Page 29 of How to Court a Rake
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. Heknew. 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 simultaneously hot and cold, his mind racing at what this meant and what itmightmean.
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 thinkyoumisunderstand, 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 hewantedto 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.’
