“The locket?” His heart clenched.
“Yes, Your Grace, I’ve been trying
to tell you. She had the locket around her
neck. I assumed you’d finally told her
the truth and had given it to her, but
couldn’t question her in front of Guffald
without giving you away.”
Percy leaned against the stair
railing as if he’d been gut shot. “I wrote
no such note. The trinket is evidence.
I’ve kept it locked in my room ever
since I found it. How could that
confounded woman have possibly gotten
to it?”
If Constance had the locket, she
knew the truth. She knew who he was,
what he was, and worse, what he’d done
to conceal his identity, without any
explanation to champion his cause. She
would loathe him.
“I left the room unlocked,” Jeffers
admitted.
“She
must
have
found
everything.”
The
man’s
shoulders
slumped. “I have failed you.”
“Now is not the time for a litany of
sins, Jeffers! God knows mine outweigh
yours.”
Percy’s eyes rounded. He’d meant
to destroy the damn locket, though it had
pained him to do so. The necklace had
been a gift from Constance’s mother.
Even so, he could not forget where he’d
found it, in Josiah Cane’s possession.
After discovering Burton’s duplicity in
the attack on the
Octavia
, in Celeste’s
abduction, and his father’s accident,
he’d put the locket out of his mind.
Damn
him!
Why
hadn’t
he
destroyed it?
Because it meant so much
to her? Because she would never
forgive you?
Whatever strides he’d made in
persuading Constance to trust the Duke
of Blendingham had been destroyed. She
would never believe anything he said
now. What could he do?
The answer hit him squarely in the
face. Whatever it took. He could not lose
her. He’d kept the locket because it had
brought her immeasurable joy. Her
presence in his life had given him
meaning, something he hadn’t lived with
for nearly a year and, like the locket, he
would not be parted from her.
There was no help for it. He loved
Constance and with that admission, he
knew he could not live without her.
“Where is she? Where have they
gone?” he asked.
“Guffald said you had asked him to
accompany Constance to
La Duenna
at
Convent Garden.”
“I would never openly ostracize her
by not appearing at her side this early in
our marriage. For her to be seen without
me, and with another man, would be
completely scandalous!”
“If you’d told her Ladyship about
your stint on the
St ri ker
as I have
suggested many times, Your Grace, this
would not have happened.”
“This is not the time to chastise me
now, Jeffers,” he said.
God help him, he’d not been given
the time to break the news to her gently,
though he’d been prepared to tell her the
truth during their ride in Hyde Park. If
Guffald hadn’t interrupted, perhaps then
—
He shook his head. He was sick
and tired of trying to fix the past. He
wanted Constance. He needed her.
His thoughts turned inward. Hyde
Park. Coincidentally meeting Guffald
along Rotten Row. Henry appearing to
escort her away from the townhouse.
Suddenly it all seemed clear.
I expect the road ahead to be a
challenge, but I’ve no doubt in my mind
as to the outcome.
May success guide you,
his wife
had said.
’Tis what I pray for every day, my
Lady.
Guffald had made no effort to
conceal his interest in Constance. He’d
been aboard the
Octavia
. He’d been one
of two senior officers to survive the
Striker
’s attack. And yet he and his men
had saved him from being murdered. If
he were involved, why would Frink
want to have him killed? Had Frink
double-crossed him? Was Guffald in
league with Frink? Was he Whistler?
During their meeting in Hyde Park,
Guffald had mentioned he’d just
received command of the
Stockton
. And
Percy had just found out that particular
ship had been associated with Burton’s
illegal activities aboard the
Delrina
Gray
and the
Arboreal
. Was Guffald
also working for Burton? If so, what
kind of web had he drawn Constance
into? Burton’s man had said his master
spoke of nothing but acquiring his wife’s
prestige and wealth. If that was true, the
man had been ciphering funds from
Danbury’s accounts since he’d made
designs upon Constance nearly a year
ago. Shortly after Percy had refused
Burton’s access to Celeste.
Celeste. Had she been one of
Burton’s victims? Whatever the case, he
could not allow Constance to suffer the
same fate, no matter what she must think
about him, especially pregnant with his
child.
Percy raced up the stairs. “Send a
messenger to Jacko. Tell him to get Ollie
to round up the men. I can only hope I’m
not too late.”
• • •
shame her father had never seen fit to
acknowledge that fact. Radiant and
youthful,
Constance’s
blonde
hair
spilled from her neatly arranged quaff,
as she lay in his arms. She’d tried to
convince him to take her back to
Throckmorton house. When he’d been
unwilling to do so, she’d attempted to
exit the coach. He’d been prepared for
this eventuality and had sedated her to
keep her from harming herself.
Fondling her fingers, the very ones
he’d dreamt of caressing him, hardening
him until he felt near exploding, he
worked the bejeweled ring on her third
finger free. Holding the bauble up to the
light, he was filled with a sensation of
guilt. The feeling gripped him with
unyielding force. But his guilt lessoned
when he recalled how vehemently she’d
sworn to hate her husband.
He’d never meant to harm Percy.
That was not part of his original plan.
Burton had guaranteed that, if he’d
cooperated fully, he could have the
woman
he’d
always
loved
—
Constance. Her father had prevented
their marriage. Society had ensured their
paths could never cross. As a seaman of
no account, one who did not warrant
attention from a duke’s daughter, he
wasn’t
wealthy
enough
to
tempt
Throckmorton. Caught in a web of lust
and desire that had him twisted left and
right, Henry had never been able to tear
the image of Constance from his
thoughts, no matter how far he’d sailed.
Seeing her from afar, doing everything
within his power to serve Simon
Danbury and Nelson’s Tea in order to
catch a glimpse of her had made his life
worth living — until the news had come
that she was being forced to marry
Burton. At that point, glimpses hadn’t
been enough. To rectify the situation,
he’d done the one thing that went against
everything he believed in, he’d become
a double agent.
He was not stupid enough to trust
Burton, a man he’d seen knife a useless
protégé to death. He’d been a witness to
Burton’s treacherous games. He was a
trusted confidant, an insider with
knowledge of the man’s complex and
foul ways of doing business. Even if he
wanted to play into Simon Danbury’s
hands, as he’d been begged to do, he
could not pull away from Burton’s
twisted web. Disloyal partners didn’t
survive unless they cunningly played the
game better than the high and mighty
Lord himself. It was only a matter of
providence that he hadn’t perished
aboard
the
Octavia
as Frink had
planned. And then Percy had seduced
Constance.
Simon had warned him. A double
agent walked a narrow line. Burton had
become desperate, cutting off leads,
murdering informants. One of them had
to slip into his ranks. He was chosen
because Percy was bent on revenge and
his father, the late Blendingham’s
dealings in the House of Lords, had
garnered Burton’s unwelcome attention.
Garrick Seaton couldn’t be contacted
because he was out on patrol.
He
had
been the right choice, the perfect mole,
and he’d welcomed the duty knowing it
would bring him closer to the woman he
loved.
Indeed, he had a duty to Nelson’s
Tea, Simon, and country. But he also had
a duty to his own happiness. A deep
chuckle rumbled in his chest. Some
might say he’d been forced to participate
in Burton’s plan to kidnap Percy’s bride.
Far from the truth. He’d needed no
coaxing to kidnap the one woman he’d
give his last breath to possess. If they
could get through the next few hours, he
could free her of Burton, Frink, and
Percy’s influence. But these next few
hours would be paramount.
Henry stroked Constance’s hair as
the carriage pulled up to the dock,
wheels clacking over the boards that led
to his ship’s berth, the
Stockton
—
Constance’s new home.
“You will be safe with me,” he
promised her.
The carriage came to a complete
stop. After a sudden shift in weight, the
door to his hack jerked open. “There you
are,” a diseased looking sailor named
Bristol spat. “Burton’s been waitin’ on
you. You took your sweet time, you did.”
The man reached for Constance
with grimy hands. “Don’t touch her,” he
ordered, swatting the man’s hand away.
“I’ll bring her aboard.”
“A might sensitive, aren’t you?” the
one-eyed man asked, ogling Constance’s
breasts as Guffald lifted her into his
arms, descended the hack, and carried
her aboard the
Stockton
.
“Where is he?” he bellowed to a
sailor loitering on deck.
“Below, Captain. Where else
would he be?”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Pain throbbed in Constance’s head. That
first awareness built into a moan as she
tried to move and her head rebelled. She
brought a hand up to her throbbing skull,
suddenly conscious of the fact that she
lay upon a lumpy mattress. But how had
she gotten here? And where was here?
She tried to open her eyes. Though the
light was muted, she squinted and
focused on the last thing she could
remember. But she could remember
nothing. Besieged by more questions
than she could handle, she sat up,
fighting back an urge to empty her
stomach.
“Glad to see you’ve joined the land
of the living, my dear.”
That voice!
Constance inhaled
sharply, the action causing her pain. She
shoved her fist into her mouth to choke
off the scream threatening to burst from
her throat.
“You see the reverence in her eyes,
Guffald?” Burton cooed. “The little chit
has an enticing way about her, doesn’t
she?”
Imprisoned and squeamish, she
absorbed the sights and sounds around
her. Her gaze scanned the circumference
of the room, scrutinizing the confines of
the cabin. Then her eyes settled upon
Burton, seated piously before her.
Guffald stood to his right. The sight of
him boosted her spirits. Surely, she
thought, he would help her. Yet, the
troubled blue eyes held no hint of
rescue. Why? What had happened?
She searched her aching head for
the answers. Her heart hitched as her
memory returned. The captain appeared
numb to her plight because he was the
reason for her presence here. Guffald,