Highest Stakes (49 page)

  "Very well. You may have a moment, but don't try my patience. Either of you," he said to Charlotte pointedly before stepping from the room and closing the door behind him.

  "Charlotte," Philip began.

  "Don't even speak to me, you… selfish… treacherous… pig!" she snapped with all the venom she could muster.

  "This was not my idea. You must know this."

  "I would sooner hang myself than have you!"

  "I might say the same; however, our verbal combat does nothing to resolve the dilemma and, moreover, will do nothing to help Devington."

  "Robert? What do you care of Robert?" she spat. "You left him for dead in Leeds!" Tears stung her eyes.

  "On that score, you're grievously misinformed. Devington is currently at Whitehall under the care of the surgeon general, the most respected physician in London."

  "He's in London? I must go to him! You will take me to him, Philip!"

  "'Tis not so easily done. Although wounded, he is still under arrest until sufficiently recovered to face charges. It is highly unlikely that you would be permitted to see him."

  "First you tell me he's in London, and then you tell me I can't see him? Do you take pleasure in tormenting me? You blackhearted… bastard!"

  "Charlotte, you need to rein in your overwrought emotions if we're to figure a way out of this."

  "I would sooner be on the streets than have you!"

  "As it stands, 'tis precisely what your uncle has in mind."

  "But he wouldn't. He couldn't possibly do such a thing!"

  "Do you honestly believe that? I, on the contrary, believe your uncle capable of just about anything."

  "You would coerce me, then? I said I would hang myself before having you, but on reconsideration, I quite fancy myself as a widow."

  "I have no plans to depart this earth anytime soon," he replied aridly.

  "Then you'd best sleep with one eye open if you think to wed me, Philip. I'll cut your treacherous heart out without a second thought." Her murderous glare nearly convinced Philip she meant it.

  "Listen to me. I desire this sham no more than you do, but we find ourselves betwixt a rock and a hard place. I implore you to go along with the ruse until we can contrive a better solution."

"I won't have it!"

"I'll take you to him."

  Her attention arrested, she remarked, "I thought you said I couldn't see him? That he is under guard."

  "Go along, just for the time being, and I'll take you to Robert. I swear. As for the marriage, it shall be in name only. Of my attentions, you need have no fear whatsoever."

  Charlotte curiously couldn't decide if she was relieved or insulted by the remark, but she considered the rest. Even if her uncle was bluffing and did not turn her out, she was no more than chattel to him. Philip offered a way out from under his tyranny. She could see Robert, and perhaps he could somehow escape? Perhaps they could still run away together. At least she had hope. "How do I know I can trust your word?" she asked skeptically.

  "I've never lied to you… to either of you."

  "You turned your back on your best friend! How can you expect me to trust you after that?"

  "I'm no hypocrite. I have never denied putting my own interests first, but whether you believe it or not, it grieves me deeply how events transpired. Whilst I know not if he will recover, I brought Robert back to London to save him. I am resolved to do all in my power to make restitution.

  "By this marriage, I shall receive five thousand pounds dowry and vow to look after you on Devington's behalf. You will be at your uncle's mercy no longer. Furthermore, as I am in His Majesty's service, I will spend most of my time abroad, troubling you little with my so contemptible presence.

  "This will be simply a marriage of expediency, for both of us, and should Devington be acquitted, the pair of you may yet be together."

  "But I should not be free. How do you suppose we could be together when I bear your name?"

  "As this union is in name only, our failure to consummate would provide grounds for annulment."

  She considered this. It seemed plausible. "If I do agree, this must be kept secret, Philip. Robert must never learn of it. Promise me he will never know. He would see it only as further betrayal. 'Twould more surely kill him than his wounds."

  "As much as it is within my power, I shall keep it from him. I can promise no more than that. Please believe I wish neither of you further heartache." It was the solemn truth.

  With this last, Sir Garfield impatiently returned, not so secretly hoping they had refused one another. Five thousand pounds was no pittance, after all.

  "So, Major, do you take the girl as your wife or forfeit the five thousand?"

  "You leave us little choice, sir. I would not see the girl thrown onto the street."

  "Nor would you forfeit five thousand pounds, Major. You need not feign the chivalrous knight." He then addressed Charlotte. "If this is your decision, the arrangements are made to carry us to Fleet Street. I see no need for delay." Nodding her silent acquiescence, she proceeded numbly, by all outward signs, resigned to her fate.

  With contempt in her eyes and revenge in her heart, Charlotte Wallace would wed Major Philip Drake.

C h
arlotte stood trancelike with her uncle's hateful form invading the periphery of her vision. The vicar's lips moved, and she responded, but the words failed to penetrate the cloud around her brain.

  Philip stood equally stony, expressionless as the long-dreaded shackles closed about him, threatening to strangle him, and he choked out his vows to the gin-reeking vicar who joined them in this unholy state of misery.

  The nuptials concluded, Sir Garfield renounced his guardianship of Charlotte with a few brisk strokes of the quill. Philip followed his entry in the register, grimly and briskly scrawling his name, made barely legible by the tremor of his hand.

  As the ink dried upon the register, the gazes of the panic-stricken bride and groom met with the simultaneous thought,
"Dear God in
heaven, what have we done?"

  Only Sir Garfield exuded delight, having now proven he was not a man to cross. His scoffing remark broke the silence. "Well, ain't you going to kiss your bride?"

  Charlotte's eyes shot daggers at the mere suggestion, triggering a hoot of laughter. "My felicitations to the happy couple." Tears of mirth rolled down his fleshy cheeks. "Now the deed's done, I s'pose I must be off." Still laughing, he made to depart the shabby dwelling, asking, "By the by, where shall I send the girl's things?"

  Philip regarded him blankly. "I'll send word," he replied, lacking any immediate recourse.

  Sir Garfield looked inquiringly but was unmotivated to probe further. What did he care? He was thankful to be free of the ungrateful wretch. Served her right, marriage to the rogue. He would surely burn through the five thousand in a year. With that last thought, he departed Fleet Street with a smug glow.

  
What in bloody hell am I to do with her now?
Philip was unaware of his audible sigh.

  "You promised to take me to Robert," Charlotte said matter-offactly, as if she had read his mind.

  "What?"

  "You
promised
to take me to Robert if I went through with this," she insisted.

  "I didn't mean today! I gave you my word and shall keep it, but 'tis not so simple a matter as you imagine. I can't just whisk you in past armed guards."

  "I can't bear to imagine him locked in some dank and dingy cell."

  "He's hardly locked in a cell. He's under the surgeon general's care, and as an officer, he will be treated with the utmost courtesy, at least until charged."

  "Charged with what? Why should Robert face a trial? You provoked him, and then you nearly killed him, while you stand with barely a scratch! As his accuser, you could surely put an end to these senseless proceedings!"

  "On that score, you are dead wrong. The very fabric of the military is based on discipline in the ranks. Officers, in particular, are expected to set the example, adhering to a strict code of conduct, a code of honor, one might say."

  "Honor?
You
dare speak of honor?"

  Ignoring her retort, Philip patiently continued. "Striking a superior officer under any circumstance is one of the gravest offenses. Such transgressions do not go unpunished; moreover, the penalty could be most severe."

  Charlotte blanched as white as her lace cap. "You can't mean the gallows, Philip! He couldn't possibly be hung!"

  "I have done all in my power to see him charged with the lesser offense of insubordination and have petitioned the court and many fellow officers on his behalf. There is little more I can do."

  "And what does your noble institution deem suitable for insubordination, Major? A thousand lashes with a cat-o-nine-tails?" she retorted, full of rancor.

  "Five hundred lashes would be closer the mark; discipline in the ranks must be retained at all costs."

  "Good God, Philip, you don't jest?"

  "I wish to God I did."

Philip hailed a passing hackney, speaking little as he bundled Charlotte's desolate form into the coach. He glanced irritably at the girl who wept silently against the carriage squabs. God knew why she suddenly and inexplicably had become
his responsibility
. Only for Devington's sake had he vowed to look after her. He just needed time for his mind to untangle the mess. The jarvey interrupted his cogitations.

  "Where to, Cap'n? I gots to make a livin', ye know. Wi' eight brats to feed, I ain't got all day, ye ken?"

  "Just drive," Philip barked.

  "And the direction?"

  
Where to take her?
He needed to find a suitable abode and someone he could trust to look after her. Without thinking, he blurted, "Bedford Street, Number Ten."

The jarvey looked at him blankly.

  "Between Covent Garden and Westminster," Philip snapped. "Proceed down the Strand."

  "Aye, Cap'n." The hackney lurched, jerking Philip back against the squabs.

  
The devil take it! Why the deuce had he spoken that address? He thought i
t long forgotten; at least that's what he tried to tell himself. Nevertheless, he needed her. No, he corrected himself with a mental shake, she was simply the first who came to mind. Nonetheless, he racked his brain to think of anyone else as the hackney made its way to the house located just far enough from Covent Garden to be respectable.

  The hackney halted in front of the neat brick dwelling, and Charlotte roused herself enough to look out of the window and down the quiet street. "Where are we, Philip, and why have we stopped here?"

  "I am paying a call on an old friend, one who might be disposed to assist. Pray wait here until I summon you," he replied more tersely and alighted from the hackney. Philip then instructed the jarvey to wait and tossed the man treble his normal fare.

  Although intimately familiar with this address, he hesitated, still questioning why he had come to this house he had not set foot in for five years. Pushing his qualms aside, he marshaled his will and strode purposefully to the door, knocking briskly.

  "My lady is not receiving at this time, sir," the answering maid responded to his request.

  "Pray inform your mistress that Philip Drake wishes to speak with her. I am a longtime acquaintance come on a matter of personal import. I believe your mistress will forgive my breach of etiquette in appearing unannounced. I request only a brief moment of her time."