Winning Miss Wakefield: The Wallflower Wedding Series (21 page)

S
tanding on the bluff, Bane fed his Warmblood stallion a handful of sweet grass as well as a carrot he’d saved from the day of the picnic. Below him, the others strolled along the pebbled beach as low waves left ribbons of foam along the break.

Invariably, his gaze followed the figure in pale blue muslin. Her head was tilted away from him, but he could still see how the wind whipped the raven tresses that escaped her straw bonnet.

He also noticed how she hadn’t looked at him once today. After last night, he’d expected no less.

Bane dragged out a sigh and patted Ares on the neck. “That’s a dangerous one there, old boy. Her curiosity and guilelessness could bring a man to his knees. Make him forget what truly matters.”

Thanks to Bitters, Bane had avoided a catastrophe of monumental proportion. Though his faithful valet had arrived a moment too late to keep him from all but begging Venus to become his mistress, he had arrived just in time to help him come to his senses.
And
apparently Merribeth had come to hers as well. The knock had been perfectly timed to offer at least one of them the presence of mind to walk away.

“Only my revenge matters,” he said, paying no attention to the way the words sounded hollow. Paying no attention to how raw he’d felt last night after everything he’d admitted to her.

The glimpse of her radiant smile distracted him. Even from this distance, he felt the impact of it, felt the sun shining on his face, felt the breeze through his hair. And as impossible as it was, he caught the distinct fragrance of pear blossoms.

When she lifted her fingers to conceal her smile, however, he felt a swift rise of irritation as well as a stirring of desire. That made three today. Adding that number to the tally he kept, she now owed him twelve.

A dozen kisses that he would never demand. Because, after last night, he knew he couldn’t trust himself to be alone with her. Something had changed for him, and he didn’t like it one bit.

“My ingénue seems to be ripening,” Eve said, surprising him with her sudden emergence from the path, a calculating gleam in her eyes.

He knew that denial, no matter how insincere, was the best option. “What ingénue would that be, Auntie?”

Her mouth curled up at the corners in something just short of a grin. “I must say, I was surprised at how quickly she managed to gather her items for the scavenger hunt last night. And with the length of her taper when she returned to the parlor, she must have collected them all in the dark.”

Without waiting for a comment, she turned from him to face the beach strollers. “I was also surprised that she chose Montwood as her picnic partner this afternoon for her prize. But they do make a fine pair, do they not? And she could learn so much from him in the ways of flattery. A few well-placed compliments would do our Merribeth a world of good to regain her place, insignificant as it was, among the
ton
.”

“Perhaps,” he managed to say without gritting his teeth. “Though Montwood is far too foolish a fellow to be left on his own. He seems more interested in sowing his oats—”

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

“—rather than spending time with a marriage-minded miss,” he continued, ignoring the smug purse of Eve’s mouth. “No doubt, there are better ways to tutor without misleading one’s pupil into thinking he has an interest in her.”

She fiddled with the cuff of her kid gloves. “I might have encouraged him to spend more time than a young man of his interests might, if left to his own devices. For Miss Wakefield’s benefit, of course.”

“Of course,” he said evenly, strands of suspicion weaving through his mind. For a fortune hunter like Montwood to abandon the kettle of heavily dowried chits in London, he must have been promised quite the boon. “You are ever the philanthropist.”

A low laugh purred in her throat. “She has little to recommend her. Not a sixpence to her name. No real connections—unless you count her recently married friend, which many seldom do. Although Merribeth is pretty enough, I suppose, if it weren’t for her teeth and that unbecoming arched brow of hers,” She looked askance at him.

Sensing that she was trying to draw him out, he bit his tongue to remain silent.

“It breaks my heart to think of her losing her beau after so long an attachment,” Eve continued. “You should have seen her wedding gown. A stunning work of art. Merribeth has the finest needlework skills. It’s a shame I haven’t seen her pick up a needle since Mr. Clairmore’s betrayal. Anguish must have robbed her of her love for everything else.”

He kept his gaze out to sea, even as the others began their trek up the path. “Then you are not confident your ploy will work?”

“Oh, you know me better than that.” She laughed. “I enjoy winning too much.”

Something about this entire exchange unsettled him. “Usually too much to play by the rules.”

She grinned. “Which brings our bargain to mind. Daniela Pearce is very cross. At first, it was because you kept your door locked night and day, and now she seems to have this notion that you are a sadist. Are
you
playing fair?”

“Merely following the rules set to me.” He kept the key tucked in his waistcoat pocket at all times, apparently for good reason. He didn’t want anyone rifling through his belongings to make a false claim against him either. It didn’t seem to matter that he spent nearly every night sleeping above the stables.

Eve pursed her lips in speculation. “That is so unlike you, Bane. I imagined you would have found your way around them by now.”

He shrugged. “There is no female companionship worth the loss of Gypsy.”

Shielding her eyes against the sun, she stared out at the beach. “I made the mistake of inviting Cordelia. I cannot stand the woman or the way she hangs on the colonel’s arm,” she said with a pout. “From my understanding, the two of you were close at one time. I thought she might tempt you.”

“Married women do not tempt me.” This earned him an insincere gasp.

“Bane, you surprise me yet again. No married women. At all?” When he shook his head in response, she pulled a frown. “A rake with principles, I never took you to be so . . .
boring
.”

His frustration mounted as he watched the party’s progression up the winding incline. Ever solicitous, Montwood kept his hand beneath Merribeth’s elbow. Bane felt the urge to hurl the lad into the sea. “Perhaps you should stop believing rumors.”

“Hmm . . . perhaps.” She absently adjusted the clasp of her earring. He knew toying with her jewelry was one of her
tells
, one of the ways she revealed that she was up to something more than she was willing to let on. Clearly, she was hiding the trump card for the final trick. “Though I should hate to have to hand over the information I’ve procured—as a matter of my own principles. In the very least, I should punish you for inviting Amberdeen to dinner. Now, you have put Sophie on a matchmaking quest. I don’t think I will ever forgive you for any of it.” Although the words were said in playful context, they came out with startling severity.

The peculiar tenor in her voice brought to mind the day after his grandfather died. With the softest of whispers, she’d said the same words.
“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for any of it.”
Only, at the time, he thought she was directing her hatred toward his grandfather. Now, he wondered if it had been him all along.

An icy shiver slithered down his spine like a black eel, spreading unpleasant currents through him.

“I should return to check on Gypsy,” he said, masking the disquiet he felt. “She was restless this morning.” Her time was drawing near.

Eve waved her hand in a careless gesture. “Of course. Go on ahead. I’m sure we’ll be right on your heels.”

Bane hoped not. He needed a few moments alone to settle his disturbing thoughts.

When this bargain was first proposed, he’d taken it on as a lark. Eve enjoyed playing games to win, and this entire episode could be just another game to her. Besides that, she was family to him. The only family he had left. It felt disloyal to suspect her of anything more than her usual trickery and manipulation. And yet, his growing suspicions told him that the stakes were much higher. He felt the sudden compulsion to be certain.

Mounting Ares, he set off toward the house but waited to spur the gelding faster until he rounded the bend.

Once he arrived, he handed the reins to a groomsman—something he rarely did—and made his way into the house. As it was Sunday and most of the servants were in town, there were no maids milling about.

His steps slowed at the study. For a moment, he wondered if the document Eve possessed might be hidden in plain sight all this time. Yet, knowing Eve’s desire for control, he knew she would keep such a prize under lock and key. Perhaps even in her bedchamber.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he soon found himself at her threshold. Another boon for him was her unlocked door, though he locked it behind him once inside.

Crossing the room to the bureau, he was startled by the recognition that it was a companion piece to the one that once had been in his grandfather’s study. Strange that she would keep such a reminder here with her every day. It was almost as if she
wanted
hatred to fill her life.

Perhaps Eve was more like him than he realized. The idea gave him pause. Along with it came a sharp sense of certainty. Whatever proof she had of the secret solicitor would be here. And for the first time, he wondered if that’s all he would find.

The lid was locked.
Of course
. He expected no less. Quickly, he scanned the room, searching for the key’s hiding place, when his gaze landed on a wooden chest atop her vanity table.

He thought of the way she fidgeted with her jewelry, and the answer suddenly seemed obvious to him. Lifting the lid of her jewelry chest, however, he merely saw a tray of rings and earbobs. A tray beneath that revealed bracelets, and beneath that, hair combs. At the very bottom, beneath the last tray, sat a small key.

Wasting no time, he crossed back to the bureau and unlocked it. The surface hosted a messy array of letter paper, a broken quill, half a bottle of ink, and dusting powder. Even though it looked disorderly, he had the distinct impression that the dusting powder had been spilled intentionally, to let Eve know if anything was out of place.

Bane was careful not to disturb the powder or any items as he worked his finger into the half-moon–shaped hole at the back. Remembering the search through his grandfather’s bureau for clues regarding the secret solicitor told him there was a latch to release the secret drawer.

It sprang open with a faint click. At that precise moment, he heard the sound of the party opening the door below stairs. Their chatter rose up and gave him a sense of urgency.

Deftly, he slid out the drawer; the corner of a letter appeared. He drew in a breath. In an instant, he saw that it was the correspondence that Mangus had with his sister.

This
was it.

A rush of excitement tore through him as he read the letter, confirming it was, indeed, the proof that Eve had promised. A rapid skimming of the words revealed the name of the village. The county of Berkshire wasn’t too great a distance from his grandfather’s estate.

However, she hadn’t kept all the information secret, as she’d told him. At the bottom of the page, in the corner, was a single word that stood out from everything else. It was written in a different hand, with a decidedly feminine flourish.

Bane went still.

Now, the reason behind Eve’s bargain and her peculiar behavior became clear. He only wished it hadn’t. This was no mere game or lark.

The name said it all:
Clairmore.

Bane stared down at the page in disbelief. At last, the key to his revenge was within his grasp. He could finally punish the man responsible for burning his parents’ marriage records, for their murders, for blackmailing anyone who stood up for his legitimacy, and for ruining his uncle at the cost of his life.

In the back of his mind, he recalled Merribeth mentioning that her Mr. Clairmore’s father was a solicitor. Apparently, Clairmore had been the type of man who was willing to do anything for the right price. Or perhaps he shared in Bane’s grandfather’s obsession with pure bloodlines. Now, it was only a matter of discovering the driving force in order to make the blackguard pay.

He imagined the worst thing that could happen to man like Clairmore.
If the man is just like my grandfather, then having his son marry a woman with gypsy blood would work.

Unless . . .

He went cold everywhere. A mixture of triumph and dread battled within him. The solution was almost too easy, as if a banquet of revenge had been laid before him. All he had to do was feast. Then he would have everything he desired.

Everything
.

And Merribeth was the key.

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

“W
illiam is here!” The door to the bedchamber flew open, and Sophie hurried in, out of breath.

Merribeth bolted upright in bed, heart pounding. “Already?”

She’d been resting in preparation for the long night ahead of her. Her last night here. Her last night with Bane. Now, she felt anything but rested.

Leaving the blank linen handkerchief and silver-threaded needle on the divan, she rose and moved to the window, staring out at the expanse of balconies along the side of the house. For a man who’d offered to make her his mistress, Bane was doing a terrible job of seducing her. In fact, he’d been avoiding her for days.

There were no more clandestine meetings in the library. No encounters in the hall outside her bedchamber door. No more tender embraces in the stable. And certainly no more intimate conversations in the closet.

He was polite enough at dinner, especially when it seemed Eve was determined to seat them together every evening. On the off chance they should find themselves in close proximity in the parlor afterwards, they each inclined their heads by way of greeting but said nothing of consequence.

Bane was no longer warm and flirtatious. In fact, he was cold, and his determination to keep her at a distance was quite evident. He’d made himself perfectly clear: He would take her as his mistress, but she was deluding herself if she thought for a moment that he’d fallen in love with her. Or ever would. She guessed that the recent alteration in his behavior was his way of helping her come to a decision.