Devil's Lady

by Patricia Rice

  The girl was an enigma, and Miles deliberately dallied over his straightening to watch her. She was distraught, hovering on some emotional precipice. Her hands were callused and rough, but the delicate angles of high-boned cheeks and huge eyes spoke of centuries of aristocratic breeding.

  There was intelligence as well as miles of pain in those eyes. She swept her dusty skirts with a lady’s grace as she took the seat he offered, and she folded her hands primly in her lap as she waited for him to find a seat. The fact that her hysteria did not escape in tears impressed him.

  “What can I do for you?” Miles asked, taking his seat.

  His visitor replied tensely. “Morgan said I was to come to you if there were any trouble.”

  As their story spilled out, Miles suffered a frisson of fear. Faith. The missing heiress.

  Miles studied her carefully, confirming his knowledge in the girl’s accents and graceful movements. At the very best, Morgan could hope to be transported for theft, he knew. Should his part in Faith’s disappearance be revealed, he would hang of a certainty.

  Morgan’s will left his entire fortune in the hands of this slender girl. Did she know that? Many another woman would simply have waited for fate to remove the obstacle to such wealth. Miles didn’t think that observation applied here.

  “Please, Mr. Golden, I must see Morgan. I have to get him out. He doesn’t belong in prison. Whatever he did, he’ll never do it again, I promise. Can you not help me? I can’t see him die. He has no family to defend him but me. His family was destroyed by injustice. Don’t let the same happen to him.”

  Her pleas were very effective. They could be very effective in other places. Combined with the money at her disposal... Miles didn’t wish to raise her hopes.

  He sat back in his chair and regarded her dispassionately. “There is nothing that can be done tonight. In the morning I will try to locate Mr. de Lacy and discover his status. Leave word here as to where you will be staying, and I will come to you as soon as I have some information. You’ll do him no good by wandering the streets at this hour. Take her out of here, Mr. O’Reilly, and see that she gets some rest.”

  Miles stood in harsh dismissal and watched them go with a small twist of his heart. The lad tucked his arm around the heiress’s slumping shoulders and nearly carried her from the room. That child no more belonged in this environment than a man belonged on the moon. Morgan must be mad to keep her hidden away. He would give the villain a piece of his mind as soon as he sought him out in the morning.

  He didn’t tell the young pair that he already knew of Morgan’s incarceration. What good would it do to tell them that one of the most powerful men in London had charged the highwayman with stealing his family jewels and demanded the death penalty? Morgan had known what he was doing and accepted his fate.

  Miles was quite certain Morgan’s mistress wasn’t so obliging.

  Chapter 22

  Miles Golden arrived at the shabby inn where Toby and Faith stayed the next afternoon. “I have found him, my lady,” he announced sympathetically. “I will take you there because I promised, but I will warn you, Morgan doesn’t wish to see you. He is quite likely to dismiss me on the spot should he discover I have brought you with me.”

  Faith set her chin with determination. “Is he well?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Miles studied her carefully, waiting for her reaction. “The runner who took him stripped him of all his coins, so he had nothing to pay the garnish when they threw him in the common cell. He rather objected to being divested of his fine coat, so he is a little worse for wear, but well.”

  Faith faltered slightly as she took his arm. “Garnish?”

  “The fee the prisoners extort when a newcomer is introduced to their midst. Newgate is not one of our finer class of prisons.” Miles remained standing, the chamber door open, ready to depart. “I will understand if you prefer to stay here and let me deal with this problem, my lady. There is no need to subject yourself to the abysmal denizens of that hellhole.”

  Faith regarded him coldly. “I wish to see Morgan. You will not scare me away, Mr. Golden.”

  Miles exchanged a look with Toby, who shrugged. “I can promise nothing. I have paid to see him in a private cell rather than the common room, but if he knows you are with me, he may refuse to let the warder unlock the cell. I have told him you are here, and he is not happy about it.”

  “Well, I am not happy about Morgan being where he is, either. Let us go, Mr. Golden.” Impatiently Faith started toward the door without him.

  Not caring what the men around her thought, Faith hurried out to the dismal street. Toby had taken a room near Temple Bar in a semi-respectable section near the law courts and prisons. Lawyers in worn black coats threaded their way among sailors still drunk from the night before. Gentlemen with frayed cuffs and without their fine wigs mixed with common trollops and rogues in stocking caps and clothing that hadn’t seen a wash in many a year.

  She didn’t know whether to be dismayed or relieved when Mr. Golden indicated she was to ride in the sedan chair waiting at the door.

  She threw him an astonished look. “The expense is not necessary, sir. I can walk as well as you.”

  Miles looked grim. “You will ride, and you will pull the curtains. I am not de Lacy. I cannot rescue you if a few thugs decide you would look well among their possessions. We must go through an area that is not accustomed to seeing ladies such as yourself.”

  She didn’t wish to waste time arguing. She needed to see for herself that Morgan was well. Lifting her skirts, she climbed into the chair and allowed the curtains to be pulled down around her.

  When the chair halted a little later, Faith pushed aside the hangings. The cold stone walls of Newgate rose up on either side and in front of them. The cries echoing through open windows sounded quite mad. Others were more like laments at the sight of the sedan chair and the wealth that it represented.

  The shrieks and cries raised bumps across her flesh, and she had all she could do to keep from shaking as she took Mr. Golden’s arm.

  She caught the flash of a golden guinea as they met a guard and were hastened down darkened corridors. Everything in here was paid for at a price, and she tried not to imagine what was happening to the small store of coins Miles held for Morgan. They were stolen coins. It seemed only appropriate that they be taken by more thieves. At least they served the purpose of providing Morgan with what small comforts could be found.

  Faith tried to ignore the filth of the walls and floors. The stench of the old straw used for bedding and the open latrines for the prisoners had to beckon vermin and rodents. She should have brought bucket and broom.

  The warden stopped before a narrow door and inserted the key. No sound came from within, and Faith held her breath. Morgan didn’t want her here. She hadn’t seen him in days. They had not been lovers in weeks.

  He could hate her as much as he liked, as long as he was alive to hate her.

  The men stepped back to let Faith through first. Morgan was sprawled along a bench, hands behind his head as he leaned against the hard wall. Mr. Golden had evidently brought him clean shirt and breeches, but nothing could be done to disguise the blackened bruise along his jaw or the thick scab above his eye. He turned a questioning gaze to the door, and jerked involuntarily at seeing Faith.

  The chains on his wrists rattled, and he flinched, but he was on his feet in a minute, his big fists clenching against the iron bands as he looked beyond Faith to Miles and Toby. Taut muscles strained across his cheekbones, and there was nothing sultry about the green of his eyes today. They smoldered.

  “Get her the hell out of here! By all the saints, Miles, I’ll see you beaten within an inch of your life for this. Get her out of here. Quit wasting my coins on these wretches and find her a decent place to live. I gave you instructions yesterday. What in hell do you mean by bringing her here?”

  He was deliberately ignoring her. Faith frowned and touched Morgan’s linen-covered
chest, disregarding the symbols of his incarceration. She could feel the curls of hair beneath his linen, and she wished to wrap her fingers in them and feel the heat of his sun-browned torso. His swift intake of breath was the only sign he gave that he knew her presence.

  “I’ll not go away like a bad dream, Morgan de Lacy. I’m not an object that can be moved about at your convenience. I am here. You had best yell at me and not the men who sought to protect me.”

  Morgan closed his eyes. “For the love of Mary, lass, leave. There is naught ye can do. I would wish you to think of me as we were, not like this. Remember the stars, Faith, not this. Now, let Miles take you away. He will help you. I promised to take care of you, and I’ll not fail you in that. Go now, if you have any feelings for me at all.”

  His voice was strained, and Faith heard the emotion behind it. Tears filled her eyes, for Morgan was not given to public displays of emotion. He worked hard to keep a face of laughter and charm turned to the world. Only she had touched the other Morgan, the Morgan who cried over his lost babe, the Morgan who looked at the heavens and prayed for his lost family. And it was that Morgan she saw, and the others would see, should she remain.

  She turned to Miles and Toby and motioned them out. They went gladly, though she knew they stood just outside with the warden and the key.

  “You would have to be a blind man not to know how I feel, Morgan. And a blind man you are, but I cannot help that now. What I want to know is what I must do to get you out of here. I do not know your Miles Golden or if he would help. That is why I had to talk to you. Tell me to whom to go, what to do. I’ll not leave until I have your word you’ll help me in this.”

  Morgan opened his eyes. “Bean sidhe,” he muttered, reaching to touch her hair. The chains clanked, and he hastily drew back. “There is nothing even a witch could do for me now. Do not drive yourself to madness trying.”

  At these soft words, Faith shuddered in mixed relief and horror. Morgan was recognizing her, but still denying her. She stepped closer, forcing him to take her in his arms or fall back to the bench. When his arms with their harsh bindings finally closed around her, she leaned against his broad chest and sighed. “You are such a fool, Morgan de Lacy. I’ll go mad if I do nothing. Hold me, and tell me what to do.”

  Morgan held her, but he called to the others standing outside. “Miles, come in here and get this silly woman.”

  Faith beat her hand ineffectively against Morgan’s chest as he held her imprisoned. She could feel his heart pounding against her ear, feel the blood pumping through his veins as his arms cuddled her against his length, knew the pressure against her belly for what it was. He wanted her, and he would send her away.

  She stayed where she was when the door opened, refusing to leave when Morgan’s arms fell to his side. She wrapped her fingers in his shirt and glared up at his square jaw. “This banshee isn’t wailing, Morgan. You’ll not die. I’ll not let you. You’re going to live whether you want to or not. You can cooperate or not, as you wish. But I’ll spend every penny you ever earned to get you out of here with or without your wishes.”

  A glimmer of amusement flickered in Morgan’s eyes for a moment and was gone. He looked to Miles. “You see why I had to keep her hidden, Golden? The world isn’t ready for her yet. She still believes in God and truth and justice. Explain things to her, will you? Then do what I told you earlier.”

  “I did that long ago, Morgan,” Miles replied angrily, “when I thought you might be just a little prejudiced in keeping her to yourself. Would you like the report now? Do you want to hear about her grandfather, who wrote off his second son as if he didn’t exist, ignored the pleas of wife and mother-in-law when her mother died, refused to answer his son’s letters or acknowledge his only granddaughter’s existence? Or perhaps you would prefer to hear about the Montague heir. You met him the other night, I believe. Pleasant chap, wasn’t he? Do you want to hear the report on him? Or on the cousin, the one you described to me? He’s not the heir, you know, but he fancies himself that. Do you want to hear about Faith’s cousin, Morgan? Then you can tell me which one of the charming chaps you’d like me to send her to.”

  Morgan gripped Faith’s shoulders and set her back, then glared at Miles. “There’s a grandmother. Send her to her grandmother.”

  “Certainly.” Miles shrugged and held out his arm to Faith. “Let us go, my lady. Your grandmother is no bigger than you are and not so fearsome. She hasn’t been able to stop your grandfather from anything yet, but there’s always a first time. Perhaps she can protect you from the scoundrels who set up this plan to have Morgan taken. I’m sure she will try.”

  This bombardment of information left Faith too shaken to think for herself. Grandfather? Cousin? Did Miles know her family, then? She threw a stunned look to Morgan, only to meet a similar reaction there. He grabbed her arm and held her, glaring at Miles as if he would decapitate him on the spot had he possessed a sword.

  “You damned Jewish bastard! Did you have to say these things in front of her? Bigad, man, if you weren’t the only man I could trust...”

  Miles returned Morgan’s glare. “My father was the bastard, not I. And were you not such a thickheaded Irishman, I’d call you out for the insult, but I’ll consider the source this time. You’ve paid me well to take care of your little maid, and I’ll carry out my task to the best of my ability. If that means shaking you out of your self-pity to see what’s right before your nose, then I’ll do it. Wake up, de Lacy, and listen to the girl.”

  Golden was shorter and two stone lighter than Morgan, his lanky frame fit only for lifting the books he pored over each day, but his fists were knotted in anger as if for use against his stubborn client. Faith clung to Morgan’s side, but she stared at the solicitor with a growing smile of appreciation.

  Morgan ran his hand up and down Faith’s her arm and shook his head as if to clear it. He couldn’t have known anyone would deliberately set a trap for him. That was carelessness enough, and he was prepared to pay for his mistake. But they weren’t going to let him. He stared at his company in bewilderment, then glanced down to Faith’s trusting gaze, and gave in.

  “I wanted to take care of you, lass,” he whispered, as if in explanation.

  “I know, but can I not take care of you just a little too? I don’t like being helpless, Morgan. Being helpless is the worst feeling in the world. Let me help, please.” Tears stung her eyes as she watched him, praying there would be something, anything, that she could do.

  “Lass, if I knew what to tell you, I would, but I see no way of escape. I know no one in this city who will help, and your family would only gladly see me hang. I suppose your John Wesley would be happy to pray for my immortal soul, but I’d rather not have religious palavering until I am gone, thank you. Speak for me in your prayers, and go with Miles, Faith. There’s naught else I can tell you.”

  Faith turned an inquiring look to the young solicitor, who nodded silently. He had a plan, then. Since he said nothing, she assumed it was one that would not gain Morgan’s approval. Biting her lip, she looked uncertainly to the immovable man at her side. He was watching her, not the lawyer. She offered a weak smile and stood on her toes to press a kiss to his rough cheek. “You will let me visit you again?”

  Morgan’s expression was bleak. “’Tis no place for you here, my treasure. If you must plot and plan, let Miles be your messenger. I’m trusting him with your life, and that means more to me than my own.”

  “Then think what you would do were our places exchanged.” With this tart reply, Faith stepped from his hold. She wanted his kiss, needed his reassurance, but she would not beg. She faced him as the equal she had declared herself to be.

  “You would do better to keep me leashed, lass, but ’tis your choice if you wish me otherwise. I’m not a man to gratefully take his hat and walk away.”

  “I didn’t think you were.” Feeling slightly breathless at the force she sensed behind his words, Faith returned to Miles and Toby and signal
ed her readiness to leave. She felt as if Morgan had fully unclothed her right before their eyes, and even if they didn’t understand the meaning of his words, she knew his intent. Should she ever gain Morgan’s freedom, she would be in his bed again, and subject to his pleasure or displeasure at whatever she did to free him.

  Chapter 23

  “You’ve done what?” Thomas asked in horror.

  The wretched heir sipped his wine and regarded Thomas with amusement. Edward set the glass aside and flipped over another card on the game of patience before him. “I’ve caught the highwayman. It should be only a matter of time before his doxy shows up. We’ll discover once and for all if we have our missing heiress.”

  Thomas turned abruptly toward the window and away from the sight of his cousin. It infuriated him every time he looked at that fat dumb animal and thought “but for the grace of God go I.” To hell with God. Had his uncle not been born the elder of his father by a mere few minutes, it would be he sitting there in that rich velvet chair, unhurriedly awaiting the inheritance of title and vast amounts of wealth. As it was, he had no expectations at all, or none that he did not make for himself.

  Thinking of the actress waiting in rooms not more than a few streets from here, Thomas glanced at his reflection in the window. Why in hell had Edward agreed with his plan to set up an actress as their lost relation if he meant to keep on searching for the real one? Stupid pig, he probably hadn’t thought at all. Edward just liked playing childish games, and this was another to him.

  “And what will you do with her once you find her?” Thomas asked.

  “One can only wonder. Shall I marry her, do you think?” Edward didn’t even glance up as he made this improper suggestion threatening the borders of consanguinity.