The Highwayman's Daughter (15 page)

A
lady
. He had called her a lady.

Cora felt a tremendous heat suffuse her cheeks. What was the matter with her? It was this damned dress, surely, for making her feel so … so different. ‘Thank you. Are you going to show me this painting or not?’ she said, more sharply than she had intended. His solicitousness confused her.

‘Naturally, that’s why we’re here. This way.’

Jack picked up the candles again, signalled for the dogs to follow, and made his way across the gallery. The heels of his shoes clacked against the wooden floor and Cora feared that he would rouse the whole household, but they reached the other side without being challenged by either servant or lord. Perhaps the occupants of the house were used to wanderings about in the night.

Cora felt the eyes of the portraits staring at them, disapprovingly, she was certain, and she was only too happy when Jack stopped by a partially concealed door.

‘It’s a storeroom,’ Jack explained. ‘The captain is a bit of a black sheep, I’m afraid. There was a scandal,’ he added.

‘It’s probably nothing compared to the scandal that will follow when people get wind of your madcap idea. Whoever heard of restoring the illegitimate child of a black sheep to the bosom of a respectable family?’

Jack laughed. ‘I suppose, when put like that, it does sound rather witless.’

‘It certainly does.’

The room was small, airless and seemed to be full of all manner of things in need of repair. Not quite what Cora had expected to find, but then again, she had no knowledge of how people like Jack lived. Beckoning her closer, Jack held the candles aloft to allow her to view the portrait, which was propped up on a chair with a broken seat. She bent forward to examine the painting more closely, but then stepped back with a gasp.

‘Dear Lord!’

She was looking into her own eyes.

‘The likeness is startling, is it not?’ said Jack.

Untamed black curls, very light grey-blue eyes – just like her own. And the other features were remarkably similar too. Swallowing hard, Cora merely nodded. How could this be? When Jack had first mentioned it she had been incredulous, then intrigued, although she never fully believed that it could be true. But after what Ned had told her, she couldn’t deny the truth of it. Now, looking at the portrait, she saw there could be no mistake, and the small similarity in looks she had always felt existed between herself and Ned became mere coincidence. There was no doubt the sitter in the portrait was closely related to her.

The notorious Captain Blythe, cousin to the Earl of Lampton and a member of one of the finest families in England, had begotten a common thief. How strange the world was.

‘Well?’ Jack insisted. ‘It does put a new perspective on things, doesn’t it?’

Cora nodded again but still found herself unable to speak. So much had happened in the last few days, and her world, as she had always perceived it to be, had changed dramatically. Not only were her parents not who she thought they were, there was the added complication of her attraction to Jack. Except attraction was one thing, but the kind of love she’d witnessed in her parents’ marriage was a privilege afforded very few, she knew.

Was it love she felt for Jack or was it merely lust? Either way, there could be no proper association between them, whether she was the captain’s illegitimate daughter or not. First and foremost she was the result of her upbringing, not her blood. Jack didn’t seem to realise that. Or perhaps he was so used to having his way that he merely ignored what was obvious to Cora.

Someone had to knock some sense into his woolly head.

‘I agree that your theory must be right,’ she began, but then she paused, unsure how to proceed. ‘It won’t change anything, though. I may carry blue blood in my veins, but I still feel like Cora, plain and simple.’

‘It’ll change everything! We are without a doubt second cousins. You carry the blood of this family in your veins, and even if the captain’s behaviour was scandalous, that can be no fault of yours.’ Jack ran his hand through his shorn hair. ‘Even my father would agree with that,’ he added with a frown. ‘I’m sure he would, although there was the small matter of embezzlement as well … but that’s neither here nor there. It was done out of love, pure and simple.’

‘But you don’t
know
?’ said Cora.

‘I know my father well enough to
believe
that he would agree with me,’ he conceded. ‘He would regard it as his duty to settle some money on you. An annual allowance which would allow you to live in comfort, if not luxury. You’d be able to marry and—’

‘And what about Ned?’ Cora interrupted. ‘The man who brought me up and is my father in almost every sense of the word? Is he to be the hired help while I’m lording it in the fine salons, selling myself to the highest bidder?’

‘No. Ned can … well, he’ll be there with you, won’t he? And as for you selling yourself, I know what kind of cattle market the marriage business is, but surely that wouldn’t apply to you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ said Cora.

He led them out of the storeroom and locked the door behind them. ‘You’d be able to marry for love, not convenience,’ he went on. ‘You’d have enough money to live on should you choose not to marry, but not enough to be the object of fortune hunters. And you’d be safe.’ Briefly, he brushed her cheek with his finger.

‘You’re quite mad, you know,’ Cora said, her cheek burning where he’d touched it. But he was right. If her future was secured, so was Ned’s.

She was aware of the terrible risk every time she held up a coach, but the sound of his coughing made her insides clench and she had to do something. The costly tincture from the apothecary alleviated his symptoms a little, although it didn’t cure him altogether. It was only a matter of time before her father’s ravaged body couldn’t take the strain any more, but if she agreed to Jack’s plan, at least Ned could live out his days in comfort without having to worry about money.

It didn’t matter that Ned hadn’t fathered her. She loved him and would do anything for him. Even if it meant swallowing her pride and going hat in hand to the earl.

As if sensing that her resistance was waning, Jack said, ‘So will you go with me to see my father on the subject?’

‘I will. Although he’ll probably send me packing.’

Jack put the candelabra on a shelf and placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Thank you, Cora,’ he said. ‘It means a lot to me.’

‘How can it?’ she whispered, her whole body tingling from his touch. ‘How can it mean anything to you?’

‘Because I want you to be safe. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’

‘I robbed you. You should hate me.’

‘But I don’t. You … you have bewitched me, Cora. I can think of nothing but you. Day and night. I want us to …’

He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead he pulled her close and before she knew it, his mouth was on hers. Flames of lust shot through her and she clung to him, returning his kiss with inexperienced vigour. This was a proper kiss, a man’s kiss, and she never wanted it to end.

He laughed softly against her mouth. ‘Come, let me show you,’ he whispered. ‘Take my lead.’

Cupping her chin with one hand, he stroked her neck and shoulder with the other until her head fell back and her lips parted. Slowly, he covered her mouth with his, teased it open with his tongue and then took possession of it with a sudden urgency which had her gasping. Cora wanted to pull back, aware what this possession was mimicking, but her body seemed disconnected from her will, and instead she ran her hands down his back, pressing him closer to her, enjoying the way he ravaged her mouth, his hot breath, the sweet taste of him, his hard body and the evidence of his lust pressed against her pelvis. Her tongue met his thrust for thrust and her sense of triumph was complete when she felt him quiver with barely suppressed need.

I’m having that effect on him,
she thought. The realisation was both frightening and delicious at the same time.

‘I want you, Cora.’ Jack’s breath came in hot staccato bursts against her swollen lips and he held her gaze, hard and fiercely. ‘I want you so much.’

‘I know.’ Drunk with her own power, she wriggled her pelvis against his. ‘I want you too, but this will only lead to grief. Our circumstances … are so different.’

‘Never mind our circumstances. But you’re right, we must wait until—’

‘Jack?’

A shaft of light spilled into the darkened gallery and Cora and Jack leapt apart. A figure entered at the far end of the room and the dogs got up to greet the newcomer, their tails wagging.

‘Jack, is that you?’

‘Alethea!’ Jack said in a strangled voice. ‘You surprised me.’

Cora watched as Jack’s cousin came further into the room, and she wished herself anywhere but here.

Alethea’s eyes went from Jack to Cora, then back again. ‘So I see,’ she said. ‘I worried when you didn’t come home this evening, and when I saw the carriage from the window, I …’ She paused, biting her lip.

‘This isn’t what you think, Alethea.’

‘Oh? And what am I thinking, dear cousin? That you’re making illicit love to your paramour in our home or that you’ve merely chosen an unconventional time to show a young lady our family gallery?’ Cora felt a prickle at the back of her neck at her words.

‘Alethea!’ Jack hissed.

‘Dear me,’ said Alethea with mock sincerity, ‘am I not supposed to know of such matters? What am I? A young ninny? Come on, Jack, is she a lady friend whom I can greet politely or am I required to faint dead away?’

Cora bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She could not have imagined this: Jack lost for words.

‘A friend, then,’ said Alethea. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

‘Of course.’ Jack cleared his throat. ‘Alethea, this is Cora, who’—Cora sent him a sharp look—‘is indeed a friend of mine. Cora, this is Alethea, my cousin, who, well, let’s just say you don’t want to enter into a battle of wits with her.’

Cora lowered her eyes and bobbed a curtsey, as convention dictated when in the company of her betters. ‘Very pleased to meet you, miss.’

‘And I you.’ Alethea came closer and extended her hand. Looking up, Cora marvelled at how many rules of convention this girl was capable of breaking in one go. Then something made her step back in alarm.

‘What?’ asked Alethea. ‘What did I say? Oh, my Lord, you look like …’ She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead she brought a hand to her chest and her eyes widened until it seemed they could get no bigger.

Cora covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from crying out as she stared at Jack’s young cousin. There was a likeness again, although not as strong, to the captain. Her ebony hair fell in unruly curls about her face and in the light from the candles Cora could see that Alethea was tall, like her. She was the captain’s daughter and, Cora realised, her half-sister.

A thousand thoughts scrambled through her mind.
A sister!
How wonderful, and yet terrifying. What could they possibly have in common?

Cora’s eyes flew from Jack to his cousin, and then back again. Had he brought her here, not just to see the painting, but also to meet Alethea? If so, why?

Or maybe … maybe it had been meant as a reminder that despite their obvious attraction to each other Cora inhabited a completely different world to Jack and Alethea, and could never hope to be like them or even fit in. Jack would have his sport with her, and then marry within his own social sphere. Well, if he thought he could treat Cora Mardell like that, he could think again.

Humiliation and anger burned in her cheeks, and her distrust of him returned. She pulled away as he reached out to her and ran out of the gallery, ignoring Jack’s plea and Alethea’s confusion.

‘Cora! Wait!’

She hurtled down the stone staircase as fast as she could in the darkness. Halfway down her ankle twisted as she trod on the hem of her dress, and her foot was yanked beneath her as it tangled in the fabric. She fell the rest of the way down and landed with a bump in the servants’ passage.

Sobbing and cursing, she pulled herself up but cried out in pain when she tried to put her right foot down. She grabbed a broom which leaned against the wall nearby and used it for support as she hobbled down the passage.

She had to get out of there. Now. Whatever their explanations, she didn’t trust Jack anymore and certainly wouldn’t let him ensnare her into playing any more foolish and irresponsible games, or allow him to toy with her feelings further. It was all right for the likes him to indulge in such idle pursuits, but it was people like her who ended up paying the price. For a short while he had beguiled her with the prospect of a better life for herself and Ned, but it had been nothing but a false hope. Lord Halliford was like everyone else belonging to his class, in pursuit of his own entertainment regardless of who got hurt in the process. Well, she was having none of it.

Gritting her teeth against the pain in her ankle, Cora hobbled down the corridor, brushing past the startled butler, who had come to investigate the noise.

Lord Halliford might be an aristocratic pleasure-seeker, but there was no escaping the deplorable fact that Cora had well and truly lost her heart to him.

Jack was just in time to see Cora hurl herself onto her horse and disappear into the night, a yellow dot in the distance. He could pursue her, of course, but by the time he had saddled his own horse, she would be long gone and he doubted she was heading for the cottage in the woods anyway.

A low moan interrupted his thoughts. Just a few feet away from him lay a broken flower pot and a crumpled heap of a man. Jack rushed over to help Benning up.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, the concern in his voice carrying in the still night air.

Groaning, the groom rubbed his head. ‘Aye, my lord, I reckon I am.’

‘Well, you’d better have that knock tended to. Cook will put a cold compress on it.’

‘I’m made of sterner stuff than that,’ Benning protested, ‘even if that young scallywag packs quite a punch.’

‘Glad to hear it, but I’d feel happier knowing you’ve been seen to. And remember our agreement: you saw and heard nothing.’

‘Right you are, my lord. I’ve not seen nor heard nothin’. That being that, if I hadn’t known this were a lad in a dress, I’d have taken ’im for a female, punch or no punch,’ Benning added with a sly look.

‘Not even my father must know about this.’

‘You have my word, my lord,’ the groom reassured him. ‘Not even his lordship.’ Benning had always been loyal to Jack and trusted his judgement, but they both knew that the earl would probably hear of it one way or another.

Clutching his sore head, Benning stumbled indoors, and Jack became aware of Alethea standing behind him.

‘I’m sorry I interrupted you,’ she said.

‘No matter. You weren’t to know.’ Jack ran his hands through his unruly hair and stared out into the night. He hadn’t meant to be gruff with his cousin, but Cora frustrated him.

‘Are you serious about this woman?’ Alethea put her hand on his arm. ‘If so, I wish you every happiness. From the bottom of my heart.’

Jack didn’t reply; it wasn’t that simple. He had to find Cora first, and then persuade her to trust him again, and then … Then what?

He cursed himself for having let her go, for having kissed her, although she’d kissed him back readily enough. Perhaps it had been too soon, and he’d only succeeded in making her question his motives. He couldn’t blame her for that; they had been about as clear as mud. One thing he did know – when he found her, he would make sure she didn’t get away again. He knew she wasn’t indifferent to him and he was eager to pick up from where they’d been when Alethea had interrupted them. There was still much he wanted to say to her. His feelings for her had stolen over him so gradually he hadn’t realised exactly when, but he knew now that he wanted her by his side, in his life, if she was willing.

At the bottom of the servants’ stairs he retrieved his coat, which Cora had dropped when she fell.