Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02]

by Dangerous Angels

  “The leader of the coastal gang? Did you identify him? Who is he?”

  They had reached the lake. He said, “I knew him only as Michael.”

  “Michael Peryllys! Good mercy, I would have guessed at once!”

  “I doubt that, but I won’t argue the point. The lads refer to him only as ‘our Michael,’ which is hardly an uncommon name. I knew they would not welcome much inquisitive interest from me, and in truth I did not think I would find it hard to learn his full name if I required it. The Lloyd’s agent, Oakes, helped me get onto him through a chap from Fowey, but I knew Michael did not live there. I’ve spent uncountable hours hanging about seaside towns and villages, looking for him.” He smiled ruefully. “It never occurred to me that he lived inland, or that you might know him. He’s a thorough ruffian, you see, not a fellow I’d expect to cross paths with a lady of quality.”

  Thoughtfully, Charley said, “I must confess, the few times I have met him, he was civil enough. Still, I think you might have followed your Michael home from one of those meetings you had with him. You’d have known then.”

  “Our meetings were at night, and I always had an escort to a meeting place unknown to me beforehand. A very untrusting lot, your Cornish smugglers.”

  As they began walking back toward the house, she said, “What did make you think Angelique’s Michael might be your Michael? You never saw hers.”

  “You mentioned that she was French just before we reached the Bretons’ cottage, so I got a prickling when I learned her husband’s name, for I had reason to suspect any Michael with a tie to France. That’s why I didn’t escort you to the shop. I’ve taken care never to let him see me in a good light, but I did not want to chance walking bang into him as Sir Antony, just in case he did prove to be ‘our Michael.’”

  “I can readily believe he would support the gangs, for many in Cornwall do, but I can’t imagine him as their leader. He once handed me into my carriage after I had visited Angelique, and his manner was perfectly civil.” Looking up at him, she added, “Apparently, you are not the only one who is adept at playing a double role.”

  “So it would seem.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “I ought to have learned about Angelique before now. If I’d investigated her—”

  “I told you about her only yesterday, for mercy’s sake. If she were the only Frenchwoman in Cornwall, you might have cause to berate yourself, but that is not at all the case. French emigres are not common hereabouts, but neither are they a rarity, and since you believed your Michael lived near the sea …”

  “I won’t castigate myself,” he said, smiling again when she let her words trail to tactful silence. “I’m just glad I did not discount her altogether. In all honesty, when you first mentioned your Angelique …” This time, he paused, looking apologetic.

  “You assumed she probably wasn’t French at all,” Charley said, chuckling. “I know just how it is, for I suspected the same myself when she opened her shop some years ago. One encounters so many modistes in London who claim to be Bernadette or Cerisette, but who turn out to be plain Polly Flinders or Moll Smith instead.”

  “Yes, that’s it. Look here,” he added abruptly, “we’ve nearly reached the house again, and I must know. Are you determined to marry Rockland?”

  She stopped, turning to face him. “So that did surprise you.”

  “I am never surprised by the things other people say they will or won’t do,” he said. “Only actions matter, and in the end, what men and woman say rarely agrees with what they do. Thus, their actions never surprise me much either.”

  “Then why ask me if I am determined to marry Rockland?”

  “Because I want to know your answer, of course.”

  “But if what I say has nothing to do with what I will do … If, in fact, you believe I will do other than what I say I will do—”

  “Spare me,” he said, holding up a hand in the gesture used by fencers to indicate surrender. He looked amused. “I don’t want a war of words with you. I want only to know if you care more deeply for Rockland than you have admitted to me or to the others, and if you are committed to this marriage.”

  She opened her mouth to inform him that she was a woman of her word and that whatever she had decided to do she would do without explaining herself to him or to anyone else. But something in the way he looked at her kept her from blurting out the words. Instead she said honestly, “My feelings for Rockland are what they have always been. He amuses me, and I like him, but I am committed to the marriage for exactly the reason I have given. It is the only acceptable way I know to escape Alfred’s tyranny.”

  “There must be a more satisfactory way to do that.”

  “If there is, I don’t know it. In truth, sir, until Mr. Kenhorn explained my position, it never occurred to me that could find myself a poor relation dependent upon near strangers for my bed and board. Marriage must be a better fate than that.”

  “But you have other relations, who are not strangers at all. What of young Letty’s parents, your cousin and her family, or this great-aunt of yours in London?”

  “Great-Aunt Ophelia?” Charley smiled. “I am very fond of her, but she admires independent women, not clinging ones. Her father arranged through the Chancery Court for her to retain control of her fortune whether she married or not, and having a poor opinion of the male sex, she chose to remain single. I expected Grandpapa or Papa to settle money on me the same way, but they did not. I daresay Aunt Ophelia may leave me something when she dies, but she is still full of life and energy, and I will not hang on her sleeve. Nor will I throw myself on the mercy of any other close relative. In many ways, that would be even worse than Alfred or Rockland.”

  “But why Rockland? I cannot believe you have received no other offers.”

  She smiled. “I’ve had my share, I suppose, though not as many as you might think. I frighten them off, or so Rockland has told me. He is forever telling me he loves me, and more importantly, he does not constantly set his will against mine. Since I cannot imagine myself as the sort of wife who would constantly alter her thoughts and opinions to match her husband’s—I beg your pardon. Did you speak?”

  “I coughed.”

  She grinned saucily at him. “Why did you invite me to walk with you?” she demanded. “Did you do it only to laugh at me?”

  No responding twinkle answered her. He said evenly, “Since I have agreed to play my part in this wedding of yours, I wanted to be certain in my own mind that you were not having second thoughts.”

  “Well, I’m not. I daresay Rockland will make as good a husband as any, and quite possibly a better one than most.”

  “But you don’t love him.”

  She shrugged. “Love is nothing but a state of mind. One responds at some emotional level to another person, briefly, then learns more about him, and the emotion eases. If one is lucky, it eases to friendship. If not … Well, in my experience of other marriages, it most often leads to a sort of armed truce. At all events, I am persuaded that love is sadly overrated. People do the oddest things in its name and become quite irrational. I am thankful never to have been so foolish, myself.”

  “At the risk of belaboring a point, what if you should fall in love with someone? What if Rockland does?”

  “I don’t believe I shall,” she said, frowning. “After all, I’ve been on the town for five years—no, six now—and I have not suffered the slightest twinge of emotional attachment to any man. I’m a lost cause, I fear. As for Rockland, from what I have seen, gentlemen fall in and out of love with the seasons. I daresay he will have his occasional chères amies, but as long as he is discreet, they won’t trouble me.”

  “A very sensible attitude,” he said.

  Detecting an edge in his voice, she said indignantly, “You don’t believe me. You men! You have such an inflated opinion of your worth, thinking women cannot get on without you, that we each want to possess you and to scratch out the eyes of any other female who smiles at you. We are not
all so foolish, sir, I promise you!”

  “Draw rein, mon ange. I said none of that. I do think we had better go in now, however. There is a small chance that your betrothed might not cast quite so reasonable an eye on our extended absence as you think he will.”

  “I wish you would not call him that,” Charley said impatiently. “Ours is hardly a formal betrothal. We signed no papers, you know. There are no settlements or agreements to be made. My only dowry is Grandpapa’s three thousand pounds.”

  “That sounds to me like an excellent reason for signing a few papers,” he said grimly, as he touched her elbow and urged her toward the house. “Does it not occur to you that Rockland ought to settle money on you, for your own protection?”

  With a flush of warmth in her cheeks, she said, “Good mercy, no. I can scarcely make such a demand when I practically insisted on the marriage.”

  “That is precisely why a female needs a male to make such arrangements for her. I am surprised that Alfred did not suggest himself as intermediary.”

  Only the expectant twinkle in his eyes kept her from delivering a withering retort. She made a face at him instead and maintained a regal silence until they reached the house. He made no further attempt to pursue the topic.

  As they stepped into the empty entrance hall, a feminine screech sounded from above. Exchanging looks, they hurried up to the drawing room to find Edythe Tarrant backed into a corner, her hands held out to fend off Sebastian. The dog stood panting before her, head extended, nose atwitch, and tail wagging.

  Medrose, appearing in the doorway from the next room, looked perturbed but made no move toward the dog.

  Charley exclaimed, “What on earth?”

  Excited chattering burst forth from the room behind Medrose. Sebastian barked, then barked again, and Letty rushed into the drawing room behind Charley.

  “Jeremiah got out, and we can’t find him!”

  Fortunately Charley understood what the child had said without hearing every word, for Edythe’s screeches and Sebastian’s barking nearly drowned out both Letty’s voice and the high-pitched chatter from the next room.

  “What the devil is the meaning of this?” Alfred thundered, entering behind Letty, and pushing past Sir Antony and Charley. “Edythe, what’s that animal doing in here and—” He broke off in astonishment, for Edythe stopped shrieking, and Sebastian stopped barking, whereupon Jeremiah’s shrill tirade rang forth from the next room.

  Jago joined Medrose on the threshold between the two rooms. “Begging your pardon, Miss Charley,” he said, “but that dratted monkey’s perched atop the clock and if I reach for him, he begins that heathenish screeching again. Will he bite, miss?”

  “I’ll get him,” Letty said, moving toward the opposite door.

  “One moment,” Alfred said, grabbing her arm and giving her a shake. “I told you, did I not, that I did not want to see that animal again, and here you’ve let him run all over the house. Worse than that, you’ve let him frighten my wife. I think what you need is a good, sound whipping to remind you to do as you are bid.”

  Charley snapped, “Release her at once, sir. You have no authority over her, let alone the authority to raise a hand to her.”

  “How dare you speak so to me!”

  “I’ll dare more than that,” she retorted, stepping toward him. “Release her.”

  He did so, saying pettishly, “It goes beyond all the bounds of courtesy for a chit like you to speak to me like that in my own house.”

  “Your house?” Sir Antony had remained silent, but now he raised his quizzing glass and peered through it at Alfred. “My dear fellow, unless you have heard something new in the past hour, I believe that point is still in grave dispute.”

  With a dismissive gesture, Alfred said, “That is beside the point. For all Kenhorn says he must see some document or other, you know as well as I do that you are no brother of mine. Hello, Rockland,” he added when that gentleman wandered into the room, looking mildly curious. “Come and collect your betrothed, will you? And silence that damned dog,” he added when Sebastian, taking exception to yet another newcomer, began to bark again.

  Edythe, hugging herself, began to weep, and Rockland stared from one occupant of the room to another in growing astonishment. “By Jove,” he said, “I thought we’d been invaded. What’s all the commotion?”

  “Silence, sir!”

  “Me?” Rockland shifted his astonished gaze to Sir Antony.

  That gentleman said, “You, sir? Why, no, I merely hushed the dog.”

  Alfred said testily, “I came in upon a scene of utter pandemonium, Rockland, evidently because that damned monkey—”

  “Alfred,” Edythe said in weak protest.

  “Sorry, my dear. That dratted monkey got loose because young Letty here insists on keeping it in a gentleman’s house. Where is she?” he added, peering around as if he expected her to reappear out of thin air.

  “I’m here,” Letty said in a small, dignified voice. She stood beside the footman, holding Jeremiah. “I got him to come down, but I think he’s afraid of Sebastian.”

  “Take Sebastian outside, Jago,” Charley said. “Letty, you must take Jeremiah back up to your room.”

  “Here now,” Alfred protested, “I’ll give the orders here. Just because you’ve got away with acting the shrew once don’t mean you’re taking command, you know.”

  Sir Antony’s quizzing glass went up again. He said, “Do you think her behavior shrewish, my dear Alfred? To my mind, she was most quiet-spoken, given the circumstance. As Petruchio said of Kate, ‘She is not hot, but temperate as the morn.’”

  Alfred shot Sir Antony a sharp look, then turned away from him to glare at Rockland. “If you take my advice, sir, you will take her home immediately after you are wed and teach her proper duty to a husband.”

  His words prodded the rage that of late seemed to lie just beneath the surface of Charley’s emotions, but before she could utter the hot words that sprang to her tongue, she chanced to encounter a look of amused expectation from Sir Antony. Not wanting to provide further entertainment for him, she swallowed her anger and said to him, “For goodness’ sake, help Edythe to a chair, sir. She looks as if her knees will betray her at any moment, while you so-called gentlemen stand about making idle conversation. Rockland, when do you mean to depart for Plymouth?”

  “Plymouth?” Keeping an eye on Sir Antony, as that gentleman assisted Edythe to a chair, Rockland collected himself and said glibly, “Oh, yes, Lady Ophelia. I daresay I shall depart Friday morning, don’t you know. Alfred here has given me leave to take your grandfather’s traveling carriage. I sent ahead to bespeak bedchambers and a private parlor, so I can await the arrival of the evening packet in comfort, and so she can have time to recover after her voyage. She won’t want to leave before Saturday morning, in any event, if she can even be got up to scratch then. I’m hoping her dislike of Sunday travel will turn the trick. She won’t want to wait until Monday to see you, after all.”

  “You make it sound as if she were arriving from India rather than London,” Charley said, managing a smile, “but I know she will appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  The rest of that day and the following one passed without incident. Charley spent much of her time making lists of things she would have to do before she and Rockland could leave. She asked him once how soon that would be, and where they would go, but he only smiled mysteriously and said she must wait and see.

  His departure Friday morning brought home to her the enormity of the step she was about to take. There could be no going back now, she thought as she watched the carriage roll down the white-pebbled drive toward the main gates. Even if she were the sort of woman who could ignore a promise, she knew she could never jilt a man who was not present to defend himself.

  She slept fitfully that night, waking often, once with a memory of words she had spoken to Sir Antony about love. Easy as it had been to dismiss the concept as mawkish twaddle, she wondered what it felt li
ke to be in love. Books made it seem nonsensical. Besotted fools did idiotic, senseless things in the name of love, and counted the world well lost. A woman submitted to a man in the name of love and found herself as much at his mercy as any other of his possessions. That, at least, would not happen to her.

  At one point she dozed, then woke in a sweat, having dreamed that Rockland had changed overnight from his easygoing, amiable self to a domestic tyrant. It occurred to her then that his view of the married state might well be different from hers. They had never talked about it. In fact, they had rarely talked about anything important. Though they had been acquainted for a number of years, she knew little about his family and not much more about him. Theirs had been a social relationship, nothing more. The thought gave her pause, but she rallied quickly. She had found it easy enough to keep Rockland dangling on her string. She could certainly manage him as a husband.

  She wondered what he thought about children. Having bred horses for years, she understood what a man expected of his wife, but the thought of Rockland mounting her was not one she wished to dwell upon. She slept again, and when she awoke to find the curtains open and sunlight in the room, she felt only relief that the long night was over.

  Kerra, turning from the window, cheerfully said that sunlight on a wedding day meant the marriage would be happy. “Such a pity it is,” she added as she moved to open the wardrobe, “that your mama can’t be with you today.”

  “I’m going for a long ride,” Charley said more sharply than she had intended. “I’ll put on my habit now, and you can order a bath when I return.”

  She rode alone, trying unsuccessfully to gallop away her fidgets. Returning shortly after noon, she avoided the rest of the household and went straight to her room. She bathed in water scented with cinnamon and cloves, after which the maid washed and brushed her hair till it shone like ebony. Because she was in mourning, she chose a gown made for her in Paris of dove gray satin bordered with silk-embossed foliage of the same color. Between the wide-shouldered bodice and flaring skirt, it was nipped in tightly at her waist with a gray satin belt. Her black turban à la Psyche, also made in Paris, suffered the removal of several silk monkshood flowers and a bird-of-paradise plume, but fashionable blond lappets depended to her shoulders from each side of it.