On A Cold Christmas Eve (3 page)

Then Adam turned and she glimpsed it - the pain that mirrored her own, the same pain she'd seen back in town.  He hid it well, but it was there.  Somehow, that made him seem far more human, more approachable.  She should have been quaking in the bed in fear, or rather another woman might have, but she wasn't.  Instead she only felt a mix of curiosity and something more, something she didn't care to examine too closely.

Oh, he was the kind of man most proper women insisted they would be terrified to be alone with, either at a party or in a more intimate situation.  Lucy knew that, but she didn't share their fear.  She never had.  Instead she felt the same kinship she had back in London.  There, however, she would have never dared approach him, knowing that she was not fit to do so.  He was a god, and she a mouse.  But here in this bedroom, there was no fear.  No quaking or simpering, not that she would have anyway.  Only a realization that she could understand him in a way that few other women might, and that she wanted to try.  She wanted to offer him compassion, and, well, maybe a bit more than that, proper or not.  She was still a woman at heart.

Looming over her now, there was no doubt that Lord Enwright looked fierce and angry, but it was an act, something he cloaked himself in for protection.  She could see that now, too, and knew that this pretense was the only thing they other women saw when they looked at him.  Lucy saw beyond to the kindness beneath, the kindness that Lady Huffly had, just the month before, claimed didn't exist.

Except that Lucy had experienced his kindness first hand.  He'd been the one to catch her when she collapsed, she remembered vaguely.  He was the reason she was being cared for.  If not for him, there was no telling where she would be at the moment, though she knew with certainly that it wouldn't be a warm and comfortable bed.  Still, this man was very dangerous.  Just not in the way most people assumed.

"Adam St. Vincent, the Duke of Enwright" she said, wanting him to know that she did know who he was and that he didn't frighten her, if that was what he was hoping for.  She also took a moment to study her surroundings once more, unsure of what to say next.  Richly appointed and extremely opulent, this was clearly a guest room.  That alone spoke to how wealthy this man was.  She wondered if he knew what his brother had planned.  She also wondered what he thought of her, if he believed her to be complicit in the scheme.

He came to sit in a chair by the bed, and Lucy didn't flinch or cower, certain he would not appreciate a false display of weakness.  She was strong.  She'd had to be, and, as she already reminded herself, this man didn't frighten her, at least not really.  There was no reason to pretend otherwise.  Still, she knew it was best to proceed with caution.  Until she was more certain of him, certain that she could trust what she saw in his eyes, it would be to her benefit to appear perhaps just a bit stronger than she really was.

She wasn't overly surprised when he put a hand on bed and glanced briefly at the maid who was still sleeping soundly.  It wasn't strictly improper that he was here with her, and really, at the moment, propriety was the least of her worries.  Though if he tried to force himself on her, she would scream.  Not that she suspected he would.  He was not that kind of man.  She knew it in her heart.

"How much do you know about my brother, Archibald?"  He spoke quietly but firmly, as if he knew she was unafraid of him, and as if he, too, recognized the kindred spirit in her.

His question surprised her, and she blinked a few times before she could collect her wits enough to reply.  "Very little actually.  I know that my uncle, James Strathmore, who is also the current Earl of Wellsford, came to me about eight days ago and informed me that he'd arranged a marriage between Archibald and me.  He reminded me that at seven and twenty, it was well past time that I wed."  

"You look far younger," the duke said, and she knew that he wasn't lying or attempting false flattery.  He was merely stating what he saw as fact.

Nodding, she offered her thanks before continuing her story.  "My uncle was to take me to a coaching inn near here, the Stuck Pig, and I was to meet an envoy from the St. Vincent home.  I was told that it was to be Archibald himself, even though I doubted that would be the case, at least from what was described to me."  

"Which was?" Enwright prompted, seemingly filled with endless patience, a trait she admired greatly.

"That Archibald was a reformed rake, a man far better than the one I'd met a time or two in town, and that he'd been given control of Fairhaven after proving his improvement of character."  Lucy shook her head, disgusted with herself.  "I was told he was a virtual paragon of propriety, and while I didn't believe it, I couldn't disprove it, either.  Nor was I given the chance to, as my uncle still controls my life to a great extent."

Enwright seemed to ponder her story for a moment before asking one of the last questions she'd expected of him.  "Did you wish to marry my brother?"  There was a dark intensity in his eyes, and for the first time, Lucy felt a bit of fear.  However she did not allow him to see it.

"I did not know him, my lord," she replied, holding her head high, unwilling to know he'd rattled her just a bit.  "I do not wish to marry a man I have never spoken with, even though I know that my uncle can force me to do as he wishes."

"So if given a choice?" he pressed, seemingly eager for her answer.  For whatever reason, it was important to him that he know, though she couldn't guess why.

"Then no, I would not marry him."  Lucy pressed her lips into a flat line.  "I do not know him, nor do I know if he is kind or would beat me or torture me, as many men to do their wives.  It's not that I do not wish to marry some day.  I do, truly, but not Archibald, for based on what I learned at the Stuck Pig, he is not the kind of man I would choose for my husband."  Letting out a sigh, she met Enwright's unwavering gaze.  "Given the choice, eight days ago I would have refused, had I been able."

Then she frowned and bit her lip, images from the past few days swirling together.  "At least I think it was eight days ago.  What day is it now?"

"The eighteenth of December, which if my information is correct, makes it a full fortnight since your uncle made the pronouncement."  Adam looked at her closely, his dark eyes unreadable, and in that moment, Lucy would have given anything to know what he was thinking.  "You have been here a good long while, Miss Cavendish."

Lucy cleared her throat, embarrassed now to know that she'd been unconscious for so long.  She had thought she'd been sleeping for a day at the most, not several days as Enwright had implied.  Another woman might assume that a man like Adam St. Vincent had taken liberties with her during that time, but she knew that was not the case.  Even if he were a rake like his brother, which she knew he wasn't, 
she
 wasn't the kind of woman men desired, let alone attempted to seduce.  She was a misfit of the highest order, not the type of woman a man like the Duke of Enwright would wish to bed.

"So it would seem," she finally offered, uncertain of what else she could say, uncertain that he'd believed her story.  "Is there anything else I should be aware of, my lord?"  She desperately wanted to know how soon she'd be turned out, but her head wasn't quite clear enough to form the question, nor was she quite brave enough to ask it.  

If she were younger, perhaps, or even prettier, she might offer to become Adam's mistress, if he didn't already have one, at least for a little while, in exchange for help in securing a position some place far from town.  Rumor had it that he did not currently keep a woman, at least not that anyone of her acquaintance knew of.  However she was none of the things she knew he would desire in a woman.  She was also certain that her attempt would end in failure.  No, better to keep quiet and hope he was kind enough to help her locate a position in a decent home rather than make a proper cake of herself.  Or worse, appear desperate.

The duke cleared his throat, and Lucy thought she saw a flash of anger cross his face, but it was gone before she could be certain.  "For what it is worth, Miss Cavendish, I believe you.  I can also add to your tale, tell you details that I am now certain you were unaware of."  Sitting back in his chair, he looked relaxed, but Lucy could see the undercurrent of unease running through him.

"Such as?" she prompted, wanting to get this unpleasantness out of the way.  The more she knew, the better prepared she would be to face whatever lie ahead.

With a sigh, Enwright ran a hand through his hair, mussing it thoroughly.  "It seems that my brother contracted this marriage in name only, as an attempt to gain your dowry for his own needs.  He planned to take you to Gretna Green so as to make it all nice and legal, not to mention avoid the need for a special license, though I am given to understand that he applied for one.  However, there was never to be an actual consummation of marriage, just the contract to 'purchase' you, if you will, from your uncle."  

Lucy was aware that Enwright was sweating a bit, something she didn't think dukes like him did.  She was so caught up in watching the thin beads of sweat on his forehead that she almost missed what he said next.  "Then, he made a second contract.  That second contract essentially gave him the power, as your husband, to sell you to a house of ill repute in Covent Garden.  Or so I have been told, as I have not yet seen the document for myself."

"A prostitute?" Lucy croaked, horrified now and more than a little terrified.  "You cannot be serious, my lord! I am not...  I have never..."  Unable to finish a sentence, Lucy feared she was on the verge of tears, her tentative control slipping away rapidly.  She knew she was strong, but this pushed the limits of what she could bear.

Clearly seeing her distress, Adam hushed her quickly, covering her hand with his.  The gesture was intimate and made her shiver, though he didn't seem to be all that affected.  "Miss Cavendish," he began and then took her hand fully, shocking her to her core with his casual yet sensual touch.  "Lady Lucy, I swear to you that I had no idea what my brother was up to.  When I learned that he was involved with sordid business, I raced to Fairhaven to intercept him.  There was a mix-up in instructions, however, and you were indeed to have been met at the inn.  Instead the man sent to fetch you ventured to my estate.  It was there that I encountered him, a rather despicable fellow of the lowest order.  This man was to take you to Gretna, where Archibald was waiting and then deliver you back to the house in Covent Garden."

Surprising her again, he moved to sit on the bed beside her, his weight pushing the mattress down and causing her to shift towards him.  While the heat from his body nearly scorched her, again, she didn't think he much noticed her at all.  "My men in town are attempting to deal with both Archibald and Mac, the man involved in the sale, as well as sort out the mess of the contracts."  He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, making her mind blank, and her body go numb.  "Rest assured that I will not allow either of them to hurt you.  You are safe with me, and no harm shall befall you.  I swear."

He swept a hand to indicate the maid still dozing in the chair.  "You have been chaperoned at all times and everything that has been done while you've been ill has been extremely proper."  He neglected to mention the carriage ride that had brought them here, thinking it best she not be made aware of that fact just yet.  Heaven help them both if she ever remembered the way he cradled her in his arms, using the warmth of his body to ease the chill from hers.  "You can be returned to your uncle in good health, as innocent as the day you left him."

Lucy snorted then, unable to help herself, even though it was far from ladylike.  "And that, I am certain, he will be glad of."  She didn't even bother to conceal the derision in her voice.

"So it is as I suspected then," Adam replied softly, his hand still stroking hers, his eyes filling with the kindness she remembered from the ballrooms.  "Your uncle was complicit, at least to some degree, in my brother's mad scheme, even if he wasn't aware of the particulars.  My men tried to ascertain the truth of it, and while we suspected that to be the case, we could not be certain of it.  Your words, however, prove out our theory."

With a sigh, Lucy sat up straighter in bed, accepting Adam's help when she couldn't quite manage on her own.  Hang what was proper.  She had just discovered that she'd almost been sold into prostitution, so she decided she could be forgiven for needing a comforting touch, even if it was from an unmarried man.  "Lord Enwright, my uncle abandoned me at the Stuck Pig, stole my reticule with my meager savings and my few remaining jewels, and left me alone to fend for myself as best I could.  I can assure you that he cares not a whit for my safety, let alone my virtue.  I honestly think he would have been pleased had some evil befallen me at the inn."  She paused and then looked him directly in the eye, something she was certain few women of his acquaintance ever did.  "Do you think that a man who can sell his own niece into sexual service really gives a fig about her welfare?"

"When you put it that way, no."  There was no other answer Adam could give.  She was right.  They were all villains of the highest order, his brother chief among them.  "Very well then.  You shan't be returned to your uncle either.  We shall think on another plan, but that can wait until later."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, some of her old spunk returning, though she still felt extremely weak and tired.  "It can?"  She didn't know what she had expected when she'd awoken in this bed, but the conversation she'd just had with the duke was certainly not anywhere in her wildest imaginings.