The Bellerose Bargain (25 page)

There is always war. Or shipping. Or politics. There is always delay; something that would allow Lord Seavers to postpone dealing with his personal problems. Many things can wait; but she could not wait any longer.

"And what did you say, madam?"

"I told him I was certain you were unaware. I asked his advice and he seems, for the moment, completely unconcerned. But, Geoffrey, he made advances. He thinks I am lonely."

"It is not your loneliness that attracts him," Geoffrey said, his voice grating out the words as his eyes roved over her partially exposed bosom.

"The plague in the city is worse. There is talk that the gates will be closed and no one will be allowed to leave."

"It is only talk," he said heatedly.

"I am ready to leave," she said resolutely. "I have stayed here long enough."

"I cannot leave," he said between clenched teeth.

"You need not," she said simply. "But I must leave the city before plague strikes me down. There is too much danger here. And I prefer to be as far as possible from Lord Perry."

"I perceive he is no threat; he has no proof of what he prattles about."

"His word is more dangerous than you know. He has Charlotte Bellamy in his custody and he knows who I am."

"How is it I am never told—"

She shrugged. "There is no reason anyone would believe Perry over you," she started. "But I will not play these games any longer, my lord. Culver Perry knows who I am because he is the courtier who seduced me and robbed me of my virtue over a year ago."

Geoffrey’s eyes opened wide, shock etched into his features. He stared at her in wonder. He could not respond.

"I see no immediate danger, but I think it most unwise to court trouble. It is time that I leave London, and the plague is good reason to leave. Then there are choices…"

"Choices?" he questioned.

"It would not be unusual to begin your merchanting trade in another port, with this one still seeing much of you, and your king continuing to profit from your trade. Your family can reside elsewhere."

"What do you babble about, wench?" he snarled.

"Speak for me now, Geoffrey, or give me up. I can’t go on with this game any longer."

The shouting outside the coach gnawed at him that the battle with the Dutch would not wait for him. Within their private cubicle he was learning that a man he hated more than the devil himself had come before him with the woman he loved. And their life together, the interwoven mass of lies and confusion, he must speak for now.

"Perry," he growled. "I would have preferred you had slept with the king."

"What matter the name, Geoffrey. What he had he took. You have had more of me than any other. Do you cherish it? Will you claim me as your wife?"

He was speechless and his brow began to sweat.

"Geoffrey," she breathed. "Do not hate me for that, I pray. Your own sister loved him."

"Be glad he used you and left you. Had he been tied, he may have killed you to free himself."

Alicia looked away from his face, for the pain etched there caused her blood to run cold. "It is that possibility," she said quietly, speaking of Andrea’s untimely death, "that holds Lord Perry at bay. It is clear that Andrea had her fatal fall from a horse at the very moment Lord Perry was seeking a way to wed the Bellamy inheritance." She looked back at him. "He cannot speak as long as I play the part of Charlotte. His plan is thwarted by the foul implications of his game. There is no doubt, Geoffrey," she said, touching his hand and looking earnestly into his eyes. "There is no doubt: he killed Andrea."

"And Charlotte Bellamy? If he has her, what can he do with her now?"

Alicia shrugged. "I pity the girl, but she forfeited her father’s money and land for a chance with Lord Perry. She may in time betray him and confess who she is, but, poor thing, I doubt she would be believed."

Geoffrey looked at her, anger burning brightly in his eyes. He did not know if he loved or hated her; it wounded his pride to have shared her with Culver Perry. And to have had his hide saved by her finesse as an actress, appearing devoted and loyal. She was right. No lesser woman would be believed now. He was indebted to her, and not the other way around. She made the entire play work for him. But the pressure of loving her was killing him, for she was desired by many and he had not yet found the way to secure their future together. His words were angry when he found them. "I have you to thank for that, madam. You are very skilled at illusions."

She sat back slightly, hurt in her eyes. "At least there is no danger to you."

"No danger but that I am to be bound to thieves and liars all my life and caught tightly in their bonds. A fancy party, this: you, Perry..."

"I am not a thief and I lie at your command!"

"And very expertly."

"Will you leave London with me? Will you leave this place and make a place for your family?" she insisted.

"This is my home! This is where I will make my fortune!"

"And so you are determined? This play will end and so will we?"

"I see no alternative to that," he said, looking away from her. He did not want to be caught in this tight enclosure with her, and now, while his pride bled and jealousy threatened to erupt into rage, he did not want to face her, speak to her, or make any plans with her.

"No matter what you say, Geoffrey, I know that you have loved me. Will you throw that away now?"

"I did not know who I loved!"

"You loved Alicia," she whispered in taut aggravation.

"Whose Alicia?" he asked savagely. "Culver Perry’s or mine?"

Alicia straightened herself and looked at him through cool blue-gray eyes; eyes he recognized, but glistening with a new, firmer determination. He held silent as he faced a woman completely controlled and determined.

"Until someone speaks the binding words of love and devotion, Lord Seavers, I belong to no man. While I serve you with my acting and my lies, I am used by you as I was used by Lord Perry." She looked at him closely. "And when I gave you my love and you gave me yours, there was no bargain nor bond. Will there be now?"

The shouting on the wharf grew louder and the sound of running feet confused the already jumbled emotions Geoffrey struggled to untangle in his mind. Her distant eyes and her heaving breasts excited and terrified him.

"I will not be cornered. I will not be pressed. I have a war to attend."

"Speak your mind, if you know it."

He grabbed her by her arms, and his flashing green eyes glittered into hers. "Cease your demands! I will settle this score with you when I am ready. Now my country goes to war."

"There will always be war," she said gently. "What of our war?"

"I am not a child to be scolded and pressed. I will deal with you later."

He made a move to leave the coach, but she stopped him with her soft voice. "I will not stay here."

He jumped down and turned abruptly. "Go where you will," he said with a dismissing wave of his hand. "You have the time to worry with plagues and assignations and bonds of love; I do not! Those problems will have to come another time!"

And the door of the coach slammed in her face. She pulled back the curtain and watched him stomp away from her, his strides long and angry, his hand flying this way and that as he barked orders at people he passed. While he had dallied in the coach, the loading had been nearly completed, and a page held his surcoat for him to pull on.

A tear glistened on Alicia’s cheek as she watched him, his face red with anger and his mouth moving rapidly with shouting she could not hear. "Be safe, my lord," she sighed to the faraway, agitated figure of her love.

A trunk lay open at the foot of Alicia’s bed and two young maids worked at filling it with gowns and grooming articles. A smaller case sat on the bed and Alicia filled that herself with personal things, including the carefully guarded hundred pounds that she had coddled and protected since leaving the Ivy Vine. A knock at her door announced Rodney. She looked across the room at him, silent for a moment. She thought perhaps he read her sad expression and knew her mind.

"Leave us alone, please," she said to the maids. The two girls scurried out of the room and Rodney stepped in. He stood looking at her as she stood with one hand resting on her small case and the other holding her brush. She shrugged and her teary voice came lightly. "I see no reason that I need leave this behind," she said, lifting the brush a bit.

"You need leave nothing, madam. Everything that has been yours is yours now."

She moved away from him and he watched her back as she spoke. "I would like you to send a coach and cart to Bellerose with the servants and most of the things that are packed. When they are gone I will need you to help me find passage out of England under a name that will draw no attention. I think I can supply more than enough money if it proves difficult."

"You could go to Bellerose and allow Lord Seavers to join you there when this skirmish is over. It shouldn’t last long."

"When I am gone you can join the rest of the staff in the country or wait here for Lord Seavers, whichever you prefer," she continued as if he had not spoken at all.

"You need not leave the country yet," Rodney informed her again. "You need not flee Lord Perry. I doubt he can hurt you."

She turned abruptly and Rodney saw the tears in her eyes. "Geoffrey would offer no solution save ending our bargain as it was meant to be. I will not let him tarry with his confusion while my risks grow." She swallowed and tried to control her tears. The gunfire from the battle at Lowestoft could be heard in the city and people rushed by land and water to get closer to it.

"I will go away. Lord Seavers can bury his wife and get on with his life. Perry can go straight to hell."

"Lord Perry may search for you," Rodney offered. "He may not accept your ‘death.’"

"In this time of plague? Let him search. I wish him luck."

"Reconsider, madam. The boy needs time and patience to—"

The brush she still held came down with a smack on the table beside her bed. "The man has had time enough!" she stormed, though her words came in a hushed whisper. "I think it time I set my sights on men and not boys!"

"He’s dealt with so much chaos and—"

"He’s dealt with nothing! That is why he is still a boy—because he cannot deal with his chaos and his problems." Her eyes watered and her expression grew softer, though troubled. "Good sir, I know you love him, but do you not see? He cannot act on his own mind, his own heart. I cannot wait upon our young lord’s whim. I cannot look into his cold eyes again and wonder if he will let himself love me or hate the very sight of me."

She shook her head. "It is time for me to leave. Find me passage or I shall have to do it myself."

Rodney dropped his head in disappointment. "I would prefer to change your mind, but if I cannot, then I am forced to make this as easy for you as possible. Your passage is arranged."

"Thank you, Rodney, I know it is difficult—"

"You have a visitor."

"No visitors now. Tell whoever calls that I’m preparing to leave the city because of—"

But even as she spoke, Rodney was pulling the door to her bedchamber open. There stood Preston, his hat in his hand and his rumpled light brown hair soaked with sweat. He must have only moments ago climbed down from a horse that brought him back to the city after his search for his sister.

As she looked at him, tears came again to her eyes. The expression on his face showed a wealth of knowledge. Rodney stood just paces aside as they looked across the room at each other.

"Alicia," Preston said, his voice soft and filled with emotion.

The brush fell from her hand and, with a cry, she flew across the room and into his arms. Through her mind flashed the memory of the boy who scolded, buttoned her red cloak, and helped her into a waiting coach. As he held her she imagined herself as a child; her tears were both fearful and elated.

"Alicia," he said softly. "My Letty..."

Not another day, lovey, not another minute. I’ve had my fill of your schemes and deals and should’ve known before I left the country that you toted a pack of lies from the first."

"There’s no place for you to go, save the streets, Charlotte," Perry said coolly. But for all his calm exterior, there was a rage burning inside of him that he found more difficult to control with every passing second.

"Ah, you’re wrong about that, love. I’m taking myself to the court and I’ll find someone there who’ll listen —"

Perry’s loud and cruel laughter rang through the small, filthy room. "You honestly think anyone will listen to you?"

Charlotte’s chin began to quiver, a thing that rarely happened to her. She was usually tough and clever enough to make the best of her hard luck...but now she was frightened. Every morning and every evening, the death cart moved through the street she lived on, and Perry was doing nothing to see to her protection. "I’ve a strange feeling you hope I die of plague," she told him, her voice softer than it had ever been.