The Wicked Games of a Gentleman, page 27
She’s getting married, Eloise thought in elation. She didn’t think she could be more relieved if she were taking the holy vows herself.
The small private wedding was to be held at Lady Heaton’s residence at noon on Cork Street. It would not be an elaborate affair. Eloise would have been satisfied if the baronet and Thalia had been married on the pavement. Just as long as the ceremony took place.
Thalia refused to eat breakfast. She wept into her teacup and wished aloud that her mother were alive to see this day. “Well, dear,” Eloise said distractedly, “at least your brother will be there to give you away. You’ll be represented by one member of your family.”
Thalia rose from the table, still in her dressing robe. “I think I’d almost prefer to have Freddie the footman stand in his place. He’s been more like a brother to me than Horace.”
Eloise rose swiftly to nip this rebellion in the bud. “That is no way to talk. Anyway, Freddie and the other servants are no longer in Lord Thornton’s employ.”
Thalia narrowed her eyes. “Are they working for Boscastle now?”
Eloise hesitated. “I believe they might be.”
“Are you at least going to attend my wedding, Eloise?”
“It really is not done, dear, but I will if you insist.” In fact, Eloise would stand at the altar and recite the damned ceremony standing on her head if need be. “Now, come on. We’ve only two hours before the carriage arrives to collect you. Your brother has already left ahead of us to allow you privacy to dress.”
Devon poured himself a cup of steaming black coffee from the silver pot and glanced with curiosity across the table at Drake. “You’re not going to the wedding, I take it?”
Drake smiled archly. “No. Thrashing the bride’s brother would probably not be appreciated.”
“I didn’t think you’d go. You hate weddings as much as I do.”
Drake nodded vaguely, sifting through the mound of letters and invitations on the table.
“Aren’t you the one who said they made you suicidal?” Devon asked conversationally.
Drake folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. “Did I?”
“Weddings invariably make women cry. I’ve always wondered why. It’s the groom who should be shedding tears. The mere thought of marriage makes me weepy.” He glanced curiously at his brother as if to prompt an inappropriate response. “Drake?”
He glanced at Devon, his brow furrowed. “What?”
Devon paused. “Did you hear a word of what I just said?”
“Yes.” Drake tossed a letter onto the table. “Weddings turn you into a waterworks.”
Devon smiled uneasily. “Right. At which point you are to vigorously agree and proclaim your desire to remain a bachelor for the rest of your life.”
“What time is it, anyway?” Drake asked, suddenly restless and unsure why. He wanted to see Eloise and knew she would be fulfilling her final obligations until late in the day. He wouldn’t be surprised if that damned brat Thalia insisted Eloise accompany her and her husband on their honeymoon.
He would put down his foot at that point. In fact, he’d never been this patient or understanding about a woman before. It couldn’t be a good sign.
“By the way,” Devon said, waving a spoon in Drake’s face, “I saw Maribella at Audrey’s last night with her earl.”
“Oh?”
Devon grinned. “She sent her best regards and mentioned she might be leaving England next week.”
“All’s well that ends well.” Drake still could not think of the flame-haired courtesan as Mildred Hammersmith, or that she and Eloise had been rivals cum conspirators before he’d known either of them. She wanted to be known as Maribella St. Ives, and that was how he would remember her.
Devon tapped his spoon on the table. “She also told me to remind you to protect Eloise or else.”
Drake did not reply. Devon dropped his spoon with a clatter. “Grayson and Jane have invited the family to dinner tonight. Would you like to come with me and leave early before the lectures start?”
“I might not be able to make it at all.” Drake reached behind him for his jacket. “There’s something I have to do.”
Devon shoved his chair back, his face a little troubled. “I could go with you. I don’t have plans for the afternoon.”
“No.” Drake was already to the door. “I have to do this alone.”
“Do what alone?” Devon asked in bewilderment, staring into the silence that answered him.
“Heavens above!” Eloise exclaimed, backing away from the parlor window. “The carriage is already here for you, and, oh, it looks as if it’s going to pour. Hurry up. You cannot be late for your own wedding.”
She whirled around, realizing that she was talking to herself. Thalia had been standing behind her only a few minutes ago.
“Oh, where are you?” she called impatiently into the hallway.
“I’m right here,” Thalia said in a nervous whisper, as she rearranged her lace half veil before the hallstand mirror. “Where are Thomas’s footmen to attend me? It isn’t proper to walk to my wedding coach unescorted.”
“I’ve no idea,” Eloise muttered, her silk-lined cloak thrown over her arm. “Please stop preening. You may do that at Lady Heaton’s house.”
She opened the door. The cloudy gray sky looked unpromising for a wedding, and a chill wind blew a paper across the pavement. A pie-man hurried by ringing his handbell.
Thalia took two steps forward and scowled at the serviceable if unwieldly carriage parked in the street. The coachman stared straight ahead, his shoulders slumped as he gazed into the dreary day. “Is that the best Thomas could do? It’s not much better than a beer-cart.”
Eloise sighed. “You’ll have to take that up with him after the wedding. That is, if we make it there on time. Perhaps he’s saving his nice carriage for your country drive.”
Thalia stood tapping her white-satin-shod toe on the step. “Why did my brother leave so early, anyway? I never saw him come home last night.”
Eloise glanced away. “I’m not entirely sure what time he came home. Are we going to the carriage or not?”
Thalia balked. “What if Horace has started gambling again?”
“Listen to me,” Eloise said in an undertone. “It does not matter. You are to begin a new life as a wife and country gentlewoman. Lord Thornton shall either rise above his vices, or he shall sink.”
“Who’ll give me away if he doesn’t show up?” Thalia asked.
“The baronet’s uncle will be there. I think Lady Heaton understands that your brother’s behavior is not your fault.” Eloise nudged her toward the door. Major Dugdale had just emerged from his house and was fast approaching, a newspaper in hand. “Quickly. That old gossip is on his way here.”
Thalia put her hand to her bare neck with a gasp. “My mother’s locket. I planned to wear it in her memory.”
“We’ll get it after the ceremony,” Eloise said. “I’m sure Sir Thomas won’t mind stopping by.”
“No,” Thalia said with tears in her eyes. “I want it now. I want to know that she’s with me today.”
Eloise glanced at Major Dugdale, then grasped Thalia’s arm and dragged her back inside the house. The major pounded at the door. Thalia pounded up the stairs. Eloise began to pace the hallway.
“Hurry up,” she muttered. “I know it’s going to rain, and it will take forever to get there. Please hurry. Did you find it?”
There was no answer. The major appeared to have given up and returned to his house. She could hear Thalia upstairs pulling out drawers, talking to herself. A door closed from the direction of Lord Thornton’s room. Then silence.
“Thalia?” Eloise called, pivoting toward the stairs. “The locket was on your dressing table this morning. You must have found it by now. Did you look on the floor?”
Silence again. And then—what was that sound? A cry? Oh, merciful heavens. What had happened now?
Eloise hesitated, then ran up the stairs to Thalia’s room. The door was locked, but she could hear Thalia moving about. She pounded until the door slowly opened.
“What in the name of—”
She knew before she could finish that something was wrong. The room was in shambles, not in its usual untidy tableau of fans and feminine attire. Thalia was standing by the bed, a look of silent horror on her face. Her light lace veil lay on the floor, and tears slipped down her ashen cheeks.
Eloise started to approach her, then a movement caught her gaze from the cheval glass in the corner. It reflected the image of a man hidden behind the door. A taunting grin lit his face as his eyes met hers. A carving knife glinted in his hand.
Eloise threw Thalia a reassuring glance, even though her own heart was thudding in fear. There were two of them against one man, she thought. They would have to keep calm. She would not let Ralph Hawkins hurt this girl.
“One scream from either of you,” Ralph said, as he came forward to slam the door shut, “and I’ll make you and your little lamb here sorry, Ellie.”
Thalia was shivering in her thin white muslin dress. She lifted her eyes to Eloise in hurt disbelief. “You know this monster? Did you let him in? Have you been hiding him here?”
“Of course not,” Eloise said, not moving.
“Know me?” Ralph smiled at Eloise with unmasked malice. “Does she know me? Ellie and I were going to be married once upon a time. We were a fairy-tale couple. She promised to be my bride, didn’t you, love?”
“Eloise?” Thalia whispered, her voice shaking. “Is it true?”
“But you didn’t marry me, did you, Ellie?” Ralph went on, not looking at Thalia. “You lost your mind.”
He backed Eloise into the wall before she could answer. His voice was rising. From the corner of her eye she saw Thalia cover her ears to block out the sound. “You ruined my life,” Ralph said, his mouth twisting, “made a mock of my manhood.”
Fat globules of rain began to pelt the windowpanes. The temperature seemed to drop by several degrees. “You weren’t a man that I could mock you,” she said with a calmness that belied her racing heart. “If your life is ruined, you have only yourself to blame. And it has nothing to do with a young woman you’ve never met.”
“I’m not worth spit to anyone at home,” he said. “That’s your fault.”
He shoved her against the wall, his hands grasping her shoulders. “You didn’t have to let it ruin your life,” she whispered as his fingers tightened around her neck. The pulse in her throat beat wildly. She knew what a man was. For all their wild ways neither Drake nor any of his brothers would ever hurt or threaten a woman.
“People laughed at me,” Ralph said, his face flushed with rage at the memory. “I couldn’t work for years afterward. I had to move my business. Who’s going to hire a man who was shamed by two women? Even the barmaids laughed when I went into the tavern for a pint. ‘Where’s your placard, Ralph?’ they’d say. ‘Any hot coals burning in your bed today?’”
The rain pounded harder against the windows. Eloise wondered how long the coachman would wait for them outside. Wouldn’t he grow suspicious, knock at the door? He wouldn’t sit outside in the rain indefinitely. Why had she been anxious to ignore Major Dugdale? Surely Sir Thomas would grow anxious when Thalia did not appear at the house. But the bad weather would snare traffic in the streets. He would understand, and wait. He would be patient and willing to wait for hours.
Ralph’s voice snapped her from her trance. His callused fingers dug into her skin as he shook her hard. “I’ve spent years imagining this moment, imagining making you sorry for what you did to me. Do you like cleaning chamber pots? Is this a better life than I could have given you?”
She met Thalia’s gaze in the mirror, sending the girl a silent message to be strong. “I don’t clean chamber pots.” She brought her hands up slowly between his outstretched arms, then slammed them down upon his wrists and pushed him in the chest. “Run, Thalia! Get out of the house now.”
Her shove unbalanced Ralph, but unfortunately not long enough to do any good. Thalia hesitated, then bolted for the door. Ralph flung out his arm and caught her in the abdomen to send her sprawling across the bed. He raised the knife in his other hand, and pressed it against Eloise’s throat. She swallowed reflexively. Why today? This was to be the beginning of a new life for Thalia. She tore her gaze from the sight of the girl crying quietly on the bed.
“How could you?” she demanded in a deep, indignant voice that sounded so much stronger than she felt. “It’s her wedding day. She’s supposed to be getting married at this very moment.”
He raised his chin, sneering at her. “We were supposed to get married. You didn’t seem to worry about missing our wedding day.”
“We’ll give you money,” Thalia whispered, rising up on her elbow. “My brother will give you whatever you want.”
“I want my pride back.” He sliced a thin line from the shoulder of Eloise’s padded pale blue satin gown to the flounces at the elbow of the sleeve.
She closed her eyes. There were no weapons in the room. She had returned the pistol she’d taken from Lord Thornton’s room when he’d returned home; Horace had presumably gone to Lady Heaton’s house. And she had told Drake that she could not possibly see him until after the wedding breakfast. She had promised him that once she and Thalia had said good-bye, she would leave her former life behind and give him all the attention he demanded.
Surely somebody would come.
But not in time.
Her buttons scattered on the floor. “Take down your hair, Ellie,” he said, the tip of the knife dipping between the warmth of her breasts. The cold metal shocked her.
Unwillingly she opened her eyes. Her gaze darted back to the bed. Thalia had hidden her face in her hands, clearly too terrified to attempt an escape. Ralph prodded her, pressing the blade to her breast. Her hair, he’d said. She raised her arms, her movements as stiff and wooden as a marionette. She was wearing Thalia’s great-aunt’s old-fashioned pins that pricked her scalp but kept her unruly curls in place.
She pulled them out slowly, one by one. Their dull points pricked her palms, but would not work as a weapon. Her hair fell free.
“Now, the dress,” Ralph said, breathing hard.
“The dress,” she repeated. The two words echoed in the room. She felt as if she were dreaming. No. This was a nightmare. She should be attending a wedding ceremony right now, then overseeing the traditional breakfast that would follow. Prawns, champagne, and paper-thin slices of mouth-watering pink ham, laughter, and congratulations. She and Thalia had not eaten a thing all morning, too nervous and rushed. Her stomach cramped now, but not from hunger. She placed her fingers around the glittering butterfly brooch that Thalia’s great-aunt had left Eloise on her death. The pin slid free.
Help me, Udella, she whispered silently. You must have left me this brooch for a reason. Show me what to do with it.
Chapter Thirty
Drake stood in the doorway of his house and stared out into the wet, windswept street. He wondered what Eloise was doing right now. Standing guard over Thalia to make sure she reached her betrothed’s side? Or was she guarding herself from Horace Thornton? All Thornton needed was a few drinks and a sentimental setting to weaken again. Perhaps Drake should make a surprise appearance.
But it was a hell of a day for a wedding, and even worse for a walk or ride in the park. It was, however, perfect weather for making love in a comfortable bed with the woman he desired.
Damn it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. She had no idea how much he resented giving her up for even this last request. Sacrifice had never been part of his nature. He needed her, and blast her obligations. But it was another symptom of how he was changing, that he would grant her the time to fulfill what he perceived as a pointless duty. Her duty should be to him.
Why did she have to be so stubbornly loyal and dependable? Even as he pondered the question he knew that Eloise’s character was the very thing that had made him fall in love with her. Well, one of the things. And it dawned on him that the Boscastles chose their mates from some deep instinct that was not as happenstance as it appeared.
He was in love. How else in God’s name could he explain standing in the pouring rain like an idiot who didn’t care what he looked like to the passersby who were sensibly running for cover?
Raindrops pummeled him, soaking his glistening black hair, his face, his broad shoulders. Did rain wash away sins? he wondered, breaking into a reckless grin. What had he thought a few moments ago?
It was a hell of a day for a wedding.
He spun around, practically knocking over Freddie who apparently had been standing at the ready to offer Drake his greatcoat. “Why aren’t you at Miss Thornton’s wedding, Freddie?” he asked, shoving his arms into the proffered sleeves.
“The staff decided we was best needed here, my lord. Besides, waitin’ on all them bawling ladies couldn’t possibly be as exciting as serving you. Are we are going out? To a certain Bruton Street address, perhaps?”
Drake allowed a smile to curve his mouth. “I fear I shall disappoint you if you hoped to see the darker side of life at my side. Those days are behind me.”
Freddie responded to this enigmatic remark with a rather confused smile. It was clear the lad did not grasp the import of what Drake had just told him.
“Lead me into darkness or light, my lord,” he said diplomatically. “I shall serve you well.”
“Then begin by having my carriage brought round. And ask Quincy to lay out formal attire for when I return.”
Freddie’s eyes widened in anticipation. “Is my lord attending a special affair this afternoon?”
Drake grinned devilishly. “A wedding.”
Freddie looked deflated. “Miss Thornton’s, I gather.”
“No, my wedding, you rascal. Now hurry up before we are both drenched like a pair of waterfront rats. It’s raining in case you hadn’t noticed.”
