Nicola Cornick Collection

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Nicola Cornick Collection Page 47

by Nicola Cornick


  “She did not know that you loved her,” Alex said. He got up and crossed to his desk, opening the top drawer. Dev saw him take out a small package.

  “Susanna came to me this morning,” Alex said. “She left me the direction of her lawyers so that you could send the annulment papers when you had them drawn up as she was sure you now would.” He paused. “She also left me this.” He held the tiny velvet purse out to Devlin.

  A moment before he opened it, Dev felt an extraordinary sense of premonition. He could see him self standing before the altar at the church at Balvenie, holding Susanna’s hand, sliding onto her finger the ring that had been his mother’s and her mother’s before her, a golden band studded with tiny seed pearls. His hands shook a little as he opened the purse and the ring rolled out into his palm and lay there glowing softly.

  “I did not realize she still had it,” he said quietly. “I thought she must have sold it years ago.”

  Alex’s gaze was very dark and steady. “I do not believe that Susanna knew that it belonged to our grandmother,” he said. “She gave it to me to give back to you.” He stopped. “I have no doubt,” he added very deliberately, “that when she did so her heart was breaking. She did not want to go, Devlin, but she thought she was doing the right thing to set you free to go back to sea. She knew it was what you wanted.”

  Dev stared at him. “I do want it,” he said, “but the future is nothing without Susanna to share it with me.”

  “I’m not the one you should be telling,” Alex said. He smiled. “You may remember that when I let Joanna go you told me I was a bloody fool. You were right. Well, it is my turn now, Devlin. If you do not go after Susanna and tell her that you love her and convince her that you are worth being married to then without a doubt you will be a complete bloody fool.”

  “I’ve already been that,” Dev said, “but it isn’t too late.” He would find Susanna, he thought, tell her that he loved her, and then he would hold her against the world, against the future, and never let her go again. Love. He had never thought to feel it again after the disaster of his youthful marriage. Yet now he felt ridiculously excited at the prospect of finding Susanna and claiming her once and for all. He knew his emotion must be vivid in his face because he could see that Alex was trying not to laugh at him. But damn it, he did not care.

  Alex’s voice arrested him before he was out of the room. “Before you set off to find your wife,” his cousin said, gently ironic, “you might wish to deal with this.” He passed Dev a note. “It is from Churchward,” he added. “I understand that Susanna asked him to act on her behalf in the business of her debts and also in a certain unpleasant matter of blackmail. As it turns out—” Alex grimaced “—the two are connected.”

  Dev perused Churchward’s note rapidly. “Bradshaw,” he said softly, through his teeth. “I might have guessed.”

  “The man does have an unpleasant habit of turning up like a bad smell,” Alex agreed. “You will see him?”

  Dev folded the letter. “Of course.”

  “And pay him?” Alex queried.

  Dev paused. “I’ll pay him what he deserves.”

  There was a silence. “Don’t tell me more,” Alex said with a faint smile. “Then when the Runners come asking questions I can plead genuine ignorance.” His smile broadened. “How are you going to find Susanna?” he asked. “You know Churchward will never break her confidence.”

  “I have no idea,” Dev said honestly. “But I will not stop until I find her.”

  Alex jerked his head toward the door. “So what are you waiting for?” he said.

  DEV HAD BEEN IN PLENTY of low taverns in his time in seaports from Southampton to St. Lucia, and the clientele in The Bell Tavern in Seven Dials was very much as he had imagined it. There were three men he guessed to be footpads, a half dozen pickpockets and at least two highwaymen. They all stared at him as he ducked under the lintel. They looked from his face to the sword at his side and then to the bulge of the pistol in his pocket, and then they turned away and resumed their conversations.

  Bradshaw was not in the taproom. Dev took an unobtrusive seat in a corner and watched the clientele come and go. The room was crowded. Dev drank one pint of ale and ordered a second. He was about to leave when a man came in, a man who was tall and broad-shouldered and looked at first glance at least like a gentleman. Dev felt the atmosphere in the taproom change as though a charge had run through the air like a lightning strike. The man smiled, cocked his head to the landlord for a drink and came across to Dev’s table.

  “Sir James,” he said as he slid into the seat opposite. “I was expecting your wife.”

  “And you got me instead,” Dev said coldly. “Not much of a bargain.” He shifted. “If it comes to that, I did not expect to see you, either, Bradshaw. I had heard that you were in Gretna Green with Lady Emma Brooke.”

  Bradshaw laughed. “Gretna was too far to go,” he said. “I found a priest to marry us here in London, no questions asked.”

  “I’m not sure that that is legal,” Dev said politely, “but that is, of course, your business.”

  Bradshaw’s teeth gleamed in a smile. “And the business of my doting parents-in-law,” he said. “They are happy to accept the match—for the sake of Lady Emma’s reputation.”

  “I’m sure Lord and Lady Brooke are very happy for you,” Dev said.

  Bradshaw took a long swallow of his ale. “You should congratulate me, Devlin,” he said. “I only did what you wanted to do—marry a fortune.” His dark gaze was mocking. “Except that I did it with a great deal more ruthlessness than you will ever possess. To the winner the spoils, eh?”

  Dev felt the prickle of antagonism down his spine. He knew this was all for show, to provoke him, but he could feel his temper rising.

  “Absolutely,” he said smoothly. He could feel the tension tight across his shoulders but he was not going to show Bradshaw any weakness. “Which brings us rather neatly to business,” he said. “I believe you have bought up my wife’s debts—after your attempt to blackmail her failed?”

  “If one course fails then another will always pre sent itself,” Bradshaw agreed. “I’d done some work for Hammond so I knew all about Lady Devlin’s past.” He smiled, but it was without warmth. “I planned to blackmail her by threatening to tell Alton her identity.”

  “What did you want from her?” Dev said. “You knew she had no money.”

  Bradshaw gave him a look that made him itch to take the man by the throat and throttle the life out of him. “What do you think?” Bradshaw said. “I wanted a taste of her. She’s so beautiful what man would not? I wanted to—”

  Dev’s hand moved to the pistol in his pocket. “Be very careful, Bradshaw.” His tone was rough.

  Bradshaw shrugged. “Well, she thwarted me by telling Alton herself.” He shook his head like a man confronted with an impenetrable mystery. “Why would she do such a thing?”

  Dev smiled slightly. He could feel his temper easing as he thought of Susanna’s warmth and generosity. “To put right a wrong,” he said, “and to help someone she loved. You would not understand.”

  “Damned right I don’t,” Bradshaw agreed. “Terminally stupid thing to do when she could have won the whole game.” He shrugged, sliding a hand into his jacket. “Here are the papers. I bought Lady Devlin’s debts up with the promise of part of Emma’s marriage settlement.” He laughed. “Ironic, is it not, Devlin, when you have been living off that same expectation for years?”

  Dev’s lips thinned. “Most entertaining, Bradshaw.” He perused the papers briefly. Susanna’s debts were substantial, though nowhere near as great as his own. He glanced up. “Do you intend to foreclose?” he asked.

  “Unless you pay me,” Bradshaw agreed.

  Dev sat back in his seat. “You know that I have debts of my own and no money to pay them,” he said. Bradshaw nodded, his eyes bright with amusement. He was, Dev thought, a man who enjoyed the game, enjoyed making his prey suffer. It gave him
pleasure. Now it was time to puncture that self-satisfaction a little.

  “You’ll get no cash from me,” Dev said briskly, “and if you insist on claiming the money all that will happen is that I shall be thrown in the Fleet and still be unable to pay you.”

  The bright spark of amusement faded from Bradshaw’s eyes. “Whilst I would quite like to see that,” he said, “I would like the money more.”

  “Of course,” Dev said. He put his hand in his pocket and took out a little box. He pushed it across the table. “Which is why I am prepared to offer you this,” he said, “in return for these.” He tapped the papers.

  Bradshaw shot him a suspicious look before opening the box a crack.

  “Don’t show it around in here,” Dev advised. “The room is full of thieves and criminals.”

  Bradshaw’s eyes had widened as he took in the contents of the box. An unholy gleam came into them. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  “Indubitably,” Dev said.

  “I’d heard about this,” Bradshaw said, risking another look, “but I didn’t believe it.”

  “You can believe it now,” Dev said. “It’s yours—if you are prepared to accept it in return for Lady Devlin’s debt.”

  Bradshaw’s head came up. “How do I know it isn’t a fake?” he demanded. “Since you’re so strapped for cash why did you not sell it years ago?”

  Devlin laughed. “I couldn’t,” he said. “I came by it through means that were—” he hesitated “—not entirely legal. If I had tried to sell it, questions would have been asked—questions I could not afford to answer when I was betrothed to Emma and wanted to make my way in the ton.”

  A reluctant grin split Bradshaw’s face. “So it’s true you were a damned pirate,” he said. “I almost like you for that, Devlin.”

  “The feeling is not mutual,” Dev said coldly. “Do you want it or not?”

  “I won’t be able to sell it for the same reason,” Bradshaw said, staring into the box as though transfixed. “But it’s a hell of a thing to possess …”

  “And you like to own expensive things, don’t you, Bradshaw,” Dev said gently. “Beautiful women, jewels beyond price …”

  He could see the greed and the calculation at war in Bradshaw’s face and tried not to hold his breath. Then Bradshaw’s hand closed over the box and it was gone, into his pocket. Dev smiled and gathered up Susanna’s promissory notes, ripping them in half, throwing them into the open fire where they shriveled and curled to ash in the grate. He stood up.

  “A word to the wise, Bradshaw,” he said softly. “Keep Emma close. Treat her well. At the moment you are untouchable because you have the protection of a rich wife and titled connections. But fortunes can change. And when yours changes—” he paused “—there will be a great many of us waiting to bring you down.”

  He saw Bradshaw’s expression darken, saw him reach instinctively for his pistol, but before he could draw, Dev’s sword was at his throat. There was a concerted gasp from the entire population of the taproom, chairs scraping back, men on their feet. Dev shot them a smile.

  “Keep back,” he said. “Mr. Bradshaw wants to return intact to his beautiful bride.”

  The atmosphere quivered with violence. Then Bradshaw raised a hand and the men fell back and conversations restarted as though nothing had happened at all.

  “Ruthless enough for you?” Dev asked politely as his blade rested against Bradshaw’s Adam’s apple. “On your feet. You will oblige me by walking to the door with me now so I get out of here alive. Oh, and Bradshaw.” He smiled. “Be sure to keep that box safe. Who knows, the treasure might be real.”

  Bradshaw’s gaze spat hatred. It was clear he had already started to have second thoughts—but he was too late.

  “If I find you have cheated me—” he started to say.

  “You’ll never know, will you?” Dev said as they stepped out into the darkened alley. “As you said yourself, you’ll never be able to sell it. All you can do is look at it and wonder if it’s real.” He sketched a bow as he stepped up into the waiting carriage. “And now that doubt is sown in your mind you will never stop wondering,” he said. “Good night, Bradshaw.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  IT WAS HER WEDDING ANNIVERSARY and it was a beautiful day.

  Susanna stood behind the counter in Mrs. Green’s gown shop and stared out of the wide bow windows across the harbor and the sea beyond. When she had returned to Scotland she had not wanted to go back to the teeming streets of Edinburgh. There were too many memories there. Instead she had chosen this little town on the west coast with its view across to the Isle of Skye and the sharp black peaks of the Cuillin Mountains. There were taverns aplenty here in Oban where she could have got a job, and inns that catered to the trade provided by the fishermen and the drovers. Fortunately, instead of having to go back to serving pints of ale and singing ballads, Susanna had gained employment in Oban’s only modiste’s shop. Mrs. Green prided herself on the superiority of her clientele and expected a similar level of quality from her staff. She had liked Susanna’s elegance and her pretty manners.

  In the three weeks since Susanna had left London she had been to see Rose and Rory and had difficult interviews with each. Rory had stormed out when Susanna had told him that he was not, after all, to be leaving Dr. Murchison’s and that they could not set up as a family together anytime soon. Rose had been quieter, reproachfully silent, and in both cases Susanna had seen the unhappiness in them and had felt she had failed them again. Nor had she heard anything from London from Mr. Churchward. Perhaps it was too soon but she was certain that Devlin must have started the process of having their marriage annulled so that he could return to sea with the whole matter put behind him. She wondered if she would read of his exploits in the scandal sheets, read of him capturing a king’s ransom or more likely, knowing Devlin, ravishing a king’s mistress. She felt another little piece of her heart breaking.

  She had cried when she had discovered that she was not pregnant with Devlin’s child, and then cried again because she had not understood why she was crying. She had thought that she would be glad to sever all links with the past. She had chosen to be alone and to start afresh because she had been so afraid of losing Dev that she had wanted to make that break before it was too late. But now she realized that it was already far too late, had been from the moment that she had fallen in love with him all over again. Twice now she had not had the faith to risk all on loving him. There could be no third chance.

  The bell on the door of the shop pinged loudly. Susanna looked up from the bales of muslin and cambric that cascaded over the counter and felt the ground shift beneath her feet. Devlin was standing in the doorway of the gown shop. He looked incredibly handsome in Navy uniform. Susanna felt as though the room was starting to spin, slowly, giddily, as though she was about to faint. She watched as Devlin stepped inside and closed the door behind him by which time the entire female clientele was staring with undisguised fascination. The youngest of Susanna’s fellow shop assistants forgot herself sufficiently to dislodge an entire bale of superfine onto the floor. Dev caught it and restored it to her with a smile and a quick word, and Susanna thought the girl was very likely to swoon with excitement.

  Dev came forward to stand in front of Susanna. There was a faint smile in his blue eyes as he looked at her. Her throat dried to sand. Her heart started to race.

  “Susanna,” he said. Just that one word and Susanna thought that she might very well swoon, too. She took a deep breath and grabbed the edge of the counter to steady herself.

  “How may I help you, sir?” she said, very politely. “Are you interested in the merchandise?”

  Dev’s smile was laced with pure wickedness. “No,” he said, “but I am interested in you. I would like to make you an offer.”

  There was a little gasp from Miss Alison, the shop assistant who was standing to Susanna’s left.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” Susanna said, very cool. “This is not that so
rt of shop and I am not that sort of girl.”

  Dev’s smile deepened. “Oh, I think you are,” he murmured. He put a hand under her chin and tipped it up so that she met his eyes. “In a moment you are going to walk out of this shop with me and not come back,” he said.

  Susanna held his gaze. “That would depend on the terms, sir,” she said, drawing another gasp of shock from Miss Alison on her left. “I don’t sell myself cheap.”

  Dev looked at her for a long, long moment. There was wickedness and challenge in his eyes, and another emotion that made Susanna’s heart tumble over and over.

  “I love you, Susanna Burney,” he said. “I loved you when we met nine years ago, I loved you in London and I will love you until I die. Are those terms good enough for you?”

  Susanna heard Miss Alison make a noise between a sigh of lust and a little moan of pure envy. She shook her head, ignoring the battering of her heart. “Those are the sort of words that lead a good girl into trouble,” she said, “especially from a handsome gentleman like you, sir.”

  “But when you already know me intimately,” Dev murmured, his lips now no more than an inch away from hers, “you know just how sincere I am. I have never, ever wanted to be married to anyone but you.”

  Susanna drew back. “That is not true,” she said. “You wanted to marry Emma.”

  “I wanted to marry Emma’s fortune and Emma’s title,” Dev corrected. “I did not want to be married to Emma herself or I would have done it long since.”

  “How heartless you are,” Susanna said, unable now to fight the smile that was starting to curve her lips.

  “My heart is yours,” Dev said. “You know it, Susanna.” He took her hands. She could feel that he was shaking a little and the knowledge of his emotion shook her, too.

  “No one can predict the future,” Dev said, “but if you trust yourself to me then I will always have something worth coming back for, Susanna. As long as I have breath in my body I will be yours and your star will guide me home.”

 

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