Rapturous Rakes Bundle (20 page)

told you the truth, would I have stood a better chance?’

Rebecca gave him a look of contempt. ‘No. My

response would be exactly the same as it is now. I will

never marry you.’

Lucas drove his hands into his pockets. ‘You have

no choice, Rebecca.’

Rebecca stared at him in outrage. ‘I beg your par-

don?’

‘You have to marry me,’ Lucas enunciated, with

great care. ‘I seduced you last night.’

‘Oh, do not be so ridiculous!’ Rebecca said, her

temper soaring again. ‘I seduced
you!
I needed you

last night.’ She squashed down the misery that threat-

ened to swamp her as she remembered the way that

she had turned to Lucas with unquestioning love and

trust. ‘I wanted what happened,’ she finished starkly.

Lucas’s face was set hard. ‘Nevertheless, I took

Nicola
Cornick

149

your virginity and you may be carrying my child. Un-

der the circumstances I must insist that you marry me.’

‘I would as lief take poison!’ The words were out

before Rebecca could prevent them. It felt as though

some huge, destructive power was rampaging through

her blood, turning all the pain to anger and cruelty.

She took a deep shuddering breath and tried to regain

her self-control.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said with constraint. ‘That

was unnecessary. But I cannot marry you, Lord Lucas.

I will not let
your
belated sense of honour place
me

in a situation I do not want.’

Lucas came to her and took both her hands in his.

‘Rebecca, you responded to me last night,’ he said

softly. ‘Would it really be so bad?’

Rebecca could not bear his touch, nor the treach-

erous part of her that whispered that in another life,

another time, to marry Lucas would have been the

height of her most tender dreams. She wanted to throw

herself into his arms and make all well again. Except

that it was too late; it had always been too late. She

moved a little away, determined to take refuge in prac-

ticality and block out the pain.

‘Since it is information that you want from me, my

lord,’ she said, ‘you may as well ask me now.’ She

seated herself on the sofa and looked at him with cold

expectancy. ‘Well?’

Lucas looked slightly bemused. ‘Rebecca—’

‘The questions, my lord,’ Rebecca repeated tone-

lessly. ‘You say that you are investigating a spy ring.

In what way may I help you with your enquiries?’

She saw Lucas hesitate and for a moment her per-

150

The
Rake’s
Mistress

fidious heart hoped that he would override her cold-

ness and take her in his arms, murmur the words of

love that surely should accompany a proposal of mar-

riage, the words she had secretly longed to hear...

Instead he sat down slowly. ‘Are we not to speak

of our marriage any more?’ he enquired, with studied

politeness.

Rebecca shook her head. For a second the tears ob-

scured her vision and she blinked them away fiercely.

‘I think it better not. You will ask whatever it is that

you wish to know and then you will leave.’

Lucas paused on the edge of saying something, then

appeared to change his mind. Rebecca’s heart shriv-

elled. So there was to be no declaration of love, no

putting right of the wrong. Instead, Lucas put a hand

inside his jacket and extracted a folded piece of parch-

ment. He held it out to her.

‘I am here on the authority of the Foreign Secre-

tary,’ he said. ‘Read it—please.’

Rebecca unfolded the paper, trying to keep her

hands from shaking. It was short and to the point. The

warrant gave the bearer permission to question any

person appropriate about certain treasonable activities

that were focussed on the villages of Midwinter in the

County of Suffolk. She was to give full cooperation

to the enquiry.

Rebecca read the name of Suffolk and almost

fainted. The paper fell from her hand to the floor. She

could hear a buzzing in her ears and put a hand to her

forehead to try to ward off the dizziness that was

washing over her. She heard Lucas move and felt his

fingers cool against her cheek.

Nicola
Cornick

151

‘I will fetch you a glass of water,’ he said.

She wanted to tell him not to do so. She hated the

thought that he had been in the studio before and knew

where to find all the simple things—the pots and pans

in the scullery, a beaker of water... It felt like the

greatest intrusion now that she knew he had had an-

other purpose for seeking her out. The fact that he

knew so much about her and her life was almost as

distressing as the fact that she had had the poor judge-

ment to give herself body and soul to a man whom, it

seemed, had betrayed her. She started to think about

all the things she had confided in him, all the words

she had spoken, all the intimate moments they had

shared. It had seemed so precious. Now she felt sick-

ened.

Lucas had returned within moments and pressed a

cold beaker into her hand. She wanted to dash the

contents in his face. She wanted to smash every item

of glass she could lay her hands upon. Instead, she

took a deep, steadying breath and accepted the water

with a brief word of thanks, whilst she locked the an-

ger and the hurt and the violation deep inside. She

took a sip of the cool liquid and gave Lucas a look of

defiance.

‘I know nothing about this, my lord.’

‘I did not believe that you did,’ Lucas said easily.

‘However, you will not object to answering a few

questions?’

Rebecca shrugged ungraciously. ‘If you wish.’

‘Thank you.’ Lucas resumed his seat. He picked up

the small package that he had brought with him and

unwrapped it quickly. Rebecca’s eyes widened as she

152

The
Rake’s
Mistress

saw the contents. It was a small sherry glass, engraved

with a picture of a half-moon.

Lucas was watching her closely. ‘You recognise it?’

‘Of course. It is a piece of my uncle’s work.’

Lucas leaned forward. ‘You are certain of that?’

Rebecca met his eyes. ‘Yes. His style is very dis-

tinctive.’ She could not read anything from his ex-

pression.

‘Do you know for whom the order was made?’

‘Not without checking the order books,’ Rebecca

said.

Lucas nodded. ‘You have a client who is a major

collector?’ he asked.

‘You know that I do.’ She did not have to make it

easy for him. She saw his look of resigned amusement

as he realised that fact.

‘What is his name?’

Rebecca frowned. ‘I believe he is called...Mr John-

son.’

Lucas raised his brows in patent disbelief. ‘Is that

his real name?’

‘How should I know? I have never questioned oth-

erwise.’ Rebecca gave him a faintly contemptuous

look. ‘I have never queried that you are, in fact, Lord

Lucas Kestrel, although there are a great many other

things that I could call you.’

Lucas inclined his head.
‘Touche´.’
He shifted. ‘So

yesterday Mr Johnson’s manservant collected a com-

mission from you?’

‘He did.’

‘And paid you two hundred guineas for your uncle’s

work.’

Nicola
Cornick

153

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did you know that,

my lord?’

‘That is nothing to the purpose. Is it correct?’

‘It is.’

‘Why so much? Had you completed a very large

piece of work for him?’

Rebecca set her jaw. ‘If you know how much he

paid, then I would wager that you also know the pack-

age was of modest size.’

Lucas laughed and took a leaf from her book in the

brevity of his response. ‘I did know that.’

‘Then why try to trick me?’ Rebecca asked sharply.

‘You know that the parcel was small, you know that

I told you a set of six engraved glasses cost twenty

guineas.’

‘And I know he paid you two hundred.’ Lucas was

watching her with the intentness of a hawk. ‘Why

should he give you so much money, Rebecca?’

‘Because he owed payment for three consignments

of work,’ Rebecca said.

There was a silence, then Lucas nodded slowly. ‘I

see.’

‘So simple an explanation.’

‘So it would seem.’ The lines around Lucas’s mouth

deepened as he smiled and Rebecca’s wayward heart

missed a beat. She was furious with herself. How was

it possible to hate a man so much and yet long for his

touch with a yearning that owed nothing to hatred? In

the heat of the night she had loved this man. Now it

was daylight and it was raining and she was still in

love with this cold stranger who had misused her trust.

She despised her own weakness.

154

The
Rake’s
Mistress

‘Is that all, my lord?’ she said starchily.

‘No, it is barely the beginning.’ Lucas looked at her.

‘I should like to see details of all orders placed by Mr

Johnson and all transactions bought and paid for.’

Rebecca stared. ‘That will take hours!’

‘You do have the information?’

‘Of course. It is in the account books, but—’

‘Yes?’

‘I am sorry, but I must ask why you require to see

it.’

Lucas waved the document under her nose. ‘John-

son is known to consort with spies, Rebecca. They are

using your uncle’s engravings as the cipher on which

they base their coded letters to the enemy.’

Rebecca drew in a sharp breath. Her first reaction

was one of relief. This was nothing to do with Daniel

at all. She felt a little colour come into her cheeks.

Lucas was watching her closely. ‘You do not seem

surprised.’

Rebecca suddenly realised her danger. In her relief

for Daniel she had probably greeted the news with a

calmness that made her appear guilty.

‘On the contrary,’ she snapped, ‘I am astounded.’

Lucas gave a short laugh. ‘A cunning plan, is it

not?’

‘Very clever. But not original.’

‘How so?’

‘The Jacobites used engraved glasses to communi-

cate their coded messages last century,’ Rebecca said.

‘The most famous case was that of the Bolingbroke

crystal, which was engraved with symbols relating to

a plan to overthrow the government. The glasses were

Nicola
Cornick

155

passed between the members of the conspiracy as a

means of making contact.’

‘And you did not know that the Midwinter spies

were using the same trick?’

‘Certainly not. I have already told you that I know

nothing of the Midwinter spies and I am certain that

my uncle knew nothing either. He took the commis-

sions and did the work in all innocence.’

Lucas’s scrutiny dwelled on her face and Rebecca

felt herself blush beneath it.

‘You are very cool,’ he murmured. ‘One might al-

most say professional.’

‘Professional at what?’ Rebecca asked sharply. ‘The

only thing I am, Lord Lucas, is a professional en-

graver. You should know that now—after last night.’

Their eyes met and held, Rebecca’s hard with dis-

like, Lucas’s expression more equivocal. Rebecca saw

a hint of colour come into his face. His jaw set hard.

‘Rebecca, if we could leave that aside for a while—’

‘How like you,’ Rebecca said with contempt, ‘to

wish to leave aside any matter that would trouble the

conscience of any decent man.’

She saw Lucas’s hands clench and the expression

flare in his eyes, and she felt a savage satisfaction that

she could vent her anger on him and provoke a re-

sponse. Yet even now he was in control of his feelings,

smoothly pushing aside her fury as though it was of

no account. Perhaps it was not, to him. Rebecca’s nails

dug into her palms as she thought of the extent to

which she had given of herself; generously, freely,

openly, as though modesty and convention and reserve

were of no concern. She had been lost in passion

156

The
Rake’s
Mistress

whilst he...he had been playing a part. Or perhaps that

was too harsh. He had said that he cared for her. He