No Other Love

by Candace Camp

  “I know. You must be exhausted. Where have you been?”

  Nicola shook her head. “It’s not important.”

  “You should go to bed. Come, I’ll go up with you.”

  “No. I came to talk to Richard.” Nicola straightened, releasing her sister and turning grimly toward Exmoor. “I have come to beg you to let him go.”

  “Let him go?” Richard gaped at her. “You must be joking.”

  “I have never been more serious. You do not need to do this. He was about to leave the area, anyway.” Nicola moved closer to him.

  “Of course he was.” Richard sneered and turned away.

  “Haven’t you done enough to him?” Nicola cried, tears springing to her eyes. “I know you recognized him. You know what you did to him ten years ago. You ruined his life. Is it any wonder that he hated you? That he wanted some vengeance on you?”

  “What are you talking about?” Deborah asked. “I don’t understand. Richard knows this man?”

  “Yes, he knows him. ‘The Gentleman’ is Gil Martin.”

  “Gil Martin?” Deborah repeated blankly.

  “Yes. Granny Rose’s grandson.”

  Deborah drew in her breath sharply. “No! Gil? The boy that Mother—”

  She stopped abruptly. Nicola turned to her, curiosity aroused. “That Mother what? What did Mother ever have to do with Gil?”

  Deborah looked uncomfortable, and she glanced toward her husband. He simply folded his arms and gazed back at her sardonically.

  “Yes, Deborah, why don’t you tell your sister about what your mother had to do with Gil? What you had to do with it.”

  “You?” Nicola took a step toward Deborah, her hand going to her sister’s arm. “You had something to do with Gil? And Mother? Tell me, Deborah.”

  Deborah looked away. “I…you were locked in your room, and one of the maids, Mary Broughton—you know, the girl you usually used as your personal maid—brought a letter to me. She said you wouldn’t answer her, and Granny Rose had given her this letter for you. Granny Rose had come to Buckminster Hall to see you—with this letter.”

  “What—what did you do with it?”

  “I didn’t know what to do with it, so finally I—I read it.” She blushed and looked at Nicola a little defiantly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what was in it, and I thought I would see if it was something important, something you would want to be disturbed for, or just some little something Granny Rose wanted of you. Then I—I saw that the letter was really from Granny’s grandson and—and it scared me. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid that you would run away and marry a stable boy! It would have been a terrible scandal and I would never have seen you again. I knew Mother would go into a horrid decline. The family would have been disgraced.” She looked away and added softly, “I knew that no one would ever want to marry me, with a scandal attached to our name.”

  “No one? You mean Richard.”

  Deborah nodded, looking wretched. “I am sorry, Nicola. I was young and—and I had no idea. You had never spoken of him.”

  “Of course not. I knew how you and Mother would have reacted.”

  “But I didn’t know how much you loved him. I thought it was just calf love. Shallow and quickly gone. I didn’t know that you would never marry. That you would be so unhappy and go off to London to live. And then…when I saw how you felt, I was afraid to tell you.”

  “So you gave the letter to Mother?”

  “Yes. She sent a note to Richard, and he came around. They talked. I didn’t hear what was said. But Richard left, and we never heard from Gil Martin again.”

  “No. You wouldn’t have. Richard gave him to a press gang, and they threw him into the hold of a naval ship.”

  Deborah’s eyes widened. “No! Oh, Nicola…”

  “Yes. A rather severe punishment, don’t you think, for loving someone above his station. But, then, that wasn’t the reason, was it, Richard?” Nicola swung back to him, her face hard and her eyes fiery. “You put him into servitude in the navy because he had taken the woman you wanted for yourself. Isn’t that right? He had thwarted you. So you punished him—and punished him further by telling him that I was the one who had turned him over to you. You weren’t content with sending him into hell. You had to break his heart, as well.”

  “Did you honestly think I would let him have you?” Richard thundered. “That I would let that—that scum touch you? Possess you? You were mine!”

  “I was never yours!” Nicola shot back. “You would have known that if you hadn’t been so arrogant. I never gave you the least encouragement. I let you know in a hundred different ways that I did not want you, but you would never acknowledge them.”

  “I knew you would have—if only he hadn’t been in the way. It was all because of him. You were the only woman for me, the only woman I have ever loved! And that blackguard stole you from me!”

  Deborah drew in her breath in a sharp hiss at his words. Nicola swung around. Deborah was pale, devastated by her husband’s harsh words.

  “Richard?” she asked tremulously, like a lost child. Her eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill over. “What do you mean? Did you never love me?”

  “Oh, Christ!” Richard exclaimed in disgust, swinging out his hand and sending a vase toppling off a table. “Must you forever be mewling and whining? Of course I did not love you! Only a fool like you would have thought so! And I was a fool for having thought that you could replace her. Because you were her sister, I thought you must be like her, that you would have her wit and grace and spirit. I looked past all the insipid girlish airs and the foolish coquettry. When you were married to me, when you were older, I thought you would be like her. But you were not. You couldn’t even bear me an heir! You were useless! It didn’t even make her jealous.”

  Tears streamed from Deborah’s eyes, and she brought her hands up to hide her face as, sobbing, she sank into a chair.

  He turned to Nicola, saying bitterly, “Why didn’t you see what you had missed? I was sure you would regret your decision, would burn at seeing your sister have all the things that you could have had—money, Tidings, power!”

  “I didn’t want those things. All I wanted was the man I loved,” Nicola replied fiercely. “You were a fool. You still are. Your wife is the only woman who loves you. Don’t you know that? Look at how you treat her!”

  Richard glanced at Deborah’s huddled, weeping form and waved her away. “Do you think I care for that? She is a weak, sodden, missish girl. What do I care if she loves me? She isn’t you! It was always you—you who plagued my dreams, who drove me wild. You were the woman I loved. She was nothing but a bad substitute.”

  “Love? You didn’t love me! You wouldn’t have the least idea how to love anyone. Your pride was wounded, perhaps. You were obsessed with the one thing you could not get by fair means or foul. That is the only reason why you wanted me. You didn’t love me. The only person you love is yourself!”

  “I should have turned you over to the constable, too! I wish to God I had.”

  “You would never do that. Then you wouldn’t have been able to hurt Jack again. You had to trick him into thinking that I had betrayed him, make him hate me again. You would never have passed up that opportunity just for the sake of putting me in gaol. You are evil, Richard. I know you, and you are black to the core.”

  “Then leave!” he shouted. “Get out of my house. Go live with your beloved aunt—or maybe the Dowager Countess! You’re thick as thieves with her now, aren’t you?”

  “Don’t worry. I am leaving. I could not stay in the same house with you. You taint everything.” She turned toward her sister. “I am sorry, Deborah. I know I promised you I would stay with you. But I cannot. I cannot live under the same roof with this monster.”

  She turned and started toward the door. Her sister’s voice stopped her.

  “No, wait!” Nicola turned back. Deborah looked at Nicola pleadingly, holding out her hand. “Wait,” she said again. “I am lea
ving with you.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IF NICOLA’S COUSIN AND AUNT, OR ANY OF their assorted guests, found anything peculiar about Nicola, her sister and their former nurse arriving with a few bags of their clothes piled on top of the carriage just as the Buckminsters and their company were sitting down to breakfast, they were all far too polite to say so. Aunt Adelaide was in the midst of describing in great detail the matching pair that she was purchasing for her future daughter-in-law when the butler ushered in her two nieces, his perfectly even voice indicating none of the surprise he had felt when he saw Miss Falcourt and Lady Exmoor, both looking a trifle bedraggled, standing on the doorstep of Buckminster Hall.

  Aunt Adelaide, her mind still on the horses, smiled with real pleasure and said, “Nicola! Deborah! Come in. Sit down. How wonderful to see you. Would you like breakfast? Huggins, lay another two places.”

  “Thank you, Aunt, but no, please, if Deborah and I could just go to our rooms—that is—” Nicola broke off, glancing at the three guests awkwardly.

  The two men, Lord Thorpe and Lord Lambeth, regarded them with British aplomb, not even raising an eyebrow at their sudden intrusion. The third person, Lady Thorpe, had been raised an American and was a great deal more forthright than the others. She stood up quickly, going over to the women.

  “Nicola. Are you all right? What’s happened?” Alexandra was a tall woman, with a statuesque figure, a cloud of dark curling hair and one of the most beautiful faces in the country. She could present an imposing figure, especially given her often blunt speech and unreserved American ways. However, she also had a kind heart and a ready warmth, and now she curved her arm around Nicola’s shoulders, saying sympathetically, “You look all done in. I am sure you must need to rest.”

  “Yes, of course,” Aunt Adelaide agreed. “You do look tired. No one’s in your old rooms. Huggins, take them up.”

  “Thank you. I am sorry. I would like to rest, and Deborah is exhausted.” Deborah, who had gotten little sleep the night before, having spent it pacing and worrying about her sister, and who had cried all the way over to Buckminster Hall in the carriage, was slumped against Nicola.

  “Of course. Here, I’ll help you,” Alexandra said. With her usual efficiency, she took over, hustling the other women upstairs and putting them to bed, introducing herself to Deborah as she did so and carefully avoiding any prying questions about their disheveled appearance.

  Once Alexandra had Deborah settled in her old room, with Nurse to care for her, she took Nicola to her room and helped her out of her dress and into bed, sending the maid for a pitcher of water and a glass, as well as a bite of breakfast. Then she sat down on the bed beside Nicola and looked her in the eye.

  “What happened? It’s Exmoor, isn’t it? What has he done this time?”

  Alexandra was not as close a friend to Nicola as Penelope or Marianne. Although she was Marianne’s sister and the Countess’s granddaughter, she had arrived in England only a few months ago. During the time that Nicola had met Marianne, Alexandra had been on her honeymoon in Europe with Sebastian. However, she had a friendly, frank way that put Nicola at ease, and Nicola suspected that if she spent any time around her, she would grow to like her as much as she liked Marianne. She was also not one to mince words about a topic, a quality that Nicola admired. Alexandra went straight to the heart of a matter.

  Nicola found herself pouring out the entire story of what had happened, starting with her love for the stable boy and Richard’s wicked interference. When she reached the part about the highwayman, Alexandra exclaimed, “The highwayman? Our highwayman?”

  Nicola stared. “That is what Marianne said. How is he your highwayman?”

  “He helped Thorpe and me. Remember that balloon ride we got trapped on? He was the one who gave us shelter that night.” She grinned impishly. “Of course, he managed to take Thorpe’s wallet, too, which I don’t think he has yet forgiven. We had to ride the mail coach all the way back to London.”

  Nicola smiled, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. “That sounds like Jack. Oh, Alexandra, what am I to do? I love him! And he’s in gaol—and he despises me, anyway!”

  “Well, tell me the rest of the story. How did he wind up in gaol? I warrant that was Richard’s doing.”

  “Of course. He hates him.” Nicola explained how Richard had tricked her into betraying Jack’s location and Jack’s assumption that she had meant to do it.

  “What a coil,” Alexandra said, when Nicola had finally wound down. “Well, I will make sure that Bucky goes over to this magistrate today and pleads your highwayman’s case. I’ll send Lambeth and Thorpe, as well, for they both owe him for what he has done for them. Three lords ought to intimidate a squire, don’t you think?”

  Nicola smiled. “I am sure they will.”

  Alexandra smiled back and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don’t worry. I will get right on it. You just get some sleep. You’ll see. It will all look better when you have had some rest.”

  NICOLA DID FEEL BETTER WHEN SHE awoke that afternoon. She was at least rested. However, the sleep had done nothing for her anxiety over Jack, and she dressed quickly, sweeping her hair up into a simple bun, and went downstairs to see what Bucky had been able to accomplish.

  She found him down in the formal drawing room, along with all the others. Marianne and Penelope had come over, having learned that Bucky’s group had arrived. Marianne was happily ensconced next to her fiancé, her blue eyes glowing and her hand tucked into his. Lambeth, a handsome man with blond hair and cool gray eyes, was obviously entranced by her. Penelope, shyer and more reserved, contented herself with looking at Bucky lovingly.

  Alexandra, sitting beside her dark, sardonic Thorpe, was obviously teasing the lovebirds with all the worldliness of a woman married three months. When she saw Nicola in the doorway she smiled, saying, “Come in, Nicola, and save us from all this prenuptial bliss.”

  “As if you didn’t still turn all gooey and glowing whenever Sebastian comes into the room,” her sister Marianne retorted good-naturedly. “Hello, Nicola. It’s good to see you again.”

  There were all the greetings to get through, but Nicola was interested in only one thing, and when at last she had said hello to everyone in the room, she turned to Bucky, her eyes intent on his face. “Well? Did you talk to the magistrate? What did he say?”

  Bucky looked uncomfortable. “Frankly…it wasn’t good. I pressed him, Nicola. So did Justin and Sebastian. Thing is, Exmoor’s out for the man’s blood. He is adamant about keeping him in gaol and charging him. Poor Halsey’s too scared of Exmoor to thwart him. Well, Richard is the wealthiest and most powerful landowner hereabouts. I am only a baron, not an earl, you know, and our lands are not as extensive. And Justin and Sebastian aren’t local, so even though Justin’s a marquess and all, his pleas don’t weigh as much with the local magistrate. I am sorry, Nicky. Normally I think Halsey would let him out despite his crimes if Mother and I asked him to, but with Exmoor watching him like a hawk, he doesn’t dare.”

  “I hate that man!” Nicola exclaimed with venom. “Richard doesn’t even deserve to live. It is shameful that he can have so much control over other people’s lives!” She whirled and began to pace the room.

  Marianne and Alexandra glanced at each other and Penelope worriedly. All of them hated to see their friend so forlorn, and it seemed especially awful in the face of their own great happiness. Penelope rose and went to her friend.

  “Nicola…”

  Nicola turned. “No, I’m all right. You cannot do anything for me. I am not in despair. I know what I have to do.” Her face was set and grim, her gray eyes blazing with determination.

  “Nicky?” The look on her face unnerved Penelope. “What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

  “Set him free,” Nicola replied evenly. “If influence won’t do it, then I have to use a more direct route.”

  “Nicola! You’re going to get him out of gaol? But how? That’s illegal!”
r />   “As if I care for that. I’m not sure how, just yet. I have to think about it.”

  “Nicola!” Penelope looked toward the others for help. “Marianne, tell her.”

  “Well,” Marianne said reasonably, “I can’t see what else she can do, really.”

  “Marianne!” The redhead shrugged. “I’m sorry. But it’s the truth. If Justin were in gaol, that is what I would do.”

  Alexandra nodded. “Me too.”

  “Alexandra!”

  “Wouldn’t you? If Bucky were facing certain hanging?” Penelope looked at her for a moment. “Well…yes. But it’s so dangerous.”

  “Quite right,” Lambeth spoke up. “We can’t have Nicola dashing about breaking into gaol.”

  Penelope turned toward him gratefully. “There. You see?”

  “So I shall do it,” Lambeth continued calmly.

  “What?” Nicola turned to him. “But you—why?”

  “The man saved Marianne’s life. Mine, too. I promised him then that if I could ever do him a good turn, I would. I certainly can’t turn my back on him, and I hardly think talking to a magistrate discharges me from my obligation to him.”

  Marianne looked at him, a worried frown on her face, and Nicola thought that Marianne would exclaim that he could not do it. Instead, she said, “But it is dangerous. You should not do it alone. I will go with you.”

  “You?” Lambeth’s brows drew together thunderously. “Absolutely not. You are staying right here. I shall need an alibi, and you can provide it.”

  “But you cannot go alone—” Nicola began.

  “He won’t be alone,” Lord Thorpe put in. “I shall go with him. I owe the man, too. It will be much better with two of us.”

  “Three,” Alexandra corrected him calmly. “I dare swear I am as good a shot as either of you, and I certainly am not letting you go without me.”

  “Nor I,” Marianne agreed. “We shall all four go.”

  Sebastian and Justin immediately burst into protests, and Bucky and Penelope chimed in, unwilling to let their friends go without them. The next thirty minutes were spent in fruitless argument over who should and should not go, until finally Thorpe let out a roar that silenced everyone.