*
In the privacy of his own quarters, Gideon Heath locked the door and took both the pamphlets and the oilskin parcel from his pockets. Still smarting from the damned secretary locking him out of the castle—he knew it had been the nobody—he threw them on the bed with unnecessary force and hurled himself after them.
Shoving the pamphlets aside, he unwrapped the soiled oilskin and found a roll of paper money, not nearly as fat as he had hoped. Petulantly, he tossed it after the pamphlets.
How am I supposed to set myself up on such meager funds? Let alone live on them! Scowling with rage, he tugged his hair until it hurt.
There would be more, of course, but not until either she was married or received more funds from her brother. He could, he supposed, intimidate her into getting them, but it looked to him as if the amount of money involved was going to be far smaller than he had hoped. At least until she was married.
Which began to seem rather like losing the goose that laid the golden eggs. If he had the goose—in this case, Maria—he had everything rather than a few pounds flung under a rose bush. A damned thorny rose bush, he recalled, examining his scratched hand.
Damn, he had drunk too much again. At least he retained enough sense to hide the pamphlets and place the money in a safe place. The latter would pay off a debt or two and buy him a decent dinner.
He struggled out of his coat and his boots and fell into bed, pulling the covers up to his ears. But before he fell asleep, he was already forming a new plan that should not interfere with the old. He was off duty for the next two days. So, tomorrow, he could go to the tavern and set things in motion.
*
Returning to the ballroom with Frances, Maria was somewhat piqued to see Michael Hanson dancing with Genevra. At least it was not a waltz, but in any case, she had no right to object. He was probably fed up with Maria and her annoying problems. Which was a lowering thought when she really enjoyed his company.
But it was a ball, and she was short of neither company nor partners. So, she danced with Bernard, and finally, the last dance of the evening, waltzed with Mr. Beauchamp. She had really wanted to lurk a little longer in case Michael, whom she could not see anywhere, asked her, but poor Mr. Beauchamp looked so hopeful and contrite, that she did not have the heart to refuse him. Besides, it was a chance to silence tongues after the almost-scandal at Wickenden, to show that her family saw no need to separate them.
“It is the right thing to do, isn’t it?” Beauchamp said anxiously as they waltzed most decorously around the room.
“Dancing together? Oh yes, I think so.”
“I have not even been able to apologize for my behavior.”
“Nor I for mine. I was unforgivably rude not to have listened to what you were saying and misled you on such a…serious matter.”
He gave a crooked smile. “Well, that is certainly a salutary lesson for me! Although we both understand that in truth, you owe me no apologies. But I would like you to know one thing. The world calls me a fortune hunter and it’s true I am, in vulgar parlance, hanging out for a rich wife. But with you, it was pure enchantment. I cared nothing for your fortune. Neither was I stupid enough to imagine your brother would allow the match, so elopement seemed the only way. But I’m so sorry for the difficulties I’ve caused you.”
Touched in spite of herself, Maria smiled at him. “Do you know, I think that’s the finest compliment anyone has ever paid me? And actually, although I do regret the incident, looking back on it, it was extremely funny.”
Beauchamp grinned. “You are a wonderful girl! I hope you make a great match and are blissfully happy.”
“I wish you happy also,” she said cordially. “And I’m very glad we’re friends. Only friends,” she added, just to be sure he understood.
His smile was a little twisted, but he seemed glad enough simply not to be reviled.
Later, when the last of the carriages had borne the guests away, and those staying at the castle were making their weary but happy ways to bed, Maria stood in the dark at the small drawing room window, gazing out at the sea.
She had removed her gloves, and her hands were clasped in front of her, but she wasn’t grinding her nails into her palm. Instead, despite everything that was going on, particularly the unresolved matter of Gideon’s extortion, she was enjoying one of those rare moments of calm contentment. The beauty of the sea, reflecting the moon’s silver glow in its rippling waves, constantly changing and yet eternal, soothed her. She could understand why Tamar painted it so obsessively. She had no such outlet for her appreciation, so she just let it wash through her, mixing with the gladness the evening had brought her.
It was largely Michael, she realized. A warm, exciting new happiness trembled in her heart, muddled with the wonder of the sea view and waltzing in Michael’s arms.
It did not even seem strange when she sensed another presence in the darkness with her. When he stood beside her, she knew it was Michael, from the clean, fresh smell of the man, from the smooth, quiet way he moved, and the fact that he merely stood beside her in silence. She knew, somehow, that he was appreciating the view as she did. She didn’t need to look at him, but she did, just once, to be sure.
The moonlight glinted on his spectacles, sharpened the contours and shadows of his face. He kept his gaze on the sea, and after a mere instant, she turned back to it, too, enjoying the same view, the same beauty, the same sense of peace.
After a while, it seemed quite natural to move her hand and find his. She only wanted one touch, like a confirmation, but as she began to release his passive hand, his fingers curled around hers.
She stood in silence with him, absorbing the thrill that grew and intensified until she thought she would weep.
Then he lifted her hand. She felt the warm brush of his lips on her wrist, and knowledge broke over her like a tide. Her mouth opened to say the words that could never be recalled, but he had already dropped her hand and was striding out of the room as quietly as he had entered. Like a man who could see in the dark. Could he hear her unspoken words, too?
I love you.
Chapter Nine
By the time she eventually climbed into bed, Maria knew that neither she nor Michael needed this new complication in their lives. Michael loved another, to whom he was already betrothed, and even if Judith hadn’t existed and he had somehow loved Maria back, neither Gervaise nor her mother would have countenanced such an unequal match.
He kissed my wrist, she pleaded with her common sense. Surely that is the caress of a lover, not a friend?
Nonsense, retorted her common sense. It was dark and he fumbled. He meant it as the goodnight of an affectionate friend. And we are friends. I must not ruin that.
So, she allowed herself the moment, the tears of joy and loss she spilled into the pillow, along with smiles she couldn’t prevent. And in the morning, she rose with new confidence and pride, just because she loved him and would never tell.
Before she was properly dressed, she was joined by her little sisters who arrived in great glee to discuss the ball.
“You really did pour lemonade on his head, didn’t you?” Maria said, and they grinned at her.
“Twice,” Helen said. “We tried once each. The first only just caught him and dribbled down the side of his face. The second landed right on the top of his head. He almost caught us, but we managed to slither to the back of the gallery just in time.”
“One of the orchestra musicians saw and was trying very hard not to laugh,” Alice added.
“So long as no one in the ballroom saw you,” Maria said, trying to be severe.
“Well, you didn’t, did you?” Helen said reasonably.
“No, that is true.” Maria winked. “But I did see his hair was wet and sticking up, so I knew you’d done it. Bless your hearts!”
“Did he leave early?” Alice asked eagerly. “Because we couldn’t see him when Miss Harker found us and hauled us off to bed.”
“I believe he did l
eave before supper,” Maria confided, and they crowed with a delight that made her laugh. Of course, there was still the matter of preventing him from asking for more money, but she did not need to worry about that today. “Have you had breakfast?”
“Hours ago,” Alice said with blatant exaggeration.
“Then shall we walk into Blackhaven?” Maria suggested, for her restlessness needed some outlet.
“Ices!” the girls said at once.
Maria laughed, hoping she had kept back enough pin-money to pay for the treat. Oh well, if she hadn’t, the account would just have to be sent to the castle.
It was a pleasant morning, so they climbed down to Braithwaite Cove beneath the castle and walked along the beach to the town. Just because she could, Maria played tag with the girls and wrote rude messages in the sand in response to theirs. It was all fun, despite the mantle of adulthood that seemed quite suddenly to have fallen around her shoulders because she loved a man. Not the foolish, childish infatuation she had once harbored for Gideon. That had been based solely on looks and the devilment of secrecy—and, of course, the fact he had flattered her. This feeling for Michael was different, grown ridiculously fast, it was true, but grounded on so much more.
And equally impossible.
The ices at the parlor in High Street were very welcome and deliciously refreshing. Maria was happy to have enough coins in her purse to pay for them, although how she was to survive the rest of the quarter without asking Gervaise for more money was another matter. She didn’t let it worry her as she strolled through the town with her sisters, admiring gowns and hats in various windows.
Helen waved through the coffee house window. “Look, it’s Dr. Lampton.”
The doctor was indeed sitting at the window table, scanning a newspaper while he gulped at a cup of coffee. He glanced up, his rather stern face softening into a smile as he bowed to them.
Maria smiled back, and then, beyond him, her eye was caught by another figure in the far corner. Mr. Betts.
*
“What the devil is he still doing in Blackhaven?” She threw the question at Michael almost as soon as she’d swept into the library and made sure there was no one but him in the room.
He was sitting on the top step of the ladder, a book open in his lap, gazing down at her in apparent surprise. “Who?”
“Betts! That rude little man who barged in demanding to see Braithwaite and went on about seditious pamphlets.”
A surprised frown formed between his brows. “He’s still here? That is curious…”
It was interesting, she thought, that unlike most men when she told them something they didn’t already know, Michael did not dismiss it by asking if she was certain or, worse, accusing her of being mistaken.
“He was in the coffee house”
“Of course he was. In London, they believe coffee shops and taverns to be hotbeds of sedition and protest.”
“Are they?” Maria asked curiously.
“Some of them,” he admitted. “But I suspect he’s misunderstood Blackhaven entirely.” He paused, gazing beyond her, obviously deep in thought. “Or not,” he murmured. He closed the book, rose, and slid down the ladder, a boys’ trick that made her smile.
“What do you mean?” she asked, watching him place the book on his working table.
“When I followed Heath last night to speak to him in private, he went straight to what looked like a previously arranged assignation. Not of the amorous variety. A man gave him something that made his coat fatter by the time he came back to the ballroom terrace. It rustled like paper when he moved.
“Paper money?” she asked eagerly.
“It could have been. Or documents.”
“That’s odd. Gideon is not really a man of letters.”
“No. And it’s probably got nothing to do with Betts’s continued presence. Still, it makes you think. If Betts is still here, then his visit probably is something other than a politically motivated investigation of your brother or me. Something suspicious could really be going on in Blackhaven.”
Maria laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. Lots of suspicious things go on in Blackhaven. We’ve had smugglers, French spies, secret meetings with foreign governments, assassins, art thieves, jewel thieves, shipwrecks, treasure hunts… And that’s only what I know.”
Michael blinked. “I thought your family dealt well with the treasure hunt and its aftermath. No wonder, if they have had all this practice.”
“Oh, it doesn’t all happen to us,” she assured him. “But something is always going on in the town.”
“I think I might have underestimated matters. Perhaps I should have a talk with Betts.”
“What did Gervaise say to him? Did he show him the contents of the bag he found so interesting?”
“I believe so. But since they contained only perfectly harmless information pertinent to his lordship’s next speech to the house, he went away quite frustrated. There must be something else…”
“To do with you?” Maria asked.
He shook his head, almost impatiently. “What I have to say can wait until after the Bonaparte threat is over.” He glanced up at her. “But it could be something to do with Bonaparte that has got Betts and his masters so anxious. I thought it was just the anti-war sentiments of our party in general that made them nervous, but what if there is something else?”
“Like what? Spies?”
“It was pamphlets Betts was looking for.” Thoughtfully, he took off his spectacles and polished them on a handkerchief.
She had been right about his eyebrows. Thick and dramatic, they almost joined over his nose, adding considerable character to an already handsome face. But it was his naked eyes that held her attention. Grey and unexpectedly brilliant, their profound beauty caught at her breath.
Then he rubbed the bridge of his nose before replacing the spectacles, and she hastily looked away.
“Your brother has given me the day to myself. I believe I shall go into Blackhaven and look around.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she would go with him, but their eyes met and his rueful smile told her he already understood her eagerness and all the reasons why she couldn’t just wander around the town in his company.
“If I discover what it is, and we need to investigate, perhaps we can divide and do it separately, tomorrow.” he offered.
Her smile was slightly twisted. “You mean I should go to genteel places like the hotel and the hat shop, where no one will know anything, while you go to the print shop and the tavern and other low establishments that will actually help?”
“Well, you certainly can’t go to the tavern,” he said reasonably. “As to the rest, I have no idea. But you would certainly have more access to visiting gentlefolk and the homes of gentlemen.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean such people could be involved in this?”
“Since we don’t yet know what this is, I can’t say. But don’t condemn yourself as useless just yet.”
“You’ll let me know what you find out?” she asked urgently as he strode past her to the door.
“Of course,” he flung over his shoulder with a quick smile that made her heart turn over. And then he was gone.
*
Michael had been both longing and dreading to see Maria again. His growing obsession had only been compounded by his incomprehensible decision to join her in the smaller drawing room when he’d seen her silhouette against the window. He’d been silent at first because he could think of nothing to say, and then he’d realized her company was enough. They shared the silence and the view together, and she appeared to be content with that.
He could have imagined the new closeness he sensed between them, her happiness in his presence. In the cold light of morning, he wished he had. But at the time, it had seemed perfectly natural for her to take his hand, for him to kiss it as he left, still without saying a word.
What devil had prompted him to kiss not the backs of her fingertips but t
he inside of her wrist, he had no idea. But it had been a deliberate act, a temptation he hadn’t even tried to resist. Her soft skin smelled of light summer flowers and tasted sweet on his lips. Beneath his mouth, her pulse galloped, and suddenly releasing her and walking away had been the hardest thing he had ever forced himself to do. For every instinct had urged him to take her in his arms and kiss her into oblivion, to surrender.
Thank God he had retained enough sense to resist that urge. For it seemed around Maria, his instincts were too often his enemy. She was sweet and vulnerable and too far above him to ever reach.
And there was Judith.
His disloyalty was making him cringe. He should never have touched Maria.
She touched me.
In friendship. Like her little sisters. Accept it or leave her alone.
In a few days, he would be forced to leave her alone, when he accompanied Braithwaite back to London. He had no idea what plans were made for Maria and didn’t want to find out. But gladly, he would accept what friendship she offered for the next day or so. With that decision made, he had no idea how she would now regard him. Would she be embarrassed by last night? Take it as a sign of love? Welcome it?
His heart lurched painfully at that thought, but at least he could still laugh at himself for it.
Then, in the end, all his anxiety came to nothing as she blew into the library like a gale, talking of Betts, and suddenly they were back on the same footing as before, and he could breathe a huge sigh of relief that he had not ruined everything.
Whatever everything was.
At any rate, the brisk walk into Blackhaven made him feel better, including his troubled sleep.
To his disappointment, Mr. Betts was no longer in the coffee house. In the hope that he would return soon, Michael ordered coffee and sat down by one of the congenial officers he had met last night. The man seemed glad of his company and talked happily about beautiful girls he had danced with—“sadly not with Lady Maria, though”—and the upcoming fight with the French.
“I can’t wait to fight Boney himself,” he enthused.
The Wicked Sister Page 9