The Madcap Marriage (30 page)

“I see.”

“That news is not yet public, though. Your marriage occupies the gossips, Thomas,” continued Portland maliciously. “I won’t bore you with the details, but the rumors are ugly. Their only purpose can be to explain your ultimate death.”

“I suppose you mean the courtesan stories,” said Helen.

Portland scowled. “I traced them back to Lady Willingham, who is working hard to blacken your name. But I suspect she obtained the tale from Sir Steven.”

Rafe flinched. So this was how she was avenging his cut. She must have gone to Steven the moment she read about his marriage.

“Supposedly you fell victim to a schemer – everyone agrees you were drunk at the time,” he added smugly. “Rumor suggests that the girl did away with you when she discovered that you can’t touch your father’s fortune. You disappeared from town, which supports the charge.”

Rafe relaxed. “Since I’m alive and well, people will dismiss the tale as soon as I return.”

“I already took care of that.” Portland turned back to Helen. “I admitted long friendship with your family, my dear, then mentioned seeing you in Surrey only that morning, duly wed to Thomas. A few judicious questions focused attention on Sir Steven and his motive for denying your nuptials. That’s when Lady Roxbury told me that Sir Steven had defrauded Roxbury.”

Rafe ground his teeth. Portland had quashed the gossip better than he could have done, for their long enmity added veracity to his support.

“As for the fraud,” continued Portland. “That case was one of a dozen failed enterprises in which Steven invested.”

“No one is that unlucky,” said Rafe.

“Or that stupid,” added Helen. “Where would he find the money for a dozen investments?  He’s been destitute for years.”

“Exactly.” Portland sipped brandy. “He used different men to promote each scheme. It was the disappearance of those men that usually tipped the investors that fraud was involved. We’ve not tracked any of them, so they were probably using false names.”

Or were no longer among the living, but Rafe didn’t say that aloud. He wasn’t sure Helen was ready to think of her uncle as a habitual killer.

Portland swirled brandy in his glass. “He was canny enough to change the pitch each time – transport ventures, building ventures, import ventures, a silkworm farm…  But each scheme operated the same way. Roxbury was caught by Courtney’s Passenger Canal Company.”

Rafe’s stomach churned. He’d suggested buying shares in that one himself. Thank God Brockman had convinced him to pass. The idea of losing money to Steven made him sick, giving him a better understanding of how Helen must feel.

“What happened?” asked Helen.

“Sir Steven always poses as an investor,” answered Portland. “He attends a meeting at which the company managers explain their goals and prospects. Steven’s enthusiasm is so infectious that when he rushes to buy some of the limited shares available, others follow, fearful of missing so marvelous an opportunity. Ultimately, the venture fails and the managers disappear, leaving Sir Steven ruing losses along with everyone else.”

“And no one suspected?” asked Helen.

“Plenty of legitimate ventures fail,” said Rafe. “I am more surprised that society didn’t notice Steven’s run of misfortune.”

“He was careful. Courtney’s was the first scheme he’d floated in town. Until then, he’d preyed on country gentry, choosing a different county each time. But Roxbury was the wrong man to cheat. He wanted more than the shares themselves. He planned to buy land along the canal route and build housing for those who worked in the City but longed for clean air. When he checked the leases for the canal rights-of-way, he found they were forged. The principals immediately disappeared amid rumors that they’d fled to America. Roxbury had no real evidence against Sir Steven, but his scrutiny convinced Sir Steven to abandon such schemes.”

“So what is he doing now?” asked Rafe.

“We aren’t sure – aside from selling Lady Bounty’s estate.”

“What?” demanded Rafe. “She would never sell the Haven.”

“Of course not, but Sir Steven needed a loan – no moneylender will speak to him. Since he expected her to stay home until she completed mourning, he sold her estate with the proviso that she could remain in residence another three months and with enough contingency clauses that she could change her mind and refund the deposit. But he’d forgotten that Lady Bounty is a prodigious correspondent. News reached her immediately, bringing her to town to find out what was going on. The victims are known swindlers – Mr. Hicks and Mr. Tilson – who don’t take kindly to being duped. They are determined to make Sir Steven pay.”

“So where is he now?” asked Helen.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m here. Hicks sent two bully boys to avenge the Bounty fraud. They won’t care if bystanders are hurt when they find him.”

“How close are they to catching him?” asked Rafe.

“Sir Steven is being cautious. Creditors are camped at his London house and his estate. My men tracked him to Kensington – he moved to his mistress’s cottage.”

“Maude Cunningham,” confirmed Helen.

Rafe smiled. “She was Helen’s maid for eight months, which allowed Steven to keep a close eye on her.”

“Ah.” Portland shook his head. “When the Bounty sale collapsed, Steven disappeared. There is no sign of him on the turnpikes, but he would take side roads to avoid tolls, if nothing else. He collected only two hundred guineas from Hicks so must watch his purse.”

“What about Dudley?”

“He left town with Sir Steven and Mrs. Cunningham, but he was not with them earlier. I don’t yet have a complete report on his activities, but he broke Ottley’s jaw the night you were wed.” His glance begged forgiveness from Helen for such frank speaking.

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “Whenever he is frustrated, he breaks something. That time I knocked him down, he smashed a mirror and two chairs,” she added, meeting Rafe’s eye.

He nodded, recalling her tale of Dudley’s assaults.

“Dudley lost five thousand before the fight with Ottley,” added Portland.

“Ouch.”

“More debt.”

“Exactly. Caristoke holds most of the vowels. His father is the Earl of Pembroke,” he told Helen. “
Not
a man to cross. Unless Dudley pays, he will find himself barred from every club and gaming hell in England.” Portland finished his brandy. “So Sir Steven and Dudley both need money badly, especially if they plan to live abroad. Sir Steven can’t stay in England now that so many investigations are under way.”

“I doubt that he knows about the investigations,” said Helen. “But we already expected him to come here.”

Rafe frowned. The news wasn’t good. One explanation for Smith’s cockiness was that Steven and Dudley had already arrived.

Nalley interrupted to announce dinner.

* * * *

When Rafe reached the sitting room after eating – he’d remained behind to chastise Nalley for poor service – Helen and Portland were circling the courtyard, arm in arm, heads close together. The French window muffled their voices, but it was clear that they were intimate. She might have sworn to cut out his heart four years ago, but that display of temper hadn’t mitigated her love. It had survived separation and forgiven whatever fight had parted them.

He turned away when Portland bent to kiss her, unable to watch. The seduction was starting already, a seduction that must lead to infidelity. He would never be able to trust her out of his sight – or in it, for that matter. If she spent her time dreaming of Portland…

Pain sliced his chest, exposing the truth. His feelings had moved beyond possessiveness into genuine caring. How ironic that she wanted nothing to do with him. He’d happened along when she was too injured to think clearly. Now she was trapped in marriage with the wrong man.

The future looked grim.

He’d seen what happened when strong-willed adversaries wed. His parents had fought every day of his life, never conceding even trivial points. Their marriage had been an endless struggle as Hillcrest demanded absolute obedience and Lady Hillcrest begged for the same freedoms other ladies enjoyed. That her dowry had rescued Hillcrest from ruin had made his tyranny harder to bear.

Rafe shivered. He might not be penniless, but Helen’s fortune dwarfed his. They must live on her estate. She had already refused to discuss its affairs. And she was in love with another man.

His eyes burned.

He couldn’t endure a marriage like his mother’s. Now that he’d seen proof of Helen’s preferences, he must set her free. Any other course would drive him mad.

As she opened the door, he melted into the shadows.

“Get some sleep, Alex,” she was saying as they entered.

He nodded and left.

Helen remained, frowning. Her eyes were dim, her shoulders slumped. Her predicament clearly made her unhappy.

She finally released a long sigh and headed for the hall.

“Shut the door, Helen,” Rafe said, stepping forward. “We need to talk.”

She jumped but complied. “Steven is more dishonorable than I feared,” she said, moving near the fire, which took her farther from his side. “And more desperate because of it. Why did no one suspect fraud sooner?  He must be losing fortune upon fortune at the tables.”

“As long as he covered his losses, no one would question where he found the money. Gentlemen don’t pry into one another’s business. And most of London believed he was heir to Arthur’s title and fortune.”

“I can’t understand why Alquist didn’t dispute that notion.”

An interesting question, Rafe conceded. But this wasn’t the time to explore it. If he was going to free her, he must do it before he turned coward. “I have been considering our situation, Helen. In retrospect, I shamelessly forced you into marriage, a dishonor for which I must apologize. Now that you are recovered from Steven’s blow, you must regret my insistence. Thus I won’t oppose a petition for annulment. Your concussion may give you grounds, for it rendered you incapable of clear thinking. The bishop might consider that incompetence under the law.”

She stared, as if not believing she could be so lucky. Then her chin rose, twisting her face in fury. “I hadn’t thought you a coward, Rafe, but if that’s what you want, I will write to my solicitor in the morning.” Her voice cracked. Clenching her fists, she fled.

Shocked, he poured a hefty glass of brandy. He hadn’t expected anger. And how could she call him a coward for offering what she so patently wanted?  It didn’t make sense. What the devil did she expect of him?

* * * *

Helen stumbled into her room and threw herself on the bed. Tears streamed down her face, despite her best effort to quell them. Rafe’s voice still echoed in her ears.
Shamelessly forced … annulment…

He must believe Smith’s charges. She had hoped that her explanation would clear the air, but she hadn’t even apologized for not warning him. Why would he believe her now?

Or perhaps Lady Alquist was right. Rafe feared repeating his parents’ mistake. Having seen Audley for himself and verified the size of her fortune, he was running. It would explain why he’d avoided her last night. He’d wed her in a fit of pique and come to regret it.

Yet his timing was suspicious. Alex had dragged her outside to swear undying devotion, then Rafe demanded an annulment. Had Alex convinced Rafe to step aside?

The idea that they’d discussed her over port and come to terms was enough to put her off both men. She was not a scrap of meat for two dogs to fight over.

But she could hardly hold Rafe against his will. A lifelong war with Hillcrest had taught him to reject any bonds. If she refused his demands, he would fight back as least as hard as he fought Hillcrest.

Chapter Sixteen

May 28

Voices woke Helen shortly after dawn. Angry voices outside her bedroom door.

“This is bigger than your puny mind can comprehend, so you need my help,” hissed Alex. “You haven’t any idea of how to protect Helen.”

“And you do?”  Rafe laughed. “Your idea of protection was to abandon her.”

“I didn’t abandon her!” snapped Alex. “If I hadn’t stayed away, my enemies might have attacked her. Do you think I enjoyed the separation?”

“So you left her to Steven’s mercy.” Rafe’s voice hardened. “Forget the past, Portland. It is gone. I appreciate your help in town, but that’s as far as it goes. You can leave after breakfast. I’ll send you any evidence that might help you prosecute Steven and Dudley.”

“I won’t leave until Helen is safe.”

“The only danger to Helen is from you. You’ve made your position clear enough. It wouldn’t surprise me if you let Steven kill me so you can protect Helen by wedding her.”

“You can’t believe that!”  Alex sounded appalled.

“I wouldn’t trust you to accompany me down the stairs without tripping me.”

“Imbecile!” snapped Alex. “It is you who can’t be trusted. Who stole my mistress the moment my back was turned?  Who undermined an investigation by blackballing—”

“I did
not
steal Lydia,” snarled Rafe. “I don’t poach. She swore you had parted company.”

“Hah!”

“True. She tried to seduce me at Cavendish’s masquerade. I balked, but you’d been away for weeks, so when she claimed to be free, I believed her. The moment I learned otherwise, I threw her out. I hate liars.”

“An odd declaration coming from you. Your damned duel story nearly cost me my position.”

“My
story!  That was
you
.”

“It was not.”

Helen pulled a pillow over her head in a futile attempt to muffle the voices. So much for her theory of cooperation. Imbeciles!  Both of them!

Fury washed over her. How dare Alex claim to love her, then attack Rafe over a shared courtesan?  And how dare Rafe demand an annulment, yet vilify Alex for loving her?

Not that this argument meant he cared. He hated Alex enough to argue anything he said – just as Hillcrest did.

“For the last time, I never claimed a duel!” shouted Alex.

“Then who—” Rafe paused. “Lydia. It must be.”

“How do you figure that?” scoffed Alex.

“Use that brain you’re so proud of, Portland. Lydia wants jewels and fancy clothes and a big house, but to gain them she must become the most sought-after courtesan in town. You kept leaving without explanation—”