Don't Bargain with the Devil Page 19

  Still, she would never have guessed that Lucy, of all people, would do such a thing. Elope with a virtual stranger? Had she lost her mind?

  “Mrs. Harris!” exclaimed a voice as she was ushered into the drawing room. “How could Louisa’s note have reached you so soon?”

  It was the duke himself, thank heaven. And rising beside him were the Marquess of Stoneville and Tessa’s Uncle Anthony, the Viscount Norcourt. Good—Anthony would help her, though she wasn’t sure about the rakish Stone-ville. Why they were all here, though, she couldn’t fathom. And where was Louisa?

  Then the duke’s words registered. “What note?”

  The men exchanged glances as the duke’s expression grew grave. “There’s been an accident.”

  “What kind of accident?”

  “Not an accident,” Anthony snapped. “Though I still can’t believe that the bloody little fool killed herself.”

  “Who?” Charlotte asked, now shocked.

  “Lady Kirkwood took her own life last night,” Foxmoor explained. “Kirkwood and his housekeeper found her in the bath. She left a note mentioning her gambling debts.”

  Charlotte stood thunderstruck, Lucy’s situation temporarily paling. Charlotte had always hoped Sarah might come to her senses one day. Now she would never get the chance.

  “There will be a huge scandal,” Lord Stoneville said bitterly. “Selfish little twit. Kirkwood is destroyed. We’ve been discussing how to handle the gossip.”

  Heaven help her. Charlotte hadn’t even thought of that. Society would eat her alive. Two of her graduates embroiled in scandal! Though it was no better than she deserved; she’d failed both women. Staggering a little, she had to be helped to a chair.

  “Are you all right?” Anthony asked, a rock as always.

  “We have a desperate situation at the school, too, I’m afraid. That’s why I came. I hadn’t heard about Sarah yet. But Lucy has eloped with Señor Montalvo.”

  Anthony frowned. “Lucy? Tessa’s friend Lucy?”

  She nodded. “You saw how he was with her at the charity affair. He must have been . . . working on her even then.”

  “Are you sure she eloped and didn’t just visit a friend?” Foxmoor asked.

  “Of course I’m sure,” Charlotte retorted. “She left a note. Besides, that servant of Señor Montalvo’s is still at Rockhurst. He had a note from his master, too. It appears that they left in the middle of the night.”

  Anthony shook his head. “It doesn’t seem like something Lucy would do. She was in love with that idiot Hunforth for years, according to Tessa. Then she turns about and runs off with a Spaniard?”

  “That’s why she ran off with the man,” Charlotte said. “She was very vulnerable. He took advantage.”

  “We all agree on that,” Foxmoor said grimly.

  “You know, Mrs. Harris,” Lord Stoneville said dryly, “you really need to start offering classes to your girls about how to avoid elopements. This makes what, three of your pupils now? There was that girl Amelia who ran off with the American soldier, and then Lady Venetia who ran off with a Scot—”

  “Stoneville, you are not helping,” Anthony put in as Charlotte paled.

  The man was right. This was happening with appalling regularity. Honestly, though, she could hardly have stopped the first two. Although few people knew it, Amelia had actually been kidnapped from her father’s town house by that horrible Lord Pomeroy, forcing Major Lucas to rescue her by marrying her.

  And Venetia was no longer a student at the school when she decided to elope. Besides, she and Sir Lachlan had known each other for years. It hadn’t been a shock to either family when they’d run off together. Or so Charlotte had been told, though she did wonder about the truth of that tale.

  In Lucy’s case, however, Charlotte had clearly been lax. She had let the young woman be stolen right off the premises of the school.

  “I assume they went north to Gretna Green—” Foxmoor began.

  “Why?” Lord Stoneville drawled. “Just as easy for him to whisk her off to Spain. That is where the man is from, isn’t it?”

  Charlotte’s heart sank. She hadn’t even considered that. She seized Anthony’s hand. “I need your help. I know you’re upset right now, what with Sarah’s suicide, but I have to do something about Lucy. There’s no time to waste.”

  “We’ll help, too,” the duke put in. When the others eyed him in surprise, he added, “Kirkwood will be tied up for hours with the inquest. We can be no good to him until it’s done. Louisa is with his family. I don’t know about you, but I need to keep busy until we can help Kirkwood.”

  “I would be most grateful,” Charlotte said.

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” the duke said, taking charge of the situation. “Anthony, go back with Mrs. Harris to the school. See if Tessa can shed any light on this. Perhaps Lucy confided in her.”

  “I already spoke to Tessa,” Charlotte put in.

  “Yes, but she might be more willing to tell the truth to her uncle,” Foxmoor pointed out. “I’ll go to the docks to see if I can discover whether any ships bound for Spain lifted anchor last night.”

  “Someone has to fetch Colonel Seton,” Charlotte said. “He’s still in Edinburgh.”

  “I’ll do it,” Lord Stoneville said.

  The other three gaped at him.

  “What?” he said. “I’ve got the fastest rig of any of you.”

  “Yes, but why would you—” Anthony began.

  “For God’s sake,” Lord Stoneville said, “despite my title, I’m not made of stone. I’ll stop at Gretna Green, and if I don’t find them there, I’ll go on to Edinburgh.”

  “Thank you, Lord Stoneville,” Charlotte said. “I am very grateful for your help, no matter what the reason.”

  The marquess cast her a rakish smile. “Just how grateful might you be, Mrs. Harris?”

  As she gaped at him, Anthony scowled. “Stop that, you blasted whoremonger. Can’t you see this is no time for flirtation?”

  “I was just asking,” Lord Stoneville said with a shrug.

  Charlotte tried not to show her consternation. She’d heard much about the marquess, one of society’s most outrageous rakehells, and did not want to find herself owing him any favor of that kind.

  “Pay him no mind,” Foxmoor put in irritably. “He thinks every woman is fair game. But I assure you, madam, we will play your knights errant in this. After you helped three of us find our wives, Kirkwood included, we can do no less.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She let out a pained sigh. “Though after what has happened today, I doubt Lord Kirkwood will be grateful to me. His family will have a difficult scandal to weather now.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for that,” Anthony said kindly. “Sarah brought her troubles upon herself.” He offered her his hand to help her rise. “Come, then, let’s go talk to Tessa. With luck, we’ll catch up to them before they get too far, and we’ll nip this thing in the bud before it turns into a raging scandal, too.”

  Charlotte prayed he was right. She would hate to see the school destroyed by this onslaught of troubles. And if any harm came to Lucy, she would never forgive herself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dear Cousin,

  I told you of the elopement, but the news grows worse by the day. We now believe it was not an elopement. Tessa is certain that Lucy did not write the note. I pray she is wrong, but I begin to fear the worst. I will know more as soon as I hear from Lord Stoneville, who has gone north to fetch the colonel.

  Your alarmed relation,

  Charlotte

  T wo hours passed before Diego headed belowdecks with Rafael in tow. He had to put a swift end to Lucy’s foolish ideas about returning, and showing her that Rafael was firmly behind him ought to do it.

  He still could not believe how she had reacted upon waking. He had expected some anger over his handling of the matter; he had not expected her to turn into a raging virago.

  He had not expected heartbreaking so
bs.

  Dios mio, why had he tortured himself by listening to her rage at him through the door? But he had been too shaken to leave. Never had he imagined she would go on so. Never had he imagined her crying herself sick. It had taken every ounce of his will not to go in, sweep her up in his arms, and promise to do whatever she wished. Even now, he was tempted.

  But that was madness. He had taken this step for a reason, and once she could consider it rationally, she would see he was right. He was offering her what she said she wanted—the chance to know her family. He was opening up a world of the highest society to her, a status she could never attain in England. He was offering escape from the villainous English colonel who had helped to steal her.

  He set his shoulders grimly. He did not regret what he had done. And once she was calm, she would not regret it, either.

  Outside the cabin, he paused, alarmed by the mysterious silence. Taking out the key, he said to Rafael in a low voice, “I should warn you, she is very angry. I have no idea what we will find, besides pieces of the crockery she hurled at me as I left. She went a little wild when she realized where the ship was headed. She could have done anything to your cabin after I went on deck—you might find your mattress torn to ribbons.”

  “Broken crockery? Torn mattresses? Ah, Diego, you do have a way with women,” Rafael said dryly.

  Not this woman. This woman tied him in knots—when she wasn’t tempting him into madness. “I will reimburse you for any damage.”

  “Open the door, for God’s sake,” Rafael said with a laugh. “Let me see this wild woman for myself.”

  With a nod, Diego unlocked the door and opened it wide.

  Then he stood gaping at the scene before him. The broken dishes and remnants of meat pie were gone, and Lucy and Nettie sat at the table drinking tea as they played cards. Diego marvelled at the change in Lucy’s demeanor. When had she gone from enraged spitfire to placid tea-drinking female?

  She looked different, too. For one thing, her hair fell unfettered to her waist. And she had changed her gown.

  When she stood to face him, he nearly choked on his tongue. From the side, the gown looked perfectly respectable, but as she headed toward him, he could see it lacked something essential. Like half the bodice.

  The two parts of the wrap gown crossed at a point well below decency, revealing the top of her stays and the lacy border of her shift. He could swear he had seen her in this gown before, but something had covered her exposed undergarments and the upper swells of her lovely breasts, which drew his gaze like a pair of beacons.

  God preserve his soul. And was that rouge on her cheeks? She looked like a more ravishing version of Nettie. That did not bode well.

  “It’s about time you returned.” Lucy sashayed up to him, hips swinging. “Nettie and I were getting very bored.”

  Lucy did not sashay, and she did not get bored. She barely flirted. Some part of his mind registered that. But mostly he stood gawking at her, unable to breathe, unable to tear his eyes from the vision of loveliness that was Lucy with her hair down and her bosom half exposed. All he would have to do was slide his hand into the gown, and he could be fondling her breast.

  “Where’s the rest of your clothes?” he ground out.

  “The chemisette, you mean?” She shrugged. “It wasn’t in the bag. I had to make do.” She gave a pretty pout. “Why? Don’t you like it this way?”

  Like it! He wanted to rip it open, toss her down on the bed, and take her like a ravening beast. Por Dios! How would he survive the voyage if she dressed like that the whole time?

  This was all Gaspar’s fault, for hiring that damnable tavern wench to attend her. Lucy would never have considered such attire without Nettie’s encouragement. And when had they become such fast friends, anyway?

  “I like it,” Rafael said in his seducer’s voice. Diego looked over to find his friend scouring Lucy’s body with lascivious interest. “Diego, when you said she was a wild woman, you didn’t say she was a . . . wild woman.”

  Diego barely restrained the urge to toss Rafael out the nearest porthole. Especially after Lucy smiled coquettishly and offered the man her hand. “You must be the captain. We really do need to talk.”

  As Rafael took her hand and pressed a lingering kiss to it, a red haze formed in Diego’s vision. “Enough of that,” he warned in Spanish. “Let go of her before I hang you from the nearest yardarm by your ballocks.”

  With a smirk for Diego’s benefit, Rafael released her hand. “I’m happy to talk to you, Miss Seton, whenever you please. Perhaps you should join me for dinner. You’re already in my cabin, after all.”

  “You gave up your cabin for me?” Lucy pressed her hand to her flagrantly exposed bosom, making both pairs of male eyes swing right to it. “Oh, how sweet. But I don’t want to put you out. To be truthful, I’d rather remain in England. So if you could just weigh anchor while we’re still on the Thames, I’ll hail a passing waterman and be out of your hair before we even reach the coast.”

  Even Rafael wasn’t fool enough to fall for that. “I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your relations, señorita. Besides, I’ve already delayed my journey too long. I’m eager to be home again with my cargo.”

  Lucy’s smile grew steely. “And what if I offered you a substantial financial compensation?” She jerked her head toward Diego. “More than he offered. My papa has a number of friends who would be happy to reward you for my safe return.” Her eyes glittered. “Otherwise, the next time you come this way for a cargo, you might find yourself delayed in an English gaol.”

  Diego stifled his smile. Rafael took to threats about as well as he did.

  “You were wrong, Diego,” Rafael said in a silky voice that his men knew to beware. “She’s not wild; she’s reckless. And on my ship, recklessness is generally rewarded with a stay in the hold and rations of bread and water.”

  When Lucy paled, Diego stepped between them. “You made your point, Rafael. We will not keep you.”

  Lucy darted around Diego to clasp Rafael’s arm. “Please, Captain, is there nothing I can say or do to persuade you to return me to my family?”

  Rafael frowned at her. Then his eyes trailed downward to her exposed bosom, and a wolfish expression darkened his face. “There might be one thing—”

  “Out!” Diego shoved his friend. “Now! Lucy and I need a word.”

  With a chuckle, Rafael left the cabin, his good humor restored.

  Diego’s had vanished entirely.

  Lucy sniffed. “I see that your friend is just as willing to take advantage of a woman as you are, Señor Montalvo.”

  Her return to calling him Señor Montalvo was the last straw.

  “Nettie,” he bit out, jerking his head toward the door, “go fetch more food for your mistress, will you?”

  With a bob of her head, Nettie left.

  “Some chaperone she is,” Lucy said.

  “She is here for appearance’s sake only. And she knows who pays her salary.” Diego stalked toward Lucy with grim intent. “Listen to me, cariño, and listen well. We are going to Spain. You are going to be reunited with your family, and I will make sure you reach there unharmed if I have to lock you up in this cabin the entire trip to do it!”

  As she backed away, he cornered her, taking some satisfaction from the sudden flare of alarm on her face. “So I suggest you be careful about flaunting your feminine assets to all and sundry. Aside from the fact that Rafael would bed you if you gave him the slightest encouragement, there are thirty men on this ship who wouldn’t require encouragement. And I cannot fight them all off.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest like a woman determined to brazen it out. “Why should you care if I take a lover or two?” she snapped, eyes blazing at him. “Just because my grandfather said you weren’t to lay a hand on me doesn’t mean no one can. And how would he know, anyway?”

  The word “lover” sent a shaft of jealous fury through him so powerful that he forgot to be cautious. “He might n
ot, but your future husband would. And your grandfather will skin me alive if you embarrass him by losing your innocence out of anger at me.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “H-husband? That’s what this is about? The marqués wants to marry me off to someone?” Hurt spread over her features. “And you . . . you agreed to offer me up like some sacrificial lamb?”

  Hostias, him and his quick tongue. She was making him insane. “It is not what you think. He has not arranged a marriage. But he does hope to see you married soon. He wants to bring you out in Spanish society, so you can find a rich and titled husband deserving of you. He needs an heir, after all.”

  “An heir.” She swallowed, her expression crumbling. “I knew there was a reason he was suddenly so interested in me after years of silence.”

  “He was not ‘suddenly’ interested,” he said tersely. “He did not know about the regiment’s connection to your mother’s nurse until recently.”

  “Right around the time his son died. How very convenient. So since he now has no other chance for an heir, he wants me to produce one.”

  Her remark struck him hard. He had been too caught up in the idea that he would be reuniting her with her family and regaining Arboleda to consider how much the death of the marqués’s son might be connected to all this. Until now.

  Diego could not believe the marqués had such calculating motives. He was dying, for God’s sake. One wanted one’s family near at such a time. “That is not the reason he wants you back. You are his only granddaughter.”

  “And thus the only one who can produce his heir.” A troubled frown appeared on her brow. “That’s why he didn’t want you to touch me. He has to ensure the purity of his line.”