Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘Nor I,’ Lisette stated just as determinedly.

  That was not his intention, Christian acknowledged with frustration. Although, knowing Lisette’s stubbornness, he should have expected it. ‘Were it not for your rebelliousness of nature, then none of us would be here at all,’ he reminded harshly.

  A guilty blush instantly coloured her cheeks, her lashes becoming downcast, but for once she remained silent.

  Christian found that he disliked Lisette’s silence even more than he had enjoyed her outspokenness in regard to himself these past few days.

  As much as he disliked the fact that she remained at Maystone’s side once she achieved her release. Perhaps understandably when his own anger must be so apparent. Lisette obviously did not realise it, but it was an anger born of anxiety, rather than anything else.

  ‘As the young people both seem bent on being a part of this conversation—’ Aubrey Maystone spoke lightly ‘—perhaps we might all, with the exception of your young accomplice, retire to the comfort of Sutherland’s carriage for the rest of it? Away from prying eyes and listening ears.’

  Helene Rousseau gave him a contemptuous glance. ‘I have nothing to say to you.’

  ‘Nothing?’ He quirked steely brows.

  Her mouth thinned. ‘No.’

  ‘Just want the satisfaction of putting a bullet through my heart, hmm?’ the older man said drily.

  The Frenchwoman gave a hard feral smile. ‘I have thought of little else for some time now.’

  Christian could see the bewilderment in Lisette’s expression and knew that it must reflect his own. Maystone had never mentioned knowing Helene Rousseau personally during all these months they had been investigating her and her brother, and yet it was obvious from the conversation that the two had met before.

  An uneasy feeling had begun to settle in the depths of Christian’s chest.

  ‘Dear, dear, Helene,’ Maystone chided mockingly. ‘Has no one ever told you that vengeance invariably destroys the avenger rather than the victim of that vengeance?’

  She eyed him contemptuously. ‘And yet I am the one standing here with a pistol aimed at your treacherous heart.’

  ‘Oh, I did not for a moment mean that you would not kill me, my dear—’ Maystone spoke calmly of his own imminent murder in cold blood ‘—only that by doing so you stand a chance of losing the one thing that matters to you. Am I right?’

  Christian was now standing close enough that he could see Helene Rousseau’s eyes narrow in warning. ‘Perhaps it would be best if we were all to retire to my carriage,’ he suggested mildly, his pistol remaining unwavering on the Frenchwoman as he turned to look at the boy lingering in the shadows. ‘You and I will talk again, young Davy,’ he added.

  ‘She made me do it!’ He stepped forward in alarm. ‘I only went to the tavern for a drink or two that last night ashore in Paris, and—and— She plied me with free liquor and threatened to ’ave someone ’arm me mam if I didn’t do as she asked!’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘To leave word for her at Portsmouth as to where you and the young lady ’ad gone—er—Your Grace. To follow you and then wait for her arrival. I couldn’t let nuffink ’appen to me mam, Your Grace,’ he added desperately. ‘She’s all me brothers and sisters ’ave while I’m away at sea. I mean, I like the young lady well enough, but—’

  ‘You are excused, Davy,’ Christian interrupted wearily, having no wish to hear how much Davy ‘liked’ Lisette. He was also well aware of the methods of persuasion of which Helene Rousseau was capable. ‘But a lesson has been well learned, I hope?’

  ‘Your Grace?’ Davy wrinkled his grubby brow in concentration.

  Christian grimaced his exasperation. ‘In future, stay away from French taverns and free liquor.’

  ‘Oh.’ The grubby brow cleared. ‘I will, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.’ He touched a greasy forelock.

  ‘Just go, Davy.’ Christian sighed, waiting until the young lad had scuttled away into the darkness before turning back to the woman who had put the fear of God into the boy. ‘I trust he, and his family, need not live in fear of any retribution from you?’

  Helene Rousseau gave a dismissive snort. ‘He was merely a means to an end and is of as much importance to me as the flea on a dog!’

  Christian nodded his satisfaction with her answer. ‘Then if we might all adjourn to my carriage...?’

  Lisette had to admit to being baffled by all that had happened these past few hours—these past few minutes especially.

  Helene in London.

  The fact that she and Lord Maystone obviously knew each other.

  That Helene stated she now wished to kill him.

  It seemed to Lisette that everything that had happened these past few months—the kidnapping of Lord Maystone’s grandson, Helene’s anger at Lisette’s...friendship with Christian—a friendship Lisette had almost certainly put in jeopardy with her reckless behaviour—her own abduction earlier today—had all been leading to this face-to-face meeting between Helene Rousseau and Lord Maystone.

  Because of some past wrong Helene believed he had done to her.

  The shooting of Helene’s brother André, perhaps?

  Not personally, of course; Lisette had learned from one of the other serving girls at the tavern that her uncle André had been gunned down outside the tavern in a street brawl. But perhaps a brawl that had been arranged by Lord Maystone?

  That did not make any sense when André Rousseau had met his end only months ago, and Helene’s grudge against Lord Maystone appeared to be one of long standing.

  And if it was of such long standing, why had Helene not sought vengeance before now?

  What had happened in Helene’s life in the past few months to bring about this sudden need for vengeance—?

  Lisette stilled, eyes widening as she turned to look at the woman who had come to the Duprées’ farm and claimed to be her mother less than three months ago.

  The advent into Helene’s life of Lisette, her illegitimate daughter, was what had changed for Helene Rousseau in these past months.

  She was the reason Helene was here seeking vengeance against Lord Maystone.

  If that was true, then Lisette could think of only one reason for it being so.

  ‘If you will excuse my sudden movement, Helene?’ Lord Maystone remarked conversationally as he stepped forward. ‘But I do believe our daughter is about to faint.’ He gathered Lisette into his arms as she began to sink gracefully to the ground.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘You should have told me you were with child.’

  ‘You had made it clear to me that you were returning to England to your wife and family!’

  ‘Which I duly did. But that still did not prevent you from informing me that you were expecting my child. I could have made provision for you—and her—’

  ‘I did not want your charity—’

  ‘And what about her? Did she not deserve better?’

  ‘I did the best for her that I could, ensured she was placed with a loving couple—’

  ‘Would the two of you please be silent?’ Christian cut icily through the argument that had been going on for some time now. Without any pistols in evidence, thank goodness; he could not be answerable for not placing a bullet in both Maystone and Helene Rousseau himself if he had to listen to too much more of their to-and-fro bickering.

  And all the time the object of their argument lay recumbent upon the chaise in Christian’s drawing room, covered with the blanket he had demanded from Evans as he carried Lisette into the house, and still unconscious from her faint at Westminster Bridge.

  Christian had wasted no time in putting his pistol away and relieving Maystone of the burden of Lisette, ushering her back across the bridge towards his carriage, uncaring whet
her Maystone and the woman who was his ex-lover followed him or not. His only concern had been for Lisette.

  It still was.

  She had remained unconscious for the whole of the carriage ride back to Sutherland House, no doubt from fatigue and the relief of knowing she was free as much as anything else. Even Lisette, with her indomitable will, must have been traumatised by her abduction and imprisonment goodness knew where.

  Having subsequently realised, as he was sure she had, that Lord Aubrey Maystone was her father must have been the final straw that had broken that indomitable will.

  Christian had to admit to being more than a little surprised at that disclosure himself. How on earth had Lord Aubrey Maystone, a man who worked in the shadows for the government and Crown, even met a woman like Helene Rousseau, let alone—let alone— The idea of the two of them having engaged in an affair twenty years ago was astounding—

  ‘I did try to explain earlier that I was once very like you, Christian.’ Maystone gently interrupted his thoughts. ‘Twenty-five years ago I was also an agent for the Crown, as you are now. My duties often took me to France, and it was during one of these...forays twenty years ago, for information, that I chanced to meet Helene.’

  Christian grimaced. ‘It would seem that you did more than “meet” her!’

  ‘Yes. Well.’ The older man looked uncomfortable. ‘I have never claimed to be a saint.’

  ‘Neither have I—but I do not believe I have ever impregnated a woman and then abandoned her!’

  The older man closed his eyes briefly. ‘It was not like that.’

  ‘Then pray tell us what it was “like”?’ Lisette finally stirred from lying prone on the chaise, her head aching as she sat up. She felt unable to even glance at Christian as he stood beside the window, for fear of the condemnation she might see in his face that her actions earlier had brought them all to this. Instead she chose to look only at the man and woman she now knew to be her parents.

  A more unlikely couple she could not imagine—Helene so tall and fierce, Aubrey Maystone several inches shorter, and with an aristocratic face that now softened into lines of concern as he looked across at her.

  Her father.

  Lord Aubrey Maystone was her father.

  The very English Lord Aubrey Maystone.

  Lisette had been in turmoil as to who her father might be since learning that Helene was her mother; it did not seem possible, after the fears Lisette had harboured in regard to this English Lord for the past few days, to now learn that he was also the man who had fathered her.

  He stood up now, as if he might come to her, but instead he began pacing in front of the fireplace when Lisette glared at him almost as fiercely as Helene was now doing. ‘Once I learned earlier today that you were Helene’s daughter—’ He gave a shake of his head. ‘I knew the moment I saw you that you must also be my own daughter.’ He looked at Lisette wonderingly. ‘You look exactly like my sister—your aunt Anna,’ he explained at her wide-eyed look.

  Lisette recalled the way he had stared at her when they were introduced earlier. ‘I have an aunt...?’

  He nodded. ‘And several half-brothers and sisters, and nieces and nephews—’

  ‘Let us not become distracted with a list of Lisette’s English relatives.’ Christian stepped forward into the centre of the room. ‘Surely you all must see that this situation is... It is far more complicated than I could ever have imagined.’ Although he did have some explanation, at least, as to why Maystone had seemed so befuddled earlier today when he met Lisette for the first time.

  And it had also not escaped Christian’s notice that Lisette had not so much as glanced in his direction since she regained consciousness.

  Because she felt awkward, having now learned of her true parentage?

  Perhaps because she now felt uncomfortable recalling their own conversation earlier today, when she had offered to become his mistress?

  Or it might just be that she was aware this present situation had come about because she had disobeyed him, and so allowed for her own abduction?

  The former she was most certainly not responsible for.

  Nor could Christian ever have contemplated taking Lisette as his mistress.

  And he was no longer sure Lisette could be held even partly responsible for her own abduction either.

  For one thing, Helene Rousseau had obviously been bent on reclaiming her daughter, as well as seeking vengeance on her erstwhile lover. Christian was now convinced that if the older woman had not abducted Lisette when she had, she would only have found another day when she might do so.

  As for Lisette disobeying him... Christian had known she was upset earlier, after he had rejected her offer to become his mistress.

  Just as he had known how headstrong she was.

  Consequently he should have had more safeguards put in place to prevent her from straying outside the house. At the very least, he should have alerted Evans to the fact that Lisette might attempt to do exactly that, and to wake him immediately if it should occur. Instead, several hours had elapsed—including his lazing in the bath for almost an hour—before he was even made aware Lisette had left the house.

  If anyone or anything was to blame for what she had suffered today, then it was Christian’s own arrogance in having believed he could issue a mandate to Lisette and expect her to obey it without question.

  She had felt so tiny in his arms earlier, so fragile as he carried her across the bridge. A painful reminder of how close he had come to losing her.

  Just the thought of that was indeed painful.

  He had, he realised, become accustomed to having Lisette in his life—arguing with her, teasing her, laughing with her, making love to her. Even after only a few hours of her presence, his house had seemed empty without her in it.

  His life would be equally empty without her in it.

  But if she really was Maystone’s daughter—and the other man appeared to have no doubts on the matter—then Christian knew he had already lost the Lisette he knew. Not to kidnappers, or death, as he had feared earlier, but to the father who would surely now claim her as his own.

  There would be a brief scandal, of course—Lisette had been born during Maystone’s marriage, after all—but she was not the first illegitimate child to have later been given legitimacy when claimed by her father. Maystone was certainly more than powerful enough to weather such a storm.

  And Lisette?

  Lisette had already ably demonstrated her own fortitude.

  She would possibly object initially, but with time she would no doubt become the polished, the Honourable Miss Lisette Maystone.

  And while she might politely acknowledge Christian Seaton, the Duke of Sutherland, at a ball or some other society entertainment, they would meet as polite strangers, would no longer be the Lisette and Christian they had been for these past days.

  Arguing. Teasing. Laughing. Making love together.

  That realisation was enough to bring back the heavy ache in his chest.

  ‘I do not see any complication; Lisette is my daughter, and I will immediately acknowledge her as such,’ Maystone announced predictably. ‘Unless, of course, you are still intent on shooting me?’ He glanced ruefully at Helene Rousseau.

  ‘Do not mock me, monsieur!’ Helene glared at him.

  ‘I am not mocking you.’ He sighed wearily. ‘I am only sorry that my actions twenty years ago have caused such a deep and abiding resentment inside you. You were responsible for the kidnapping of my grandson two months ago, were you not?’

  Her face flushed. ‘For Napoleon’s cause—’

  ‘Not for Napoleon’s cause, Helene, but your own,’ Maystone corrected softly. ‘You no doubt thought to pay me back in some measure for what you considered my cavalier treatment of you all those years ago. You should not
have used an innocent child as a weapon, Helene,’ he rebuked her. ‘I am perfectly willing to pay for my crimes, but Michael and his parents did not deserve to suffer in that way.’

  ‘And what of my innocent child?’ Helene challenged.

  ‘If you had told me all those years ago, come to me after Lisette was born even, then Lisette need not have suffered either!’

  ‘You would not have acknowledged her as your daughter while your wife still lived,’ the Frenchwoman said scornfully.

  ‘I would have ensured that she wanted for nothing—’

  ‘You would not have acknowledged her!’

  ‘I will acknowledge her now. And gladly,’ Maystone assured her fervently. ‘If you should choose not to shoot me, Lisette will stay here in England with me, as my recognised daughter.’

  ‘And if I do not agree?’

  ‘I will of course listen to your arguments regarding the pros and cons of the situation—’

  ‘And then do just as you wish, as you always have!’

  ‘Am I to have no say in this matter?’ Lisette now rose impatiently to her feet, having heard enough from both these people who claimed to be her parents. ‘I am not a sweetmeat for the two of you to fight over. I am a person. With—with feelings of my own.’ Tears stung her eyes. ‘Three months ago I lived on a farm and believed the Duprées were my parents. I then learned that I was the illegitimate daughter of tavern owner Helene Rousseau. Now I am expected to accept that I am also the daughter of an English lord.’ She threw her hands up in disgust. ‘What if I should decide I do not wish to live with either of you? If—if I wish to establish my own household? Separate from either of you?’

  Lord Maystone—her father—looked disconcerted. ‘It really is not the done thing for a single young lady to establish her own household—’

  ‘For an English young lady, perhaps,’ Lisette accepted stubbornly. ‘But I am not English.’

  ‘You could be, and in just a little time.’ Lord Maystone nodded. ‘I will hire a tutor to teach you to speak the language, and my daughter-in-law will, I am sure, give her advice on the correct gowns. In no time at all you will be an English young lady, and it will very soon be forgotten that you were ever French—’