Seducing the Beast (9 page)

“What happened, milord?”

“Naught,” he replied tersely. Glancing over, he caught the manservant’s expression and realized the combination of “nobody” and “naught” created considerable upheaval in the chamber. Wickes was staring at the deep red wine stain on the floorboards, looking angry and frustrated--more so than might be expected. “And where have you been for so long, Wickes, leaving me to the mercy of stray wenches?”

Wickes flicked a sly glance at the Earl. “I’m sorry, milord, I should’ve come back sooner. Didn’t know the guard was absent from his post.”

Griff slammed the window shut, but as he looked down at the torch-lit gallery, he saw her there, running under the arches. She came to a man who waited by a pillar and the two conversed. Thwarted desire ripped through him with long, greedy talons. There was some argument it seemed, but the couple under the arches were too far away for him to hear their words. He recognized Henry Jessop, a notorious lech, one of the infamous reptilia of court, someone he generally avoided.

“Milord, shall I…”

The earl grabbed his cloak from the back of a chair, already on his way out.

* * * *

“You owe me, wench. Now keep to your side of the bargain.”

In all the excitement she’d forgotten Lord Jessop and their agreement. “The earl was not there,” she said, “only his manservant.”

“Not my fault. I brought you to his chambers, as you wanted.” He leaned over her, his lips curled, his fingers pinching her skin. “Now yield, wench.”

She struggled against his hard grip and rendered three long scratches down his cheek. He released her, his hand raised to strike, but fast approaching footsteps caused Jessop to falter.

“Get your hands off her!”

Madolyn seized her chance, leaping away through the arches with one last warning for the lecherous cad. “Leave Grace Carver alone! Come near her again and you’ll be sorry. Though you think your blood is richer than hers, ’tis just as red and I’ll gladly spill more of it, should you misuse that girl again.”

“Grace Carver?” he wheezed, “What does she have to do with this?”

He still didn’t recognize her, she realized. It was a good thing he didn’t.

She vanished into the dark.

* * * *

“Who was that woman?” Griff demanded, arriving at Jessop’s side.

“She’s a damned whore and when I get my hands on her again, she’s a dead one.”

“Her name?”

“She promised me a night of sport in exchange for bringing her to your apartments. Now she reneges on that promise. She’ll be sorry, whatever her name.”

Nothing more to be got from the blabbering fool, Griff left him and ran after her into the night. He saw her climb into a hired litter and followed it through the streets on foot, shoving the occasional drunken wretch out of his path. The litter came to a halt before a large house and she ran inside. Strolling to the gate, he encountered two beggars waiting for alms and so he tossed them a handful of coin in exchange for the name of the lady in residence.

“Lady Shelton, sire. You know what they call her? The Scarlet Widow.”

It struck him viciously, like her slap across his face. Of course. Why had he not seen it before? He’d heard she was related to that villain Nathaniel Downing. Why else would she come to plead for his pardon?

Now it made sense. That was why she would not give her name.

She was the consummate seductress, the ruin of many, the Scarlet Widow.

She was his brother’s lover.

That evening, when Gabriel suggested he make one last attempt to win his brother’s blessing, Eustacia’s screams echoed around the walls of the house as she berated her tender lover for being weak and afraid of his own choices. Eventually, Maddie heard Gabriel promise her cousin they would elope without his brother’s approval, as she wanted, and by the time he left the house Eustacia was at least partway appeased.

At breakfast the following day, there was little conversation. Unless her lover was present, Eustacia was a mere shell, saving her energy for when he came. She stared off into the distance, her bony fingers quickly twisting apart little pieces of bread and scattering crumbs across the table.

The front door bell clanged and Grace sat up in her chair, her face bright. Observing this, Madolyn felt sick; she knew her sister waited for a visit from Lord Jessop, but surely there would be nothing more from him now. A good thing too, although Grace wouldn’t know it.

Her sister never wore her emotions where others might see. Instead she held them deep inside. This morning, only the slightly heightened color on her cheeks proved she was in any way excited by the arrival of a letter, or hoped it might be for her. Her expression, for the most part, remained steady. Her gaze, an unusual shade of silver gray, followed the maid across the room as they would watch the progress of a bird, careful not to frighten it away.

But the message was not for Grace. It was for Eustacia

Stealing a glance at her sister, Maddie saw the shadow of sadness in her eyes. It was a brief lapse, for Grace swept her disappointment away like dirty old floor rushes, letting her anger boil inside, releasing only a little steam through the occasional sharp word or two. It was surely not healthy. Maddie often advised her sister to let it out and scream to the Heavens; Grace would only remind her she did enough shouting for the both of them.

Madolyn was also, as Grace would remind her, the one who made all the mistakes thanks to her impulsive nature.

Once she’d purchased mystical powders from a gypsy, who persuaded her that drinking them down in cider would make her invisible. For an entire day she was convinced it worked, and her family gleefully went along with it, pretending not to see her as she got up to various mischief. The pleasant imagining came undone when she decided, since she was invisible, she no longer needed clothes. Her subsequent encounter with the parson while strolling down the lane on a Sunday afternoon quickly overcame that idea.

Alas, mused Maddie, although much older now she was still prone to reckless impulse. As proven by last night’s encounter with the earl’s man.

Eustacia ripped open her letter and read it. Her lips puckered, opened and puckered again, before they found words. “How dare he? How dare he!” As she flung the letter across the table, they saw the sloping, thick writing scrawled there amid the ink blots, long, brisk strokes, scribbled in a hurry, quite possibly in a rage. At the bottom of the paper there was a single tall letter ‘S’, pressed so hard the writer must have broken his quill in the process of putting it there. “The Earl of Swafford requests the pleasure of my company,” Eustacia exclaimed, her face wan.

“Perhaps he wishes to give his blessing,” Grace asserted hopefully.

“Ha! He means to intimidate me, of course. He commands me to attend his chambers at Whitehall so he can put the fear of Beelzebub into me.”

Studying the mess on the paper, Madolyn agreed one might imagine his fury as he’d penned those words in a rushed, trembling hand.

Eustacia’s eyes were like a winter’s morn when the only light came from a dull, dreary sky with no promise of heat. “I know how he disposed of other women in Gabriel’s past. The man is ruthless and lives above the law. For sure he would have me murdered to keep me away from his brother.”

Maddie looked again at the letter, morbidly curious.

“He can command me in vain,” said Eustacia. “I’ll not be summoned and dismissed by that ogre.”

“Would it not be best to meet him? Reason with him?”

“There is no reasoning with the Beast. Tonight I leave London with Gabriel. He won’t even know we’ve gone until it’s too late.”

When Eustacia left them alone a few moments later, Grace said, “I wonder why Lord Jessop hasn’t sent a note. He hasn’t come here since the day before yesterday. I hope he’s not ill.” Maddie swallowed a lump of bread rather too quickly and choked, and her sister smacked her on the back until the obstruction shot out again onto the table. “Perhaps he’s busy and unable to come,” Grace added, searching for excuses on her errant lover’s behalf, as was her usual habit.

“Yes. That must be so.” Madolyn rose from her chair. “Don’t worry, Grace. If he never comes again he wasn’t worth your affection was he?”

“Not come again? Why wouldn’t he?” Grace clutched her sister’s sleeve. “What have you done?”

“What have I… Why am I always accused of wrongdoing?”

“Because trouble is generally your fault,” Grace replied sharply, having suffered previous suitors held at knife point, shoved and locked into coffers, or chased through the village by an irate sow specially trained for the purpose. “Not one of my suitors has ever escaped unscathed once you declare them unsuitable.”

“With Papa away so often, someone must stand guard over the family treasure.” Maddie shrugged. “Anything I do, Grace, is for your own good.”

Grace repeated, “What have you done?”

“Naught!”

“Maddie?”

“I told him to leave you alone and never come here again.”

Grace’s mouth opened wide in shock and quick tears formed, shining like diamond chips in her lashes.

“I had good reason,” she rushed to explain. “If only you knew… Grace, he’s not a good man, not honest or faithful. He would never make you happy. In fact, I doubt his intention ever was marriage.” She clasped her hands, wringing them like a wet rag. “I can’t tell you what happened, Grace, but you must trust me. It was the right thing to do.”

Abruptly, Grace pushed back her chair. “Madolyn Carver, will you never be done interfering in my life?”

“But I--”

“Why do you assume I need your protection? I’m four years your senior, yet you persist in this meddlesome--”

“That man is not what he appears to be! His feelings are not--”

“And what of my feelings?” Her face was tight and pale, a little rash of angry pink on her neck. “You gave no thought to me did you? No, it’s always about you and what you think is best.”

Never before had she seen her sister in such a mood, and Madolyn fell silent.

“Who gave you the right to take charge of this family?” Grace continued breathlessly. “No one needs your interference. And why would they? What makes you think you know better than me? What man have you ever loved?
Man,
not boy!”

Madolyn looked down at her hands, chapped fingers and tattered nails.

“You think this family would suffer without you, Madolyn, but I daresay, we could manage by ourselves. Better, in fact, without your foolish meddling. Yes, we would survive without you. If you wish to manage someone’s life, let it be your own.” She ran out in tears, too overcome by those ravenous emotions, previously stifled.

“See,” Madolyn muttered sulkily to the empty room, “I always told you it did no good to hold your temper inside.”

* * * *

Refusing to speak to Maddie for the remainder of the day, Grace took herself off to bed shortly after sunset once Eustacia and Gabriel were gone. Left alone at dinner, Madolyn relished the chance to refill her goblet without reprimand from either pious sister or spiteful cousin, and raising several toasts to them both in their absence, drank almost an entire flagon of wine without it seeming to have much effect, beyond the subtle blurring of edges and a cozy warmth in her cheeks.

However, even as she convinced herself she was quite sober, she began a wicked game of ‘what if’ in regard to that great, ugly, sullen fellow who’d thrice spoiled her plans the day before. What if indeed!

Rising dizzily from her chair, she was distantly aware of a bell clanging. It seemed possible someone came to arrest her for being a disobedient woman with shameful desires. Knowing she was ill-prepared in her current state to defend herself against the allegations, she chose to avoid capture instead. Clutching the flagon of wine, she blew out her candle and hid under the table, which is where a maid found her shortly afterward.

“The Earl of Swafford has sent a messenger for Lady Shelton. You’d best come out and see the man.”

She hiccupped. “Me? I’m not going out there. Send the blackguard off with a flea in his ear.”

“He says he knows she’s here and he won’t be sent away. He’s a great big fellow and if you don’t go out, he’ll surely break down the door!”

“Oh, pull yourself together. He’s not going to eat you, is he?”

The maid scuttled away, muttering under her breath. Maddie waited anxiously and then, hearing nothing more, assumed it safe to exit her hiding place.

Since Grace was sulking, Maddie wouldn’t go to their bed tonight, and decided instead to sleep in their cousin’s chamber at the far end of the house. Fortunately, the maid had already lit the candelabra in the hall, so she carried this with her to the second floor of the house. None of the other servants appeared, and she supposed Eustacia’s impromptu disappearance gave them license for a holiday. They certainly wouldn’t wait upon her “little country cousin” now she was gone.

Stumbling along the gallery, she gave the grim portrait of Eustacia’s dead husband a wide berth before locating her cousin’s chamber. The door was open. The lovers had taken flight in haste that evening, Eustacia leaving behind many of her clothes and less-valued trinkets scattered across her bed, thrown aside as she’d speedily chosen her attire for the journey ahead. Maddie set the candelabra beside the looking-glass and rummaged through the piles of clothing.

A string of pearls, simple and elegant, caught her eye. It was not like Eustacia’s other gaudy jewels and no doubt left behind for that reason. It would not suit her tastes. Maddie lifted the pearls reverently and went to the looking glass, holding them up to her neck. She was fascinated by her image, how perfectly the form of one person could be transferred, mimicked by light and color. Eustacia would say it was vanity that kept her standing there looking for so long, but Maddie was just as amazed at the reflection of anything else in the glass as she was of herself. Anything else. Such as that man climbing through the window.

She blinked.

The pearls still clutched in one hand, she exhaled a high squeak of surprise, for it was the earl’s manservant, unfolding himself through Eustacia’s window, like a long-legged spider. She might have screamed if she thought anyone would come to her aid. Grace, however, would ignore her, thinking she made a fuss about nothing. She often accused Madolyn of excessive “dramaticals”. So she looked for a weapon, but he was over the ledge and upon her in the next instant, hauling her back onto the bed, pinning her beneath his weight, her face pressed into the coverlet.