Skylark (41 page)

Laura supposed that for a child of a stern Methodist family who’d preferred the hard life of a cabin boy, this could have seemed like heaven.

But then he shrugged. “Or almost everything. We were never allowed to leave the palace. There were grilled windows, though, so we could look out.”

“As you see,” Henry said dryly, “Abdul-Alim was never needlessly cruel, and in our first years there, Des was one of his favorites. He doted on him, and thus became kind to me.”

“Did he not suspect your feelings?” Nicholas asked.

“Probably, but if so, it would have amused him. He was quite sure that nothing could happen. Which was true. We were never alone and we both knew the punishment would be extreme and not at all quick. We witnessed it a time or two.”

Des’s lashes were lowered, but his lips formed a grim line. For the first time Laura wondered with horror what had caused his infirmity.

“I was gradually given better quarters,” Henry went on. “By a year after our arrival, I was living in a small house close to Abdul-Alim’s compound with a slave of my own. Ironically, a Greek girl with no knowledge of classics at all. I was allowed to move around Algiers freely and meet Des almost as often as I wished, but only in the palace courtyard, in sight of the guards. So there we were. I decided that I might as well use my spare time to study the place to which fate had taken me. It proved satisfying.”

“But for nine years?” Laura asked.

Henry shrugged. “I learned a suitable acceptance of fate. Apart from one thing, it was not an unpleasant life. The culture, at its best, is gracious.”

“And then the British came to set you free,” Stephen said.

Henry’s face returned to Farouk’s coldness. “And then the bloody British came to set us free. No, I shouldn’t be bitter, but I was furious at the time. I knew that Abdul-Alim would kill his pearls rather than let them go. Thus I would have to try to get Des out of there. Which would doubtless lead to a slow and excruciating death for both of us.”

His hand had become a fist, and Des gently covered it.

“Des and I talked of escape, though he was as doubtful as I was. I delayed, hoping the British would fail.” He spread his hands as if they’d accused him. “We had no hope of success in escaping, and had long since decided that the life we had was better than nothing. But then the bombardment began, and I knew the British would prevail. The slaves would be freed, as they had been in other corsair states.

“Abdul-Alim began to smuggle his most precious pearls out of the city. Des was not among the first, for he was older so not quite as valued, but we knew it would be soon. He was still beautiful and skilled at pleasing. I was desperate for any plan that had the slightest chance of success, but I hadn’t found one when they came for him.”

He looked at Des, who was looking away now, his expression not so much grim as lifeless, as if he did not wish to remember this part.

“He was the brave, resourceful one. He hid. It was the height of the battle and he hoped that Abdul-Alim and his men would give up the search and flee. But he was caught. He was beaten. Tortured. Not with the usual refinements, for lack of time, but they would have killed him if a shell hadn’t broken down a wall to the harem. All was panic, wounded, and dead, so I took my chance and ran in to find him. What they’d done . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But he was alive. He was in such pain as I carried him away, but he never made a sound.”

Tears escaped the young man’s eyes and he suddenly turned his face into Henry’s shoulder. Henry put his arm around him. Laura felt that she should be embarrassed but she wasn’t. This was a remarkable love story.

“If he was so badly injured,” Stephen asked, but even his voice sounded gruff, “why not take him to the navy?”

Henry’s look was pitying. “The battle still raged, but besides, I could get better medical help in Algiers if my friends would take the risk. They did. They hid us and tended to Des until he could travel, then helped us to a boat that would take us to Spain. I’d carried Des away still wearing a collar and bracelets of jewels, and they helped us find a place where we could rest for a while. We had our freedom at last, and it seemed Des would live and be whole in time, but how were we to survive? The jewels wouldn’t support us forever.

“So I decided to return to England. I would find a place for Des to live and then present myself at Caldfort, the dutiful son returned from the grave. Once reestablished, I would find a way for Des and me to be together as friends. You see, at this point I wasn’t sure that Des’s desires were the same as mine or simply part of Abdul-Alim’s training. He deserved the chance to choose.”

Des moved then and looked up at Henry, shaking his head. “He took some persuading, if truth be told.”

Henry gave him a look, but wrapped it in a smile. “As it was, the briefest enquiries showed that it was too late for the return of the son. I was Lord Caldfort by right, but would have to wrest my property from my uncle. If I wanted it, which I didn’t. Once I knew that Des shared all my feelings, I saw how that life would be torture. We would live under constant scrutiny and the
ton
would question his origins. I would be hunted by ambitious young women and under endless pressure to marry, as well as living in the shadow of the law. We would be almost as severed as in Algiers. So I decided we would make a new life, but I needed part of my heritage.”

“What did you send as evidence?” Laura asked, fascinated by the couple, who had lived a romance more dramatic than anything Byron had written.

“A detailed description of the house, including places unlikely to be seen by outsiders.”

“So simple. I am truly sorry you had to go through so much, Cousin Henry, but are you
sure
you don’t want the viscountcy?”

He hesitated for the slightest moment, and his eyes flickered away, but then he said, “Completely sure.”

Did part of him long for England and his home? She hoped for a moment, but then he became strong again.

“I have lived a long time in a foreign land. England seems strange to me now, and the climate is far too cold.”

“This is autumn,” Stephen pointed out. “You may like summer better.”

“But there is autumn, and winter, too.” He gave a theatrical shudder, but a smile lightened his lips and Laura saw a hint of the Henry Gardeyne of the portrait, but only a hint. He was right. He was a different person now.

She wanted him to take up the viscountcy to make Harry safe, but she could not try to impose it when he and Des had been through so much and would risk so much here.

“Where will you go?” she asked.

His smiled his thanks of her acceptance. “Somewhere warm. Perhaps we will wander the equatorial regions until we find a home. But,” he added, “we do need money.”

Her decisions to make. Laura looked around, then said, “My father says that Lord Caldfort has taken a turn for the worse, so there seems no purpose in distressing him. He must soon learn of Jack’s injury, but it can be presented that Jack went to find out the truth, that the fire was complete accident and he a hero. If you are determined not to claim the viscountcy, Cousin Henry, then I would like you to write a letter admitting that your purpose was fraud and giving up your plan out of fear. That will lift a burden from him, allowing him to die in peace, for I fear it will come to that.”

“Certainly, but we still need money. Des and I are now destitute. What small amount of money we had left went with the fire. We don’t even own our clothes.”

“I agree that you are entitled to support from the estate, but I can’t see how to arrange it now. I have very little.” She looked to Stephen for help.

“A lump sum now,” Stephen said, “and quarterly payments thereafter? My friends and I will arrange it until such time as it can be drawn on the estate.”

Henry looked between him and Nicholas. “A philanthropic society dedicated to the succor of rescued slaves and reluctant viscounts?”

“Something like that. You will have to take my word for it.”

After a silent communication with Des, Henry inclined his head in thanks. “We are free to go?”

“Of course.”

“But,” said Nicholas, “you would much oblige me, sir, by paying me a visit at my estate of Redoaks. It is not far away, and as you said, you are temporarily embarrassed for funds. I would only ask to learn more of Algeria and Arab ways.”

Henry looked a little nonplussed but then said, “We would be most grateful for your hospitality, sir.”

“The gratitude will be entirely on my side. I will make arrangements.”

He went out, leaving Laura and Stephen with Henry and Des.

It would seem that they were thoroughly Rogue-entangled, but Laura was glad of it. “I am happy to know you, Cousin Henry,” she said, “and sad that we will see little of you in the future.” She hesitated, then said, “Would you like to visit Caldfort House before you leave England? I could discreetly arrange that.”

His face softened. “You’re very kind. Yes, I would. I was happy there as a boy, and I would like to show Des my old home. There are few things I would treasure, too, if they are still there. Nothing of any particular value.”

“Of course.”

“And I would like to visit my father’s and mother’s graves.”

“You have a stone there, too, you know.”

He laughed, and she realized it was for the first time since she’d met him. “How strange. I should definitely see that.”

Laura turned to Des, who was looking brightly, if hesitantly, happy. “Is there hope that you will walk again, sir?”

He smiled. “Oh, yes. If I rest,” he added, reminding her with a mischievous look of their discussion in Draycombe. “I can walk a little now, but it pains me and I hate to hobble in public. So ungraceful. But it gets better day by day.” He cocked his head. “Do you think anyone at this Redoaks knows how to play casino?”

“
I
know how to play casino, Des,” Henry said. “Is that what you were doing with Mrs. Penfold? I can teach you more complicated games. Piquet, for example.”

“I will enjoy that. I will enjoy exploring everything in the wider world.” He smiled up at Laura in a frank, delightful way. “Thank you, Laura Gardeyne. You were kind to me even when you thought me a villain. You have a legendary aura.”

“What?” she asked, wrinkling her brow at him.

“She has,” said Stephen, equally puzzled. “She is known as Labellelle.”

But Laura had realized. “It’s an anagram!”

 

In a little while, Nicholas took Henry and Des down to Kerslake Manor to arrange transport to Redoaks. Sharing a secret smile, Laura and Stephen had made an excuse to linger, and no one had argued.

They went back up to the George and the Dragon Room.

“This is very wicked,” she said as he locked the door.

“And everyone will guess,” he agreed. “Do you care?”

“Not at all. But, sir, this dress fastens down the back, so I will need your assistance . . .”

He came to her and turned her, and then she felt his fingers working at the buttons for the first time. Another matrimonial moment, and sweet.

“A corset, too,” he said, as if his throat was tight.

“Yes.” Her heart was speeding and breath seemed precious. “An inconvenience. Perhaps I should take to wearing the soft garment Eleanor favors.”

“If you wish.” He spread her gown so cool air touched her back. “But there are times when a corset is part of the pleasure. I confess, however,” he said, his fingernail scratching down plain linen, “that when I allowed myself wicked dreams, I imagined your intimate garments to be somewhat more adorned.”

Laura chuckled but then felt herself sway, felt his hands catch her, support her. “Silk,” she breathed. “And lace. Ribbons.” She swallowed so she could attempt coherence. “I have a corset of red silk, very low in the back.”

He began untying her laces and loosening them, taking his time, each touch sweet torture. “To wear under that red dress? I hope you still have that.”

“Yes, but it’s very grand. Not suited for a quiet life.”

“You plan to live a quiet life?”

She remembered their earlier discussion and smiled. “Now and then.”

He tugged on her corset laces, more urgently now. “And now and then, I will expect my wife to host brilliant parties in fine plumage, flying high.”

“Whether I want to or not?” she asked, knowing he would hear the teasing pout.

“I will be the proud possessor of Labellelle, and will expect you to play your part.”

“Tyrant.”

“Master. Consider yourself my slave, required to please me in every way.”

Her corset loosened and her clothing began to slide. She wriggled to help it as she turned so she stood before him in only shift and stockings.

“Indeed?” Laura began to tear the clothes off him, buttons flying, cloth ripping. “Or I could make you my slave in all things.”

“Do you think so?” But his breathing was deep, his erection strong, so she laughed as she tossed away her shift, backing toward the bed.

“Come to me,” she commanded, and he obeyed.

When the bed hit her thighs, she lay back on it. “Now pleasure me, sir, and pleasure me well.”

He lowered himself over her. “Tyrant.”

“Mistress.” She ran her nails lightly down his flanks.

He shuddered and smiled. “Beloved.”

She smiled back, swept suddenly through by pleasure so intense that she could weep. “Come to me, Stephen. Love me and let me love you. Let us be one.”

His eyes closed for a moment, but then he looked at her again. “Always, and forever. I promise it. Ah, Laura . . .” he sighed, watching her in daylight as they did indeed become one.