Heart's Debt (Lost Lords Book 5) (19 page)

“I might confide in you someday—but I’d have to get to know you better. I’d have to be certain I could trust you.”

“Trust me with what? Wicked secrets?”

“Secrets, yes. Not wicked ones though.” He paused, then chuckled. “Actually I’d probably never tell you, no matter how close we were. I like my past to remain in the past, and if I revealed any of it, you wouldn’t like me.”

They stared, an intimacy growing between them. He looked genuinely fond of her, as if he truly liked her and enjoyed her company. It made her wish there was time for him to court her, to woo her. She hadn’t learned a single detail about him, but she thought she might like to.

Who were his kin? What were his roots, his ancestry? How stable were his fiscal affairs? He’d been educated, his speech, mannerisms, and attire indicated culture and breeding. Was he worth having? Might he be?

Yet there was no time for courting. There was only this Thursday evening, then Saturday morning would quickly arrive, and she, her mother, and Georgina would have to depart.

“I don’t love you,” she absurdly said.

“Which is the foremost reason I would never propose.”

“I don’t know if I ever could love you.”

“Who can predict what might happen in the future? I’m quite a grand fellow in my own way, and I’m an optimist. I have steady employment at Kirkwood. I’m skilled and courteous and sensible. Why not take a chance on me?”

“If I did”—gad, was she considering it?—“could marriage become possible later on?”

He pondered forever, then shook his head. “No, Sophia. There’s my bond with Damian. I would never deceive or upset him.”

“What if I talked to him for you?”

“It’s not a good idea. He wouldn’t be polite.”

“I imagine not.”

She pushed back her chair. She’d barely touched the meal, and though she was starving, she’d lost her appetite.

“I should go,” she murmured.

“You haven’t eaten anything.”

“I wasn’t hungry after all.”

“What will I tell Cook? She’ll assume she failed to please you. You’ll hurt her feelings. And if you leave so soon, you’ll hurt mine too.”

“I will not,” she scoffed.

“I’ve been on pins and needles all day, hoping you’d dare to visit.”

“You liar. You haven’t thought about me at all.”

“I have.” He patted his thigh. “Come here.”

She scowled. “Where? Onto your lap?”

“Yes.”

The most annoying thrill swept through her, yet she primly replied, “I don’t believe I ought.”

“Why not?”

“I’m too confused.”

“What has you confused?”

“You. My situation. What should I do? I don’t have anyone to ask.”

“Why ask anyone? Who is there to advise you? Your mother? Your brother? Your ex-fiancé? I wouldn’t count on any of them to have your best interests at heart.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted.

“Of what? Of me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not scary.
I
am the least of your problems.”

“What problem is bigger?”

“Try living without a home. Try surviving without a roof over your head or food in your belly or a coat in the winter. That’s some real trouble, not my paltry proposal.”

She gaped at him, disturbed by his vehemence. Had those tragedies plagued him? Had he been a homeless waif without a coat or food? She couldn’t bear to envision it.

“Were you imperiled like that when you were a boy?”

“I don’t want to talk about me,” he curtly said. “This is about you and your choices. You’re an adult. Pick what sounds logical to you.”

“In your opinion that would be an affair?”

“Yes.” He patted his thigh again. “Come. I hate that you’re so far away, that we have an entire table between us.”

She was on the edge of her seat, every bone, muscle, and pore begging her to walk over and nestle her bottom onto his lap. But she simply couldn’t do it.

“I can’t, Kit. I’m sorry.”

“You can’t sit on my lap? Or you can’t have an affair?”

“I have no idea what I mean.”

“You only have tomorrow to figure it out.”

“I know.”

“You’re not a coward.”

“Maybe I am,” she morosely muttered.

“And you’re not stupid.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself in jeopardy when there’s such an easy solution to your dilemma.”

“It’s not easy!” she insisted.

“It seems easy enough to me.”

She stared at him, and he was calm and relaxed, leaned back in his chair as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“What will you do after I leave?” she asked, wondering why it would matter.

“I’ll finish all this great food and empty the wine decanter.”

She was certain he wouldn’t miss her, that it made no difference to him if she stayed or departed, which frustrated her very much. She was in a complete state of panic and perplexity, while he appeared as if he propositioned innocent females every day.

Perhaps he did. Perhaps he’d done this dozens—nay, hundreds!—of times in the past. The notion had her furious, and she realized she was jealous over all those women who might have tantalized him.

“Goodnight,” she said, and she started for the door.

“I’ll get it for you.”

He slipped in front of her, and to her dismay—or was it her delight?—he didn’t open it. He slid an arm around her waist and drew her to him. He was going to kiss her again, and she couldn’t decide if she’d like it to occur or not.

He’d kissed her once previous, and it had been breathtaking and exciting. As his lips captured hers, she dived in and kissed him back with all the confidence and passion she could muster.

He lifted her, her skirt bunched up so her legs were wrapped around his hips. To her stunned surprise, he flexed his loins to hers in a rhythm her body definitely recognized.

She was jolted, as if she’d been struck by lightning. All the while, he hadn’t stopped kissing her. He kept on and on until she was dizzy, until she couldn’t predict what sins she might commit next.

She couldn’t guess how long they continued, but it was long enough that she changed her mind about what she wanted. He’d turned her into some sort of physical creature who only sought physical pleasure. Nothing else appealed, and when he gradually slowed, when the embrace ended, she moaned with disappointment.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he said as he set her on her feet.

“No.”

“Then there’s no reason to hurry off so soon, is there?”

“No,” she said again.

“Let me show you something.”

“I’d like it if you would.”

“You have to come into my bedchamber though. We have to do it in there. I won’t dally with you up against a door.” He grinned. “At least not the first time.”

Nervously she licked her bottom lip. “Yes, I suppose I could go into your bedchamber.”

“Are you sure? It has to be your choice. Not mine.”

“I think it’s my choice.” She paused, pondered, then nodded. “Yes, I absolutely think it’s my choice.”

“No regrets later.”

“Oh, I imagine I’ll have dozens of them, but I’ll keep them to myself.”

He clasped her hand and linked their fingers, tugging for her to follow him. For the briefest second, she was frozen in place, curious as to who had spoken, who had agreed.

Could
she
have consented to such a wicked suggestion? As he’d said, she was an adult and could make her own decisions. Evidently she wanted Kit Roxbury. Was she mad?

Very likely so.

When he tugged again, she went after him like a trained puppy on a leash.

A
loaf of bread
is missing.”

Damian stood in a line of shivering, weary boys who were so fatigued they could barely focus on Lt. Butler’s remark. He must have noticed they weren’t paying attention, for he repeated it.

“A loaf of bread is missing from the kitchen. Who will admit to stealing it?”

Two dozen pairs of eyes gaped at him, all of them aware that they couldn’t confess. Punishment at the compound was swift and vile and could be deadly if Lt. Butler had been drinking to excess or if he was hung over. He had a dangerous temper, a strong arm, and a wicked cat-o’-nine tails that could inflict significant damage.

Butler surveyed the pathetic group. They were skin and bones, their clothes ragged, their hair long and shaggy. In London, they had been branded worst-of-the-worst, labeled incorrigible and, once they’d arrived in Australia, given to Lt. Butler so he could mold them into model citizens with brutality and back-breaking labor.

Exactly how that was supposed to occur, Damian had never quite figured out.

“Gentlemen,” Butler said, “we will stand here all night if need be. Who is the culprit?” He paced before the boys who were frozen with terror. “Turn him in. When you know the identity of the guilty party, why put yourself through such misery?”

Butler examined the boys, his feral gaze landing on each one individually, making them squirm and shudder with dread, which he enjoyed very much.

He wasn’t that tall, but he was very fat, having found numerous ways to hoard supplies and take more than his portion of the colony’s food stuffs. He was a tyrant, a corrupt, amoral fiend who felt entitled to whatever he wrongly amassed.

Rumor had it that he’d been sent to Australia in disgrace, that he’d committed an unpardonable blunder in the army. Or perhaps it was simply his extreme love of whiskey that had been his downfall. But he was very angry about the demotion, about being banished to the penal colonies, and he vented his rage on those who were weaker and smaller so a collection of half-starved boys suited his purposes.

No one had spoken up, and Butler hissed, “Tell me! Whoever does will receive a helping of beef at supper.”

It was an enormous bribe, and Damian imagined someone would eventually tattle. Not in front of the others, but they would privately slip a name to a guard. Damian didn’t blame them for their trivial betrayals. Theirs was an incredibly difficult existence, and an extra serving of food often seemed like it might literally be the difference between life and death.

Under ordinary circumstances, he’d have ignored the petty drama, but he thought Kit might have stolen the bread. Normally Kit wouldn’t consider such a dastardly deed, but a younger boy was very ill, and Kit had a soft spot for the less fortunate. If Kit was caught, he’d be severely beaten by Lt. Butler so Damian couldn’t risk that the true offender would be revealed.

He inhaled a deep breath, then stepped forward. It wouldn’t be the first thrashing he’d endured, and it wouldn’t be the last. He might be tossed in the hole for a week though, which he hated. It was an actual hole in the ground that was so narrow a fellow had to lie on his side with his knees curled up. A lid was placed on the top so it was very much like being in a coffin, but he’d survived it before and he’d survive it again.

“I took the bread,” he announced, and the other boys gasped.

Lt. Butler’s irate glower drilled into Damian. “As I suspected, Mr. Drummond.”

“Damian, no!” Kit said from down the line. “Don’t do this.”

“Be silent, Mr. Roxbury!” Lt. Butler bellowed without glancing at Kit. He asked Damian, “Who shared in your feast?”

“No one. I ate the whole thing myself.”

“I’m not surprised to hear it. You’re gluttonous, lazy, and impertinent, but we’ll fix that attitude of yours.” He gestured to an underling. “Fetch me my whip, then tie Mr. Drummond to the pole.”

The soldier went into Butler’s office to retrieve his weapon. Once he returned, two others grabbed Damian and led him to the flogging pole. He didn’t struggle, and they were almost disappointed that he didn’t fight them.

They were bullies too and would have relished the excuse to land a few punches with their fists before the leather of the whip cut into his skin.

Butler came up behind Damian, and he hovered there, wanting Damian to tremble or cry or evince some sign of submission. But he simply gazed out at the blue water of the ocean. He pictured himself wading into the cool waves, swimming out much farther than was safe, then letting himself sink down to the dark bottom, never to rise again.

There was such peaceful solace in that vision.

“Remove his shirt,” Butler ordered, but Damian didn’t like anyone touching him. He pulled off the garment himself.

“Bind his hands,” Butler commanded.

Damian leaned into the pole and wrapped his arms around it, barely feeling the rough rope as it secured his wrists. As the initial lash was applied, he was such a distance away in his mind, he might have been strolling through a fairy glen. He was invisible, out of his physical body.

Nothing and no one could hurt him.

H
ello, Georgina.
”

Damian laughed as she jumped a foot and whipped around, struggling to see who’d spoken. It was very dark, and for ages he’d been sitting in the corner of her bedchamber in Drummond Cottage, waiting for her to arrive.

She scowled. “Mr. Drummond?”

“Who else would it be? Have you other male callers stopping by?”

She marched over to the dresser and lit a candle. “You can’t be in here.”

“You have the most humorous way of assuming I can’t do whatever I want.”

“I mean it. You have to go. Right now.”

She went over and waved to the hall, as if she could shoo him out. And she left the door ajar, which irked him. He was eager to be sequestered with her in a fashion they shouldn’t be.

“You’re very bossy,” he said, “and I don’t like it.”

“I don’t care.”

“I like my women to be meek and polite. I like them to obey me.”

“Then you must hate me.”

“Sometimes I think I do, but other times I think you fascinate me.”

“I
fascinate
you?” She snorted with amusement. “Have you been drinking?”

“Yes, but not nearly enough to keep me from coming to visit you.”

He was actually beginning to feel horrid for having forced her to the decrepit spot, but he was trying not to pay attention to his guilty conscience. Mercy and compassion were never traits he exhibited, and he wasn’t about to start with her. Yet he constantly found himself asking: Why make her suffer for Miles’s sins? Why not bring her to the main house? What could it hurt?

“What do you want?” she inquired.

“What
do
I want?” he mused. It was a question that was definitely vexing him. “I have no idea.”

“Why don’t you return to the manor and ponder the answer. Once you figure out what it is, you can let me know.”

“Close the door,” he told her.

“I most certainly will not. I’m not about to permit you to stay.”

He rose and walked over to her. She didn’t step back, didn’t flit into the hall and run off, and he liked that about her. She wasn’t timid or shy.

He shut the door, but the key was missing so he couldn’t lock it. She grabbed the knob and would have yanked it open again, but he slapped a palm on the wood, holding it firmly in place.

“I’d like to be alone with you for a bit.”

“Well, I have no desire to be alone with you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not appropriate, and I don’t like you.”

“Really? In my bedchamber this afternoon, you seemed to like me just fine.”

He picked her up and threw her onto the bed, then he tumbled down after her. She tried to scoot off the other side, but he was too quick for her. He rolled on top of her and pinned her down.

As always transpired when they were together, sparks erupted, the atmosphere sizzling with excitement. He dipped down and kissed her. She didn’t protest, but leapt into the fray as if they’d been lovers forever.

She was gradually relaxing, her ire melting, and he pulled away and flopped onto his back. He drew her over him so she was draped across his chest, her ear directly over his heart.

They lay quietly, and he was greatly relieved to be with her. He couldn’t deduce how or why she affected him, and he wouldn’t attempt to unravel the peculiar influence she exerted over him. When he was with her, he wasn’t so angry, wasn’t so unhappy. He felt contented and…free from worry.

“I used to live in this house,” he said.

“I know.”

“This is the first time I’ve been in it since I came back.”

“What do you think of it?”

“It’s sad that it was left to rot, but it’s typical of Edward Marshall. He never appreciated what he had, and it wouldn’t have occurred to him to look after it.”

“I agree. The building is in dismal shape, which is very sad.”

“Why wasn’t it kept in better condition? Why has it been vacant?”

“Edward employed numerous estate agents over the years, but after your grandfather was terminated, none of them remained for more than a few months.”

“I suppose it was worse after Miles inherited.”

“Yes, especially then. Miles either fired people or they quit in exasperation.”

“After Miles let you have the job, why didn’t you move in and make it your home?”

She frowned as if it was the silliest notion ever. “Why would I need so much space? And a woman alone? It would have been impossible.”

She was such an enigma, and he didn’t understand her. She was so different from her cousins. Although she had Marshall blood in her veins, she never asked for more than she’d been given, would never have imagined the residence should be hers.

“What’s it like for you to be in this house?” she inquired. “Now that you’ve seen it, is it distressing to you?”

“Nothing is ever distressing to me.”

“Why is that?”

“I don’t fret over trifles. I just pick a path and walk it. I learned long ago that there’s no point in moping or bemoaning Fate.”

“You never told me what happened to you after your grandfather died.”

“No, I didn’t.”

There was a protracted pause where she waited for him to expound on his past, and when he was stoically silent, she asked, “Was it horrid?”

“It’s wasn’t terrific.”

“Where did you live?”

“Here and there.”

“How did you support yourself?”

“I worked.”

“At what sorts of tasks?”

A myriad of scenes flitted through his mind: meeting Michael Scott, learning to steal and maim, fighting to survive in prison, grappling for power on the ship that carried him to Australia. There were always bullies in any group, and in the close quarters, they’d been particularly cruel.

He’d had no desire to be a leader, but he never allowed himself to be intimidated, and he’d had Kit to protect. It had only taken a few incidents to convince others to be wary, but his brawls meant he was branded a menace by the guards.

For several years, he’d been incarcerated in the boys’ colony where the most incorrigible young criminals had been held. They’d toiled like slaves, had tilled the land from dawn to dusk, the Crown struggling to make farmers out of them. The general impression had been that honest labor would cure them of their felonious habits.

But from the outset, the plan had had no chance of succeeding. They’d all been arrested on the streets of London and were a gang of unruly, desperate children with no families and no hope.

How any sane adult could have thought they could be groomed for a docile, rural existence was a mystery he’d never solved. Yet he wasn’t about to discuss any of it with her, for he was unusually troubled. If he opened his mouth, he couldn’t predict what type of maudlin drivel might spill out.

She’d asked how he felt about being in his childhood home, and it was extremely stressful.

His life at Kirkwood had simply rolled along as any child’s should, with no drama or tragedy. Yes his mother and father had died when he was a baby, but he didn’t remember them, and with his grandfather stepping into the role of parent he’d never missed or mourned them.

He’d studied his lessons, played with his friends, and watched how his grandfather managed the estate. Their male ancestors had been estate agents to the Marshalls for generations, and his grandfather had believed Damian would take over the post once Walter was done with it.

How ridiculously naïve they had been.

“This afternoon,” he said, “why did you run out of my bedchamber?”

“You frightened me.”

“You liar. I don’t frighten you.” He drew her up so they were nose to nose. “Why pretend to be scared of me when you’re not?”

“I wasn’t scared precisely.”

“What was it then?”

“I can’t explain it to you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s intimate, and I have no idea how to have that kind of conversation.”

“It’s just physical behavior. It’s not that odd.”

“For you maybe, but you’re a libertine. You’ve likely dallied with dozens of females in illicit ways.”

“You could be right.”

“
You
wouldn’t deem it odd or intimate, but for me it’s all…overwhelming.”

“It can be when you’re new at it.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

She slid away from him and onto her stomach, not able to look him in the eye. He rested a palm on the center of her back, rubbing in slow circles.

“You can ask, and I’ll answer if I can.”

“I was wondering about what happened to me.”

“It was sexual pleasure, Georgina. It’s called an orgasm.”

She nodded. “Why would it have occurred though? I’m merely curious if…ah…it indicates details about my character.”

“Like what?”

“Am I loose? Am I easy?”

Lord, save me from virgins!
he nearly muttered, but when she glanced over at him, she appeared so woeful that he couldn’t be curt with her.

“It doesn’t designate any sort of attribute,” he said.

“What does it signify then?”

“As I mentioned, it’s just physical conduct. It’s satisfying and fun. You shouldn’t try to read any ulterior implications into it.”

“It wouldn’t be an…inherited trait?”

“Inherited? From a parent or relative? No. Any woman can do it, and any woman can enjoy it.”

She blew out a heavy breath as if she’d been tremendously vexed over the issue. “My Aunt Augusta detested my mother.”

“Why?”

“My father was a soldier, and he was garrisoned in the village. She and my mother were both smitten, but my mother won him.”

“Augusta had to settle for Edward instead.”

“Yes.”

“Augusta was jealous because of it and she’s taken it out on you.”

“Yes, and she denigrates my mother. She claims my mother was wild and reckless and that I possess her low tendencies. She insists I fight any passionate urges or I’ll end up just like her.”

It was another reason to loathe Augusta Marshall, and he bristled with offense.

“You shouldn’t listen to Augusta on any topic,” he said.

“I can’t help it. I’ve been trapped here with her, and when she starts spouting her opinions, it’s impossible to ignore her.”

“I suppose, but I hate that she’s harangued at you all these years.”

“It’s frustrating—and absurd too. My parents eloped—”

“My, my, that’s a shocking tidbit to have in your personal history.”

“Isn’t it though? It occurred decades ago, and the entire affair wound up in disaster for my mother.”

“How?”

“She was Edward’s sister so my father was very far beneath her in station. He wed her, assuming they’d eventually be forgiven and showered with money, but my mother was disowned and disavowed.”

“Let me guess. When your father learned there would be no funds forthcoming, he abandoned you and your mother.”

“Yes. She died poor and alone, then Edward brought me to Kirkwood and forced Augusta to raise me, but she was very bitter about it.”

“Have you ever wondered if it’s true?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You were a girl. Why inject a scurrilous fiscal motive into your parents’ relationship? Are you certain it wasn’t a love match?”

“I think it probably was for my mother, but I’m not sure what my father thought about it.”

“You don’t remember him?”

“No.”

“What if Augusta lied to you? What if he was called to active duty and killed in a battle? Or what if he passed away from the influenza? Maybe he didn’t abandon your mother at all. Maybe they’d have lived into a happy old age if he hadn’t perished.”

She gasped with surprise. “I never considered that for a single second.”

“Let’s pretend that’s your parents’ real story.”

“All right. Let’s do.” She smiled, her woeful expression vanquished. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For saying my father might have loved my mother.”

“You’re easy to please.”

“Yes, I am.”

He liked that about her. Normally he found women very difficult to please. In the prison colonies, women had been so downtrodden that they’d been too miserable to be satisfied on any point.

Then as he’d grown rich from the gold fields by robbing the gold trains that carried gold from the inland mines out to the coast, he’d been able to rub elbows with a completely different type of female. They were never satisfied either. They demanded gifts or other boons that he refused to supply.

She was content with so little, delighted by a few kind words about her parents. It almost made him feel guilty that he could spoil her with such meager offerings.

“I want you to move to the manor,” he said before he could stop himself.

“Why?”

“So I can be closer to you. Why would you suppose?”

“It’s not a good idea.”

“I’m not eager to visit you in this horrid place, and I can’t bear it that you’re over here.”

“You are the strangest man. You went to all this trouble to be cruel to me and now you wish you hadn’t been.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I expect to be rewarded for my efforts.”

“With an affair.”

“Yes, with an affair. You’ve been begging for it to happen, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I’m not about to let you change your mind. You’ll come back in the morning, and you’ll stay on after your aunt and cousin leave.”

“I can’t do that,” she ridiculously insisted.

“Why can’t you?”

“It would be such a betrayal to them.”

He scowled, then laughed. “You are the most exasperating creature ever. I’m giving you a chance to save yourself. I suggest you take it.”

“My aunt and cousin have to stay too.”

“No.”

“Ooh, you are so hard-headed.”

“So are you.”

“How can it hurt to have three women tucked away in this decrepit house? We won’t bother you.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Georgina. It’s a concept you seem to understand very well.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to be kind to us.”

“It might.”

She pulled away, sighing with aggravation and regret. “If you won’t let them stay, then I can’t stay either.”

“It sounds as if we’re dickering over terms again.”

“We might be.”