The Devil's Necklace (11 page)

Ethan’s valet, Samuel Smarts, hurried in behind the duke.

“He needs a bath,” Rafe said to the thin, slightly stoop-shouldered valet, taking charge as if he were the master of the house.

“Yes, Your Grace,” the slender man said.

Rafe looked at Ethan, his hair uncombed, three days of heavy beard roughening his jaw. “I’ll wait for you in the study.”

Ethan had never seen his friend so officious. That Rafe was unhappy was more than clear. Ethan had a feeling he knew why. He didn’t wish to discuss Grace Chastain with the duke of Sheffield, but it didn’t look as if he were going to have a choice.

Rafe was waiting when Ethan walked into the booklined, wood-paneled study. A tall man with chestnut-brown hair so dark it looked almost black, his eyes were a deeper shade of blue than Ethan’s. There was a hard set to his jaw that hadn’t been there when he was younger but now seemed never to leave him.

“You’ll find coffee and biscuits on the sideboard,” Rafe said. “Cook will have breakfast set out in the morning room once we are finished.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I don’t imagine you are. It would make my stomach queasy should I do something as vile as what you are about to do to Grace Chastain.”

He stiffened. “I went over this with Cord. The girl is Harmon Jeffries’s daughter. I’m not going to marry her.”

“You didn’t seem to mind her parentage when you took her to bed.”

“I didn’t know! If I had, none of this would have happened.”

“Then apparently you didn’t force her.”

“Of course not.”

Rafe ignored the cup of coffee he had poured, sitting untouched on the corner of the desk. “Grace is young and impressionable. But she is no fool. She saw something in you, Ethan, something perhaps even you cannot see. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have given you her innocence. Don’t disappoint her. Be the man she thought you were when she allowed you into her bed.”

“This has nothing to do with Grace—or with me. This has to do with the fact that she is the daughter of a traitor. There is nothing she can do to change that. Just as there is nothing I can do to erase what that traitor did to me and to my men.”

Rafe’s jaw hardened. “Your need for vengeance has blinded you. It will destroy you if you let it. I never thought I would see the day I would be ashamed to call you friend, but I am telling you now. If you refuse to give your child its rightful name, if you make that girl suffer through this alone, you are not the man I believed you to be, and our friendship is over.”

Ethan’s shoulders went rigid as Rafe turned and walked out of the study.

At the rattle of the closing door, Ethan sank down heavily in one of the leather chairs in front of the hearth.
Two of the men he most respected in the world believed what he was doing was wrong.

He and Cord had been raised as brothers. Rafe’s family had owned an estate not far from Riverwoods. Rafe had visited often, was the same as a brother, himself. Both Cord and Rafe believed he was behaving dishonorably.

But his friends hadn’t been aboard his ship when they were fighting a hopeless battle against a thirty-five-gun French warship, when his men were being ruthlessly slaughtered, when those of them who survived were taken captive, beaten, tortured and killed.

Ethan spent a difficult day and an endless night thinking over what his friends had said. In a way, he knew they were right—his actions where Grace was concerned were completely and utterly dishonorable.

In a different, more heinous way, wasn’t that exactly the way Lord Forsythe had behaved?

It was not yet dawn when he awakened. During the night, Ethan had slept fitfully, when he had been able to sleep at all. As a weak sun broke over the horizon, he climbed out from beneath the covers and began to move around his bedchamber, still unable to sleep late, as was the fashion in town. Walking toward the bellpull to ring for his valet—something else he was having trouble getting used to—he allowed himself to think of Grace, as he had done his best not to these past two months.

Grace alone had had the courage to save her father. She had done so simply because she felt it was her duty. It was a stupid, incredibly brave thing to do.

Now she faced an even greater trial and this, too, he was sure, she would face bravely. And alone.

The question that plagued him—was he really the kind of man who would stand by and do nothing to help her?
Would he let her bear a bastard child when that child was his own?

Ethan took a deep steadying breath. Reaching over, he tugged on the bellpull a little harder than he meant to, an odd feeling of rightness beginning to settle over him. For the first time since he had left the
Sea Devil,
his mind was filled with purpose. There were things he needed to do, arrangements to make, a journey to plan.

Though it was the last thing he would have expected himself to do, he was going to marry Grace Chastain.

S
upper was over, a delicious meal of turtle soup, roasted partridge, candied carrots and peas in cream, fruit-soaked cakes for dessert. Aunt Matilda preferred to dine earlier than was the fashion, which suited Grace these days.

And they had entertained an unexpected guest.

Martin Tully, earl of Collingwood, had sent a note earlier in the week asking if he might pay a call at Humphrey Hall on his return trip to London. Grace had explained to Aunt Matilda the circumstances of her shipboard meeting with the earl, and though Grace was scarcely in the mood for a social evening, Aunt Matilda had insisted.

“A bit of male attention will be good for you,” the older woman said. “You seem a bit down in the mouth lately, dearest. Perhaps having him here will give your spirits a lift.”

Grace doubted it. Seeing the earl would simply remind her of the night she had been taken off the
Lady Anne
and all that happened after. It would remind her of Ethan, whom she no longer thought of as the man she loved, but as the rogue who had ruined her.

At least three times a day, she wished him to perdition.

Still, she replied to the note as her aunt requested, inviting the earl to stop by the house should he come to Scar borough as he intended.

Which he did late that very afternoon.

He was a little better-looking than she remembered, his light brown hair cut short and fashioned in the Brutus style, combed neatly down over his forehead. He had hazel eyes and the same slightly crooked teeth she remembered from before. He said that he had thought about her a number of times since she had been taken from the ship, but word had reached him that the captain had made a mistake and that she had been swiftly delivered to her aunt’s.

Both of them knew that didn’t matter. Her reputation had been destroyed the moment she had set foot aboard the
Sea Devil,
unchaperoned with Captain Sharpe. She wondered that the earl had bothered to inquire after her welfare and thought that it spoke well of his character.

The three of them chatted for a while in the drawing room then Aunt Matilda had surprised her by inviting Lord Tully to join them for supper and spend the night at Humphrey Hall before he resumed his journey to London on the morrow.

“I assure you Cook’s meals are far superior to those you will be served at the inn,” Aunt Matilda said.

“I should be more than pleased to stay,” the earl agreed, his gaze on Grace’s face.

She had sensed his interest on the ship. She saw it now in his eyes as he looked at her. She wondered if he would continue to look at her that way if he knew she carried an other man’s child.

Aunt Matilda settled the earl into one of the guest
rooms and after supper, as she had once promised him, Grace took the small portable telescope that had been packed in her trunk out onto the terrace above the garden. It was an amazing piece of machinery, a Herschel telescope that she had been given as a gift from her mother—undoubtedly paid for by her father—on her sixteenth birthday.

“Look there! You can see Hercules and the Dragon.” She took a last look, then stepped aside so the earl could peer though the lens. “The Greeks say that Hercules was sent to fetch some golden apples,” she told him. “To get them, he had to slay the dragon that was guarding them. For facing such grave danger, Zeus placed an image of Hercules and the dragon among the stars.”

Lord Tully smiled. “I’m afraid I am not that well versed in Greek mythology. Perhaps I should read up on it a bit, then when you return to London, we can discuss it.”

Grace looked away, glad for the darkness on the terrace. She wasn’t certain where she would be going in the next few months, but the likelihood that it would be London was extremely remote.

“I’m sure that would be lovely,” she managed to reply. Though the early May weather remained chill this far north, Aunt Matilda had left the draperies parted and the French doors open a crack. For propriety’s sake, she sat in a chair in front of the hearth working on her embroidery, seated so that she could keep the two of them in sight.

Considering Grace’s current circumstances, her aunt’s concern for her reputation was almost laughable.

They studied the stars a bit longer, but it wasn’t fair to keep Aunt Matilda up too late, so the earl helped her fold up the telescope, then carried it into the house.

“I’ve enjoyed the evening very much, Grace. You don’t mind if I call you that? I don’t know why, but I feel as
if we have known each other far longer than we actually have.”

“I’ve enjoyed the evening as well, my lord.”

“Please…I would like it if you called me Martin, at least while we are alone.”

Grace bit her lip. For reasons she couldn’t fathom, the earl was pressing for a relationship and that simply could not be. “I’m sorry, my lord. I hope you won’t take this in a personal way, but at present, I am somewhat unsure of my future plans. I wouldn’t want to give you any reason to think that…that…”

“I realize my interest seems sudden, but the fact is I have thought of you a great deal in the weeks since we met. I have been hoping we might resume our budding relation ship.”

“That is very flattering, my lord, but as I said, I am not yet certain of my plans.”

The earl took her hand. “When do you anticipate your return to London?”

“I…I’m not sure yet.”

“Well, once you arrive, perhaps we can talk again.”

It was easier just to agree. Grace found herself nodding. “Of course.” They went inside and along with her aunt, retired upstairs to their rooms.

Hoping to avoid another encounter with the earl, Grace remained abed later than usual the following morning. With more of an appetite these days—having to eat for two—she dressed in an apricot muslin gown with an over-tunic of pale green silk and headed for the door. She tried not to think how much longer she could wear the dress comfortably and what she would do when the increasing size of her middle began to show.

As she had hoped, the household was quiet, Lord Tully apparently departed. But someone was knocking
at the door and Parker was hurrying across the entry to answer it.

Aunt Matilda trailed along in his wake. “Well, I wonder who that could be. It is still a bit early for callers and Elvira said she wouldn’t be stopping by until sometime after luncheon.”

Parker opened the door and Grace froze exactly where she stood, her foot poised on the bottom step of the staircase. Though nearly three months had passed and he was dressed today in the fashionable clothes of a gentleman—navy blue frock coat, snug gray breeches and a snowy white stock, Grace had not forgotten the startling blue eyes and handsome face of the rogue who had spurned her.

Ignoring the butler, Ethan stepped into the entry and spoke directly to the older of the two women who stood there gaping at him. “I presume you are Lady Humphrey.”

“Indeed. And you would be…?”

“Ethan Sharpe, marquess of Belford, my lady. I’ve come to speak to your niece.”

Grace just stared.

“You’re Captain Sharpe?” Matilda asked, a note of surprise in her voice.

“At your service, my lady.”

Matilda took a deep breath, released it slowly. “Well, then, do come in, my lord captain.” She turned to the butler. “Parker, we should like to have tea in the drawing room, if you please.”

The thin man made a slight bow. “Yes, milady.”

Grace didn’t move. Her heart was pounding, her stomach tied into a knot. Ethan was here. Dear God, she had never thought to see him again. Unconsciously her hand settled over the faint curve of her stomach. She couldn’t
imagine what he would say if he discovered she carried his babe.

Her mind skimmed back to the title he had used. Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly. The man was a pirate, not a marquess. What game was he playing?

Her pulse thrummed faster. He looked even more handsome than she recalled, taller, straighter, more somber. She felt his eyes on her and her breath caught. She remembered how he could do that with a single glance and her defenses went up.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Aunt, since the captain and I are
old friends,
I wonder if we might have a moment together before we join you for tea.”

Her aunt looked over at Ethan then back at Grace. “You may be private in the rose salon.”

“Thank you.” Grace turned and started walking without looking back to see if Ethan followed. His footsteps, one with a faint hesitation, told her that he did, and she led him into the room and partially closed the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked without preamble as she turned to face him. “What is it you want?”

Ethan smiled tightly. “I had hoped for a little warmer reception. I guess I was wrong to think you might have missed me.”

She took a steadying breath, fighting to compose herself, hoping he couldn’t tell how discomfited she really was. “What are you doing here, Captain Sharpe?”

His gaze ran over her, taking in her apricot-and-green gown, the curve of her breasts, the upsweep of her hair. For an instant, she thought she saw something in his eyes, but his expression did not change.

“You might say we have a mutual friend. Victoria Easton is married to my cousin.”

Grace could feel the blood leaching out of her face. She
must have swayed a bit for she felt Ethan’s hand beneath her elbow, guiding her over to a chair.

“Sit down, dammit. I didn’t come here to upset you.”

She swallowed, fought for control, forced herself to look up at him. “Then why
did
you come?”

“Cord told me about the child. I came so that we could be wed.”

She could scarcely believe it. Her most trusted friend in the world had revealed her secret! Victoria had betrayed her and now the devil captain had come here to wed her. It seemed almost impossible to believe.

She lifted her chin and forced herself to meet his pale blue gaze. “I see you are still giving orders. Or has it escaped your notice that a man is supposed to ask a woman if she wishes to marry him? He doesn’t simply demand it.”

“Under the circumstances, I didn’t think that would be necessary. You are several months gone with child. I am that child’s father. What other choice does either of us have?”

A bitter laugh escaped. “Whatever choices need to be made, I am the one who will make them, and marrying you isn’t going to be one of them.”

His jaw tightened. She remembered that hard look well. “Don’t be a fool.”

“Get out, Ethan. We both know marrying me is the last thing you want. Get out and don’t come back.”

Something flashed in his eyes. For the first time, she realized he was as unsettled as she. There was a time she had believed he cared for her in some way. She had been wrong—hadn’t she?

Ethan cast her a last hard glance, turned and stalked out of the salon. Grace gasped at the realization he was
heading for the drawing room to tell her aunt the truth of what had happened between them.

Dear God!
Lifting her skirts up out of the way, she raced down the hallway after him. To her dismay, when she reached the drawing room door, she discovered it was locked.

“Is that really necessary, my lord?”

Grace’s aunt sat on a slightly worn tapestry sofa in front of a blazing fire. She was a robust woman with iron-gray hair and very discerning blue eyes.

“Grace has been less than cooperative. I need your help to make her see reason.”

“Go on.”

Ethan didn’t move from his place in front of the door. He was still feeling the effects of his encounter with Grace. Had he actually forgotten the power she held over him? The way those brilliant green eyes could make him ache with desire for her? Make him want her when he knew it was wrong?

“As you must know, Grace spent three weeks aboard my ship,
Sea Devil.
During that time we became…involved. To put it bluntly, Grace is carrying my child. I am here so that we may be wed.”

The old woman just sat there, her expression completely calm. “Is that so?”

“You don’t seem very surprised.”

“At her condition? I am not. That you are here to do your duty—that surprises me greatly.”

“Perhaps you would care to explain.”

“I have known for several weeks that Grace is
enceinte.
There are signs a woman recognizes, you see. In the beginning, Grace was ill in the mornings. Lately, she has been moody and out of sorts. She is terribly worried. I
have been waiting, hoping that in time she would trust me enough to come to me for help.”

His chest squeezed. Grace was worried, undoubtedly frightened, though she would never let anyone know. “Grace no longer needs your help. She will soon have a husband to take care of her needs.”

The tea cart sat next to her, steam escaping through the spout of the pot, but she didn’t offer to pour. “Are you truly a marquess? Grace believed you were some sort of pirate.”

“I was a privateer in the service of my country. When my older brother died I became marquess of Belford.”

“So you would be able to take care of Grace in the manner she deserves.”

“Neither Grace nor the child would want for anything.”

“Grace is extremely strong-minded. Though I might believe marriage to the father of her child would be in her best interest, you must convince Grace.”

Lady Humphrey rose from the sofa and walked over to unlock the door. It was obvious Grace had been listening. She stood so close to the panel she nearly toppled over when the door swung open.

Ethan almost smiled. It occurred to him that it had been a very long while since he had done that. Not since Grace had left his ship.

He looked at her now, tall for a woman, beautiful in the early light of morning, the special glow of impending motherhood making her even lovelier than she had been before. Still, the strength was there in the set of her jaw, the defiance in her rigid posture. It was that same strength that had drawn him, her courage in the face of danger.

Once he had met her, he had never been able to forget her.

He could feel that same pull now, the unwanted attraction that he had felt before. Even now, just the thought of having her back in his bed was beginning to stir him. He was grateful that his frock coat hid the evidence of his untimely arousal.