No.
Archie would be safe, and they would be married, and no one would ever know about the events of her past. To do that, though, he needed help. Thankfully, he knew just the man to ask.
***
He was up early, despite the temptation to linger.
“I won’t be long,” he promised, leaning down to kiss a rumpled Archie who was still sleepy and adorably mussed. The desire to undress and get back into bed, as the expression on her face suggested would be wise, was hard to ignore. “Don’t you dare move from this spot.”
She quirked one eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to stay in bed all day.”
“I can, and I do. Rest, and give my household something to do. I have a ridiculous amount of staff, who are always demanding I give them more to occupy them. They long for grand balls and lavish dinners, and I’d rather stick pins in my eyes. So, for heaven’s sake, oblige them and get them running to do your bidding. Order as much food as you can eat, have a bath, and get yourself back in this bed. Read, dream, sleep… but don’t leave this room.”
He was doing his best to sound stern, but Archie was grinning at him, so it was hard to maintain.
“I think you have some kind of kidnapping fetish,” she said, laying back against the pillows and smirking. “You carried me off without a by your leave within seconds of meeting me, and now you want to lock me in your room.”
“What do you know of fetishes?” he demanded, a little alarmed.
Archie chuckled and shrugged. “I’ve lived with Erasmus and Rupert and a whole host of artistic types. Their conversation would make your hair curl. I learned a good deal,” she added, amusement glittering in her grey-blue eyes.
“Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully, thinking he’d like to discover exactly what she had learned and put it to the test. “Anyway, it isn’t locked,” he said, returning to the point of the conversation. He frowned then, a sudden burst of anxiety in his chest. “Do I need to lock it? Perhaps I should lock it. You’re not going to disappear, again are you?”
At that, the wretch got to her knees, allowing the covers to fall and expose a lithe, slender body that made his mouth dry. “I’ll be here when you get back,” she said as she hooked her arms about his neck, pulling him back down to her, whispering the words against his mouth. “But I’ll let you lock me in another day, if you’d like that?” She winked at him, and Ranleigh felt a rush of heat prickle over him.
“Why am I going out?” he queried, his voice a little rough. “I can’t remember. Was it important?”
Archie snorted, and kissed him again before letting him go and lying back in beautiful disarray. She pulled the covers up around her neck and returned a look of perfect innocence. “Because you have to go and see your friend who knows people.” She tapped the side of her nose and gave him another theatrical wink.
“Oh, yes,” he said, dejected to remember just how imperative that was. “That’s why. Certainly, nothing less than your safety could induce me to leave this room.”
With a sigh of regret he walked to the door and then turned, raising a finger to point at her. “Stay,” he said, his expression severe.
Archie stared back at him, all the teasing and humour falling away as she looked at him with longing. “I want to,” she said.
***
“Well, well.” Alexander Sinclair, The Earl of Falmouth, looked up from his desk as Ranleigh entered. “I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”
Ranleigh crossed the room, his boots sinking into a luxurious carpet as the scent of cigars and fine brandy enveloped him. Somewhere nearby he could hear children shrieking with laughter, until the footman who had shown him in closed the door.
“I was avoiding you,” he admitted, sitting down in front of Alex’s desk.
Alex nodded, looking unsurprised. “Fair enough. Care to explain?”
Ranleigh shrugged, knowing he ought to explain himself. “Perhaps, but I have more pressing matters. I need your help.”
One dark eyebrow raised, and he had Alex’s undivided attention. “What kind of help?”
“The kind that requires very delicate handling and, if that fails, a place to bury the bodies.”
“Ah,” replied Falmouth, unperturbed. “That kind of help. You’d best tell me everything.”
So Ranleigh did. He told the friend—whose marital bliss had made him so jealous he couldn’t bear to be in his company—all about Archie.
From beginning to end.
Alex stared at him once he’d finished, his expression thoughtful. “Well that… er, explains a certain rumour that reached Céleste’s ear this morning,” Alex mused, looking at Ranleigh with interest and no little amusement.
“Good God, already?” Ranleigh replied. “She didn’t lose any time.”
Alex gave him a sympathetic smile and sat back in his seat, his expression one of contemplation. “We should send someone to investigate first. Find out exactly what happened, what people are saying, and if there is still a warrant for Archie’s arrest.”
“Yes,” Ranleigh replied, relieved that Alex was of the same mind. “My thoughts exactly. Do you know anyone? They’d need to be discreet and trustworthy.”
He watched Alex smile. “As it happens, I do. He has worked for my new son-in-law on occasion, and you don’t do that unless he trusts you implicitly. He’s not the sort you double cross. It tends to shorten life expectancy, from what I hear. You’ve not met Luther Blackehart yet, have you?”
Ranleigh shook his head. “No, and if the rumours are true, I’m not sure I’m in any hurry to.”
The marriage of Alex’s newly discovered illegitimate daughter to crime lord Luther Blackehart had been the most recent scandal to set the ton alight. Alex, whose reputation had never been exactly pristine, had weathered it by simply ignoring it and carrying on as usual. Everyone was too terrified to cut him for fear of what he—or his new relation—might consider a reasonable reprisal, and so it hadn’t appeared to bother him in the least.
Alex grinned, showing even, white teeth. “I rather like him.”
Ranleigh snorted, unsurprised by this revelation. “I don’t doubt. The two of you are likely cut from the same cloth as terrifying as that is to contemplate.”
Alex got to his feet, and Ranleigh followed suit.
“Well, there’s no need to break out in a sweat,” he said, chuckling darkly. “My son-in-law is currently residing in the wilds of Dartmoor. I do, however, happen to know the whereabouts of one Samuel Pelham, who is rather closer to hand.”
Alex opened the office door and Ranleigh followed him out. Hats and coats were retrieved, and they stepped outside to Ranleigh’s carriage.
“Sloane Street,” Alex instructed the driver before they climbed in.
“Really?” Ranleigh said, not hiding his surprise as he followed the earl inside and sat down opposite him. “I was quite prepared to be taken off to some seedy part of the city and a dangerous location with secret passwords and thugs with names like Cutthroat Charlie and Black-Eyed Jack.”
Alex snorted and shook his head, returning a disparaging look. “That would be Black Rule, and you read too much.”
Ranleigh huffed and crossed his arms. “Well, really though. Sloane Street? That seems terrifyingly respectable. Are you quite sure?”
“Perfectly, but we can go via the East India Docks if you’re interested in widening your circle of acquaintance,” Alex offered, his eyes glittering with laughter. “I can show you Black Rule’s empire and introduce you to some of the lads. I’m sure Badger would give us a tour.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Ranleigh replied, returning a withering expression.
The house on Sloane Street in Hans Town was every bit as respectable as Ranleigh had imagined. They were met by a liveried footman and shown into the parlour to await Mr Pelham. Here, the furnishings were sparse and rather shabby, and Ranleigh looked about himself with interest, wondering about the owner of the residence.
He had not long
to wait until a man entered the room. In his late twenties, he was perhaps a little shy of six feet but well made, with broad shoulders and the kind of physique that suggested a deal of physical exercise. His hair, however, was what caught one’s eye, being the colour of polished copper. Shrewd green eyes took in his visitors, and he executed a stiff bow.
“Your grace, my Lord Falmouth, to what do I owe the pleasure?” The enquiry was polite enough, but there was suspicion in his gaze as it settled on Ranleigh.
Alex stepped forward and smiled, holding out his hand. “Stand down, Pell, he isn’t half so stuffy as he looks, I assure you.”
“I resent that remark,” Ranleigh said, glaring at Alex.
“Why?” Alex demanded, turning back to him and raising an eyebrow. “Are you stuffy?”
Ranleigh stiffened, glaring at his friend. The bloody cheek. “Not in the least, as you well know, but neither do I look stuffy, so I’d thank you for not observing it.”
“You do a bit,” Mr Pelham remarked mildly, earning himself a snort of amusement from Alex.
Ranleigh narrowed his eyes at the fellow. “I’m not sure I like you.”
Mr Pelham shrugged. “Is it a requirement of the job description?”
“No,” Alex cut in, before things could take a turn for the worse. “A discreet investigation and someone we can trust to keep his mouth shut is what we’re after.”
They watched as Pelham sat himself down, despite being in the presence of an earl and a duke who were both still standing. He stared at Ranleigh, smiling and nonchalant. “I can do that.”
Ranleigh held his tongue, aware that he was being baited, but met the young man’s arrogant gaze with one of steely dislike.
“Good,” Alex replied briskly. He turned to Ranleigh and sighed as he noted his expression. “Don’t you start. For heaven’s sake, sit down, and let’s get this sorted out.”
Ranleigh did so, with exaggerated distaste at the state of the furnishings which was quite out of character, and expressly designed to put Mr Pelham’s back up.
The young man watched him with interest and then burst out laughing. “I say, that was awfully good,” he said, grinning now. “I feel I should throw that chair straight on the fire for having so offended you.”
“Years of practise,” Ranleigh said, allowing himself to unwind a little now the supercilious expression had left those green eyes.
Alex looked between them and gave an impatient huff. “Right, now everyone has stopped posturing, can we get on with the job at hand?”
They got down to business.
***
Archie laid back in the bath, scented steam coiling around her. She felt lazy, utterly decadent, and more than a little guilty about it. However, the sense of unreality, of living in a dream state that could not possibly exist for more than a brief period, allowed her to force the guilt down.
She smiled as she looked at her clothes, neatly laundered and laid out for her, on Ranleigh’s instructions. Her boots gleamed, probably the result of some secret recipe his valet would kill to protect, involving Champagne and eye of newt.
Once the water had begun to cool, she got out and dried off, dressing with care. As Ranleigh had instructed, she’d lazed in bed, read a book, eaten more than was good for her, and was only now getting ready to greet a day that was more than half over. Make the most of it, said a little voice in her head. It will be nothing more than a memory soon enough.
She was still fighting her cravat when Ranleigh returned. He walked in and stood behind her, watching over her shoulder with a pained expression.
“Don’t you start,” she muttered. “I get enough criticism from Will.”
“What is it supposed to be?” he asked, tilting his head at an angle to get a better look.
“The Oriental.”
Ranleigh made a tut-tutting sound to which Archie took exception. “Fine. You do it,” she said, folding her arms and turning to him.
He grinned at her and tugged the cravat off in one sharp movement. “I thought you’d never ask.”
He looked far too smug and Archie had to try hard to stop herself smiling. Adorable fool. He replaced her mangled effort with a pristine replacement, and his deft fingers made short work of the job.
“Oh,” she said, turning this way and that. “You’re very good at that.”
Ranleigh preened a little. “I am, yes.”
“Stop showing off,” she replied, still admiring her own reflection. The valet really had done a splendid job with her clothes, and the boots were positively blinding. Archie thought she looked rather smart.
“Now who’s showing off?” he said, amusement in his voice.
Archie frowned as she stared at herself, all at once unsure. Was this really what he wanted? Was he being completely honest with her? She looked up at him. “Would you prefer it?”
His frown matched hers as he stood beside her, meeting her eyes in the looking glass. “Prefer what?”
She hesitated and then shook her head. It was foolish to ask questions she might not like the answers to.
“Archie. Prefer what?” he said again, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t be frightened to ask me anything, darling. I’ll always be honest with you. You have my word.”
That was what she was afraid of, but she could hardly say so. Realising he wasn’t going to let it go, she steeled herself for the answer. “Would you prefer it if… if I was like the other young ladies? If I wore a dress, I mean. Would… would you find me more… more—”
Ranleigh gave an outraged bark of laughter. “My dear idiot, if I found you any more alluring, we would have something of a problem. I might be forced to ravish you in the middle of the street, or something equally depraved. So, the short answer is no. I haven’t the slightest desire to see you in a dress. Out of a dress, by all means, but….” His eyes darkened as his voice lowered. “Those breeches do things to me.”
As if to illustrate the point he moved behind her and lifted the tails of her coat to stare at her behind before giving a happy sigh.
“Ranleigh!” she exclaimed, torn between laughter and mortification.
“Guy,” he corrected.
“Oh, but I can’t call you Guy,” she grumbled, a pleading look in her eyes. “You’ve been Ranleigh since I’ve known you. I can’t get used to it.”
He shrugged and pulled her against his chest, looking at her reflection over her shoulder. “Very well, Ranleigh, then. Except when we are alone, when you must call me, darling, love, dearest, light of my life, sweeting, honey cakes….”
Archie gaped at him and then burst out laughing.
“Honey cakes?”
Ranleigh shrugged. “A tad saccharine, I grant you, but apt enough. Stallion?” he suggested, his eyes glittering with mirth.
“Oh, my God.”
“What?” he demanded. “Stallion seems a perfect description, surely?”
“No.” Archie shook her head, fighting to keep a straight face. “Your ego is quite inflated enough without adding to it.”
“Ah, but you never said it wasn’t true.” He grinned at her and Archie’s heart felt as if it might burst as she watched him. Couldn’t she have this? She wanted it so, so much. It was so easy, so perfect with him. Longing swept over her in a wave and he sensed the change in her, holding her tighter.
“I love you,” he said, his voice low. “With all my heart.”
Archie nodded and had to swallow hard before she could get the words out. “I love you too. Heart and soul, and every peculiar part of me.”
He smiled at that. “Not peculiar. Perfect.”
She watched as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s going to be all right, Archie. I’ve spoken to Falmouth and he’s sending someone back to your home.”
Archie stiffened at once, tension singing through her, but Ranleigh hushed her.
“Falmouth trusts this man to be discreet. He says he’s clever and he trusts him. He’ll find out what the situatio
n is first, and then we can decide what to do next.”
“Do you really believe that?” she said, hearing the doubt in her voice and wishing she could put her faith in the future the way he seemed to.
“I do,” he said, the certainty in his eyes just as fierce as his words. “We are going to be together, and I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen.” He pressed a kiss to her ear, another to her neck, and another. “If it comes to it, we’ll run away and find that island full of unicorns and faeries and impossible things and be impossibly happy.” Archie closed her eyes and leaned back into him. “Do you believe me?” he whispered, his breath warm and soft against her skin.
She hesitated, aware that she dared not hope, not yet. It was too great a desire; the loss of it would destroy her if she gave herself over to it.
“I believe that you believe it,” she said after a moment, before turning in his arms and putting hers around him. “And I believe in you.”
Ranleigh smiled and bent to kiss her. “That will do,” he said, holding her tight. “For now, that will do.”
Chapter 19
“Wherein nothing is ever quite as it seems.”
Ranleigh took Archie’s hand as her friends settled themselves down in his parlour. Erasmus and Rupert were here, faces grave and worried. Henshaw was there too, or Will as he had insisted Ranleigh address him, now that he knew of his intention to marry Archie. Selina sat beside him, watchful and anxious, all of them waiting with equal concern.
Archie took a breath and glanced up at him. He smiled at her, squeezing her fingers tight.
“Tell them what you told me. I promise it will be all right.”
So, Ranleigh watched, feeling proud and sorrowful as Archie explained the hideous events that sent her running into the unknown, all alone and without a friend in the world.
Afterwards he hung back, allowing her friends to hold her, comfort her, and scold her in turn for not having believed she could trust them before now. Selina wept, as did Erasmus, and Ranleigh was very close to joining them.
Will, however, was stony faced, his fists clenched, and Ranleigh understood how he felt too.
Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15) Page 20