Moonspun Magic (13 page)

The carriage bowled forward. Frances, looking at Victoria's white face, said, “I thought you'd rip the skin off his nose. You were splendid.”

“Yes,” Victoria said, slowly, “I was holding my own, wasn't I?”

It was unfortunate, in both ladies' opinion, that Rafael was waiting at Lucia's town house.

Didier, unruffled, told them of that piece of news.

“Let us go upstairs,” Frances whispered to Victoria. “There's no reason to draw fire.”

“Hurry, Frances.”

But they didn't make it. Rafael, hearing the noise, emerged from the drawing room to see Victoria, wet and filthy as his original ragamuffin, held against Frances, who was nearly as frowsy.

“What the hell.”

“Good morning, Captain,” Frances said, all bland confidence. “If you will excuse us for a moment, we will be down again presently.”

“The devil you will. Victoria, what happened to you?”

Then he saw her eyes. Saw the fear and the shock. Dear God, what had happened?

Frances released her, and waited, a twinkle in her eyes, to see what would happen now. Sure enough, in but another moment Rafael strode to Victoria and took her into his arms. “What happened? Tell me.”

“It was Damien,” she said, burying her face against his shoulder and wrapping her arms about his back. “I thought it was you. But he wasn't at all tanned. There was something else about him, but I don't know what it was. He tried to force me in his curricle. There were so many men about, but none of them would help me. Frances came along just in time.” She raised her face and tried for a smile. “I don't see why Frances would ever have any need of a former mistress to help her.”

“Ah, but I did,” Frances said easily. “That is a story I will tell you one cold winter's night.”

“She told him she would shoot his ear off if he didn't let me go.”

But Rafael wasn't amused. “You went to the solicitor's office, didn't you? And Damien was there as well?”

“Yes, outside. I had already spoken to Mr. Westover. I learned the provisions of my inheritance.”

He wanted to shake her and to hold her very close. It was an unsettling dilemma. He compromised, saying harshly, “I trust you have learned your lesson, Victoria. You will do as I tell you in the future, do you understand me?”

He felt her stiffen, but didn't release her. He said over her head to Frances, “Thank you. As for you, Victoria, you will go upstairs now and bathe. I don't want you to catch a chill.” He remembered belatedly that Frances was also a bit frayed and damp.

Frances, who wasn't at all remiss in her faculties, said, “Don't worry about me, Rafael. I shall take myself back to Hawksbury House. Victoria, I will see you later today. All right?”

Victoria nodded.

She was still held close to Rafael. She felt his warmth and his strength and wondered how it could be that he was so very different from his twin. Didier gently closed the door behind Frances. It was only then that Rafael roused himself. “I'll help you,” he said. “Come along now.”

She allowed herself to be led upstairs to her bedchamber. Grumber was waiting stoically, no discernible surprise on her face at the sight of the young miss.

“You look grubby as hell,” Rafael said, flicking his fingertip over a slash of mud on her cheek. “Clean her up, Grumber. I'll be downstairs with Lady Lucia.”

“It will take a while,” said Grumber.

“Keep her warm.”

With those words, and one final searching look at Victoria, Rafael took himself back downstairs to Lucia, who was in close conversation with Didier.

“I gather you now know as much as I do,” he said to Lucia.

“I'm not certain, Captain,” said Lucia, as bland as Cook's giblet soup. “I did gather that it was your brother, Baron Drago, who came upon Victoria?”

“Yes,” Rafael said in a savage voice. “She went to the solicitor, by herself, I might add, and Damien came upon her when she was leaving. She thought at first that he was I, but he wasn't tanned, you see, and he was forcing her.”

“Yes, my dear boy. Oh, dear, here I thought Victoria was still in her bed, with the headache.”

“In any case, Frances saved her hide.
Damnation—pardon me, ma'am—but it is too much. I told her I would handle everything. Why couldn't she have simply left things alone?”

Lucia walked to the sideboard and calmly poured Rafael a snifter of brandy. “Very good for temper,” she said, handing it to him.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “I suppose I should tell you why Victoria went to Mr. Westover's office. She isn't a child, Rafael, and it is her right to know about her inheritance. You were high-handed, you know, all with the best intentions, I'm sure, but the result was the same. Now, as for your twin, it appears that he isn't at all stupid. I doubt it will take long to find out that Victoria is here. And he is her guardian, with the law on his side. He could force her removal, could he not?”

“No, I won't let him.”

“But he has the law on his side.”

“I know.” Rafael sighed. Well, he might as well get it over with. He would propose to Victoria. Marriage would protect her, and there was no reasonable way Damien could refuse permission to his own brother. She would have to obey him, high-handed or not, once she was his wife. His mind made up, Rafael was impatient to get it over with. He trusted that Victoria was at least somewhat fond of him.

He knew his own feelings tipped the scales to beyond mere fondness.

He was to find himself thwarted. Hawk and Frances arrived shortly after Victoria emerged from her bedchamber, over an hour later, bathed and changed. He couldn't prevent a frown. She looked sweet and fresh and utterly guileless, not at all the same girl who'd come into the house looking a sodden mess with her face as white as January snow.

The entire matter was rehashed over luncheon for Hawk's benefit. And the Marquess of Chandos
arrived just after luncheon and demanded an equal hearing.

To Rafael's surprise, Victoria asked him quietly if she could drive with him in the park.

“It's raining again,” he said.

“Oh, well, in that case, can I speak to you in the music room?”

“All right,” he said ungraciously.

He hadn't intended to propose to his future wife in a damned music room, but he rapidly saw his alternatives deteriorating. He followed Victoria into the room and closed the door behind him. He watched her walk to the pianoforte and run her fingers over a few keys. He drew himself up, prepared to declare himself. The good Lord knew he had right on his side.

But he didn't have the chance.

Victoria turned suddenly, and without preamble, her voice so bald as to be rude, “I wish you to marry me, Rafael. I wish it to be a marriage of convenience, with benefits to both of us. The benefits to me are obvious. For you, I wish you to know that I will give you half my inheritance.”

He stared at her, unable to remember when he'd been so taken aback. She'd beaten him to the punch. He felt at once deflated and irritated. As a lady, she should have waited, should have let him do the proposing. Here she was demanding a ridiculous marriage of convenience. Well, so much for her fondness for him. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that if he married her, all her money, not just half, would become his automatically. He didn't say it.

Before he could reply, whatever that would have entailed, she continued, more quickly, more uncertainly, “As I said, it would be a marriage of convenience. I won't try to curtail your activities. You will be free to do whatever you wish to do. I swear,
Rafael, I won't hang on your sleeve or make you uncomfortable.”

“I see,” he said finally, turning away from her to walk to the long bay windows. He stared at the blurring streaks of rain on the windowpanes, and said over his shoulder, not looking at her, “When did you come up with this idea?”

“While I was bathing.”

“Ah. What makes you think I would be in the least interested in such a proposition?”

She was silent.

“A wife is an immense responsibility, Victoria. A responsibility of a lifetime. We scarcely know each other.”

“You're right, of course,” she said, and he heard the defeat, the utter helplessness in her voice. He felt like a damned bounder. He had planned to marry her, and here he was making her a supplicant. He was grinding her under, breaking her utterly, and it wasn't well done of him.

“I'll marry you,” he said.

He turned as he spoke, and saw the leap of joy and relief in her expressive eyes. “Your eyes are very blue at this moment,” he said.

“They change. Sometimes they even cross, particularly when I'm scared.”

“Well, they're not crossing now.”

“No.”

“There is just one matter, Victoria. I refuse to have a marriage of convenience.”

She stiffened, staring at him.

“If we marry, when we marry, you will be my wife and we will be as intimate as a husband and wife should be. Do you agree?”

She thought of his strength, his warmth, the gentleness of his hands on her back but hours before, when Frances had brought her back. She tried to picture
him naked, but she wasn't all that certain what a man looked like completely unclothed. Then she thought of her leg and blanched. He would see her leg. What if he were repelled, as Elaine had been? It was a thought she simply couldn't handle at the moment. She would think of something.
Tell him now. Tell him the truth.
But she couldn't. She was a coward, a bloody coward.

“Well, Victoria, do you agree?” Why was she hesitating? Did she find him unattractive? Did she fear having him bed her? He frowned. It wasn't a possibility he was used to.

“Yes,” she said finally, “I agree.”

He rubbed his hands together. “Very well. We will wed as quickly as possible. I'm glad it's settled, for I expect Damien to appear here at any time.”

He saw that fear in her eyes again.

“You won't have to see him. Now, let's tell everyone. I imagine that Lucia will know precisely what to do. Special license and all that nonsense.”

“There is no one to give me away,” she said, her voice a bit wistful.

“The marquess would be delighted.”

“He is a very nice gentleman, isn't he?”

Rafael agreed and the two of them went back to the drawing room to receive congratulations from people who weren't at all surprised at their announcement.

The marquess was delighted at the prospect of acting Victoria's parent, and said quietly, “My dear, you appear to be an utter delight. It will be my honor.”

“Delight?” Rafael said, hearing this. “I'm not certain, sir. She does, however, require a strong hand.”

Upon their departure, Frances said softly to Victoria, “You see, Victoria, everything worked out just as it should.”

“I suppose so. I pray so. Rafael is very . . . well . . .”

“Virile, handsome, a devil?”

“Yes, you're right. I suspect he will be a handful.”

“If ever you find yourself in need of lessons or advice on dealing with such a man, I shall be at your beck and call.”

Looking at Hawk from beneath her lashes, Victoria didn't doubt for a moment that Frances had much experience dealing with gentlemen who were handfuls.

More belongs to this marriage than four legs in a bed.

—T
HOMAS
F
ULLER

L
ucia didn't wonder even once why Rafael was loath to leave her town house. Perhaps those with lesser mental acuity might believe it was because he was playing the ardent lover with his betrothed, but not she.

When Didier appeared at precisely three o'clock the following afternoon in the door of her drawing room, she took one look at his face and said to Rafael, “Well, my boy, I imagine the baron has duly arrived.”

“Yes, my lady,” Didier said, only a single flick of an eyelid to show his surprise.

“Do show the baron in,” Lucia said. “Then inform Miss Victoria that she is to remain in her bedchamber.”

Lucia knew they were twins. However, seeing the two men together was still something of a shock, so alike were they. Mirror images standing there, facing each other.

“Brother,” Rafael said, not moving from his position beside the fireplace.

Damien gave Lucia a curt nod, then said to his
twin, “I was rather hoping you would remain with your ship and take your merchandise to China.”

“Unfortunately China was never a port of call. I imagined you would discover Victoria's whereabouts quickly. You didn't disappoint me.”

“There is only one Lady Lucia in London,” Damien said, proferring Lucia another nod and an ironic bow. “You, my lady, I must thank for seeing to the comfort of my ward.”

“Baron,” she said only. To Rafael she continued, “I shall leave you alone now. If there is anything you wish, you have but to ask Didier.”

“That stately old fossil who answered my knock?”

“Yes,” Lucia said, “he is the one.” She left the drawing room, wishing she could leave the door open, but of course she didn't. Sometimes, she thought, it was most provoking to have had manners drummed into one from such an early age.

The two brothers eyed each other in silence. It was like looking in a mirror, Rafael thought. It was as if he could raise his left hand to his jaw and the image facing him would automatically do the same thing. He hadn't forgotten that another man laid claim to his face, his features, to eyes the identical silver-gray color—no indeed—but to see that man after so long a time, to see
himself,
it was disconcerting.

Damien said softly, “It has been a long time.”

“More than five years. Yes, a very long time.”

“I had hoped that you would have changed, but you haven't. If it weren't for your tanned face, no one would know us apart. I've never liked sharing myself, so to speak.”

“It is difficult, I agree.”

“I have come for my ward,” Damien said abruptly.

Rafael, who had pictured this inevitable meeting at least a half dozen times in his mind, now moved
to the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “Brandy?”

“No.”

“Well, brother, I trust I find you well?”

“As you see, Rafael. I am quite well.”

“And your doubtless lovely wife? Her name is Elaine, I believe? Is she well?”

“Yes, certainly. I want Victoria, Rafael. I don't want difficulties with you. Nor do I wish to extend this conversation beyond what it must be. Have her fetched.”

“I don't think so, Damien. I believe any court in the land would agree that you have abused your position as her guardian.”

“You're being quite ridiculous, of course.”

“Do you really think so? Shall I tell you how I happened to meet Victoria?”

Damien merely shrugged, as if bored. “If you wish,” he said. But Rafael knew better. His twin was nearing an explosive point, his frustration and rage clear to Rafael. This time, however, he was dealing from the winning hand.

“Remember as boys how the smugglers and their activities always drew us out of the hall at nights? Well, I was riding near the coast just south of Axmouth and felt that old excitement. I rode down near the beach, and sure enough, there were two smugglers on their way to meet some fine French brandy, I suppose. It turned out that the smugglers had caught a very frightened girl. I saved her. It was Victoria, of course, trying to escape you.”

“She stole twenty pounds. Any court in the land would be shocked at such behavior of a ward toward her guardian.”

“Perhaps. But then again, twenty pounds is a very paltry amount compared to fifteen thousand pounds, is it not?”

Damien stiffened almost imperceptibly. “Ah, so you visited Westover, did you? Or did Victoria give you that information?”

“No, I visited him first. He took me for you, of course, and his concern over Victoria's, er, kidnapping was profound. I suppose you decided it was a very easy way to increase your coffers. After all, what chance would an eighteen-year-old girl have against you, Baron Drago?”

Damien said nothing.

“I assured Mr. Westover that Victoria was now quite safe and that the fifteen thousand pounds would be returned to her trust.”

“You have no power at all in this matter, Rafael. None at all. Get me the girl, now. I have been patient with you, but my patience is wearing thin.”

“Mr. Westover,” Rafael continued, ignoring his brother's words, “was relieved that I—rather, you—had undergone so honorable a change of heart. He now believes you back on the path of guardian righteousness.”

“Though you have been gone from England's shores for many years now, brother, surely even you remember that a guardian holds the only power. And I will continue to hold absolute power over her until she is twenty-five.”

“Or until she marries,” Rafael said very quietly.

“There was only one gentleman who showed any interest, and he cried off.”

“David Esterbridge, I believe?”

“Yes.”

“A paltry excuse for a man, that one. However, you assume that no other gentleman will want her? She is something of an heiress, after all.”

“You may be certain that I will be well on my guard against fortune hunters.”

“Indeed, you will be so very careful that she will
reach twenty-five unwed and unfortunately quite poor?”

“I have no reason to continue this with you, Rafael. It's none of your affair. Now, if you don't tell me where she is, I shall find her myself.”

“Oh, I will tell you. She is upstairs in her bedchamber. With Lucia, I imagine. Waiting for me to tell her that you are well and finally gone.”

“I will tell you one last time, brother, she is my ward. I will have the constable fetched if you continue with this nonsense.”

Rafael gave his twin a very lazy smile. “What constable would remove a girl from her betrothed?”

Damien grew rigid. He felt rage, and the blood of his rage pounded at his temples. “My God. You would marry her, you bastard, just to thwart me?”

“You think so little of Victoria's charms, brother? Well, it is of no consequence. Indeed, she has already agreed to marry me. The wedding announcement is in today's
Gazette,
I believe. I had assumed that the announcement would be the way you would discover her whereabouts. Well, no matter now. The wedding is this Friday. As Victoria's guardian, I am formally asking your permission to wed her.”

“I do not give it.”

“Your own brother? You believe your own flesh and blood a fortune hunter? Hardly kind of you, Damien.” Rafael paused, giving Damien a long look. He said quietly, “If you require a scandal, I will give it to you. Indeed, I will rock the land with a scandal. Now, my pleasure at seeing you after five years is about what I expected, except that you have become even more of a rotter. If you weren't my brother, I would kill you for what you have done to Victoria, doubt it not.”

“You damned bastard.”

“The fifteen thousand pounds, Damien. See that it
is returned to Mr. Westover by Friday. Trust me, if you don't return the money, I will make your life a misery. You might even find yourself in Newgate.”

Damien couldn't think straight. His fury was so great he was shaking with it. His damned brother. He cursed long and fluently. Rafael didn't move, merely looked at him, his expression remote. The gods were against him. And he wanted that money, wanted the money as much as he wanted to bed Victoria. Now both would be lost to him.

No. He would think of something. He had to.

“The fifteen thousand pounds—you want it for yourself.”

“Don't paint me with your own brush, Damien. But as for the fifteen thousand pounds, it will be mine. As her husband, all her earthly goods belong to me.”

“I will give you this round, Rafael,” he said, turned on his heel, and strode from the drawing room.

Rafael stood quietly, staring toward the empty doorway. “Damien, it is the final and last round,” he said. He heard the front door slam. Such a damned pity, he thought, remembering the two young boys, so alike they could even fool their parents. But Damien had changed. Or perhaps it was he himself who had done the changing. Perhaps Damien had always been as he was now, and Rafael just hadn't wanted to see it. Until they were sixteen. He shook himself. The memory was faded now.

“Are you all right, Rafael?”

He looked up to see Victoria slithering into the drawing room.

“Yes, of course.”

“I saw him leaving from my bedchamber window.” She shivered. “He looks so very much like you. It's frightening.”

“Come here,” he said, and opened his arms to her.

She paused but an instant, then grasped her skirts in her hands and skipped toward him. She fitted herself against him and rested her cheek against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said. “You've saved me.”

His arms tightened about her back. He breathed in the jasmine scent of her hair. So sweet and innocent she was. Gently he lifted her chin with his fingers. He smiled down at her, and kissed her.

He felt her surprise, then a slight quiver of pleasure in her body. To awaken her was a heady experience. He lightly glided his tongue over her bottom lip, but didn't seek entrance. Not yet. He didn't want to scare her. He had all the time in the world. He said as he raised his head, “No more fear, Victoria. We shall deal well together, you and I.”

She gave him a dazzling smile. “Yes,” she said, “yes, we most certainly shall. Even though you're a handful.”

He arched a black brow. “I beg your pardon?”

“Frances said she would give me advice on how to deal with you if you became too much of a handful for me. She, you know, has had a good deal of experience, married to Hawk.”

He laughed. “Poor Hawk. How the mighty have fallen.”

“Somehow I don't believe your Hawk minds at all.”

“No, he doesn't, does he?”

 

Bishop Burghley, a very old friend of Lady Lucia's, presided over the very private wedding. A bluff, florid-faced man, he carried out his part with superb theatrics, his booming baritone overshadowing the vows of the handsome Captain Carstairs and his lovely young bride.

Victoria was at once excited, scared, and filled with
anticipation. She gazed up at Rafael when he quietly repeated his vows. He was kind, gentle, and he would be a good husband. He was also stubborn and occasionally autocratic. He would come to care for her, she would try very hard to make it so. And he didn't want a marriage of convenience. Surely that meant that he wanted to make it a true commitment to her, to their marriage, to their future.

She heard a slight movement behind her, but didn't turn around. Only the Hawksburys, the Marquess of Chandos, Lucia, and her servants were in attendance. Perhaps, she thought whimsically, Lucia was dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

“Your vows, my dear.”

Victoria started. The bishop was looking benignly at her and Rafael was grinning. “Say you'll have me, Victoria.”

“I will . . . I do,” she said. “Oh, yes, I do.”