Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3) (21 page)

“You never once thought she might be telling the truth?”  Things would have been different if his father had believed his mother.  She wouldn’t have had to work so hard.  She wouldn’t have been taken away on some prison ship, either.  He drew in a shuddering breath.  “You never thought she left for another reason?”

His father bowed his head.  “No, I didn’t.”  He glanced up.  “I do know I never should have believed such a thing about her.  I will always regret what I did.”

Some of the burning anger cooled within Alex.  Questions shot through him.  “Who told you Mama was going to lie to you?” he asked before he could help himself.

“Her cousin, Diana.”

That made Alex pause.  “Her own cousin?”

“Yes.”

Facing the windows, Alex felt sick.  He glanced at the steel-gray curtain of rain, finding that bit of information difficult to digest.  “Why would Mama’s cousin say such a thing?”

“I don’t know.”  Julian sighed.  “Jealousy, I suppose.”

Alex bowed his head.  His mama was very pretty.  He’d wager she had been even prettier than her cousin.  “Where are they now?”

“Who?”

Slowly, Alex turned to face his father.  “Mama’s family.”

“The last I heard, her cousin, Diana—Lady Skeffington, is traveling the world.  She began her travels after her husband died two years ago.  And your mother’s father,” he cleared his throat, “your grandfather, is still in America.”

“America?”  That startled Alex.  “Did Mama know her father was in America?  Is that why she went there?”

“That seems logical,” Julian answered.

Why didn’t anything make sense?  Alex shook his head.  The more questions he asked, the more confused he got. “Then why didn’t he…?”  He went still, his mouth opening and closing several times as the answer dawned.  “He refused to help her.  Her own father.”  He took a step back, repulsed.  “What kind of people are you?”  Spinning on his heel, he began for the door.  Just as he reached for the knob, his father spoke.

“As soon as the storm lets up, I’m returning to sea, to the search.”

His hand hovered above the polished silver as Julian continued.

“I thought you might want to know she is no longer aboard the prison ship.  A friend of hers took her off.”

Alex turned around slowly.  “Who has her?  Where is she?”

“I’m not certain where she is, but I intend to find out.”

Aware the other question he’d asked hadn’t been answered, Alex repeated it.  “Who has her?”

Julian could not hide the anger in his eyes before turning back to the liquor cart.  “An old friend of hers,” he said, pouring another drink.  “His name is Jack.  Perhaps your mother spoke of him?”

Alex shook his head.  “Mama never spoke of the past.”  He swung back to the door and pulled it open.  “And I don’t blame her.”

CHAPTER 22

Her hands trembled as she reached for the glass jar.  Being without Alex was beyond torture.  She missed him more than she thought possible.  And she missed Julian.  Amelia set the jar on the table before her and closed her eyes as tears welled up.  Her nose stung.  How she continued going on each day had to be a miracle.

“You have been a godsend these three weeks, Mrs. Sinclair.  I don’t know how I’ve managed this far without you.”

As her employer walked into the room, Amelia cleared her throat and blinked back her tears.  Being called Mrs. Sinclair always reminded her of the games she and Jack played as children.  That had been the play name Jack had given her.  “Nonsense, Dr. Landon.”  She picked up the stone mortar and began crushing some pungent herbs with the pestle.  “You were getting along very well without me.”

There was a lengthy pause before the doctor spoke again.  “Will you not call me Trevor when we are alone, madam?” he asked softly.

Amelia’s hand stilled and she looked up.  Dr. Landon, in his early forties, was a handsome man.  His light brown eyes were filled with kindness and the silver streaks at his temples added a distinguished quality to his good looks.  He had also been trying to get close to her, though she would never allow their relationship to go any further than friendship.

Bowing her head, she smoothed a wrinkle from her black skirt, thankful Jack had lied through his teeth about her being a recent widow.  “Really, Dr. Landon, it’s—” She halted when one of the villagers rushed into the room.  Something had happened.

“There’s been an accident,” the man said, mauling his hat in between his large hands.  “Over at the livery.”  He shook his head.  “They were working on the roof.  It fell in…”

When Dr. Landon looked over at her, Amelia nodded.  “Go, I’ll bring the supplies.”

With a quick nod, the doctor followed the villager out of the room.  Thinking rapidly, she gathered healing herbs, tonics, and bandages and threw them into Dr. Landon’s black case.  Her pulse pounded with urgency.  Snapping the bag shut, she hefted it up with a grunt and hurried from the white two-story house that served as the doctor’s residence and office.

Even though the air had grown cool, sweat accumulated on her forehead by the time she sighted the livery midway down the long street that ran the length of the village.  Her arms ached from the weight of the bag, but she refused to halt until reaching her destination.  She could see the crowd gathered around the front of the building and the owner, Mr. Wilkins, trying to keep them from entering.

“Ah, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said as she pushed her way through the crowd.  “Dr. Landon is inside.”  He took a step to the left so she could enter.

“Thank you, Mr. Wilkins.”

A terrible groan sounded as she stepped into the building.  Amelia turned and found Dr. Landon and two other men standing over someone.  Light streamed down through a large hole in the roof, shining directly on them, and bits of hay and dust fluttered in the brightness.  She swallowed and moved in their direction.

The horse in a stall beside Dr. Landon nickered as she halted at his side.  With a deep breath, she glanced at the injured man.  His leg had turned at an unnatural angle.  And the jagged, white bone protruding from his thigh, oozing blood, needed prompt attention.

The doctor turned to her.  “We must staunch the bleeding,” he said as he took the bag and placed it on the ground.  “Check for further injuries, Mrs. Sinclair.”

Obediently, Amelia moved to the man’s other side and began a search.  She started with his head and neck, feeling for the wetness of blood, bumps, or broken bones.  The man’s face twisted in agony as he groaned and moved his head from side to side.  Satisfied that there didn’t appear to be a neck injury, she checked his chest, sliding her hands along his ribs.  The man howled when she touched his right side.  “Broken ribs, here,” she said.  “Though they haven’t punctured the lungs.  His breathing sounds fine.”

Dr. Landon nodded and began to secure the leg, but as soon as he placed a bandage over the injury, an ear-splitting scream rent the air.  “Hold him,” he said to the men standing nearby.

Amelia scuffled out of the way as the doctor placed a bandage around the injured leg.  The man howled and thrashed, until finally he lost consciousness.  She breathed in a sigh of relief.

When Dr. Landon tied the bandage off, he rose.  “Let’s take him to my office,” he said to the men and together, they hefted the poor fellow up and out of the livery.

Repacking the heavy bag, Amelia followed after them.  For the next two hours, she assisted Dr. Landon with aligning the bone back into place and sewing the broken skin together.  Thankfully, the patient didn’t wake.

“You did extremely well, as always, Mrs. Sinclair,” Dr. Landon stated as Amelia washed the blood from her hands.

She smiled and reached for a nearby piece of linen when the room tilted.  Bees buzzed in her ears. Blinking rapidly, her legs went weak.  And then she was in Dr. Landon’s arms, being carried to one of the bedrooms on the second floor.

He settled her on the bed wearing a worried frown.

“Really, Dr. Landon, this isn’t necessary.” After the feeble protest, she attempted to rise.

He placed a hand on her shoulder to keep her in place.  “Stay and rest for a while.”

Amelia lifted her head from the pillow.  “I’m fine, truly.”  Though she felt like a limp, wrung out piece of cloth.  Spent of all her energy, she settled back with a yawn, wondering why she couldn’t even make it out of the bed.

Heaving a sigh, Dr. Landon gave her a stern look.  “Is there something you haven’t told me?”

Her heart quit, then slid down to her toes.  Did he find out who she really was?  Did he know about Julian?  “Tell you what?” she asked faintly.

“I saw how green you’ve been looking the last few days, my dear.”  His hand covered hers.  “I didn’t put it together until now.”

“Put what together?” She wondered when he was going to start shouting for someone to fetch the magistrate.

Silently, he assessed her, cocking his head to the side.  Then surprise flared into his eyes.  “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?” she asked, hedging for more time.  She needed to plan her escape—

“You may very well be with child, Mrs. Sinclair.”  He squeezed her hand.

Amelia knew for certain if she hadn’t been lying down, she would have toppled onto the floor.  “No, Dr. Landon,” she shook her head, “that cannot be.” 

An indulgent smile touched his lips.  “Your cousin, Sir Mountjoy, indicated your husband’s passing had happened recently.”  His brows inched up.  “So it’s possible, is it not?”

Numbness washed over her.  She couldn’t think.  Dr. Landon’s mouth began to move, and she struggled to understand his words.

“…Can be certain.  I hate asking such a personal question, but when was your last monthly?”

Relief filled Amelia.  She could breathe again.  Yes, she recalled those annoying four days clearly.  It was…  She closed her eyes, her relief going up in flames.  Just before she had married Julian.  Three months ago.

****

“The Duchess of Claremont, my lord, to see you.”

Julian turned from his packing.  “Thank you, Wentworth,” he replied, moving past the aged butler.  With swift steps, he marched down the staircase and into the gold drawing room where his sister waited.

“Megan, is it Alex?” he asked, grasping her hands.

Her smile revealed that Alex wasn’t injured in any way, yet her visit did have something to do with him.  “Alex is fine, brother dear.”

He released her hands, frowning slightly.  “Then what is it?”

“Alex insists on going to Eton as scheduled.”

That surprised him.  “Indeed?”  Then the reason for his son’s wish to move to Eton dawned.  “Ah,” he spun on his heel and went for the liquor cart.  Splashing two fingers of Scotch whisky into a tumbler, he turned back.  “Alex wants to escape.”

Megan drew her brows together.  “What do you mean?”

He took a generous gulp.  “He won’t have his family around to watch him.  He will try to find Amelia on his own.”

“Julian,” she marched up to him, “the headmaster and his instructors will surely watch him.”  Her hand settled on his arm and her voice softened.  “We shall explain our fears.  They will be prepared if we warn them.”

“I don’t know, Megan…”

“Even as closely as we’ve been watching him, Alex could have escaped on numerous occasions.”  Her hand slid away.  “You know that.”

He blew out a breath and nodded, knowing his sister was right.  Yet, he remembered how the hope died in Alex’s eyes when he came through the door without Amelia.  The child was distraught and unpredictable at the moment.

“I think you should let him go.  This is something he has wanted all his life.”  Megan shook her head.  “He has been denied so much.  Too much,” she said in a raspy whisper.

Julian took another gulp of his drink and closed his eyes.  “All right.  He can go.”

“Good.”

He glanced down at his sister, frowning as he realized she always got her way.  “Little witch,” he said affectionately.

Her smile broadened momentarily, then she sobered.  “Julian, there is something else.”

“I cannot wait.” He threw back the rest of his drink and set the empty tumbler on the table behind him.

When Megan cleared her throat, Julian looked sharply at her.  His sister never stalled for time.  “Out with it.”

She bit her lip, then straightened her shoulders, facing him squarely.  “I can get a message to Jack.”

The words flew from her lips so fast, it took Julian a few seconds to realize what she had said.  But when he did, he was livid.  “Why didn’t you tell me you could dispatch a message to that man?”

“Now, Julian,” she held up one hand, “remember I am your beloved little sister.”

He stalked forward, taking her by the upper arms.  “Tell me where he is, Megan.”

She scowled up at him.  “I said I could get a message to him, not that I know where he is.”

Julian ground his teeth, the urge to bellow growing strong.  Instead, he reined in his temper and released his sister.  “Then send him a message.”

Rubbing her arms, she nodded.  “I already have.”

“Where did you deliver it?”

She jutted out her jaw in that stubborn fashion he knew all too well.  “I’ll not tell you that.”

He swore, plowing his right hand through his hair.  “You realize the man who shot me could have been that bloody pirate?”

Her eyes narrowed as anger stained her cheeks pink.  “Jack did not shoot you, Julian.  I am certain of that.”  Her frown deepened.  “Besides, he saved Amelia’s life.  And mine.  Doesn’t that mean something to you?”

Of course it did.  His fury drained away and he released a sigh.  “What did you say in the message?”

She crossed her arms.  “I explained to Jack that we
know
Amelia wasn’t the one who shot you, that we are all terribly worried about her.”  Megan paused, then her voice went soft.  “I also told him you want your wife back.”

Julian stared down at his sister and silently acknowledged that was the simple truth.  No matter how many times he tried to convince himself he wanted Amelia back because of Alex, he knew better. 
He
wanted her back.  He missed her.

He loved her.

He pulled Megan into a tight embrace.  “Thank you, Moppet,” he whispered into her sweet-smelling hair.

Her arms came around his middle and she squeezed.  “You’re welcome, Jules.”

Julian could not return to his ship without making a stop along the way.  He paced the Claremont gold salon and waited.  A door finally opened and he swung around, half expecting to see his sister entering with a worried frown and a half-hearted excuse.  He was relieved to see the very person he had summoned stepping into the room instead.  “Thank you for seeing me,” he said, waving for the footman to leave them alone.

Halting after only two steps inside the room, Alex glanced up.  “I came because Megan asked me to, not because I wanted to.”

“I understand,” he said softly and stepped closer to the boy.  “Did she tell you I gave permission for Eton?”

Alex gave a sharp nod and dropped his gaze to the floor.

Julian moved closer.  “I also wanted to come here and let you know I am heading back out to sea to find your mother.”

Alex continued to stare down at his new hessians.  The right boot already had a spray of mud splattered against the side, Julian noticed, and thought back to the conversation he’d had a few hours earlier with Megan.  The boy was cunning enough to escape, might have even been plotting a course of action already, he admitted with a bit of pride despite the circumstances.

“I thought you should know why it is so important I find her,” Julian said softly and watched Alex’s shoulders stiffen.

When half a minute ticked by without elaboration, Alex raised his head, curious despite trying to look indifferent.  “Why is it important for you to find her?”