The Confessions of a Duchess (12 page)

“I would have thought that was obvious.”

“Humor me.”

“Because the money was rightfully theirs. He had promised them their wages and then withheld them. We—the Glory Girls—merely redressed the balance.” Dexter was silent. Laura spoke with a passion and conviction that was difficult to resist, even for someone like him who was always at pains to uphold the letter as well as the spirit of the law. But he could not allow such sentiment to influence his thinking. It was his duty and his responsibility to see justice administered. Compromise led to weakness and frailty. It was the beginning of the downward path.

“You broke the law,” he said.

“I did,” Laura said. “Many times. For the greater good.”

“You are not entitled to make judgments like that.” Dexter jumped to his feet. “That is the responsibility of officers of the law.”

Laura shrugged. “I understand your disapproval, Mr. Anstruther. How could we ever agree on this when you are sworn to uphold the law and I was obliged to break it, even if I did so for what I thought were the best reasons? Anyway, we are here to talk about Warren Sampson, not my misdemeanors.”

Dexter sighed. “Very well. So how do we catch him?”

Laura paused. She rubbed her fingers thoughtfully up and down the side of her brandy glass. “Through his vanity and his weakness for money, I think. Set a trap for him.

One that is so temptingly financially baited that he cannot resist. He is too clever to be caught otherwise. He works behind a smokescreen of paid thugs and criminals.”

“Yes,” Dexter said. “One of his hired men may well have killed Sir William Crosby.”

“Miles told me Crosby’s death was no accident,” Laura said. “If it is true that Crosby was working to bring Sampson down then he might well have paid with his life.” Dexter leaned forward. “If it is also true that Sampson has some of the local gentry in his pocket, who do you think they might be?”

Laura was silent for a moment. “I do not know that. Some bored younger son who has not got enough money to fund his gambling habit, perhaps? There are few such scattered through the Dales.”

“Name them.”

Laura lifted her hazel gaze to his. Her eyes were very clear and candid. Dexter thought of the way she had used him and marveled she could seem so honest when her heart was corrupt.

“There is Sir James Wheeler’s son,” she said slowly. “The gossip is that his father keeps him short on his allowance. They are forever at odds. Tom Fortune is a rackety young man but I have never thought there was any harm in him. I could be wrong. And then there is Stephen Beynon. He runs with Tom in a fast set.” She shook her head. “I do not know. It is difficult because there may be those Sampson has bought off, or has some information on to persuade them to his point of view. I saw him talking to Henry Cole last night and it struck me as odd because Faye would never give a
cit
the time of day unless she had a particularly good reason. She is far too conscious of her position as Duchess of Cole.”

“You think that Sampson might stoop to blackmail?”

“I am sure of it, if it benefited him.”

“Do you know where Sampson’s henchmen meet?” Dexter asked.

“They favor the Red Lion Inn on Stainmoor,” Laura said. She looked up suddenly, her voice changing. “Don’t go there, Mr. Anstruther. It is too dangerous. Even I would not have set foot in the Red Lion and the locals
liked
me.” Dexter raised a brow. “So you’re concerned for my welfare now?” Laura looked away. “I would not like to see you hurt.”

There was a strained silence. Dexter found that he could not keep still. The frustrated fury burned in him too violently for that. Even though he knew they were there to discuss the present case and not the past, he could not prevent his mind from returning to it. He needed an explanation from Laura. His pride demanded one.

He strode over to the fireplace. “Explain something to me,” he said harshly. “Was the work of the Glory Girls all a matter of principle of you?”

“No, it was not,” Laura said. “It was in part but not entirely.” Once again her expression was shadowed, hidden from him. She shifted a little in her chair. “The truth is that when I first rode with the Glory Girls, I did it because of Charles.” She looked up and met Dexter’s eyes and he flinched at the pain and honesty he saw reflected there. It was like stripping her back to her soul. “Charles was so indifferent to me that I wanted to shock him,” Laura said softly. “I had loved him desperately for so many years and I was frantic to make him take notice of me.”

“You wanted your husband to
know
you were a highwaywoman?” Dexter was appalled. It seemed that Charles Cole’s indifference to Laura, the neglect that he himself had observed when he had first met her at Cole Court, had driven her to the edge of sanity.

Her appetite for destruction had been terrifying.

“Yes, I wanted Charles to know.” Laura’s hazel eyes were blank. She looked through him as though she was looking back to a past so painful she could not acknowledge it. “I am being very honest with you, Mr. Anstruther,” she said. “I hope you understand that. I loved Charles for so long and so deeply that it became a habit with me. I would have done anything to gain his interest. I wanted him to
see
me, not to look through me. I wanted him to notice me.” She took a deep breath. “My love for him drove me close to madness, to the point where I did reckless things to gain his attention.” She looked up and her eyes were no longer blank but vivid with so much pain and misery that Dexter reached out toward her instinctively, before his hand fell back to his side.

“But the irony was that Charles
did
know that I was Glory and still he did not care,” Laura said softly. A faint, bitter smile curved her lips. “In the end there was nothing I could do to gain his interest, still less his regard. He saw me as an ornament to his dukedom and wanted nothing from me other than that I be a gracious hostess to his guests, that is all. And in the end my love for him died.”

“Charles Cole knew that you were Glory and yet he said nothing, did nothing?” Dexter knew he sounded frankly incredulous now. He was appalled. He was worse than appalled. He was astounded. He could not believe that the late Duke of Cole had known his wife was a highwaywoman and yet it had elicited not the slightest response in him. What had been wrong with the man?

“Yes.” Laura smiled mockingly. “Are you thinking that he was a Justice of the Peace, and yet he did nothing to stop me? Not everyone has your moral compass, Mr.

Anstruther. He did not care.”

“So you were not even acting out of principle,” Dexter said. He shook his head, trying to get a grip on the feelings her words aroused in him. “You shock me, your grace,” he said slowly.

Laura gave him another faint smile. “Do I really? But you will not accept any justification, will you, Mr. Anstruther? When I claimed to have acted out of principle you still dismissed my actions.” She stood up, crossing the room to confront him, stopping only inches away so that he was intensely aware of her physical presence.

“The irony is that you and I are not so different really,” she said. “Like you I value integrity and honor and would seek to live my life by those standards.” She took a few steps away from him then swung sharply back. “I hold to those principles,” she repeated,

“but I hold to them with humanity, Mr. Anstruther, because without compassion those qualities are worthless. But you…” She shook her head. “You never compromise, do you?

You cannot bend.”

“I am sworn to uphold the law,” Dexter said. “You—the Glory Girls—broke it. It should be as simple as that.”

“It should be,” Laura said, “but it isn’t.” She turned away. “Think of the men, women and children who would have starved if the Glory Girls had not redistributed Sampson’s pay where it belonged,” she said. “Had the Glory Girls not acted, tens, maybe hundreds of people would have died. Yet Warren Sampson would never have been brought to justice for his greed and cruelty. The law would never have touched him.” She took a deep breath.

“Think of the people whose livelihood is destroyed every day by greedy landowners enclosing common land. Think of the women forced into marriage against their will and the factory workers slaving for a pittance and any number of people ground down and destroyed through the avarice and brutality of their masters. Those are the sorts of injustices that you cannot address through the exercise of the law, Mr. Anstruther. But the Glory Girls could redress them. Perhaps it is not strictly legal but it has a certain morality and a great deal of humanity.”

Dexter felt cold. Her words were a dangerous seduction, tempting him to compromise the principles he had always believed in. She spoke with such conviction and he wanted to believe in her. His desire for her and the secret admiration he had always harbored for Glory was like a weakness in the blood, undermining him. If he once bent then he might break and fail. The fear drove out all else. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him.

“Fine words, madam,” he said harshly. “But the truth is that you are no more than a criminal. You deceived me through and through. You welcomed me to your bed one night and cast me out the next morning. And at last it makes perfect sense to me.” Laura’s chin came up sharply. Her gaze was bright and challenging. The awareness sparked between them like a flame set to dry tinder. It was all he could do not to wrench her into his arms. In that moment he wanted her with an ache so deep he did not know how it could ever be assuaged and he hated her with an equally strong passion.

“What do you mean?” she whispered.

Dexter stared down into her eyes for what felt like an eternity. “It was all a pretense, was it not?” he said violently. “It was all a sham. You made love to me merely to distract me from my duty so that I, poor fool, would be so lost in thoughts of you that I had no space in my mind for anything else.” He shook his head with bitter disillusion for his own youthful naiveté. “You must have been aware of what I felt for you. I was young and I do not think I was particularly good at hiding my feelings when I was near you. You saw it as your chance to deflect my attention so that I would never imagine you were Glory, never even
begin
to suspect what you had done. You are no more than a heartless whore.” Laura looked at him and his heart turned over at the expression in her eyes. In that shattering moment of awareness he saw her facade splinter and glimpsed the cracks and the pain beneath. And then the glimpse was gone.

“You may believe that if you wish,” Laura said. “I am sure that you will.” Once again their gazes locked. Dexter searched her face. She must be false. She had to be. She had tricked him, deceived him from the very first moment they met. But her eyes were so clear and so honest. He could feel his anger melting and doubt, hope and longing taking its place. His hand slid slowly, caressingly, down her arm from elbow to wrist. She shivered under his touch. Her eyes darkened, her lashes fluttered down and the pink heat of arousal flushed her skin. Her lips parted and Dexter leaned closer.

The door slammed back on its hinges as Josie marched into the room and they fell apart as the fire flickered and hissed in the cold draft. Laura cast him one quick, troubled glance and then reached for her cloak, fumbling to tie the bow.

“Your carriage is ready, madam,” Josie said, looking from one to the other with massive disapproval, “and a good thing, too. Seems to me Mr. Anstruther has had as much
help
—” she invested the word with scorn “—as he deserves tonight.” Dexter looked at Laura. Her head was bent. He could not see her face except in pure profile, illuminated in the bronze glow of the fire. When she looked up her expression was empty of emotion and it was as though that flash of intense pain he had seen in her had never been and the blaze of powerful awareness between them had not existed.

“Thank you, Josie,” she said. She turned to Dexter. “I wish you luck in your investigation. Good night, Mr. Anstruther.”

Josie stood aside for her to walk through the parlor door but when Dexter made to follow she blocked his way, as solid as a brick wall.

“Leave her be,” Josie said threateningly.

Dexter looked at her. Her protectiveness toward Laura was striking. He wondered how much she knew. When he had been at Cole Court four years before he had noticed how much loyalty Laura commanded from the inhabitants of Peacock Oak and all the surrounding villages. She had been a good and generous employer and a beloved benefactor. If the villagers knew she was Glory, as well, they probably held her in even higher esteem.

“I appreciate your loyalty to her grace, Mrs. Simmons,” he said slowly, “but I am sure she can take care of herself.”

Josie snorted. “That’s all you know, Mr. Anstruther. Or care, I’ll wager. You’ve done enough harm. Blaming her grace for what she’s done when there was no one else to stand up for us! You should take your head out of your…nether parts and think a little. Men!” Upon which she stomped out muttering under her breath.

Dexter’s thoughts returned to Laura. In that moment when he had looked into her eyes his belief in her guilt had faltered, but cynicism whispered to him that she would always deny deliberately using him. She had been an older, experienced woman who was probably accustomed to taking lovers to her bed to relieve the tedium of her marriage. He had just been one of many and she had used his infatuation with her to her own ends. What had happened between them had finished four years before. Based on secrets and lies, it had never really started. And now he had an investigation to complete and an heiress to court. His life was as simple as that and it was going to stay that way.

But though he assured himself that the matter was tidy, closed, ended now forever, he had the feeling that Laura Cole would not be so easily dismissed no matter how much he tried, and neither were his feelings for her.

“THANK YOU ALL
for joining us, ladies,” Laura said. She scanned the crowd assembled in the circulating library. It seemed that every female in Fortune’s Folly was present, not simply the single women affected by Sir Montague’s Dames’ Tax. Absolutely everyone was there, from old Mrs. Broad, who lived in the last cottage on the High Street and whose worldly possessions were no more than two chickens and a sheep, to Sir Montague’s heiress half sister, Lady Elizabeth Scarlet. Lady Elizabeth sat next to Lydia Cole, her auburn head bent and her hands demurely in her lap in stark contrast to her behavior the previous night.