Never Wager Against Love (Kellington Book Three)

by Driscoll, Maureen

  “We go on the hunt,” she purred, as she sat up and moved her knees apart. “And in the meantime, I have a few ideas of how we can entertain ourselves.”

  “As much as I would no doubt enjoy them,” he said as he rose and walked to the door, “there is some business I must attend to. But don’t let me stop you from enjoying the day.”

  As he left, he knew she was seething with anger, but he didn’t care. It was a reminder that he would have to be careful. It was never wise to underestimate Portia Cassidy.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Dinner was a strange affair. No expense was spared as course after course arrived, served by liveried footman and placed on china which had been in the duke’s family for generations. The duke himself expressed little interest in the food, which was, Arthur was forced to admit, exquisite. Vanessa handled herself remarkably well, considering the daunting array of silverware on the table. Even posing as a servant in the great houses of the ton, she would have had few opportunities to witness the intricacies of such an elaborate meal. But she was an excellent mimic. Whatever Arthur did, she was sure to follow.

  Newcastle spent most of the meal talking about his favorite subject, which was himself. A new bottle of wine was uncorked to go with each new course. He had considerably more than a few sips at each tasting. Toward the end of dessert, Newcastle raked Vanessa with his eyes and said “I would very much like to see the Larsen broadsword.”

  “And we would very much like to see the chalice,” replied Vanessa, smiling at Newcastle in a way which particularly irritated Arthur.

  “If you accompany me to my strong room, my dear, you can see any number of treasures,” he said with a bit of a slur.

  “That sounds like a capital idea,” said Arthur, inviting himself along.

  “Wasn’t talking to you, Kellington,” said Newcastle, frowning.

  “But I am looking forward to telling Lynwood about your treasures, although it will likely upset him. He has always envied your art collection.” Arthur inwardly winced. Lynwood had never done any such thing, but Arthur felt his brother wouldn’t mind being used in order to better protect Vanessa. And to complete their mission, of course.

  After ordering his butler to pour Arthur a snifter of brandy, the duke led them through the maze of the castle’s hallways. They went down to the cellars, then through a hidden staircase to the level below.

  “Your ancestors must have had a sizable treasure to have this much security,” said Vanessa, as they found themselves in front of a massive door with three separate locks.

  “I don’t think they were as concerned with locking away treasure, as much as they liked keeping miscreants in dungeons,” said Newcastle, as he fumbled for the correct keys. “The Newcastle dynasty has also been the local magistrate for centuries. Anyone disturbing the peace in the shire – and particularly on this property – would have been locked away here then held for however long it took to teach them a lesson. I often wondered if any of them died down here. It would certainly lend an air of the macabre to the place.”

  “I’m not sure it needs it,” said Arthur, as he looked at the wall of ancient manacles opposite them as Newcastle opened the locked door. But once they were ushered inside, all he could do was stare at the accumulated wealth. Paintings, coins and jewels were systematically stored on shelves throughout the room.

  Vanessa was also amazed by the treasure around them. “Why don’t you put any of this on display?”

  Newcastle looked around, as if only noticing the items for the first time. “I guess I could. Although, not all of it would fit. The castle is enormous, but the walls are already filled with art, as it is. It seems like too much work to decide what should stay up and which pieces should be stored. Perhaps my steward can look into it.”

  He walked to a safe in the back of the room then opened it with a key. He pulled out a golden cup, inlaid with rubies at the base. “Here it is,” he said reverently. “The Newcastle legacy. Would you like to hold it my dear?”

  As he handed it to Vanessa, his hand lightly grazed her breast.

  “See here, Newcastle,” said Arthur, before Vanessa interrupted him.

  “Your grace, the chalice is stunning beyond any treasure I have ever beheld. Is it not, Lord Arthur?”

  “It is adequate,” said Arthur, barely in control of his temper.

  “Because it is so exquisite,” said Vanessa leaning in toward Newcastle, “I can only wonder why you would not want to let the world know you are the one to own such a unique piece.”

  “Many people know I own it, Miss Gans.”

  “I am sure many have heard the rumor that it is in your possession, but if it never leaves the castle, how can anyone know for sure?”

  The question took Newcastle aback, as he considered it. “Shouldn’t my word be sufficient to convince people I own the chalice?”

  “In a perfect world, it would. But imagine how incontrovertible it would be if the chalice were on public display.”

  “Public display? You mean for just anyone to see it? I am sure I wouldn’t like that.”

  Vanessa took a deep breath and tried again. “What if it were on display someplace like Carlton House, where only the peerage would have access to it? I can only imagine the envy so many would have. Lord Arthur, didn’t you say the Duke of Lynwood would most especially like to see it?”

  Arthur almost laughed at the way she was so smoothly manipulating Newcastle. He pretended to think about it, then played his part. “I cannot go along with such a plan, Miss Gans. I do not want to see my brother upset. And to have him come face to face with such a display would vex him for weeks.”

  “Only weeks?” asked Newcastle.

  “Months,” added Arthur. “If not years.”

  “It is something I shall consider,” said Newcastle as he took the chalice out of Vanessa’s hands and returned it to the safe. “Now, Miss Gans, I would dearly love to see the Larsen.”

  “May we take the chalice when we leave on the morrow, your grace?” she asked.

  “I shall consider it, if you show me the Larsen. Shall we?”

  He put his hand on her lower back to usher her from the room. Arthur followed behind, tripping at the doorway.

  “Had a bit much to drink, Kellington?” asked Newcastle over his shoulder.

  “I assure you I’m fine,” said Arthur, who was surprised that his speech was slightly slurred. Vanessa’s questioning glance indicated she’d heard it, too. Perhaps he was more tired than he thought.

  After walking the endless corridors, Arthur felt increasingly dizzy and in danger of being sick. By the time they reached Newcastle’s library, he noticed the duke and Vanessa were well ahead of him. The duke was walking much too close to her, the bastard. They were headed for the stairwell, but Arthur knew he’d never make it that far. He ran into the library past startled servants, then looked around desperately for a chamber pot. Seeing none and having run out of time, he grabbed an empty vase then was sick into it. Then he was sick again. The last time he’d been this ill was after a night with friends in London when he’d been persuaded to take opium. The feeling was similar now. The dizziness, the lethargy and the nausea. Had it been in his food? Or perhaps the brandy Newcastle had pressed on him at the end of dinner? If that was the case, then he had to get to Vanessa. Newcastle wanted him out of the way for a reason. And, unfortunately, he had a good idea what it was.

  He made himself be sick one final time, hoping to get most of the drug out of his system. Then despite being weaker than a kitten, he stumbled toward the door. He heard a noise behind him. As he slowly turned to see what it was, it appeared a door in the wall was closing. He turned back around, only to find a footman standing directly in front of him. He was going to ask the man for help, when he was hit on the head from behind. He fell into the footman’s arms, then was unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

  As Arthur lost consciousness, his last thought was of Vanessa.

  * * *

  As Van
essa brought the Larsen into the sitting room which adjoined her bed chamber, she wondered where Arthur was. He’d been acting strangely in the vault, but she attributed it to his foul mood brought on by Newcastle’s boorish advances. She found the man odious. The embodiment of everything she hated about the peerage. But she smiled when she thought about how much her attitude had begun to change after just a few weeks with the Kellington family.

  Newcastle, who was seated on the settee waiting for her, misinterpreted her expression. “You should smile more often, Miss Gans. It positively lights up your face.”

  “Thank you, your grace,” she said, as she laid the leather case on the table in front of the settee, then slowly unwrapped it. “We should send for Lord Arthur. He is quite knowledgeable about the sword.”

  “I assure you, my dear, that there is nothing Kellington knows that I don’t. In fact, I can teach you anything you want to know.”

  Vanessa ignored the blatant suggestion and pulled the heavy sword from the case, then laid it on the table hoping to distract Newcastle until Arthur joined them. “The Larsen broadsword, your grace.”

  Newcastle was momentarily diverted. “What a magnificent weapon,” he said as he gazed upon it. With the fingers of one hand, he slowly traced the blade from hilt to tip. “I have often felt I was born in the wrong era. Today there are too many rules. Too many people who think they can tell a man like me what to do. But back in the day of the Vikings, they came, they took, they conquered. And they enjoyed the spoils of war along the way. When they went home they were feted as warriors, as kings. Any time they wanted to experience the thrill of battle again, all they had to do was set sail to anywhere their boats could take them. They were that invincible.” He picked up the sword in a flourish, but it was obviously much heavier than he’d anticipated. The weight and balance of it nearly toppled him. He let it fall to the table with a heavy clank.

  “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of war,” said Vanessa, watching him carefully.

  “War is one of the most fascinating of man’s pursuits. The subjugation of one man by another, one nation by another. Whole worlds by another. Even now, we are only just beginning to uncover the untold riches of Africa and the Indian subcontinent. The natives are savages, but the riches in both the land and the goods are incalculable. I have invested heavily in both places. And the benefits to England will be immense.”

  “Have you never thought to go to war yourself? It is one thing to extol the victories of another. But I imagine a very different thing when you are the one doing the fighting.” Vanessa was sickened by the conversation and very much wanted the duke to leave her rooms. She was also growing more worried about Arthur.

  “It would have been a waste to send me to the slaughter, although I have often thought I would have made an excellent general. It wouldn’t have taken a Waterloo for me to end the war. I would have taken the fighting to Paris and captured it for Britain. I have always enjoyed myself in Paris. French whores are so much more skilled than the ones in London.”

  “I wouldn’t think a man of your rank would need to employ a prostitute,” said Vanessa, slowly putting more distance between them, as his eyes followed her.

  “Not all of them are prostitutes in the legal sense,” said Newcastle, “though in spirit they are much the same. Females are expensive, Miss Gans. I can admire the practical financial transaction with a prostitute, but it becomes much less clear when I give a diamond bracelet to a lover. The costs always add up, and I usually get more for my money and far less aggravation with a whore. What about you, my dear? How much do your favors go for?”

  Vanessa had finally reached the end of her patience. Mission for the Home Office or no, she was sick of Newcastle’s very presence. “No part of me is for sale, your grace. Drink has made you unpleasant company and I will thank you to take your leave.”

  The duke continued to stalk her at a slow, steady pace. “Never tell me you are giving yourself to Kellington for free, are you? I would have thought you smarter than that. Willingham has told me a little about you and I find it surprising to think you’re not lifting your skirts for someone. Why not me? I can do far more for you than Kellington. Even set you up at a pied a terre in town. You could quit your ridiculous job, and you would have the prestige of belonging to me.”

  “I belong to no one.” She was nearing the door. She needed to go in search of Arthur.

  “Everyone has a price, pet. Yours just hasn’t been named.”

  “I will not be insulted any longer,” she said as she was within inches of escape.

  But suddenly, he was there before her. She wouldn’t have thought he could move that quickly with all the wine in him. As if reading her thoughts, he said “I am not as cup shot as you seem to think. On nights when I anticipate a chase, my butler waters the wine in my glass. It does terrible things to the taste, but I find it an effective strategy in getting others to underestimate me, like the insufferable Kellington.”

  Vanessa’s stomach clenched. “What have you done to him?

  He laughed, as he leaned against the door. “Nothing too terrible. His ass of a brother would likely call me out if I were to do the fellow any serious harm. I’ve just secreted him away for the evening. He’ll be none the worse for wear in the morning and probably too embarrassed to tell a soul. I imagine he wouldn’t take to shackles very well. Have you ever worn them? My cock is getting harder just thinking of you strapped down and waiting to be filled. What say you? We can take the cell next to Kellington’s. He can see if you yell for me louder than you do for him.”

  Without warning, he closed the distance and grabbed her arm. But the instincts of once having lived on the streets served her well. She twisted away from him to break his hold, then stomped down hard on his instep. He was still blocking the door, so she ran back into the room and put the table between them.

  “So, you like it rough, you little bitch,” said Newcastle as he prowled toward her. “Trust me when I say I can give you bruises in all the best places.”

  In desperation, Vanessa put both hands on the Larsen’s hilt and lifted. Surprisingly, it came off the table easily. She had no problem pointing it at Newcastle. His surprise was evident as she kept the sword raised in steady hands.

  “You wouldn’t dare hurt me,” he said, as he walked closer.

  The sword seemed to obey her thoughts as she wielded it easily and brought the tip to his chest.

  “I most certainly would. And while you refer to it as a ridiculous job, I assure you that my superiors at the Home Office have granted me the authority to use whatever force I deem necessary to complete my mission. Tonight, I demand only that you leave my sight and deliver Lord Arthur to me unharmed. Tomorrow, he and I will be leaving with the chalice, which will be returned to you when the Home Secretary believes it is safe to do so.”

  When it looked like Newcastle was about to protest further, she pressed the sword against him just hard enough to penetrate his clothes and break the skin. He jumped back in alarm. His face contorted with anger for a moment, then the urbane mask reappeared. “Very well,” he snarled. “I’ll leave your bed chamber and see you off with the chalice in the morning. But you’re on your own to find Kellington if you want the man so badly. The two of you deserve each other. I certainly shan’t miss you in my bed.”

  “You promised to leave, Newcastle. Pray attend to that now,” said Vanessa.

  As soon as Newcastle left, she ran into her bed chamber and searched her saddlebags for the pistols. Unfortunately, they were empty. Arthur must have taken them back again. Arthur. She almost panicked to think what might have become of him. It was only then that she realized she still carried the Larsen.

  She wasn’t sure that Newcastle had really imprisoned him in the dungeons, but when a quick check of his room showed he wasn’t there, she quietly made her way through the corridors to the likely place she’d find the servants’ stairs. Undercover work in so many grand houses had taught her a great deal about their
lay-out. She passed the kitchens, then continued down the corridor to the stairs to the cellars. She carefully went down the steps, holding the sword at the ready, uncertain whether anyone on Newcastle’s staff would be waiting for her. But soon enough she was in front of the large door which concealed the treasure room.

  She looked around at the shackles on the exterior walls. There was no sign of Arthur. There were probably hidden chambers throughout the cellars. She shivered at the very thought of Arthur shackled to the wall in the dark. She had to find him.

  Then she heard it, a faint scratching noise coming from further down the dark corridor. Clutching the sword with both hands, she cautiously walked down the hall, looking for the source of the sound. A loud creaking noise accompanied the opening of a massive door in front of her. She remained still against the wall as she waited for someone to emerge. Then someone did. And it was Arthur.

  “Arthur!” she said quietly, then closed the distance between them. The dim moonlight washing into the room from windows high on the wall illuminated his face enough to see his worry, then astonishment. He pulled her into his arms.

  “Vanessa! Are you all right?” He kissed her forehead, her temple, her lips and kept running his hands up and down her arms. “I swear I’ll kill that bastard. What did he do to you? Is that the Larsen?” He pulled back enough to look at the sword, which she was holding to the side of her. “Did you have to use it on him?”

  “No,” she said, ridiculously relieved to discover he was all right. “But it did come in handy to threaten him.” With her free hand, she shyly reached for one of his. She felt something wet at his wrist. “What is…is that blood?”

  “It’s not important,” he said. “I’m going to tear the bastard from limb to limb.”

  “What did he do to you?”

  “He drugged me, then a few of his henchman dragged me down here and shackled me to the wall. I must’ve scraped my wrists when I pulled myself free.”