Tempted (23 page)

“I
do
trust you.”

“Do you, Alex. Do you really?”

But he couldn’t answer.

“Mary,” he tried again.

“No, Alex. Not one more word. I curse your cousin for bringing us back together again when I steeled my heart against you. Having you here in front of me, wanting to touch you, to love you…and yet knowing that too much lies between us for there ever to be peace is a worse heartache than the one before.”

He took a step toward her. She spun away, retreated near the door, held a hand out. “Do not, Alex.”

And all Alex did was stand there because he knew if he were honest with himself, there was nothing much left to say.

“Goodbye, Alex,” she told him for the second time, and, he feared, the last.

“Where are you going?”

“Your cousin’s a fool if he thinks he can lock
me
in a room.”

He saw her reach up, pull something from her upswept locks—a hairpin—then kneel in front of the door. To his absolute and utter shock, he heard the lock click open.

She stood, straightened her shoulders. “I didn’t spend six years working alongside Marlo the Magician not to pick up a thing or two.” Then she turned toward him, pausing there by the door for a moment, her eyes darting around his face. “Goodbye, my lord.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

She left with Rein a half-hour later.

Not him, though he would have helped her if she’d but asked; he owed her that much, but Rein, a man who would sooner seduce a woman rather than give her aid. Rein who couldn’t be in a woman’s company above five minutes without making some kind of flirtatious remark. Who would not, Alex admitted, help Mary without demanding some kind of payment in return.

Well, she would learn soon enough that he would have been the lesser of two evils.

“Where do I hire a horse?” he asked the innkeeper right after she left.

“At the stable, my lord.”

Stables. Of course. Bloody hell, he wasn’t thinking straight. He turned on his heel, heading toward the Tudor-style barn without a backward glance. It felt as cold as an icebox outside, the air slapping color into his cheeks. Fortunately, the sky was clear, one of those days where the only clouds were thin strips of white, but it didn’t matter for the ground was a sodden mess, Alex accepting the fact that his ride would be a rough one.

“I need a horse,” he told the stableman, and as he said the words, something hit him, something nebulous and half-reasoned out, but there nonetheless.

He’d behaved like a cad.

No, he’d behaved as he ought, he told himself. She’d betrayed him.

And you betrayed
her
when you asked her to become your mistress.

He stood in the freezing cold, waiting, and as he did so he couldn’t help but think that other than omitting certain facts about her life, she had behaved with a great deal of honor and courage, while he…he had behaved exactly as his father by bedding and then discarding her.

“Out o’ the way,” someone yelled.

The words interrupted his musings, Alex jumping out of the way just in time. Something big and black flew by. A horse, he realized, one that spun and snorted and made Alex wonder if perhaps a coach might be a better mode of transportation.

He almost told the groom to bring him another mount, but as he stared at that horse, something that could only be called shame filled him.

He had behaved as his father.

Damnation. He should go after her.

But Alex hadn’t taken into account that hired cattle were ofttimes the worst cattle. The horse he rode was no exception. Any half-fledged hope of catching Rein and Mary was banished within the first half-hour. And though he tried to hire something faster on his way to Exeter, it was not to be.

So it was that he arrived hours after Rein, Alex heading straight to Exeter gaol only to spy—much to his shock— Rein’s carriage parked out front. Alex hurried then, only when he looked between the parted royal blue curtains that covered the dirty glass there was Rein, but no Mary. Alex knew then. He knew that he’d missed her, and the keening disappointment he felt was so great, Alex could only stop and stare at the sleeping Rein. Finally, he dismounted, Rein’s tiger jumping down from the back of the coach to open the door. His cousin’s snore could likely be heard across the Channel.

“Rein,” Alex called.

Rein startled, his snore hitching in his throat and turning into a startled gulp. He blinked a few times, his green eyes coming to focus on Alex. “Coz,” he cried as if delighted to see him, his upper body straightening. “You
did
follow. How delightful. I told Mary you would, but she didn’t believe me.”

“Where is she?”

Rein smiled that sublime smile of his. “Gone. As is Tobias Brown.”

“Bastard.”

“Why are you insulting me?
You
were the one that refused to help her.”

“
She
refused
me.
”

“In more ways than one,” Rein said with a smug smile. Alex nearly turned away in frustration, but he only got halfway before swinging back again. “How long ago did she leave?”

His cousin shrugged. “Minutes, hours, days. I confess myself a bit groggy from sleep.” He faked a yawn, stretched like a lazy cat.

Alex almost jerked Rein out of the carriage and tossed him onto the ground. He would have done so, too, if such an act wouldn’t reduce him to his cousin’s level. Very well, he’d just have to ride after her again.

“Where are you going?” Rein asked as he led his horse away.

Alex didn’t respond.

“If you’re going after her, I’m afraid I must insist that you don’t.”

Whipping around to face his cousin, Alex snapped, “And I’m afraid you have no control over my actions.”

“No, but I can tell you that Mary doesn’t want to see you again.”

Odd how the words took Alex by surprise. He’d known she was angry with him, certainly, but to never want to see him again?

Rein’s expression took on a seriousness Alex had only ever seen once before. “She did, indeed, fall in love with you, Alex. She told me so herself, but I suspect she told you, too. But that is not why she doesn’t want to see you again. Indeed, I find myself thinking she is truly the most noble creature I’ve ever met.”

“What did she say?”

And then his cousin’s eyes took on a sadness, indeed, a sympathy Alex would never have expected. “She told me she doesn’t want you to come after her. That she is furious with you, which, if you knew anything at all about women would scare you half to death. She also mentioned that even if she could forgive you, and she is certain she cannot, that you would likely keep her behind closed doors just to avoid the shame such a union would cause you.”

“She said that I would be ashamed of her?”

“She did.”

Alex simply stared at his cousin as he replayed the words. “Wherever did she get such an idea?”

“From you, of course. Oh, I’m certain you did not say so directly, but you are such a confounded prig, Alex, what else is she supposed to think? However, as odd as it may seem, I will have to side with you. I may be a rake. I may be a scoundrel, but even I would be hard pressed to tell you that all will be well. As you know, such alliances are frowned on by society.”

“Alliance? What alliance? You make it sound as if I shall wed her.”

“Will you not, Alex? Isn’t that exactly what you want to do?” Rein asked, his voice low.

Marriage. He couldn’t marry her. Ridiculous. Farfetched.

Tempting.

“I find myself almost feeling sorry for you, Alex, for I realize quite suddenly that you’re not such a prig after all. Beneath that stuffy exterior lies a man of great conscience. I admire that about you, almost wish I had the same type of heart.” He smiled. “Almost.”

He loved her. Good lord, somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with her.

“Give her up, Alex. Do as she asks, if not for your sake than for her own. Only think what the
ton
will do to her. She will not bear it well.”

“She would bear it like a queen,” Alex said, and he knew he was right. “She would tell them all to go to the devil and she would mean every word.”

“Alex, she does not want to see you again. Accept that fact and go on with your life. Forget about Mary.”

And for the first time in a long, long while, Alex felt tears in his eyes. “I don’t think I can.”

“You love her that much?”

And there was no sense in denying it anymore. “I do, Rein. She is the most amazing female. All her life she’s had to deal with one setback after another, and yet she has persevered. Triumphed even. How can I possibly turn my back on a woman who deserves a happily ever after? How?”

Rein held his gaze, neither of them blinking. And then his cousin slowly lowered his lids, slowly shook his head as he said, “You know, I was truly hoping you’d say that.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Mary told herself that she’d made the right decision. And though on some level she believed she had indeed done the right thing, it made it no easier to bear. She told herself she should be proud of herself. A union with Alex would have only ended up in heartache and pain. If he didn’t want to admit that, she could. And had.

And so she traveled by post chaise, the rickety and crowded coach a far cry from the ones their lordships owned. And as she did she tried to buoy her spirits by recounting how much coin the earl had given her. Quite a bit of it, actually. And though Mary had been tempted to throw it back in his face, she was not that proud. Silly for falling in love with a marquis, yes, but not proud.

Only the one task remained, that of fetching Abu. And though she dreaded going back to Wainridge, she couldn’t leave her one friend in the world behind.

Hours later her heart beat hard against the wall of her chest as the ducal estate approached. It looked a grand sight different what with the fields and the lake and such awash in pristine sunlight. The water became a looking glass for the cerulean sky above, the swans floated across the surface with elegantly arched necks and V-shaped wakes. What had looked gray and dull in rain now glowed gold and bright: the large granite blocks that made up the walls, the windows, even the wood frames that held that glass. And to all of it she must say goodbye.

“I’ve come to collect my things,” she said to the gray-haired housekeeper. “Specifically my monkey.”

Mary had expected the woman to treat her with the same cold disdain as she had upon their first meeting. Instead she said almost cordially, “Is that little imp yours then?” her stern face looking almost pretty. “Lord above, we wondered where he’d come from.” And then she stepped aside. “Gabby is playing with him in her room.”

Mary’s legs felt like blocks of stone all of a sudden. “Has she befriended him then?”

“She has.”

“Ballocks.”

“Indeed,” she said, though Mary had expected a look of censure, she was surprised to see, instead, a look of compassion. “Leaving then, are you?”

“I am.”

“I see.”

And Mary had a feeling she did, all too clearly.

She found Gabby exactly where the housekeeper had claimed she’d be, Mary’s knocking on the door answered by a sweet-sounding voice that completely belied the contrary nature of the child within.

She pushed on the door, Gabby sitting at a table with a doll and a miniature, blue-floral tea set laid out for two. “You,” she pronounced in a long, drawn out way that made it clear she didn’t mean the word as a greeting. “I was hoping the kidnappers might keep
you.
”

Ach, but she made it difficult to love her, she truly did. It fair boggled Mary’s mind that a child could look so adorable in her gray and white play frock and her tumbled locks gathered at the top of her head and tied with a big blue ribbon, and yet speak with a forked tongue. Boggled the mind.

And then Mary’s heart lifted as a familiar, joyful screech filled the air. She spun toward the giant bed that Gabby must surely get lost in. Abu’s pink face contorted into a smile as he galloped toward her on two feet and two hands.

“Henry,” Gabby cried at the same time Mary said, “Abu, you little wretch. Did you miss me?”

And lord help her as the monkey leapt into her arms, Mary almost broke down. As it was, it took a monumental effort to dam the moisture that gathered in the corners of her eyes. The monkey clicked and chatted, Mary inhaling his unique monkey scent, her throat tightening until it was all she could do to breathe.

“He’s yours,” she heard Gabby say in an accusatory voice.

Mary had to clench tight for a few moments while she gained control, had to swallow past the catches in her breath brought on by the lump of emotions lodged in her throat. Had to steel herself before she lifted her face and said, “Aye.”

“You can’t have him back.”

And at that moment Mary came close to crying again, for the look on the child’s face, the arrogance and disdain brought to mind Alex.

“I’m sorry, whelp. I really am.”

“You can’t have him,” she said again, the little girl slowly standing.

And what made it all the more worse for Mary was that she knew how the child felt, for even though Gabby hadn’t had Abu for the years that Mary had had Admiral, in a child’s mind days were nearly as long as weeks. “Gabby, please, don’t make this more difficult—” “Where’s my father?”

“Not here.”

She saw another kind of disappointment enter the girl’s eyes, and Mary swore in that moment that if Alex didn’t start spending more time with the child, she would hunt him down and kill him. Well, at least maim him.

“He’s coming soon,” she reassured. “I left ahead of him.”

“Well, when he arrives I shall have
him
tell you to give Henry over.”

“I’m afraid he won’t.”

“Yes, he will.”

Ach, moppet, if only you knew how much I sympathize. If only you knew.

Mary moved, Abu shifting to her shoulder in that familiar way of his. She didn’t stop until she stood before the girl, kneeling down to be at eye level. She wanted to touch the girl’s hand, but knew Gabby wouldn’t allow it. Instead she contented herself with staring into familiar blue eyes. Alex’s eyes. The pang of her loss washed over her anew.

“Gabby, I know you don’t like me. Lord knows, I’ve no real reason to like you, but you might be surprised to learn that I do. I really do.”

That seemed to freeze the little girl, her gaze going into an unblinking stare.

“My father didn’t want to be near me, either,” Mary admitted.

She knew Gabby tried not to show a reaction, but she couldn’t stop the tell-tale widening of her eyes.

“Aye, I know that’s what you think your father does. Stays away because he doesn’t want to be near you. I felt the same thing myself when I was younger, but I can tell you that in your father’s case it isn’t true. To him duty is everything. His position with the Crown is of utmost importance. If anything ever caused him to lose that respect—”

Like her.

It would destroy him.

She couldn’t go on for a moment, Mary having to almost pant to contain her tears. “So,” she finally continued, “if he leaves you alone it’s not because he doesn’t like you or love you or want to be with you. It’s because he feels duty bound to do so. He loves you, Gabby. Very much. I know this because all he could think about when we were in danger was returning to you. He loves you, whelp, as much as Abu loves me.”

The little girl blinked. But not by word or deed did Mary know if she understood, or even cared to understand.

“Abu is like
my
child. I love him very much, and that sort of bond never goes away. Not for your father and certainly not for Abu and me.”

And something about those words gave Mary pause for a moment.

“His name is Abu?”

“Yes. After the monkey in Arabian Nights.”

Gabby rolled her eyes. “It’s a silly name.”

“Do you think so? I’ve always liked it.”

“It’s silly.”

“Well, it was the name he had when he was given to me, half starved and afraid of his own shadow, which is not good when one lives with a circus.”

“You lived with a circus?” Finally there was a glimmer of interest in Gabby’s eyes.

“Aye,” Mary said hoarsely. “And I’m returning to it today.”

“You’re leaving?” And bless her heart, the child looked momentarily overjoyed.

“I am. But your father knows where to find me should you wish to visit us.”

“It’s Abu who I’d want to see.”

“Of course.”

And though Mary expected more protests, Gabby surprised her by sticking her chin up and clenching her hands at her sides. “You will take good care of him.”

It was an order. So like her father she was. Mary almost smiled. “I will.”

And the sight of the little girl’s sudden tears made Mary’s heart break in two.

“Goodbye…Abu,” she said softly.

The monkey chattered at the child excitedly, turning to face the girl.

“Goodbye, Gabby,” Mary said.

She expected the child to ignore her, but she surprised her again by nodding. It was only a nod, but it was progress.

Ach, Mary, as if you need to be worryin’ about that now.
Lips pressed together to stop their trembling, Mary turned, slowly leaving the room. Only when the door closed did Mary hear a sound. It was muffled, but unmistakable.

In-drawn breaths, big ones. The child cried, though she tried to contain her tears.

And lord help her, Mary cried, too.

Oddly enough, however, it was Gabby’s courage in letting Abu go that gave Mary strength in the coming days. Yet though she steeled herself against the pain, she couldn’t stop the thoughts. Each day she found herself remembering things, silly things, like the way his feet had felt against her legs when they’d lain in bed together. The way he had of looking at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d said what she’d said. The way he’d tried so hard to control his anger at that magistrate.

The memories drove her mad.

She threw herself into her work, taking risks that even her fellow performers winced at. The crowds loved it, and Mary was unable to stop herself from searching the audience each and every day for the one face she both wanted and didn’t want to see.

He never came.

That was the worst of it, for each time her performance was over, her eyes grew hot from the tears that came to her eyes. Ach, she knew she were a daft-witted fool for crying over the cull, but words were like those candy drops they sold at the show, filling only for a time.

But Mary Callahan hadn’t survived ten years in London without having a fall or two. And though it was near impossible to do, Mary did what she always did; she focused on her riding, something that was easy to do, for every hostess in London seemed to be holding a party in honor of Princess Charlotte’s wedding to Prince Leopold. Their troupe had been asked to play numerous private parties, and Mary welcomed the extra blunt for she’d become more determined than ever to buy her own string of horses and set out on her own. And though she told herself that performing in front of a bunch of bleedin’ nabobs was the last thing she wanted to do, Mary refused to let her affair with Alex ruin her life.

So why, then, did her heart leap when she was told she had someone waiting for her after one of her performances? Why did she feel like running toward the small tent set up for performers to change in? Why did her hands shake when she pulled aside the curtain, her breath held as a man turned toward her.

“Father?”

And, indeed, Tobias Brown stood in the corner of the tent, looking frail and…old, far older than he actually was. The sun and the sea had chiseled away at his skin until all that remained were lines and wrinkles. He seemed shorter than she remembered, too, the hulking shoulders she used to marvel at when he was younger now nothing more than protruding bone.

“Aye, it’s me,” he said, shifting from one foot to another as he eyed her in that odd way of his—as if he couldn’t believe he’d sired her. And perhaps he couldn’t.

“I see life’s treating you well.”

She huffed. “As if you care what my life is like.”

He actually looked a bit chagrined at that.

“Come here to ask me another favor, have you? I should have thought you’d learned your lesson by now.”

“Ach, Mary lass, no need to get hostility-like. It’s me what should be mad at you after what you done.”

“What I done? You’re lucky I didn’t let you rot in that gaol.”

“Nothing wrong with being in college.”

“They might have hung you for what you did to Alex.” “Alex is it now?”

“Get out,” she said.
And quickly
, she silently added, because she didn’t think she could stomach the sight of yet another man who’d betrayed her for much longer.

“No.”

“Leave, father. I’ve nothing more to say to you.” “Not until I speak my piece.”

“Then speak it already.”

He frowned, looking uncomfortable. “Truth be told, I didn’t want to come here, but John Lasker made me come. Said I owed it to you.”

“Owed me what?”

And suddenly he looked about as comfortable as a man trying to balance atop a floating barrel.

“This isn’t easy.”

Mary waited, crossing her arms for good measure. “Mary,” he said at last. “Your mother didn’t completely abandon ye. She sent letters, a slew of them, ones asking how ye were and if ye wanted to meet her.”

Mary felt her mouth drop open.

“ ’Tis true.”

She had survived nasty tumbles off horses, had conquered London despite her sex and her age, barely found the strength to get up every morning after the pain of losing Alex. This made her feel pain again, only for an altogether different reason.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you for years, except I didn’t know how to do it. And then later, when you ran away, I told myself you didn’t deserve to know. I was so bent up with me anger I didn’t see straight. And then you betrayed me. Truth be told, you’re the last person I expected to bribe me out of college. But you did. John says that’s proof that you care.”