“Take it up immediately,” Kerlan ordered. “It is not bad enough that Lady Rachel is locked in her room, must you starve her, too?”
“Locked in her room?” Jerome questioned.
The butler glowered at him. “Her aunt locked her there as punishment—for what you did to her.” Kerlan rudely turned his back on the duke and stalked off. It was the first time in Jerome’s life that a servant had treated him with anything but utmost deference. Yet he could not help but admire Kerlan for his loyalty to Rachel.
Jerome followed Tillie up the stairs. So he was to be made the villain of this piece. Well, perhaps he was at that. Now that Rachel had relieved him of all responsibility in the affair, he had never felt more like a cad in his life.
As the maid ahead of him reached the top of the stairs, Sophia called through the slightly opened door of her room. “Tillie, bring me up a pot of tea from the kitchen.”
“Aye, ma’am, soon as me takes this tray to Lady—”
“Now, Tillie!” Sophia ordered sharply. “Put that tray down and do as I say at once.”
“Aye, ma’am.” Tillie set the tray on a narrow hall table flanked by two chairs and obediently went back downstairs.
Jerome went into his bedchamber. He had been there only a few minutes when he heard a scratching at his door that was almost drowned out by the chattering of a gaggle of maids in the hall.
He opened the door to a young footman. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but your groom says you must come to the stable at once. Says ‘tis urgent.”
Jerome was alarmed. It would have to be very urgent for Ferris to send him such a message.
Chapter 17
Jerome snatched his coat from the chair where he had tossed it and shrugged into it. When he stepped into the hall, both the footman and the maids he had heard chattering had disappeared.
But Rachel’s breakfast tray had not. It was still on the table where Tillie had left it. Damn it, Rachel would be lucky if she got it by dinnertime. Anxious as Jerome was to get to the stable to answer Ferris’s urgent summons, she needed sustenance.
With a muttered curse, he picked up the tray, which held a covered plate, a cup, a pot of tea that was undoubtedly cold by now, and a small pitcher of milk. He carried it down the hall to Rachel’s room.
The key had been left in the lock on the outside of the door. Juggling the tray with one hand, he unlocked it with the other, then knocked.
“Who is it?” called Rachel’s warm, honeyed voice that he loved.
“Breakfast.”
“Go away, Your Grace.” Her voice turned cold. “I do not want to see you.”
“Do you not?” He opened the door and went inside. “Too bad for both of us you did not feel that way last night.”
Rachel jumped up from a small table by the window where she was sitting. Her rose silk dressing sacque gaped at its neck, giving him a brief, tantalizing peek at her breasts before she pulled it closed. “You cannot come in here. I am not dressed!”
“I saw you last night in considerably less than that,” he reminded her, setting the tray down. “Here is your breakfast at last.”
The dressing sacque skimmed the curves of her lovely body, sending a bolt of desire through him that was so intense he had to grit his teeth. He had thought that having Rachel would cure his lust for her, but now he was racked by intense longing to feel that delectable body against his own again.
And the thought of leaving Wingate Hall without her filled him with bleakness.
He tried to take her in his arms to persuade her to go with him, but she pushed him away. “Do not touch me!”
“Come with me, Rachel. I promise you will be happier living under my protection than here. I will take very good care of you, and you will want for nothing.”
“Except your name!”
Her expression was so full of pain and disillusionment that Jerome involuntarily took a step back. No one had ever looked at him like that before, and he felt like a scoundrel.
Her lip curled scornfully. “I would not go with you now, even if you promised to marry me.”
Jerome did not believe that. She would change her mind quick enough if he were to offer for her. His title held that kind of allure, he thought bitterly.
“I will not promise you that, Rachel, but neither do I want to leave you here. I do not trust your aunt.” He would not put it past her to try to sell Rachel to Felix as his mistress. Jerome’s hands clenched involuntarily into fists at the thought. “Let me take you away.”
“Take me to what? Life as the mistress of a man who has only contempt for me?” She tilted her head and met his gaze with proud, flashing eyes. “Never! I prefer to remain here. You did what I asked. You ruined me. I thank you. Now, please, go away!”
Jerome could not help admiring how stubborn and determined and brave she was. He thought of how soft and yielding she had been beneath him. And how passionate. He would do anything to help her—short of marrying her.
“Rachel, you do not know what it will be like for you here. You will be a social outcast.”
“Better that than having to marry Lord Felix.”
“Listen to me, Rachel. After last night, you may be with child.” Certainly, Jerome had made no effort to prevent it. He had been too out of his mind with wanting her to think of anything else.
“Oh, do you think so?” she asked in surprise. Clearly that thought had not occurred to her. “But if I am, it is no concern of yours.”
“Of course it is! It would be my child, too.”
She looked at him curiously. ‘Would you care?”
“Certainly I would care.” Jerome wished that he had more time to reason with her, but he had to answer Ferris’s urgent summons to the stable. “I have something I must do. While I am gone, think about what I have said. I will stop back in a few minutes.”
“Do not bother. I will never change my mind.”
“Rachel, damn it, let me help you!”
“By making me your mistress?” The scorn in her voice flayed him. She thrust the small pitcher from her breakfast tray at him. “The only way you can help me is to take this milk down to the kittens in the maze.”
Hellsfire, he thought in exasperation she was worrying about those kittens when she ought to be worrying about her future.
“The poor little creatures will be starved by now, and I am not allowed out of my room, so I cannot feed them.”
Jerome could not help but be touched that despite the crisis in which Rachel’s life was, she could still worry about the motherless kittens. He took the pitcher from her. He did not want the kittens to go hungry any more than she did. Besides the maze was on his way to the stable.
Jerome stepped into the maze, carrying the milk, and went directly to the spot where the kittens were hidden. They scampered up to him, meowing piteously. Their dish was empty, licked dry. As he poured the milk into it, the calico puffs began lapping eagerly even before he could finish.
He put the pitcher down near the bowl, thinking he would retrieve it on his way back to the house from the stable. The ground where he set it was uneven, and it tipped over, spilling the rest of the milk out of it before he could catch it.
He could not seem to do anything right today. With a muttered curse, he stood up and headed for the stable. Ferris met him halfway there.
“Morgan is waiting for you in the grove behind the stable,” the groom said. “He says he must see you before you leave.”
Jerome stalked toward the indicated spot, torn between anxiety to see his brother again and anger at him for helping Rachel abduct him.
Morgan was leaning against the trunk of a thick oak, watching a pair of brown chiffchaffs on the branch of a nearby tree so intently that he did not notice his brother’s approach.
“Planning another abduction?” Jerome inquired dryly.
Morgan turned away from the birds and started toward Jerome, a wide grin on his face. He moved slowly with a pronounced limp that sent fear coiling thro
ugh Jerome for the brother he loved.
“For God’s sake, Morgan,” he burst out, “give up this insanity before you are killed! Once that reward is posted for your capture, it will only be a matter of time before you are seized. And when you are, you will not escape the noose. You have robbed too many important men.”
“None that did not deserve it.”
“That may be true, but it only increases your peril. Even I will not be able to protect you.”
Morgan flashed an impudent grin. “But only think of the legend I am creating. I understand at least a half-dozen ballads have been composed, lauding my deeds.”
“Damn it, Morgan, I do not want a dead legend, I want a live brother.”
“For all the trouble I have caused you, you should wash your hands of me. If you had a son of your own and I were not your heir, you would not have to worry about my fate.”
That hurt Jerome as much as if Morgan had driven his fist into his gut. “Surely you cannot think that is why I am so concerned about you!”
The highwayman gave his brother a sheepish, affectionate smile. “No,” he admitted.
“Quit this dangerous nonsense, and come home to Royal Elms.”
Instead of responding to this plea, Morgan asked, “Did you enjoy last night? I hardly need ask after seeing the condition of my bed.”
“Damn it, Morgan, how could you have helped Rachel?” Jerome demanded, his anger rising. “How could you have done that to me? My own brother for God’s sake!”
Morgan grinned unrepentantly. “Somebody has to worry about the future of the dynasty. It is past time that you married and produced an heir.”
“You cannot expect me to marry that female after what she did to me?”
“If I were you, I would jump at the chance.”
“You are not me! And I am quite capable of picking my own bride.”
Morgan raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Are you now, My Lord Duke? Then why are you not married?”
“You need not worry. I will offer for Emily Hextable as soon as I return to Royal Elms.” Why did the thought of marrying Emily suddenly seem as grim as Judgment Day?
“You have been intending to offer for Saint Emily for years, but you never have. Why is that?”
The question stopped Jerome.
“I will tell you why,” Morgan continued. “It is because you know in your heart that humourless, sanctimonious prune will bore you to death.”
“I am committed to her,” Jerome said doggedly, as much to convince himself as his brother.
“Why do you think that? Have you ever told Emily that you wished to marry her?”
Although Jerome had not, neither had he discouraged her hopes as he had other women’s. “No, but it was what our father and hers expected. It is what Emily expects.” That was why she had eschewed London society to remain close to Royal Elms when he was there. In truth, her assumption had irritated him, but he had not tried to correct it because he thought eventually he would offer for her. Except, as Morgan had pointed out, Jerome had been putting off doing so for years.
“Many women have marital dreams beyond their grasp,” Morgan said. “I promise you, Jerome, that if you marry Emily, I will never come home to Royal Elms again. Hell and damnation, marry Rachel instead. She will not bore you.”
No, she would not, Jerome thought. Shock, madden, enchant, cuckold, but never bore him.
“Rachel is the perfect wife for you.”
“The perfect wife?” Jerome’s voice rose in protest. “A woman who excites lust in every man that lays eyes on her.”
“That is irrelevant in a wife.”
“Not in my wife!”
“All that matters is whether she returns other men’s admiration or cares only for her husband. A husband who ensures his wife loves him will have no worry about her faithfulness.”
“A woman of Rachel’s beauty would never be satisfied with one man,” Jerome scoffed.
“You do her an injustice. She is not like Cleo Macklin or those other faithless lovelies of London society”
“The hell she isn’t.” Jerome’s blood ran hot at the memory of Rachel’s seductive behaviour at the lodge. “You should have seen her tempt me last night.”
“But I had to show her how to do it,” Morgan said in amusement. “The innocent had not the least notion of how to go about it.”
Jerome glared at his brother, “Damn it, you mean you taught her how to seduce me?”
“Yes, I did,” admitted Morgan, clearly proud of his tutoring. “I knew it would do you a world of good. Let me tell you, had I not thought Rachel was the perfect woman for you, I would have been busy on my own behalf instead of yours. I hope to hell you appreciate the sacrifice I made for you. You ought to be thanking me.”
“Thanking you for getting me into this damnable scandal? I could throttle you!”
“But you won’t,” said the unperturbed Morgan.
Jerome, trying to rein in his anger, glanced toward Wingate Hall. His travelling coach had pulled up and stopped before its front portico, awaiting his pleasure. “I notice you did not trust Rachel enough to tell her your real identity.”
“I am quite happy for her to know who I am. She would not betray me. I would trust Rachel with my life. Indeed, she has already saved it. I would not be alive now if it were not for her.”
Jerome frowned. “What are you saying?”
“After I was shot, Rachel risked her reputation, perhaps more, to nurse me through a crisis, just as she has helped dozens of others in the neighbourhood with her herbal remedies. When the ill need her, she goes to them, no matter what their station in life. That is not the behaviour of a selfish, heedless beauty”
No, it was not, Jerome thought. Was Morgan right? Was Rachel different from the other beauties he had known?
“If nothing else,” his brother was saying, “you should be grateful to Rachel for saving my life.”
Jerome, certain that Morgan was embellishing her role, glanced toward his coach. A quartet of footmen were loading his baggage into it under his valet’s watchful eye.
Interpreting his brother’s impatient look, Morgan demanded, “Are you going to ride off and leave her?”
Jerome did not want to do that, but he was not about to admit that to his brother. “I offered to make her my mistress, but she declined.”
“Your mistress! Hell and damnation, Jerome, surely you did not insult her like that. She is the daughter and sister of earls!”
“I was adamant from the beginning that I would not marry her.”
“Then why the hell did you steal her innocence. That is not like you, Jerome.”
No, it was not at all like him, but he had wanted her to the point of madness. Hiding his own disgust with himself behind a casual tone, he said, “She begged me to ruin her, and I complied.”
Morgan looked at him as though he were seeing him for the first time. “I never suspected you could be such a heartless, uncaring bastard.”
Jerome was stung by his brother’s contemptuous assessment. “What the hell did you expect after what she did to me?”
“What I expected was, that having ruined her, your code of honour would require you to marry her.”
“That’s why, damn you, you taught her how to seduce me! Well, your devious plot failed.”
“You cannot go off and leave Rachel here!” Urgency rang in Morgan’s voice. “Someone is trying to kill her.”
Fear clutched at Jerome, but he told himself that Morgan was not above using exaggeration to bring him around to marrying her. “Are you referring to the incident when she was accidentally shot at two months ago? That hardly means someone is trying to kill her now.”
“Few believe that shot was accidental.”
“Rachel does. Do you think Sir Waldo Fletcher wants to kill her?”
“Perhaps. He was humiliated by her vocal rejection of his suit, but I do not believe it is him.”
“Whom do you suspect?”
“Her brothe
r George,” Morgan said.
“Are you mad? He is not even in England. He is with the army in the American colonies.”
“Shortly before that shot was fired, a stranger came to the tavern near here. He was looking for a Wingate Hall servant or tenant that he could bribe into helping arrange an ‘accident’ for Lady Rachel.”
“Hellsfire, do you think he found one?” Morgan shrugged. “People here love Rachel. He barely escaped the ale house without being tarred and feathered. Still, in a household that size, there could be one person unscrupulous, greedy, or desperate enough to be bought. He was not seen again, but the next day the shot was fired at her. I doubt that could have been a coincidence.”
Jerome doubted it, too. “But why do you suspect Rachel’s brother?”
“The scoundrel said he worked for a man across the sea.”
“And George is across the sea! But why would he want to harm his sister?”
“Think about it, Jerome. Does it not seem strange that first Arlington mysteriously disappears and now someone is trying to harm his sister who stands to inherit Wingate Hall.”
“Not if George is alive. He is Stephen’s heir.”
“To his title, but Wingate Hall is not entailed. Everyone thinks the estate will go to George, but that is not necessarily so.”
Jerome frowned. “Explain what you mean by ‘not necessarily so.’
“The vicar—who is a surprisingly radical thinker— and I have become unlikely friends. One night when he was foxed, he let it slip that he had witnessed a secret agreement between George and his father, who opposed his son’s military career. The old earl agreed to buy George a captain’s commission in return for a certain concession on his son’s part.”
“What was the concession?”
“That if Stephen should die without issue and George inherited the title, he must either resign his commission or forfeit Wingate Hall to his sister.”
Jerome remembered what Rachel had said about her father’s wish that she had been his first born son because of her dedication to the estate and its people.
Midnight Bride Page 16