Taste of Temptation (40 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Holt

Tags: #Romance - Historical, #American Light Romantic Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Fiction - Romance, #Love stories, #Romance: Historical, #Historical, #American Historical Fiction, #Regency novels, #Regency fiction

BOOK: Taste of Temptation
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“Whew! You’ve dodged a bullet.” Still a tad unsettled by events, she chuckled nervously. “Who is it, then? If I might be so bold as to inquire?”
“Helen Hamilton.”
She paused, recollecting. “That Helen Hamilton? The woman you bought from me last summer?”
“The very one, and if you ever tell a single soul, I’ll have to kill you.”
“My lips are sealed.”
“They’d better be.”
She studied him, then laughed. “Harry Hamilton’s daughter! I can’t believe it.”
“It’s insane, I know.”
“Not necessarily. Harry was a friend of mine. If she’s anything like him, you’re in for a grand ride.”
“You could be right about that.” He went out into the hall. “Where is Michael?”
“Third door down. On your left.”
He proceeded to the room she’d indicated, while speculating over what was happening inside and how rude it would be to interrupt.
He pressed his ear to the wood as Michael was saying, “I love her, but he won’t listen to me.”
“Who does he think he is?” Jo commiserated. “Your bloody da?”
“Yes, that’s precisely what he thinks.”
“Why not tell him to sod off?”
“I’m about to. I’ve had enough of his bullying.”
Tristan knocked twice, then entered, hoping he wouldn’t go blind from witnessing some particularly indecent act. To his surprise, Michael was sitting in a chair, and Jo on the bed. Jo was still wearing her robe and negligee, and Michael was fully dressed, with not so much as his coat having been removed.
“What now?” Michael snapped. “Can’t I even copulate without your butting in and ordering me how to accomplish it?”
“Let’s get out of here.”
Michael cocked his head, confused, as if Tristan’s words had been jumbled.
“You want to leave?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. You were correct: We shouldn’t be here.”
“Well... good.”
“I love Helen,” Tristan proudly announced.
“It’s about time you admitted it,” Michael said.
“It certainly is, so we’re not sailing to Scotland. Helen and Jane were traveling back to London, and they should be at the town house. Let’s go home and see if we can fix this mess.”
“Are you telling me I can wed Jane?”
“You can do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Michael grinned at Jo. “I retract everything I just said about him.”
“You lucky dog.” Jo clapped her hands. “Marrying for love! How utterly brilliant.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Michael agreed. He grabbed Tristan by the arm and dragged him out before Tristan could change his mind.
 
 
“I didn’t steal that ring!” Jane fumed.
“A likely story,” Mr. Rafferty chided.
“And I didn’t steal that money,” Helen added.
“I’ve heard it all before, Miss Hamilton,” Mr. Rafferty replied. “Didn’t you know? Everyone in prison is innocent.”
“You’re making a huge mistake.”
“Notify the warden,” Mr. Rafferty retorted.
“When Captain Odell learns how you treated us, you’ll be so sorry.”
“Which Captain Odell would that be? Would it be the same captain who swore out an oath against you?”
“What?” Helen gasped.
“The complaint came from Odell, himself. I guess he’d been suspicious of you for some time, and in light of what I discovered in your luggage, his fears appear to have been well-founded.”
Could Odell have done this to her?
He’d wanted to protect Michael from scandal, but how far would he go to achieve his goal? With Helen and Jane locked away, there would be no chance of an unsuitable marriage or a bastard baby to drain the family coffers.
Was he capable of such duplicity?
If she’d been asked that question the previous week, she’d have bristled at the notion. But now?
Every single thing Helen believed about him had turned out to be a lie.
He seduced his servants. He kept mistresses. He had sired at least two illegitimate children—perhaps more.
Why should she be surprised by another betrayal?
“Don’t listen to him, Helen,” Jane seethed. “This is Seymour’s scheme and hers alone.”
“Listen or don’t,” Rafferty responded. “I have his affidavit right here.”
Rafferty waved a sheath of official-looking papers, but he didn’t offer to show them to Helen. What good would it have done anyway?
If the documents were forged, she couldn’t prove it.
“What will happen to us?” Jane inquired.
“You’ll be tried and convicted. Then you’ll either be hanged or transported to Australia.”
“Hanged!”
“It’s the usual sentence for desperate felons.”
“You could be wrong,” Jane insisted. “We could be proclaimed innocent—since we
are
innocent.”
“With me testifying against you?” Rafferty laughed and laughed. “In my entire life, I haven’t seen a thief judged not guilty. Is this your first offense?”
“Of course. Why would you even have to ask?”
“If it is, you’ll probably be transported, but if you have a habit of committing crimes, your days are numbered. Best make peace with your maker.”
Jane was on the verge of charging him, but with their hands still bound behind their backs, she could fall and be injured. Plus, Rafferty seemed the sort who might hit a woman. Helen stepped in between them.
“Why did you do this to us?” she queried.
“For money, Miss Hamilton. Why would you suppose?”
“Whatever Mrs. Seymour paid you, I’ll pay you more.”
“I’ve peeked in your purse. It’s empty.”
The prison gate opened, and at the sound, Helen shuddered.
Rafferty grabbed her and spun her, removing the ropes on her wrists, as his partner did the same to Jane. They were shoved inside, the heavy gate clanging shut.
He started to walk away, and on watching him go, Helen felt as if she’d lost her last friend. He was the only person who knew where they were. If he never told anyone, if he never came back, they could die in this foul place.
Where was Amelia? How would she get on by herself?
They’d been separated in the crowd, and Helen wanted to beg Rafferty to find her, but should she?
Was Amelia better off alone on the streets or incarcerated with Helen and Jane?
Jails were ripe with disease, with starvation and violence, but the streets would be even more dangerous.
“Rafferty!” she called.
“What?” He whipped around.
“If you cross paths with my sister Amelia, would you bring her here so I can keep her with me?”
“Absolutely. The little bugger should have been captured with you. She slipped away, but I’ll locate her.”
He strutted off again, and Helen panicked.
“Rafferty! We don’t have any money.”
“No, you don’t”
“How are we to eat? How are we to keep warm?”
“That, Miss Hamilton, is not my problem.”
He gave a jaunty salute, then sauntered away.
Helen and Jane stood, huddled together, peering after him till he disappeared.
“I can’t believe this,” Jane muttered. “I simply can’t. What are we to do? Are we to perish in here?”
Helen scoffed. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“Where could Amelia have gone?”
“I’m hoping she’s with Clarinda.”
“I hope so, too.”
They dawdled, waiting, wondering what catastrophe would befall them next.
“I’m sorry,” Jane said, and she burst into tears.
“Why would you be sorry?”
“This is all my fault. If I hadn’t dallied with Lord Hastings—”
“This is not your fault. I blame the entire debacle on Captain Odell, and I will get even with him if it’s the last thing I do.”
A guard shuffled up. He was filthy and obese; his clothes reeked, his teeth were black stumps.
He carried a stick, and he brandished it at them.
“What are ya doing out here?” he snapped. “No prisoners allowed by the gate! You have to stay in the courtyard.”
They turned and proceeded down a dark hall, which she assumed led deeper into the facility.
Helen didn’t know much about penal routines except that you needed cash to survive. You had to buy your food, your blankets, your fire. If you were rich, you could purchase a private cell, could have food delivered and your servants attend you.
If you had nothing and no one, you slept on the ground. You starved. You grew ill and died.
She stumbled to a halt.
“Damn...” she mumbled, cursing for the first time ever.
“What is it?” Jane asked.
“I didn’t see Rafferty fill out any papers or sign a manifest with our names on it. Did you?”
“No, why?”
“If anyone ever came to check, there’d be no record of us arriving.”
“No. There’d be no record,” Jane gloomily concurred. “It doesn’t matter, though, does it?”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Who would ever search for us?”
“Who, indeed?”
Chapter 22
“CAPTAIN! Michael!” Maud forced a smile, tamping down her spurt of alarm. “What are you doing home? I thought you’d be halfway to Scotland by now.”
“We had a change of plans,” Tristan said.
“Is anything the matter? I trust there were no difficulties with the ship?”
“No. I need to take care of some unfinished business. Where is Miss Hamilton?”
“Miss ... Hamilton?”
“Yes.”
“She’s not here.”
Michael and Tristan froze.
“What do you mean?” Tristan asked.
“She stopped by with her sisters to retrieve their belongings, but they hired a hackney, loaded their trunks, and left.”
“Left!” Michael looked stricken. “Jane, too?”
“Yes, not that she is any of your concern.”
“I specifically ordered her to come here,” Tristan growled. “I told her to wait till my clerk rented her a house.”
“She claimed she didn’t want the house,” Maud lied.
“Do you know where they went? Did they provide a forwarding address?”
“No, and I didn’t inquire. Good riddance, I say.”
“But... but... I have to talk to her,” Tristan said. “She must have said something. What about her bedchamber? Perhaps she wrote me a note.”
“The entire suite has been cleaned from top to bottom. There was no note.”
She gestured to the front parlor, urging them in to where a toasty fire burned in the grate. “Now then, Miriam and I were about to sit down to a quiet supper. You’ll join us, of course, so you can tell us what’s happening. Captain, let’s get you a brandy while I instruct the staff to set two more plates.”
She spun away, but Michael and Tristan didn’t move.
“I’ll check their rooms,” Tristan advised Michael, and he dashed up the stairs.
Michael proceeded into the parlor to warm his hands by the fire, which gave Maud the opportunity to confer with Lydia, who was hovering down the hall.
Loudly enough for Michael to hear, Maud said, “Please notify Cook that Captain Odell and Michael have returned. We’ll dine in half an hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lydia was craning her neck, watching Michael.

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