The Unofficial Suitor Read online

  “I would not be averse to the idea. I confess, I have always had a certain fondness for our young friend, and might wish he could be content to remain on this side of the Atlantic.”

  “He is not that much younger than we are.”

  “In years perhaps not, but in experiences ...”

  “Ah, if experience is to be the measure of a man’s age, I doubt not but that I am eighty in the shade.”

  There was a comfortable silence between them as they contemplated the flickering fire, each lost in his own thoughts, before Richard spoke again. “Yes, I am inclined to think that the time is right for Richard Hawke to emerge from the shadows and begin his life as a proper English country gentleman, enjoying the sights of London with his friends as any provincial hick might be expected to do.”

  “I find the label ‘provincial’ an incongruous one when applied to you, Richard, never having seen you at a loss, no matter what the setting.”

  “Not even when I was a callow youth on board the good ship Golden Dreams!”‘

  “Not even then. You had something that set you apart from the others. I do not know what to call it other than a kind of determination. And my early estimates of your abilities have proven to be correct, although even I am sometimes astounded at how far you have come.”

  “We have come together, my friend, and our journey is almost over. Yes, I do believe the time has come for the last step. We can use our time in London to build acceptable backgrounds for Richard Hawke and John Tuke.”

  The silence that greeted his last remark was no longer comfortable, and Richard turned to see a look of distress on his friend’s face.

  “If you mislike the plans I make, you have only to say so, John. I would not like to think I am forcing you to go against your own desires.”

  His companion smiled wryly, as if in self-mockery. “I suspect that in this case, you will deem it in my best interests to apply a little gentle coercion, which will nonetheless be impossible for me to withstand.”

  “I had not known you thought me such a fearful ogre. Pray enlighten me as to what absurd ambitions you cherish that I must talk you out of.”

  The older man stared into his glass for several minutes before he finally spoke. “I wish to continue as your valet in London.” Receiving no response to his statement, he finally looked up and met Richard’s amused glance.

  “Ah, John, how well you know me. I do believe you are the only person alive who can predict what I will do.”

  “Then you do intend to dissuade me?” At Richard’s nod, John continued. “Is there nothing I can say that will convince you I am serious in this request?”

  “Perhaps if you explained yourself more fully?”

  “It is not easy to explain, and I am not sure how well I understand it myself, but I will make an effort. My father was a vicar, you see. He is dead now. I made inquiries when we returned to England. I have no doubts but that he was sincerely mourned by his little flock when he passed on to his reward. He was a very good man, you see, who managed to find some goodness in everyone around him.

  “I am not completely sure he even believed in the existence of true evil, and such petty sinners as he had to deal with in his parish were assumed by him to be merely misguided, rather than fundamentally bad. He wished me to take orders also, but I was mad for the sea so he made the necessary arrangements to secure me a position on a merchant ship.”

  “Perry was right. I have dragged you down unforgivably.”

  “No, Richard, on the contrary. You have not only saved my life on numerous occasions, but you have also saved my sanity. I confess, I thought of nothing much those first few weeks of captivity except finding the necessary means to put a period to my existence.”

  “I would never have allowed you to do that.”

  “I was aware of that, and it played a large part in my decision to cast my lot with you, young as you were. And I have never regretted that decision.”

  Staring into the fire with unseeing eyes, his friend became silent, as if his thoughts were in a distant place, and Richard realized that the stripes on their backs and the marks of the irons on their wrists and ankles were not the only scars they both carried. And sometimes the scars on the mind were the slowest to heal.

  “But I am getting ahead of my story now,” Tuke continued softly, “and I must go back to when we first met on board ship. There was more of my father in me at that time than I was willing to admit, and on first meeting you, I immediately placed you in the category of misguided sinners, and I determined to lead you back into the paths of righteousness.”

  He turned toward Richard with a rueful smile on his face. “I was not so blind to reality, you see, as to think that you were a total innocent when you were dragged on board. I was reasonably certain you had not spent your early years entirely on the right side of the law.”

  “In that you were correct.”

  “Where I erred was in my belief in a world without true wickedness. I have since discovered that there is such evil in the world and it is ofttimes so much more powerful than the good that it frequently makes me doubt my father’s unshakable belief that the righteous will triumph over the unrighteous, and justice prevail over the unjust.”

  “While I appreciate your taking me into your confidence, John, I am unable to see how this relates to your wishing to continue as my valet.”

  “As to that, I fear it is sheer cowardice. I simply feel more comfortable continuing under your protection, and I do not yet have any great confidence in my ability to survive long on my own in such a wicked world as this one.” The self-mocking smile on his lips was not reflected in his eyes, which were dead serious.

  “You wrong yourself when you admit to cowardice. Remember, I have already seen numerous examples of your bravery.”

  His friend shook his head sadly. “Ah, Richard, it is one thing to face physical danger bravely. It is another matter entirely to face evil with no spiritual armor. Were my father alive today, and did I explain myself fully to him, I am sure he would denounce me as a wicked blasphemer, for, truth to tell, I would sooner have you as my shield and defender than our Savior himself.”

  “Nevertheless—”

  “As I predicted, Richard? The iron hand in the velvet glove?”

  “As you predicted. I cannot allow you to continue in such a subservient role as my valet, and the sooner you accept the equality that is your due, the better it will be for both of us. As I have always told you, the half of such wealth as we have acquired belongs to you, and I have fully meant what I said. We can, however, compromise to the extent that I might introduce you to others as my secretary—perhaps a distant relation? That would not utterly limit your options and would make your later rise to riches more credible.

  “I do not doubt but that the day will come when you see me as a mere mortal, with all the normal human weaknesses, rather than as ... er ... your savior, as it were.... Confound it, John, that image you have of me is too much to swallow. Now I must strive to keep my boots on in your company, lest you discover my feet of clay.”

  * * * *

  “What do you mean to do, my dear?” The cook paused in her packing and looked at the newest addition to Lord Parkhurst’s household.

  Annie Elizabeth Ironside did not answer for a moment. Then she shoved aside some clothes and sat down on the bed. “Do? Why, continue on in service here, of course.”

  “You should not even think of staying in this household, now that the wicked Earl of Blackstone is taking over the premises for the Season. I have always said that gambling is evil, and this certainly proves the case. I cannot think what Lord Parkhurst was about, wagering the use of this house on the turn of a card. And then to have included all of us servants in the bargain—work of the devil, that was, and the devil was in the cards that night, too.”

  She folded another voluminous apron and stuffed it into her bag. “Well, take my advice and find yourself another job. Lord Parkhurst may have gambled us away like so m
any shillings, but we are not slaves to be bought and sold like that. I advise you to come away, also, and find another position in a more respectable household.”

  “I think I must stay and take my chances,” Annie replied simply.

  “Well, it shall be on your own head, then,” the cook muttered. “I, at least, have done my Christian duty by warning you.” She forced the bag shut and with Annie’s help, fastened the straps. Pausing in the doorway as if she were going to say something more, the cook only shook her head sadly before she departed.

  Left behind, Annie threw herself down on the bed and contemplated the unfortunate situation in which she now found herself. The cook was not the only servant leaving the household. In fact, only a mere handful were intending to stay.

  Annie’s reason for not leaving was as valid as any. Married at sixteen to her childhood sweetheart, she had left the Highlands to follow the drum in Portugal and Spain, only to lose her husband at the Battle of Waterloo.

  Since then she had lived a precarious, hand-to-mouth existence in London, the small number of sewing jobs she was able to take in only slowing down the gradual process of starving to death. The position here as an upstairs maid had seemed an incredible piece of good luck, and she had thought it meant her worries were over.

  Unfortunately, Lord Parkhurst had gambled her future away. With no letters of recommendation from previous employers, she could not, like most of the others, simply apply for another position. And having worked here only a fortnight, she could not impress any potential employer with her vast experience.

  The same thoughts kept going around and around in her head, as she tried to think of some way out of the mess she was in. Finally she drifted off into a light doze.

  She was not sure what woke her, but when she opened her eyes a strange man was smiling down at her. It did not take the cook’s description of him for Annie to recognize the wicked earl, for his depravity was clearly written on his face.

  “Well, well, what a delicious morsel Lord Parkhurst has left behind for me. I am only surprised he did not see fit to take you with him. I, on the other hand, have never been one to resist temptation, and I have always had a particular weakness for red hair. Yours is an especially enticing color, my sweet. Tell me, have you a temper to suit your fiery locks?”

  He reached out a hand to touch her hair, but Annie was up off the bed in a flash. Unfortunately, the earl managed to keep himself positioned between her and the door, blocking her escape. When he took a step toward her, she immediately made a feint to the right, then darted to the left.

  The room was too small and the earl was too quick for her, and he easily caught her around the waist. “You may struggle all you wish, my sweet. It just makes the pleasure sweeter.”

  Annie had no intention of struggling ineffectually. Her husband had taught her a better means of defense, which she had used on several occasions since his death.

  In a second the knife she always carried concealed upon her person was in her hand, the tip pressing against the earl’s ribs.

  Shock and surprise intermingled on his face when he jerked away from her. He looked down at the slash in his jacket, as if not believing the blood that oozed out. Then he began to curse dispassionately.

  Holding the knife the way her husband had taught her, Annie waited for his next move.

  “You should not have cut me,” he said, cold anger replacing the hot lust in his eyes.

  “It is nothing, a mere scratch. But you may consider it a warning. The next time I shall not hesitate to drive it home.” Annie forced her voice to be as cold as his.

  “Do you think I cannot take that knife away from you?”

  “Perhaps. You may try, in any case. Do you think I cannot come into your room some night and slip a knife between your ribs while you are sleeping?”

  Unexpectedly, he smiled. “We are more alike than I had realized, my sweet. I think we will do very well in bed, once you are over your girlish reluctance. It is fortunate I am a patient man. I can wait a while until you realize we are two of a kind.”

  To her relief, he took his departure, holding one hand to his ribs to stop the bleeding.

  Without hesitation she rushed to bolt the door behind him.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  The stagecoach hit a larger bump than usual, and Cassie was thrown against the man to her left. She immediately jerked herself back into an upright position and clutched her cloak more tightly around her.

  London was going to be an absolute disaster. Any slight hopes she may have had to the contrary had been dispelled virtually as soon as the trip began, and nothing that had happened during this interminably long day had given her cause to change her mind.

  It had been bad enough when her brother had refused to let them travel with him in his coach. Despite her objections, he had vanished back to London, only very grudgingly parting with enough money for them to take the stage. His obvious selfishness had been almost enough to disillusion even Ellen as to Geoffrey’s near-sainthood, but in the end her step-mother had managed to justify his odious behavior as “pressing business in London, of a most urgent nature, which precludes his kicking his heels here while three giddy females make preparations to embark on the greatest adventure a woman can dream of having.”

  Cassie privately suspected that the urgent business consisted of a rackety set of cronies and a deck of cards. She was, in fact, firmly convinced that it was pure meanness on Geoffrey’s part that had caused him to abandon them to their own devices.

  As for London being the greatest adventure—stuff and nonsense. She was about as willing to be convinced that being thrown on the Marriage Mart was an experience greatly to be desired as Marie Antoinette would have been willing to agree that facing the guillotine was an experience she would not wish to forgo.

  On the other hand, to be fair, Cassie had to admit that her present uncomfortable situation was partly her fault. Having made the acquaintance of Geoffrey’s groom and mistress, she had bitten back the arguments she might have used and had not insisted upon a place in her brother’s carriage.

  She had realized her error as soon as the door to the stagecoach was thrown open for them to climb in. The coach seemed at first glance to be filled to capacity already, but a second look had shown her that it was occupied by only three men. They were such a disreputable looking trio, however, that they should not have been allowed to ride even as outside passengers. They had possession of three of the four corners of the coach, and their long legs, moreover, were taking up far more than their share of the room between the seats, leaving the three women to insert themselves carefully into the small amount of space remaining.

  It would not have surprised Cassie if the three men had only bided their time until they were crossing an isolated section of moor before pulling wicked-looking pistols out from beneath the greatcoats they wore and holding them all up for their valuables. Although their pickings would be slim indeed if she and her companions were to be their intended victims.

  Before the morning was over, she would have welcomed even an attempted hold-up to break the monotony. She had assumed, naturally enough, that she and Ellen and Seffie could have a comfortable coze during the trip.

  The atmosphere in the coach, however, did not lend itself to the sharing of girlish confidences, and it would have taken a braver woman than Ellen to prate about dresses and balls and parties and suitors in such company.

  The atmosphere, in fact, reeked of strong spirits, and the only thing Cassie could even be slightly thankful for was that the men had spent most of the day sleeping off the effects of the alcohol they had evidently imbibed freely before the trip. They had only roused themselves briefly at noon, when the stage had stopped barely long enough for the passengers to snatch a quick sandwich and a cup of hot tea—although she strongly doubted that the three scruffy men had had tea in their mugs.

  Shortly after lunch, Ellen and Seffie had also settled down, being able, as they were, to le
an against each other and so achieve a modicum of comfort, and had joined the three men in the land of nod. Now only Cassie was left wide awake and sitting rigidly upright, her back aching both from the jouncing of the coach and from the effort it took not to touch either of the two men beside her.

  The temptation was growing stronger, moreover, simply to lean over and rest her head against the shoulder of one of the men sitting beside her and thereby escape the tedium of the ride by falling asleep. She might even have given in to temptation if the seating arrangements had been a bit different, she thought, trying unsuccessfully to hold back a yawn.

  Although at first glance the three men had seemed identical, with their rough clothes and unkempt hair, the hours she had spent watching them while they slept had enabled her to differentiate between them.

  The oldest man, whom the others called Tuke, was by far the kindest looking of the three. In spite of his obvious physical strength, he had an air of gentleness about him. In fact, were it not for his disreputable appearance, she would say that he had an air of quiet dignity about him. She could picture herself making use of his shoulder to lean on if she became tired enough. Unfortunately, he was seated opposite, so that option was denied her.

  The youngest man, who was sitting on her right side, was by far the most handsome, with blond good looks and a practiced smile, the effects of which he was obviously aware. Unfortunately, it had not taken long for him to notice her and make her the object of his attentions. She had been forced by the roaring fire in the inn where they stopped for lunch to put off her cloak, and no sooner had she done so than the mild interest he had shown in her previously had become quite pronounced.

  He had turned the full force of his smile on her and stared at her quite openly. She was not a stranger to such bold looks, and even in her limited experience with men she knew enough to read the masculine desire that was in his gaze and to know exactly what the source of his interest in her was. Just remembering his bold appraisal of her attributes was enough to make her now pull her cloak more tightly around her.