His Secret Heroine (12 page)

As Chloe overcame her shock, pure, boiling rage poured in to replace it, and the almost uncontrollable urge to tell the man exactly what she thought of him. Poor Reggie! His father was everything he had said! But before her mouth opened, she stopped herself. Anything she said would only reverberate back on Reggie, if not herself. She'd best be very careful.

"What do you want, Miss Englefield?"

Chloe's brow screwed into a frown. "I beg your pardon,
Your Grace?"

"Are you familiar with the term, 'cut your losses'? It means to arrange to lose as little as possible when one has no choice but to lose. You are in precisely that position. If you persist in your alliance with Reginald, I will see to it that you suffer. If he should happen to marry you against my wishes, I will cut him off entirely. And I will see to it that your own good name is damaged beyond repair. Do you understand me?"

Now he threatened her, as well? Chloe felt the urge to jump up and claw the man's eyes out. Never had she met anyone so blatantly, arrogantly obnoxious!

"Therefore I ask you, Miss
Englefield, what is it you want? It is quite obvious Reginald will require some persuading, since he rarely knows what is in his own best interest. It is a simpler matter to dispose of you. How much will you require?"

"Require?" If her eyes got any bigger, they would surely pop out of her head.

"Five thousand pounds, Miss Englefield. That is what I will pay you, and not a farthing more, but it should cover your most pressing debts and keep you in gowns long enough to find a more suitable husband. For that, I will expect you to inform my son that you have no more interest in him. You will, in fact, have nothing more to do with him. You may handle the matter in any manner you choose, but those are my conditions."

Chloe felt hot tears well up behind her eyes. To think she had actually persuaded herself this man had come to make her acquaintance! "Please take me home."

"I await your answer, Miss Englefield."

"My answer is that you may choke on your money. Take me home or let me down."

"Don't be absurd. You are miles from home. A lady does not walk alone."

"I am in less danger from the footpads of London than from you. If you do not turn about immediately, I shall get down of my own accord. I am quite capable of walking miles."

"As I have taken you up in my carriage, I cannot in good conscience allow that. You will stay until I hear your answer, and then I will return you to the care of your aunt."

"Very well,
Your Grace, my answer is that as I have already said my adieus with Reggie, I will not do so again, and I will not accept your money. Now you have received your answer, so please take me home."

The duke's cool blue eyes froze with icy hatred. With a jerk, he brought his cattle to a halt and turned in the seat. "Do not toy with me, Miss
Englefield. I can break you."

"I believe you, and I believe you are accustomed to breaking people. I have said that I understand you, and that I do not intend to marry your son. But that decision was not yours. It was ours. Now, please take me home."

The muscles in the duke's jaws bulged and shifted, and Chloe wondered if he might clench his jaw so tightly his teeth would break. Deep rage boiled in his eyes, and the ribbons in his hand curled in the pressure of his grip.

With a start, he cracked the whip and the startled pair of blacks leapt to a trot, nearly throwing Chloe from the
carriage, which turned a sharp circle in the wide lane, almost tipping as she clung to the padded seat. His whip cracked above his team, forcing them ever faster, heedless of anything in his way. Chloe wanted to slap the whip from his hands. "You do not spite me to abuse your cattle, Your Grace."

From his ramrod back to the gloved fists gripping the ribbons, the man stiffened even more. "They are as replaceable as you are, Miss
Englefield."

But the duke slowed the blacks to a respectable trot. Chloe refused to acknowledge the change for fear he would take it as reason to resume his abuse. He turned onto Leicester Square and tooled to her town house. The team jerked to a
surprisingly precise halt.

Chloe moved to the edge of the seat.

"You will wait for me to hand you down." The duke leapt down from his seat and walked, perhaps bit too swiftly, around the carriage.

She had no wish to cede to the man's false decorum, but she figured she'd better pick her battles, and that one, in the scheme of things, was not very important.

She suppressed her angry urge all the way to the door, then turned to the duke, her jaw as tight as his.

"Do not forget, Miss
Englefield."

"I will not,
Your Grace. I shall say, though, that I admire your son greatly, and I wish you were able to see the fineness of his character. I am so sorry for Reggie that he must deal with a father such as you. He is a fine man, and he deserves far better. Even more the pity because he loves you. But I think I pity you even more, for you could have your son's love, but you are intent on driving him away. And you will succeed."

"Your pity is wasted. Good day, Miss
Englefield." The duke executed an extremely proper bow, pivoted abruptly, and with rigid precision retraced his steps to his waiting carriage without so much as a backward glance.

Chloe surprised herself as she realized she did mean her condolence to the duke. What a pitiful creature he was. He did not even seem capable of understanding what it was he had lost.

From the safer side of her door, she peered out through the beveled glass to see the elegant black carriage already gone. She was glad he had not chosen to escort her into the house, for she wished to be shed of him as quickly as she might.

She wondered if there was a human being alive besides Reggie who actually loved the man, and decided it was unlikely.

Chapter Eight

"Are you quite all right, Miss
Englefield?" Cargill asked. Alarm shone in his eyes as he took the bonnet she thrust into his hands.

"Quite so, Cargill. Thank you." Chloe cast about for her aunt and saw the drawing room door standing open.

"You have another caller, I'm afraid, Miss Englefield."

And not one Cargill had hoped to see, she surmised. She questioned him with her eyes.

"Mr. Rafferty, ma'am. The draper."

Rafferty was more than just a draper. He had arranged for the collection of slightly used furniture and just about everything that had gone into making this shabby
town house presentable.

"Duns already?"

Cargill nodded ominously. "Possibly, yes, miss."

"Well, I should rather have all my troubles come in one day and be done with them for a bit," she replied. But she suspected such things were more likely to keep piling up. Chloe squared her shoulders and walked into the drawing room with her hands clasped properly before her.

"Good morning, Mr. Rafferty," she said.

Rafferty was a
n ordinary sort of fellow for his age, tending slightly to fat, dressed all in a heavy brown wool. Deep wrinkles from sitting creased both his coat and trousers. "Good morning, Miss Englefield," he said with a proper tradesman-like bow, guilt edging his nervous face. "I have just been conversing with your aunt."

"As I see. Have you something new for us? Perhaps the blue draperies I requested? As you can see, the facings are badly faded."

"Ah, yes," he replied, nodding and bowing all at once, with hands held at his waist as if he clasped a hat in them. "No, Miss Englefield, I have nothing that will do, yet. Of course, I might surely find something, but there is that matter of the bill..."

Chloe's teeth clenched. He wo
uld not dare make mention of it if she were a man. "It has not been above two months, Mr. Rafferty, and you have received some payment. I am surprised you bring up the matter."

His lightly balding head bobbed repeatedly in such a way that caused Chloe to wonder if the man had some unusual sort of twitch. "Of course, Miss
Englefield, but the bill is, well, quite large. And there is the matter of your additional order. But I am afraid, of course, well, something must be paid first. Surely you understand a man must make a living, and if there are other items to be found for you, well, I must pay the merchants who find them for me, you understand. I am afraid, of course, if something is not settled on the account, well, I am very much afraid I will have to, well, do something."

Irritation twitched on her lips, but she managed a thin smile. "And what would that be, Mr. Rafferty?"

"Well, I should have to take things back, of course. But there is wear and tear to consider, too, of course."

She had no trouble interpreting his words. He would take back all she had bought, but she would still owe him money. She suspected it would be a considerable amount. She wished she had known more about vultures such as he before she came to town.

"I really must have payment by Friday, Miss Englefield, or I shall have to take back what I have advanced to you."

He had her, and he knew it. Somehow, he had learned or guessed her situation. But of course he had. Why else would she need such used goods as those he proffered? If she were truly wealthy, she would have bought new, or leased a
town house already properly furnished.

"Your lack of trust wounds me, Mr. Rafferty. You shall have your payment by Friday. But I will not require you to fill the order. I shall have no further need of your services."

"But of course, I shall be most happy to continue to be of service to you, Miss Englefield, if only you see to the current matter."

"I am sure you would be,
but it will not be necessary. I am sure you have other clients who are in need of your particular services. I'll bid you good day, then, Mr. Rafferty."

Her dismissal hit him like a slap. He hadn't expected that, but she wasn't sure what it was he had meant to gain. Perhaps he had thought she would beg, giving him the opportunity to relent, but with increased interest, of course. Whatever it was, Rafferty's feet sounded like dropped s as he hurried out into the corridor and collected his hat.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have angered him," Aunt Daphne said. Aunt Daphne didn't understand this part of the game, despite that she knew the properly furnished town house was essential for a successful presentation to society.

"And do what? Beg for further indulgence? The man had mischief up his sleeve, Aunt Daphne. Best to part with him before he finds a way to cause real harm."

"But how will you pay him, my dear?"

"The garnets. Cargill, fetch the garnet parure from the safe. See what you can get for it."

"Pawn, miss?"

"Sell them
, then. I don't wear red well, anyway. Aunt Daphne, did you happen to notice the lovely draperies in Lady Mythe's blue and gold salon? Let us go shopping. I think I should like to have some like them."

"But my dear, you cannot afford them!"

"Quite true. But I have a better idea." Chloe had, in fact, been toying with the thought ever since she had seen the lovely, elegantly trimmed draperies of powdery blue edged in gold tassels. There was nothing wrong with her sea blue draperies except their antiquated style and the fading at the borders where the sun had hit them. A wide band of deep red velvet added where the faded cloth was cut away, trimmed with wide gold braid on the inner side, and golden tasseled fringe on the other. A deep red velvet festoon, trimmed with a narrow strip of the sea blue, and more gold braid, and her draperies would look like they had come from the best purveyor of household goods in London.

She wasn't vanquished yet.

* * *

The good thing about a
boat was, it kept a person busy, and Reggie had never been more grateful for that. He'd gone aboard directly from the ball the night before and was up with the sun, climbing the ratlines, mending rigging, drying out the sails, and doing everything but taking a holystone to the deck. If he had been at sea, he would have done that, too, but his crew found it embarrassing when Lord Reginald Beauhampton got down on his knees and scrubbed with the best of them, in view of the entire human race. Declaring to the world they didn't do their jobs right, they told him.

He was right, he really should have been born a cit. Too devilish hard for a high born brat to work off his excess energy, and nothing but hard work was going to take his mind off Chloe.

Devil it, but he'd never taken her for an adventuress! He saw the clues, now that he knew, and she'd outright told him she made her own garments. But he hadn't been looking. He hadn't wanted to look.

The devil of it was, he'd marry her anyway, if he could just persuade her.

Reggie walked the lines of the topsail yard, spreading the sail over the yardarm to dry, examining the rigging as he went.
And just what did she think the man she chose was going to think, once he discovered he'd been tricked?

He shuddered, thinking of the way Viheurs sniffed about her. If her choice turned out to be that rake, she'd rue the day she had been born. Well, it wasn't his problem. She was the one who thought money was so desirable.