Whisper To Me of Love (55 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
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Despite the fact that her lovely features showed the strain of maintaining her flagging courage, Morgana's eyes flashed contemptuously and she declared spiritedly, “I don't care how clever you've been in the past—you're never going to get away with this! Royce is too smart to fall into your trap! He'll find me, and when he does, you'll rue the day you thought to best him!”
“Ah, do you think so, my sweet?” he drawled, standing very close to her, his black eye roving with increasing satisfaction over her slender form. Cupping her chin, he forced her head backward, and one thumb rubbing suggestively across her tight mouth, he murmured, “I wouldn't count on it! Just about now your soon-to-be-late husband should be receiving a message from me—one that gives him explicit instructions where to meet me!” He smiled when her eyes widened in angry alarm. “He should be arriving in oh, say, three hours, determined to wrest you from me! Of course,” he continued lightly, “he won't be meeting me at this place! No, no, you'll remain here safely out of danger while I, er ... dispose of him in a sea cave just below us. There are all sorts of hiding places within it, virtually made for someone like me to lie in wait for the unsuspecting. Not that Manchester will be unsuspecting—I believe that he has wit enough to surmise that I mean to kill him—but I am very familiar with the terrain of the cave, and he is not. Besides, he will be no match for someone of my cunning. Just think, my dear, before midnight you will be a widow!”
The one-eyed man had been so intent on impressing Morgana that he had not been paying attention to what was going on around him. The first intimation he had that there were going to have to be some drastic revisions within his plan was when the door to the cottage flew open and Royce drawled from the doorway, “I wouldn't be too sure of that, Newell! Before anyone leaves this place, one of us will die ... and I have no intention of it being me!”
Morgana's heart nearly leapt from her breast at the sight of Royce standing arrogantly in the doorway, the pistol in his hand aimed unerringly at the heart of the one-eyed man. His cravat had been discarded and his white shirt was opened as far as the V of his embroidered waistcoat, the formfitting russet jacket revealing his powerful shoulders and arms, the buckskin breeches clinging faithfully to the hard muscle and sinew of his strong thighs, and fairly radiating from him was an air of something wild and dangerous. He looked magnificent, the thick, tawny hair falling in windswept locks about his head, the handsome face taut and full of vitality, and beneath the heavy black brows, the golden eyes ... the golden eyes gleaming with a tiger's savage intensity.
Loving him passionately as she did, unutterably joyful that he had come and yet swamped with fear for his life, Morgana could not take her eyes off him. Instinctively she surged upward from her chair, intent on reaching him, but the one-eyed man moved with the speed of a striking snake, jerking her upright and holding her slender, blue-gowned body in front of him like a shield. From out of nowhere a pistol appeared in his hand, and leveling it at Royce, he smiled.
“And now what do you intend to do, Manchester?” the one-eyed man asked with a smirk, apparently not at all disturbed by this unexpected occurrence. “Your weapon is no good to you ... unless, of course, you want to risk hitting her instead of me.”
Thoughtfully Royce considered his prey, noting carefully that Morgana's much smaller body did not provide quite the amount of protection that Newell assumed it did. Never taking his eyes off Newell's face, apparently oblivious to the pistol aimed at him, Royce said coolly, “Actually, she isn't such a good shield for you, Newell—you don't want her dead any more than I do!” At Newell's start, Royce continued easily, “I haven't quite figured out precisely what you plan to do, but I'm convinced that my wife is at the heart of it, and without her, your schemes will come to naught. So I don't think you're really willing to risk her life.”
Ignoring the bulk of Royce's words and honing in on the part that interested him most, the one-eyed man remarked, “That's twice you've called me ‘Newell.' Why?”
“Did you think that we wouldn't put it all together?” Royce asked lightly. “I won't go into great detail how we concluded that you are Allan Newell, but suffice it to say that George Ponteby has a remarkable memory ... and he remembered that Jane Fowler,
supposedly
my wife's mother, was your half sister. We've already concluded that Morgana is the legitimate daughter of the sixth Earl of St. Audries and his wife, Hester, but Jane Fowler was the link to you—once George identified her as your sister, everything else fell into place.”
The one-eyed man's face contorted with rage, and the arm that held Morgana captive in front of him tightened painfully across her throat, making her wince. “You can't prove anything!” he snarled.
“I don't have to,” Royce replied indifferently. “There are four or five of us who know, and all it will take is a word dropped here and there for the news to spread like wildfire amongst the ton that Allan Newell is actually the feared and hated one-eyed man! In less than a week the scandalmongers will have ruined you. Bow Street will be quite interested in you, too, I suspect. Give it up! Let Morgana and me go now and you will have just enough time to escape with your ill-gotten gains to the continent.... Otherwise, I will kill you where you stand.”
Newell's fury-ravaged face gave no clue to the stunning jolt Royce's words had given him. His dreams, his world, were on the verge of shattering before him. With a craftiness born of desperation, he considered how to wrest victory out of what appeared to be crushing defeat. The solution was right there before him—he would simply have to find out who else knew the truth and kill them. He had already planned to kill Royce, Jacko, and Ben; what were a few more? Confidence flooding through him, he could now scoff at Royce's offer to let him escape. Why should he give up everything he had dreamed and planned for when it was just within grasp? As for Royce killing him where he stood—the idea was ludicrous!
He
held all the cards! Not Manchester!
An ugly smile on his mouth, his fingers tightening menacingly around the trigger of his pistol, Newell stated contemptuously, “It is you who is far more likely to be killed where you stand! Throw down your pistol at once!”
Royce had given him all the chances he was going to, and taking the measure of his man, he decided that time was running out for all of them. He dare not prolong this confrontation if he didn't want to be shot down before Morgana's very eyes. And as for obeying Newell's command, there was no question of
that!
If he were foolish enough to do so, Morgana would be a widow before his pistol hit the floor! He had never doubted his own skill, and despite the terrifying risks involved, there was really only one choice for him to make....
Royce glanced for the first time at Morgana, noting her pale, frightened features, the lovely gray eyes dark and wide with fear as she gazed at him. Incredibly he smiled at her and murmured softly, “Don't look so worried, sweetheart—I won't let anything harm you, and I didn't come harrying after you to let him win in the end.”
Morgana felt a bubble of hysterical laughter rise up within her at his words, but before a sound escaped her, without hesitation, Royce fired the pistol directly at Newell's head!
The small room was rent by the explosion of Royce's pistol, and in the stunned second that followed his action, Morgana was appallingly certain he'd shot her. Hardly conscious of the slackening hold of the one-eyed man, through the drifts of blue smoke that had billowed from the pistol, she stared in dazed disbelief at Royce as he slowly lowered his arm. It was only then that she became aware that she was unharmed and noticed the white creases near Royce's mouth and the look of taut concentration upon his face.
The thump of the one-eyed man's body hitting the floor made her jump and look down. Blankly, almost uncomprehendingly, she stared at the man lying dead on the floor by her feet. His black hat had fallen off, revealing a fine head of dark hair, and in the middle of his forehead ... the neat round hole made by the bullet from Royce's pistol. She swayed dizzily from reaction and then she was swept up in Royce's embrace as he crushed her next to him and pressed urgent little kisses into her black, curly hair. They stood there a long time, locked together, Royce's voice in her ear whispering the words she had once longed to hear, but she was numb. She could feel nothing; it was as if all her emotions were encased in ice. Even after Royce had removed her bonds and they prepared to leave, she was only conscious of a great emptiness inside her.
From the doorway, with her mother's Bible, Hester's desperate letter inside it, clasped tightly in her hand, Morgana glanced back at the body of the one-eyed man lying sprawled on the floor. A little crack appeared in the ice that surrounded her. Hester would be glad, she thought fiercely, and then, turning away, she walked outside into the twilight with Royce.
E
PILOGUE
Sunlight
and Shadows
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasure prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines, and silver hooks.
J
OHN
D
ONNE
, “The Bait”
T
he Devlin family cemetery was enclosed by a low, ivy-covered stone wall and had been laid out on a small, tree-dotted hill about a half mile from St. Audries Hall. The scent of roses and honeysuckle wafted on the warm air, and a soft breeze rustled the green leaves of the oak trees that dappled the area with patches of shade. It was a tranquil place, especially so this late August afternoon as Morgana slowly wandered among the marble headstones and edifices that marked the graves of her ancestors.
She was wearing a gown of rose-striped muslin and carried a chip-straw hat adorned with a cherry-colored ribbon in one hand, and in the other, a basket filled with tall, spiky gladiolus, sweetly scented lavender, and spicy Stock, her mother's Bible with the fateful letter inside it lying underneath the flowers. This was not her first trip to the cemetery—she had come here often during the past weeks, sometimes to do nothing more than to sit at her parents' graves, bitterly mourning the senselessness of their deaths, other times simply to think, trying to make coherent decisions about her future ... and Royce's... .
Today was no different, and after sadly laying the flowers she had brought with her upon her parents' graves, her muslin skirts billowing out on the ground around her, she had settled herself beneath a nearby oak tree. Lifting up the Bible, she took out her mother's letter and slowly read it once more, a tear trickling down her face. There was so much love in those desperate words of Hester's, and yet as long as the letter existed ... Her face pensive, she stared sightlessly out into space wondering if she had made the right decisions. So much had happened, she thought somberly, since she and Royce had walked away from the one-eyed man's cottage over a fortnight ago....
They had not spoken as they had quickly returned to the stable, where George waited in a growing fever of alarm and impatience. His relief on seeing them had been almost comical, and if Morgana had not been so devastated by all she had learned, she might have been amused. But that terrible numbness had not abated, and even the arrival of Zachary and Julian, on horses almost as exhausted as Royce's, had done little to disturb her state of mind. Royce had swiftly explained to the others what had transpired, and it was decided that the wisest course was to leave immediately—Newell's body was certain to be discovered eventually, and there was no need for any of them to be involved in it. The one-eyed man had lived surrounded by mystery—let his death in an isolated cottage near the surging, restless sea be the same.
Jack's arrival with the barouche moments later was greeted with relief, and after a brief discussion, it was concluded that finding an inn or tavern to stay at for the night was the most practical course.
It was not until they were all comfortably situated in the private dining room of a cozy inn, not five miles away, that Morgana felt the first real thaw in the iciness that surrounded her. The conversation, at first, had naturally been about the one-eyed man's death and identity, but eventually it had turned to what Julian had learned from Stephen and Lucinda.
Seeing the pain and bewilderment on Julian's face as he had haltingly spoken of that ugly meeting with Stephen and Lucinda, Morgana felt something move within her. Watching his expressive features as he smiled encouragingly at her and did his best to make it clear that he bore
her
no ill will for his sudden change in fortune, she could feel some of the ice around her heart start to melt. That this handsome, charming young man was her brother, a brother she had never known existed, still astounded her, and yet she found herself powerfully drawn to him. After a fashion, he had suffered as dreadfully as she had, and yet he was still gallantly attempting to act as if he had not gone, in a matter of hours, from being the heir to an Earldom, slated someday to inherit a handsome estate and a magnificent fortune, to being the penniless bastard son of a man long dead, and her soft heart bled for him. He had been an innocent victim too, and it seemed wickedly cruel that he should have to endure the violent and sweeping transformation that would take place once the truth was known.
Frowning, she stared down at the remains on her plate, a startling thought occurring to her. The title would not have come to her under any circumstances, and as for the fortune. . .
Her heart twisted painfully, and from beneath her lashes she sent a sadly considering look at Royce, who sat by her side. He was a wealthy man, a
very
wealthy man, possessed of more riches than she had ever dreamed of or would ever require.... But suppose he
had
married her with the hopes of laying hands on the Devlin family fortune ... ? She took in a deep, shuddering breath. There was one way, she admitted uneasily, to find out! Did she dare? Was she willing to risk everything?
Until now she had only been marginally aware of the conversation going on around her, but gradually it dawned on her that there was one vital piece of the vicious story that no one yet knew—that Lucinda had murdered Hester! With the one-eyed man dead, that left only herself and Julian's mother who knew the truth, and looking again at Julian's strained features, she swore fiercely to herself that no one would ever learn of it from
her!
Certainly not Julian—he had suffered enough!
Conversation lapsed when the inn's servants came in and cleared the remains of their dinner, and it was not until they were again alone and scattered now throughout the room that the talk immediately returned to the events of the day. The air of icy detachment that had blurred much of the evening for her had vanished, and Morgana was very conscious of Royce standing by her chair, his hand resting on her shoulder. Since they had left the cottage, he had thrown her several puzzled looks and he watched her closely, observing her every movement, assessing every nuance in her voice, and carefully examining every expression that crossed her face. What does he expect? she wondered bitterly. That now I know I am a lady, I shall suddenly put on disdainful airs and haughty manners?
She glanced up at him, and the warm look in the depths of those brilliant golden eyes made her remember all the passionate, wondrous words that he had poured into her ear as he had held her after the one-eyed man had died. Had he meant them? Did he really love her? Painfully she searched his face, and something in it must have, for the present at least, reassured her, because almost instantly she was aware of a lessening of the suspicion and confusion in her heart.
She looked away from Royce as Julian said dully, “Today has been horrible, but I actually dread more the scandal that is going to break over us once the truth becomes known!” He gave himself a shake, and stiffening his shoulders, he said, “I shall have to leave London, of course.” He glanced over at Morgana. “I don't want to cause you any embarrassment, but if you do not mind, I would like to stay at St. Audries Hall for a few weeks until I can decide how I am to make my living.” His beautiful mouth trembled for a moment before he declared gruffly, “I will not be a burden on you and will not make any demands, but I hope you will bear with me until I can find some form of employment.” He smiled with a bitter ruefulness. “It will be difficult—all I have been trained for is to be the next Earl of St. Audries, but perhaps I can become an estate agent or the like.”
His valiant attempt to lightly dismiss what was a terrible calamity for him tore at Morgana's heart, and her resolve instantly crystallized. Unaware that she was going to do it, she suddenly leaped to her feet and exclaimed passionately, “
No!
I will not have it!” Crossing swiftly to stand in front of him, she clutched his arms and stared intently up into the face that so resembled her own. Her voice shaking with emotion, with vehement intensity she said, “I grew up in the most abject poverty imaginable, believing myself to be a bastard child. It was a wretched existence—even in St. Giles, bastards are not highly considered.” The gray eyes black with the violence of what she was feeling, with the strength born of her convictions, she shook him and vowed fiercely, “I would never condemn you or anyone to that form of degradation.
Never!”
Raking the room with a fiery glance, she said thickly, “What we learned today goes no farther! No one else but ourselves ever need know the truth.”
Into the startled silence that had fallen at her stunning pronouncement, George murmured, “I've been thinking much the same myself. All family here. Keep it amongst ourselves. There is no need to make a scandal.” He looked kindly at Morgana and declared warmly, “Glad Royce married you! Got a good head on you, gel. Can't inherit the title. Royce is nearly as wealthy as Croesus, don't need money. Think it an excellent idea.”
“Oh, do you!” Royce said with wrathful amusement, laughter dancing in the depths of his golden eyes. Preoccupied though he had been by Morgana's remoteness, he had been thinking along the same lines. Deliberately interjecting a lighter note into the proceedings, a mocking smile curving his mouth, he murmured teasingly, “You know, George, while I agree with most of what you have said, I do think you should at least let me decide if I want to whistle my wife's fortune down the wind that way.”
Morgana froze, Royce's careless words confirming her worst fears. It
had
been her fortune that he wanted! Tautly she said, “I want Julian to have everything!”
At the odd note in her voice, Royce looked at her thoughtfully. Not liking the wild expression in her eyes, he said quietly, “Very well, my dear, but I think for the time being, we should all simply agree that today's events go no farther than ourselves. We can decide how to dispose of your mother's money at a later date.”
“What about Stephen Devlin?” Zachary asked suddenly. “He is not likely to sit mutely by and let you strip him of everything.”
Royce's face hardened. “I think that when he is confronted with the news that we have proof of what he did to Morgana, he will be quite amenable to whatever we decide. He's admitted to Julian that he arranged for Andrew's death, but I doubt if we can find proof of that, and distasteful though it may be, our wisest course may be to let sleeping dogs lie.” He glanced over at Julian, who appeared positively stupefied at this latest unexpected turn of events, and said slowly, “If I understood the facts correctly, St. Audries Hall itself was part of the entail, and so we could not take it from him anyway—even though some of Hester's fortune was used to maintain it. Am I correct?” Dazedly Julian nodded. Smiling gently at him, Royce said lightly, “I see no reason, however, why Stephen and Lucinda should be allowed to live so richly on money that they have no right to, indeed, money that they bought with blood!” A frown marred his forehead. “Unfortunately,” he added, “unless we are willing for the truth to come out, there is no way that we can have Stephen and Lucinda punished for either Stephen's part in Andrew's death or for what they both did to Morgana.”
Never taking her eyes off of him, Morgana asked intently. “But what do you suggest we do? I do not want either one of them to profit any more than they have from their despicable acts.” Her little face suddenly contorted with the violence of her emotions. “May God forgive me, but I wish them
dead!”
Thinking it best to ignore her outburst, Royce commented smoothly, “Since Stephen will not be in any position to argue with us, I think he will agree to immediately turn over St. Audries Hall and all of its lands, as well as control of what remains of Hester's fortune, to Julian. For this, he and Lucinda will be allowed to live in the dower house on the small stipend that Julian will settle on them.”
George nodded his head sagely. “Fairer than they deserve. Like to see 'em both hang!”
There was an embarrassed little silence, all carefully averting their gazes from Julian's face. They all might agree that Stephen and Lucinda deserved to hang, but they were also very conscious of the fact that Lucinda, unfortunately, as George muttered under his breath to Royce,
was
Julian's mother!
The next morning, when they returned to Lime Tree Cottage, to be greeted with the stunning news of the deaths of Stephen and Lucinda, Morgana was very glad of the decisions that had been made the previous night. The unexpected deaths of the Earl and his wife had very nearly shattered Julian, and she didn't like to think what he might have done if he had not known that he did not have to face the humiliation of the world knowing the dastardly acts committed by Stephen and Lucinda.
Their deaths created a painful dilemma for Julian and Morgana, but they finally agreed that in keeping with the decision not to reveal the truth, Stephen and Lucinda would have to be buried in the Devlin family cemetery. But
not,
Morgana had stated vehemently, anywhere near her parents! It revolted her to even think of them sharing the same soil, and consequently the seventh Earl of St. Audries and his Countess had been buried in the farthest corner of the cemetery, with only a small, plain marker to designate the remote spot.

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