The Rogue’s Prize (33 page)

“Why would I agree to such a

farce?”

Right. “Because I am the father of

her child,” Percy said.

Throckmorton jerked to his feet.

His chair crashed backwards onto the

floor. “I’ve challenged other men for

less,” he vowed.

“Stanton is telling the truth, Byron.

He’s one of my men. And were it not for

him, Constance would be dead.”

“One of your men?” he spat. “
You

are Captain Sexton?” He turned to

Simon. “The man is Blendingham’s

firstborn. Impossible!”

“The particulars are well-guarded.

All you need to know is Stanton’s gone

to great lengths to serve England and

bring honor to his family. We cannot

endanger his name or discredit him. Nor

can we deny him his child.”

The duke turned to face him, his

eyes laced with suspicion. “You want to

marry Constance?”

Percy straightened his shoulders.

“She is a good woman, Your Grace, and

would never bring disgrace upon you

willingly. You should also know she

was on board the
Oct avi a
on your

behalf. If I hadn’t been aboard Frink’s

ship when she was captured, I hesitate to

think where she’d be now.”

Throckmorton fisted his hands. That

he wanted to box him was obvious. He

stepped forward, but then hesitated.

Apparently, he had more control than a

man ought to have. Seeing the duke pale,

Simon urged his brother to sit down.

“Percy saved her life, Byron. He

put his life and the lives of his men in

jeopardy to do so, scrapping his

mission. If anyone deserves Constance,

it’s the man who gave up everything for

her.”

Throckmorton frowned. “That may

be as you say, but that doesn’t change the

fact that Stanton defiled my daughter. If I

did what my instincts urged me to do,”

he said, face distorting, “Constance’s

child would not have a father.”

Simon waved his hands. “Hold,

brother. I make no excuses for Stanton’s

conduct aboard the Striker, but that does

not change the fact that Constance needs

a husband and you need a prosperous

donor for your creditors.”

Throckmorton slammed his fist on

his desk. “Even if what you say is true,”

he groaned unpleasantly, “it’s too late. I

have given my word to another and no

matter how much it pains me, my word

is my bond.”

“You still plan to wed her to

Burton? I was present when Constance

told you what that man is capable of,”

Simon explained.

Byron leaned back in his chair,

shook his head, and tented his hands.

“There will be repercussions if I break

my word. Burton will not let go of this

willingly. I know the man. There is no

telling what he might do or say to avenge

such a slight.”

“Let me handle Burton,” Percy

argued.

“My family’s reputation rides upon

what is decided about Constance,

Stanton. And upon the unscrupulous pact

I’ve made with the man. Do not think that

doesn’t wear on me.”

“If I may, Your Grace,” Percy

interrupted.

“I’ve

done

some

investigating, which might ease your

decision. Burton offers you thirty

thousand pounds in exchange for

Constance’s betrothal. Am I correct?”

“Yes,”

Throckmorton

solemnly

agreed. “But I’m at a loss as to how

you’ve attained that information.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but

Constance’s future is paramount. I will

do whatever it takes to ensure her

safety.”

Throckmorton exchanged a glance

with Simon. “Listen to what he has to

say, Byron.”

“Continue,” the duke acquiesced.

“Isn’t that the exact amount you and

Simon lost in recent financial dealings?”

Both Simon and the duke nodded

affirmatively. “Then I humbly suggest

that Burton has been the one secretly

draining your funds in order to obtain

control of Constance and rights to her

estate. For whatever reason, it’s clear

she will not have him otherwise.”

“You’re certain of this?”

Percy paced from one bookcase to

the next, his fingers interlocked behind

his back. No. But Baroness Chauncey

could get him the facts.

“My men have followed him on

several occasions. I have it on good

authority he is not well-liked among the

ton. From your expression, it’s obvious,

Your Grace, you disdain him as well.”

“Be that as it may, I would be a

fool to enrage the man. I would be

putting Constance’s life at risk and, I

might add, the life of my grandchild.”

Percy

halted

in

front

of

Throckmorton’s desk. “Constance will

only be safe with me. To believe

otherwise would most certainly invite

disaster.”

“Is this some ploy to milk my

family for your own gain? Blendingham

was a good man, but I’d be a fool to trust

you,

Stanton,

after

what

you’ve

admitted.”

“Would you have me act a

popinjay, embarrass myself and my

family for personal gain? There is only

one reason I live the way I do, and that

is to keep my activities secret so that I

may come and go whenever Simon needs

me. Are these the actions of an

untrustworthy man? Would I reveal

myself to you, if I were not willing to do

everything in my power to keep

Constance

safe?

And

are

you

comfortable marrying Constance to a

man who would abuse her, rather than a

man who would put his own life, and the

lives of others, on the line to ensure her

safety? I implore you to do what is best

for your daughter, Your Grace.”

“I

am

not

convinced.”

Throckmorton’s eyes took on a bitter

gleam.

Simon peered from Percy to the

duke. “Marriage to Percy includes a

dukedom, a vast inheritance, financial

security, and the promise of happiness

for Constance and her children. For what

it’s worth, Percy offered his own money

to fund our missions, but I talked him out

of it.”

“Perhaps you should have listened

to him, brother.”

“I regret nothing,” Simon admitted.

“I’ve done no wrong.”

“So, what would you have me do?”

Throckmorton asked. “I stand to lose

more than I can bear. I will not allow

Constance to suffer on my account.”

Percy understood. “In order to

preempt any agreement you’ve made

with Burton, I suggest an announcement

be made posthaste.”

Percy

strode

to

the

door.

Throckmorton had not agreed, yet he

knew what the man would do. Love had

a terrible way of tilting the scales. And

at this particular moment, he was

thankful for the theatrics he’d adapted as

second nature. His hand hesitated on the

knob when Simon’s words stopped him

in his tracks.

“Only you can make things right,

Stanton.”

“That has always been my goal,” he

replied. He was not worthy of

Throckmorton or Simon’s trust or, least

of all, Constance’s affections. But he

was reliable.

“Make

it

so,”

Throckmorton

demanded.

Percy nodded, hesitating only a

moment before slipping out into the

hallway as quietly as he’d entered the

room.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Dancers laughed gaily beneath gilded

candelabras as they circumnavigated the

polished floor, stomping a staccato beat

to the lilting strains of the four-man

orchestra. Constance tapped her silk-

slippered pointed toe, eager to join in

the merriment. Flanked by Winifred and

Eleanor, who giggled behind wafting

fans, she listened half-heartedly as they

discussed the merits of eligible men

present. In the forefront of her mind, one

thought held sway: staying far away from

the man who could potentially ruin her

life. Lord Burton.

“Billings is quite extraordinary, is

he not?”

“Honestly, Winifred. The man is

twice your age. Surely you would be

better suited to Todd. He’s young,

pleasant in demeanor, and most of all, he

gazes longingly at you when you are not

aware,” Eleanor boasted.

“Mr. Todd has not made his

intentions known. Billings, however, has

been quite amiable. Perhaps Mr. Todd

could learn a thing or two from him.”

Constance settled her gaze upon

Billings. Small, with a rodent’s posture,

he was a most disagreeable choice. She

frowned. Her friend could do better.

“You should give Todd your

attention, Winifred,” Constance said.

Her friend fanned herself rapidly as the

man in question spun a beautiful brunette

across the dance floor. “Todd would be

most agreeable to a woman who can

choose her own destiny.”

“How so?” Winnie asked.

“For one thing, dearest,” Constance

said, locking gazes with Winifred, “he

only has eyes for you.”

“You could have fooled me,” her

friend spat, examining the twirling

dancers. “I don’t believe the man’s

spoken two words to me.”

“Have you given him reason to

believe you’d receive him?” Eleanor

prodded.

Winifred

snapped

her

fan.

“Heavens no!”

“You must hint at your affections,

Winnie. Else you’ll lose Todd to Justine

Ludd,” Constance said. “Watch the way

she bats her eyes at him. It’s shameful.”

Constance observed the seductive

curve of Justine’s arm, her body angled

at Todd in such a way to heighten the

effect of her half-lidded, wanton gaze.

Intent on figuring out a way to nullify the

woman’s display, she barely noticed

Burton angrily pushing his way into the

throng.

“Fans,” Eleanor signaled. “Burton

must not pluck our bud from the vine.”

Bud? Why did the comparison

remind Constance of Thomas?
Leave the

wilted blossom be.
Suddenly she knew.

While she had been instructing Winnie

on how to encourage Todd’s affections

and chose her own destiny, secretly

she’d longed for the same choices. Now

she was eager to be rescued from the

ball. What better man to initiate such a

feat than Thomas Sexton, the rogue

capable of reducing Burton to tears?

Burton drew closer. Trying to hide

her alarm, she sighted Guffald staring at

her forlornly. Though handsome, worthy

of any woman’s love and affection, he

did not appeal any more than Burton.

Part of her ached for the uniformed man

and eagerly wished she could accept

what he offered. Guilt, unnecessary to be

sure, but heartfelt, stabbed her heart

anew. What she wouldn’t give to be able

to choose a husband among the eligible

men present like her friends. Instead,

hers would not be a love match. She was

destined to live in horror with a man she

feared.

“There you are.” Stanton’s words

shocked her out of her doldrums. She

pushed aside her friend’s fluttering fans

and gazed up into the man’s hospitable

eyes.

“Were you trying to hide from me,

my gel?” he prodded. His eyes were

sharp, piercingly mocking.

“Lord Stanton,” she breathlessly

supplied. “I would never dream of

giving you such a slight.”

Winifred and Eleanor curtsied,

gave their excuses, and quickly scurried

away.

“Odd’s fish. What have I done to

frighten away your friends?” he asked,

his quizzing glass balanced upon his

nose as he observed their hasty

departure with feigned upset.

Constance grinned. “No, my Lord.

You happened upon a private moment

between friends, that is all.”

He tucked her gloved hand within

the crook of his arm, intent on leading

her to the other end of the room. Upon