Page 16 of How to Court a Rake (Wed Within a Year #1)

T he choice was hers and it could very well decide the trajectory of her life—a most disturbing thought, given that the choice must be made on the fly. Mary sat up a bit straighter and edged away from her mother’s dubious comfort, aware of Caine’s presence behind her, the heat of him, the strength of him. He’d come for her, he’d fought for her—the sound of his roar, the sight of his muscles unleashed in her aid still played through her mind. No one else had come to her defence, not even her own father.

The result of Caine’s efforts was this moment laid before her. Her father had bartered her to another. Caine offered to take her away from honouring an agreement she’d not consented to. Take her away to where? To what? She didn’t know. That was the chance. Caine would set her free. Where she went from there was anyone’s guess and she could not delay in her answer.

Her father was rising. ‘You cannot take her from this house.’

She felt Caine bristle, could imagine the thunder in his face, the storm in his dark eyes, his anger a palpable thing. ‘ I am not forcing her to do anything. I am giving her a choice. You cannot say the same. If she leaves, it will be of her own free will.’ It was the unspoken argument in his words that decided her. By extension, if she stayed that would be by her own free will as well. It would be as good as consenting to the match with Amesbury. Although it took all of her courage, Mary stood. ‘I will go with you. There is nothing for me here.’

Shouting broke out: her father incensed, Amesbury spewing furious epithets, her mother gasping. She was only conscious of Caine’s hand closing around hers, tugging her after him as he strode to the door. ‘I’d hurry if I were you,’ he growled. ‘I’d rather not have to shoot anyone while we’re in the house.’ There was more shouting in the hallway, her father calling out to servants. Dear heavens, would he really bar the way?

‘Take the back hall then, it lets out into the garden and there’s a gate to the street,’ Mary instructed, lifting her skirts to run. A deeper fear came to her for the first time. If she were caught now, she’d be locked in her room and let out only for a wedding.

Caine scuffled with a footman at the door and then they were free, Caine pushing her ahead of him into the garden as they sprinted for the gate. They were nearly there when the shot rang out, passing so close to Mary that her hair lifted. She screamed in shock and looked back to see Amesbury at the door. The man had fired at them—at Caine or at her? Thank God he’d missed in the dark.

‘Go, Mary! The latch!’ Caine yelled, forcing her to refocus. She fumbled with the gate and they were through, running in the night, Caine in the lead now, her hand tight in his as they headed straight for his coach. ‘Hurry, take the road to Sandmore,’ Caine commanded the coachman as he bundled her inside and climbed in behind her, the coach lurching into instant motion without hesitation as if escaping from social events was a usual part of the coachman’s evening.

‘Are you hurt, Mary? The bullet didn’t graze you?’ The breathlessness in Caine’s voice was not from exertion. His hands were at her temples, searching her face, her hair in the dark, feeling for blood, she realised.

‘I’m fine, it just lifted a few hairs as it passed.’ She gave a shaky laugh. It must have passed close indeed if Caine was concerned. ‘He shot at me.’ She began to tremble as the words gave life to the final moments of the brief chase. ‘The man my father wants me to marry shot at me.’

Caine’s hands framed her face, his own face close to hers so that she could see the stern set of his features, the dark anger of his eyes. ‘Set it aside, Mary, as best you can for now,’ he instructed in earnest. ‘It will only paralyse you, overwhelm you if you let it, and you must absolutely not let it. You must be alert and brave for me, for yourself. Can you do that for me?’

She swallowed hard and gathered herself. ‘Yes.’ He was absolutely right. The horrors and betrayals of tonight were staggering if she dwelt on them. There would be a time for that, but this was not it.

‘That’s my girl.’ Caine smiled his approval and she felt an irrational surge of pride that she’d pleased him.

‘Where are we going?’ Mary asked.

‘To my grandfather’s. We should reach Sandmore by morning.’

‘Do you think they’ll follow?’ Mary asked as Mayfair fell behind them. She didn’t let herself think what would happen to Caine if they were caught on the open road in the dark. With no witnesses, Amesbury might dare anything.

Caine gave a non-committal shrug. ‘Hard to say. They’ll lose a lot of time harnessing a coach and they’re not sure where we’re headed.’ He reached beneath the seat and pulled out a wooden box. ‘If they do, however, we’ll be prepared.’ He lifted the lid to reveal a pair of pistols. ‘Can you shoot?’

Mary met his gaze over the box, solemn and grim. ‘I can if it’s not too far.’ And she would if it meant keeping this man safe from the likes of Amesbury. Tonight, Caine had stood up for her. He had been her champion. If needed, she’d return the favour and be his. But she hoped it wouldn’t come to that, at least not until she had a bow and arrow in hand and could do it justice.

Caine reached beneath the seat again and pulled out a blanket and flask. ‘The blanket is for later, once we’re certain we’re not being followed. The flask is for now.’ He passed it to her. ‘It’s whisky. Sip it. It will burn going down, but it will settle your nerves and I dare say they need it after the night you’ve had.’

Mary took a brave swallow, thankful for the instruction. It did burn. It was definitely not port. But it helped. As the warmth spread through her, she felt her fear ease, replaced by something more powerful, more exhilarating. She’d taken control of her future, whatever it might be. In the morning, that fact might scare her witless, but for now, in the dark of the carriage with Caine beside her, she’d revel in it and let the realisation make her strong. No matter what the morning held, she was going to need all her strength.

Morning light streamed through the carriage windows, limning the curve of Mary’s jaw, turning the cream of her skin to a delicate pearl as she slept, wrapped in the blanket from beneath the seat, her breathing soft, slow and even. Somewhere in the darkness, she’d found peace while he kept watch throughout the long drive.

It was difficult to believe someone in possession of such elegance, such delicacy, was also in possession of such iron and steel. She’d found the strength of character to stand up for herself, to fight for what she wanted. The only other woman he knew in possession of such tenacity was his sister, Guinevere, whom he admired greatly and who had married the Duke of Creighton, one of Mary’s intended suitors.

Mary had nearly died for that tenacity tonight. While Caine was fairly certain Amesbury’s bullet had been meant for him, his aim had put that bullet in Mary’s way instead. Amesbury’s actions tonight certainly did nothing to dispel Caine’s instincts that the danger of Amesbury was more than that of an unwanted suitor. He’d shown himself to be not only a violent man, but also a man who used that violence often enough that it had become a choice of first resort; a man who defended his claims and got his way through violence was a dangerous man indeed.

He would not soon forget the sight of Mary at Amesbury’s mercy tonight despite her best efforts. Nor would he soon forget the feeling that sight had engendered in him; primal anger had taken root deep within him. Not because Amesbury was physically assaulting a woman, although Caine would have come to any woman’s aid in a similar situation, but because it was Mary.

Those feelings ran beyond a sense of responsibility and general protection towards her. Perhaps it was because of the recency of the intimacy they’d shared that afternoon, and perhaps it was something more, but those feelings were real. There was a logical explanation for it, of course. In the past few weeks, they’d become friends.

Friends who climaxed in carriages against your hand?

His conscience was having none of that argument, which prompted another argument: what were his intentions in regard to Mary? Did those intentions stop at protection? What constituted protection? How was it achieved? Did he owe her more than that? After all, she’d walked out of a life it would be difficult to return to at best and impossible to return to if Caine’s other suppositions bore out.

The coachman called down, ‘One mile to Sandmore.’ It was time to wake Mary and brace her. She was about to walk into the heart of the Parkhurst legacy and it wasn’t going to be what she thought. Sandmore was not the usual bucolic country house of an earl. It was imposing both in its architecture and its atmosphere. Secrets trod its halls, people arrived at all hours of the day and night with messages for his grandfather. The walls fairly vibrated with intrigue. One could not be at Sandmore and remain oblivious that all was not as it seemed.

Caine leaned over and gently shook her. ‘Mary, we’re nearly there. You’ve slept the night away.’ A sign, perhaps, of how exhausting the evening’s events had been for her that she’d slept so long and so soundly in a rocking carriage. She raised her head, her dark hair falling down from its pins, her eyes drowsy.

She met his news with a soft smile of relief. ‘We’re safe, then. They didn’t give chase.’

Caine only smiled in reassurance, something inside him responding to that small, powerful word ‘we’. But it was a misnomer. She was safe. For the moment. But he was never safe. He’d left safe living behind years ago. She’d learn that soon enough at Sandmore.

Caine braced himself as well as they turned on to the long oak-lined drive. He’d never brought a woman to Sandmore to meet his grandfather or to meet his own secrets. He watched Mary’s quick fingers work some feminine magic fashioning a hasty bun for her hair. He reached for her chin in a gentle gesture and turned her cheek towards him, wincing at the bruise left by Amesbury’s palm. ‘That will hurt for a while. I am sorry we didn’t have anything for it.’

She touched it gingerly. ‘Does it look awful? Perhaps we can find some rice powder to cover it up.’

Caine shook his head. ‘You needn’t worry about covering it up. Do not be ashamed. It is your badge of courage. You fought honourably.’

She plucked at her dress. ‘I look a mess. People will wonder what you’ve dragged in.’

‘We’ll take care of you. There will be dresses and hot water and rice powder if you desire it.’ Guinevere would have left gowns here and Grandfather was always well stocked for all nature of emergency. The wheels crunched on gravel and Caine felt protectiveness surge. He ought to warn her. But about what? About himself? Or perhaps she had enough to worry about and a disclosure, did her no favours. How ironic that in his attempt to protect her, he had to risk exposing himself. But not now. Not yet. He said simply, ‘We’re here’, and handed her out into the bright early morning light to meet his grandfather’s piercing gaze.

The Earl of Sandmore stared down at them from the top stair of Sandmore’s front steps, leaning on his walking stick and looking fresh and alert for dawn’s early light—a sharp contrast to how Caine felt in rumpled evening clothes and dark stubble on his chin.

‘You’ve driven all night. My outriders spied you the moment you hit the village.’

Caine nodded. Of course his grandfather knew. Grandfather knew everything, some of it even before it happened. ‘I come with urgent information.’ He ushered Mary up the steps.

Grandfather raised a white brow in correction, ‘You’ve also come seeking sanctuary.’ His gaze indicated he was not entirely pleased.

‘This is Lady Mary Kimber. There’s been developments with Amesbury.’ Caine met his grandfather’s disapproval evenly with his own gaze. Grandfather valued his privacy. Mary was not a welcome guest, but he knew Grandfather wouldn’t turn her away on the power of his word.

Grandfather’s gaze moved to Mary, taking in the bruised cheek, the torn dress. He gave a curt nod. ‘Then you’d best come in. I’ll have my maids lay out something for you. You can wash and rest.’

‘You are too kind, my lord.’ Mary smiled and Caine watched his grandfather soften.

‘I am not kind, Lady Mary, merely practical. I can’t send you away without putting you and other important matters at risk. Grandson, we’ll talk after you’ve had something to eat.’

Caine found his grandfather in his office, the same office in which his grandfather had shared the letters patent a few weeks ago. It seemed a lifetime ago now. He pulled out the papers culled from Carys’s study and put them on Grandfather’s desk. ‘Amesbury is indeed continuing the family business of munitions and Carys is definitely in bed with him. There’s a deed with both of their signatures on it for a munitions factory in Brussels. And Carys owes Amesbury money. There are ledger pages that show some losses, a decrease in income since his expulsion from the Prometheus Club, and two loans from Amesbury for which he likely used the promise of a marriage to Mary as collateral based on the events that transpired last night.’

His grandfather’s eyes were dark. ‘From the look of her, I take it Amesbury’s proposal wasn’t met with resounding joy.’ He picked up the pages and took his time to read them. ‘Tell me what you think, Caine. Your instincts are usually good. What do you think is happening?’

‘I think Carys invested with Amesbury under the belief that they’d win the Prometheus Club’s bid for supplying arms to Greece. When they didn’t, Carys ran into money problems. He couldn’t cover some of his debt, hence the first loan from Amesbury. Then, there was the social contretemps between Carys and Cowden and when Amesbury suggested they sabotage the shipment in order to force the Prometheus Club to buy arms from them on the second go round, Carys saw it as a chance to get his money and his pride back. He traded on that, to his detriment.’ A detriment he was likely unaware of. In his desperation, he’d tied himself to an event of political sabotage that could have had far-reaching implications for Greek democracy and he’d tied himself to the potential death of the Earl of Sandmore’s grandson.

His grandfather thought for a moment. ‘Are you of the opinion, then, that Carys doesn’t know how deep Amesbury’s treachery goes?’

Caine had grappled with this very question during the long night. How much did Carys know? How much was he a willing party to or an unsuspecting one? ‘I don’t think he knows that the munitions are potentially faulty if the Brussels factory is following the same production as the previous factory here in England did. I don’t think he knows that Amesbury will sell to anyone who has money to buy regardless of what that party is fighting for. And I don’t think he knows or perhaps believes that the Amesbury family could still be connected with the arms dealer, Cabot Roan, who was tried and escaped sentencing a few years back on the power of the Amesbury name.’

That was the connection he didn’t have proof for, it was supposition only, but it made sense. Why would the Amesbury family have manipulated the justice system to get the man off of charges simply to let him disappear? ‘Carys is facing financial ruin. He is a desperate man looking for one big payoff to restore his coffers.’ That he would barter his daughter to get it did not make him likeable. Caine had known plenty of desperate men in his time and they were always dangerous because they had nothing left to lose.

‘Knowingly or unknowingly, Carys has put himself in a horrible position. He is ruined in more ways than finances.’ Grandfather tapped his fingers on the desk’s surface, thinking. ‘Does Lady Mary know any of this?’

‘Only that she’s been promised in marriage in exchange for debt forgiveness. She thinks it’s a social swap. Her connections to pave the way for the new Duke of Amesbury, who hasn’t been out in society, for her father’s financial stability.’

‘She’ll have to be told for her own safety and her own plans.’ Grandfather met his gaze steadily. ‘I do not relish you the task.’ Caine didn’t relish it either. What she knew already was bad enough. Telling her that her father was likely connected to his brother’s disappearance would…well, it would drive a wedge between them. She would feel entirely alone, betrayed even. He’d certainly dragged her into the lion’s den without warning.

‘What are her plans? Does she understand the ramifications of coming here?’ Grandfather asked, then added shrewdly, ‘Do you?’ He gave a short chuckle. ‘I take it that her father’s involvement isn’t all she doesn’t know.’ He gave him a knowing glance. ‘Seems like you will have some explaining to do.’

Caine nodded. ‘I just hope I don’t have to do it all at once.’ And that when he did tell her, she wouldn’t regret her choice.