Surrendering the Past (The Granville Legacy Series Book 1) Page 11

  “I do trust you, but I cannot feel easy as long as I know he still has the potential to harm her.”

  “Then we will do what we must to take that power from him.”

  Richard looked carefully at his brother. “I would not have you hang.”

  Wesley laughed. “I will not kill him. Death is too good for the bastard. But a man such as him has secrets, and he will want to keep them hidden.”

  “Do you know these secrets?”

  “No, but he will believe I do. He raised me in his image and will believe me capable of anything he would do.”

  Richard was skeptical, but attempting to neutralize Litchfield was still the best option available to them outside of fleeing the country. They had discussed boarding a ship for America, but Richard did not want to take Jane away from everyone she loved. She was already facing weeks, possibly months, without the comfort of her dear sister. He would not turn that into years.

  “We should have everyone in the carriages soon. I am loath to rush the ladies after such a trying day yesterday, but you still have two days’ travel before you enter Scotland. The rest of us need to be back in London as well. We must be ready when Litchfield returns.”

  “I thank you for all you have done, Wesley.”

  “Thank you for allowing me. I had half expected to need to kidnap both of you.”

  Richard laughed. “I am not quite so insensible and wild.”

  “You are.” Wesley stated with a smile. “But Jane will be good for you. You will be a bloody misery, but I think she can manage you well enough.”

  A silence fell over them for a few moments, and neither brother felt the need to fill it. It was enough that the years of tension between them had subsided and they could just sit together in peace.

  * * *

  Amy stood in front of a row of windows in the inn’s common room, staring out into the frozen courtyard. Her normal want would be to try to imagine some liveliness to cover the decay, but she could conjure no such images. It was hard for her to admit, but Jane had not been the only one who lived behind a veil shrouding the truth of their lives. While Jane attempted to make everyone around her happy, Amy was merely satisfied to hide within her own world of mirth and knowledge, never contemplating life enough to believe it could ever bring such evil to their door. She felt as if she were still a babe nestled safely in the nursery rather than a grown woman who should be able see when the person she loved most in the world was in danger.

  “Are you well, Miss Amy?”

  She was not surprised to hear Julian’s voice behind her. He had been a most attentive companion during this awakening, and she was coming to depend on his comfort. She turned around and shook her head. “I am standing here contemplating my own uselessness, sir. Jane’s distress was so clear in the carriage yesterday, and I recognized the look in her eyes, for she had been wearing it for weeks. How could I not have seen it before? She is my sister, and instead of helping her, I made it easier for her to submit to the devil.”

  “But you did help her. Richard told her everything that I told you and likely more. Yet he was unable to convince her to flee. Only you were able to do that.”

  Amy shrugged her shoulders. “I did not really give her a choice. She should never have had to flee. She should never have been engaged to him.”

  “No, but you had nothing to do with that. If you must be disappointed and angry with someone, direct it at your father. He could have said no at any time. You are blameless.”

  She smiled a little then. “I am not, but I will allow you to think so.”

  Julian took her hand and kissed it gently before tucking it in his arm. “Come. Richard and Wesley are anxious to leave. There will likely be a great deal of chaos happening in London when word gets out. You will want to keep to Sloane Street as much as possible.”

  “I doubt I am known by sight to most people of the ton. I am not worried about gossip.”

  “You are known to Litchfield. I am afraid you must remain corralled for a while. May I call on you during those lonely days of confinement?”

  “Of course. You have called nearly every day. I would be disappointed if you stayed away now.”

  “I am glad to hear it, but, Amy, when I called before, I was with Richard, and we were paying our respects to everyone in the house. I wish to call now with the understanding that it is you I wish to see.”

  They stopped walking, and Amy looked up at him. Although she was intrigued by Julian and enjoyed his company, she had never harbored hope that he might be courting her. Now that she could allow it, her heart soared. “I would like that very much, Mr. Hale.”

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. The feel of him so close chased away any of the cold she might have felt.

  “Call me Julian.”

  Chapter 17

  If Lord Litchfield was one to notice the peculiarities of his servants, he may have been disturbed to see the shaky hands of his butler, who took his outerwear when he arrived at his townhouse, or the nervousness of the footman who opened his study door. He was far too focused on the question of who caused the trouble in Kent to notice that his London home seemed to be balancing on the edge of a knife, awaiting the destruction that would come when he learned the events of the previous day.

  He sat in his heavy armchair, strumming his fingers on top of the morning papers, which sat on his meticulously arranged desk. His mind attempted to visualize the movements of the thieves and fire starters but could not quite decide upon their motive. As much as he wanted to blame his worthless second son, he could not credit him with the mental prowess it took to carry out the destruction in such a deliberate manner. This was work he could have done himself, and to think that Richard could have done the same was ridiculous.

  Running his hand over his face, he decided that he had thought on it too long. The answer would come when he cleared his mind of it, so he rang for refreshments and began thumbing through the letters that had arrived in his absence. Most were letters of congratulations on his betrothal and invitations to dinners and balls. A few were from closer acquaintances, business associates who required more of him than he was willing to give at present.

  He stood and walked to the window, again attempting to settle his thoughts into some sort of order. This uneasiness was foreign to him, as if some great anvil were hanging over his head, threatening to crush everything he had meticulously created. He walked back to his desk and hurriedly tore the seals of the business letters he had earlier laid aside. Quickly perusing them, he saw nothing that would indicate that the authors of the letters had been behind the attacks, which is what he now considered the events in Kent to be.

  Sitting once again, he grabbed the newspaper and searched it for some clue. He was a powerful man, and the disturbances at his estate would be talked about. Perhaps he could decipher some inkling out of the gossip. He found his name almost immediately, but what followed could not be understood with one perusal. Over and over, he read the lines, his pale face becoming more flushed with each reading. He bellowed for the footman, demanding that each of his men appear before him immediately.

  “You are all paid extremely well to protect my interests, and you know precisely what will happen if you do not. So this must be a falsehood, and Miss Dawson is residing safely at her uncle’s home and not on the way to Scotland with my derelict son!” He waited for a response and got none. “Who was to be watching Miss Dawson these last two days?”

  “That would be Davies, sir. We have not seen him since yesterday.”

  “Of course not. Bloody coward. I want you all in the streets now. Find out how this happened, where they are, and who helped them. Do not come back here until you have information.”

  “Has there been another disturbance, Father?”

  Litchfield looked around to see Wesley standing in the doorway as his men filed out. He handed him the paper.

  “Have you seen what your brother has done now? He has obviously kidnapped that poor girl. She would not
have gone with him willingly.”

  Wesley read the over the paper and nodded. “I am glad to see they got it right. I could not be sure the man had heard me, but I should not have worried. These newspaper men have fantastic hearing and can snuff out gossip in the busiest gaming houses.”

  “What?”

  “And you should not worry about Miss Dawson. From what I saw, she was most willing to elope with my brother.” Wesley walked closer, his expression as confusing as his words. “I can see you are distressed, Father. There are no women or children here for you to beat, but perhaps I can fetch you a glass of wine.”

  The confusion dissipated, and rage soared through Litchfield as he stared at his son, the one whom he crafted in his own image, now speaking bitter words of betrayal.

  “You traitorous son of a bitch. You helped them.” Litchfield seethed as he moved closer. “After everything I have done for you, everything I have planned. You stand to inherit the world, yet you betray me. Why?”

  Wesley, too, moved closer, forcing Litchfield to step back. The earl looked into the eyes that had never been like his own and were now as dark as the night.

  “Why? The answer is quite simple.” Wesley continued to step forward until Litchfield was forced against the wall. “You killed my mother. You may not have given her the poison, but you drove her to drink it. She has the final victory, however, because her sons are united against you. Richard has taken away your prize, and I will take everything else if you dare try to harm them.”

  “Who do you think I am? I am not some drunken lout in a gaming hell whom you can bluff. The only power you have is what I have given you.”

  “But you have given me so much. I have forever been your shadow, have I not? I assure you, I have been most observant. How many men in this town would love to hear my observations? I have learned over the past weeks that purchasing debts can be a far more lucrative investment than waiting to inherit a title. You may not enjoy the card tables, but many of your peers do.”

  Litchfield’s breathing deepened, and he could form no words. Indeed, he had taught the boy well—too well.

  “If Richard or Jane come to any harm, I will see that the great house of Litchfield becomes nothing more than dust, and you will be nothing more than a guard dog overseeing ruins.”

  The earl watched his son leave, and the relief he felt at his departure soon turned to anger. Many years had passed since he had been intimidated by anyone, and the fact that he had shaken with fear just moments earlier caused the madness that always sat just below the surface of his controlled façade to burst forth. If he were to be ruined, then it would be such a ruin, and he would take every damn one of them with him.

  * * *

  “I am sorry not to have better accommodations for you, Jane. If we are to attempt any sort of disguise, then we must not appear too genteel.”

  Richard looked around the small room they had rented for the evening. It was nothing more than a bed and a table with a washbasin sitting atop it. Jane would not even have a screen behind which to change. The fact that the door locked was his only comfort, given the unsavory characters they had passed on their way up the stairs.

  “It is fine, Richard. It is warm and, most importantly, not moving. I am afraid I have had enough of being in a carriage for the time being, though you were kind enough to entertain me.”

  Richard smiled and felt his cheeks slightly flush. He was certain the entertainment she meant was the war stories she managed to persuade out of him. His mind, however, was far more entertained with the memories of the kisses they had shared along the way.

  “It was my pleasure.” He looked around once more, this time at the rafters. He was just tall enough to reach the beams, and he pulled the covering off the bed to fasten a makeshift screen. “It is the best I can do, I am afraid.”

  Jane smiled. “It is considerate of you to think of my comfort.”

  They stood in the middle of the room, looking awkwardly at each other. They had been at ease, and just as alone, in the carriage, but it seemed that the presence of walls and a bed added an intimacy to the situation for which Richard was unprepared.

  Mrs. Carrington had provided clothing for Jane that was not as fine as a gentlewoman would be expected to wear, with the hopes that if they came across anyone looking for them, they would be fooled, at least momentarily. Jane’s bearing, grace, and gentle charm could not be disguised, however, nor could her beauty be diminished, and the intimacy Richard was so afraid of grew every moment they were together.

  Jane smiled again and reached for her bag. When she disappeared behind the covering, Richard released a long breath that he had not realized he was holding. Attempting to distract himself from the thought of Jane undressing, he began the process of his own disrobing. Jane’s sensibilities and the chill of the room kept him from removing anything other than his coat, boots, and cravat, but that was obviously enough to embarrass her. When she saw him, she blushed bright red as she quickly shifted her eyes to the floor. He could not help but laugh.

  “What is so amusing, sir?”

  He took in the sight of her for a moment before answering. Jane’s aunt had apparently taken pity on him and provided Jane with the ugliest nightgown in England. The thick material completely covered her neck and arms. Not an inch of Jane’s lovely body was shown, except for the pretty pink toes that peeked out underneath.

  “Forgive me. I was just thinking how warm you will be tonight, except for your toes.”

  She laughed a little and finally looked at him. “I do not like to wear stockings when I sleep.”

  “Come to bed, Jane.” He pulled the remaining covers down and held his hand out for her. “Before your feet freeze.”

  He helped her in and made sure she was comfortable before yanking the covering from the rafters and taking a pillow from the bed. He tossed it on the floor and then walked to the table to blow out the candle.

  “Richard, what are you doing? You are not going to sleep on the floor?”

  “I am.”

  “You will freeze!”

  “I have survived worse conditions than a cold floor, madam.”

  “You are not in battle, Richard.”

  He sighed and sat next to her on the bed. He could see her features in the moonlight coming from the window, and he smiled. “I am in battle—with my baser self. You are not yet my wife, and I will not share a bed with you until you are. If we were in a more reputable inn, I would not even be in the room with you now. As it is, it will be a miracle if this journey to Scotland ends with your innocence intact.”

  Jane blushed and looked away. “I do not wish—I am not asking you to share my bed in that sense. I have just found it comforting when you are near.”

  Richard shook his head as he rose and walked to the other side of the bed. She had no idea what a temptation she was, but he could control himself at least long enough for her to fall asleep. Staying on top of the coverings while she remained tucked underneath, he pulled her close and enjoyed hearing her sigh. He realized then that she had been clinging to him the entire day, by either sitting close or just engaging in conversation.

  “Are you frightened, Jane?”

  “I suppose I am. I have never before been separated from my family, and we could very possibly have a madman following us. So much is unknown to me now, and I am unsure whom I am supposed to be.”

  Richard nodded in understanding. “I feel the same way. The army is the only place I have ever felt useful. Now I am to be a husband and manage an estate. I know nothing about either of those things.”

  Jane raised her head from his shoulder. “I do, about managing an estate—a little, anyway. I paid attention to Papa when he was home and to his steward when he was not. And I know well how to economize. I can help you if you would wish it.”

  “My dear Jane. You must always be useful.” He kissed her nose and smiled warmly. “I do wish it. We shall learn this new life together.”

  She smiled as if he had j
ust handed her the crown jewels. After a final yawn, she finally settled into sleep. He softly kissed her and then made himself as comfortable as he could on the hard floor. Sometime later, he felt Jane’s small hand running through his hair and her soft voice speaking in his ear.

  “However retched the circumstances that brought us together, I am glad you will be my husband.”

  She kissed his cheek and scurried back to bed. Richard lay awake for half the night thinking about her words and praying for divine intervention.

  Chapter 18

  “What are the goings on at Sloane Street?”

  Litchfield had given up any pretense of control and now paced the room as he gathered information from his lackeys.

  “It is hard to tell, sir. Men are watching over the place. We cannot get too close, but we have seen your nephew there.”

  “Hmm. So the sister must still be in town.”

  “We could probably get close enough to burn the place.”

  “Not yet. Let them believe they are safe for now.” He turned to address the other man in the room. “Blanchard, it seems I have put faith in the wrong man all these years. Wesley may as well be dead to me.” Walking over to his desk, he picked up a pile of letters. “I paid Dawson for one of his daughters. I suppose it no longer signifies which one or what purpose she serves. I will have a return on my investment. You know to whom to deliver these.”

  Blanchard nodded and took the letters. “Kathleen has already penned a letter to Wesley dissolving their understanding. Our family is still loyal to you, Litchfield.”

  “Deliver the letters, Blanchard.”

  Litchfield was in no mood for sycophantic drivel. Words served no purpose. Only movement and action would get him what he wanted now. Blanchard left to do the earl’s bidding, and soon after, a commotion was heard outside the door.

  “Did you find Davies?” The earl asked as a different lackey entered.