Star Crossed Seduction (24 page)

S
he was innocent, and he had delivered her to her destruction, but he’d told Fanshawe the truth. He would do the right thing. He would live up to the pledge he’d made to Temperance when he’d given her his heart. Though he could never again expect her to love him, knowing now the damage he’d done to her by keeping his secrets from her and luring her into fatal danger, he would find a way to save her or die trying.

But how could he save her from the catastrophe into which he’d drawn her? The brilliance of the department’s schemes, which had delighted him so much in the past, stood as an insurmountable barrier to her rescue.

He didn’t even dare return to Temperance at Lady Hartwood’s to warn her of the extent of her peril, for Fanshawe had undoubtedly sent men to follow him, to ensure he toed the line. If they saw him make a beeline for her, they’d assume he had told her what he’d just learned in that fatal interview. That knowledge would put her in even more danger. Fanshawe’s men were leaving her untouched at the moment, to stretch out the time before the king found out he’d been tricked, but if Fanshawe thought she knew too much, he would move swiftly to eliminate her.

But he’d told Temperance that if he didn’t return to her tonight, she should take it as the signal to flee. And that made it essential he get some message to her, for Fanshawe had made it clear his men would arrest her if she tried to buy a passage for America.

So he must get word to her somehow and warn her. But how?

Perhaps Major Stanley could help him out. He could think of no one else he could trust with a matter of so much importance. There was a good brain hidden beneath the major’s bluff exterior. Perhaps if they put their heads together, they could come up with some solution.

But when he arrived at Major Stanley’s lodgings after taking a circuitous route designed to befuddle anyone who was following him, he found his friend plunged into the deepest despair.

“Nothing is sacred,” the major said. “A man begins to find happiness only to have it snatched from his grasp.”

“I could not agree with you more,” he replied. “But what made
you
draw that conclusion?”

“Have you not heard? Mother Bristwick’s is no more. Her establishment was raided last night, the girls hustled off, and Mother B herself taken before the magistrate and charged with a capital crime. It’s all here in the papers.”

“That is hardly the usual charge for running a bawdy house, unless she murdered one of her clients.”

“It turns out our Mother B was more than she appeared—some underworld Machiavelli they called the Weaver. A powerful man had been protecting her, but she offended him, and he withdrew his protection. She’s been charged with a string of murders and robberies, and she’ll hang for them—double quick, I’d warrant. There are more than a few powerful men who used to visit with her girls, and they’ll want her mouth stopped before she can tell any tales about them.”

So Fanshawe’s plot had been even more clever than what he’d revealed during their interview. He’d used the simulated theft of the jewel to get rid of the Weaver, once it had become clear that she would no longer work to serve the department’s interests. The king must have put pressure on her to give him the jewel, and when she’d insisted she didn’t have it, he must have assumed she was holding back on him, and this was the result.

But this tightened the vise closing in on Temperance even further. For now that the king knew he wasn’t going to get his jewel, the department would direct his attention to her unless Trev could somehow come up with the way to save her that had eluded him so far.

He was about to appeal to the major for help when his friend said, “You’re embarking next week, aren’t you. It’s probably all for the best. A little birdie told me how that beautiful pickpocket made such a fool of you. Though I’m afraid I must take some of the blame for that, my boy.”

“Why?”

“I wished only the best for you when I played Cupid at every step of your romance. But I was mistaken,” Major Stanley said. “Forgive me.”

For what
? Trev’s blood ran cold.
Was the major a part of the scheme, too?
It had been the major who had brought him to that crossroads where he had first seen Temperance. Who had urged him to find her again at the masquerade. Who had suggested he marry her. His bluff hearty pose and his fondness for drink made him seem so harmless, so easy to trust. Had Trev been even blinder than he’d thought?

He stood frozen in place. Had Fanshawe’s scheme cost him everything he’d ever valued, including his one real friendship? But there was no way of knowing if the major had been part of it, for to come right out and ask him would reveal too much.

He had no choice but to assume that the major was in on it—and that whatever he told him would be reported back to Fanshawe. So, forcing himself to give no sign of any emotion, he clapped a friendly arm around the major’s back, and said, “No hard feelings, my friend. I’ll find plenty of others to take her place. It was just a dalliance. I’d have left her behind when my leave was over anyway. You knew that.”

“Of course. And now that you know what she really is, you’ll be spared any lingering dreams about what might have been.”

“Absolutely. Men in our line of work are far better off without such dreams.”

I
n the end, it was the magnitude of the betrayal that made him realize, at last, how he could save Temperance. It would not have been possible to do it had he still been the man he had been this morning, loyal to the regiment, to his superiors, and to the crown. But they had lost any claim to his loyalty, and that freed him to do what needed to be done.

There was only one person in England with the power to keep Temperance safe—the king. So he must go to him and reveal exactly what had happened. Once the king knew the facts, he would pardon Temperance, for the blame for his loss of the jewel would rest where it belonged, on the department.

He went to his room and found his writing things. Sir Charles’s name could open many doors, even those of Carlton House. He addressed a letter to the king’s private secretary, wording it to suggest he wrote it in an official capacity, as an agent of the department. He included just enough detail to hint, in a way that would be understandable only to someone in the know, that he had information about the theft that would be of great interest to the king.

He secured the letter with the seal that bore his regimental motto:
Pristinae virtutis memores.
The memory of former valor. The memory would likely be all he had left of his valor when his visit to the king was done. He had no doubt of what the department would do, once they learned of how he had betrayed them. His life would be measured in days. But if he could save Temperance, it would be worth it.

After all, he was a soldier. He’d always expected to die young.

Chapter 21

T
he hours had dragged by on leaden feet. Trev wasn’t coming back. Why couldn’t she accept it and get on with what she knew she must do? He’d wanted to believe her. He’d tried to remain true to his vows, but who was to say what his superior might have told him? Men who could learn of something as secret as the mark she bore on her thigh and use it to drive two lovers apart were capable of anything.

Perhaps they’d shown him more clever fabricated proofs. She couldn’t fault him for believing them when she herself had believed the nabob’s lies and stamped on the ring Trev had given her to seal their pledge of love. She couldn’t expect him to be stronger than she’d been.

But she would have to mourn the death of their shared dreams later. For Trev was gone, and there was a price on her head. He had told her that if he didn’t come back, she must flee. So it was time, at last, to set off for America. There was nothing left for her, here on England’s soil, and every hour she delayed, swayed by the vain hope Trev might return, was an hour that made it less likely she would escape.

She made her way down the stairs and asked a servant to take a message to Lord Hartwood. Trev had told her to apply to him should it come to this.

Then she seated herself on the bench of the pianoforte in the drawing room. It had been a long time since she had played an instrument, but she had practiced too steadily in the years before she’d left home for her fingers to have forgotten all they once knew even though she’d put their agility to such a different use in the years between.

She picked out the themes of her favorite pieces, playing with increasing confidence as the sun sank and plunged the room into darkness. She didn’t need to see the keyboard to play, and the intimacy of the dusk made it easier for her to lose herself in the lyrical melodies, whose beauty gave her the strength to bear her sadness.

It was only much later, when she had run through the pieces she knew well, that her fingers faltered. She missed one note, then the next, and finally stopped. It was in the pause that followed that she heard the tiny rustle that told her she wasn’t alone. Her hands froze. She whirled around to see who had come in on her unobserved.

It was Trev. Her heart lifted. He’d come back!

When he realized she’d become aware of his presence, he detached himself from the shadows and approached her. He paused, drinking her in with his gaze, as if he couldn’t get enough of the sight of her.

“You play so beautifully,” he whispered. “I should have known you would.” He took another step toward her, and, for a moment, she could have sworn his lip quivered. Then, with a wistfulness in his tone that chilled her blood, he said, “How happy we should have been had things worked out differently.”

The blood stopped flowing in her veins. “Why can’t we be happy? You’ve come back. You said you wouldn’t return unless you could prove me innocent.”

“You are innocent. I forced the truth out of Fanshawe. But it won’t help. He wants you arrested and condemned though he knows you’re blameless.”

“But why?”

Quickly, Trev sketched out the details of the scheme his superiors had involved them in. When he was done, she understood the fear she saw in his eyes. Things were far worse than she had dreamed they could be.

“My loyalty has been fatally misplaced,” he said. “But it’s too late to undo the damage I have done. Fanshawe will not back down. He insists you must be sacrificed to save the lives of our soldiers.”

“So you have no choice but to go along with him?” She could barely breathe.

“Are you mad, Temperance? I would die before I did that. I’ll use what is left of my life to keep you safe from them.” He dropped on his knees before her. “Forgive me,
Priya,
for putting you into the power of such men.”

“Why can’t I just take ship for America? They can’t hurt me there.”

“Fanshawe has men watching you. They’ll arrest you if you try to slip away.”

The resignation in his voice frightened her. She remembered the pride he had taken in his loyalty to the department. To his regiment. In his service to the king. The knowledge that he’d been deceived by those to whom he’d pledged his life and his loyalty must be intolerable.

He stood. “I got you into this,” he said. “I’ll get you out.”

“How?”

“There’s only one way. I’ll go to the king and tell him what really happened. I’ll prove to him that you are innocent and demand that he issue you a pardon. Hopefully, that will be enough to keep you safe long enough to get out of the country. I’ve already sent a letter to the king’s private secretary asking for an interview.”

“But if the king finds out that you’ve been part of a plot to keep the jewel from him, won’t he think of you as a traitor?”

“Perhaps. And even if he doesn’t, the department won’t forgive me for betraying their scheme. But none of it will matter as long as the king pardons you.”

He let his hands rest on her shoulders, clinging to her in the deepening darkness as if drawing strength from her. Then, in an abstracted voice, he said, “You alone were loyal, you, who I least trusted. I don’t know how you can forgive me.”

He gulped, then continued, “You told me nothing but the truth. I will never forgive myself for not believing you. Fanshawe admitted that the nabob let you escape just as you told me. And Fanshawe knew about your mark, too. He made it clear he thought the mention of it would be enough to make me believe you’d betrayed me. So it must have been he who told Sir Humphrey about it.”

“But how could Fanshawe have known of it?”

“He has spies everywhere. He bragged he had them even in the Weaver’s operation. I cannot ever forgive myself that I let myself be taken in by him. I should have trusted you.”

His voice took on a faraway sound as he added, “It was Lady Hartwood’s reading that gave me the facts that forced him to reveal the truth to me. It was uncannily accurate. She was right about the Weaver working for the king and being a wealthy woman—if you hadn’t trusted me with that information, all would have been lost.” He paused. “The Weaver turned out to be Mother Bristwick.”

So that was why Snake’s words had echoed the old bawd’s sneer. But Trev’s revelation made something else fall into place. “Does that mean some of the girls in Mother Bristwick’s bagnio were Fanshawe’s agents?”

“Yes.”

“Then it must have been one of
them
who told Fanshawe about my birthmark.”

Trev’s face fell. He reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “If you were forced to be one of her girls, you don’t have to be afraid to tell me. It won’t change my love for you. Nothing ever will.”

“Though it does you credit, you need not be so forbearing.” She smiled at him in a way she hoped might give him reassurance. “My nimble fingers kept me from having to sell myself to her. But I did befriend one of her girls—the one who brought me that note from Snake. She used to take me to Mother Bristwick’s to bathe. They had a real bath in their bagnio, and I couldn’t resist the chance to get clean. One time when we bathed there, she saw my mark and said I was a fool not to go to work for Mother B, for the mark ensured I’d please the culls. Someone who overheard us must have passed the information on to your Mr. Fanshawe.”

Trev nodded. “How clever he must have thought he was being, using that mark to divide us. And how close he came to success. But even though we understand his scheme, he has still ensured we can never be happy together.”

“Nonsense!” We
will
be happy together, Trev. I won’t stand for anything else.”

“You shame me with your courage. But courage alone won’t save you. I must go to the king and lay the facts before him. I’ll make him pardon you. After that, the department may do to me what they will. If you are safe, it won’t matter.”

“It will matter to me! I won’t let you throw away your life. It isn’t necessary.”

His hands tightened on her shoulders. “Let me be the judge of that. I must order you to let me handle this.”

“I won’t obey. I’m not some trooper under your command, who must follow orders without argument. Do you have so little trust in our love that you would sacrifice your life without giving me a chance to find a better way?”

“There is no better way.”

“Not one you can come up with, perhaps, but you haven’t given me a chance to help. Why now, when it matters most, do you push me away?”

He bit his lip. “Because the only way I can save you is to make that final sacrifice.”

“You’ve made too many sacrifices already. You’ve been trained to always give up everything that matters to you. But that’s not how I was raised. I’m far more selfish than you are, and since my brain hasn’t been hobbled like yours by misplaced loyalty, I’ll find a way to save the two of us that doesn’t require so one-sided a sacrifice.”

She took his hand. The tremor she felt as his fingers clenched hers told her how hard he was striving to give up the habits of a lifetime. She squeezed it, drawing strength from the love that flowed beneath his torment.

Then she spoke again. “You’ll have to trust me if we’re to find the way out. You can’t do it alone. You’ve said we are two halves of one whole. Now you must trust in what we become when we join ourselves together. That, and that alone, will be what saves us now.”

T
hough he was drawing deep breaths, he couldn’t get enough air. He’d felt like this only once before, after climbing a difficult peak in the mountains of Hindu Kush. Could it be true what she had said?

Since the moment when he’d come upon her playing the instrument so beautifully in the fading light, he’d dreaded the moment when he must leave her behind and meet the fate he deserved. He’d told himself it was his karma, that by sacrificing himself to save her, he might atone for all his sins.

But her words made him face the truth. It was easier for him to welcome death alone than to do what she demanded of him and join himself with her when it really mattered. Could he trust her that much? Could he believe their love was more than a transient pleasure to be put aside when danger threatened?

If he couldn’t, all their talk of love had been meaningless.

Deep inside, in the place where he had been alone since that day when his grandfather had told him the painful truth, fear screamed he must trust no one but himself. He was alone, and it was best he should remain that way.

But then she reached for his hand, and her gentle touch told him he was
not
alone. He didn’t have to be alone. He’d gone as far as he could on his own, but his old ways had failed him, and now he must try something new.

He must blend his strength and discipline with her guile and willingness to fight. She had retained the independence they’d trained out of him. She was free to act as he was not. So he must look to her to save them. He must give her that much trust.

“C
aptain Trevelyan!” Lady Hartwood had entered the music room. “I hope your meeting went well.” She turned to Temperance. “My husband asked me to act for him regarding your note. I gather it is a matter of some urgency.”

Temperance explained the situation. When she had finished, Trev said, “Lady Hartwood, I owe you a profound apology. Your chart was right about everything—the nature of the theft, who was behind it, and so much more. Can you cast another chart to help us find a way out of our predicament?”

“I wish I could, but I can’t. It would be a mistake to turn to a chart for guidance in so grave a crisis. If I were to make an error in reading it—as I often do—it might cause untold harm. A chart must never substitute for our common sense—and you both have plenty of that. You are Scorpios,” she reminded him, “so you must let your instincts guide you.”

She turned toward Temperance. “Tell me quickly. What is the key to solving this problem? Don’t think about your answer, just give me your first impression.”

“The king is the key,” Temperance answered. “Trev is right about that, but he’s wrong in thinking he must approach him as a dutiful inferior. The king is too used to people bowing and scraping before him. To approach him that way would only bring out his contempt. So we must do the unexpected. We must approach him from a position of power.”

“But the king holds all the power,” Trev protested. “We have nothing to bargain with.”

“Who said anything about bargaining? For all his rank, the king is a man, and I can manipulate any man once I know what motivates him. I couldn’t have survived on the street as long as I did if I couldn’t.”

“I learned that firsthand,” he said with a rueful grin.

She turned to Lady Hartwood. “Do you have the king’s chart?”

“Yes. My Aunt Celestina was an avid student of history.”

“If you would fetch it, perhaps we can find something in it that will tell us why the king is so set on getting this particular jewel. My instincts tell me that is also a key.”

Trev broke in. “Do you also have Henry VIII’s chart?”

“I believe I do,” Lady Hartwood said.

“Then I beg you, bring it, too. I have a sudden inspiration.”

A
fter Lady Hartwood went off to get the charts of their sovereigns, Temperance asked, “Why did you want to look at Henry’s chart?