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Page 14 of How to Court a Rake (Wed Within a Year #1)

M ary was still on his mind hours later as Caine dressed for the evening. In the span of an afternoon things had become infinitely more complicated. He rooted about in his trifle box for the round diamond cravat pin he preferred for this evening and fastened in the dark folds where it winked like a single star in a midnight sky, or perhaps a single beacon of hope in circumstances that might quickly be coming to a head.

Caine did not relish his task tonight—to find the final connection that would link Carys and perhaps even Amesbury to the sabotage attempt. If he found that link, it would put him one step closer to avenging his brother, but it would also put him another step closer to ruining Mary. After this afternoon, he knew how that step would look to her. It would look like betrayal and he would look like the worst of deceivers. One did not allow an innocent to find pleasure in one’s arms, promise them hope and the illusion of friendship and then turn around and destroy them.

He would be entirely guilty of everything she accused him of. He should have known better and he should not have let things go as far as they did, not only because he was the more experienced party, but also because he knew what was coming. Yet she’d been irresistible in her excitement, her passion. He’d wanted to show her the possibilities of pleasure—real pleasure, to show her what she deserved. And heaven help him, he’d wanted to experience those things, too. With her. Before it was too late and harsh reality intruded for them both.

A knock at the door interrupted his mental flagellation. Kieran let himself in, already dressed for the evening. They’d discussed his meeting Baklanov when he’d returned and Kieran had taken some time since then to sift through all of it. He knew his brother would want to talk one more time before they split up for the night.

‘We have a valet.’ Kieran looked him up and down. ‘You should use him. Your cravat is crooked.’ Kieran strode towards him. ‘Let me help. Cravats are a two-person job.’

Caine lifted his chin and let Kieran fuss. ‘Yours looks fine.’

‘Phineas, our valet , helped me with mine and he should help you with yours.’ Kieran removed the diamond pin as he scolded. ‘It hurts his pride that the Marquess dresses on his own. He feels as if he can’t do his job.’ Kieran re-inserted the pin and smoothed the folds. ‘That’s better.’

‘I’ll make it up to him tomorrow when I need a shave. Tonight, I needed time to think.’

Kieran made a sympathetic noise. ‘You’re worried about what you might find in the Earl of Carys’s study tonight.’ They’d decided the sooner they knew the better and this evening’s musicale provided the perfect opportunity to be in the Carys town house without having to break in. All he needed to do was find a moment to slip away to the study. It would be a quick search. The Earl would either keep important documents locked in his desk or in a safe behind the nautical oil painting.

‘Whatever I find or don’t find will be a disappointment at best and disastrous at worst. If I find no connection between the sabotage and the Earl, we’re back to square one in our search for the saboteur, or I find something damning and become the instrument of Lady Mary’s ruin.’ She did not deserve that. Dread settled in his stomach. If he did find something, he wouldn’t have a choice. England and his brother had to come first.

Kieran gave him a considering nod. ‘I think that depends on how you define ruin. If the Earl is connected with the sabotage attempt, it will all be handled privately. Grandfather isn’t going to go public with this any more than he’s gone public with our other work.’ Which meant none of it. London society had no idea what the Horsemen got up to outside reckless rides and wild wagers. ‘The shipment was private,’ Kieran went on, ‘only the investors knew about the incident in Wapping and they certainly don’t want that to go public for political reasons. All anyone in the general public knows about Wapping is that an unknown man died after being apprehended by Stepan and Stepan is…missing. Grandfather does not want a front-page story in The Times about an arms deal double-cross involving an earl.’

And what Grandfather wanted, Grandfather got. ‘If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears? Is that your reasoning?’ Caine rummaged for his onyx and pearl cufflinks.

‘Something like that.’ Kieran shrugged. ‘The point is, Lady Mary will not be ruined by an arms scandal. That won’t even come to light.’

‘No, she’ll be ruined by the fact that she’s lost a third duke.’ Caine could just imagine the frenzy that would throw the gossips into. If Carys was implicated, Amesbury would not want the marriage.

‘You’d be saving her, not ruining her. I thought you said she didn’t want to marry Amesbury?’

‘She doesn’t. It’s just the thought of what it will do to her. Society will think it’s just another piece of matrimonial gossip and she’ll be affected badly by her father’s crime.’ She couldn’t win—she faced scandal on one hand and a dangerous, disappointing marriage on the other. Hadn’t she suffered enough? She needed a middle path.

‘You could marry her,’ Kieran put in. ‘Why not? You need to marry for your title’s perpetuity and a marriage would deflect talk about her.’ That was not the middle path he was thinking of.

‘That’s a horrible idea, and an impossible one.’ Caine stared hard at his brother. ‘Do you actually think she’d even look at me once she realises I’m to blame for all of it? That I betrayed her father?’

‘Oh, I see.’ Kieran couldn’t quite suppress a grin. ‘It’s not the ruining of her that has you worried, it’s the ruining of you and her together that bothers you. You don’t want to lose her.’

‘Not like that, I don’t,’ Caine said sharply. ‘Even if she would forgive all that, have you forgotten I am not a marrying man?’ The idea of wedding Mary, who’d matched him jump for jump in the arena, who’d straddled him in the carriage this afternoon and moaned her pleasure against him, was not unpleasing. But it was impossible. He might actually fall in love with that woman and that folly would risk her doubly.

‘Have you thought what it would mean to a woman to be married to one of the Four Horsemen? I think she’d be unpleasantly surprised to learn that we’re a bit more than rakes. Rakes might be reformed if they so choose, but once a Horseman, always a Horseman.’

‘So you’re allowed no happiness of your own?’ Kieran countered.

‘What happiness would there be if I could not be happy knowing my family was potentially in danger because of me?’ Caine snapped his pocket watch shut with a sense of finality. He did not want to have this discussion with Kieran with the feel of Mary still imprinted on his body.

‘So you will choose for her? You will decide who she gets to love? What would she say to that?’ Kieran pressed, stopping to check his own cravat one last time in the mirror.

Caine knew what Mary would say, assuming she had good feelings for him at the time of decision making. He could hear Mary’s voice in his head arguing that a woman would want to make the choice, that she would not want a man to decide for her who to love and how to love. But how could she know what such a choice meant? But he knew .

Grandfather had made it clear when he’d recruited them that this was a life and a lifestyle, that there was no ready exit from either. One could retire, but that did not ensure one’s enemies would forget them. Families and wives became leverage. Caine would not ask a wife to risk herself in a relationship with him. It was selfish to do so. These had not been considerations when all this had begun, proof of just how complicated things had become.

A footman knocked on the door to alert them the coach had arrived for him and a cab was here for Kieran. He smiled at his brother. ‘Time to go.’

Kieran gave a nod. ‘You’ll be safe? Do you want me to come? I could act as a lookout. I don’t like the idea of you in Carys’s study alone.’

‘It will be fine.’ He gave a chuckle at Kieran’s worried frown. ‘We’ve successfully done far more dangerous things than pilfer a puffed-up lord’s study.’

‘I know. It’s just that I’ve lost one brother on this mission and I don’t want to lose another,’ Kieran said soberly.

Caine shook his head. ‘Do not think like that. If we perceive we have limits, then we do and that’s when we make mistakes. Stepan is out there, alive, somewhere, I know it. I believe it, every day I get up. If we can find the saboteur, we are closer to finding our brother. Those two missions are intertwined, inseparable, now.’ He would do whatever it took to see that mission completed.

‘I would say “be careful”…’ Kieran laughed ‘…but I know you won’t be.’

Caine drew his brother into a quick hug. ‘Don’t worry, but I know you will. Have a good evening, Brother.’

Mary was not having a good evening. Her evening was, in fact, a study of opposites compared to her afternoon. Her afternoon had been wildly thrilling on horseback and off. A night of music sung in a language she did not understand would not approach anywhere near even mildly thrilling. The same could be said of the company as well. Caine Parkhurst was an excellent companion. He encouraged her to claim her own passions. The Duke of Amesbury was not, taking every opportunity instead to remind her in subtle and unsubtle ways that he meant to claim her—something that was growing increasingly alarming because of his persistence in mentioning it and in her parents’ refusal to deny it.

Mary waved her painted fan in the vain hope of creating any kind of significant breeze in the drawing room, but despite the French doors being thrown open to the gardens, a cooling draught remained elusive. Amesbury had gone for lemonade and she hoped he’d be a while. Her mother’s musical evening was a positive crush. Apparently, the Italian soprano engaged for the evening was quite popular on the Continent and it was counted a social coup for her mother to have got the woman for a private engagement.

Although, Mary wondered just how private it was if it seemed that half of London was here. Except for the one person she wanted to see the most. The venue might be tolerable if Caine were here. If he were, she could imagine them sneaking off to a quiet, dim room to sit and sip. She would have port instead of lemonade. She would hear the news from his meeting with the Prince. Then she would share the disturbing conversation she’d had with her mother this evening as she’d dressed. She could still hear the words in her head.

‘Wear something new and pretty tonight, my dear. I think this evening might be very exciting for you.’

One didn’t have to be a fortune-teller to know what her mother referred to. Her mother thought Amesbury was about to propose. Perhaps she knew he would. Her mother had smiled and patted her hand, pleased over the development. This solved all their problems, all the tension that underlay their little family. But what seemed ideal to her mother seemed ominous to Mary. It was not the end of trouble, but the beginning of a life without hope, without escape, without pleasure.

Tonight, she’d forced herself to imagine behaving with Amesbury, doing with Amesbury what she’d done with Caine. She simply could not do it. To make a comparison required there be some level of sameness between the men and there was not. Caine had encouraged her. She could still hear Caine’s voice at her ear.

‘Pleasure is coming, Mary. Claim it.’

It had all been for her, although she rather thought Caine had experienced his own pleasure in watching her claim her own. Amesbury would never be so selfless. Any pleasure to be had would belong first and foremost to him. Caine might be the rake, but Amesbury was ruthless.

Mary glanced around the room, hoping to catch sight of Caine, that somewhere in the crush she’d spy his dark head, his broad shoulders, his black attire standing out from the black and white uniformity of the other men. Perhaps he was just late.

‘You won’t find him here.’ There was a light, sophisticated feminine laugh at her side. The elegant woman perched on the chair beside her smiled, blue eyes full of worldly knowledge to match the elegant sophistication of her striking dark blue and silver gown. Diamonds dripped from her neck, sparkled at her ears and in the depths of her raven’s wing hair. A bracelet to match encircled her gloved wrist. ‘I’m Lady Morestad.’

‘Lady Mary Kimber.’ Mary smiled politely, wondering why this woman would seek her out.

‘Oh, I know who you are, my dear.’ Lady Morestad gave a practised flick of her fan. ‘It’s hot tonight. Too many people, really. Such events need to be exclusive to mean anything. But here we all are.’ She leaned close in assumed familiarity and Mary caught the scent of expensive perfume on her. Everything about this woman was expensive and calculated for maximum impact. Quite successfully so. The woman was beautifully turned out, making the most of all her assets despite her age, which must be nearly thirty-five.

‘All of us except Parkhurst, of course, the one man we’d all like to see. Or Barrow, as I suppose we should call him now.’ The beautiful Lady Morestad fluttered her fan in a languid motion. ‘Musicales aren’t for him. The only thing he likes about Italian sopranos isn’t their voices.’ She arched a slim dark brow and gave a throaty laugh.

‘I wouldn’t know.’ Mary found the woman’s audacity too much. She felt defensive on Caine’s behalf. He wasn’t here to protect himself from this woman’s barbs. But perhaps he wouldn’t mind. ‘Nor am I sure why you think I would want to know.’ She suddenly wished Amesbury would hurry with the lemonade. His reappearance at least would require Lady Morestad to vacate the seat. It was very much a case of the devil one knew. She knew Amesbury. She hadn’t the faintest idea what Lady Morestad was playing at.

‘No, you wouldn’t know. You are far too innocent and definitely not Caine Parkhurst’s usual type. But perhaps you’re the new Marquess’s type?’ Lady Morestad’s eyes narrowed. ‘Perhaps he’s interested in such an innocent because now he has a title that allows him to marry far above his anticipated prospects. The daughter of an earl would be quite the catch for him, something he could never have aspired to as the son of a third son.’

She gave a smug smirk. ‘Don’t think for a moment that marriage will tame him. I feel sorry for his bride, whoever she’ll be. He’ll wed her, bed her and move on from her. I doubt his fidelity will last beyond the honeymoon. After all, they don’t call him and his brothers the Four Horseman for the ruin, but for the rapture.’

Mary might have only partially guessed at the reference, but she fully understood what the woman wanted now. It was on the tip of her tongue to say, ‘Is that what he did to you?’ But she would not lower herself to this woman’s cattiness. This woman was here because she was jealous, because Caine had turned his sights away from her and she wanted them back.

‘I think you should go. This is an unseemly discussion.’ Mary summoned all her coolness to dismiss her. This woman was jealous and in that jealousy she was lashing out. She couldn’t possibly know how close her remarks came to the vulnerability Mary carried deep inside, the wounds those arrows threatened to reopen. Wasn’t that her greatest fear? That she was desired not for herself, but for what she brought to the table?

Lady Morestad waved her fan and made no move to leave. ‘I don’t mean to upset you, Lady Mary, just to warn you. He’s absolutely audacious in his pursuit and unrepentantly wicked in his conquest. That’s the part he enjoys most. Once he feels you’ve been conquered, he’s ready to move on.’ She gave Mary an assessing look. ‘Of course, as long as a woman understands what the arrangement is, he can be quite a pleasurable experience. Our poor husbands can’t compete and I do think a woman deserves one good lover in her lifetime.’

Mary fixed her gaze straight ahead as the musicians took the stage and began to tune up. ‘I am not for the conquering, Lady Morestad. Thank you, though, for the warning. I know what Caine Parkhurst is.’ But it hurt to hear it out loud, to see one of his lovers face to face and have to admit to the truths in her head—that what he’d done with her today, he’d done with countless women before and would do with countless women after her. She was simply here and now for him, the woman he was with at present.

Lady Morestad made a sound of false empathy. ‘He’s got you thinking, like every other woman he’s seduced, that this time it will be different, that you can change him, that you can make him stay. It’s a delicious fantasy and he plays the part so well. All that…’ Her gaze strayed to a point over Mary’s shoulder and a hungry, predatory light shone in her blue eyes. ‘Well, wonder of all wonders, the Marquess of Barrow at a musicale.’

Mary turned, her heart leaping at the sight of Caine in his usual black evening attire, tousled hair combed into temporary submission, a round diamond pin winking as it held his cravat in place. His dark eyes had never looked so dashing or so dangerous as he bowed. ‘Ladies, good evening. You both look lovely.’ Mary didn’t feel lovely in her soft rose-coloured silk next to the elegance of Lady Morestad’s blue and silver silk. She felt young and untried despite knowing that to not be quite the truth. But it was on her that Caine’s eyes lingered.

‘I’d ask to what we owe the honour of your attendance, Barrow, but I understand the attraction of the musicale better now, I think,’ Lady Morestad said coyly. ‘There are new pigeons for you to pluck now that you’re a marquess.’ At her words, Caine’s gaze shifted to Lady Morestad, perhaps the response Lady Morestad had intended, but the gaze that passed between them was ladened with daggers and just as sharp. This was the way former lovers who’d parted badly looked at one another. Mary was distinctly uncomfortable.

‘If there’s anyone who knows about plucking pigeons, it would be you, Lady Morestad. I bow to your experience,’ Caine replied smoothly. ‘Lady Mary, I have seats in the back near the door where it is cooler. Perhaps you would join me?’

Amesbury chose that moment to make his appearance, too late to be of any use in fending off Lady Morestad’s indecent conversation, but in plenty of time to exchange strong glances with Caine. ‘Lemonade, my dear.’ He handed her a sweating silver cup with an overt show of proprietorship in the gesture. Mary’s temper flared. He did not own her. Not yet. ‘Barrow, perhaps you might share your seats with Lady Morestad.’

Lady Morestad beamed. ‘What a splendid idea. I would love a seat,’ she said smoothly, offering Caine her gloved hand as the Italian soprano took the stage and a little bell rang calling everyone to attention as Mary’s mother mounted the dais to make introductions.

‘I hope you didn’t have to suffer the two of them unduly. The refreshment table was a battleground on account of the heat,’ Amesbury groused as he settled into his seat. ‘Good riddance to Barrow and Lady Morestad. I haven’t the foggiest idea why she’d want to talk with you. I’ll have a word with her and let her know the association isn’t appreciated. She won’t bother you again. I was afraid we might be stuck with them for the duration. They’re both odious. They deserve each other.’

That was very much what Mary was afraid of—that this was what her life would be like, with Amesbury picking her friends and deciding who she could and couldn’t speak with. As the soprano began, Mary fought the urge to look back at Caine and Lady Morestad to ensure they were in their seats. She would never be able to explain such a glance to Amesbury. But when she and Amesbury walked past their seats at the intermission, Amesbury whispering that he wanted to go somewhere and talk, the seats were empty. Her heart sank, each and every verbal arrow shot by Lady Morestad finding their target. The very real fear rose that Caine and Lady Morestad were indeed, off somewhere, ‘deserving’ one another, and she with her inexperience was already forgotten.