Page 15 of How to Court a Rake (Wed Within a Year #1)
M ary had forgotten the cardinal rule for any young unmarried lady at an entertainment: never be alone with a man. Perhaps it was because the entertainment was in her own home or perhaps, and more likely the case, she was too caught up in her own head about Caine and Lady Morestad. Whatever the reason, she found herself with Amesbury in a sitting room at the back of the house.
‘Your mother has excellent attendance tonight,’ Amesbury said, stopping at the sideboard to help himself to her father’s brandy. He didn’t offer her any. He turned, tumbler in hand. ‘But a crush can be wearying. I find it is difficult to have a decent conversation or an extended one of any quality. I want to have such a conversation with you tonight, Mary.’ He nodded towards a chair. ‘Won’t you sit, my dear?’
Mary shook her head. She would meet her fate standing up. She would not relinquish any source of power she had and right now that might only be her height. She would not let Amesbury tower over her, as he proposed. He did not strike her as an on his knees sort of fellow. Certainly, that was where this conversation was heading. It wasn’t going to be a conversation at all.
‘As you prefer, my dear.’ Amesbury smiled, teeth gleaming. He reminded her of a sleek, blond tiger and he was stalking her. ‘Let me begin by saying, you are a treasure, Lady Mary. In the time we’ve recently had together, I’ve come to the conclusion that you are indeed all that I hoped you’d be. You are exactly the sort of woman I need by my side. I’ve never been in society until now, I know no one, but you do and that will pave my path going forward.’
Mary’s heart was in her throat. How could she put him off? Her best strategy, perhaps her only strategy, would be polite belaying. ‘You flatter me, Your Grace. Perhaps it is too soon to make these decisions. I hardly know you and that is true for you as well. You do not know me outside of a few balls and a couple of at-home calls. I would like for us to have time to know one another better.’
Amesbury seemed to give the suggestion some thought and for a moment she dared to hope her ploy had been successful. ‘What is there to know? I’ve been on the Continent, conducting family business.’ He gave a laugh. ‘You know, the sort of business a great family tasks its less important relatives with. Minion work, I call it. Nothing exciting enough to tell you about, my dear. And then the mail caught up with me to inform me that I’d inherited. I do agree with you, if the circumstances were different, time together would be ideal. But we both know time is of the essence. Your family is eager to see you wed and I have my own exigencies given the sparsity of males in the Amesbury line. It suits me to wed sooner than later.’
He stepped towards her, a hand raised to stroke her cheek. She clenched her jaw against his touch. ‘You tremble, Lady Mary.’ His tones were deceptively silky. ‘Is it because you’re such an innocent? Or because you are thinking of another’s touch?’
‘If I tremble, Your Grace, it is because it is too great of an intimacy between strangers.’ Mary didn’t bother to disguise the contempt in her voice. ‘As you say, you are new come to society—perhaps you need a refresher on the rules. We should not be alone. You should not touch me in such a familiar way. You are to treat me as a lady, not as a possession.’
He gave a cold chuckle and stepped back, his eyes a blue steel, hard and unforgiving. ‘You have some fire to you, Lady Mary. It will be a pleasure to tame you to my hand. I think it is you who need reminding of the rules of this particular game, however.’ His tone was chilling.
Taming. As if she were an animal on par with his hound or his horse. Mary swallowed and took a breath to calm herself, aware of just how quiet, just how alone they were. One could barely hear the drawing room crowd from here. ‘You speak as if we have an understanding but you and I do not. We have never even spoken of one. You have intimated only that you have chosen a wife.’ She was fencing with words now and they were a dull blade indeed.
He gave her a look that sent a shiver down her spine. ‘Dear Mary, I thought the nuance of our exchange that evening was clear. The woman I have chosen is you.’ He gave a low laugh.
‘But I have not chosen you . I have not consented, nor have I been asked.’ She was feeling trapped. Amesbury stood between her and the door, the fireplace was at her back. Too bad the andirons were on the other side. A poker would come in handy just now.
‘You do not need to choose, Mary. Your father has consented on your behalf.’ He gave an evil, smug smile, his voice conversationally matter of fact. ‘You are mine, Mary. Your father and I finalised it earlier this evening. Your mother would like to announce the engagement tonight at the end of the musicale and we will wed as soon as possible.’ He reached a hand once more to stroke her cheek. ‘So, you see, your rules are satisfied. No one will care if we’re alone and it is perfectly respectable for me to touch you like this, or even in other ways should I desire it, since we are to be wed.’
‘I won’t marry you.’ Mary wondered if she could push past him, if he would let her go. If she could get out of the room, she could run, back to the entertainment, the light, the crowds. Until then, she was on her own.
Amesbury offered a look of feigned perplexity. ‘You would shame your father? Ruin your family?’ He gave a harsh laugh and she knew she was seeing the totality of Amesbury for the first time. He was not merely arrogant and obtuse in his privilege, but cruel as well. ‘You cannot refuse, even if you had the legal right to do so. You are his payment, Mary.’
He gave a sigh, more play-acting in his tone of false sincerity. ‘I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that we wouldn’t start our married lives with this knowledge hanging over us. I had wanted this proposal to be nice for you. Every girl wants to remember the moment a man chooses her.’ He shook his head and her disgust with him grew. She had to escape this room. ‘But you’ve made me say hard things, Mary. Your father owes me a debt he cannot pay. He hovers on penury, but I have generously offered to take you instead of currency to settle that debt.’
‘You lie!’ Mary spat at him. Her world reeled with the revelation. Surely that could not be true? An earl could not be impoverished. Her father, upstanding to his core, could not be in league with a man as disreputable as the one who stood before her. ‘You speak filth! I will not stay in this room a moment longer. I will go to my father.’
She used her anger to fuel a rush past him, but he had no intention of letting her leave. He grabbed her as she passed, his hand an iron band about her arm, and the full force of her fear raced through her. He had no intention of letting her leave this room without having garnered her consent to the marriage one way or another. This was his end game, she realised. She kicked at him, pushed at him, fought against him with all her strength. She let out a great scream and then another. Would anyone hear? Would anyone come?
Caine had forgotten how much he abhorred Italian musicales and especially how much he abhorred the manipulative, self-serving Lady Morestad. But it had all come rushing back when he’d seen her talking with Mary. He didn’t even need to imagine what Lady Morestad had imparted to her. He knew . He wished he could say it was all lies, but it most likely wasn’t. He’d regretted that affair the moment he’d started it. He’d been quite happy to concoct a reason to desert Lady Morestad shortly after the concert had started in order to rifle Lord Carys’s study.
Caine softly shut the study door behind him and turned up a lamp as much as he dared. Too much light and it would seep out below the door and draw the attention of a vigilant servant. But too little light meant searching would be more difficult and time mattered. He had only until the intermission to find what he was looking for. He’d start with the nautical oil he’d spied this afternoon.
He crossed the room and lifted the painting, smiling. A safe. Just as he thought. Carys was indeed predictable. It would be the most logical place to hide any incriminating documents. He went to work and had it open in short order. People were far too confident in their securities. Grandfather would be proud.
Inside, his eyes shoved past the requisite stack of coin and pound notes and lit upon a stack of what might be deeds and papers. That’s what he was looking for. He took them to the desk and riffled through them, scanning quickly. There it was, tucked between deeds to estates, the partial title to a munitions factory located in Belgium. His eyes halted on the other signature on the page. Amesbury. The Duke had indeed carried on with his predecessor’s business. His blood went simulta-neously hot and cold, his mind racing at what this meant and what it might mean.
It meant the ducal money came from arms sales. It meant Carys had invested with Amesbury. In and of itself, that was fine. Many gentlemen might invest in munitions factories. It was the circumstances of that ownership that concerned him and the timing. He tucked the deed into a pocket, put the other items back in the safe and re-locked it. It would help clarify those circumstances if he could find some confirmation of Carys’s financial status. It was one thing to have a working hypothesis, it was another to have proof. Evidence acted as powerful leverage.
He sat behind the desk, pulling at drawers until he found one that was locked. This lock was easier than the safe and he soon had it open. Ledgers. From down the hall in the drawing room, he could hear the soprano moving into her first act finale. Time was running out and ledgers had to be read. They couldn’t be taken and hidden as easily as a single sheet of paper. They’d be missed sooner, too.
Caine rapidly flipped through pages, searching for dates—something from the within the year or the past five months. Good heavens, from what he could tell at a glance, the man was bleeding money. He reached March and ran his finger down the column. There was a large pay out to the munitions factory in March and then in April, a single infusion of cash from Amesbury that temporarily balanced the books. And then, more withdrawals upon withdrawals.
The sound of applause reached him. The soprano was done. Caine gave himself a few precious minutes more. People would take a while to get up from their chairs and mingle. But then, anyone might come down the hall. Carys himself might decide to make a quick visit to his study. There were mysteries to decipher here and no more time to do it. There was nothing for it. In a neat motion, Caine ripped four pages from the ledger and folded them into his coat pocket.
He returned to the drawing room, hoping to seek out Amesbury for a little conversation. But Amesbury was nowhere to be found and neither was Mary. Likely they were in the garden where it was cooler, but he couldn’t dismiss the tremor of concern their absence raised for him.
He was thinking about the possibility of posing as a potential investor to draw Amesbury out when he heard the scream, a sound just loud enough to be heard amid the general hubbub of a hundred conversations, and it was blood curdling. Caine had heard enough screams to know the difference between a cry for help, a cry of startlement and the cry of someone who was merely overloud in their enjoyment. This was most definitely the sound of the former.
There was a second cry. People were starting to look now, breaking off from their conversations. Caine pushed through the crowd, following the sound. He called out to Carys who showed no sign of responding, ‘Come on, man. One of your guests is in trouble.’ His instinct told him that guest was Mary as he raced down a dimly lit corridor and the trouble was Amesbury. There was every urgency to reach Mary. She should not be down here alone with the man. But she literally didn’t know better. She didn’t know what he’d learned from Baklanov and she certainly didn’t know what he’d discovered tonight. To her, Amesbury was just an arrogant suitor. But he was so much more. He could not be handled with the usual feminine off-putting.
Dear God, let me be in time.
He reached the sitting room, aware of Carys on his heels, taking action at last, and his anger spiked. ‘Mary!’ Violence surged in his blood at the sight of her actively fighting, struggling against Amesbury, her gown torn, her alabaster cheek reddened. The bastard had hit her! By God, what sort of man hit a woman during what he guessed was a marriage proposal? But Caine knew the answer to that: a man who would joke about locking that same wife up in an asylum for disobedience, a man who didn’t take no for an answer.
Caine let out a roar and charged, throwing his entire, and not inconsiderable, weight against Amesbury. They went down, Amesbury gasping for air, Caine on top and taking advantage. He felt the hands of several gentleman on him, trying to pull him off Amesbury, trying to restrain him. A few others attempted to pull Amesbury free. A melee of arms and legs separated them. Caine staggered to his feet with a snarl, pulling free of the would-be restrainers, his first thought for Mary.
She stood pale and shaking against the wall. He staggered towards her, gathering her in his arms, not caring who was watching and appalled her mother or father weren’t already there. ‘Are you badly hurt?’ he murmured against her hair. ‘You’ll need ice or a steak for that cheek.’ His voice was low, just for her. No one else needed to hear. He could feel her breathing in and out against him, each breath shaky as if she’d run far. He gave her a moment, using the breadth of his shoulders to shield her from the room. He felt her hands clutch at his back, holding him to her. ‘You came,’ she managed the words.
‘I heard you call out,’ he whispered.
‘Get your hands off her, let her go.’ Carys approached in high dudgeon, making a bad scene worse. Caine’s mind was firing at top speed now, attempting to mitigate the situation.
‘Clear the room, Carys,’ he growled. ‘Where is her mother? Your daughter has been assaulted; she needs time, privacy.’
‘Assaulted?’ Amesbury struggled to his feet, sputtering in his anger, blood on his cheek from a split lip. ‘She is my fiancée. I should call you out for such an insult.’
Caine turned, putting Mary behind him. He glowered at Amesbury. ‘Is that a challenge? If it is, please know that I am more than happy to meet you on the field of honour and let my pistols do the talking.’ An ominous hush fell over the room. ‘Carys, didn’t I tell you to the clear the room? Out, I want everyone out!’ If Carys wouldn’t clear the room, he damn well would. People began to move, Carys finally galvanised into action. Mary’s mother made her way to her daughter’s side and ushered her to the sofa.
When the room was empty, Carys shut the door. ‘Now, let’s sit down and discuss this rationally. There seems to be a misunderstanding.’
‘I think the misunderstanding is on the Duke’s behalf.’ Caine took up a position behind Mary, unwilling to leave her unguarded in a room surrounded by people who ought to have her best interests at heart, but did not. The only friend she had present was him. He would do his best for her although she might not thank him for it. ‘When a woman says no, she means no, Amesbury.’
Amesbury took a chair opposite the sofa and, despite his bleeding lip, he crossed a leg over his knee with all the casualness of a man who owned the room. Caine felt his ire, which had not cooled by any means, rise again. This man should not be allowed to stay in the same room as Mary. He could only imagine how Mary felt to have her attacker remain in the same room and to have the whole incident classified as a misunderstanding by her father, no less.
Amesbury sneered. ‘I think you misunderstand, Barrow. She doesn’t get to say no. She is mine. Her father has given her to me in payment of debt.’ Caine watched Carys pale at the unpleasant truth being spoken aloud.
‘Tell him, Carys, about our deal.’ Amesbury gave a smug grin, perhaps thinking he controlled the room. He certainly controlled the Earl. They were not partners in this deal. ‘How you wanted a duke for your daughter and I was happy to oblige, along with forgiving your considerable debt in exchange for you helping me ease into society.’ Caine thought about the ledger pages tucked in his coat pocket—the loans he’d seen there, the accumulated debt. He and Kieran had been right about this part of the hypothesis at least.
‘Father, say it’s not true?’ Mary cried, but Carys did not deny it, only stared at her with pale stoicism.
‘It’s time for you to earn your keep, Mary. He’s a duke, it’s a good arrangement. You could not hope for better,’ was all he said.
Caine disagreed. ‘I think she could do much better than a man who hits her when he doesn’t get his way.’ He had solved half the puzzle tonight—Mary’s half. He’d not solved Stepan’s half. There was still work to do and now he had the clues to do it with. He still had to link Carys and Amesbury’s munitions factory to the sabotage. That would be his next step, but he could not leave Mary here among her enemies. Tonight’s debacle would make tomorrow’s papers and that was just the beginning of the disaster for her. Society would feel she had no recourse for her reputation but to marry Amesbury who would make it plain that he wanted to wed her.
Any resistance was on her part alone. This time her reputation would not recover. Assuming she’d be allowed to refuse. Already, her mother was making soothing noises and plans. ‘Don’t worry, Mary. Amesbury can see the archbishop tonight, wake him up if need be. We will have a quiet ceremony at the house tomorrow, maybe something in the garden by the fountain. You like the fountain. You can wear one of your new gowns and Minton can do your hair up with wildflowers. Cook can make some of your favourite little cakes.’
Amesbury tossed Caine a smug look over the women’s heads. See, I win.
‘Mary, is that what you want?’ Caine broke in, ignoring Amesbury’s look. ‘Your mother is right; a quiet wedding will make tonight’s contretemps go away.’ But it would not erase what her father had done, nor the potential scandal to come if Caine found the link to the sabotage. Did Mary think she had a choice? Did she believe there was an option? He gave her the only option he could.
‘If you don’t want this, Mary, I will take you out of this room tonight and keep you safe.’ At least he hoped he could keep her safe. That last bit was bold given that he’d not been able to keep Stepan safe. Perhaps his offer of safety wasn’t worth what it used to be. Still, he had to try. This was her moment, her choice, and it would decide so much more for her than she knew, yet she had to decide and, Caine reminded himself, he had to abide by that decision. If she chose to stay, he would have to abandon her to her fate, something that would be more difficult to do now than it would have been a few weeks ago. A most disturbing thought indeed.