The Madcap Marriage (38 page)

“There was light and voices in the bookroom,” he continued. “I was about to dispatch Tweed to collect reinforcements when we heard a loud creak. Dudley laughed, then said,
I told you I found a better way in
. He and Sir Steven ordered the others to guard their backs. That’s when I realized they had opened a secret passage.” He cleared his throat. “We had to attack immediately. With the doors bolted upstairs, the passage was our only way into the master suite.”

Rafe squeezed Helen’s shoulder in apology. The bolts he’d installed for protection had nearly killed them.

“Nalley, Vince, and Charlie were in the bookroom. They had us outnumbered until Mrs. Thomas’s shot distracted Nalley long enough for me to penetrate his guard. He fell, striking his head on the andiron. I helped subdue the others, then raced upstairs. Thomas was grappling with Sir Steven when I arrived. You know the rest.”

Sir Montrose shook his head. “So much blood. And all because Sir Steven was greedy.”

“It was more than greed,” said Helen, snuggling closer against Rafe’s side. “If money had been his only concern, Dudley could have wed a Cit. And it was more than his feud with Father. He was driven by fear. Father had proof that Dudley was not his legal heir.”

“But—”

Rafe passed more papers to Sir Montrose. “Statements from the midwife, from Steven’s wife, and from a housemaid. Steven’s wife birthed only one child, a stillborn daughter. The delivery left her unable to conceive, though she remained in robust health otherwise. Steven was furious.”

Alex gaped.

Helen sighed. “Maude had borne him a son only two days earlier. He swapped the babes, then threatened the witnesses with death if any of them revealed the truth.”

“Passing off a bastard is a serious offense.” Sir Montrose frowned.

“There’s more,” continued Helen. “Maude was married at the time, so Dudley was legally her husband’s heir. Mr. Cunningham died in a mysterious accident the following day. Maude swore their son died with him, buried Steven’s girl with her husband, then joined Steven’s household as Dudley’s nurse. Steven’s wife was packed off to an asylum, where she has lived ever since.”

“So it was Helen’s legitimacy as much as her fortune that Steven wanted,” finished Rafe.

“But if Sir Arthur had this evidence, why did he never use it?”

“I don’t know.” Helen met his eyes. “He collected evidence of other frauds as well, yet never disclosed one. Perhaps he was protecting the family name. Or maybe he planned something else. His reasons died with him.”

“What evidence?” asked Alex, leaning forward.

“More than you’ll ever need.” Rafe handed him the remaining papers. “Proof of fraud, theft, forgery, and a host of other crimes. Dates, places, accomplices, victims. Sir Arthur documented everything. He must have had someone watching Steven’s every move.” Until a year earlier. The reports ceased four months before Arthur’s death.

Alex and Riley bent over the pages.

Sir Montrose pulled himself together. “The next assizes is not for three months. But since many of these crimes took place elsewhere, this matter would be better dealt with in London.”

Alex glanced up. “An excellent decision. My men can escort the prisoners there tomorrow.”

Sir Montrose relaxed. “In the meantime, I must interview them for my report.”

“I will join you,” said Riley. “The others need sleep.”

“Thank you.” Helen grabbed Rafe and led him upstairs before he could protest.

* * * *

By the time they reached the master suite, Rafe was sagging.

“Lie down,” said Helen, steering him toward her bed. “Your face is white as a sheet.”

“Mostly shock over your father’s papers.” But he complied.

“I wish he’d told me about them.” She paced before the fireplace. “If I’d known what a scoundrel Steven was, I would have been more alert. I can’t believe Father didn’t trust me.”

“I’ve been thinking about that since we found them. It wasn’t a matter of trust, Helen. He didn’t want to further tarnish your name by revealing Steven’s crimes. You had enough problems because of Portland.”

“But—”  She shook her head. “Why collect the information then?”

“Insurance. You said Steven demanded money.”

“Several times.”

“Arthur probably kept him under control by threatening to release his evidence if Steven bothered his family. He may have bought an estate far from London to keep Steven at a distance – Lady Alquist said Steven never visited the West Country. And I’m sure your mother knew about these. The papers were close at hand in case she needed them after he was gone.”

“Of course.” She leaned weakly against the fireplace – a simple marble surround without a stag or hawk in sight. “He reminded her on one of this lucid days near the end.
Keep Steven away
, he told her as I was entering the room. I paid little heed, since he was always warning us against his brother. But he must have been alluding to the evidence and charging her with the responsibility to use it.”

“Exactly. She could continue the intimidation. Once Steven gave up or died, she could have destroyed the evidence to protect the family name in the future.”

“But she collapsed at his deathbed. The few times she tried to speak, we were unable to understand a word. Steven must have realized that I knew nothing when I let him inside. So he put his own plans in motion, then searched the house for the evidence. Even if he couldn’t find it, the marriage plot would keep me and Audley under his control.”

“True, but I doubt you understand his full purpose even now,” said Rafe slowly.

“What?”

“He could have forged your will nine months ago, then arranged an accident. But he wanted more than your inheritance. He needed to punish you for daring to stand between him and the fortune he needed, and he questioned Dudley’s breeding – after all, Cunningham had accepted the boy. What better way to take care of both problems than to get a son on Dudley’s wife himself.”

“My God!”  She staggered toward the bed.

Rafe pulled her down beside him. “You’re safe now, sweetheart. He’ll never hurt you again.”

“Or you.” A sob clogged her throat. “I was so s-scared, Rafe. I thought I’d killed you.” She gestured toward the connecting door. “I saw a flash and fired. When you screamed, I was sure I’d shot you. All I could see was shadows. It was irresponsible to fire under those conditions.” She burst into tears.

“It’s all right, Helen.” He stroked her back while she cried against his good shoulder. Her breakdown was one last proof that she didn’t love Portland – as if he needed one after she’d ignored the man passed out at his feet.

His head rested against hers. “I will never consider that irresponsible, sweetheart. You did the best you could in a situation that would have sent most ladies into a swoon. It’s time to accept that you are not perfect – nor is anyone else.”

“Am I that bad?”

“Not usually, but you accept blame for too many things that are not your fault.”

“Perhaps. I suppose it started when Father handed Audley into my care. A female must be twice as able as a man to garner respect. I couldn’t afford even the tiniest mishap.”

“I can ease that for you, if you’ll let me,” he said cautiously. “Not that I want to take over. My own interest lies in standing for Commons and—”

Her fingers covered his mouth. “I would appreciate your help, Rafe. You were right that tenants can’t reveal everything to a female, but I was too terrified of fortune hunters to listen.”

“Never a fortune hunter, Helen. Your inheritance intimidated me, for it made our marriage seem too much like Mother’s.” He again stroked her back. “But it was not Mother’s money that stood between my parents. It was how she chose to use it. You would never consider it a weapon.”

“No. I see nothing noble in fighting.”

“Nor I.” He shifted so he could see her face, wincing as pain sliced down his arm. “While I enjoy a good debate, I am sick to death of the warfare my parents enjoyed. I will never subject you to that.”

She nodded. “We were both influenced by our parents. Papa taught me to doubt men’s words, for he was convinced that every suitor wanted only my fortune – an assessment easy to believe in light of Mama’s lectures about the handicaps I must overcome to be acceptable in town.”

“What?”

“I’m too tall, too outspoken, with bad coloring—”

“Nonsense. While some men may prefer insipid misses like Alice, I have always loved striking Originals – as do many others.”

“Thank you.” She snuggled closer. “At any rate, I learned to evaluate everything through his distrust.”

“I understand.” His voice caught as she again bumped his bandage.

She tried to pull away. “Let me up, Rafe. I’m knocking your shoulder.”

“Stay. I need you in my arms. It’s the only way I can face the world.”

“Then why did you demand an annulment?”

Curses paraded through Rafe’s head – harsher than he’d ever uttered in his life. He’d made a hash of too many things lately. “Watching Portland kiss you made me realize that I could not live with a wife who preferred another.”

“I don’t—”

He stopped her protest with a kiss. “I know that now, but I was still laboring under false assumptions yesterday.”

“Which should have ended when I slapped him,” she snapped, shaking her head.

“You did?”

“Of course. I don’t enjoy being mauled – except by you.”

“I wish I’d seen it.” He pulled her closer, then answered her raised brow. “I couldn’t bear to watch.”

“Why?”

Her husky voice cracked his last barrier. Only honesty would do if he expected honesty in return. “Because I love you.”

“And I love you, Rafe – which is why I know I never loved Alex. It’s such a different feeling.”

“Very.” He nuzzled her neck while his fingers untied her gown. “You’re overdressed, my love.”

“Are you sure?  Your shoulder—”

“—doesn’t matter.” He flexed his hips to prove it, stroking her thigh with his eager shaft.

“I see.” A seductive smile lifted her mouth. “Then you are also overdressed. If you stand up, I can take care of that problem. After all, we wouldn’t want you pulling that shoulder.”

“True.” He slid to the floor, taking Helen with him.

“Any healer would remind you that exertion is bad,” she purred, pushing his hands aside so she could unbutton his waistcoat. “You mustn’t do anything energetic.”

Air whooshed from his lungs as she slowly removed his clothes, exploring his flesh with fingers and lips. Shaking with love, he returned the favor, easing her out of her gown and stays. Her petticoats drifted to the floor, revealing a body flushed and ready. He kept his touch light, teasing her to greater heights than before. And himself as well.

When dizziness overwhelmed him, he returned to bed to join her in an explosive celebration of life that left them breathless, boneless, and bursting with joy.

But his body pulsed with more energy than even a shattering climax could dissipate. As her hand drifted from his back to his thigh, he hardened within her.

“Mmm,” she sighed as he slowly flexed. “Is it always like this?”

“Only with someone you love.” He nuzzled her neck, brushing a palm across her breast. Her scent tickled his nose, banishing the ache from his shoulder. “You make me feel like the lustiest of the ancient gods. Strong. Invincible. Utterly insatiable.”

He kept his thrusts languid, coaxing her into renewed readiness. Holding back stoked his own flames hotter. Passion sizzled, prodding every hair on his body to attention – as if lightning were about to strike. Each quiver rippling her satin skin drove his heartbeat faster.

Helen drifted on a sea of pleasure, scarcely able to think as Rafe caressed her inside and out. Even her most lascivious dreams hadn’t prepared her for the joy of his lovemaking. His voice whispered in her ear, urging her excitement higher. Sparks skittered under her skin. Not until brushing his bandaged shoulder evoked a groan did she remember.

“You need rest, Rafe.”

“Not as much as I need you.” He thrust harder, deeper, drawing her gasp. “There is no pain. Only pleasure – a greedy lust for more. I’ll never have enough of you.”

She bit back a moan. “But your shoulder—”

“Is fine.” A kiss stopped another protest. “Never tell a rake he is too wounded to make love, sweetheart. Not even a reformed rake. I’ll be at least a week dead before I stop needing you.” Laughter threaded his voice.

She subsided, relinquishing the reins to his practiced hands. Tension mounted as he drove deeper. Blood roared through her ears. Sensations built, whirling, colliding, and overrunning one another until she could no longer identify sources. Deep kisses turned her brain to mush.

“More,” she gasped. “Faster. Harder. Can’t stand—”

“Easy, love. Savor the moment. This time will be even better.”

His body begged for release, but he couldn’t end it yet. Touching Helen was the greatest thrill of his life. They were more powerful together than apart, a single entity that could accomplish anything.

He held her trembling on the edge, his gaze trapped in the passion swirling through her eyes. Sweat slickened his skin as he fought to prolong the pleasure. Tension built, clawing with need, burning white-hot to the point of pain. But not until she climaxed, screaming his name, did he finally let go, plunging into the abyss to share the final ecstasy as the world shattered in a blaze of light. United. Complete.

He would never be lonely again….

* * * *

Rafe had no idea how much time passed before he could summon the energy to open his eyes. Another climax like that would kill him. Perhaps Helen was right that he needed rest.

“Are you alive?” he gasped, pulling out.

“Barely.” She curled against him, taking care not to jostle his shoulder. “What about you?”

“Never better.” He kissed her. “Go to sleep, love. We have much to do come morning.”

“Like writing to my trustees.”

That wasn’t high on his list, but news of Steven’s arrest might make them more cooperative.

“We have to break the trust,” she murmured.

“No. Audley is yours. I meant it when I said I didn’t want it. The responsibility would interfere with my own pursuits.” He no longer cared about her fortune. They would argue, of course, for they were passionate people, but the weapon would be logic, and the confrontations would end in agreement – and probably lust. His shaft twitched in expectation, but he willed it down.