Devil's Lady

by Patricia Rice

  “I’ll have Toby’s head for embarrassing me like that. What must people think?”

  Morgan idly pried one pin loose from her hair, then began on another. “Does it matter? We are married and have the papers to prove it, though I would not show them as they are. We’ll make it all right and proper in the church, and the good people of Williamsburg can just think ours is a romantic tale of a lost lover returning from the dead. You are so young, and I am so wicked, they will be willing to believe whatever you tell them.”

  Faith giggled. “You really shouldn’t have got them all drunk. Poor Randolph won’t be allowed out of the house for a fortnight after they carried him home and left him in his carriage, without his clothes. That wasn’t your idea, by any chance, was it?”

  Morgan stared at the ceiling. “And why would you be thinkin’ that, lass? I’m just a man celebrating his wedding day. We really will have to find a place with a higher roof. I’m like to remove the top of my head if we remain here long.”

  Faith gave him an accusing stare. “You are a wicked, wicked man, Morgan de Lacy. That boy never did anything to you. And Acton was only trying to protect me. Why did you have to play the part of chevalier and try to skewer him to the wall? He near had apoplexy.”

  “You do have big ears, my dear. Or is it friend Toby with the big mouth?” Morgan smiled down on her. He could afford to forgive the world tonight, for he was the one in here with his fair Faith, and not any of the others. “And what else is a ‘damned Frenchie’ supposed to do when challenged to a duel?”

  “Acton did that?” Faith gave him an astonished look, then, seeing the amusement in his eyes, realized there was in all possibility a lot more to the story than she would ever hear. “You speak French very well. I never heard you speak it before.”

  “Ahhh, chere amie, ma petite, how would you know what I wished to do to you if I said it in French?” he whispered against her ear.

  Faith adjusted her son to one arm and ran her free hand down Morgan’s breeches-encased thigh. Slanting him a roguish look, she answered in perfect French, “I might figure it out.”

  Morgan grinned and began nipping at her ear while his unhampered hand hooked in the cloth of Faith’s night shift. “An educated wife is a marvelous thing to have. Can you not tell that gluttonish son of mine to hurry?”

  Eyes dancing, Faith leaned back to face him. “I thought we were to resist temptation.”

  “Temptation, yes. Lust, no. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been without you? Did I not tell you about these marvelous devices the canny Dutch sell? Before the evening’s over, you will be a ravished woman, my dear. You may as well surrender yourself now.”

  He put the truth to his words as soon as Faith laid the babe to rest. Her shift was down about her feet before she returned to bed, and Morgan’s own clothes fell by the wayside as he joined her there. There was scarcely room for two to lie side by side, but that was no difficulty in the coming hours. By dawn Faith’s fair skin proudly wore the abrasions of Morgan’s beard in the most intimate of places, and the Dutch devices had been well tried and tested. They lay sated in each other’s arms as dawn broke through the curtains.

  “Your son doth wake, milady,” Morgan murmured against her ear.

  “He’s your son. Fetch him, then,” Faith countered sleepily, tucking her head into his shoulder and wrapping her leg about the warmth of his hard thigh.

  “Wench,” he muttered, extricating himself as George’s cries became a little more pronounced.

  “Dastard,” Faith muttered a little while later when he presented her with the soggy and malodorous bundle of their son.

  “Is it too late to disclaim him?” Morgan inquired as he watched her strip the babe to the skin and scour him with the lukewarm water in the pitcher.

  Faith sent him a fleeting grin and returned to her task to the tune of George’s wails of outrage. “Much too late, milord. Mrs. Needham has already proclaimed you are much alike. Who else do you know has such a full head of black curls?”

  Proudly naked, Morgan stood beside the bed, running his hand through the maligned hair tangled at his neck as he looked down on them. “I never looked like that,” he objected.

  Faith gave their son a sweeping look, transferred the inspection to her husband as if to compare their physiques, then announced grandly, “Want to wager on that?”

  Morgan fell across the bed and grabbed her. Laughing, they tussled among the covers with their son between them, their joy too new to allow worry to tarnish it.

  Sometime later Morgan emerged from the inn with a happy whistle on his lips and his hat cocked over his brow. Despite Toby’s revelation to the town that they were already married, Morgan fully intended to have the deed done in a church, with their real names. His only thought of the moment was to find a clergyman. He knew there were problems ahead, not the least of them Faith’s desire to remain in service and his lack of income, but he was confident of his own abilities. He would find a way to make it work. With Faith to gain, he could not imagine it being otherwise.

  The sight of two familiar figures breaking into a run at his appearance caused Morgan to step backward in surprise. Then they were grabbing his arm and shoving him into a nearby tavern and all hell broke loose. Their warnings hit him with the rapidity of artillery fire. Thinking of the woman he had left with hair down, singing to their infant child, Morgan groaned and sank to a nearby bench.

  Chapter 34

  “Stop it, both of you!” Morgan roared, raising his hand for silence. The hope and happiness of moments before lay in shattered pieces in the sawdust of the floor, but he still had rage to hold him upright. “Enough!”

  He glared at the lawyer he had thought he had left behind in London. “What are you doing here, Golden?”

  The lean young man returned his glare. “Saving your neck and protecting Faith, if I can. Any more fool questions?”

  Morgan turned a black glare to Toby. “And how do you come to be in his company? Do the two of you conspire against me?”

  “And how do you suppose I would be doin’ that? Would you have me tell my brother of my lowlife friends so he could write for me? I was on the road home when I met him. The Montagues are right behind. Did I mention it was their henchmen who sent Faith fleeing here in the first place? We have to get her away. What are we doing sitting here?”

  Glaring at them, Morgan crossed his arms and made it apparent he was firmly entrenched. “I’m not running. Miles, tell me, did you give them Faith’s direction?”

  Disgusted, Miles signaled for the waitress and ordered ale all around. “Do you think I would be here if I had? It was that damn Runner. He tracked down my office and had it ransacked. When I found Faith’s letters gone, I knew who was responsible. I went straight to her grandmother as you told me to do, but the Runner had already sold the information to those scoundrels. Lady Carlisle found out what ship they sailed, and I followed. I didn’t know how else to warn you.”

  Morgan quaffed his ale without tasting it. As they talked, he kept his eye on the window. It was nearly noon and the street was crowded, but he didn’t think he could miss the massive battleship and the slippery shark that were the Montagues should they appear. “I apologize,” he said gruffly. “You caught me at the wrong moment. Does Lady Carlisle have any idea what they intend to do?”

  Not entirely mollified, Miles gave his friend and client a disgruntled look. “Hang you, I should imagine. There’s evidence enough, I daresay. What they intend for Faith is anybody’s guess. Her cousin has just married the strumpet he was passing off as Faith. The marquess settled a sum on them, but I imagine it’s not enough, considering the debts he has accumulated.

  “Faith stands to inherit half of the marquess’s estate and all of Lady Carlisle’s,” Miles continued. “The heir might object to the loss of half his funds, but he never hoped to inherit the Carlisle fortune. And as far as I can determine, Thomas only hoped to inherit a portion of the Montague money. The marquess has already in
formed him he’s received that and will receive no more. So I cannot fathom what they hope to gain. Unless Edward has some hope of marrying Faith and bringing all the inheritance to him.”

  “In which case, he will certainly have to hang me.” Morgan set down his empty tankard and strode to the window, scanning the street. “I think it’s time I faced those two fine fellows. I’ll not have Faith and our son shadowed by the buzzards, and if they stand to inherit a fortune, it would be best to remove all obstacles in the way.”

  The tone of Morgan’s voice caused his listeners to look grim, but mention of the child brought Miles’s head up. “Son? Faith carried your child?”

  Morgan sent him a tired grin. “She did. She’s with him now. A whopping big lad with a head full of black hair. When all this is done, you stand to be a wealthy man, Miles. I’ll leave you trustee of his estate.”

  That did it. Miles shoved back his chair and rose. “If you have some mad scheme of killing our noble guests and getting yourself hanged just so Faith and the child can inherit, I’ll refuse the commission. I don’t want any part of it, Morgan de Lacy.”

  Morgan shrugged fatalistically and turned back to the window. “Have it your way. Why don’t you say hello to Faith before you go?”

  Astounded by the turn of conversation, Toby looked from one man to another. “There’s got to be another way. This isn’t the forest, Jack. You have friends here. So does Faith. They can protect you. Let me go get them and explain what’s happening. There’s those who’ve had enough of the bloody British nobility and would give money for a chance to come to blows with them. We can drive them back across the sea.”

  Morgan lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “I’ve been in town a week, Toby. I think you put too much faith in a few shared mugs.”

  Miles shifted his shoulders nervously. “If there’s a chance it will work... You don’t know for certain yet that they even mean harm. Faith’s grandmother has offered a reward for her return. They might simply be after that.”

  Morgan quirked his eyebrow even higher. “I have every intention of talking to them first. I just meant to warn you that I didn’t expect the conversation to be beneficial. You gentlemen may do as you please. I, for one, intend to remove Faith and my son from the premises. I give you good day.”

  He walked off without looking back. If the Montagues had Faith’s direction, they would find her a lot more quickly than he had. He would have to slip her out of the inn without explaining why.

  Bumping into the kindly Mrs. Needham, Morgan took the lady’s arm and pulled her aside. “Could I ask you to do me a tremendous favor?”

  Mrs. Needham smiled. “I’ll see what I can do, sir. Faith has been a godsend to me, you know.”

  Morgan gave her a pleased look. “I want to surprise Faith, but I need to send her away while I prepare. Since we’ll be needing a place to live, I thought I could send her out to look at available houses, if there are any. Would you be able to help us?”

  “Of course! Do you wish to buy or just rent while you look around for land? There’s the lovely little house just around the corner... The Johnstons return to their plantation after the Assembly is over and would be delighted to let it to you until the fall session.”

  “Perfect. Could you send word to the Johnstons, then send someone with Faith to look at it? I expect to meet someone here shortly and dare not leave myself.”

  “Of course.” She sent him an anxious glance. “Will this mean that I need to look for a new manager?”

  “That will be up to Faith, but I suggest you begin looking, madam. I don’t think she has told you exactly who she is, but you’re likely to find out soon enough, though I’m not the one to tell you. I just want to prepare you.”

  Bess nodded knowingly. “That’s as I thought. She’s Quality. I knew it the first time I set eyes on her. You’re quite right. I’ll begin looking immediately. You just take care of your business, and I’ll see that she’s sent on her way.”

  Morgan let out a breath of relief as soon as the woman bustled off. Faith was going to kill him, if he didn’t get himself killed first. Remembering those sweet eyes watching him trustfully, Morgan turned the tide of his temper on himself. He had to be the worst bastard in the history of the world, but he would do his best to make it up to her.

  And their son would have more than he could ever offer. Hanging on to that thought, Morgan found a chair close to the door and sat down to await the arrival of their noble guests.

  Upstairs, Faith laughed when Bess suggested that she go around to see the house on the corner. She knew which one Bess meant. She had admired it every time she passed. It was one of the few brick houses in town, with a shell window over the door and neat shutters inside. The walled gardens surrounded a compact kitchen and outbuildings, and fruit trees shaded the far end of the property. Such a house was well beyond their means, but she smiled at the thought of it.

  “I am certain Morgan means well, Bess, but I really don’t think it would be sensible. He will want to look for land for his horses and he will be gone much of the time. I know him well. It would be far better if I stay here. Perhaps we should consider what rooms you could best spare during the summer months when the crowds are lightest. We’ll pay you a fair rent.”

  Bess shook her neatly starched cap “Captain Morgan... He is a captain, isn’t he? He has that military bearing about him. As I was saying, Captain Morgan was quite insistent that you go see it. I’ve already sent word around to tell the Johnstons to expect you. It would be most impolite not to go. Besides, it will do no harm to look. Perhaps it will be more reasonable than you expect.”

  Faith could tell that Bess had created a wonderful romance out of their relationship, assigning titles and probably a marvelous story to why they must struggle to make a life in the New World. She sighed, and nodded. “I will just look. That is all. I have too many things to do to take much time away.”

  “Don’t be foolish! It’s a lovely day. Take all the time you like. Take little George and show him off. He’s such a beautiful child. Here, let me help you.”

  Faith was wrapped and bustled off with George in her arms before she quite knew that she was going. A boy waited at the rear door to lead her to the house through the carriage alley. The idea of living in such grandeur seemed ludicrous, but she wouldn’t mind seeing the inside of one of the lovely houses she had admired but had never hoped to enter.

  The grandest house she could remember being in was the vicar’s cottage in one of the towns they had lived in for a while. It had been dark and rather gloomy, but the spacious rooms with upholstered furniture, carpets, and draperies had made an impression. She wondered if this house would possess such elegance.

  ***

  Morgan watched in disgust as Toby arrived with his brother and some of his friends. While the Assembly was in session, most of the gentlemen in town would be otherwise occupied at this hour, but it was obvious that Faith’s followers didn’t include just the gentry. As word spread, the tavern began to fill with ruffians and merchants and a few young gallants eager for a fight. Morgan never went out without his sword and pistol, but few of the others had more than rusty shotguns for weapons. This wasn’t a lynch crowd. This was a brawl waiting to happen.

  Miles arrived in the company of a lanky stranger with a decided family resemblance. Morgan nearly choked on his drink at the notion of Golden’s multitudinous family extending to these shores, but as he was introduced, the notion was confirmed. He grinned and shook his head and gestured for them to join him.

  “You’re out of your waters here, gentlemen. I don’t think litigation will solve this little problem, but I don’t mind the company.”

  Miles looked around at the crowd congregating in the taproom. “I don’t think it’s company you need. Where’s Faith?”

  “She’s out looking at houses. Where’s our foe?”

  “Cursing the lack of accommodations and throwing their weight around at Raleigh Tavern,” Miles said. “I think a quiet wor
d or two would remove them permanently if the tempers over there were any indication.”

  Morgan grinned. “Charming family I married into, don’t you agree? Do you think I ought to take my friends over to greet them?”

  “I wouldn’t waste the effort, were I you. Unless they wish to be stranded here, they have to get their business done and be back to the ship within some reasonable amount of time. The captain isn’t averse to leaving them behind, however.”

  Morgan sobered. “He might need to be persuaded to take Faith with him when he sails. This is no life for her, when she can have all the wealth her grandmother offers.”

  Miles grunted, then groaned at being presented with another tankard of ale. Sardonically, he lifted the hated drink in toast. “I’ll be certain to encourage her in that. Why would she want to stay here with gallows bait like yourself?”

  Morgan sent him a furious look, but the inn door opened, and he switched his attention there. It surprised him to see Thomas Montague alone, but he had no objection to taking them one at a time. He watched, waiting to see what would happen next.

  Mrs. Needham hurried in at the sound of someone beating at the front desk. Morgan watched as she frowned and shook her head. Catching sight of him in the taproom, she suddenly beamed and indicated his direction.

  The tall, darkly handsome aristocrat turned and gazed at the taproom with apparent disinterest, but Morgan could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was tense. In response, Morgan relaxed into his chair and lifted his tankard in greeting.

  The man scowled but entered the tavern. He wore a neatly powdered and clubbed wig and swayed as he walked on his high heels across the rough plank floor. Morgan grinned even wider. Without bothering to rise, he indicated the chair across from him. “Did you come to offer me more money?” he questioned mockingly as the stranger looked down his nose at his table companions.