night, and though she wished his father
well, she’d not heard from him since the
wedding. How much longer could she
hold on? What was she to do now that
Burton wanted her to lobby for him?
Surely Percy would find her sudden
interest and support of Burton odd. But if
she didn’t become Burton’s pawn, her
father would be charged with piracy and
locked away. And if Burton ever found
out she was with child, everything she
had sacrificed for her security would be
over before it had ever begun.
A comforting hand settled upon her
shoulder, startling her. She looked up to
the figure standing in the half-light.
“Forgive me,” the light-enshrouded
shadow said. “I should have introduced
myself but you were so engaged by the
fire, and so enchanting to watch, that I
hated to disturb you.”
Disappointed the voice did not
belong to Thomas or Percy, Constance
peered up into Lieutenant Guffald’s face.
If ever there was a face other than her
husband’s or Thomas’s she’d be happier
to see, it was Guffald’s. He’d promised
her rescue on the
Octavia
. Perhaps she
could rely upon him now. She smiled
cordially and, with a gesture of her hand,
indicated for him to sit near her by the
fire.
“Lieutenant.” She sighed. “How
good it is to see you again. And so
soon,” she exclaimed, hoping he would
understand the dilemma he created by
visiting her at this time.
“You appear slightly disheveled,
Lady Stanton. Is something wrong?”
She detected kindness and respect
in Guffald’s voice, something terribly
missing in Burton’s. Constance exhaled
and tried to regain her confidence.
“Lord Burton was just here.”
“I know. He let me in the house,”
he said, gauging her reaction. “I found
that quite odd. He gave no reason, only
that he was in a hurry to leave. Did he
do anything untoward?”
“No,” she lied. “He had some news
to relate about my father.”
Alarm flickered in his blue eyes.
“Forgive me. You seem, well …
agitated. Did he harm you, threaten you
in any way?”
“No,” she replied hastily. “Indeed,
no,” she reassured. She smiled at
Guffald, hoping to ease his concern.
“The man simply will not let his
grievance
against
my
family
go,
however.”
“Your marriage to Percy, for
instance?”
Her head snapped up and she
studied Guffald. His use of her
husband’s proper name alerted her
defenses. But then she remembered. The
two were famous friends. She had no
need to worry about the familiarity
between them.
“I’m afraid so,” she admitted.
Guffald leaned closer. “If I may —
why did you receive him? Certainly that
was not a good idea, given Burton’s
derision. I’m sure Percy will be most
unhappy. You should not be so eager for
honey when the bee’s sting might be
fatal.”
“Burton’s behavior is none of your
concern, Lieutenant,” she objected,
angered that he thought her silly. His use
of the strange metaphor did not help
matters. “My husband, should he choose
to, will deal with Lord Burton.”
If only he were here.
She sighed.
So few moments with the man
condemned her to continue making
mistakes like these.
She gazed down
upon the gloved hand of the gallant
lieutenant who’d fought pirates in order
to save her life and narrowly escaped.
The man who’d almost singlehandedly
succeeded in getting them off the Striker
before the storm had prevented launch of
the gig. The golden-haired man’s fingers
twitched. She peered up into his
crystalline blue eyes and noticed a hint
of a smile playing upon his lips. Was he
aware of something she was not? The
idea did not sit well with her. She
popped up out of her chair and put
distance between them.
“I fear the day has grown old and
I’m rather tired. Thank you for coming to
call, Lieutenant. I’ll be sure to relay your
good tidings to my husband when he
arrives.”
Damnation!
She hadn’t meant
to let that slip.
“So he has deserted you!” he
exclaimed. “And so soon? I cannot
fathom the man’s stupidity. Were our
situations reversed, I assure you no one
would see my face for at least a
fortnight.”
“Lieutenant.”
“What could have possibly pulled
Percy away from your arms?”
She quickly rose to her husband’s
defense. “Lord Stanton,” she said, trying
to bring formality back into the
conversation, “has gone on an errand.
For me, in fact. You see, he recently
discovered I have a passion for sweets.
He insisted upon seeing that we were
fully stocked. Surely you would not
begrudge him this kindness.”
Would Guffald believe her lie?
Why she chose not to reveal the truth that
Percy had rushed to his ailing father’s
bedside, she could not fathom. Her
relationship
with
her
husband,
mysterious, precarious even, put her on
jagged ground. ’Twas best she did not
sharpen the dagger too soon. She was
keenly aware, without a consummated
union, how quickly she could find
herself on the street should her
reputation gain another blemish and her
husband become the laughing stock of
the ton.
Constance moved to the open door
and spied Jeffers in the hall. Holding a
tea service in his arms, he had never had
any intention of her meeting anyone
alone.
“My Lady,” he said, tilting his nose
haughtily when the Lieutenant sauntered
out of the room. “I have brought tea.”
Guffald
exclaimed,
“What
a
delightful idea. That is just what Lady
Stanton needs to refresh her spirits.”
Turning back to her, he offered, “Pardon
me if I take my leave. I fear I have
overstayed my welcome.” With a dutiful
nod, Guffald bowed stiffly and made a
hasty exit out the front door.
“Will you be taking your tea in the
parlor, my Lady?”
Her
mind
picked
apart
the
lieutenant’s conversation. Try as she
might, however, she did not know what
to make of the man, nor could she
understand what he and Percy had in
common.
Jeffers cleared his throat. “My
Lady?”
“Jeffers, are you familiar with Lord
Stanton’s estate, Sumpton Hall?”
Jeffers displayed annoyance. “I do
not speak of his Lordship’s affairs.”
“Yes, that is commendable. But
what I desire to know is if I can travel to
his estate in a day’s time. A man should
not be solely responsible for his father’s
care, especially at a time like this. I
should like to help. In fact, I want to
surprise my husband.”
“As it so happens, madam, his
Lordship will be returning soon. I’m
sure he will be quite pleased to learn of
your willingness to come to his father’s
aid, but I fear there will not be a need
for you to do so.”
Jeffers’s eyes creased at the
corners, confusing her as to what
emotion he held in check. Was he
laughing at her or did he want to throttle
her? With Jeffers, one never knew. The
man obviously lived and breathed to
serve one master and one master only.
She held back her excitement and
dread. “Percy returns soon?”
“Indeed, your Ladyship.”
“When did this news arrive?”
“I received a missive only moments
ago. I’m hesitant to admit that is what
delayed your refreshments, an act in
itself that calls for no excuse and my
dismissal.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,”
she confided.
Walking to the front door, she
gazed idly through the etched glass to
stare out upon the bustling street. It was
noonday, yet the city pulsed with fervor
— each soul that passed, whether
concealed in conveyances or strolling
about, was eager to arrive at their
destination. Alone, save for a few
servants and Mrs. Mortimer, Constance
took a deep breath and welcomed a
triumphant peace. Her husband meant to
return, and soon. Time offered her
another chance to shape the destiny of
her child.
“I’m afraid the news isn’t good, my
Lady,” Jeffers said.
“Pardon me?” She pulled away
from the window. “What did you say?”
Jeffers continued to hold the tea
service as though it weighed not an
ounce. “The missive contained dreadful
news. That is the reason I was detained.
It has hit us all very hard.”
Constance grew frightened. What
could the message possibly contain?
Was Percy all right? “You must tell me.
What has happened?”
“His
Grace,
the
Duke
of
Blendingham is dead.”
• • •
his beautiful bride on her wedding night.
Guffald clapped his hands together in
glee. She could still be his — his!
Though she wore the Marques’s ring,
she was not truly married.
He held his elation in check. He
had not suffered privation, humiliation,
or Burton’s irrational demands for
nothing.
Bounding up the street, love’s
powerful force fueled him. Liberating,
tangible love pushed him beyond his
limitations. For Constance, he’d sworn
to uphold only one law, a law as old as
time — to each his own. Years of his
life had been sacrificed for this — for
her. Like a ship drawn to port, his life,
his morals were forever coupled to a
road that would surely lead him out of
obscurity into the dream he envisioned
for the two of them.
Devil take Percy, Burton, and
Frink!
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
Constance tossed and turned in Percy’s
behemoth bed where ghastly images of
Burton and his threats plagued her
dreams. Beneath her head, her pillow
was still moist from her tears. She’d
spent hours crying for the future of her
child. She was afraid, more afraid than
she’d ever been in her life. Afraid of
what Burton would do to ruin her father
and what she would be forced to do to
betray her husband’s confidence. Guilt-
ridden, she was also mourning the loss
of Percy’s father, the duke. She couldn’t
imagine life without her father and had
no idea how she would console Percy
when he returned. She’d been selfish to
think only of herself and her child when
her husband’s father lay dying, selfish to
think consummating her marriage was
more important.
“Tears do not become you.” A
masculine voice penetrated the night.
She bolted upright. Had her dreams
of Burton materialized? Was he even
now in her bedroom, prepared to exact
his revenge?
Real or imagined, someone was in
her room. Her flesh tingled and her eyes
searched the darkness, noting a slight
movement near the window. Focusing on
the gold curtains, she watched them
dancing nervously in the breeze. Why
was the window open? She distinctly
remembered latching it. She did not
sleep well with a chill in the room and
always made certain the window was
closed before she went to bed. But now
that she thought of it, she seemed to be
waking up at night gazing at an open
window more often than not this past
week.
“Who — ” she squeaked, unable to
control her fright. “Who’s in my room?”
“Are you always this demanding in
bed?”
She sank back into the sheets,
unsure how to behave. Percy? When had
he returned?
“Am I dreaming?” she asked.
“No,” his voice was close now,