Don't Bargain with the Devil

by Sabrina Jeffries

  And he’d been well on his way to ruining Lucy’s, too. He’d certainly packed Diego off swiftly enough, once he thought Diego might destroy his plans to yoke her to Don Felipe.

  That brought her to Diego. She’d avoided thinking of him, because his was the most cruel betrayal. I love you, Lucy Seton, soon to be Lucy Montalvo. Had he meant it? Or had that been the only way he could force her to marry him? He’d just learned how terribly he’d wronged her by stealing her from her father. It would be so like him to try to fix it by marrying her—to salvage his honor at her expense.

  Why else had he not told her what he’d learned when he’d first entered the room? He’d probably feared she wouldn’t marry him once she realized he’d been duped by her grandfather. And since he had to make it right, as always, he had to marry her, even if it meant pretending to love her.

  She sighed. Could he really not have meant any of that beautiful speech he’d given her? He’d never said things like that to her before. And he’d seemed rather desperate to marry her.

  But then, he was always desperate to reclaim his honor. Just as Grandfather was desperate to produce his heir and Papa was equally desperate not to let him, even if it meant hiding the truth from her all her life.

  God rot them all! How was she to believe anything they said? How was she supposed to know if she even mattered to them when they lied to her at every turn?

  She gazed up into the face of the mother she had barely known. “They’re all scoundrels, every single one of them. You were better off without them. Perhaps I’m better off without them.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you, miss?” asked Nettie, coming up to stand beside her.

  Nettie was the only one she could trust. Look at how patiently she’d waited through Lucy’s fit of weeping and her brooding. “I don’t know, Nettie. I don’t know anything anymore.”

  A knock came at the door, and Nettie headed toward it.

  “I don’t want to see any of them,” Lucy called after her. “Don’t you dare let a single one of those men in here!”

  “As you wish, miss.” The door opened, a few soft words were spoken, and then Nettie returned.

  A female voice said, “I came as soon as your father summoned me from the ship.”

  Lucy whirled to see Lady Kerr standing there with Nettie.

  “Since it wasn’t one of the men, I thought you might like a friendly face,” Nettie said.

  Torn between pleasure at having another woman to talk to and wariness of Lady Kerr’s purpose, Lucy stared at her stepmother. “Did you know about Papa all along?” She had to be sure whether Lady Kerr was friend or foe in this.

  “About Hugh being your real father?” Her stepmother shook her head. “Not until the day we left for England to come after you.”

  That was all Lucy needed to hear. Lady Kerr opened her arms, and Lucy rushed into them, her tears spilling over again. Her stepmother held her close, soothing her, gentling her, crooning softly to her until Lucy could regain her calm.

  “How could he lie to me?” Lucy whispered as she dashed tears from her aching eyes. “To both of us?”

  “He thought he was doing the right thing.” When Lucy frowned, Lady Kerr added, “He was being an idiot, of course. But men can be astonishingly blind when it comes to their women.”

  Lucy didn’t know what surprised her more, that Lady Kerr had called Papa an idiot or that she’d taken Lucy’s side. “How can you forgive him for hiding such a monumental secret from you?”

  Lady Kerr smiled sadly. “I love him. It’s either forgive him or cut him out of my life, and I can’t bear to do the latter.”

  “That’s what I ought to do,” Lucy said petulantly. “I ought to cut them all out of my life, the lying, scheming scoundrels.”

  “Yes, sweetheart, they are that. But I think in their own twisted minds, they thought they were doing what was right for you.”

  “So they’re lying, scheming, arrogant scoundrels.”

  “That, too. And yet I do think they love you.”

  Lucy snorted. “They have a funny way of showing it.” She stared at Lady Kerr. “Do you know everything? How I came to be in Spain?”

  Lady Kerr nodded. “Aside from the information we got from Gaspar, as soon as I arrived here, your father, the count, and your grandfather filled me in on what had happened since you left England.” She smiled grimly. “Well, as best as they could fill me in, between all the squabbling.”

  Remembering how she’d been dressed when her father invaded her bedchamber last night, Lucy blushed. “Did Papa tell you where I was and what . . . that is . . .”

  “Yes. I know you were with your young man. As it happens, the count . . . well, he’s still in his drawers, since no one has thought to offer him any other clothes, and his are apparently up here. So when I arrived, his lack of appropriate dress necessitated an explanation about how he came to be that way.”

  Mortified beyond belief, Lucy dropped onto the nearby settee and hid her face. “You must think me a horrible wanton.”

  “Of course not, sweetheart.” Lady Kerr came to sit beside her on the settee. “But you did choose to share his bed, didn’t you?”

  Lucy’s gaze shot to her stepmother, her heart constricting to see the worry in her eyes. For the first time since Lady Kerr had entered, she noticed the pale cast to her face, the anxious lines about her mouth.

  Her stepmother had worried over her? That was so sweet it made her want to cry again. “Yes, I chose to share his bed. I thought . . . we were going to marry.”

  “And you thought you were in love with him.”

  Lucy nodded. No point in telling her about the first time she’d shared Diego’s bed. That would definitely make her sound like a wanton.

  “Well, then, your behavior is understandable. People in love don’t always behave rationally.” She rubbed Lucy’s back. “Do you still think yourself in love with him?”

  She hesitated, then sighed. “Yes, but I’m not sure I can trust that he’s really in love with me.”

  “If I had to judge from his behavior downstairs, I’d say that he is. He’s ready to throttle your father and your grandfather both, just for hurting you.”

  “My feelings go beyond throttling. Right now, I want to murder them both!”

  “While I imagine that would be briefly satisfying, it’s rather too permanent a decision to make when you’re upset, don’t you think?”

  The dry comment startled a laugh out of Lucy. “Yes, and it might get me hanged. There’s that, too.”

  They both laughed. Then Lucy remembered why she wanted to murder them, and her amusement vanished.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Lady Kerr said, “your father said he’d intended to tell us both the truth once you married.” She took Lucy’s hands. “He said that with your open and generous nature, he was afraid if he told you, you would reveal it to whoever offered for you, and the man might spurn you for it. But after you married, it would be too late, and there would be no danger of the truth ruining your future.”

  “That’s absurd,” Lucy snapped.

  “Think of whom you’ve been in love with for the past few years, sweetheart. You had your heart set on Peter Burnes, and if you had told him . . .”

  “Oh.” She stared down at her hands. “I suppose that much is true. Not only would he have spurned me, but he probably would have spread the gossip far and wide. Although Papa needn’t have bothered to protect me from Peter—even my false lineage wasn’t good enough for him.”

  “Well, I’ll admit we are both grateful that he’s gone from your life. Your father never did like him. But he was willing to put that dislike aside for you.”

  She caught her breath. “And will he do the same for Diego? That is, if . . . well . . . assuming things work out?”

  “You’ll have to ask your father about that yourself, I’m afraid.”

  Even the thought of speaking to Papa made her throat close up. “I still don’t understand why he n
ever told me the truth. Why he couldn’t see how much it would have meant to me. And I don’t know if Grandfather meant anything he said to me, or if he just wants his heir. And I’m not even sure if Diego is marrying me because he truly loves me or if he just feels guilty because he believed Grandfather’s lies and ruined my life as a result.”

  “Perhaps you should ask them.”

  “Why? I can’t trust them to tell me how they really feel. They’ll say anything to get what they want from me, whatever that is.”

  “Yes, clearly they are idiots, the lot of them. But they’re downstairs driving each other to distraction with worry over you, and I don’t think they mean to leave anytime soon.” Her stepmother squeezed her hand. “You’ll have to deal with them eventually. You can’t very well stay up here the rest of your life, can you?”

  “I suppose not. But right now I can’t even face them.”

  Lady Kerr was silent a long moment. Then she put her arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “What if I told you that I have a way to help you get your answers without having to ask directly? Generally, when your father—or any man—is pushed to the wall, you can get the truth out of him. And I think I know how to manage that. Would you be willing to try it?”

  Lucy stared at the woman who, despite her many strictures, had never lied to her, had never withheld the truth from her, and had been as much of a mother to her as any woman other than Mrs. Harris could be.

  She broke into a tremulous smile. “Yes. I cannot go on like this.”

  A look of concern passed over Lady Kerr’s face. “Be careful, sweetheart. You may not like what you hear. Are you prepared for that?”

  Lucy glanced up at the portrait of her mother, a woman who’d been made utterly wretched when she’d spent too long bowing to what her family wanted before fighting for what was important to her.

  Lucy refused to do that. Turning back to Lady Kerr, she nodded. “I think I can handle it.”

  “Very well. Here’s what I suggest we do . . .”

  • • •

  Diego paced the courtyard in a frenzy. His two companions were thankfully no longer speaking, after spending the past two hours accusing each other of everything from bad manners to bad fathering.

  Diego had spent those two hours accusing himself. He should have told Lucy immediately what he’d learned about her father. He should never have tried to manipulate the situation to his advantage. Dios mio, if he could only go back and do it all over, he would do it differently.

  It was bad enough that he’d bungled every aspect of this affair, but every other man around her had done the same. What a shock it must have been for her to learn that the man she’d clearly adored had kept such an appalling secret from her.

  The devil of it was, now that Diego saw how deceptive the marqués could be, he understood the colonel’s reasoning. Or partly understood it, anyway. The man had wanted to protect Lucy.

  So had Diego.

  Oddly enough, Gaspar’s words to him the last time they’d spoken came to mind: Did you ever ask me what I wanted?

  Diego sighed. He should have asked Lucy what she wanted, what she needed. Then he wouldn’t be standing down here wishing he was up there with her, praying that he hadn’t spoiled the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  The door above them opened, and, as one, the three men glanced up at the gallery. But it was only Nettie. And she was alone.

  She came down the stairs and hurried past them without stopping. The three of them rushed after her.

  “Is my wife still up there with Lucy?” the colonel asked. It was an inane question, since they hadn’t left their spot below the door since Lucy had thrown them out. Of course she was still up there. Where would she go?

  “Is Lucy all right?” Diego asked.

  The marqués couldn’t keep up with the other two men, but he called out, “Carajo, girl, stop and tell us what’s going on!”

  Nettie just kept heading down the gallery. “Lady Kerr called for some tea and sumpthin’ for them to eat. I’m fetching it.”

  “Tea?” the colonel said. He glanced at Diego. “That’s a good sign, isn’t it?”

  Diego winced, remembering what Lucy had done with a teacup the last time she’d been furious at him.

  The three of them followed Nettie into the kitchen, hoping to glean more information, but she remained stoic as a stone throughout her errand. She told them nothing, answered nothing, and made Diego curse Gaspar yet again for hiring the damned woman in the first place.

  They kept trying to get information out of her as they followed her back to the courtyard—only to be arrested by the sight of Lady Kerr standing in the middle.

  “Maggie!” The colonel hurried up to her. “Where’s Lucy? How is she?”

  “Lucy’s fine,” Lady Kerr said primly. “She’s in the carriage headed to the ship.”

  They all looked at each other, perplexed.

  Diego was the first to figure it out. Nettie had been a diversion to get them away so Lady Kerr could sneak Lucy out. Hostias! He was a magician, for God’s sake. He ought to be able to recognize a disappearing act when it hit him in the face.

  She was leaving. And without him? Dios no lo quiera! How could he bear it?

  “Our ship?” the colonel asked, his voice pitifully hopeful. “She’s going home with us?”

  “She’s going home with me,” Lady Kerr said. “I’m afraid she’s none too happy with you right now, Hugh. We both think it best that you return to England separately from her.”

  “The hell I will!” he roared. When Lady Kerr raised an eyebrow at him, he scowled. “All right, so I shouldn’t have kept the truth from her. It seemed best at the beginning, when she was young and wouldn’t know to keep quiet about it. Then, as the years went on, it got harder to tell her. I knew she’d hate me, and I couldn’t stand that! I kept putting it off.” He set his shoulders stubbornly. “I shouldn’t have done that, but I did, and I can’t do aught about it now, except make sure that she understands why I did it.”

  He glared at his wife. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll watch her sail off to England, nursing her anger at me, just because you and she think that’s a grand idea. I’m going after her!”

  He turned for the door, only to be blocked by the marqués. “You’re not going without me,” the old man commanded. “She’s my granddaughter. I have just as much right to her as you.”

  “Why, so you can put her out to breed your heir?” Colonel Seton snapped.

  “I don’t care about my heir, you overgrown Englishman!” Don Carlos shot back. “I’ll admit I made a mistake with Catalina. I should have listened to her, should have realized how unhappy she was. I should never have abandoned her. I have paid for that mistake my whole life!”

  He clutched his cane as if it were a lifeline. “First, we found out about her death, and no one would tell us what had happened to her girl. It was hard to find out anything during those years. I thought maybe they’d died together, and I tried to forget about her. I kept thinking my son would give me a child I could dote on—not just an heir but a little girl like my Catalina.” His face hardened. “Only he didn’t. And when he died, and my wife died, I realized—”

  “That you needed an heir,” the colonel growled.

  “Yes, that is true,” Don Carlos admitted. “That is why I sent Don Diego after her.” His rheumy eyes filled with tears. “But then she arrived, and she was the very picture of her mother—”

  “Aye, she is that,” Colonel Seton said softly.

  “And all I wanted was to have her with me.” Fierceness lit his face. “I have no one—don’t you understand? No one to ease me into the next life, to be with me in my final days.” He pointed his cane at Lady Kerr. “You at least have her. And now you’ll have Lucy, too, and I’ll die all alone . . .” He began to cry.

  Diego was unmoved. “What about the duke? You were willing to marry her off to him against her will, just as you tried to marry her mother off.”

  “
No!” the marqués protested. “Ask her yourself. I told her if she didn’t take to him after a week in his company, I’d send him packing. I meant that. I only wanted a good husband for her, someone worthy to marry the granddaughter of a marqués.” He narrowed his eyes at Diego. “Not some jester with a run-down estate who barely holds a claim to a title.”

  “Ah, yes, the estate he kidnapped her to gain.” The colonel fixed a malevolent gaze on Diego. “That’s one thing we agree on, Don Carlos. He doesn’t deserve to have her. He’s naught but a lying, scheming devil.”

  “At least I know what an ass I’ve been,” Diego said quietly. “That woman is the best thing that ever happened to any of us, and all you can think about is who deserves to have her. None of us deserves to have her, damn it! And she is not a possession. She has feelings, thoughts and dreams of her own.”

  He glared at them both. “We trampled over those for our own selfish purposes, and she has every right to tell us to go to hell. I do not blame her in the least for wanting to be well away from us, after what she has been through. So if she says she needs time away to think matters through, then by God she will get it—even if I have to tie you both down to make sure of it!”

  With his heart in his throat, he clenched his fists at his sides. “I may love her beyond reason, but I know better than to think I deserve her. If I am ever fortunate enough to have her speaking to me again, to have her willing to accept my suit, I will drop to my knees and thank God for it!”

  “Do you mean that?” said a soft voice behind him.

  Diego whirled to find Lucy emerging from behind a pillar. For a moment, he could only gape at her, a torrent of emotions swelling in his chest.

  She was the most beautiful sight he had ever beheld, even with her eyes swollen from tears and her cheeks pale.

  “Did you mean it?” she repeated with a hesitant smile.

  His heart constricted at the sight. “Every word, mi amor,” he said hoarsely.

  As she approached, he dropped to his knees and took her hand, kissing it with all the love in his heart. “Forgive me for not telling you right away what I learned from the duke about your father. All I could think was that I had to get to you, had to save you from him by marrying you.”