Duke of Thorns (Heiress Games 1) (30 page)

He sounded remarkably calm. She felt like fainting. “I need to sit down.”

He held her still. “Should I take that as a yes?”

“No.”

“Then I should take it as a no?”

She really was going to be ill. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip was too strong and her stomach too weak for a fight.

“No.” She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “Why do you think I have something to do with it?”

He ran a finger, shockingly, over the pendant nestled between her breasts. “Some planter’s wife in Jamaica would be in vapors if she knew a pirate dared to wear her jewels.”

Callie closed her eyes. “I’m not a pirate.”

“Near enough.”

“I don’t think…”

“No, you don’t,” he agreed, cutting her off. “But I do.”

Her temper flared up. She opened her eyes, too angry to hide from him. Her fingers gripped his as though she could force her way through skin and bone to reach that cold, mocking part of him she wanted to hurt. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

He laughed. There was no mirth in it. Those green eyes didn’t hold the secret light she loved to see. He was the duke, not Gavin. The plotter, not the seducer.

The man he had warned her about, not the man she knew he could be.

“I won’t tell. I won’t see you hang for piracy.”

“I won’t hang,” she said contemptuously. “I have a letter of marque. Even your government recognizes the legality of that.”

He put a finger to her lips, looking around to see if anyone had heard. Luckily, most gave Thorington a wide berth — but anyone who looked was sure to notice his proprietary touch.

She tried to pull away again. He didn’t let her go. “You may not swing from the neck, but your reputation will,” he said. “You need a powerful ally if you’re going to weather this. Someone more powerful than my brother.”

She finally realized that he was worried for her. It would have been sweet if he hadn’t been so domineering.

If she could calm him, it might be sweet after all. She loosened her grip on his fingers, caressing his thumb with hers in a secret movement that only the closest watcher would see. “It will come out all right, your grace.”

Her voice had softened on the words, giving him the address he’d wanted, for days, to hear from her again. He flinched as though she’d whipped him.

“I vowed to keep you safe,” he said. “Do you trust me?”

This was odd. Too odd. She frowned. “What are you going on about?”

“I keep my vows. Forgive me, Callista.”

His voice dropped on those words. She opened her mouth, ready to protest, ready to tell him that he was being needlessly dramatic. Ready to rouse him out of whatever dark daydream he had about her safety.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t sweet.

It was sudden. Irrevocable.

Unforgivable.

The branding heat of his lips marked her as his, just as the gasps of the assembled company would see her married to or ruined by him. Callie started to pull back, but his hand on her head kept her pressed against him — kept him in control, unless she wanted to cause a bigger scene by forcing her way out of his grasp.

And so she didn’t struggle. But her eyes burned as despair, unexpected and unwelcome, welled up to form a sob she forced herself to smother.

He was exactly the man he had warned her about. And as he kissed her — demanding and without desire — she lost the man he might have been.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

He had meant to save her. But the look in her eyes when he stopped kissing her said he’d lost her instead.

He couldn’t explain himself, though. The ballroom had gone silent. Anything he said would be heard by everyone. And if he turned away from his goal now, took the time to explain, she’d be utterly ruined.

There was only one choice left. He trapped her hand in his and turned. They faced the crowd, appearing united. “Miss Briarley and I shall be married as soon as we have a license,” he said.

He didn’t raise his voice, but he didn’t have to. Those who heard him would tell those who hadn’t.

And the only person whose thoughts mattered already knew what he’d done.

Callista didn’t say a word to him. She surveyed the crowd with a cold hauteur that would do her well as a duchess. But she ignored Thorington completely.

He wanted her to fight, he realized. Or at least to say something.

“It was the only way, Callista,” he whispered when the crowd began to talk again.

“Before you make excuses for something you fully intended to do, know that I do not care whether you are sorry or not,” she shot back.

It was an echo of what he’d said to her in the music room, before a waltz that had turned everything to magic between them. He felt the first stirrings of remorse.

When had he ever felt remorse over saving someone?

Ferguson strode up, too annoyed for his usual strolling gait. “Callie, I should wish you very happy, but I doubt this blackguard is capable of making you so. Did he force you?”

She was silent for the longest time. He knew she was weighing the thought of destroying him against the cost to her reputation if she declined him.

“Did he force you?” Ferguson repeated.

Finally, Callista shook her head. “I wanted to marry him, cousin.”

Thorington noticed the past tense of her statement. The part of him that cared more for her feelings than her safety wanted to smash something.

But it was enough to appease Ferguson. “The heart is a mystery, isn’t it? If you ever need protection from him, Madeleine and I will gladly take you in.”

“I would never hurt her,” Thorington said.

It was as mild a statement as he could make without ripping Ferguson’s throat out. But Ferguson just looked at him with something suspiciously like pity. “You don’t have to beat her to make her miserable. But you’ve both made your bed. My offer to negotiate your marriage contract still stands.”

Callista shrugged. “As you said, I’ve made my bed. I can make my own arrangements for the future.”

Her tone said she already had a deal in mind — and Thorington wouldn’t like it.

Lucretia pushed her way through the crowd. Her escort, a man in naval dress, barely kept pace behind her. “Are you really to be married?” she asked.

She was slightly breathless, as though she’d sacrificed perfection in her rush to reach them. Thorington nodded. “Miss Briarley hasn’t been in residence long enough to get a marriage license from the local diocese, so I’ll send my man to London for one. We’ll be married as soon as he returns.”

Callista smiled up at him. “How charming, your grace.”

He wondered how she would make him pay.

“I see,” Lucretia said. “My felicitations, cousin.”

She sounded devastated. But there was no surprise in her voice. She had already resigned herself to this outcome.

Ferguson, ever helpful, tried to improve her mood. “Don’t fret, Lucretia. I’ve no intention of giving Maidenstone to Thorington, if that’s what has spoiled your evening.”

That single sentence was enough to change Lucretia’s entire demeanor. “Truly?”

Ferguson nodded.

She smiled. “Then I must congratulate you again, Callie. You have made an excellent choice.”

“How like a Briarley of you to gloat over my downfall,” Callista said.

Lucretia shrugged. “I told you I’d do anything to keep you from winning. But it seems my actions weren’t necessary after all. Captain Hallett, shall we proceed to supper?”

She turned to her escort. That name was like a spark to a fuse.

The moment hung, frozen. Thorington’s eyes narrowed. All his senses focused on the captain who stood before them — a threat Thorington hadn’t noticed until Lucretia had said his name.

Callista’s hand tightened on his arm. But she laughed a little as though she hadn’t been disturbed at all. “Courting a naval man, Lucy? I would have thought you’d want someone who knew how to manage Maidenstone.”

Lucretia shrugged. “I can manage Maidenstone myself. Captain Hallett is an old acquaintance from London. It’s convenient that he’s based in Dartmouth now. When I saw the papers, I thought he might appreciate a day or two of amusement.”

Hallett stared at Callista. Thorington wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “The more who are here to celebrate our nuptials, the better,” Thorington said, as smoothly as he was capable of when all his instincts screamed to take Callista away. “I’m sure your captain is welcome here.”

Hallett wasn’t diverted. “Miss Callista Briarley? The Baltimore cousin?”

“Soon to be my duchess,” Thorington said. “And you haven’t been introduced.”

If Hallett heard the warning, he didn’t have enough sense to leave. “I had the misfortune to meet a Baltimore ship on my last cruise. But you’ve heard that, haven’t you? All of England has heard, it seems.”

Callista, ever reckless, had the audacity to laugh. “No one from Britain would want to meet the Scourge of the Caribbean.”

For the first time, Thorington wished she’d aimed for safety. Hallett’s face turned red. Even Ferguson, who couldn’t have known what was happening, took a step forward. “Supper is an excellent recommendation, Lucretia,” he said. “Shall I escort you both?”

Hallett evaded Ferguson’s attempt to steer him. “You,” he said, looking at Callista. “It was you on the
Nero
.”

His voice rose as he said it. Thorington stepped between them. “You should go to supper, Captain Hallett,” he said. “Enjoy the hospitality while you can.”

The man laughed, but it was cold and bitter. “Hospitality? Or charity? The
Gazette
has made me into a laughingstock because of
her
.”

Even Lucretia blanched at his tone. “Arthur, it isn’t so bad,” she said.

“I’ll never have a command again, they said. I’ll be confined to calmer waters. And all because of this traitor,” he said, gesturing to Callista.

His voice was still low enough that they could contain the scandal — but only barely. Thorington refrained from grabbing him by the collar, but it was a near thing. Instead, he leaned in, using menace rather than his usual coldness. “You will not make such an accusation against my duchess. Now, go to supper and keep your mouth shut, or leave Maidenstone. You have ten seconds to decide before I toss you out myself. And if you were embarrassed before, you have no idea how badly I can destroy you.”

Hallett opened his mouth as though he wanted to argue. But Thorington’s stare changed his mind. “I will leave,” he said, holding up his hands. “But if I cannot have my revenge against Captain Jacobs directly, I know where to look.”

Hallett left before Thorington could decide how to dismember him. It was for the best — Thorington couldn’t kill the man in a ballroom. And so far, Hallett had done nothing but make idle threats.

But the look in his eyes wasn’t idle. And Callista wouldn’t be safe until she was married to Thorington.

Callista, though, didn’t care for her own safety. She was still too angry. At least now she had another target for her rage. “You arranged for this, didn’t you?” she said to Lucretia.

Lucretia’s eyes flickered. “I didn’t know you were a privateer.”

“But you showed me the
Gazette
this morning. You must have invited Hallett on purpose.”

“I knew him during my debut year. It was polite to invite him when I invited the rest of the neighborhood.”

Callista snorted. “Dartmouth is more than twenty miles from here.”

“Close enough,” Lucretia said defensively. “Maidenstone is still my home, even if I haven’t won it. I shall invite whomever I wish.”

Ferguson turned to Thorington as the women continued to argue. “Did you know about my cousin’s shipping endeavors?”

Thorington nodded.

“Even her illicit shipping endeavors?”

“Especially her illicit shipping endeavors,” Thorington said.

Ferguson looked him over. “As the Duchess of Thorington, she will be very difficult to ruin.”

Thorington nodded again.

Ferguson heaved a sigh. “You were supposed to be an out-and-out villain,” he complained. “Must I reconsider my opinion of your character?”

“I have bigger concerns at the moment than your opinion.”

He was watching Callista, not Ferguson. Ferguson’s laughter said he knew it. “If I forced Madeleine to do anything, she would make sure it was the last thing I did. I would wish you luck with Callie if I thought you deserved it.”

She was still arguing with Lucretia, but she overheard the comment. “He doesn’t deserve it, and it wouldn’t help him anyway,” she said to Ferguson.

At least there was fire in her voice. But she still refused to look at him.

Before Thorington could drag her away and explain himself, Madeleine and Prudence descended. They took her to the supper room, making it clear he wasn’t welcome to join them.

And for once in his life, Thorington realized he was without a plan. He knew how to protect her. But gaining her forgiveness, when she would never forgive him for ruining her chances at winning Maidenstone?

All of that was beyond his skill. He had no idea where to start.

And they would both pay the price when he failed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

He was going to die.

Callie knew it would be more expedient to kill him after the wedding. She would be a duchess for her pains. But that meant actually going through with the wedding — saying vows to him. Taking his name. Becoming his.

She would have to murder him before, then.

She had sent Mrs. Jennings to bed without letting her maid undress her. It was after three in the morning and the house had finally gone silent, but the press of exhaustion against her eyelids couldn’t compete with the anger still rushing through her.

She walked the now-familiar halls to the Tudor wing, through stillness and shadow, letting her outrage carry her forward. She would have to settle with Lucretia as well — her cousin deserved retaliation for bringing Captain Hallett to the ball. But Callie’s battle tonight wasn’t with a Briarley…