The Duke and the Lady in Red

by Lorraine Heath

  “Is this all of them?”

  She heard the temper scoring his tone. She wanted him mad, angry, hating her. It would be easier for them both that way. “What difference does it make?”

  “I need to ensure that everyone is paid what they are owed so this doesn’t happen again.”

  He might as well have hit her with a battering ram. Just when she thought it was impossible to love him any more than she already did, he did something like this that made her love him all the more. She blinked back the tears stinging her eyes and threatening to make their presence known. But she could not resist the temptation to lay her hand over his in order to soften the blow of her words. “This is not your debt to pay.”

  “Now is not the time to quibble.”

  But it was. She would hold firm on this. She would not allow him to save her when she was not worthy of being saved. Sitting back, she merely studied him. She knew every line, every curve, every sharp edge of his face. She would miss seeing them in the future.

  “Rose—­”

  “No.” She wouldn’t succumb to his pleas.

  The dark eyes that had so often warmed with passion when he gazed on her now turned brittle and hard. The jaw she had so often kissed jutted out with his anger. His nostrils flared. “We had a bargain, you and I,” he ground out. “You would do all that I wanted for as long as I wanted. I want you to give me every name until I have them all.”

  “You can’t fix this.”

  “I can. Once they are paid, they will drop the charges.”

  She laughed. “I’m a criminal, Avendale. Accept it. Let it go. But I do have a favor to ask.”

  “No. You won’t give me what I want. Why the bloody hell should I do something else for you?”

  Because he cared for her. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t. She didn’t know if what he felt was as deep as love, but it was something. In spite of his anger, his harsh refusal, somehow she knew he would do this for her. “Take my trunk to Merrick. There’s a secret compartment. He knows how to access it. He’ll find the five thousand there. He and the others are to use it to begin their lives anew.”

  “And what of your life?”

  “I always knew that eventually it would end here. The guilt over what I’d done weighed so heavily—­as heavily as the boulders that poor Harry had to carry. I’m relieved, really, that it’s over. I do regret that I was not able to hold to my end of the bargain I made with you. I came to care for you.”

  “Then tell me what I need to know.”

  “And then what? We carry on as though nothing happened? Do you not think this will make the newspapers? Tinsdale will see to it, otherwise those who hired him to find me will not pay him. So your mother will know the sort of woman who has been cavorting with her son. And your friends? Do you think they will be pleased to know that a woman who had no compunction whatsoever about taking things and not paying for them sat among them, laughed with them, and took their money? They will be appalled, as well they should be.”

  “I don’t give a bloody damn! I love you.”

  She felt as though the noose were already about her neck and the trap door sprung. He closed his mouth tightly, squeezed his eyes shut.

  “You can’t,” she whispered.

  He opened his eyes, resignation swimming within the dark depths. “I do. I have for some time now.”

  She scoffed, released a quick burst of laughter. He loved her. She wanted to curl against him, hold him near, but she had to protect him. She couldn’t allow him to ruin his life for her. “What a fool you are. I swear, Avendale, you have been my most successful swindle yet. Dear God, you probably had plans to marry me, have applied for the license.”

  “Don’t, Rose.”

  “Don’t what? Be honest with you? From the beginning you were my mark. I lied to you that first night at the Twin Dragons and I have lied to you ever since about everything except Harry. Do you really think that I was going to stay with you, do whatever you wanted, for however long you wanted? I said those words because I knew you would respond to them, just as you respond to my touch. I never planned to stay for overly long.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am I? Ask the seamstress. I walked in, I walked out. I wasn’t going to order a gown to wear for you. I was ready to move on. Unfortunately, before I could hail a cab, I ran into Tinsdale.”

  “How were you going to pay for this cab? You didn’t have the five thousand with you.”

  “As I pay for all things. With promises.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Be that as it may, they are the most honest words I’ve ever said to you.”

  Eyes narrowed, jaw taut, he studied her. “Have it your way then.” He stood. “I’ll have the trunk delivered to Merrick.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This isn’t over between us.”

  But it was. He had to see that. He headed for the door.

  “Avendale, one more favor.”

  He stopped, turned, and her heart nearly broke at the look of stoicism on his face.

  “Please don’t attend my trial,” she said quietly.

  He gave a brusque nod before walking out of the room. With his leaving, she felt herself wither, felt the tears she’d been holding at bay pushing to be set free. But if she began to weep now for all that she’d lost, she feared she’d never stop.

  He’d never know how much he’d given her, never know that she loved him more than life itself. Never know what it had cost her to lie through her teeth and send him away.

  There wasn’t going to be a bloody trial. If it took every last farthing he possessed, every favor owed, his soul sold to the devil.

  Avendale walked out of that tiny room and into the hallway at Scotland Yard. She’d looked so brave, so stoic, so alone. As though she’d given up on him, given up on them. He should leave her to rot in prison. But he couldn’t because she’d come to mean everything to him. He knew her, understood her. Knew she had spouted lies in an attempt to protect him. It was what she did.

  She knew how scandalous it would be for him to have a swindling female at his side.

  “What now?” Swindler asked.

  Avendale turned to face him. “I intend to find them all. I could use your help.”

  Swindler gave a brusque nod. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “I know where to begin.”

  Avendale suspected that Swindler did as well, but as he had other pressing matters to see to as a result of his position with Scotland Yard, Avendale carried on without him. The three who gathered within Rose’s parlor were shocked, but not the least bit surprised when he announced that she’d been arrested. They were, however, understandably distressed.

  “She was taking too many chances,” Merrick stated as he paced before the empty hearth. “I tried to warn her, but she’s a stubborn one, won’t listen.”

  “There’s nothing to be gained in placing blame,” Sally said, swinging her gaze to Avendale. She’d offered tea, which he’d declined. She now sat in a chair, her feet not touching the floor. She should have looked like a child. Instead she appeared to be a lioness, determined to find a way to protect her cub. “At least now we know she wasn’t running from you but from Tinsdale, the little weasel.”

  Silent as a grave, Joseph sat in a nearby chair, his knees nearly touching his chest.

  “I told her he was about,” Merrick said. “She should have been looking for him.”

  “She knew?” Avendale asked.

  Merrick nodded. “That first night we ate dinner at your fancy house. We weren’t there to check on Harry but to let her know that we’d spied Tinsdale.”

  “We did want to see Harry as well, though,” Sally said, but Avendale was still processing Merrick’s revelation.

  “Are the whole lot of you swindlers?” he asked.

&nbs
p; “Liars, more like,” Merrick said. “When the need arises, I suspect you lie, too.”

  “We’re not discussing me,” Avendale ground out.

  “But we should,” Sally said. “You’re a duke. Get Rose out of there.”

  “While it might seem otherwise, I’m not immune to the law,” he admitted.

  “Then what good are you?” Merrick asked.

  “Merrick!” Sally scolded. “Don’t take that attitude. He’s done plenty for us, but his hands are tied—­”

  “I didn’t say that,” Avendale said.

  Merrick took two steps forward. “Then what did you say?”

  Avendale removed the paper from within a jacket pocket. “I have the names of four men who have brought charges against her. I need to know the names of any others she may have swindled.”

  Merrick crossed his arms over his chest. “Why? So they can tell the authorities everything and she can spend the rest of her life in prison?”

  Avendale briefly wondered what made Merrick so distrustful of every blasted word that came out of his mouth. “So I can offer them restitution, pay them what is owed to them, so they can bring no charges against her.”

  “Oh.” Merrick offered a mulish expression that Avendale thought he might think passed for contrition.

  “How many?” Avendale asked.

  “Think you was number nine.”

  Not as bad as he’d thought. He arched a brow. “Names?”

  “Don’t know that I know them all or even where you’d find them. She didn’t always share everything if she could find the information herself.”

  “I know them,” the giant said in his deep voice. “And where to find them all.”

  Eyes wide, Merrick swung around. “Why would she share everything with you and not with me?”

  “Because I was the one driving her about.” He lifted a bony shoulder until it nearly touched his ear. “Had to know where I was going. I also know all the merchants she said we’d pay but never did.”

  “You can’t remember all of it,” Merrick said. “It’s been years.”

  Joseph touched his finger to his temple. “Remember everything. Everything. It’s a blasted curse.”

  “Well, then, between the two of you, perhaps we can get an accounting of everyone and where I might find them,” Avendale said. Sitting, he withdrew a pencil from his pocket. “Shall we get started?”

  Twenty-­seven days. As she sat on the terribly uncomfortable cot in her cell, Rose wished the days would roll one into another until she could claim to have lost count of them, but despite the monotony, each one stuck in her mind like a sore thumb that throbbed and ached and would never be forgotten.

  Daniel Beckwith had visited with her twice to assure her that his oldest brother would handle the trial “if it came to that.” She wasn’t quite certain why it wouldn’t and when she questioned him on it, his response was “You never know.”

  Perhaps his cryptic words were his attempt to get even with her for deceiving him when they originally met. The first time he’d visited, he’d brought her Harry’s story and she had spent her time reliving their life through his eyes. Perhaps she hadn’t done so badly by her brother after all. The price she would now pay was worth it.

  She heard the clatter of a key turning in the lock. Slowly she rose to her feet. The door opened to reveal a matronly woman dressed in blue.

  “Gather up your things. It’s time to go,” she barked.

  Into a cloth bag, Rose placed a towel, her brush, and a blanket. Beckwith had offered to bring her more to make her stay comfortable, but she had asked him not to. She knew anything he brought would have been at Avendale’s expense and the man had spent enough on her. She picked up Harry’s book. “Is it time for my trial?”

  “You’re going elsewhere.”

  “Where?”

  “I don’t know. I was just told to fetch you.”

  Rose followed her out into the hallway. “Is Mr. Beckwith here?”

  “I seen a gent, but I don’t know who he is.”

  “What does he look—­”

  “No more questions.”

  Rose pressed her lips tightly together. She’d learned fairly quickly that she had absolutely no power here. She ate when they brought her food, washed when they brought her a bowl of water. But she would not complain because her transgressions had led her to this. She’d known they would.

  The woman opened the door. Rose followed her through into a larger room.

  And there was Avendale. She wanted to chastise him, yell at him, tell him to go away, even as she wanted to run to him, fling her arms around him, and beg him to take her away from this. But she just stood there as though she had turned to stone, was a statue that he could place in a fountain in his garden.

  He looked as though he’d lost weight. Lines in his face were deeper. She hated that she might be responsible for his weariness.

  Self-­consciously, she patted her hair, wishing it was pinned up instead of braided. That absurd thought almost made her laugh hysterically. She hadn’t had a proper bath since she arrived. Her dress was filthy. She was filthy.

  In long, confident strides, he marched over to her, slid his arm around her, and began propelling her forward.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Getting you out of here.”

  “My trial—­”

  “There’s not going to be one.”

  Planting her feet, she managed to stop them both just shy of the front door that would lead them out of here, that would take her away from this madness. “What have you done?”

  He faced her. “What I told you I was going to do. I paid them all off.”

  “All?”

  “All. Merrick, Joseph, and Sally helped me to find them. Took longer than I’d hoped but it’s done now. We had struck a bargain, you and I. How the devil did you think you were going to keep your part of it from within prison walls?”

  She studied his beloved face, the seriousness in his eyes, perhaps even a spark of anger. “I told you the bargain was a lie.”

  “I told you that I didn’t believe you.”

  And he had declared that he loved her. “Avendale—­”

  “We’ll discuss everything later, Rose. Right now, let’s get the bloody hell out of here.”

  She sighed. “Yes, please.”

  Chapter 23

  The first thing she did was strip out of her clothes to luxuriate in a steaming hot bath. The water could not be too hot for her. If Avendale hadn’t cautioned her that anything hotter would peel the skin from her bones, she would have gone hotter still.

  “Burn them,” she told him now as he sat on a stool beside the tub. “The clothes. Have them burned.”

  He rang for Edith, who took them away. When he returned, in one hand he held a glass of dark red wine, and in the other a plate with an assortment of cheeses and fruits arranged on it.

  Taking the goblet, she held it aloft. “To freedom and to you for giving it to me.”

  “Was it so awful in there?” he asked.

  “Lonely. Cold, harsh. Unpleasant. But I deserved all of it.” She took a sip of the wine, moaned low. “We should let Merrick know I’m here.”

  “He knows. You’ll see all of them tomorrow.” He tapped a red, ripe strawberry against her lips. She took a bite of the succulent fruit, moaned again.

  “Everything tastes so marvelous, so much richer than it ever did before. I shall never take anything for granted again.”

  “I don’t think you did before.”

  “Not often, but now I shall never take anything for granted.” Especially not him.

  Pineapple was next, then cheese, more wine.

  “As grateful as I am for what you did,” she began, “I never meant for you to pay for my misdeeds.”

  �
�I paid for them with money, Rose. What good is money if it is not spent?”

  “But you had to spend so much. I know what I owed. It must have nearly cost you your last farthing.”

  “You underestimate how heavy my pockets are.”

  “I will make it up to you. Anything you want—­”

  He touched his thumb to her lips. “Tonight you can make it up to me by not mentioning what you owe me.”

  She nodded. She would never be in debt to anyone more than she would be to him. “I’ll return the five thousand—­”

  “That was a different bargain. It’s yours.”

  “I so misjudged you, Avendale.”

  “I doubt it. Let’s get your hair washed, shall we?”

  She’d expected him to call for Edith. Instead he set the plate aside, moved in behind her and washed it himself, slowly massaging her scalp as he did so. She wished she could eliminate the guilt she felt for all he had spent on her behalf. Perhaps it would help if she told him that she loved him, but would he believe her? Knowing how much she owed him, that her debt to him was now one that could never be repaid, would he think she was merely spouting words, striving to flatter him, to bestow upon him a false gift?

  Did he truly love her, or had the words been spoken in haste? Did he regret saying them, especially when she’d said such cruel things to him?

  “I didn’t mean it,” she said quietly.

  His fingers stilled, and he moved around until she could look into his eyes, and waited.

  “When I said it had all been a swindle,” she continued. “That I’d been running from you. It was a lie. As I was stepping out of the coach, I saw Tinsdale. I was running from him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

  She shook her head. “Embarrassment. Shame. I never talked about my past because I didn’t want you to know the awful things I’d done. But now you know. I don’t know why you didn’t leave me to rot.”

  He cupped her chin, skimmed his thumb along the soft edge. “You know why.”

  “You said you loved me and I threw it in your face. Yet still you saved me. You have no reason to trust me, no reason to believe me, not after all the lies. But I’ve fallen madly in love with you, and that’s why—­”