Tanya Anne Crosby (17 page)

The little girl lifted up her new doll. “It’s Christmastime!” she declared.

Chloe shook her head, completely bewildered by the strange scene they’d encountered.

Chloe stopped another woman who passed them, her skirts filled with staples from the market.

“What has happened here?” she asked the woman.

The woman smiled. “Havena’ ye heard?”

Chloe shook her head.

“We’re all rich!” she declared. “Hawk left us all baskets full of money—everyone, everyone!” she said joyfully.

“Everybody?” Chloe asked, aghast.

“Aye!” the woman said, and laughed again. “Oops!” she said, struggling to keep the bundle of goods neatly tucked in her skirt.

It was the necklace, Chloe realized. Tears stung her eyes. “When did he come?” she asked the old woman.

“Last night,” she said, giggling beside herself. “He came like a thief in the night, bearing money and gifts for one and all.”

He must have done it all before he’d come to her and he’d never said a word about it. The realization humbled her. He hadn’t wanted praise, nor had he cared that she knew his good deeds. The knowledge tugged at her heart.

The laughter and joy surrounding her were contagious. Chloe laughed, too. So did Aggie.

“I wonder what he left us!” Aggie said, excited. They raced back to the carriage, both eager to see what gifts had been left at Aggie’s house.

W
hatever gifts had been left for Aggie’s family, joy over it was tempered by Isabel’s condition.

Isabel’s leg was horrid, but thankfully not so bad that it couldn’t be saved. Chloe had seen drawings and read accounts of many who’d lost their entire limbs over this wasting disease. Her father had told her horrible tales of having to saw off people’s arms and legs. It was a dangerous illness.

She’d found Isabel in her bed, sweating profusely, though her mood was scarce dampened by her pain, because in her hand, she held a brand-new doll. Her older brother sat upon the edge of her bed, recounting tales of what he’d encountered on the street.

Chloe’s heart went out to them.

Aggie’s mother had died giving birth to Isabel. Her father had died three years before. It was just the children in the household now—five of them—
and they all relied upon each other. Isabel was, by far, the youngest, with Jack, her cheery little guardian, being the next oldest by two years. The two of them were chattering feverishly while sweat beaded like dew after a storm upon Isabel’s brow.

Chloe had thankfully brought her father’s bag, which contained enough laudanum to put the girl to sleep while she operated.

She sent the little boy from the room, allowing only Aggie to remain to assist her. Their first task was to sterilize the bed and wound. They changed the bedding and cleaned the wound with scalding water once Isabel was asleep and then Chloe surgically removed the infected tissue, praying it hadn’t spread so much that she would have to amputate, after all.

They were fortunate. It was a relatively mild case, and Chloe gave Aggie careful instructions on how to keep the wound sterile to prevent the infection from spreading. Though it wasn’t her place to do so, she suggested Aggie stay with her sister to look after her, fully intending to take responsibility with Lady Fiona once she returned to the manor. She didn’t believe Lady Fiona would refuse Aggie the time off.

Chloe waited until Isabel awoke, to be sure she was well enough, before she made her way back to the manor, exhausted from all the excitement of the day.

Today, she thought, must be the happiest day of her life. She’d very likely saved a young girl’s life, Hawk had breathed new life into this dying town and Chloe was falling in love with Ian.

She closed her eyes and rested her weary head upon the seat, wanting nothing more in that moment than to be able to fall into Ian’s arms.

Edward cursed himself for not adjusting the books sooner. It was just that Fiona had never taken much of an interest in the household accounts. He couldn’t let her uncover the truth now.

And if she did, he couldn’t let her share the knowledge with
his royal highness.

His brain hurt as he stared at the missing ledgers he’d hidden in his room. He could blackmail Lady Fiona, perhaps. He could threaten to tell Ian that she could walk and that there was nothing wrong with her legs. But was that enough to prevent her from taking action against him?

Somehow he didn’t think so.

He could threaten to tell Ian the truth about his father…but if he did that, his royal highness would castrate him and hang his balls from his ears.

That wouldn’t do, either. What good would money do him if he weren’t alive to enjoy it?

He cursed the constable for being such a bumbling fool. He’d given the man ample clues as to Hawk’s identity. He’d even learned about Miss
Simon’s intended rendezvous with him from Emily, the bigmouthed prostitute at the Pale Ale. He’d given that information to the constable, but to no fruition. The fool had, instead of catching a thief, stumbled upon two lovers rolling about the fields like dirty rabbits in heat. The thought of it was disgusting. That Ian could lower himself to such depths was deplorable. Miss Simon was no more than a filthy commoner, with no proper morals. What sort of girl went about pretending to be a physician and peering at men’s and women’s naked forms? It was absolutely despicable.

He would have come straight out and told the constable who Hawk was, but he knew he would have suffered consequences if he had. It could never be Edward who betrayed Julian’s second son.

Edward’s mother had been a servant, perhaps, but he’d shared the same father as Julian. He was certain the only reason Julian had sent him away with Fiona was because Julian hadn’t wished to suffer his presence. How ironic it was that the son Julian would place upon the throne was little better than Edward—a bastard child. It grated on his nerves.

As for Ian, the bugger, it did Edward much good to see him squirm, to have him come to Edward for his paltry allowances, only so Edward could refuse him.

Vengeance could be so ironically sweet.

Fiona had never guessed at his connection to Julian. Despite that they shared much of the same look, it had never occurred to her to question Edward’s birth. She had always assumed and treated him as though he were no better than her own servants, ordering him about, taking him to task— Edward this, Edward that!

She was nothing but a silly twit. For twenty-eight years she’d pined for a man who’d obviously never loved her.

In the beginning Edward hadn’t felt this way about her. In fact he’d felt somewhat of a kinship with Fiona, because they’d both been cast away like so much rubbish. But Fiona had looked beyond him so many years that Edward felt nothing for her now but resentment. He felt it was his right to have the money after all his years of servitude. He’d been loyal to her to no avail; it had gotten him precisely nowhere.

He sighed. What to do…what to do…

He stared at the books, willing the answers to come to light.

Light.

He could burn them…

But if he did, Fiona would continue to question their whereabouts. But what if he burned them…along with the others…
and
the house?

He considered that avenue. The rest of the books
were in Lady Fiona’s room…if he burned one, he would need to burn them all.

He could make it look like an accident….

Today was the day.

The charade must come to an end.

Merrick intended to take full responsibility for the necklace he’d stolen. The jeweler in Edinburgh who’d purchased it had agreed to hold it until Merrick returned, on the promise that Merrick would pay him double the money he’d been given for it. But there was no guarantee that he could safely return it to his mother now that it was out of his hands, and she must know what actions he had taken.

After leaving Chloe he’d gone straight to his bedroom, intending to clean up before facing his mother. God, but he’d loved to have bathed Chloe…massage those lovely shoulders and ease the aches he knew she would feel in the aftermath of their loving.

The entire world had a new perspective this morn.

The constable would be taken care of once Merrick was able to fully address the matter. At any rate, Ian hadn’t any more reason to don his mask and once Hawk joined the ranks of Glen Abbey’s legends, the constable would have no more need to make Hawk’s capture his life’s mission. Merrick
would see to it that his brother had whatever he needed. He would make certain that his father released Glen Abbey Manor and that it was restored to its former glory. For all the injustices suffered here—never mind those committed against himself—he intended to make amends. If his father wasn’t man enough to do it, Merrick would do it for him.

As for Edward, the steward wouldn’t be a problem, either, because Merrick fully intended to rake the bugger over hot coals and then deposit his charcoaled arse on the street. He never had trusted the shifty-eyed steward.

As for Merrick’s father, he didn’t have the first inkling how he would react to the news of his bride, but Merrick didn’t give much of a damn at this point. If he must forfeit his crown, his position, everything he had come to know, he would willingly do so for Chloe.

His mother was another matter entirely.

He couldn’t begin to anticipate how that reunion would go. Some part of him felt certain she would embrace him, some part of him feared she would not. At twenty-eight, how did one stand before one’s mother for the very first time?

What did one say?

What did one do?

Whatever the outcome, he intended to procure for her the finest care—nothing against Chloe, but
he selfishly wanted his wife at his side. But before he revealed himself to Fiona, there was one last thing he knew he must do.

For the sake of everyone involved, it was time to put Hawk to rest once and for all.

In broad daylight Merrick summoned his motley band together and told them all the truth. He trusted them to keep what he would tell them close to their breasts. He had to trust them, because he needed their help to put an end to Hawk once and for all.

After today, Hawk would live and breathe no longer.

With open mouths they sat in the middle of a field on Glen Abbey’s parklands—at Merrick’s request, unmasked. Their expressions revealed only stunned surprise at Merrick’s disclosure. None of them had—nor could they have—suspected, for he and Ian were identical twins.

Despite himself, Merrick had come to care for these men as though they were his own fellows; he wanted them to take no more risks with their lives or with the welfare of their families.

“What of our children? How will we feed them? How will we support our families?” the men questioned him irately.

“Every one of you has more than enough coin
to invest in your newly acquired land. I suggest you put it to good use.”

Rusty’s gaze snapped up to meet Merrick’s in surprise. He was the only one who caught Merrick’s choice of words. “Our land?”

Merrick nodded. “Yours.”

Angus asked, “So you’re just gonna give it to us? But I thought Ian said it wasn’t his to give.”

“It wasn’t, but I’m certain it’s mine—for now—and I am giving it to you. In any case, I cannot believe my brother would begrudge you this small gift for your loyalty.”

“Och,” Donald said in surprise.

“Now go home,” Merrick charged them. He mounted his horse, eager to return to Chloe. “Go and burn your masks,” he told them, then grinned. “While you’re at it, buy yourself a boar or two. I want to smell a bonfire on the horizon tonight. It’s time to celebrate.”

“That’s it?” asked Rusty, his expression seeming suddenly melancholic as Merrick prepared to leave them. “Not you…nor Hawk… I mean, you won’t be…”

Merrick instinctively understood what Rusty was asking and he meant to put the man’s mind at ease. He looked pointedly at Rusty, though he was speaking to each and every one of them. He had learned so much from them and their friendship had humbled him. “My door—and I’m certain I
speak for my brother, as well—will always remain open to you gentlemen.”

“Did you hear that?” Donald exclaimed in a whisper, ribbing Angus. “He called us
gentlemen!
”

“Aye, an’ ’e gave us bloody land,” said Angus.

Overhearing their banter, Merrick grinned and nodded, pleased with their enthusiasm. “Under one condition,” he reminded them. “If you want that land, you have this final task to accomplish together…make certain Hawk never robs again. Put him to death once and for all,” he commanded them, “and the land is yours to do with as you will.” He turned his mount to ride away. “And when you’re through…” he shouted over his shoulder as he rode off, “you’re all invited to attend a wedding!”

“T
here you are, madame,” said Edward. “The remainder of the books…as you requested.”

“Oh, good!” Fiona exclaimed. “You found them!” She had begun to wonder if he would ever deliver them, but felt far more at ease now that he had. If Edward had something to hide, she reasoned, he wouldn’t have brought them to her with such a cheery demeanor. “Where were they?”

“Hidden under far too many layers of dust,” Edward disclosed. “But here they are at last.”

Fiona sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Edward. Will you bring me my tea?” she requested of him. “Would you mind terribly?”

“Not at all, madame,” Edward said, turning at once to do her bidding, gritting his teeth over the injustices of having to fetch tea for his half brother’s cast-off mistress.

He was born to far better than this.

As a last gesture of humility, he
personally
made her tea and then delivered it to her. He set the cup down upon the night table, but she scarce noticed it, she was so engrossed in the blasted ledgers.

He closed the door, cursing her along with Julian’s bastard sons. “Happy reading,” he muttered beneath his breath.

Chloe knocked lightly on Fiona’s door. She was growing quite concerned as Fiona hadn’t called for Chloe’s attendance throughout the entire day. It was hardly like her.

“Who is it?”

“Chloe.”

“Come in,” Fiona bade her, but there was something odd in her tone.

Chloe opened the door and was startled to find such a disarray within the room. Walking past row upon row of books, Chloe eyed them curiously. “Good Lord, my lady, what is all this?”

“Please…close the door,” Fiona said in a hush. The expression upon her face was that of consternation.

Chloe carefully retreated through the precarious stacks to close the door, then made her way back through the mountains of ledgers to Lady Fiona’s bedside.

“Look,” Fiona said, urging her closer. She motioned for Chloe to sit upon the bed. Chloe did as
she was asked, noticing that Fiona’s fingers trembled as she opened a particular book and set it before Chloe.

Chloe hadn’t the first inkling what it was she was looking at.

“Let me explain,” Fiona said, her voice trembling, as well. It was clear to Chloe that she was quite distraught. “These are the household ledgers. They go back to the day when I took over Glen Abbey Manor…er, rather, the day Ian’s father took it over.”

Chloe drew her brows together in confusion. “I don’t understand. I thought Ian’s father was a merchant.”

Fiona shook her head, her eyes full of regret. “God forgive me for all the lies! I was so ashamed. Ian’s father was not a merchant, Chloe,” Fiona said, her eyes misting. “He was…well…he was a prince.”

For an instant Chloe thought Fiona might have gone completely mad, but something about the desperate look in Fiona’s blue eyes convinced her. She remembered the tales and said, blinking, “So it’s true? You married a prince?”

Fiona shook her head again, and this time her expression was melancholy as she told Chloe about Ian’s real father.

“I’m afraid there is so much more,” she added.

Chloe didn’t know precisely what to say.

Fiona’s eyes glazed over with tears and her expression turned to one of such terrible sorrow that Chloe wanted only to hug her—and she would have, but one did not hug Lady Fiona. She was sweet and kind, for certain, but there was a distance she kept from everyone, including her son.

Her eyes met Chloe’s and they were full of torment. “Ian has a brother,” Fiona said and nodded. “His name is Merrick.”

Chloe’s hand fluttered to her mouth in shock.

“A twin,” Fiona revealed.

Something snapped in Chloe’s head; clarity came to her at once.

Everything came together suddenly.

Chloe said, holding her hand up for Lady Fiona to pause in her storytelling, “Just a moment.” She hurried back to her room to grab the ring from where she had hidden it beneath her pillow.

She returned, proffering the ring for Lady Fiona’s inspection. “Do you know what this is?” she asked Fiona.

The look of shock upon Fiona’s face was palpable. Her cheeks paled and her eyes grew wide. She seized the ring from Chloe. “Where did you get this?” she asked frantically.

Chloe knew suddenly just as surely as she stood in front of Lady Fiona that it wasn’t Ian she loved. “Ian gave it to me,” she said.

“That’s impossible!” Fiona declared with cer
tainty. “Ian hasn’t the first inkling of his past or he would have confronted me ages ago. Do you know what this is?” she asked Chloe, holding up the ring.

Chloe shook her head.

“It is the royal crest of Meridian.”

Chloe stared at the ruby stone.

She had
known
something was different about Ian.

But if Ian was Merrick, where, then, was Ian?

Chloe sat, stunned, staring at the ring.

Fiona began to weep. “Dear God…it must be Merrick!” She clutched the ring to her breast as a sob tore from her throat. It sounded as though it had come from the depths of her soul. “I didn’t even know him.” She peered up at Chloe. “Where is he now?” Tears streamed from her eyes.

Chloe shrugged, at a loss for words. He had come to her last night, but she didn’t dare confess that to Fiona. The mere thought of it burned her cheeks.

“You must find him, Chloe,” Fiona charged her. “It is imperative! Let me show you something…” Again she returned to the ledger. “We are supposed to keep a detailed accounting of every penny we spend at Glen Abbey Manor. If ever we spent too much, Julian—Merrick’s father—threatened to remove us from the estate. But look at this…” She pointed to one, two, three en
tries that had no detailed explanation for the sums withdrawn. Each line of withdrawal held an extraordinary sum.

“What does that mean?” Chloe asked her.

Fiona shook her head. “That’s just it. I’ve no idea! Edward claims they are miscellaneous expenditures and claims, furthermore, that they are monies he dispatched to Ian.” She lifted her cold cup of tea from the night table and guzzled from it, her hands trembling. “I don’t believe it! Knowing what I know of my son, he would not take money and hoard it. And he would not lie to me!” She set the teacup down. She made a face as it rattled over the saucer. “Absolutely disgusting! But I’m so thirsty!”

“Shall I go and get you something to drink?” Chloe asked, wanting to help but not knowing what to do.

“No!” Fiona said firmly. “Do not concern yourself with me. You must go and find my son.”

“Yes, madame,” Chloe said.

“And do not call me madame!” Fiona reprimanded her. “Go! And please hurry!”

Hearing the hysteria in Fiona’s voice, Chloe wasted no time. She went, at once, to look for Merrick.

Edward had been waiting in the shadows for his opportunity to sneak into Lady Fiona’s room, but
Chloe had come knocking and he’d stood there in the hall for what seemed an eternity while the two had spoken in hushed tones inside the bedroom.

At one point he’d put his ear to the door to hear what he could hear, but their conversation had been reduced to muffled whispers.

That was not good.

At last Chloe emerged. With a wary glance down each end of the hall, she hurried toward the stairwell.

Edward followed.

The way she was behaving, he feared she must know something. Fiona must have spewed her guts to the girl.

He couldn’t take any chances.

He followed her to the stables, lifted up a board that had fallen upon the rushes and waited. When her back was to him, he rushed forward, smacking her once on the back of the head. She crumpled without a sound, like a paper flower doused with water.