He raised her fingers to his lips. “Camilla, please understand. I can’t visit you any longer.”
“Because I… love you?”
“Because I can never love anyone. I’m… sorry.” Valcour stood up, grateful for the ice that encased his heart. It almost saved him from feeling Camilla’s pain.
He was just starting to walk away when a timid rap sounded at the door. Camilla recovered herself with great dignity, looking unruffled as she glided over to open the door. “What is it?”
An apple-cheeked maid from Cornwall bobbed a curtsy, her face washing scarlet as her gaze flicked to the disheveled bed.
“Pardon, miss, but… but there be a lady here to see… see his lordship at once. She looks desperate pale, miss, an’ she’s crying.”
“Who the devil?” Valcour demanded.
“It be your lady mother, my lord. Lady Catherine St. Cyr.”
Valcour paled. His mother? Here? The very thought of her tracing him to his mistress’s residence was enough to make Dominic’s jaw clench, alarm bells jangling in his head. He strode down the stairway and into Camilla’s green salon.
Catherine St. Cyr paced before the fireplace, wringing her hands, her eyes like those of a doe run to ground. Her soft hair clung about her face, damp with rain. Her gown was soaked through. Whatever calamity had occurred, it was so upsetting she hadn’t even stopped to grab a cloak.
He had seen his mother distraught before. He had seen her terrified and hurt and heartbroken. But only one other time in his life had he seen the wild grief and terror that was in her eyes at that moment. Then he had been a horrified boy. Now even though he was a man, he felt his heart race.
“My God, madam, what is it?”
She ran to him, sobbing, her shaking fingers knotting in his shirtfront. “You must stop them, Dominic! Sweet God in heaven, this is all my fault!”
Dominic grasped her by the arms, afraid she was going to collapse. “Of course I shall stop them if it distresses you, whoever they might be. But you must tell me what happened.”
“It’s Aubrey. He… Dominic, he’s disappeared with that girl!”
Dominic’s gut clenched, and he was stunned at the sensation that shot through him, a swift shaft of murderous rage and something akin to fear.
“Her guardian is crazed with fury. I’m afraid he’ll—he’ll do something drastic. One of the grooms overheard that they were heading toward Scotland in Aubrey’s curricle. I think that they mean to elope!”
“Elope? Damn the fool to hell! Marriage to that termagant is just what he deserves. It would serve him right if—”
The agonized sob that tore from Lady Valcour’s breast chilled Dominic to the core. “No! No, you don’t understand! He can’t marry her. Dominic, you know the brooch she wears? The miniature—”
“May the damn thing burn in hell!”
Lady Valcour buried her face in her hands. “God save us, Dominic. Lucinda Blackheath is Alexander d’Autrecourt’s daughter.”
If his mother had suddenly turned into poison in his arms Dominic couldn’t have been more horrified. His fingers dug instinctively deep into her flesh. “No!”
“She told Aubrey it was so! He confided it to me this morning. I was going to tell you the moment you came home, but—but now it’s too late, and—oh merciful heaven! Dominic, what are we going to do?”
Dominic’s mouth curled savagely. “I’m going to find them.”
Chapter Six
Thick black mud sucked at Lucy’s shoes and penetrated her stockings as she trudged along the country road, her stiff fingers gripping the leading reins of the limping gelding. Lightning flashed, turning the countryside a shade almost as sick as the hue of Aubrey’s face beneath the makeshift bandage Lucy had used to bind up a gash in his forehead. And each additional crack of distant thunder reminded Lucy of the sound of the curricle wheel splintering, Aubrey’s cherished vehicle catapulting into the ditch where they had abandoned it an hour before.
Lucy peered through a mist of rain at the blocks of light that grew larger and larger with each step they took. The sign at The Hound’s Tooth Inn promised warmth and food and shelter from the rain. But Lucy eyed the stable that was half hidden in back of the Elizabethan structure.
“We’re almost there, my brave boy,” she crooned.
“I’m all right, Lucy,” Aubrey said in his most noble accents. “It’s not so bad.”
“I was talking to the horse,” Lucy said, giving Aubrey a look of pure disgust. “After all, he’s not the one who insisted on racing hell bent for leather down an unfamiliar road in the dark when it was already slick with—”
“Damn it to hell, we’ve gone over this a dozen times,” Aubrey burst out. “You’re making my head ache!”
“What I’d like to do is box your ears! I told you I could make this trip alone, but no. You had to play knight errant. Then we can’t go on horseback as I planned. You must have your infernal curricle—that ridiculous contraption that’s suited only for impressing milksop fools in Hyde Park! And then—”
“Thunder and turf, girl! Excuse the devil out of me for attempting to help you!”
“I didn’t need your help!”
“Oh, no! You only had the ambassador so up in arms over your last little escapade that he all but manacled you to his wife’s side the past three weeks! If I hadn’t agreed to this mad pretense of pretending to be in love with you, you’d still be sitting at Madam Ambassador’s feet painting swans that look like elephants.”
The reminder of that fateful day at St. James Park only made Lucy more antagonistic than ever. Since the day Valcour had hauled her out of the pond, the slightest thought of the man made Lucy’s blood heat with fury and something more. “The only reason John allows me to go about with you at all is because of the high and mighty earl of Valcour. Because you’re Valcour’s brother, John thinks you’re respectable.”
“My head aches bad enough without bringing up my blasted brother!” Aubrey objected.
And Lucy was dismayed to realize that she herself ached at the mention of Valcour’s name as well. In ways she didn’t dare admit, even to herself. She caught her lip between her teeth, the sting a futile attempt to banish the heat at the memory of Valcour’s mouth on hers, melting her, bewitching her. She trembled just a little at the remembrance of his strong arms scooping her out of the water, carrying her to the grass as if she weighed no more than the cygnet they had rescued together.
Aubrey obviously sensed the source of her sudden silence. His brow darkened. “I suppose you’re thinking that the earl would never have botched things the way I have tonight!” he snapped. “I didn’t overturn the carriage on purpose, you know!”
Lightning flashed, and Lucy could see his face, as petulant as a fractious child’s.
Lucy turned her back pointedly on Aubrey and crooned nonsensical endearments to the injured horse.
“Perfect!” Aubrey swore. “I get flung headfirst into a tree and the one you’re giving sympathy to is the blasted horse!”
“Perhaps that’s because we won’t have to shoot you if you don’t mend properly, while my sweet beauty here…” She couldn’t say anymore as a rain-dampened muzzle nudged her, liquid equine eyes peering at her in absolute trust. A lump formed in Lucy’s throat and she was painfully aware of the exquisite animal’s uneven gait.
“You needn’t be afraid,” she said. “I’ll take care of you. There’s a wondrous warm stable ahead with fresh oats and clear water. And I’ll rub you down until you’re warm and dry.”
“For God’s sake, I should have stayed in London!”
“I told you that before we left!” Lucy impatiently slapped away a fold of her sodden cloak.
“What kind of a man would I be if I’d allowed you—a helpless lady—to confront Sir Jasper d’Autrecourt alone? With no one to protect you? You haven’t any idea what kind of man you are dealing with! And the rest of his family is equally despicable!”
“Sir Jasper is mean and petty
and cheats at cards. He’s a decent enough swordsman, but your brother is a better one,” Lucy said in exasperation. “From the beginning, I’ve been planning to go to Avonstea, face down the d’Autrecourts in their own lair! I can’t just sit about, waiting for Natty to come with news or for the person who wrote those notes to contact me. I feel like I’m going to blast into a million pieces!”
“It might have been more merciful if you had,” Aubrey said. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the devil of a lot of trouble here. There’s no way we can get back to London or to the infernal d’Autrecourts’ tonight.” He made a face. “At the d’Autrecourts’ we’d likely be murdered in our sleep, but at least we’d be appropriately chaperoned while they were dosing us with hemlock.”
“You’re being absurd!” Lucy sniped. “They wouldn’t dare hurt us—not with the memory of your brother’s prowess with a sword so fresh in their memories. And as for being chaperoned, it is totally unnecessary. I can assure you that your virtue will be quite safe with me.”
“It’s not my virtue that will be in question, you little fool! You are the one who—”
“Perhaps you should lock your bedchamber door tonight so I won’t burst in on you, carried away in a fit of passion.”
Aubrey caught her by the arm, spinning her to face him. His face was flushed, his eyes over bright with disturbing emotions—hurt and a dangerous recklessness. “Damn it to hell, Lucy, for miles I’ve been trying to think of some way to put this into words without… without upsetting you.”
“It would take a deal more than a few words to upset me after the day I’ve had. Just say it, for God’s sake.”
“Lucy, it’s past midnight. And you are alone with a man who hasn’t made any secret that he… he loves you.”
“Who has pretended to be in love with me.”
Aubrey’s eyes flicked away from hers. “It doesn’t matter anymore whether or not this began as a game. It’s going to end in deadly earnest. Lucy… I’m going to have to marry you!”
Lucy gave a bark of disbelieving laughter. “You must have bumped your head harder than I thought! Aubrey, I’m soaked to the bone, worried about this horse, and I’ve got bruises on some very particular parts of my anatomy from the accident. I’m not in the mood for any of your stupid jests.”
“It’s no jest! Lucy, there is no other way out of this disaster. You’re ruined, girl. I know you don’t want me for a husband. But that’s the only way to satisfy society.”
“Thankfully, I don’t give a tinker’s snap about satisfying society. As for my being ruined, you haven’t even kissed me since that time at the ball, and then we only kissed for Valcour’s pleasure.”
Aubrey looked at her with eyes soulful as a spaniel’s. “What would you say if I told you that I’ve wanted to kiss you since then? At Vauxhall. In the park.”
“It wasn’t necessary without Valcour—”
“Without Valcour to play audience?” Aubrey asked, his mouth curling in hurt. “Perhaps I wanted to kiss you for other reasons, Lucy. Because I… I…”
Lucy looked at Aubrey, suddenly wary. Surely the boy hadn’t… hadn’t what? Forgotten that their amour was all a game?
No, she wouldn’t allow him any foolish misconception about her feelings toward him. She tossed her wet curls with a saucy smirk. “The moment we reach London, I will be happy to take out an advertisement in the Gazette proclaiming your innocence for all to see. We can tell the world all about our grand scheme to get the better of Valcour—”
The horse gave a startled snort as Aubrey grabbed Lucy by the shoulders. The lank strands of his hair clung about his face, the once jaunty plume on his tricorn drooped dejectedly over his shoulder.
“Listen to me! Maybe we didn’t mean for this to happen, but people won’t care. Do you think the ambassador is going to let a girl under his protection be ruined this way? He’d be scorned by all England! And his wife… his wife will blame herself for not guarding you closely enough. You know it’s true. And the rest of society will be happy to blame her as well.”
Lucy felt a twist of guilt at the thought of the Wilkeses. Aubrey was right in this. Claree and John had barely started to trust her again after the disaster the night of the ball. How would they react to this wild new scheme of hers? If it did indeed spiral out into a scandal, the Wilkeses would once again suffer for what she had done.
Lucy cringed inwardly. She hadn’t wanted it to be this way. Had never meant to repay their kindness with worry and shame. Before she’d left, she had penned Claree a letter of explanation and tucked it beneath her pillow. But after listening to Aubrey, Lucy doubted Claree would take much comfort in the letter now.
Please try to understand, there is something that I must do. I promise to explain everything when it is at an end.
“I’ll simply tell John and Claree that we met with an accident. Apologize for worrying them, and—”
“I see. And exactly what are you planning to tell my infernal brother?”
“What does he have to do with any of this?”
“He’s the earl. Head of the St. Cyr family. He’ll feel responsible.”
“I take responsibility for myself.” Lucy shivered as Valcour’s implacable features seemed to swirl before her in the rain. “If he tries to interfere, I’ll tell him to go to blazes. I’ve done so several times already. He should be used to it by now.”
“Since he was fifteen, Valcour has been trying to crush any scandal attached to our family. He’s not going to stand by and allow it to be said that I destroyed you. And I won’t let it be said either.” There was something almost desperate, vaguely pathetic in Aubrey’s words.
“Aubrey, I can manage your brother.” Lucy gentled her voice. “I know I’ve been lambasting you with my temper, but you were trying to help me. I’m sure His Royal Pain-ness, the earl, can be brought to see reason.”
“Reason?” Aubrey swore. “Every time I so much as mention your name, he looks like he wants to commit murder! He never says a word, but it’s in his eyes. You know those damned devil eyes of his! And that day in the park, the way he looked at you!” Aubrey made a wild gesture. “By God, there were times I almost thought—”
“Thought what?” Lucy asked, the ribbons of her cloak suddenly feeling too tight about her neck.
Aubrey gave a weak laugh. “That he wanted you himself.”
Little bursts of heat came to life beneath Lucy’s skin as Aubrey’s words echoed in her mind.
Even though the earl of Valcour had kissed her to bend her to his will in the garden, there had been something more hidden in the savage power of his kiss. Something in the way his hard, masculine body had branded itself into hers, all rock-hard muscle and intoxicating need. That fierce touch had raised a hundred questions inside her, questions that had only grown more compelling when she looked into those dark, predatory eyes, the lashes spiky with dampness, the strange expression on his face as he had watched the swans glide away.
Of course, most men weren’t overly particular when it came to women. Their desires flamed over this pretty face one minute, this lovely ankle the next. Still, Lucy felt a clandestine thrill at the idea that she had awakened desire in a man as icily controlled as Valcour. There was a place inside her that wanted to tempt him again, push him over the emotional precipice she had teetered on while she was in his arms.
Lucy shook herself. What the blazes was she thinking of? She detested the dark-eyed earl. And at the moment she hated Aubrey as well, for stirring up such vivid fantasies in her head.
She would have been better off walking all the way to the ducal seat of Avonstea—in bare, bloody feet—than to have embroiled herself with either of the St. Cyrs. At that moment she wanted to be alone more desperately than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.
“Aubrey,” she ordered briskly, “take yourself inside and get us two rooms and a parlor, and I’ll lead Ashlar here to the stable.”
“I should take care of the infernal horse. You’re
the lady! How is it going to look if anyone sees—”
“It’s going to look as if you are an insensitive, lazy, bullheaded clod whose brains leaked out when he bumped his head!” Lucy said through gritted teeth. “Blast it, get in there before you faint and I have to drag you inside by your boot heels! I would recommend ordering up a quantity of brandy. As long as you’re going to have a headache, you might as well have a pleasant time before it hits you.”
But instead of returning her quip for quip as had become their custom, Aubrey hesitated beneath the watery glow of a lantern, his face inexpressibly young and daunted. Suddenly Lucy was aware of what the boy had dared for her when he’d defied his formidable brother.
“Lucy, I am sorry. I’ve made a muddle of this hero business, haven’t I?”
“You were going along swimmingly until the curricle overturned.” Lucy forced her lips into a smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”
“There are some things that can’t be fixed. But maybe… maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe…” Aubrey reached up one awkward hand. “Would you laugh at me, Lucy, if I told you that… that you’re the most… marvelous girl I’ve ever known? And the bravest. And that I… I’ve been thinking for some time now that I—”
“Don’t.” Lucy pressed her fingertips against Aubrey’s lips to stop the words, suddenly aware of the heartache her careless game of vengeance might cost this innocent boy.
“Tomorrow we’ll hire two horses and we’ll be at Avonstea before anyone knows what befell us. This will all be like a bad dream.”
“It will be a nightmare all right,” Aubrey moaned, trudging up the inn steps. “Valcour will know, and that will be the end of us both.”
*
Dominic leaned low over the neck of his silver stallion, the rain driving through his cloak, the wind lashing at his face. He rode as if he were one with the storm, the raging of the heavens insignificant in comparison with the roiling emotions in his gut.
God save us, Dominic, his mother’s agonized voice echoed in his head, tightening his sick horror. Lucy Blackheath is Alexander d’Autrecourt’s daughter.
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