The Leading Lady (Half Moon House Series)

by Deb Marlowe

  “I doubt it, but I’ll talk to Monsieur Chaput and we will keep an eye on the lady.”

  “Thank you, Madame.” Marie bobbed a curtsy and left.

  Callie had seen for herself that Letty had been wearing her old look—the one she always displayed just before she bought a gown she could not afford, ran out with an inappropriate gentleman—or bolted.

  Not this time. This time Callie had come prepared—and she meant what she’d said about handling her sister herself. She would head Letty off before she could cause further trouble, if she had to.

  She knocked on the door and entered at a muffled call. Her sister sat in the bedroom, writing at the small table in the corner.

  “I brought some tea. I thought it might calm your nerves and help you sleep.”

  “Thank you. Though I’m not sure my nerves will be calm until we are on board ship and headed for England. Has there been no word on an earlier passage?”

  “No. Still tomorrow evening. If something changes, I’ll be sure to let you know.” Callie hefted the tray. “Can I set this down there?”

  Letty’s arm shifted slightly, blocking her papers. “Would you mind placing it at the bedside? I’d like to finish these notes.”

  “What are you writing?” Callie asked as she made room for the tray. She’d caught a quick glimpse and could see that it looked like letters.

  “Just a few notes. Things that I don’t want to forget when I have to answer questions.”

  Callie heard the lie as loud as a bell. Just as she had when Letty was five, with icing smeared on her face and dribbled down her pinafore, and she swore that she had not touched the cakes.

  Heart sinking, she fussed with the dishes a bit, then turned to see Letty standing—and no sign on the table of the papers she’d been working on.

  Fear and doubt chilled her. Letty had a history of returning to an abusive situation. She’d lived with Hatch, that unstable madam, for months. Callie hoped it was true that she’d never been hired out, but she knew her sister had been abused. She’d even come to them at Half Moon House once, badly beaten. Callie had been devastated when, after she’d healed, Letty had gone back. The thought that she might be repeating such a mistake now filled her determination.

  She turned back to the tray, careful to block her sister’s view as she poured—and added a healthy dose of the laudanum to one cup. “If you don’t mind, I’ll pour a cup and join you. I could use a few moments off of my feet.”

  “Of course.” Letty dropped onto the bed, while Callie dragged a chair over. “I know this was all a scheme to get close to me and Marstoke—and quite a brilliant one—but I must say, you play this role brilliantly.”

  “Psssht. I’ve merely been pretending to be Mother.” She handed Callie her cup and silently asked for her mother’s forgiveness.

  But were those tears welling in the girl’s eyes?

  “She would be so proud of you,” Letty whispered. Suddenly, her chin lifted. “And I swear, I will do something to make her proud of me, as well.”

  “She would be proud of your plans to turn everything around,” Callie told her. “She loved you dearly.” She raised her cup and took a long draught. Letty followed suit.

  “Yes, she did,” her sister answered after a few moments. “I wish I’d been wise enough to appreciate it.”

  Callie sat silently as they both drank. After a bit, she began to speak quietly, telling Letty about the cleaning solution receipts that she’d used here, and talking of the dishes her mother had taught her that had been put to such good use in the kitchens downstairs. As she’d hoped, Letty’s attention wandered and her eyes grew heavy.

  “Oh, how tired you must be, with all of the anxiety,” she said quietly. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

  “Yes. I should sleep early.” Letty’s words blurred a bit. She allowed Callie to assist her into her nightrail. By the time she’s been tucked into bed, she was nearly asleep. “Don’t let me sleep late. I have to get up early,” she mumbled.

  “Of course,” Callie hedged.

  When she was sure Letty was dead to the world, Callie crossed over to the small table. A quick search and she found the notes her sister had been writing tucked underneath the cushion of the chair.

  “Madame? Are you here?” Marie tapped the door from the attached sitting room and peeked in. “I beg pardon for the interruption, but could you unlock the linen cupboard? That new gentleman what just checked in—he came in cupshot and just cast up his accounts all over the bed.”

  Casually, Callie slid the papers under the dishes on the tray. She sighed heavily. “How rude he is—he didn’t even have the decency to get drunk on our ale. Yes, of course I’ll come.”

  Marie indicated the tray. “Would you like me to run that down to the kitchens?”

  “What? And leave me with the linens?” Callie laughed quietly, came through to the sitting room and shut the door. She placed the tray on the low table next to the settee. “No, I’ll just leave it here and fetch it later.” She left the room with the maid, carefully locking it behind her.

  She fretted the entire time she was helping Marie, and then just swallowed her impatience when young Tom came and asked for help getting Penrith and Rackham to their rooms.

  “They’re three sheets to the wind and fair on their way to passin’ out over the table,” he told her.

  “Where is my husband?” she asked as she, Tom and Victoire stood in the doorway and stared across the taproom at the soused pair.

  “Edgar says he had an errand.”

  “Very well,” she sighed. “Victoire, you stay here and watch the taproom and the kitchens. Tom, we’ll get these ones upstairs, but all we are going to do is get their boots off and get them onto the bed.”

  “Yes, Madame,” they chorused.

  She approached the table. “Monsieur Penrith?” she called in a lilting voice. “I believe you are ready to retire, yes?”

  The man raised himself up. Beside him, Rackham merely opened one eye and shut it again.

  “Ah, Madame Chaput, well met! You’ll tell me, won’t you?” He sat up and leaned back in his chair, running his hands across his belly. “It is a magnificent waistcoat, is it not?”

  She nodded and got an arm around his shoulders. “Lovely, sir. Now, let’s get you upstairs.”

  “Can’t be schpected to abandon such artistry? Can I? I ask you!”

  “No, of course not,” she soothed. “On your feet, sir.”

  It took some time, but they got them both settled in. Callie sent Tom off to his own bed in the stables and headed at last for Letty’s room.

  She met Tru on the landing of the main stairway.

  He looked . . . angry. As he used to in London.

  “What is it?” Sudden panic knifed through her. “Word from Nardes? Is there trouble?”

  “No, I haven’t heard a peep from him, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing or bad.”

  “There’s not is a problem with our passage?”

  He shook his head. “No. The packet leaves tomorrow evening. Unless Stoneacre shows up sooner with a ship of his own. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  Part of her longed for it. She was tempted to keep Letty groggy until they were bound for England—which she should hope to be as soon as was possible. But she dreaded it too. He hadn’t said, but she doubted Tru meant to travel back with them. He would stay here and join Stoneacre in the chase for Marstoke. Even if the earl showed up with the marquess bound in chains, still their . . . association . . . would be at an end.

  She should tell him her suspicions about Letty. About what she’d done to her sister. But what did she know, really except that the girl had been skulking about and had written some letters and lied about it?

  Her shoulders slumped. It wasn’t benign, whatever Letty was up to. She knew it. It never was, with Letty. But she didn’t have any details yet. She had to read those notes, first.

  But Letty was sound asleep and like to stay that way until late
morning tomorrow. And this was their last night together.

  “What is it?” His expression had changed to concern and he stepped closer to wrap her in his arms. “What’s bothering you?”

  “Her. Them.” She gestured from one end of the inn to the other. “All of it.” She frowned. “It’s nearly over. My part in this adventure, at least.” She pressed her lips together in a grim smile. “This is our last night as a married couple.”

  He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Believe me, I know. It’s been weighing on me.” He tightened his grip—and the forgotten package in her bodice crackled.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “It’s . . .” The words trailed away and she merely shrugged.

  Frowning, he swept a finger into her bodice and fished it out. Holding it up, his face cleared. “A French letter?”

  She blushed furiously. “I found it yesterday morning in the back of a drawer when we were cleaning a room. The seal on the envelope is still intact. I’d thought . . .”

  He opened her hand, placed it back there, and folded his own over it all. “I’m honored that you would consider me.”

  “We were so busy in the dining room last night and you were asleep by the time I finished with Letty . . .”

  Defiance and sudden determination rose up her breast. Want flared high. Letty wasn’t going anywhere tonight. Neither was that tea tray.

  There would be no more shared laughter, no exchange of confidences or healing acceptances. No more cooking for him or kissing him. No more tender impatience in bed or secret caresses under the night sky. This was it. Her last chance to snatch a bit of him for herself.

  And by God, she meant to have it.

  She pressed into his embrace. “Will you, Tru?”

  He didn’t answer. She could see the conflict in his face.

  She moved against him. It wasn’t a matter of wanting. She could feel him hardening against her. “I said, not so long ago on that ship, that I wanted to understand everything. And you were the one to tell that what we were doing was not everything. Well, now I want it. All of it. But only with you, Tru.”

  “Callie, I really should talk to Letty . . .”

  “You can’t. She’s sound asleep. And I am right here.”

  “I’m not—”

  She didn’t let him finish. She held up the French letter and pressed the packet to his chest. “This will protect us, will it not? Keep us from . . . complications?”

  “It will help,” he admitted. “But Callie I’m not sure you are going to want me—”

  Again, she cut him off. “I’m sure. You are the only man I will consider. Either you show me—or I’ll likely never know.”

  He made a sound of protest. He was rock hard against her. She moved against him and he let out an anguished groan. Before he could protest again, she pulled his head down and kissed him.

  “Now, Tru,” she whispered. “Before anything else happens to keep you from me.”

  He buried his face in her hair and held still for a long moment.

  Then, like their first night together, he swept her up and carried her to their room.

  Without words, in perfect unison of thought and motion, they kissed and touched and removed their clothes. When they were both bare, he lifted her and placed her in the center of the bed. It was familiar now, and felt almost safe, coming alive in his arms. They each knew where to touch, how to please.

  The difference this time was that Callie deliberately opened herself up. She allowed herself to be completely present and available, in a way that she had not done before. She showed him what he did to her, and let him see her own feelings of power and pleasure when he responded to her.

  Never had she been so vulnerable with another person. Never had she wanted to. It was frightening . . and glorious.

  The old instincts tried to kick in, shouted at her to cover up, deflect, protect herself. She locked them away. Insanity! they screamed as she closed the door upon them.

  Perhaps. No, certainly. She was a little insane and more than a little drunk on desire. And he was beautiful and caring and she couldn’t wait for him to take her.

  When they were both in a frenzy, he paused to retrieve the French letter, smoothed it over his erection and tied the tiny ribbons in place. She lay back and took him in her arms, twisted and gasped as he readied her—and threw her head back as he pressed home.

  It was . . . strange. A tiny bit uncomfortable.

  Clearly he was in thrall to the experience. And as her body stretched and accommodated him, he began to move—and she understood. It was different. So much more. Together they moved and climbed. The barriers between them faded. They had one goal and together they reached for it.

  Her breath hitched as he filled her more deeply than before. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t know I could fly so high.”

  Something tender and fierce warred on his face. “I’ll go with you,” he answered.

  So she let go and they soared together. And she knew that all would be well, because he had become her safe place to land.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I considered the generous offer. I was comfortable there. But a man came around one day when I’d gone to the local village for supplies. He was Lord M—’s lackey. He asked questions about me. It was clear he was trying to track where I’d gone after I’d been dumped.

  --from the Journal of the infamous Miss Hestia Wright

  Tru was quiet afterwards. Solicitous, to be sure, but he threw an arm across his brow and was quickly asleep. Callie curled up against him, reveling in his warmth and letting loose a few tears at the idea that this most beautiful encounter must be their last.

  Anxiety pricked at her, however, and soon she eased from the bed to dress and slip down the hall to Letty’s room.

  She gathered up the tea tray, the notes still tucked underneath the dishes, and retreated to the privacy of her kitchen. Lighting a lamp, she took up the papers.

  The first note came close to breaking her heart.

  Frau Bosch,

  This inn is not all that our gentlemen friends have purported it to be. They are spending all of their time here eating and drinking themselves into oblivion, while I feel as if I am receiving too much curious attention from the staff and other guests. As the villa is currently uninhabitable, I will journey to join his lordship. I am not so unwise as to state the destination in this missive, but I know the high regard he has for you and I feel sure that he has confided his location to you, as well. I ask that you meet me in the second town upon the road to that destination, where I will take a room in the largest inn and await you. From there we may travel together.

  It bore no signature. Callie’s hands shook as she sat at the scarred oak table. Biting her lip, she smoothed open the next note.

  Callie,

  Forgive me for telling you yet another lie, but this time I hope you will agree it is for a good cause. You see, I believe that there is a girl trapped on Marstoke’s estate, locked in a small cottage in the woods. I haven’t seen her, but I have heard the sound of her suffering. I cannot make my own escape without at least attempting to help her—and I refuse to let my folly place you in further danger. A dragon guards the girl, but I have a plan to lure her away. If I succeed, as you have done so many times, I will hide away with her and meet you tonight at the docks. If I fail, then know that I learned something at the last and I am happy to fail trying to be a fraction as good as you.

  Now the sobs came in earnest. How terrible she felt, misjudging her sister. It was true that she had a lifetime of precedent, but this time Letty had indeed changed. It was Callie who was holding on to old prejudices.

  Wiping her tears, she read both notes again. What were Letty’s plans to rescue this unknown girl? She’d mumbled something about rising early, but Callie knew that the dose of laudanum she’d given her would keep her out cold until mid-morning at least.

  They couldn’t abandon another of Marstoke’s victi
ms. Callie would have to take her sister’s place. She stood, intent on waking Tru and making plans.

  But she nearly jumped out of her skin when the pantry/passage door opened and Edgar stepped in.

  “Oh, good heavens!” She clutched her chest. “You scared the wits out of me, Edgar.”

  “Excuse me, Madame. I did not mean it. I saw the light and I thought that perhaps the lady was up and about. We’re to make deliveries today, but she never did come back with the note. Is she ready? The pretty lady with the room over the kitchen garden?”

  Callie’s mind was awhirl. “I’m afraid the lady has been detained. It seems that I will have to take her place.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “But what of the note?”

  “I have it here.” She raised her hand to show him the papers.

  “Oh.” Clearly that relieved his mind. “Well then, it must be fine.”

  “I’ll just get dressed.” She paused and asked casually. “How long shall we be gone, Edgar? How far is our destination?”

  “Not far. I told the master that. We’re to take the note to the villa where the lady stayed before. The one with the rats. But we must be careful, he says, as there are bad men there. Will he be leaving with us, since you go? Or is he still planning to follow?”

  Callie paused mid-stride. Her gut clenched. “What was that you said, Edgar? About the master? Do you mean to say that Monsieur Chaput knows about this?”

  “Aye.” The big man nodded. “But he says the lady doesn’t need to know he knows.” He tilted his head. “Do you know if I should saddle the gelding for him?”

  Tru knew. He knew Letty was headed back to Marstoke’s villa this morning.

  Did he know what she meant to do there?

  Did it matter?

  He’d kept it from her. He’d meant to let her sister walk back into that serpent’s nest—and he wasn’t going to stop her or give Callie the chance to dissuade her.

  And she’d warned him. She’d told him more than once that Letty was her responsibility and hers alone.