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Page 21 of How to Court a Rake (Wed Within a Year #1)

S he was furious! With Caine certainly, but with herself even more so. She’d been entirely taken in! She’d even been his champion, thinking him maligned by society, and all the while he’d been duping her .

Mary shut the door of her chamber behind her and leaned against it, her anger mixed now with sad disbelief. She was in an impossible situation. What did she do now that there was no one to turn to? No one to trust? She was beset on all sides: her family on the brink of ruin, her own freedom traded in marriage to offset familial debt and the one man she’d trusted to see her safe had done so only because he intended to marry her instead.

She couldn’t go home, couldn’t return to her old life. It didn’t exist. Rumours and gossip had seen to that even if her parents would forgive her behaviour. Although, she thought, the need for forgiveness ran both ways. Her father needed to explain himself. She could only go forward, into a new life, with a new name.

Caine has offered you both of those things , her conscience whispered. A new life and a new name as his Marchioness. Surely you can work through your differences, build something together if you forgave him. He can protect you. You might not like what he had to say, but it was truthful and it was not wrong.

He was right. Amesbury would not give up, not if he thought he had access to her. If she meant to go, she had to go now before Amesbury and her father came looking for her, before Caine had a chance to persuade her into a decision she’d regret. Love had to work both ways. She could not be the only one willing to love in her marriage.

Outside, the rain began to fall, drops trickling down her windowpanes. Perhaps that would work in her favour. In the rain, no one would come after her. Maybe they would forgive her for taking a few things with her. She stripped two pillows of their cases. They would work as sacks.

She would take the nightgown, a spare dress and a few of the underclothes. She had her jewellery and she wrapped it carefully in a washcloth. She could sell it piece by piece for passage, for food, for lodging. If she was careful, it would last until she could settle somewhere and do something. That part of the plan was still unclear to her. But Sussex was on the coast. She would make for the closest port town and catch the first packet, the first ship, to anywhere: France, Portugal, even the Americas.

Thunder rumbled. She debated taking a horse. It would make travel faster, but it would also alert people to her absence. Better to walk the two miles to the village and catch a coach from there, although it would be a muddy two miles. With luck, there’d be an evening coach. With even more luck, Caine wouldn’t miss her until after supper when it was too dark to do anything about it. She didn’t relish the idea of Caine storming the inn and attempting to drag her back here in front of the village. Assuming he came at all. Perhaps he’d just let her go. Perhaps he’d decide she wasn’t worth the trouble. At least if he came for her, it meant she mattered just a little.

Tears stung her eyes and threatened to spill as she tied a knot at the mouth of the pillowcase. She hadn’t needed two after all, such was the state of her worldly goods. For now. This was just a temporary setback, she told herself. She swiped at the tears. She was not going to cry over Caine Parkhurst. Perhaps she was starting to understand Lady Morestad’s bitterness. Perhaps that elegant lady had been taken in by him, too, thought she’d understood him only to be taught otherwise. Mary took a final look at the room, at the bed where a few hours ago she’d slept in blissful contentment beside a man she thought she’d loved.

Was it worth it?

Perhaps it still was. She’d learned a valuable lesson or two about men. She said a silent goodbye and shut the door behind her, slipping down the servants’ stairs, pillowcase bag in one hand, out of the house and into the storm.

Mary was soaked through by the time she had walked the two miles to the village and more than thankful for the simple comfort of the inn’s fire in the common room. It was a quiet night and there were few people about. Once she warmed up, she’d make enquiries about a coach. She kept herself busy with plans in the meantime so that her mind didn’t have time to think about the enormity of what she had done and what she was doing. If she thought too much, she’d run out of courage and that was simply not an option. She just had to take one step at a time, focus on the present. She could do this. She had to.

Intent on warming herself, she’d sat with her back to the door and as a result, she did not hear the danger or see it until it was too late. ‘Mary, what a pleasant surprise to find you here, all packed and ready to go.’ The man’s voice at her ear made her jump in surprise. She whipped her head around and came face to face with a smiling Amesbury. Her blood ran cold with memories of the last time they’d been together.

‘What are you doing here?’ She tried to keep the tremble of fear from her voice. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d succeeded in frightening her.

‘Looking for you, my dear,’ he said in silken tones. He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning it from side to side. ‘It’s a pity about your cheek, but it will heal. You’ll have to be more careful in the future, dear. We can’t have you running into things.’

He crooked his arm. ‘My coach is outside. I dare say you’ll find it a bit drier than whatever you were travelling by. You are alone, aren’t you?’ She knew better than to think he was really asking that question. He was using it to remind her that she was indeed alone in a strange place where no one knew her and those that did know her did not know where she was or even that she was gone. It was starting to look like a bad idea to wish no one at Sandmore discovered she’d gone until after supper. By then, she’d be long gone from here, but not in the direction or with the company she’d hoped to be.

‘Perhaps I don’t wish to go with you.’ All she wished at the moment was to be back at Sandmore. He would not dare go to Sandmore. He’d be outmatched there.

‘It doesn’t matter what you want. I thought I made that clear the other night. You are mine, bought and paid for. You shall go where I want, when I want and, right now, I want to head back to town. We don’t want to be late for our own wedding. It’s all been arranged. St. George’s in the morning, dusky pink roses, a string quartet, and a wedding breakfast at Amesbury House before we leave for our wedding trip. I thought Brussels. Your mother has exquisite taste, by the way. She made the arrangements. Everyone is clamouring for an invitation.’

He gave another of his seemingly benign smiles and showed all of his teeth. ‘We’ll spend the night before the crossing to Ostend at an inn on the coast. I think you’ll like it. I’ve reserved their bridal suite.’ He took her hand and kissed it. ‘My dear, your parents will be so relieved I’ve caught up to you. They’ve been beside themselves with worry. As have I, but all is well that ends well.’ Fear was in her throat, but she refused to give in to it. He was trying to scare her on purpose.

Caine would never frighten her, never try to use fear to motivate her, never try to steal her sense of choice.

Even this afternoon when there was something he so clearly wanted, he’d left the choice up to her at great cost to himself. She saw that now, too late.

She pulled her hand away. ‘You mean monetarily worried.’ What could she do but stall him? Keep him talking in the hopes that maybe someone from Sandmore would come looking for her.

‘Caine explained it all to me. The munitions factory, the arms deal that failed, the attempted sabotage on the ship so that the Prometheus Club would be forced to buy a second round of arms, this time from you.’ Caine had told her all of it, had not hidden it from her like her father had, like Amesbury had. He had shared hard truths with her and she’d rewarded him poorly for it.

Amesbury made a tsking noise with his tongue. ‘That is all true, your father has lost a lot of money.’ He shook his head. ‘But you can make it right for him and for me. I want this marriage very badly and I am not sure how your father survives his situation if you don’t honour his agreement with me. I’ve seen men blow their brains out for less and your father seemed quite agitated when I left him. He was absolutely distraught.’

That last frightened her. She might not care for her father at present, but he was her father. Caine’s words came to her: ‘We don’t know how much your father knows.’

‘Does he know what kind of a scoundrel he’s doing business with?’

Amesbury grinned as if she’d made a joke. ‘I think he’s figuring it out. Now, let’s be off.’ If she fought, if she screamed, would anyone come to her aid? Besides the innkeeper, his wife and a barmaid, there were only two others in common room—two older men playing chess by the window. She’d thought there was a third, but he was gone now. Would any of them stand up to a duke for her?

‘Your Grace.’ The innkeeper bustled over, his eager subservience answering Mary’s question. No one would stand up for her here. ‘We’ve just received word there’s been a mudslide on the London road a mile from here. You won’t be getting through tonight. Shall I see to a room for you? Our best room is available and there’s a private parlour where you can sup.’

‘That’s unfortunate. But we’ll make the best of it, won’t we, my dear?’ Amesbury said, ushering her out of view to the private parlour, ushering her out of sight. They were alone. He might do anything to her and no one would stop it unless she stopped it.

‘It certainly is unfortunate,’ she replied coolly. ‘If Caine Parkhurst finds you here, he will kill you.’ She hoped that was true. She’d been a fool twice today. First in refusing Caine, in being more interested in her anger than his explanations, and second in running. She should not have left Sandmore. She’d been mad and she’d not thought clearly. Now, here she was in the clutches of the very man Caine had warned her against.

He sneered. ‘You assume he’ll come for you? Then again, he might just be done with you and happy to leave you to your fate—which isn’t all that bad, Mary. There are a lot of girls who’d gladly wed me.’ There was a bottle left on the sideboard and he pulled the cork, pouring two glasses. ‘Wine, my dear? We can toast our future.’

‘I was hoping we would be toasting the future Marquess and Marchioness of Barrow.’ His grandfather pulled the cork from a bottle of French burgundy with a rueful glance his direction.

‘I did ask her.’ It was just the two of them for supper, if one didn’t count the storm, which was making its presence known loudly enough to warrant its own seat at the table, but of Mary there was no sign. She’d not come down for supper and no one reported having seen her since she’d stomped back into the house and slammed her bedroom door.

‘Why did she refuse?’ Grandfather poured two glasses.

‘She doesn’t trust me. She thinks I was courting her because I was investigating her father. In other words, using her to gain access to her father. Marrying her is just “Horseman’s work”, not true love.’

His grandfather put his nose to the wine and inhaled before sipping. ‘Angry women say angry things. She was hurting. She’s been through a lot in a short period. She needs time. Perhaps she’ll be more receptive if you check in on her. After all, she liked you quite a bit last night. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to remind her of that.’ He took another swallow of his wine. ‘And, Caine, it wouldn’t hurt either of you if you said the words she needs to hear.’

The footmen came forward with the supper—they were eating simply—a single entrée of rabbit in a creamy mustard sauce with peas on the side. Caine had just taken his first bite when a messenger arrived. His grandfather tossed him a wry smile. ‘Some day, these interruptions will be all yours.’

‘I’m in no hurry for that.’ Caine smiled back, but he watched his grandfather’s face change. ‘What is it?’

‘Amesbury is in the village. Our man was in the inn when he arrived and he’s got Mary,’ he said grimly.

‘How is that even possible? She’s in her room…’ But even as he said the words he knew they were wrong. Caine sprinted out of the dining room and up the stairs, throwing open Mary’s door. He didn’t need to look about to know the truth. She was gone. The room felt empty. Sterile. Not like the room he’d slept in with her last night. Still, he threw open the wardrobe and pulled open drawers. She’d only taken a few things with her.

Downstairs, he gave the order, ‘Saddle a horse for me.’ Damn, but he wished Argonaut was here instead of in London, getting fat on hay. He needed a sure-footed mount in this weather.

‘Take the coach instead,’ his grandfather countermanded. ‘You want to arrive with your powder and your thoughts dry.’

‘Coach is slower.’ And speed seemed to be the preference of the moment. ‘If he’s managed to get her into a coach and he’s on the road already, it will be difficult to make up time in the rain.’

‘Our man says the London road’s out. No one is going anywhere tonight.’ Grandfather put a firm hand on his arm. ‘Make sure you’re thinking with your head. Amesbury is dangerous. This is about Lady Mary’s safety, but it’s also about something much larger, don’t forget that. I do wish Kieran was here to go with you. Take two of the footmen, they’re trained for emergencies.’ Caine nodded. Of course they were.

It seemed to take an eternity to cover the two miles to the inn. There was too much time for Caine to be with his thoughts. It was a nightmare come to life, the very thing he’d warned his grandfather about earlier today. To be associated with him put one in danger and now the person in danger was Mary.

At the inn, he strode inside and scanned the common room in hopes Amesbury was there, but that hope had been slim. Amesbury wasn’t stupid. If he was stuck here overnight, he’d want to be out of sight in order to min-imise the chances of being recognised or Mary being recognised. That meant they were upstairs. In a room. Together. Mary would be terrified, alone with a man she detested, a man who had hit her once before, a man who had bought her, who had no morals, no scruples.

Caine pulled his pistol from his greatcoat and charged up the stairs, ignoring the innkeeper’s shout of outrage. Amesbury would have the best room. That one, at the top of the stairs. ‘Amesbury!’ he yelled, launching a kick at the door that sent it splintering as he crashed through. Inside, his eyes took in the chaos. Mary’s hands were tied to the bedstead, Amesbury in a state of dishabille scrambling for the pistol on the table, but Caine got there first, pistol raised as he stepped between the table and Amesbury, his body shielding Mary should Amesbury pull a knife from a boot.

‘You’ve resorted to tying your women up, I see.’ He gestured with the pistol to the chair set before the fire. ‘Sit down over there, Amesbury, nice and slow—you and I are going to have a talk about your business with Cabot Roan.’

The sight of Amesbury paling was almost worth the trouble. Caine didn’t think he’d ever seen blood drain out of a man’s face so quickly before. ‘Why did you try to sabotage the arms cargo? And before you try to deny it, let me assure you that I know what you attempted in Wapping. I saw the munitions expert who was so desperate to escape us he jumped into the water. I do not believe for a moment it was for the reasons you used to persuade the Earl.’

Amesbury glared. ‘I am not telling you anything. Do you have the balls to make me?’

Caine cocked his pistol. ‘I do and the aim to go with it. I can’t say the same for you. You might have one less ball when we’re through.’ He levelled his pistol. ‘Mary, you may want to look away.’ He wanted answers and he wanted them fast. He wanted to get Mary back to Sandmore, wanted to settle things between them. ‘I will give you until the count of three. One, two.’ The lever pulled back on the pistol.

‘Wait!’ Amesbury was ashen. He crossed his legs. ‘The Ottomans paid us. They couldn’t afford to let such largesse reach the Greeks. That would change the balance of their little war. Roan was playing both parties against each other. When we didn’t get the bid for the munitions, we told the Ottomans about the shipment and the loan. Carys gave us all the information and it was easy to pass it on. Then, the Ottomans hired us to blow up the ship, which suited us fine. We’d get the next contract and in the meanwhile we were being paid by the enemy.’

Amesbury rose slowly, hands raised, and stepped towards the table. ‘Now you can put that pistol down, Parkhurst. You have your answer for all the good it will do you. You’ll never be able to prove it.’

‘Does my father know you sold his information to the Ottomans?’ Mary’s voice trembled with anger behind Caine.

‘No, nor does he know about the Ottoman money.’ Amesbury smiled wickedly. ‘He only knows I’m his friend, the one keeping him afloat, and I’ll keep doing it as long as he keeps doing what I say.’ Amesbury lunged then, suddenly, wildly, for Caine, thinking to knock the pistol from his grasp or to grab the other pistol from the table.

Caine didn’t take time to make the distinction. His only thought was for Mary. If Amesbury got his hands on a gun, he would not hesitate to use it against him by threatening to harm Mary. Caine fired. At close range there was no margin of error. Mary screamed, Amesbury crumpled, a stunned look on his face, and then he was gone.

Caine felt the twin emotions of regret and relief. Amesbury could pose no further threat to Mary and yet it was never easy to take a life. He went to Mary and sliced through her bonds, some of that regret fading at the sight of the red marks on her wrists. Amesbury had deliberately tied the ropes far tighter than needed. She fell against him.

He swept her up in his arms and carried her downstairs to the coach. There would be loose ends to wrap up tomorrow, but for the moment all that mattered was holding Mary close, wanting to assure himself she was safe and unhurt as they made the trip back to Sandmore.

‘When I heard he was here and that he had you, I nearly lost my mind with worry. I was afraid I wouldn’t get here in time, that he would hurt you, that he would be gone with you.’ He cupped her face with his hands, wanting her to see him when he said it. ‘But most of all, Mary, I was afraid I wouldn’t get to tell you what I should have told you today when you asked. I love you. There are a lot of reasons I could marry you, but that’s the only one that counts.’

Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘I was afraid, too.’ She swallowed hard. ‘That I wouldn’t get the chance to apologise. Today was upsetting and I let that obscure the importance of what you were willing to do for me. Instead of being angry, I should have been honoured by your proposal. I should not have doubted you or doubted that you were telling me the truth just because I didn’t like hearing it. Amesbury could have taken everything from me tonight if you’d not come. I do not want to ever feel like that again—that everything was over before I’d even begun to live.’

‘Life with a Horseman is dangerous,’ Caine warned.

She shook her head. ‘I think life without a Horseman is even more dangerous.’ She leaned towards him. ‘I wouldn’t want to live without you, Caine. You’ve brought me to life, the real me. I’m alive when I’m with you, everything is vibrant and precious and every minute matters when it’s spent with you.’ She curled her arm about his neck and drew him close. ‘You set me free.’ She pressed her lips to his and his body began to hum with want. ‘So, is that proposal of yours still on the table?’ she murmured against his mouth.

‘Yes.’ He let his tongue tease her bottom lip and she laughed.

‘Yes is supposed to be my line. When do you think we can wed?’

He drew her on to his lap, her hands already working his breeches loose. ‘Well, very soon would be best at this rate.’ Because when a man who thought never to be able to marry decides to wed, he doesn’t want to waste any time.