Tempted (22 page)

I won’t lecture you on how siding with his lordship made your father feel, instead I will tell you that upon hearing that news, your father went mad. He rode straight for the Custom House in Exeter, attacking it with a fish pole. They arrested him, Mary, and will undoubtedly send him off to the hulks, for as you know, they’ve been looking for a reason to incarcerate him. They have one now.

I thought you should know.

Yours,

John Lasker

Mary stared at that letter until her vision whitened and her eyes burned. Only when the carriage lurched did she finally look away.

He would be sent to the hulks.

Well, she always knew the blighter would come to a nasty end, she thought, wiping at her cheeks with her palm and then swiping the dampness on the skirt of her dress.

He would be sent to the hulks where he would likely die of gaol fever.

Who bloody cared? Certainly her brothers might. But she didn’t.

It is because you betrayed him that they arrested him.
She covered her ears with her hands, the letter she clutched crinkling. She didn’t care. If she hadn’t done what she’d done, something else would have caused her father’s demise. Look at the lengths he’d gone to in recent weeks to gain revenge. He’d gone mad, he had. That wasn’t
her
fault.

She threw the letter on the floor, slamming her back against the cushioned seat as she crossed her arms in front of her.

Ignore the letter,
she firmly told herself.
Go back to Wainridge and collect Abu, say goodbye to the whelp, then go back to your life.

They were going to send her father to the hulks.

Oh, drat it all, who bloody cared? She had just lost the man she loved.

By your own deceit.

All right, yes, she had kept a few things from Alex, but she’d never anticipated coming to care for him.

Falling in love with him.

She closed her eyes and tried to think of something else, but her thoughts kept running between Alex and her father, only to settle once again on her father. For there was one thing she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried. Her father may have treated her ill, he may have ignored her for the past few years, but he was still her father.

Bloody, damn, bleedin’ hell.

She was going to try and get him out.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rein laughed out loud when he read Mary’s express later that afternoon. Who would have thought little Mary Brown Callahan would re-enter his life not five hours after she’d left it? Not that he’d ever intended to let her go. No, indeed, she was too interesting to do that. But this was, however, his first official damsel in distress letter.

He looked up from the missive, his lips pursing as he thought it over. He could have fun with this letter, if he were so inclined. Of course, he would likely infuriate his priggish cousin no end.

“Wentworth,” he called to his butler. “Bring me ink and paper.”

And later still, a missive was received by the marquis of Warrick (though it was a great deal later because it took Rein some time to come up with what to say).

My son,
the letter read.

I was on my way to Sherborne with Gabby when she fell quite suddenly ill. I implore you to come to us as soon as possible as she is calling for you in her delirium.

Yours,

Wainridge

Of course, the missive was tersely worded because Rein had feared too many letters would give his forgery away, though if he’d known what a panic it would raise within his cousin, he might have used even fewer words.

“When did this arrive?” Alex asked.

“Just now, m’lord. The man what brought it has instructions to take you to your father.”

It was all Alex needed to hear. Leaving a note for Rein explaining that he was on his way to Gabby’s bedside, Alex left the moment transportation could be arranged. There was no hesitation on his part. Indeed, upon rereading the note his concern was so great—his guilt at being away from her even greater—that it banished a fear he’d had that the news she was not his daughter might taint his relationship with her. Indeed, it did quite the contrary, for with nobody but his father, or God forbid, Rein to care for her, Alex felt all the more determined to see to her well-being.

And upstairs, from his spacious suite, Rein watched as his cousin all but leapt into the coach, a wicked smile coming to his lips and a deep chuckle entering his throat.

“Good luck, my cousin. I fear you will need it.”

So it was that Mary found herself waiting at an inn for a person she was not expecting: Rein. Of course, if she’d had any inclination of the trick about to be played, she would have booked passage to France and never returned to England (after collecting Abu, of course). Alas, what she did instead was pace the spacious private room she’d secured, her thoughts running between her father and Alex.

So when she heard a masculine voice cry out, “Gabby,” and then felt a gust of air that signaled the opening of the door, at first she thought it all part of a weird delusion brought on by the emotional state of her mind.

She turned, thinking she must have misheard, for that couldn’t be—

Alex skidded to a halt just on the other side of the door, the black jacket he wore undone in the front, his white cravat loosely tied, his buff breeches stained with mud as if he’d tramped through puddles in a great hurry.

“What the blazes are
you
doing here?”

“What the blazes are
you
doing here?” she shot right back.

“Looking for my daughter.”

“Your daughter? Why the blazes would she be here?” His lids lowered, a fire coming to his eyes that might have worried Mary if she had reason to be concerned. “What the devil have you done with her?”

Odd how a woman could go from licking her wounds to blistering anger in the space of a few hours. For as Mary stared at Alex, she no longer felt hurt; instead she felt rage.

“What do you mean what have
I
done with her. What have
you
done with her, my lord? Have you left her again? That’s what you always do to the women in your life, isn’t it?”

He took a step toward her, his face looking just as livid as her own must be. “This is no time for games, Mrs. Callahan. I want to know where Gabby is, and I want to know now.”

“Mrs. Callahan is it now? What happened to, ‘Mary, oh, Mary’.” She mimicked his sounds of pleasure.

That was when he closed the distance between them and grabbed her by the shoulders. “If you’ve harmed her, I swear I will not rest until you and those in league with you pay. Now. Tell. Me. Where. She. Is.”

Mary realized then that something was terribly amiss. Well, she’d actually gleaned that the moment he’d walked into the room, but she had the advantage of knowing she’d summoned Rein.

“Alex, there is nothing wrong with Gabby. I would wager she is at the ducal estate as we speak, driving your father batty.”

He stared at her as if having trouble absorbing her words. And, indeed, he likely was.

And then the door closed behind him. Both he and Mary turned, the sound of a key in the lock unmistakable. They both stiffened. And then from the floor came the sound of something being shoved beneath the door. A letter, Mary realized.

Curse that Rein Drummond’s head.

“What the devil is going on?” Alex cried.

“I’ve a feeling, my lord, you’ll find your answer there.” She pointed to the missive.

He shot her a look before letting her go, her shoulders where he’d touched stinging from the contact. He crossed to the door and scooped up the letter, but he didn’t open it immediately. No. He tried the door first. As she suspected, it was locked. He whirled toward her, ripping at the paper as he did so.

“Read it out loud, if you please.”

To which Alex shot her a frown, scanning the lines silently, his eyes growing wider and wider above the edge of the paper, the lower half of his face obscured by the parchment.

“Out loud, please,” Mary reiterated.

He must have needed to do so because he never even looked up as he read:

My dear cousin,

By now you have gleaned a trick has been played upon you. Indeed, I find myself laughing most uproariously as I envision the look upon your face.

Here Alex looked up. Mary shook her head and rolled her eyes. Alex frowned, returned his attention to the letter.

It seems, dear cousin, that since you will not seize the day yourself, I will have to seize it for you.

Thus, I have instructed my coachman to give the innkeeper an ungodly sum of money to have you and Mary locked in the same room together. Do not think the innkeeper can be bribed, for my coachman has assured him that whatever you offer to pay, I will double when I arrive one hour hence. And don’t think to try and escape through the room’s one window, for I happen to know that it is wedged shut (a story which I shall regale you with later).

I find myself horribly amused to think of you and Mary locked up tight, though I do worry about those attacks you suffer ever since I locked you in that broom closet as a lad. Who would have thought such a thing would scar you for life? Hence I shall only lock you in for one hour, after which time I shall let you out. If you have not resolved things with the charming Mary by then, please reassure her that I will help her with her little problem in Exeter.

Make good use of the time, dear cousin. Remember: Non est ad astra mollis e terris via—

“There is no easy way from Earth to the stars.” Shock flung Alex’s head up. “You know Latin?”

Her expression clearly said
sod off
, just as her lips said, “Of course I know Latin. I was taught to read by a Catholic priest. I had no
choice
but to learn Latin.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in, and Rein’s letter. “This can not be happening.”

“I assure you, my lord, it is.”

He looked up again. She wore that dratted gown, the one that was too big for her and made her look like a waif. Her hair lay piled atop her head in an elegant way. In fact, she looked very lovely and far too tempting to suit his peace of mind, despite the overlarge dress.

“What is this ‘little problem’ in Exeter?”

She lifted her chin in that indomitable way of hers, crossing her arms for good measure. “That, sir, is none of your concern.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“I have a right to know by what foul means Rein brought you and me together.”

“Believe me, my lord, I’ve no desire to be here any more than you.”

“What help?”

Her arms fell back to her sides. “Oh, very well, if you must know, my father has been incarcerated. I’d asked Rein for help in freeing him during what must have been one of my more delusional moments.”

“Why did you not ask me?”

She snorted. “Oh, that is rich. I’m supposed to ask
you
, a man what thinks me a lying trollop, for help?”

But Alex knew she was no trollop. Deep down inside, he knew, for he’d reasoned at some point in the past hour that she could have used the attraction he felt for her to her advantage, and yet she hadn’t. Indeed, she could have let him be kidnapped, and yet she hadn’t. Could have let him rot in gaol. And yet she hadn’t. Could have asked for his help in exchange for sexual favors, and yet she hadn’t. As a point of fact, she’d behaved with far more honor and integrity than most men he knew.

“Did you truly send your father that letter telling him you refused to spy on me?”

She looked surprised by the question, then suspicious. “Aye.”

“Why?”

“Because, devil take it, I’m not a deceitful person. Greedy, yes. But not deceitful.”

Suddenly he felt as tightly drawn as a bowstring behind an arrow. His eyes locked with hers as he asked, “And what were you going to promise Rein in exchange for his ‘help’?”

She flicked her hair. “Wouldn’t you like to bleedin’ know?”

“Yes, Mary, I would. For if it was your services as his
paramour
, you need not go that far.”

“And what makes you think I would have offered myself to your cousin?”

“Weren’t you?”

She placed her hands on her hips, clucking her tongue, and Alex knew he was in trouble. “That’s the problem with you, Alexander Drummond. You think the worst of me time and again. But did you ever think that perhaps I never meant things to go as far as they did with you? That I’d convinced myself to leave the next day while we were at that ball? But then we kissed and it changed everything, for I realized then that I cared for you, and that I didn’t want my first time to be with some bumbling fool of a man who wouldn’t know what hole to stick his pizzle in. And that I thought of you as a friend, someone who I could trust enough to touch me in a way no man has ever touched me before? That a part of me felt betrayed when I woke up to find you gone the next morn, only to all but melt when I realized you’d brought me food to break my fast.”

He saw her eyes begin to redden. Saw the way she inhaled deeply to stifle tears, and now that he looked at her a bit more closely, he realized that her face bore the remnants of those tears: red-rimmed eyes, lips and cheeks flushed.

She’d been crying. Sobbing, if he didn’t miss his guess. Over him.

Him.

“And then, later,” she said, “when Rein interrupted us, I realized that as a friend I owed you the truth. Only you didn’t act like a friend at all. You thought the worst of me. That hurt more than a stab to my heart. That you could not see what type of person I was, despite the difference in our social station, well, I realized then that you were not the person I thought you to be either.”

She clenched her hands. “So I tell myself that I shouldn’t be surprised that you think me so cheap I’d offer to lie with your cousin as payment for my father. But, damn you, I’m not that sort of person, and I never will be, because I flatly refuse to end up like my mother.”

“Your mother?”

With a lift of her chin she said, “She’s not dead. Her name is Christina Calloway, the actress, only you might know her as the Duke of Clarence’s mistress instead.”

Good god.

“I see you recognize the name. Then you’ll likely believe me when I tell you she left us when I was five. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Wanted to go off and become famous. Sometimes I find it ironic that I’ve followed so closely in her footsteps, though I took a private vow never to end up on me back like she did.” She shook her head. “Only look at what happened. Look at the way I went and fell for you. Oh, aye, Alex, don’t look so shocked. I fell for you. Fell for the way you tip my chin up whenever I’m sad. Fell for the way you hold me while I cry. But most of all, I fell for the way you cared for me…or used to care for me prior to you branding me a whore.”

“I never said you were a—”

She held up a hand. “No, Alex, you did, if not by using the actual name than by insinuation. And it hurt, Alex. Lord, how that hurts.”

“Mary, I—”

“No,” she almost shouted. “You come striding in here and your first reaction when you see me isn’t gladness, it’s suspicion that I’ve done something with your daughter.”

He flinched at that.

“How many more times will that happen? How many more times will you leap to the conclusion that I’m a smuggler’s daughter first and therefore not to be trusted? When will you learn to trust me?”