The Passionate One (26 page)

Carr had sauntered
into the room and begun a slow circle around Rhiannon, one perfectly manicured
finger raised to his lips in concentration.

“Two thousand
pounds, I believe,” Ash said dully.

Carr ignored him,
continuing his study of Rhiannon in her borrowed finery.

Fia’s gown, like all
the ladies’ gowns at Wanton’s Blush, was designed to titillate and impress,
provoke and advertise. Rhiannon wore the borrowed finery with regal disdain for
its provocative qualities. Layered over some sort of hoop contraption, the
heavy leaf-green silk de Chine shimmered with little gold glass beads. Treble
ruffles of lace were gathered at the elbows and cascaded over her forearms.

Under Carr’s
dispassionate stare, the faintest blush stained her slender throat and marked
the upper curves of breasts uncovered by the low, square décolletage. She’d
refused a wig. Her hair was coiled in a thick knot at the crown of her head.

The sight of her
and of Carr studying her made Ash’s mouth dry.

“What shall I do
with you?” Carr murmured.

In spite of his
calm tone, it struck Ash that Carr was upset. The lines fanning the corners of
his eyes were pronounced as were the twin grooves bracketing his aquiline nose.
His lips had thinned with discontent. Carr, whose life revolved around beauty
and appearance, class and status, would never have willingly shown his ire.

He obviously
regretted whatever impulse had led him to offer Ash money for his services. He
must suspect how close Ash was to realizing Raine’s ransom. Once Raine was out
of prison Carr would be deprived of one of his more effective agents. He would
hate that.

“Send me back,
sir.” Rhiannon’s voice broke Carr’s contemplation and caught him off guard.

Ash smiled. Carr
was unused to young women speaking in that tone to him. It was bound to
exacerbate an already foul mood, and, indeed, the lines at the corners of his
mouth deepened with displeasure but then smoothed.

“My dear,” he said,
“you have only just arrived.”

“I have no desire
to be here, Lord Carr.” She did not look at Ash and her voice rose as she
spoke. “Indeed, I am here much against my will.”

“How is that?”
Carr’s brows rose.

“Your son
stole
me on the eve of my wedding!”

A heartbeat’s pause
while Carr absorbed this, then he gasped a melodramatic, “No!”

“Yes, sir!”
Rhiannon said, nodding vigorously.

A wave of pity
washed over Ash and he met her triumphant gaze wearily. She thought Carr had
taken her part. She thought she’d horrified him with this tale of her son’s
ruthless perfidy.

“The blackguard!”
Carr’s tone rang with indignation and he spun on his boot heels to face Ash.
Immediately the horrified indignation on his face was supplanted by
indifference. He saw no reason to mask his real reaction from Ash. He looked up
and saw Ash regarding him.

“What do you have
to say for yourself?” Carr asked in a voice rife with displeasure, but his
expression was incurious.

Ash refused to
defend himself. It would only amuse Carr, and Rhiannon already thought the very
worst of him. “You sent me for her. Here she is. You owe me two thousand
pounds.”

Carr composed his
face to the proper aggrieved lines and turned back to face Rhiannon. “My dear,
please forgive me. Had I known you were about to wed I would, of course, never
have dreamt of tearing you from your foster home. I am amazed Ash was so
fervent to do my bidding. Believe me, it is most uncharacteristic.”

Ash watched
Rhiannon eagerly examine Carr’s benign countenance; saw the instant she
perceived the tiny, false note of sympathy; saw her earnestness die and
distrust replace it. Carr saw it, too, and for a second his eyes narrowed as he
realized she did not wholly buy his act of sorrow, that she would not be, in
fact, so easily gulled.

In spite of himself
Ash felt proud of her.

“Why did you send
your son for me after all these years?” she asked suddenly.

“I did not know where
you were until most recently and then only by chance. A man who had come to
Wanton’s Blush with a party of my friends, some native son of your little
hamlet, mentioned your surname and I recognized it as the same as my own dear
wife’s cousin.”

“Which wife was
that?” Ash asked sardonically and was rewarded by a lethal glance from his
sire.

“My second wife.”

“Why would anyone
mention my name?” Rhiannon asked doubtfully.

Carr held up his
hands before his eyes as though framing her. “My dear... such modesty is most
becoming if a trifle, just the merest bit,
jeune fille
.”

Rhiannon colored
and her gaze fell. Point for Carr. His smile was not without malice but
Rhiannon, eyes still averted, did not see this.

“ ’Struth,” Carr
said, “You are a most beauti—”

“Why did you turn
me away all those years ago?” Her gaze flew up, discounting his flattery. He
hadn’t won her. Not at all. “We came to your front door,” she went on. “My
mother’s old nurse and I. She had a letter, she gave it to the man there and he
took it away. When he returned he refused to let us in—”

“He did?”

Ash had to credit
Carr, his expression of amazement was superb, especially followed as it was by
that convincing blend of indignation and sorrow.

“I... I had no
idea! I swear on all that is sacred, until this moment I did not know you had
ever come to my home.” Carr moved closer to her and drew one of her hands up
and between both of his, chafing it lightly. “I heard of what Cumberland was
doing, of course. I knew your family would likely be punished for being dragged
into taking a stance on the part of The Pretender—”

“My family
gave
their lives for him. Willingly!” Rhiannon burst out. “They were not coerced.
They committed themselves with valor and honor and pride. And James Stuart is
no ‘pretender’!”

Her outburst seemed
to startle Rhiannon as much as Carr for as soon as the words had escaped her,
she bit hard on her lips and scowled. Carr looked briefly taken aback but then,
seeing Rhiannon’s discomfiture and confusion, he smiled sympathetically.

“Of course, my
dear. Of course,” he crooned. “And after I heard that Cumberland had satisfied
his depraved need for vengeance, I sent men to search for my dear wife’s
relatives, most especially you, my wife’s ward and thus mine. Alas, they
returned emptyhanded.” He lifted one hand and with his fingertips tilted her
chin up, so that she would be forced to meet his eyes.

It took all of
Ash’s self-control to stand still then, but if he were to indicate by word or
deed that Rhiannon meant anything more to him than the two thousand pounds Carr
had promised for her, Carr would use that to his advantage. And without a doubt
Carr’s advantage would be Rhiannon’s disadvantage. So Ash stayed where he was
even though the blood thickened in his veins and pounded in his temples and his
hand shivered above where the stiletto hid in the top of his boot.

“What is this?”
Carr suddenly said. “What is this scar on your face?”

“Nothing.” Rhiannon
said, jerking her head back. “A highwayman shot at a carriage in which I rode.
The bullet grazed my cheek.”

“Damn the bastard!”
Carr’s low words vibrated with anger.

Ash stared,
confounded. He knew every gesture and expression in Carr’s repertoire and the
darkening of his sire’s throat and cheeks was beyond even Carr’s thespian
talents. He was truly furious.

“I escaped, my
lord,” Rhiannon said evenly.

“And did
he
?”
Carr spat. “This... this
highwayman
?”

“Yes.”

“Damn!” Carr bit
out. “Damn him to a painful death!”

“Really, sir. I
suffered no great harm.” Her tone was amazed.

Carr took a deep
breath, releasing it slowly. “Yes. Yes. We must accept what we cannot change.
You are here now. You are safe.”

“I was safe in Fair
Badden.” Rhiannon kept her gaze locked on Carr, as though by ignoring Ash, she
could somehow make him cease to exist. “I wish to return there.”

Carr scowled,
released her chin, and folded his hands behind his back. “Return there? But how
would that look? I mean by dusk everyone at Wanton’s Blush will know you are
here, that you are my ward. How would it appear if I were to shun my obligations
and ship you back?”

“Returning me to
Fair Badden won’t be a detriment to your good name, sir.”

Poor Rhiannon, Ash
thought, too honest by half. She hadn’t been able to keep the sneer from her
voice and Carr noted it. His eyes shot to her face, glittering. Gamely she
continued. “You’ll be returning a bride to her fiancé.”

Carr pulled
thoughtfully at his lip.

“Please,” she urged
him.

“Well, perhaps,”
Carr allowed.

Ash froze. Whoever
endangered Rhiannon, it was someone in Fair Badden. She couldn’t go back there.
She mustn’t be allowed.

“Put in such a
manner, one could understand.”

“Exactly! You’d be
righting a wrong done to an innocent girl—”

“Not so innocent,”
Ash drawled, careful not to make any impression of urgency. “No, I don’t think
that will do. You see, Miss Russell’s rather precipitate exit on the eve of her
wedding will doubtless give rise to all sorts of sordid speculation. I fear her
reputation is quite in tatters. As for her erstwhile bridegroom”—Ash paused and
shook his head sadly—“I doubt he’ll have her now.”

“Bastard!” Rhiannon
hissed.

Carr’s pale gaze
flickered back and forth between Rhiannon and Ash. He moved across the room to
Ash’s side and leaned forward. In a voice gauged so that Rhiannon could not
overhear, he whispered, “Is that the way of it? I must say, she doesn’t look so
very fond of you. Perhaps you lacked finesse? What say, Ash? Wasn’t she very
good? Or weren’t you?”

It was a ploy, Ash
knew, a simple gambit to discover what Rhiannon meant to him. Still, he nearly
betrayed himself. He wanted to choke Carr to silence so very, very much.
Instead he kept his expression blank.

“What the people of
Fair Badden speculate on and what is truth—” Ash shrugged eloquently. “Surely
you know how interchangeable such notions are. Ruining Miss Russell’s
reputation was simply a matter of expedience. You wanted her. She wouldn’t go
and I doubted whether her bridegroom would release her without a reason. I
provided a reason. But remember, one can ruin a reputation without troubling to
ruin anything else.”

Rhiannon, on the
other side of the room, had lifted her chin proudly.

“Ruin?” Carr, his
back still to Rhiannon, snickered. “Such vanity. I’ll tell you a secret: Ladies
love to be
ruined
and in truth are quite peevish if you stop at their
reputations. Witness Miss Russell’s ire.”

“What of it?” Ash
asked in bored tones. “I’m more interested in my fee.”

Carr’s humor
evaporated. He stepped back. “I’ll see you’re paid by day’s end,” he said,
“then you can go wherever it is you go.”

“No hurry,” Ash
replied, fervently pleading with a deity he no longer believed in that Carr
would not send him away from Wanton’s Blush—and Rhiannon. He would do whatever
necessary to stay here and watch Rhiannon until he knew what Carr planned for
her.

“I’ve seen your
guests, Carr,” Ash said. “Fat purse, rabid appetites. High stakes tables, I
should imagine.”

“You’re a vile
drunk, Ash. And a violent one. You could embarrass me or my guests.”

Ash laughed
humorlessly.
“
Your
guests,
Carr? Your guests would pay in gold for the titillation of my company. Their
sort is so often drawn to the sordid for their entertainment.”

Rhiannon flinched
as though his words hurt her. Impossible. He was imagining things.

Carr considered him
through narrowed eyes. “True,” he finally murmured. “All right. You may stay.
But for God’s sake, find something decent to wear. I won’t have you offending
my eyes looking like that.”

“Of course,” Ash
said.

“Now leave us,”
Carr said. “Miss Russell and I have much to discuss.”

To hesitate now
would be disastrous.

Ash walked out of
the room smoothly and easily, without looking at Rhiannon.

“My dear Miss
Russell,” Carr said, “please be seated. Where are my manners?”

The young woman
hesitated a second before taking the seat Carr had indicated and settling her
dress about her. She was clearly unused to such extravagant skirts.

But having no
experience in society did not mean she should be underestimated. Indeed, the
sharp glances he’d already received from her were indicative of a keen
perception.

“Sherry, m’dear?”

She nodded,
watching him doubtfully. “Please.”