To Tempt the Devil (A Novel of Lord Hawkesbury's Players) Page 25
She smiled. “I will.” She stood and held out her hand to him. “Come. There’s much to do. Oh, I almost forgot. Blake informed me just now that the queen’s Captain of the Guard wants to see you. Despite your imprisonment, Blake never gave up petitioning the queen. She wouldn’t release you, but did advise her captain to employ you if you were ever found not guilty. Her guards have a reputation for ineptitude, you see, and it seems you have a reputation for being formidable. Can’t think why, you’re much too gentle natured.” She sighed theatrically and knocked on the locked door. “But it seems the rumor of your past employment has served you well. Blake assures me he and Lord Hawkesbury didn’t need to try very hard to convince her.”
The guard opened the door and stepped back to let them past. Rafe and Lizzy walked out of the cell side by side, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists.
“It seems my future here is set,” Rafe said, smiling down at her. “Shall we go and tell the troupe the good news first, or your parents?”
“My parents and then James, then the troupe.”
He stopped. “James,” he groaned. Christ, how could he forget his own brother? “He’ll be heartbroken.”
“Piddle. He won’t. He doesn’t love me. We’ve already had that discussion.” She looped her arm through his and pulled him toward the stairs. “Let’s hurry. I can’t wait to see Roger Style’s face when we come to collect the reward money.”
“No,” said Roger Style, brandishing a scepter decorated with fake leaves and topped with a lily made from starched linen. “I promised a reward only if the true killer was arrested. It seems that no one has been arrested for Walter Gripp’s murder. So I owe no money to no person.” He ended his speech with a flourish that caused the wings attached to his sleeve to knock a tankard of ale off the table in the tiring house.
Freddie leapt off his stool and caught it before a single drop spilled. Lizzy had never seen him move so fast.
“Actually, you remember incorrectly,” Edward said.
Roger narrowed his gaze. “Is that so, little brother?”
“It is, big brother. You said the reward will be given to anyone who can name the true killer. A vital difference in my opinion.”
“Aye,” Henry Wells and Antony agreed.
“And the true killer has been named,” Will Shakespeare said from where he stood by the rear door that led directly to the street. “Just this morning it was attributed posthumously to that nasty cur.”
“John Barker,” Rafe said. He pulled Lizzy tighter into his side and smiled lazily down at her. She melted into him, so happy she thought she might burst.
“What are you doing here, Shakespeare?” Roger growled. “Haven’t you got your own company to pester?”
“I do, but I wanted to see Lizzy and give her my best wishes.” He came up to her and forked a brow at Rafe. Rafe paused, shrugged, and nodded. Will kissed her on both cheeks and squeezed her hand. “Congratulations, dear lady. You’ve caught yourself a fine husband.” He glanced at Rafe. “I suppose it would be redundant to tell you to take good care of her.”
Rafe’s laugh rumbled around the tiring house. “I don’t need reminding, but thanks anyway.”
“If you don’t, you’ll have all of us to answer to,” Freddie said.
“I’m quaking at the thought.”
Lizzy let go of his hand and kissed Freddie on the cheek. “Thank you. You’re quite sweet when you try.”
He blushed, lowered his head, and belched into his chest. Lizzy quickly stepped back to Rafe and relished the strength of the arm he wrapped around her. She smiled up at him. He kissed the tip of her nose.
Roger groaned and stalked off to the stairs. “You are the ones who remember incorrectly,” he said, taking up the threads of their conversation. “I will not be giving anyone a reward.”
“You will,” Antony said, one hand on his out-thrust hip above his voluminous velvet skirt. “Or no one performs today. Agreed?”
“Aye,” chorused the rest of the troupe.
Roger’s jaw worked furiously. “This is outrageous! I am your manager. You cannot threaten me like this.”
“We can,” Edward said, “and we are.”
Roger stared at him. “You too, brother?”
“Aye. And don’t forget, I have our sister’s ear. I can make your life troublesome if I wish.”
Roger wrinkled his nose and sighed. “Very well,” he grumbled. “I have some coin upstairs.” He trod heavily up the staircase as if every step was an effort to climb.
“Thank you,” Lizzy said once he was out of earshot. “All of you. When James’s debts are paid off we’ll have a feast at the Two Ducks and everyone is invited.”
“Our wedding feast,” Rafe said.
“In that case, a hearty congratulations to you both,” said Freddie and raised the tankard in salute before drinking deeply.
“I must go,” Will said. He kissed Lizzy’s hand and clapped Rafe on the arm. “See you at the feast.”
“Bring Kate,” Lizzy said.
He nodded and left through the back door. He passed Lord Oxley coming in.
“There you are!” Lord Oxley cried. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Fletcher. I hear you’ve had some adventures in my absence.”
“Just a few,” Rafe said.
“I miss all the fun.” He kissed Lizzy’s hand and eyed Rafe’s arm around her waist. “A lot of fun, it seems. Does this mean this beautiful young lady is off the marriage market?”
“Back off, Hughe,” Rafe growled.
Lizzy grinned. Hughe winked at her and bowed. “I will concede this victory to the better man, but I am allowed to regret the loss.”
Antony sighed loudly and Lord Oxley glanced at him. He bowed elaborately. “It seems my sorrow will be short-lived. What a fair maid you are. Are you married?”
Freddie snorted into his tankard.
Antony smiled and held out his hand. “Not yet,” he said, using his normal voice. It wasn’t very deep yet still masculine enough to identify his sex. Antony might like to play games sometimes, but he never outright deceived people.
Lord Oxley paused then kissed the back of his hand. “A situation sure to be remedied when the right…person comes along.”
Antony blushed beneath his face paint. Quite a feat since it was very thick and white.
Roger came downstairs carrying a pouch. He grudgingly handed it to Rafe. “I expect this to be spent wisely. Treat your new wife well.” He shifted from foot to foot and swallowed heavily. “Or I will, er, be very angry.” He humphed and shuffled back up the stairs. Everyone stared after him.
“Well,” said Edward. “My brother might actually have a heart after all.”
“Small and shriveled as it is,” Henry said.
Lizzy and Rafe said their farewells and left with Lord Oxley. They had barely gotten to the street when Rafe asked him if his friends were well.
“Of course,” Lord Oxley said. He handed over a pouch filled with coin. “Your payment.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Lizzy said. Between Style’s money and Oxley’s, they could pay off James’s debts and pay back her father the money she used to bribe Treece.
Oxley bowed. “My pleasure, dear lady.” To Rafe, he said, “So, what now, old friend?”
Rafe glanced down at Lizzy. The tenderness in his eyes made her want to weep for joy. “Now I free my brother, then I wed my beloved. After that I begin working for the queen to train her guards. And then…who knows. Whatever I do, it will be with Lizzy. Forever.”
He kissed her, right there in front of his friend and the world, and she didn’t care. Rafe was hers. All hers.
DON’T MISS MORE SPARKLING HISTORICAL
ROMANCE FROM C. J. ARCHER!
In Shakespearean London, love and romance are just around the corner for the members of Lord Hawkesbury’s spirited theatre troupe!
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Alice the seamstress
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Heartfelt thanks to my writing friends: Chris Weston, Freya Croft, Keri Arthur, Mel Scott, and Robyn Enlund. Your wise advice, laughter, friendship, and endless supplies of chocolate kept me going when all seemed lost.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photograph by Joe Comito, 2011
A native of Australia, C. J. Archer has loved history and books for as long as she can remember. She worked as a librarian and technical writer until she was able to channel her twin loves by writing historical fiction. She has won and placed in numerous romance writing contests, including taking home RWAustralia’s Emerald Award in 2008 for the manuscript that would become her novel Honor Bound. Under the name Carolyn Scott, she has published contemporary short stories in several women’s magazines, including Take a Break, Woman’s Day, and That’s Life. After spending her early childhood surrounded by the dramatic beauty of outback Queensland, she lives today in suburban Melbourne with her husband and their two children.