Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series) (33 page)

So he would never divulge a bond with her. He would never—by the slightest word or deed—allow anyone to realize he had a connection to her at all.

“Miss Teasdale came to see you?”he blandly said. “So?”

“She’s very upset that you won’t let her visit you.”

“Why would I have her visit? She and I are scarcely acquainted.”

The lie was so hideous that John wondered if he might be struck by lightning.

“She’s such a fine young lady. I can’t believe you ruined her.”

“That’s certainly the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I detest that you aren’t making better choices in your affairs.”

“Despite what she claimed, I had no amorous relationship with her.”

“She’s such a sweet girl, and she is so pointlessly fond of you.”

“I barely know her. I can’t imagine why she would be.”

“I’m a good judge of character, Jean Pierre. She wasn’t lying about your liaison, so I must suppose you’re denigrating her in some misguided attempt to protect her.”

“If I am, or if I’m not, you don’t get to play the role of
father
in this drama. None of this is any of your concern.”

“Let me help you, Jean Pierre.” Charles was practically begging. “Let me work to have you freed. I’m a peer of the realm. If I give you an alibi, they can’t kill you.”

“I’ve already explained: I don’t care if they kill me. There’s no reason to fight against Fate.”

“You could marry Miss Teasdale,”Charles passionately urged. “You could start a life with her, sire some children, have a family of your own. You could be happy.”

“I’m plenty happy,”John insisted, but he was secretly raging.

There could be no greater ending than to be a different man, from a different world. There could be no greater ending than to wed Sarah. But as quickly as the notion arose, he tamped it down.

Sarah deserved to have a grand future. What she
didn’t
deserve was to have a murdering thug for a husband. The genie was out of that bottle, and there was no way to shove it back inside.

Everyone in the kingdom knew John’s identity. Everyone knew the stories, knew the truth. If he was Sarah’s husband, people would constantly whisper and gossip and accuse. She’d never have a moment’s peace.

It was better if there was no evidence of an association between them. It was better if he died.

Charles must have realized it was futile to argue. He stared at John, and John stared back. John felt raw and ragged, as if they’d been physically brawling, as if he’d been cut and beaten and stabbed all over again as he had been that day at Bramble Bay when the soldiers caught him unaware.

“You should probably be going,”John murmured.

“What should I tell Miss Teasdale?”

“Don’t tell her anything.”

“You have no parting words for her?”

“No, none.”

Charles scowled. “Oh, John, that seems particularly cruel.”

“She’ll get over it.”

Charles pushed himself to his feet, and he appeared much older than he had when he’d entered. Some of his urbane charm had vanished. He looked weary and tired.

“I’ll keep fighting for you,”he said. “Even if you refuse to help yourself, I’ll help you.”

“I told you, Lord Trent: I’ll deny any kinship. You’ll be wasting your time.”

“I’ll do it for Sarah Teasdale, you stupid ass. I’ll think of her and how she lights up when she talks about you.”

Charles started out, and John thought he was glad to have his father leave. Instead, he was swamped by loneliness and doubt. Should he let Charles walk away? Was he mad to decline Charles’s offer of assistance?

He rippled with disgust. The questions were ridiculous.

Charles had never spent a single minute worrying about John, and at this late date, it was absurd to consider Charles as some sort of savior. He’d never been of any use or value to John, and it was silly to permit a flicker of hope to flare.

John had always known he’d meet a bad end. It had finally arrived, and he felt half-dead already, as if he had one foot in the grave. Very soon, it would be over. Who would miss him?

Raven. And Sarah. They’d both grieve for a bit, then they’d move on.

Yet as Charles reached the door, he said, “Charles…”

His father turned. “What?”

“Let me give you something.”

John went to his desk and retrieved the deed to Bramble Bay. He’d planned to have Reggie take it to her, but Charles could deliver it. Though John hadn’t deemed himself anxious for his father’s good opinion, apparently he was. The gesture might make John seem less of a cad in Charles’s eyes.

He hurried over and handed the document to Charles.

“What’s this?”Charles asked.

“It’s the deed to Bramble Bay. I’ve signed it over to Miss Teasdale, and I dated it months ago—long before my arrest—so the Crown can’t seize it after I’m hanged.”

“You’re being very shrewd, very wise.”

The Crown would confiscate any of his possessions they could locate. Reggie had hidden most of them, and in John’s will, what could be salvaged was bequeathed to Raven. But Sarah could have Bramble Bay. She’d be safe there, and her status as a property owner would ensure she’d find a decent husband.

“Tell her…” John had to swallow twice so he could continue. “Tell her to marry well. To be happy.”

Charles sighed. “When you attacked Tristan Harcourt, there was a woman on the ship with him.”

John’s cheeks flushed with shame. He vividly recalled the pretty blond. She’d been so devoted to Harcourt, so fiercely protective. John had envied Harcourt for having such a loyal doxy.

“I remember her.”

“Her name is Harriet.”

“I heard they survived, that they wed when they got home.”

“They did.” Charles studied John. “Were you aware that she’s your sister?”

John scowled. “She’s what?”

“You were so eager to kill your brother, but you almost killed your sister, too.”

John shook his head. “You’re lying. You have to be.”

“I’m not. They’re my daughters—she and her twin sister, Helen—along with your sister, Fanny. Is this the legacy you’ll leave to them? Is this the memory they’ll have of you? That you tried to murder Harriet and you don’t even care? That you’ll let the King execute you without a whimper of protest? Have you ever considered your sisters and how they might feel about it?”

Charles whipped away and left.

John stood, paralyzed with guilt and remorse, listening as his father’s footsteps faded down the hall.

At the last second, John raced over and called, “Charles?”

“What?”his father said again.

“I had no idea. Tell her I’m sorry.”

“You can tell her yourself—if you decide you’re man enough to fight for your life. Why Miss Teasdale has such faith in you, I’ll never know.”

Then he disappeared through the barred gate, a guard slammed it shut, and John staggered into his cell and collapsed down on his bed.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Raven huddled in the dark, watching for Reggie Thompson to emerge from a nearby tavern. There was only a sliver of moon, and no lamp lit on the corner pole, which suited Raven’s purposes.

Reggie liked to sit in clean, tidy offices, pouring over ledgers and adding long columns of numbers. He didn’t like to get his hands or clothes dirty. But Annalise’s treachery had guaranteed they had to carry out duties that weren’t normally expected.

Finally, Reggie staggered out, pretending drunkenness in case any of the patrons inside saw him leave. As the door swung shut, he straightened and hurried away.

He passed the spot where Raven lurked like a specter, but didn’t glance in his direction.

“He’s had her declared a lunatic,”Reggie whispered. “He’s had her locked away in Bedlam Hospital.”

He kept on down the block to their carriage.

Raven listened as Reggie climbed in. Then the narrow street was quiet again.

Another hour dragged by before Archibald Patterson stumbled out of the bar, but Raven hadn’t minded the wait. The interval had given him plenty of opportunity for his fury to boil. Not that he’d needed to become any angrier, but an excess of temper focused him.

Patterson swayed to and fro, then unbuttoned his trousers and took a piss on the wall of the building. He shook his cock, shoved it in his pants, and fastened them again.

Once finished, he tottered away, humming an off-key sailor’s jig. He walked by Raven without noticing him, and Raven slid from his hiding spot, moving like a ghost, like the Angel of Death.

The past few weeks had been a nightmare of disasters—all caused by Annalise—and there were several loose ends that had to be tied. Starting with Archie Patterson.

Raven had many irons in the fire as he plotted various vengeance for various people. First and foremost, he’d rushed to retrieve Caroline from her brutal husband, only to learn from his servants that the man had never brought her home from Bramble Bay. No one knew where she was, and a terrified housemaid had nervously confided that she was afraid Patterson might have murdered Caroline.

Patterson had been strutting around town, going to work, going to supper, acting as if he’d never had a wife. Raven had finally followed Patterson to his favorite tavern, had sent Reggie in to feign friendship and ply Patterson with liquor until he babbled secrets he hadn’t meant to reveal.

The bastard had locked her in an asylum! And not just any asylum, but the most foul, dangerous, squalid one in the land. There were occasions in Raven’s life where he regretted his penchant for violence, but this was not one of them.

Patterson approached the entrance to an alley, and Raven swooped in, grabbed him by the waist, and whisked him into the shadows. In a flit of a second, he and Patterson were alone.

“What the hell…?”Patterson drunkenly mumbled.

Raven threw him against a wall. He banged his head very hard and would have collapsed to the ground, but Raven clutched his coat and kept him on his feet.

“If you’re hoping to rob me,”Patterson muttered, “you’re out of luck. I emptied my purse in the tavern.”

Raven drew a knife from his boot. The blade was long and sharp, and moonlight reflected off it. Patterson’s eyes widened with terror as Raven dug the tip into the soft skin below his chin.

“Where’s your wife, Archie?”Raven hissed.

“My wife?”

“Take a look at my face. I realize it’s a tad dark in here, but take a good look. Do you remember me?”

Patterson opened his mouth to shout for help, and Raven jammed an elbow into his cheek, breaking the bone. Patterson winced in agony and might have fainted, but Raven slapped him so he’d remain conscious.

“It’s pointless to call for help, Archie,”Raven whispered. “You can’t be rescued from me. Now tell me where you’ve put your wife.”

Patterson smirked. “I have no idea where she is. She ran off months ago.”

“Let’s review what I told you that day at Bramble Bay.”

“Fornicator. Adulterer.” The words were slurred, blood gushing from his nose and dripping onto his shirt.

“Those are some of my best traits. Would you try to focus, Archie? You must recollect what I told you. I warned you that if I ever saw you again, I’d kill you. Did you think I wasn’t serious?”

“I’m not afraid of you,”Patterson blustered. “I’ll complain to the authorities that you seduced my wife, then threatened me. A man has rights.”

“Yes, he does,”Raven amiably agreed, “and
my
right is to protect the woman I love. I know where she is, Archie.”

Patterson frowned. “You couldn’t possibly.”

“Caroline always insisted you drank too much. I guess she was correct.” Raven dug the knife in further, deep enough to make Patterson squirm and moan. “Tell me what’s become of her. If I hear it from your own stupid lips, I’ll let you live.”

“Bedlam Hospital,”he blurted out. “The whore is in Bedlam, and I’ll never free her. She’ll die there.”

“Didn’t you know, Archie? With a big bribe, a fellow can purchase any conclusion, and I’m very, very rich.”

Raven moved the knife from Archie’s chin, and Archie relaxed, foolishly believing the attack was over. Before he had time to grasp that it wasn’t, Raven plunged the blade into his stomach, twisted it, and gutted him like a fish.

Patterson lurched as if he might protest, but it was too late.

“Sorry, Archie, but I’m a renowned liar. I never intended to let you live.”

Raven released him, and he fell to the muck on the cobbles, a fitting end for the despicable swine. Raven tarried a minute, then a minute more, until Patterson’s heart stopped beating.

He reached into Patterson’s coat, sliced through the chain on his purse, and pulled it out. Patterson had claimed he’d spent all his money in the tavern, but some coins clinked together.

During the assault, Raven had noted a street urchin hiding farther down the alley. He tossed the wallet in the boy’s direction.

“The nob said he spent his last farthing on liquor,”Raven murmured, “but he hasn’t. You can have what’s left.”

The boy scampered out to retrieve the purse, then vanished again. Raven almost reminded him to get rid of it, to pitch it in the Thames where it would never be found, but Raven didn’t suppose the lad needed a warning.

Raven, himself, had been an orphan on the streets. A child like that didn’t require instructions on how to survive.

He whipped away and calmly proceeded to the carriage parked down the block.

“Take us to Bedlam Hospital,”he told the driver.

The man blanched. “This time of night? Are you sure?”

“I have business there that can’t wait until morning.”

Reggie poked his nose out the window and asked as the driver just had, “Bedlam? Now? It’s almost midnight.”

“I’m not leaving her there another second. Don’t expect me to.”

* * * *

Caroline was lying on a cold floor in a line of twenty other women. They were sleeping, but she wasn’t. Since the day she’d first arrived, she hadn’t been able to rest.

She was consumed by the worst feelings of dread and shame. Shame—because she could never have envisioned her life descending to such a low precipice. Dread—because the facility was filthy and dangerous. If she closed her eyes, she was afraid she wouldn’t be alive at dawn to open them again.