“Bridget! We’ll not talk about the captain’s physique again,” Lucy said a little more sharply than she meant to. Truth to tell, she was a bit worried about those proportions, now that she had a better idea of what went on between a man and a woman, though she knew there was more to it than what had happened last night. After all, that part of his anatomy hadn’t entered into the picture at all, and she was sure it must. And if he planned to put that where… well, it just wasn’t possible, even without what Bridget had referred to as his manly proportions.
Her mind sorted through the tidbits of information she had heard about the Act and with a start, she realized it could very well have already happened. Maybe the consummation was that intense pleasure she experienced. Maybe they were now, in fact, true husband and wife.
Then she remembered Sara saying that it would hurt and she would bleed, and she shuddered a little, realizing she had yet to experience that.
Well, if things went as planned, she never would, she told herself. She would insist he stick to his promise, and if he was leaving on a long trip, most likely he would be gone before the month was up. Still, not knowing exactly what was in store for her should she give in—not that she ever would—was confusing, and she wondered if Sara had learned any more of the matter. The real question was whether or not she would ever see Sara again to ask her.
The thought that she might not see her friend again dampened her spirits, and she put it out of her mind, concentrating instead on Bridget, who was giving her an apologetic smile.
“I’ll try not to mention it again, m’lady. It’s just that he’s so masculine and so—oh, pardon, m’lady,” Bridget said with a giggle. “Anyways, the captain arranged for sausages and scones and all kinds of good things to be delivered from the village for breakfast, and he asked me to bring some right up.” She moved a tray to the bedside table and uncovered the dishes, releasing the delicious aroma of a well-prepared country breakfast.
Lucy’s stomach rumbled with the first enticing odor, so she threw on a nightdress and hurried to sit at the table. How glorious it would be to have a delicious breakfast, she thought, trying to recall exactly how long it had been since Matilda was hired. Now that she had money, she’d hire a real cook and let Matilda stay on too, learning the art, if she was able. If she wasn’t able, then the girl would have to take on another job at Stonecrest, something that would allow her to keep her son with her while she worked.
“Hmmph. That’s an odd one,” said Bridget. She was on her hands and knees, searching under the bed. Then she stood, arms akimbo.
“M’lady,” she said as she looked around, “where’s the little pink pillow? The one your aunt brought you from Spain?”
Lucy shook her head as she swallowed a heavenly bite of sausage and egg. “Captain Wainright probably put it somewhere. There wasn’t much room in the bed as it was,” she added, feeling her cheeks grow warm with embarrassment.
Bridget glanced around again. “Well, it couldn’t have walked off, so it’s here someplace.”
Lucy recalled seeing the pillow on the bed when she slipped under the covers. “Don’t worry about it. It will turn up.”
Bridget nodded and turned her attention to the wardrobe. “Do you have somethin’ in particular you want to wear this mornin’?”
Lucy thought quickly. Her aunt always said the blue cotton morning dress with the pink flowers and ribbon trim brought out her eyes and complexion, and so she settled on that, glad of her choice when she saw her reflection in the mirror a half hour later, after she’d bathed. Remembering the look in Derek’s eyes as he watched her remove the combs from her hair, she decided to leave it loose, but just as quickly changed her mind, asking Bridget to tie it back, ashamed of herself for wanting to please him. With Bridget trailing behind her, she hurried downstairs and through the door held wide by a beaming Sturgeon, finding herself suddenly eager to spend the morning with her husband.
He stood with his back to her, and the moment she saw him, her heart began to beat in that odd, lurching way it did whenever he was around. Without thinking, she reached up and pulled the ribbon from her hair and shook her head slightly, allowing the long waves of curls to settle as they pleased, even as she told herself that he was just a man, a man with secrets she would probably never know.
And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to look away or to even wish she could.
He exuded strength and surety and a masculinity that took her breath away. He wore no jacket or waistcoat but rather quite simply another one of the seemingly endless supply of crisp white shirts that set off his dark skin and hair so strikingly. The navy trousers, though slightly looser than the breeches or tighter trousers he so often wore, couldn’t hide the shape of his long, muscular legs and trim hips.
He turned suddenly, and she saw a hunger directed at her from gray eyes so dark they were almost black. A slow, appreciative smile broke across his face as his gaze rested on her unbound hair and then moved slowly downward to caress the length of her body before rising once again to meet her eyes. “You wore your hair down,” was all he said, and she had never felt more beautiful in her life.
“It’s more comfortable this way,” she replied, wondering why she didn’t want him to know she’d done it for him. Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze to a strong yet graceful hand loosely holding the reins of a horse. She stared at that hand, remembering the thrill of its touch, and felt a quiver deep in the pit of her stomach as she remembered his finger on her, in her. She forced herself to stop thinking about that.
“I thought you had a meeting in London this morning,” she said.
“I did, but I’d rather spend the time with you. I sent a note to Stephen inviting him to Stonecrest for dinner. I hope that’s all right. I’ve arranged for a woman from the village to come help Matilda.”
She smiled at his handling of the situation and nodded her agreement as she tried not to be drawn in by the gentle, teasing look in his eyes. She took a deep breath and gave herself a mental shake, warning her heart not to fall under his spell, reminding herself he couldn’t be trusted.
He still hadn’t mentioned his upcoming trip, and that made her wonder. It was possible, but unlikely, that her uncle had been misinformed, and she suspected that one morning she would awaken to find Derek gone, never to return. Or perhaps he would tell her as he was leaving, letting her know he wouldn’t be back. There were too many possibilities, too many reasons he might withhold that information, and she didn’t have the nerve to ask him. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know.
But for this moment, she decided his motives didn’t matter. She loved having the opportunity to tour Stonecrest with him. She was proud of her home and her land and the people who worked it, and she wanted to share that pride with him. She had no one to talk to about the restoration—her aunt wasn’t interested—and she would enjoy this morning, no matter what.
So, for the rest of the day, she’d forget that she might never know the reason he married her and tell herself she didn’t care. He would return to America one day soon, and she would not be going with him.
*****
“I’ve come across some information,” Derek told Stephen. “It may be important.”
Derek had ushered Stephen into the study the moment his friend arrived at Stonecrest. He was eager to hear what Stephen thought about Philip Barrick and his maps. He quickly filled Stephen in.
“You think the connection between your father and Barrick has to do with a map and not smuggling?” Stephen tossed Derek a disbelieving look. “Wouldn’t there be something about it in the journal? You said your father wrote about Barrick several times. Why not mention the map?”
“He did. I didn’t tell you because it seemed insignificant. Now I’m not so sure. What if the map had to do with the smugglers?”
Stephen scoffed. “What do you think? That the smugglers were after buried treasure? What has that to do with treason? What did your father say about the map?”
“No
thing specific, but it’s worth looking into if for no other reason than to rule out Philip and Nathan Barrick as conspirators in this mess.”
Stephen huffed and shook his head. He shoved his hands into his pockets, glaring back at Derek.
“What? Is something wrong?”
“Yes, something’s wrong,” Stephen said as he paced the floor. He stopped pacing and swung around to face Derek. “Someone broke into my house last night, and your room was the only one searched.”
“The servants didn’t hear anything?”
“The servants’ quarters are on the other side of the house, as you well know. And your room is on the ground floor.” Stephen ran his fingers through his dark hair. “If you weren’t worried before, you should be now. Forget your plan, Derek. Your situation has changed. You have a wife to look after.”
“Somehow I rather think my wife would be happier without me, don’t you?” Derek responded.
“Please don’t patronize me. This is not a game. Consider my situation. Imagine how I’d feel with the weight of your death on my shoulders. I was mad to even think of helping you with this scheme. If your father really was killed by these men, then your plan is suicidal. Think of your mother, your brother and sisters, and ask yourself why you’re doing this.”
Stephen’s agonized concern wiped the smile from Derek’s face. It had never been a game to Derek, but maybe Stephen didn’t know that.
“I have been thinking of my family,” Derek replied. “Believe me, I think of them every day. But I think of honor and responsibility too, and I know that without those, the rest is meaningless. My father pursued these men at great cost to everything he held dear—his marriage, his family, his fortune, his life. He was consumed by this gang. You didn’t read his journal. You can’t know the depth of his feelings about this.”
As Derek said the words, he realized that he didn’t know the depth of his father’s feelings about the smuggling either because his father’s notes were hard to follow and Derek hadn’t known him well enough for logical speculation. It galled him to admit the truth to himself; he certainly wasn’t going to admit it to Stephen. He knew, however, that his father thought Summerfield the most despicable man alive, a traitor, and that was enough for Derek.
“Maybe I didn’t get to know him as I should have,” he said, “but I knew his character. To act out this persistent search with such ferocity, he must have thought these men evil incarnate. At the very least he suspected them of treason, and if I want to respect myself for being even half the man he was, I must finish the job he started.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “And what if I tell you he changed more than you can imagine while you were gone? What you think he pursued out of honor might actually have been pursued for revenge. You said he lost a valuable shipment of goods to the smugglers.”
“And hardly mentioned it in his journal. Believe me, he wasn’t thinking about that shipment every day of the two years he pursued these thieves. I’m not even sure he didn’t set up that cargo run to trap the smugglers. Anything is possible.”
“I think you give him more credit than he deserves,” Stephen muttered. “You didn’t know him at all. Other things were said about him. Things I didn’t want to tell you.”
Derek arched a brow. “What things?”
“Things. He had become a spiteful, hateful man. For God’s sake, he was a spiteful, hateful man before he sent you away. Who sends his heir to a foreign land and never speaks to him again?”
Derek stiffened. His friend had hit a nerve. What Stephen said about his father’s mean-spirited nature was true, but Derek had always blamed himself for his father’s behavior. It stood to reason that it was Derek’s fault. His father had treated Anthony in a completely different manner, spending time with him, teaching him things, taking pride in everything he did. Derek had been envious of their relationship, and it had only made him hate his father more. And that had increased his guilt, which had led to this masquerade.
He brushed those thoughts aside. “I don’t care about my father’s personality. If there are men committing treason and I can do something about it, I’m going to. As far as your breakin is concerned, there’s no proof anyone has found me out. Your intruder could have been looking for notes on cargo and shipments. Perhaps the smugglers are preparing to make contact.”
“You don’t have a clue as to what the smugglers are preparing to do, but you’re so cocksure you can’t admit it. Just like you can’t admit that marriage wasn’t in your plan, that your cargo not arriving on time caused problems, that one of your customers cancelling his contract had you scrambling to fill your hold. You’ll never admit to any mistakes because you’re always so damned cocksure.”
“I never claimed to be God, Stephen. I can’t snap my fingers and have everything magically happen. All I can do is make plans and change them when needed. That doesn’t make me cocksure. It makes me logical and flexible.”
“You’ve gotten nowhere with your investigation, yet you continue to play at this game. You haven’t even discovered who Summerfield is, if such a man exists. And I tell you he probably doesn’t. I wasn’t joking about your father. His mental state was a topic of more than one conversation.”
“If you think to change my mind by attacking my father’s soundness of mind, you can forget it. That journal is not a concoction of someone’s imagination. Too many connections have proved to be true, and I’m not dropping this investigation. I couldn’t if I wanted to at this point. My ship is loaded with cargo and ready to sail.”
Stephen shook his head. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, and I don’t see how you could either unless arrogance is propelling you. Most people would be willing to take their suspicions to the authorities. Why must you wage this battle yourself?”
Why, indeed, Derek wondered. Why couldn’t he just turn this over to the authorities, telling them he felt his father’s death was no accident? Why did he think if he set this plan aside he’d be disappointing his father one more time, as he’d done throughout his life? He didn’t know, but he could no more end this masquerade or turn it over to someone else to handle than he could refuse to breathe, not until he had done everything possible to discover his father’s murderer. “Let’s leave it for now. Truly, I don’t think anyone is onto me.”
“Then you’re not facing the facts.”
“What facts? The fact that someone searched your guest bedchamber? Everyone thinks Captain Wainright is filthy rich. Perhaps my room was searched for valuables. You can’t possibly know the thief was looking for information related to my investigation. Surely the smugglers, who are by no means stupid, are aware I’ve married. Anything I consider of value would be with me in my new home. I doubt your breakin has anything at all to do with me. I understand your concerns, but leave the matter be,” Derek said.
If he’d thought to mention the gunshot, he certainly wouldn’t now, not with Stephen already insisting that someone was onto his game. Lucy was surely right anyway; it must have been a hunter. Still, the episode had worried him enough that he’d accompanied her around Stonecrest, making a point of taking the tenants aside to mention it. They’d been shocked at the close call and assured him they’d keep an eye out for strangers. There was no point in alerting Stephen to another possible problem, not in his current mood.
Outside the door, Lucy hesitated, wondering if she should interrupt the men. Dinner had been ready for a quarter hour, and Mrs. Mulligan advised her if they didn’t come soon, the meal would be inedible. Though she knew the woman was exaggerating, the small taste she’d had of the dinner was enough to spur her to do everything she could to keep the woman happy, especially since Mrs. Mulligan had agreed to think about staying on as cook.
Bracing herself against the possibility that the two men would be very much annoyed at her intrusion, she opened the door and slipped quietly inside, waiting for them to stop speaking so she could make her presence known.
“I think it’s just another waste of
your time,” she heard Lord Aster say in a voice tinged with what sounded like disgust. “I’m beginning to think this entire affair is damaging your mind. You must end this nonsense.”
“You’ve made that quite clear, Stephen, and I’ve told you I have no intention of doing that. I’m going to find those maps and take a closer look. If it’s a path to nowhere, I’ll drop it. But if it isn’t…”
Lucy stepped back into the hall without a sound and stood unmoving, feeling suddenly ill. Maps? Her father’s treasure maps? Was that what he was after? What could be so important about some old treasure maps that Derek would marry her to get a look at them? But then, what could be so important about some old treasure maps that would make first the old Duke of Dorrington and then her uncle argue with her father over them?
Dismay and a sense of sorrow overtook every other feeling. She’d almost forgotten who he was—what he was—as they’d toured Stonecrest earlier. He’d been inquisitive, asking important questions, making all the right comments, his respect for her seeming to grow with each of her replies. She’d been so pleased when he gave her suggestions about paving the roads and irrigating the fields, filling in information she’d been unable to glean from other sources. He spoke to her as though they were equals, as her father had always done, and not as though she were a silly girl with a head full of nonsense, as every other man treated her when she asked questions about farming or engineering.
But perhaps that had been his goal, to make her feel comfortable in his presence so she would trust him.
And all because he wanted her father’s maps.
How could she have been so stupid? Her emotions, or more likely his charm, had gotten the better of her, but it was the last time that would happen, she decided, her sorrow turning into anger. He would not get the maps. She would remove them from the study tonight and lock them in her bedchamber safe. If he wanted them, he would have to come to her.
Duke Of Deception (Wentworth Trilogy) Page 16