For the Love of a Gypsy (19 page)

“My lady,” Little said as he interrupted her fury. “Your carriage awaits.”

She knew he meant to bring levity to the moment, but she flashed him a frowning glance regardless. When Pierce offered his hand to assist her, she slapped it away in aggravation.
Pah, I’m being a child
. But hurt at Declan’s dismissal stung her eyes as she battled to blink away the tears. Here she was in a strange country, feeling so alone. She’d left her family, abandoned them for the man she loved. And it felt as if she was abandoned by Declan.

Wordlessly she entered the carriage and ignored the scenery of London as they traveled down the crowded roadways.

Chapter 23

“Does she know?”

Declan shook his head as he watched the carriage meander down the cobbled road.

Nate tugged at his chin. “’Tisn’t wise, lad.”

Bollocks
. His heart urged him to chase after her as his mind told him to stay on the ship. It must be this way. Brooks had valuable information and he needed to conduct business with the colorful man. “’Tis necessary for now.”

His friend gripped his shoulder. “That’s tae be determined.”

Declan shrugged off the hand and the ominous warning. He felt grief enough as it was, and he didn’t need constant reminders of what lay ahead. It rendered him unworthy of her love and devotion, her true loyalty as she left all she’d known for him and with nothing promised.

“Forrester,” Brooks called in his booming voice. “’Tis news of Randolph.”

Finally. A flicker of hope remained that he’d settle his past so he could then focus on the future. “Where is he?”

Brooks tugged at his earring, and cocked an arrogant brow. “That’ll come. First, we’ve business. Yer fortune has grown faster than I can earn it for ye. ‘Tis time for a larger cut, I’d say.”

Declan grinned. “Greedy bastard.”

The captain laughed uproariously. “To be sure, lad, to be sure.”

They conducted their business in the captain’s cabin with a bounty of wine and ale and bawdy comments. Declan remained reserved as his men, along with the captain’s trusted few, congregated at the table and deals were cut. He blessed his good fortune at finding Brooks before he left England for Ireland and the foresight to invest in his ventures. Now he’d never have to depend on another such as Ettenborough to make his way in the world. In this venue, he was the boss who directed the men and earned a vast percentage of the take.

Aye, ‘twas not the most legal way to conduct business. But this way, the English did not gain from his dealings, and he was assured Brooks didn’t take anything that wasn’t fairly paid for. What the pirate did on the side, Declan didn’t want to know. ’Twas the English’s own stupidity to pay inflated prices for the goods he offered under an assumed identity. Silks, spices, coffee, and furnishings all comprised his stock. And his customers were more than willing to pay whatever he demanded. His agent told the customers the products were in demand in France and Italy, which spurred them to buy more.

Declan chuckled.

“Something funny, Forrester?”

“Nay, captain,” he said as he drank more wine. ’Twas time to see to Martine, yet to insult Brooks wouldn’t be wise.

The pirate lifted up his tankard of ale. “Are ye bored? Or is it a fine lady ye are thinking of, ye bastard?”

Chuckling again, he felt something akin to loneliness even in the midst of his men. Aye, he missed her. Just the idea she was near and he wasn’t with her tortured him.

“Weel?” Brooks raised his cup. “To Forrester for finding the loveliest lass I’ve laid eyes on in quite a while. If only I’d seen her first.”

“Och,” Nate said. “She’d run from ye for sure.”

Silence. Then rumbling laughter as the captain turned as red as a whore’s petticoat.

“Bloody hell. Go to her. ‘Tis where yer mind is. Randolph will come to you at Broderick’s estate tonight. Broderick’s gone to the country for a house party and it will be empty save a few staff. Randolph’s purchased their compliance.”

He waited for a moment, not certain he liked being told what to do by the captain, then stood and left the room. His men followed suit and they made haste to his city home.

The carriage rounded the corner and stopped before a large town home. Several stories high and lovely it was with its white exterior and paned windows. Martine gazed at the building without enthusiasm. Boxwood trees lined the walkway along with small pines acting as a privacy hedge flanking the side. Cold, is what she thought, hard and cold.

Little and Pierce left the carriage and extended a hand to help her out. Slowly she mounted the steps to the black lacquered door with huge brass knockers as if she were being sentenced to her death.

It burst opened and a wee lass of about five bounded down the steps and halted before her.

“And who are you?” the girl asked with her clipped English.

Martine smiled despite her mood. “I’m Martine. And who are you?”

The lass gave a sheepish grin. “I’m Betsy. Me mother is the cook and she’d skin me alive if she knew I was out here.”

“Well, we just won’t tell her, now will we?”

The girl grinned. “That’s the ticket.”

They walked into the marbled foyer. The high ceilings were framed with moldings and elegant chandeliers dangled like fancy earbobs. Gilt-framed pictures lined the halls and a velvet settee and mahogany table were the only furnishings. A shiver of uncertainty snaked its way up her spine as she watched the staff line up before the stairwell. Eight. Eight formally garbed maids and she presumed a butler and another man. She gripped her shaking hands so that no one else witnessed her nerves.

“Betsy,” a robust woman with raspberry-stained cheeks hissed as she rushed to join the line. “Mind your manners.”

The young girl gave her an apologetic glance and skipped to her mother.

The cook bobbed a curtsy. “Sorry, m’lady. Don’t know what’s gotten into the gel.”

She waved a hand. “No apologies are necessary.”

“Why, you’re not English.” The woman pulled up, obviously realizing her guffaw.

Little came forward. “Lord Forrester will arrive in a thrice. The lady of the house, Lady Martine, will make her rounds and assure everything is in order before he arrives.”

She stifled a chuckle at the butler’s sudden pompous attitude. But the fact that he didn’t mention her surname wasn’t lost on her. Did Declan tell him not to? Was he trying to hide the fact she was a Gypsy?

As she walked past the staff, each bowed or curtsied and announced their station and name. They seemed to be a pleasant group of people and she was certain they’d get along. At least she hoped all would go well. ‘Twould be unusual, staying in such a grand home with people at her beck and call. How could she convince them she could fend for herself?

A maid called Gertie came forward. “Let me show you to your chamber.”

She tipped her head and smiled at the maid. “That would be lovely.”

She followed, all the while peeking over her shoulder to look at Little and Pierce as she ventured into the unknown. Pah, where was Declan? Did he expect her to survive this on her own? Something so foreign and frightening?

The maid opened a double doorway and stepped back. Her thoughts had distracted her so fully, she’d hadn’t noticed they reached the chamber.

She hesitated and then walked in. A canopied bed garnered her attention as did the large fireplace and sitting area before it. Such grandeur. And it all belonged to Declan. As she walked to the fireplace, she ran her hand along a damask chair. Her steps were soundless against the plush rugs obscuring the dark wooden floor.

“I’ll send up your bags, milady.”

She nodded as she continued to explore her chamber. ’Twas decidedly feminine. Did Declan expect to sleep elsewhere as many of the wealthy did? Perhaps as her parents—

Pah, ‘twasn’t time for such distant memories. They were like a dream, faded with age, void of any true emotion. It was another time and one she often thought a fantasy not reality, and she couldn’t trouble herself with such ideas now.

“My lady?” Gertie entered the room with two young boys in tow. They each carried two buckets and began filling the copper bath in the small antechamber to the rear of the larger chamber.

“Thank you.” She wanted to be alone. Why? She didn’t know, but she needed to wrap her thoughts around her surroundings, Declan’s absence, and how she was supposed to live as a lady when she was anything but.

Chapter 24

He entered the chamber and stilled. Martine stood before the bank of windows, a silhouette of beauty. He strode across the chamber and came up behind her. After a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. His heart ached at her silence and the rigid line of her back.

“Why?” she said as she spun to face him.

He tipped his forehead against hers. “I know I have a lot to explain.”
Bollocks
, where would he start?

She looked at him, her eyes wide with question and, he knew, hurt. He couldn’t make her suffer any longer. “Let’s sit.”

He led her to the small couch before the fireplace. As she sat, he struck a match and touched the wood. The flames ignited and he stood and leaned a hand on the mantel. With his back to her, he watched the fire lick up the flue. His vision blurred and then he summoned the courage, something he never thought he lacked, and knelt before Martine.

“Why did you leave me to fend for myself?”

He cringed as her voice cracked.

“We are not married and I had to come to your home and be introduced to the staff.” She moved away from him.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. “I never thought—”

“Aye, you never thought.” Her shoulders trembled.

Declan reached for her, his fingers grazing her back as she rose and stepped away from him. He felt wretched.

She whipped toward him, frustration in her gaze, piercing him with hurt. “And now,” she said with a sweep of her hand, “I see all you have. You said you had some money, some holdings. But Declan, you are a very rich man.”

“I never meant to deceive you,” he said as he gathered her hands in his own.

“Go on,” she prodded. Her jaw remained firm, unyielding.

He wiped the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “I’m not poor.” Had he purposely deceived her? He wasn’t certain. He knew he told her he had holdings, but he didn’t think he’d have to go into detail.

“Pah, even I can discern that.” She ripped her hands from his and crossed her arms before her chest.

’Twas going to be harder than he thought. He smiled, an expression he felt was warm and contrite.

She rolled her eyes heavenward. “Don’t be trying to charm me, Declan Forrester.”

His mouth thinned. “’Twas worth a try. Brooks buys goods around the world for my business. I have an agent sell the goods here, in London and even throughout England.”

The harsh line of her shoulders softened a wee bit, encouraging him to continue. “I met with him before my wedding to Abigail. I worried that my marriage to Abigail ‘twould be another prison, just without the iron bars.”

She threw up her hands. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought all we had was in the box buried beneath Riverton.”

“I didn’t know how. You thought I had nothing and seemed so pleased about it.” To him it was enough. And a little piece of him thought the fact that they were rich would just be a bonus.

She nodded. “Aye, I come from nothing. ‘Twas comforting that you did as well.” Her gaze slid around the room and he shuddered as she cringed.

“I come from nothing as well. I just needed the assurance I had safety. And with Riverton gone, ‘twas a good thing I did.” He exhaled. “I have my title from my father, but the estate and all of his funds were confiscated by the crown.”

She looked up at him and asked, “Captain Brooks is reliable then?”

With a shrug, he answered, “As reliable as a pirate can be. I believe he is honest in respect to my dealings. His own . . . I’m not certain.”

“So all of this,” she said with a shrug, “is the result.”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Can you live with it?”

She laughed, a sweet sound to be sure. Still, she shook her head and cast a doubtful glance in his direction. “Do we have to live in the city?”

He looked to the intricate pattern on the couch. “I’ve a country home as well.”

Her hand flew to her chest. “Och, you truly are a rich man.”

Declan felt her tense once again. “Nay, we’re rich.”

“I do not know how to live like a rich person. I dress myself, wash my own clothing.” She gripped her hands, twisted them nervously. “Declan, I hate to wear shoes.”

He laughed and pulled her into an embrace. “Then you will never have to wear shoes,” he said into her hair. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Aye, he felt like a cad. In his haste to learn more about his holdings and Finn, he’d neglected to think about Martine’s feelings. He rubbed his hand along her back, trying to ease her fears.

“Pah,” she said against his shoulder. “Then all will know I’m a Gypsy.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re my Gypsy.”

She swatted at him, somewhat in jest, but there was lingering uncertainty. He felt it—saw it in her eyes.

“And Finn Randolph?”

He rested his hands on his waist. “That’s another concern.”

She tipped up her chin. “Tell me.”

Declan pinched the bridge of his nose. “As I’ve said, Finn is helping me search out the truth. ‘Tis as simple as that. I want to shield you from the danger.”

She stiffened. “Danger?”

Gripping her shoulders, he looked pointedly in her eyes. “I’ll protect you. You’re my betrothed, more than that.
You are my life
.”

“Och, Declan,” she whispered as tears sparkled in her eyes.

Now he was making her cry. He wiped a tear that fell from her lashes with the pad of his thumb. “I never wanted to upset you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t upset me,” she said in a watery voice. “You’ve made me happy.”

Confused, he just nodded. Women were a complicated lot, to be sure. “I need to meet with Finn and it must be done at night.”

Her eyes shifted from soft cognac to something darker, filled with concern. “If people know you are here, will you go back to prison?”

His gut clenched and anger raced through his veins. “Nay. They released me to Ettenborough, and ‘twas legal enough. I just need to find out why.”

She wrapped her hand around his cheek. “Please be careful.”

He took her hand and kissed her palm. “To be sure, my love. I have the most important reason in the world to return safely.”

After he ensured Martine was settled, Declan met with his men in the study. ’Twas odd, visiting his home for the first time. His agent had once again proven his worth by appointing the home with elegant furnishings and a capable staff.

The study suited him with dark woods, masculine leathers, and a well-stocked bar. The chamber faced the front of the house, allowing him a clear view of any visitor. Strategic for keeping the estate safe.

A few of the men smoked, selecting cigars from a well-stocked humidor. Lange stood by the large hearth, his face displaying no inkling of his thoughts. Rufus, Little, and Nate spoke quietly in the corner, each with a snifter of brandy in their hands.

“What’s your displeasure?” he asked Matthew who brooded as he stared glumly into his whiskey.

The youngest of the group scowled. “I want to go tonight.”

Bollocks
. Matthew was pouting. He didn’t have time to placate the young lad—nor the patience. “You’re needed here. I want at least two men watching over Martine.”

The young lad shrugged and a hint of pride straightened his posture. “If you put it that way, I’ll stay.”

Like he had any choice in the matter, Declan thought, as he resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenward.

“We have to ferret out Randolph.” Although he spoke with feigned aggravation, he was truly worried about his friend. If Brooks hadn’t received word, he’d be scouring the street for Finn. And while Brooks shared the information, Declan didn’t put it past the man to provide falsehoods for his own perverse pleasure.

“Och,” Pierce exclaimed as he burst into the room, “am I late again?”

All the men chuckled and refocused on Declan.

“Sit, Pierce.”

With his face flushed scarlet, he sat and glanced wildly about the room.

Declan looked at his men. A mix of brawn and intelligence, but all fiercely loyal. It worried him, the danger. He held a stake in the mission, these men did not. ‘Twas only his pay that provided reward and he worried it wasn’t enough. In fact, he planned on a hefty bonus for all of them. “Tonight we will go to Broderick’s home.”

The men quickly nodded their heads, their faces serious yet eager.

Nate held up his snifter. “Aye, ‘tis a sound plan.”

“Matthew and Pierce will stay here and guard the house.” Declan pointed at the men. “I want to be alerted of any trouble. Matthew, since you know London, you bring me any urgent news.”

Matthew paled as if finally realizing the severity of the situation. Pierce, still flushed red, simply nodded and stayed mute.

He glanced out the window and grinned as the streets had darkened. “Let’s go.”

They rode through the narrow London streets beneath the cloak of darkness. Their journey did not take long as they came to Broderick’s home. Light flickered in the front hall, yet the rest of the house remained dark.

Where the Devil was Finn?

After waiting for an hour, Declan cocked a brow at Nate. “Stay here. Lange and I will go in.”

“Do ye think ‘tis wise?” the Scotsman asked as he rested a hand on Declan’s shoulder.

“Aye, my friend.” He motioned to Lange to follow him and they snuck around to the rear of the town house. Lange used his street smarts to pick open the locked door. As they eased into what appeared to be a back parlor, Declan rested his hand on the knife sheathed at his waist. They felt their way through the darkened halls. He glanced into each room, looking for a sign of a study or office.

Finding none, he motioned Lange upstairs and searched anew. He entered what appeared to be the lord’s chamber. A door in the rear of the room was open. The sound of drawers opening and closing filtered through the room. Declan raised his hand in warning to his comrade and paced forward while unsheathing his knife. Once he entered the small chamber, he grabbed the person from behind and whipped his knife to the other intruder’s neck. “Move and you’re a dead man.”

“Hell, Declan. ‘Tis me, Finn.”

Declan exhaled and released his friend. Lange sauntered into the room with a crooked grin plastered on his face.

Declan cocked his hip and rested a fist at his waist. “You should have waited for us.”

Finn laughed. “Aye, I can see yer vexed, with a knife pointed at my family jewels.”

He tipped his head and allowed a quick grin. “Next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Och,” Finn said as he waved his hand. “As if you’d skewer me.”

Moving toward the desk, Declan picked up a pile of papers. “Anything interesting?” His body hummed with nerves and anticipation. The answers were here; he knew it deep within his gut.

“’Tis a muddled mess, to be sure.” Finn grabbed another pile and added to Declan’s load.

“Lange, go and tell the men all is fine. We’ll be out directly.”

The man hesitated, then nodded. Assured he was out of hearing distance, Declan narrowed his gaze. “You know I don’t want anything revealed until I’ve seen it myself.”

Finn smirked. “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch. ‘Tis nothing to tell by this mess.”

Declan sheathed his knife and surveyed the room once again. Even in the darkness, Declan could tell the proportions were not quite right. One of the walls jutted strangely and was flanked by two large chairs. His pulse quickened as he walked past the desk and nudged aside a small chair and ottoman. Feeling his sweating palms along the wall, he found the crack and knew deep in the pit of his stomach that what he sought was within. Once again grabbing his knife, Declan pried open the panel and released a sigh that had been pent up for the last several years. A gilded trunk sat on a shelf in the hidden space, beckoning his hands to grasp it and run.

Finn peered over his shoulder. “That’s the ticket.”

Declan grabbed the trunk and held it. Its heavy weight surprised him. For a moment he was at a loss. Here in his hands may be the answers he’d been waiting for. Emotions swirled in his mind, tensed his muscles. He set the trunk on the desk and stared at it.

“Open it,” he directed Finn as he stepped back and rubbed his chin.

“Should be your honor.” But his friend opened the lid regardless as he cast furtive glances at Declan.

The trunk revealed more papers and a small box within. He reached for the box and removed the lid. Inside was parchment imprinted with his family crest along with what he knew as Ettenborough’s and Broderick’s. Aye, Broderick was involved—his carriage had been at the estate that fateful day. A fourth crest was still unknown. He touched the surface and knew there were still more questions than answers.

Finn laid his hand on Declan’s shoulder. “’Tis time to leave. The butler will be back.”

He nodded, yet his feet remained rooted to the floor. The unknown crest plagued him. Who did it belong to? He scoured his memory to the time after he was whisked away and tried to remember any indication of whom the crest belonged. No luck. It was completely foreign to him.

“
Forrester
.”

He turned to Finn who was trying to right the stacks of papers strewn over the desk and the floor. “Right. Let’s go.”

Randolph led the way down the stairs and back through the kitchen. Declan held the trunk as they left the house and met with the men congregated in a nearby alley. The sound of their approach alerted them and weapons were drawn.

“Easy, men,” he called. They quickly sheathed their knives and holstered their guns.

All remained silent as they mounted their horses and made their way back to Declan’s town home. Not until they reached the privacy of his study and summoned Matthew and Pierce did he reveal they’d met with mild success.

“I need to go over the papers and determine what is relevant. Little, I’d like you and Rufus to find out whose crest this is.” He handed Little the paper with the foreign crest. “Take care. ‘Tis the only copy.”

His butler handled the parchment as if it were spun glass. The old man squinted at the crest, then looked to Declan. “I’ll get your answers for you, m’lord.”