Page 40 of How to Court a Rake
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 wasnotgoing 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 shewasdoing. 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 hewasher 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.
‘Ididask 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?’
