Dance of Seduction (40 page)

“Then you’ll be happy to know your cautions were successful,” Morgan said bitterly. “She has protected her heart very well.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I wanted—” He broke off with a curse, staring at the black window that reflected his own candlelit image. Ravenswood was the closest friend he’d ever had. He at least would understand Morgan’s frustration, would agree that Clara asked too much of him. And right now, he needed a sympathetic ear. “I asked her to marry me. She refused.”

“I see.” Ravenswood stood silent a long moment. “Actually, that surprises me. From the way she speaks of you, the way she looks at you, I had thought she might welcome such a proposal.”

“Perhaps she would—if I agreed to live here. But I won’t, and she has no desire to sail with me. Nor any desire to sit around for months on end while I sail alone.”

“Ah. Now
that
does not surprise me. And to be honest, how could you even think of taking her to sea?”

Morgan sighed. “I know, I know, her confounded Home is too precious for her to even consider leaving it behind.”

“That’s true, but I wasn’t thinking of that.” Ravenswood crossed his arms over his chest. “I was thinking of you with a wife aboard. It would be one thing if you’d be content to take the less hazardous assignments, but you know you won’t. You’d be putting her into danger at every turn, which would certainly be a distraction to you.”

Morgan hadn’t considered those things. He’d been too focused on needing her beside him to think of the practical problems. “Captains bring their wives with them all the time—” he began.

“Not wives like Lady Clara. You’ve seen the average captain’s wife—she has to subsume everything to her husband’s existence. She has to live with few possessions and be cut off from her family for months on end, depend on him for any attention, give birth to children without the help of another woman. It’s a hard life for both the wife
and
the husband. Why do you think so many captains retire from the navy when they marry?”

Ravenswood had a point, and suddenly Morgan felt ashamed of his anger at Clara. She was too clever a woman not to have thought through all the practical matters Ravenswood spoke of. She’d probably realized, even if he hadn’t, that he was asking her to give up everything—her family, her life’s work, her independence. And all for a man who could promise her only a warm bed.

If I thought that the only way we could be together is if I sailed with you, then I would do it. I love you that much
.

Too consumed by anger at her stubbornness, he hadn’t believed her. But now he had to wonder. Could she truly be willing to give up everything for him? And ask only in return that he do the same? That he demonstrate to her satisfaction that he wanted her for herself and not as simply one more distraction from his painful memories?

For some reason, it suddenly seemed very important to know. Because if she could give up so much for him, perhaps he could find a way to give her what she wanted.

It was either that or face life without her. And he wasn’t sure if he could.

“Why don’t we go see if Juliet has held supper for us?” Morgan told Ravenswood. “I’m famished.”

But it wasn’t food he wanted. And he wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow and take the chance that what,
who
, he wanted might already have given up on him.

“Where do you think they were going tonight?” Lady Juliet asked Clara as they finished their dessert. “Morgan and Lord Ravenswood were very mysterious about their plans.”

Clara frowned. No doubt Morgan had used the claim of a prior engagement to escape her and had talked his lordship into going along. But she could hardly tell Lady Juliet that. “I don’t know. Captain Blakely never confides in me.”

“That’s what worries me,” Lord Templemore broke in. “Whenever Morgan keeps mum, it generally means he’s up to something. And Ravenswood is usually behind whatever it is.”

Clara started to lie for Morgan, then stopped. Why should she?
He
was the one who wouldn’t let his family know the real him, wouldn’t tell them why he always threw himself into danger, why he chose to leave them. She refused to make excuses for him. If he wanted excuses made, then he could stay here and make them himself.

But no, he’d rather run away. From those who loved him. From his past. From everything that he hated about his life. Well, she would not run with him.

Tears filled her eyes, and she squelched them ruthlessly. Bother the man, she would not cry over him. Just because he’d suffered so much, because he claimed to need her…

You say you love me, but you love those children of yours more
.

That wasn’t true. It wasn’t! Her reasons had nothing to do with the Home and the duty she felt to her children.

Let somebody else save the world for a change
.

All right, so perhaps she did feel compelled to save the world, or at least the tiny part of it that included her pickpockets. But that was a good thing, wasn’t it? Who was he to say that she should stop, just because he could not deal with living in London?

Save me instead
.

That was the trouble—she wanted desperately to save him. Was she being unfair, trying to make him conform to her image of him when he struggled with such awful realities?

Her throat tightened, remembering his tale about his mother. Good Lord, how had he lived with that all these years and not gone mad? To watch your mother being beaten while you could do nothing…

She shuddered. Perhaps she did ask too much. Perhaps he would never be able to live here when it meant facing the memories every day. But if he couldn’t, was she ready to give him up forever?

“M’lady?” came a voice from the doorway.

They looked up to see the stony-faced butler awaiting their attention.

“Yes, what is it?” Lady Juliet asked.

“There’s a ‘person’ here to see Lady Clara.” It was clear what he thought of said “person.” “She claims to be a Miss
Perkins. She says it’s urgent that she speak with her ladyship. I tried to send her away, but—”

“I’ll see her.” Clara rose from her chair. She cast her hosts an apologetic look, though she was relieved to escape the interest of Morgan’s family. She should never have accepted their invitation to supper. “That’s Lucy, the sister of two of my boys. I really should find out why she went to so much trouble to track me down.”

“Of course,” Lady Juliet said kindly. “Let us know if we can be of any assistance.”

Trying not to let the sudden appearance of Lucy at the Templemore town house alarm her, Clara followed the butler out into the foyer. Lucy paced the marble floor, her young face lined with worry.

“Oh, thank God!” she exclaimed as she looked up to see Clara approach. “You have to help him, m’lady. You have to help Johnny.”

Clara’s heart sank. “What has he done now?”

“It ain’t what he’s done. Not really.” Shooting the butler a nasty look, she drew Clara aside. “You remember what you told me about Rodney the other day? How I’d be better off with a man who’d accept my brothers?”

Clara nodded.

“I decided you were right, so this morning I told Rodney that I was marrying Samuel.” She shook her head woefully. “He didn’t take it well at all, and I…that is, I sort of ended up telling him some of what you told me.” Lucy began to dab at her eyes. “It made him sore angry, you see, but then he calmed down and I thought everything was all right. Until tonight when he—” She broke off with a little sob.

“Yes?”

“He arrested Johnny!”

“What?” Clara exploded. “He can’t do that! I’ll just march right down to the gaol and demand the boy’s release!”

“Johnny ain’t at the gaol yet, thank God. But when Rodney came to the tavern to take the boy away a short while ago, he said he was carrying Johnny back to his house, and I was to meet him there after I fetched you.”

“Me? But why?”

“He says he wants to talk to you, seeing as how you’re the one who parted me and him. He says he’ll let Johnny go if you’ll just come talk to him.”

“What does he hope to accomplish by talking to me?”

“I dunno.” A worried frown crossed her brow. “P’raps he thinks you can talk me out of leaving him, since you was the one who advised me to do it in the first place.” When Clara looked upset, Lucy added hastily, “Not that I mind. You were right. But Rodney don’t see it that way. Anyway, I told him I’d see if you would come.”

Good Lord, what a mess. Clara supposed this was what she deserved for all her meddling. Morgan was right—she did try to save the world, and sometimes it came back to punish her.

“If you don’t want to go,” Lucy went on, “I’ll understand. It ain’t your fault that I got meself caught up with the wrong man. It’s just that Johnny—”

“Of course I’ll come. I shan’t allow Mr. Fitch to use the boy so sorely. I’ll come at once.”

Lucy’s relief was evident. “Oh, thank you, m’lady! I’ve got the hack waiting just outside.”

“Good.” Clara had sent her carriage home as soon as she’d arrived this morning, because the Templemores had said they would take care of seeing that she got home later. “Wait here while I make my apologies to my hosts. I’ll only be a moment.”

Returning to the dining room, she explained as briefly as possible why she was being called away.

“Is there nothing we can do to help?” Lady Juliet asked.

“I don’t think so. I’m sure Mr. Fitch is a reasonable man and will accept the situation once it’s put to him rationally.” Or at least she hoped he would. She didn’t relish engaging in an argument with a brokenhearted police officer.

Moments later, she and Lucy were on their way to the man’s house in the hack.

“What does Samuel say about all this?” Clara asked.

Lucy frowned. “That’s the oddest thing. I can’t find him. Tonight when I went to Stanbourne Hall looking for you, I figured he’d be there, but he weren’t. They told me where to find you, but they said he weren’t with you. Nobody knew where he was. Though they did say p’raps you’d know where he’d gone.”

Clara shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since he left me at the Home this morning. Perhaps he’s making plans for your wedding.”

Lucy ducked her head with a shy smile. “I s’pose. He did tell me he was looking for a little place we could rent that would be big enough for the four of us to live in.”

“You love him, don’t you?”

Lucy nodded. “Even the thought of Rodney’s big house and all his nice things that I’m giving up don’t change what I feel. I would never have taken up with Rodney if I’d thought that Samuel—”

She broke off to shoot Clara a pained look. “When we was younger, I had a soft spot for Sam. Until he began stealing. So when Johnny fell into picking pockets too, I dared not let Sam into my heart. Even after Sam got himself reformed, I was afraid he might go back to it and take the boys with him. But then I saw how hard he worked for you, and Johnny told me all the things he was doing.” She blushed. “And since that night in the tavern, he’s been so sweet…. Anyway, Samuel says he’s going to keep doing right, and I believe him.”

Clara patted her hand. “I believe him, too. He’s a good man at heart, you know.”

“Aye, m’lady, I do know.”

They sat in companionable silence until they reached Mr. Fitch’s house in Grave Lane, only a few streets over from Petticoat Lane. Despite how Lucy had described it, Clara was surprised to find it so impressive. It wasn’t expensive-looking as much as refined. It rather surprised her that Mr. Fitch had such good taste. Though it might explain why Lucy had been dazzled by his attentions.

As soon as the hackney came to a halt, Mr. Fitch himself opened the door, looking troubled and distracted. He told the hackney to wait, then led them back to a parlor, where Johnny sat cross-legged on the floor before the fire, being guarded by a burly footman.

Mr. Fitch dismissed the servant, then closed the door to the parlor. “It’s good of you to come, Lady Clara,” he said in that same obsequious manner he’d used at the police office.

Clara cast him a searching glance. “I saw no choice in the matter. You’ve taken one of my charges into your care, and from what I understand you have no reason for it. So I demand that you release Johnny at once. He has nothing to do with any problem between you and Lucy.”

“That’s true.” Striding up to Johnny, he grabbed the boy by the arm and made him stand. “You go on home with your sister now, boy. I want to talk to Lady Clara alone.”

Clara gaped at him. That had been easier than she expected.

Looking alarmed by this swift turn of events, Lucy glanced from Clara to Mr. Fitch. “I’d rather stay here with the two of you, Rodney.”

“There’s no reason,” Mr. Fitch responded. “The hackney is waiting, so go on. I’ll see that her ladyship gets home safe. I want to talk to her private-like, and you need to get your brother off to bed.”

And out of Mr. Fitch’s power. Though the thought of being alone with the police officer made Clara a bit nervous,
she preferred that to Johnny’s staying here where the man might grow angry and change his mind about arresting him. “It’s all right, Lucy,” Clara put in. “I don’t mind speaking to Mr. Fitch. Take Johnny back to the tavern, and I’ll come along presently.”

Johnny looked as if he might protest the scheme himself, but when Clara cast him the Stanbourne stare, he relented and left with his sister.

As soon as they were gone, Mr. Fitch gestured to a chair. “Have a seat, m’lady. I got a favor to ask of you.”

She sat gingerly on the edge of the chair. “If this is about Lucy, you should know that I had no say in her decision to marry Samuel.”

His lips thinned. “She won’t be marrying the little runt anyway. I offered him a tidy sum to leave the city, and he took it.”

Clara stared at him in surprise. That didn’t sound like Samuel, to abandon Lucy for money. “I don’t believe it.”

Mr. Fitch shrugged. “The man ain’t stupid, y’know. He can see she’s a fickle wench. First she lets me court her and then she turns to him—he saw what was what, took the money, and ran.” His eyes narrowed on her. “But never mind all that. It ain’t Lucy I wanted to talk to you about.”