“That’s all anyone’s talking about,” her father said, lifting his wine glass. “They’ve been seen walking together, hand in hand.”
“You can’t believe everything you see,” she said, popping a piece of potato in her mouth.
Her father eyed her from above the rim of his glass. “Unless what you see and what you hear are the same things.” He took a sip of wine. “Then, it’s a fair conclusion that the truth is somewhere close by.” The earl turned his attention to his other dinner guest. “Wouldn’t you agree, Jared?”
Jared Crayton shot a quick glance in Claire’s direction, cleared his throat, and worked up a smile. “So it would seem.”
“Father, do we really need to discuss Alexander Bishop and his new bride?” She almost choked on the word bride.
“I don’t want to see you suffer any more disappointment at the hands of someone not worthy to wipe your slippers. I told you from the beginning, Bishop wasn’t one of our kind.” He stroked his beard and eyed his daughter. “I would be much more pleased if you and Jared could find some source of mutual attraction. God knows, you spend enough time together.”
Claire glanced at Jared who watched her with a faint smile on his full lips. She knew he was thinking of their most recent liaison a few short hours ago in the copse of trees on the far end of her father’s property. She’d met him there with nothing but bare skin underneath her gown. He’d bent her over a fallen tree and taken her, without rumpling her hair or wrinkling her gown.
“Jared and I are good friends, but we don’t think of each other in that light.”
“But we are very good friends,” Jared repeated, his smile deepening.
She kicked him under the table. He could be such an arrogant fool sometimes. If her father discovered her indiscretions, he’d send her to a convent. Or worse yet, he’d force her into marriage with one of her partners.
The only person she wanted to marry was Alexander Bishop. The fact that he already had a wife wouldn’t stop her from pursuing him. Wedding rings meant nothing to her. She’d shared a bed with as many married men as single ones. They’d been nothing more than conquests.
Alexander was different.
He was her obsession. She’d wanted him from the first time she set eyes on him, dressed in dark cutaways, standing alone at the Dellwoods’ soiree. Tall and devastating with his silver eyes and arrogant manner. Oh, and that wicked scar running along the side of his face. Unapproachable, that’s what people called him. Which only made her want him more. The true obsession began when he refused her subtle overtures. She’d been perplexed at first. No man had ever been immune to her charms, not even the vicar, who personally delivered three baskets of strawberries last spring after she spotted them growing in his garden and commented on her love of the sweet berries.
She would have Alexander. Soon. Let her father think she’d given up on him. She sipped her wine and smiled at her father, then cast a sideways glance at Jared. She’d devised the perfect plan and very soon, she and Jared would have exactly what they wanted.
Chapter 21
“Who would have ever believed things would work out like this?” Aunt Eleanor dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I had hopes for the two of you, but some days I thought you were going to kill each other.” She shook her gray head and offered a teary smile.
Francie smiled back. She’d been doing that a lot these past three weeks. “I guess we were pretty impossible early on. Alexander’s like a different man, now.” She leaned toward her aunt and whispered, “I’ve almost convinced him to forgo the cravat and jacket at home and opt for something more comfortable, such as a lawn shirt with breeches.” She didn’t mention the fact that he was only considering the change in attire because it would prove less cumbersome to shed his clothes should the desire to make love to his wife suddenly arise...as it had yesterday in the meadow where they’d been picnicking. And the day before that in the stables. And the day before that in the carriage. And the day before that...
Of course, she’d had to agree to shed her underclothes this afternoon when they went for a late picnic.
“The way the boy looks at you is heartwarming, dear,” Aunt Eleanor said. “Just heartwarming. Your mother and father would be so pleased.”
Francie touched the locket dangling from her neck. “When I wear this, I feel as though they’re with me.”
“They are.” Aunt Eleanor lifted her teacup and took a sip. “Now, all they’re waiting for are the babies.” Her blue eyes twinkled over the rim of her cup. “As am I.”
Heat rose to Francie’s cheeks. “Perhaps one day.”
“For as many times as the two of you are sneaking off together, I’d say it’ll be sooner rather than later.”
“Aunt Eleanor! What a thing to say.”
Her aunt laughed. “It’s only the truth.” She sighed. “Young love. There’s nothing more wonderful.”
Each day, Francie’s love for Alexander grew tenfold. But he’d yet to mention a word about loving her. Could he love her? Could he love a child of theirs? Or could she hope for no better than deep affection? If there were one wrinkle in her cloak of happiness, it was her uncertainty about her husband’s feelings for her. No matter how intense their lovemaking, he never said the words she longed to hear. And yet, she said them to him daily, hoping one day he’d confess the same feelings.
A knock on the door disturbed her thoughts. “Come in,” she called, wondering who would be intruding on them so early in the afternoon. Alexander had a meeting with a possible investor for one of his companies and wouldn’t be back for at least a few hours. As for Uncle Bernard, Francie had last seen him napping in the library with a book folded over his stomach.
James entered, twitching and tapping. “So sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Bishop, but an urgent message just arrived for you.” He twitched his nose twice and handed her a white envelope.
“Who delivered it?” She glanced at the bold handwriting on the front.
The butler lifted his shoulders and tapped his foot. “I didn’t recognize the man.” He licked his lips. “He just said to see you received the envelope immediately.”
Francie pondered James’s word a second before she tore open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She scanned the contents and her heart skipped two beats.
“It’s Sally,” she said, meeting her aunt’s curious gaze. “It seems the baby’s come, but...something’s wrong. She’s asking for me.” Francie stood up and dropped the letter on the table. “I’ve got to go to her.”
“Poor girl,” Aunt Eleanor murmured. “Of course, you must go. Just as soon as Alexander returns, the two of you can set out.”
“I can’t wait for him,” she said, hurrying toward the door. “Sally needs me now. I’ll throw a few things together and leave.” She turned back to her aunt. “Just have him meet me in Amberden when he returns.”
“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, child.”
“Jared Crayton’s not going to harm me now, Aunt Eleanor. I’m a married woman.”
Her aunt worried her bottom lip. “At least, have your Uncle Bernard go with you. Please,” she said when Francie started to protest.
Francie sighed. “Very well, but you’re interrupting his nap for no reason.”
“It would give me comfort,” her aunt repeated. “And your husband as well.”
Francie nodded and ran down the hall and up the stairs. What could have happened? She knew despite the circumstances surrounding the baby, Sally wanted the child, thought it was the only family she had. Dear God, let them be all right. And what about the woman Alexander had hired to care for Sally? Where was she?
***
“We can’t get there fast enough, Uncle Bernard.” Francie had no sooner spoken the words when the carriage took a wide turn, and she almost tumbled out of her seat.
“I hope Jacob Graves is a better groomsman than he is a driver,” her uncle remarked with a frown. “We’ll be lucky to get there withou
t any broken bones.”
Francie bit her lower lip. “We had no choice. Mr. Graves said the usual driver had taken ill.”
“Alexander doesn’t like him.”
“My husband tends to be quite critical, if you haven’t noticed.”
Bernard shook his head as they hit a rut in the road and fell back against the squabs. “Well, I daresay, he’s not far off the mark with this one.”
“Just a little longer,” she said.
She’d no sooner uttered the words than the carriage jolted to a stop and tossed them from their seats. The door flew open and a man’s deep, rich laughter penetrated the interior.
“Well, well, well. What we have here?”
Francie’s stomach lurched at the sound of Jared Crayton’s voice. She scooted closer to her uncle and waited for her nemesis to show his face. She’d not drawn her next full breath when the beast peered into the carriage and settled his gaze on Francie. “A sweet maiden and an old...” He paused, pulled a gun from his coat, and with deadly aim, pointed it at Bernard and fired. “…dead man.”
Francie screamed as blood poured from her uncle’s shoulder. “Uncle Bernard.” She leaned over him and pressed her hands on the wound, oblivious to the hot liquid seeping between her fingers. She must stop the bleeding and get help.
“I think it’s too late to help him,” Jared said, “But I’ll be honored to help you, Francie. Any way I can.”
She ignored his crudeness and screamed for the driver, “Mr. Graves? Mr. Graves? Help me, please?” The lanky form of Jacob Graves bent over and peered inside the carriage. He had a bottle in one hand and a handful of coins in the other. “I got nothin’ against ye, Mrs. Bishop. Surely, I don’t. It’s that bastard husban’ o’ yers I can’ stand.” He squinted rheumy brown eyes at her. “Always lookin’ down on me fer beggin’ a pint o’ two. ’E’s the one that’s gotta pay.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What Mr. Graves is trying to say in his less-than-eloquent manner is that he detests your husband and has agreed to help me with my little plan to take you from him.”
“That’s absurd. Please... ” She looked from the driver to Jared. “You must help...please, my uncle could die.”
He ignored her plea. “You’re mine now, Francie,” Jared Crayton said in a fierce voice. “And I won’t give you back.”
“I’m a married woman. You can’t just take me.”
He stepped in, pulled her uncle from her grasp, and rolled him from the carriage. The sickening thump of Uncle Bernard’s body as he hit the ground made her light-headed. Jared Crayton tried to pull her toward him and when she resisted, he half-lifted, half-dragged her from the carriage. “I’ll wipe every trace of that bastard’s touch from your body,” he growled, his green eyes full of dangerous promise.
“And Alexander will forget you ever existed,” a woman said from behind them.
Francie swung around to find Lady Claire Ashcroft astride a chestnut mare. “Lady Claire,” she begged, still fighting Jared’s grasp. “Please, help me! This man’s mad. And my uncle,” she said, gesturing toward his prone form, “he’s been shot and needs help.”
The beautiful woman raised a well-sculpted black brow and smiled. “On the contrary, Francie. I think Jared makes perfect sense. He’s waited so long to have you.” She dismounted her horse and stood beside her. “Almost as long as I’ve waited for Alexander.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Surprised?” Claire Ashcroft crossed her arms over her ample bust and pierced Francie with a cold blue gaze. “Not as surprised as I was when he wed you.” Her voice turned icy with rage. “He’s mine and no woman, bastard or otherwise, is going to take him from me.”
“Alexander is my husband,” Francie said with an authority she didn’t feel.
The other woman shrugged. “A temporary inconvenience. What do you think he’ll do when he finds out you’ve run off with Jared?”
“That’s ridiculous. He’ll never believe it.”
“Trust me, he will,” Claire Ashcroft said with a superior smile. “I can be very convincing, especially to a brooding husband.” She took a step toward Francie. “Give me your wedding ring. Now.”
Francie instinctively clenched her left hand into a fist but Claire simply turned her gaze to Jared and said, “Take it.”
Jared slid his hand down Francie’s arm and forced it toward him. With his other hand, he tore the ring from her finger, and with it, a bit of flesh. She cried out as blood dripped from the small wound.
“So sorry, my sweet. Let me make it better.” The beast lifted her finger to his mouth and gently sucked the blood. She tried to jerk her hand away but his grip made it impossible.
Claire took the ring from him and smiled...an almost kind smile, and so full of madness Francie shivered. She was well and truly alone.
“He’ll hate you for deserting him,” Claire continued, speaking with a soft tone as if having a discussion over tea. “Hate you as much as he hated his parents for leaving him, and they died. What do you think he’ll feel when he learns you left of your own free will?”
“But that’s a lie!”
“He’ll never know that, will he?” Claire’s gaze narrowed on Francie’s locket a second before she ripped the chain from her neck.
“No!” Francie lunged for Claire but Jared held her back. She tried to kick free of him, but his grasp tightened into a painful vise.
“Be still, sweet Francie,” he warned. His breath fanned her ear, his voice whisper soft. “Or I’ll take you in the woods and put something in your mouth that will quiet you down.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for an end to this horrible nightmare.
A piercing shriek brought her skidding back to reality. Claire Ashcroft’s face burned with fury. “Where did you get this, you little witch?” She stalked closer holding out the locket. “Where did you get this picture of my mother?”
Francie couldn’t have heard her right. “The locket is mine and the woman in the picture is my mother.”
“Liar!” Claire Ashcroft slapped Francie across the face. “How dare you? That woman is not your mother. Your mother was a whore!”
“The woman...is Claire’s...mother.”
Uncle Bernard! He was alive and breathing despite the blood seeping through his jacket in a widening circle. But the blood loss must have made him confused for he knew Claire was not Catherine’s daughter.
Claire Ashcroft beamed with superiority.
Bernard gasped for breath. “She’s also Francie’s mother.”
Claire rounded on him, her beautiful face pinched white. “What did you say?”
“You...are sisters.”
Enraged, Claire stalked over to Bernard, placed her boot on his shoulder, and forced him to the ground where he groaned and clutched his bleeding shoulder.
“Uncle Bernard!” Francie tried again to kick free of Jared Crayton’s grip but he only held tighter.
“He’s lying.” Claire turned back to Francie. “I am of noble blood, not some wrong-side-of-the-blanket bastard.” She clenched her fists and said, “My father is Edgar Ashcroft, Earl of Belmont.”
“No,” Uncle Bernard rasped. “Your father was Philip Cardinger, Earl of Montrose. You and Francie...are...sisters.” Then his head fell back as he lost consciousness.
“No!” Francie screamed.
“I won’t believe it. It can’t be.” Claire paced back and forth, ranting like a madwoman. “No. No. No!”
Tears streamed down Francie’s face. Claire Ashcroft was her sister? As much as she wished it weren’t so, her uncle wouldn’t lie. Her gaze shot to his lifeless form. Had he died trying to save her?
“She’s your sister,” Jared Crayton said, his voice half-amazement, half-declaration.
“No,” Claire barked. “She’s not my sister.”
Francie shook her head. “My uncle wouldn’t lie.”
“No one must hear this vile gossip,” Claire said. “Where’
s that drunken groomsman?” Her gaze searched the woods until it settled on the old man, lying face down in the dirt with a pint in his left hand.
“Do you think your father, I mean, Belmont, knows?” Jared asked, curiosity flitting through his words.
“My father is the Earl of Belmont.” Claire lifted her chin in a regal manner as her blue gaze narrowed on Francie. “He shall never learn of this conversation. If I have to personally destroy every individual here to secure that privacy, then so be it.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Claire,” Jared Crayton said. “Graves is too drunk to remember anything and Francie’s uncle is half-dead. He won’t make it through the night out here.” His arm tightened around Francie. “And my little lovebird isn’t going to see anyone but me.”
Claire stared at Francie for several moments, then stuffed the ring and the broken locket into the pocket of her riding jacket, and headed for her mount.
“It’s just you and me now, sweetheart,” Jared Crayton murmured, brushing a kiss along Francie’s temple.
“You’ll never get away with this,” Francie hissed. “Alexander will find me.”
“He won’t even know where to look. Besides,” he added, trailing a finger through her hair, “Claire has been known to possess great powers of persuasion. Why, I’ve even been persuaded a time or two myself.”
His insinuations disgusted her. She had to find a way to escape him.
Claire brought her mount around and said, “Proceed as planned.”
“No need to worry. Everything’s in order.”
Francie watched her ride away, head held high, looking innocent and beautiful. No one would have guessed she’d just been involved in the kidnapping of her own sister.
***
“Remind me to thank Sally one of these days,” Jared Crayton murmured.
“Sally?” Francie tried to keep the alarm from her voice. “What about Sally?”
He laughed, a warm, rumbling sound that belied the evil running through his veins. “She’s the reason we were able to lure you away from Drakemoor. And your husband. Quite clever, don’t you think?”
A Taste of Seduction (An Unlikely Husband) Page 25