Rapturous Rakes Bundle (21 page)

had offered her marriage in a declaration that half the

de´butantes in London would no doubt kill for. It was

her misfortune that he was offering for all the wrong

reasons and she was refusing for all the right ones.

Lucas was watching her expressionlessly. ‘Did you

know that Johnson’s servant delivered your commis-

sion to the Archangel Club?’

Rebecca was startled at that. ‘No, I did not.’

‘You did not know Mr Johnson’s direction?’

‘He has always sent his servant to place orders and

collect the work. I do not believe we know his direc-

tion.’

Lucas grimaced. ‘But what if he had not paid his

bills?’

Rebecca’s gaze mocked him. ‘Then I should have

starved—as I almost did.’

Their gazes held for a long moment.

‘You must concede that it is a coincidence,’ Lucas

said.

‘What is?’

‘That both your recent commission and Mr John-

son’s direction should be connected to the Archangel

Club.’

‘It is,’ Rebecca allowed, ‘but if it is more than

chance, I am not aware of it.’

Lucas stood up. ‘If you could fetch me the account

books, please?’

‘Of course,’ Rebecca said, with scrupulous courtesy.

She was very conscious of him as he followed her into

the tiny office that led off the engraving studio. His

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presence seemed to fill the room. She felt over-

whelmed and suddenly dangerously vulnerable. The

anger that had kept her hurt at bay was ebbing now,

leaving her with a feeling of emptiness and disillusion

greater than she had ever imagined. To have loved so

briefly and been so swiftly betrayed was difficult to

comprehend. Yet there was already a formality be-

tween them as though the man who had held her and

loved her was quite different, and this cold stranger

someone else entirely...

She tried to concentrate. She needed this year’s

book of accounts and the last one. She would give

them to him and then he would go and she need not

see him again. She grabbed the dusty, leather-bound

tome in which her uncle had recorded the previous

year’s transactions. Her hands were unsteady and the

corner caught the china biscuit jar in which she had

placed the money. For a second it teetered on the edge

of the shelf and then, with a terrifying finality, it tum-

bled to the stone floor and smashed into shards. The

money spun across the floor in a tumble of dull gold.

And Daniel’s note...

Rebecca pounced on the paper, but Lucas was a

second too quick for her. He plucked it from her fin-

gers and she was left grasping nothing.

‘Just a moment,’ he murmured.

Rebecca made a grab for the paper. ‘That is private!

Give it to me!’

Lucas held the paper infuriatingly out of reach and

grabbed her with his other hand. ‘So frightened, Re-

becca?’ he drawled. ‘Whatever can it be?’

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Mistress

‘Beast!’ Rebecca said. ‘It is no concern of yours! It

is nothing to do with this!’

‘Then you will not mind my reading it,’ Lucas said

smoothly. He unfolded the paper and scanned it

quickly. She saw him pale slightly. ‘Who is Daniel?’

Rebecca thought quickly. ‘He is my brother. That

is a personal letter. Give it back!’

Lucas ignored her, reading the letter again. ‘You did

not tell me that you had a brother,’ he said slowly,

without taking his eyes from the text.

Rebecca wrenched her arm from his grip. ‘There are

plenty of things that I did not tell you, and a good

thing too, since this is how you have repaid me!’ she

stormed, thoroughly angry now. ‘I trusted you, Lucas

Kestrel! I
trusted
you! You are a heartless scoundrel

and I hate and detest you for the villain you are.’

Lucas gave no indication that he had even heard this

diatribe. He dropped the letter onto the table and

pulled her around to face him. ‘Why did you not wish

me to read this?’ he asked.

‘Why should you?’ Rebecca demanded, her face

flushed with fury. Her temper was soaring and it felt

good to give in to the fury at last and be damned to

self-control. ‘It is private and you have intruded in my

business quite enough under false pretences.’

‘What does your brother do? What is his profes-

sion?’

Rebecca’s heart raced. This was becoming very

dangerous. She could feel her pulse pounding beneath

Lucas’s fingers and she knew he could feel it too. He

could tell she was nervous and it was making him

curious. She tried to breathe more deeply and calm

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159

herself. ‘He is at sea,’ she said. ‘That is why I do not

see him often.’

‘What ship does he serve on?’

He had assumed that Daniel was in the Royal Navy.

Rebecca did not correct him. She shrugged.

‘I do not know. I never paid much attention.’

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. ‘I find that difficult to be-

lieve. What happens if you need to contact him?’

‘I don’t,’ Rebecca said shortly. ‘He comes to see

me when he is ashore.’

‘Or sends a messenger.’ Lucas looked from the note

to the scatter of sovereigns on the floor. ‘And rather a

lot of gold.’

Rebecca shrugged again. ‘He gives me money when

he can.’

‘I see. From his Navy pay, I suppose?’

‘I imagine so. I do not ask.’

Lucas smiled mirthlessly. ‘You seem very incurious

all of a sudden, Rebecca. I do believe that I should try

to trace this brother of yours...’

Rebecca felt a fugitive rush of amusement. She had

given so much of herself away, but at least there was

one secret she had kept.
You
can
try...
She almost

spoke the words aloud.

Lucas was still watching her closely. ‘If, of course,

he is your brother. You might well have been spinning

me tales from the very beginning.’

Rebecca’s palm itched to slap him. ‘Oh, no, my

lord,’ she said with acid sweetness. ‘
You
are the one

who has been spinning the tales, commissioning pieces

of glass that you do not want, professing an interest

that you do not feel, seducing me to order. What were

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Mistress

you hoping for—that I would give away secrets in my

sleep?’

Lucas’s attention snapped back to her and she al-

most flinched to see the anger in his eyes. ‘Are you

implying that I made love to you simply to further the

course of this investigation?’

‘Of course!’ Rebecca felt reckless with fury. ‘You

took your duty very seriously, did you not, Lord Lu-

cas, and I, poor fool that I was, was quite misled by

your attentions! I thought—’ She cut off the words

before she betrayed her innermost anguish. ‘I loathe

you,’ she said precisely. ‘You are the worst sort of

deceitful devil and I never want to see you again.’

She saw Lucas recoil and tried to crush down the

soaring pleasure it gave her to inflict pain on him. It

was so difficult to keep it bottled up; she wanted to

vent all her torment on him and hurt him as much as

he had hurt her.

‘It was not like that,’ Lucas said. His voice was

rough. He ran an impatient hand through his hair.

‘Devil take it, I never intended this to happen in this

way.’

‘And yet you must have had me under suspicion

from the moment you met me.’ Rebecca held her

breath, hoping that he would contradict her, tell her

that he had not known until that morning, that he had

never intended to deceive her. Then she saw the con-

flict in his face and her hopes tumbled.

‘You knew all along,’ she repeated tonelessly.

‘Not precisely.’ Lucas looked hunted. ‘Rebecca, I

never believed you guilty! I thought all along that you

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must have been in ignorance of the work your uncle

had done.’

Rebecca shook her head blindly. ‘Yet you hid your

true purpose from me and then you come here asking

questions...’ She looked at him. ‘I do not believe that

there is any way you can make amends for the way

that you have behaved, Lord Lucas.’ She thrust the

account books at him. ‘Here you are. Take them and

begone, and this time do not even think to return them

yourself. Send a servant, or the door will be barred to

you!’

Lucas took the books and put them under his arm.

‘Thank you. There is one other matter remaining, how-

ever.’

Rebecca did not bother to try to conceal her impa-

tience. All she desired now was to see him gone.

‘Which is?’

‘You,’ Lucas said. ‘You are coming with me.’

Chapter
Seven

‘Come with you?’ Rebecca repeated, appalled.

‘Surely you jest? I would not go to the end of the

street with you, let alone anywhere else!’

Once again she saw the flash of vivid emotion in

Lucas’s face before it was wiped blank. ‘I regret that

I must insist,’ he said.

‘Why on earth would I accompany you?’ Rebecca

said, hands on hips. She started to laugh. ‘You ask far

too much, my lord.’

‘You are the only person who can recognise your

uncle’s work,’ Lucas said. ‘We need you to come to

Midwinter to help trap the spy.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘You have a fine way of

trying to persuade me, Lord Lucas. I will not come!’

Lucas took a step towards her. ‘I must ask you to

reconsider.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘You would have to ab-

duct me first!’

Lucas smiled mirthlessly. ‘I will if I must.’

Rebecca spread her arms wide in defiance. ‘Then

pray do so, for it is the only way I will help you.’

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She was utterly unprepared for what happened next.

She had not believed he would do it, but then, she had

consistently misjudged Lucas Kestrel.

He moved so quickly that she had no time to think.

He swept her off her feet and up into his arms with

insulting ease. He reached the door of the studio in

three strides and kicked it shut behind them, freeing

one hand briefly to turn the key in the lock.

It was bright again out in the street, with a fresh

breeze. Rebecca had a blurred impression of cold sun-

light and the astounded expressions on the faces of the

vintner and the silversmith before she was bundled

unceremoniously into the waiting carriage. Lucas

threw the account books onto the seat beside them and

slammed the door, and the vehicle immediately moved

off.

Rebecca struggled upright, but Lucas already had

an arm about her, clamping her close to his side.

‘Let me go!’ she gasped, but he merely shook his

head.

‘If I do, you will cry for help or throw yourself

bodily from the coach. I do not trust you.’

‘That is all too apparent,’ Rebecca said. She knew

it was pointless to struggle. He was far stronger than

she was. The hard muscles of his arms beneath her

fingers argued a man in prime physical condition,

which she knew already anyway. She relaxed and im-

mediately felt Lucas’s cruel grip ease.

‘That’s better,’ Lucas said.

Pressed against him as she was, she could feel the

pistol in his belt. It shocked her to think that he had

come to her studio armed, as though she were a dan-

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Mistress

gerous criminal. Logic told her that it had been the

sensible thing for him to do. He had suspected her to

be a traitor and had to deal with her accordingly. She

was too hurt to be interested in logic.

Quick as a flash she stole her hand inside his jacket

and wrenched the pistol from its holster, pulling away

from him at the same time. ‘Stop the coach!’

She saw Lucas tense; saw the rapid calculation go-

ing on behind his eyes as he decided what tactic to

take. She did not wish to hurt him—she shut her mind

to the noise and the blood and unpleasant mess that

firing a pistol in an enclosed space would provoke.