The Rogue's Surrender (The Nelson's Tea Series Book 3) (19 page)

She suppressed laughter at the man’s machinations: the purposeful bow and rakish wink he sent her way. Did he know who she was? That he was completely out of fashion? Certainly, he understood overly taxed powder would make any man shy away from it. Was his penchant for abusing the dust to effectively flaunt his wealth? Or was there more behind the paint and excess than he wanted anyone to see? She suspected the latter for his movements — curtailed by an effeminate swagger — were far too smooth for a man unused to physical activity.

Mercy’s beautiful cousin left the man’s side, drawing her attention. Constance’s face tilted to the left as she inspected Mercy’s filthy attire. Her expression, a mix of curiosity and playfulness, mirrored that of Aunt Olivia’s portrait over the fireplace. There was no question that this
was
Lady Olivia Throckmorton’s daughter… her cousin, Constance.

Constance’s creamy complexion brightened. She moved away from her husband and approached Garrick, glancing good-naturedly from him to Mercy then back again, her delicate brows knitting in confusion.

“Who is this boy, Garrick? You were supposed to bring my cousin home. Where is she? Tell me you didn’t lose her.” She covered her mouth then turned to Percy, reaching out to circle her fingers around the lace at his cuff. “I couldn’t bear it if something happened…”

Pitying her worried cousin, Mercy squared her shoulders and drew in a deep breath. “No.”

Words had never failed her before but all the things she’d ever wanted to say to Constance fled her mind.
Think. You are a woman of action, Mercy. What can you do that will put Constance at ease?

She smiled conspiratorially and removed her hat, allowing her long dark hair to tumble free over her shoulders. “I am here…
mi prima
.”

At the sound of her voice, Constance blinked and stared back at her curiously, before letting out a surprised gasp. “Mercedes?” She raised trembling fingers to her lips as she glanced over Mercy head to toe. “Is it really you?”

“
Sí.
” Joyous tears streamed down Mercy’s cheeks as she gave an exaggerated nod.

How she’d longed to meet the young woman who’d risked everything to sail to Spain in order to save her father from debt collectors. The tale her parents had woven about Constance’s bravery had long since fueled her ambitions to cast aside her fears and fight against Napoleon’s rule.

Now, there she was, standing in front of Constance.

Her cousin glided forward and lifted her delicate hand in the air. “May I?” At Mercy’s nod, she lifted the edge of her fichu to rub something off Mercy’s face. “I simply cannot believe my eyes.”

Mercy choked back a sob. “Nor I.”

“You poor thing.” Constance caressed Mercy’s cheek. “I cannot imagine what you must have endured to get here. And from the looks of you, it must have been quite a journey.”

Constance slid her hands down Mercy’s shoulders, squeezing them with affection.

“Nor can I scarcely take it in,” she said, turning to Garrick. “Thank you. I own you have made me more than happy by half. I am thoroughly content to know my cousin is safe at last.” Constance turned back to Mercy, her face radiating genuine compassion. “Now. Let me get a good look at you.”

Mercy smiled under her cousin’s inspection, marveling at the differences between them. They were light and dark opposites. She with her Spanish heritage, darker skin, hair, and eyes contrasted astonishingly to Constance’s English porcelain skin, blond hair, green eyes, and tinier frame.

When Constance smiled, her expressive eyes gleamed. “You are exactly as I imagined… the spitting image of my aunt.” She dropped Mercy’s hands and embraced her, speaking close to her ear. “I vow you will want for nothing while you are here. Simply ask and I shall see it done.”

Enveloped in Constance’s arms, Mercy pressed her cheek against her cousin’s face and inhaled the scent of roses. How she’d longed to touch her cousin, to hold her as closely as she did now, to heal the sadness Aunt Olivia’s death had created between them. Overwhelmed by the contrast of their jubilant reunion and the knowledge that she may never see her family again, Mercy reached up to stroke the delicate, silky curls dangling over Constance’s face.

“Thank you.” The words felt weighted by stones as they left her mouth. How could she explain that any comfort she received in England came at her parents’ expense?

“Hear, hear!” The duke spoke up, saluting Mercy with a swift upward turn of his quizzing glass, drawing them apart with his clipped speech. “This is a touching reunion, a joyous occasion, to be sure. Wouldn’t you agree? Odd’s fish, I’ve a mind to have Jeffers pour drinks all ’round.”

“At this hour?” Constance giggled. She hooked her fingers around Mercy’s arm and whispered lightly in her ear. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to my husband.” She turned Mercy toward the duke. “My dear, may I present,
Señorita
Mercedes Vasquez Claremont, the daughter of my Aunt Lydia.”

The duke lifted a rectangular gold filigree quizzing glass and placed it on the bridge of his nose to inspect her openly head to foot. After a few tense moments, he produced a dazzling smile Mercy had to fight hard to resist. It was as if she was gazing upon a character from the theater, not a man of unparalleled importance. Which was, she suspected, exactly what the Duke of Blendingham wanted her to think.

Interesting.

With a jaunty pose — the duke’s hip exaggeratingly pronounced to the side — he produced a polite bow. “I’m at your service, m’dear.” He lifted her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. His lack of hesitation at the sight of the dirt there proved he wasn’t prissy after all. “And what a marvel of fashion you are, eh? Quite in vogue, wouldn’t you say, Garrick?”

“One does what one can… to stay alive.” Garrick dipped his head sharply.

“Alive?” Percy raised his brow then fastened his inquisitive eyes on Mercy. She had the feeling he was measuring her up for something extraordinary. “Truer words never spoken. And has your,” Percy said, waving the odd filigree quizzing glass about, “journey been fraught with significant peril?”

Garrick cleared his throat. “It—”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Lord Seaton.” She bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t overstepped her bounds by coming to Garrick’s defense. “He risked his own life to protect mine, Your Grace.”

Percy clicked his tongue. “Is that so?” He slanted Garrick another glance, apparently unconvinced. “Do explain the meaning of ‘risked his own life to save mine’ won’t you, dear cousin?”

Muscles twitched in Garrick’s jaw.

“Of course.” She spoke hurriedly, desiring more than anything to keep Garrick calm.

“We encountered significant difficulties,” Garrick said, “that far exceeded our expectations… yours and mine.”

Constance pursed her lips. She grabbed Percy’s forearm. “Gillian was vehemently against this mission to begin with. As content as I am that my cousin is safe, she will not be happy to hear how perilous this has been for Garrick.”

“Gillian?” Were they speaking about the infamous Baroness Chauncey, the astute spy extraordinaire Mercy had modeled herself after? She glanced around the room, hoping her mother’s confidant was nearby.

“Forgive me,” Constance pleaded. “I’m aware that you know Gillian as the baroness, but she’s also become my Uncle Simon’s wife. She is now Lady Danbury.”

“Simon and Gillian are married?” Garrick’s shock couldn’t have been more palpable.

Percy sauntered over to the hearth unaware that a thrill had swept through Mercy’s limbs. For some reason, Garrick’s concern for the baroness provoked a trickle of jealousy to flow through her.

“Rest assured, it isn’t you she’ll be unhappy about, my dear cousin.” Percy tapped the gold-filigree ormolu clock on the mantle then turned back around and leaned against the hearth. He crossed his arms over his chest then dangled the quizzing glass with effortless ease, swinging it to and fro. “But him.”

At Percy’s nod, Garrick spoke quickly. “Has she fully recovered?”

Percy swung the looking glass to shoulder height then caught it in his hand with marvelous dexterity. The duke tapped his chin. “Yes, praise the saints, and not a moment too soon.”

“A wedding.” Garrick grumbled. “What else has happened in my absence?”

Shivers of dread crept down Mercy’s spine. She approached Garrick. “Is there something else you haven’t told me?”

Garrick ran his
fingers through his hair and paced to the window. He lifted the curtain once more and glanced outside. “There isn’t much to tell. Simon ordered me back to Spain to save your life. Gillian hasn’t quite forgiven him for it.”

Mercy’s heart seemed to flip around in her chest. Was it possible the people closest to Garrick would hold her responsible for the horrors he’d been forced to revisit?

Constance’s silk skirts shuffled as she approached Mercy’s side. “Men do not understand a woman’s mind.”

“Ah!” Percy winked. “But I am not most men.”

“No, you are not.” Constance’s gaze twinkled with merriment. “Gillian hasn’t been the same since Garrick sailed to Spain. She feared what would happen to him there. He’d already been through so much torment.”

“Nothing happened.” Garrick’s voice clipped a bit too abruptly.

Nothing?
What about the fact that he’d rescued her from an assassination plot? Or that he’d protected her from Murray and kept her from plummeting to her death?

Mercy’s pulse began to race at the memory. She fisted her hands so no one would see them shake. “I could not disagree more.” She hesitated long enough to gain their attention. “Lord Seaton is the reason I am alive today.”

“Alive!” Percy bolted away from the hearth with an agility she would never have guessed possible. “Is that what you call it?” He turned to Constance. “I ask you, my gel. What is your cousin wearing? Detestable rat-infested rags? If that is your idea of living, Mercedes, I am appalled.” He spun adeptly on his heel, tucked his hand inside his banyan, and then jutted his chin forward. “Unless you have a penchant for dressing like a cabin boy…” He winked to show her he was jesting. “I dare say the old man’s forced you into piratical servitude.”

Garrick met Percy’s cold stare evenly. His cheek twitched almost imperceptibly and she knew immediately he struggled to remain calm.

“Rest assured,” Mercy pleaded, moving slowly toward Garrick. She touched his hand, hoping her nearness would soothe whatever distressed him. “I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself.”

He looked down at her until his fury dissipated and his expression softened.

“Odd’s fish, did you see that?” Percy asked, whipping his head to Constance. “Please tell me you just witnessed this.”

Mercy regarded the stunned couple. It was obvious they thought something untoward had happened. But what?

To prevent the duke from attacking Garrick, she rose to his defense. “Lord Seaton did not force me to swab the decks, Your Grace. On the contrary, he gave me complete access to his ship.” She smiled up at the captain then, wanting him to hear her praise. “Dressing this way was his idea, a way of escaping notice when we docked. Without a proper chaperon, he said, I couldn’t be seen leaving the
Priory
without fear of gaining unwanted attention. He told me you, of all people, would understand.”

Percy gaped at Garrick, a strange primal glint radiating from his eyes. He adjusted his cravat then cleared his throat. “Of course. Of course. And did the
earl’s son
… treat you well during your voyage?”

A dangerous tension swelled in the room. There was no mistaking the meaning behind the duke’s words. If he hadn’t, Percy would make him suffer.

Garrick grumbled then took a few steps toward His Grace.

She had to act fast. “My complaints are few. Lord Seaton rescued me from certain death. I’m afraid, in his haste to escape San Sebastian, he wasn’t able to procure my maid or transfer my trunk to the
Priory
. The whole affair was a success. However, it left me with nothing to wear but the only gown I owned and what you see now.” Mercy omitted the fact that she’d worn her brother’s uniform. “Truth be told, there is only one grievance against him that I would like to address.”

“One?” Garrick looked as if he’d swallowed a hot coal.

She nodded and turned her attention back to Percy. “One that has grieved me since the day my brother’s ship was stolen right out from under him.”

“Your brother’s ship?” Constance cried out. “But I was under the impression the
Priory
belonged to Garrick?”

“Do tell.” Percy’s eyes narrowed as he strained closer to hear. “What ill-will do you harbor against Captain Blade?”

She ignored Percy’s jab. “He kidnapped my brother.”

“Kidnapped?” Constance covered her mouth. “I’m at a loss to understand any of this.” She blinked, opened her mouth to speak then closed it. “Y-You… have a brother? I didn’t know—”

“It isn’t what you think.” Garrick ran his fingers through his hair.

“Do not presume to know what I am thinking, my boy.” Percy crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m still flummoxed that the girl can only name one grievance against you.”

“Those damned…”

Constance blanched.

Garrick bowed at his waist. “Forgive me, Your Grace. The Spaniards kept my ship and transformed it into a hideous obscenity. I had no choice but to steal it back. It was the only way to get Keane off my back.”

“Keane is your brother, is that not so?” Constance held up her fingers and counted off his brothers one by one. “Max. Rigby. William. James. Keane. But Mercy only has one brother.” She lowered her hand and glanced at Mercy. “I have another cousin?”

Mercy returned Constance’s dazzling smile. Her heartbeat continued its assault inside her chest, nearly stealing her breath. Surely now that her cousin knew about Eddie’s existence, the duke would insist Garrick reveal his whereabouts.

“This is wondrous news! We must introduce them to society.” Constance moved to Percy’s side. “Oh, but what are we to do? Look at her. My cousin does not have any clothes suitable to meet our friends. We cannot have her strutting about in rags.”

Percy twirled his quizzing glass while admiring his wife. “La, more’s the pity. But I’m as curious as a chambermaid. Oblige me, my gel, before Garrick decides to quit the place. How can I laugh and make a monstrous noise if my cousin is in dire need, eh?”

“Aha!” Constance whirled on Garrick. “And you. What’s this about another cousin I didn’t even know I had? What did you do with him? Where is he?”

“There’s no need to worry, Constance.
Capitán
Vasquez is in good hands,” Garrick said.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Percy flicked his quizzing glass and caught it mid-air. He narrowed his gaze on Garrick. “Where is he?”

“I assure you, he was safe when last I saw him.”

“When last you saw him, eh? And who was he with at the time?”

Garrick glanced down at Mercy. “My brothers.”

Percy tapped his looking glass on his lower lip. “Damned unfortunate business that.”

“It was the only way to get Vasquez out of Spain alive. His father made me promise to extend him aid. The boy is foolish and cannot be trusted.”

Was Garrick right?

Percy seemed to ponder Garrick’s admission. “So we have more work cut out for us then.”

Mercy’s head spun. There was more going on between Percy and Garrick, as Constance and Percy referred to them, than she first believed.

Percy welcomed Constance into his arms. “Send a note to your modiste, my gel. Let her know that we need a wardrobe for Mercedes and her brother straightaway.” He turned to Mercy. “Odd’s fish, how will we know his directions?”

“I can have one of Vasquez’s uniforms delivered at any time,” Garrick said, surprising Mercy.

“Well, there you have it. I’m quite satisfied.” Percy looked into Constance’s glowing eyes. “Our relations deserve nothing but the best.”

Constance hugged her husband then dashed to Mercy’s side. She raised Mercy’s arms. “Oh, she’ll need ribbons, hats, shoes. And have no fear, Percy will see to it that your brother…” Constance placed her hand over her mouth. “Oh dear, I don’t even know my cousin’s name.”

“
Capitán
Eduardo Philippe Vasquez.”

“Eduardo,” Constance repeated. “The name rolls off the tongue so beautifully. I cannot wait to meet him. Do you have familiar features?”

“
Sí
. I mean, yes.”

“It won’t be long before Mercedes and her brother are reunited. My brothers,” Garrick said, his eyes full of conviction, “have never been far behind us.”

Constance clapped her hands together with glee. “It is settled. We shall have a ball to present you both to society!”

Mercy shifted nervously as Constance embraced her. “Society?” She swallowed hard and smile timidly at Percy over Constance’s shoulder.

“The
ton,
to be exact.” Percy puffed out his chest like a crowing rooster. “Have no fear, dear cousin. I trust my wife’s fashion sense implicitly.”

She almost laughed at the comical expression on Percy’s face. Fashion had never been one of her chief concerns, unless there had been a reason to conceal something in her hem. “I doubt seriously there will be time for fittings and balls, though I will need a proper gown to meet Lord Danbury without delay.”

“Danbury?” Percy pulled a silver snuffbox out of his banyan and took ample time to open the lion-bejeweled box. He gathered a pinch of tobacco between his fingers, sniffed comically and then dabbed his nose. His nose crinkled and he sneezed almost immediately.

Mercy tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the duke to speak again.

Percy snapped the snuffbox closed, a wide grin transforming his face. “I’ll take you to him.”

“It’s too dangerous.” The finality in Garrick’s voice kept Mercy from arguing. “We cannot risk it.”

Constance touched her mouth. “Have I missed something?”

Percy frowned, his features sober. “Whitbread has stalled Melville’s hearing long enough. We haven’t got a moment to lose. You must accompany me.” The duke’s pacing alerted them that the situation had grown more dire than expected. “The court is bored. I doubt Whitbread can hold out much longer.” He stopped before her. “If it is too dangerous, give the information to Garrick and he can deliver it.”

“No.” Garrick refused to move.

“Are you refusing me?” Percy instantly stilled, his body losing effeminate poise. “I can order you to comply, you know.”

Garrick scouted the exit. “You and I both know I cannot get anywhere close to Simon. Only you bear the authority to break rank. Someone needs to stay behind to protect the
señorita
until Simon arrives.”

“Is that necessary?” Constance pinched the skin at her throat. “Must you go, Percy?”

Percy patted his wife’s hand affectionately. “Garrick has a point. Without me, he cannot venture into court. With me, our dear cousin will be left unguarded. I am apparently the only one who can reach Simon now.”

Constance smiled warily. “Then do what you must and do it quickly. I am more than ready for this dangerous situation to come to an end. My family has grown and I will have it kept safe.”

“And you shall have what you most desire, my gel.”

Mercy was about to object when Constance spoke. “If there is one thing I have learned since that fateful day I stepped on board the
Octavia
it is this. Percy will not fail at whatever he sets his mind to do. You can trust my husband to intercept my uncle on your behalf, Mercedes.”

“Mercy.
Por favor
, call me Mercy.”

Constance’s face blossomed. “Mercy.”

With Constance’s hand in hers, Mercy turned to the duke. “Forgive me for being so secretive, but I was nearly assassinated by Holt’s men and then almost killed on board the
Priory
.”

“You were almost… k-killed?” Constance’s eyes turned wild.

“
Sí
. My parents are in grave danger because I stole something of considerable value. The men I have
jeopardized
are eager to destroy the evidence I have in my possession and keep it from going public.” She glanced at Garrick, hoping he would understand why she trusted no one, including him. “My sincerest apologies.
I
am the only one I trust.”

Constance squeezed her hands. “I am afraid I cannot keep up. Are you saying one of Garrick’s men tried to kill you?”

“Surely that is an exaggeration,” Percy said. “Do you remember what it was like on board the
Striker
, my gel?”

Constance paled. “That was a completely different situation.”

Garrick moved to the drapes. He eased them open, peeked outside, and then carefully lowered them back into place. “Mercy is telling the truth.”

“Be silent.” Percy’s tone cracked the air like a thunderbolt.

Mercy tightened her hold on Constance. Gooseflesh prickled her skin. Why was Percy irritated with Garrick? She had the distinct impression Percy and Garrick were talking about two completely different things.

Garrick flattened his palms in the air. “You are devilish enough cross, Percy. I wasn’t suggesting Mercy was lying. I merely implied that what she said was true about her near death experience.” His penetrating stare raked over Mercy before he released a heavy-burdened sigh. “I’ve been played. It’s the sordid truth but there you have it.”