Silent Revenge (6 page)

The girl walked to the chair and pushed it so near him their knees almost touched.

She seemed confident enough, and yet, he swore her hands shook as she placed them in her lap.

“You wish to sit this close to me?” he said with a deliberately provocative smile. He would let her play this out.

“I…I would like to sit where I can see you clearly,” she said, and her voice trembled.

“Very well, Miss Stanton. Is there anything else you wish to offer me?”

She stared at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Anything else? I’m afraid I don’t understand. What else do you need?”

Simon stood and leaned forward. He touched his hand to the soft skin on her face, then skimmed his fingers down her throat, then moved downward. “Perhaps your company for the night? Was that part of your bargain?”

She slapped him.

Before he knew what had happened, she reached out with amazing speed and smacked him hard on the side of his face.

Simon pulled back and watched her eyes open in alarm. Her hand few to her mouth to cover a muffled cry when she realized what she’d just done.

“I guess not,” he said with a shrug. “’Tis a shame.”

She squeezed her eyes shut as if to block out the sight of him watching her. In the glowing candlelight, he could see the scarlet coloring of her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

The words seemed sincere, but her voice sounded harsh, barely believable.

Simon sat back in his chair and smiled. Somehow he wasn’t convinced she regretted slapping him. He gave her time to compose herself, waiting for her to recover and look at him. “And how much money did you come to offer, Miss Stanton? I will wager it’s just enough to cover my debts and pay off all my creditors with perhaps a little left over to get me by until I can get back on my feet. Am I correct?”

“I do not know, my lord,” she said, the defiant gleam back in her eyes. “I have no idea how much you are in debt. I only know how much money I have to give you.”

The girl lifted her hand to reach into the small reticule hanging from a cord around her wrist. He heard her breathe a heavy sigh as she lifted out a folded piece of paper from her cloth bag.

“I’m quite sure it will be enough,” she said, holding on to the note she’d taken from her bag.

“Yes. I’m sure it will be enough.” Simon watched her intently as he fingered the three-cornered tear in his leather chair. For a moment he thought she wouldn’t give him the paper. “May I see how much my friend thinks it will take to cover my debts?”

She hesitated another second, then placed the folded paper in his hands. Simon opened it and stared at the number at the bottom of the page.

He looked again. Then blinked and looked once more.

He glared at the woman who gave the harmless impression of innocence, then in a blinding rage, crumpled the paper and threw it to the floor. “Bloody hell, woman!”

Simon bolted from his chair and towered over her. “Is this a joke? What kind of fool do you think I am?”

Her eyes grew wide with alarm, and this time her trembling was unmistakable.

She jumped from the chair and reached down to pick up the paper, then clutched it to her breast.

At least she had the common sense to get away from him. He wanted to strangle her.

“I want to know who put you up to this and why!” His gaze raked over her, from her plain clothes and lack of jewels, to the frayed cuffs on her gown. How did she expect him to believe she possessed that kind of money, looking like she did? “Look at you. You barely look able to feed yourself. And that dress.” He stopped long enough to look at the confusion written on her face. “Well?”

“I’m sorry. What did you—”

“I want you to go back and tell whoever sent you that I didn’t fall for your scheme.” Simon tightened his fingers around the corners of the chair where she’d been sitting. “Did you honestly think I would believe your lies?”

He watched as a look of desperation filled her eyes. “Answer me, dammit!”

“I’m telling you, it’s the truth. The money is mine, and I’m willing to give it to you if only you will—”

“Will what, woman?”

“If only you will—”

She stared at him with an unblinking gaze and swallowed harshly. “Marry me,” she whispered in a voice so soft he barely heard her.

He stepped back from her as if her nearness offended him, and stared at her in abject disbelief.

When he could stand her look of desperation no longer, Simon turned away from her. Who would dare to play such a cruel trick on him? Surely not James? Rosalind? The thought that it might be Rosalind turned his stomach, and he swallowed the bile that threatened to choke him.

“Get out.”

He didn’t wait to see if she moved. With his back to her, he braced his arms against the mantle. The logs in the fireplace crackled with a soothing, comforting sound, so opposite the rage and turmoil boiling within him.

“You don’t understand, my lord. Please, turn around so I can talk to you.”

He clutched his fingers tight against the mantle and gritted his teeth. He couldn’t bear to look at her. “Did you honestly think your little scheme would work?” he whispered.

“Please, sir. You must look at me.”

“Did James know you were going to try to force marriage on me? Or was that your own idea?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Do you have any idea how cruel your little joke is?”

“Look at me.”

“Do you?”

“Look at me!”

“Answer me, woman.”

“You must look at me!”

“Damn it! Answer me!”

Simon spun around to face her. In two long strides he reached her. “Bloody hell, woman,” he shouted, holding her firmly at arm’s length. “I said, answer me! What is the matter with you? Are you deaf?”

She stood rigid before him, her expression pale and frozen with shock. Simon stared at her for a long, tense moment, then dropped his hands from her shoulders and let his arms fall limply to his side.

“Bloody hell. You are.”

Chapter 4

J
essica swallowed against the lump in her throat and answered the horrified expression on the Earl of Northcote’s face with a determined glare of her own.

She would never get used to that look.

“If you are truly deaf, how do you know what I’m saying?”

“I can read your lips. As long as you face me when you speak, I know what you are saying.”

She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, bracing herself to battle his prejudice, his disgust. She could not fail. She was far too desperate to let him intimidate her.

She studied his face closely. Such a fierce look in his eyes. Such…

She looked again, expecting to recognize a loathing expression, the repulsion she usually saw, but she saw neither. What she read was his explosive anger. A mistrust that bordered on betrayal.

This was worse than the look she would encounter if society ever found out. Heaven help her. He was the most formidable man she’d ever seen.

The perfect man to face Colin.

The earl paced back and forth near the fireplace as if he needed the movement to clear his confusion. Or to control his anger. “Sit down,” he ordered, pointing to the chair. The hard look in his eyes said that refusing to comply was not an option.

Jessica sat in the chair and waited while he searched for another glass to replace the one he’d smashed against the wall. When he couldn’t find one, he tipped the bottle and drank, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The fames behind him outlined his powerful physique, emphasizing his long, muscular legs and the massive width of his shoulders. Heaven help her but he was intimidating.

“Who are you?” he asked, pinning her with his foreboding glare.

“My name is—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “I know your name! I want to know who you are!”

Jessica wanted to tell him it did no good to yell at someone who was deaf. Instead, she concentrated on his lips. He talked so fast it took all her ability to keep up with him.

A vein stood out on the side of his neck, and the muscles in his jaw worked furiously He swiped a hand over his jaw in frustration while he waited for her to explain.

She took a fortifying breath. “My father was the late Sir Henry Stanton. His—”

“Bloody hell.”

Jessica stopped short. His blackened gaze focused on her face, impaling her with a frown so ferocious it caught the breath in her lungs.

“Who did you say was your father?”

“Sir Henry Stanton. He founded Stanton Shipping and Stanton Mining.” Jessica studied the questioning look in his eyes. Something she said caused an obvious reaction. “Both companies seem to have been quite successful. Perhaps you knew of him?”

“Yes,” he answered, but there was animosity written on his face. “Then that would make you Baron Tanhill’s…” He stopped as if he could not finish the sentence.

“Stepsister,” she answered, watching for a sign of recognition. She didn’t have long to wait.

“That’s impossible. Henry Stanton had no daughter. I may be drunk, but I’m not so sotted that I wouldn’t remember if Stanton had a daughter.”

Jessica clenched her fists together in her lap and held tight. “He did.”

His eyes narrowed, the glare in them as black as midnight, as deadly as a double-edged rapier. “
If
your father was Henry Stanton,” he said, making it clear he did not believe her, “I met him once when I was younger. He did not mention you.”

“He wouldn’t,” she answered. “Because of my…my deafness, my father did not ever talk of me. He was very protective. He thought it best to shelter me from the public.”

The effort to remain focused on him was difficult as his black gaze stared at her with blatant disbelief—and revulsion. It was not surprising that he saw her as society would. Lacking. Not quite whole.

The earl tipped the bottle to his mouth again and paced the length of the room. His lips moved and his hands fisted at his side. Heaven help her. He was talking.

“Excuse me, my lord,” she interrupted. “I don’t know what you’re saying unless you look at me.”

He stopped his pacing and stared at her, then looked at the chair that sat opposite her. When he reached the chair, he sank onto the cushion.

The negative impact of what she’d just told him was evident. The extent of her disability was a huge barrier.

For a long moment he kept his gaze lowered. When he raised his head, his black glare riveted her with his anger. “Why are you here?”

“According to my father’s will, I will soon come into a great deal of money. For the last ten years, I was convinced my stepbrother, Baron Tanhill, was dead. He led all of us to believe he was, but I recently discovered that he is alive.”

The earl’s lips twisted sardonically. “Yes, he is very much alive.”

“Do you know him?”

“Yes, I know him.” He took another swallow from his bottle. “That does not work to your advantage,” he said when he lowered the bottle.

“I know,” she whispered. “No one who ever met my stepbrother had a favorable impression of him. No one who ever dealt with him didn’t come away from the experience without fearing him.

“Perhaps now you can understand why it’s important that I marry before he comes back. Why I need to separate myself from him.” She paused. “It’s only your name I require, Lord Northcote. Nothing more.”

“But if I give you my name, won’t you lose your wealth to me?”

“I don’t care about the money, sir.”

“Ha!”

The earl threw his head back and laughed. His reaction startled her.

“You surely don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” His dark gaze focused on her more intently. “I assure you, woman, I am not that big a fool. There is not a female alive who does not care about money. As you have probably heard, I am an expert on that subject.”

“Actually, I have no idea what events in your past helped to form your ideas concerning female greed, nor do I care. Whatever reassurance you need, I will give it to you. The money is not important to me. The amount you saw on that paper will be yours once we marry. It’s only your name I require.”

He studied her more closely. “Why me? Why did you choose me?”

She held her ground. “I saw the way you intimidated all of society when you appeared at Lady Stratmore’s ball. There was not one person there who was not in awe of you—and even a bit fearful.”

The earl rubbed his fingers against his forehead as if that could ease his weariness. He looked so very tired. As if someone had placed the weight of the world upon his shoulders a very long time ago and had neglected to come back to help him carry it.

“I want you to leave. I’m far from sober, and I don’t believe one word—”

“No. I will not go. At least not until you agree to consider my proposal.” She could not back down until she’d given this her total effort. Somehow she had to convince him that saving his inheritance would be worth being married to her. “My father left me a great amount of wealth. It could all be yours. You would not lose Ravenscroft. You would not lose—”

“Damn you, woman. Stop your lies. I would rather watch every stone and timber of Ravenscroft fall down at my feet than marry you.”