The Danger of Desire (39 page)

“But what I want to know, Captain, is why an idle, injured, half-pay officer of the navy, such as yourself, would want with a pair of young pickpockets from the Cheapside docks? Hmm? Perhaps because you are not as idle as you would like people to think.”

He was silent for another long moment, hoping the conversation would turn, but Her Grace was old and she had a seemingly infinite amount of patience. She merely awaited his response with an unwavering eye.

“Perhaps,” was all he would allow himself to say.

“You begin to intrigue me. Go on.”

“Suffice it to say, I had need of Miss Evans’s—Lady Trinity’s—talents as a pickpocket.”

“In an official capacity? I ask because I should like to know how far the long arm of the law can reach, or if someone, like that revolting Major Rawsthorne, will be back to menace her.”

“Official, Your Grace, however secret. But Miss Evans was promised clemency for her assistance to His Majesty’s Navy. And I will personally see to it Major Rawsthorne—”

“No,” she disagreed. “You’ll only try to put a bullet into him, and I daresay you’ll succeed. Leave Rawsthorne to Fenmore.” She returned to her original question. “That is good to know.” She took a deep breath and regarded him anew. “So it was only her ... shall we say, professional acumen you were interested in?”

Hugh steered very carefully—here was a harbor full of mines. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Hmm,” she said again, regarding him in the same steady, mild manner. “And yet you are here. On my doorstep. Or rather, in my drawing room, asking after her
personal
welfare.”

Which was to say, he was not fooling anyone with his careful responses. “Indeed, I am here, Your Grace. I realize that Lady Trinity’s reputation has been inadvertently called into question as a result of the time she has recently spent in my household, and, as you say, under my protection. I want to extend the protection of my name to her now, and make an offer, a proposal, that she become my wife. Indeed,” he said, bowing slightly, “I would deem it the greatest of honors if she would consent to become my wife. It would make me the happiest of men.”

“Would it? And yet, you did not propose to her at any time whilst she was in your
care
, or under your
protection
.”

The words held a wealth of fuller meaning. It seemed Meggs had been
exceedingly
frank after all. “No, ma’am.”

“No, you did not. And now she is an heiress, you suddenly find yourself compelled.”

“No, ma’am, Your Grace,” he stammered. The collar of his uniform had grown wretchedly tight, and the knot in his gut was twisting higher. God’s balls. He had faced down French cannon with more aplomb than this tiny, terrifying woman. “I did not make my offer earlier, as ... I did not understand Lady Trinity’s rightful place in Society.”

“Did she not tell you who she was?”

“No, Your Grace.” He latched onto the excuse gratefully.

“And you now wish to make an offer for her?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“I doubt she’ll have you. She has said she would not.” The cagey old woman narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me why you became her lover.”

Hugh would have dropped his hat except his hands were too numb to move.

“Oh, come now, Captain. I am an old woman, and I have lived and seen a great deal of the world. You needn’t prevaricate with me. My granddaughter is a well-made, beautiful, young woman, and you are a well-formed, handsome young man. It is the way of the world.” She turned her eyes to him and waited.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

The dowager waited, and when he could not find the right words to speak, she sighed. “Ah. So you became my granddaughter’s lover and yet, when you did so, you did not then offer her marriage? It is no wonder she will not have you.”

Put in such an unflattering light, it was no wonder at all. But it hadn’t been like that. He needed to remind Meggs of that.

“Yes, well”—the Dowager sighed—“it does you no good to press your suit with me. The dear girl is the one you must convince. Be so kind as to ring for me, will you?” When he had done so, she continued with a sigh. “I find I have little stomach in hearing your rejection, so I believe I will grant you this interview alone. The door will remain open, however. Robinson”—she turned to the august butler who had answered her summons—“please send Lady Trinity Margurite to me.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The man bowed and left on silent feet.

“I shall await in the small parlor across the hall. Send my granddaughter to me when you are finished. Robinson will see you out.” She rose stiffly and held out her hand for him, although when he had bowed over it very correctly, she surprised him by shaking it. “I do thank you for coming, young man. Good-bye.”

“So you have no hopes for my success?”

She looked resigned. “None at all.”

“But surely you see that she should marry? I have ruined her, although I take no pride in saying so. Indeed, it is much to my shame, but I know what I owe her, what must be done for the honor of us both.”

“Yes, it is much to your shame, but you are incorrect in your supposition that she must marry. She has position and wealth now. Enough to shelter her, even from the Major Rawsthornes of this world, if need be. She need not marry to secure her future or her comfort. And I would not see her wed, even to assuage your honor or your profound, though newfound, guilt.” Her dark eyes, so like her granddaughter’s, fixed him with a piercing glance. “The world has treated her harshly enough without adding the burden of an unwanted marriage. My grandchildren, especially Trinity, have had a tremendously difficult time in their lives, but she has been fortunate enough to have retained her character to a remarkable degree, and despite her former profession, she is at heart still an honest person.”

“I am very much aware of your granddaughter’s remarkable character, ma’am.”

“In her honesty, she was forthright about the nature of her liaison with you,” she continued. “While I may not like such an irregular way of doing things, I am glad, at least for your mother’s sake, you’ve had the sense to present yourself here and do the right thing without being asked, but I fear Trinity will not have you. And I will in no way force her to do so. She
has
been forced to do a great deal too many things in order to survive, and I will not give her any further cause for grief or resentment.”

“Yes. I understand.” He remembered saying much the same thing to Meggs. “I do not wish to cause her any further grief, either. That is one of the reasons I have come.”

“How can that be?” She began her slow promenade toward the drawing room doors. “She has already refused you once by her own account and has asked that she be excused from seeing or meeting you.”

“Because she doubts the sincerity of my attachment to her, Your Grace.”

The dowager steadied herself with a hand to the back of a chair. “Ah. And have you formed an attachment to her?”

“I have,” he assured her.

She merely raised her eyebrows and inclined her head, inviting him to elaborate.

It was difficult, damned uncomfortably difficult, to find the right words for her. “I have had an attachment to her for quite some time. I admire her wit and tenacity, and the strength of her character, and ... she smells clean and fresh like
hope
... I ...”

He turned away to the window, embarrassed and unsure. He felt like his heart had been ripped open—like he had ripped it open and left it there upon the table, bleeding for her examination. All he could think about was his need to have Meggs back. But he couldn’t see his way forward. There was nothing but blindness and pain.

“How extraordinary—”

“Your Grace—Grandmama.” Meggs, Lady Trinity, came in unexpectedly, through the adjoining music room, and not through the closed doors to the hall, and he wondered if she had been listening at the doors. It would be the kind of thing his Meggs would have made no bones about doing. And her wide dark eyes were raking over him. Sizing him up. Weighing him out, his Meggs would have said, like an undertaker.

He had meant to go to her directly and take her in his arms, or at the very least take her hands, but she now stood very carefully behind both the table and the chaise, protecting herself from any sort of intimacy.

“My dear.” The dowager moved toward her granddaughter and kissed her cheek before she turned to indicate her visitor. “Captain McAlden has called to see you, my dear. I think it best you speak with him alone. I will be in my sitting room should you need me. Robinson will attend you.” She took Meggs’s hand again and spoke in a low voice. “I hope I need not tell you that you have only to consult your own heart without reference to anything else, my dear. I shall support whatever decision you decide to make.” With a final loving pat of her granddaughter’s cheek, she made her way from the room.

They were alone. Good God, Hugh felt he had been missing her for days, or weeks even, though it had only been one wretched morning. She looked somehow different already, impeccable and untouchable in the fashionable, embroidered muslin dress some maidservant must have stayed up all night altering to fit. And when she finally broke the awkward silence, her voice was completely changed, as if the last of St. Giles had been scrubbed away with her morning bath.

“My grandmother wished me to see you.”

It was not a promising beginning. He took a step or two nearer, and the image of icy perfection melted away to reveal his Meggs. She looked pale and drawn. The shadows under her eyes told him she had not slept last night, either, but she was all but vibrating with nervous energy. Or perhaps just exhaustion. “You look tired.”

Up came her first line of defense, the seemingly careless shoulder shrug. “It was a long night. Come to check up on your investment?”

He wasn’t prepared for the acid in her tone. “No,” he said with some effort, “I came to see you.”

“To see me, or to decide what is to be done about me?”

He should have expected the cutting edge of anger in her voice. “No. I came to let your grandmother, and you, know I’ve written to your brother, his captain, and the Admiralty. I’m sure he will be returned to you very shortly. Patrols in the Channel are able to make port quite frequently. So you don’t have to worry about Timmy, at any rate. Though you will anyway.”

“Yes, as you say. Thank you.” She was tense, her fingers twisting and fidgeting against her skirts as if she had not yet told her hands they no longer needed to work for a living. Or perhaps she had, and they were frightened by the thought of a looming lifetime of inactivity. “Is that all?”

“No. I’ve missed you.” He tried to make his mouth smile, but it felt forced and insincere. He didn’t feel like smiling. He felt like roaring at her and tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the house like a prize of war. Like a savage.

“Goodness”—her tone was brittle—“do the floors need mopping?”

“Stop it, Meggs, please. I came to ...” Take her back, like any man who’d had a lass like her would do if she left him. But he couldn’t say that. She wasn’t his lass anymore. She was Lady Trinity now, not just Meggs. “I came to tell your grandmother of my proposal of marriage to you. And to make it to you again, in hopefully more pleasing language.”

“More pleasing language?” She grew still. Like the sea before a storm, her voice was unsteady with tiny rippling waves. “Is that all you think it’s going to take? Pleasing words?”

“No. God’s balls. I just can’t say the right thing.” He felt tired. More tired than he’d ever been in his entire life. He felt like he was sailing against the tide and couldn’t make any sea way. “I came to ask if you, Lady Trinity Margurite Evans, would do me the inestimable honor of becoming my wife.”

“You know I cannot.” She sounded just as weary. And sad. “I cannot. I told you so from the first moment you said we
must
marry. I know you do it only from your misplaced sense of honor.”

“Meggs. It’s not misplaced! It is right where it belongs.”

“Right where it belongs?” she repeated, incredulous. “Please, Captain. Your sense of honor is nothing if not extraordinarily late!”

“Meggs—”

“Don’t you Meggs me. You never would have offered for me as
Meggs,
your thief.” And now he could hear the hurt in her voice. “Never in a million years! You would have kept me only as long as I served your purposes, as long as I was the right instrument for your ‘jobs,’ and as soon as you had earned your way back into a command, you would have turned your back on Timmy and me without so much as a fare-thee-well.”

“That is not true. Why do you think I kept you with me—” Oh, God. That was wrong.

“Kept?”

“No. God’s balls, this is torture. I know I’m an ass in a drawing room, which is why I live the way I do and do the work I do. I knew how to talk to Meggs, but I have no idea how to talk to you now you’ve become the Duchess of Fenmore’s granddaughter.”

“I didn’t just become her. I always
was,
don’t you see? The rest of the world didn’t know. But I did. I always remembered. I always knew that I was Trinity Margurite Evans. I always knew that my grandmother was the Duchess of bloody Fenmore. And I knew that she didn’t
want
me.” Her voice had become strident, filled with unmitigated pain. And loneliness.

“Meggs, that’s not true. She said—”

“Yes it is! We were thrown out of her house, Timmy and I, when we went to her after our parents died. They weren’t even cold in the ground when the new vicar of Tissington parish bundled us on the public stage for London. But when we got there, to her house on Grosvenor Square, the servants threw us out like garbage into the streets! And I never forgot. I knew every minute of every day I worked the streets. Every time I passed that house, with its knocker down for all these years. I knew every moment I spent in a pawn shop, or adding up my miserable pounds and pence in that office in Threadneedle Street. I knew that moment in your library, when I cracked my skull against your floor, who
I
was. But I don’t think I really knew who
you
were, until this very moment. And I must say I liked that man I fought in your library much better—he was, at the very least, honest.”