Busbee, Shirlee

by Lady Vixen

  "Sir!" Higgins cried, obviously confounded not only by Christopher's attire, but by the black streaks on his face as well.

  Now we're for it! Christopher thought irritably. The time had come to bring Higgins in on their reason for being in England, but Christopher was curiously loath to involve the other man. But there was nothing else he could do—he needed Higgins's skills.

  For several seconds the two old friends eyed each other, and then Higgins broke the taut silence by saying calmly, "Did you find the memorandum?" Christopher's eyes widened, but he speedily recovered himself. "How long have you known?"

  Looking extremely pious, Higgins murmured, "Only since Captain Buckley's visit the other night when I overheard him talking about a certain memorandum." Almost gently Higgins continued, "I know you so very well, Christopher, and I couldn't help but tell that you wanted that memorandum like nothing else on this earth."

  Exasperatedly Christopher snapped, "Well I hope to God that no one else can read me as well!"

  "Oh, no, sir! You have nothing to fear. It is only that, well"—Higgins shrugged—"we have fought against the British too many times and been together in too many tight quarters for me not to know."

  A quick affectionate grin flashed across Christopher's dark features. "That we have, my friend, that we have."

  The awkward moment passed. Christopher brought Higgins up to date and then broached the matter of Higgins's art in forgery.

  When he had finished, Higgins nodded slowly. "I figured that was the lay, but I wasn't quite certain. Did you really think that I would fail you?"

  "No! It is just that I dislike drawing you into something that could very well hang us both!"

  "Have no fear of that, I'm too old a flash cove to be picked for a Tyburn blossom! We'll come right, you'll see," Higgins said confidently. With a sly twinkle of laughter brimming in the brown eyes he added, "I was one of the cleverest in the business until Bow Street took undue interest in me."

  Clapping the other man on one narrow shoulder, Christopher asked, "Well, my friend, do you think you are still the best?"

  "Damn right, I am! And I'll prove it to you when I finish with that memorandum. You won't be able to tell one from the other."

  Several hours later when Christopher compared the two pieces of paper, he saw they were identical, even down to the slight stain across the left hand corner. All that remained was for the fake memorandum to be returned to Major Black's office.

  The two men had discussed that aspect minutely. It was risky, as risky as stealing the memorandum in the first place, but it would remove the danger of imminent discovery. Together they decided that rather than have Christopher press his luck too far by attempting a repeat of tonight's feat, he would visit Major Black's office tomorrow afternoon, and when the moment presented itself, and surely it would, he would slip the forgery in amongst the paperwork on the major's desk. His reason for calling again on the major gave them some difficulty, but Christopher said he would think of something—even if it were the flimsy excuse of needing Buckley's home address.

  He hoped the memorandum wouldn't be discovered or missed for a day or two, and by then Christopher's visit would be, if fate were kind, long since forgotten. No doubt speculation would arise, but as everyone knew how paperwork continually went astray at Whitehall and the War Office, Christopher was laying odds that careless filing would be blamed when the memorandum was found on the major's desk instead of in the safe.

  The following day Christopher called on Major Black and inquired after Captain Buckley's address in the country. He wasted as much time as he possibly could without arousing suspicion, but no opportunity for replacing the memorandum presented itself. He had actually said his good-byes and was thinking furiously about another place to leave the memorandum, when he collided with the major's aide-de-camp, who was just entering the room with an armful of files. The files went flying, and in the ensuing apologies and hasty gathering of papers, Christopher was able to slip the memorandum from his pocket in amongst the clutter.

  Christopher offered his apologies again, but the aide-de-camp, a very nice young gentleman, demurred. "It was my fault, sir. I was in such a hurry I wasn't watching where I was going. It serves me right too! Now I shall have to spend hours sorting out these reports, for there is no telling what goes where!"

  Christopher sympathized profusely, but as he walked away there was a lightness to his step and a jaunty grin that kept tugging at his lips. The memorandum would be found, and no one would be quite certain where it had been!

  Now all that lay before him was the interminable waiting. He and Higgins would not leave London until the day before the rendezvous. They would travel down to Brighton in the morning, and sometime after their arrival, but before the next evening, he would have to face his grandfather. It was not a prospect he relished, especially since he could offer no explanations, or even excuses for that matter.

  What the hell was he to say? For a moment he considered merely writing a letter, but he dismissed it instantly. No, he would not take the coward's way out— somehow he must prepare Simon for his departure and yet avoid any hint that with the information he now had, it was imperative he return to the United States.

  He refused to think of Nicole. She could move him unbearably, fill him with wild, improbable yearnings, but he was adamant that he was not going to fall into the silken trap that she spun so artlessly. But the thought of marriage with her would not leave his mind; instead, like a tantalizing promise, it swirled round and round, driving him nearly to lunacy. Appalled at the trend of his unruly thoughts, he convinced himself that they were best apart, that when he sailed for America, the last lingering tie would be severed. He could hardly ask her to wait for him . . . could he? As if stung by a scorpion, Christopher jerked away from what he was thinking. By God, no! It would never do, not in a thousand years!

  And losing himself in the charms of yet another dainty blond opera dancer that night, he was positive he had made the right decision. One woman was as good as another, and time would destroy the odd flashes of something like pain that washed over him whenever he viewed a future without a topaz-eyed vixen in his arms.

  CHAPTER 31

  The wedding of Lord Saxon and Mrs. Eggleston was set for one o'clock, and it was necessarily small, as Letitia and Simon had only two dozen guests. In fact, Simon had advocated marrying in Judge White's chambers with Regina and Christopher as the only witnesses, but Regina had quickly put a stop to that nonsense!

  Consequently Simon and Letitia recited their vows in the most elegant and handsome parlor in the house at Cavendish Square. The room had been lavishly decorated with great silver tubs of flowers—early chrysanthemums with shaggy white and yellow heads, pink wild bell heather, daisies, late-blooming blue cornflowers, deep red roses, their heavy scent permeating the air, spicy dianthus, and tall stately stalks of gladiolus. The glass doors had been thrown wide open to permit a glimpse of the small formal garden beyond, and the adjacent flagstone terrace was ringed with huge pottery urns simply filled with flowers of every imaginable kind.

  The ceremony was brief. Nicole, observing the tender, almost reverent manner in which Simon placed the ring upon Letitia's finger, felt a lump rise in her throat and for one awful moment was afraid she was going to burst into noisy tears just as Lady Darby had done.

  However, once the final words were spoken, Lady Darby had promptly recovered and was again her forthright self, beaming and smiling upon the newlyweds.

  The bridal banquet that followed was a gay and merry affair; everyone relaxed and drank numerous toasts to the bridal pair as the afternoon slid slowly into evening.

  As the hours progressed, though, Nicole would have been extremely happy if three of the male guests had departed. Robert, she avoided for obvious reasons; Christopher's mocking face, his eyes alight with sardonic amusement whenever their gazes met, infuriated her and twisted a knife blade of anguish in her heart. And Edward, Edward with his fawning manner and rid
iculous posturing, was fraying her already overstrained temper. Like a hunted vixen with three dangerous hounds on her trail, Nicole drifted from one smiling, jesting little group to another, keeping a wary eye on her three tormentors.

  Christopher was the easiest to avoid, for he was making no attempt to solicit her company and treating her to his usual indifference. And yet, it was Christopher, tall and cynically handsome in a slim-fitting black velvet jacket, the starched white cravat intensifying the dark, lean features, who disturbed her most. Try as she might, it seemed her eyes were inexorably drawn in his direction. She was furious with herself for this display of weakness and with Christopher for having the power to disrupt her control so easily.

  Robert, increasingly mystified by Nicole's coolness, watched her intently, from under knitted brows wondering at the change in her manner. Well versed in the art of the chase, he made no attempt to force himself on her. Perhaps she was merely being capricious, he thought impatiently, or perhaps his ardor had frightened her. Whatever the reason, Robert was willing to wait, confident that in time Nicole would be his wife.

  Edward, too, had noticed the fact that Nicole no longer seemed to find as much pleasure in Robert's company, and he rejoiced in his rival's apparent rejection. Now Nicole would surely fall for his blandishments, Edward crowed to himself, and his growing fear of languishing in debtor's prison faded.

  Edward was in desperate straits. Used to the large income from Nicole's estates, scorning any attempt at living within his reduced means, his extravagances were catching up with him.

  No longer was he granted credit at his favorite tailor's; his bootmaker had stated rather rudely that if he had not received a substantial payment within thirty days, he would lay charges against him; and his landlord had somewhat pointedly remarked that if Master Markham did not come up with three months' rent past due, very shortly he might find his belongings impounded and himself in the gaol! His creditors' demands were growing louder, and hinting at an engagement to a well-connected heiress was no longer enough to hold them in check. An immediate marriage with Nicole was the only thing that could save him now from ruin.

  But Nicole, even after Robert's banishment, showed no inclination to smile with favor upon him, and Edward was torn between fury and the fear of what failure would mean to him. It was true that there were other heiresses in London, but since his reverses in fortune their guardians took care to see that Edward Markham was not allowed to exercise his blatant masculine beauty in the vicinity of their wealthy wards.

  Ignoring his languishing glances in her direction, Nicole wished for the tenth time that her cousin had not been included in the festivities. He dogged her footsteps and was acting so well the role of her smitten slave that she longed to box his ears. Gritting her teeth, she promised herself she would do just that if Edward followed one more of her commonplace remarks with, "How clever of you, cousin! To think that such beauty as yours is allied with a nimble brain leaves one breathless."

  Desperate to escape his smothering attentions as they stood for a moment alone, her fingers curling into the palm of one hand, she smiled grimly into Edward's smoky blue eyes and said tightly, "Would you mind fetching me a glass of lemonade, Edward?" And as Edward, playing his role, politely did her bidding, she bolted toward the seclusion of the garden.

  It was a delightful night, the air warm, but with a hint of fall crispness about it. The gardens had been decorated with gaily colored lanterns, and the bright lights were like a chain of gleaming sapphires, rubies, and emeralds in the darkness, creating a fairyland setting. A few of the younger couples had taken advantage of their elders' preoccupation with the bride and groom and were wandering slowly down the neatly manicured paths.

  Finding a secluded stone seat partially screened by a heavily scented climbing rose vine, Nicole sank down gracefully, hoping Edward would not think of the gardens to look for her. Sitting there quietly, her eyes closed, savoring the night, suddenly she yearned for the sea so intensely that for one moment she thought she could feel the gentle rocking of the ship, hear the soft swish of the waves, and smell the tangy ocean air.

  But Edward's voice broke the spell, and with a sigh she watched Edward approach her, a tall chilled glass of lemonade in one hand.

  Taking it, she said, "Thank you, Edward." She added somewhat bluntly, "I'm surprised everyone has stayed this long. You'd think they'd have left hours ago."

  Impervious to Nicole's broad hint, Edward smiled vaguely and sat down beside her, careful not to disturb the skintight fit of his buff breeches. "Oh, no, my dear! Everyone is enjoying themselves much too much to think of leaving! And you can't really blame them—Lord Saxon has provided such an array of delicacies. You must admit too that it is not often there is a wedding like today's," Edward murmured and ended with an affected little titter that grated on Nicole's nerves.

  "That may be," Nicole returned tartly, "but it is gone nine o'clock and absolutely no one has even suggested leaving. Don't forget we are all driving to Brighton tomorrow after Lord Saxon and Mrs. . . . er . . . Lady Saxon depart for Beddington's Corner. I still have some packing to do, and I should think that you yourself have certain arrangements to make."

  Edward pretended not to understand the trend of Nicole's conversation. "I have made all arrangements with my landlord; my valet has everything packed, and have no fear, I shall be at your doorstep by no later than ten o'clock tomorrow morning."

  The removal to Brighton met with Edward's full approval. Not only would he escape the duns that had begun to haunt his doorway, but Nicole would be removed from her more ardent suitors. Edward was determined that before they left Brighton Nicole would be his wife. Seduction was never far from his thoughts, and as he glanced about the nearly deserted gardens, the idea of creating a compromising situation immediately crossed his mind.

  Subduing the malicious smile that threatened to crease his cheek, Edward suggested lightly, "Shall we take a walk, cousin? The garden beckons quite delightfully."

  It was on the tip of Nicole's tongue to tell Edward to take himself off for a walk, but after a struggle with herself, she throttled the impulse and fell in with his urgings. After all, she reasoned, walking gave her something to do, and it was a lovely night.

  They spent the next ten minutes or so wandering with surprising accord throughout the moonlit gardens—the colored lanterns imparted a carnival glow, the soft night air was intoxicating. As they approached the small white pavilion glistening silver in the moonlight, Edward said with oozing enthusiasm, "How clever of Lord Saxon to have a pavilion here in the town gardens! Come, let us step inside it!"

  Nicole saw no danger in stepping inside, although she did wonder at Edward's sudden interest in the building. She soon found out that Edward had apparently mistaken her complacent mood, for they had barely entered when he suddenly startled her by snatching her into his arms.

  "Are you demented?" she exclaimed, violently pushing against his shoulders.

  And Edward, conscious that he had barely moments to perfect his plan, muttered, "Yes! I am mad for you!" And promptly, deliberately he tore at the fragile lace covering her breasts, ripping the gown at the shoulder. Infuriated rather than frightened, Nicole struggled angrily to escape from the clutching hold he had on her arms, but Edward was stronger than his willowy slimness suggested.

  The curls that had been so painstakingly arranged some hours before came tumbling down in charming disarray, and the topaz eyes bright with temper, Nicole spat, "Unhand me, you toad! Have you lost what wits you possess?"

  Edward, gazing at the creamy shoulders, the soft curve of breast his attack had revealed, was suddenly swept by a very real sensation of passion. No longer pretending, no longer even caring if the footsteps he had heard seconds ago were coming nearer or not, he said thickly, "Yes! You have driven me witless, dear cuz, and I am afraid you shall have to pay the consequences!"

  His mouth found hers unerringly, and Nicole was momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity of his acti
ons. Then nearly shaking with revulsion and fury, she fought to break free of the hurting plunder of Edward's lips, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth, raping and pillaging, his hands digging painfully into her arms. Edward gave her no respite; instead, the twisting thrashing motions of her body excited him even further, and with an intentionally brutal movement he shoved her down onto one of the nearby lounges, his body lying heavily on hers.

  Her head spinning with disbelief, Nicole fought to clear her thoughts. Edward was too strong for her, and her only choices were to scream, thereby bringing everyone on the run, or to outthink her attacker. She instinctively shrank from screaming, instantly realizing the scandal that would follow. Well, she thought grimly, she had outfoxed Edward before and she could certainly do it again. Forcing her body to go limp, she suffered kisses and let him think she had become resigned to her fate. Feeling the fight leave her body, Edward was elated, certain his masculine charm had won the day. His vicious hold loosened somewhat; his hands greedily fumbled under her skirts; his lips freed her mouth as they sought the tempting softness of her breast. Nicole's skin crawled at his touch, and only by concentrating fiercely on what her next move would be was she able to keep from betraying the utter revulsion that filled her.

  In the dim light of the pavilion she spotted a half-empty bottle of champagne and two glasses sitting on a nearby table. No doubt the remains of an amorous couple's rendezvous, she thought sourly. But with her weapon in sight, she slowly brought up one arm, gingerly caressing Edward as she went, not wanting him to guess her intentions. With her arm free, she gently moved one leg, letting Edward believe it was to facilitate his probing hands, and then when she was positioned to her satisfaction, she struck like a fighting tigress. Her teeth sank deeply into Edward's tender ear, and coolly she brought her knee up sharply and painfully between Edward's legs.

  Edward let out a shriek of excruciating pain, all thought of seduction fleeing in the face of the exquisite agony burning between his thighs and the numbing pain in his ear. He doubled up, literally tearing his ear from Nicole's teeth, his hands protecting his groin, and Nicole deftly pushed him away from her and leaped to her feet. Snatching up the champagne bottle, she broke it swiftly against the table, and holding the jagged edge toward Edward, she snarled, "Touch me again, cuz, and that handsome face of yours will give nightmares to children for the rest of your miserable life!"