by Olivia Drake
Ellie sank onto the bench near the fire and tried not to fidget. What news had the woman brought? Had she met with the Earl of Pennington? Had he sent her here to negotiate the return of his niece? And where did Walt fit into the story? Did she know that Damien only wanted that stolen key as ransom?
Ellie barely restrained a barrage of questions as Lady Milford removed her bonnet and placed it beside her on a table. Her raven-black hair was styled in an elegant chignon. Because of the chill in the vast room, she had not removed her royal-blue cloak with the fur collar. In the tall chair, she appeared rather intimidatingly like a queen on her throne.
Ellie’s acquaintance with the woman was slight. They had met only twice, first when her cousin had insisted on paying that ill-advised call, and then when Lady Milford had come to take Beatrice to visit the Duke of Aylwin. She also had given Ellie the pair of beautiful garnet dancing slippers. But a generous nature couldn’t begin to explain her presence at the castle. Why would a pillar of society travel so far from London on behalf of a nobody like Ellie?
She could no longer bide her tongue. “May I ask why you’ve come here, my lady? And how did you even know where to find me?”
Lady Milford smiled rather enigmatically. “You’ll understand everything in due course. But first, let me confess to feeling somewhat responsible for your fate. Had I not urged you to take your cousin’s place at the modiste’s, you would not have been mistaken for Lady Beatrice.” She glanced rather sternly at Damien. “And Mr. Burke would not have abducted you in her stead.”
His arms crossed, Damien stood by the fireplace. He had reverted to being the cold stranger, as he had been on the first day Ellie had sparred with him in the tower bedchamber.
If he wouldn’t speak, then she would. “Has there been gossip already?” she asked. “About my disappearance?”
Lady Milford nodded. “I’m afraid so. Your family tried to hush it up, but servants will talk and the rumors began to fly rather quickly. You are, after all, Pennington’s niece. When I called on your family, they were in quite a state of agitation. Lady Beatrice cried out that you’d never returned from your appointment the previous afternoon. Your uncle said that you had dishonored the family by running off with a scoundrel.” She paused to gaze at Ellie with some sympathy. “I shall not mince words, my dear. The earl was in quite a disagreeable state over the matter, as was your grandmother.”
Ellie could imagine the scene: Beatrice bursting to share the news, Uncle Basil blustering in anger, the countess making her usual acid remarks. Yet surely Lady Milford had misunderstood. “Are you saying they had no notion that I’d been abducted? They believed I’d gone willingly with—with Mr. Burke?”
Lady Milford inclined her head in a nod. “Yes. It seems your eldest cousin, Viscount Greaves, had already told them that he had reason to believe you’d run off with the Demon Prince. And that you must have been carrying on an illicit affair because on several occasions, he’d spied you creeping out of the house late at night.”
Ellie gasped. “That’s a lie! I did no such thing!”
“The devil!” Damien stood in front of the fire, his fists clenched at his sides, fury blazing in his eyes. “I’ll kill him when I return to London. By God, I will!”
“You most certainly will not,” Lady Milford said sternly. “You’ve caused enough trouble already without adding murder to your list of sins.”
Ellie tried to make sense of it all. Walt must have seized the opportunity to weasel out of returning the stolen key. He knew how much his father despised gambling, and he wouldn’t have wanted Pennington to know about the debt. So her spineless cousin had smeared her good name in order to save his own skin.
She felt sick inside. Not just because Walt would tell such an outrageous falsehood, or that her uncle and grandmother would believe it of her. No, she cringed to think that both Damien and Lady Milford now knew precisely how little regard her family had for her.
Lifting her chin, she forced her lips into a wooden smile. “I can only wonder how they thought I’d ever met the owner of a gambling club. Or why such a notorious rogue would have had any interest whatsoever in a drab spinster.”
Her gaze met Damien’s. His jaw was set tightly, his lips thinned, his eyes narrowed. He looked nothing like the lover of the previous night who had held her in his arms and made her feel infinitely desirable by his words and actions. How could any man resist such beauty and fire?
She swallowed past the constriction in her throat. Their brief liaison was over now. He wouldn’t ever say such passionate things to her again. There would only ever be that one night. And that was exactly as she wanted it.
“Well,” said Lady Milford, “I saw through your cousin’s story at once. You struck me as a sensible woman, Miss Stratham, not someone who would carry on an affair under the very noses of your family. So I requested a private audience with Viscount Greaves and wrested the sordid truth from him, that he’d incurred a gaming debt to you, Mr. Burke. And that you’d resolved to kidnap Lady Beatrice as a means to collect your payment.”
“Except that I abducted the wrong girl,” Damien said in a clipped tone. “So Walt never saw fit to protect her. And he never delivered the ransom.”
“A stolen key, I believe?” Lady Milford said. “He showed me your letter—though only under duress, I might add.”
One eyebrow arched, she aimed a strict stare up at Damien, and Ellie had an inkling of why Walt had caved to her demands. Lady Milford exuded an air of regal authority and steely resolve. But if she was seeking an explanation as to the significance of the key, Damien didn’t offer one. He merely folded his arms and gazed stoically back at her.
After a moment, she returned her attention to Ellie. “It may be of some comfort to you to learn that I convinced your cousin to confess the whole of it to his father. At least now Pennington knows the truth about what happened. Though I fear to say, the earl is quite adamant that you are not to be permitted to return to his house.”
Ellie wasn’t surprised. The truth would matter little to her uncle. In his critical eyes, it wouldn’t change the fact that she’d spent more than a week in the company of the Demon Prince. Nevertheless, she felt pained to know that her family had cut her off while knowing that the circumstances had not been her fault.
Had her uncle even offered to provide her funds on which to live? It didn’t matter.
She met Lady Milford’s gaze. “It’s quite all right, since I hadn’t planned to return there, anyway. Mr. Burke has agreed to compensate me for the damage to my reputation. He’s promised me a cottage in the country and a stipend on which to live. I need nothing more.”
And she would be happy to embark on a new life as an independent woman, Ellie told herself. Once she was settled in, and she could concentrate on her illustrations, then this awful tension in her bosom would vanish. She would be content and cheerful again, and not feel as if she had lost everything.
Lady Milford rose from her chair and came to sit on the bench, her kid-gloved hands taking hold of Ellie’s. “My dear, I don’t believe you do understand. All of society is convinced that you ran off with the Demon Prince and are now living in sin with him. Even if the truth comes out, that you were abducted against your will, it won’t matter to the gossips. You will still be branded a fallen woman in their eyes.”
“Then I’ll live somewhere far away from London. I assure you, their ill opinion matters nothing to me.”
“But it does matter to your family. They, too, have been tainted by this scandal.”
“Walt is to blame for that,” Damien snapped. “He lied about Ellie—Miss Stratham. He ought to have done as I told him. He should have said that she’d been called out of town to care for a sick friend. Then no one would have questioned her absence.”
“May I remind you, sir,” Lady Milford said sternly, “that it was your dastardly plot that started this unfortunate chain of events. Now, not only has Miss Stratham’s good name been ruined, but other innocen
t parties have been harmed as well.”
Damien made no reply. He stared in disgruntled silence at her.
Lady Milford turned her attention back to Ellie. “Fair or not, the ton believes that you, Pennington’s niece, are now living in wicked debauchery with a scoundrel. Because of all the gossip, the earl has spoken of postponing Lady Beatrice’s debut until next year.”
Ellie felt a twinge of sympathy to imagine how desolate her cousin would be. Beatrice’s entire existence revolved around preparing for her first ball, purchasing a new wardrobe, and plotting how to attract a titled husband. But how was that Ellie’s concern anymore? “I’m sorry, my lady. I know how very much she was looking forward to her first season. Yet I cannot see how it can be helped.”
“Ah, but there is a way to salvage matters,” Lady Milford said sagely. “Perhaps the only way.”
She rose to her feet and beckoned to the stoop-shouldered old gentleman. He left his stool and shuffled forward, stopping in front of Ellie and giving her a respectful nod.
Lady Milford introduced him. “Miss Stratham, I should like you to meet the Reverend Mr. Ferguson. He will officiate over your marriage to Mr. Burke.”
Chapter 20
From her seat on the bench, Ellie stared up at the weathered features of the elderly gentleman. His pale blue eyes held a kindly look. He extended his knobby fingers to her in greeting.
But she could not lift her own hand to shake his. A paralysis held her body in place as if she were trapped in a nightmare. She desperately wanted to run, yet her limbs refused to move. Her heart thudded so hard against her rib cage that she felt light-headed.
She must have misheard. Reverend Mr. Ferguson … to officiate over your marriage …
She glanced up at Damien. His hard-edged face was forbidding, his mouth a thin slash. There was no surprise in his expression. He must have already been told of the minister’s purpose in being here. And his displeasure could not have been clearer.
Yet he offered no protest.
Her gaze shifted to Lady Milford, who stood beside her, and then back at the minister. He had reached inside his dark coat and brought forth a small black prayer book. To perform the marriage service.
A second shock reverberated through Ellie. This was Scotland. There were no banns to be read, no special license to be procured, no waiting period in which to talk sense into Lady Milford.
The ceremony could be conducted at once. Right now.
Fright energized her. Ellie jumped up from the bench, swaying slightly as she caught her balance. “No,” she whispered, then much louder, “No!”
The word echoed off the stone walls of the great hall.
With sharp footfalls, Damien closed the distance between himself and Lady Milford. He glared down into her patrician face. “There is your answer, my lady. Your interference is entirely unnecessary. Miss Stratham will not be harmed by this scandal so long as she moves far away from London gossips. As to her family, perhaps they deserve to suffer for their ill treatment of her.”
“And what of your family?” Lady Milford murmured. “What of Lily? Does she deserve to suffer?”
Damien went very still. His face looked like granite. In a tautly soft voice, he stated, “You will leave her out of this. She is none of your concern.”
The exchange bewildered Ellie. It was as if she’d fallen asleep at a play and then awakened in the middle of another scene. “Who is Lily?”
The two of them paid her no heed. They continued to stare at each other, Lady Milford in that regal manner of a queen, Damien tense and grim-faced.
“Lily is involved whether you like it or not,” Lady Milford told him. “She will be tainted by your actions. It is one thing to own a gaming club frequented by gentlemen, to carry on discreet affairs, even to seduce an impoverished lady before deigning to wed her. But it is quite another matter entirely for people to whisper that you’ve lured a second innocent lady into sin—this time, without offering her the benefits of marriage.”
He made a sharp move of his hand. “Nonsense. It’ll all blow over eventually. There will be no permanent harm done.”
“Can you be so certain of that? Are you willing to risk your daughter’s future on a prideful whim?”
Ellie could not believe what she was hearing. She tried to put their words together in different ways. But they all came out to the same, inescapable conclusion. “Damien … you have a daughter?”
His steely gaze cut over to her. “Yes. But she’s merely six years of age. So it’s ludicrous to suggest that this incident will taint her.”
Feeling an odd detachment, Ellie studied the boldly sculpted angles of his face. She had thought—believed—that she’d come to know him well in the space of a few days together. They had laughed and talked and traded details about their lives. They had lain naked together and had shared intimate caresses. But all the while, he had kept a secret from her. He had not told her that he had a daughter.
What else didn’t she know about him?
He was suddenly a stranger to her again. A cold, aloof man that she had never truly known. The Demon Prince.
Lady Milford turned to place her hand on Ellie’s arm. “My dear, I know all of this has come as a shock. But you must consider what is best for all parties. The scandal can be greatly diminished by portraying your disappearance with Mr. Burke as an elopement. Then society will come to view it in a romantic light, and people will be more forgiving. That is why the only sensible solution for both of you is marriage—”
Damien and Ellie both interrupted at once.
“No, you’re wrong,” he began.
“I’d sooner wed a … a filthy rat.”
Picking up her skirts, Ellie took off at a dash. She couldn’t remain in the great hall for a single moment longer. She refused to let herself be coerced into bondage to Damien Burke. The lump in her throat grew larger. She would never surrender her independence, especially not to a man of his ilk, a gambler and a rogue.
Yanking open the door, Ellie nearly collided with someone. It was Finn, carrying a large wooden tray. The cups and cutlery rattled as he quickly straightened his load to keep it steady. She smelled a whiff of freshly baked scones and fruit jam.
The servant’s blue eyes twinkled at her. They seemed to say that he knew in whose bed the master had spent the night. “I’ve brung tea, milady. But why are ye leavin’…?”
Ellie didn’t stay to hear the rest. Pushing past him, she hurried out into the cold sunshine, her quick steps swiftly carrying her through the large courtyard of the castle. Her half-boots splashed in the puddles. The icy water and snow splattered her stockinged legs as she ran toward the stone archway that led to her tower bedroom.
No sooner had she entered the shadowed passage than she paused, her thoughts awhirl. The last place she wanted to go was her own chamber, where the sight of the tumbled bedsheets would bring back vivid memories of Damien and their activities of the previous night. Nothing could be more abhorrent. She felt sickened by her own naïveté in thinking they were close friends. And she was aghast at the notion of being obliged to speak her vows to such a man.
She turned blindly down another passage. There had to be somewhere to hide. To stay out of sight until they all went away, Lady Milford, the minister, Damien, even the MacNabs. It would be preferable to starve to death, or die of cold, than to give up her dreams in order to become the wife of a scoundrel.
And a stepmother. Damien had a daughter. Lily. A little girl whom he hadn’t bothered to mention. Granted, maybe the opportunity had not arisen …
Or maybe it had.
On the day he’d learned about her illustrated book, he had made the comment that young children liked shorter stories. What can you know about children? she’d scoffed. You, who spend your time playing cards and wagering on dice at your gambling den?
Damien had glanced away, his expression brooding. He’d had the chance right then and there to tell her … but he hadn’t done so.
And w
hy should he have? He was merely her abductor. Nothing more. She had been utterly imprudent to forget that.
Ellie took a ragged breath as the knot in her chest pulled tighter. The castle felt like a prison, and she longed to be gone from here, never to think of him again. She wanted to be off this island without delay.
The rowboat.
Belatedly, she realized that the beach should have been her destination. She could tell the oarsman that Lady Milford had dispatched her on important business in town and that he must take her there straightaway. Yes. By the time everyone finished their tea, she could be disembarking at the dock and seeking a way back to London …
Intent on the new scheme, Ellie spun around. But an alarming sight met her eyes. Damien strode toward her down the passageway, the greatcoat flapping around his long legs. The sound of his booted footsteps had failed to penetrate her stupor until this moment. His face was an austere mask, cruelly handsome and sternly resolute.
In a panic, she ran in the opposite direction. It was a foolish act, for he easily chased her down and caught hold of her arm to bring her to an enforced halt. “Ellie, wait.”
She whirled toward him. With both hands, she shoved hard at the wall of his chest. “Go away! I won’t marry you!”
He took a step backward, his palms up. “Good God, I should hope not. I would make a terrible husband. Do you think I’m here to persuade you otherwise? You may rest your mind on the matter.”
“Then why did you follow me?”
“Because I had no wish to remain in Lady Milford’s company, either. The woman is a blasted busybody, just as she’s always been.”
“Always been?”
“This isn’t the first time she’s meddled in my life. A long time ago, she warned me to stay away from Veronica.”