For the Sake of a Scottish Rake

by Anna Bradley

  She couldn’t stop thinking about Ciaran’s face when she’d refused him, the way shadows had darkened the blue in his eyes. He’d looked hurt. If Lucy didn’t know better, she would have thought his heart was broken—

  “No, it won’t work out in the end, Lucy. Things never do.” Eloisa’s voice was thick, as if she were about to burst into tears. “Everything’s a dreadful mess, and likely to stay that way.”

  Lucy’s gaze shot to her cousin’s face, and in the next instant she was across the carriage, squeezing into the narrow bit of seat between Eloisa and Lady Felicia. “What’s happened tonight?” She took Lady Felicia’s hand in one of hers, Eloisa’s in the other, and braced herself. “Well, Eloisa? Felicia? Tell me at once.”

  Silence at first, but it tipped over into chaos soon enough. “Lord Vale made me an offer, but I—” Eloisa began, at the same time Lady Felicia said, “Edmund offered me his hand, and I told him—”

  That was as far as they got before the carriage door flew open and Aunt Jarvis scrambled in. “Dear me, girls! I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. It’s such a crush it took me ages to find…oh, aren’t you uncomfortable, crowded together on one side?”

  Lucy, Eloisa and Lady Felicia all shook their heads at once.

  “No? All right, then.” Aunt Jarvis settled herself into the opposite seat and spread her skirts with a sigh before squinting at Lucy through the gloom of the carriage. “Lucy, my dear child. Are you quite all right? Such a terrible scene with Lord Godfrey!”

  “Yes, Aunt,” Lucy said quickly, hoping to end the conversation before Eloisa or Felicia started asking questions. It would only upset them further if they knew about Lord Godfrey’s abominable behavior this evening.

  But she hoped in vain. As soon as his lordship’s name was mentioned she felt Eloisa go stiff beside her, and Lady Felicia asked sharply, “What scene? What has Lord Godfrey done now?”

  “It was nothing,” Lucy began, but her aunt interrupted her with an energy Lucy had never seen in her before. Perhaps she shouldn’t have put so much elderflower in that last batch of Dr. Digby’s Calming Tonic.

  “It wasn’t nothing. It was excessively unpleasant, and I don’t mind saying I’m not at all pleased with Lord Godfrey. I haven’t always approved of his behavior before tonight, but I never imagined he could be so very ungentlemanly.”

  “What happened, Mama?” Eloisa asked, her face pale.

  “Why, Lord Godfrey practically dragged poor Lucy into the set, and then what do you think? He insisted on keeping her out for three dances! I didn’t know what it meant at first, but then Lady Henley came over and asked when Lucy and Lord Godfrey intended to marry! Did you know, girls, if a gentleman and lady dance three dances together, it means they’re—”

  “Betrothed,” Lady Felicia said flatly. “Or as good as betrothed.”

  “Betrothed! You mean to tell me everyone at the ball tonight now thinks Lucy is betrothed to Lord Godfrey?” Eloisa didn’t try to hide her horror.

  “It seems so. It must be a mistake, of course. That is, I realize Lord Godfrey’s been calling on you, Lucy, but your uncle hasn’t said a word to me about…”

  Aunt Jarvis trailed off as she came to the same conclusion Lucy, Eloisa, and Lady Felicia had already reached. Uncle Jarvis wasn’t in the habit of sharing his plans with his wife. That Aunt Jarvis didn’t know a thing about a betrothal between Lucy and Lord Godfrey meant precisely nothing.

  “Oh, dear.” Aunt Jarvis darted an uneasy glance around the carriage, wringing her hands. “You don’t think—”

  “No, no. I’m sure it’s a simple misunderstanding, Mama.” Eloisa shot a warning look at Lucy. “You needn’t worry. It’ll all be sorted out by morning.”

  It wouldn’t be sorted out. Lucy knew that well enough, and if the heavy silence that fell over the carriage was any indication, everyone else did, too. Even her aunt remained quiet until they drew close to Lord Vale’s townhouse in Hanover Square. “Shall we leave you here, Lady Felicia?”

  Lucy, Eloisa, and Felicia glanced at each other, then Eloisa shook her head. “No, Mama. Her brother will fetch her from Portman Square on his way home from the Weatherby ball. Lady Felicia is…ah, she doesn’t like to stay in the house unless he’s there.”

  Given that Lord Vale had dozens of servants Lucy thought this an implausible excuse, but Aunt Jarvis didn’t argue. “Very well, then.”

  They continued on to Portman Square. Once they were there, Eloisa made quick work of seeing her mother from the carriage up to her bedchamber, where Aunt Jarvis promptly swallowed a dose of Dr. Digby’s Calming Tonic, and went to bed.

  When Eloisa came back downstairs, Lucy and Felicia were waiting for her in the entryway. “Come with me.” Eloisa beckoned to them to follow her down the hall.

  As soon as Lucy realized where her cousin was headed, she came to an abrupt halt. “Eloisa, no! We can’t risk it. Your father could come home at any moment.”

  “We can, and we will.” Eloisa was already pushing open the door of Uncle Jarvis’s study. “This business with Lord Godfrey has gone far enough. There’s no longer any doubt Father means to marry you off to that despicable man. The question is, how and when? We need to get into that locked drawer and see what we can find out.”

  Lucy couldn’t help thinking Eloisa sounded very much as Ciaran had when he’d begged her to go with him tonight. She paused on the threshold of her uncle’s study, misgivings plaguing her. Perhaps she should have listened to him, and done as he bid her.

  That is, not the marriage part—no, not that. Never that, no matter if the thought filled her with longing. She wouldn’t be the one to lock him away in a gilded cage. She knew too well the unhappiness and resentment that would follow.

  But mightn’t she have let him take her off to Grosvenor Street with him, just until they could figure out what else could be done? Eloisa was as worried about this mess with Lord Godfrey as Ciaran was. Lucy couldn’t help but notice she was the least worried of the three of them.

  Perhaps that was a mistake.

  “Where’s that dashed letter opener gone to?” Eloisa was tossing the papers on her father’s desk about, searching underneath them. She’d clearly decided the time for caution had come and gone, because she was making the sort of mess it would be difficult to hide from her father.

  Lucy hurried across the room to her cousin’s side. She grabbed for the papers, trying to put them back where they belonged, but Eloisa was tossing them aside faster than Lucy could straighten them. “Stop it, Eloisa! You’re making a dreadful mess. Your father will know we’ve been—”

  She was interrupted by a gasp from Lady Felicia, who was standing beside the desk. In her hurry to empty the drawers Eloisa had tossed Uncle Jarvis’s ledger onto the desk, and Felicia had snatched it up. She raised a shocked gaze to her friends’ faces, the ledger open in her hands. “Five thousand pounds!”

  “Five thousand, three hundred, and six pounds, to be exact. Ah, here it is!” Eloisa held up the letter opener, wielding it like a sword. “Now, let’s see what else my father’s been hiding.”

  She attacked the lock on the drawer that had resisted them the first time they’d rifled through Uncle Jarvis’s desk, but Lucy snatched the letter opener away from her after a few fruitless jabs. “Give that to me. Do you even know how to pick a lock, Eloisa?”

  Eloisa looked surprised. “Pick a lock? No. I didn’t know there was such a thing. I was just going to break it open.” She leaned over Lucy, watching with interest as Lucy prodded delicately at the lock with the tip of the letter opener. “How do you know how to pick a lock?”

  Picking locks was the sort of skill one acquired when one had an unpredictable father, but Lucy was saved from having to offer this answer when the catch on the inside of the lock clicked. “Ah, here we are.”

  She placed the letter opener back under the piles of paper where
Eloisa had found it, then held out her hand for the ledger book. Lady Felicia handed it over and Lucy put it carefully back in its place under the stationery box while Eloisa and Lady Felicia bent over the opened drawer.

  “Papers, and more papers.” Eloisa was pawing through them, a frown on her face as she dug through the piles, scanning each paper quickly before putting it back where she’d found it. “Dash it, it looks like it’s just more tradesman’s bills—”

  She broke off as she caught up a small, neat bundle of papers and skimmed the top page. Her gaze moved over it, her face draining of color as she read. “Oh, no. No.”

  A chill swept over Lucy, puckering her skin. “What is it?”

  Lady Felicia was reading the pages over Eloisa’s shoulder. When she reached the bottom of the page she looked up, her stricken gaze meeting Lucy’s. “Dear God. Your uncle is an utter villain.”

  “Not a penny of pin money. No jointure.” Eloisa was flipping through the pages, her fingers curling into the paper as if she was on the verge of ripping it to shreds.

  Pin money? Jointure…

  “Marriage settlements.” Lucy’s legs began to shake, and she dropped into the chair in front of the desk. “My uncle has had marriage settlements drawn up.”

  “He has. It seems you’re not to be suffered to retain one penny of your own fortune once you and Lord Godfrey marry.” There was a bitter, angry twist to Eloisa’s lips. “Godfrey gets it all, with the likely exception of my father, who no doubt gets all his debts paid, and probably a generous portion of your fortune into the bargain.”

  “Why should your father get any of Lucy’s fortune when she marries?” Lady Felicia asked. “You don’t mean to suggest—”

  “That my father is selling Lucy to Lord Godfrey? Yes, that’s what I mean to suggest.” Eloisa came around the side of the desk and kneeled beside Lucy’s chair. “You need to leave this house at once, Lucy. Leave London.”

  Lucy shook her head, but her brain was sluggish with shock. “I can’t leave you and Aunt Jarvis. Your father will know, Eloisa. He’ll know you helped me, and then what will become of you?”

  Eloisa took Lucy’s hand, the papers still clutched in her other fist. “Please, Lucy. My father must mean the marriage to happen soon, or he wouldn’t have drawn up the settlements. I’m begging you.”

  “Eloisa’s right, Lucy.” Lady Felicia abandoned the desk and came to kneel on the other side of Lucy’s chair. “My brother and Edmund won’t let anything happen to Eloisa or her mother. I promise you we’ll take—”

  A thundering crash cut Lady Felicia off, and all three ladies shot to their feet.

  “My father.” Eloisa froze, her face going so white Lucy was certain she’d swoon.

  One breath, two…

  Another crash, like the pounding of fists on a heavy wooden door, coming from the entryway. There was a slam, and then male voices echoing in the hallway.

  “Quickly.” Lady Felicia snatched the papers from Eloisa’s hand. She ran over to the desk and shoved them back into the drawer, then began frantically tidying the papers on the surface. “Quick! Help me.”

  Eloisa shook her head. “It’s too late.”

  Indeed, it was too late. None of them had time to draw another breath before footsteps were rushing down the hallway. Heavy footsteps—men’s dress pumps echoing on marble floors.

  “They’ve seen the lamplight.” Lucy, Eloisa, and Lady Felicia all jerked their heads toward the door at once. The study door was open a crack, and a narrow beam of light from the lamp was spilling into the hallway.

  Lucy’s heart was thundering in her chest. She swayed, and reached out to grip the back of the chair beside her.

  So, this is what a real swoon feels like.…

  The men burst into the room, each of them looking positively murderous, but when they saw the ladies standing there, they came to a skidding halt.

  Lucy stared at them, her entire body shaking.

  It wasn’t Uncle Jarvis or Lord Godfrey.

  “Sebastian. Thank God.”

  It took a moment for Lucy to realize it wasn’t Lady Felicia who’d said it, but Eloisa.

  “Eloisa.” Lord Vale darted across the room, his face as pale as death, and without the slightest hesitation gathered Eloisa into his arms.

  Lord Markham wasn’t far behind him. He was at Lady Felicia’s side in an instant, his dark eyes burning in his white face. He slid his arms around her, letting out a long, deep breath when she turned into him and buried her face in his shoulder.

  Lucy felt more than saw all these dramas unfold. She was conscious of movement, of the soft murmur of soothing words, but her attention was fixed on one face, one man only.

  “Ciaran, I—”

  She wanted to say she was sorry, that she was grateful to him—so grateful he’d come for her, so grateful he was her friend—but she never got the chance because he was there, his warm body wrapped around hers, his big hands stroking her hair.

  Lucy didn’t realize she was sobbing until Ciaran’s gentle fingers touched her lips. “Shhh. It’s all right. I’ve got you.” He kept whispering to her, his lips in her hair until the fear subsided, and she relaxed against him.

  As soon as she was calm, he eased her a little away from him so he could see her face. “You’ll come with me tonight?”

  Lucy gazed up into those devastating blue eyes. For a fleeting moment she thought of Brighton, of the feeling of cool water caressing her skin. All those mornings, alone in the water, and she’d never been in danger of drowning…

  Until now.

  “Yes. I’ll come with you.”

  Relief flooded Ciaran’s face. “We’ll leave for Buckinghamshire tomorrow. They won’t think to look for you there until it’s too late.”

  He didn’t mention his proposals from earlier that night, and Lucy didn’t ask. She turned to look at Lord Vale. “Eloisa, and my aunt?”

  “They’ll be safe. I promise it, Lady Lucinda. Markham and I will make sure of it.”

  Lord Markham was cradling Lady Felicia against his chest, but his gaze met Lucy’s over the top of Felicia’s golden head. “I promise it, too.”

  After that, there was nothing to say but goodbye. It was quick and tearful. By the time Lucy was tucked into Lord Vale’s carriage beside Ciaran, she felt as if her heart had been torn from her chest.

  She didn’t realize she was crying until Ciaran’s fingertips swept across her cheeks, gathering up her tears. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I can’t bear it.”

  “Am I crying?”

  Ciaran didn’t answer. Not in words. But he took her hand, his fingers warm around hers, and pressed her palm against the center of his chest, over his heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Your brother’s house is very grand.” Lucy’s voice was hushed, her steps hesitant as she crossed the marble entryway of the Grosvenor Square house.

  It was grand. Pity they couldn’t stay here, but this was the first place in London Jarvis would come looking for Lucy.

  “He’s a marquess. They all have grand houses.” Ciaran was only half a step behind her, but she didn’t turn to look at him when he spoke. She’d been avoiding his gaze since he’d handed her down from the carriage.

  Why won’t she look at me?

  “A marquess,” she repeated blankly, as if she weren’t quite sure what the word meant. “Yes, of course. I—I forgot.”

  “Lucy. Look at me.” Ciaran drew closer to her, so close he could see the fine red tendrils of hair curling against her neck. He lay a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him, and understood at once why she’d been hiding her face from him.

  Her eyes were red, her lips trembling, her long, thick eyelashes damp with tears.

  Ciaran’s heart twisted. He’d never been able to withstand a lady’s tears. As a child he couldn’t bear it when
his sister Isla wept. If one of his boyish pranks made her cry, he’d grovel and plead with her to forgive him, his stomach in knots until her tears dried.

  That pain was nothing more than a shadow compared to this. Seeing Lucy cry made him feel as if his heart were being ripped from his chest. “Come here.” His voice was gruff, but his big hands were careful as he pulled her into his arms.

  “I just…I don’t understand how my uncle could do this. I never imagined people could be so cruel, Ciaran.” She was shuddering against him, her fingers curling into his coat as if she were holding onto him for dear life. “I always thought it was wrong of my father to hide away from the world, but now…perhaps he wasn’t so mad, after all.”

  Ciaran gathered Lucy tighter against him. Mad, or sane—what did it matter if the Earl of Bellamy had been one, or the other? The man had loved his daughter, and Lucy had loved him. That was enough for Ciaran.

  So, he said nothing, only wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and guided her down the darkened hallway to the study. He seated her in a deep chair in front of the fire, then ducked out again. He hadn’t summoned the butler, but like all his brother’s servants, Travers was well trained. Ciaran asked that Lord Vale’s carriage be sent back to Portman Square, and everything made ready for a journey into Buckinghamshire.

  The sooner he and Lucy left Grosvenor Square behind them, the better.

  Travers hurried off to see Ciaran’s things packed and order the traveling coach, and Ciaran returned to the study. He’d had a bottle of sherry and glasses sent here earlier in the evening, and now he paused beside the desk to pour a measure for Lucy. He was turning away when he caught sight of something he hadn’t noticed before.

  It was a letter from his sister, Isla. She’d written him back at last.

  He plucked up the letter and the glass, crossed the room, and handed them both to Lucy before sinking down into the chair across from hers.