Easy Conquest

by Sandra Heath

  “And a rewarding one to boot. Sir Quentin is a very busy man who is also clumsy with the sheaves of papers he carries with him. He spilled some to the floor, and I helped to retrieve them.”

  Cristoval drew the stolen letter from his pocket and held it out to Jack. “This rather caught my eye, so I saw fit to keep it. It may or may not refer to the disappearance of the money Felix lodged with Sir Quentin all those years ago, but the date—December 14th—made me rather suspicious.”

  Jack cast his eyes swiftly over it. “Suspicious with some justification,” he murmured. “ 'The lady’ must be Emily Fairfield, for it fits too well with the date. And GF must be her late husband, Geoffrey.”

  “Brockhampton is here in Temford,” Cristoval said then.

  “I know.”

  “Did you also know that the unfortunate Mrs. Preston has kindled a flame in his unlovable heart?”

  “Really?”

  “So he informed me.”

  “Did he say anything else?” Jack inquired, sipping the aguardiente and savoring the taste. He’d forgotten how much he liked it.

  “Well, he said he had to see Warrender as a matter of some urgency because he had heard something from a third party.”

  “Something?”

  Cristoval nodded. “Unfortunately, he did not say what this news was, simply that it was information he felt he had to pass on quickly.” He smiled. “Rather like my reason for coming to Temford, eh, my friend?”

  Jack smiled. “True.” Then the smile faded as he thought about what Cristoval had just said. “Still, although we are sure this letter refers to Fairfield Hall, we cannot be equally certain about the reason for Brockhampton’s visit. This ‘matter of urgency’ might be in connection with any number of things. Men like these have fingers in all manner of pies.”

  Cristoval nodded again. “That is true, although a feeling in my gut tells me there is a connection.”

  “Probably. My dear cousin pays his toad well for his tricky services, hm? I have no doubt that Brockhampton received similar sums when he successfully conducted Warrender’s case against me.”

  Jack glanced back out of the window toward the castle and the flag bearing the blue rose badge that fluttered from one of the towers. His rose! His eyes grew cold. “You have no idea how much I detest Rafe Warrender, or how it tears my very heart out to think of him marrying Emily Fairfield,” he murmured.

  Manco got to his feet and joined him at the window. “One arrow or one magic, devil die, finish,” he muttered, bestowing a dark look upon the castle, then going to help himself to some more aguardiente, for there were many times when it pleased him to forget he was Cristoval's servant.

  Jack turned inquiringly to Cristoval, who rolled his eyes, then related the story of Rafe’s top hat. “Manco believes we could bring this whole matter to a satisfactory conclusion by slaying Warrender on the spot,” he finished.

  Jack grinned. “An excellent notion, but I for one have no desire to swing for murder.”

  Manco wasn’t impressed. “Hmm,” he said as he resumed his place on the floor.

  “Have you encountered Warrender yet?” Cristoval asked Jack.

  “No. Actually, he doesn’t even know I am here. He soon will though, because Emily has learned that I am his cousin.”

  Silence fell on the room for a while, then Cristoval spoke again. “Jack, from what you have said, can we take it that your feelings toward Mrs. Fairfield are somewhat warmer than anticipated?”

  Jack nodded. “Yes, damn it, although Felix anticipated it well enough. But things have not gone well in that respect, or indeed in respect of my whole purpose in coming here. I promised Felix I would do all in my power to save his secret family from Warrender, but I have not advanced one inch in the matter of prizing the villain’s claws out of Fairfield Hall.”

  Cristoval looked sympathetically at him. “Tell us all that has happened since you arrived.”

  Jack did as he was asked, finishing, “So there you have it. Emily Fairfield is drawn to me and certainly doesn’t love Warrender, but she seems to think she has no choice except to marry him. Nothing anyone says makes any difference; she doesn’t waver from her decision. And I cling to my welcome at the Hall because her mother and son wish it, not because the lady herself wishes it.”

  Manco gave a rare bark of laughter. “You are fool, Capac Jack. If woman wish you go, then you go. She say one thing, mean another. All women same.”

  Cristoval nodded. “He’s right, Jack, my friend.”

  “Maybe ... probably ... oh, I don’t know.”

  Manco went so far as to laugh again. “Capac Jack in love!” he declared. “Is air here. Pizarro air.”

  “It wasn’t the air that went too far by the river, it was me. I inadvertently reminded her of her problems, and she took fright.”

  Manco nodded. “Took fright, maybe, but not until kiss over,” he pointed out sagely.

  Jack gave a long sigh. “Well, I live to fight another day—just—although what difference it will make I cannot think. She is absolutely set upon becoming Lady Warrender.”

  Cristoval looked at him. “Is that the root of it? She simply desires a title?”

  Jack shook his head. “No, it’s because she thinks she must.”

  Manco was curious. “But why Warrender devil do all this? Why he so keen to marry woman with nothing? You have answer, Capac Jack?”

  “No,” Jack admitted. “Actually, that is what Cora Preston and I have been wondering too. Warrender isn’t the sort of man to do anything for nothing, and I for one do not think he would regard desire for Emily Fairfield as sufficient reason to go to all these astonishing lengths. If she were a great heiress, I could understand it. But she isn’t. She doesn’t even have Fairfield Hall, but merely holds it during Peter’s minority.”

  Silence fell again, then Cristoval glanced curiously at Jack. “What is Cora Preston like, my friend? Is she worthy of Felix?”

  “Oh, yes, Cristoval, more than worthy.”

  “I wish I could meet her.”

  “You will meet her, for she insists that you and Manco stay at the Hall.”

  Manco groaned. “But Manco want go home!”

  Cristoval frowned at him. “Well, you can’t go home. Not yet, anyway. Shame on you, Manco, would you leave our friend here with his problems unresolved?”

  Manco shifted uncomfortably on the floor. “No. That not fair, Capac Cristoval.”

  “Maybe, but I want you to stop moaning. You’ve been nothing but trouble since we set foot in England.”

  “Manco good, say nothing even when we go Bath.”

  “That’s enough,” Cristoval said sharply, giving the Indian a warning look.

  As Manco fell into an immediate sulk, Jack looked curiously at them both. “Bath? You went there?”

  Cristoval cleared his throat. “Er, yes, as it is on the way to London from Bristol. But we stayed only briefly, for it was disagreeably crowded. The season, you know, so we went quickly on to London.”

  Manco gave him a look, but said nothing. Jack observed the look, and also said nothing, but he thought very much. Clearly there was a little mystery here, and he could not help wondering what on earth it was. The silence hung a little heavily, so Jack roused himself to speak to Manco again.

  “You won’t have time to be homesick once you reach the Hall, because Emily’s son, Peter, will be dogging your tracks all the time. He is already your ardent fan.”

  “Fan?” The Indian didn’t understand.

  “Admirer. He is very much Felix’s grandson, even to longing to explore the world, and he is utterly fascinated by everything to do with the Incas.”

  Manco smiled approvingly. “Boy good,” he declared.

  “No doubt, but if you have him at your heels all day every day, do not be surprised. And maybe I should also warn you that he is inclined to stalk anything that moves.”

  Jack smiled at them both. “Well, if you’re coming to the Hall, you had better get ready,
because the carriage is waiting. And, by the way, please don’t forget that although Cora Preston knows everything because Felix was very thorough in his letter, Emily and her son do not yet know about their relationship to him—at least, they may by now, for Cora was going to speak to Emily about it. But I’m not sure whether or not it has been done, so a guarded tongue would be wise.”

  They promised to be careful.

  * * *

  Cora and Emily were seated in the great parlor with Peter, waiting for Jack to conduct his friends in to introduce them. It was early evening, and the candles had been lit. Peter was in a lather of excitement, having glimpsed Manco arriving. The two women did not know quite what to expect, for they had no experience whatsoever of either Peruvian noblemen or Indians.

  The atmosphere between Cora and her daughter was a little strained because Emily felt as if she did not really know her mother as well as she had always thought. Cora almost seemed more of an opponent than an ally, and the revelation about Felix had been one too many for the time being. There wasn’t a chill between them, just a slight awkwardness, as if both felt they had to relearn a closeness they had hitherto been able to take for granted.

  By now they also realized that Peter somehow knew about it already. Emily had discovered this when she took her son aside to tell him what she herself had only just learned. Cora denied having told him, but admitted telling Jack; which left Emily to draw what seemed the obvious conclusion.

  The thought that Jack had taken it upon himself to tell such a secret to her son incensed her all over again, to such an extent that as she now awaited his arrival with his two friends, her whole body quivered with suppressed anger. But she was determined not to make a scene of any kind; indeed she had set herself the task of being the perfect hostess. She had to give herself something difficult to do, something that would take a great deal of effort, or all her rage and bitterness would boil over.

  So she sat neatly in her royal blue velvet dinner gown, a silver silk shawl around her shoulders, toying with the fan resting in her lap. Diamonds sparkled at her ears and throat, and there was no need for any rouge to warm her cheeks, for the glow Cora had mentioned earlier in the day was upon her still, although its cause was no longer quite as straightforward as it had been then.

  At last, footsteps approached, the door swung open, and Peter leapt politely to his feet as the three men came in. The boy’s eyes flew to Manco, Cora’s to Cristoval, and Emily’s to both—then lingered reluctantly upon Jack. With a shock she found he was already looking at her. For a moment both their hearts missed secret beats, then they looked hastily away again.

  Cristoval observed Cora with complete approval. How excellently her mauve satin gown became her, and how charmingly she had dressed her silvery hair, Felix Reynolds was clearly a man of great discernment. Cristoval crossed the room to draw her hand to his lips. Admiration shone in his dark Spanish eyes. “Ah, Señora Preston, how very charmed I am to make your acquaintance.”

  Cora smiled up at him. “And I yours, Don Cristoval.”

  Next came Emily, and both Cristoval and Manco could see why Jack’s heart had been lost to her. The bloom on her skin, the quick glance of her lovely hazel eyes, the slight uncertainty in her smile, all these features served to meet with their approval because they were aware that she could not possibly want them here.

  Peter stumbled over his words when addressing Cristoval, and was completely tongue-tied when it was at last time to address Manco. The Indian had given Cora and Emily polite but perfunctory greetings; Peter he honored with a beaming smile. “Ah, Capac Peter. You and I friends, I think?”

  “Oh, yes, please,” breathed the boy, almost transported with delight at such a prospect.

  Chapter 26

  The Hall was in darkness, except for a night candle on the landing. The faint glow crept along the passage, lengthening Jack’s shadow almost grotesquely as he made his way toward Emily’s rooms. He was still fully dressed, for he had not retired to his room with any intention of sleeping. What he was about to do was wrong, but he had to speak to her, alone and without danger of interruption, and this seemed the only way. He paused to glance back as he reached her door. For a split second he felt as if he were being watched, but then the sensation passed, and slowly, gently, he turned the handle and slipped inside.

  Behind him eyes had indeed been watching. Two pairs of eyes, to be precise. Peter’s and Manco’s. The boy and the Indian had been about to go out, so that the Indian, ever ready to show off his skills, could show Peter how to fish by moonlight. They both wore ponchos, Peter having received his as promised, and on seeing Jack they had drawn hastily out of sight behind the same curtain where the cat had watched the mouse hole the night before. As Jack disappeared into Emily’s rooms, they looked at each other. Peter’s lips parted to speak, but Manco shook his head.

  “Not boy’s business,” he whispered.

  “But—”

  “Boy want fish from sacred pool?”

  “Sacred ... ? Er, yes.” Peter wanted to be able to show Archie Bradwell a thing or two!

  “Then boy hold tongue,” the Indian said, taking Peter by the arm and propelling him toward the landing.

  Jack had no idea he had been seen. He stood just inside Emily’s door, and gazed at her as she slept. A shaft of moonlight pierced the badly drawn curtains at the window, and lay across her face. She looked like an alabaster statue, pale, ghostly almost, and so beautiful that just to look at her made his heart squeeze tight with emotion.

  She stirred a little, and he was filled with sudden alarm at his own foolishness. What in God’s own name had possessed him to come here like this? Was he quite mad? He turned to leave again, but she awakened and saw him. He heard her breathe in sharply, so he quickly faced her again. “Please don’t be afraid, for I mean you no harm,” he said urgently.

  She struggled to sit up, staring at him. “How dare you come in here!” she cried.

  Fearing that she would scream and disturb the rest of the house, he moved swiftly to the bedside and clamped a firm hand over her parted lips. “If you raise the alarm, you will have to explain how I am in here with you. Believe me, I am capable of claiming to have been invited!”

  He wasn’t, but it seemed an excellent way of making her think again. He was right, for she ceased to struggle. “Can I remove my hand without your making a noise?” he inquired.

  She nodded, and slowly he took his hand away. Her eyes glinted with fury in the moonlight as she addressed him in a harsh whisper. “This is monstrous, sirrah! How you have the gall to—”

  "To wish to speak sensibly with you in private?” he interrupted.

  “You call this ‘sensibly?’ "

  “Yes, for we are not likely to be disturbed, are we?” Without asking, he sat on the edge of the bed.

  She edged away. “We have nothing to say to each other, Mr. Lincoln.”

  “That isn’t true, and you know it.” His glance dropped to the throat of her nightgown. The ribbon fastening had come undone, and he could see the curve of her breast in the moonlight.

  Quickly, she tied the ribbons again. “Just who do you think you are to treat me in this cavalier fashion?” She was frightened, but not of him. It was her own treacherous heart that unnerved her now ...

  “Cavalier fashion? Oh, Emily, if you think that, you wrong me greatly. I am driven to this because you will not speak to me any other way. You have made it abundantly clear that you are determined to pretend nothing has arisen between us, but I am equally determined to confront the truth.”

  “The truth, sir, is not only that you are Sir Rafe’s cousin and sworn enemy, but that you saw fit to tell Peter that Felix was his grandfather!”

  Jack stared at her. “I haven’t said anything to Peter! I admit that I knew about Felix and your mother, because Felix himself told me before I left Peru, but I have not spoken to Peter about it.”

  “Then how does he know? My mother certainly hasn’t told him.”
r />   “I have no idea, but given his propensity for creeping around and eavesdropping, I can quite believe he found out all by himself,”

  The explanation had a ring of truth about it, and she looked away. “I admit that could be so,” she conceded.

  “Then admit too that there are other things between us that must be addressed.”

  “Please go, Jack.” It was the first time she had used his given name, and she knew she shouldn’t have done it even now, but it seemed so very foolish to insist upon formality when he was right. Something had arisen between them; it shouldn’t have done, but it had, and it was breaking her heart.

  “I love you, Emily.”

  She closed her eyes. Please leave me, she thought, please leave me so that I can at least try to adhere to the path I know I must take ...

  “Emily?”

  “This will do no good, Jack. I am going to marry Sir Rafe, and nothing, nothing will change that fact.”

  “Even though you love me and I love you?” he pressed.

  She was silent for a moment. “Can you settle the debts Geoffrey left behind? Do you have funds enough to satisfy all the duns crowding at my door? No, you can’t, because Rafe has your inheritance, or so you say,”

  “All I say of him is the truth, Emily. I swear it is.”

  She was silent for a moment. “I believe you,” she whispered.

  “You do?” Joy leapt through him, and he stretched a hand toward her, but she drew away.

  “Yes, but it makes no difference. I must still marry him.” She swallowed. “I would have to marry him even if Geoffrey had left me well provided for.”

  Jack stared at her. “What do you mean? Why would you have to marry Rafe anyway? For God’s own sake, tell me everything, Emily.”

  “I... I can’t...”

  He seized her by the arms and made her look fully into his eyes. “The truth, Emily.”

  She wrestled with her conscience, but knew it was no good. She had to tell him everything, “Jack, it is for Peter’s sake, not just to provide for him, but to protect him from... from—” She broke off, then pressed on determinedly. “From the shame of the world knowing his father attempted to steal secret cabinet papers in order to give them to the French.”