Don't Bargain with the Devil (23 page)

 

 

 

 

Dear Cousin,

 

Lucy does seem to have feelings for Seńor Montalvo. That does not mean he has feelings for her. If he made an offer to her at their meeting, she did not reveal it to me. Either he did not offer, or she refused him. I will give her some time and then demand to know more of what happened. It alarms me how quiet and contemplative she has been this evening. Lucy is
never
contemplative.

 

Your anxious friend,

 

Charlotte

 

 

D
iego tried not to let the shock on her face affect him. What he had said was a lie, but surely an innocent one. For her own good.

 

He could see it all slipping away—her chance to have a real family, his chance to fulfill his vow. And all because some English soldier had filled her head with lies from the day she was stolen.

 

“You actually have a newspaper clipping of my birth announcement?” she asked, her face ash-white.

 

He returned to where the half-empty wine glasses sat.
“Have more wine while I fetch it,” he evaded, loathing himself for the subterfuge.

 

With his back shielding her view, he took a vial from his front pocket. He had hoped not to need this, but he could see no other way. And after caring for his mother years ago, he knew exactly how much laudanum would send Lucy to sleep. He tipped in a few drops, then added a healthy measure of wine. If she didn’t drink it, he’d have to subdue her by force. He
really
did not wish to do that.

 

Forcing a smile, he turned to hand her the glass. “I will only be a moment.”

 

Fighting the urge to see if she drank the wine, he walked upstairs to be sure everything had been carried down to the river landing. After waiting a few more moments, he went back down. Where the devil was Gaspar? He should have returned with the steam packet from London by now.

 

Grumbling that Diego hadn’t allowed him enough time, Gaspar had left for the Surrey docks this afternoon to arrange for a maid to travel with them. He was also notifying Diego’s friend Rafael, captain of the Spanish brig that had brought them to England, that they wished to leave in the morning. Diego had convinced Gaspar they must leave right away, before Lucy’s father returned to London.

 

Everything else was settled. The servants had been paid off. Diego had arranged for a courier to deliver the three months’ rent to Pritchard on the morrow, with a terse note that said they would not be purchasing Rockhurst after all. Only one thing was left—spiriting Lucy off.

 

With his conscience beating at him, Diego returned to find her slumped in the chair. It had been quicker than ex
pected, and panic seized him as he raced to check her pulse. It was strong and steady, her breathing that of a deep sleep.

 

“So you drugged the girl, did you?” came Gaspar’s voice from the doorway.

 

Diego jumped, then cursed. “You are late.” He straightened to face his mentor. “Is everything in order? Are they loading the steam packet?”

 

“Yes.” Gaspar stared at Lucy. “It’s all arranged—the maid, the passage, everything. Rafael is readying the ship for your arrival even now.”

 

“Go on to the packet, then.” He still had to dispose of the dregs in Lucy’s glass and set the room in order.

 

“I’m not going with you,” Gaspar said.

 

Diego gaped at him. “What do you mean?”

 

Gaspar cast him an accusing glance. “I told myself you wouldn’t stoop to this. That you would abide by her decision if she refused to go.” He let out a harsh breath. “But in my heart, I knew you’d do anything to get Arboleda back.”

 

Ignoring the savage stab of guilt, Diego said, “This concerns her, too. She has a right to know her family.”

 

“I agree.” He pointed to where Lucy’s head lolled against the chair. “But not like this.”

 

“Once she awakens, she will be glad I took matters into my own hands.”

 

“You’d better hope you’re right.” Gaspar set his shoulders. “Because I won’t be around to keep her from killing you if you aren’t. I’m staying here.”

 

“In
England?
”

 

“Unlike you, I have nothing against the English.”

 

“And you will do what, work for Astley?” he snapped, angry that Gaspar would abandon him. “Sniff around your
English cook, who will no doubt spurn you once she discovers your part in this?”

 

Gaspar glared at him. “You arrogant ass. Do you never think of anything but yourself and your own pain?”

 

Diego recoiled as if slapped. “I am not doing this only for me,” he said hoarsely.

 

“Yes, I forgot.” Gaspar’s face was black with anger. “I’m supposed to be grateful that you want to put me out to pasture. That you want to sentence me to moldering on the side of a remote mountain in León while you try to rebuild a life that hasn’t been yours in sixteen years.” Holding up his gnarled hands, he shook them at Diego. “These don’t mean I can’t still be useful. I have plenty of life left in me, damn you, no matter what you think.”

 

Diego didn’t know how to respond. All this time, he had assumed that Gaspar wanted the same things he did. “I only thought to make those years more comfortable for you.”

 

“Did you ever ask me what
I
really wanted? I went along with it because I was fool enough to think that once you got here, you’d see the money to be made off the English. You’d forget your hatred and give up this fool dream of Arboleda. Instead, you’ve turned to kidnapping. Well, I draw the line at that.”

 

Diego couldn’t believe his ears. He and Gaspar had been together most of his life. Gaspar had been like his second father, and the man Diego most respected. “You intend to stop me?”

 

“No.” Gaspar crossed his arms over his chest. “I intend to clean up the mess you leave behind. As I always do.” He removed a folded sheet from his coat pocket. “It took me an hour, with my fingers the way they are, but I wrote a note in
Miss Seton’s hand that says she ran away with you to be married. It’s the only way they won’t come after you. I copied her signature from that note she sent you, and I think I managed a fair approximation of her hand for the rest of it.”

 

Diego stared at him, incredulous.

 

“I palmed Sally’s key this afternoon. I’ll use it to get in, leave the letter, pack a few of Miss Seton’s things to make it seem as if she left willingly, and bring them to the landing. You can’t have her traveling without extra clothes. After you’re gone, I’ll return here to wait for the letter to be discovered.”

 

“Gaspar, I cannot let you take so large a risk.”

 

“At least I’m not risking my conscience. Or your life.
You
were only too willing to sail off to Spain, leaving destruction in your wake. This way they won’t accuse you—or me—of kidnapping, and they might go north looking for you, instead of catching you before you leave English waters. I’ll play the innocent, say you sent me to London on a fool’s errand and that I found this letter from you upon my return.” Gaspar waved another folded sheet at him. “By now, I know
your
hand well enough to forge a note.”

 

“And what if they don’t believe you? What if they clap you in gaol?”

 

“They won’t,” Gaspar said with a trace of his old confidence as he shoved both notes into his pocket. “I’ve got Sally to vouch for me. Besides, everyone saw how you and Miss Seton behaved at the charity breakfast—it won’t surprise them.” His voice hardened. “Once the truth drifts back to England, I may have to do some fancy stepping, but—”

 

“I do not want you to take such chances for me, damn it!”

 

“Then don’t do this!” Gaspar said fiercely. “I’ll sneak Miss Seton back into the school somehow and put her in
her bed. You can call on her tomorrow, make up a tale for what happened. You can wait until she is ready to travel to Spain. You can tour England or work for Astley. You can write the
marqués
and say you decided not to disrupt her life.”

 

The idea chilled Diego’s blood. “I have already disrupted her life. I must see this to the end, for her sake as well as mine.”

 

Gaspar snorted. “I knew you would—you’re as bloody stubborn as the English.” He gestured toward Lucy. “Just don’t pretend you’re doing it for
her
. You’re doing it because you’re so eaten up by the past that you can’t think of the future. None of this will wipe out what the English did to your family. Returning to Arboleda and honoring your foolish vow to your father won’t assuage your pain. Only
you
can do that. And I begin to fear you will have to stoop very low indeed before you realize that.”

 

Before Diego could answer, Gaspar added, “Go on with you. The packet boat is waiting, and I have to slip in and out of the school. I’ll meet you at the landing with clothes for her. If I don’t show up within the next twenty minutes, it means I’ve been found out, so don’t tarry beyond that.”

 

When Gaspar headed out, Diego felt a moment’s panic. “
Hostias,
Gaspar, come back here! You cannot do this. It is too risky.”

 

Gaspar paused only long enough to shoot Diego a quelling glance. “I am not yours to command, boy. Best remember that.” Then he left.

 

Boy
. The word stung. Remembering when Gaspar had called him
boy
as a matter of course, Diego felt a hot flush of shame rise in his cheeks.

 

It rapidly turned to anger.
Por Dios,
he was a grown man now. Let Gaspar rail at him if he must, but Diego’s mind was set.

 

Hurrying to Lucy’s side, he lifted her in his arms. With a purring sound, she pressed her face into his chest. A lump caught in his throat, but he choked it down. He was doing what was best for her, no matter what Gaspar claimed.

 

As he carried her out the rear entrance and headed for the landing, the light of the half-moon dappled her pretty cheeks and dusted her tresses with silver. A jolt of desire hit him so powerfully that he had to look away.

 

What a fool he had been to indulge himself with her a few nights ago. It had only sharpened his need for her, a need that was never to be satisfied. Thanks to his idiocy, he now had the added torment of knowing he could never hold her like this again, never kiss her…never have her in his bed.

 

Cursing under his breath, he brought her aboard the packet boat, already loaded with his belongings.

 

Though the crew eyed Lucy with curiosity, they asked no questions. He laid her in the bow, where he could put himself between her and them. They seemed decent enough, but they bore the usual rough look of sailors, making him glad of the pistol inside his coat.

 

Nervously, he waited for Gaspar to bring the clothes. Just as he was sure he would have to go on, Gaspar appeared out of the darkness and tossed a stuffed canvas bag onto the boat.

 

“Take good care of her,” he told Diego, his face stony. Then he turned and headed back to the manor, never looking back.

 

A hint of dawn shone on the horizon by the time they reached the Surrey dock, for the going was more treacherous at night, forcing them to move slowly. Lucy stirred once or twice, but he’d given her enough laudanum to keep her sleeping for several hours, so thankfully she did not rouse fully.

 

Once at the dock, it was easy to find Rafael’s brig, the only one flying a Spanish flag. It was not so easy to move Lucy aboard, since he had to hoist her over his shoulder to carry her up the rope ladder.

 

“What’s wrong with her?” Rafael asked as Diego came on deck.

 

“I gave her laudanum.” His friend knew the whole tale of why they were here, so he might as well know the rest. Better to have it out now. “She was not as willing to leave England as I expected.”

 

Rafael feigned shock. “And you, my oh-so-honorable friend, abducted her?”

 

“If you do not want to risk having her aboard,” Diego said as he shifted her to lie in his arms, “say so now, and be done with it. I have already suffered one lecture from Gaspar. I do not mean to suffer another from you.”

 

“Lecture!” Rafael burst into laughter. “Have you forgotten what I’ve been doing the past two months while waiting for you? I took more risk running brandy across the channel than I will carrying one English lady to Spain.”

 

“She is Spanish!” Diego hissed. “And her passport proves it.” The
marqués
had used his connections to gain her one in her Spanish name.

 

“That settles
my
conscience well enough,” Rafael said blithely.

 

The mention of conscience irritated Diego, since his was beginning to plague him. “
Por Dios,
just tell me which cabin you prepared for her.”

 

“Mine, of course.”

 

“Rafael—” he began, well aware of his friend’s love of the ladies.

 

Rafael flashed him a cheeky grin. “I’m bunking with the first mate,
imbécil
. As are you.” He strode alongside Diego with his usual devil-may-care air. “Though if she’s as rich as you said, perhaps I should take advantage of having her aboard and court her before we reach Spain. Might as well throw my hat into the ring before the other gentlemen get wind of her.”

 

It took all Diego’s control not to tell Rafael exactly where he could shove his hat. “Did you happen to acquire a fortune and high rank while I was away?”

 

Rafael gave an exaggerated sigh. “Alas, no.”

 

“Because without them, you will not meet her grandfather’s requirements.”

 

“Perhaps you are considering throwing
your
hat into the ring.” Rafael cast Diego a searching glance. “As I recall, you are still the great Conde de León. And once you hand her over to the
marqués,
you will have property, too.”

 

“Only if the lady reaches there unscathed, so do not get any ideas about changing that. Or we will both end up with nothing.”

 

“Not me. It cost me far less to carry you here and back than I gained on the cargo—not to mention what I made with the smuggling.” Laughing, Rafael led Diego belowdecks to the captain’s cabin. “I’ll have to take care not to stumble in here by accident one night when I’m drunk.”