By Love Unveiled

by Deborah Martin

  As he strode back to the bed, his intentions fully apparent by the jutting tilt of his staff, she managed to tease, “But Garett, I’m still hungry.”

  He climbed into bed. “I know, love.” His eyes lit with desire as he pressed her down against the pillows. “But you won’t be for long.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The course of true love never did run smooth.

  —William Shakespeare,

  A Midsummer Night’s Dream

  The sun had reached its zenith when the travelers at last halted before Garett’s London house. Marianne stared at the imposing structure, reminded of how powerful Garett had become since he’d regained his lands. Now he held her life and future in his hands.

  Unable to slow the frantic beat of her heart, she watched him dismount. Despite their blissful evening together, she still felt uncertain of what he intended for her. With the morning had come a terrible foreboding to wrap its icy arms about them both. Silently they’d dressed. He’d seemed preoccupied. Only the brief kiss he’d given her just before they’d left their room had sustained her through their somber journey.

  That, and the memory of last night’s passion.

  She’d shamelessly used his desire as a weapon to force him into recognizing she meant more to him than he’d admit, and she thought she’d been successful. But he hadn’t spoken of what he meant to do once they reached London, and his continuing silence throughout the morning made her fear that he didn’t yet entirely trust her.

  Now he helped her dismount, his gaze resting briefly on her masked face before he accompanied her into the house. Fifteen well-dressed servants stood at attention inside the door, their smiling faces disguising any concerns they had about the hardship put upon them by their master’s surprise visit. Unfortunately, fifteen pairs of eyes also followed her with curiosity.

  When Garett introduced her as his guest Mina and made no explanation for her mask, Marianne was surprised. But he was right to be circumspect. No need to make the servants a party to shielding a criminal. As long as they didn’t know who she was, they couldn’t be held at fault for keeping silent about her presence. He made it clear she wasn’t to be discussed beyond the confines of his house. The servants seemed to accept that command as if it were common for him to ask it.

  Once Garett had sent the servants about their duties unloading the carts, he took Marianne and William aside.

  “I have some matters to attend to that may take me well into the evening,” he told William. “While I’m gone, make certain no one enters this house. No one, not even tradesmen or friends of the servants.”

  “Yes, m’lord,” William said.

  “And make whatever preparations are necessary for us to travel to France.”

  “France!” William and Marianne exclaimed in unison.

  Garett’s countenance grew stony. “Just do as I say,” he told William, then dismissed him with a curt nod.

  As William left, Garett turned toward the door, but Marianne laid her hand on his arm. “Why are we going to France?”

  The muscles of his arm tensed beneath her hand, and he refused to meet her gaze. “We may not be. I don’t know yet. Everything depends on what I discover this afternoon. But if matters don’t go well—” He frowned. “It would be best if you didn’t remain in England.”

  A knot grew in the pit of her stomach. “And you? You would go with me?”

  His brooding gaze shifted to her. “Of course. Someone must protect you.”

  She gaped at him. “You would stay there with me?”

  “Until it was safe for us to return—both of us.”

  “But what about Falkham House and your lands?”

  “What about them?”

  She wasn’t fooled by his forced nonchalance. She knew how much he loved his land and wanted to make Falkham House a place of glory again. “You would leave them behind for me?” she asked thickly, emotion choking her.

  His eyes glittered. At that moment he seemed almost to hate her for the hold she had on him. She felt as if she held a falcon by one leg and it was clawing and fighting to be free of her, all the while realizing it couldn’t be.

  “I can think of no other way to keep you from being hanged or imprisoned,” he said with a sudden aloofness that chilled her blood. “If you remain in England, someone is bound to reveal your presence eventually. Then they’ll come for you.”

  “I can’t allow—”

  “Let it be!” He clasped her shoulders and gazed down at her. “I couldn’t endure seeing you taken, do you hear?” he added, a raw thread of pain in his tone. “Nor could I prevent it. So we won’t risk it.”

  “You could send William with me. Aunt Tamara could be here in one day. Then we three could travel and you could stay—”

  “No!” His fingers dug into her shoulders. “I told you last night I’d never let you go. I meant it.”

  “But such a sacrifice—”

  He silenced her words with a quick, hard kiss, born as much of fury as affection. Then he stared down at her with eyes clear and distant. “Speak of it no more. I will have agents to tend my estates. In time perhaps—” He broke off. “It doesn’t matter. It may be the only way to keep you safe.”

  She wanted to tell him she loved him, to spill out her emotions for him like jewels and somehow make his sacrifice easier. But if she told him how she felt, he would feel even more of a need to sacrifice. If he chose to take her from England, it had to be because of what he felt, not what she felt. Yet he’d said they might not leave. What did he plan to do?

  “Where are you going now?” she asked, a sudden worry making her frown.

  He looked uncomfortable, and his gaze shifted from hers.

  She clutched at his arm. “Garett! What are you going to do?”

  He lifted her hand from his arm, squeezing her fingers briefly before releasing them. “Just remember, don’t open the door to anyone,” he murmured. Then he was gone.

  For a long time after he left, she stared at the closed door. “I love you, Garett.” And some day she prayed she’d have the chance to say it to his face.

  Then with an aching heart, she curled up in a chair to wait.

  * * *

  Garett stood in the foyer of the king’s sitting room, nervously watching the door. Never had he come to the king for such an important favor. Never before had he so feared being refused.

  That was what came of caring for a woman. For the first time in his life, he felt true heart-pounding fear, and not for himself, either. The thought of Mina—Miss Winchilsea—being taken by the soldiers made his blood run cold. He didn’t know how she’d managed it, but she’d crept into his soul and made a nest there. He couldn’t seem to oust her.

  He didn’t even want to anymore. That was the worst of it.

  “His Majesty will see Lord Falkham now,” the Gentleman of the Bedchamber entered the room to announce.

  Garett straightened, his pulse suddenly racing in a manner uncharacteristic of him. He forced himself to assume the air of a man of leisure. This was just like any other encounter in which he wanted to elicit information without revealing what he knew. Except this time, his opponent was the king.

  With measured steps, he followed the Gentleman of the Bedchamber into the sitting room. Charles was at the window, watching his latest mistress play tennis with three other ladies in the gardens below. He turned as soon as Garett entered and flashed him a warm smile.

  “Your Majesty,” Garett said with a bow.

  “So you’ve come out of hiding, have you?”

  Garett looked at Charles blankly.

  The king chuckled. “I wondered why Falkham House held such an appeal for you that you wouldn’t even occasionally grant us your presence. Then Hampden informed me you’d locked yourself away at the old manor with a new mistress. That explained a great deal.”

  Garett couldn’t halt the brief frown that crossed his features. “What else did Hampden tell you about my mistress?”

  Cha
rles seemed pleased he’d managed to disconcert his friend. “That she’s exotic—a gypsy or some such thing—and that she has a quick tongue. He says she’s quite a beauty.” He smiled as he added, “And that you guard her jealously.”

  Garett hardly heard that last phrase. So Hampden hadn’t told the king anything about Garett’s earlier suspicions of Mina. That was something at least.

  “Hampden ought to keep his observations to himself once in a while,” Garett said, easily falling into the part Hampden had unwittingly given him.

  “Come now, Falkham, you ought to bring her to court. Let us all have a look at her. Or is that why you’re here?”

  Garett met Charles’s questioning gaze with a steady stare. “No, Your Majesty. This time I’ve come to ask a favor. It concerns someone who interests us both.”

  Charles strode back to the window and looked out with a frown. “Your uncle.”

  “Yes.”

  A worried expression crossed the king’s face. “I don’t know what more I could do about him. You’ve done quite well on your own. His reputation is in a shambles, he’s badly in debt, and he’s lost many of his powerful friends. No one dares champion him against you.”

  Garett’s grim smile acknowledged the king’s words. “There’s still the matter of his involvement in the attempt on your life.”

  “Yes, there is that, isn’t there?” Charles narrowed his gaze speculatively.

  Careful, man, here’s the tricky part. “Have you wrung a confession from that physician? Has he implicated my uncle?”

  With a sigh, Charles shook his head. “He insists he’s innocent. But they haven’t used torture yet—I’m loath to allow such barbaric methods for a man of rank.”

  Garett hid the relief that washed through him. Mina’s father still lived and was apparently unharmed. Until Garett had heard it from the king himself, he couldn’t be certain of it. “But you’re convinced he’s guilty.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve always had this instinct that he speaks the truth. Still, everyone else believes him guilty. Or else his daughter.”

  “Daughter?” Garett asked, playing dumb.

  “He had a daughter who prepared his medicines.”

  “And what of her?”

  A look of scathing contempt crossed the king’s face. “A silly twit, evidently, though I would never have guessed it when I first met her. The news of his arrest so alarmed her she threw herself into the Thames and drowned.”

  “Silly twit, indeed.” Garett fought to keep relief from showing on his face. Thank God no one yet suspected Marianne was alive. “Do you think she had a part in putting the poison in his remedies?”

  “ ’Tis possible, I suppose. It’s very odd, though. Sir Henry insists she gave them immediately into his keeping and they never left his hands. He could have lied about it, or even blamed it on her now that she’s dead, but he hasn’t. He just seems bewildered by the whole matter. Of course, I suppose she could have planted the poison herself, then killed herself when she realized she was to be discovered. Who knows? But I can’t believe she planned alone to kill me.”

  “That seems doubtful indeed,” Garett agreed with a calm in his voice that he didn’t feel. He wondered what the king would think if he knew the truth about Marianne’s supposed death.

  “But what favor do you wish me to grant?”

  Garett met the king’s stare with the most innocuous one he could muster. “I wish to question the prisoner myself.”

  Frank surprise showed on Charles’s face. “Why?”

  “Remember, Your Majesty, what services I performed for you in the past. I was quite adept at gleaning information from unwilling participants.”

  The king’s face clouded. “Yes, you were. I always wondered about your methods.”

  “I assure you I never did anything unsavory.”

  Charles studied him a moment. “No, I don’t suppose you did. You manage to intimidate a person just by turning that scowl of yours on them.”

  Garett bit back a smile. “Except for Your Majesty, of course.”

  “Of course,” Charles remarked dryly.

  “If you’ll permit me to question this Sir Henry, perhaps I can be more successful at dragging a confession from him.”

  “Or an admission that your uncle was his fellow conspirator,” Charles said with a lift of his eyebrow.

  “Yes.”

  Charles rubbed his chin. “I believe if anyone could do it, you could,” he murmured, half to himself.

  Garett schooled his features into nonchalance as he awaited the king’s answer.

  After a long pause, Charles shrugged. “Well, then. I suppose it cannot hurt to have you attempt it.”

  Garett felt the tension leave his limbs. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  He remained standing in respectful silence while the king called in his Gentleman of the Bedchamber and commanded that Garett be brought to the Tower to visit the prisoner. When the men came who were to accompany Garett, he took his leave of the king, wondering how long it would be before he saw His Majesty again. Then he thrust that thought from his head and followed the men out of Whitehall.

  Throughout the long ride across London, Garett focused on the more difficult task at hand—speaking with Sir Henry. When they reached the imposing group of towers, a sudden cold fear assailed Garett—the same fear that had eaten at him from the time he’d discovered who Mina really was.

  The chilly corridors were more forbidding than he remembered. The snorting and roars of wild beasts filtered through the halls, because part of the Tower was still used to exhibit wild animals—bears, lions, and all manner of exotic beasts brought from England’s many colonies. Hearing the noises darkened Garett’s mood considerably. No matter what he discovered, no matter what she’d done, he’d never allow his gypsy princess to be forced to lie in this place. Never!

  Then they were at Sir Henry’s cell. The turnkey opened the door, and Garett entered. At least the room was spacious and well provisioned. Then he caught sight of the prisoner, who stood with his back to Garett, staring out the window at the sun glinting off the Thames.

  Garett could tell the man had once been well proportioned, for his clothes hung loosely on him. Now he was thin to the point of being gaunt. His hair was completely white, yet he wasn’t stooped with age. He stood quite proudly in his worn doublet and breeches.

  Garett motioned to the turnkey and guards to step outside the cell. They obeyed, the turnkey closing the door behind Garett.

  “Sir Henry?” Garett asked.

  The man turned, and Garett had to force himself not to react, for his hazel eyes were those of his daughter.

  They now filled with a hostile defensiveness Garett recognized all too well. “So they’ve sent another to torment me, have they?” Sir Henry muttered. “And a good strong young soldier by the look of you. Have they decided ’tis time to use more forceful methods of persuasion?”

  Garett was still recovering from the shock of being faced by a man so like the woman he cared for. “Nay,” he choked out, unable to stop staring at the man.

  Sir Henry grew more testy. “Well, sir, may I at least know the name of my tormentor?”

  “Garett Lockwood.”

  Sir Henry frowned, seeming to search his mind for where he’d heard the name before.

  “The Earl of Falkham,” Garett added.

  Sir Henry’s gaze shot up to rest on Garett’s face. He scrutinized him with a keen eye. “Sir Pitney’s nephew. I’ve heard of you from the gossip among my jailors. You’re the one who’s put Sir Pitney to rout, so they say.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good for you. I always hated that ne’er-do-well.”

  Garett remained silent, pondering that statement.

  “You’ve been given my house, haven’t you?” Sir Henry asked with a certain challenging bluntness.

  Garett’s eyes narrowed. “ ’Twas my house from the beginning. I’m the legal heir. The house should never have been sold to you.”
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  “That may be. But we thought you were dead.” Sir Henry shrugged. “In any case, it matters little. If by some miracle my innocence is proven, you’re welcome to the estate. I prefer my quiet house here in London. Falkham House was the joy of my wife and daughter.” The man’s expression altered, stark pain shining in his eyes. “It was to be my daughter’s legacy. But with her dead, I see little point in fighting for it.”

  Garett moved closer to the older man and took his arm, leading him away from the door. “Suppose I were to tell you that your daughter isn’t dead.”

  Sir Henry’s face betrayed nothing, but his eyes lit for the merest instant. Then he frowned. “Is this a new form of torment, my lord? Tantalize me with hope, then dash my hopes against the rocks? If so, it will not suffice. I know she’s dead. They told me that the first day I was arrested.”

  “Ah, but did they tell you how she died? By drowning herself in the Thames? Now ask yourself, would Mina ever do something so foolish as to kill herself?”

  Sir Henry snorted and shook his head. “I know, I know, I couldn’t believe it myself. Mina would never—” He broke off, then dug his fingers into Garett’s arm. “How do you know my daughter’s nickname?”

  “Her aunt Tamara calls her that.” Garett met the gaze of his lover’s father. “It stands for Lumina, her middle name. Your wife, the gypsy, gave it to her. It suits her well. With that golden hair and gentle smile, she is like a light.”

  Sir Henry’s face turned ashen. He jerked away from Garett, moving to sit on his narrow, hard bed in stunned silence. He closed his eyes, then opened them again to fix Garett with a disbelieving stare. “Is my daughter truly alive then?”

  “Aye. The tale of her drowning was a ruse your wife’s sister used to help Mina escape London and the King’s Guard.”

  Sir Henry studied Garett with an intense gaze. “And how did you come to know of her?”

  Now came the difficult part. “She returned to Lydgate, and I took her prisoner.” He said it coldly, deliberately failing to mention how much time had passed before he’d discovered who she was.