Surrender to Sin

by Tamara Lejeune

  “Precisely,” said the Duke. “That is what I call kidnaping.”

  “Right now I’ve got to find Abigail,” said Cary. “If Dulwich finds her first, there could be real trouble. I need you to stay here and watch that bridge, Geoffrey. Ritchie’s all set to hand over the ransom to some woman dressed as Cleopatra.”

  “Julie’s dressed as Cleopatra,” he said, brightening up.

  “I seriously doubt my sister is in the kidnaping line,” Cary said impatiently. “Now, whatever you do, don’t let this woman get away. She’s going to lead us to Ritchie’s daughter.”

  The Duke was puzzled. “Has Ritchie got two daughters?”

  “No, just the one, and the poor thing’s been kidnaped. Look, I haven’t time to explain. Which way did Abby go? I’ve got to get to her before Dulwich finds her. It’s very important.”

  “Last I saw of her, she was running past the Italian fountain,” the Duke said. “You know, in the grove with all the dolphins.”

  “Who is this Abby person?” Serena demanded of the Duke as Cary sprinted off down the path. “And what on earth happened to your face?”

  Cary had not gone ten yards when he ran into Budgie, the young biffer from the theater. Budgie was now attired in what appeared to be a bed sheet and on his narrow head was a wreath of artificial grapes. The large macaw on his shoulder squawked. “Ah, hullo!” the young man slurred. “Look what I found in my carriage after the play.”

  “Yes,” Cary said distractedly. “I put it there. I thought it would be a good joke.”

  “Oh, it was,” Budgie assured him. “Mama nearly died of fright. If you’re looking for that girl you were with at the theater, I just met her in the Italian grove. A vestal virgin, is she?”

  “I swear to God, if you so much as touched her—”

  “Good Lord, Wayborn!” Budgie cried, backing away. “I’m no poacher. Besides, the bird frightened her away. She called it Cato. Do you think that’s a good name for a bird?”

  Cary pushed past him without answering.

  Abigail crouched down beside one of the large stone dolphins lining the crushed gravel path and found the iron lever fitted into its base. She could hear Dulwich’s sandals crunching on the pebbles. The fool had chosen to wear the short leather skirt of a Roman gladiator and his legs were pathetically pale and skinny. “Abigail?” he called out.

  Abigail pulled the lever down as hard as she could. A jet of water shot from the mouth of the dolphin in a powerful blast that struck Cary full in the face. Too late Abigail saw that the legs were not skinny and white, but rather toned and bronzed.

  “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” she cried, darting out from her hiding place. “I thought you were Dulwich. He thinks I took his diamond. Only, I didn’t. I swear.”

  Cary shook water from his hair and eyes. “You thought I was Dulwich?” he sputtered.

  “Well, I couldn’t see you properly. I was hiding.”

  “I know. Abby, if Dulwich finds you, he will have you arrested. Come quickly.”

  “Are we going to meet my father?” she asked, apprehensively. “Oh, Cary! Not yet. Not just yet. I need to talk to you first.”

  “Not now, Smith,” Cary said grimly, taking her by the arm. His stride lengthened purposefully and she struggled to keep up. “There’s something I’ve got to take care of. You know that fellow I owed money to, Ritchie?”

  She gulped. “Cary…”

  “His daughter’s been kidnaped. I told him I’d help him. The kidnapers are sending a woman to collect the ransom. Come on!”

  “But I haven’t been kidnaped,” she cried, running after him. “Well, I mean, I was kidnaped—briefly—but there wasn’t any ransom. It was all a silly mistake.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course you haven’t been kidnaped. Good Lord, if you’d been kidnaped, I’d be in a blind panic right about now! I suppose that’s why I feel I must help the poor fellow. There will be time enough for me to meet your father.”

  “Cary, you don’t under—aaaaaaargh!” Abigail let out a shriek as a blast of icy cold water suddenly drenched her from head to toe. Lord Dulwich stepped from behind one of the stone dolphins with a wicked-looking gladiator’s sword in his hand.

  “Now then,” he said roughly. “Where is my diamond, you little thief?”

  “I don’t have it! I swear!” Abigail cried, wiping water out of her eyes. “I sent it back to you, you—you—you great horrid Pudding-face!”

  Dulwich lifted her chin with the point of his sword. “You pried the stone from the setting and replaced it with glass. Admit it!”

  Cary retraced his steps with a groan of disgust, covered Dulwich’s face with one hand, and spurned him into the gravel. “If you ever come near my wife again, I shall tear off both your stones and feed them to my dog,” he said crankily. “Come along, Abigail!”

  “Your wife?” Dulwich sneered, scrambling to his feet. “She’s your wife, is she? Well, if you don’t mind giving a little consequence to one of my castoffs, that’s your affair, I suppose. But I still want my diamond back.”

  Cary spun around. “What did you say?”

  Dulwich laughed unpleasantly. “Didn’t she tell you? We were once engaged, you know. Her father offered me quite a lot of money to take her, as a matter of fact. Against my better judgement, I allowed myself to be persuaded. After all, her mother was not too contemptible.”

  Cary’s voice shook with fury. “Abigail, were you engaged to this loathsome tick?” She had never seen him so angry. “When I thought you were his sister,” he spat, “that was bad enough. But this? Engaged? To him? What else haven’t you told me?”

  “I haven’t got a sister,” said Dulwich. “But if I had, she wouldn’t be the freckle-faced halfwit brat of a Glaswegian whisky merchant, I can promise you that.”

  Without a word, Cary turned on his heel and strode away.

  “Cary, please! Let me explain,” Abigail begged, running after him.

  “My diamond!” said Dulwich, starting after her. With a sharp cry of pain, he fell in the gravel, clutching his sandal-clad foot. “My ankle!”

  Cary stalked out of the garden onto the wider path. From the slight elevation, he had a fine view of the bridge where his father-in-law was waiting with twenty thousand pounds’ worth of diamonds. He skidded to a stop as he caught sight of a Cleopatra stepping onto the bridge, a golden serpent glinting on her brow.

  Abigail bumped into him. “Cary, I tried to tell you,” she whispered, pressing her face against his shoulder. He could feel her shivering. “I tried to tell you as soon as I learned that Paggles had got it wrong. But you wanted to marry me. You said it didn’t matter.”

  “Didn’t matter!”

  “And it doesn’t matter!” she went on quickly. “He never meant anything to me. But there was a time when I didn’t think it mattered who I married. I only wanted to make my father happy. It was before I knew you.”

  Cary was not looking at her. “I have a question for you, Abigail,” he said quietly.

  “Yes, of course. Ask me anything.”

  “If you haven’t been kidnaped,” he said thoughtfully, “why is that woman collecting the ransom from your father?”

  “What?” Abigail turned to look as her father handed over a velvet pouch. “No, Papa!” she yelled at the top of her voice, running as fast as she could towards the bridge and waving her arms. “It’s a trick! I’m perfectly all right.”

  Red whirled around. “Abby?”

  Cleopatra turned and ran straight into the arms of the Duke of Auckland.

  Chapter 20

  Red Ritchie was so overjoyed to see Abigail that he dropped the velvet pouch, spilling diamonds on the bridge. “You found her!” he cried, catching her in his arms as she ran to him.

  Cary stooped to gather up the diamonds. Though by no means overjoyed by his father-in-law’s identity, he conceded that the man’s affection for Abigail did mitigate his execrable habit of sending overdue notices to gentlemen. “Your diamon
ds, sir.”

  Red ignored the diamonds. “Sir, I can’t thank you enough! My God, Abby, you’re soaked through,” he fretted, hastily pulling off his bottle-green coat and placing it around his shivering daughter. “Did these ruffians try to drown you? What a good thing you could swim, sir!” he added, after observing that Cary was wet too. “I know you won’t let me pay you, sir, but, indeed, I owe you much. Let me shake your hand.”

  “Gladly,” Cary said, looking past him to where the Duke was having a devil of a time holding onto a hissing, spitting Cleopatra. “Abigail!”

  His voice was harsh. As he handed her the pouch of diamonds, she wondered if he would ever again speak to her in that warm, gentle voice that made her bones melt.

  “Does that woman look familiar to you?”

  Puzzled, Abigail turned to stare at Cleopatra. The heavy application of exotic cosmetics could not entirely conceal the familiar features. “Vera!” she exclaimed after a moment.

  With her crown of serpents still glinting on her brow, Vera Nashe faced them defiantly. “Miss Ritchie,” she said coolly. “Was there ever an heiress so aptly named?”

  Abigail gasped at her impudence. “Did you know who I was the whole time?” she cried. “Did you always mean to kidnap me? I thought you were my friend.”

  “I didn’t know who you were until I went through your trunks,” replied she.

  “How dare you go through my belongings?”

  “How else was I to steal your lovely jewelry?” Vera asked sensibly.

  “And my stockings! You lent me my own stockings! Vera, how could you?”

  “I was tired of watching you stomp around in those dreary boots, my dear. And so was Mr. Wayborn.” Her dark eyes twinkled with amusement. “He likes a light foot, doesn’t he? A light foot and a light skirt, eh?”

  “Abby, do you know this woman?” asked Red, his eyes wide with shock.

  “I beg your pardon, Papa,” said Abigail, flustered. “Mrs. Nashe, may I present my father, Mr. William Ritchie. Mrs. Nashe was with me when I was lately in Hertfordshire. She was employed as Mrs. Spurgeon’s nurse.”

  “How do you do, sir?”

  Lady Serena Calverstock pushed past the gentlemen to stand with Abigail. “But it’s Mrs. Simpkins, surely,” she said, clearly pleased to have something to add to the curious denouement on the bridge. “I recognize you from She Stoops to Conquer last year. I vow, I never saw a better Kate Hardcastle in all my life.”

  “Your ladyship is too kind,” said the other woman, with a graceful curtsy.

  “My dear, I mean it,” Serena insisted. “We’ve tragedians enough, but your talent for comedy is very rare. When you have put this unpleasant business behind you, I hope you will return to the stage. I should so like to see you as Lady Teazle in School for Scandal.”

  “When she has put this business behind her,” said Abigail, “she will be in Australia with her fellow convicts! I suppose Evans was your accomplice?” she went on angrily. “We did hear she had been caught red-handed with Mr. Wayborn’s silver and my pearls.”

  “Evans? Good heavens!” Vera murmured. “Why, Miss Ritchie, poor Evans was as pure as they come. I planted the silver in her room, along with your pearls and a few worthless trinkets of Mrs. Spurgeon’s. I knew she was going to blab to Mr. Leighton about me. She actually objected to my giving the old cow laudanum to keep her quiet.”

  This new revelation shocked Abigail even more than the previous. “Mrs. Spurgeon trusted you, Vera. How could you drug her?”

  Vera arched a brow. “Don’t tell me you missed her scintillating conversations! Anyway, what are you complaining about? It all worked out well for you.” She chuckled. “I had thought of taking Mr. Wayborn for myself, you know. But he would know there were no cavalry at Ciudad Rodrigo. There went my dearly departed Lieutenant. Arthur? Was that his name?”

  “You are not even a widow?” cried Abigail.

  Vera looked archly at Cary. “I couldn’t risk our becoming more intimately acquainted, Mr. Wayborn. I do hope you understand. Who knows how many lies you might have caught me in, with your superior knowledge of the rank-and-file? But I regretted ending our friendship almost before it had begun.”

  Abigail felt Cary’s hand on her shoulder. “Look here, Nashe,” he said grimly. “If Evans is not your accomplice in this vile plot to kidnap Abigail, then who is?”

  “Don’t look at me,” exclaimed the Duke, to general surprise. “I only kidnaped her by accident. As a matter of fact, I’d like to see that ransom note.”

  “Here you are, Auckland,” said Serena, extremely interested in this new development.

  “Just as I thought,” he snarled. “It’s a complete forgery! I certainly didn’t write it.”

  “Of course you didn’t write it, sir!” said Abigail. “You did not intend to hold me for ransom when you kidnaped me.”

  “You kidnaped Abigail?” Cary barked, his hand tightening on her shoulder.

  “Not personally,” the Duke explained. “My man Bowditch did it. He was supposed to kidnap your sister.”

  “Oh, that’s all right then!” said Cary, his eyes blazing.

  Red was horrified. “Abby! Did the Duke of Auckland kidnap you?”

  “It was more of an abduction, really,” the Duke said haughtily. “Also, a case of mistaken identity. It was quite her own fault for making herself at home in Mr. Rourke’s dressing room.”

  Abigail winced.

  Red scowled at her. “What were you doing in Mr. Rourke’s dressing room?”

  Cary spoke up. “She was with me actually, sir. We were—We were—We were looking for Mrs. Spurgeon’s bird,” he finished just as a huge scarlet macaw flew onto the bridge.

  “Yes, of course!” cried Abigail. “You stole Cato, and gave him to Mr. Rourke, didn’t you, Vera? Mr. Rourke is your accomplice! You must be old friends from the theater.”

  “Ha!” said the Duke. “I knew it!”

  “Hullo,” said Cary’s acquaintance from the theater, coming through the crowd on the bridge. “Pardon me. Bloody bird seems to have gotten away from me.” He stopped short as Vera held out her arm and Cato obediently flew to her, landing on her wrist.

  “Yes, Rourke is my accomplice,” Vera replied, clicking her tongue at Cato. “Since the Duke has cut him off without a penny, he’s going to need to supplement his income as an actor. It’s bloody expensive at the Albany, you know.”

  The Duke of Auckland panted with excitement. “Julie should be here. Wait until she hears of her favorite’s guilt! She’ll beg me to take her back.” He rubbed his hands together. “If I could just find her,” he murmured anxiously.

  “I might have known he’d bungle it,” Vera went on bitterly. “He’s such a Lumpkin. All he had to do was find Miss Ritchie’s carriage and drive off to Kensington with her in it.”

  Lady Serena tittered appreciatively. “Such a Lumpkin,” she repeated. “Why, he was absolutely magnificent in the role of Tony Lumpkin! I remember, I was laughing so hard, I nearly fell out of my chair.”

  “Really?” said Budgie. “So did I.”

  “We need more comedy,” said Serena firmly. “Did anyone else find it cringe-making tonight when the clown wished Cleopatra all the joy of the worm? Ugh! Mrs. Simpkins, if you promise to be good and do something amusing on stage in the very near future, I’m sure Miss Ritchie will be merciful. After all,” she added, turning to Abigail, “you were not kidnaped—not by Mr. Rourke, at any rate—and your papa still has his diamonds.”

  “What about Evans?” Abigail protested. “What about Cary’s miniatures?”

  “Oh, all right,” said Vera, stroking Cato’s head. “You caught me fair and square, and I’m nothing if not a good sport. He can have them back. But, I beg you, do not send Evans back to Mrs. Spurgeon. If you have a heart at all, Miss Ritchie, you will offer her a position with you. It seems to me that you could use the services of a real ladies’ maid. Paggles hardly fits the bill anymore, if she ever did.”

  “I sa
y!” Budgie protested as someone pushed roughly past him.

  “There you are!” said Lord Dulwich, limping onto the bridge. “We have not finished our conversation, madam. You still have my diamond.”

  “Please,” said Vera, as Cary made a move. “Allow me. Hullo, Dully,” she said, stepping forward. “Looking for this?”

  Slowly, she turned the simple gold band on her finger until the large glittering stone could be seen. Abigail gasped at the unusual carnation-pink color. “You took the Rose de Mai!” she cried. “When you were a maid to Lady Inchmery!”

  “Oh, I was never a maid to Lady Inchmery,” Vera replied. “Nor was I a maid to her son, Lord Dulwich, though I do believe the poor dear fool really thought I was. I am, as your ladyship has so kindly noted, an accomplished comedienne. But no, I bade my maidenhood farewell long before I ever met his lordship. So I was no maid. I was Dully’s mistress.”

  “Augh!” Abigail breathed.

  Vera chuckled. “It wasn’t so bad, Miss Ritchie. I gave his lordship lots of laudanum, too! He was rarely conscious in my presence, let alone…In return, I was pretty well set up.”

  “You bloody cow!” said Dulwich.

  Vera paid him no attention. “You will laugh, Miss Ritchie, but I had my own house and carriage. I even left the stage for a while. Then, alas, it all went sideways. Dully got into debt and his papa took his allowance away. He was ashamed of himself, of course, but not so ashamed that he didn’t take back my house, my carriage, and even my jewels.”

  “Lady Serena, I assure you, I don’t know this vulgar person,” Dulwich stammered.

  No one regarded him in the least.

  “What could the poor man do but marry an heiress?” Vera went on complacently. “He did promise me that once he’d married Miss Ritchie, he’d buy me this little house I had my eye on in Curzon Street. But in the meantime, it would never do if her papa found out he kept a mistress. Well, I love a good joke, so I did as he asked. I disappeared while he wooed the fair Miss Ritchie. I transformed my humble self into an impoverished war widow and took a lowly position as a nurse. Admit it, Mr. Wayborn, I took you in completely. Well, except for the cavalry! It was great fun. I have always had a talent for shedding tears.” Her smiled faded and, in the next moment, real tears glittered in her lashes. “Still, I wasn’t quite sure I believed Dully when he said he would always love me and take care of me,” she said, brushing her crocodile tears away, “so I took his diamond for insurance.”