The Rake's Mistress (22 page)

‘I cannot imagine myself as a lady,’ she said, a little forlornly.

‘Why not?’ Daniel was bracing. ‘You were born one.’

‘I am accustomed to working for my living.’

‘So?’ Daniel sounded severe. ‘You need not become idle just because you marry a rich man, Rebecca. Your life is there for the taking. You can do what you wish with it. I never thought to see you refuse a challenge because you were afraid.’

Rebecca stared out across the darkened sea. Daniel’s words were hard, but she knew they were true. She had been reluctant to give up the past, to trust Lucas and to go into a different future. But now her heart felt lighter and she went across and flung her arms about Daniel and held him close, wordlessly.

He rested his cheek against her hair and said, ‘Does that mean I can stop worrying about you again?’

‘I suppose so.’ Rebecca freed herself from his grip and stood at arm’s length. ‘I must go back now.’

‘Thank the lord for that,’ her brother said. ‘We have been hovering offshore these two hours past. It is damnably dangerous.’

Despite that, it was Daniel himself who came with her in the long boat to Kestrel Cove and escorted her up the sandy path through the woods,
leaving her only when she was on the threshold of Kestrel Court. Rebecca gave him another brief, fierce hug but they did not speak, and, though she turned to watch as his tall figure was swallowed up by the trees, he did not look back. She turned away then. The lights of Kestrel Court glowed bright through the autumn night and she gathered up the green skirts in one hand and strode forward boldly, belying the nervousness in her stomach. It was time to meet her future and make of it what she could.

‘A shocking accident.’ Owen Chance, the Riding Officer, had been closeted with the Duke and Lord Lucas Kestrel for over an hour, and Lucas was heartily wishing him gone. He had nothing against Mr Chance personally, for the fellow was a good man for a government employee and close as the grave. He and Justin had agreed that they had to take Chance into their confidence in order to hush up the matter of the Midwinter spies and the further complication of Rebecca’s disappearance. Chance was the only one outside the family who knew she had been taken by
The Defiance
. Benbow was more discreet than a clam and everyone else had been told that Rebecca had been rescued by a fishing boat and was currently resting after her ordeal. The Midwinter tabbies were in a flutter about it, of course, but it was nowhere near
as bad as the huge scandal that would ensue if the tale got out that Miss Rebecca Raleigh, erstwhile cousin to the Duke of Kestrel, had been taken aboard a pirate ship and one, moreover, which was the property of her brother, Daniel De Lancey…

It was that that preoccupied Lucas now. He seemed to notice every tick of the clock, and the agonising slowness with which the hands moved around towards midnight. Despite the message that De Lancey had sent, Lucas had been desperately uncertain that Rebecca would come back at all, and with every hour his doubts had solidified into an uncomfortable weight in his stomach. He wanted her back. He needed her. Damn it, he loved her and he would tell her as soon as she stepped through the door.
If
she stepped through the door ever again…

‘I agree,’ Owen Chance was continuing, ‘that it is best to present the matter in the light of a disaster. Sir John Norton and Lady Benedict, wishing to give the invalid Sir Edgar a healthful sea outing, arranged the trip on the yacht, only to fall foul of a most terrible accident.’

Justin nodded. ‘Quite so. That is the story that we have put about in the town.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps Norton should have realised that the sea mist made it an unsuitable day for a sail, but…’

‘But it is too late now,’ Owen Chance concluded. He smiled a little grimly as he finished his
brandy. ‘A most satisfactory conclusion, your Grace, sparing us all the unavoidable scandal of a treason trial.’

He got to his feet. ‘Well, if you will excuse me, I shall be on my way.’ He shook Justin’s hand, then Lucas’s. ‘They are searching for
The Defiance
,’ he said, and Lucas swallowed his irritation because he understood Chance’s sincerity. ‘HMS
Plockton
is out of Harwich—’

‘I feel certain that Miss Raleigh will be very well and will be returned to us soon,’ Justin said, a shade too heartily. He drew Owen Chance towards the door. ‘This way, old fellow. I cannot emphasise how much we appreciate your help in this matter…’

Their voices faded away down the hall and Lucas got up, unable to keep still any longer. He strode over to the window and peered out into the darkness, but could see nothing at all. He thought that he had heard a sound. It was his imagination, of course. Or wishful thinking. He dropped down into an armchair by the fire and ran a hand through his disordered tawny hair. He had never experienced such a mixture of hope and fear. If this was love then he was not certain that he had not been better off before. Except that it was far too late now.

There was the softest click as the latch of the long window lifted. Lucas looked up. Even though
it was the one thing that he had wanted to happen all day, he found he could not actually move, or even speak. He simply stared.

Rebecca was standing just inside the long windows. It
was
Rebecca, although she was wearing a full green skirt that looked as though it had come from a dressing-up box. Her hair was loose down her back and shadowed her face with a nimbus of dark curls. He could see the doubt and hesitation in her eyes as she looked at him. It exactly mirrored everything that he felt inside. Then she smiled tentatively and held out a hand.

‘Lucas?’

Lucas was across the room so quickly that he barely had time to think. His arms went about her and he held her close. ‘I was afraid you would not come back.’ He scarcely recognised his own voice.

He felt her tremble on the edge of laughter and tears. ‘I was afraid that you would think it proved my guilt. I am sorry I never told you…’

Lucas pressed a kiss on her hair and tightened his grip about her. Then he remembered that he had something to tell her. It was easy in the end. ‘I love you with all my heart,’ he said. ‘Will you marry me?’

She tilted her chin up so that she could meet his eyes. Her own were brilliant with tears of happiness.

‘I will,’ she said, a second before he kissed her.

Neither of them was aware of how long it was before the door opened and the Duke of Kestrel entered. They broke apart, tousled and incandescent with happiness.

‘Ah,’ Justin said, sounding as unruffled as though he had stepped into the Prince of Wales’s drawing room, ‘I am glad to see you returned, Rebecca. We were becoming quite concerned for you. I kept Chance talking a while for I did not wish him to meet your brother on the way out.’ He looked from one to the other and started to smile. ‘I take it that the wedding will be going forward after all? I am very glad. But you will be wishing me gone, I dare say. I shall bid you good night.’

‘Such discretion,’ Lucas said, as the door closed behind his brother. He sat down in the armchair and pulled Rebecca onto his lap. She snuggled close, pressing her cheek to his.

‘Would you like me to tell you what happened, Lucas?’ she asked, muffled.

‘Just for once,’ Lucas said, ‘I would not.’ There was a huge warmth and happiness in his heart and it needed no words. He put a hand beneath her chin and turned her face up to his. ‘For now,’ he said, ‘there are better ways to pass the time.’

‘It was Edgar Benedict whom we overlooked all along,’ Justin said heavily the following evening,
as they all sat around the fire in the study. ‘We were told that he was a bedridden invalid and we accepted it without challenge.’ He shook his head bitterly. ‘I could kick myself for falling for that trick. It might have been Lily Benedict who was the French spy reported first in Dorset last year, but it was Edgar who had the freedom to come and go as he pleased whilst we were all assuming him helpless and of no account.’

‘So now it all falls into place,’ Cory Newlyn said thoughtfully. ‘Edgar Benedict killed Jeffrey Maskelyne right at the start, and then Lily took a pot shot at me later, when they realised that I was trying to discover any information Maskelyne might have left behind.’

‘She was not the only one,’ Rachel Newlyn said drily. ‘I almost killed you myself, Cory, when I found you wandering around the stables in the middle of the night in that suspicious manner!’

Cory laughed. ‘A good job you did not, my love! I feel sure you would have been deeply upset to have been the unwitting cause of my demise!’

‘Desolated,’ Rachel agreed, a small smile playing about her lips. ‘And then Papa almost shot both of us with his blunderbuss! It is a miracle we are all here to tell the tale at all.’

‘I imagine that it was Lily Benedict who accidentally picked up the wrong book at the reading
group,’ Justin continued, ‘leaving Deb with the book that contained the code—’

‘And leaving her also to fall foul of Richard’s suspicions,’ Lucas said. He drew Rebecca closer to his side. ‘I am not certain where we should all be had it not been for this business.’

‘Wifeless,’ Cory said drily. ‘A situation not to be tolerated.’

Lucas smiled at Rebecca. ‘I never thought to find myself saying this,’ he said softly, ‘but I completely agree, Cory.’

‘If you could keep your mind on business a little longer,’ Justin complained. ‘There are a number of matters that still require clarification.’

‘Such as?’ Lucas was finding it difficult to drag his attention from Rebecca.

‘Such as why one set of engraved glasses turned up at the Woodbridge auction house when they should have been in Norton’s possession.’

‘I think I can help you there,’ Rebecca said, a little shyly, remembering what Daniel had told her. She caught Lucas’s look of surprise and gave him a smile. ‘I believe there were two sets of engraved glasses, one held by the Benedicts and John Norton, and the other by their French spymasters. When they needed to change the code, they both required a new set of engraved glass. My uncle’s records bear this out.’

Lucas nodded. ‘And they lost one set?’

‘I understand,’ Rebecca said, careful not to mention Daniel’s name, ‘that Sir John had passed one set to his French accomplice, but that the French ship was stopped by HMS
Plockton
, who took the contraband cargo, including the glasses. The cargo was sold off at the Customs House and Sir John was put to the trouble of buying back his own set of glasses.’

‘Or trying to,’ Lucas said. He laughed. ‘Then Ross Marney accidentally outbid him and the spies were put to even greater trouble to try to steal the glasses back!’

‘It is some consolation to know that we caused them some difficulties,’ Cory said, ‘for it seemed that they ran rings around us for months.’

‘I suppose that it was Edgar Benedict who tied Richard and Deb to the easel at the unveiling of Lady Sally’s watercolour calendar,’ Lucas said, chuckling. He squeezed Rebecca’s hand. ‘You missed a rare sight there, my love. I doubt there has ever been such a sensation in Midwinter!’

Justin was looking speculatively at Rebecca. ‘Your brother is an excellent gatherer of intelligence,’ he remarked. ‘Do you think he might be interested in working for the government?’

Rebecca laughed. ‘I believe he already does, your Grace, but only on his own terms.’

Justin nodded thoughtfully. ‘And so we come to the final mystery that puzzled me, which was why
the spies chose George Provost to be their unwitting accomplice.’

Rebecca shivered and Lucas drew her protectively closer.

‘In the end it was quite simple,’ Justin continued. ‘Edgar Benedict was a member of the Archangel Club and a friend of Alexander Fremantle. Fremantle had already commissioned some work from George Provost and when Edgar Benedict saw it…’he shrugged ‘…he thought Provost ideal to provide the spies with their pictorial code.’

‘So simple,’ Rebecca agreed. She looked at Lucas. ‘And so dangerous in making you suspect me.’

Lucas smiled and leaned closer, oblivious of their audience. ‘Do you forgive me?’ he asked softly.

‘Well…’ Rebecca said. She raised a hand to his cheek. ‘I suppose so…’

Their lips touched and in the same moment the door to the study burst open.

‘Good evening, everyone! We are back!’ Lord Richard Kestrel steered his wife Deborah into the room with a proprietorial arm about her waist. ‘Have we missed anything of note?’

His gaze fell upon Lucas, who was by now kissing Rebecca with considerable fervour. He stopped dead. ‘Good God, Lucas,’ he said, ‘we were only away for six weeks!’

T
he engraving studio looked very much as Rebecca had left it. Whoever Lucas had set to keep an eye on the place had done the job well. The glass on the display shelves was a little dusty and the floor needed to be swept, but the place felt the same. It smelled the same, of cold mustiness and quiet. Rebecca shivered as it seeped into her bones.

She had told Lucas the truth about having to give up her engraving because she had not wanted there to be any more secrets between them. She had been afraid that he would think she had agreed to marry him as a second choice, and he had received the news without comment, which had made her a little nervous. It was going to take time to learn how to read Lucas, but then she had all the time in the world. For now, though, she had a personal farewell to take.

Discarding her cloak, Rebecca sat down at once at her engraving table, then hesitated. In the drawer were the tools of her trade—the drills, the scribes,
the cutters… She was afraid to touch them, knowing that this was goodbye. Very slowly, she picked up the wine glass with the half-finished engraving of the kestrel, reached for her diamond scribe, and began.

When there was a knock on the workshop door, she was not sure how much time had passed, engrossed as she had been in her work. She imagined that Lucas had come to collect her, for he had said that he would give her some time and now that time was up. She was ready for him.

She flung open the door and was taken aback to see a complete stranger on the step. Rebecca blinked and looked again.

‘Miss Raleigh?’ The stranger was muscular and had piercing blue eyes and salt-and-pepper hair with matching Viking beard. ‘How do you do? My name is Marcus Woolf.’

Rebecca closed her mouth, which she realised had been hanging open for at least ten seconds.

‘My goodness! That is… Mr Woolf! It is such a privilege to meet so famous an engraver.’

Marcus Woolf smiled. He was immaculately dressed in beige buckskins and a dark green jacket and he did not seem at all surprised by her stupefaction.

‘I am very pleased to meet you too, Miss Raleigh, and to see your studio.’ He swung round towards the display stands. ‘May I?’

‘Please… I should be honoured…’ Rebecca followed him over to the engraved panes that she had hung from the ceiling and watched in a daze as he examined them, nodding his head slowly.

‘Great artistry, Miss Raleigh, and an excellent technique. I am impressed.’ The piercing blue eyes came back to rest on Rebecca’s face. ‘As soon as I saw the vase with the ship on it, I felt I had to come to meet you. Lord Lucas Kestrel mentioned that you were an exceedingly talented engraver.’

Rebecca felt somewhat at sea. She had not even noticed that the vase had disappeared from the studio window, but now that she looked she could see the pale space where it had stood until recently, and the dusty shape of the base on the sill. Someone had removed the vase, and recently. But why? And why had Lucas spoken of her to Marcus Woolf? They had only been back in town a matter of days. He must have acted as soon as they had returned. She frowned slightly.

‘Forgive me, Mr Woolf, but I do not perfectly comprehend how you came to see my work, nor why Lord Lucas should have mentioned me to you. Perhaps he also told you—’ she felt a lump wedge itself in her throat ‘—that I am no longer
intending to work as an engraver? I cannot.’ Rebecca felt a hopeless urge to cry.

Marcus Woolf did not move. ‘That is a great shame, Miss Raleigh.’ His voice sounded clipped, impersonal. ‘But you said that you
cannot
do any more engraving. Why is that?’

Rebecca knew now that she was definitely going to cry. Her throat was made of sandpaper. Even she could hear how her voice was shaking, and despised herself for the weakness. ‘I have damaged my wrist, Mr Woolf, so I cannot use the drills any more. It is only a matter of time before I have to stop completely.’

She realised that she
was
crying. Great fat tears were bouncing off her cheeks on to the stone floor where they shone like miniature puddles in the candles’ glare. She felt a complete fool, but she could not stop. She did not really want to stop. It was just inconvenient that Marcus Woolf happened to be there. His presence made the end of her own career seem all the more poignant.

‘Excuse me.’ She groped for her handkerchief. Unfortunately it was not up her sleeve. She gave a huge, self-pitying sniff.

‘Allow me.’ Marcus Woolf’s handkerchief was made of silk and smelled of expensive cologne. Rebecca rubbed her eyes vigorously and blew her nose for good measure, appalled when her eyes
filled with tears again, as though to make up the loss.

‘Oh!’ It was a mixture of exasperation and self-pity.

She saw Marcus Woolf smile. ‘Pray continue, Miss Raleigh. Do not feel ashamed. If I lost my ability to engrave, I would cry for a week without stopping.’

His jacket smelled of the same cologne as the handkerchief and it was a crime to cry all over it. On the other hand, his shoulder was surprisingly broad and comforting and after a moment Rebecca could have sworn that he was patting her on the head. She was just remembering his somewhat dubious reputation with women, when he said, over her shoulder,

‘Lord Lucas, I think we should get Miss Raleigh something restorative to drink. She is suffering from shock.’

Rebecca raised her head from Marcus Woolf’s shoulder and met Lucas’s gaze. He was standing in the doorway, watching the scene with considerable interest. She felt puzzled and ruffled. She smoothed down her dress and made hopeless attempts to tidy her hair.

‘Come along, Miss Raleigh.’ Marcus Woolf had an arm about her now and was drawing her towards the
chaise-longue
. Lucas had disappeared
into the scullery and she could hear the clink of the kettle on the hob.

Rebecca sat down and closed her eyes briefly. None of this made the slightest sense and if someone did not enlighten her soon she was sure she might explode with frustration.

‘Excuse me,’ she said politely to Marcus Woolf, ‘but I should appreciate an explanation, Mr Woolf.’

Marcus Woolf’s blue eyes were very amused beneath the shaggy salt-and-pepper brows. He sat forward on the sofa. ‘Certainly, Miss Raleigh. This work of yours—’ his nod encompassed the workshop ‘—is exquisite. The execution and the ideas…’ He shrugged. ‘Believe me, I see many, many pieces of work from aspiring engravers, Miss Raleigh, and I would give anything for even one of them to be as good as yours.’ He gave her a shadow of a smile. ‘So I wished to tell you that should you desire it, I would be delighted for you to come and work with me.’

Rebecca gulped.

Woolf smiled again. ‘I appreciate that you cannot engrave any longer, but you can still draw, and your designs are superb. So, how would you like to design for me? I know it is not orthodox for a lady to work, but to waste your talent would be a greater sin. What do you say?’

This time Rebecca almost choked. Through her streaming eyes, she could see Marcus Woolf laughing at her. He got up. ‘No doubt you will wish to discuss this with Lord Lucas. I will leave you my card. Come to see me if you wish to discuss the offer. For now I had better be getting back to my studio.’ He turned to Lucas. ‘Good day, my lord.’ He touched his hat and went out.

Rebecca turned to Lucas. ‘I do not understand,’ she whispered. ‘You showed Marcus Woolf my work. Why?’

Lucas came forward into the studio. He was looking very pale. ‘I wanted you to have a choice, Rebecca,’ he said. ‘When you explained that you were obliged to give up your engraving I wanted—’ He stopped, swallowed hard. ‘I wanted you to choose to marry me of your own free will, not because one way of life was closed to you. So I thought to find you an alternative. I wanted to prove that I loved you enough to let you go. With all that had happened between us, I wanted you to be sure—’

Rebecca crossed the distance between them and put a hand up to his lips to stop the words. ‘Oh, Lucas.’ She smiled mistily at him. ‘There was no need, but you have made me very happy.’

‘You said that you always loved your engraving more than anything else in life,’ Lucas said.

Rebecca laughed a little shakily. ‘So I did. But that was before I realised how much I loved you, Lucas.’

There was a fierce light in Lucas’s eyes now. ‘Do you?’

‘So very much.’ Rebecca gestured around the workshop. ‘I needed to take my farewell of all this because it was so much a part of my past life. But I am willing to step into the future with you.’ She held out a hand to him. ‘And I think you must love me very much too. You had asked me to marry you, but you were willing to give me an alternative—working for Marcus Woolf.’

Lucas came close to her and took both her hands in his. ‘I did not wish for an unhappy bride,’ he said, and Rebecca could hear the rough undertone of emotion in his voice. ‘I love you more than I ever thought possible, Rebecca, but I wanted you to want me.’

The laughter bubbled up within Rebecca. ‘So you persuaded Mr Woolf to offer me work.’

‘Not so. All I did was show him your engraving. He recognised your talent for himself.’

‘And now I shall have to disappoint him.’

‘Why should you do that?’ Lucas was drawing her closer, but now he paused and looked down into her eyes. ‘He has offered you the chance to design for him. Surely you cannot turn him down?’

Rebecca was puzzled. ‘But if I am to be Lady Rebecca Kestrel I cannot work!’

Lucas laughed. ‘You are more conventional than I had thought, my love. Why not accept his offer?’

Rebecca frowned. ‘Do you not wish to marry me, then?’

‘Of course. But I have realised that the two need not be mutually exclusive. I should be very proud to have a wife who designed commissions for the best glass engraver in town.’

Rebecca stared at him in stupefaction. ‘But, Lucas—ladies do not do such things! Ladies do not work!’

Lucas was shaking his head in mock disapproval. ‘I am disappointed in you, my love! Since when did you conform to what is expected?’

Rebecca looked at him in dawning hope. ‘You do not tease me?’

‘No, indeed. I have no independent fortune,’ Lucas continued, ‘and need a wife to support me.’

Rebecca caught the flash of amusement in his eyes. ‘Oh! You are so—’

He stopped her words with his lips and they clung together as though they would never part. The kiss turned swiftly from tenderness to passion. Rebecca felt the four walls of the studio contract to the space immediately about them as they held each other with desperate need. She could feel
Lucas trembling as he held her and the knowledge of it brought a mixture of terror and elation.

He let her go for a moment and she knew what he would see in her eyes: the excitement and the wanting, the hours she had spent thinking about him as she now knew he had been thinking of her, the memory of how it had been between them. Sharp desire twisted deep inside her and she almost gasped aloud.

Lucas pulled the gown off her shoulder and bent to kiss her neck, the hollow of her collarbone, her throat. There was a look of intense concentration on his face. If Rebecca had not heard the quickness of his breathing, seen his fingers shake, she would have thought him unmoved. Her mind reeled. Surely this could not be happening to her in the studio, in the middle of the afternoon? Yet she had waited for him for what seemed like forever. She felt unbearably impatient. She reached for him.

Lucas’s hands circled her waist, then moved up to push the bodice of her dress farther down, leaving her in her shift. He unlaced the ribbons and slid his hand inside. Rebecca gasped against his mouth as the warmth of his hand cupped her breast. He lifted her slightly so that she was sitting on the edge of the workbench. He pulled her skirts up her thighs. She felt the cold hard edge of the table against her bare skin. Lucas was fumbling with the fastening of his breeches. His mouth took
hers again at the same time as his fingers parted her, stroking with a sly seduction. Rebecca climaxed at once, in shock and fierce delight, and a second time, helplessly yielding, when he entered her. Her fingers were digging into his back and the bench creaked in protest at each thrust. It was shocking and erotic and everything that she had dreamed of.

‘Oh, Rebecca…’ Lucas’s face was turned into the hollow of her neck.

Her legs were trembling when she slid to the floor and she had to grip his arm to steady herself. Lucas scooped her up into his arms.

Rebecca squeaked. ‘Lucas, no! You will hurt yourself.’

‘I have done it before, if you remember,’ Lucas said.

At the top of the stairs he put her down and she turned, wrapped her arms about him, and kissed him fiercely. They tumbled onto the bed. Lucas propped himself up on one elbow and allowed his gaze to travel all the way down her body, from the bow unravelling in her hair, to her breasts peaking with desperate arousal beneath the thin cotton shift, to her tumbled petticoats, down her legs to her toes. Rebecca’s whole body ached for his touch.

He smiled slowly. ‘I do believe that you are overdressed,’ he said.

Lucas stripped their clothes off with ruthless efficiency and turned Rebecca gently so that she was lying on her stomach next to him on the bed. Lucas allowed his hand to drift down the silken length of her back and over the curve of her buttocks. There was so much passion in her. He had suspected as much when he had seen the eloquence and the beauty and the raw longing that was locked into those engravings. He had wanted to unlock it in reality and make her his, no matter that he knew he should not. And now he had done it, this time forever.

‘Rebecca…’ He leaned over so that his chest brushed the soft skin of her back, and spoke gently in her ear. ‘I am going to take you again. I cannot help myself…’

Rebecca made a faint sound of assent and gave a tiny, voluptuous wriggle. Smiling a little, Lucas reached for the bolster, slid his arm beneath her, lifted her hips and pushed it under her stomach. Finding that she was almost on her knees, Rebecca stirred abruptly.

‘Lucas, what—’

‘Hush.’ He soothed her at the same time as holding her still with one hand spread on the small of her back. She looked so provocative and open to him without any pretence of modesty that he felt his body tighten almost unbearably. ‘I won’t hurt you,’ he whispered.