CHAPTER FIVE Christmas Eve. The eve of Christ’s birth, the savior. Rafe felt she could desperately use saving now. . Trina was flushed with excitement, looking lovelier then Rafe had ever seen her. . The Marquis was nowhere to be found. She hadn’t seen him all day yesterday, after the incident in his bedchamber. He’d ridden out early this morning, and hadn’t yet returned, although it was three hours past the dinner hour, and darkness reigned absolute. It was a still, starless night, with dense clouds hanging close to the ground; clouds that threatened a snowstorm the likes of which Rafe hadn’t seen since she was a child. . “Are you sure you want to do this, Trina?” Rafe worried. . “Oh yes!” Trina’s eyes sparkled. “If I don’t, it will be Lady Tuttleridge of the Manor for me, and I couldn’t bear that, Rafe!” . Rafe nodded glumly. Plan C: somehow occupying the Marquis while Trina made her escape was not going to be necessary. The Marquis didn’t seem to have any intention of coming home again, and Rafe wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t return until the wedding. She snorted. He probably thinks there’s nothing two little girls can do to avoid a fate the immutable Marquis has orchestrated! . In truth, she was grateful for his absence. She didn’t feel up to handling herself around him right now. . “I’ll miss you, Trina,” Rafe said softly, as she walked her friend to the stables. Both girls paused, as a slender form stepped from the shadows. . “Trina,” Shelly cried. . “A moment, my love,” Trina replied, breathlessly. Her eyes shimmering with tears of happiness, she spun to Rafe, grasped her hands and clasped them tightly. . “Rafe, be happy for me! This is what I want! Someday you’ll be in love and know how it feels. I’ll miss you, dearest Rafe, and d-d-don’t let the M-Marquis be t-too hard on you.” Trina worried on that account. There was something strange between her friend and her guardian, and she knew when the Marquis discovered she was gone, he would lay all blame on Rafe. Rafe was such a dear to allow it! To let her go, knowing the wrath she would incur. “Thank you for taking the blame with the Marquis for me. I love you, Rafe.” . The two girls embraced. “I love you too, Trina. Be happy. Be happy enough for the both of us!” Rafe was struck suddenly by an ominous feeling there would little happiness for her henceforth. “Don’t forget to write,” she said. . “I will,” Trina promised. . “Faithfully!” Rafe demanded. . “I will,” Trina giggled, as she ran to join Shelley. Rafe caught no more than a glimpse of a slender, curly haired man, before the two melted into the light snowfall that had commenced while they’d been saying their goodbyes. . It was a very lonely and apprehensive Rafe that returned to the house that night. She wandered aimlessly, only to find herself in the East Wing, staring at the silent pool. He had turned the fountains off, and the sight of the deadened pool was too lonely for her to bear. . When the Marquis hadn’t returned by morning, Rafe began to worry. In the late afternoon, she finally heard his heavy footsteps on the stair outside her room. The tread paused a moment outside her locked door, and she shivered with trepidation. He couldn’t have had time yet to notice Trina was gone. Perhaps she could feign an illness for Trina and keep him from knowing for days. Oh! Except today is Christmas! He might insist on seeing his ward. . She decided she would stay in her room until he made her come out. Weaving tall tales—formerly her favorite pastime—now seemed an insurmountable task. Trina had nearly a full day plus a heavy snowfall on her side. That would have to be enough. . It wasn’t until eleven o’clock in the evening that the Marquis began to wonder where his charges were. The house had been silent upon his return, and he’d been grateful. He wasn’t angry anymore, but filled with a calm acceptance of his miserable existence. Seven more days and She would be gone. He would survive. Hell, it was already half over. . He’d spent the night in Lussex in a room above a tavern. He’d planned to lose himself in drink and take out his frustrations on a willing wench, but instead he’d sat quietly in his room listening to the boisterous drinkers, the carolers, and the Christmas festivities. A thick snow had begun to fall outside his window, and he felt like the world was being made cleaner beneath the white blanket. He longed for the same. A return to innocence, an undoing of years of his life. He contemplated Trina, and his vow to his dead friend and mentor. Ah, Patrick, I have secured a fine, solid, upstanding husband for your child. A man who will be fair to her, who will cherish her, who, although he may seem a bit old to her at first, will treat her as a princess, which I know you wanted. Patrick, I hope I have done well, for to let her wed that monster of a fortune hunter….Never! I will see to your daughter, if it’s the only thing I do well in this life. . From below, passersby might have spied his brooding countenance staring out the window had they glanced up. But the people who strolled merrily down Tierney Lane were engrossed with loved ones or companions, and spared no thought for the solitary Marquis. . Come morning, the Marquis had found himself in a local store, purchasing a magnificent Christmas gift for his ward, as well as well as ordering the crafting of a wedding gift. On impulse, he added a diamond bracelet, telling himself it was a trinket for one of his mistresses, though in truth, he hadn’t had a mistress for longer than he could remember. In truth, he envisioned a slender hand, a wrist he’d once kissed, wearing the bracelet. Why the hell not? he decided, as he’d commissioned the engraving. Maybe the she’d leave him alone then. And it was Christmas after all. . The house was just too damned quiet! It was Christmas, and even if he had to wake them both, they were going to have a celebratory drink and herald the season. He would give them their gifts, and perhaps even Trina might forgive him for arranging her marriage. Women always forgave him when he gave them extravagant gifts. Many a jealous scene had been summarily quelled by the production of a beautiful diamond or ruby, and artful lovemaking. And when it came to his inevitable leaving, more expensive trinkets, and the woman didn’t give a damn when he moved on. Merely showed off their latest acquisition to the next, latest acquisition, who in turn provided more expensive trinkets. . He was certain it would work the same way with his young wards. After all, he understood women. So resolved, it was with a light step that he made for Trina’s room. . It was with a very heavy, dangerous step that he left. . A detail Trina had neglected to tell Rafe, was that she had left a letter, propped on her dressing table, explaining everything, and warning the Marquis not to interfere with her and her new husband. . His hand shook as he clenched the letter. His body shook as he stalked down the hall. How long had she been gone? If it were only hours, he had a chance to stop this. But if she’d been gone since he’d left yesterday morning? With this heavy snowfall he’d never find her! They could be to Gretna Green and wed by the time he found them! . The Marquis soundly cursed Mr. Fox for his stupidity. Since Hardwicke’s Act had been passed, governing marriage, the number of heiress lured away from their families by scheming and dissolute scoundrels had markedly decreased. But Mr. Henry Fox had seen to it that one loophole existed, Gretna Green. Scotland was considered exempt from Hardwicke’s Law, and runaway couples made mad flights north to Gretna Green. There a man could wed an heiress yet to reach her majority, and the marriage was considered legal and binding under English Law. Referred to as “over the anvil,” as popular legend held that it was a blacksmith who married the couples, they were witnessed by professional witnesses, and irrevocable. . He didn’t waste a moment wondering who had put the idea in Trina’s head. He knew. . Rafe flinched and scrambled from her bed at the first shattering thud on her door. She’d been reading by candlelight, trying in vain not to think, when the door shuddered on its hinges. . “Open the bloody door or I’ll kick the bloody thing down!” the Marquis roared. . Rafe froze. She could no more have opened the door at that point than she could have taken back everything she’d done since her arrival at Land’s End. She was terrified. He was a raging beast, and although she’d known he would be angry and blame her, she had avoided thinking about the actual outcome. . She stood motionless a moment, then became aware that she was wearing only a thin chemise. For the first time since she’d met him, she wanted desperately not to provoke him in that way. She raced for the wardrobe, her hands flying through her clothes, desperate to find a gown, a wrapper. When she heard the door crash to the floor, she gave up, her hands going limply to her sides, and awaited her fate. . The Marquis crossed the room in two strides, and spun her around. He grabbed her arm and half-dragged, half-carried her to the bed. Pushing her down, he towered over her and waved the letter in her face. . Rafe’s eyes widened. “What is that?” . “You know damn well what it is! It’s Trina’s goodbye!” . Rafe flinched. Damn Trina—she should have told her! . The Marquis glowered, his silvery gaze merciless. “I am going to ask you one question, and if you lie to me, I am going to beat you,” he said flatly. “When did she leave?” . “Last night, about ten o’clock,” Rafe said simply. He really would beat her. She could see it in his eyes. She’d pushed him as far as he would go. . “God’s balls!” he exploded. His gaze flew to the window. The snow was still falling, thick and heavy. . Rafe could tell from the look on his face that he would never be able to catch up to them in time, and even though his rage terrified her, she was inwardly relieved. Trina was safe with her beloved Shelly! . His head whipped back around and he pinned her with an accusing stare. “This was all planned wasn’t it? I know no messages have been delivered! You came here planning this. You came here with Trina with every intention of helping her elope, didn’t you?” . Rafe looked at the shattered door, the splintered wood still hanging from the hinges. “Only if you didn’t relent,” she said finally. “We thought you might change your mind.” . “Christ, little girl, do you ever pull your head out of your stupid fairy-tale world long enough to consider that someone else might know what they’re talking about?” he snarled. . “You should have backed off! Then we wouldn’t have had to do it in the first place. You have no concept what all this is about, do you?” she said defensively. . His voice softened dangerously, “Oh, dear Ella, it’s you who has no concept what this is all about. This Polite World revolves around few things; wealth, title, and sex. Not much more. So please don’t tell me you performed a noble deed in the name of love!” . “Well, it’s true. I did! And one day you’ll see that I was right and you’ll thank me for it!” . “Never. Don’t you know that there are only three things a man of less-than-notable means considers when he seeks a wife?” the Marquis gritted. “Wealth, title, and only lastly, beauty. Trina wasn’t beautiful enough to entice him for that reason.” . “Shelley wasn’t of less-than-notable means!” Rafe protested. Trina had told her he was quite flush. . “He’s destitute. Impoverished. One step away from debtors’ prison.” . “You can’t know that.” . The look on his face told her he did. . “Well, even if he isn’t the wealthiest man in the land, it doesn’t matter. She loves him. And he loves her!” . “Are you so certain of that? How well do you know Shelley?” . The truth was not at all, and when the truth wouldn’t help Rafe Bennington, she certainly wasn’t about to admit to it. “I don’t expect you to understand,” she scoffed. “What could you know about love?” . “What could you know about men? You don’t know a bloody thing about men!” . “And you don’t know a bloody thing about love! How could I expect a man whose sole motivation in life is sex to understand the first thing about gentler emotions?” Rafe cried. . “Oh, I understand love, Ella,” the Marquis said coldly. “It isn’t that I don’t know love that makes me what I am. It’s that I haven’t yet met a woman worthy of love. Do you know why women seek me?” . Rafe shook her head. . “So they can brag to their married friends at teatime next that they bedded the notorious Marquis de Galle. Nothing more. No woman comes to me for love. They come to me for pleasure, prestige, and to have their fantasies fulfilled. And as they don’t come to me for love, I don’t give it. Who knows? Maybe I no longer possess the capacity. But with or without love, I adhere to my responsibilities!” . “What’s your point?” Rafe muttered. . “I may not always understand a woman, Ella, but I understand men. I know precisely what motivates them. Did you even think to find out anything about this Shelley Pierce, with whom you helped my ward elope? I did. As soon as I received her letter telling me her plans, I had him investigated. Shelley Pierce is a fortune hunter of the first water. He and his twisted brother are the scum of London’s gutters. Shelley Peirce backed out of a duel, and when he was defamed for his lack of honor, sent his brother to fight it for him. His brother, who is even now destitute from Shelly’s gambling debts, and paralyzed as a result of the duel!” . Rafe blanched. It couldn’t be true! . “Shelly’s first wife, heiress to a small fortune, died mysteriously—” . “First wife? Shelley wasn’t married before! He told Trina that!” . But the Marquis wasn’t the kind of man to lie, and she knew that. Oh, God, she thought, with a growing sense of dread. What if she was wrong? What if Trina had been duped? What did she really know of Shelley Peirce, other than secondhand repetition of what he’d told a sixteen-year old schoolgirl? What did she know of the love words spoken between a man and a woman? She knew a rake would say and do anything to seduce a woman. Look at how easily she herself had lost her head to the Marquis’ kisses! Wasn’t Shelley Peirce, given dire financial circumstances, capable of being every bit as ruthless to his intended victim? The only difference being that the rakehell sought favors, while the fortune hunter sought wealth. How would sweet, stuttering Trina know the difference? “No,” she moaned. Oh, damn, damn, damn, what have I done? Comprehension of the enormity of her actions dawned on her. . “You, Lady Bennington, have married my ward to a fortune hunter with a diabolical reputation for losing wives conveniently. To make matters worse, I have stipulated that should Trina wed without my presence and blessing, she will receive nothing from my estate. It won’t be long before Shelley Peirce discovers he is saddled with a woman that will bring him not one pound, not even a shilling. Tell me Ella, should your dear friend die a sudden and mysterious death in the near future, do you think that might be serious enough to make you grow up? Will that be enough of a lesson? The cost of her life? Might that make you stop meddling and being so certain you know best for everyone? You lie. You manipulate. You play. And everyone else pays the price.” . “Oh God!” Rafe cried. His words were hammer blows to her heart. “I didn’t know!” . “You didn’t ask! You never once considered that I might actually have a valid reason for what I was doing. You were so utterly certain the loft, illustrious Lady Ella Bennington knew it all. The worst of it is that it won’t be you who pays the cost for your arrogance, but my innocent ward.” He snorted. “You know so little, Ella. You don’t even know me, although you think you do. At least I understand this world we live in. I understand the rules and motivations. I may not be your idea of a worthy person, but I am a worthy guardian. Or I was. Now Trina is somewhere out there, facing cruel circumstances she is completely unequipped to handle, and here you sit in this cozy bedroom crying your repentance. Tears aren’t enough! Tears won’t bring her back!” . Rafe began to sob. “What would be enough?” She would pay any price, promise anything as recompense for her rash actions. . The Marquis’ gaze raked the crying woman-child who’d endangered his ward’s life. . She screwed up his whole world. . And still he wanted her. . Bloody hell, would he ever stop wanting her? Her chemise was transparent, her breasts rising and falling with her sobs. Her mass of glorious raven curls was disheveled about her shoulders, and her face was so open, so full of guilt, her emerald eyes huge and luminous in the soft light. . He clenched his fists. He wanted to strike her. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted her out of his world— forever. . “Nothing.” He turned sharply on his heel. Back rigid, he focused on strangling the inner voice that was snarling, take her, use her, no law in this land would blame you for anything you did to her right now. Wards and women are property, nothing more. Take anything you want. Use her. Get the need out of your blood. She’ll never tell. And if she did, who would care? . It was all true. He knew the world he lived in. Knew it too well. . He knew himself too well, too. He was one act of destruction away from becoming just like the world he lived in. . “You can never right this wrong,” he said roughly. “Hear my words, Ella and heed them well: Never let me lay eyes on you again because if I do, I will destroy you. Tonight, you walk away. But come tomorrow, if I catch even a whisper, just the merest murmur of your name on the Ton’s gossipy breeze, I’ll hunt you down and make you wish you’d never been born. Go home, little girl. Run back to your convent while I’m still willing to let you. Get out of my life and stay out of it, or the devil will have his due. Decency be damned—I’ll take you to Hell.” . Soft boots whispered down the hall. . Rafe flung herself across the bed, sobbing. . Shelley’s first wife… . Fortune hunter of the first water… . Go home, little girl… . I’ll take you to Hell… . The Marquis’ words echoed in her heart, awakening the first awareness of her own culpability, awakening the excruciating understanding that she had finally gone too far, as Abbey had always warned. As she had always thought would never happen. . Until now, her life had been innocent, filled with impetuous games, void of harm or malicious intent. But pushing, always pushing for what she wanted. Pushing without thought of consequences. Now, in her ignorance, in her refusal to think past her whims of the moment, she had sentenced one of her best friends to a terrible fate. Her mind recoiled violently from the thought. . Sentenced Trina to a sudden, mysterious death, according to the Marquis. . Rafe wept tears of shame, sorrow and self-loathing. The action was made. The price would be paid. There was nothing she could do to change a thing. Nothing but drown in a bottomless, bitter pool of regret. . Maybe Trina would write! Maybe the Marquis was wrong! Maybe Shelley was really a good man, and everything would be all right! . Rafe didn’t think it would be particularly wise to hold her breath on that account. The Marquis de Galle was a Man of the World. What did she know? . The single taper she’d been reading by, what seemed a long time ago, had burned low and sputtered out by the time she became aware of her surroundings again. . Run back to your convent while I’m still willing to let you… . Rafe ran.
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