Betrayed (9 page)

“Caretakers, my lord,” Sarah insisted, “women to clean and prepare the food, someone to tend the children's cuts and bruises, adults to help wash their hair and dry their tears. They're just babes turned into orphans by parents who did not care.”

Fordyce's sarcasm knew no end. “What of the laundry and the darning of socks?”

“Laundry?” That injustice cut her to the bone. “Most of the children have only one set of clothing at a time. The apprenticeships you speak of are no more than forced labor.”

“The answer is no.” Fordyce carefully folded his napkin and addressed Michael. “ 'Tis too grand an effort. But even if it was done, there'd never be an end to it. Lady Sarah'd be coming to me every week begging for this or that. Next she'll have us sending those urchins to Edinburgh University.” To her, he said, “Get Elliot here to release your dowry. Then you can buy the building.”

Stay calm
, she told herself.
Stand up for what is right and avoid the subject of the dowry, which the mayor obviously assumes is already in Elliot hands
. “I
did not turn those children out to steal and die in the cold.”

“Are you accusing me of—” He was flustered. “—of low behavior?”

Rumor had it that in his youth he had paid an occasional visit to the women in Pleasure Close, but reminding him of an old transgression was unfair. Sarah knew she must appeal to his Christian sense of duty. “Of course not, Mayor Fordyce. Your reputation is unblemished. You speak and act for the people of Edinburgh. You are their conscience and their voice. If you aid the orphans, you fulfill your promise to the citizens who elected you to make the streets safer for everyone. But you cannot think you do not have an obligation to the less fortunate, simply because the ballot is denied to them.”

He grumbled into his goblet. “I do not make the election laws.”

“Yet you entertain foreign dignitaries and oversee their interests, even though they do not participate in our elections or pay our taxes.”

At last she'd dented his stern opposition, for he sighed and said, “You've a passion for this orphanage.”

That was an easy criticism to defend. “Listen to your contradiction. If we are not passionate in the causes that count, such as assuring dignity for all of our people and regard for the future, we're no better than animals in the forest.”

“Mayor Fordyce.” Michael's commanding voice dropped like a stone into the conversation. “I'd be willing to buy the property and place it in Lady Sarah's keeping—in the name of the Elliots.”

Sarah almost wilted in relief.

The mayor stared, mouth agape. “You cannot buy it.”

Michael sent the mayor a remarkable look. “I beg to differ.”

Now truly angry, the mayor glowered. “I thought you asked me here tonight to help me dissuade her from acquiring the customs house. I expected you to refuse her outright and put an end to this quest of hers. You cannot buy a property if the Elliots already own half of it.”

Sarah watched Michael closely, looking for a glimmer of deceit. He went very still and his eyes stayed fixed on the wine in his glass. “Who owns the other portion?”

“I do,” said the mayor.

“Then we'll conclude the transfer when I return from a visit to my brother in London.”

“But Lord Henry manages the family properties, and the countess will never let that one fall into Lady Sarah's hands. Unless your mother changes her mind.”

“She will. Good night, Mayor Fordyce.”

Like a treed fox given an escape, the mayor moved to leave. “Give our best to Lord Henry. Damn that Richmond. You'd think he'd play fair—a man with his good breeding.”

“Yes, well . . .” Michael looked at Sarah, but spoke to Fordyce. “I'll tell him you asked about him.”

He could only stare at her, but he was distracted. Was he angry? Was he waiting to upbraid her?

“My congratulations, Lady Sarah.” The mayor gave her brief bow. “ 'Twas a pleasure.”

When they were alone, Sarah immediately felt a greater withdrawal in Michael. She moved the candle
aside and said cheerfully, “A pity we cannot choose our family.”

He squinted, but not with poor vision. “Pardon my frankness, but had you not agreed to marry my brother, you and I wouldn't be sitting here distrusting each other.”

Trusting Elliots had been her least successful venture. “You're angry because the countess withheld information from you.”

“The subject of the customs house has not arisen between my mother and me.”

“You cannot truly be angry with me because I believe the citizens have a responsibility to Notch and the other unfortunates.”

“No, not for that. I'm
unhappy
because you could have told me that my family held an interest in the property. Instead, you chose to embarrass me, a practice you earlier condemned.”

Curse his memory. “Pardon me, but a nick to your pride is a small price to pay to save the orphans of Edinburgh. They have no one, Michael. No parents to love them and leave them an inheritance. No one tucks them in at night or soothes them when goblins visit their dreams. They struggle merely to survive.” She sniffed back a tear. “I'm sorry for deceiving you, but how could I know that you would be so generous?”

He looked at her then, and his face boded ill. “You might have taken the time to find out. 'Tis true I'm of Clan Elliot, but I am not my brother. I would not have wagered most of your dowry in a dice game with the duke of Richmond.”

She believed him, but one high mark for philanthropy was not enough to forgive the sins of the
Elliots. “Richmond was happenstance. Eventually Henry would have offended one peer or another. The timing was simply fortuitous for me, since I had not spoken vows to him.”

“You miss my meaning. It was
his
fall from grace,” Michael insisted. “Not mine, and by association, you blame me. It's the same injustice as someone blaming you because Notch is an orphan. You had nothing to do with it, as I played no part in my brother's activities in London.”

She did feel a twinge of guilt, until she remembered their first meeting. “You stormed into my home yesterday and demanded my dowry.”

“Without success. As I said, I had just arrived after a very long absence. All of what goes on here is new to me.”

An awful possibility occurred to her. “Your family did not write to you of the betrothal?”

When he grew even more distant, she had her answer. But another question arose. “Did you resign from the Complement at the request of Lady Emily?”

“Nay, 'twas my choice.”

Relieved, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for donating the property. You won't be sorry.”

He chuckled without humor. “I'm already sorry.”

He did look sad, and she hoped it was a trick of the dim lighting. “You're also a poor liar.”

“Yes, well.” He slid her a wary glance. Wavering light from the hearth played over his face, and the reflection of the flames glittered in his eyes. “Having admitted that my brother is a wastrel, why did you agree to marry him?”

“I told you why. I thought I loved him.”

“Who's the poor liar now, Sarah?”

She felt the pull of his gaze and knew an instant of weakness. She'd always been attracted to bold men, but after becoming better acquainted with them, they changed, and the brazenness that she found so appealing invariably hardened into a determination to dominate her. She liked a forceful man, but only until he took liberties with her personal beliefs and freedoms.

Resisting Micnael Elliot was an option she would not take just now, for her toes were curling with an unfamiliar excitement. There was much more about his character that she wanted to explore. She had wrongly spoken ill of him, and he'd been forthright enough to point out her mistake.

“If you will confess what you are thinking,” he said, “I will arrange to shoe every orphan in Edinburgh.”

Like iron to a magnet, she was drawn to the allure in his smile. “An equitable exchange.”

Interest sparkled in his eyes and sharpened his features. “Is tomorrow soon enough?”

Very aggressive. “To know what I am thinking?”

He leaned forward. “To share thoughts.”

Catching a whiff of his attractive woodsy scent, she leaned back. “Oh, I know what's on your mind.”

“Do you?” He glanced at her hand, still resting on his, and his look was pointed, challenging. “Then we've made a pact. Tell me what's on my mind. But if you are wrong, you must agree to accompany me to the cobbler and select the shoes yourself.”

Only cowardice would keep her from setting him straight, and she'd have none of it. “You were
not
thinking about visiting the cobbler and selecting shoes.”

“A twist of the bargain.” He placed one hand over
hers and wrapped the other around her forearm. “Enlighten me then, and I insist that you furnish every detail of my thoughts or admit you were boasting.”

“On our second meeting, you expect me to recite what I believe to be your intimate thoughts? And in a public place?” She shook her head. “I'd be mortified.”

He sprang to his feet and slammed the door shut. Returning to his chair, he again took her hand. “I promise to catch you if you swoon.”

Rather than address the fact that everyone in the inn now knew she was alone with him and assumed he was taking liberties, she decided to show him she was no easy mark. She surveyed the table and the space around her chair. “Catch me? Impossible. I've nowhere to fall.”

He moved closer. “What time shall I come for you?”

Brazen didn't begin to describe him, and reckless completely suited her mood. The customs house was hers. She had prevailed.

She caught his gaze. “I haven't lost yet.”

“Shall I call for more wine then, and give you time to think it over?”

She laughed and tried to pull her hand away. “Entice me into drinking another glass of wine, and you'll be mortified because you'll have to carry me home.”

He chuckled and threaded his fingers through hers. “Very incorrect. I wasn't thinking about seeing you too sotted to walk. The victory is mine.”

She was enchanted, but the man was much more
potent than the wine. “I wasn't trying to read your mind just then.”

“Yes you were, and for spoils you'll have to call for
me
on the morrow.”

Prudence demanded a full retreat. “You said you were going to London to see Henry. Please let go of my hand.”

He did. “You have a good memory where my brother is concerned.”

He probably had no inkling of how deep her enmity toward the Elliots went. But he was new to the battle. “After you've spoken with Henry, you may regret ever setting eyes on me,” she said.

“Wager your bonny blue eyes on that, and you will lose.”

Pretending to ignore the compliment, she went on. “Not to mention giving me a building and agreeing to refurbish it. I'm very grateful, though.”

“Yes, well . . .” His gaze moved to her mouth. “You've a crumb on your lip. May I?”

He touched the napkin to her mouth, but frowned. Dropping the cloth, he replaced it with his finger. “Ah, this works much better.” In a movement so smooth she barely felt it, he curled his fingers around her neck and pulled her toward him. “I know just the remedy. May I kiss you?”

She was unprepared for a polite offer, especially when his eyes demanded that she yield. Options beckoned, but the pull of him was so strong, she ignored them. “Do you think it's wise?”

“Who's thinking?”

We both are,
she thought, and their minds traveled the same enticing path.

He chuckled again, low and seductively. “I couldn't have said it better myself, Sarah. I adore the way you think.”

He'd read her mind, and the knowledge disarmed her. In that stunned anticipation, he filled her vision, and at the first whisper-soft touch of his lips on hers, her neck went limber, and her eyes drifted shut. His strong hand steadied her, and he kissed her with an inquisitiveness that quickly turned to purpose. She sensed an authority about him, a confidence and an ease that made her want to linger in his arms and discover the greater intimacies he was surely conjuring in his own mind.

He tasted deliciously of sweet cherries, and he smelled of the forest at eventide. Joyous contentment thrummed in her, urging her to throw her arms around his neck and find out precisely where her limits of decorum lay.

They'd be like the lovers she had watched in the next room. Like a man and his mistress. Stunned by the notion, she drew back. “Michael, you must stop.”

The hand at her nape tightened, holding her firmly in place. His eyes drifted open. Dreamy passion lingered in his gaze, but beneath it lurked a force of will that both frightened and inspired her.

“Dear Sarah, you're thinking you must protest for propriety's sake. Be truthful, if not to me, to yourself.”

“You swore I was a poor liar.”

“Then admit that you enjoyed the feel of my lips on yours. Admit that you like me.”

Words of agreement perched on her tongue, scrambling to be said. But she could not.

“Coward.”

Her pride rallied. “You're a stranger. I will not lose my innocence to you.”

“Which innocence would that be? We mature in many different ways.”

If he wanted to speak frankly, she would oblige. “I will not fall in love with you.”

“But you wished to marry my brother, so you cannot be innocent in matters of the heart. Oh, I've no doubt that you are physically virtuous. You are an honorable woman and will meet your husband's expectations.”

She laughed.
“Demented
is too flattering a word to describe your methods.”

“You said we were strangers. Remedy that. Ask me something about myself.”