Page 36 of How to Court a Rake
It had meant something to her and it had meant something to him as well. She roused all his finer instincts. He wanted to protect her, wanted to make things right for her. Because he alone knew just how wrong things were going to be for her. And therein lay a host of other complications.
All evidence was pointing to the fact that her father had been involved in the incident that had led to Stepan’s disappearance, an incident that had been intended to be violent, regardless, and was riddled with corruption. Even if nothing went public about it, the Earl would face ruinous consequences that would change his life and his family’s. Those consequences had already started to change Mary’s life.
You can save her. You can protect her with your name and your title.
The idea whispered in his head, a wispy ribbon of a thought that began to slowly take shape. He needed to marry to satisfy the King and marriage would separate her from her father’s scandal should it leak beyond its immediate circles. Marriage would also put her beyond Amesbury.
A shooting star crossed the sky and he let himself dream a little. They would go to Longstead, the estate near Newmarket attached to the marquessate. There would be a house to keep Mary busy and stables for them both to enjoy. They could build a life in the horsing community there, ride with the hunt, sit on the board of directors for the racetrack, perhaps establish their own thoroughbred string.
The dream wandered down other paths, too, paths where there were dark-haired children with grey eyes whom he carried about on his shoulders and who rode ponies in the white-fenced paddocks, who learned to shoot pistols and bows. It was a vision of a life he’d long set aside, an impossible life because of choices he’d made. It was not the life of a Horseman. There were plenty of reasons to justify wedding Mary, but they were short-term reasons only. They did not outweigh the more significant consideration.
The dream dissolved first, followed by the idea. In the long term, there was no guarantee he could keep her safe. A Horseman’s life was a dangerous life, full of unpredictability. One minute he was waltzing, the next he was trying to fish his brother out of the Thames basin. He could promise her nothing. Not even love. Loving her endangered her. If his enemies knew there was someone he cared for, he’d be vulnerable. He had to let her go. He sighed and held her tight. Well, it had been a nice thought while it lasted. Perhaps it was time to end this little fantasy, too. ‘Mary, wake up, love, we have to get you to the house and tucked in your bed.’
The idea of trekking back to the house in the dark was met with little enthusiasm from Mary. Struggling into her clothes just to have to take them off again at the house was met with even less. In the end, Mary wrapped herself in the well-used picnic blanket, her clothes stuffed in the basket. Caine walked back stark naked, Mary pressed to his side. At the edge of the garden, he swung her up in his arms. ‘No more grass,’ he explained. ‘The gravel will hurt your feet.’
‘But you’re barefoot, too,’ Mary protested.
‘My feet have calluses. Yours will be too delicate.’ He laughed and kissed her, winding his way through the garden to a servant’s door and up the back stairs to Mary’s room. ‘Shall I find you a nightgown before I go?’ he asked, setting her down on the bed.
She reached for his hand. ‘Must you go?’ The blanket had slipped, revealing a smooth, creamy shoulder. Temptation roared.
‘I must, Mary.’ He held back the covers for her. ‘I can’t be here when the maid comes in the morning.’ This was more to save her from embarrassment than himself. In all likelihood Grandfather probably knew already who was sleeping in whose bedroom and who had walked across his Italian gardens naked. He knew everything that happened in Europe, he certainly knew what went on in his own house.
‘But you can walk across the grounds naked with a half-dressed woman in your arms.’ She laughed softly. ‘You have an odd sense of ethics, Caine Parkhurst.’ She tugged at his hand. ‘Please stay, just for a while. You can still slip out well before dawn.’
It was reason enough, and he was tired enough, to not fight it. He slid beneath the covers with Mary and blew out the lamp. Not only because she asked, but for the first time, he wanted to stay, Grandfather and the rest of the world be damned.
Grandfather was waiting for him in the breakfast room when Caine made his way downstairs the next morning shortly before nine o’clock. He’d left Mary sleeping just before dawn and returned to his own chambers to put in a couple of hours of work before dressing and facing the inquisition that likely awaited him over coffee. There’d been letters to write to the Prometheus Club and a letter to Kieran apprising him of developments, although the newspapers had likely done some of that for him.
‘Sleep well?’ Grandfather looked up from his own stack of newspaper, delivered from all corners of Europe, his expression bland, giving nothing away. But it was never just ‘good morning, did you sleep well’ with Grandfather. Even the most innocuous question was a probe for information.
‘Yes, I did. First time in ages, actually.’ Caine helped himself to coffee from a silver urn and a plate of eggs with a generous slice of ham. Grandfather insisted ham was healthier for a man than sausages.
‘The country air agrees with you.’ Grandfather nodded affably before returning his attention to his papers. ‘Seems to agree with Lady Mary, too. She was out walking yesterday. Is she taking a tray in her room?’
‘Probably.’ Caine sat down and reached for a slice of toast from the rack.
‘It was a good night for sleeping outside. The Perseids are starting. Did you see any shooting stars?’
He was just confirming for them both what Caine had already suspected. But Caine wasn’t quite ready to discuss last night. He deflected. ‘How wereyourguests, Grandfather? Did any of them stay over? Did you have a productive supper?’
Grandfather set aside his papers, satisfied that Europe wasn’t going to fall into chaos for the moment, and fixed him with a serious stare. ‘Last night’s dinner was intended to verify your conclusions and I think we can safely conclude that your instincts were right once more. Creighton has written on behalf of himself, Cowden and the Prometheus Club to confirm that Carys had lobbied hard for Amesbury’s bid on the arms. He’d been exceedingly upset when the club used another provider in order to avoid what they felt was a conflict of interest.’ Grandfather gave a sly smile over his coffee. ‘It is useful having a duke for a grandson-in-law. Your sister did well for the family when she married Creighton.’
Coupled with the ledger pages he’d taken showing the loans and the deficit indicating financial troubles, that certainly leant more credence to Carys’s motives regarding the cargo than simply an act of revenge against Cowden and Creighton for supporting Harlow’s membership. But good news for Caine meant bad news for Mary. Her father was now implicated at best in underhanded business dealings and at worst international sabotage. Caine slowly buttered his toast, thinking. ‘Will the earl and Amesbury come here? It would save me a trip to town. I want a conversation with Carys.’
Grandfather raised a brow in interest. ‘What sort of conversation would that be?’
‘A conversation where Carys confesses his participation, filling in the gaps between our supposition and hard proof, and where he rolls over on his compatriots in order to save himself. With luck, he’ll give up Amesbury, offer us the name of the explosives expert Stepan killed and help us figure out who Amesbury is working with or for, if anyone. This might just be a money grab for them.’ Which would be more than a little disappointing to Caine. It all seemed too much to risk for too little return.
‘You still don’t think it stops with Amesbury.’ It wasn’t a question. Grandfather was eyeing him with sharp awareness.
‘I don’t. The damage done by this act of sabotage over a mere arms contract and money far exceeds the benefits the act would accrue.’ This was the conclusion he reached even when he took away the emotion of losing Stepan to this ridiculousness.Ifhis brother was dead, he wanted it to be for a ‘good’ reason, not because of a petty earl’s pique.
Grandfather broke into a smile that even at the age of thirty-eight could warm Caine with pride in having done something that pleased his grandsire. ‘Damn, but your instincts are the truest I’ve ever seen in this game. You are indeed right about that last piece.’
He leaned close, his voice lower. ‘The Amesbury familyisstill in league with Cabot Roan. Falcon is on the Continent right now and sent word that Roan is at the munitions factory in Brussels. He’s using an alias, of course. He might have escaped conviction a few years back, but not all justice is meted out through the legal system. Roan can’t set foot in England and I am sure he has enemies in Europe, too, hence the alias.’ He sat back, giving Caine a moment to take in the information.
Caine let out a low whistle. ‘The question is whether or not Carys knows and simply doesn’t care, or that he doesn’t know about Roan at all.’ He thought for a moment. ‘This does help explain Amesbury’s strong desire to wed Mary. With a title and a well-born bride, he’ll have access to social and financial resources in England that Roan cannot access for himself. I’d wager Roan is setting Amesbury up to be his intermediary in Britain.’
