Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (27 page)

She scrutinized his expression, then snorted with disgust. “You’re afraid to go.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“You are! You’re scared they might not like you, that they might not be kind.”

“You’re being absurd,”he mumbled and glanced away.

She kissed him on the mouth.

“You don’t have to be frightened,”she insisted. “I’ll accompany you. I’ll help you get through it.”

“I’m not going.”

“Of course you are.” She appeared shrewd, wise beyond her years. “It will be fine, Jean Pierre. It will be grand. You’ll see.”

He couldn’t fathom how it would be, and he nestled her down.

They were silent, and he allowed himself a short fantasy where he was welcomed into a room of blond-haired, green-eyed men and women who looked and acted exactly like him. The notion was so enthralling that he yearned for it with a peculiar intensity. Yet as quickly as the vision tantalized, he pushed it away.

He wouldn’t ponder Charles or Phillip Sinclair, wouldn’t mope over the fact that he’d never met his sisters.

Where the Sinclairs were concerned, he had one goal: Charles’s financial ruination. As he began the assaults on Charles’s ships, his objectives would be realized. His half-siblings would suffer when Charles suffered. They’d lose when Charles lost.

John refused to feel sorry for any of them.

He was alone, but happy with his life. He wouldn’t change anything—except perhaps to have a way of keeping Sarah by his side for a time. But a relationship between them wasn’t meant to be.

“Are you tired?”he asked.

“No.” She peeked up, grinning with mischief. “Are you?”

“Definitely not.”

“You said we could do it again.”

“We can,
chérie
. We certainly can.”

He pulled her to him and started in once more.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I have a letter from Jean Pierre.”

“Is he on his way back?”

“Yes.”

Annalise stared at Raven, her pulse racing.

Jean Pierre was supposed to have been gone for a month, but it had been six weeks. With each day that passed, she was more furious.

When he’d sailed away with his pale English virgin, she’d told herself that such a weak, ridiculous female could never hold his interest. What could Mademoiselle Teasdale possibly provide that Jean Pierre would consider valuable?

Annalise hadn’t reconciled herself to his seduction of Sarah Teasdale. She’d tried to convince herself that Mademoiselle Teasdale was simply a skirt he could lift when the mood struck him. She’d tried not to be wrathfully jealous, but she was.

If Jean Pierre had merely lusted after Mademoiselle Teasdale, if he’d fornicated a few times, then grown bored, Annalise could forgive him for his indiscretion. But if he’d become smitten, if he’d developed an attachment with the stupid girl, Annalise felt she might react quite violently.

“Has he a message for me?”she asked.

“Yes, actually. He has an extensive message for you.”

Raven’s face gave nothing away. He was adept at hiding his thoughts, which was why he was so dangerous. He could slay a man, and the poor idiot would be dead on the ground before he realized Raven was upset.

“Sit down, Annalise,”he rattled her by saying.

“I’ll stand.”

“No, you need to sit.”

They were in the estate office at Bramble Bay where Raven spent a good portion of every morning reviewing the ledgers with Reggie. It was a tedious chore for a seafaring man, but he was skilled with numbers and would do whatever Jean Pierre requested. Even mathematics.

He was seated behind the desk, and he gestured to the chair across. She wanted to refuse, just on general principle, but it was pointless to fight Raven—as it was pointless to fight Jean Pierre. It was best not to argue with either of them.

“Fine, I’ll sit.”

“Thank you. I’d rather not quarrel with you today.”

She was desperate to delay the pending conversation, so she took an inordinate amount of time settling down, straightening her skirt. Once she felt sufficiently braced, she looked him in the eye.

“What’s happening?”she snapped.

“He’s asked me to make some arrangements for you.”

“What sort of arrangements?”

“He’s sending you to Paris.”

Her heart literally skipped a beat, but to conceal her rage and disgust, she kept her expression blank.

“I don’t wish to go to Paris.”

“It’s not up to you.”

“I’ve been away from home for months. I’m weary and would like to return to the castle.”

“You won’t be returning.”

She understood what he was telling her, but she was determined to feign confusion. “I’m sick of England. Will Jean Pierre travel to France with me?”

Raven’s annoyance flared. “You’re being deliberately obtuse. You know how these things work. Don’t be difficult.”

“I have no idea how these things
work
. My place is with Jean Pierre. I’ll not languish in Paris and leave him without the female comfort he’s retained me to supply.”

Raven sighed, appearing as if Jean Pierre had finally dumped a task on him that was too loathsome to assume.

“Let me be blunt, Annalise. He’s putting you aside.”

“He is not.”

“He is. Now you can fuss and complain and waste energy battling the inevitable, or you can be grateful for the time you had with him and be happy with the parting gifts he’s prepared to bestow.”

“I want no gifts,”she spat. “I want my spot with him.”

“It’s over, Annalise.”

They engaged in a staring match, but Raven was unflappable and impossible to fluster, while Annalise was hotheaded and irate and eager to lash out.

“Two years!” She slapped her palm on the desktop, the loud smack ringing off the ceiling. “I gave him two years of my life!”

“That’s much more than any other woman can claim. Be glad of it.”

“He made promises to me.”

“He never did.”

“He said we’d always be together. He said he would always keep me.”

“You’re being absurd,”he scoffed. “Lie to yourself if you choose, but don’t lie to me.”

“I won’t let him go! I won’t!”

Raven sighed again. “He’s being extremely generous and granting you much more than I feel you deserve.”

“Rude dog! Don’t speak to me as if I am a servant.”

He ignored her insult. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t listen. If it had been up to me, you’d have gotten much less.”

Raven pulled out a piece of paper and laid it on the desktop, which was galling. He was aware that Annalise couldn’t read, couldn’t decipher for herself the true provisions.

Luckily, he saved her any embarrassment by verbally explaining the terms. But she scarcely paid attention as he listed an apartment in a wealthy neighborhood, an allowance, money for servants.

Her mother had been a courtesan, had raised Annalise to be a courtesan. Annalise had slithered through the Paris underworld with similar women, all using their bodies to obtain the support they needed.

They’d secretly dreamed that their keepers would fall in love and marry them, but that never occurred. The men were usually already married, so the next biggest hope was for a lengthy relationship, followed by a pension at the end.

Only a very tiny handful were ever fortunate enough to receive what Jean Pierre was offering, but she was too incensed to accept with any grace.

She’d always recognized that her situation with him was temporary, but she’d persuaded herself that it would continue forever with no changes. Yet Jean Pierre snapped his fingers, and it was wiped away as if it had never been.

Her temper had always been her downfall, and this occasion was no different.

“How can I be positive he will give me what you’ve mentioned?”

“He said he would, and his word is law.”

She pointed to the document. “That paper could say anything and I wouldn’t know.”

“I’ve told you the terms, Annalise. Don’t call me a liar.”

“If I refuse or if I want more, what then?”

“Then you’ll get nothing. You’ll return to France as a pauper with only the clothes on your back.”

She grabbed the document and ripped it to shreds.

“I demand to speak with him.”

“You can’t.”

“I can and I will,”she hissed. “I demand to hear it from his own treacherous lips. I demand he tell me to my face that he no longer needs me.”

“He’ll be here on Friday. You have to depart before then.”

“I won’t!”

“I’ve booked passage for you, sailing out of Dover on Thursday afternoon.”

“It is wasted money for I won’t use the ticket you have purchased.”

His expression grew steely, his eyes cold. “If you don’t go on your own, I will personally tie you onto a horse and drag your ass to Dover. I will personally carry you on board and have the captain bind you to the bulkhead for the trip across the Channel.”

“You always hated me,”she fumed.

“No. I always loved Jean Pierre. His wishes come first with me.”

“Why is he doing this? Tell me the truth.”

“I have no idea.”

“Guess then.”

“I suppose he’s tired of you.”

“Has he told you he’s tired?”

“Yes, Annalise, he’s told me for months.”

“How could it be? I’ve given him everything.”

“You’re a difficult woman, Annalise.” When she would have argued, he held up a hand, stopping her protest. “You are. Don’t deny it. You’re bossy and jealous and overbearing, and he’s no longer in the mood for your antics.”

“I’ve caused no trouble! He has paramours around every corner, and I’ve never complained a single time.”

“At the moment, with his pending business ventures, he’s under an enormous amount of pressure. He needs peace and quiet. He needs friendship and comfort. You bring too much drama into his life.”

“All of a sudden, he’s decided this?” She tossed her hair, wanting Raven to look, wanting him to remember how beautiful she was. “Why now?”

He didn’t reply, and her gaze became surly and cruel.

“It’s Mademoiselle Teasdale, isn’t it? He’s keeping her instead.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Has she asked him to split with me? Was it her price for spreading her legs?”

“Don’t be vulgar, Annalise. I don’t like it when you are.”

“Is she coming with him? Is that why I must leave on Thursday? Her marvelous presence can’t be sullied by me. Is she insisting I depart before she arrives?”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

“If you send me to France against my will, I’ll simply go to the castle and wait for him there.”

“The servants have their orders. They won’t let you in.”

The remark was a slap in the face. The castle was the most exotic residence in the world, and though she’d understood that she shouldn’t feel attached to it, she’d begun to think of it as her own.

She wasn’t some glorified hostess and housekeeper. She was mistress to Jean Pierre—the most fascinating, most dashing man who’d ever lived. If she wasn’t his mistress anymore, who was she? What facet remained about which she could preen and brag?

No other man could ever match up to him. From here on out, it was a slide downhill until she landed at the bottom, squashed beneath some bald, boring dolt who smelled of bodily odor and talked about his wife while sawing away between Annalise’s shapely thighs.

“I’ll get even with him,”she furiously warned. “I’ll make him sorry.”

“You’re being ridiculous. Please go before I get angry.”

“I will get even, Raven Hook. I swear it.”

“Goodbye, Annalise. I’ll have a carriage ready at dawn on Thursday. Be prepared to leave so I don’t have to haul you out like a bag of flour.”

Feeling murderous and aggrieved, she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. “Tell him for me. Tell him he’ll be sorry.”

“We’ve said everything that needs to be said. Go away!”

She glared at him, anxious for him to grasp that she could be dangerous too, that she could terrorize as he and Jean Pierre could terrorize.

But she couldn’t garner a reaction. He stared at her and saw a silly, impotent woman. He didn’t realize that she could fight back, that she could cause her own brand of mayhem.

Didn’t he recollect that she knew many of Jean Pierre’s secrets? To whom might she tattle? What might she reveal? Wasn’t he worried?

“My name is Annalise Dubois,”she said. “Don’t ever forget it. Don’t let Jean Pierre forget it either.”

She whipped away and left, and she was visibly distraught, shaking and muttering to herself in a fashion that was humiliating.

She hurried to the stairs so she could climb to her room and fume in private, but as she glanced up, Hedley was coming down again. Instantly, she masked her expression, hiding any trace of upset.

He was a fool and a child, but he was captivated by her. He constantly regaled her with his exaggerated plans as to how he would eventually retrieve Bramble Bay from Jean Pierre.

With Hedley being penniless, his boasting was humorous. He didn’t stand a chance against Jean Pierre, but he was so pathetically confident.

Well, if Jean Pierre suffered a mishap, if he was arrested and hanged, wouldn’t Hedley be first in line to claim ownership of Bramble Bay? Jean Pierre was a criminal. If he was convicted of piracy, he couldn’t bequeath property to anyone. Wouldn’t it revert to Hedley?

He’d be a landowner again, with a steady income and thriving estate. It wasn’t close to what Jean Pierre had possessed, but it was prosperous. And Hedley was an immature dunce who could be easily manipulated.

If Annalise allied herself with him,
she
would control him.
She
would be in charge and able to make him behave as she intended. She wouldn’t have to put up with an arrogant ass like Jean Pierre who always thought he knew best.

Hedley would be putty in her hands.

“Hedley, darling,”she cooed, “how lovely to see you.”

“Annalise! Hello.”

“I must speak with you,”she said.

She led him into a nearby salon. He was like a happy puppy, and he eagerly followed her in and shut the door.

“What is it?”he asked.

“I need you to take me to London tomorrow morning. At dawn.”