Surrender (12 page)

garden wall. The sweet, spicy scent of her

still lingered in his head, mingling with the

fragrance of the rich port.

His eyes fell on the portrait that hung

over the mantel. Slowly Lucas made his

way across the faded carpet to stand in

front of the unsmiling face of his uncle.

Maitland Colebrook, the previous Earl

of stone vale, had not had much to smile

about in his last years. Plagued by ill health

and depressed spirits, he suffered from an

abiding resentment against everything and

everyone. Maitland's unpredictable temper

had often flared into uncontrolled violence,

a violence that was frequently loosed

on whoever happened to be in the

vicinity, leaving stone vale always wanting

of servants.

In his younger days Maitland Colebrook

had been given to debauchery, drink, and

gaming on a wild scale. He had disappeared

from Society after going through the bulk of

his inheritance, an inheritance which had

already been thinned out by his father.

He had become an eccentric recluse,

cutting off all communication not only

with his London acquaintances, but with

his relatives. He had retired to the country

to drain what little was left from his

estates. He had never married, and when

the end had come several months ago,

he had grudgingly summoned his heir, a

nephew he barely knew.

Lucas remembered the interview well.

The gloomy master bedroom with its

decaying draperies and shabby furnishings

looked pleasant compared to Maitland

Colebrook, who, withered and pasty-faced

was propped up in the ancient oak bed, a

bottle of port and a bottle of laudanum at

his side.

 
It's all yours, nephew, every last cursed

inch of stone vale. If you have any sense,

you'll walk away and let it rot into the

ground. No good has ever come of these

lands," he wheezed, wrapping his bony

fingers around a dingy blanket and glaring

coldly at Lucas.

 
Probably because no one in recent

history has bothered to put any time

and money into them," Lucas had pointed

out bitterly. Any fool could see that stone vale

had potential. The land was good; it could

be made productive again.

Money was the key to reviving stone vale;

money and a lord who cared about his

people and estates.

 
No point pouring money into stone vale.

Place is cursed, I tell you. Ask anyone

around here. Been that way for generations.

Bad soil, lazy farmers, undependable water

supply. Not a damn thing that's worth

saving. Should have sold the whole bloody

place. Don't know why I didn't," the old

man continued, his voice dry and raspy.

At that point the dying earl had leaned

over to yank open a drawer in the night

table. His shaking fingers had fumbled

around inside for a moment, then closed

over an object he could retrieve by the

touch. Then he had hurled the thing at

Lucas, who had automatically reached out

to catch it.

When he opened his fingers, Lucas

found himself staring down at a circular

amber pendant dangling from a thin chain.

There were two figures carved on the

pendant rendered in such a finely crafted

manner that they appeared to be two

miniature humans frozen for all time in the

translucent yellow-gold stone. The images

were clearly of a knight and his lady.

 
What is this, sir?" Lucas demanded, his

fingers again closing tightly around the

pendant.

 
Damned if I know. A gift from my

father just before he died. Claimed he'd

found it in the old maze in the center

of the south garden. Local folks think it

represents the legend."

Lucas studied the stone." What legend?"

Maitland turned purple with sudden

fury." The legend that makes this godfor

saken estate so useless, the one responsible

for ruining my life, for denying me a son of

my own. The legend of the Amber Knight

and his lady."

 
What is the truth behind the legend?"

 
Go ask one of the old witches in the

village if you want to know the tale.

I've got better things to do than tell you

stories."

And with that, Maitland had lapsed

into a fit of coughing. Lucas had quickly

poured a glass of port and offered it to the

pale, thin lips. His uncle had taken a long

swallow and quietened.

 
It's no good, you know," Maitland

Colebrook continued." None of it. Never

was; never will be. Bad luck, the whole

wretched place. Take my advice and let

it go, boy. Don't try to save it."

Lucas looked down at the amber

pendant, possessiveness and sudden resolve

flaring in him." Do you know, Uncle, I

believe I will ignore your advice. I am

going to save stone vale."

Maitland Colebrook looked up at him

with bloodshot, weary eyes." And just

where do you think you'll get the blunt?

I've heard you've some skill at the gaming

tables, but you cannot win enough to

supply yourself with the sort of steady

income you would need to save this estate.

I know. I tried that in my younger days."

 
Then I'll have to find another way to

get the money, won't I?"

 
Only other way is to snare yourself an

heiress, and that's easier said than done.

No decent woman of the ton who has

money of her own will look twice at a

penniless earl. Her family will be able to

do better by her than you."

Lucas met his uncle's glare." Perhaps I

should look a little lower than the ton."

 
You'd be wasting your time. Hell, I

know the talk in the clubs. There's always

a lot of speculation about offering one's

title in exchange for some merchant's

daughter who comes equipped with an

inheritance. But fact is, it don't work that

way very often. Money marries money and

that's as true among the Cits as it is in

the ton."

His uncle's words rang again in Lucas's

head tonight as he stood gazing up at the

dour portrait of Maitland Colebrook. He

smiled grimly and raised his glass in a

small toast.

 
You were wrong, Uncle. I've found

my heiress and I've set my snares well

tonight. She's going to lead me a damned

merry dance but in the end she will be

mine."

And that end could not come fast

enough to suit him, Lucas decided as he

tossed down the rest of his port. He wanted

Victoria's fortune, but he had learned

tonight that he also wanted Victoria.

Lucas set down his glass, aware of

the amber pendant warm against his

chest. He had worn it around his neck,

concealed under his clothing, since the

night Maitland Colebrook had tossed it

at him.

As
  
Lucas
  
stood
  
alone
  
in
  
the
  
library

contemplating his future it occurred to

him that the rich, tawny glow of the

amber was an exact match for the color

of Victoria's eyes.

Lucas walked up the steps of Lady

Nettleship's town house with a sense

of keen anticipation mixed with icy

determination. He was in a mood not

unlike the one that came over him

when he sat down to a gaming table.

Everything in him was focused now on

winning, and Lucas knew he was very

good at winning.

He had learned long ago that for a

man who must live by his wits, there

was no substitute for careful planning and

strategy. He knew the value of a cool head

and the ability to push aside all emotion

in the midst of battle or a card game.

Cold-blooded logic was the key to survival

and Lucas knew it.

He was well aware that the reason he

was able to survive and even flourish at

the tables of the clubs and gaming hells of

London was simply that he never allowed

his emotions to interfere with his play.

Unlike the wildly impulsive young bucks,

the flamboyant, drunken lords, or the

foolish dandies who loved to throw their

money away in melodramatic style, Lucas

never allowed himself to act out of either

exuberance, false pride, or desperation.

When one's luck was running poorly,

one simply quit the table and waited for

another time and place. Lucas had always

found another time and place.

But as successful as he was at the gaming

tables, his uncle had been right; there was

little chance of winning enough blunt to

save stone vale. Lucas knew he could waste

a lifetime attempting to accomplish that

feat. The lands and people of stone vale

could not wait that long.

It did not, however, take a lifetime's

winnings to keep up appearances here

in London. If a man was very clever

and watched his expenditures, he could

survive from one night's winnings until

the next. Polite Society might speculate

upon, but it never openly inquired into,

a man's financial situation as long as he

had the appearance of wealth. Having the

title and access to Jessica Atherton's social

connections also helped.

Lucas glanced over his shoulder at the

expensive black curricle and the beautifully

matched grays he had driven here this

morning. His tiger was at the horses'

heads, calming the high-spirited creatures

and preparing to walk them until the

master had finished his morning call.

The entire rig had cost far more than

Lucas had wanted to spend, but he had

reluctantly laid out the necessary just as

he had done at his tailor's. When a man

went hunting for an heiress, he had to

camouflage himself well; especially when

said heiress was given to hiring Bow Street

runners.

Lady Nettleship's front door opened just

as Lucas was mentally running through the

day's strategy one last time. Lucas handed