China shook her head. "Justin is a gentle and considerate man. I have seen his temper. Just as I have seen his ability to control it...an ability far greater than your own."
"As impossible as you claim it was for Justin to have committed the deed, it is equally impossible for me to have done so. I was on the other side of town, on Mayberry Bridge, attempting to deal out justice to whoever the second man was who accosted me on the road the first time I was robbed. If not Justin, then I put it to you that it was likely Captain Jason Savage I shot on the bridge that night. If so, then Justin would have had plenty of time to take out his frustrations on Bessy Toone."
"No!" China felt her own frustrations rising, burning hotly behind her eyes. "Justin was nowhere near that girl's rooms."
"Lies, Miss Grant. He lies to you and you believe him! The evidence, however, real and tangible--" he stabbed the billfold with his forefinger-- "speaks quite clearly to the contrary, as do the words of a woman dying in extreme pain."
"Said to a man I have no doubt owes his first loyalties to you."
"Doctor Jeffries owes his livelihood to me, to be sure, but unfortunately I was not present at the time of her statement, nor could I influence what he and two nurses heard at the same time. He had no idea I knew the girl, thus would have no reason to lie to the authorities about what he heard. No, Miss Grant, I do not have to fabricate proof. Justin has provided everything necessary to fit his own neck into the noose. Even to this!"
He reached out and let a shiny gold chain slither from his fingers and spill onto the leather billfold. Threaded onto the chain was a gold coin.
"Have you ever seen this before?" he asked, watching her face carefully.
Something slipped past the edge of China's memory as she stared at the coin. That first night in the library, Justin's shirt had been opened in a deep vee and something gold had glittered out of the forest of dark hairs. It was round, and could have been a coin...
"I...I don't recall."
Ranulf's smile returned, cold and cruel. "You are a very bad liar, Miss Grant. As you can see, the chain is broken. Torn off, perhaps, by someone in a desperate attempt to stave off her attacker? No matter. The chain and coin--a very old Spanish gold piece as it happens, of a type worn by many sailors and adventurers--were found in Miss Toone's room, under the bed. So you see, it is the evidence that places Justin at the scene of the crime. Not me."
"Someone else could have put it there," she said, not sounding convincing even to her own ears. Which, of course, made Ranulf's smile cold enough to send a ripple of gooseflesh down her arms.
"If you don't believe that, do you really expect anyone else will?"
China said nothing. The unshed tears still burned behind her eyes but she steadfastly refused to let them flow.
"Betrayal," Ranulf murmured, reaching into the drawer for the third and final time. "It affects us all one way or another."
He turned the two delicate ivory combs over in his hands, his long surgeon's fingers tracing the carvings and tines. They were the combs China had been wearing in her hair when she went to the Boars Head Inn to find Justin. The combs he had taken such delicious pleasure in removing before spreading her hair loose around her bare shoulders.
"I knew at once to whom these belonged," Ranulf was saying. "I knew also that Savage's crew frequented that particular tavern so it was not hard to believe that you would have gone there looking for Justin. Mind you, the state of the room, the bedding...in truth that did shock me. I can only laugh at myself for not seeing it sooner."
Games, Justin had said. They all enjoyed playing games of cat and mouse.
"What is it you want from me, Ranulf?" she asked softly, wearily.
"Want, Miss Grant? I want nothing." He dropped the combs onto the desk beside the chain and the billfold. "Nothing I would not ordinarily have received on the day of my wedding."
"Wedding?"
"The guests should start arriving at the chapel in..." he paused to consult the clock on the mantel. "Three hours. That should be more than enough time for you to bathe and prepare yourself."
The blood drained out of her face. "I have no intentions of marrying you, Ranulf. Not in three hours, not in three years."
"You are not thinking carefully, my dear."
She pushed to her feet again. "There is nothing to think about. I do not love you. Marriage to you is the furthest thing from my mind."
"Because your heart belongs to Justin?" Ranulf laughed. "He would no sooner marry you as marry any of the foolish young virgins he has deflowered and left behind. He was using you, girl, can you not see that even now? How long do you think you could keep a man like him amused? How long before you bore him to tears with your naiveté?"
"Nothing you can do or say will change my mind," she said firmly.
"Really? My dear young woman, you delude yourself." He rose to his feet, keeping his knuckles leaning on the desk. "I will tell you precisely what you may and may not do; what you may say, when you may say it and to whom. I will tell you where you may go both before and after the ceremony and by God if you step one foot out of line, say one word out of place, you will only yourself to blame when Justin swings from the gallows."
"You cannot force me to marry you," she gasped.
"I do not have to force you, Miss Grant. You will come to me willingly. Willingly and eagerly."
She backed away a step. "You're insane."
"No more so than you if you continue to test my patience. At this very moment Justin sits in a cold, dark jail cell awaiting the decision of the Fates as to his future. I hold here the keys to that jail cell--" he pointed to the damning evidence on his desk. "Agree to the marriage and these will become yours. A wedding gift, if you like. To keep or dispose of however you see fit. Refuse and I shall dispatch Chambers at once with my sworn declaration as to where they were found. Further, I will testify against him when the time comes, and I can promise you my word will go a good deal farther in a court of law than that of a silly young girl smitten with love."
Her eyes blurred with tears. "But why? Why do you insist the wedding take place when you know I don't love you. When you know I love another man? When you know that he and I...that we..."
"Bedded? I hardly think the lack of virginity on your part calls for immediate tar and feathering. I would go so far as to say it might improve your ability to please me in the bedchamber."
China was shaking her head in horror and confusion. "But why? Why? You don't love me. You don't care one wit for me. There must be dozens, hundreds, of girls better suited to your needs. I have no money, no property, no dowry to speak of. I have no desire to be presented at Court, no pressing need to become anything more than wife to a man I love."
"Once the formality of the wedding has taken place, you may become the mistress of anyone you choose. The coachman for all I care. Or the gardener."
"Why?" The word was practically screamed.
"You really do not know?"
China's head swam and down she went again on the chair. "No," she said through half a sob. "No, I do not know anything. I do not have anything. There are a few thousand pounds at most that you could realize from the sale of the land in Devonshire, but even that is mortgaged dearly."
Ranulf laughed. "A few thousand? Good God, woman, we should all so few. Ten years ago when this marriage was proposed--"
"Ten years?"
"--your father estimated your worth, at that time, to be in excess of well over a million pounds. You may be sure, in the interim, that amount has not gone down at all, but up. I have made doubly, trebly certain of that."
"A million pounds," she said quietly. "You are insane."
Ranulf sighed extravagantly. "This too, I see, shall require proof. Very well."
He strode across the room to a large and rather ugly framed oil of hounds running across a field. He pulled a corner of the painting forward to reveal a niche behind, and in that niche, a small door with a keyhole lock. With a flourish, Ranulf pr
oduced the key from his waistcoat pocket and opened the cabinet. The sheaf of papers he withdrew were set on the desk before her.
"These are only copies, of course. The originals are held in trust by the bankers Swineburn, Paskay, and Leewort. They handled all of Timothy Grant's affairs. You will likely not understand most of the legal jargon but the bottom line tells a most poignant tale." He shuffled through several sheets and held out the one he sought. "This states the most recent balance in the account as one million one hundred and eighty-four thousand. Your father was a shrewd businessman, Miss Grant. He knew where to invest his money. Well worth the ten year wait until you came of age to release the trust."
China was stunned. "Where did it come from? Why was I not told about it?"
"I'm afraid I can only answer what I know. I have no idea why you were not told of this dowry, but I can hazard a fairly good guess. It could have something to do with where the lucre came from." He paused and waited for her eyes to focus again and look up at him. "Black ivory, Miss Grant. Your father backed a fleet of slavers that made regular and profitable crossings from Africa to America."
"No!" China exhaled on a gust. "No, that cannot be true."
"I assure you it is."
"Father had ships, yes, but they were merchant ships. They carried honest, legal cargo."
"On some, perhaps. But honest cargo often does not pay the bills. Slaves and smuggling does, however. I have a detailed list of all his ships if you would care to verify ownership and manifests. It is all there. Numbers bought and numbers sold, even the numbers they lost at sea due to starvation and sickness."
China felt a wave of nausea rising in her throat. Slaves! Her father was a slaver!
"You mustn't judge him too harshly. After all, those were difficult times and a man's natural instinct was to ensure his own and his family's survival at all costs. Timothy had taken on the shipping line when it was in near ruin. He lost money hand over fist the first few years carrying only legitimate cargo. The few slave ships he converted not only saved the company but turned the family fortunes around. Yet he was cautious and clever enough to keep the more unsavory aspects of his business quietly buried all these years."
"Just as you have managed to bury your father's?" she asked bitterly.
Ranulf's jaw went rigid. "You have a point to make?"
"If you say you have proof that my father dealt in the slave trade, then I have no choice to but to believe you. It is nothing I could ever be proud of, or be able to speak openly about without feeling revulsion and shame. But at least he did not sell out his country. He did not sell himself to the French. He did not attempt to run away and leave his family behind to bear the disgrace of having a traitor for a father."
Ranulf clenched his fists. Her eyes had not wavered from his face as she spoke; they did not waver now, but remained clear and cold, her defiance startling him almost as much as the knowledge that she was aware of Sir Anthony Cross's dishonor.
"You appear to know a great deal about this family all of a sudden and I can only guess who has been filling your ears with the information. But did Justin tell you everything, I wonder? Did he perhaps tell you who the owner of the Orion was? That she was your father's ship? That he knew the cargo she carried, the passengers she carried, and that for a considerable fee he was willing to smuggle them past the blockades into France?"
"I don't believe you," she whispered.
"You don't have to believe me," Ranulf said, smashing the papers with his fist, making her jump half out of her skin. "It is all here, in black and white."
He breathed hard, forcing himself to rein in his temper. The memory of that day, of sitting in Timothy Grant's office and seeing the man calmly admit his complicity came back to Ranulf in all of its infuriating detail.
"He put it to me quite bluntly, Miss Grant. He said if I was prepared to wait until there was no possibility of anyone stumbling over the connection between the two families, he could make me a very wealthy man. As you can see I have, indeed, waited and been most patient. And now you will marry me as planned and you will sign the entailing documents or I will see that Justin hangs."
China twisted her hands together. Her insides were trembling so badly she felt certain he could see the quiverings. Her skin was cold and clammy. Her heart was pounding so hard against her ribs she felt it might burst through at any moment.
"Well Miss Grant? What is it to be? Justin alive, or Justin dead?"
"For a million pounds," she said quietly, "I would expect more than just 'alive'. I would expect him to be set free. Immediately. Before any vow is exchanged. I would expect him to be escorted onto his ship and that ship be allowed to sail out of the harbor."
Ranulf pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I am prepared to comply with those conditions. An...escape can be arranged. The charge of murder, however, will remain as incentive to keep the bastard well away from Portsmouth in the future."
The walls were beginning to close in on China. To refuse would guarantee a noose around Justin's neck. The Spanish coin was real, the billfold was real. No judge or jury would believe her version of events over the sworn statements by Ranulf, Mrs. Biggs, or the doctor and nurses who tended Bessy Toone in her last moments.
Marry Ranulf Cross to save Justin's life? Could she do it? Could she suffer his presence, his touch in exchange for setting Justin free?
"How do I know you will honor your word to set him free?"
"There are documents you must sign, as my wife, before the transfer of the dowry can take place. You may delay that signing until such time as you have heard of Justin's safe delivery on board the Reunion and of that ship's departure from Portsmouth."
"What of the billfold? And the gold coin?"
Ranulf slid them forward across the desk along with the ivory combs. "Yours to dispose of however you choose."
She nodded slowly. "It seems you leave me little choice."
Ranulf's chest swelled in triumph. "A wise decision, my dear. One that restores my faith in human nature. Love, hate, greed...they control us all one way or another."
China turned to leave.
"Four o'clock, Miss Grant. I will expect you to be inside the vestibule of St. Vincent's chapel and prepared to walk down the aisle on the arm of Sir Wilfred Berenger-Whyte. Mrs. Biggs is waiting outside the study to assist you in your preparations. I would naturally expect you to keep your reluctance to yourself as much as possible, she has been told only that you suffer from a bad case of nervous bride."
China allowed herself to be escorted to the door. Mrs. Biggs turned at the sound and nodded primly to Sir Ranulf.
"Do not worry, my dear," Ranulf said, raising China's cold, numb fingers to his lips. "It will all work out in the end."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
China bathed and put on a dressing gown. She was hardly aware of the hands that administered to her, of the voices that instructed her to go here and there; to stand for the toweling, to sit by the fire, to move to the dressing table where heated irons were twisted into her hair. Now and then her blue eyes would lose the far-off glaze and focus on the reflection in the mirror. She was always surprised to see how calm she looked...until she glanced past her own image and saw the wedding dress laid out across the bed.
Was it only that morning she had lain breathless and sated with pleasure in Justin's arms thinking the worst part of her life was behind her, the best just beginning?
China forced herself to watch Tina's hands flying over her hair, shaping and curling it into a slippery, glossy crown of black ringlets. Mrs. Biggs was hovering sternly in the background, supervising everyone, snapping out brisk orders to anyone caught without a task to perform. At one point she heard a crash out in the hallway and strode out of the bedroom to rail at the clumsy servant.
Tina took the opportunity to lean forward and murmur in China's ear. "I don't believe, not for a minute, what everyone is saying about Master Justin. He couldn't have kill't anyone. He couldn't 'ave."
China
said nothing. There was nothing she could say without tempting a fresh flow of tears.
"Him and that Captain Savage both," Tina declared, "ridiculous what some people will say about them."
China raised her lashes and looked into the mirror. "You've met Captain Savage?"
"Oh yes m'um. A fine specimen of a man he is too. Such fine brown eyes and a smile that would set a girl's heart to fluttering, it would. Bit on the scrawny side, but nothing a few good meals wouldn't cure."
China recognized the description of Ted Bates.
"He came here late one night to fetch Master Justin," Tina continued blithely. "Real late at night it was and he made me swear as how I wouldn't tell a soul. Of course I wouldn't have, even if he hadn't made me swear. Master Justin has always been kind to me. I wouldn't ever say or do anything to bring more trouble down on his head, no I would not."
China frowned. Justin had said Bates was on shore completing last minute arrangements so that the Reunion could leave on the tide. He was to have given the signal if there was any trouble brewing. There had indeed been trouble, in the guise of Sir Ranulf Cross's boarding party of some twenty armed men, but there had been no signal, no warning from shore. Had Bates sent word to Ranulf where to find Justin and then kept carefully out of sight?
She blinked. "I'm sorry, Tina...what did you say?"
"I said I'm done, m'um." The maid's voice was clearer, louder for the benefit of Mrs. Biggs' returning ears. "An' you look just lovely m'um. Truly you do."
"Thank you Tina." China made a show of studying the coiffure but in truth saw little through the thoughts and questions tumbling through her mind. If Ted Bates was responsible, if he was the blackmailer, the murderer, the traitor, he would now assume Justin was out of the way and he would have full possession of the Reunion. What would happen when he discovered Justin was free and returning to claim his ship?
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