Read Rapturous Rakes Bundle Online
Authors: Georgina Devon Nicola Cornick Diane Gaston
told you the truth, would I have stood a better chance?’
Rebecca gave him a look of contempt. ‘No. My
response would be exactly the same as it is now. I will
never marry you.’
Lucas drove his hands into his pockets. ‘You have
no choice, Rebecca.’
Rebecca stared at him in outrage. ‘I beg your par-
don?’
‘You have to marry me,’ Lucas enunciated, with
great care. ‘I seduced you last night.’
‘Oh, do not be so ridiculous!’ Rebecca said, her
temper soaring again. ‘I seduced
you!
I needed you
last night.’ She squashed down the misery that threat-
ened to swamp her as she remembered the way that
she had turned to Lucas with unquestioning love and
trust. ‘I wanted what happened,’ she finished starkly.
Lucas’s face was set hard. ‘Nevertheless, I took
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your virginity and you may be carrying my child. Un-
der the circumstances I must insist that you marry me.’
‘I would as lief take poison!’ The words were out
before Rebecca could prevent them. It felt as though
some huge, destructive power was rampaging through
her blood, turning all the pain to anger and cruelty.
She took a deep shuddering breath and tried to regain
her self-control.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said with constraint. ‘That
was unnecessary. But I cannot marry you, Lord Lucas.
I will not let
your
belated sense of honour place
me
in a situation I do not want.’
Lucas came to her and took both her hands in his.
‘Rebecca, you responded to me last night,’ he said
softly. ‘Would it really be so bad?’
Rebecca could not bear his touch, nor the treach-
erous part of her that whispered that in another life,
another time, to marry Lucas would have been the
height of her most tender dreams. She wanted to throw
herself into his arms and make all well again. Except
that it was too late; it had always been too late. She
moved a little away, determined to take refuge in prac-
ticality and block out the pain.
‘Since it is information that you want from me, my
lord,’ she said, ‘you may as well ask me now.’ She
seated herself on the sofa and looked at him with cold
expectancy. ‘Well?’
Lucas looked slightly bemused. ‘Rebecca—’
‘The questions, my lord,’ Rebecca repeated tone-
lessly. ‘You say that you are investigating a spy ring.
In what way may I help you with your enquiries?’
She saw Lucas hesitate and for a moment her per-
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fidious heart hoped that he would override her cold-
ness and take her in his arms, murmur the words of
love that surely should accompany a proposal of mar-
riage, the words she had secretly longed to hear...
Instead he sat down slowly. ‘Are we not to speak
of our marriage any more?’ he enquired, with studied
politeness.
Rebecca shook her head. For a second the tears ob-
scured her vision and she blinked them away fiercely.
‘I think it better not. You will ask whatever it is that
you wish to know and then you will leave.’
Lucas paused on the edge of saying something, then
appeared to change his mind. Rebecca’s heart shriv-
elled. So there was to be no declaration of love, no
putting right of the wrong. Instead, Lucas put a hand
inside his jacket and extracted a folded piece of parch-
ment. He held it out to her.
‘I am here on the authority of the Foreign Secre-
tary,’ he said. ‘Read it—please.’
Rebecca unfolded the paper, trying to keep her
hands from shaking. It was short and to the point. The
warrant gave the bearer permission to question any
person appropriate about certain treasonable activities
that were focussed on the villages of Midwinter in the
County of Suffolk. She was to give full cooperation
to the enquiry.
Rebecca read the name of Suffolk and almost
fainted. The paper fell from her hand to the floor. She
could hear a buzzing in her ears and put a hand to her
forehead to try to ward off the dizziness that was
washing over her. She heard Lucas move and felt his
fingers cool against her cheek.
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‘I will fetch you a glass of water,’ he said.
She wanted to tell him not to do so. She hated the
thought that he had been in the studio before and knew
where to find all the simple things—the pots and pans
in the scullery, a beaker of water... It felt like the
greatest intrusion now that she knew he had had an-
other purpose for seeking her out. The fact that he
knew so much about her and her life was almost as
distressing as the fact that she had had the poor judge-
ment to give herself body and soul to a man whom, it
seemed, had betrayed her. She started to think about
all the things she had confided in him, all the words
she had spoken, all the intimate moments they had
shared. It had seemed so precious. Now she felt sick-
ened.
Lucas had returned within moments and pressed a
cold beaker into her hand. She wanted to dash the
contents in his face. She wanted to smash every item
of glass she could lay her hands upon. Instead, she
took a deep, steadying breath and accepted the water
with a brief word of thanks, whilst she locked the an-
ger and the hurt and the violation deep inside. She
took a sip of the cool liquid and gave Lucas a look of
defiance.
‘I know nothing about this, my lord.’
‘I did not believe that you did,’ Lucas said easily.
‘However, you will not object to answering a few
questions?’
Rebecca shrugged ungraciously. ‘If you wish.’
‘Thank you.’ Lucas resumed his seat. He picked up
the small package that he had brought with him and
unwrapped it quickly. Rebecca’s eyes widened as she
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saw the contents. It was a small sherry glass, engraved
with a picture of a half-moon.
Lucas was watching her closely. ‘You recognise it?’
‘Of course. It is a piece of my uncle’s work.’
Lucas leaned forward. ‘You are certain of that?’
Rebecca met his eyes. ‘Yes. His style is very dis-
tinctive.’ She could not read anything from his ex-
pression.
‘Do you know for whom the order was made?’
‘Not without checking the order books,’ Rebecca
said.
Lucas nodded. ‘You have a client who is a major
collector?’ he asked.
‘You know that I do.’ She did not have to make it
easy for him. She saw his look of resigned amusement
as he realised that fact.
‘What is his name?’
Rebecca frowned. ‘I believe he is called...Mr John-
son.’
Lucas raised his brows in patent disbelief. ‘Is that
his real name?’
‘How should I know? I have never questioned oth-
erwise.’ Rebecca gave him a faintly contemptuous
look. ‘I have never queried that you are, in fact, Lord
Lucas Kestrel, although there are a great many other
things that I could call you.’
Lucas inclined his head.
‘Touche´.’
He shifted. ‘So
yesterday Mr Johnson’s manservant collected a com-
mission from you?’
‘He did.’
‘And paid you two hundred guineas for your uncle’s
work.’
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Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did you know that,
my lord?’
‘That is nothing to the purpose. Is it correct?’
‘It is.’
‘Why so much? Had you completed a very large
piece of work for him?’
Rebecca set her jaw. ‘If you know how much he
paid, then I would wager that you also know the pack-
age was of modest size.’
Lucas laughed and took a leaf from her book in the
brevity of his response. ‘I did know that.’
‘Then why try to trick me?’ Rebecca asked sharply.
‘You know that the parcel was small, you know that
I told you a set of six engraved glasses cost twenty
guineas.’
‘And I know he paid you two hundred.’ Lucas was
watching her with the intentness of a hawk. ‘Why
should he give you so much money, Rebecca?’
‘Because he owed payment for three consignments
of work,’ Rebecca said.
There was a silence, then Lucas nodded slowly. ‘I
see.’
‘So simple an explanation.’
‘So it would seem.’ The lines around Lucas’s mouth
deepened as he smiled and Rebecca’s wayward heart
missed a beat. She was furious with herself. How was
it possible to hate a man so much and yet long for his
touch with a yearning that owed nothing to hatred? In
the heat of the night she had loved this man. Now it
was daylight and it was raining and she was still in
love with this cold stranger who had misused her trust.
She despised her own weakness.
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‘Is that all, my lord?’ she said starchily.
‘No, it is barely the beginning.’ Lucas looked at her.
‘I should like to see details of all orders placed by Mr
Johnson and all transactions bought and paid for.’
Rebecca stared. ‘That will take hours!’
‘You do have the information?’
‘Of course. It is in the account books, but—’
‘Yes?’
‘I am sorry, but I must ask why you require to see
it.’
Lucas waved the document under her nose. ‘John-
son is known to consort with spies, Rebecca. They are
using your uncle’s engravings as the cipher on which
they base their coded letters to the enemy.’
Rebecca drew in a sharp breath. Her first reaction
was one of relief. This was nothing to do with Daniel
at all. She felt a little colour come into her cheeks.
Lucas was watching her closely. ‘You do not seem
surprised.’
Rebecca suddenly realised her danger. In her relief
for Daniel she had probably greeted the news with a
calmness that made her appear guilty.
‘On the contrary,’ she snapped, ‘I am astounded.’
Lucas gave a short laugh. ‘A cunning plan, is it
not?’
‘Very clever. But not original.’
‘How so?’
‘The Jacobites used engraved glasses to communi-
cate their coded messages last century,’ Rebecca said.
‘The most famous case was that of the Bolingbroke
crystal, which was engraved with symbols relating to
a plan to overthrow the government. The glasses were
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passed between the members of the conspiracy as a
means of making contact.’
‘And you did not know that the Midwinter spies
were using the same trick?’
‘Certainly not. I have already told you that I know
nothing of the Midwinter spies and I am certain that
my uncle knew nothing either. He took the commis-
sions and did the work in all innocence.’
Lucas’s scrutiny dwelled on her face and Rebecca
felt herself blush beneath it.
‘You are very cool,’ he murmured. ‘One might al-
most say professional.’
‘Professional at what?’ Rebecca asked sharply. ‘The
only thing I am, Lord Lucas, is a professional en-
graver. You should know that now—after last night.’
Their eyes met and held, Rebecca’s hard with dis-
like, Lucas’s expression more equivocal. Rebecca saw
a hint of colour come into his face. His jaw set hard.
‘Rebecca, if we could leave that aside for a while—’
‘How like you,’ Rebecca said with contempt, ‘to
wish to leave aside any matter that would trouble the
conscience of any decent man.’
She saw Lucas’s hands clench and the expression
flare in his eyes, and she felt a savage satisfaction that
she could vent her anger on him and provoke a re-
sponse. Yet even now he was in control of his feelings,
smoothly pushing aside her fury as though it was of
no account. Perhaps it was not, to him. Rebecca’s nails
dug into her palms as she thought of the extent to
which she had given of herself; generously, freely,
openly, as though modesty and convention and reserve
were of no concern. She had been lost in passion
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whilst he...he had been playing a part. Or perhaps that
was too harsh. He had said that he cared for her. He