The Devil's Own Luck (Once a Spy) (37 page)

T
he windows had been opened, but the card room still reeked of stale cigar. Most of the evening’s players had found their beds, though a few had stayed to watch the last few hands of whist between their host and his unfortunate guest. Beads of sweat had broken out across Lord Sheraton’s forehead. His expression was grim and there was a faint tremor in his hands as he wrote out another vowel to add to those stacked up beside his opponent. Rand felt a surprising amount of pity for him. Jack had little skill at cards and that had been the case for as long as he’d known him. But he didn’t seem to be able to help himself. The man couldn’t stay away from the tables. In truth, Rand had never meant for the game to go on this long but the bastard wouldn’t give up. Even so, it was late and well past time to make his move.
    “We can continue this tomorrow if you wish, Jack,” he said as he gathered up the vowels Sheraton had written. “Care to have a drink with me while I lock these away in my office?”
    The viscount nodded curtly. Once they bid their good-byes to the others, the two men remained silent until they reached Rand’s office.
    Rand unlocked the door and held it open for his guest. “I’d prefer to collect on this now.”
    Sheraton’s face paled. “That’s unheard of! I can’t get my hands on that kind of money at a moment’s notice. For Christ’s sake, give me some time.”
    “Relax. I don’t want your money, Jack.”
    “What then?” He laughed bitterly. “My wife? God knows everyone else has had her. You may as well, too.”
    “I don’t want your wife, either. Sit down and I’ll pour you a drink.” He strolled over to the brandy decanter. His brow furrowed as he looked into the empty container. “Damn thing’s been emptied. Would whiskey suffice?”
    “Whiskey would be preferable, at this point,” Sheraton muttered as he sank into the leather chair in front of an oversized desk.
    Rand poured a generous amount in two tumblers and seated himself behind the desk. He pushed one at Sheraton.
    The viscount picked it up and tossed half its contents down his throat. “I’m no charity case. Add the bloody things up and tell me the damage.”
    Rand had already added it up in his head. It was substantial. “If you’ll put a muzzle on your lovely wife, I’ll consider the debt paid in full.
    Sheraton’s eyes widened. Then he rubbed at his face and groaned. “What in the hell has Evelyn done now?”
    “She’s spreading about that I’m sharing a mistress with André, when the truth is I no longer have a mistress and I have no intention of getting one. My former lifestyle is no longer of importance and it’s heartless to subject my wife to the more scandalous details. The point is, she seems determined to do what she can to make Cecelia miserable and though my wife can give as good as she gets, I won’t have it. Her happiness is worth far more than the three thousand pounds you lost to me this evening.”
    For a moment, Sheraton simply stared.
    Rand sighed. “What do you find so astounding? That you lost three thousand pounds or that your wife is spreading malicious gossip? I would think you would be accustomed to both by now.”
    “Neither. It’s a love match isn’t it? You’re in love with your wife! Christ Almighty! Who would have thought it?”
    Rand lifted a sandy brow. “One never knows what life has in store.”
    “You lucky bastard.” Sheraton shook his head slowly. “I can’t stand the sight of my wife.”
    At this point, Rand couldn’t much blame him. “Do we have an agreement?”
    “I’d gladly agree but how do you suggest I keep the woman’s trap shut? She’s out of control, Clarendon. I’m embarrassed to admit I can’t do anything with her. And she’s in dun territory herself.” He took another healthy swallow of his whiskey. “The only reason she was willing to move to the country is that we were being hounded day and night in London by our creditors. It’s so bad, I don’t even think we can go back for the season.” His eyes rolled toward the ceiling. “There’ll be bloody hell to pay when I tell her that.”
    The marquis gazed at him coolly. “That’s easily solved. I’ll buy her notes.”
    Sheraton looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You’re bound to lose money on it.”
    “It doesn’t matter as long as I get what I want.”
    “It would give you the power to ruin us.” He swallowed nervously. “Is that your intent?”
    “I don’t deny that I intend to hold it over her head, but my objective is peace and quiet. Your ruin would give me no pleasure; however, there will be consequences if she doesn’t behave.”
    Sheraton stared at the floor a moment before heaving a defeated sigh. “What are your terms?”
    “Your wife is to keep a civil tongue in her head when it comes to my friends and family, but in most particular, my wife. And you will allow me to conduct my estate business as I see fit without outside interference or repercussions.”
    “Repercussions? You can’t think…” His mouth tightened. “I didn’t set those fires. I wasn’t happy with some of the choices you made regarding you tenants, but I would never willfully destroy your property.”
    Rand’s gaze was unwavering. “But you know who did.”
    After a few moments, Sheraton looked away. “Foxworth’s youngest boy.”
    “No wonder Foxworth cried off his invitation at the last moment,” Rand murmured. “I’ve never met the lad. What would he gain by burning down my cottages?”
    “He heard his father ranting over how you were letting you tenants get away with not paying their rents and the lad took it upon himself to make things hard for you. Foxworth hasn’t much use for him and I think he wanted his father’s approval. I was there when the lad told him what he’d done. Foxworth sent him to his cousin’s place in Kent until he goes back to school. He’s only twelve. Truthfully, I suspect the older two put him up to it.”
    “When did he send the lad away?”
    “About a week ago. I’ve sung like a bloody bird, haven’t I? I can’t say that I like being manipulated but it’s been a brilliant strategy on your part. I’m assuming you had this planned from the moment you sat down at the tables.”
    “Count yourself lucky. It’s preferable to debtor’s prison.”
    Sheraton lips curled in distaste. “Far as I’m concerned, this is blackmail.”
    Rand lifted his shoulders in a careless shrug. “I do what I must.”
    The viscount knew he was beaten. “Write something out and I’ll sign.”

Five minutes later, Rand sanded the signed contract and locked it away in his desk. He had taken care of two problems in a relatively short period of time, but a very large one still remained. Foxworth’s youngest hadn’t been around when the last fire had been set. Someone wanted him dead.
Damn.
He rubbed at the grit in his eyes with his fingertips. He was too tired to even think about it. He needed a few hours of sleep before he could resume his role as host. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.
    He groaned. “Come in.”
    Winston opened the door. His clothing was crisp, his demeanor proper. Nothing about his appearance betrayed the early hour.
    “Good God, Winston. Are you up this early or haven’t you been to bed yet?”
    “I’ve begun my day rather early, my lord. I apologize for the interruption but Mr. Murdock has come to me with some information I believe is of the utmost importance. He’s waiting in the corridor to speak with you, if you desire.”
    Curious, Rand motioned for him to bring Johnny Murdock inside.
    Johnny came in holding a wilted brown felt hat in his hand. He touched an obligatory forelock then blurted out, “Terrible sorry to bother you, milord. Wouldn’t do it at this ‘our but it’s just that I couldn’t sleep for not knowing what there was ‘bout that French gent that troubled me. Worried over it all night an’ it came to me just a short while ago. ‘e was at Bryony ‘all the day after you got married ‘cept ‘e was dressed like a workin’ man and not all turned out the way ‘e is now. Said ‘e wanted work. Told him to come back the next day but ‘e never showed. Thought you might need to know since it seems kinda suspicious like.”
    For a moment, all Rand could do was stare at him. “Are you certain it was him?”
    Johnny nodded. “I’ve a knack for faces, milord. I’d swear on my life it was him.”
    “Did he say anything other than asking for work?”
    “Said that ‘e came ‘ere durin’ the terror. Worked for a French lord who lost his head. My guess now is that ‘e was lying.”
    “Did you tell him Lady Clarendon and I would be coming to Devon?”
    Johnny’s forehead wrinkled as he thought. “I might ‘ave seeing ‘ow we wouldn’t ‘ave needed him for more’n a day or two.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Not that I kin remember.”
    “I’m glad you told me this. I’d like you to wake up Harris and send him in here. Then go to bed. I can’t have you falling asleep on the job.”
    Johnny touched a forelock and left.
    Rand rose and began to pace. Adrenaline surged through his veins and his sleepless night was forgotten. What the devil was this man up to? He’d known something was wrong with the bastard. He should have trusted his instincts. He should have kicked him out well before now. He should have left him on the side of the road to perish instead of carting him home like a good Samaritan. He stewed over what he should have done until Harris appeared a few minutes later. The Scotsman’s clothing was rumpled, his hair mussed and his eyes were slightly swollen from sleep. He did not look happy, though his sour expression changed to one of interest once Rand explained the situation.
    “You ken his memory returned?”
    A grim burst of laughter erupted in Rand’s chest. “I don’t know, but I thought you might like to help me find out.”
    Harris grinned. “’Twould be my pleasure.”
    “Then let’s go wake the bloody bugger up.”
    Taking care not to disturb the rest of the household, they quickly made their way to André’s chambers. The door was unlocked. They crept inside with an impressive degree of stealth only to find the chamber empty.
    Harris scratched his head. “Do you suppose the mon is warming some lass’s bed?”
    “I can’t really see it. He’s too infatuated with my wife.” An alarm went off in his head. “Sweet Jesus, this makes me nervous,” he muttered. “I’ve got to check on her. Search his room and see what you can find out. If he shows up, do what you have to but don’t let him leave. I’ll be back shortly.”
    His heart slammed against his chest as he strode to their chambers and by the time he pushed through the double doors, he was near frantic. His intuition was right. His bed had been turned down but not slept in. All the lamps in his chambers were lit and a sheet of folded vellum had been propped up against the pillow. The Marquis of Clarendon was scrawled across the top in a masculine hand. He snatched it up and scanned its contents.
My lord, I regret to inform you that you’ve been cuckolded. Monsieur André and Lady Clarendon are meeting tonight at the Fenton Abbey ruins.
    It wasn’t signed but he hadn’t expected it to be. Filled with dread he went to her chamber. It was empty. The bastard had taken his wife.

Cecelia was cold and cramped. But mostly she was afraid. It seemed as if hours had passed and André had grown increasingly agitated. He prowled the landing like a caged animal, restless and tense, waiting for its prey.
    A glimmer of light lit the eastern horizon. It was close to dawn and she wondered what André would do if Rand never came. Maybe he would give up. They could leave without bloodshed and she would escape when the opportunity presented itself. Unlikely, but something to hold onto.
    And then she saw him. Not him, but a shadow so faint it could have been nothing. But she sensed his presence. Knew it was him. Instead of crossing the meadow, he had slipped through the trees and reached the inner walls of the Abbey without detection. He was less than a stone’s throw away. She lowered her gaze lest André followed her line of vision.
    “Monsieur.”
    His pacing slowed. “Qui?”
    She lowered her lashes as if embarrassed. “It’s been all night. I must relieve myself. Please. Will you let me go down? I am most uncomfortable.” It was no lie. She wasn’t certain how much longer she could wait.
    He gazed at her and for a moment she thought he might allow it. Then he shook his head. “Non. I cannot take the risk.”
    Her eyes opened wide. “But what would you have me do? You say that you love me yet you treat me in this fashion? I’m exhausted. I’m hungry. You’ve drugged me and tied me up like a prisoner. My arms and shoulders hurt horribly and now you expect me relieve myself where I stand!”
    He frowned. “Cheri, you must not doubt me.”
    “André!” Rand’s voice volleyed against the walls.
    André’s lips curled and he turned toward the sound. “You have come at last, Clarendon,” he called out. “I bid you good morning. Please, come join us.”
    “Good morning, monsieur. Thank you for the invitation, but I believe I’ll remain out of sight for the moment. Tell me. What do you intend to do with my wife?”
    “I intend to keep her. She has agreed to come with me. This is what she wants. And what you deserve, I might add.”
    “Is this what you want Cecelia? You wish to run away with this man?”
    “Yes.” Her voice was strained but the triumph in André’s eyes told her he hadn’t noticed.
    “Have you regained your memory, monsieur?”
    “I have.”
    “Then satisfy my curiosity and tell me what this is about. I know you came to my home in Surrey. Why?”
    “It was necessary that I find you. You took a woman from me, Clarendon. You murdered her.”
    “I don’t recall this incident. Who did I murder?”
    “Marguerite. I was there. I saw her fall.”
    A long moment passed before Rand responded. “It was wartime, André, and she was a spy. It was also self-defense. She would have carved me up like a Christmas goose. And if you cared so much for her why didn’t you try to stop me?”
    “I would, had I been able. I’d been shot.”
    “Ah, that was you. We were sadly remiss, then. We thought you were dead.” He paused. “I must say I don’t understand your loyalty. Marguerite was Napoleon’s whore. She shared her body as well as her information. Everyone knew it. Everyone, but you. She used you, André. She didn’t care about you.”
    “You lie!”
    “The truth sometimes hurts. But I digress. If all you wanted was my wife, you could have slipped away and there would have been no reason to leave me a note. I must assume you brought me here because you intend to kill me.”
    “There is no need to kill you. Show yourself and we will discuss this.”
    “No!” The word escaped her lips before she had a chance to think. “Please, stay where you are. He’s lying. He means to kill you, Rand. He told me.”
    “Not to worry, my love. I’m no fool. I don’t intend to die. Are you alright?”
    “I’m not hurt, but I’m frightened.” Tears welled in her eyes as she pleaded with André. “Please, monsieur. Let him live. I’ll go with you, I’ll do anything, but let him live.”
    He stared at her with incomprehension.
    “I promise, I won’t fight you.” Her voice faltered. “Just don’t kill him. He did what he had to do. Our countries were at war.”
    His expression was strangely blank. “You love this man.”
    “I don’t.”
    His blank expression turned into one of rage. “You lying bitch,” he snarled.
    “André! Let her go. Your concern is with me. She is innocent in this.”
    “You both wish to save the other. How touching,” Andre mocked. “Now I’m afraid I must kill you both.” He picked up a pistol, cocked it and pointed it at Cecelia. Fear caught in her throat. She couldn’t utter a word.
    “Is this what you really want?” Rand shouted. “To shoot a woman who has shown you nothing but kindness? She has no way to protect herself, you bloody coward. What kind of man are you? You have no honor. You’re worse than Marguerite. At least, there was a purpose to her slaughter. You have none other than hurt feelings. Deal with me. Leave my wife out of this. I’ve laid my weapon on the ground and I’m in the open now. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
    He had stepped into the open with his hands held in front of him. André’s gaze shifted between the two of them but he kept the gun leveled at her head. For a moment, she almost wished he would pull the trigger and be done with it. But if she died, so would their child. She had to do something. She took in a ragged breath and tried to ignore her fear. “Monsieur,” she said softly. “I didn’t lie to you, but I don’t want anyone to die. I ask you to let him go for that reason only. Nothing has changed. There is nothing for me here. I have no love for the marquis. I want to go with you. I love you.”
    “I cannot let him go. It is his destiny.” There was a thread of hysteria in his voice. “You cannot change that. It is his destiny.”
    “André you are a spineless coward.” Rand’s words simmered with contempt. “Did Marguerite do this to you? Did she humiliate you until you were no more than a whipped dog that hides behind a woman’s skirts? You have no courage. If you hurt my wife I’ll put a bullet in your skull before you have time to reach for a second weapon. It’s me you want. Not her.”
    Indecision flickered in his expression and André lowered the gun. Only a few inches, but it was enough. A shot rent the air and a blossom of red appeared on his chest. He frowned as he put his hand to the wound. Pulling it away he stared with confusion at the blood dripping from his fingers.
    Cecelia held her breath, watching, wondering if he would fall, if he would still kill her. Time had no meaning. She waited. At last, the gun fell from his hand and hit the stone landing. The sound echoed across the Abbey.
    André stared past her. “Marguerite.” Her name came out as a broken cry. He staggered to the end of the landing and stopped. He swayed, then, slowly lifted his foot one last time and stepped off the edge.
    Cecelia’s legs would no longer hold her. She backed against the wall and slumped to the stone landing.
    It seemed forever before Rand reached her side. He knelt beside her and quickly cut the straps that bound her wrists. She stopped to take in a much needed breath
    Her words tumbled out in a tearful rush. “I didn’t want to go with him, Rand. He told me David was hurt so I’d follow him, then he drugged me and tied up my arms and legs. He was going to kill you and take me to Scotland. I said I did but I didn’t want to go.” Her voice broke on a sob. “He would have killed our baby.”
    “Shh. I know. I know. But you and the baby are safe now. It’s all over. He can’t hurt anyone, now.” He put his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap. “I was afraid I would lose you. Dear God, but I love you.”
    It took a moment for his words to sink in and when they did she went still. “What took you so long? Why did I have to wait until now?”
    “I’m so sorry,” he murmured against her hair. “So sorry. I was playing cards. I came as soon as I found his note.”
    She shook her head. “Not that. You shouldn’t have come at all. He wanted to kill you. I would have gotten away from him eventually.”
    “You can’t possibly think I would allow him to leave here and take you from me. That’s utterly absurd.” His voice trailed off. “Then what are you talking about?”
    “It’s taken you all this time to tell me you loved me. I was beginning to think you didn’t even like me.” She sniffed. “I swear I’d pummel you if I could feel my arms.”
    He tipped her face up with a forefinger. He was smiling. “You silly goose. Of course, I love you. Why else would I marry a willful, carrot-topped wench with a never-ending penchant for getting into trouble?”
    Frowning, she glared at him. “You said you loved my hair!”
    He chuckled. “It’s a bit of a mess at the moment, but I do love your hair. Almost as much as I love you.”
    She put a hand to her tangled coiffure. “Oh,” she moaned. “It's a rat’s nest isn’t it. I must look a sight.”
    “You look wonderful,” Rand assured her. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful.”
    “Thank you, but you still haven’t answered my question. Why didn’t you tell me that you loved me before now? We seemed to be arguing over everything. I thought--I don’t know what I thought but,” she sniffed again, “it would have helped to know.”
    He smiled ruefully. “I have no explanation other than I’m an insensitive clod.”
    “You are a clod,” she agreed. “When did you know?”
    “That I was a clod?”
    “No.” She sighed heavily. “When did you realize that you loved me?”
    “I’ve known you all your life. I’ve always loved you.”
    “Not that kind of love. The type of love that a man has for a woman.”
    “Then I suppose it was the first time I kissed you.”
    “That was lust, not love.”
    “Picky aren’t you?” He sat silent for a few moments. “The morning after the storm. I was outside the hunting lodge pumping water and reflecting on everything that had happened. The world seemed different.
I
was different. I wasn’t quite so jaded or cynical. You had managed to change my life by just being yourself. You made it better. I can’t even imagine spending the rest of my life without you. And had that monster succeeded--but no, I won’t even think about it. It’s over.” He brushed his lips against her hair. “There’s no denying that André caused problems between us, but we will likely have rip-roaring arguments throughout our marriage. We’re both too stubborn not to. But I will always love you.”
    “I love you, too,” she whispered. The horror of the past few hours had no place here, she thought as she laid her cheek against his shoulder. Dawn had broken, its pale light washing the horizon with a rosy glow. The birds had begun their morning serenade and the grass glistened with dew. She was still shaken, but she was alive and well and her husband loved her.
    Then Harris’s Scottish burr reached them from the bottom of the steps. “Could you pull yourself away from your wife long enough to tell me what to do with the mon? The carrion have begun to circle.”
    Cecelia gave a sigh of exasperation. “He certainly knows how to ruin the moment. What on earth is he doing here?”
    “Be glad that he was. Who do you think shot André? I put my weapon down to draw his attention. I knew he would have no scruples about shooting an unarmed man.”
    “I suppose, I was too rattled to even wonder.” She frowned. “That was a foolish risk.”
    “It worked, didn’t it?”
    “Fortunately. I would have been very disconcerted if it hadn’t. I suppose, I should thank Harris.”
    “I suppose you should. And so should I.”
    Harris reached the top of the steps and looked down at them with an air of impatience. “’Twas a fine fix you got yourself into, milady,” he admonished her. “I’m not fond of being pulled from my bed at the wee hours of the morning.”
    She smiled at his gruffness. “You saved my life, and Rand’s. Thank you, Harris.”
    “And I thank you as well,” Rand added.
    Harris simply shrugged. “So what do I do with the mon?”
    Rand looked thoughtful. “Harris, the monsieur has recovered his memory and is most anxious to return to his family. If you would be so kind as to give him a ride.”
    “Where to?”
    “A nice bog in the moors of Cornwall.”
    “Might take awhile. If milady can keep out of trouble for the duration, I dinnae think I will return afore your guests are gone.”
    “Take as long as you wish.”
    “That I will. And allow me ten minutes afore you bring milady down. I’ll have the mon out of sight by then.” He sketched a surprisingly elegant bow and left.
    “But Cornwall is only a short distance,” Cecelia commented as she watched the Scotsman descend the steps. “Why does he need the extra time?”
    “I believe, my love, that Harris has grown weary of our guests and after today I’m happy to allow him whatever he wants.”
    “You have a point.” She was quiet a moment. “I suppose I should be horrified that he’s simply going to toss Monsieur André’s body into a bog, but it seems a very sensible idea.”
    “This must be kept quiet. You can’t discuss it with anyone. If it got out, I’m not certain it would ever go away and we aren’t the only ones who would be affected by it.”
    “Of course, I won’t say anything.” She snuggled up against him. “How thrilling that you were a spy. I should like to hear all about it. I know most of society believes no true gentleman would undertake such work, but I think it must be terribly important. Someone must learn the enemy’s secrets and carry messages about. You must have been in terrible dan....”
    He put a finger to her lips. “Hush.”
    “I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
    “I’m not a spy, Cecelia. I never was a spy. None of this happened.”
    “But…”
    “I love you. Now hush.” He put his mouth where his finger had been...
    and she hushed.