Miss Charity's Case (29 page)

Oliver laughed as he pulled a sheet from the bed and ripped it into strips. Field mumbled groggily as the shriek of tortured material filled the room. Before Field could rouse completely, Oliver bound and gagged him with Field's own handkerchief.

“There will be someone along soon to collect
Lord
Heath. However, you ladies must disappear. That arrival is sure to cause all kinds of trouble.” He laughed as he looked down at the trussed man who was regarding him with malevolence. “I know how much you hate your contacts being late, Field. You should have guessed I would not disappoint you.”

Field's muffled curses followed them out of the room.

The morning sun shone brightly through the long windows when Charity came into Thyra's small sitting room. The sunshine surprised her, for night had vanished without her noticing. Only one person waited there, as she had expected. Both Thyra and Joyce were busy soothing Lady Eloise's
crise de nerfs
.

Oliver faced her, but remained silent as she unlocked a small case she carried.

Tossing a handful of papers onto the table in front of him, Charity said, “These are what you've been seeking, if I am not mistaken.”

He fanned the papers across the low table. When he saw several that were unyellowed with age, he smiled. He opened the first page, scanned it, then folded the pages together, placing them under his coat. Without speaking, he tied the velvet ribbon around her parents' letters and held them out to her. She did not reach for them, so he put the bundle on the table between them.

“I should have known Stuart would find a way to safeguard this information,” he said quietly, for he did not wish Thyra to overhear the truth. Even now, the fewer who knew of this, the better it would be. “If I had followed my first impression that my meeting with you at The King's Heart Inn was more than coincidence, we might have saved these long weeks of trying to unearth this.”

“Apparently time has not lessened its import.”

He nodded. “Charity, you have no idea how important this may prove to be when the peace talks finally begin.”

“I find it so difficult to accept Papa was involved in this.”

“Clarence Stuart was one of the best. He was willing to take a post at a poor parish not far from the shore, so he could transport information.” With a sigh of regret, he said, “Someone must have discovered what he was doing. He was killed and left at that brothel, so the hubbub from his death would reach the ears of his confederates as a warning.”

“Did Field kill him?”

“I suspect so, but I doubt if that can ever be proven.”

She gestured toward the packet on the table. “You have what you need, Oliver. Therefore I bid you good day.”

“Good day?” he repeated.

“I wish to spend some time with Joyce. There are so many things to be said between us.”

He stepped in front of her to keep her from walking between the table and the settee. When she realized he had her cornered, she clenched her hands by her sides. Her nails bit into her palms when he put his hands on either side of her face.

“Darling, there is much to be said between us as well.”

Charity shoved past him, not caring what he thought when he continued to play with her heart as if it was his newest toy. A sob caught in her throat. She had not been a toy, but a tool to help him achieve his goal. Soon he would have another mission, and then he would find another feather-minded woman to twist to his will with pretty words and succulent kisses. Another woman, who would be as susceptible to his scintillating smile as she had been, and who would be as shattered when he walked away.

His hand on her arm kept her from leaving. When she looked over her shoulder, hating herself for falling prey to the delight of his touch once again, he whispered, “Charity, why are you running away with that expression of grief?”

“Thyra warned me I was a cockle-head to fall in love with a man who was more in love with his work than he could be with any woman. At the time, I assumed she meant the Blackburn Line, but she meant this life of intrigue, didn't she?”

He shook his head. “Thyra knew nothing of this before last night.
You
are the only one—in addition to my superiors at the Foreign Office and my contacts—who know—for certain—I am involved in this double life. Not even Joyce knows what Field wanted. But Thyra is right. You were a fool to fall in love with me.” When she moved away, he halted her by putting his hands on her elbows and bringing her to face him. “But knowing the danger that surrounds me, I was more the fool to fall in love with you.”

“Is that supposed to console me?”

“No, but I pray that this will.”

He tugged her to him. The fire on his lips seared every protest from her mind. She wanted to be in his arms. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. As her arms slipped around him, she let his touch wash away the horror.

When he raised his mouth from hers, Oliver whispered, “That life soon will be past, and we shall be nothing more than an earl and his beloved countess.” His finger curved along her chin. “Tell me you love me, Charity.”

“You know I do.” Charity caressed his unyielding jaw.

“Tell me.”

“I love you. Do you love me, Oliver?”

Withdrawing the pages from his pocket, he reached for the packet of letters. He slipped the sheets among them again and put them into the small case. Shutting it, he twisted the key in the lock. He held the key out to her.

“You have feared I cannot love you because I do not trust you,” Oliver said with a smile. “Now I shall prove you are mistaken. I leave these important papers in your hands. I know of no one else who can protect them better until I can turn them over to the one who awaits them.”

“Oliver, I do not want this responsibility.”

His arm drew her back against him. “It shall not be yours alone. Do you still wish to marry this reformed rakehell?” With a chuckle, he teased, “Do I get the responsibility of both Stuart sisters by loving the one?”

“Quite a match, my lord.” She was sure Oliver would prove to be a better matchmaker for Joyce than Lady Eloise. “We shall be quite the scandal of the
ton
when we wed.”

“Then let us give the gabble-mongers something to babble about.” He smiled as he pulled out another slip of paper. Pressing it into her hand, he ordered, “Read this.”

Charity opened it to discover a special wedding license granted to Oliver Blackburn and Charity Stuart. Her eyes twinkled as she looked out into the hall where her great-aunt was bemoaning the atrocious misfortune of being surrounded by a family of muttonheaded women who always were fooled by love.

A wicked grin tilted Charity's lips. “Are you asking me to elope with you, Lord Blackburn?”

“Yes, Miss Stuart.”

“But why?”

He handed her the small case. “I do not have the time to wait for the banns to be read, because
The Black Owl
has been repaired and is ready to sail. I must get to the continent as swiftly as possible with this information to complete my final mission. We can be married on our way to France.” His smile became as devilish as hers. “And we need not have your great-aunt hovering over us with dozens of wedding preparations. After all, we have done nothing the ordinary way before, so why change our ways now? What do you say, Charity?”

“Yes,” she whispered as she threw her arm around his shoulders and leaned into his kiss.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1996 by Jo Ann Ferguson

Cover design by Neil Alexander Heacox

ISBN: 978-1-5040-0909-6

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