“I don’t know any sirs.”
“He’s balding, wears glasses.” At least according to Dante. “Works in cotton. Are you certain you’ve never seen anyone like that in the village?”
Her eyes took on a glint that told him she knew something. He withdrew another two shillings and held them between his thumb and forefinger. “Surely you don’t get strangers in this village often? A girl like you probably knows exactly who is coming and going.”
She released a long sigh, her eyes fixed on the coins. “If it gets out that I...they’ll throw me in the sea. And no one cares if a whore dies.”
“No one will know but if you’re concerned for your safety, I can offer protection.”
“Who are you?”
“Lord Pierce Cynfell.”
She lifted a shoulder. Clearly the Cynfell name meant little in Cornwall. Not that he held much of the power—it was his brother who was the marquess after all—but being a member of one of the largest and richest families in England held a certain weight. He could guarantee her safety easily enough.
“What’s your name?” he prompted, seeing the defensiveness in her posture remain.
“Merry.”
“Merry, I have a lot of wealth and resources at my disposal. Did you see the woman I arrived with?”
She nodded.
“She needs my help, and I’ll do anything I can to help her.”
“Oh...how lovely.”
“She’s also one of the richest women in England. Between us, we can ensure you never have to whore yourself out again.”
“My lord, I weren’t asking for anything like that...”
“Tell me what I need to know and I’ll help you.”
Merry traced the scarred top of the table and refused to meet his gaze. Her shoulders rose and fell as she took a breath and finally looked up at him.
“There’s a gambling den down by the old mine. It’s a rough one. Smugglin’ and the likes gos on there. I don’t go there if I can help it, but a gentleman did invite me to accompany him. A lot of criminal types spend time there. It’s a good place to hide out. When I was there, I saw a fella that matched that description. Glasses, balding. Someone said he was a business man from London, come to see his cousin who lives nearby, but that’s all I know.”
Pierce kept his triumphant grin smothered. Sir Lloyd was indeed in hiding and that had to mean one thing—that document had been fraudulent. Why else vanish to a place of ill-repute in such a tiny village? If he had family locally, he must have known there was somewhere he could hide and likely not be discovered. He likely wanted to lie low until George had his land.
“Merry, you’re a doll.” He fished into his pocket and drew out a sovereign, carefully pressing it into her hand. “I won’t be wasting my time. I’m going to find this man. Do you understand?”
“You mean I could be in danger soon?”
“I’m sure reports of our conversation will be about soon enough. If you wish to take advantage of my help, use this to take a train to Plymouth. Find a hotel and leave a message for me at the train station.”
“How do I know you won’t abandon me?”
“I won’t abandon you.”
Merry uncurled her hand, eyed the gold sovereign in her palm and nodded. “I’ll get a ride on the mail coach. Hopefully I shall see you in Plymouth. Be warned, they’re a rough bunch there. Lord or not, they won’t think twice about sending you out on your arse with more than a few bruises.”
“Thank you, Merry. I can handle myself.”
Pierce left her with her new wealth and hastened up to the room. When he opened the door, he found Evelyn asleep, slumped back still in her gown. A smile curved his lips at the sight. With her lips parted, her hands thrown over her head and her skirts ruffled around her, she was a picture of innocence and temptation.
Part of him longed to trace the line of her profile with a finger and touch those soft lips while the other part considered using his fingers lower down, under her skirts perhaps, to rouse her before bringing her to a peak.
Her lids fluttered open and put an end to either of those paths. A good thing really, considering he had a sordid gambling den to find and a liar to threaten.
“Have I been asleep long?” She pushed up to sitting.
“Not long.” He considered her for a moment. “The food will be up shortly,” he lied, aware he’d need to go down and find someone to bring some up before he left. “I need to head back downstairs.”
The more he thought about it, the less willing he was to tell her what he’d discovered. She’d do something foolhardy like demand to come with him. It was far better he do this alone, get the confession he needed and then suffer her wrath.
“Why?” Evelyn rubbed her eyes and a furrow appeared between her brows. “Pierce?”
Devil take it, she saw through him. The moment their gazes connected, he knew she’d realised he was up to something.
“Just a little business.”
“What business?” She slid off the bed and came to stand in front of him. “Pierce, what are you going to do?”
He drew in a breath through his nostrils and held it for a moment. “I believe I know where Sir Lloyd is.”
Her eyes brightened. “Oh thank the Lord. Where is he?”
“A gambling den of some sort.”
“Are we going to him now?”
“Not at all. I’m going to him now.”
“You’re not leaving me here!”
“If I have to tie you to the bed, I will. You’re not coming with me.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He took a step closer and drew back his shoulders. “Want to find out?”
“Honestly, Pierce, if you wanted to tie me up, you only need ask.”
An unexpected laugh burst from him. Trust Evelyn to throw him off at a moment’s notice. He quickly smothered his amusement and forced himself to scowl at her. “He’s hiding out in a dangerous place if the rumours are correct. I won’t have you in a position of danger.”
“You know sometimes I think you forget that I asked you to be my lover. I am the one in charge here.”
“Don’t start playing those games, Evelyn,” he warned darkly. “You know full well I won’t tolerate them.”
“And I won’t tolerate you being so bloody commanding. You are not my master or my husband.”
“Thank the Lord I am not. Who could put up with such a stubborn wife? You are not coming and that is final.”
Pierce regretted the words. As soon as they were out, he saw her body deflate a little. He had little idea if she’d even considered whether he would make a good husband or not but he was certain she felt far more for him than simple lust. He just needed to break it out of her, to knock down those hard walls she kept around herself. He knew one thing for certain, he hadn’t meant it. He’d do anything to make her his—stubborn woman or not.
“Pierce, you can’t go into a gambling den, what if—”
“Trust me.”
He didn’t give her time to answer. He turned away and shut the door behind him, pausing only a moment to realise she’d called him Pierce. A tiny grin of triumph thread its way across his face. She loved him.
Chapter Fourteen
Evelyn stared at the old wooden door for some time. The light from the lamps played shadows across it and she watched them move and dance about like little nymphs. A numb sort of shock worked its way through her, making her fingers and toes tingle.
Wife?
What had made him say such a thing? Surely marriage was the last thing on a man like Pierce’s mind? He was young, handsome and would soon be financially stable again. Had he considered what it might be like to be married to her? And why did it bother her that he had declared he could never be married to a woman like her?
She didn’t want to marry ever again after all.
Shaking her head, she forced her stiff limbs to move. Evelyn pulled out a cloak from her trunk and did it up before slipping on her boot
s. The garment would disguise her better as she slipped out into the dark—dangerous enough for a woman without entering a gambling den.
Whatever he was going to do, he wouldn’t do it alone. This was about more than her determination to do things on her own. This was about ensuring Pierce didn’t come to harm. She couldn’t bear to think...
No, those thoughts wouldn’t do either. They made her want to curl up and cry, and a duchess did no such thing.
Chin lifted, she headed downstairs and into the inn. As if she owned the place, Evelyn made her way to the bar and drew the attention of the barkeep. The ruddy faced man with a gentle smile and small stature scurried over.
“My lady.”
She didn’t correct him. She hardly cared anyway but now wasn’t the time. “The gentleman I was with earlier, he left a moment ago. Do you know where he went?”
“No, my lady, ‘fraid not.”
“Damnation.” She rapped her knuckles against the wooden bar. The barkeep blinked at her and she smiled her apology for her bad language. “I fear he is to do something reckless. Do you know where one might do something reckless around here?”
He stiffened. “This is but a humble inn, and I don’t tolerate ill behaviour here.” He jerked his head toward a young woman sitting by the window. “Merry might know something. He was talking to her earlier.”
Evelyn eyed the woman’s golden curls and scantily clad appearance. A whore. She knew well he had no need to indulge his desires with such a woman so had he been asking her for information? It was a wise move. A woman like that would know many secrets.
“You won’t have ill-behaviour but you’ll let a woman like that use your establishment?”
The colour in his face deepened. “She’s good for business, is all.”
She didn’t really care about where or how someone like the girl conducted their business. Really, she pitied the girl. It had to be a hard choice indeed to choose to sell one’s body to survive.
Making her way over to the girl, Evelyn was seated before she’d even noticed her presence. Whatever or whoever she was waiting for had her utterly preoccupied.
“Oh.” The girl turned and her eyes rounded. “My lady.”
Evelyn offered what she hoped was a patient smile though she felt decidedly impatient. It took all her willpower not to drum her fingers on the table top or tap her feet.
“Forgive my intrusion, but the barkeep tells me you were speaking with my gentleman friend earlier.”
“He didn’t want anything from me, I swear!”
Evelyn waved away her alarm. “I know. But he wanted information, did he not?”
Those wide blue eyes searched her face before nodding slowly.
“Can you tell me what you told him?”
She drew her bottom lip under her teeth and released it. “I-I don’t know. If he didn’t tell you...”
“He’s placing himself in danger. For me. I cannot let him do that, do you understand?”
A sad smile curved her lips. “He said he was doing it for you. You’re a lucky woman.”
Evelyn tried not to think on the consequences of such words and why Pierce would go to such lengths to help her. After all, her pleasure was his duty, nothing more. Why did the gambler have to become so damn brave and honourable?
“Where is he going, Merry?”
“He was looking for this fella. He said you could protect me. I’m to catch the mail coach out of here. This is how dangerous these people are. They’ll kill me if they find out I said anything.”
“You will have our protection but not if he’s killed. Where did he go?”
“’Tis no place for a lady.”
“Merry...” she urged.
“A building at the old mine. It’s tucked up against the hill so that even if you stroll by you can’t see it. It was used for smuggling once—likely still is.”
“How can I get there?”
“My lady, you mustn’t.”
“I must. How do I get there?”
Merry blew out a breath, sending a golden curl bouncing against her face. “If you follow the seafront path to the right, it’s just past the old chimney. That you can’t miss. But you have to come off the path to find the building.”
“Thank you. Now do as Lord Pierce told you and you shall be safe, I promise.”
“I’m not that worried about me now, my lady. I think you should be worrying for yourself. What could you possibly do?”
“I’ll think of something.”
She was a duchess after all. She’d given speeches, spent time with royalty, negotiated with dissatisfied tenants. Taken a lover. A few drunken gamblers would be nothing.
Evelyn wasted no time in heading out of the inn and following the path as directed. The stone harbour soon gave way to a dirt track, winding its way up the hill along the cliff edge. Wind whipped about her and she regretted her tight skirt. Her heart pounded in time with the crashing of the waves against the base of the cliffs—not from exertion but from worry. She could not leave Pierce to do her work for her, she simply couldn’t.
Snatching the fabric of her skirt, she hauled it higher and cursed the expensive fabric. If it hadn’t been sewn so well, it might have rent along the seams but no, it seemed unwilling to give. She would have to struggle along with it slowing her pace.
The old chimney of the mine revealed itself some time before she reached it. Glancing up at it towering tall above the cliffs, she imagined many sailors used it as a marking to ensure they were on course. Evelyn paused in front of the tumbled building next to it and peered around. Only the bluster of wind and roar of waves could be heard. No singing or shouting…or worse.
Where was this place?
A glint of light shimmered through the night. She narrowed her gaze and took cautious footsteps around the old stones. A faint path etched into the grass led farther down the cliff edge. Her heart pounded as the ground dropped away to her side. One slip and she’d be dead.
But she couldn’t leave Pierce to face this alone.
A hand to her skirts, she lifted them and continued down until the ground levelled out. The glow turned out to be that of a lamp. It signalled the entrance to a dwelling, half-buried in the ground. Several steps led down to the building which was substantial but likely only one room or so. She suspected it had once belonged to smugglers as the whore had said, with its darkened windows and hidden position. A fine place to hide their loot.
The sound of muted conversation made her pause and she flattened herself against the craggy rocks beside her. When she peered around them, she spied several large men. They ceased their conversation and made toward the building. Evelyn inhaled and drew her cloak up around her head. Now was her chance.
As the last man made for the den, she slipped in behind him. They didn’t notice her quiet footsteps or small presence. She eased shut the door and stepped to one side. The building was indeed one room and looked much like any other Cornish inn.
Except at every table, games were taking place. There were no women, just many, many strong, rough-looking men. Some were dressed in finery but the elegant cut of their clothing couldn’t take away from the heavy set of their jaws or the aggression in their expressions. Several had severe scars. She was making judgements but she knew them to be right. These were criminal sorts and any finery was most likely stolen.
Her gaze landed on Pierce, sitting in a darkened corner with an older man. Sir Lloyd. Before she could scurry over, something snagged her hood. She whirled as it was yanked down.
Not something.
Someone.
His expression like stone, a grey-haired man with several days’ stubble across his jaw glowered at her. Her heart near dropped to her toes.
“How did you get in here?”
“I—” She tried to summon her voice but it failed her. Evelyn lifted her nose and affected her own coldest look but the man didn’t appear at all intimidated. She wasn’t surprised. His arm looked nearly as thick as her waist.
“N-no one. And I’d thank you if you release me.”
She gasped as his hand came to her neck and drew apart the ties of her cloak with ease. He pushed the garment away and a smile twisted his lips. One hot hand curled around her arm, keeping her prisoner. Her flesh throbbed at the uncomfortably tight touch.
“A woman of means.”
She shook her head. “Just a borrowed gown.”
“I think not. Have you coin?”
“No.” She wished she had, then perhaps she’d be able to buy her way out of this. Oh what a fool she’d been to come here. She should have trusted Pierce.
“Why come here if you have no coin to gamble away?”
“I was...”
“Curious? Looking for some company? Women aren’t usually allowed in here, but I think we can make an exception. We’ve got plenty of company for you here, miss.”
“No, no, not at all,” she declared, horrified. He twisted her enough so that she could see most of the men in the room were now paying attention to her. She glanced Pierce’s way. He hadn’t spotted her from his position. Maybe she could negotiate her way out of this before he did. “I-I can get coin though. You’re right, I’m a woman of means. I can pay you generously. If you just let me—”
“Leave? You’ve only just got here. Join me for a drink.” He hauled her over to a bar stool and tried to push her down onto it.
Evelyn couldn’t help herself. She fought him. It didn’t matter that she was surrounded by dozens of hardened criminals. No man would make her do what she didn’t wish to do. A foolish notion, perhaps, but she was unable to play the obedient woman.
“Just. Sit. Down. Then we’ll negotiate your payment.” He wrenched her arm, forcing a cry from her.
Her first instinct was to strike out and she did, kicking out at him. He cursed when her boot connected with his shin and several men stood to watch them.
“Need a hand, Freddie?” someone called. Laughter rippled around the room.
“I’ll manage the whore on my own.”
“I’m a duchess,” she declared. “If you even think of harming me, you’ll regret it.”
Sinful Liaisons (Cynfell Brothers Book 3) Page 10