Rendezvous by Amanda Quick
“Bastard.” The goading words had lit more wild, uncontrolled fires in Lovejoy’s glittering eyes. His teeth were bared in a savage grimace as he fought to sink the blade into Harrys eye. “I shall not lose this time.”
Harry felt the surge of maniacal power in Lovejoy’s arm. He heaved frantically to the side to avoid the thrust. At the same time his fingers slid down to Lovejoy’s wrist.
Harry twisted the wrist with every ounce of strength at his command. Something snapped. The blade altered direction, pointing upward.
Lovejoy screamed as he came down on top of his own knife. He spasmed and rolled to the side, then seized the handle of the knife and jerked it out of his chest.
Blood spurted, the bright red blood of death.
“The Spider never loses,” Lovejoy muttered hoarsely as he stared at Harry with disbelieving eyes. “He cannot lose.”
Harry sucked in air, tried to catch his breath. “You are wrong. You and I were fated to meet, Lovejoy. The final rendezvous has been kept.”
Lovejoy did not answer. His eyes glazed as he died the death he had meted out to so many others. He toppled over the edge of the gangplank and fell into the sea.
Harry heard Augusta calling to him, but he could not seem to gather the energy to get to his feet. He simply lay there on the gangplank, utterly exhausted, and listened to the sound of her footsteps as she ran toward him.
“Harry.”
When he felt water dripping onto his face, he opened his eyes and smiled up at her. She was drenched. The skirts of her gown were soaked and her hair was plastered to her head. Love and anguished concern blazed in her eyes. She had never looked more beautiful.
“Harry. Harry, are you all right? Tell me you are all right.” She crouched beside him, cradling him against her damp bodice.
“I am all right, love.” He caught her fast, heedless of her wet clothing. “I am all right now that I know you are safe.”
Augusta clutched at him. “Dear heaven, I was so terrified. How did you realize what was happening? How did you know he was bringing me to Weymouth? How did you know which vessel he had planned to take?”
It was Peter who answered her questions as he came up behind her. “The Spider always did have the devil’s own luck. But Graystone, on the other hand, was known for being able to second-guess old Lucifer himself.”
Augusta shivered and glanced over the edge of the gangplank. Lovejoy was floating facedown in the water.
“You are cold, darling,” Harry said quietly. He got to his feet and turned her away from the sight of Lovejoy’s body. “We must get you into some warm clothes.”
He led her toward the warmth of a nearby tavern.
Augusta, Harry, and Peter arrived back at Graystone late in the afternoon and the entire household rushed out to greet them. The servants grinned broadly and told each other they had all known their master would rescue the mistress.
Clarissa Fleming beamed in relief from the top of the steps as Meredith went running toward her parents.
“Mama, you are safe. I knew Papa would save you. He told me so.” Meredith wrapped her arms around Augusta and hugged her fiercely. “Oh, Mama, you are so brave.”
“So are you, Meredith.” Augusta smiled down at her. “I shall never forget what a brave little girl you were when I found you in that cottage. You didn’t even cry, did you?”
Meredith shook her head violently, her face still concealed by the skirts of Augustas gown. “Not then. But I cried later when Miss Ballinger took me away and we realized you had not been able to follow us.”
“I did not know what to do then,” Claudia said, standing to the side with her hand in Peter’s. “I heard the pistol shot and was absolutely frantic. I realized I could not risk Meredith’s life by turning back. So I kept going. Graystone and Peter were just arriving at the house when Meredith and I got there. They guessed immediately Lovejoy was heading for Weymouth.”
“Once we knew we were too late to keep you out of his clutches, Weymouth was the next logical place to look,” Harry explained. “The Spider was always fond of the sea as an escape route. Sheldrake and I rode straight for Weymouth and got there ahead of Lovejoy’s carriage. Then we went looking for a ship called the Lucy Ann.”
“It turned out to be an old smuggler’s craft,” Peter said. “The captain had apparently worked for the Spider occasionally during the war. We persuaded him to let us take over his vessel for a time this morning.”
“You persuaded him?” Claudia smiled skeptically.
“Let us say the man soon saw the light of sweet reason when Graystone used a bit of cold, clear logic on him,” Peter said blandly. “Graystone is very good at logic, you know. It is obvious your cousin Richard had concealed information about the Spider in that coded poem. He was trying to get word to the British authorities the night he was killed.”
“Peter was right,” Harry said much later. “I am very good with logic.”
Augusta smiled. She was lying in his arms in the deep shadows of his bed. She felt warm and safe and wanted. She felt she had finally come home. “Yes, Harry, everyone knows that.”
“But I am not particularly clever about a few other things.” He tightened his arm around her and drew her close. “I did not, for instance, recognize love when I fell straight into it.”
“Harry.” Augusta raised herself up on one elbow so that she could look down into his eyes. “Are you telling me that you fell in love with me right from the start?”
His mouth slanted in a slow, wicked smile that sent delicious shivers through her. “Obviously that must have been what happened, madam. Otherwise, there really is no accounting for my totally irrational behavior during our courtship and marriage.”
Augusta pursed her lips. “I suppose that is one view of the situation. Oh, Harry, I am so happy tonight.”
“That delights me more than I can say, my love. I have discovered that my happiness is forever linked with yours.” He brushed his mouth across hers and then grew more serious as he watched her through narrowed eyes. “You risked your life to save Meredith today.”
“She is my daughter.”
“And you are fiercely loyal to the members of your family, are you not?” He smiled slightly as he ran his fingers through her hair. “A little tigress.”
“It is very good to have a family again, Harry.”
“You told me just before I sent you out of London that you knew Meredith was my greatest weakness. But you were wrong. You are my greatest weakness. I love you, Augusta.”
“And I love you, Harry. With all my heart.”
Harry’s hand wrapped around the back of her head. Augusta’s hair tumbled over his arm as he dragged her mouth down to his once more.
Harry came awake abruptly the next morning as his wife leaped from the bed and grabbed the chamber pot.
“Excuse me,” Augusta gasped as she bent over the pot. “I believe I am going to be very ill.”
Harry got up and went to hold her head. “Nerves, no doubt,” he announced as she finished being sick. “Too much excitement yesterday, I imagine. You must spend the day in bed, my dear.”
“’Tis not nerves.” Augusta glowered at him as she used a damp cloth to wipe her face. “No Northumberland Ballinger was ever ill from nerves.”
“Well, then,” said Harry quite calmly, “in that case, you must be pregnant.”
“Good Lord.” Augusta sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed. She stared at him in shock. “Do you really believe it possible?”
“I would say it was a distinct possibility,” Harry assured her with satisfaction.
Augusta thought about that for a moment. And then she smiled gleefully. “I would think that the combination of the Northumberland Ballinger bloodlines and those of the earls of Graystone should prove very interesting. What do you think, my lord?”
Harry laughed. “Very interesting indeed, my love.”
Three months later Augusta was entertaining Claudia, who had recently returned
Augusta arched a brow. “What on earth is the matter, my lord? Did your publisher reject your manuscript on Caesar’s military campaigns?”
“’Tis far worse news than that.” Harry handed her the document. “That is from the solicitors who have just finished settling Sally’s estate.”
“Is something wrong with the way it was handled?” She scanned the legal paper quickly.
“You will notice,” Harry said evenly, “that you are named in her will.”
Augusta was delighted. “How thoughtful of Sally. I would so love to have something of hers as a keepsake. I wonder what she left me. One of the pictures in Pompeia’s, perhaps? We could hang it in the schoolroom. Meredith and Clarissa would enjoy it.”
“That is an excellent notion,” Claudia agreed, eagerly looking over her cousin’s shoulder. “I was wondering what would happen to all those wonderful paintings.”
Harry’s scowl deepened. “Sally did not leave you a painting, Augusta.”
“No? Then what was it? A silver bowl or one of the statues, perhaps?”
“Not exactly,” Harry said. He laced his fingers behind his back. “She has left you the whole damn club.”
“What?” Augusta raised her head to stare at him in astonishment. “She left Pompeia’s to me?”
“She has left you her entire town house to be run as a private club for the benefit of ladies such as yourself who share a certain similarity of outlook and temperament. I believe that is how it is expressed in the will. She hopes that your cousin will be one of the patronesses.”
“Me?” Claudia appeared shocked and then she started to smile. “What a wonderful thought. We could turn it into the most fashionable salon in town again. I shall so enjoy that. Miss Fleming will love Pompeia’s, too.”
“Sir Thomas may have something to say about that, seeing as he intends to marry Clarissa next month,” Harry warned.
“Oh, I am certain Papa will not mind.” Claudia smiled. “Wait until I tell Peter.”
“Yes, it will be interesting to see how Sheldrake reacts to the notion, will it not?” Harry observed grimly. “After all, he is now a married man and as such I believe he has recently discovered a whole new sense of the proprieties.”
“Yes, he has become something of a prig lately, has he not?” Claudia shrugged. “But I expect I can convince him that reopening Pompeia’s will be a wonderful notion.”
Desperate now, Harry turned back to Augusta. “I do not care for the expression on your face, my dear. ’Tis obvious your brain is already churning forth ideas of how Pompeia’s could be reopened immediately.”
“Graystone, just think,” Augusta said encouragingly. “It would not take long to get everything ready. We shall have to take on staff, of course, but many of the old servants may still be available. Clarissa can help us manage things. We can notify all the ladies who were once members and they can tell their friends. This is so exciting. I cannot wait to get started. Pompeia’s will be bigger and better than ever.”
Harry held up a hand and infused his voice with dark, masculine authority. “If there is to be a new Pompeia’s, there will also be a few new rules.”
“Now, Harry,” Augusta began coaxingly. “You need not concern yourself with the petty details of Pompeia’s management, my dear.”
He ignored that. “First, there will not be any gaming allowed in the new version of Pompeia’s.”
“Graystone, really, you are much too straitlaced about some things.”
“Second, the place shall be run strictly as a genteel salon for ladies, not as a parody of a gentlemen’s club.”
“Honestly, Harry, you are positively old-fashioned,” Augusta muttered.
“Third, Pompeia’s will not be reopened until after my son and heir is born. Is that quite clear?”
Augusta lowered her eyes, the very picture of the demure, virtuous wife. “Yes, my lord.”
Harry groaned. “I am lost.”
Harry’s son, a healthy babe with a lusty wail that could only have come from the Northumberland Ballinger side of the family, was born five months later.
Harry took one look at the infant and then smiled at his tired but happy wife. He was almost as exhausted as she was this morning. Last night had been harrowing, although the midwife had assured him everything was proceeding quite routinely.
Harry had spent every moment at his wife’s bedside during her labor. He had vowed eternal celibacy every time he had put a cool washcloth on Augusta’s sweating brow or felt her nails dig into his palm. Now she was safe and he realized he had never been more grateful for anything in his life.
“I believe we shall call him Richard, if that suits you, Augusta.”
She glowed up at him from the pillows. Harry thought she had never looked more beautiful.
“I should like that very much. Thank you, Harry.”
“I have a small surprise for you.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the velvet pouch he had brought upstairs with him. “Your mother’s necklace was returned from the jeweler’s this morning. As you can see, the man did an excellent job of cleaning and polishing it. I, uh, thought you might like to see it for yourself.”
“Oh, yes. I am glad it is back.” Augusta watched as the ruby necklace spilled onto the quilt. The brilliant red stones burned with a fiery light in the morning sun. She smiled, clearly pleased. “They did an excellent job indeed. It looks lovely.” Then she frowned.
“Is something wrong, sweetheart?”
Augusta picked up the gleaming necklace. “There is something different about my necklace, Harry.” She sucked in her breath. “Good heavens, my lord, I believe we have been cheated.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. “Cheated?”
“Yes.” Augusta cradled her son in one arm and examined the necklace very closely. “These are not my mother’s rubies. They are darker. More brilliant.” She looked up with a grim expression. “Harry, the jeweler has switched stones.”
“Calm yourself, Augusta.”
“No, I am certain of it,” she said. “I have heard of this sort of thing happening.”
“Augusta—”
“One sends a perfectly good necklace out to be cleaned or repaired and the jeweler replaces the genuine stones with cut glass. Harry, you must go back to the jeweler’s at once. You must make him return our rubies.”
Harry started to laugh. He could not help it. The whole thing was too ludicrous for words.
Augusta scowled at him. “Pray tell, what is so amusing, my lord?”
“Augusta, I assure you those rubies are quite real.”
“Impossible. I shall go to the jeweler myself and demand he return my mother’s rubies.”
Harry laughed harder. “I would like to see the look on his face when you complain that he switched the stones. He will think you have gone mad, my love.”
Augusta eyed him uncertainly. “Harry, are you trying to tell me something?”
“I wasn’t going to tell you anything at all, but since you are determined to make an issue of this matter, you had better know the truth. One of your illustrious ancestors pawned the Northumberland Ballinger rubies years ago, my love. It was Sally who realized your rubies were actually nicely cut glass.”
Augusta’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you certain?”
“Positive. Just to be sure, I had the necklace appraised before I did anything rash. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I thought I could carry off the switch, but obviously you have found me out.”
Augusta stared at him in wonder. “Harry, if you replaced all of the rubies in my necklace, you must have spent a fortune.”
“Mmmm, yes, one could say that.” He grinned. “But it was worth it, my dear. After all, I have got myself a most virtuous wife and her value is infinitely far above rubies. Indeed, there is no way I could ever put a price on her. But the l
Augusta started to smile. “Oh, Harry, I do love you so.”
“I know, my sweet.” He kissed her gently. “Just as you must know that you are my heart and soul.”
She held his hand very tightly. “Harry, I want you to know that with you I have found my home and my heart.”
“And I am the luckiest of men,” he told her softly. “I have found that treasure beyond price that I was seeking.”
“A virtuous woman?”
“No, my darling. It turns out that was not quite what I was searching for, after all, although I have most certainly got myself a virtuous wife.”
She regarded him curiously. “Then what was it you were seeking, my lord?”
“I did not know it in the beginning, but what I really wanted was a loving wife.”
“Oh, yes, Harry.” She smiled up at him with a lifetime of love in her eyes. “You most definitely have got yourself a loving wife.”
Look for Amanda Quick’s
tantalizing novel
Don t Look Back
Available now in paperback
Read on for a preview …
Prologue
The Keeper set aside the candle and opened the old, leather-bound volume. He turned the aged pages carefully until he found the passage he sought.
… It is said they meet in secret in the dead of night to conduct their strange ceremonies. There are rumors that the initiates worship the snake-haired Gorgon. Others claim that they gather in obedience to their master, who commands Medusa’s power to turn men to stone.
The master’s talent is said to be a strange and terrible sort of magic. After inducing a deep trance in his victims, he issues orders to them. When he releases them from their thrall, they execute those commands without question.
The great mystery is that those upon whom the art is practiced have no memory of the instructions they were given while they were entranced.
It is believed that the master’s power is greatly enhanced by the forces of the strange gem he wears.