Emerald and Sapphire

by Laura Parker

  “Quiet, my love. We’ll know in time. Say nothing more,” he whispered, then raised his voice. “Miss Lane has fainted, Harriet. Follow me to her room. She’ll need help undressing.”

  “Rest,” Merlyn commanded when he laid her on the bed.

  Cassandra opened her eyes to see his dark face above her, the slash of his patch cutting diagonally across his brow. “I hate that patch,” she whispered inconsequentially and closed her eyes again.

  Hours later, when the room was dark, Cassandra again opened her eyes. This time she did not feel the welcome weight of Merlyn’s long body beside her. It was as if he understood her need to be alone.

  A quick cut of memories flashed through her mind, memories of a beautiful golden-haired man who had once seemed the limit of all her best dreams. Little remained in her memories of him at their last meeting. That had not been real for her. Just as she now knew the love she had felt for that bright knight had never been real.

  The reality of love had been found in the arms of a dark, passionate man who was no saint, not even an honest man, but one who loved her unequivocably as she was.

  The tears that dampened her pillow were for the old life, falling away from her now like the shredded images of a fading nightmare. She had loved the good in Nicholas, but there was none. It was for that good that never was that she mourned.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cassandra did not leave her room the next morning. She didn’t care what conclusions Caroline Lambert might draw from her actions. Without a personal maid she was free to begin packing. No one would know until the last minute that she planned to leave Bath. She didn’t expect Merlyn to leave with her—that would draw too much attention to her departure. But he would follow in a few days, she was sure. In the meantime she would go and stay with Ebba and Adam.

  Her life held a breathless hope. If not for a nameless nagging at the back of her mind she would have danced a jig on her carpet. As it was, a simple song sprang to her lips, a shamelessly bawdy ditty that Merlyn had taught her.

  It was the unusual sound of carriage wheels on Gay Street that finally brought her out of her self-exile and made her turn to the window. There were few personal carriages in Bath, since the steep incline of the streets made travel by wheeled vehicles uncertain and dangerous in unskilled hands. Those who did not prefer sedan chairs most often took to horseback.

  The sight that met her inquisitive gaze surprised her. It was a military vehicle, a coach with barred windows and an escort. As she watched, a squat, plain-faced man in a red military coat emerged and came straight up the steps of Lord Mulberry’s town house.

  Cassandra drew in her head with a frown as she heard the scurrying of feet below. She had not bothered to dress, but now she reached for the plain dove-gray walking dress she had laid out and slipped it over her head. It was demure of neckline with unfashionable long sleeves, a compromise with the black mourning she would have worn under other circumstances.

  A few moments later her slipper-shod feet skimmed over the carpeted stairs. Even before she reached the main floor a strange tightness began to squeeze her chest. Standing in the hall, their backs to the front door, were two uniformed soldiers, their muskets at the ready.

  It has nothing to do with me, she told herself, but she did not believe it. Intuition told her that it did concern her, and Merlyn. Her eyes went to the closed salon doors and she knew that behind them played the drama of which she was shortly to become a part.

  She had just put a foot in the hall when those doors swung open and the man she’d seen in the street emerged. A second later Lord Mulberry followed, and then Merlyn and two soldiers. Her gaze fastened in horror on Merlyn’s face. His eyepatch was gone.

  “Sorry about this, I am, Your Lordship,” the officer was saying. “Only doing my duty as it was given me.”

  “I quite understand, Sergeant. A most unpleasant business—Why, Miss Lane!” Hugh stepped uncertainly toward her, as if to shield the spectacle from her view. Cassandra moved past him, not about to be waylaid.

  “What’s the matter?” she demanded, her eyes going once more to Merlyn’s face. It was expressionless and he did not look toward her.

  Hugh cleared his throat uncomfortably and reached out to take her hand. “I’m sorry that you were disturbed, my dear, particularly since you were ill last evening. It’s my sad duty to tell you that Mr. Ross has just been arrested.”

  Cassandra felt the returning upsurge of vertigo, but she fought it, knowing that she must not fail Merlyn. “I—I don’t understand. Arrested? Why? Has some poor loser at cards accused him of cheating?”

  Hugh shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that. It seems we were mistaken in our company, Miss Lane. Word has it that Merlyn Ross is a common thief, and more, that he is an escaped prisoner, a man condemned by the courts for the crime of murder.”

  Time suspended its orderly measure. Cassandra did not know how long it was before anyone spoke again. It might have been a second or an hour. She was only aware of the aching cry that burst through her mind. Oh, Merlyn! Oh, my dear! We were so close! So close to perfect happiness!

  “It’s been my pleasure to arrest a notorious thief,” the sergeant said proudly. “He’s a wily one. He’s had the Bow Street Runners searching for him five years, but it took Sergeant Baker to show them how ’twas done.” The soldier pulled Merlyn’s eyepatch from his pocket. “That was the trick. It came off in the struggle. Imagine, the bloke’s got two-color eyes!”

  Yes, I know, Cassandra nearly answered. Instead, she moved toward Merlyn, only to have one of the soldiers put out a warning hand. “I wouldn’t do that, miss. He’s a tough customer.” And he indicated the length of chain he held which was attached to Merlyn’s wrists.

  Now Cassandra noticed the tiny trickle of blood at one corner of Merlyn’s white-lipped mouth. Still he would not look at her. As if confronted by a naughty boy rather than a condemned man in chains, she took a handkerchief from her sleeve and gently dabbed away the blood from his lip.

  Only then did Merlyn move, the granite expression melting into unfathomable sadness as his emerald and sapphire gaze lowered to her face. “Thank you.” It was all he said, but it was enough.

  Cassandra moved back and reached for the steadying influence of Lord Mulberry’s arm. “I know this man,” she said to him. “He’s not guilty of the crime of murder. For the other I cannot say, but I believe him innocent of the greatest of his charges.”

  “My dear,” Hugh Mulberry began soothingly and patted her hand. “You have such a tender heart …” Cassandra turned such a look of furious disdain upon him that he faltered. “Well, perhaps you are right, Miss Lane. I will make inquiries, but you must understand, theft also carries the death penalty. Do not mistake it.”

  Cassandra heard herself say, as if from afar, “Would you not rather die for that which you have done rather than for that of which you’re innocent?”

  Hugh Mulberry gave her a curious look, but she did not know or care. Her whole heart had gone out to the man being escorted out of the door and perhaps out of her life forever.

  “Good Lord! What is happening?” Caroline Lambert appeared at the top of the stairs as the doors closed behind the soldiers. “Was that Merlyn I saw arrested?”

  She received no answer from the two people below. When Cassandra climbed the stairs and moved to pass her without a word, she grabbed the smaller woman by the arm. “What’s going on? Answer me, I tell you!”

  Cassandra looked up into the avid face with its bright blue malicious eyes and knew what to do. She slapped the beautiful woman full across the face before moving on.

  Cassandra thought herself to have suffered the worst of shocks, but the day was not yet done. An hour later, a knock came at her door. “Who is it?”

  “Let me in, you little bitch,” Caroline Lambert growled, her beautiful pear tones dropped at last.

  Cassandra hesitated. Now that she�
��d had time to think about it, striking the taller, no doubt stronger woman had probably been an act of folly. Yet she unlatched the door.

  Caroline entered slowly, her eyes on the girl. “Back off, you street-mannered wench. I’ll not be mauled by you a second time!”

  The declaration reassured Cassandra and she relaxed. The woman feared her. Good. “What do you want? If you’ve come to say a word against Merlyn I’ll—”

  The actress backed up a step, but she did not flee. “Oh no. I care nothing for your precious Merlyn. He’s a thief. All of London will know it soon. I’m only glad I had the good sense not to link my name with his. The scandal might have set back my career. As it is”—her eyes went up and down Cassandra’s straight-backed form—“I can say I knew the strumpet he bedded. That makes my gossip so much juicier.”

  “Is that all?”

  Caroline blinked. “You’re a cool piece, I’ll say that. Your lover’s about to swing, and you have shed not a tear.”

  “Theatrics do not come easily to me,” Cassandra countered and smiled as the imprint of her hand deepened in color on the other woman’s cheek. “But you have not come to exchange insults, I think. What do you want?”

  “Oh, I come to bring you more news.” She saw the girl tense and she smiled for the first time. “Do you know who brought the warrant for Merlyn’s arrest? You don’t, I see. Allow me to enlighten you. ’Twas the Marquess of Briarcliffe who served the papers on the sergeant. Ha! That sticks you, doesn’t it?”

  She took a step forward. “You’re the bitch who sprang the marriage trap on Nicholas. God knows how you managed it, little brown wren that you are. I overheard you and Merlyn one night in his room. Brazen baggage, you had the gall to climb into his bed under my very nose. I knew I should have remembered your face that day in the Pump Room. But it wasn’t until I heard you two scheming that I placed you. I was at the christening ball for your bastard.

  “Oh, yes, I have many friends in high places,” she said, preening. “The morning after you disappeared, the marquess had a fit. He accused all his guests of conspiring against him, but none of us could guess the reason for his distemper. Who’d have thought the old boy would go so far in his feud with his son that he’d put a bastard forth as his heir?”

  “You sent a message to the marquess.” It was a statement, for Cassandra had no doubt.

  “Of course. It was my duty as a friend. How was I to know Merlyn was an escaped prisoner? Just wait until London learns ’twas I who caught the notorious Sorcerer?”

  “What?”

  Caroline shrugged, enjoying herself now that she was the center of attention again. “Didn’t Merlyn tell you? That’s the name the beau monde gave the thief who robbed them of their jewels and left no trace. It suits him, does it not?”

  “Yes,” Cassandra answered quietly, thinking of how thoroughly he had bewitched her. Merlyn was, indeed, a most capable sorcerer.

  “So I’ve come to say that I’m sorry that Merlyn will hang. It was not my intention.” She looked momentarily stricken. “I liked him. He was a fascinating bed partner.” She looked up through her lashes. “You’ll miss him, too.”

  Cassandra did not answer. This woman’s self-serving lust could not compare with the deep abiding passion with which she loved Merlyn Ross.

  “Oh yes. Hugh says to tell you that the marquess will be present for dinner. You’re to present yourself to him, prepared to return to Briarcliffe immediately after. There’s just one thing I wish to know. Where’s the brat? Did you give it away, or did you kill it?”

  Caroline escaped without another mauling only because Cassandra wished her gone more than she wished to do violence.

  When the door was once again safely bolted, Cassandra sagged against it. Now the tears came, great heaving sobs that would have pleased her enemy had she stayed to witness the victory.

  The afternoon dragged by, but Cassandra had a great deal of thinking to do and welcomed the sluggish passage of time. When the sky clouded over just before dusk, she sent up a small prayer of thanksgiving. She knew that she could not leave the house before dark. Not only Caroline but Lord Mulberry also was now aware of who she really was. She didn’t know what her status was as Nicholas Briarcliffe’s widow, but she knew the marquess well enough to know he wouldn’t let her slip out of his hands until he had her son. It would be a matter of pride with him to know that he could not be beaten. The game of father against son was ended, but the game between the marquess and herself had one desperate round yet to be played.

  An hour before dinner, she rang for a servant and asked for her best gown to be pressed. The news would go straight to Lord Mulberry, of course, and he would assume that she was cooperating. Then she packed a small bag which included the Briarcliffe diamonds. In her desperation she hoped there might be someone to bribe for Merlyn’s freedom. If not, she had still to get away, for Adam’s sake.

  The escape from the house was ridiculously easy. The steady drizzle of cold rain leadened and dulled the last of the evening’s light, blurring distant figures and blending them to sameness. In her long cape with the hood pulled close she attracted no notice.

  “Dear girl, you’re soaked,” Ebba cried when Cassandra’s knock brought her to the door.

  Cassandra rushed inside and turned to the woman. “Shut and latch the door! I’ve much to tell you, and I need your help.”

  “Poor child,” Ebba said when Cassandra had stumbled through her long and complex tale. “Merlyn’s gone to Bristol. That’s where they’d take him. We must go there.”

  Cassandra heard this simple declaration in amazement. “You’ll still help me, knowing what I am and what I’ve done?”

  Ebba’s face was full of gentle candor. “My dear child. Did you think I swallowed Merlyn’s Banbury tale whole when he brought you to me? I’m old but no fool, and I’ve known Merlyn far longer than you have. He’s always lied his way through this life. But there’s one thing he couldn’t hide from me. He loves you and little Adam. I saw it in his eyes while his clever tongue told me a world of lies. That was all that was important to me. And you love the boy I raised but could not save from himself. For that alone, I’ve given far more than you’ve asked of me. What would you have me do now?”

  “I must go to Bristol. I must see Merlyn before—” Cassandra’s voice faded before the horror of her thoughts. “Well, I must see him. We had no chance to speak.”

  “We’ll need a coach. I can’t have you and Adam exposed to that bone-chilling rain.” She rose and went to her room and came back with a small purse. “It isn’t much, but it’s my life savings.”

  Tears sparkled in Cassandra’s lashes. “I can’t take it. It wouldn’t be fair when I don’t know if I could ever repay you.”

  Ebba scoffed, “As if I’d accept it. Let me tell you ’tis little enough for what Merlyn’s done for me. If not for him I’d be in debtors’ prison. He saved my life. After that wicked scoundrel I worked for died, there was none would hire me. Word gets about, even when the main story’s not told. Merlyn found me in the workhouse and brought me here over twelve years ago. Since then, it’s been his generosity that’s kept a roof over my head. If he’s guilty of crimes, then I’ve contributed my part. I took every cent he sent me. If I seemed hard on you when we met, ’twas only my own guilt riding me. I didn’t want to see the lovely man saddled with another grasping woman.” Ebba sniffed lightly and nodded her head decisively. “So we’ll hear no more of debts. I’ve just to go up the lane a bit to the coach house. You bundle up Adam, and we’ll go when I return. Now hurry!”

  Cassandra was glad to have someone take charge, if only for the moment. It made fear of the future less terrible to bear. Surely, with two women who loved him, Merlyn was not yet lost.

  Half an hour passed before Cassandra heard the knock at the door, and, laying Adam in his crib, she rushed into the outer room to open it. “Oh, Ebba, I thought you’d—”

  “Move back from the door,
Lady Briarcliffe.” Kendal Dermont put a foot in the way a scant second before Cassandra tried to slam the door. Putting his shoulder to it, he forced it open again. With the pistol in his hand he waved her back. “That was foolish. You might have forced me to shoot you. Now back up. That’s right.” He sent the door flying shut with a kick.

  Cassandra looked at him, dumbfounded. The rain had darkened his fair hair and it clung to his head like a skullcap, but beneath the fringe of hair his pale eyes gleamed with the malevolence common to all Briarcliffes. “Why are you here? How did you—? Miss Lambert told you, didn’t she?” Cassandra cried, wishing now she had beaten the woman to an insensible pulp when she had had the chance.

  “No, that interfering slut didn’t tell me.” He wiped the rain from his face with the back of his hand. “I set a watch at St. James’s Square the moment we arrived. We followed everyone who left Lord Mulberry’s house. ‘Tis a particular skill o’ mine the marquess finds useful.”

  Cassandra backed up into a chair and sat down heavily. “So you’ve come to take me back to the marquess.”

  “No, lady, not that.” Suddenly he roared at her, “Why didn’t you leave England when you had the chance? Stupid girl! I tried to scare you off that night in Chatham.

  “Oh yes,” he continued at her gasp. “Didn’t you guess? The men were hired to kill Merlyn Ross. I couldn’t afford to have him set blackmail upon the marquess. The old fool’s gone mad. Thinks that bastard you whelped is his blood kin. No one can talk sense to him. It didn’t take long to guess you’d used the Comte de Valure to help you run away. Good riddance, says I when I heard it. But the marquess wouldn’t let be. He sent me to London to track you down. ’Twas easy enough to locate the comte’s rooms. ’Twas harder to catch him there. When we did, he brought me straight to you.”

  Kendal’s gun hand began to tremble. “I let you go, do you know that? I let you! ’Twas easy enough to squeeze your destination out of the woman in Lewknor Lane.”