Salvation

by Smith, Carla Susan

  Still playing the role of a concerned relative, Phillip portrayed an anxious expression while his voice took on a simpering tone. “Is it possible? Have you found—”

  “Do you want her back or not?” The question was abrupt and the tone enough to make Phillip stop and stare at her. Something wasn’t right. Hands on her hips, Isabel tapped her foot as she looked at him. “For God’s sake, man, it really isn’t a difficult question,” she snapped irritably.

  “Your ladyship is too kind—” he started, still unsure what he was really being asked.

  Isabel threw her hands up in disgust. “Do not try my patience! This act of concern you insist on portraying is nothing but a tiresome pretense.” She took a deep breath, reminding herself that it was she who had sent for him. Calming herself, Isabel graced him with one of her many practiced smiles. “It is of no interest to me what manner of debauchery you intend to visit upon the girl. My interest is in knowing if you truly want your dear Catherine back.”

  “Of course I do, but I must protest your ladyship’s suggestion that my interest is anything other than—”

  “Mr. Davenport, do you suppose I would not know exactly with whom I am dealing? Your reputation precedes you, sir, and besides”—her smile became predatory—“I have seen for myself the evidence of your handiwork.” Stunned by her accusation, Phillip was quick to realize his lack of protest only confirmed what had surely been, up to that moment, nothing more than unproven suspicion. Now he could no longer deny any involvement in Catherine’s disappearance. As she faced him, one hunter to another, Isabel’s voice became silky when she repeated her earlier question. “What are you prepared to do in order to get her back?”

  Continuing with his charade was futile. “Whatever it takes,” Phillip Davenport told her.

  No more simpering or playing games. If Isabel wanted to deal with the real Phillip Davenport, then so be it. He doubted she would like this version any more than she had the earlier one. But he cared little about placating her ladyship’s sensibilities. Instead he listened as Isabel told him how she was going to help him get his precious Catherine back, and what she expected from him in return.

  Observing Isabel through half-lidded eyes, Phillip carefully reviewed the plan she put before him. Looking for any flaw that might hinder the chance of success. Unable to find one, he grudgingly admitted she had been most thorough in anticipating every possible scenario. He watched her pace before the large picture window, her movements more thoughtful than impatient. She gave the appearance of a woman who cared little for either his approval or opinion of her scheme. They both knew he would agree to her plan. He’d be a fool not to. Brilliant in its simplicity, it would give him exactly what he wanted.

  Phillip allowed himself a ghost of a smile. At their last meeting Isabel had preached caution, the necessity of waiting until the right moment presented itself before striking. No matter how long that might take. But now, it was as if she had decided she no longer had the patience to play the waiting game. He wondered what had caused the change of heart. He glanced across the room and found himself caught in John Fletcher’s unwavering stare. The ability to read people had always served him well, particularly at the gaming tables, but this man was different. It unnerved Phillip to not know what Isabel’s man was thinking. Particularly when Fletcher’s gaze was so fixed on himself.

  “Are you satisfied?” Isabel’s impatient tone cut through his thoughts.

  “Your ladyship seems to have considered every possible eventuality,” Phillip told her. “I can find no defect or weakness in your plan, except perhaps…” He stared at John and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Except for what?” Isabel kept her tone conversational.

  “I do not know your man. Does he understand the use of discretion, and can he be trusted?” Though it was Isabel’s question he was answering, Phillip kept his stare on John.

  “Ordinarily I would break your neck for such an utterance,” John told him, his words clipped and precise, “but to do so would compromise her ladyship’s well thought out design. Just make sure you are at the rendezvous point at the agreed upon hour.”

  “I will be there,” Phillip said, almost rubbing his hands together with glee at the thought of being so close to achieving his desire.

  Isabel took up the conversation once more. “Despite my careful planning, I do need to make you aware of a potential obstacle that has arisen. A wild card if you will.” She searched Phillip’s face, looking for any sign he was reconsidering, but there was nothing to make her doubt the decision to include him in her plans.

  “What kind of obstacle?” he asked.

  “It seems that in the time she managed to escape from you, your cousin has been quite busy. She has found herself a husband.”

  Phillip remained very still. The only outward sign he gave of his rage was the vein that stood out near his temple and the small muscle in his jaw that jumped as he clenched his teeth. He was absolutely livid! A husband not only meant that Catherine was no longer pure, for no man could look at her and not want her for himself, but it was a complication he did not need. Forcing himself to relax and unclench his jaw, Phillip stared at Isabel’s back. It took some effort, but he managed to keep his voice free of any emotion as he asked, “Whom has she married?”

  “Rian Connor.”

  Now it all made sense. Phillip had been wondering what Catherine could have done to earn Isabel’s contempt, and why she would go to such lengths to help him secure her person. Realizing that it was the result of something as mundane as feminine vanity almost had him laughing out loud, but he knew that would be most unwise. Isabel was not the only one aware of whom she was dealing with. Phillip also knew about her. About her dalliance with Rian Connor. The same man who had foolishly taken another as his bride, and who would now have to deal with the consequences of Isabel’s wrath.

  Putting his hand to his face, he covered his mouth as if he was deep in serious contemplation, when in fact he was hiding a smile. Women really were such foolish creatures he thought, even those with hearts as black as the one beating in the chest of the woman he was dealing with now. “Will he prove troublesome?” Phillip asked.

  “Not at all. I am confident he will not interfere with our plans,” Isabel answered. She went to turn away from him, and then changed her mind, facing him again with a soft swoosh of silk. “Tell me, Mr. Davenport, what do you intend to do with your cousin once you have her back?”

  Phillip’s expression changed suddenly, turning hard and cruel. Why should she care? Across the room John Fletcher silently rose from his seat. The change of expression had not gone unnoticed by Isabel’s man, who now glared at Phillip menacingly. Not wishing to provoke the man to violence, Phillip stretched his thin lips into a smile that was more reptilian than human. “Do with her?” he asked, feigning confusion.

  John Fletcher’s hands became clenched fists.

  Arching a brow and keeping her voice as sweet and syrupy as the finest honey, Isabel clarified her question. “Yes, how do you intend to dispose of your dear Catherine once your appetites have been satisfied?”

  The sweetness disappeared so quickly, Phillip wasn’t sure if it had been there to begin with, and now he found himself staring at pure wickedness. The veneer of Isabel’s civility had slipped away, revealing the essence of the woman within. She was a vessel filled with malicious cruelty and vindictiveness. It was something he could understand. He smiled; perhaps he and Lady Howard had more in common than he’d realized.

  “Oh, there are places where my sweet cousin will never see the light of day. Places where those not so fussy will be more than willing to part with a few coppers for the use of her.” He did not need to add that those who ran such places regarded the gentry with suspicion, and Rian Connor’s wealth would not gain him entry.

  “And it is your intent to put her in one of these places?”

  “On
ce I am finished with her of course.”

  The lascivious undertone in Phillip Davenport’s voice sent a shiver of disgust down John’s spine. Isabel however, seemed unaffected.

  “Good,” she said, turning back to the window. “I do so despise loose ends.”

  Chapter 14

  The few weeks leading up to Isabel’s ball were hectic. Rian, anxious to see how much progress had been made to The Hall, suggested to Catherine they leave a few days after the trip to London. Excited by the prospect of returning to her home, their fast approaching departure nevertheless made her remaining time at Oakhaven bittersweet. Not wanting to dwell on all the things she would miss about Liam and Felicity’s home, she forced herself to keep busy and made certain her time was fully occupied.

  Fittings for her ball gown and meetings with the dressmaker were interspersed with plans for refurbishment and redecoration. It seemed as if Rian had requested proposals from every skilled artisan within a hundred-mile radius of The Hall. And all of them had submitted samples and estimates for her approval. Catherine found herself practically drowning in a sea of detail. And it wasn’t just the main pieces of functional furniture that she was being asked to select, but all the accompanying decorative pieces and their embellishments.

  Rian gave her free rein, venturing his opinion only when Catherine asked for it. She had the oddest impression that he was far more content to play the role of financier than decorator. Which was a good thing as money was an issue for her. She refused to authorize any changes, commission any work, until she had discussed the cost with her husband, detailing the amount down to the last farthing.

  “You will tell me if I’m being too frivolous, won’t you?” she asked, worried that the draperies she wanted for their bedroom would be too costly.

  “I promise I won’t let you beggar me,” Rian assured her, approving her choice.

  Now she watched his reflection in the looking glass as she brushed her hair. He seemed to be engrossed with a number of sketches scattered before him on the bed. Like his wife, he too was busy with refurbishment, but while Catherine was occupied with The Hall’s interior, Rian was focused on the exterior. Pausing her brush, she looked at him in the glass. “Rian?”

  “Mmm.” He picked up one sketch, turned it first one way and then the other before discarding it in favor of another.

  “Do you think it might be possible to get the fountain repaired before we return?” Catherine asked shyly. “It was always so pretty to look at.” Separating her thick hair into three equal sections, she began her nightly chore of braiding it while she waited for an answer.

  “According to Edward’s last letter,” Rian said casually as he gathered all the sketches and unceremoniously dropped them on the floor by the side of the bed, “all the repairs had been made, and the fountain is functional once more.”

  “Edward?” Catherine swiveled around on her seat and stared at her husband. “You didn’t tell me you were corresponding with Edward.”

  “Didn’t I?” Rian closed his eyes and put his arms behind his head as he leaned back against the pillows. “Must have slipped my mind.” Through half-lidded eyes he watched carefully for her reaction as she turned back around, her fingers flying deftly through the skeins of white blonde hair. “The affection between you is mutual, I think,” Rian said quietly, closing his eyes. “Edward always asks after you in his correspondence.”

  “You know perfectly well that Edward is promised.”

  Rian snorted. “You cannot blame me for my jealousy.”

  Catherine said nothing, giving her full attention to securing the end of her braid with a length of ribbon. Finished, she came and knelt on the bed, the candlelight making her skin glow through the sheer fabric of her nightgown as she waited for Rian to open his eyes and look at her. He obliged and as always, the sight of her took the breath from his body. He reached for her, but Catherine held up a hand, stopping him.

  “Edward Barclay is a good man and has been a very dear friend to me my entire life.” Though she spoke softly, Rian heard the weight of her words, and treated them with the respect they deserved. “I would like to continue that friendship, but if it is a source of concern, and you prefer I not see him again, then so be it. However, I think it only fair to warn you he will always hold a special place in my heart, and I will never think of him with anything other than affection.” She looked up at him from beneath long, dark lashes and he felt his heart stumble before picking up its tempo. “Make no mistake, Rian Connor; I have no regrets about who I married.”

  “None?” he asked huskily, watching as she lowered her hand. Reaching forward, his fingers slowly began loosening the ties that held her nightgown closed.

  “Not yet,” Catherine answered lightly, shrugging but making no attempt to stop his roaming hands, “but the night is still young.” Her movement allowed the gown to fall open and slip off one shoulder. “What is done is done, and I thank God every day that you came into my life.” Seeing his lips part, she leaned forward and covered his mouth with hers. Kissing him was the most effective way she had found to prevent him from saying something foolish.

  Pulling back the bed coverings, Catherine straddled his hips, gasping with sensual delight as she took him inside her body. The feel of his hands as he stroked all her secret places made her shudder with glorious anticipation, but this night she showed him how attentive a pupil she had been. When he whispered in her ear the ways she could please him, it was with a mix of pride and wonderment that she left him shaking and gasping as he spilled himself inside her.

  * * * *

  It was Liam’s suggestion that they leave for the townhouse a week before the ball. Realizing that in all probability, it would be a long time before they would enjoy each other’s company again, he wanted to make these last few days together memorable ones. He arranged outings to Westminster Abbey, St. Paul’s Cathedral and the House of Lords, as well as visits to Vauxhall Gardens, the venue where the composer Handel had rehearsed his “Music for the Royal Fireworks”. Also included was a visit to Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens with its fabulous rococo rotunda and Chinese Pavilion.

  “Please assure me your itinerary does not include a side trip to see the Covent Garden Ladies,” Rian said, taking his brother to one side.

  “Good Lord, man, do you think me mad?” Liam was clearly mortified by the thought of either Felicity or Catherine being anywhere near the city’s prostitutes. “I think Mrs. Salmon’s wax exhibit in Fleet Street will be our most questionable entertainment.” Rian chuckled in agreement. Not a moment was to be wasted. For the first time in a long while he had his family complete and whole, and he was both thankful and determined to enjoy every moment.

  The journey to London was uneventful, but Catherine could not prevent the lump that filled her throat as Oakhaven slipped from view. It was all too reminiscent of another time when she’d said good-bye to people she cared for.

  With Felicity’s permission she had offered Tilly the chance to accompany them, but the young maid’s reluctance to leave Oakhaven did not surprise her. They had spent the better part of their last morning together weeping and hugging as Tilly carefully packed Catherine’s traveling trunk with her personal items. She was thankful that saying farewell to Mrs. Hatch could be delayed as the housekeeper was traveling to town with them. Leaving the motherly figure behind was going to be especially hard.

  The first night in the city was spent in the same bedroom where she had been brought by Rian a lifetime ago, or so it now seemed. By rights the master suite should have been occupied by Liam and Felicity, but they were more than happy to give up this particular suite of rooms to the ‘other’ newlyweds. Unfortunately it proved to be an unsettling and unpleasant experience. Catherine awoke in the middle of the night, disoriented and wild-eyed, her body shaking and her breath coming in shallow gasps.

  The nightmare had returned.

  She had forgott
en what it felt like to be caught in the grip of such terror because she had not experienced it since she began sharing Rian’s bed. He suggested that they change rooms, but Catherine would hear none of it. She doubted that a different bed would keep the dream at bay, and she refused to allow it such power over her. Holding her tightly in his arms and whispering in her ear, Rian lay back down and the comforting rumble of his voice soon eased his wife back to sleep. This time to a more calming and untroubled rest.

  Listening to the even sound of her breathing, Rian cursed himself for allowing her to sleep in this room. He wondered about all the other times she had awoken from this same dream, afraid and alone, with no one to hold or comfort her. But Catherine had wanted the familiarity of returning to the room she had originally used. Rian did not know whether it was the room itself, or the change of location, that had brought on the nightmare. Emily had confided to him that Catherine had also suffered while at Pelham Manor, but she’d never experienced the nightmare at Oakhaven. And he was at a loss to know why.

  He came to the conclusion that there could be two reasons for the return of the nightmare. One, that Oakhaven gave Catherine a sense of peace and safety she did not feel elsewhere, even when she was lying in his arms, or two, the reason for the nightmares was close to being revealed. It was the last blank spot in her memory, and Rian vowed his wife would never know her nightmare disturbed him as much as it did her.

  No mention of it was made by either of them the next morning, and suffering no apparent ill effects, Catherine was anxious to meet with Matthew Turner, who had not only been instrumental in helping Rian purchase The Hall, but who was also advising her husband on new opportunities for the investment of his wealth. A short while after introductions were made, Catherine decided she liked the dour looking Mr. Turner very much. With a great deal of patience and no condescension, he took the time to answer her many questions regarding the deed for The Hall, as well some of the proposals he thought might interest her husband.