Never Seduce a Scoundrel

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Never Seduce a Scoundrel Page 17

by Sabrina Jeffries


  “I understand, sir,” Lord Pomeroy said in the pompous tone she loathed. “I shall not gainsay you.”

  “Good.” But Lucas didn’t lower his sword. Instead, he released her. “Go open the door, darlin’. And make sure the way is clear, will you?”

  She hurried to do as he bade, but when she swung open the door, it was to find a pistol pointed straight at her. John had returned.

  The footman gestured to her to back up.

  “Umm, Lucas?” she said as she did so. “We have a problem.”

  “Drop the sword and step away from his lordship, guv’nor,” John said, then shifted his aim to the back of Lucas’s head. “Unless you want to end your days right here.”

  “Put the pistol down, John,” Lord Pomeroy ordered wearily. “The major and Lady Amelia were just leaving.”

  John blinked. “But, milord—”

  “Now,John. Put it down.”

  When John did as the marquess said, Lucas sheathed his sword. “Thank you, General.” He strode for the door, grabbing Amelia by the arm to tug her with him. “A wise decision.”

  Lord Pomeroy’s lips twisted into a sneer. “I wish you joy of her. You will have a time of it, with that termagant for a wife.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Lucas muttered, as they hurried into the hall.

  Wrenching her arm free of his grip, Amelia rushed down the stairs ahead of him. “Never fear, sir,” she snapped. “I won’t inflict my presence on you a moment longer than is necessary. As soon as we reach London—”

  “Calm yourself, darlin’.” They’d reached the ground floor and he slipped his arm about her waist again. “I was joking.”

  “But I’m not, Lucas. I know you only said you’d marry me to—”

  “My lady, you’re well!” cried a voice from the doorway. It was the innkeeper, looking astonished.

  “Your inn has worked a miraculous cure.” As Lucas hurried her through the door, she added under her breath, “Amazing how one’s health improves once one removes the albatross from about one’s neck.”

  A carriage drove up. She barely had time to register that it was Lord Kirkwood’s before Lucas was hoisting her into it.

  “To Gretna Green,” he ordered the coachman, then climbed in after her.

  As the coach set off, she slumped back against the seat. All she wanted right now was to find a nice Pomeroy-less coaching inn, have a full meal and a hot bath, and spend a few minutes not thinking about her dismal future.

  But clearly Lucas wouldn’t allow that just yet. So she’d have to settle for laying her cards on the table, and hoping he would see sense once she did so.

  “Going to Gretna Green is pointless, Lucas. Despite what I told Pomeroy, I’m not going to marry you.”

  With a scowl, he tossed his hat onto the seat. “Why not?”

  “Because I know the real reason you want to marry me.”

  His face darkened. “If you think I give a damn about your fortune—”

  “Not that. Because of Dolly.” She took a steadying breath. “I know why you came to England. That’s what I’d planned to discuss with you at the Kirkwoods’ dinner. You came to find Dorothy and Theodore Frier.”

  As shock filled his features, she crossed her arms over her chest. “And ruin or no ruin, I refuse to let you marry me just so you can finish your investigation.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dear Cousin,

  I had to summon Lady Amelia’s parents. No word has come yet from the North. Then there is this latest scandal with Miss Linley and Lord Kirkwood. I suppose I should not be surprised, but I did think his lordship had more sense than to elope so quickly after his cousin ran off after Lady Amelia. What was he thinking?

  Your very distraught friend,

  Charlotte

  As Lucas stared at Amelia’s mutinous mouth and stubborn little chin and the glittering eyes he’d nearly despaired of ever seeing again, the rampant relief he’d felt upon finding her unharmed twisted rapidly into anger.

  He didn’t stop to question how she knew about the Friers or how long she’d known. He was too damned furious for that. “You think this is about Dolly.”

  She must have heard the edge to his voice, for she thrust out her chin even more. “Isn’t it?”

  He leaned forward to fix her with a hard glance. “You think I traveled two days, posting through the nights, unable to sleep, unable to eat, imagining that any minute I’d find you being ravished by that ass, because of your damned stepmother? Because I thought saving you would help my investigation?”

  She blinked. “Well…yes.” Her expression softened. “Don’t mistake me, Lucas, I’m very grateful you came after me. But I know you were only ‘courting’ me in London to find out more about my stepmother. So there’s no need to carry it as far as to marry me, for goodness sake.”

  That brought him up short. If she knew the courtship wasn’t real, then she’d known about his investigation a while. Which meant that she, too, had been pretending an interest in him.

  “What exactly do you think you know about the Friers?” he asked in a hollow voice. Clearly, they weren’t getting any further in this little discussion until he could determine that. “And how long have you known?”

  She sighed. “Ever since the moment we met.”

  He thought back, then cursed himself soundly. “So you were in my room the night of the ball.” That’s why she’d played the silly flirt—to keep him from figuring out that she’d been nosing around. And Dorothy and Theodore Frier were probably halfway to India or Jamaica by now.

  “I saw your notes about all the Dorothys,” she went on, “and recognized the name that Dolly bore before she married Papa. Some of the details seemed to fit her, and it looked like you were investigating her, so I decided to find out why.”

  His gaze shot to her. “You haven’t told her? Or your father?”

  “I didn’t want to upset them until I knew more.”

  He released a long breath.

  “But the day of the kidnapping, I found out from…a friend of Mrs. Harris’s why you were looking for Dolly. Or rather, a woman like her.”

  “Oh? What did this ‘friend’ tell you?”

  “That the American navy had charged you with capturing an embezzler named Theodore Frier. And since you’re looking for a woman named Dorothy Frier, I assume that you think they’re connected.”

  “They’re married.” Might as well tell her the truth—or most of it. He definitely didn’t want her to know certain things. “Theodore Frier had been a trusted employee of a naval contractor for five years when he started to withdraw funds. To do it, he forged several documents, and no one at the bank or the company questioned his authority. Until he disappeared.”

  He glanced out at the bleak North England countryside, faintly illuminated by the coming dawn. He fought to keep his tone even. “Later I discovered that he’d received several letters from a ‘Dorothy Frier’ in the months before. The last one came on the day he fled. Apparently, it agitated him so much that he took the money and ran off to Rhinebeck. From there, he and Dorothy fled to Canada. She introduced him to everybody as her husband, Theodore Smith.”

  “But you see, that’s where you’re confused. My Dolly is the widow of Obadiah Smith.”

  He swung his gaze back to her. “So you say.”

  “Dolly isn’t Dorothy Frier, I tell you. She would never live the sort of life you describe, and she would certainly never be party to an embezzlement—”

  “No? She’s been to Canada—you admitted that much yourself, though you tried to cover it up. The timing for her arrival in England is right, she has Dorothy’s looks, and she came here with a fortune.”

  “How did you know about the fort—” She broke off with a groan. “You didn’t, did you? Until I just admitted it.”

  “I was pretty sure,” he said.

  She thrust out her chin. “She got that fortune from her merchant husband.”

  “In Boston, right? But I’ll bet th
at if you ask her, she doesn’t know a damned thing about Boston. And don’t you think it’s a mite strange that her husband happened to drag her to all the same places Theodore did his wife? A woman who fits the description of Dorothy Frier—”

  “It’s not Dolly, no matter what you say! She’s the most timid creature. It’s just an awful coincidence that she shares a name with your criminal’s wife.”

  “Then convince me,” he snapped. “Tell me the truth about her.” Something finally dawned on him. “You’ve been feeding me lies up until now, haven’t you? To throw me off the scent.”

  “No!Well…a few at first. Just to see how you reacted. So I could tell if she was really the woman you were interested in.”

  “So you could run off to Devon and warn her, help her escape.”

  “Only if I determined you were wrong. That’s why I wanted to talk to you at the Kirkwoods’ dinner, so I could settle once and for all that she wasn’t the person you were after.”

  That’swhy she’d been so angry at the tea. Because she’d finally realized he was the enemy.

  And he’d thought it was because of what they’d done on the xebec. He snorted. What a smitten idiot he was. Lady Delilah certainly lived up to her name, using her sweet little body to twist him this way and that while she tried to discover the truth. All the while, she hadn’t meant any of her kisses and caresses.

  Or had she? Amelia wasn’t exactly a great liar. She hadn’t kept up her silly flirt role past one day. And now that he considered it, once they’d started touching each other on the xebec, she hadn’t talked one bit about Dolly.

  Yes, what about that? “So all your flirting, the way you welcomed my attentions…they were just a pretense to get information from me. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “You did the same thing.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper as she glanced out the window. “I did nothing you didn’t do.”

  “Ah, but I meant my kisses, darlin’. Every single one.”

  “Liar.” Her gaze shot to him, and the hurt he saw glittering there told him everything he needed to know. “You didn’t mean any of it.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” he drawled. “And contrary to whatever harebrained notion you’ve taken into your head, it’s not because of Dolly. Trust me, if I’d wanted to help my investigation, I would’ve stayed in London until she and your daddy showed up and I could finally get her in my clutches. I came after you, instead. And you know why?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “Why?”

  He drew in a ragged breath. “Because I couldn’t stand the idea of Pomeroy forcing you. Not when it’s my fault he kidnapped you in the first place.”

  “Your fault?” She frowned. “Why do you think that?”

  “If I hadn’t sat out on your steps taunting him every day, he might not have taken such a drastic action.”

  A faint smile touched her pretty lips. “I rather think it was my purgative that did it.”

  “What was all that about the purgative?”

  When she explained shamefacedly, he erupted into laughter. “So that’s why he went racing off from your town house before the tea. I take it back, darlin’, it was your fault.”

  “He deserved it!”

  “He did. But remind me never to cross you. Between the way you handle a pitcher like a bludgeon and solve problems with purgatives, I don’t want to be your enemy.”

  Apparently that reminded her that he might be her family’s enemy, because she dropped her gaze to her hands. “So you really did come after me because you were worried about me?”

  “No.” When her head snapped up, he added fiercely, “I came because I was sick with worry about you. It had nothing to do with Dolly or Theo Frier.” His gaze locked with hers. “And they sure as hell have nothing to do with why I’m taking you to Gretna Green. Marrying a woman to help an investigation goes beyond the call of duty even for me.”

  “So you’re doing it because you feel guilty and think you should save me from ruin.”

  He shook his head. “I’m doing it because I want you.”

  She sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes widening.

  “I’ve wanted you since the day I saw you standing in that hallway. I told myself that the kisses and caresses were just a means to an end, but when I had you alone on that xebec, my investigation was not in my mind, believe me. And that day at the tea, when you threatened never to kiss me again, all I wanted was to drag you back into that study, lay you down on the floor, and make love to you until you admitted that you want me, too.”

  He leaned forward to clasp her hands. “God help me if I’m wrong, Amelia, but I’m sure that you do want me. It wasn’t all lies between us, was it?”

  “No,” she breathed.

  “And if a man like me takes a highfalutin English lady to his bed without marrying her, it’ll cause a big outcry. Hell, they might even hang me.” He flashed her a rueful smile. “Doesn’t leave me much choice, does it?”

  “As usual, Lucas,” she said bitterly, “you misunderstand English society entirely. Now that I’m ruined, no one will squawk about your taking a ‘highfalutin English lady’ to your bed. They’ll assume that I’d leap at the chance to be your mistress.”

  “I don’t want a mistress.” When she tried to pull her hands free, he only held them tighter. “Marry me, Amelia.”

  “And what happens when you try to carry my stepmother off to America?”

  “I thought you said she’s innocent.”

  “She is!”

  He shrugged. “Then there’s no problem. I’ll meet her, set this whole thing straight, and that’ll be the end of it.” He released Amelia’s hands only to haul her onto his lap. When she lifted her startled gaze to him, he repeated, “Marry me, Amelia.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  He cut her off with a kiss, a long, hot, seeking one meant to trample her objections. Only when he had her trembling in his arms did he tear his lips free to murmur, “Marry me, darlin’.”

  When she stared at him uncertainly a long moment, he realized with a punch to the gut how much her answer mattered. Partly because he really did feel responsible for the kidnapping. Clearly the general was in love with her. If he hadn’t felt threatened by Lucas, by a need to save her from Lucas, Pomeroy probably would have wooed her as long as it had taken to wear her down.

  But guilt wasn’t the only thing prompting Lucas’s proposal. The truth was, no woman had ever gotten to him like she had in the past few days. He’d never felt so comfortable talking to a woman, being with a woman. And God knows he wasn’t lying when he said he desired her.

  Once she realized he was right about her stepmother, once she found out the whole truth about the embezzlement, there’d be rough sailing—but he’d deal with that later. Right now, he just had to get her to be his wife.

  “Give me one good reason why I should marry you, Lucas,” she finally said.

  He’d already given her a handful, for God’s sake. And if she was looking for a declaration of love, she could wait until doomsday. He wasn’t about to hand her the key to controlling him.

  But he knew what else would turn her up sweet. “Because, darlin’, I can give you more adventures than any other man you’re likely to meet.”

  He knew he had her when excitement flickered in her eyes. “How do you know I still want adventures?” she said breathlessly. “After my latest one, I might have decided against them.”

  He laughed. “You? Swear off adventures? Never. You crave adventure like a Barbary pirate craves loot.”

  She arched one eyebrow. “You think you know me very well, don’t you?”

  Sliding his hand up to her neck, he caressed her pulse with his thumb as he bent his head to brush his lips against hers, toying with them but never quite kissing them.

  When he had her pulse racing and could feel the eager breaths rushing from her mouth, he murmured, “I know how to excite you, and that’s enough.” He continued to toy with her lips. “So what’s it to be
, darlin’? Take a chance on marrying me and finding a world of adventure? Or be a coward and live a boring life as a ruined spinster in Torquay?”

  “There is another choice, you know,” she breathed against his lips. “I could become some explorer’s mistress and—”

  He blotted out that absurdity with a kiss as fierce as the jealousy she’d deliberately provoked. He made it very clear that the third choice was no choice at all. But just in case she didn’t understand, he tore his lips from hers to growl, “We’re getting married. You’ve run out of choices.”

  She gave him a self-satisfied smile that would put Delilah herself to shame. “Very well. But first I want a hot bath and a meal and a good night’s sleep.”

  “You can have that after the wedding.”

  She eyed him askance. “If you think I’ll go another day without—”

  “Another hour, more like. Why do you think Pomeroy was so furious? He missed reaching Gretna Green by just a couple of hours.”

  She gaped at him.

  “And I won’t take the chance that he’ll change his mind and come after you, so we’ll be married first. There will be plenty of time for breakfast and bath and bed afterward.”

  Her expression softened as she reached up to caress his cheek, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you for coming after me. For whatever reason.”

  “You’re welcome.” He turned his lips into her hand to kiss it.

  But when he then kissed her wrist and her arm, and headed further inland, she scrambled from his lap with a laugh and crossed to sit on the seat.

  “Not until after we’re married, sir. And definitely not until after I’ve had a bath and a meal. And I can remove this cursed corset.”

  He let his gaze drift down to where her breasts were pushed up so high. For the first time, he noticed just how provocative her gown was. “Is that what you were wearing when Pomeroy kidnapped you?”

  Strangely enough, she blushed. “I had a cape to go over it while I was in the coach, but yes, I headed to the Kirkwoods’ wearing this. Why?”

 

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