Desire and Deception (66 page)

"This isn't the same!" Lauren exclaimed despairingly. "You won't come home until you kill Rafael—or he kills you."

Jason sighed. "I made a promise, sweetheart, you know that." Seeing the worry in her eyes, though, he drew her close and rested his cheek against her golden hair. "I want you to stay at
Effing
Hall while I'm gone," he said quietly. "I believe you will like it there, and Aunt Agatha will provide company
for you, if you wish."

Lauren bit back a sob. She wanted to beg Jason to stay in England where it was safe, but she couldn't force the words past the swelling in her throat. Besides, she knew he would never change his mind. "Oh, Jason!" she whispered. "Just come back to me. Just please come back."

Lauren feared for Jason, but a short while later her foreboding was overshadowed by a more immediate fear. That very afternoon she accompanied Lady Agatha to Bond Street, intending to purchase gifts for her friends in America. It had been uniquely heartwarming to see the look of pleasure on Lila's face upon receiving the silver jewel case, but Lauren hadn't had time to show her appreciation to anyone else before setting sail so abruptly.

As she left
a silk mercers
, Lauren suddenly came to an abrupt standstill. Across the busy street was a man dressed in seaman's blue, a man she recognized; she couldn't mistake the wizened face and bold eyes of Ned Sikes. And there was someone with him—an older woman, tall and strongly built. Lauren couldn't make out her features clearly, but she could feel the malevolence of the woman's gaze. It touched her as if no distance, no throng of vehicles and pedestrians separated them.

Strangely shaken, Lauren forced herself to enter the carriage. Yet she hardly heard a word of Lady Agatha's praise for the fabrics they'd found, and during the ride home, she could only listen mutely while Jason's aunt spoke about an orphanage she patronized.

Lauren didn't recall what excuses she made, but she managed to make her way upstairs to her room. After removing her gown, she stretched out on the bed to rest, but she couldn't close her eyes. Something was about to happen, she knew. She felt an almost overwhelming sense of dread. It was like she was standing at the edge of a precipice, overlooking a deep, dark chasm. She was expected to jump, or would be pushed. . . .

The knock on her door startled her. When a maid entered, bearing a silver salver, Lauren stared at the folded scrap of paper as if it were a coiled snake. This was what she had been anticipating.

Unable to breathe, Lauren dismissed the servant. Her hands trembled as she broke the seal and read the brief, shattering message:

My darling niece, Andrea,

Meet me at nine o'clock tomorrow morning, Hyde Park. Take the footpath which leads from the north gate. Come alone and do not mention this to your husband.

We have much to discuss, you and I.

Your loving aunt, Regina

It was some little while before Lauren became aware of her surroundings again. Only then did she realize that she had moved to sit at her dressing table and was staring at her reflection. Her complexion was stark white, her eyes enormous in her pale face.

Tearing her gaze away, Lauren looked down at the flowered twig in her hand. She must have picked it up while walking through the garden with Jason and then carried it up to her room. Why she had saved it, she didn't know, for it was only the thorny stem of a rosebush. It wasn't even pretty, for the single, tiny bud was now lifeless and brittle.

It had no meaning for
her
. . .
or did it? Somehow it reminded her of how barren her life had been before Jason had found her again. Had she ever truly been alive before then? He had filled her with love, with hope, with their child. For a short moment in time she had been totally, deliriously happy. And now that happiness would be ripped from her like some vital appendage.

With slow deliberation, Lauren closed her hand around the dry stalk, pressing the thorns into the fleshy part of her palm, wanting to feel the stinging pain. Her past had caught up with her, just like she had always known it would, just as she had always dreaded. Her protected haven had crumbled, just as the fragile petals were crumbling now in her hand.

A feeling of desolation swept over her as she watched the pinkish-gray powder rain slowly to the carpet. Not surprisingly, she found she couldn't stop the violent trembling of her body.

Except for several children playing under the close supervision of their respective nurses, the park was deserted at the appointed hour of Lauren's meeting. The lovely summer morning was quiet—so quiet that the scrape of her footsteps on the gravel path seemed abnormally loud.

Lauren would have liked nothing better than to turn and run, but she had to face Regina and find out what the woman knew. If a scandal were about to break over her head, she would have to leave England at once. That might not prevent dishonor to the Stuart name, but at least it would spare Jason the disgrace of having a wife in prison.

The previous night, Lauren had been afraid Jason would guess something was wrong, yet she couldn't prevent herself from clinging to him, not knowing whether she would ever even see him again. There had been a poignant quality to their lovemaking that was almost unbearable.

Evidently, though, Jason hadn't noted anything amiss. He had merely held her tightly, saying nothing, only offering silent comfort. It had been a stroke of good fortune that he had left the house early that morning, intending to finalize plans for his upcoming voyage. Lauren had ordered the carriage, thinking that it was wise not to arouse suspicion by setting out alone on foot. Once in the park, she had bid the coachman to walk the horses while she went for a stroll.

Her footsteps lagged as she approached the north gate. She could only conclude that Regina was late, for there was no sign
of anyone
.

Then a woman, the same one who had stared at her with such hatred the previous day, stepped out from behind a chestnut tree. Lauren came to an abrupt halt, her immediate impulse to run from the hostile gray eyes that were scrutinizing her so closely. She shivered, feeling cold all over.

"So you are Jonathan's brat," the woman declared.

Lauren had no doubt this was Regina Carlin, for she bore an uncanny resemblance to a portrait of Jonathan Carlin which hung at Carlin House. Her face was lined with age now, but she shared her brother's facial features, as well as the family height and regal carriage. The stark black gown Regina wore made her seem a somber, almost tragic figure, while her silver-gray hair gave an added appearance of fragility. Lauren was well aware, though, that her aunt was a dangerous adversary. The ruthless, fanatical way Regina had pursued the Carlin fortune for so many years
was
proof enough of that.

The gray eyes relentlessly bored into Lauren. "You're Jonathan's bastard," Regina
accused,
shattering any lingering hope that she might not know Lauren's identity. "Elizabeth
DeVries
was your mother." When Lauren gave a start, Regina's lips twisted in a sneer. "Oh, yes, I knew about you! Jonathan bragged more than once about how he had tricked your foolish mother."

Lauren felt her heart slamming against her ribs in painful strokes. The game was up. "Yes," she said faintly. "Jonathan Carlin was my father."

There was a long, tense silence while aunt and niece simply stared at each other. Then Regina spoke again, almost to herself. "I've been as much of a fool. George Burroughs arranged for you to take Andrea's place, didn't he? How clever of him. I never would have guessed he had the nerve. And you—I wondered what had happened to Jonathan's bastard, but I never connected you with little Andrea. Burroughs said he had hidden Andrea away where she would be safe. I couldn't believe it when Sikes told me of a woman named Lauren
DeVries
who owned the Carlin Line."

As if on cue, Ned Sikes stepped from behind a hawthorn tree. He kept his distance, yet Lauren couldn't suppress a
shudder as his insolent gaze touched her. Her throat suddenly felt as dry as dust. "He was spying on me?" she asked hoarsely.

Hooking his thumbs in his belt, Sikes leaned back against the tree and nodded. "She '
ired
me to watch that fancy man of
yers
," he drawled. He ignored the quelling look Regina gave him, although he refrained from speaking again.

"That interfering Stuart!"
Regina spat contemptuously, fixing her gaze on Lauren. "I understand you're married to him now. I suppose he thinks he has tied up all the loose ends quite nicely. First he steals the Carlin ships so I can't get my hands on them, then he marries you to make it look legal. Where is dear little Andrea, by the way? Not that I really care.

"She's . . . she's dead," Lauren stammered.

A twisted smile spread across Regina's lips.
"How unfortunate.
It would have saved me a great deal of trouble if she had died with Jonathan and Mary, when she was supposed to."

Lauren couldn't stifle a gasp. "When she was supposed—
Then
you
did
kill the
Carlins
?"

"I'm surprised Burroughs didn't tell you all about it," Regina jeered, avoiding a direct reply.

"He said you were responsible for my father's death."

Regina's mouth tightened. "Jonathan was evil. You should be able to understand that, considering what he did to your mother.
 
I met Elizabeth once.
So unsuspecting.
So innocent.
She found out to her sorrow what my brother was truly like."

"So you
murdered
him?"

A spark of anger flashed in the gray eyes.
"Not I. Rafael."

"The pirate," Lauren echoed.

"He was the man I loved," Regina said with quiet vehemence. "The man I would have married but for my brother. I only told Rafael how to find Carlin House, but I would have helped him kill Jonathan, had I been there."

It was said so calmly, without the least hint of remorse, that Lauren felt
a fission
of fear run along her spine. She watched apprehensively as Regina's gray eyes took on an unfocused look, as if she were remembering something in her past.

"Jonathan condemned Rafael to
slavery
,
just for the crime of loving me. My lover, the man who would have been my husband came back half a man." Her fierce gaze focused on Lauren once more. "Do you know what that means, dear niece? Do you? I was
glad
when Rafael had his revenge. I was
glad
to know my brother suffered the same fate! And, yes, I was
glad
when Jonathan died!"

Lauren knew horror must have shown in her face, for Regina raised an accusing finger and pointed. "Who are you to sit in judgment of me? I had reason to hate Jonathan! He ruined my life when he destroyed my Rafael."

"But Mary . . . and Andrea . . . they had done nothing."

"No," Regina said harshly. "But when they died, the Carlin Line would have come to me. I planned to sell the fleet and give the money to Rafael in payment for what Jonathan had done."

"But then Andrea survived," Lauren murmured.

A mask settled over Regina's proud features. She looked cold, ruthless, and to Lauren, deadly. "Yes," Regina drawled, "somehow little Andrea got away. And while your half sister still lived, I couldn't touch a penny of Jonathan's fortune." She gave a bitter laugh. "And to think all this time I believed you were she! You're Jonathan's daughter all right, with an eye out only for yourself. I should have Ned kill you for playing such a trick on me. You would enjoy that, wouldn't you, Ned?"