Lady of Desire (31 page)

In
moments, he
heard the Jackals
coming after him. His head pounded in time with his running footsteps on the cobblestones; his breathing thundered harshly in the night’s stillness.

He did not glance back. He heard them chasing him—six, seven pairs of footsteps, hollering voices, but only one he recognized for sure.

O’Dell.

“Find him! Follow him! Find out where he’s going!
I’ll get you, Blade, you son of a bitch
!”

He careened around a corner and kept on running, but the exertion was making the gash on the back of his head bleed faster. With each step he felt more nauseated and light-headed. Fearful that he was on the verge of blacking out, he grasped the door of an old shed crammed between two of the buildings he passed and stumbled inside, pulling the door shut silently behind him. Rackford crumpled against the wall, trying to silence his loud, ragged breathing as he heard the Jackals running past.

“Check down there! Come on; we’ll head this way!”

They split up, two sets of footsteps going off in two separate directions, but Rackford knew they had not gone far.
God, that was close
. They would be back— and he was too weak in that moment even to defend himself. Slowly sliding down the wall, he sat on the hard floor and closed his eyes, the sweat standing out cold on his face. The moment’s rest felt blissful at first, but then, it all caught up to him in a wave of sickening pain. His head was positively throbbing. He forced himself to his feet again with a grimace.

After his moment’s respite, he eased the door open a couple of inches and saw that the street was empty. Gathering up what remained of his stamina, he slipped out of the shed and alternated between jogging and walking the rest of the way back to his father’s house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

Nate, old friend
, he thought as he collapsed on his bed some time later,
I could have used your help tonight
. Without bothering to change out of his bloodied clothes, he closed his eyes and let the darkness claim him.

The next morning, he awoke in the middle of the day feeling as if a herd of elephants had stampeded over him. His body was stiff and sore. He felt achy and bruised all over. His abdomen hurt where they had kicked him repeatedly. Pain throbbed from the large knot on the back of his head, but thankfully, the wound had closed. He would have damned well liked to know what they had hit him with.

He ordered coffee and sandwiches instead of his usual large breakfast and took a long bath, rinsing the matted blood out of his hair. Every atom of his body longed for Jacinda and her soft, caring touch.

In truth, he was more shaken by his failure than he cared to admit, and rather humiliated, to boot. Recalling the fight with his father that had driven him to the rookery last night to vent his ire, he learned from Filbert that Truro had left this morning for Cornwall, taking Mother with him.

Satisfied that at least he had put his bullying father in his place, he drowsed in the nickel-plated bathing tub until the headache powder took effect.

Feeling closer to normal, though still beaten and weary, he got dressed and wasted no more time in going to Jacinda. One smile from her could cure whatever ailed him.

He drove his curricle to Knight House more slowly than usual to avoid the jarring ruts in the road, pondering as he went how he was going to explain his cuts and bruises.

Maybe you ought just to tell her the truth
, his conscience offered, but he brushed it off. He’d think of something.

Mr. Walsh let him in, as usual. Rackford took off his hat and greeted the butler, but the moment he stepped over the threshold into the white marble entrance hall, Jacinda’s sweet voice called to him from above.

“Rackford! Oh, thank heavens you’re here!”

He looked up and saw her peering down at him over the banister at the top of the grand curved staircase. Her face was flushed, her curls disheveled, and he instantly forgot his assorted aches and pains as he realized that something was very wrong.

Tears filled her eyes as she rushed down the steps.

He stalked swiftly toward her. “What is it?”

She did not answer, but dashed across the entrance hall and flung her arms around his waist with a small sob, holding him tightly.

“Sweeting, what’s the matter?” he murmured as his arms went around her protectively.

Mr. Walsh cleared his throat in disapproval, but Jacinda ignored him.

“Oh, Billy, it’s finally happened—the most awful thing.”

“What’s happened, darling?” he demanded, lifting her chin with his fingertips to look into her eyes. Her apple cheeks were wet with tears.

“It’s Lizzie,” she choked out. “Alec has done the most abominable thing.”

“Good God, tell me what’s occurred—”

“Come—I’ll explain on the way. We must go to her.” She took his arm, turning toward the grand, sweeping staircase that led up to the mansion’s main floor. “I’ve never seen her like this before,” she confided anxiously as they walked up the curved stairs. “She’s hysterical, packing her things. She says she’s leaving, and I think she means it. Maybe you can calm her down,” she said anxiously. “You know how fond she is of you.”

“Of course, I will do my best to help.”

She rested her head against his arm. “You are so good. I am desperate to tell Robert what’s happened, but Lizzie has forbidden me to say a word.”

“Darling, what is it?” he asked, trying not to sound impatient.

She stopped and turned to him at the top of the stairs, searching his eyes. “You mustn’t tell anyone.”

“Of course not. I only want to help.” He rested his foot on the stair above and leaned against the banister.

“It’s Alec. The truth has all come out. He never broke his ankle in the course of some mad wager. The situation was much more serious than that, but Alec didn’t want to tell anyone that his losing streak at the tables was worse than he let on. When Robert cut him off to try to curb his gambling, it seems Alec turned to some low, cutthroat moneylender to cover his vowels. But when the time came for him to begin repaying the loan, he was still unable to meet the debt. He asked for an extension, but the moneylender would have none of it and sent his thugs out after him to collect. It was they who broke Alec’s ankle, to serve as a warning to him that if he didn’t pay up, next time it would cost him his life.”

Cold fury leaped into Rackford’s eyes at the injury to his friend and the way these men had upset Jacinda. “Do not be troubled, my lady. I will see to this matter in a trice. I’ve dealt with these dishonest Jerusalem chambers before. I know just how to handle these sharks—”

She stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Wait until you hear the rest of the story.” She pressed her hand to her forehead with a sigh. “Lord, I could wring Alec’s neck for not saying anything to Robert or the twins, but nothing galls him more than having to call on his big brothers to get him out of some scrape. He wasn’t even going to tell Lizzie the truth about his circumstances, but then he
had
to, because the night before last, while we were at the theater, she saw these men for herself. She heard them making threats against him. They came again demanding payment from Alec.”

“They came here?” he whispered furiously, blanching at the thought of the danger of that sort of criminal coming in so close to the girls and the duchess and little Morley.

Jacinda nodded. “Lizzie said they came up to the gates. She and Alec were sitting on the veranda playing whist when these rough-looking fellows approached and began harassing Alec through the bars. After he managed to get rid of them, Lizzie prevailed on him to explain. She was beside herself, for they were threatening his life. Only then did he break down and confide in her about his predicament.”

“I trust Miss Carlisle told His Grace at once? ”

“No. Alec swore her to secrecy. Lizzie would never break a promise, especially to Alec. The next day— this was yesterday—she went to Robert and asked him to sign over to her all the money that had been left to her by her father. She told Robert she wanted to start the business she had been interested in for years—of buying old and rare books and restoring them to sell to collectors. She told him she was ready to make her first purchases of some musty old medieval manuscripts—something like that. At any rate, Robert interrogated her on her business plans. When he was satisfied with her responses, he signed over her inheritance to her, even though she is not officially entitled to it until she turns twenty-one in September. It’s a modest sum, but—” Her big, brown eyes filled with fresh tears. “Lizzie gave it all to Alec to repay his debt—to save his life.”

“He lost it at the tables?” he asked grimly.

“No. It seems, in the end, my brother didn’t have the heart to take her gift. At first, though, he did accept it. Lizzie said she gave it to him in the morning at about ten o’clock. He left to go repay his loan, but then he did not appear for twenty-four hours. He was just here, but he’s left again. He said, in the end, he couldn’t go through with it.”

“I’m not surprised,” Rackford murmured. It would have been the ultimate loss of honor for any man. “But Alec gave her back her money? Did he find another way to repay the moneylender? Because I can help him—”

“Oh, he found a way, all right.” She paled and looked away.

“Jacinda?”

“Alec’s become—that is—” Her cheeks turned from pale to red.

“What is it, sweeting?”

Slowly, dolefully, she turned her gaze back to his.

“Lady Campion has paid his debts,” she whispered. “Oh, Rackford, this morning when Alec came to give Lizzie back her money, he told her right to her face that he had spent the night with the baroness and would be doing so for the foreseeable future!”

His eyes widened. “How did Lizzie take it?”

“She is destroyed,” she whispered.

He put his arms around her and pulled her to him as a small sob escaped her. Holding her for a moment, he caressed her arm, then pressed a gentle kiss to her curly head. “Come. Let us go and see her.”

Jacinda nodded with a sniffle. As she led him to Lizzie, Rackford mulled it over, wondering what, if anything, was to be done.

At least Alec had told Lizzie face-to-face, instead of trying to conceal it or letting her find out some other way. As cruel as Alec’s blow had been, Rackford could easily understand how ashamed Lizzie’s gift must have made him feel—tangible evidence that he had indeed hit bottom.

Better to sacrifice what remained of his self-respect by becoming the willing male plaything of the rich, worldly baroness than to abandon all honor by taking advantage of an innocent girl’s selfless adoration and dragging her down into the bog with him.

“I suppose you should wait here,” Jacinda said as they came to another, smaller staircase. She tucked her hair behind her ear and turned away, her eyes red-rimmed. “Our chambers are just up the stairs. I will try to coax her down.”

He nodded and waited while she hurried up the smaller set of stairs. He paced, hearing Jacinda’s pleading from above. He could hear Lizzie’s brief, impassioned shouts punctuated by heart-wrenching sobs.

“Please, Lizzie, come and see Rackford—”

“I can’t. I have to pack. Please give him my apologies.”

“Where are you going to go? ”

“To visit Mrs. Hastings in York.” There was a brittle, jerky quality in Lizzie’s words that made Rackford’s heart ache; then her voice exploded into rage. “I’ll start my rare book business! He’ll see. I’ll show him. And when I’m rich, he-he’ll come crawling on his knees to me, that—that male whore, and I’ll laugh in his face! Just you wait!” she wrenched out.

“Good God,” Rackford exclaimed under his breath.

Ignoring Jacinda’s caution, he took the stairs two at a time and walked into Lizzie’s chamber, only dimly registering the realization that Jacinda’s bedchamber was directly across the hallway.

“Hey, you,” he said softly to the pale, tearstained bluestocking.

Lizzie turned, saw him, and promptly succumbed to a fresh wave of grief-stricken tears. Rackford said nothing more, but walked over and hugged her, letting her have a good cry on his shoulder.

Jacinda came over to them and comforted her friend, as well.

“I wish I had never seen him! He is too highborn for me; I have known that all along,” she said through her tears. “He is a d-duke’s son, and I am only an estate manager’s daughter. I know why he always calls me ‘Bits.” Because that’s how he sees me, s-small and insignificant. I am nothing to him; I never was. I should never have reached above my station—”

“Oh, Lizzie, come, you know full well Alec’s real father was only an actor,” Jacinda scolded tenderly, petting her shoulder.

“Where is Alec now?” Rackford asked gently.

“White’s,” Lizzie whispered through her tears.

“I will go and talk to him.”

“There is nothing more to say.”

“Let him try, Lizzie,” Jacinda cajoled her. The look in her big, brown eyes as she raised her gaze hopefully to his filled Rackford with resolve. Just once, he longed for the chance to be her hero.

Determined to put all the chivalry the girls had taught him to good use, he led Lizzie over to a nearby chair and bade her sit, then left her in Jacinda’s keeping and went out to try to shake some sense into that infernal rakehell.

Since White’s Club was just down the street, he arrived shortly. He quickly spied Alec sitting with some other young bucks drinking brandy. He walked over to their table by the bow window. Alec met his hard gaze, and at once, a flicker of guilt passed behind his dark blue eyes.

“Well, if it isn’t Lord Rack-and-Ruin.”

“Would you gentlemen kindly excuse us?” he ordered Alec’s scoundrelly friends.

They bristled at the request from a presumptuous newcomer, but Alec waved them off with a languid flick of his hand, and they withdrew.

“So,” he drawled as Rackford planted his hands on the shiny oaken table and leaned on it, staring at him in stern warning. “Baby sister has sicced her wolf-dog on me. Are you going to call me out, Rackford?”

“Why would I do that?”