The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 5

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  "No, but I can silence the harbingers of it," Sidmouth argued.

  Alistair looked daggers at him. "You’re not going to gag me, Sidmouth. Any of us."

  "Hmm. We’ll see about that."

  "No, we won’t," Alistair said firmly. "There will be an open public trial, and I will defeat you again just as I did over the Spa Fields riots your man Castle caused."

  Sidmouth smiled thinly. "I’ll pack the jury. Those men won’t stand a chance. The only question that remains in this affair is what to do with you and your Rakehell friends."

  "There isn’t anything to do," Alistair maintained. "The Duke and the Earl are still alive, and are going to stay that way. You put one foot wrong, try to harm one hair on their heads, and you’ll be sorry. You even contemplate one thought against them and I’ll have your guts."

  Sidmouth looked nothing if not smug. "Win this case, and Castlereagh and I will have yours."

  Alistair crossed his arms over his chest. "For what, doing my job? I’m not going to betray those poor buggers. Misguided and angry they might well be, but treasonous?"

  "Oh, come now. The fewer witnesses to what happened, the better."

  "For you, aye," Alistair said in disgust. "Trying to kill two respectable members of the House of Lords. Just what sort of democracy are you trying to force upon us? You villify the excesses of the revolution in France, but you’re no better than Robespierre if you condemn these men."

  Sidmouth smiled thinly. "I condemn no one. The jury of twelve men tried and true will do it for me."

  Viola moved now to take her beloved's arm. "Come, Alistair, we’re wasting our time. He isn’t going to listen to a word we say. He wants them dead. And I can guarantee Edwards is long gone by now. Spirited away overseas by the Foreign Office chaps, if I’m not mistaken."

  Sidmouth’s face was like stone.

  "It’s over, Alistair," she said softly.

  Alistair knew a moment’s impotent fury. "It’ll never be over as long as I have breath in my body. Reform will come. Not soon enough to save these poor men, but it will come. God rot you, you swine!" He turned to march away.

  "Half," Sidmouth said suddenly from behind him.

  Alistair wheeled around. "What did you say?"

  "I’ll let you have half. And call off Stafford’s spies on the Rakehells. But we’ll be keeping an eye on you."

  "Quid pro quo?" Alistair asked softly.

  "Yes."

  "And my home, my fortune?"

  "Dreadful error, that. I'm sure the bank clerk will get the sack. And there's a townhouse in Grosvenor Square going empty now. A bit worse for wear," he said, looking around, "but I’m sure you and your, er, lady will be able to do wonders with it."

  Alistair’s eyes glittered, and he looked as though he would hit the Minister, but in the end he said, "It’s a deal."

  Viola gasped. "Alistair, no, you can’t!"

  "But I get the offer you just made in writing, Sidmouth, and a guarantee my wife, her brother, and our children will not suffer just because you’re trying to damage me."

  "No damage at all, if you’re willing to turn your considerable skills to upholding the Crown’s interests."

  Alistair bowed. "Glad to." He smiled tightly. "As soon as the Whigs are in power at last. Good night."

  He took Viola’s hand and marched out of the room without a backward glance.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Viola remained silent until they got outside. "Alistair, I can’t believe you would—"

  "Not now, my dear."

  "But—"

  He took her arm and began to stroll down the street purposefully. Once they were out of earshot of the house, he said, "No, and he’s a fool if he believes it either. But in chess sometimes sacrificing a piece is worth it to win the game."

  "But those men—"

  "Are dead anyway if I don’t do my best to help them," he said patiently. "And while I do, the Rakehells will help me. As soon as my fortune is restored, I’ll give it to my two friends who know money and investments better than anyone. I’ll make sure a goodly sum is tied up as tight as a drum for you and our family. The rest is going to the free reading rooms. To teachers in working men’s clubs. To any woman who wants to learn a decent living without having to resort to doing it on her back, or by being forced to work ten hours a day, six days a week in some hellish textile factory. Sidmouth thinks he’s won. He’ll lose in the end."

  "Can’t you go to someone? Lord Eldon, Castlereagh—"

  "I have a feeling Castlereagh already knows. I heard footsteps in the back corridor. The anteroom next door wasn’t empty, I’m sure of it," Alistair revealed.

  She shook her head. "Those swine."

  "For reasons known only to himself, though, I think Castlereagh saved me. He let his spies help me even against Sidmouth’s."

  "Are you sure?"

  Alistair nodded.

  "But who would risk so much?"

  "I’m not so sure you want to know. For your own sake, and for your peace of mind."

  "George?"

  "Could be?"

  Then her eyes lit up. "It was Sebastian, wasn’t it? He’s alive, and already back in the game."

  Alistair nodded. "Yes, he is. I saw him wrestling with Castle in the alley behind Cato Street when we were running over here. Tall, blond."

  Viola let the relief flood over her. "And George?"

  "I think he must be here somewhere, diguised. Tall men can’t remain inconspicuous forever, though. And now that I think about it, I have seen him once before in the past, maybe twice, at Castlereagh’s I think. I might have even seen him with Sidmouth in 1816."

  Viola sighed. "I knew they were gathering information for the war effort, but I can’t believe—"

  "I can. I think he’s worked for Castlereagh for years. But the war is over, so George uses his talents to keep an eye on things both here and abroad."

  "And recruited my brother?"

  "Yes. Or helped him when Castlereagh insisted he go to work for him or else. What better way to save his life and glean information. And what easier method of getting that information circulating to the right people than to have all sorts of people going in and out of the type of place where the fewer questions asked, the better?"

  "A theatre, and a brothel." She sighed. "I supposed I ought to be livid for them not telling me."

  "No, not really. It’s the nature of the game. He’s doing his job. And he may have his reasons."

  "To betray innocent people?" she said angrily.

  He shook his head. "Not innocent, not in this case. And George never betrayed us."

  "He would have if Castlereagh had told him to," Viola said angrily, wrapping her arms around her waist to dispel the chill that was creeping over her.

  Alistair shook his head. "He loves you. And your brother. You’re family to him. He might be fond of you romantically as well. I don’t know. It’s possible. You’d know better than I."

  Viola’s look of outrage told him it had never even occurred to her. He gave a small smile of relief. If it had never occurred to her, he had nothing to worry about.

  "I also honestly think he isn’t doing it by choice, my dear. And he saved me at Philip’s house when he could just as easily have let me go in and get killed. Don’t forget that."

  "Well, I always suspected they were helping keep England safe passing along information about any French working in Britain, but this goes beyond anything I imagined. Just wait til I see them both. I’m going to give them such a piece of my—"

  "No, you’re not, love," Alistair insisted. "If you want to see George alive, you need to play the game too. You know nothing, say nothing, and help me get ready for the fight of my life in court."

  By now they had reached the corner. They looked around left and right. London spread out before them like an uncharted territory. Everything looked completely unfamiliar.

  For a moment Viola was terrified. What was going to happen to them both now? Alistair was sti
ll in danger as long as Sidmouth was in power, but really, he didn’t need her help any more. He had promised her marriage, but they came from such different worlds...

  And yet she loved him so. To give him up was almost unthinkable.

  Viola looked up at him, all of her love shining in her eyes. "Where to?" she asked softly.

  He took her hand and kissed it. "The clinic first to see how our friends are. Then The Three Bells. I need a good long soak. Five hours in the tub would scare make up for the five minutes with Sidmouth, I feel so filthy."

  "Do we really want to go back there?" she asked reluctantly. "Not the Goodwood home?"

  "No, The Three Bells it is. We need to let George and Sebastian know everything is all right. And besides, it’s where I met and fell in love with you."

  "Who ever imagined anyone could get so sentimental about a brothel," she teased.

  "Well, I can. Sidmouth can stuff that bloody townhouse. I want to live south of the river. And you can furnish it however you like, and Emma and the girls can come visit whenever they get the chance."

  "Really? But what will people—"

  "I don’t give a stuff what people say," Alistair said airily. "All I want is for you to be happy. I’m not going to let a narrow-minded group of old gossips dictate my social conscience to me. Free schools, clinics, education for women, it’s all yours if you want it. You can be Lady Bountiful with every last penny of the fund Matthew and Blake will set up. So long as you’ll marry me and make me the happiest man on earth, Viola. And I promise I shall do my best every day to make you the happiest woman."

  He got down on both knees right on the pavement, and she laughed in embarrassment as a few passers-by began to shout encouragement.

  "Yes, Alistair, yes. Oh, I do love you so."

  "I know," he sighed, gathering her to him so that he could press his head against her delicate softness. He breathed deeply the scent of the woman he adored. His arousal was so fierce he almost couldn’t speak. "One look, one touch, shouts it out loud for all to hear."

  He rose from the ground and kissed her so passionately that for a moment she was sure he was going to take her up against the brick wall. "Come, love, I need to get you into a bed quickly."

  She darted out to hail a passing cab, and dragged him in. "Bethnal Green! Hurry!" she called.

  Viola turned to Alistair, a gleam lighting her eyes as she began to glide her petticoats up over her knees. "And who needs a bed?"

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Thomas and Randall were all patched up by the time Alistair and Viola got to the clinic. They compared notes for a moment on all that had happened that evening, and then the injured men were sent home to rest. Alistair promised to visit in a day or so, and thanked Antony for all his help. He saw each of them into a cab with the help of some of the clinic staff, then turned to Viola in near exhaustion.

  "Let's go. We've done all we can for the present."

  "Aye, I can't wait to get back to our little attic."

  Another titillating cab ride returned them to The Three Bells. For once there was no sign of the omnipresent George. They both wondered if they would ever see him again.

  They didn’t spend too much time worrying about it, for their cataclysmic lovemaking awaited. They shed their clothes in a frenzy all the way up the stairs to the garret.

  They were both naked by the time they hit the mattress, and everyone in the thinly walled brothel laughed and envied the happy couple their joy.

  A neatly folded pile of their clothes and a tea tray greeted Viola as she blearily flung open the door at noon the next day. On the tray was a note.

  "Glad all’s well that ends well, G."

  She smiled gently. "Will we see him again?"

  Alistair nodded. "Yes. He’ll be back. He has a job to do, keeping England safe from her enemies overseas. There are still enough of those. As long as Napoleon is alive, there always will be."

  "What do we do now?" she asked, resting her head against his shoulder.

  He flashed her a broad smile. "Go to the tubs, get back into bed, and not get out of it for two days."

  "A lovely idea, darling, but you know we have to get all this muddle sorted."

  Alistair sighed. "If the conspirators had any sense they’d get on the next ship for America or France. But I fear we'll have to take Sidmouth at his word. Whoever they round up and arrest will be who they persecute, and will try to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law."

  "Come, let’s have that soak and see if we can put this out of our mind for a few minutes. So far as we’re concerned, it’s over now, isn’t it?"

  Alistair’s expression was sombre. "I think so. I’d still like to be vigilant, but I think even Sidmouth knows he’s won a Pyrrhic victory."

  After a long soak which turned mildly frolicsome, they managed to drag themselves back up the stairs and collapsed on the bed.

  Alistair laughed happily. "I never knew a bath could be so hot, wet and steamy until I met you."

  "Not to mention the bed," Viola said with a wicked grin as she bent her head.

  "Oh, oh my…"

  Viola woke up some time later and fetched them some dinner, then began to pack her few meagre possessions.

  "Why don’t you just leave it all behind for the girls? There’s nothing you need now from here except your books, and only if you want to take them."

  She looked around the small blue and gold room and nodded. "It would be rather symbolic, both of us starting out with nothing once more. All right, I’ll leave them behind."

  "There’s always the Goodwood house."

  "We can save that in case we need it for anything. But it’s not a proper home."

  "It’s not too late to run around to the estate agent’s to find a new home," he offered, stooping to kiss her cheek.

  "Tomorrow. Time enough tomorrow."

  "You can have whatever you want, buy whatever you like. So long as your gowns don’t display your nipples or knees, I’ll be a happy man."

  "Well, maybe one or two of those to wear at home?" she suggested with a winsome smile.

  "My dear, you just looking at me is like waving a red rag to a bull. You hardly have to entice me to notice you."

  "The girls always warned me that the quiet repectable bachelor types were always the worst."

  "Worst, or best?" Alistair asked with a grin.

  "Well, it depends on how rampant you like them, I suppose," she said archly, caressing his chest.

  "And how rampant do you want me?" he asked with a grin, sliding his hands up her body to cup her to him, and pressed her up against the wall, intent on making love to her in every part of the little room.

  "Continually. After all, you’re my man now." She gasped as he entered her with one massive thrust. "And your word is law. You can rule me with your rod of iron. You can hold sway over me, oh member of the King’s Bench, with your orbs and sceptre."

  Alistair laughed so hard he missed his stroke. "If you keep doing that I shall have to tell everyone the absolute truth. That my wife was the hottest thing in The Three Bells brothel."

  "You can tell anyone you like, so long as it’s true. That you think I’m, well, beddable."

  "Think?" He propelled his hips forward and back until they were both panting. "The one thing I could never do where you were concerned was think. The moment I clapped eyes on you, touched your hand, all rational thought fled. I hope you’re going to marry me as soon as we can manage, for the fear of us being separated makes me break into a cold sweat."

  Viola kissed him gently and held him close, their lovemaking taking on a whole new dimension of tenderness as she wrapped her legs around his waist and gazed deeply into his rare silvery eyes. "We won’t. ‘Til death, and that’s going to be a long, long time from now."

  "I certainly hope so."

  He staggered over to the bed and now concentrated all of his efforts on the movement of his hips and bringing her to the ultimate joy. She could feel a deep throbbing withi
n her, and then she was gripped by a paroxysm of pleasure so acute she could barely remember where she was, on the bed or up against the wall, and who was on top, her or him.

  When they had finally both calmed, he propped himself up on one elbow next to her and said, "But promise me, if things get at all dangerous in the next few weeks with the trial and everything, you'll go to the clinic and stay there. No heroics, or sending in George’s helpers to try to save me. I couldn’t concentrate on what I had to do if I thought you were in trouble."