The Rake's Mistress (14 page)

‘And you did not know that the Midwinter spies were using the same trick?’

‘Certainly not. I have already told you that I know nothing of the Midwinter spies and I am certain that my uncle knew nothing either. He took
the commissions and did the work in all innocence.’

Lucas’s scrutiny dwelled on her face and Rebecca felt herself blush beneath it.

‘You are very cool,’ he murmured. ‘One might almost say professional.’

‘Professional at what?’ Rebecca asked sharply. ‘The only thing I am, Lord Lucas, is a professional engraver. You should know that now—after last night.’

Their eyes met and held, Rebecca’s hard with dislike, Lucas’s expression more equivocal. Rebecca saw a hint of colour come into his face. His jaw set hard. ‘Rebecca, if we could leave that aside for a while—’

‘How like you,’ Rebecca said with contempt, ‘to wish to leave aside any matter that would trouble the conscience of any decent man.’

She saw Lucas’s hands clench and the expression flare in his eyes, and she felt a savage satisfaction that she could vent her anger on him and provoke a response. Yet even now he was in control of his feelings, smoothly pushing aside her fury as though it was of no account. Perhaps it was not, to him. Rebecca’s nails dug into her palms as she thought of the extent to which she had given of herself; generously, freely, openly, as though modesty and convention and reserve were of no concern. She had been lost in passion whilst
he…he had been playing a part. Or perhaps that was too harsh. He had said that he cared for her. He had offered her marriage in a declaration that half the débutantes in London would no doubt kill for. It was her misfortune that he was offering for all the wrong reasons and she was refusing for all the right ones.

Lucas was watching her expressionlessly. ‘Did you know that Johnson’s servant delivered your commission to the Archangel Club?’

Rebecca was startled at that. ‘No, I did not.’

‘You did not know Mr Johnson’s direction?’

‘He has always sent his servant to place orders and collect the work. I do not believe we know his direction.’

Lucas grimaced. ‘But what if he had not paid his bills?’

Rebecca’s gaze mocked him. ‘Then I should have starved—as I almost did.’

Their gazes held for a long moment.

‘You must concede that it is a coincidence,’ Lucas said.

‘What is?’

‘That both your recent commission and Mr Johnson’s direction should be connected to the Archangel Club.’

‘It is,’ Rebecca allowed, ‘but if it is more than chance, I am not aware of it.’

Lucas stood up. ‘If you could fetch me the account books, please?’

‘Of course,’ Rebecca said, with scrupulous courtesy. She was very conscious of him as he followed her into the tiny office that led off the engraving studio. His presence seemed to fill the room. She felt overwhelmed and suddenly dangerously vulnerable. The anger that had kept her hurt at bay was ebbing now, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness and disillusion greater than she had ever imagined. To have loved so briefly and been so swiftly betrayed was difficult to comprehend. Yet there was already a formality between them as though the man who had held her and loved her was quite different, and this cold stranger someone else entirely…

She tried to concentrate. She needed this year’s book of accounts and the last one. She would give them to him and then he would go and she need not see him again. She grabbed the dusty, leather-bound tome in which her uncle had recorded the previous year’s transactions. Her hands were unsteady and the corner caught the china biscuit jar in which she had placed the money. For a second it teetered on the edge of the shelf and then, with a terrifying finality, it tumbled to the stone floor and smashed into shards. The money spun across the floor in a tumble of dull gold. And Daniel’s note…

Rebecca pounced on the paper, but Lucas was a second too quick for her. He plucked it from her fingers and she was left grasping nothing.

‘Just a moment,’ he murmured.

Rebecca made a grab for the paper. ‘That is private! Give it to me!’

Lucas held the paper infuriatingly out of reach and grabbed her with his other hand. ‘So frightened, Rebecca?’ he drawled. ‘Whatever can it be?’

‘Beast!’ Rebecca said. ‘It is no concern of yours! It is nothing to do with this!’

‘Then you will not mind my reading it,’ Lucas said smoothly. He unfolded the paper and scanned it quickly. She saw him pale slightly. ‘Who is Daniel?’

Rebecca thought quickly. ‘He is my brother. That is a personal letter. Give it back!’

Lucas ignored her, reading the letter again. ‘You did not tell me that you had a brother,’ he said slowly, without taking his eyes from the text.

Rebecca wrenched her arm from his grip. ‘There are plenty of things that I did not tell you, and a good thing too, since this is how you have repaid me!’ she stormed, thoroughly angry now. ‘I trusted you, Lucas Kestrel! I
trusted
you! You are a heartless scoundrel and I hate and detest you for the villain you are.’

Lucas gave no indication that he had even heard this diatribe. He dropped the letter onto the table
and pulled her around to face him. ‘Why did you not wish me to read this?’ he asked.

‘Why should you?’ Rebecca demanded, her face flushed with fury. Her temper was soaring and it felt good to give in to the fury at last and be damned to self-control. ‘It is private and you have intruded in my business quite enough under false pretences.’

‘What does your brother do? What is his profession?’

Rebecca’s heart raced. This was becoming very dangerous. She could feel her pulse pounding beneath Lucas’s fingers and she knew he could feel it too. He could tell she was nervous and it was making him curious. She tried to breathe more deeply and calm herself. ‘He is at sea,’ she said. ‘That is why I do not see him often.’

‘What ship does he serve on?’

He had assumed that Daniel was in the Royal Navy. Rebecca did not correct him. She shrugged.

‘I do not know. I never paid much attention.’

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. ‘I find that difficult to believe. What happens if you need to contact him?’

‘I don’t,’ Rebecca said shortly. ‘He comes to see me when he is ashore.’

‘Or sends a messenger.’ Lucas looked from the note to the scatter of sovereigns on the floor. ‘And rather a lot of gold.’

Rebecca shrugged again. ‘He gives me money when he can.’

‘I see. From his Navy pay, I suppose?’

‘I imagine so. I do not ask.’

Lucas smiled mirthlessly. ‘You seem very incurious all of a sudden, Rebecca. I do believe that I should try to trace this brother of yours…’

Rebecca felt a fugitive rush of amusement. She had given so much of herself away, but at least there was one secret she had kept.
You can try
… She almost spoke the words aloud.

Lucas was still watching her closely. ‘If, of course, he is your brother. You might well have been spinning me tales from the very beginning.’

Rebecca’s palm itched to slap him. ‘Oh, no, my lord,’ she said with acid sweetness. ‘
You
are the one who has been spinning the tales, commissioning pieces of glass that you do not want, professing an interest that you do not feel, seducing me to order. What were you hoping for—that I would give away secrets in my sleep?’

Lucas’s attention snapped back to her and she almost flinched to see the anger in his eyes. ‘Are you implying that I made love to you simply to further the course of this investigation?’

‘Of course!’ Rebecca felt reckless with fury. ‘You took your duty very seriously, did you not, Lord Lucas, and I, poor fool that I was, was quite misled by your attentions! I thought—’ She cut off
the words before she betrayed her innermost anguish. ‘I loathe you,’ she said precisely. ‘You are the worst sort of deceitful devil and I never want to see you again.’

She saw Lucas recoil and tried to crush down the soaring pleasure it gave her to inflict pain on him. It was so difficult to keep it bottled up; she wanted to vent all her torment on him and hurt him as much as he had hurt her.

‘It was not like that,’ Lucas said. His voice was rough. He ran an impatient hand through his hair. ‘Devil take it, I never intended this to happen in this way.’

‘And yet you must have had me under suspicion from the moment you met me.’ Rebecca held her breath, hoping that he would contradict her, tell her that he had not known until that morning, that he had never intended to deceive her. Then she saw the conflict in his face and her hopes tumbled.

‘You knew all along,’ she repeated tonelessly.

‘Not precisely.’ Lucas looked hunted. ‘Rebecca, I never believed you guilty! I thought all along that you must have been in ignorance of the work your uncle had done.’

Rebecca shook her head blindly. ‘Yet you hid your true purpose from me and then you come here asking questions…’ She looked at him. ‘I do not believe that there is any way you can make amends for the way that you have behaved, Lord Lucas.’
She thrust the account books at him. ‘Here you are. Take them and begone, and this time do not even think to return them yourself. Send a servant, or the door will be barred to you!’

Lucas took the books and put them under his arm. ‘Thank you. There is one other matter remaining, however.’

Rebecca did not bother to try to conceal her impatience. All she desired now was to see him gone. ‘Which is?’

‘You,’ Lucas said. ‘You are coming with me.’

‘C
ome with you?’ Rebecca repeated, appalled. ‘Surely you jest? I would not go to the end of the street with you, let alone anywhere else!’

Once again she saw the flash of vivid emotion in Lucas’s face before it was wiped blank. ‘I regret that I must insist,’ he said.

‘Why on earth would I accompany you?’ Rebecca said, hands on hips. She started to laugh. ‘You ask far too much, my lord.’

‘You are the only person who can recognise your uncle’s work,’ Lucas said. ‘We need you to come to Midwinter to help trap the spy.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘You have a fine way of trying to persuade me, Lord Lucas. I will not come!’

Lucas took a step towards her. ‘I must ask you to reconsider.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘You would have to abduct me first!’

Lucas smiled mirthlessly. ‘I will if I must.’

Rebecca spread her arms wide in defiance. ‘Then pray do so, for it is the only way I will help you.’

She was utterly unprepared for what happened next. She had not believed he would do it, but then, she had consistently misjudged Lucas Kestrel.

He moved so quickly that she had no time to think. He swept her off her feet and up into his arms with insulting ease. He reached the door of the studio in three strides and kicked it shut behind them, freeing one hand briefly to turn the key in the lock.

It was bright again out in the street, with a fresh breeze. Rebecca had a blurred impression of cold sunlight and the astounded expressions on the faces of the vintner and the silversmith before she was bundled unceremoniously into the waiting carriage. Lucas threw the account books onto the seat beside them and slammed the door, and the vehicle immediately moved off.

Rebecca struggled upright, but Lucas already had an arm about her, clamping her close to his side.

‘Let me go!’ she gasped, but he merely shook his head.

‘If I do, you will cry for help or throw yourself bodily from the coach. I do not trust you.’

‘That is all too apparent,’ Rebecca said. She knew it was pointless to struggle. He was far stronger than she was. The hard muscles of his arms beneath her fingers argued a man in prime physical condition, which she knew already anyway. She relaxed and immediately felt Lucas’s cruel grip ease.

‘That’s better,’ Lucas said.

Pressed against him as she was, she could feel the pistol in his belt. It shocked her to think that he had come to her studio armed, as though she were a dangerous criminal. Logic told her that it had been the sensible thing for him to do. He had suspected her to be a traitor and had to deal with her accordingly. She was too hurt to be interested in logic.

Quick as a flash she stole her hand inside his jacket and wrenched the pistol from its holster, pulling away from him at the same time. ‘Stop the coach!’

She saw Lucas tense; saw the rapid calculation going on behind his eyes as he decided what tactic to take. She did not wish to hurt him—she shut her mind to the noise and the blood and unpleasant mess that firing a pistol in an enclosed space would provoke. She was so angry that all she wanted was to get out of the carriage and be free to walk home and forget everything that had happened. She was furious and humiliated and distraught, and to escape
from Lucas was the only thing that mattered now.

‘Do you know how to use that thing?’ Lucas asked, his eyes on the barrel. ‘Hold it steady or you will never hit your target. Which you will not anyway, since the pistol is not loaded.’

Rebecca hesitated for a split second and in that moment Lucas caught her wrist in a vicelike grip and she cried aloud. The pistol fell to the floor, skittered away and went off with a loud report, burying a bullet in the cushions of the seat. Lucas pulled her beneath him, sheltering her body with his as the interior of the coach filled with smoke and pieces of velvet and stuffing rained down on them.

Rebecca sneezed. ‘It was loaded,’ she said.

‘Of course it was,’ Lucas said. ‘What use is an empty pistol?’

Rebecca felt another pang of misery. ‘I wonder how long it will be,’ she said bitterly, ‘before I learn not to trust a word you say.’

She tried to sit up, but Lucas held her still, ruthlessly trapped beneath him.

‘I should be obliged if you would allow me up,’ she said.

‘I will only let you up if you promise not to pull any more tricks like that one,’ he said. ‘You could have killed both of us. What did you think you were doing?’

‘I wanted to go home,’ Rebecca said. Her lip trembled and she bit it viciously, turning her head aside so that Lucas could not see the tears in her eyes.

She felt him brush the tumbled hair away from her face very gently and shuddered at his touch. It undermined every single barrier she was determined to erect against him.

‘Stop fighting me, Rebecca,’ he said.

Rebecca looked at him. ‘I did not believe you would abduct me.’

Lucas gave her a faint smile. ‘I gave you fair warning.’

Rebecca turned her face away. She had underestimated him. She would have to be a great deal more careful in the future. How had she made such a serious error of judgement with Lucas Kestrel? The self-loathing threatened to swamp her. No one had ever hurt her so much.

She struggled to sit up and this time he allowed her. She turned a shoulder to him and stared out of the window of the carriage, determined not to show any weakness.

‘I cannot simply leave my workshop,’ she said. ‘This whole matter is preposterous!’

Lucas sounded unconcerned. ‘I will have someone keep an eye on the place for you,’ he said.

‘But my commissions—’

‘You told me that you had no work at present.’

Rebecca cursed herself. How many more unguarded remarks had she made to him that he had stored away and would use against her when the time was fit?

‘That is true,’ she said bitterly. ‘I do have a half-finished set of glasses that you ordered, but as you never actually wanted them—’

‘That is not correct.’ For the first time, Lucas sounded angry. ‘I should be delighted to have some of your work.’

‘As a souvenir, perhaps,’ Rebecca said.

Once again, Lucas did not rise to the provocation, and after a moment Rebecca sighed. ‘I cannot afford to close my business,’ she said.

‘We will pay you for each day you are away from your work,’ Lucas said. ‘Ten guineas a day.’

Ten guineas a day
. It was a fortune to Rebecca. She set her jaw. ‘I will not accept it. I will not work for you for money, my lord.’

She remembered him touching her hand when he offered words of comfort over her uncle’s death. She remembered him taking her in his arms and the blissful pleasure of his kiss. She remembered thinking that if one was obliged to take a lover, there would be no one preferable to Lord Lucas Kestrel, and discovering that those wanton thoughts had indeed been perfectly true. The shame and anger swept through her again at the
way he had betrayed her and she had betrayed herself.

‘In fact, I do not want to help you at all,’ she said, driven by bitterness.

She felt Lucas shift slightly. ‘Rebecca,’ he said, with weary patience, ‘I appreciate what you must think of me—’

‘I doubt it!’ Rebecca snapped.

‘But I must ask you to put aside personal animosity for a moment to consider the greater good.’ Lucas continued. ‘The Midwinter spies are putting thousands of lives at risk with their treasonable work. They have already killed a man and are quite ruthless enough to kill again if they see the necessity.’ He took a deep breath. ‘They have to be stopped and you are the only one who can help us get to them.’

Rebecca was silent.

‘Please,’ Lucas said again. ‘If you would not help us because I ask it of you, Rebecca, then do it for your country.’

Rebecca turned away. If only he knew her complicated pedigree then he would think twice about putting such an argument to her. She wondered what Lucas would say if she told him the truth:
My lord, my ancestors travelled to the New World before they returned to settle here in England. There is very little English blood in me
.

Yet she had lived in England all her life and was fiercely attached to this country, and she knew she owed it her loyalty. So she had no real choice. If only it was not Midwinter…

She sighed. ‘Very well. I do not think I have a choice.’

Lucas gave her a searching look as though he was not entirely sure he trusted her, then she saw him relax.

‘Thank you,’ he said. He took her hand and kissed it. ‘You are a very good person, Rebecca.’

Startled, Rebecca whipped her hand away. It tingled from the touch of his lips. ‘I am doing this for loyalty and not for liking,’ she warned. ‘I trust you will keep your distance in future, my lord.’

Lucas grinned at her as though he sensed her weakness. ‘I regret that I cannot oblige you, Rebecca. If you are to help us, then I am sworn to protect you. These are dangerous men—and women—and I must keep you safe.’

They stared at one another.

‘Does it have to be you?’ Rebecca said wearily. ‘Why not another?’

Lucas’s smile deepened. ‘It has to be me because I want it to be.’

‘And I do not want it,’ Rebecca argued. ‘I detest you, Lord Lucas. You have behaved as no gentleman would. To be obliged to spend more time in
your company merely adds insult to the injury of your behaviour.’

Lucas shrugged. ‘I regret that you see matters in that way. You should know that I still mean to marry you.’

Rebecca raised her chin haughtily. ‘I do not believe that we need to discuss this, my lord. It is all academic now.’

‘You mistake, Rebecca,’ Lucas said softly, and though he did not touch her his tone felt like a brush against her skin. ‘I intend to persuade you to accept me.’

Rebecca drew in a short breath. ‘You are clearly deluded, my lord. You have as little chance of persuading me as I have of swimming the English Channel.’

‘You have consented to spend some time in my company,’ Lucas pointed out. ‘I intend to use it well.’

Rebecca was shaking her head in disbelief. ‘It is impossible, my lord. I shall not change my mind.’

‘We shall see.’ Lucas smiled slightly. ‘I do not expect you to make it easy for me, Rebecca.’

His implacable confidence shook Rebecca to the core. ‘But why?’ she wailed. ‘Just because of what happened?’

Lucas was shaking his head. ‘Not just because of that. I want you, Rebecca. I find I want you
very badly. And the only way I may have you with honour is through marriage. So…’

Rebecca swallowed hard. She could not trust him. How could she, after the way in which he had deceived her? And yet there was a part of her that longed for him, longed for his touch and the comfort of his arms. It had felt absolutely right to give herself to Lucas and that fundamental rightness had not changed, overlaid as it was by disillusion and disappointment. If she fought his will, she would be fighting a part of herself as well, and she was not sure that she was strong enough to do so. She looked at Lucas’s unyielding face and shivered slightly. He had said no words of love to her; even in the heat of the night when he had uttered words of sweet tenderness he had not spoken of love. Must she compromise on that too? She could not believe that she had entertained the idea for even a minute. She was angry at her own weakness.

She raised her chin. ‘I still do not accept your proposal,’ she said.

Lucas smiled. ‘I did not for one moment expect that you would,’ he said, ‘but I have every intention of making you change your mind.’

‘You have no notion how stubborn I can be,’ Rebecca said.

‘I have some idea,’ Lucas contradicted, ‘and I can be very determined.’

‘I am aware,’ Rebecca said. She smiled bitterly. ‘We shall see, my lord. You have limited time and a difficult task.’

Lucas took her chin in his hand and turned her face to his. Her skin heated beneath his touch. ‘And you are fighting on two fronts,’ he said softly, ‘against me but against yourself as well. So you are weakened before you start.’

Rebecca jerked her head away, but not before she had felt the tell-tale quiver of desire through her whole body. ‘Damn you!’ she said bitterly.

‘For telling the truth?’

‘For being insufferably conceited!’ Rebecca said.

And for making me want you
, she added to herself, for despite her furious resistance and the ache in her heart, there was no denying that she still loved Lucas Kestrel and she was afraid that she always would.

When they reached the house in Grosvenor Street, Lucas took no chances on Rebecca refusing to cooperate and practically carried her out of the coach with one arm tight about her waist. He bundled her through the front door as though she were an awkwardly shaped parcel and finally let go of her when they were standing in the entrance hall.

Smoothing down her cloak, Rebecca glared at him. ‘If this is your persuasion, my lord, I have to tell you that you waste your time!’

She fell silent as the butler glided out to greet them, determined, despite the misery inside, that she should not show how shaken she was.

‘Good morning, Byrne,’ Lucas said, as though it were a common occurrence for him to be manhandling a young woman through the front door of the house, ‘has the Duke returned yet?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ the butler said expressionlessly. ‘He is waiting for you in the small salon, with Lord and Lady Newlyn.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucas said. He turned to Rebecca. ‘May I ask you to wait in the drawing room, Miss Raleigh? We will not be above a moment.’

‘Very well,’ Rebecca said. She waited pointedly whilst Byrne opened the drawing-room door and Lucas ushered her inside.

He looked at her. ‘Pray do not climb out of the window and run away or I shall have to go to the trouble of bringing you back.’

Rebecca gave him a disdainful look. ‘You would not find me.’

‘Don’t try me. Do I have your word?’

Rebecca sighed. ‘Would you accept it if you did?’

‘Of course. Well?’

‘Then you have it.’

‘Thank you,’ Lucas said. There was a smile deep in his eyes. Rebecca saw it and blushed. She hated that she was still so susceptible to him. The thought that he would be close to her, guarding her life, was well-nigh intolerable. She deliberately turned her back and walked over to the window, staring out over the neat, green garden. Suddenly she felt very tired.