Heartless (29 page)

“Leandra, you have no idea to what lengths I am willing to go in order to see my will done. I would suggest you not tempt me to prove it to you.”

He still held her wrist in a steel grasp, a touch of pain shooting up her arm. But for some unknown—and possibly suicidal—reason, Leandra decided to test her husband. Would he really hurt her?

“I realize you are speaking of my desire to protect you rather than what I choose to call you. You will not stop me from trying to keep you from harm, Hart. You will not.”

Visions of Leandra, bleeding, dying, even dead, rose before his mind’s eye. And all because of her feelings for him. The pain these imaginings caused robbed him of breath, choking off his air. He reacted without thought, his free hand curling around her slim white throat.

Squeezing just enough to scare her senseless, he gritted out, “If you dare to get the least bit involved, Leandra Derringer, I will beat you black and blue every day for the rest of your life. You will beg for death by the time I get through with you.”

Derringer barely understood his own actions and judging from Leandra’s reaction, neither did she. Her body tensed, fear and unease coloring her eyes a deep brown. She tried to pull away but Derringer wasn’t ready to let her go, wasn’t ready to relinquish the fear that held him.

Struggling for control, struggling to hold the horrifying images at bay, Derringer finally forced his fingers to open. Red streaked her pale throat. He wanted to soothe her pain, reassure her, tell her he’d never hurt her, but she darted out of his reach.

Derringer sighed and leaned back against the pillows. He heard his chamber door close. Why did he feel the need to master her? She was sweet, unassuming, meek, and submissive. But he’d since learned that she was a veritable demon when it came to protecting those she cared about and he knew without her telling him that he was one of those she cared for. He couldn’t let her risk her life for him, a cad and a ruthless bounder. It had seemed right at the moment to prove what a lost cause he truly was.

22

Once in the relative safety of the corridor, Leandra paused, leaning back against the closed door of her husband’s chamber. Breathing grew difficult as she struggled against incipient tears. The tears won and she sagged, defeated, to the floor. Each breath ripped through her chest, tears streaming from burning eyes. Her fingers crept over the tender flesh of her neck. What a horrifying end to such a beautiful experience!

She allowed herself only a few moments, moments that felt like hours, to give in to her anguish. Tears spent, she pushed to her feet, smoothed some of the wrinkles from her gown, tied her hair into a knot without the use of pins, and took a deep breath. It would never do for the servants to see her in such a state. A duchess, even one as unconventional as Leandra, had to maintain a certain dignity. This was what she fought for as she descended the stairs.

Lady Greville stood on the second floor landing. Startled, Leandra paused, a hand automatically going to her hair. Despite her attempt to restore order, she knew her appearance was that of a woman freshly tumbled. She couldn’t care. The disillusionment clattering through her brain was no doubt reflected on her face but she didn’t have the will to control it at the moment. It was like a bucket of icy water had been dashed in her face. She was finally made to realize that her husband was a scoundrel and she had only herself to blame for not believing him.

Aurora took one look at her face and asked, “What did Hart do?” She tactfully refrained from mentioning Leandra’s tangled hair and wrinkled gown.

The duchess opened her mouth to reassure her guest that it was of no import but found herself saying instead, “I wonder what caused that stain.”

Aurora’s gaze swiveled to the dark spot on the wall that snagged Leandra’s attention. Her brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t know. I admit I never even noticed it before.” She moved closer to it. “How very odd. Look at this.”

Leandra stepped up next to Aurora and stared at the spot the countess indicated with one delicate finger. “Do you see what I see?”

The large stain was located on the dark paneling of the wall. But near the floor, it had gotten on the carpet. Near the edge, along the wall, was a strip of white. Just under the stain, the white was stained a dull burgundy color.

“Wine?”

Leandra shook her head. The very slight paling of her face was the only indication that she was disturbed by her next words. “I think it’s blood,” she suggested with amazing calm. The picture she had found in the children’s book seemed suddenly blazoned in her mind. “In fact, I know it is.”

Aurora straightened to her full height, staring at Leandra in concern. “How can you be so sure?”

“Follow me. I’ll show you.”

The two ladies turned in the direction Leandra had just come from and for which Aurora was previously bound. The duchess entered her room and crossed to the nightstand. She pulled a worn leather book from the drawer and removed a folded piece of foolscap. Wordlessly, she handed the drawing to her new friend.

“That’s how I know.”

Greville studied the picture minutely, then handed it back to Leandra. “It certainly is detailed,” he commented, his bland tone at odds with the sharp look in his eyes.

Aurora wondered at his oddly disinterested air. “But what do you think? Can it be Hart’s mama?”

The earl shrugged. “I never had the chance to meet the woman. Hart was only six when she died, you know. I didn’t even know him then.”

Leandra was equally baffled by Greville’s apparent unconcern. She shared a look with Aurora. Then she smiled. “Thank you for your opinion, Levi.”

The ladies turned to walk out but paused when Greville called them back.

“Can I borrow that drawing, Leandra? I would like to discover who drew it, if I may.”

Leandra handed it over, although she was loath to part with it. “Please don’t show it to Hart.”

“I hadn’t planned on it.”

As soon as the ladies were gone, Greville went in search of Gabriel St. Clair. If anyone knew what the picture represented and why, it was the one man who could truly claim a closeness to the Heartless duke.

The earl found Gabriel standing in the east garden contemplating a statue of Venus in spite of the chilly weather. As Greville got closer, however, he realized the man wasn’t even looking at the statue but somewhere beyond it at the stone wall cutting off the castle’s occupants from the rest of the world.

Greville approached him, inquiring after his health, and asked what held his attention. Gabriel pointed at a small groove in the wall about three feet from the ground. “We were eight. Hart found his father’s pistols and we decided to try them out.”

“You were aiming at the wall?”

Smiling, Gabriel corrected, “No, we just weren’t any good then. I was aiming for the statue, which I see has been replaced, and Hart was aiming for a bush that used to grow there.” He pointed to a spot a little to the right of the ding in the wall. “We both missed. My shot nearly went into Hart. His went into the wall.”

Greville laughed. “And your father?”

“Quite so. We should have been aiming at him.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The one-armed man shrugged, sighing. “I know. And I shouldn’t have said that. You were perhaps wondering what he did when he discovered what we had done? He beat me until I could barely move, then he publicly whipped Hart. I think that was when Hart decided my whole family would have to go. Whatever it took.”

Silence.

Then, “I was wondering if you could explain this.”

Gabriel took the drawing. He stared at it for a long time. “Where did you find this?” he finally asked.

“Leandra had it. I don’t know where she found it.”

Gabriel nodded once. “I recognize my aunt, of course, and the landing. The boy is definitely Hart, although it could be me. Are you asking me if there’s any truth to the picture?”

“Yes, actually. I know the late duchess died in odd circumstances.”

“I suppose it could be true, if that’s supposed to be Hart. Otherwise,” he shrugged, “it is just an excellent representation of a rumor.”

Greville was dissatisfied with this response. It appeared Gabriel was hiding something. He knew more about it than he was letting on. “Who do you suppose drew it?”

Gabriel shrugged again. “It is excellent but rather disturbing as a subject. I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”

He walked away after that and the earl watched him leave. He wondered if Derringer remembered what had happened. Perhaps someone else had witnessed it and was trying to alert the duke to the truth. But what possible good could come of him remembering such a thing after all these years?