The Redemption of a Rogue (Dark Regency Book 2) (10 page)

He waited, but his caution created a greater complication. He would be late returning to the drawing-room, and would have no chance to speak with Abbi prior to dinner, no opportunity to explain that appearances had been necessarily deceiving. When he entered the drawing room, the guests were migrating into the dining room. He ignored Lavinia’s snide smile as he found Abbi and took her arm to lead her in. He also ignored the frigid glare that Abbi leveled at him.

Michael was only too well aware of how things looked. The smug glances of the other women present, Lavinia’s less than thinly veiled slurs, Rupert’s lascivious stares directed at Abbi, all combined to make the evening a misery for them both. It had been an utter waste of his time, except for the all too vivid images of Lavinia and Squire Blevins in the hot clutches of lust. Those were images he would just as soon forget. It was not the outcome he'd hoped for.

As the dinner progressed, it only became worse. The tension between Abbi and himself was palpable. In one respect, it was the perfect response. It lent credence in the minds of everyone else present this his reason for disappearing from the party was that he and Lady Caroline Westerbrook had slipped away for a liaison. The unfortunate element of the situation was that, having no time to explain the situation, Abbi now believed it as well. It did not bode well for the remainder of his evening.

As the dinner was cleared away, the guests began to segregate. The men retreated to the billiard-room and the women headed back to the drawing-room. Michael managed to steer Abbi into a quiet alcove.

He uttered the first words that came to mind. “It is not what you think.” Even to his own ears, it sounded weak and hollow, even if it was the truth. How many men and women had uttered those words to cover up their infidelities?

“Michael, we both know who that woman is and what your relationship with her is. Don’t insult my intelligence by asking me to believe that you disappeared for half an hour with a woman who until two weeks ago was your mistress without it being precisely what I think it was! Regardless of what your disappearance signifies to me, we both know what it signifies to everyone else… I will not be an object of ridicule.”

Michael sighed heavily, “I promise you; I will explain everything tonight. For the time being, I need you to continue acting as you did at dinner…It works to our benefit to have them all believe that you are angry with me.”

She glared at him, before jerking her arm free from his grasp. “That should not prove to be difficult as nothing has changed since dinner, regardless of your pretty explanations.”

Michael watched her walk away, waiting until she disappeared into the drawing-room, before retreating to the billiard room. This would not go away quickly, and he did not doubt that he would be paying for it for quite some time.

Abbi entered the drawing room and steadfastly ignored the falsely pitying looks leveled at her by the other ladies present. She couldn’t abide being the subject of such a public humiliation. She didn’t truly believe that Michael had engaged in an amorous encounter with Lady Westerbook during the absence, but it galled her to know that everyone else did.

His thoughtlessness in casting such scorn upon her was the true source of her anger. She acknowledged to herself, at least, that much of that stemmed from her father’s faithlessness to her mother and his marriage to his mistress only months after her mother’s death. Lavinia had exploited that weakness of hers, almost from the first.

“Darling, even with your rustic upbringing, surely you understand that this is the way of society marriages!” Lavinia said, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

Abbi turned to meet her stepsister’s smug gaze. “Is that why your guest list consists of nothing more than my husband’s former lovers? You filled your home with his past paramours and then let us walk blindly into the middle of it.”

Lavinia smiled sympathetically, but her eyes remained cold and calculating. “You make it sound so cold, darling! It was only to protect you from false hopes and expectations. It was best for you to learn now what kind of man you married.”

“Others may be fooled by your sisterly displays of concern, Lavinia, but you and I both know that this is simply more of your conniving machinations…You should see to your guests, sister, and leave me be.”

Abbi walked away from Lavinia, made small talk with locals and steadfastly avoided the guests that had been invited to increase her misery. When the gentleman returned to the drawing room, she pleaded a headache and retired to their chamber. Michael excused himself and followed right behind her, ignoring the slamming of their chamber door in his face.

“Abigail,” he began as he entered the room. She was plucking the pins from her hair with quick, angry movements.  “I had no idea that Caroline would be there. There was no liaison, planned or otherwise.”

“Lady Westerbrook,” she said with emphasis, the pins clattering onto the top of the dressing table with sharp pings, “Is not the issue here. The issue is that I will not be publicly humiliated by you!”

One of the pins went skittering off the dressing table, and he retrieved it. Gently, he clasped her hands and removed them from her hair. “I find that I’m rather partial to your hair. I would prefer it if you left it attached to your head.”

“You’ll forgive me if I find myself less than concerned about your preferences at the moment,” she said. She didn’t particularly like the waspish tone of her voice, but she found herself incapable of containing her ire.

“Lavinia invited those women, not I,” he said patiently. “I cannot change my past, Abigail, and I cannot promise that you will never be put in a position of having to face it.”

His ability to completely ignore the reason for her displeasure with him boggled the mind. “But do you have to leave me alone in a room with it while you’re slipping away with your lover?” she demanded, her voice a sharp hiss.

Michael threw his hands up in the air. “I did not slip away with Caroline! The only way to search the house without arousing suspicion was to make it appear that we had—“

“Was to allow every viperous woman in this house to believe that you had decided to renew your relationship with your most recent lover only days after we married,” she said succinctly. There was no heat in her voice, but the anger still simmered below the surface.

“I am sorry that it hurt you.”

“Not hurt, Michael. Embarrassed. You embarrassed me and left me alone to face the censure of others. I was an object of pity before, as the poor relation, but I was not an object of ridicule. You have changed that.”

He had no answer for that. It was true. Yes, he had good reasons for what he had done. It had been necessary, and there had been no other expedient way to search the house. It did nothing to lessen what she perceived as her humiliation at his hands. Though he could not admit it to her, to himself he acknowledged that he would have been furious if the situations had been reversed.

“Regardless of your displeasure with me, wife, you must remain in public areas with other guests until I can escort you to this chamber. Surely, you haven’t forgotten the horrors that Sarah suffered, more than likely at the hands of your sister and brother in law?”

“I have not forgotten, but do not expect me to tolerate their viciousness for long,” she said. 

It was a reasonable request. As they readied for bed, they did not speak again. The tension between them was palpable as Abbi spent the night clinging to her side of the bed. Michael stayed with her, staring up at the ceiling until the wee hours of the morning.

When he was fairly certain the rest of the household was settled in for the night, he rose and dressed in his discarded evening clothes. Again, if he were caught in the hallway, his rumpled clothing would simply be part of his cover. He would look as if he were returning from a midnight tryst, rather than a search of the premises.

He paused before leaving the room, and moved to her side of the bed. Gently, he swept the hair back from her face. Even in sleep, she appeared tense. Quietly, he said, “I have to give the appearance of being the unrepentant libertine…It is the only way to move freely through the house.”

Her eyes opened, “I know,” she replied just as softly. “But that doesn't mean I have to like it.””

It wasn’t exactly a truce, but it was close enough for him. He kissed her, taking her lips in a searing kiss. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. This may be my only chance to search Rupert’s study.”

She didn’t offer to go with him, knowing that he would refuse, that it would undermine the disguise of meeting with a lover. When the door closed quietly behind him, she felt the hot sting of tears. It was only her wounded pride at having had to be in such proximity to his former paramours, but it was enough to put a damper on their burgeoning relationship.

Chapter Ten

Michael paused in rummaging through Rupert’s desk. He had found a few things of note, primarily that Rupert appeared to be living on appearances only. The Whitby’s were massively in debt, and most of their debts appeared to have accrued through the acquisition of ancient artifacts from questionable sources.

The items weren’t named in the ledgers; the sources were known for the connection to the world of black market Greco-Roman antiquities. A dark suspicion began to form in his mind as he considered his own collection of relics, inherited from his father. Rupert had expressed an interest in them that first night. Could that be the reason for luring him into their social circle? While not extensive, the items were rare and highly prized, and some carried a dark history.

He had never moved in the same circle as Lavinia and Rupert. Given his reputation with women, he didn’t have to seek such entertainments. Women had always sought him out. When the offers had appealed to him, he had accepted. When they hadn’t, he had declined as kindly as possible. Though the number of liaisons was cause enough for a few raised eyebrows, his preferences had run to the pedestrian.

He had never reached the point of being so bored with the glorious wonders of a feminine body that he needed to add spice the way the Whitby’s had. They had delved into perversions had never held any appeal for him.

The letter itself was telling. Rupert had been a bit too enthusiastic in abusing the wife of one of their compatriots, and the couple was regretfully bowing out of coming entertainments. The truly curious part of the letter was that it was signed with only the use of a Roman numeral.

He had just stuffed the letter into his pocket when he heard the sound of voices coming from just beyond the door. Moving quickly, his steps sure even in the darkness, he crouched behind a large chair in the corner, his eyes trained on the door as it began to open. Rupert stepped inside, Squire Blevins following him, the door closed again, and the room was lit only by the small candelabra that the Squire carried.

“There was no sign of the girl… I searched along the banks of the stream but found nothing. She can’t have gone far, if she survived at all,” the Squire said. 

Rupert nodded, “I agree. At this point, it’s a question of locating her remains.”

“There is Blagdon Hall, which is close by,” the Squire offered. “Id she'd sought aid there, all could be lost.”

Rupert dismissed the concerns with a wave of his hand, “If she’d made it to Blagdon Hall; Ellersleigh would have said something”

The Squire nodded his agreement..” He isn’t the type to let something like that go, even if she was just a village girl.”

Rupert coughed softly, holding a handkerchief to his lips. Michael recalled his coughing during the first dinner he'd attended at Whitby Hall. With the medications he'd discovered in their chambers, it was obvious that Rupert was in the early stages of consumption.

“Just so,” Rupert agreed. “But I don’t like his presence here. Lavinia’s plan to seduce the artifact out from under him has failed miserably, and we must have that piece for the final ritual.”

“And Abbigail?” Blevins asked.

Rupert smiled, “When Ellersleigh is out of the way, and the staff is in our possession, we will both have our fill of her, without the burden of virgin missishness… Who knows, Squire? Now that she’s had a man betwixt her thighs, she might be a bit more amenable to our advances.”

Blevins chuckled, “I hope not. I prefer it when there’s a bit of a fight in them.”

Michael watched the two men leave, his fists clenched and anger boiling inside him. With everything in him, he wanted to challenge them openly, but he couldn’t. He needed proof of what they were doing, and more than ever, he needed to know what their ultimate goal was. First and foremost, he needed to get Abby somewhere safe, and figure out what bloody artifact it was that they wanted.

Michael made his way back up the servant’s stairs, and into the hallway that housed his and Abigail’s rooms. In only his breeches and shirt, he gave every impression of a man returning from a tryst. Lavinia was waiting for him outside the door. Her hair was mussed, her clothing rumpled, and she smelled of sex.

“Ellersleigh,” she said in greeting, her tongue stroking her bottom lip. “I see you’ve been partaking of the bounty I provided for you.”

“What are you doing here, Lavinia?”

She laughed softly, “I was hoping you would show your appreciation for my unparalleled skill as a hostess. Every woman under this roof has had you or wishes to. It’s a dream come true for most men.”

Exhausted beyond belief and disgusted beyond measure by her and her cohorts, he didn't bother to conceal his disdain as he spoke. “I do not need you to act as a procuress for me, Lavinia.”

Her hands stroked over her breasts, tugging the bodice of her gown so that the rouged circles of her areolas were visible to him. She continued to touch herself, her hands stroking over her belly to press between her thighs. “I could be anything you needed… Do anything you needed. Whatever you desire, no matter how dark and depraved, you have but to speak it to me, and it will be yours.”

Michael leaned close to her, “Then I will speak clearly, Lavinia. I only desire for you to return to your husband and leave me be. Abbigail and I will be leaving on the morrow.”

She smiled, though the expression was far from warm. It was a bit like a cat baring its teeth in threat. “Enjoy your newly wedded bliss.”

Michael felt vaguely sickened. She had already serviced Squire Blevins, and there were no limit of options for whom he’d just been with, and yet she stood outside the room where his wife slept, attempting to seduce him. “Stay away from us both, Lavinia. I want no part of you, and if you importune Abigail in any way, I will make you regret it.”

She laughed again, maniacally, “Will you beat me? It isn’t the punishment that you imagine, Lord Ellersleigh. There is a point where the pain transcends everything, and the body achieves a state of bliss like nothing else.”

He didn’t touch her but remained completely aloof, when he said, “No, I will not beat you. But I will ruin you. I will see to it that no society hostess will even give you admittance… How quickly will your circle of lovers dwindle then?”

“Burn in hell, Ellersleigh.”

“Without a doubt, Lady Whitby, but I imagine you will be there first.”

After Lavinia had disappeared down the length of the hall, Michael entered the room to find Abigail sitting up in the middle of the bed. She was wide awake and staring at him with concern. “How much did you overhear?”

“Enough to know that Lavinia has somehow crossed from perversion into madness,” she replied.

He didn’t discount what she said though he knew that sometimes it was a much finer line than he hoped she would ever realize. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“You found something didn’t you?”

He debated for a moment but then decided that the truth was the best of the options. Being prepared might very well keep her alive. “I’m not sure, but I did overhear enough to know that we are both in danger here. I believe that Rupert is ill... and nothing makes a man more dangerous than desperation.”

He didn't tell her what he'd overheard between the Squire and Rupert. He doubted it would surprise her at any rate. She knew Rupert's motives well enough already. He just couldn't bring himsefl to speak of it. “We will leave for London day after tomorrow, and I know you won’t like it, but I intend to ask Lady Westerbrook to accompany us. Regardless of our past relationship, the people here are not the sort she normally associates with. I fear that she is very much in over her head, and only because of her association with me.”

Abbi shook her head. “No, absolutely not. She will not go with us… And you will not speak with her. I will. I can impress upon her how dangerous Whitby Hall can be. It will be assumed by every gossip in this house that we are having a jealous confrontation, which will precipitate our departure.”

“Will it be a jealous confrontation?”

Her eyebrow lifted slightly but her expression remained calm and aloof otherwise. “No. Jealousy is a wasted emotion, my lord. You will do what you will do regardless of whether or not I obsess about it. It just so happens that in this case, it is to our benefit to feign such poor self-control.”

Chastened, Michael stripped off his clothing and climbed into bed for the second time that evening. Given what he had seen and heard, and all he had to think about, he didn’t imagine that sleep would come anytime soon. He’d spent many sleepless nights in bed with women, but they had normally been of a more pleasant variety.