Rough Gentleman

by Maggie Carpenter

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I wanted to, but I was afraid—for so many reasons.”

  “Yet here we are. Fate has finally seen fit to bring us together.”

  With the sound of the rain hitting the branches overhead, he leaned down and lovingly devoured her mouth, then suddenly consumed her lips with hungry passion.

  “Malcolm...?” she mumbled breathlessly as he pulled back.

  Wordlessly taking hold of her wrists, he held them above her head and pressed his mouth against her ear.

  “You can’t imagine the things I’m going to do to you, Connie Clifford.”

  She gasped, butterflies burst to life in her stomach, and as he nuzzled her neck, she recalled the decadent passages in A Pirate’s Pleasure.

  “I can guess.”

  “Can you just?” he murmured, moving to look down at her and grinning a devilish grin.

  “The book,” she panted, staring up at him with a twinkle in her eye. “I read it more than once!”

  “Ah, yes, the raunchy pirate and his naughty wife, but I have tricks up my sleeve the pirate didn’t learn on his travels.”

  As he returned his mouth to suck on her neck, and tightened his hold around her wrists, she closed her eyes and let out a long, deep moan.

  “You will learn what it means to totally surrender,” he continued huskily. “To give yourself up completely. To feel owned and possessed.”

  As if underscoring his salacious statement, a roll of thunder pealed overhead.

  “We must get back to the house,” he said urgently, releasing her and putting his arm around her shoulders. “The forest offers cover from a gentle rain, but in a thunderstorm it can be a dangerous place.”

  “You mean from the lightning?”

  “Indeed,” he replied, guiding her quickly through the trees.

  They soon reached the edge of the woods, and pausing to catch their breath, they stared at the heavy rain hitting the expansive green lawn. They were about to get drenched.

  “We need to make a run for it,” he declared, “but we must be careful. The ground will be slick.”

  “It will be heavenly to sit in front of the fire with a cup of tea.”

  “With any luck there’ll be a letter waiting for us from the village.”

  “Oh, Malcolm, I do hope so.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” he said, gripping her hand. “Ready?”

  “Ready!”

  They bolted across the grass, but halfway to the house Connie suddenly broke into peals of laughter and came to an abrupt stop. Pulling her fingers from his, she spread her arms and stared up at the sky.

  “Connie, what are you doing? You’ll get soaked.”

  “I’m already soaked, and it’s wonderful. Don’t you see? Fate did bring us together, and this glorious rain is washing away the evil that surrounded me. My enemy has a face and a name! I’ve remembered everything, and we’re going to find a way to show the world the truth!”

  “Yes, we will, but you can’t stay out here. You’ll get sick.”

  “Join me,” she yelled, joyously spinning in a circle. “Dance with me in the rain.”

  “We can dance when you’re dry and in a warm room.”

  “No! Here! We must dance here!”

  Though he couldn’t help but grin, the air was cold, and he wasn’t about to let her fall victim to a nasty flu. Lunging forward, he scooped her up, threw her over his shoulder, and broke into a run. Reaching the terrace he took the steps two at a time, and bursting through the door, he carried her directly across to the fire and stood her on her feet.

  “Look at you,” he declared, quickly peeling off her coat, then his own, letting them drop on the tiled floor. “You’re absolutely drenched.”

  “We both are,” she panted, “but why did you bring me in like that?”

  “Because I care about you,” he replied brusquely. “Damn and blast! You’re starting to shiver. Take off those shoes and stand close to the flames until you feel warm. Goodness, you can be so willful!”

  “Spoilsport.”

  “Perhaps,” he said, pulling the bell cord, “but I just hope I got you out of that weather in time.”

  “You’re just as wet.”

  “I haven’t been barely surviving for months. I know you’re feeling much better, but you’re not a hundred percent yet. You’re still vulnerable.”

  “I suppose you’re right about that,” she mumbled, crossing her arms as a chill moved through her bones.

  “Connie, I promise, I’m just as happy as you are,” he said, softening his voice. “It was wonderful to see you so joyous. I just don’t want you catching a nasty cold. Especially not now. Not when we’re on the verge of breaking this wide open.”

  “Malcolm, now that we know about Samuel Mountbatten and Roger, shouldn’t we go to the police?”

  “Mountbatten has too many powerful friends. We have to outfox him.”

  “How will we do that?”

  “I have a plan.”

  “I should have realized you would. Will you tell me about it?”

  “Of course, but putting it into motion will depend upon on what Edith tells me about her afternoon tea with Edward.”

  “You rang, sir?” Mrs. Melville said, entering the room. “Oh, my goodness, you’re both wet through!”

  “Please help Connie up to her room and get her dried off.”

  “Of course, sir. Baker is right behind me. An envelope arrived for you.”

  “Ah, good. I was going up too, but now I’ll wait.”

  “So will I,” Connie said hastily. “I have to know what it says.”

  “Connie...” he began, a frown crossing his brow.

  “I’m not going anywhere until I know,” she exclaimed, then lowering her voice, she added, “Malcolm, you can’t blame me for that.”

  “No, I can’t,” he said with a sigh. “Mrs. Melville, please go and hurry him along, or we’ll have a very sick young woman on our hands.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As Mrs. Melville turned to leave, Baker entered carrying a silver tray bearing an envelope. Unable to hide his surprise at the state of Malcolm and Connie, he stopped short and stared for a moment, then hurried forward.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he said hastily as he approached Malcolm. “I’ll have clean clothes ready for you at once.”

  “Thank you, but wait just a minute, please,” Malcolm replied, picking up the letter.

  If the note contained good news he would bring his loyal servants into his confidence. They would have to be in attendance the following day to bear witness, and Mrs. Melville would need to help Connie. As Baker retreated to stand next to Mrs. Melville, Malcolm guided Connie closer to the fire.

  “I can’t stand the suspense,” she murmured as he lifted the flap, then leaned in to read it with him as he unfolded the paper.

  My dear Mr. Mead,

  It is with the greatest joy I accept your kind offer to preside over such a happy occasion. As you noted, this matter must be treated with the greatest confidence, and I accept your word that you will have a second, legal ceremony when you are able. We can discuss this at greater length tomorrow.

  I will meet you inside the chapel at the edge of the back gardens at precisely eleven a.m.

  May God bless and keep you.

  I remain, most faithfully, your humble servant.

  “It appears we’ll be busy tomorrow,” Malcolm said with a grin, turning his eyes to Connie. “Now you simply must go and change, and so must I.”

  “I wish I could tell the world,” she breathed, barely able to suppress her excitement. “I’m so thrilled.”

  “It won’t be long before you’ll be able to do just that,” he said with a wink. “Mrs. Melville, Baker,” he continued, turning his attention back to them, “I have excellent news, but I must ask you to be patient. Both Connie and I need to get out of these wet clothes. Is Mrs. Henderson still here?”

  “She is, sir,�
�� Baker replied.

  “Ask her to have tea and cake ready for us in the drawing room in fifteen minutes, then come to my dressing room. Mrs. Melville, please join Connie when she comes back downstairs.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “See you soon,” Connie said softly, her eyes sparkling up at him as she walked away.

  “Yes, Connie, I’ll see you soon.”

  Waiting until she left with Mrs. Melville and Baker, Malcolm read the note a second time, but his smile faded.

  Unforeseen obstacles could be lurking in the shadows, but Malcolm was confident his plan to catch Samuel Mountbatten and Roger Witherspoon would prove successful. But even when they were caught in his net, there were no guarantees the pair would pay for their dastardly deeds.

  Mountbatten carried influence in the highest levels of government, and Roger’s father would go to great lengths to protect his son and heir.

  And there was another concern, one he’d not mentioned to Connie.

  The two villains might have partners.

  If others were involved in the chicanery there was no telling what might happen. Shifting his eyes to the flames, he let out a heavy sigh.

  He was about to make Connie his wife in the sight of God.

  While the marriage would not be legal, it would give them at least a few days of happiness. They could share their love without reservation, and fight the evil facing them with a true sense of togetherness.

  * * *

  A short time later, Malcolm entered the drawing room to find a roaring fire, and Mrs. Henderson placing the tea and a selection of sweet morsels on the large coffee table.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” she said warmly.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Henderson. I’m pleased I ran into you. I wish to discuss the dinner arrangements for tomorrow night.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “I want something special. Elaborate even.”

  “Are you expecting guests, sir?”

  “No, it will just be the young lady and me.”

  “Perhaps something with a French flair?”

  “That sounds just right,” Malcolm agreed as Connie and Mrs. Melville entered.

  “Did I hear you discussing dinner?” Connie asked.

  “For tomorrow night,” Malcolm replied. “I want something special.”

  “And a cake!” she said joyfully. “The best you can bake. Oh, that rhymes. Bake us a cake, the best you can make,” she repeated with a laugh. “You must forgive me. I’m in a very jovial mood, but if you could manage a cake I’d be very grateful.”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Mrs. Henderson assured her. “It gives me great pleasure to cook for others.”

  “Excuse us, sir,” Baker said, entering with Mrs. Melville. “You wanted to meet us here after seeing to your wet clothes.”

  “Yes,” Malcolm said thoughtfully. He’d known the Hendersons since he was a lad. They should be included.

  “Mrs. Henderson, where is your husband?”

  “In the kitchen, sir. He came in out of the rain for a cup of tea. Shall I fetch him? Only he’s in his muddy boots and he’s rather a mess.”

  “Ah, I see. Then I shall have to depend on you to pass along the news. Baker, Mrs. Melville, I’m delighted to announce Connie and I are to be married in the small chapel tomorrow afternoon.”

  “That’s splendid,” Baker exclaimed. “Congratulations, sir, and my best wishes to you both.”

  “How wonderful,” Mrs. Melville declared with a wide smile. “I know you’ll be very happy.”

  “For reasons I cannot go into, it must be kept completely confidential. I am placing my trust in your discretion.”

  “Of course, sir,” Baker said quickly.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Mrs. Melville asked.

  “As a matter of fact, there is. Lady Edith has a significant wardrobe in her quarters. I want you to see what you can find that might be suitable, but you’ll have to bring the selections back here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll be happy to give you a hand,” Mrs. Henderson said cheerily, “and may I say, sir, how pleased I am for you. If your father were still with us I know he’d be very proud.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Henderson. You’re very kind. There is one thing... I am concerned about the arrival of the vicar tomorrow. He’ll be going directly to the chapel. It might start some gossip in the house.”

  “May I make a suggestion, sir?” Mrs. Henderson offered. “Mr. Henderson can meet him at the gate and take him there through the back gardens. They won’t be seen from the house.”

  “Yes. Excellent. Thank you, Mrs. Henderson.”

  “Anything we can do. We wouldn’t have had our lives here at the estate were it not for your father and mother, God rest their souls. Believe me, sir, we are more than happy to help in any way we can.”

  “What will we tell the head housekeeper about taking Edith’s clothes, sir?” Mrs. Melville asked.

  “That I’ve requested to see them on Edith’s behalf, but you don’t know why.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “One last thing,” he said solemnly. “Obviously Connie and I would be grateful if you would all attend.”

  “Mr. Henderson and I will be honored,” Mrs. Henderson declared.

  “As we will be, sir,” Baker said, smiling at Mrs. Melville as he spoke.

  “Good. That’s settled.”

  “Excuse me, there’s something I must ask,” Connie said gravely, moving into the middle of the room, “and please—answer honestly. Do you know who I am?”

  “Connie,” Malcolm said urgently, quickly moving to her side. “What are you doing?”

  “What I must, Malcolm,” she replied earnestly, then looking each of the three servants in the eye, she said, “I’m not able to tell you about me, but if you don’t know, it’s probably better you don’t attend.”

  “I’ve known for a while,” Mrs. Melville said, “and I’ll be proud to be in the chapel.”

  “I’ve known too,” Baker added, “and I feel the same.”

  “Though you do look vaguely familiar, I’m afraid I must plead ignorance,” Mrs. Henderson said, shaking her head, “but whatever your troubles, I will hold no ill will toward you if I should learn of them. None of us are without sin in this world.”

  “The sin of which I’m accused is extremely serious, but I am utterly innocent.”

  “I have no doubt,” Mrs. Henderson said solemnly.

  “Thank you for having such faith in me, Mrs. Henderson.”

  “I think it’s time for Connie and me to enjoy a much needed cup of tea,” Malcolm announced, seeing Connie fighting to hold her emotions in check. “Mrs. Melville, let me know if you have any problems when you go through Edith’s things, but I don’t anticipate any objections once you use my name.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Murmuring additional congratulations, the servants left, and as the door closed behind them, Connie sat down on the couch and let out a heavy breath.

  “Why did you feel the need to do that, Connie?” Malcolm asked, joining her and pouring the tea.

  “How could I ask them to be in the chapel if they don’t know who I am? It wouldn’t have been right.”

  “Connie, you know when all this is over, we’ll have a proper wedding with the license, and—”

  “I know I’m not supposed to interrupt,” she said hastily, “but you don’t need to say anything else. We’ll be married in the sight of God. That’s all that matters to me,” she said earnestly, then looking at him intently and lowering her voice, she added, “I want to do it properly when we can, of course I do, but the reality is, we don’t know what might happen, and we may not get the chance. I’m so grateful the vicar has agreed.”

  “To be honest, I was surprised, but I’ve been involved in a number of charitable works with him. Perhaps he sees this as a way of thanking me, but we must keep it quiet. I don’t want him getting into any trouble.”

&
nbsp; “Do you think he recognized my name? Shouldn’t we tell him?”

  “I didn’t put your name in my letter. I’ll think about how to raise the subject tactfully when I see him. Somehow I doubt he’ll climb back on his bicycle and ride away.”

  “I’m amazed Mrs. Melville and your valet have known. Why didn’t they go to the police?”

  “Connie, anyone meeting you would know in a heartbeat you’re no murderess.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sniffled, as a tear dripped down her face.

  “You’ve been unable to trust another living soul for many months, but now you’re around good people who don’t idly jump to conclusions and believe unproven accusations.”

  “Malcolm, do you believe I’ll be cleared?” she murmured, wiping her face. “I mean, do you really believe it?”

  “I’ll tell you what I believe. Samuel Mountbatten and Roger Witherspoon will be caught in the trap I set for them. As far as proving your innocence and exposing their guilt to the world, other things need to fall into place.”

  “And will they?”

  “There are no guarantees, but I’ll move heaven and earth to see that they do.”

  * * *

  Standing in the portrait gallery of his fine home surrounded by his noble ancestors, Samuel Mountbatten seethed.

  No one had ever dared to threaten him, or trick him, or cause him grief!

  Malcolm Mead had done all those things.

  The oversized portraits towered over him, each of the men robust, elegant, austere, and masterful. He came from greatness, so he too must be great.

  “How the blazes have things become such a frightful mess? Damn you, Constance Clifford!” he railed, raising his fist in the air. “Damn you, Duke, and damn that son of a groundskeeper.”

  Roger had just left, and his departure didn’t help Samuel’s mood. Though he lived close by, if Samuel had his way, Roger would never be out of his sight. And there was the matter of Roger’s unofficial engagement to Constance. It had been called off, but Roger’s father had confided in Samuel he was determined to see the couple wed. It had taken all Samuel’s self-control not to punch the duke squarely in the middle of his noble nose.

  The conversation had coincided with Samuel’s brilliant seizure of the Statue of Kharute from the vault in the museum.