derek gave him a cool stare. A muscle in his jaw began to tic. “Exactly which wheat would that be? The wheat that belongs to my soon-to-be wife?”

“It belongs to me,” Chelton replied with a smirk, “since it’s already been harvested and put into storage, and so does anything else at Stonecrest that I wish to remove before you take over my responsibilities.”

Derek swallowed his anger lest he say something he might regret. The possibility was strong that Chelton was involved in the smuggling or was even the leader of the gang. Hell, he could even be the mysterious Summerfield; maybe that was a code name. Derek would be a fool to throw away the chance to discover information by alienating the man to the point that he’d seek another ship for his cargo. Still, Chelton wouldn’t expect him to respond in less than a forceful manner, given the circumstances.

“I’ll keep your request in mind, my lord, but perhaps I’d better make something clear. As of this moment, every item, every crop, every piece of furnishing, equipment, and even the dung in the stable belongs to my future wife and to me. You’re being well paid to make your exit, and that’s exactly what I expect.”

“As you wish,” Chelton replied with a smile that was a little too good-natured. He headed toward the door and stopped just as he reached it, turning around once again. “Oh, one other thing,” he said, his eyes shining with triumph. “I would have taken the five thousand if you’d refused to pay above that. Had you waited me out, you’d be fifteen thousand pounds richer.”

“That’s quite all right, my lord,” Derek said blandly as he looked the man in the eye. “I would have paid two hundred.”

L
ucy refused to leave her bedchamber. She’d been downstairs when Sturgeon led Captain Wainright into the drawing room. Without warning, she’d found herself face to face with the man she had tricked. She had never expected to see him again, let alone be informed that, given the unfortunate episode at the Bellingham estate, her uncle had consented to their marriage. They were, in fact, betrothed, and the wedding would take place in three weeks.

Shock had turned to anger and anger to fury. She argued and shouted, then pouted and cajoled, but she could not budge the privateer from his position. She refused to marry him, telling him that nothing,
nothing
could ever induce her to it, and he merely smiled, amused interest flickering in his gray eyes. Then he politely suggested she work on changing her attitude since she had no choice in the matter.

Furious with the knowledge that what he said was true, she sulked and retired to her room, insisting she had the headache, so she could think things through without his distracting male presence around.

Once there, she stamped her foot in frustration. Confound the man! Her plan had been ill-fated from the moment she decided to use him in it, and she’d instinctively known it. Any other man would have worked out, she thought bitterly.
Any
other man. And yet she’d carried on with her scheme.

Now she was no better off than before, perhaps worse off, for not only was she still betrothed, albeit to a different man, but her reputation had suffered as well. Yet her problem remained the same. Her uncle supported this suitor just as he had Lord Harlech, and if she disobeyed him, he might withhold her entire allowance. Either way, a man controlled her fortune.

With that unhappy thought in mind, she rang for a hot bath to help her sleep, wishing she hadn’t when she was forced to listen to Bridget chatter endlessly about the captain’s handsome physique. Not wanting the maid to realize her agitation, she pretended not to hear the remarks, a strategy which proved unwise when Bridget, growing ever bolder with each unchecked remark, wondered wistfully if the large proportions of the captain extended to his manly parts.

“Bridget! That’s enough!” Lucy’s cheeks warmed as she too began to think about the captain’s manly parts. She had no idea what size his manly parts were supposed to be, or exactly what that remark even meant, but judging from the way Bridget was smiling so dreamily, it was obviously something worth thinking about.

She tossed and turned all night. Every time she began to drift off, she would remember that she was, for all practical purposes, affianced to a pirate. Dreams intermingled with reality, and she thought she awoke to see him standing before her on a ship’s deck, drenched from the rain and sea, shouting orders while the ship tossed about on black, turbulent waves. He turned toward her and laughed louder and louder as he hoisted the Jolly Roger, its skull scowling down at her. With a start, she woke and remembered the day’s events and wished desperately that it had all been a dream.

But it wasn’t a dream. She was betrothed to a pirate. Who cared that he was a handsome, exciting pirate who knew exactly how to kiss? The fact that she was betrothed at all was shocking. The entire affair was beyond comprehension.

She sat up and pummeled her pillow. She absolutely would not marry an American, not even one with strong hands and gentle fingers that were adept at caressing a woman. One did not marry a man simply because he had a nice backside or a powerfully muscled chest, or because he caused certain deliciously wicked feelings in the pit of one’s stomach.

She turned on her side, kicking away the blanket, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying hard to concentrate on anything but
him.

One married a respectable man, she told herself, if one married at all, and she did not wish to marry at all. Not even if the man happened to have a perfectly proportioned body, those perfect proportions most likely extending to his manly parts.

Goodness, it was warm tonight. She sat up and looked about for a fan. She thought to ring Bridget to inquire about the heat but changed her mind, deciding the girl would chatter on and on about the captain, and she simply couldn’t bear to hear it all again. She lay back down, flatly refusing to think about him.

How could this have happened? What did he want? It was most definitely the dowry he was after. It had to be, for certainly he couldn’t care about guarding her reputation or his. He was a pirate, and even if he wasn’t—not exactly, anyway—he acted as one. Respectable men did not amass a fortune by attacking and marauding ships, nor were they known for the number of women they’d seduced.

No, he was not a respectable man, and he was most definitely after her fortune. There could be nothing else he wanted from her, and in seeking the object of his desire, he hadn’t given a thought to what
she
might want. He was obviously selfish and lived exactly as he pleased, with no thought for anyone or anything except his own pleasure and getting his way.

And she was being forced to marry such a man.

Despair struck her and tears spilled onto her cheeks. Everything was in a terrible jumble, but how could she have known he would offer for her? Surely he didn’t need her money that desperately. All the talk circulating about him began and ended with whispers of his wealth, so why would he want her fortune? She was tired of trying to keep one step ahead of men who thought they had the right to control her and her money. She would force him to turn over her fortune or she would refuse to marry him, and that was that.

She shivered as she considered the captain rejecting her demand and notifying her uncle of that fact, but she remained steadfast. No one could actually force her to marry and she wouldn’t, not unless her
betrothed
agreed to give her the money. Otherwise, what would she gain?

With that final thought she drifted off into a troubled sleep filled with dreams of pirates and swords and stolen treasures.