She heard his awkward, concerned murmurs. "There, there. Don't cry, love. You're safe. I'll never let anyone hurt you...."

"He--he was going to have you killed."

"Me? Why?"

Beth pulled herself together and sat up a little. Her bonnet was askew and the silly curls were plastered by tears to her cheek. "I must look a sight.... Because you would revenge me. He was utterly mad."

"What I want to know," asked Lucien with an attempt to severity, "is how you came into his hands. How you came here at all."

"I came to check on Clarissa," said Beth.

"You had no business coming anywhere near this house."

"You brought me here last night!"

"An unfortunate necessity. You will not come here again. It's the outside of enough-"

Beth leapt to her feet and stood facing him. "You will not rule me, Lucien de Vaux. Husband or no husband, marquess, duke, or king!"

After a stunned moment, Lucien burst into laughter. "Oh, Beth. How could I survive without you? Don't tell me. You and Blanche are bosom-bows."

"Precisely."

"Beth, you can't...." He shook his head. "Oh, to h.e.l.l with it. You probably can. Hal's mad enough to marry her, too, if he can get her to agree. I suppose it's no worse than John Lade marrying Sixteen-String Jack's leavings."

"Who?"

"You've probably never met Letty Lade. Doesn't exactly move in my mother's circles. Sir John's coaching mad and so's his wife. Own their own rig and drive like maniacs. Letty's an innkeeper's daughter from East Cheap and she took up with a highwayman, Sixteen-String Jack. When he was hanged, she married Sir John, but she's still a foul-mouthed trull at heart. Blanche is another type entirely."

"She certainly-"

"Oh!" They were interrupted by Clarissa, huddled forgotten in a corner of the sofa. "How can you? Beth, I thought you were a lady. A person of sensibility. These people are all mad. Everyone's mad. That woman is a... a...." She glared at them and forced the word out. "A wh.o.r.e! She's just killed someone. Up there." She looked at the molded ceiling with dilated eyes. "I keep expecting blood to seep down. Did you see all the blood?"

Beth quickly picked up the girl's gla.s.s. "Clarissa, drink this!" She forced the liquid into the shaking girl's mouth. Clarissa spluttered and started to choke. Beth thumped her firmly on the back, and the girl started to cry.

Beth took her shoulders in a firm grip. "Clarissa, stop that, and listen to me. All this has happened because of you. I won't say it was your fault, but this has come about because of people trying to help you."

Clarissa stopped crying and stared at Beth, looking much younger than eighteen.

"Mrs. Hardcastle has been kind to you. She did what she did to save us all, me from death and you from Lord Deveril. It is not for you to judge her morals."

"But-"

"No."

Clarissa subsided.

Beth let the girl go. "I am not sure what we're going to do now, but you are to tell no one, no one at all, about what has happened here today. Do you understand?"

Clarissa nodded. "But what is to become of me?"

"Well, at least," drawled the marquess, "you won't have to marry Deveril. Pity you weren't already hitched, though. You'd be a rich widow."

Beth had an inspiration but schooled her features. She wasn't sure it was one she wanted to share with Lucien just yet.

There was a knock at the door, a significant pattern of raps. Lucien hurried to open it. Nicholas Delaney came in with Lord Middlethorpe. His quick gold-flecked eyes took in the bound men, gla.s.s on the floor, the streaks of blood on the banister, and the gory knife. "Francis, we've missed the action."

Lord Middlethorpe pocketed the pistol in his hand. "Is everyone all right, Luce?" he asked. "We just got an incoherent message from your man Dooley."

"Everyone except Deveril," Lucien said with a meaningful glance at the knife.

"I rejoice," said Nicholas with a smile. "Who gets the reward?"

"Blanche," said Lucien.

Nicholas's smile widened. "One can always rely on a good woman." He looked around. "It seems to me we can do our bit by tidying up. Get rid of the body and all that. I think you should take these ladies away. Who's with the heroine?"

"Hal," said Lucien and shrugged. "He says he's going to marry her."

Beth could tell Lucien was relieved to have reinforcements, particularly Nicholas Delaney. Beth shared the feeling. Nicholas just gave the impression that everything would turn out well.

"I approve," Nicholas said. "We need more viragos in our circle. For one thing, a woman could probably fix that toy grenadier. None of us can." He stepped carefully around the gla.s.s on the floor and shepherded Beth and a very dazed Clarissa towards the hall.

He wrapped an arm about Clarissa and gave her a brotherly, but very firm, hug. Beth realized that while she had been hugged and comforted by Lucien, and Blanche by Hal, no one had looked after Clarissa until now. "I'm Nicholas Delaney," he said to the girl. "You must be Clarissa Greystone. Don't worry about anything. It's all going to work out."

Clarissa clung to him and mumbled something incoherent.

Beth saw his hand come up to rub firmly at the back of the girl's head. "Yes, I know. But the worst is over. The best thing for now may be for you to go back to your family."

"No!" protested Clarissa, pulling away from him.

"They have been most cruel to her," Beth protested.

"If you take her home," Nicholas said, "and she pretends to be repentant and willing, I don't think they'll be too angry. Make it clear she has the support and friendship of the de Vaux. The Greystones will hesitate before offending you."

He looked at Clarissa. "You won't have to be enthusiastic about marrying Deveril, that would be uncalled for. Just act cowed. If we're clever, his body won't be found and identified for days. When his death is discovered you will have some time before your parents can come up with another such. By then matters may well be different."

"How can things change?" Clarissa asked, but it was clear his tone of calm confidence was giving her courage.

"In all kinds of ways. For one thing, somewhere in Belgium the great battle is over."

"There's news?" Beth and Lucien demanded in unison.

"Only the vaguest. Nathan Rothschild knows something. He sold heavily and now he's buying at low prices. They say he uses pigeons while the government relies on riders. As well, a man called Sutton who captains a packet out of Ostend has brought word that the battle was well under way some days since and wounded were already arriving in Brussels and Ghent. There's little firm news." After a moment he added, "I spoke to him. He says the 42nd were hit hard."

"Con's regiment," said Lucien.

"Yes." Nicholas gave a movement of frustration. "It's all happened, of course. Somewhere in this same world the living are rejoicing, the dead are dead, the wounded are suffering under the knife.... And maybe tomorrow or the next day we'll find out about it."

"Is it a victory, though?" asked Lucien.

"It's always a victory for somebody," Nicholas said. Then he snapped out of his mood. "The indications are yes, but the Stock Exchange is hesitant after Rothschild's little foray. The odds are, however, that definite news will break at any minute and London will be in turmoil for the next few days. Excellent conditions for concealing our nefarious plans. Take the ladies away, Luce, and let us clean up."

"That reminds me," said Lucien. "There's a lad of mine, Beth's maid, and Blanche's housemaid downstairs."

"Will they keep their mouths shut?"

"Blanche's Agnes will keep mum. She saved her from the workhouse. Robin can be trusted, I think." He turned to Beth. "What about your abigail?"

"I think Redcliff will hold her tongue. It would be as well, though, if she didn't realize the full extent of what has occurred."

Lucien thought for a moment. "Why don't you and Clarissa leave by the back way. You can pick up Redcliff and Robin. I'll take the curricle and meet you at the end of the lane." He drew Beth into the warm comfort of his arms, kissed her gently, then left.

Feeling wonderfully strengthened, Beth shepherded Clarissa down into the cozy kitchen. There they found the two maids and Robin. Both the maids leapt up and began to gabble at once, but Beth quelled them.

"Silence! Agnes, your mistress is unhurt but she does not wish to be disturbed at the moment. You are not to go upstairs until you are summoned. Redcliff and Robin, we are leaving."

"Yes, milady."

As soon as they were out of the door and walking through the small garden to the back lane, Beth said, "Neither of you is to breathe a word about anything that happened here today. Do you understand?"

A bright-eyed Robin said, "Yes, milady."

Redcliff, obviously much shaken, said, "I'm sure I wouldn't know what to say if asked, milady! Tied up. And that man touched my-Well, I really don't know. That Agnes said there were three men, and guns. Was it a robbery?"

"An attempt at one," said Beth. "Nothing was taken." She suddenly realized how to handle the maid. "But you must see, Redcliff, that it would be disastrous for anyone to discover I visited this house."

"Indeed I do," said the maid sternly.

Beth adopted a repentant att.i.tude. "I didn't quite realize," she said. "It was only when the marquess arrived that I saw how wrong it was. No one must suspect."

"My lips are sealed, milady," said the maid with resolute kindness.

"Thank you Redcliff," said Beth meekly and caught up to Clarissa.

Redcliff and Robin were sent to walk home while Beth and Lucien drove a nervous Clarissa to her parent's hired house. Beth a.s.sured the girl there would be no more beatings and just hoped that was true.

Clarissa's parents were too relieved at having their hope of solvency returned to them to rage, and were quite overwhelmed by the exalted company their daughter was keeping. They didn't even question the story that Clarissa had taken refuge with an unnamed school friend where Beth had discovered her.

Beth made much of Clarissa in her farewells. Lucien dealt out the de Vaux arrogance with a heavy hand. By the time they left they could be fairly sure the girl would receive no more than a scold.

"Though I suppose we'll have all this to go through again when the next husband's lined up," said Lucien as they drove toward Marlborough Square.

Not necessarily, thought Beth, but she said nothing. She had to think through her plan and decide whether her husband would be for or against it.

By the time they entered Belcraven House it was close to dinner time, but the thought of eating in state deprived Beth of any appet.i.te. As they entered the house she said, "I think I would like to have a quiet meal in my room."

"My thought entirely," said Lucien with a smile. Beth became aware of their situation again and promises that had been made. She stared at him nervously. It was not even dark yet, and after the events of the afternoon....

"Don't worry," he said gently. "Go and change into something more comfortable and rest. I'll arrange everything and be up in a little while."

Chapter 21.

"I'll arrange everything." Beth was filled with a warm trust which eased away her anxieties. She returned his smile and climbed the stairs.

She did not quite feel it appropriate to put on her nightwear, however, and changed her walking gown for a soft muslin with simple drawstrings at neck and waist. She had Redcliff brush her hair into its natural style. She didn't even bother with the cosmetics to hide the bruise. Without honesty there is nothing.

Finally she gave Redcliff the evening off and lay on the chaise in her boudoir. The events of the afternoon had already become like a dream. Had she really been held at gunpoint in danger of her life? She remembered the threat to Lucien's life, however, with crystal clarity. Her heart started pounding even at the thought. Oh, it was frightening to love like this. What had this to do with Self-Control?

There was no place in her heart for rationalization, no place for moral judgment. She remembered him saying, "Even if you were debauched, I would still love you." She felt exactly the same. Love was a madness, a tyrant.

It was wonderful.

When he walked in she smiled and held out her hand. He came over and sat on the edge of the chaise. He had discarded his jacket, his waistcoat, and his cravat. In the open-necked lawn shirt and buff pantaloons he looked relaxed and... and accessible.

She raised a hand and touched the skin of his chest at the base of his throat.

"How can you look so bright-eyed?" he asked as he covered her hand with his. He felt hot to her fingers.

"Because I'm in love," she replied softly.

"So am I. Remarkable, isn't it?"

"Convenient, at least," she teased. "You were worried once, I remember, about me falling in love with someone else."

He shook his head and drew her into a warm embrace. "Don't. I don't ever want to think about the things that have happened, the things we have said. Let's put everything behind us."

She rubbed her cheek slowly against his chest. The fine weave of his shirt was silky soft, but his flesh beneath seemed to burn. She could sense the pounding of his heart and each breath brought the warm and musky scent that was his alone. "I don't want to forget anything," she said. "Everything that is you, I will cherish to my dying day."

His fingers gently traced her discolored cheek. "Even this?"

"Even that," she said, looking up at his troubled face. "Because I know it will never happen again. The circ.u.mstances were a little strange, after all."

It was most extraordinary. All he was doing was holding her and yet her mouth was dry and her heart was pounding. A faint, aching need was growing in her that was driving her. Demanding. She reached up and took his face between her hands.

"Kiss me, Lucien."

His mouth settled on hers, slick and hot, a.s.suaging some of her hunger. Her hands slipped into the crisp silk of his hair to hold him close and she opened to taste the sweetness of him. His tongue played against hers, and her whole world concentrated into that point of contact. Then she collapsed back and his solid warmth settled over her so that the delight extended the length of her body, every part in contact with him.

It was not nearly enough.

She felt his hand at her breast through the soft muslin, a thumb rubbing softly at her nipple. When the kiss ended, his mouth trailed down to play at the same spot, and a shudder pa.s.sed through her like a wave.