"I made no such promise to you, Your Grace."
The duke took in a great rush of air. "Let me make this clear. I am telling you, I wish you to find her, Waxton, and bring her to me without anyone else's knowledge."
"And I am telling you, Your Grace, that I no longer seek my brother's wife."
Hunt opened his gold-trimmed pocket flap and dropped the ferret inside. "You commit a grave error in making me your adversary."
"I have done no such thing. I'm simply telling you that my interests have changed." They were playing word games now, both fighting to remain civil. Whatever it was Hunt was up to, Gavin was certain it was more than the avenging of a friend's death, and he would damned well not be a party to it.
Hunt took a step forward, his ghostly white face taking on a red hue. "You'll regret this decision."
Gavin rested his hand on the doorknob. He knew he should keep quiet. Hunt was a powerful, dangerous man, one not to be taken lightly, but he couldn't help himself. "Do you threaten me?"
"I threaten no one. You have made your choice, you witless boy. Let us both hope you can live with it!"
Hunt came toward the door and Gavin swung it open for him, clapping his heels and bowing in mock respect. "As always, your servant, sir."
Hunt stalked out the door and started down the staircase with one of his men hurrying after him, the duke's ermine-lined cloak in his hands.
Gavin closed the door quietly behind him and then went to the window to watch the duke's crested carriage pull away. So what the hell was that all about? he wondered. What could Hunt possibly want with my brother's wife? What could be so important that Hunt would come to me like this?
The obvious answer, of course, was that the little minx had some sort of information on Hunt. Gavin smiled as he dropped the heavy drape over the frosted glass window. So perhaps Thomasina had been the conniving little bitch that everyone claimed her to be.
Gavin went to the mantel and picked up a velvet jewel case. A gift for Ellen. He tucked it inside his coat. Tonight he would once again ask her to marry him. Tonight he would convince her they belonged together. He would take her to his magic Maryland Colony, away from England and her secrets, away from Hunt, away from Thomasina Waxton forever.
Gavin blew out the candle on the wall sconce by the door and slipped out into the darkness to meet his waiting coach.
Gavin pushed back from the dining table, smiling at the sound of Ellen's bright laughter. It was good to see her happy. With Chambray on the mend, Gavin could feel his hold on Ellen growing. She truly loved him. She knew it. He knew it. Even Chambray knew it.
Richard tipped his glass and drank down the last drop before rising awkwardly from his upholstered chair.
Gavin immediately jumped up. "Let me help you, Chambray."
"S'death, Gavin, you're not my wet nurse." His voice was abrasive, but it was obvious he meant no ill. They spoke as men who cared for each other more than they wished to admit. "I can bloody well make it back to my bedchamber, half soused or not."
Gavin watched as Ellen took Richard's hand, squeezing it. Her cheeks were rosy from the good wine and laughter, her lips turned up in a temptress's smile. "I'll help you, Richard."
He pulled his hand away. "I can well get my drawers down without your help as well," he teased good-naturedly. "Now see to your guest. A good night to you both." He bowed stiffly and limped down the hall.
Ellen watched him go, still smiling. She was so relieved to see Richard back to his old self again. The break in his leg was healing nicely, and though he still nagged at her about fleeing to his estates in Essex, he seemed to have accepted the fact that they would remain in London at least until Gavin set sail. Having not heard from Hunt since the night he had ransacked the apartment and had Richard beaten up, both Ellen and Richard hoped against all hope that he had given up on his quest. Ellen could only pray that was the case.
Gavin came around the table to loop his arm about her waist. "You liked the present?" he whispered.
She melted at the feel of his warm breath in her ear. "I loved it," she answered, her voice husky. She found the emerald necklace with her fingertips and stroked the large, dark jewels.
"Marry me and there'll be more, I swear to you."
"Gavin . . ."
"Marry me and go to the Colonies at my side"—he kissed her neck—"and I'll spend every pound I can lay my hands on on you."
"Gavin . . ."
"Say yes. Marry me tonight."
She leaned against him, pressing her back to his hard, comforting chest. "Gavin, please don't start, not after we've had such a wonderful evening." She turned to face him, resting her hands on his shoulders, brushing her lips against his in a sensual invitation. "Not when there's still more to come."
"You said you would think about marrying me."
"And I have, but—"
"But what?" He grasped her arms impatiently. "What is it? You say you love me."
She closed her eyes, wanting to block out his voice and the feelings it stirred deep inside her. "I do. So . . ."
"So? So you marry me, sweetheart. You let me make you happy the way no one will ever be able to."
"I love Richard, too."
"So if you love the bastard so much," he said, not unkindly, "bring him with us. I can live with it if you can."
She laughed without humor as she tried to step back. He kept her trapped in his arms. "That's absurd, Gavin."
"No more absurd than the thought of two people who were meant for each other living apart the rest of their lives."
She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his shoulder. She could hear the spit of the fire as a log shifted and the sparks fanned upward. She could smell the scent of Gavin's skin. Beneath her fingers his muscles were taut with anger . . . anger at her.
"We've been through this a hundred times," she whispered. "A million times. I can't go to the Colonies. I can't marry you."
"Because of Richard? Because of the theater? Because of whatever the hell it is you once did!" He grasped her shoulders, forcing her to look up at him. He hadn't meant to get into this argument. Not tonight. But it was too late to turn back now. "Tell me the truth, Ellen. Why can't you marry me?"
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. He was hurt. She could see it in his green eyes. She didn't want to hurt him, not like this. "I told you."
"You lied because you didn't want to tell me the truth. Well, I'll tell you the damned truth." He released her and took a step back, not wanting to torture himself by her touch. "Because you don't love me. Not enough, Ellen. Not enough to trust me. Not enough to give your life to that love."
"It's not true." She brushed back a long lock of red hair that shimmered in the candlelight.
"The hell it isn't! You don't love me! You don't even love your blessed Chambray!"
"Don't say that, damn you!" she screamed in a sudden rage. "You don't understand. You don't know what I've lived through! You don't know."
"The truth is, Ellen Scarlet, that you don't love anyone. You haven't the ability. The only thing you love is your little secrets and that pity for yourself that keeps you apart from the rest of us. You don't love me because you're afraid to!"
"Get out!" Ellen shouted. "Get out if you're going to talk to me like that. Just get the hell out!"
"You send me away and you'll never have another chance at happiness."
She grabbed his coat off the corner of the chair and flung it at him. "I said get out! Get out of my house! Get out of my life!"
Gavin started for the door. Somehow this night had turned out all wrong. He had come here to tell her about the revelation he had had about his brother's wife. He had come here to propose marriage to her . . . to make her happy.
"You send me away and I'll not come back. I'll not beg you any longer." Gavin lifted his eyebrow. "You don't think you'll ever get such an offer again, do you?"
She grabbed a goblet off the table and hurled it at his head, missing him only because he d
ucked. "Get out!"
"I've gotten my land deeds. I'll be leaving soon, Ellen."
"If you don't get out, I'll have Richard put you out!"
Gavin flipped his coat over his shoulder and strode toward the door. He turned back as his hand fell on the handle. "I'll play no more games with you, sweet Ellen. I'm too old. I've too good a future. Too much to look forward to." He knew he had to get out before he said anything worse, but suddenly his heart ached so badly that he wanted to hurt her. He wanted to hurt her as badly as she had hurt him tonight. He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. "You know you'll not get such an offer again, a woman such as yourself. An actress. Surely someone else will be willing to take you as mistress when Chambray loses interest, but even those offers will wane in the coming years." He pointed his finger. "You turn me down and you'll grow old a lonely woman."
"Go to flaming hell, Gavin Merrick!" Ellen shouted, throwing a plate of bread at him.
The plate hit the closed door. Gavin was gone.
For a long moment Ellen stood staring at the door, then desolately she blew out the candles and went down the dark hallway. She stopped at her own bedchamber door and then passed it. She stood outside Richard's door contemplating whether or not to knock. Surely he had heard her and Gavin. How could he have not?
Before she could muster the courage to knock, she heard Richard's voice.
"Come in, sweetheart." Her dear Richard. His voice was filled with compassion.
She pushed open the door. He was sitting up in bed with a silk bedrobe draped across his shoulders, a book lying open across his lap.
"Richard." Tears ran down her cheeks.
He put out his arms to her. "What, sweetheart? Tell me."
She came running to him and flung her arms around him. "Oh, God, Richard. I've lost him. He just didn't love me enough to understand. . . ."
Chapter Seventeen
"Up and out of bed, lazy wench," Richard commanded, throwing open the heavy draperies in Ellen's bedchamber. The sunshine of early March poured through the multi-paned windows.
She groaned and pulled the counterpane over her head. "Go away. Leave me alone."
"You can't miss another day of rehearsal this week, Ellen Scarlet, or you may damned well lose your part to Lucy Maynor again."
Ellen rolled over onto her stomach, pulling her pillow over her head. "I don't care. I hate the play. I hate the theater."
"I suppose you're going to tell me you hate Gavin Merrick." Richard threw open her wardrobe and plucked out a sensible hunter-green woolen gown sewn in the fashion of a riding habit.
"I do hate him!" She lifted the pillow off her face and pushed back a tangle of red hair. Her voice softened. "But ods fish, I love him, too."
Richard tossed her dressing gown onto the end of her bed, followed by her silk mules. "So go to him. I've been telling you that for damned near two months now."
She squeezed her eyes shut. "I can't. You know I can't."
"Then shut up about it, love. You made your decision. Quit sulking and get on with your life."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "You're certainly the compassionate fellow this morning."
He ran a finger across his neck. "I've had it up to here with compassion and with you moping about. It's time you either accepted your choice, or you tracked down the bloody pirate and let him carry you off into the wilderness."
She watched him cross the room to the silver coffee set he'd brought in with him. The break in his leg had healed so well, thanks to Gavin's expertise, that he barely limped. "Gavin's not a pirate!"
"Farmer, then."
"He's not a farmer, either. They call them plantations in the Colonies. He has thousands of acres, Richard! Why, when he goes back to Maryland, he'll be one of the richest men there, save for mayhap the governor."
Richard poured her a cup of steaming aromatic coffee. "You sound as if this Maryland Colony interests you."
"Well, it doesn't." She swung her legs over the side of the bed and slipped her bare feet into the silk mules. As she rose, she threw the dressing robe over her shoulders. "I can't imagine why anyone would ever want to go there with all those savages!"
"You'd be safe from Hunt forever if you went with Gavin," Richard offered quietly over the rim of his china coffee cup. "No more looking over your shoulder every time you step out on the street. No more being afraid to come home alone at night."
Ellen frowned. Though they had heard nothing from Hunt directly since Richard's beating, on several occasions Ellen was certain she had been followed to or from the theater. Now Richard always escorted her. There had also been some puzzling changes in the positions at the theater. Ellen had once taken lead roles, but for some unknown reason the size of her parts had been diminishing despite her continuing popularity with the audience. The director would give no explanation, save that Ellen was lucky she had a job at all. Of course, he wouldn't admit Hunt had anything to do with these decisions and Ellen was afraid to ask, but she and Richard were almost certain he did.
"If you want to get rid of me, just say so."
"You know that's not it!" He ran a hand through his tousled hair as he struggled with his own emotions. "I just want to see you happy, Ellen. God knows, you deserve it."
She covered her ear with her hand as she walked to the window, carrying her coffee. "Please, Richard, don't start that again, not today. My head already aches."
He watched her standing there in the stream of sunlight, a halo of dust motes cast around her bright red hair. "You know, my guess would be that your gallant Waxton is as miserable as you are."
"Hah! You heard what he said! He called me a common actress!"
"I hate to tell you, sweetheart, but you are an actress, though common I think not."
"He said I was nothing more than a dalliance," she flung over her shoulder. "He doesn't love me! Not really, else he'd try to understand."
Richard gave an exaggerated sigh. "And he says you don't love him. I don't know who is more pitiful, you or he."
Ignoring him, she turned away from the window. "I suppose it is time I get to the theater, though why I still go I don't know."
"You could still take my offer to whisk you off to my home in Essex. Essex is beautiful in the springtime, you know."
She stared unseeing, lost in the memory of the past for a moment. Essex had been beautiful in the springtime. She remembered picking wildflowers as a child in the meadow, beyond Havering House. She remembered riding through the forest. But that was all before her mother died . . . a lifetime ago.
"Maybe we will go, Richard," she said suddenly.
He smiled, not easily convinced. "When?"
She grabbed her underclothing he'd laid out on the bed for her and walked behind the Chinese dressing screen in the corner of the room. Since she and Gavin had formed an intimate relationship, Ellen felt uncomfortable nude in front of Richard. Somehow, even now, it seemed a betrayal to Gavin. If Richard had noticed, he had made no comment.
"When, Ellen? I could send a message to Mother and let her know we're coming."
"Not yet," she called over the screen. "Not yet, but soon."
Richard frowned. "I'll send Rose in to lace you up. The coach will be waiting, so hurry."
"Richard?"
He stopped in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. "Yes?"
She studied him for a moment, taking in his careless good looks, his bright blue eyes, his shiny brown hair, his regal cheekbones. By any standards he was a handsome man, but in her eyes his looks didn't hold a candle to Gavin's rugged features. She smiled. "Richard, I love you."
He waved and walked out of the bedchamber, muttering to himself.
"Not those crates, you imbecile! These!" Gavin shouted from the quarterdeck down to one of the sailors stacking crates of foodstuffs on the waist of the ship.
The pig-tailed man in striped shirting looked up, squinting in the sun. "Sir?"
"I said you've the wrong crates." Gavin pointed to a stack line
d up on the starboard side. "Balance, you dogsbody. We must have balance, or the futtering ship'll go down in the first wind!"
The sailor obediently bobbed his head and moved to the specified stack of crates.
Julius came up behind Gavin, giving a low whistle. "You're going to have to go easier on these men or we'll not have a handful of crewmen to sail the three ships, friend."
Gavin swung around to face Julius, his face wrinkled in a frown. "I'll not stand for incompetence and you bloody well know it! These men are my responsibility. I'll not see them starve or go down out of stupidity." He glanced over the rail at the sailor moving obediently but slowly. "We'll not be ready to set sail for Paris tomorrow. We'll be lucky if we're ready in a fortnight, as slow as these men move!"
Julius adjusted his stocking cap. "Yea, yea, yea, you can be all gruff and tough with them, but you don't fool me."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Gavin turned back to a manifest he was scribbling on. "Did you come up here for a reason other than to annoy me?"
"I don't know why you don't just go to her. If she won't coming willing, take her. She'll see the sensibility of your wedding her twenty days out to sea."
"I told you I don't want to talk about her!"
Julius hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sailcloth breeches and made a clicking sound between his teeth. "Don't give a hang for her, do you?"
"I told you. That's over and I'd rather not discuss the matter." He glanced up. "No, let me express myself more clearly. I will not discuss it."
"Seems to me a man who don't shave, sleeps half the day, drinks most of the night, and chews on his best friend like a hound chews on a bone needs to discuss the matter."
"I gave her a choice, Julius. I'll not force a woman to bed nor to marriage. I'm not that desperate for either. No, her decision was not to marry me. That's the end."
"Hardheaded as eels, the pair of you. Don't you think she's just as wretched as you?"
Irritably, Gavin scratched out something on the manifest. "I hadn't thought about it at all. Haven't thought about her in weeks, except when you remind me." He flashed Julius a dark warning glance. "Now if you wouldn't mind, I've work to do."
Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity) Page 20