Desire and Deception (71 page)

So her poor little half sister had been properly laid to rest after all, Lauren thought with a tearful smile. It must have been Jason's doing, another of his promises to George Burroughs.

Giving a short prayer, Lauren laid a spray of goldenrod and Queen Anne's lace on her sister's grave,
then
wandered slowly around the small cemetery. More flowers went for Sibyl Foster, and for the graves of Jonathan and Mary Carlin, and when finally Lauren moved on, she made another revelation: George Burroughs had been buried beside his sister Mary.

Lauren hesitated a long moment before she knelt beside his grave. She no longer felt such intense hatred for Burroughs, but she found it hard to forgive him. All those years he had let her think she was a bastard, a criminal. And more unforgivably, he had allowed her mother to suffer needlessly. Elizabeth
DeVries
had died in great pain, unable to afford the simple comforts the Carlin wealth could so easily have provided.

It was a long moment before Lauren bowed her head and said the same words of prayer as she had for all the others, and longer still before she placed the remaining wildflowers on George Burroughs's grave. But when she stood once again, she felt as if some inexplicable burden had been lifted from her heart. It was as if a hard knot inside her had suddenly become unraveled after a great many years.

The other task she had set for herself was more difficult,
physically if
not
emotionally.
As she
stood
on the
cliff top overlooking
the
cove, Lauren doubtfully eyed the jagged rocks and white-tipped breakers below. Not only was she out of practice in climbing cliffs, she could well imagine the scolding she would get from Jason were she foolish enough to attempt the dangerous descent wearing slippers and long skirts. And even if Jason agreed with her intent, he wouldn't want her to attempt the cave by this approach. Nor would he want her to go alone.

As she turned away to begin the trek back to the house, Lauren couldn't repress a bitter smile. How ironic that Jason should suddenly become the voice of her conscience, now, when she might have lost him forever.

It was also ironic to be able to command the few servants at Carlin House to do her bidding. Being the titled mistress of the manor, rather than the ward and near prisoner of a man with an obsessive drive for revenge, had its advantages. Lauren was able to secure the services of the caretaker's brawny son with very little persuasion.

Together they gathered up the items she specified,
then
descended a flagged stairway to the wine cellar. At Lauren's direction, the lad began chipping away at the plaster of one wall, and in a short while, he had carved out a hole big enough to walk through. It was only then that Lauren ran into any opposition, for when Lady Agatha heard the pounding, she came below to investigate its source.

Alarmed to find a half dozen lamps scattered about the dank cellar, Agatha demanded to be told at once what was going on. All the lamps were lit, making it nearly as bright as day, for in spite of Lauren's determination to test her courage in the cave, she hadn't thought herself quite ready to face the darkness.

By the time Lady Agatha demanded that Lauren stop whatever nonsense she was up to, though, Lauren was too determined to quit. Trembling, she picked up one of the lanterns and moved slowly toward the newly made narrow gap in the wall. Then holding the lantern high, Lauren took a deep, deep breath and cautiously stepped over the debris into the tunnel.

She was disappointed with the results of her experiment.
Absolutely nothing happened. The sloping tunnel of roughly hewn rock didn't frighten her in the least.

She wondered if perhaps the amount of light had something to do with it, but when she extinguished the lantern, she didn't feel at all faint. Nor did she freeze with terror or show any of the usual symptoms of her phobia. Not even when she asked the caretaker's son to cover the opening behind her did she feel the slightest unease. Being shut up in a dark tunnel no longer seemed to bother her. It was the same when the seal to the giant cave was broken and the process was repeated.

Frowning, Lauren at last retraced her steps through the tunnel. As she emerged from the cellar, though, she noticed the queer way Lady Agatha was observing her. "I haven't gone mad, I assure you," Lauren said wryly, before explaining about the fear that had haunted her all her life. "Jason suggested that if I could remember whatever originally caused my fear, I might be able to overcome it. But now it seems to be gone, without any effort on my part at all." Lauren sighed. "I had hoped otherwise. I wanted to show Jason that I could face my fear, that I wouldn't permit it to rule my life any longer. Then perhaps he would think more highly of
me . . .
or at least he might not despise me quite so much."

Lady Agatha wagged her finger under Lauren's nose. "Jason doesn't despise you, girl. He was upset over the babe, yes, but he was far more worried about losing you. When you were ill, he wouldn't leave your side for more than a moment. Just the slightest change in your breathing sent him into
a frenzy
. A man doesn't act that way toward his wife unless he loves her."

Remembering their bitter parting, Lauren sighed again. "I'm not even certain I am his wife."

"Nonsense!"
Agatha said emphatically. "Of course you're his wife. I introduced you as Lady
Effing
at my rout, didn't I? Jason would never play such a shabby trick on me. And if there is a problem with your marriage lines, I'm certain it can all be rectified with another ceremony. Come to think of it, it might not be such a bad thing after all for you to be married again. No
havey-cavey
shipboard romance this time, but a proper wedding at St. George's in Hanover Square, with
all the
ton in attendance. Come now, my dear," Lady Agatha added when

Lauren wouldn't be cheered, "A man can't shed a wife like he can a coat. Besides, Jason would have to deal with me first, and I'm still young enough to hold my own in a skirmish with him. He knows I won't stand for that sort of nonsense, even if he wanted to be rid of you—which he doesn't."

"I wish I could believe that," Lauren said faintly. "How I wish I could."

"A message for you, milady.
Delivered by the cabin boy of the
Capricorn."

Startled by Morrow's announcement, Lauren lifted her head abruptly. Her sudden, sharp intake of breath echoed in the silence of the elegant parlor. She had been sitting there for hours, ever since she learned that the
Capricorn
had dropped anchor, and her spirits had grown more and more despondent during the interval. With each successive moment that she awaited Jason's arrival, the conviction that he hadn't been able to forgive her became stronger. Now she prayed that he was writing merely to say he had been delayed.

Lauren's hand trembled as she reached for the missive. It was a single sheet of folded vellum, sealed by a plain wafer.
When she recognized the handwriting, however, the flicker of hope that had shone so briefly in her eyes died away completely.
He cannot bear to see me
,
Lauren thought as numbing weariness engulfed her once more. Absently, she dismissed the butler.

For a long moment she sat perfectly still, staring blindly at the proof of Jason's condemnation. She had hoped he would at least give her a chance to plead her case. But he hadn't come. He hadn't even written.
He
had left the task to Kyle.

At last she broke the seal and mechanically began to read Kyle's message:

Lady
Effing
: Jason asked me to write in order to set your mind at ease. Our mission was an unqualified success, I am pleased to report. The British fleet under Lord
Exmouth
was victorious, as was your husband. Jason accomplished his self-imposed task with more compassion than I would have shown. His words upon the occasion, as I recall, were "Thank God, it is at last finished."

Allow me, please, to express the hope that he is right. Indeed it is presumptuous of me to say so, but I sincerely trust the troubles of the past can be properly buried. Jason is well, at least in body if not in spirit. He has not made his plans known to me, but I venture to guess he will remain on board the
Capricorn
this evening. I presume again when I urge you to make the first overture. It is my belief that Jason blames himself for what happened—

Letting the letter flutter noiselessly to the carpet, Lauren pressed a trembling hand to her brow. She couldn't accept Kyle's well-meant advice. Jason blamed not himself, but her, for the loss of their child. She had been the one to destroy whatever hope for happiness they might have shared.

Bowing her head,
Lauren
clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Jason was thinking of
her,
she could feel it. She closed her eyes, remembering
what it
had been like to experience his love. . . .

It was only when a maid came in to light the lamps and stir the coals in the grate that Lauren realized how late it had grown. She shivered in spite of the fire, yet it wasn't the September chill which made her feel cold. It
was knowing
she would never feel the warmth of Jason's arms around her again.

Forcing her numb limbs to move, Lauren rose from her chair and slowly made her way upstairs to pack. She wouldn't wait for Jason to ask her to leave his house.

After her visit to Carlin House, she had come to London to await his return from the Mediterranean. She had persuaded an urchin down at the docks to send word the moment the
Capricorn
was sighted on the Thames, but more than six weeks had passed while she worried about what might have befallen Jason and his crew. Two events occurred in the meantime.

The first and most shocking was that Regina Carlin had hung herself in her cell. Lauren had visited her aunt once at the prison, but Regina had greeted her with such hostility, cursing Jonathan Carlin and his bastard daughter with such vehemence that Lauren had never ventured there again. She could feel pity for the embittered old woman, though, and sorrow. Regina never had admitted any remorse for killing the innocent people who had gotten in her way. Perhaps her end was only fitting after
all,
Lauren thought when she learned of her aunt's death. And at least Jason's family had been spared the trauma of an explosive scandal. The case would never be brought to trial now.

The second event of note was that Lauren turned twenty-one. She was astounded when Jason's solicitors called on the very day of her birthday, bringing with them some documents for her to sign. To her dismay, the papers not only dissolved the trust set out in Jonathan Carlin's will for his daughter Lauren Carlin, but gave her full ownership of the Carlin Line, including the share previously owned by George Burroughs.

Although the lawyers called the transaction a mere formality, they were rather unhappy when Lauren refused to sign anything until her husband returned. But the ships had to be turned over to her, they exclaimed. Lord
Effing
had ordered it so, and no one would dare dream of defying his lordship's wishes. They begged her to reconsider.