Invitation to Ruin (15 page)

He halted and stood staring at her for what seemed like an eternity; then with a slight bow he said, “I shall have the money delivered here by lunchtime.”

She let out the breath she’d not known she was holding. “Thank you,” she whispered, but he had already left the room, and he was now free to bed Cassandra …

She sunk onto the settee before her legs collapsed. Her hand moved to hold her stomach to stop herself from being sick. She’d really done it now. Anthony could not stand the sight of her, and in two days’ time she would have to stand before God and swear to love, honor, and obey him.

   Anthony swept his hat and gloves off the entrance table, and without waiting for the butler to open the door, he marched out of the house, impatient for the groom to bring
Dark Knight. Since neither brother had actually bedded Cassandra, he had kept his stallion.

To think he’d intended to apologize to Melissa for his behavior the other night. As he swung into the saddle, he was thankful Melissa’s gambling problem came to light. He’d order Quincy to set up a tiny allowance for her, one that should curtail her excesses at the card tables.

Thankfully, he was finally free of the creeping soft feelings he’d begun to harbor for his fiancée. After they married he’d have no qualms about sending her to Bressington or even Glenforay if it meant keeping his finances and sanity safe.

He entered the gate of Hyde Park, Dark Knight prancing with excitement at the promise of a gallop. As he battled control of his excited stallion and with his mind still analyzing how big a fool he’d been, he did not immediately hear the voice hailing him. He looked up to see Lady Samantha Dorrington. She was the wife of his good friend and business acquaintance, Lord Freddie Dorrington, the Marquis of Skye. If anyone could cheer him up, it was Samantha. He’d played a key role in bringing the couple together. He’d never seen his friend so happy.

“Anthony,” she said as she brought her steed alongside Dark Knight. “A bit early for you, isn’t it? Or have I caught you slinking home?”

“No, I …”

“Good.” Her hazel eyes twinkled. “I would hate to think you have been up to mischief behind your fiancée’s back.”

He could not help smiling in return. “Speaking of slinking, does your husband know his pregnant wife is galloping in the park? Unescorted.”

“Men.” She pressed one gloved hand to her small belly. “You all stick together. I’m near term yet still hardly showing. Freddie keeps threatening to send me to the country, but I want to wait until after your wedding. Besides, my son loves the ride. Feel for yourself.”

Before he could protest, Samantha grabbed his hand and placed it on her slight bulge. “He is kicking again, demanding I resume my ride.”

Anthony was surprised by the awe he felt at the feel of tiny feet kicking against his hand. He saw Samantha’s face soften as she took in his expression. “I told Freddie you were all hot air. Who wouldn’t want a son? Now that you’re marrying Miss Goodly, I expect your views on children will greatly change.”

His smile faded. Blast Freddie. Did the man have to share everything with his beautiful wife? He felt his face flush.

Samantha continued, “I never thought I’d see the day you’d take a wife.” She laughed. “Having met Miss Goodly, I believe your mistake was a blessing.”

Hah! She didn’t know everything. Underneath Melissa’s beauty lurked a conniving liar and gambler. “I didn’t know you’d made her acquaintance.”

“We had a lovely talk at Lady Carmichael’s ball last night.”

He could not keep the hint of puzzlement out of his voice. “Lady Carmichael’s ball? I thought the ladies were playing cards at Lady Humphrey’s?”

“What nonsense. Lady Humphrey left town last week. Her daughter-in-law gave birth to twin boys a month early, and she raced down to the country to oversee the household.”

A prickle of unease spread through his body. “So you played cards at Lady Carmichael’s?”

Samantha hit him gently with her riding crop. “What is with you and gambling? No, there were no cards—”

“My mistake.” Was there no end to Melissa’s treachery? If she didn’t need the money to pay off a gambling debt, then what did she need the money for? “I must have my nights confused. May I see you home? I need a word with your husband. He should not allow his very pregnant wife to prance about the park unescorted.”

“Gosh, you sound so much like a husband already. Women are not helpless creatures, Anthony. I’m sure Melissa will soon teach you that we are capable of much more than you gentlemen credit us with.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her she was right. His betrothed was something of a conundrum. “Thank you for your kind offer, but I have Jefferson with me.” She turned in her saddle. “He can’t keep up with Twinkle Toes here.”

“What a ridiculous name for a horse.”

“At least it is more original than Dark Knight. How are you, boy?” She rubbed the stallion’s nose and slipped him a sugar lump.

“Don’t spoil him.”

Samantha leaned close and gently cupped Anthony’s cheek. “I think both of you could do with a little spoiling. I shall instruct Melissa to take extra special care of you.”

Her words cut him to the bone. No one had ever spoiled him. No one had cared enough to bother, and he didn’t have the heart to tell Samantha his new wife wouldn’t care, either.

More gruffly than he intended, he said, “It was a pleasure to see you, Samantha. If you will excuse me, I have some urgent business I must attend.”

“Of course. We shall both see you at Craven House for the wedding. Tell Melissa to call on me if she requires any help.” With that, she turned her mount and took off at a gentle canter.

He shook his head thinking of Samantha pregnant with Freddie’s child. A stab of envy surprised him. He’d never considered remaining childless as a hardship. The thought of being responsible for a child’s emotional welfare terrified him beyond reason.

What if he couldn’t love his own child? What did he know of raising a child? He’d learned what he knew from his father. What if he became his father? He would not subject a child to what he’d had to endure. Years of coldness, years of feeling unwanted, years of knowing he was unloved.

He spurred Dark Knight, and the stallion lurched forward and took off at a gallop across the park. No matter how fast they ran, he couldn’t escape the question chanting in his head: What if he’d already gotten Melissa pregnant?

   At lunchtime, Anthony organized for the money to be sent to Melissa as promised. However, he instructed one of his men to keep watch. Why did she need the money so badly she would lie to him?

He was finishing a late lunch when Stevens, his butler, entered and bowed. “Excuse the intrusion, my lord, but Jacob has some urgent news.”

Anthony wiped his mouth with his napkin and nodded his head.

Jacob, the man he’d assigned to watch Melissa, came forward. “I did as you instructed, my lord. She left the house and went … and went—”

“Out with it man,” Anthony said, rising to his feet. “Where did she go?”

Jacob wrung his hands and glanced at Stevens, who gave an encouraging nod. “She went to Smithfield markets, my lord.” He paused, and looking distressed, added, “I didn’t really wish to leave her there, but I knew I had to get back to tell you as soon as possible.”

“What on earth is she doing at Smithfield’s?”

Jacob’s hand-wringing took on new proportions. “She is at—that is, she is watching—a slave auction …”

“What!” The mention of the slave market brought him up short. He could hardly manage to hide his incredulity. Anthony shot Jacob a bristling scowl. “Stevens, summon Monty. Have Dark Knight saddled.” To Jacob, he said, “Who is with Miss Goodly?”

“Her groom.”

“And you left her there with only a groom in attendance? Could you not have sent me a messenger?”

Smithfield market was the meat district. The market was
often used to sell meat of the living kind—slave auctions. Most slavers thought of their wares as nothing more than pieces of meat. It was no place for a lady.

“I-I’m so-sor-sorry, sir. I th-thought it best to ensure the message was delivered quickly and-and with all discretion.”

Anthony stormed out of the room, grabbed his riding crop and gloves from Stevens, and walked around to the stable. His temper flared as he waited for Dark Knight to be saddled.

He cursed as he swung into the saddle. No fiancée of his was going to buy slaves. He’d put that side of his life well behind him. He gritted his teeth. God help her if she had bought a slave.

M
elissa pulled her cape tightly around her body. The hood hid her face in its shadows. She did not wish to be recognized. The thought that someone might think she supported trading in human flesh disturbed her greatly. She was a founding member and current president of the Ladies Freedom Charity. The charity raised money to purchase freedom for slaves. Thus far, they’d freed over one hundred slaves, something she was rather proud of.

The men surrounding her were rough and frightening. Already several of the men began watching her more than the slave auction, something the auctioneer was not pleased about. His frown was getting deeper the longer she stood next to Cassandra’s carriage. At first glance, she’d recognized Mr. Rawlings, the man conducting the slave auction. She prayed he did not recognize her; he would likely have her escorted away. She and some of the charity members had disrupted one of his auctions last month.

She gave small thanks that it was Mr. Rawlings. He at least was known to treat his merchandise well. Theresa would not have been abused in any way.

Still, there was no sign of Theresa. Melissa did not know how much longer she would have to wait. Apparently, the men were being auctioned first. The majority of the slaves sold in England were men. Men were needed to work the
land, to replace all the Englishmen killed or those still off fighting the war with France.

Finally, Mr. Rawlings led the first female slave onto the auction block. A murmur swept through the men with a few calling out crude comments. The young Negro woman, or girl in this case, was barely dressed. All she wore was a thin dress over her chemise, indecently covering hardly any of her body.

Melissa’s face flushed as she heard several men beside her discuss what a versatile slave she’d make—a worker during the day and a bed warmer at night. Her heart broke thinking of the life the young woman, who stood so proud and defiant onstage, would lead. If she had more money, she would have tried to buy her freedom, too.

The bidding flowed thick and fast and quickly rose beyond her two-hundred-pound budget. She chewed her bottom lip. Would she have enough money to secure Theresa’s release?

A hand suddenly gripped her arm, and Melissa nearly shrieked with surprise. She tried to jerk away from the tightening grip, and her hood fell back. “You will come away from here this instant. Move,” a deep, silken voice growled in her ear.

Anthony. What was he doing here? Did he come to buy a slave? She jerked her arm away, but his gloved hand tightened its grip until she grimaced with pain. His face was a mask of barely concealed fury. The afternoon sunlight gleaming on his jet-black hair tousled from his ride, added to the vehemence pouring out of his tightly controlled body.

She spun to face him and scowled at him for all she was worth. “Let go of me. You are not my husband yet. You don’t own me.”

“Listen to me, carefully,” he sneered in a voice that she imagined the devil used. “If you don’t leave this place with me right now, our marriage is off. You can rot in your own disgrace, your brother will end up in debtors’ prison, and you’ll be ostracized from Society. I won’t have my future wife partaking in this despicable trade.”

Melissa stared at him, speechless. She should have trusted him. It was obvious he was as vehemently opposed to slave trading as she was—at least they shared that in common. She smiled. “I can’t leave. I promised to secure Theresa’s freedom. That is what I needed the money for. “

His hand loosened its grip on her arm. “Who is Theresa?”

She eyed the young black girl before her. “I will explain in a moment, but can you please help her?” She pointed to the stage. “Look at her. Listen to the men bidding. She can’t be more than sixteen years old. You know what will happen to her once she is sold. We have to save her, but I only have enough money for Theresa.”

She watched Anthony raise his head and take in the actions going on around him. He ran a hand through his hair. She could sense his hesitation.

“Save her,” she urged. “Please, Anthony, free her.”

“I can’t save them all.” She heard the note of despair in his voice.

“I realize that, but look at her. You know what will happen to a young girl of her beauty. Her life will be a living hell.”

“Yes,” he whispered, his face paling. “I know exactly what will be done to her.”

“Please—”

“Two hundred and seventy pounds,” he called out.

Melissa clapped her hands together and silently thanked God.

She saw a softening in the hard intensity of Anthony’s eyes. She was suddenly aware of a new tension that charged the air. He dropped his gaze to hers. It felt unbearably intimate, while his hand on her arm turned gentle and reassuring.

She drew in a sharp breath and stared at his sensual, inviting mouth. As if he could feel the sudden flare of awareness in her eyes, he released her arm abruptly and turned toward the auction block to concentrate on his bidding.

Anthony had to bid up to four hundred pounds before he
won the auction. He quickly made his way through the crowd to fetch the young girl and bring her to Melissa’s carriage. The young slave was shaking with fear but held her head high. Once settled in the carriage with blankets, Melissa explained that Anthony had bought her freedom. She burst into tears and fell to the floor of the carriage at Anthony’s feet. “Thank you, thank you.”

Melissa’s heart clenched as he gently lifted her to sit back on the seat and softly asked, “What is your name?”

She swallowed back her tears and wiped her face. “I’m called Alice.”