Rapturous Rakes Bundle (30 page)

no attempt to touch her. He was making it very diffi-

cult to resist him. He had made no excuses; made no

attempt to deny that he had hurt her very badly. Si-

lence fell and lingered. Lucas put one hand over her

clenched ones.

‘I would never injure you again, Rebecca. I swear

it. I want you to marry me. I want it very much.’

Rebecca shivered. He was watching her intently and

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she was almost unbearably aware of his touch on her

hand. His softly spoken words were so persuasive.

‘I cannot.’ The words were wrenched from her.

‘You are still angry with me,’ Lucas said, watching

her. ‘I understand that. What happened between

us—’

Rebecca made a sharp movement. ‘I cannot blame

you for that. I asked you to stay. It was my choice.’

Lucas ran one finger in a silken caress along the

line of her jaw and tilted her chin to look down into

her eyes. His own were smiling. ‘I admire your can-

dour, Rebecca, but I cannot let you take that respon-

sibility. I could have refused. Knowing what I did, I

should have refused.’ His hand lingered against her

cheek. ‘But I wanted you too. I needed you...’

Admire.
Need.
Want...

Rebecca closed her eyes for a second. She had

asked Lucas to stay with her that night because she

had been seeking escape, but she had chosen him be-

cause she already loved him. Yet he had never pre-

tended that love was what he was offering her. She

met his dark, hungry gaze.

‘I love you,’ she said with deliberation. ‘That is why

I cannot marry you. Because I have made enough mis-

takes and I cannot accept second best.’

She saw the stupefaction in his eyes as he took her

words in and for a few endless, fragile seconds she

waited, knowing that she was hoping for the words

she wanted to hear. They did not come. Lucas got to

his feet and took several steps away from her.

‘It is not second best.’ His voice was rough. ‘I
need

you, Rebecca.’

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Mistress

Rebecca shook her head. The disappointment and

despair threatened to swamp her. She got to her feet

and made blindly for the door. ‘No, Lucas...’

He was there in two strides, easily blocking her

way. ‘Do not fight me, Rebecca. You want me as

much as I want you.’

It was true, but Rebecca’s mind stubbornly told her

that it was not enough. ‘You mistake,’ she said. ‘I

want none of this.’

Lucas’s face was white with strain. ‘Let us see, shall

we?’

He kissed her with hunger, need, and a blistering

passion that shook her to her soul. She did not know

if she was strong enough to withstand this onslaught.

‘How much more proof do you need?’ he demanded

when he released her.

‘It proves nothing!’ Rebecca said. For a long mo-

ment she stared into his eyes. And then she wrenched

herself out of his arms and ran away.

Chapter
Ten

Lucas stayed quite still for several minutes after the

slam of the door had died away. He felt tense and

heated and strangely disoriented.

‘I
want
none
of
this,’
Rebecca had said and, although he had proved otherwise in a physical sense,

she had still remained obstinately aloof from him. It

was as though there was a part of her that he could

not reach, a part that stubbornly refused to accept what

was between them no matter how he tried to convince

her.

Lucas thrust one hand through his hair in a gesture

of extreme frustration. He wanted to reach that corner

of Rebecca’s mind that she withheld from him. He

wanted all of her. She was meant to be his. They both

knew it. He loved her...

He stopped dead. It was not a conclusion that he

had reached logically, by rational thought. It had burst

into his head with the sudden explosion of a shower

of fireworks and yet he knew without a doubt that it

was true. He loved Rebecca Raleigh. He had done so

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The
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Mistress

for a long time. He had been monstrously slow to rec-

ognise his own feelings. He was a fool.

There was a knock at the door and Justin stuck his

head around. ‘Tom Bradshaw is here, Lucas. Do you

wish to join us in the study?’

For a moment Lucas could not even remember who

Bradshaw was, let alone why he was there. Then he

recollected that they had asked the man to look into

Rebecca’s antecedents and in particular to investigate

the motto he had seen on the engraved glasses. At the

time he had felt uncomfortable at this latest, small be-

trayal. Now he felt it was even more distasteful. He

did not want to know. And yet he had to know. He

had to know everything. He followed Justin slowly out

of the drawing room.

‘Well, Bradshaw?’ Justin said expectantly, when

they were settled in the study. ‘Do you have infor-

mation for us?’

‘Yes, your Grace,’ Bradshaw said. He ran a hand

over his hair, looking slightly nervous. ‘I apologise for

the delay. It took me longer than I had expected to

find the information you required.’

‘Cut the courtesies, Bradshaw,’ Lucas said. His

nerves were strung as tight as a bow. ‘What is your

news?’

Bradshaw looked at him and Lucas felt a lurch of

fear as he saw the expression in the man’s eyes. Justin

was silent.

‘My lord—’

‘Spit it out.’

‘Yes, sir.’ Bradshaw cleared his throat. ‘The motto,

my lord—’

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229

‘Celer
et
Audax?’

‘Yes, my lord. Swift and bold. It is the family motto

of the Pearce family. The current head of the family

is a Sir Gideon Pearce, a country gentleman whose

seat is at Bowness in Westmorland.’

Justin looked as blank as Lucas felt. ‘Never heard

of him.’

‘No, your Grace.’ Bradshaw shuffled his feet.

‘There is no real reason why you should. Sir Gideon

lives quietly and, as far as I am aware, there is nothing

notable about him at all.’

‘And Miss Raleigh is related to this paragon?’ Lu-

cas questioned.

‘Distantly, my lord. Very distantly.’ Bradshaw took

a deep breath. ‘Bear with me, gentlemen. The Pearces

are an old gentry family. During the English Civil War

they were split, like many at the time. The father and

elder son were for Parliament, but the younger son,

Richard Pearce, fought for the King. He went into ex-

ile with Charles II after Worcester.’

Bradshaw ran a hand over his hair. ‘He met and

married a French Huguenot girl whilst he was in exile

and changed his name to hers as a sign that he repu-

diated his father’s allegiance and all it stood for. He

wrote to his father that the only thing that he was

keeping was the family motto because he was the only

one who deserved it. His father disinherited him as a

result.’

‘A man after my own heart,’ Lucas said, with a grin.

‘Indeed, my lord,’ Bradshaw said. His face was still

strained. ‘Richard Pearce did not return to England

after the restoration of King Charles II. Instead he and

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The
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Mistress

his wife went to America and became very wealthy

and prominent in New York society.’ Bradshaw con-

sulted his notes. ‘The family supported the British dur-

ing the Revolutionary Wars, lost all their money and

were obliged to flee the country as a result, returning

to England nearly thirty years ago. Miss Raleigh’s fa-

ther, James, became a soldier. For a few years his fam-

ily lived at Poyntz Manor in Somerset.’

‘Miss Raleigh told me this. She said that her father

was killed in India.’ Despite the fact that Bradshaw’s

tale bore out Rebecca’s meagre information about her

childhood, Lucas still felt uneasy. There was some-

thing that Bradshaw had not yet told them, something

bad. He could feel its approach with an inevitability

that chilled him.

‘He was indeed, my lord. His son Daniel, then four-

teen, joined the Navy and his daughter went to London

to live with a distant cousin of her mother’s.’

‘George Provost,’ Lucas said thoughtfully.

‘That is so. Glass engraving,’ Bradshaw added, ‘was

one of the professions of Miss Raleigh’s Huguenot

ancestors.’

‘It all seems perfectly straightforward and blame-

less,’ Justin said, his eyes narrowed shrewdly, ‘so what

is it that you have not told us, Bradshaw?’

Bradshaw took a deep breath. ‘When Richard

Pearce changed the family name in 1652 it was not to

Raleigh, your Grace. That is a much more recent fic-

tion. Since the seventeenth century that family name

has been De Lancey. Miss Rebecca Raleigh was born

Miss Rebecca De Lancey. Her brother is Daniel De

Lancey, smuggler, pirate and suspected French spy.’

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231

There was a silence in the Duke of Kestrel’s study.

‘Good God,’ Lucas said softly. He was remember-

ing all the little details that came together to create the

damning whole: the way that Rebecca had told him

the truth of her childhood whilst leaving out the most

important aspect—her name and identity. He thought

of all the images of the sea that lived in her engravings

and decorated her studio, he remembered her panic

when he had found the note and the money from her

brother, and the way she had pretended to know noth-

ing of Daniel De Lancey’s ship or current where-

abouts. He let his breath go in a long sigh. He was

not sure if he was angry or disappointed or merely

disillusioned, but he knew now that Rebecca had never

completely trusted him and that his hopes that matters

might change between them were based on sand.

‘What is Daniel De Lancey’s history?’ Justin asked

quietly.

‘He left the Navy at the age of nineteen, your Grace,

and for a while there was no word of him,’ Bradshaw

said quietly. ‘He first came to the government’s notice

as a privateer some five years ago when he captured

a French ship off Calais. These days he sails the east

coast between Kent and Suffolk. There have been

countless attempts to catch him. All have failed. It is

rumoured he deals in smuggled goods and piracy, and

also that he is a French spy.’

‘Is there any foundation to that rumour?’ Lucas

questioned sharply. He could not help himself. ‘Given

his family’s previous loyalties to the Crown, it seems

unlikely.’

Bradshaw shrugged. Lucas could tell that he thought

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Mistress

he was clutching at straws. A privateer sold himself

and his services indiscriminate of loyalty.

‘With De Lancey there is never anything firmer than

rumour, my lord,’ he said. ‘There is also a tale that he

passes information to the Admiralty when it suits his

purposes and for that reason they have not tried too

hard to catch him of late.’

‘That, at least, may be corroborated,’ Justin said,

reaching for pen and ink. ‘I shall send to the Admiralty

immediately.’

Lucas rubbed his eyes. The facts were stacking up

in his mind like dominoes, one leading inexorably to

the next. ‘This fits rather too well to be coincidence,

does it not?’ he said bitterly. ‘We have French spies

smuggling information abroad. We have a privateer

lying off the coast, we have a glass engraver who has

provided the cipher and...’ he sighed ‘...now I have

brought Daniel De Lancey’s sister to Suffolk!’

Justin raised his brows. ‘I do not believe you should

jump to any conclusions, Luc—’ he started, but Lucas

cut him off.

‘It is not a question of jumping,’ he said bitterly,

‘more a matter of stumbling blindly over the truth.

Miss De Lancey has played me royally for a fool. She

and I will have settlement over this. Now.’

He ignored Justin’s measured suggestion that he

should wait a little as though he had not heard it, and

took the stairs to Rebecca’s room two at a time. He