A Lady Never Surrenders Mass market paperbound - 2012

Summary

Excerpt

Chapter One

Ealing
November 1825

When Bow Street Runner Jackson Pinter entered Halstead HallâÈçs library, he wasnâÈçt surprised to find only one person there. He was early, and no one in the Sharpe family was ever early.

âÈêGood morning, Masters,âÈë Jackson said, inclining his head toward the barrister who sat poring over some papers. Giles Masters was husband to the eldest Sharpe sister, Lady Minerva. Or Mrs. Masters, as sheâÈçd chosen to be called.

Masters looked up. âÈêPinter! Good to see you, old fellow. How are things at Bow Street?âÈë

âÈêWell enough for me to take the time to hold this meeting.âÈë

âÈêI daresay the Sharpes have run you ragged investigating their parentsâÈç deaths.âÈë

âÈêMurders,âÈë Jackson corrected him. âÈêWeâÈçve determined that for certain now.âÈë

âÈêRight. I forgot that Minerva said the pistol found at the scene had never been fired. A pity no one noticed it nineteen years ago, or an investigation might have been mounted then and a great deal of heartache prevented.âÈë

âÈêMrs. Plumtree paid off anyone who might have explored further.âÈë

Masters sighed. âÈêYou canâÈçt blame her. She thought she was preventing scandal.âÈë

Jackson frowned. Instead sheâÈçd prevented the discovery of the truth. And that was why sheâÈçd ended up with five grandchildren stuck in the past, unable to go on with their lives. ThatâÈçs why sheâÈçd laid down her ultimatumâÈ'all of them had to marry by the end of the year or none would inherit. So far, theyâÈçd obliged her. All but one.

In his mind arose an image of Lady Celia that he swiftly squelched.

âÈêWhere is everyone?âÈë

âÈêStill at breakfast. TheyâÈçll be trooping across the courtyard soon, IâÈçm sure. Have a seat.âÈë

âÈêIâÈçll stand.âÈë He strode over to the window that overlooked the Crimson Courtyard, named for its red tile.

Being at Halstead Hall always made Jackson uneasy. The sprawling mansion shrieked âÈêaristocracy.âÈë Having spent his early childhood in a Liverpool slum before moving to a terrace house in Cheapside at age ten, he found Halstead Hall too large, too sumptuousâÈ'and too full of Sharpes.

After nearly a year with them as his clients, he still wasnâÈçt sure how he felt about them. Even now, as he saw them walking across the courtyard beneath a cloud-darkened November sky, he tensed up.

They didnâÈçt look as if they planned to spring anything on him. They looked happy and content.

First came the great lord himselfâÈ'Oliver Sharpe, the ninth Marquess of Stoneville, said to be a near copy of his olive-skinned, black-haired, and black-eyed father. Initially Jackson had despised the man, having made the mistake of believing the gossip about him. He still thought Stoneville had chosen the wrong path after his parentsâÈç deaths, but since the marquess seemed to be making up for it now, perhaps there was good in him after all.

Beside him walked Lord Jarret, whose blue-green eyes and black hair were said to make him look more a blend of his half-Italian father and blond mother. He was JacksonâÈçs favorite of the brothers. No-nonsense and even-tempered, Jarret was the easiest to talk to. And once his scheming maternal grandmother, Mrs. Hester Plumtree, had allowed him to take over the family business, the man had flourished. Jarret worked hard at Plumtree Brewery; Jackson could admire that.

After him came Lord Gabriel with his new wife, Lady Gabriel, on one arm. No doubt the other two menâÈçs wives were in their confinementâÈ'Lady Stoneville was expected to deliver within the month, and Lady Jarret wasnâÈçt far behind. But Jackson wouldnâÈçt be surprised to hear of an impending child soon from the youngest Sharpe brother. The couple seemed very much in love, which was rather astonishing, considering that their marriage had initially been contracted just to fulfill Mrs. PlumtreeâÈçs ridiculous ultimatum.

That august woman clung to GabeâÈçs other arm. Jackson admired Mrs. PlumtreeâÈçs determination and pluckâÈ'it reminded him of his beloved aunt Ada, whoâÈçd raised him and now lived with him. But what the elderly woman was demanding of her grandchildren reeked of hubris. No one should have such power over their descendants, not even a legend like Hetty Plumtree, whoâÈçd singlehandedly built the family brewery into a major concern after the death of her husband.

Behind her, the two Sharpe sisters came out to cross the courtyard. He dragged in a heavy breath as the younger one caught his eye.

Masters approached to look out the window, too. âÈêAnd there she comes, the most beautiful woman in the world.âÈë

âÈêAnd the most maddening,âÈë Jackson muttered.

âÈêWatch it, Pinter,âÈë Masters said in a voice tinged with amusement. âÈêThatâÈçs my wife youâÈçre talking about.âÈë

Jackson started. He hadnâÈçt been staring at Mrs. Masters. âÈêI beg your pardon,âÈë he murmured, figuring heâÈçd best not explain.

Masters would never accept that Lady Celia was to her sister as a gazelle was to a brood mare. The newly wedded barrister was blinded by love.

Jackson wasnâÈçt. Any fool could see that Lady Celia was the more arresting of the two. While Mrs. Masters had the lush charms of a dockside tart, Lady Celia was a Greek goddessâÈ'willowy and tall, small-breasted and long-limbed, with a fine ladyâÈçs elegant brow, a doeâÈçs soft eyes. âÈö

And a vixenâÈçs temper. The damned female could flay the flesh from a manâÈçs bones with her sharp tongue.

She could also heat his blood with one unguarded smile.

God save him, it was a good thing her smile had never been bestowed on him. Otherwise, he might act on the fantasy that had plagued him from the day heâÈçd met herâÈ'to shove her into some private closet where he could plunder her mouth with impunity. Where she would wrap those slender arms about his neck and let him have his way with her.

Confound her, until she had come along, heâÈçd never allowed himself to desire a woman he couldnâÈçt have. HeâÈçd rarely allowed himself to desire anyone, only the occasional whore when he felt desperate for female companionship. Now he couldnâÈçt seem to stop doing so.

It was because heâÈçd seen too little of her lately. What he needed was a surfeit of Lady Celia to make him sick of her. Then he might purge this endless craving for the impossible.

With a scowl, he turned from the window, but it was too late. The sight of Lady Celia crossing the courtyard dressed in some rich fabric had already stirred his blood. She never wore such fetching clothes; generally her lithe figure was shrouded in smocks to protect her workaday gowns from powder smudges while she practiced her target shooting.

But this morning, in that lemon-colored gown, with her hair finely arranged and a jeweled bracelet on her delicate wrist, she was summer on a dreary winter day, sunshine in the bleak of night, music in the still silence of a deserted concert hall.

And he was a fool.

âÈêI can see how you might find her maddening,âÈë Masters said in a low voice.

Jackson stiffened. âÈêYour wife?âÈë he said, deliberately being obtuse.

âÈêLady Celia.âÈë

Hell and blazes. HeâÈçd obviously let his feelings show. HeâÈçd spent his childhood learning to keep them hidden so the other children wouldnâÈçt see how their epithets wounded him, and heâÈçd refined that talent as an investigator who knew the value of an unemotional demeanor.

He drew on that talent as he faced the barrister. âÈêAnyone would find her maddening. SheâÈçs reckless and spoiled and liable to give her future husband grief at every turn.âÈë When she wasnâÈçt tempting him to madness.

Masters raised an eyebrow. âÈêYet you often watch her. Have you any interest there?âÈë

Jackson forced a shrug. âÈêCertainly not. YouâÈçll have to find another way to inherit your new brideâÈçs fortune.âÈë

HeâÈçd hoped to prick MastersâÈçs pride and thus change the subject, but Masters laughed. âÈêYou, marry my sister-in-law? That, IâÈçd like to see. Aside from the fact that her grandmother would never approve, Lady Celia hates you.âÈë

She did indeed. The chit had taken an instant dislike to him when heâÈçd interfered in an impromptu shooting match sheâÈçd been participating in with her brother and his friends at a public park. That should have set him on his guard right then.

A pity it hadnâÈçt. Because even if shedidnâÈçt despise him and werenâÈçt miles above him in rank, sheâÈçd never make him a good wife. She was young and indulged, not the sort of female to make do on a Bow Street RunnerâÈçs salary.

But sheâÈçll be an heiress once she marries.

He gritted his teeth. That only made matters worse. She would assume he was marrying her for her inheritance. So would everyone else. And his pride chafed at that.

Dirty bastard. Son of shame. Whoreson. Love-brat. HeâÈçd been called them all as a boy. Later, as heâÈçd moved up at Bow Street, those who resented his rapid advancement had called him a baseborn upstart. He wasnâÈçt about to add money-grubbing fortune hunter to the list.

âÈêBesides,âÈë Masters went on, âÈêyou may not realize this, since you havenâÈçt been around much these past few weeks, but Minerva claims that Celia has her eye on three very eligible potential suitors.âÈë

JacksonâÈçs startled gaze shot to him. Suitors? The word who was on his lips when the door opened and Stoneville entered. The rest of the family followed, leaving Jackson to force a smile and exchange pleasantries as they settled into seats about the table, but his mind kept running over MastersâÈçs words.

Lady Celia had suitors. Eligible ones. GoodâÈ'that was good. He neednâÈçt worry about himself around her anymore. She was now out of his reach, thank God. Not that she was ever in his reach, butâÈ'

âÈêHave you got news?âÈë Stoneville asked.

Jackson started. âÈêYes.âÈë He took a steadying breath and forced his mind to the matter at hand. âÈêAs you know, your fatherâÈçs valet insists that your father wasnâÈçt having an affair with Mrs. Rawdon nineteen years ago.âÈë

âÈêWhich I still donâÈçt believe,âÈë Stoneville put in. âÈêShe certainly led me to think otherwise when she âÈö er âÈö was found in my room.âÈë

In his lordshipâÈçs bed, to be precise. Although the entire family now knew of Mrs. RawdonâÈçs seduction of the sixteen-year-old heir on the day of his parentsâÈç deaths, it wasnâÈçt something they liked to dwell on, least of all Stoneville.

âÈêIâÈçm aware of that,âÈë Jackson said. âÈêWhich is why IâÈçve been trying to confirm it through another source.âÈë

âÈêWhat source?âÈë Mrs. Masters asked.

âÈêMrs. RawdonâÈçs former ladyâÈçs maid, Elsie. The valet wouldnâÈçt have been the only servant with private information. If your father and Mrs. Rawdon were involved, her ladyâÈçs maid probably knew of it, too.âÈë He sucked in a breath. âÈêUnfortunately, I havenâÈçt yet located Elsie.âÈë

âÈêThen why are we here?âÈë Jarret asked, always right to the point.

âÈêBecause while searching for her, I discovered a curious circumstance. It seems that her last place of employ was with a rich gentleman in Manchester.âÈë

Although the others took a moment to catch the significance of that, Jarret and Gabe realized it at once. TheyâÈçd been with Jackson at the inquest of Halstead HallâÈçs former head groom, Benny May, whose body had been found after heâÈçd traveled to visit a âÈêfriendâÈë in Manchester.

âÈêSurely you donâÈçt think that Elsie might have had something to do with BennyâÈçs death,âÈë Mrs. Plumtree exclaimed, horror showing in her aging features.

âÈêI have no idea,âÈë Jackson said. âÈêBut it seems quite the coincidence that Benny would travel to where Elsie had been, only to end up dead shortly after he left that city.âÈë

âÈêHad been?âÈë Gabe asked. âÈêElsie left Manchester?âÈë

âÈêShe did. I find that suspicious. According to her family, she sent them a quick note saying she was leaving her post and heading to London to look for a new one. Apparently, sheâÈçd always refused to tell them the identity of her employer. They suspected she was involved with the man romantically. Whatever the case, IâÈçm having trouble finding her. No one in Manchester seems to know anything. But she told her family she would send them word as soon as she settled in London.âÈë

âÈêIs it possible weâÈçre barking up the wrong tree with Elsie and Benny?âÈë Stoneville asked. âÈêThe authorities were never sure he was murdered. He might have been the victim of a hunting accident. Elsie might have moved on because she didnâÈçt like her employer. Their both being in Manchester at the same time could be coincidence.âÈë

âÈêTrue.âÈë But in JacksonâÈçs business, genuine coincidences were rare. âÈêI did learn she was younger than your mother.âÈë

âÈêQuite pretty, too, as I recall,âÈë Stoneville said.

âÈêHow strange that Mrs. Rawdon would have a fetching young ladyâÈçs maid,âÈë Mrs. Plumtree said. âÈêThatâÈçs asking for trouble, men being what they are.âÈë

âÈêNot all men, Gran,âÈë Mrs. Masters said stoutly.

Mrs. Plumtree cast a glance about the table, then smiled. âÈêNo, not all men.âÈë

Jackson fought to shield his thoughts. Masters did seem an excellent husband, but heâÈçd already reformed by the time heâÈçd begun courting his wife. And the Sharpe men seemed devoted to their wives, but would it last?

His mother had been seduced by a nobleman, a brash young lord in Liverpool with a penchant for sweet maidens. Instead of marrying her, the arse had married a wealthy woman and set up JacksonâÈçs mother as his mistress, abandoning her when Jackson was two. So Jackson had no illusions about what marriage meant to the aristocracy.

DonâÈçt blame your father, Mother had said as she lay dying in his aunt and uncleâÈçs home. If not for him, I wouldnâÈçt have you. And that made it all worth it.

He couldnâÈçt see how. The memory of her emaciated body lying on that bed âÈö

With an effort, he tamped down his anger and forced himself to pay attention to the matter at hand. âÈêIâÈçm waiting to hear from ElsieâÈçs family about her location in London. I heard from Major RawdonâÈçs regiment in India that heâÈçd taken a three-year post in Gibraltar, so IâÈçve sent a letter there asking him questions concerning the house party. Until I get responses, I should stay close to town rather than returning to Manchester on a probable wild-goose chase.âÈë He glanced to the marquess. âÈêWith your lordshipâÈçs approval.âÈë

âÈêWhatever you think is best,âÈë Stoneville murmured. âÈêJust keep us apprised.âÈë

âÈêOf course.âÈë

Taking that for a dismissal, Jackson headed out the door. He had another appointment this afternoon, and he had to stop at home to pick up the report his aunt was transcribing. Only she could transform his scribbles into legible, intelligible prose. If he left now, he might have time to eat beforeâÈ'

âÈêMr. Pinter!âÈë

He turned to find Lady Celia approaching. âÈêYes, my lady?âÈë

To his surprise, she glanced nervously at the open door to the library and lowered her voice. âÈêI must speak to you privately. Do you have a moment?âÈë

He ruthlessly suppressed the leap in his pulse. Lady Celia had never asked to talk to him alone. The singularity of that made him nod curtly and gesture to a nearby parlor.

She preceded him, then stood looking about her with uncharacteristic anxiousness as he entered and left the door open, wanting no one to accuse him of impropriety.

âÈêWhat is it?âÈë he asked, trying not to sound impatient. Or intrigued. HeâÈçd never seen Lady Celia looking unsure of herself. It tugged annoyingly at his sympathies.

âÈêI had a dream last night. That is, IâÈçm not sure if it actually was a dream. I mean, of course it was a dream, butâÈöâÈë

âÈêWhatâÈçs your point, madam?âÈë

Her chin came up, and a familiar martial light entered her gaze. âÈêThereâÈçs no need to be rude, Mr. Pinter.âÈë

He couldnâÈçt help it; being this close to her was doing uncomfortable things to him. He could smell her perfume, a tempting mix of âÈö whatever flowery things noblewomen wore to enhance their charms.

Her charms needed no enhancement.

âÈêForgive me,âÈë he bit out. âÈêIâÈçm in a hurry to return to town.âÈë

She nodded, taking his excuse at face value. âÈêLast night I had a dream that I often had as a child. I donâÈçt know if it was because weâÈçd been working in the nursery, or Annabel and Maria were discussingâÈöâÈë When he raised his eyebrow, she steadied her shoulders. âÈêAnyway, when I used to have it, it seemed unreal, so I assumed it was only a dream, but nowâÈöâÈë She swallowed. âÈêI think it might also be a memory of the day my parents died.âÈë

That caught his attention. âÈêBut you were only four.âÈë

âÈêA few weeks shy of five, actually.âÈë

Right. She was twenty-four now, and the murders had happened nineteen years ago last April. âÈêWhat makes you think itâÈçs a memory?âÈë

âÈêBecause I heard Papa making an assignation with a woman to meet her at the hunting lodge.âÈë

A chill coursed down his spine.

âÈêIn the dream, I assume itâÈçs Mama, but even there she doesnâÈçt behave right.âÈë

âÈêIn what way?âÈë

âÈêPapa used to call Mama âÈæmia dolce bellezza,âÈç and she would blush and tell him he was blind. Well, in the dream the man called the woman âÈæmia dolce bellezza,âÈç and she got angry. She told him she hated it when he did that. DonâÈçt you see? She probably resented being called the same thing he called his wife.âÈë

âÈêI donâÈçt suppose you could tell who she was from the voice.âÈë

She sighed. âÈêUnfortunately, they were both whispering. I only know it was Papa because of the âÈæmia dolce bellezza.âÈçâÈë

âÈêI see.âÈë

âÈêIf it really happened, it means Mama somehow found out about PapaâÈçs assignation. ThatâÈçs why she asked Benny not to tell Papa where she was going. Because she wanted to catch him and his mistress in the act. And whoever Papa was going there to meet arrived first and shot Mama.âÈë

âÈêThen when your father showed up, she shot him, too?âÈë he said skeptically. âÈêNow that sheâÈçd ensured that her lover was free to marry her?âÈë

Lady CeliaâÈçs expression turned uncertain. âÈêPerhaps Papa was angry that sheâÈçd killed Mama. Perhaps they struggled for the gun and it went off.âÈë

âÈêSo she reloaded the gun after shooting your mother. She lay in wait for your fatherâÈ'her loverâÈ'with a loaded gun.âÈë

âÈêI-I donâÈçt know. All I know is what I heard.âÈë

âÈêWhich might have been a dream.âÈë

She sighed. âÈêIt might. ThatâÈçs why I came to you with it rather than mentioning it during our family meeting. I didnâÈçt want to get everyone excited about it until we were sure.âÈë

âÈêWe?âÈë

âÈêYes. I want you to investigate and find out if it might have been real.âÈë

The plea in her lovely hazel eyes tugged at him, but she was asking the impossible. âÈêI donâÈçt see how I canâÈ'âÈë

âÈêOther things happened in the dream,âÈë she said hastily. âÈêGabeâÈçs tutor, Mr. Virgil, came in later, and my nursemaid sang to me. I overheard things.âÈë She drew a folded sheaf of paper from her pocket and held it out to him.

Reluctantly, he took it.

âÈêI wrote down everything I could recall,âÈë she went on. âÈêI figured you could talk to Mr. Virgil and Nurse and find out if IâÈçm remembering that part correctly. If not, then the rest doesnâÈçt matter. But if I amâÈöâÈë

âÈêI understand.âÈë She might have stored something important in her memory. But which parts? How could he sort the wheat from the chaff?

He skimmed the neatly penned words, and something leapt out at him. âÈêYour nurse gave you medicine?âÈë

Lady Celia nodded. âÈêShe calls it paregoric elixir. I suspect that Annabel and MariaâÈçs discussion about it yesterday was what prompted my dream.âÈë

âÈêYou do know that paregoric contains opium.âÈë

âÈêDoes it?âÈë A troubled frown crossed her brow. âÈêMy sisters-in-law did say they would never use it on their own children.âÈë

âÈêIâÈçm told that doctors disagree on its usefulness.âÈë He weighed his words. âÈêYou may not realize this, but opium can sometimes provokeâÈ'âÈë

âÈêI know,âÈë she said tersely. âÈêDreams and phantasms and things that arenâÈçt real.âÈë She met his gaze. âÈêBut I feel in my bones that it was real. I canâÈçt explain it, and I know I might be wrong, but I think it at least deserves attention, donâÈçt you? If we discover it really is a memory, we might piece together who was missing early that morning and figure out PapaâÈçs mistress by a process of elimination.âÈë Her chin came up. âÈêBesides, Nurse gave me the paregoric after I overheard the conversation.âÈë

âÈêUnless she gave you some to sleep the night before,âÈë he said gently.

Her face fell, and he felt her disappointment like a punch to the gut.

He cleared his throat. âÈêI agree itâÈçs worth pursuing. Your nurse is on my list of people to track down anyway, and Mr. Virgil is certainly of interest. IâÈçll speak to them both and weâÈçll continue from there.âÈë He shoved the paper in his coat pocket. âÈêYou were right to come to me with this.âÈë

She smiled at him then, the first smile sheâÈçd ever given him. It brought life to her face and a softness to her features that blazed a path through to his very soul.

âÈêThank you,âÈë she said.

God save him, he must keep his wits about him. âÈêYouâÈçre welcome.âÈë He turned for the door. He had to get out of here. If she ever guessed what she did to him, sheâÈçd mock him mercilessly for daring to raise his gaze so high. âÈêIf thatâÈçs allâÈ'âÈë

âÈêActually,âÈë she said, âÈêI need something else from you, too.âÈë

Confound it all, heâÈçd nearly escaped. Slowly he faced her once more. âÈêYes?âÈë

She took in a breath, then lifted her chin. âÈêI need you to investigate my suitors.âÈë

Âû 2012 Deborah Gonzales

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Citations

• Booklist, 02/01/2012, Page 41
• Library Journal, 02/15/2012, Page 87
• Romantic Times, 02/01/2012, Page 30