Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three)

by Driscoll, Maureen

  She wasn’t sure when he’d become “Arthur” and not “Lord Arthur.” But she had a feeling it wasn’t a good indicator of her future happiness.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Neither Arthur nor Vanessa got much sleep that night. It was as if after coming so close to making love the night before, they needed some time apart to decide what would happen next in their relationship. Not that either of them raised the topic. From leaving the Drapers’ shop, through dinner and then on to the awkwardly small bed they had to share, they spoke of everything but the budding passion between then. Arthur entertained her with tales from growing up at Lynwood Manor. She told him about some of the cases she’d worked on at the Home Office. She tried to keep the names confidential, but since the ton was so small, any time she described a suspect in even the most general terms, he was able to guess.

  They talked well into the early hours of the morning. Then they both fell silent and pretended to sleep. It didn’t work for either of them until the hours close to dawn.

  When they rose the next day, there was a message waiting from Dumbarton. He had almost cracked the third code which would, of course, be deemed unbreakable by anyone else. He’d also enclosed another five pounds, but since it had necessitated delving further into his savings, this loan would carry a ten percent interest charge. Arthur had the urge to return the interest to him in the form of coins shoved down his throat, but he pocketed the funds anyway as they left for their visit with the Duke of Newcastle.

  The castle itself was a monstrosity. A real-life showcase of architectural styles throughout the centuries, it appeared that each new duke had strived to outdo his predecessors by ensuring that the newest addition was larger than the last. The result was a lopsided tribute to hubris. The grounds were manicured to the very inch with nature forced to follow the duke’s every command. The obvious wealth of the castle – the fountains, the landscaping and the large expanse of ground simply given over to a garden – was in direct contrast to the small tenant farms Arthur and Vanessa had passed. All had shown signs of age and decay. Sunken roofs, crumbling foundations and ramshackle outbuildings matched the look of despair in the eyes of the people who lived there. Some farms were completely uninhabited, the former tenants having been driven off by high rents and low production.

  “Does Newcastle know what’s happening on his land?” asked Vanessa, as their carriage passed two young children working in a field.

  “He knows,” said Arthur. “From what I’ve heard, his sins haven’t been committed by negligent stewards. Newcastle prides himself on knowing everything that goes on within the grounds of his estates. He just doesn’t care.”

  “So the challenge will be to hide your true feelings for the man if we wish to leave with the chalice,” said Vanessa.

  “I take your meaning,” said Arthur grudgingly. “I shall play nice with him. But I hope we can conclude our business quickly. The longer I remain in his presence, the greater the chance I shall tell him my true feelings.”

  “Which wouldn’t do the mission any good.”

  “No, but it would certainly make me feel better.”

  The carriage drew to a halt in front of the castle. An army of liveried footman came racing out to receive them. Each was careful not to make eye contact with Arthur or Vanessa. They were shown into the house and ushered into a receiving room. It had a giant fireplace at both ends, tall enough for a person to stand within.

  “It’s probably how he disposes of unruly servants,” mused Arthur, just as the double doors were opened by footmen and the Duke of Newcastle entered the room.

  The Duke was in his late thirties and dressed as if to go riding. Though several inches shorter than Arthur, Newcastle carried himself with the arrogance of a duke. He had a full head of blond hair. The slight paunch around his middle was nicely disguised by a well-tailored riding jacket. Before saying a word, he looked Arthur up and down, as if assessing his clothing. After finding nothing to criticize and certainly not wanting to compliment the man, he looked Vanessa up and down then took another viewing for good measure. It was then that he smiled for the first time.

  “Kellington, welcome to my home,” he said, even though he was looking only at Vanessa.

  “Thank you, Newcastle,” said Arthur, suppressing – for the moment – the urge to draw the man’s cork. “May I introduce the lady I wrote to you about, Miss Vanessa Gans?”

  “Charmed, my dear,” said Newcastle, as he bowed over her hand, bringing her fingers to his mouth.

  “How do you do, your grace,” she replied. “Thank you for seeing us.”

  Newcastle waved them to the settee. They both sank down a few inches on the soft surface. Newcastle sat on a chair across from them, which placed his head several inches higher than theirs. Arthur said nothing, but his crooked grin gave away his thoughts well enough that Vanessa stepped on his foot as a warning.

  “I must say I’m intrigued by this business,” said Newcastle. “You say someone wishes to steal the chalice? I cannot imagine why now when it has been no secret that my family has held on to the chalice for generations, ever since it was entrusted to us by King Richard on his return from the Crusades. He and my great, great, great something or other apparently had quite a time of it while they were far from England’s shores. I don’t recall your family being involved in the Crusades, Kellington.”

  “I believe my ancestors stayed at home while yours and the King were pillaging Muslim lands.”

  Newcastle tsked. “You have too much of Lynwood in you, Kellington. He’s forever prosing on and on about England’s responsibility to act fairly in foreign lands. Smacks of treason to me, it does.”

  “Tread carefully, Newcastle,” said Arthur in a calm, but deadly voice. “No one speaks ill of Lynwood in my presence. And accusations of treason would be met by the most serious of all challenges.”

  Vanessa, who was appalled by the insult to Lynwood, put her hand on Arthur’s arm to try and calm him. He hadn’t raised his voice, but the tenor of it had left no doubt to his sincerity.

  Newcastle must have recognized the threat as well, because his eyes widened fractionally. But then he noticed the familiarity of Vanessa’s touch to Arthur’s arm and changed tactics. “Of course, I mean no insult to your esteemed brother, Kellington. The man takes his loyalty to King and country as seriously as some lords do their gaming and women. How has your luck at the tables been going? You certainly spend enough time there.”

  “It is well enough,” Arthur gritted out.

  “If you please, your grace,” intervened Vanessa, “I should like to discuss safeguarding the chalice.”

  Newcastle smiled at her. “I must confess myself fascinated that the Home Office utilizes female agents. How very progressive of them. And how very commendable of you, Miss Gans, to place yourself in danger for the sake of the country.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” she said. “I promise we shall do everything in our power to safeguard your chalice.”

  “But it is already safe, my dear,” said Newcastle. “No one would dare try to steal it from me. And I assure you it is quite well hidden.”

  “Be that as it may, Newcastle,” said Arthur, “the two who may attempt to take it aren’t your ordinary thieves. They went to great lengths to procure a chest that held the secret to this mystery. If they succeeded in Kent, where in addition to Miss Gans, we had my brothers and the Marquess of Riverton to defend against it, I promise they can achieve their goals here, as well – regardless of your protective measures.”

  Newcastle looked less than convinced. “The chalice has not left the castle in centuries. It is too valuable to simply give to you. No offense, my dear Miss Gans.”

  “I assure you that we are well able to safeguard your treasure,” said Vanessa. “We have also been charged with protecting the Larsen broadsword. My superiors would never have entrusted me with this if they didn’t think I would succeed.”

  “You have the Larsen?” asked Newcastle, showing r
eal interest. “How extraordinary. I didn’t think it ever left Norwich Castle.”

  “It generally doesn’t,” said Vanessa. “But the governor let us take it because he trusted us to do our mission.”

  “How much did Sir John charge you?” asked Newcastle. “The fellow’s greed is well known.”

  “We were finally able to make him see reason,” said Vanessa.

  “I’m sure you could persuade a man to do a great many things,” said Newcastle, as his gaze lowered to her breasts, which were nicely framed in her new gown.

  Arthur recognized Newcastle’s look of appreciation, because it was one he’d been trying to keep off his own face ever since seeing her in the gown. Vanessa had been quite attractive in her old clothes. But to see her dressed so fashionably was temptation for any man. And he knew what kind of a challenge it would present to Newcastle. He just had to make sure the duke never got the chance to make a move.

  “I see you’re on your way out to ride,” said Arthur. “We don’t wish to delay you. If you can give us the chalice, we’ll be on our way.”

  Newcastle half smiled at the obvious ploy. “But you haven’t convinced me the cup will be safer with you than me. Plus, I would dearly love to see the Larsen broadsword.” He turned to Vanessa. “Have you handled it my dear? There is nothing I like more than a female who knows her way around a blade.”

  His accompanying leer turned Vanessa’s stomach, but she had to rein in her temper if she hoped to succeed. It was only by squeezing Arthur’s arm that she kept him from lunging at Newcastle. “Your grace, if I might suggest, perhaps we can bring the Larsen here for you to examine. Very few can boast of having the Larsen in their homes. Then, if you could find it in yourself to let us take the chalice, I’m sure the Home Office would be most gratified.”

  “An intriguing offer from the lovely Crown agent. Why don’t you accompany me on my ride while Kellington fetches the Larsen? Then when you and I return, we can discuss matters further. Perhaps you would even consider placing the Larsen in my safekeeping until the danger has passed.”

  “Unfortunately, your grace,” said Vanessa after squeezing Arthur’s arm of granite once again, “my superiors would not look kindly on my failing in this mission, nor would they approve of anyone’s interference in such matters.”

  “Leave the Home Office to me, my dear. I can handle them easily. Join me on the ride then we’ll speak of this when Kellington returns with your things.”

  “My things?” she asked.

  “Surely you cannot remain at a common inn while in possession of a treasure like the Larsen. If you ever hope to persuade me to entrust you with the chalice, you must demonstrate the proper precautions. Kellington, off with you now and bring back Vanessa’s things.”

  “It’s Miss Gans,” said Arthur, “and I cannot allow any lady under my protection to be out of my sight.”

  Newcastle raised a brow. “Under your protection, eh? I thought your tastes ran to opera dancers and your brothers’ cast-offs. But surely you can let her out of your sight long enough to permit a ride.”

  His double entendre was clear enough. Vanessa had to dig her fingernails into Arthur’s hand to get him to look her way. When he finally did, she could see how furious he was. No one had ever shown that much protectiveness toward her before. It warmed her heart. And it was a huge pain in the arse because she needed to get the chalice. She turned to Newcastle and said, “I have no riding habit, your grace. So, I shall return with Lord Arthur to the inn to collect the sword.”

  “You must also stay the night, Miss Gans. Kellington, too, if he insists. We can discuss this over dinner, then we shall see if you have the means to persuade me to change my mind. I look forward to it immensely.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, Vanessa was situated in a guest room. Having politely refused the services of a maid, she was unpacking one of the new gowns from the valise Arthur had bought from the Drapers at an extravagant price. But as much as she hated being indebted to the man – especially since she had no real chance of repaying him unless she herself sold the Larsen broadsword – she had to admit she would have been at a real disadvantage in bargaining with Newcastle had she been dressed in her old gown. There was a soft knock at the door. Before she could ask who it was, Arthur entered.

  “I did not invite you in,” she said.

  “But you were about to,” he said as he prowled about the room. “I still don’t like the thought of you sleeping under Newcastle’s roof.”

  “But there is no good alternative. Were we to go back to the inn, he would likely drag this out for days or refuse to give us the chalice altogether. Neither is acceptable. We must be ready to be underway as soon as Professor Dumbarton sends us the next piece of the puzzle. And I am sure that will be soon.”

  “Because you think he’s a bloody genius,” grumbled Arthur.

  She eyed him curiously. “Yes, I do think he is brilliant. A bit insufferable at times, puffed up with himself and I am careful to never be in a position where he might make an advance on my person…”

  “You know all of that? I thought you were completely caught up in what passes for his charm.”

  “Don’t be absurd. As I have reminded you on any number of occasions, my occupation requires that I read people. I tolerate some of the professor’s, uh, less admirable qualities because I admire his intelligence and we need his expertise. You can be assured that I am rarely taken in by people. I have even, heaven forfend, taken your measure.”

  That made Arthur extraordinarily uneasy. He didn’t care what strangers or acquaintances thought of him. But, somehow, it mattered very much how Vanessa saw him.

  “What have you found?” he asked.

  “That you are an enigma to most of the world. Someone who purposely gives off an image of a carefree gamester who cares only for his pleasures. But that man is very much at odds with the one who is chasing across England to help King and country, and gave a large sum of money to an old woman in need. What I have not figured out is why the real man is so different from the front he shows the world.”

  Her proclamation was followed by an uncomfortable silence, as Arthur stared at her. His eyes were haunted, a bleak look. Vanessa held her breath, wondering if she had gone too far. She didn’t know the real Arthur, but she desperately wanted to.

  Then the veil fell back into place. “Well,” he said with an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I am glad to hear you will not fall prey to Dumbarton’s charms, should he take you to the continent. But I do hope you don’t give up your career to become a Gypsy fortune teller. I’m afraid you wouldn’t make much blunt, even if you would look especially fetching with your long hair flowing about your shoulders.” He turned to walk away with his usual grace. “Dinner should be served within the hour. Newcastle will do his best to seduce you. I will do my best to thwart him. And somewhere in there, we need to get that cup.”

  As he walked out of her chamber, Vanessa wondered if she would ever see more than a few glimpses of the man beneath the image. It was devastating to think she might not.

  * * *

  Frederick Mortimer was not a patient man by nature. But he’d learned from experience that sometimes the quickest way to track your enemy was to get him – or her – to come to you. A hunter tracked prey, often allowing his defenses to drop when he was closing in on the kill. A patient man recognized an opportunity when he saw one. And he also realized when a deal was too good to be true.

  Something wasn’t quite right about this mission. The compensation was too high. The plan – not one of his making – too simple. And he didn’t trust either of his partners. He looked over at Portia, napping on the chaise. They’d had relations an hour earlier. It had been exhaustive, as it often was with the two of them. They were more combatants than lovers in the bed chamber, although he suspected she cared for him more than she let on. Then, when they finished, she told him exactly what she’d like to do with the money they would get for comple
ting the mission. She wanted to travel to America and ally herself with those who were preying on the American frontiersmen. There was certainly money to be made in fraudulent land deals because few people were easier to gull than those desperate for a new beginning. She’d also spoken of becoming involved in the slave trade, which had been outlawed in England but still flourished in America. He was repulsed by the very concept and if she chose to go that route, she would do it alone.

  Perhaps it was time for them to go their separate ways. Mayhap it was past time.

  After spending most of his life on the wrong side of the law, Frederick Mortimer was beginning to think it might be interesting to try his hand as an upright citizen. Not in England. If all went as planned, his notoriety would not allow him to remain. But he would have enough money to go elsewhere. Perhaps the continent or the islands just south of America. It might be nice to put down roots in one place and not have to worry about the law coming after him. It might even be time to take a wife and start a family. He laughed at the very thought. His reputation was not one of a besotted lover or patient father. And maybe that was the biggest reason to leave. Perhaps he should make a fresh start. Of course, he reminded himself, people desperate for a fresh start are the easiest ones to gull.

  He looked up to see Portia awake and staring at him, still lying on the settee. He wasn’t sure how long she’d been that way, but he knew the expression on her face. It wasn’t a good sign.

  “How long do you think we’ll have to lie around and wait?” she asked.

  “As long as it takes.”

  “I, for one, prefer a more active strategy,” she said, stretching so that the whole of one leg was visible through the slit in her dressing gown. “Waiting for orders from someone else has never appealed to me.”

  “What do you suggest we do?” he asked, certain he knew at least part of the answer.