The Rake's Mistress (17 page)

Lucas smiled ruefully. He had already observed how much detail of her childhood and upbringing Rebecca had chosen not to tell him.

‘I was watching her at dinner,’ he said. ‘Such assurance comes only with a privileged background.’

‘I doubt that your scrutiny was as objective as mine,’ Justin said drily, ‘but I agree with your conclusions. What did she tell you of her family?’

‘Very little,’ Lucas said. ‘Apparently she grew up in Somerset. Her father was an army man who died in India and after that her mother fell into a decline. There was no money, so Rebecca went to live with relatives who had a trade.’

Justin was frowning. ‘It is a curious story.’ He broke off, deep in thought, then turned his head sharply to look at his brother. ‘What do you think, Luc?’

Lucas sighed. ‘I think,’ he said carefully, ‘that everything that Rebecca has told me is true but that for reasons of her own she has omitted some of the facts.’

‘And the reason for that omission?’

‘The same reason that prompted her nervousness this morning,’ Lucas said. ‘She is protecting her brother.’

‘The mysterious Daniel Raleigh,’ Justin said, as there was a quiet knock at the door. ‘When you told me about him this morning, I instructed Bradshaw to make a few enquiries. Unless I miss my guess, that will be him now.’

Sure enough, it was Tom Bradshaw who slipped into the room. Both Justin and Lucas looked at him expectantly.

‘There is no Daniel Raleigh on the Navy List, your Grace,’ Bradshaw said.

Justin looked expressively at Lucas. Lucas sighed. ‘Somehow I did not expect that there would be.’

‘He could be a merchant sailor,’ Justin pointed out, toying with his brandy glass. ‘Which ship did Miss Raleigh say that her brother sailed on?’

‘She claimed not to know,’ Lucas said.

‘And you do not believe her.’

Lucas shifted. He disliked speaking of Rebecca like this when all his instincts told him that she was fundamentally honest. Her silence spoke of family loyalty rather than treachery, but even so it frustrated him that she would not tell him the truth. He drained his brandy glass, acknowledging to himself that it was in fact a miracle that Rebecca told him anything at all when he had treated her so badly.

‘I trust everything that Rebecca has told us, with the exception of the information about her brother,’ he said tentatively. ‘I do not believe her to have been in the confidence of the Midwinter spies, I do not think her uncle was aware of the nature of the work he was undertaking and I trust Rebecca to do everything in her power to assist us. But in this…’ He shook his head. ‘She is keeping secrets. She knows which ship her brother sails on, but she is trying to safeguard him.’

Justin tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘Why would she do that?’

‘I have no notion. Or rather,’ Lucas corrected himself, ‘I have an idea but no proof.’

Justin looked at him. ‘Construe.’

‘I think,’ Lucas said slowly, ‘that Daniel Raleigh is involved in something illegal. His sister knows it and wishes to keep the truth from us.’

‘Something to do with the engravings and the spy?’

‘I doubt it. On that score I think Rebecca is all she seems.’ Lucas stared into the fire. ‘When I was questioning her this morning, she was very cool and composed, because she knew she was innocent and was telling the entire truth. But when I found the letter from her brother she became very agitated. It was the only time during the interview that she appeared shaken. She also pretended to know nothing of his whereabouts.’ Lucas smiled with betraying tenderness. ‘She is a poor liar, for she is not practised at it. She gave herself away many times over.’

‘Perhaps he is a petty criminal and Miss Raleigh is simply worried that we will find him,’ Justin suggested.

Lucas shook his head. ‘He is definitely at sea. That much is true. The sea features prominently in many of Rebecca’s engravings—anchors, seagulls, sailing ships… There is a most beautiful vase on the windowsill of her studio with a picture of a privateer ship. It is exquisite—’ He broke off as Tom Bradshaw gave an exclamation. ‘What is it, Bradshaw?’

‘A privateer, my lord,’ Bradshaw said excitedly. He grabbed his pencil and scribbled a few names. ‘Raleigh, Drake, Hawkins…’

‘Is this some kind of guessing game?’ Justin enquired drily.

‘No, your Grace.’ Bradshaw pointed his pencil at Lucas. ‘Lord Lucas mentioned privateers and I thought of Raleigh and Drake.’

‘A little harsh,’ Lucas said. ‘I am sure our brother Richard would defend them as great, patriotic sailors rather than pirates.’

‘Indeed, my lord,’ Bradshaw said. ‘The point that I was trying to make was that Daniel Raleigh does not exist amongst the ranks of his Majesty’s Navy, but he may well exist as a different sort of sailor—a privateer—and one who may not even be called Raleigh…’

There was a silence.

‘That is very ingenious, Bradshaw,’ Justin admitted. ‘I can see why Lord Newlyn values your code-breaking skills so highly. You think outside the normal span of things.’

Bradshaw shrugged self-deprecatingly. ‘It is merely a thought, my lord, and one that could be quite mistaken, but I can explore the possibility. I will start with Miss Raleigh’s uncle, George Provost, and see if I may discover more about the family.’

‘How long will it take you to find out?’ Lucas asked.

Bradshaw scratched his head. ‘Two days, three maybe, my lord, if the information is hard to find.’

‘Then you had best bring your results to us at Midwinter,’ Justin said, ‘for we travel there tomorrow.’

‘There is one more thing that you might like to look into, Bradshaw,’ Lucas said slowly. ‘On the windowsill in Miss Raleigh’s workshop is a magnificent vase with a family motto engraved on it.
Celer et Audax
. Swift and bold.’ He sighed. ‘It may well be that if you find the family to whom the motto belongs, you have found Miss Raleigh’s rightful ancestry and the identity of her brother. I leave it to you.’

Bradshaw bowed and went out and Justin Kestrel turned his thoughtful, dark gaze upon his brother.

‘A useful piece of information,’ he commented. ‘Tell me, Luc, how stands your current relationship with Miss Raleigh?’

‘Poorly.’ Lucas was betrayed into a rueful smile. ‘She will have none of my suit.’

‘Hmm.’ Justin moved a chess piece with precision on its marbled board. ‘And how do you think that our enquiries into Miss Raleigh’s identity will affect that?’

‘I imagine it will make an already parlous situation ten times worse,’ Lucas said crisply. ‘However, I would rather know the whole truth than be left with any uncertainty. Besides, I shall persuade Rebecca to accept me in the end.’

‘You sound very certain,’ Justin said, with a twitch of the lips.

‘I am,’ Lucas agreed. He looked at his brother. ‘She is my match in every way and now, having found her, I shall never let her go.’

The journey to Midwinter, in the Duke of Kestrel’s second-best carriage, the first being out of commission for repairs to the upholstery, seemed long and arduous to Rebecca.

The weather had turned colder, with a clinging fog that made progress slow. Justin Kestrel had elected to ride, but Lucas had chosen to accompany her in the carriage, much to Rebecca’s annoyance. She wished that he would not persist in speaking to her when she had made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. Throughout the journey he had been quick and unobtrusive in attending to her comfort. There had been rugs and hot bricks to warm her feet, food and drink at the hostelries. Every so often he would point out something of interest on the road—a stately home behind high gates, or a model village, or a curious inn sign swinging in the breeze. Lucas was knowledgeable and interesting and, little by little, Rebecca found herself unbending towards him and chatting with animation, only to fall silent when she remembered once again that she did not like him and was determined not to fall for his charm
a second time. Instead she fell asleep, waking a little stiff and totally mortified to find herself with her head on Lucas’s shoulder and his arm gently holding her to him.

Despite her reticence, when she saw the sea for the first time in sixteen years, Rebecca could not help but give a little exclamation of excitement. It was late in the afternoon by now and the dusk was starting to fall. The mist that had dogged their journey had lifted and, beyond the high hedges and lofty pines, she saw the glimmer of silver on the horizon. The carriage had slowed now and was trundling down a sandy track. Rebecca found herself sitting forward and searching for glimpses of the sea that ran like a pale-blue ribbon beyond the trees.

‘Oh! It is so beautiful, my lord.’ She turned spontaneously to Lucas. ‘I had no notion that Suffolk was so pretty a county. I thought it flat and empty…’

‘It is both of those things,’ Lucas said, smiling at her enthusiasm, ‘but in a very beautiful way. When you stand on the seashore the sky seems huge, like a great dome above one’s head. But you must have seen the sea before,’ he added, ‘for so much of your engraving contains the imagery of ships and seabirds.’

Rebecca felt surprised that he had noticed. ‘I… Yes, we lived near the sea when I was a child,’ she said.

‘In Somerset?’

‘Yes. At Watchet, on the north Somerset coast. But it is many years now since I have been to the seaside.’ She remembered that it had been part of Lucas’s job to observe her and to notice things like the images on her engraving, and her spirits dulled a little. She had to remember that this was no holiday, but a business trip with a serious purpose. When she had fulfilled her part of the bargain she would be away back to Clerkenwell. In the meantime she would do well to give Lucas as little information as possible, not for her own sake, but for Daniel’s. Never had she been in a position to do him more harm than she was at this moment.

‘That road takes you to Midwinter Royal,’ Lucas said, pointing to a track that peeled away through the woods. ‘Rachel and Cory will be staying there with Rachel’s parents. And this…’

The carriage swung through resplendent wrought-iron gates. ‘This is Kestrel Court,’ Lucas said. ‘Welcome to Midwinter, Miss Raleigh.’

The drive was a long one between stands of tall limes interspersed with the dark green of oak. The parkland beyond looked verdant in the dusk. Beyond the high wall to the east, Rebecca could
see the roof of a smaller building, a miniature manor house.

‘Saltires,’ Lucas said, following her gaze. ‘That is the dower house to the Court and currently home of Lady Sally Saltire.’

Rebecca remembered the brief summary that he had given her of the Midwinter villages and their occupants.

‘Lady Sally, whose husband was a great friend to your brother the Duke?’

‘That is correct.’ Lucas’s gaze rested on the quaint beamed exterior of the manor. ‘Justin gave the lease on the house to Stephen Saltire after he and Lady Sally were married. She was widowed eight years ago and Justin has held a candle for her ever since.’

Rebecca was startled. The Duke of Kestrel seemed too self-contained a man to suffer the pangs of unrequited love. She felt a certain curiosity to meet the woman who could have so profound an effect on such a formidable man.

Kestrel Court came into view now at the end of the lime avenue. It was a beautifully proportioned building, tall, classical and elegant.

‘It is one of Justin’s smaller properties,’ Lucas said, and Rebecca laughed. If anything was going to remind her of how far she had stepped out of her class in undertaking this venture, it was this opulent world. Once she had lived on the edges of
it, but that had been a very long time ago. She felt as though a whole lifetime had passed between then and now.

The carriage stopped at the edge of a flight of shallow steps and Lucas helped her down himself, escorting her up to the door and into the entrance hall. A glass cupola scattered light across the stone floor. A wide iron staircase climbed to the first floor. It was very beautiful and really rather frightening. Rebecca’s hand tightened unconsciously on Lucas’s arm and he gave her a reassuring smile.

‘You will find it easy to take your place in Midwinter society, Rebecca. You have already shown great self-assurance.’

A maid showed her up the broad flight of stairs to a well-appointed room on the second floor. Rebecca stood by the window, one hand resting on the thick pale-blue velvet curtains, and looked out across the formal gardens, over the roof of the dower house of Saltires, which looked positively diminutive beside its grander neighbour, and out to the sweep of Kestrel Bay. The sun was a great red orb sinking fast into the ocean, and opposite it a tiny sliver of moon climbed into the darkening sky. Rebecca stood still and watched as a pale smudge on the horizon seemed to draw closer and take shape before her eyes; a schooner, its tall masts dark against the inky horizon, its white sails furled. It glided across Kestrel Bay, the sea carved
into ripples by its wake, and then it slipped stealthily from her sight beyond the curve of the shore.

Rebecca sighed. Never had she felt closer to Daniel and never had she felt more alone. A part of her cried out to Lucas. She wanted the comfort and the protection of his arms. She wanted to tell him the whole truth, but she could not.

She stepped back and drew the curtain against the approaching night.

‘W
elcome to Midwinter, Miss Raleigh,’ Lady Sally Saltire said, her green eyes sparkling as she shook Rebecca warmly by the hand. ‘Curious, but I had thought I knew every relative that Justin possessed!’ Her speculative gaze moved from Rebecca to the tall figure of the Duke of Kestrel, who was chatting to Lady Benedict across the other side of the ballroom.

‘Nevertheless, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ Lady Sally continued. ‘We are always delighted to have new company in the Midwinter villages.’

‘Thank you, Lady Sally.’ Rebecca was quite dazzled by their hostess, who had drawn her away from Lucas’s protective presence with a skill that argued great social aplomb. Lucas was currently standing some twenty feet away and looking as though he did not quite dare step in to rescue her. Rebecca found it rather amusing that Lady Sally
Saltire appeared to have all the Kestrel brothers neatly under control.

Lady Sally had followed the direction of her gaze and was now eyeing Lucas’s impatient figure with interest.

‘It seems to me, Miss Raleigh, that Lord Lucas Kestrel is another who has been delighted to be reacquainted with his cousin,’ she observed. ‘He looks as though he would much prefer a closer relationship with you, however. He has scarce strayed from your side since you all arrived. His interest is most conspicuous.’

Rebecca found herself blushing and was surprised and vexed. She knew she would never be able to carry off her role if she was so conscious of Lucas’s presence. Yet it was difficult not to be aware of him. Over the last few days they had driven out together several times, attended the assembly in Woodbridge, joined a picnic of Lady Benedict’s devising and generally drawn as much attention to themselves as possible. It had been part of the plan to involve Rebecca in Midwinter society as quickly as possible, but it had also thrown her into Lucas’s company almost all the time, and he had been quick to take advantage of their proximity.

Rebecca had found herself enjoying his company far too much for her own comfort, taking pleasure from his conversation and easy companionship.
Yet beneath Lucas’s measured courtship ran other feelings that could not be ignored. Dangerously, she felt as though she was starting to like as well as to love him. Slowly but surely, she was being drawn into an intimacy she could not avoid, did not want to avoid. The protectiveness that Lucas showed towards her was both tender and terrifying. It made her want him all the more. Worse, he never touched her other than to hand her into the carriage, or accompany her in the dance, and conversely, Rebecca found herself desperately wanting him to take her in his arms. She ached with the memory of his lovemaking. It broke her sleep and left her trembling to remember the feelings he had evoked. And she knew that Lucas could sense how she felt, for often she caught him watching her and saw the flash of desire in his eyes, desire held under supremely tight control, that left her shaken and longing for his touch.

Lady Sally eyed her high colour shrewdly. ‘I beg your pardon for mentioning it, but perhaps you are not indifferent to his admiration, Miss Raleigh? One must congratulate you, for I always thought Lord Lucas the most dangerous of the Kestrel brothers because he appeared never to have a heart to lose…’

‘Well, he need not lose his heart to me,’ Rebecca said, giving herself a mental shake and assuming the role of the indifferent object of Lucas’s
affections. ‘I have no desire to be the subject of Lord Lucas’s rakish attentions.’

‘You disapprove of rakes, Miss Raleigh?’ Lady Sally said, smiling. ‘Many ladies deplore them—whilst secretly hoping, of course, to be seduced by one!’

Rebecca stifled a laugh. ‘If Lord Lucas wishes to behave like a rake then that is, of course, his own concern,’ she said, ‘as long as he does not seek to practise on me. I am not susceptible to his charm since I was betrothed to another.’

‘I heard that you buried your heart along with your fiancé,’ Lady Sally said sympathetically. She touched Rebecca’s hand. ‘I feel for you, my dear Miss Raleigh. However, you may find that Lord Lucas’s regard is the very balm that you need for your wounded feelings.’

‘I suppose that he is considered quite a catch,’ Rebecca said, watching as Miss Chloe Ducheyne from Woodbridge artlessly drew Lucas’s attention and inveigled him into private conversation.

‘I assure you, Miss Raleigh, that ladies would wade across the Winter Race for a chance to engage Lord Lucas’s interest,’ Lady Sally said, and they laughed together.

‘I hope that you will join my reading group whilst you are staying with us?’ she added. ‘It is rather fun, although you may find it another opportunity
for the Midwinter quizzes like myself to question you shamelessly about your cousin.’

Rachel Newlyn had already told Rebecca all about Lady Sally’s reading circle and Lucas had encouraged her to take part if invited, pointing out that it was the ideal way to mingle with the ladies of Midwinter. Rebecca was not averse, for she had taken a liking to Lady Sally and thought that the chance to read and discuss books would be rather a novel and exciting luxury for her.

‘You are no quiz, Lady Sally,’ she said, laughing, ‘but, yes, I should be delighted to attend the meeting of the reading group.’

‘Capital!’ Lady Sally said, smiling broadly. ‘We are currently studying
The History of Miss Harriot Montague
. Are you acquainted with it, Miss Raleigh?’

‘I fear not,’ Rebecca said. ‘Is it a morality tale?’

‘Of a kind.’ Lady Sally flicked her fan. Her eyes were amused. ‘Truth to tell, it is an improbable story of a prosy girl who suffers endless hardships and conquers them all through her virtue. I find it dull, but the more impressionable ladies in the group enjoy the drama. I will lend you my spare copy and you may tell us what you make of it, Miss Raleigh. A fresh opinion is always welcome.’

The Duke of Kestrel was approaching and Lady Sally turned to him with a swish of green silk. ‘Justin, my dear! I was telling your charming
cousin that we will look forward to her attending the next meeting of the reading group.’

‘Splendid,’ Justin Kestrel said. He smiled at Rebecca, but she noticed that his gaze warmed still further as it returned to Lady Sally’s piquant face.

‘May I claim your hand for the quadrille, Sally?’ he asked smoothly.

‘Certainly you may,’ Lady Sally said, throwing him a sparkling glance. ‘I think I half-promised it to Mr Lang, but will gladly allow you to pull rank, Justin!’

‘I do believe that my brother is intending to ask you for this dance, Rebecca,’ Justin Kestrel said, offering Lady Sally his arm. ‘Do you think that you could try to be kind to him just this once?’

‘I fear not, your Grace,’ Rebecca said sweetly. ‘I should not like to give him false hope.’

‘So cruel,’ Justin said, shaking his head ruefully.

‘And so wonderful to see Lucas hoist by his own petard,’ Lady Sally said cheerfully. ‘Bravo, Miss Raleigh!’

Left on her own, Rebecca took the opportunity to study the rest of Lady Sally’s guests and see if her own impressions matched the descriptions that she had been given by Lucas. Miss Lang and Miss Ducheyne were both young, flighty and utterly over-excited by the fashionable company in which they found themselves. Rebecca thought it likely that Miss Ducheyne might spontaneously combust
if she smouldered any harder in Lucas’s direction. The sight of the girl hanging on Lucas’s arm should have amused her but it did not, so she turned away and studiously considered the other guests. Miss Lang’s brother Caspar, whom Lady Sally had just snubbed in order to stand up with the Duke, was a young man with a very good opinion of himself. Sir John Norton likewise, although he was not such a young man and rather florid, running to fat. He was paying a great deal of attention to Lily, Lady Benedict, whom Lucas had said was an old school friend of Lady Sally. Despite Sir John’s fulsome interest it seemed that Lady Benedict would have preferred the compliments of Cory Newlyn, who was so wrapped up in his wife that he scarcely noticed her… Rebecca sighed, wondering why it was that the unobtainable was so attractive.

Lucas, meanwhile, seemed quite content to stay by Miss Ducheyne’s side rather than claim his supposed cousin for a dance. Rebecca found herself trying to look at him objectively. By anyone’s standards he was a good-looking man, and within Lady Sally’s glittering and sophisticated social circle he appeared carelessly confident and at ease. Rebecca had never been shy herself, but she had found stepping into this rank of society to be quite a difficult task. Lucas’s casual assurance made her feel unsophisticated and out of her depth.

‘Miss Raleigh?’ Sir John Norton was at her elbow, claiming her attention. He smiled at her with an unpleasantly speculative twinkle in his eye. ‘If you are not engaged for the next, I should be honoured were you to promise it to me.’

Rebecca smiled, though her heart was not in it. ‘Thank you, Sir John, I should be delighted—’

‘Have you forgotten that that honour has already been granted to me, Rebecca?’ Lucas drawled, materializing at her side. ‘I should be desolated if you preferred Sir John’s company over mine!’

‘On the contrary,’ Rebecca said coolly, ‘I thought you very well consoled by Miss Ducheyne, Lucas. Besides, surely cousins do not need to stand on ceremony with each other if there is an offer more attractive?’

Sir John Norton smirked. ‘You heard the lady, Kestrel!’

There was a spark of devilment in Lucas’s gaze as his eyes rested on Rebecca’s face. She felt a shiver of anticipation along her nerves as he smoothly took up her challenge.

‘I did indeed,’ he murmured. ‘However, you and I know, Sir John, that a lady will often say quite the reverse of what she is thinking in order to make her erstwhile suitor all the more devoted.’

‘You delude yourself, Lucas,’ Rebecca said sweetly. ‘Or perhaps it is your conceit that deceives
you. You certainly have enough of it. Enough for two men, in fact!’

Lucas’s smile held a wicked glint. ‘My dear Rebecca, why pretend? You know you are not indifferent to me!’

‘I believe that we were discussing Sir John’s invitation to dance, rather than my feelings or lack of them,’ Rebecca said sharply. She turned to Norton. ‘I fear that we have already missed this opportunity, Sir John, but I should be delighted to dance with you later in the evening. The country dance after supper, perhaps?’

Sir John shot Lucas an unsubtle look of triumph. ‘Enchanted, Miss Raleigh,’ he murmured. ‘Perhaps you would also like to drive with me one day next week? I could show you my yacht—’

‘That would be splendid,’ Rebecca said hastily, as Lucas looked as though he were about to make an abrasive remark. ‘Thank you, Sir John.’

Sir John took her hand and kissed it gallantly, allowing his lips to dwell rather too long. Rebecca was sincerely glad that she was wearing gloves.

‘Your cousin will soon tire of your attentions if you are so pressing, Kestrel,’ Sir John said with a sneer as he released her. ‘Not your usual style, eh?’

Lucas took Rebecca’s hand and tucked it through his arm in a gesture of possession. ‘Where my cousin is concerned I do not conform to my usual mode of behaviour,’ he said smoothly.

‘Nor, indeed, to any style at all,’ Rebecca added.

Sir John gave a crack of laughter and strolled away, pleased with himself, and Lucas held on to Rebecca a little tighter.

‘Rebecca, my sweet,’ he said in an undertone, ‘if you wish to cross swords with me I suggest that you do so in private in future, or you may find yourself in the most compromising position of being kissed in a ballroom full of people!’

Rebecca tried to draw her hand away, but he held her firmly.

‘I was merely trying to add a little colour to our supposed relationship,’ she said coolly. ‘I am sorry you did not care for it.’

Lucas was looking dangerous. ‘Two can play at that game,’ he said. He put an arm about her waist in a hard grip and drew her towards the window embrasure. The alcove afforded some privacy from the curious gaze of Lady Sally’s guests, but Lucas’s high-handed behaviour did not go unnoticed. A little ripple of scandalous excitement fluttered through the ranks of the assembled ladies as they watched him.

‘If you wish to lend colour to the deception, I am at your service,’ Lucas said. He had not released Rebecca, but stood with his back blocking the ballroom from view. Rebecca felt breathless and slightly nervous, a reaction that was only heightened by the unrelenting grip of his fingers
about her wrist. He moved closer, until his body just brushed against hers.

‘I shall match you step for step and the money will be on me to overcome your scruples and make you my bride.’

Rebecca caught her breath. Although he was referring to the show they were putting on for society, his words echoed precisely their own, secret situation. Lucas had sworn that she would accept his declaration and she had rejected him out of hand. Yet with each day that passed her will to oppose him grew weaker, and now, with the insistent pressure of his body against hers, she felt utterly incapable of resistance.

‘You are mine, Rebecca,’ Lucas said. ‘Do you think that if I cannot have you I would permit anyone else to even touch you?’

Rebecca gave a gasp at the undisguised intimacy in his voice. ‘Permit?’ she said. ‘You presume too much, Lord Lucas. It is scarcely your place to permit or forbid.’

‘By all means believe that if you wish.’

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. ‘You do not have the right to dictate my behaviour!’

‘Whilst you are in Midwinter you are my responsibility.’

‘I can take care of myself; once this is all over, we shall not meet again.’

They were standing stiffly now, like combatants. Lucas caught her wrist and jerked her close to him, so close that she could feel the staccato beat of his heart against the bodice of her gown.

‘I will not let you go,’ he said softly.

Rebecca was trapped by the look in his eyes. It spoke of possession and demand, and it heated her blood with sparks of fire. The ballroom, the guests, the curious glances cast their way…all were as nothing compared to the raw claim that Lucas was staking to her.