Don't Bargain with the Devil (40 page)

 

They stared at her, shocked, then broke into a chorus of protests.

 

She ran onto the balcony, where Papa had used a grappling hook to attach a rope and climb up, and turned to
glare at them. “If all of you don’t leave, I will climb down the same way my
father
did, and none of you will ever see me again!”

 

She simply couldn’t take any more! She had to think, had to figure out who she was, what this meant. She had to be alone.

 

“Lucy,
mi amor
—” Diego began.

 

“You, too, curse you! Nettie, get them out of here, and lock the doors. Or I swear…” She threw one leg over the balcony rail.

 

“All right, all right, lass, we’re going!” her father cried as he backed toward the door. Between him and Diego, they muscled her grandfather from the room. Nettie followed, shooing them along.

 

Once the room was emptied, Lucy pulled the rope up and went back into the bedroom, closing and latching the balcony doors behind her.

 

Her eyes caught sight of the bed where she and Diego had made love. The bed where the man she’d considered a saint for adopting her had conceived her with the woman he’d loved but never told her about.

 

It was all too much.

 

Dropping to the floor, she wept.

 

 

 

ďťż

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Twenty-seven

 

 

 

 

Dear “Cousin,”

 

You know perfectly well why I put “cousin” in quotes. In the past few years, I have sought out every one of my late husband’s relations. None has your knowledge of society or your financial capabilities. It is long past time that you admit you are not my cousin, by marriage or otherwise. As for being wounded by my accusations, you wound me far more by continuing to protect your precious privacy while I am fighting for my very future!

 

Your “relation,”

 

Charlotte

 

 

T
wo hours after Lucy had evicted the men in her life from her room, she stood in the tiny parlor, staring up at her mother’s portrait.

 

So much of what she’d learned about her life in the past two months now took on an entirely different meaning: Papa’s changes in regiment, the legal adoption, the fact that he’d kept her at his side until the end of the war, so he could remain close by in Great Britain while he packed her off to a costly school in London. Had he been worrying even then that her grandfather might whisk her away?

 

Not that it mattered. What mattered was he’d lied to her all these years. How could he? Surely he’d seen how desperately she wanted to know about her family. She understood his keeping it from everyone else—even with legitimate parents she’d had trouble fitting in. But to keep it from
her
…

 

How could she ever forgive him, even if he
had
only done it to prevent her from falling into Grandfather’s hands?

 

Her grandfather. God rot him, too. She’d fallen for his crocodile tears, been swept up in the long conversations she’d had with him about her mother. She’d been fool enough to believe that her dear
abuelo
was truly glad to have her here, to like her for herself. And after he’d said it was her choice whether to marry the duke, she’d acquitted him of bringing her to Spain just so she could bear his heir.

 

Hah! His behavior toward her had all been a lie, too. He’d known from the beginning that his daughter had run off with a soldier. He hadn’t just discovered it a year ago, as he’d claimed. No, he’d sent Diego after her because his son had died and he needed his precious heir. In that respect, he was exactly the same manipulative, scheming scoundrel who’d ruined her mother’s life

 

And he’d been well on his way to ruining Lucy’s, too. He’d certainly packed Diego off swiftly enough, once he thought Diego might destroy his plans to yoke her to Don Felipe.

 

That brought her to Diego. She’d avoided thinking of him, because his was the most cruel betrayal.
I love you, Lucy Seton, soon to be Lucy Montalvo.
Had he meant it? Or had that been the only way he could force her to marry
him? He’d just learned how terribly he’d wronged her by stealing her from her father. It would be so like him to try to fix it by marrying her—to salvage his honor at her expense.

 

Why else had he not told her what he’d learned when he’d first entered the room? He’d probably feared she wouldn’t marry him once she realized he’d been duped by her grandfather. And since he had to make it right, as always, he had to marry her, even if it meant pretending to love her.

 

She sighed. Could he really not have meant any of that beautiful speech he’d given her? He’d never said things like that to her before. And he’d seemed rather desperate to marry her.

 

But then, he was always desperate to reclaim his honor. Just as Grandfather was desperate to produce his heir and Papa was equally desperate not to let him, even if it meant hiding the truth from her all her life.

 

God rot them all! How was she to believe anything they said? How was she supposed to know if she even mattered to them when they lied to her at every turn?

 

She gazed up into the face of the mother she had barely known. “They’re all scoundrels, every single one of them. You were better off without them. Perhaps
I’m
better off without them.”

 

“You don’t really believe that, do you, miss?” asked Nettie, coming up to stand beside her.

 

Nettie was the only one she could trust. Look at how patiently she’d waited through Lucy’s fit of weeping and her brooding. “I don’t know, Nettie. I don’t know anything anymore.”

 

A knock came at the door, and Nettie headed toward it.

 

“I don’t want to see any of them,” Lucy called after her. “Don’t you dare let a single one of those men in here!”

 

“As you wish, miss.” The door opened, a few soft words were spoken, and then Nettie returned.

 

A female voice said, “I came as soon as your father summoned me from the ship.”

 

Lucy whirled to see Lady Kerr standing there with Nettie.

 

“Since it wasn’t one of the men, I thought you might like a friendly face,” Nettie said.

 

Torn between pleasure at having another woman to talk to and wariness of Lady Kerr’s purpose, Lucy stared at her stepmother. “Did you know about Papa all along?” She had to be sure whether Lady Kerr was friend or foe in this.

 

“About Hugh being your real father?” Her stepmother shook her head. “Not until the day we left for England to come after you.”

 

That was all Lucy needed to hear. Lady Kerr opened her arms, and Lucy rushed into them, her tears spilling over again. Her stepmother held her close, soothing her, gentling her, crooning softly to her until Lucy could regain her calm.

 

“How could he lie to me?” Lucy whispered as she dashed tears from her aching eyes. “To both of us?”

 

“He thought he was doing the right thing.” When Lucy frowned, Lady Kerr added, “He was being an idiot, of course. But men can be astonishingly blind when it comes to their women.”

 

Lucy didn’t know what surprised her more, that Lady Kerr had called Papa an idiot or that she’d taken Lucy’s side. “How can you forgive him for hiding such a monumental secret from you?”

 

Lady Kerr smiled sadly. “I love him. It’s either forgive him or cut him out of my life, and I can’t bear to do the latter.”

 

“That’s what I ought to do,” Lucy said petulantly. “I ought to cut them all out of my life, the lying, scheming scoundrels.”

 

“Yes, sweetheart, they are that. But I think in their own twisted minds, they thought they were doing what was right for you.”

 

“So they’re lying, scheming,
arrogant
scoundrels.”

 

“That, too. And yet I do think they love you.”

 

Lucy snorted. “They have a funny way of showing it.” She stared at Lady Kerr. “Do you know everything? How I came to be in Spain?”

 

Lady Kerr nodded. “Aside from the information we got from Gaspar, as soon as I arrived here, your father, the count, and your grandfather filled me in on what had happened since you left England.” She smiled grimly. “Well, as best as they
could
fill me in, between all the squabbling.”

 

Remembering how she’d been dressed when her father invaded her bedchamber last night, Lucy blushed. “Did Papa tell you where I was and what…that is…”

 

“Yes. I know you were with your young man. As it happens, the count…well, he’s still in his drawers, since no one has thought to offer him any other clothes, and his are apparently up here. So when I arrived, his lack of appropriate dress necessitated an explanation about how he came to be that way.”

 

Mortified beyond belief, Lucy dropped onto the nearby settee and hid her face. “You must think me a horrible wanton.”

 

“Of course not, sweetheart.” Lady Kerr came to sit beside her on the settee. “But you did
choose
to share his bed, didn’t you?”

 

Lucy’s gaze shot to her stepmother, her heart constricting to see the worry in her eyes. For the first time since Lady Kerr had entered, she noticed the pale cast to her face, the anxious lines about her mouth.

 

Her stepmother had worried over her? That was so sweet it made her want to cry again. “Yes, I chose to share his bed. I thought…we were going to marry.”

 

“And you thought you were in love with him.”

 

Lucy nodded. No point in telling her about the first time she’d shared Diego’s bed. That would definitely make her sound like a wanton.

 

“Well, then, your behavior is understandable. People in love don’t always behave rationally.” She rubbed Lucy’s back. “Do you still think yourself in love with him?”

 

She hesitated, then sighed. “Yes, but I’m not sure I can trust that he’s really in love with
me.
”

 

“If I had to judge from his behavior downstairs, I’d say that he is. He’s ready to throttle your father and your grandfather both, just for hurting you.”

 

“My feelings go beyond throttling. Right now, I want to murder them both!”

 

“While I imagine that would be briefly satisfying, it’s rather too permanent a decision to make when you’re upset, don’t you think?”

 

The dry comment startled a laugh out of Lucy. “Yes, and it might get me hanged. There’s that, too.”

 

They both laughed. Then Lucy remembered why she wanted to murder them, and her amusement vanished.

 

“If it’s any consolation,” Lady Kerr said, “your father said he’d intended to tell us both the truth once you married.” She took Lucy’s hands. “He said that with your open and generous nature, he was afraid if he told you, you would reveal it to whoever offered for you, and the man might spurn you for it. But after you married, it would be too late, and there would be no danger of the truth ruining your future.”

 

“That’s absurd,” Lucy snapped.

 

“Think of whom you’ve been in love with for the past few years, sweetheart. You had your heart set on Peter Burnes, and if you had told
him
…”

 

“Oh.” She stared down at her hands. “I suppose that much is true. Not only would he have spurned me, but he probably would have spread the gossip far and wide. Although Papa needn’t have bothered to protect me from Peter—even my false lineage wasn’t good enough for him.”

 

“Well, I’ll admit we are both grateful that he’s gone from your life. Your father never did like him. But he was willing to put that dislike aside for you.”

 

She caught her breath. “And will he do the same for Diego? That is, if…well…assuming things work out?”

 

“You’ll have to ask your father about that yourself, I’m afraid.”

 

Even the thought of speaking to Papa made her throat close up. “I still don’t understand why he never told me the truth. Why he couldn’t see how much it would have meant to me. And I don’t know if Grandfather meant anything he said to me, or if he just wants his heir. And I’m not even sure if Diego is marrying me because he truly loves me or if he just feels guilty because he believed Grandfather’s lies and ruined my life as a result.”

 

“Perhaps you should ask them.”

 

“Why? I can’t trust them to tell me how they really feel. They’ll say anything to get what they want from me, whatever that is.”

 

“Yes, clearly they are idiots, the lot of them. But they’re downstairs driving each other to distraction with worry over you, and I don’t think they mean to leave anytime soon.” Her stepmother squeezed her hand. “You’ll have to deal with them eventually. You can’t very well stay up here the rest of your life, can you?”

 

“I suppose not. But right now I can’t even face them.”

 

Lady Kerr was silent a long moment. Then she put her arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “What if I told you that I have a way to help you get your answers without having to ask directly? Generally, when your father—or any man—is pushed to the wall, you can get the truth out of him. And I think I know how to manage that. Would you be willing to try it?”

 

Lucy stared at the woman who, despite her many strictures, had never lied to her, had never withheld the truth from her, and had been as much of a mother to her as any woman other than Mrs. Harris could be.

 

She broke into a tremulous smile. “Yes. I cannot go on like this.”

 

A look of concern passed over Lady Kerr’s face. “Be careful, sweetheart. You may not like what you hear. Are you prepared for that?”

 

Lucy glanced up at the portrait of her mother, a woman who’d been made utterly wretched when she’d spent too long bowing to what her family wanted before fighting for what was important to her.

 

Lucy refused to do that. Turning back to Lady Kerr, she nodded. “I think I can handle it.”

 

“Very well. Here’s what I suggest we do…”

 

 

Diego paced the courtyard in a frenzy. His two companions were thankfully no longer speaking, after spending the past two hours accusing each other of everything from bad manners to bad fathering.