Passion (18 page)

“Trust me, when I first arrived at Raith’s
the shine on my boots was on my mind, but after I realized….” Jules
could not pull off the humor and shuddered.

Blaise lightly flexed his fingers. “Chin up,
brother. If he doesn’t live through this, it isn’t because you
didn’t try to save him.”

“He was…possessed.”

“Um.” Blaise moved his hand away and sighed.
“The world can be a very dark and cruel place. Raith was cheated
more than any of us.”

When he and Ry left, Jules stood and walked
up the stairs to the room Raith was in.

Chapter 6

Caroline had come home after her too brief
tryst with the Captain. She dressed in her best gown and managed to
make it to the assembly hall with her maid in tow, on time. Her
father cried off, a bit under the weather he said, but Caroline
forgave him that lie, seeing as how she was telling them too often
herself these days.

Harriet had not met her at the park, and
neither was she there tonight, though it was a gathering of the
cream de la cream and boring beyond measure. Caroline did not blame
her for skipping it.

She left at a decent time, her mind not
wanting to be preoccupied with dancing and nodding prettily, but
wishing to savor what had happened, and what she felt like in the
coach.

As soon as she entered the house however, she
knew something was wrong.

Her father was standing in the foyer, looking
strained and obviously having watched for the coach. He requested,
“Join me, in the study, Caroline.”

Half afraid she had been spied at the
coffeehouse with the Captain, Caroline felt her stomach sink.

“Yes, father.” She handed her cape and gloves
to the maid and cinched her hands together, walking behind her
father to a well-lit study.

One glance at the half drank bottle of brandy
on his desk, and she knew whatever it was, it was not going to be
good.

Bordwyc went over to the French doors,
running a hand through his hair. “Sit down, Caroline.”

She did, because her knees shook.

“There’s someone here…..someone arrived
before…” He sighed, cursed, and turned to look at her. “I’ve
another daughter. She was born when you were two years old….by a
woman I….cared very much for.”

“She’s here?” Caroline sat up.

His mouth turned grim. “Yes. But not well.
That’s not the worst of it.”

Her body could feel his emotion, his turmoil,
and Caroline murmured, “Just tell me, father. Whatever it is,
whatever I can do…”

His eyes watered a moment and he stared at
her. “I love you, Caroline. Just know that.”

“Of course, I know that.”

He swallowed and nodded, looking down at the
carpet while he told of his relationship with Natasha. He said at
one point, “I don’t know what happened. I do not think she is
alive. And I have no idea how our daughter came to be a part of
events that unfolded this night.”

Caroline remembered Harry’s fears. “How is
she?”

“The doctor says battered. The extent of her
injuries is not apparent yet. He’s still with her and waits for her
to regain consciousness.”

“What will you do?”

“I must get her out of London. Artis believes
that is best. He will attempt to get Raith away too. Beyond that, I
do not know. It’s all so…”

“Yes.” She stood and went to him, embracing
him.

His arms around her, her head on his
shoulder, he asked, “Will you be all right here, for a few
weeks?”

“I’ll be fine. It is much better if we put it
out that you were called away on estate business. I shall maintain
my schedule and keep my ears open.” Caroline drew back and regarded
him. “Although, I’d like to meet her.”

“You are too good, Caroline. I don’t deserve
you for a daughter.” He supplied, “I shall need to leave as soon as
possible. You will have to carry on, just as the Earl, Lord
Stoneleigh will have to go on as if nothing happened. Thank
goodness the two of you have such standing as to be beyond
questions.”

“Of course.”

He said, “I think more of him, Stoneleigh,
than I did even before. I did not tell you, but he intends to ask
for your hand, and I could not be happier. For all this…upset, you
must admit, he has everything a father could want for his daughter.
Now that I know he is more than just a handsome face, his
dedication, honor, I feel such an incredible sense of wellbeing
your future is nearly secured and you will complement each other
wonderfully. He’s what you deserve, Caroline.”

Caroline inwardly groaned. Though fascinated
by Jules’s part in it, and the connection between the Duke of
Eastland’s younger son and all—given what her, and society’s
perception of Stoneleigh was. Still, this was not the time to
challenge her father’s views of herself, or his plans. He was
obviously shaken and upset. She would find the right time, she was
sure, to speak with him on the subject of marriage.

“You understand, don’t you m’dear,” her
father cut through her muse. “About my past…and why, I must do
this.”

“More than you know, father.” Caroline smiled
softly. “I’m sorry you lost track of her. I know you would
have…”

“—
-God, yes.” He let her go
and turned, walking to his desk and falling heavy into his chair.
“I would have done right by her. I always wanted to.” He rested his
head in his hands a moment. “I’m sorry.”

Caroline went to him, kissing his temple, and
laying a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, father. All will be
well. I promise you.”

He reached and touched her face, and then
Caroline left him to himself. As she went to her rooms, she heard
servants down the hall at one of the guestrooms.

“Ave you erd?” The maid whispered helping
Caroline out of her gown. “Alf of London is ablaze.”

“I doubt it.”

“And there is a woman ere…”

“Jeanne.” Caroline stepped out of the gown
and handed it to her. “Nothing that goes on in this house, not even
her presence here, is to be repeated.”

“But of course.” The maid looked offended.
“I’ve ran your bath.”

“Thank you. I’ll see to the rest.”

Caroline did, getting her bath and then
resting on her bed in low lamplight. She was a mess of mixed
emotions. Glad, her sister was found and here, shocked at the
tangled tale involving Raith LeClair, Lord Montovon as her father
explained his relation to the Duke—and his true birth. It was
precisely like something Harry would nod and say, see, there is
none perfect, and everyone has their dark side, their secrets.

She was curious, wondering, at the connection
between her sister and Raith, guessing it was something dark.

Finally snuggled under the covers, she
thought of her Captain, his kisses and bolder touches—the burning
passion between them. It would be difficult to see him and sneak
away, but if she arranged her schedule right—with Harry’s help, if
it came to that, she would be able to do so without causing
suspicion.

Most of London would be consumed by talk of
the fires and all the speculation—Again, she would have to play
shock and ignorance there.

What her father said about Lord Stoneleigh
did not surprise her—the pairing up part. They were, by most
accounts, the most suitable match for each other in ton eyes. No,
not surprising, but troublesome. Perhaps this business would delay
any action on his part a bit longer. At least until the time was
right for her to speak with her father. Though—what she would tell
him, she did not know. She had scarcely seen the Captain but twice.
Caroline sighed, her own playing at mystery suddenly seemed very
tangled indeed.

* * * *

Jules sat in a chair near the bed. The room
was low lit and under the scent of medicines wafted the smell of
smoke, carried from the fires in lower London. He had looked out
before he sat himself and seen that the presses on Fleet Street
were still awake. People ran back and forth, standing in clusters
in the street.

Staring broodingly at the brother who was
more a stranger to him than ever—one with a broken ankle, thigh,
other fractures, and having abrasions, burns, gashes, possibly
internally injured too—Jules thought he still looked forged from
iron. Though they shared some of the same bone structure, Raith was
all sinew, as if life—no—doubtless grief and being driven by his
demons, siphoned years off him.

He could see the bitterness. He had seen that
rage and that drive to destroy, before the fire. He wondered at the
difference between himself and Raith—wondered, if every man had
that darkness inside of them?

Jules started when a hand landed on his
shoulder.

“James gave him something that will make him
sleep for several hours. You need rest yourself.”

He stood slowly, eyeing Lady Harriet, or
Harry as she admonished him to call her. He followed her into a
bedchamber. It occurred to him he had seen her many times, and yet
not seen her. The Lady Brunswick was young, and he had for some
reason not noticed it. Her cropped hair was shocking, of course,
the trousers more so, but in his current condition and mood, Jules
could not summon any great outrage at it.

He had reason to be thankful to Harriet
Brunswick.

The bedchamber was spacious, considering the
larger part of the residence was below. Of course, Jules had
noticed all the books, maps and clutter, and vaguely remembered
Harriet being dubbed a bluestocking— something about her father
being an adventurer, and though wealthy, seldom in England.

There was a bit of the unusual in the
chamber, in the sienna and deep blue hues, splashes of bold red.
The furnishings had an island feel to them, and unlike heavy
English fabrics or some of the ton’s fascination with Egyptian and
French, it had an almost airy, open, feel to it.

Jules sat in a chair to remove his boots, and
then undid his collar. His shirt was ruined, his boots a mess,
trousers not much better.

“There’s a wash room there.”

He had not noticed Harriet was on the other
side of the room. Jules nodded and murmured his thanks, but looked
at her as he passed on his way toward the small door. She was in
those trousers and bare feet the white shirt now with the tails
out. She was taller than he had thought, and on the slender side,
but surprisingly in the ridiculous garb, she looked…elegantly
made.

Shaking his head at such fancy, Jules went to
the washroom, making use of soap and water, stripping down, and
grimacing at the prospect of putting his filthy clothing back
on.

A knock sounded at the door. For a moment, he
stood with the towel around his hips, at a complete loss. He could
not very well call for her to enter.

He did not have to.

Harriet opened the door and came in, folded
clothing in her arms. “These were my fathers. They should fit
nicely.”

“Thank you.”

She cast him a glance before she shut the
door, an up and down look, before meeting his eyes. “You’re
welcome.”

Feeling, she was laughing at him. Jules
pulled on the soft gray trousers and cotton shirt. He found a brush
for his damp hair and carrying his dirty clothing out, left them in
a pile, thinking his fastidious valet would likely burn the lot of
them.

Harriet passed him, and Jules did not think
much of her making use of her own bathing closet. To be honest, the
whole ordeal was catching up with him. He sat heavily on the end of
the bed, feeling as if he had dreamed it all, and yet just across
the hall a light shone from the room Raith was in. It was all too
real, yet as if his own actions had been dreamed. He never guessed
when he left to find Raith’s house, talked to him, anything
this—disturbing, would unfold.

There were subtle sounds coming from the
bathing room, but in the bedchamber, only a pleasant tic of the
clock and the soothing scent of spice, that reminded him again of
India for some reason pervaded. He lay back on the deep indigo
covers, his arm over his eyes. Perhaps he would just rest for a
bit.

Jules must have dozed, for the shift of the
bed had him sitting swiftly up.

“Did I wake you? Sorry.” Harriet grimaced,
climbing onto the bed in a silk robe with peacocks on it.

He blinked. “I beg your pardon.” He started
to rise. “I didn’t see a chaise or chair…”

“There is one, but it’s piled full of
pamphlets and books. In any case, I wouldn’t expect the Earl of
Stoneleigh to sleep in a chair all night.” Her lips curved in a
smile. “Relax, Jules. I’ve no intention of taking advantage of you
whilst you sleep.”

He hesitated, feeling foolish and wondering
why he was the shocked one, instead of the Lady Harry?

She plumped her pillow and laid back, ankles
crossed, hands resting relaxed on her lower stomach. “Besides,
you’re in shock and much too fatigued to be much sport in bed.”

He laughed. He did not expect to, but the
chuckle escaped rather tiredly. He did lie back down, arm over his
eyes again. He was not asleep but was back to thinking.

Obviously, she was too. She murmured, “Shame,
I won’t even get to boast I’ve had you in my bed.”

He drawled, “You’re far too young, Lady
Harry, to have men in your bed.”

“I’m twenty and three, but what are years?
Thanks to my father, I learned to be independent very young.”

He had a million worries on his mind, several
crises going on, and yet he heard himself say, “Are you telling me
you’re an adventurous woman yourself?’

She laughed softly. “You’re so very perfect
and proper, Jules. I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?”

“Not yet.”

She snorted.

He dragged his arm down and turned his head
to regard her. Even while he spoke, he was thinking that Harriet
had very fine gray eyes, beautiful really, and she was handsome in
the face. The short hair was actually a lustrous nut brown and
waved a bit.