Desired (27 page)

The jailer kicked him. “Enough from you.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Owen said. He saw the jailer’s look of surprise before the man went out, leaving the two of them alone with one small candle to light the cell.

“I hope it doesn’t hurt your pride, Rothbury,” Bradshaw said, “that Sidmouth wanted to hang me more than he wanted to hang you.”

So that was it. Owen looked at Bradshaw’s dark cyn
ical face and felt shock and profound relief mingled with an odd sort of regret.

“I am surprised Sidmouth didn’t just hang both of us,” he said drily.

“You’ve got powerful friends,” Bradshaw said. “They didn’t like it. Kicked up a big fuss. Lady Martindale…” He shook his head. “Never get on the wrong side of that woman. Sidmouth was in a bind. So when I came along—” He grinned. “Manna from heaven. No questions asked.”

“You gave yourself up?” There was stark incredulity in Owen’s tone. Self-sacrifice was so far from Tom Bradshaw’s way of life that he was sure the man must be lying.

Bradshaw grinned. “Difficult to believe, isn’t it?”

“Impossible,” Owen said.

Bradshaw’s smile faded. “Some things are worth more than others,” he said softly. “That’s why you are here, isn’t it, Rothbury? Because you love your wife so much that you would die rather than see her hurt?”

“Sidmouth would never have arrested Lady Emma,” Owen said.

“Emma would have made him do it,” Tom said quietly. “She was going to confess. And if Sidmouth ignored her confession she would have announced it on the streets, published it in the papers, declared her guilt and her identity as Jupiter to everyone so that Sidmouth could not ignore her and was forced to act.” For a brief second he dropped his face into his hands then raised
his head, haggard. “Emma has too much integrity to let an innocent man die,” he said. “She and Lady Rothbury. They were both Jupiter, from the very first. They took it in turns to draw the cartoons. When you were hunting Jupiter, Lady Rothbury protected Emma. Now Emma wants to do the same for her.”

For a second time Owen felt the shock hit him with the power of a blow. Emma and Tess, both Jupiter, both the radicals’ cartoonist. He would never have guessed. Tess had not lied to him; she
had
been Jupiter and she was prepared to own up to that fact. But she had wanted to protect Emma too because she was strong and generous, and helping those who needed her was what she had always done.

“You gave yourself up to keep Lady Emma safe,” Owen said.

“I made Sidmouth a deal,” Tom said. “He knows I’m not Jupiter. He knows those latest cartoons were Emma’s work. But he won’t touch her because it’s a greater triumph to arrest me and hang me and make a huge spectacle of it.” His mouth twisted. “The Duke of Farne’s bastard son, criminal and murderer, caught at last.”

“And what if Lady Emma won’t let you die for her?” Owen said. “She wouldn’t hand you over before.”

“She won’t know until it’s too late,” Tom said. “That’s part of the deal. Sidmouth keeps this quiet until the last minute when it is too late for Emma to do any
thing about it.” He looked up. “It’s not just for Emma,” he said slowly. “It’s for Lady Rothbury too.”

Owen’s attention sharpened. “Because Teresa saved Emma when she was thrown out onto the street?”

“That too,” Tom said. He shifted. “And because I did her a terrible wrong.”

The atmosphere in the cell moved and thickened. Owen could feel the tension in his blood.

“I heard you were looking for Brokeby’s cronies,” Bradshaw said.

Owen went very still. “How did you know that?” he said softly.

Bradshaw shrugged. “I hear things.” He shifted his shoulders against the wall. “I heard you were looking for revenge.” He shrugged. “I can’t blame you. But you’ve been robbed by time.” He met Owen’s eyes. “They’re all dead, Rothbury. All dead, except me.”

Owen made an involuntary movement towards him. Bradshaw was watching him with those dark, unreadable eyes, waiting for his reaction. Owen knew all about Tom Bradshaw and the games he played. He knew how Bradshaw had manipulated Merryn and tried to blackmail James Devlin and all the other things he had done. He knew Bradshaw was a man who exulted in his power to hurt people. He felt the anger and the violence spread beneath his skin and infiltrate every part of his body, but still he did not move.

“Why are you telling me this?” he said.

Bradshaw smiled. It was a bitter smile this time.
“Think of it as my confession, Rothbury. It’s been on my conscience, and me thinking I did not even have a conscience.”

“What did you do?” Owen’s blood felt ice-cold with rage now, sick with dread.

“I didn’t touch her.” Bradshaw had heard the note in Owen’s voice too. He put out a hand as though to ward off a blow, the blow Owen wanted so deeply to administer and yet held back. “I swear it.” He laughed, a short, mirthless laugh. “Well, I would say that, wouldn’t I? But it’s true.”

“Then what did you do?” Owen said. He scarcely recognised his own voice, thick with anger and violence.

“I was the one who closed the door,” Bradshaw said. His look scoured Owen’s face. “I see she told you about that,” he said. “Well, I was the one who locked her in there, Rothbury, with Melton and Brokeby and Brokeby’s friends. I thought it was just a bit of fun—I didn’t even know who she was! Some of the others had brought women with them and they were playing all manner of games…?. I thought she might even have been paid, you know. Paid to try and run away, and be caught and brought back…?.”

“You thought that Teresa was just another whore to treat as you wanted,” Owen said. “You loathsome—” The murderous hatred closed his throat. He was so close to the edge with his abhorrence for what Bradshaw had done and his disgust for those men and their
vile games. His heart was breaking for Tess all over again.

“It’s not too late, though, is it, Rothbury?” Bradshaw said, and Owen could hear the hope in his voice. “She has you now. You opened the door. You can show her the light.”

Owen clenched his fists so tight that he felt the bones ache. He wanted to kill Bradshaw, to take him apart, not only for what he had done to Tess but also because the man was the last remnant of Brokeby’s repulsive legacy, the only man left whom he could vent his anger and revenge upon. The fury raked him again, but beneath it he could sense Tess’s presence, feel her touch on his cheek.

“
I love you. You made me whole again…”

He had no need to kill Bradshaw. Sidmouth would do that for him, coldly, clinically, with the full weight of the law behind him. The only thing that mattered was Tess. What mattered now was their future, not the past.

He walked to the door. His body felt cold and tired, aching in his bones as though he had been in combat.

Bradshaw had not moved, nor even looked up.

Owen stopped. “We will take care of Lady Emma,” he said. “I promise you.”

Bradshaw’s head came up slowly. He gave a crooked smile. “I know,” he said. “I tried to be good enough for her, but it was always too late.”

“In the end I think you were,” Owen said. He rapped sharply on the door and the jailer let him out.

“Vermin,” the man said, jerking his head towards the darkened cell. “Scum of the earth.” He kicked the door shut and turned the key with a grating creak of satisfaction. “You’ll be wanting to be away now, my lord,” he added. “Now that this unfortunate misunderstanding is resolved.”

“Unfortunate misunderstanding,” Owen said. He could just imagine Sidmouth uttering those words, full of sanctimony and self-righteousness. “Yes, indeed, most unfortunate.”

He went out into the street. The air was cold. Snow was gathering. He had never been so grateful to be free. He turned for home.

N
IGHT HAD FALLEN OVER THE
Greenwich dock but on the deck of
Sea Witch
lanterns burned as they had done late into the night for the past two nights. The air was rich with the fumes of fresh paint and tar, thick with snow. Men moved in the rigging of the ship, shadowy figures swarming from bow to stern. Owen stood at the corner of Wharf Street in the shelter of the warehouses and looked on in astonishment.

He had come directly from Clarges Street.

“Lady Rothbury is currently living on board a
ship,
my lord,” Houghton had told him, lips very tightly pursed, sounding as disapproving as if Tess had taken up residence in a brothel. “Her maid is with her,” he added, as though that gave Tess a spurious respectability.

Owen had grinned and slapped him on the shoulder and had called for a horse and was gone before the butler could even protest that he smelled like a week in gaol. He knew exactly where Tess was and he loved her all the more for it.

As he watched, Tess came up onto
Sea Witch’
s deck. For a moment Owen saw the lantern light gleam on her
auburn hair before she pulled her shawl over her head to protect against the swirling snow. She stood there for a moment, a lonely figure looking out across the dark river, and then she paused and turned towards where he was standing.

Owen was not aware that he had moved but he found himself running down the narrow street towards the quay. He reached
Sea Witch
and vaulted aboard in one jump. Tess had not moved. She was looking at him, lips parted, eyes bright in the lantern light, as though she could not quite believe what she was seeing. She pressed one hand to her throat. Then she took a step towards him.

“I thought it was you,” she said slowly. Her voice was hoarse. “I felt it—”

Owen reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into his arms. She gave a little sound, half sob, half laugh, and then he held her against him and felt her arms go around him. Her heart was beating wildly against his and he kissed her, clumsily, desperately, with all the passion that was in his soul, and she was warm and vibrant in his arms and he felt at peace at last, sloughing off the darkness and dread of the prison cell and stepping into the light. He tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her again and tasted her tears and heard her muffled protest.

“You’re so dirty!” She drew back. “You didn’t even trouble to change before you came to find me!” But she
could not let him go, touching his cheek as though she could not quite believe he was there.

“I love you,” Owen said. “I never told you. And I am so sorry I did not believe you when you said you had not drawn the cartoons.” He stopped as Tess pressed her fingers to his lips.

“Hush,” she said, drawing his head back down to kiss him again. The lanterns guttered and hissed in the snow and the crew gave a ragged round of applause.

“You’ve been busy,” Owen said. He blinked to see the number of men on deck now.

“I had plans,” Tess said demurely. Her eyes sparkled. “I still do. You can sail with me if you like.”

Owen kissed her again and tasted the hot salt of her tears once more mingled with the cold snow.

“Let’s go below,” he said as he released her. “I don’t want an audience for this.” And Tess nodded and pulled him down the companionway as the crew cheered her on.

“W
HERE ON EARTH DID YOU FIND
the crew?” Owen asked. It was some considerable time later and Owen had told Tess all about Tom and his release from the Tower, and she was lying in his arms in the captain’s cabin. There was a bottle of bumbo on the table, more than half-finished, and Tess was feeling happy and a little dizzy and yet very safe because Owen was holding her, his arms strong and hard about her, and she knew nothing would ever part them again.

“I asked your broker to recommend a boatswain,”
she said, “and then he and I went into the Eagle Tavern and asked if any man wanted to crew for you.” She pressed a kiss against Owen’s jaw. “And then we stood back in order to avoid being trampled in the rush,” she added drily.

“Really?” Owen looked so surprised Tess felt the need to kiss him again for his modesty, a kiss he returned with interest.

“Really,” she said. “They all admire you tremendously.”

“Except that they would have been crewing for you, not me,” Owen said.

“Only until we got you out,” Tess said. She looked at him under her lashes. “That was the plan,” she said. “To sail upriver to the Tower and rescue you.” She saw Owen’s shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter and poked him sharply in the ribs.

“You ungrateful wretch!” she said. “It might have worked.”

Owen slid his hand into her hair, cupped her head and kissed her again. “With you in charge,” he said, “it would surely have worked. I defy even Sidmouth to withstand you.”

He released her and studied her face, his eyes so warm with love and happiness that Tess felt she might drown in the unguarded emotion she saw there.

“So you love
Sea Witch,
” he said softly.

“Almost as much as I love you,” Tess said. “This was the only place I felt close to you,” she added, looking
around the sparkling little cabin that she and Margery had scrubbed so lovingly. “I hated the house. It felt unbearably empty and cold. So I came here because I knew there was so much of you in
Sea Witch
and so much of her in you that surely I would find you again. And I did.” She snuggled closer into his arms. “I can scarce believe that we have another chance.” She raised her head and looked at him. “Where shall we go? We could visit all the Rothbury estates by sea rather than land.”

“That,” Owen said, “sounds like an excellent idea.”

“And Joanna wishes us to visit them at Fenners for Christmas so we had best put into Bristol in a couple of weeks,” Tess said.

“Capital,” Owen said. His voice was sleepy now, content. He smiled at her, twining his fingers in her curls. “We’ll sail together,” he said. “I love you so much and I thought I had lost you forever.”

Tess sighed. “Alas that I will have no chance to find husband number five now,” she said.

She squeaked as Owen ruthlessly tumbled her beneath him on the bunk. He smoothed her hair back from her brow with gentle, loving fingers. “Do you remember asking me how it was possible to make love in so enclosed a space as this?” he questioned softly.

Tess blushed. “I did not ask that!”

“But you were thinking it,” Owen said. “Would you like to find out?”

He kissed her and the happiness burst through her
like starlight, dazzlingly bright. Her heart expanded with all the love she had thought never to find. Tess gave herself up to it and stepped into the light.