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Whisper To Me of Love

Page 40

by Shirlee Busbee


  Springing up from his chair, he began to pace aimlessly around the room, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. At least I didn’t slip up with young Ben, he thought with a malevolent smile. But his smile faded as he remembered that Jacko shouldn’t have escaped his net—Jacko, as well as Ben, should have been currently residing in Newgate! And yet ... and yet he wasn’t so very sorry that Jacko had escaped—at least he knew without a doubt that Jane’s brats were no longer loyal to him, that they had been working hand in glove with Manchester these past weeks.

  Jacko may have eluded his net in London, but it had been easy enough to follow his panicked trail to Lime Tree Cottage, just as it had been easy enough to learn of Manchester’s frantic dash to London and his meeting with Ben.

  Originally, having the brothers thrown into Newgate had been planned only as a safeguard, merely a ploy to make certain that Morgana remained in England. With her brothers locked in prison, Morgana would never go off to America and he would then have had plenty of time to make plans of his own.

  The unpleasant discovery that all this time, Jane’s brats had been in Manchester’s pocket had enraged him, but it had also explained a few things that had puzzled him of late. Their failure to effect Morgana’s escape from Manchester, for one, and for another, the uneasy sensation he’d had recently that someone had been following him—knowing what he did now, he was positive that Jacko and Ben, no doubt at Manchester’s orders, had been stalking him all over London with an eye to his death or capture.

  Deceitful, ungrateful little bastards, he thought furiously, betraying me the moment my back was turned! Once I’ve taken care of Manchester, I’ll teach those two a long overdue lesson! First, however, he concluded grimly, plans must be made to thwart any arrangements made by the Earl for Morgana’s death! When that problem was solved, he’d not waste any more time removing Morgana from Manchester’s hands! A thin smile crossed his mouth. Once Morgana is in my power, all of them—Manchester, Jane’s brats, and the Devlins—will learn how unwise it was, how very unwise it was, to meddle in his affairs!

  His brain busy with schemes and visions of the various methods of revenge he would employ against Manchester and the others, he finally sought out his bed. Devlin, he decided venomously, would have to be taken care of immediately... . And then there was Royce Manchester... .

  Unaware of the vindictive plans being formulated for him, despite his own restless night, Royce woke that Monday morning feeling surprisingly lighthearted. Glancing at the clock and seeing the time, he hurriedly completed his morning ablutions. After donning fresh clothing and enjoying two cups of coffee, served to him by George’s morose valet, he went in search of George, a cheerful smile on his handsome mouth.

  George, who had not returned home until long after Royce had fallen back to sleep, did not find his relative’s request at all cheering—especially when Royce bounded into his room and woke him from a sound sleep, inquiring after bishops! Viewing his disgustingly robust cousin with a decidedly jaundice eye, George pushed himself upright and, leaning back against a nest of several large, down-filled pillows, observed scathingly that there was something utterly amoral and depraved about individuals who rose with the sun!

  Knowing that George was never his best before two o’clock in the afternoon, Royce laughed and, handing him a cup of hot, black coffee, said, “Come now! It is half past the hour of twelve, and the sun has been up for several hours.”

  Sipping his coffee, George continued to eye him with acute dislike. “Indecent to be so lively this time of day! Must get it from your mother’s side of the family.”

  Helping himself to the other cup on the tray, Royce poured himself some coffee from a silver pot and, settling comfortably in a large wing-backed chair of Venetian velvet, proceeded to gently tease George into a more amiable frame of mind. Royce succeeded very well, and by the time George had consumed several more cups of coffee and had, with elaborate ritual, bathed and painstakingly selected his wear for the day, he was once more in harmony with his American relative. They had by now removed to a small alcove where George was wont to enjoy the few meals that he ate at his rooms, and both men had just finished consuming a light repast that had been ordered from the same tavern where Royce had dined the previous evening.

  Able to face the day now, George pushed back his chair from the small, oval table where they had been sitting and, sipping one last cup of coffee, murmured, “Now, what was it that you wanted me to do this afternoon? Something about a bishop?”

  Carefully setting down his own cup of coffee, Royce nodded his tawny head and proceeded to explain his plan.

  The dismay that filled George’s pleasant face was almost comical, and with a note of pleading in his voice, he bleated, “But you said—! You told me just yesterday that you wouldn’t—! Remember it distinctly!”

  “I know what I said yesterday, but I’ve given the situation some deeper thought since then. By your own words, she is a little nobody—no prominent family or powerful friends, except for myself and Zachary, to particularly care what happens to her. If the one-eyed man were to break through the defenses I have erected around her and take her captive, no one would do more than lift an eyebrow.” At George’s protesting croak, Royce admitted fairly, “Oh, all right, perhaps a bit more than that! But no one will really care! After all, she is only my mistress and just some little waif I found in the gutter, but if she is my wife, her position is vastly different, don’t you agree?”

  “Well, yes,” George admitted unhappily. “But isn’t marriage a bit drastic? You’ll be leg-shackled for life!” An expression of horror crossed his face. “Why, if you marry her, she’ll be my cousin, too—have to acknowledge the chit!” He shuddered at such an unpalatable idea and begged, “Think of something else! Can’t have some little guttersnipe as your wife! Corked-brained notion!”

  Sighing, Royce persuasively set out to change George’s mind. It can’t be said that he succeeded fully, but after two hours of calmly and concisely explaining his reasoning and making it clear that he was not going to change his mind, he wore George down. It was apparent that George was of the mind that his cousin was half-mad! It was as plain as the nose on your face that Royce was blithely determined to commit social suicide and that he would eventually come to bitterly regret this rash act and perhaps even blame him someday. But even though George was unhappy with the situation, he helped Royce obtain the special license, albeit reluctantly.

  It was late afternoon when they returned to George’s rooms, the special license resting snugly in Royce’s pocket. Letting George down from the gig, Royce then departed immediately for the shipping office where he had first obtained passage for Jacko and Ben.

  On his way to the shipping office, Royce came to another important conclusion—there was no real reason for him to remain in England. He had come to London in search of an antidote for the vague restlessness and boredom that had plagued him of late and with the half-formed intention of seeking a bride—he had, to his dismay and profound astonishment, found both in the small, slender shape of Morgana Fowler! He smiled faintly. From the instant Morgana had pitchforked into his life, he could readily attest to having not suffered a moment of boredom—quite the opposite in fact! By this time tomorrow, he would have his bride, which had been his second reason for coming to England, and since he would feel a lot safer the farther away Morgana was from the arms of the one-eyed man, there was no logical reason why he shouldn’t arrange passage back to America for all of them. Marrying her was certainly going to give the one-eyed man pause, but putting an ocean between Morgana and the one-eyed man seemed even wiser! Which, he admitted with a wry grimace, is what I should have done in the beginning, if my brain hadn’t been so addled!

  His mind made up, after conferring with the shipping agent, a Mr. Samuelson, and discovering that there was a ship which suited his needs sailing for New Orleans on August the fourth, he promptly purchased several passages.

  Very pleased with his afternoo
n’s accomplishments, Royce returned to George’s rooms. Since Royce’s business with Mr. Samuelson had not taken long, George was still there, having not yet departed for his usual haunts, and in spite of his earlier unhappiness with Royce’s plans, he seemed quite glad to see him. Glad, that was, until Royce indicated that he would be leaving within the hour for Lime Tree Cottage. A crestfallen expression on his pleasant features, he stared despondently at Royce. “Thought you’d stay another night,” he protested feebly. “Thought we might dine together and discuss, er, wedding plans.”

  Feeling sorry for his cousin’s dilemma, Royce flashed him a disarming smile. Clapping him affectionately on the shoulder, Royce murmured lightly, “What you mean is you want more time in which to try to talk me out of it.”

  George had the grace to flush and mutter, “Honorable thing to do! What friends are for—help each other avoid mistakes!”

  “Contrary to what you think, my friend, I am not making a mistake,” Royce replied easily. An odd note in his voice, he admitted, “I really do want to marry her, and if I don’t marry her, I doubt that I shall marry at all.”

  Incredulous, George regarded him. Misgiving evident in his voice, he said, “Think she’s put a spell on you! Dangerous creatures, women! Avoid ’em myself!”

  “Perhaps she has put a spell on me, but if she has, it is one that I am thoroughly enjoying. Come now, wipe that unhappy look from your face and tell me that you are going to accompany me back to Tunbridge Wells. I shall want a friendly face at my wedding tomorrow.”

  George was thoroughly rattled, but despite Royce’s warm entreaties, his firm belief that Royce was making a disastrous mistake, one he could make without him, remained unchanged. Shaking his head decisively, he said, “Come down on Wednesday—after you’ve done the deed!” He thought a moment, then added with paralyzing honesty, “Don’t want the family blaming me!”

  Royce laughed. “Very well. I shall look forward to your arrival then.” A teasing gleam in his golden eyes, Royce said dulcetly, “My bride and I will be waiting eagerly to see you.”

  Looking very like he had just discovered a bug in his porridge, George eventually forced a smile and nodded his head. Royce took his leave and, with mounting excitement, urged his horses away from London and headed them in the direction of Tunbridge Wells.

  Since he had gotten such a late start from the city, it was well after dark before he and Matt finally stopped the tired and sweat-flecked horses at the gateway guarded by the Bullard brothers. The oldest of the Bullard brothers, Harry, was at his post, and slowing his horses, Royce waited patiently until Harry realized that the visitor was his employer and then hurriedly unlocked and opened the stout iron gates.

  His open countenance revealed by the light of the lantern he carried, Harry smiled widely and said easily, “Good evening, sir! Sorry for the delay in opening the gate—didn’t expect you this late at night.”

  Royce made some polite reply and then asked, “Everything is well at the house? No strangers or troubles while I’ve been gone?”

  Frowning slightly, Harry answered slowly, “It’s been right quiet these past two days, but the thing is—John said you wanted to know about anything that didn’t seem normal—think you ought to know that one of the new housemaids, Clara is her name, if I remember rightly, came back from town this afternoon in a rig driven by a fellow of the type that don’t usually take to little country misses, if you understand me?”

  Royce stiffened and asked tautly, “A gentleman? Tall, handsome man with dark hair and gray eyes?”

  “Can’t tell you that—he let Clara down before they actually got here, just down the lane a bit, and all I could see was that he wasn’t dressed like a farmer or such and that he was heavily bearded.”

  “I see,” Royce said slowly. “Thank you for the information—continue to keep your eyes and ears open.”

  Driving away, Royce felt his light mood vanish and he was aware of sudden, insistent urgency to see Morgana. The incident with the housemaid could be innocent, and just because the man had not appeared to be a local farmer didn’t mean that his interest in Clara wasn’t perfectly understandable. And yet ... and yet Bullard’s simple words filled Royce with an inexplicable sense of danger, and while he would have normally pushed away any such nonsensical ideas about premonition, he could not shake the increasingly unpleasant sensation that it was paramount that he see Morgana at once, that to delay could be fatal!

  Suddenly frightened and not quite knowing why, he urged his tired horses into a dead run, the need to reach the house in the shortest possible time taking precedence over everything. In spite of their obvious exhaustion, his horses obeyed instantly, racing down the dark lane with long-legged strides, and moments later, they swept around the long, curving driveway in front of the house. Royce barely jerked them to a snorting, heaving stop before he was springing down from the gig and flinging the reins to Matt. Almost running up the path that led to the house, Royce shouted over his shoulder to Matt, “Treat them well! They deserve an extra ration of grain tonight!”

  Driven by his irrational fear, he leaped up the steps and flung himself inside the house, only to be brought up short by the sheer normalcy of everything. A crystal chandelier cast the soft glow of candlelight over the wide entry hall, and Chambers had been just crossing it, a tray of liquor and glasses in his hands, when Royce made his hasty entrance. Startled at his master’s abrupt entrance into the house, Chambers gave an exclamation of surprise and said, a trifle embarrassed, “Good heavens, sir! What a start you gave me, charging into the house that way!” Recovering himself, he bowed briefly and said politely, “I am just on my way to take the young gentlemen some refreshment in the billiard room, but after that, if you like, I shall have Cook prepare a tray of food for you.” He coughed slightly and murmured, “Miss Fowler went up to her rooms not long ago. I saw one of the housemaids taking up her nightly drink of milk just a moment ago, so I expect that she had not yet retired for the night.”

  It was obvious that nothing untoward had occurred—the house seemed quiet and normal for this time of night—and suddenly feeling ridiculous for getting the wind up over such a silly thing as the fact that a man had given one of the housemaids a ride home, Royce shrugged ruefully. A charming smile on his mouth, he murmured, “Something to eat would be splendid—it is a long drive from London, and I did not want to waste time at any of the posting houses. I shall be in Miss Fowler’s rooms, so you may serve me there when the food is ready. Oh, and send along a bottle of brandy, too, please.”

  Chambers nodded and was on the point of leaving when Zachary and Jacko came strolling out from the billiard room. Grinning, Zachary said, “Thought I heard your voice out here.” Then, as he noticed that Royce was alone, the grin faded and he asked quickly, “What happened with Ben? He is not with you?”

  Royce shook his head, only half listening to what Zachary was saying, his eyes riveted on the handsome young man standing beside Zachary. He knew the man garbed in the stylish dark blue jacket and buff breeches was Jacko, yet he was having trouble reconciling this very fashionable gentleman with Morgana’s rather disreputable and grubby brother. From his attractively cropped chestnut hair and starched white cravat to his gleaming black Hessian boots, Jacko looked to be the very epitome of an English gentleman of leisure. He was a very handsome youth, his shoulders broad and square, and though only of average height, his body was lean and compact, while his very blue eyes were clear and direct, the nose nobly proportioned and his mouth surprisingly sensitive.

  Reaching out his hand, Royce smiled and murmured, “And do I have the honor of addressing Mr. Jacko Fowler?”

  Jacko grinned. “Aye, guvnor, you do! Bloody eyes! Who’d ’uv thought it when last we met?”

  Royce laughed. “Well, I’m certainly pleased that you were able to find something suitable to wear. I must say that I am impressed with the changes!” Teasingly he added, “Dare I hope that Ben will clean up as well once we get him here?”
<
br />   His grin gone, Jacko asked anxiously, “Did you see him? Will you be able to free him? Is he all right?”

  Royce held up a hand placatingly, and glancing around and catching Chambers’s avidly interested gaze, he turned back to Jacko and Zachary and murmured, “I want to see Morgana before she goes to sleep, but I will tell you this much—I saw Ben, and all will be well. I’ll explain more in just a little while. Excuse me, if you will?”

  Despite being obviously eaten alive with curiosity, both young men had to be content with what little information Royce had given them, and reluctantly they nodded and turned back to the billiard room. Royce, the special license suddenly burning against his breast, bounded up the stairs in search of Morgana.

  He stopped at his own room just long enough to toss aside the caped driving coat he was wearing, and then, after a quick and, oddly enough, nervous glance at his reflection in the mirror, he quickly crossed the sitting room that separated their suites. Standing outside the entrance to Morgana’s bedchamber, on the point of pushing open the door, he was conscious of the heightened beat of his heart and an inexplicable feeling that the entire course of his life was about to change. My God! he thought with a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach. What if she refuses me? And something that should have been glaringly apparent to him before now exploded with vivid clarity through his mind. I love her! he admitted with astonishment. I’m not marrying her to protect her from the one-eyed man—I’m marrying her because I love her and want more than anything else in the world for her to be my wife!

 

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