Then Lord Burk had approached him with an offer of selling his stepdaughter’s hand in marriage. At first, Arthur had rebuked the idea - why should he pay for a bride? Had he not enough wealth to inspire any young woman? Yet, after his attempts to secure Miss Constance in the traditional sense failed, he accepted Burk’s offer.
And what a purchase she was! An innocent woman, beautiful and stately, not to mention ripe for the plucking. She would be a wonderful addition to his bedchamber.
He had immediately ordered a special license and procured a vicar to perform the ceremony. There was no need to have a large gathering, not for the wedding, and entertaining people would only delay what he truly wanted - to consummate the marriage. All too many times he pictured her, bereft of clothing, her sumptuous curves for his eyes alone…
The news of the disappearance of his bride-to-be and her sisters had sent him into a rage. How dare she renege on the deal! She was meant to be his wife and would serve him in every way he saw fit. With each passing day, his ire grew, and when he found her, she would be severely punished; he would see to that it personally.
Sighing, he pushed away the ledger and looked over the office. Tall bookcases held many ledgers, all substantiating how profitable every investment had been. Over the last few years as men lost land and wealth, he had been there ready to purchase it all at greatly discounted prices. Men in financial straights proved to be desperate, and rather than face bankruptcy, they sold whatever they had. Many wives came to his bed without their husbands’ knowledge in an attempt to keep whatever they could.
Burk selling his daughters’ hands in marriage was a different matter altogether - and much more enjoyable. The man was not in financial straights, did not have debts he needed cleared, nor did he fear losing any property. In fact, he had as much wealth as Arthur. No, Burk was greedy, and for that reason, Arthur respected him. The man was too much like Arthur to not earn his respect.
“My lord,” Maylor, his butler, gave a deep bow. “A gentleman is here to see you.” The man, who was usually stoic and emotionless, wrung his hand in clear apprehension.
“Send him in and close the door,” Arthur commanded, waving the man away. He buttoned his coat and stood. If Maylor was nervous about this man’s arrival, Arthur did not want to be caught off-guard.
The man shown to the room was a tall giant of a man with an imposing stance. Maylor closed the door behind him, leaving Arthur alone with the newcomer.
“You require my services?” the tall man said. He spoke well for a man in his position.
“Indeed,” Arthur replied. He motioned to a chair. “Please, sit.”
The man walked over to the blue leather wing backed chair. Or rather he lumbered. How did the man manage to haul about so much bulk?
“What is your name?” Arthur asked.
“You may call me Hawk,” the man replied. “For I can find any prey.”
Arthur almost laughed, but he thought the man might not be trying to be humorous. He certainly did not smile at his own words. Plus, this Hawk was not being offered a large sum of money to entertain him. However, Arthur could not accept a pseudonym; what if the man took his money and never returned?
“Your full name if you please. I must know if we are to conduct business.”
Hawk leaned forward, eyes cold, and Arthur swallowed hard. “My name is Hawk,” he repeated. “You need to know nothing more. Even if you know my name, do you believe you could find me?” He threw back his head and laughed, a deep booming sound that made Arthur shiver. “If I ran off without completing my tasks even once, do you believe anyone would seek my special…skills? Now, why am I here?”
“You make a valid point,” Arthur said, though he gritted his teeth in annoyance. He was not accustomed to allowing someone in his employ so much leniency. “My fiancée has run off, and I wish for you to find her. She is important to me, and I understand that you can find anyone?”
The man nodded. “As I said, no prey escapes me. Describe this woman to me.”
“She is one and twenty, with hair the color of rich wheat.” He spent several minutes describing her; if he were an artist, he could have painted her exact likeness, for she was imprinted on his mind.
“Did she leave alone?”
“No,” Arthur replied. “She has two sisters, both younger. They were on their way to London.”
“You know this for fact?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, but that was the direction they were headed when they were last seen. A friend, Lord Hayes, encountered them the day they disappeared. They told him some tale about a sick aunt, which he thought was odd, though he had not the sense to inquire more before letting them go. By the time the fool thought to garner more information, they had disappeared, and they have not been seen since.”
The man nodded. “Many women who run away go to London, though a good many never arrive.” He said the last with a wide grin. “The roads are full of men who will seize an opportunity when they encounter a woman such as you described.” He pursed his lips in thought.
“What?” Arthur asked as he leaned forward in his chair. He had heard this man was the best; had he already unraveled this mystery? “What do you believe happened?”
“She and her sisters may have made it to London,” he replied, though he seemed to think this unlikely. “If they did, they could have found work at one of the parlors or gentleman’s clubs. They come from stock too good to end up in the streets.” The man grinned again. He did find the most horrific scenarios appealing! “The other option is that they are dead.”
“Dead?” Arthur asked. No! She is not dead! “Let us assume it is the former. What can be done if they are found in London?”
Hawk shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me, but you should know that if they have joined one of the establishments I mentioned, there is a chance that her virtue has been compromised. If that’s the case, do you still wish her returned?”
The thought of Miss Constance being forced to work in a parlor - or perhaps even enamored by some rake! - infuriated him, but she belonged to him. He would decide her fate once she returned. “It does not matter,” he replied. “Bring her to me regardless of where you find her.” He rose to indicate their meeting had come to an end.
The giant rose, as well. “I require a deposit of three hundred pounds,” he said, brooking no argument. “The rest is due upon delivery of your bride-to-be.”
Arthur had expected as much and pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked a drawer in the desk. He handed Hawk the required amount, hoping it would not be the last time he saw the man.
“My work is not up for discussion,” Hawk said as he placed the notes inside his coat, “but I suspect that within a month, two at best, she will be returned to you.”
“That will be fine,” Arthur replied. Then he thought about his friends who had also lost their brides-to-be. “She has two sisters.”
“So you said.”
“I will pay the same for their return.”
The giant roared with laughter as he slapped the top of the desk. “Three women will be harder to return than one. The price for the others will be fifty percent higher. For each.”
Arthur nodded. Montgomery and Oswald had agreed to pay any sum. “That is fine. Do what you must.”
“I’ll return in time.”
Hawk turned and left the room, and Arthur gave a sigh of relief. The man’s reputation was widely known amongst those who dealt in unscrupulous matters, and his success rate was nearly perfect. It was that perfection that had convinced Arthur that he would soon have his bride-to-be returned to him.
He smiled as an image of Miss Constance came to mind. She would be fearful at first, most new brides were, but when she realized that the house was secure and she had no way to escape, she would resign herself to her situation.
He sighed as his imagination took on a life of itself. She was his favorite purchase, and he would have her, whether she wanted it or not.
&
nbsp; Chapter Eleven
A fortnight after the daring rescue, Constance hoped Anna and Beatrice were now safe at home with their mother. Despite the chastising Stephen had given her, Constance felt a sense of pride at having taken part in such a noble deed. Never had she ever been a part of a task of such import.
The camp was close to empty, most off completing one task or another - including Stephen, who had left with Louisa to some unknown location four days earlier. Constance, much to her chagrin, was left behind to do chores.
At the moment, she and Sally were washing the breakfast dishes, and Sally was chatting about something, but Constance was not listening. She had taken to remembering the kiss she and Stephen had shared, her mind turning to the feel of his lips against hers and the way her body had reacted. She could not push the memory away no matter how hard she tried, and the memory sprouted up without an invitation.
Constance was no fool. She could not deny she had strong feelings for the leader of the camp, and the fact he was gone made matters worse, for she found she missed his company and wished him to return. It was that longing to be near the man that had caused her to remain at the camp rather than taking her sisters to London, despite her decision to do so after the rescue of the Hartford women. Perhaps it was selfish to stay for her own wants rather than the needs of her sisters; the fact she had drawn his ire should have sent her running all the way to London!
“Then I told him I was madly in love with him and that he should take me to his hut and have his way with me.”
Constance turned to the young woman, her eyes wide and mouth open. “You did what?” she demanded.
Sally laughed. “I knew you weren’t listening!” she said in a chastising tone.
With face heated, Constance shook her head. “I’m sorry. My mind was a thousand miles away.”
“Maybe we can talk about whatever’s bothering you. I’m a good listener.”
Constance gave her a smile. The woman was always so kind, and she was blessed to have such a good friend. “I suppose so.” The question was, could she trust the woman with this information? It was one thing to share about day-to-day issues, but to discuss her feelings for the leader of the camp? That was another thing entirely.
“I’ll never speak a word of anything you share with me, you know,” Sally said as if hearing Constance’s thoughts. “We all need someone to talk to from time to time. Let me be that person.”
Constance sighed. “It concerns Stephen. It…well, I’m afraid I upset him not long ago, and since then, he has limited his conversations with me. How do I get him to speak to me again?”
Sally grimaced. “Men!” she growled as water splashed over the side of the barrel from the force of her washing, as if to punctuate her frustration. “They’re the oddest of God’s creatures. I love Stephen like a brother, but he’s as stubborn as a mule.” She paused and looked at Constance. “I suppose you did something he told you not to?”
Constance nodded. “That is precisely what happened. When we went out to rescue those two women from Hartford, he told me to remain behind and watch. However, I knew I could help, so I took the initiative when an opportunity arose. Though I was successful, he still chastised me and now he refuses to speak to me beyond commands and short answers to questions I may ask.”
Sally snorted. “That’s Stephen.” She paused and turned to Constance, hands on the sides of the barrel of soapy water. “I suspect the issue’s that you’re a lady and don’t know the proper way to speak to men, not like I do. Some men need to be handled differently. Stephen might’ve been a gentleman, and he still is for all intents and purposes, but he’s not necessarily the man you’d expect to find among the upper class. But don’t you worry; I’ll teach you how to handle him. As a matter of fact, I’ll teach you something right now if you want.”
Constance could not help but laugh. “Very well. Do tell.”
The woman glanced around as if expecting someone to be close enough to overhear. “First, you must do this.” She placed a hand on her hip. “Then, you squint your eyes a little.”
Constance followed Sally’s example.
“Yes, exactly like that,” Sally said. “Now, this is the most important part. You mustn’t approach them kindly. In fact, you have to be forceful with them or they’ll not listen at all. They’re hardheaded that way.”
With a laugh, Constance practiced her approach. “I believe my mother used a similar tactic with my father, but this seems much more effective.” Then a thought occurred to her. “I’m not sure I can do this with Stephen.”
“You’ll listen to me if you know what’s best,” Sally said, pointing a finger at Constance. Constance had never seen the woman so rankled. When she went to apologize, Sally laughed. “I didn’t mean those words toward you; I just wanted to show you how you should speak to Stephen.”
“Oh, I see,” Constance said with a light chuckle. “I still am not certain I could speak that way to Stephen. It is very unladylike, and if my mother ever witnessed such behavior from me…” She stopped. Her life had changed over the past six weeks. She had learned to wield a knife - even carried one at her waist at all times now - and had participated in a rescue, neither of which would be considered ladylike. Perhaps it was time to change how she communicated with Stephen.
“That’s it!” Sally said. “Just like that.”
Constance had not realized she was frowning.
Sally narrowed her eyes. “Come on, now. Show me.”
Taking her stance again, Constance frowned. “I will not have you ignoring me any longer!” she said, pretending she was speaking to Stephen. “You will listen to what I have to say!”
“Is everything all right?”
Constance turned to see her sisters standing behind her, concern on their faces and baskets of washing on their hip, and she wanted to laugh. “We are fine,” she said with a jut to her chin. “In fact, we are better than fine. We are women of beauty…and forwardness.” She and Sally laughed that much harder, but Emma and Mary merely glanced at one another.
This, of course, made Constance laugh all the more, and soon tears were streaming down her face with the effort of trying to stop. For the first time since leaving Lankster Manor, she felt free. Free to be the woman she was, a woman not constrained by formality and decorum.
“I should go with my sisters to do the washing,” she said as she wiped her hands on a cloth. “Will you be able to finish on your own?”
Sally sniffed. “I’ve been washing dishes long enough to do them alone.” She finished with a smile, which eased Constance’s mind.
“We will return soon,” Constance said.
As she and her sisters made their way toward the path that led to the river, Stephen and Louisa returned. Well, she would speak to Stephen later, keeping in mind the advice Sally had given her, but for now, she had chores to complete. She would prove her worth one way or another.
***
Stephen was relieved to be back at the camp. Four days away were too many, and in that time they had stopped only a single robbery. He could have spent his time being more productive. Unfortunately, a majority of his time his mind was on the woman who carried a basket of washing toward the river. His assessment of her behavior during the rescue had been appropriate, but his anger after had not. What he wanted to do was tell the woman what truly bothered him.
“You must let her go,” Louisa said, placing a hand on his arm. “You are consumed by her, and it is not only harmful to you, but it also impedes our cause.”
Stephen closed his eyes for a moment. “I do not believe that,” he said. “I believe it is you who is consumed with me.” He turned toward her. “Louisa, I do not love you the way you wish.” He had told her this before, but each time hurt as much as the last.
She patted his hand. “It’s because you deny your heart.” Her voice was a whisper. “We have known one another for much too long for you to keep denying what we have. For twelve years, I have loved you. Do not hurt me by
saying you do not return that love.”
He shook his head. “You do not love me,” he said. “You believe you do, but you do not.”
She snatched her hand away. “Do not assume to know my heart!” she snapped. Glancing over at her son helping one of the women unload a cart, she added, “Charles needs a father. I need a husband.”
Without warning, guilt washed over Stephen. Unwanted images of the woman who had found him alone and dying on the side of the road flashed in his mind. The woman who had helped him recover, had aided him with money, and had been a true friend the many years that followed. Yet, though he loved her more than anyone else alive, he could not love her as a man loved a woman.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he looked down at the ground. He could not look at the hurt in her eyes. “I love you as a dear friend, and I always will, but it can never be more than that.”
Louisa pointed an accusing finger at him. “You are going to destroy everything we have worked so hard for. Your desire for that woman has blinded you. However, I will say no more. Go on. Run to her arms and find that solace you seek. We both know that it is not her heart that will bring you joy. It is the revenge of your mother’s death that will.”
The words pained him. Perhaps Louisa was right. As he thought on the death of his mother, his anger rose. “I will find that man one day,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I have no doubt you will,” Louisa replied. “I have never doubted that. However, ask yourself this. Would you freely die to avenge her death?”
Stephen needed no thought before nodding. “I would give anything, even my life, to do that. You know this.”
“And yet, you will still pursue this woman?” she asked. “What if you find this man and he kills you? Would you be content with leaving Constance brokenhearted if you were to fail? To cause the very pain that consumes your heart?”
Rogues Always Wear Black: A Steamy British Historical Romance Novel (Forbidden Kisses Book 1) Page 10