Dane didn’t look at her. His hand reached back and pushed her behind him. He kept his gaze on Shorty. “You won’t get a penny out of me.”
“Funny you should say that,” Shorty said. “Wash told me a strange story about you, one I’m sure you wouldn’t want spread about London.”
Ben laughed. “Tell all the stories you want. No one will believe a low-life like you.”
Shorty’s face darkened with anger. “Right…” He nodded at the other three.
Before any of them could move, though, Ben spun on one foot, his fist lifting. Sharla had seen him make a similar move in the ring. She knew how it would end. His fist would smash into the underside of the jaw of the man closest to him and take his feet out from under him.
Anger touched her. Men really were so threatened by Dane they would stoop to extortion and blackmail to belittle him? When did it end? Had he suffered such threats his entire life?
It wasn’t fair.
The injustice of it boiled her blood.
As the third man on Dane’s left reached for her husband, Sharla raise her parasol and beat at his face with it. He reared back, warding her off with his arms. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dane lunge toward the second man, just as Ben’s fist took out the first. Dane landed his own punch, that sounded as solid and decisive as Ben’s.
Hitting a man with a parasol wouldn’t achieve more than irritate him. Sharla wished she had a croquet mallet in her hands, for that would do real harm. All she had was a slender rod with lace on it.
A rod with a pointed end.
She gripped the parasol shaft in her left hand and braced the handle with her right and rammed the point into the man’s stomach. It buried deep and he doubled over with a sick, whistling sound.
Ben stepped past her and swung his left fist, connecting with the man’s chin, which was thrust forward in reaction to her blow.
The tough dropped to the ground.
Dane gripped her arm. “Into the carriage. Quickly,” he told her, guiding her toward the door. “Ben.”
“Coming.” Ben stood over the felled men for a moment, waiting to see if any of them would move once more. Then he looked at Shorty. “Or do I need to deal with you, too?”
Shorty’s eyes were huge. His mouth hung open. His arms were no longer crossed. He looked from still man to sprawled body, astonishment building. It had happened in the blink of an eye. The driver was still climbing up onto his bench.
“Get out of here,” Ben growled. “Don’t ever come back. Hear?”
Shorty didn’t move.
Ben took a step toward him. Shorty turned and ran.
With a shake of his head, Ben stepped over the bodies and climbed up into the carriage.
Dane thumped on the roof and the carriage moved off.
For a moment the three of them sat looking at each other, all breathing hard. Then Ben laughed. It was a quiet snicker.
Suddenly they were all laughing. Sharla wiped her eyes as her relief spilled through her, gay and unfettered.
“I have dealt with many similar moments,” Dane said at last, as their giggles faded. “The most astonishing thing about this one was you two.” He shook his hand.
“You throw a mean punch yourself,” Ben said. “Here, let me look at that.”
Dane held out his hand. The knuckles were bloody. Ben turned the hand, examining them. “You’ve split your soft, entitled skin over them,” he said, sitting back. “The knuckles aren’t broken, though. Pour liquor over the splits when you get the chance and let them heal naturally.”
Sharla held up her parasol. “I bent my parasol. I don’t think it will open again.”
“I will buy you a dozen more,” Dane told her. “A thousand, if you wish.”
“I only need one, thank you,” Sharla replied.
“Two,” Dane said. His gaze met hers. “You need two.”
Her heart leapt.
* * * * *
Once Rhys had been reassured that all was well, Dane insisted that Ben return to the Wakefield house for the morning, to discuss one last piece of business.
Rhys looked puzzled. “What else is there? Another issue?”
“Business,” Dane repeated. “I will be transferring all my legal matters to your firm and I want Ben to represent me in those matters. I trust that this is agreeable to you, Mr. Davies?”
Sharla caught her breath. She had only a vague understanding of the extent of Dane’s affairs. She did know they included three estates, including the big manor at Wakefield and numerous business investments. It was a very large portfolio.
Rhys smiled. “Welcome to the family, your Grace.”
“Dane,” he corrected. “I would be honored if you would use my first name, as your family likes to do.”
* * * * *
As Sharla walked back into the Wakefield townhouse, she finally noticed how light and free she felt. The awareness had been growing all morning. She could float, with very little encouragement.
Dane headed for the library. “There really is a great deal to go over,” he explained, sounding apologetic.
“I’m quite sure there is,” Sharla said. “Go tend to your business. I have a parasol to replace and I am ravenous again.”
“Arrange morning tea,” Dane told her. “We’ll be along shortly.” He took off his jacket. “At the very least, I must pour brandy over my hand as instructed.” He took Ben into the library and shut the door.
Wearing a smile that she could not seem to halt, Sharla went to the morning room, where she hoped to find Mayerick and request an early morning tea.
Melody Wakefield rose to her feet as Sharla entered, throwing aside her embroidery hoop. “You…!” she breathed, her face turning red. “You harlot!”
Sharla drew in a breath, shocked. With slow movements, she turned and shut the heavy door. There was no need for the rest of the household to hear what Melody might say next.
“I saw that…that man, come out of your bedroom this morning!” Melody moved closer to her. “Right here in my son’s house! Right under his nose! You are the most immoral, inadequate excuse for a woman I have ever met!”
Sharla attempted to brace herself against the insults. Of course Dane’s mother would misunderstand. How could she do otherwise? “Keep your voice down,” Sharla told her.
“I will shout it from the rooftops if I must!” Melody cried. She whirled and snatched up the riding crop that had been left on the mantel shelf since the last time she had wielded it. Sharla’s heart sank.
The leather whistled through the air, making her flinch. “You will leave this house at once. I will not tolerate you beneath my roof for a moment longer.”
“It isn’t your roof,” Sharla told her.
Melody ran at her, her hoops swaying and the crop raised, a cry tearing her throat.
Sharla might have cringed, only the last momentous day had cured her of fear over little things such as Melody’s misplaced anger. As the crop snapped down, Sharla reached up and caught Melody’s wrist in her hand.
Melody slammed up against her, surprise making her eyes widen. “You dare…!”
“More than you know,” Sharla assured her and shoved.
Melody stumbled backwards.
“What in the devil is going on here?”
Sharla whirled. Dane stood in the doorway in shirt sleeves, bereft of his waistcoat. The hem of the shirt had come untucked. The sleeve of his right hand had been rolled up out of the way and his hand dripped with golden liquid.
Ben stood behind him, his gaze moving from Sharla to Melody, and the crop in her hand.
“This vile whore and that man cavorted together, right here in your house!” Melody cried, pointing at Ben. “I told you she would prove inadequate! I was right! No child and now, she cuckolds you with brazen contempt!”
Dane let the door go and moved into the room, until he was standing next to Sharla. “You have no right to speak about my wife in those terms. Apologize, Mother.”
Mel
ody made a high-pitched choking sound. “You defend her! You weak, pathetic excuse for a man! If you will not defend your honor, I will!” She leapt again, the crop raised.
Ben stepped in between. He bent and his shoulder rammed into Melody’s torso, halting her more thoroughly than a brick wall. As she struggled, she flailed with the crop.
“His back!” Dane whispered and lunged. He reached for his mother’s hand, attempting to grab the whip and halt her.
She screeched.
The sound made the fine hairs on the back of Sharla’s neck try to stand up. The prickling sensation climbed her spine and she shuddered.
Melody struck at Dane over and over again, the crop whistling and snapping. He grimly tried to catch her wrist and stop her.
Sharla moved closer. Her coordination might be better. She watched Melody’s wrist come down again and snatched at it and squeezed, using all her strength to stop the crop from descending another time.
All three of them had a hold of the woman, who struggled and vented her fury with vile words.
All Sharla could do was to hold on.
Suddenly, Melody stopped struggling. Her body snapped taut. The crop fell from her hand.
Her other hand clutched at her chest. Agony contorted her face.
Breathing in hard little pants, she reached out to Dane. She was trying to speak, yet no words came. Spittle fell from the corner of her mouth as she gripped his shirt, her fingers whitening with desperate strength.
“Mother?” Dane said, alarm in his voice.
His shirt tore with a soft, ripping sound, as Melody fell away from them.
“Ben,” Sharla said urgently.
“I have her.” Ben lowered the woman to the floor.
They bent over her.
Melody Wakefield lay still, her eyes turned upward, unblinking. Her face was gray. She had breathed her last.
Ben put his fingers to her neck, feeling for her heart beat. He looked up at Dane and shook his head.
Dane turned away, his back to both of them.
Sharla gasped and moved to him. She pushed aside the torn edges of the shirt. “Oh my dear God, Dane…”
Beneath the ruined shirt, his back was a mass of crisscrossing scars and still-healing wounds. Some of the scars were so old, they had stretched out in stuttering pale white lines as the boy had grown to man.
Dane spun around, pulling the shirt out of her hands and hiding his back.
Ben put his hand on Dane’s shoulder. “Let us see,” he said gently. “Show us.”
Dane dropped his gaze to the floor. After a moment, he turned.
Sharla held the shirt out of the way, while they studied his back.
“This is what kept you bedridden, a few weeks ago, isn’t it?”
Dane lifted his chin and looked up at the ceiling. “I never dared resist her. She was my mother. She convinced me I was a failure, in all things.”
Ben caught Sharla’s hand in his. “Your bruises. They were from her! You kept telling me it wasn’t Dane. I was blind. Convinced it was he who was beating you.”
Dane whirled to face Sharla. “Not you, too.” His face filled with horror.
“Just the once,” Sharla admitted. She didn’t say why Melody had beaten her. Dane didn’t need that burden on top of everything else he carried. “This time, though, I was too angry to let her do it again.”
“I wish I’d had that courage. Perhaps my life would have gone differently, if I had,” Dane said, glancing at his mother’s body. He stirred and straightened, pulling the ruined shirt around him once more. “The staff would have heard the noise. They must be reassured and a doctor called.”
“You talk to the staff,” Ben said. “I’ll send for the doctor.” He pulled the cloth off the round table in the corner and laid it over Melody Wakefield.
“And I will deal with this.” Sharla bent and picked up the riding crop.
* * * * *
The riding crop was not the only leather implement in the house. Sharla stepped into Melody Wakefield’s room and found a whip and two more crops, which she gathered up, too.
She swept through the public rooms, checking cupboards and crevasses and found another two crops tucked away in corners. It seemed that Melody liked to keep her tools of discipline close to hand.
When Mayerick saw what she was doing, he went away. A few minutes later, he returned with three more crops and another whip, that he added silently to the collection. His gaze met Sharla’s.
“Not you, too?” she whispered, her eyes stinging.
“Anyone who was too slow to respond.” He patted her arm, the one holding the distasteful weapons. “What will you do with them?”
“Burn them,” Sharla said.
“They’re leather. I rather doubt they’ll burn well.”
“Bring the brandy decanter. They’ll burn well enough to be useless to anyone, later.”
He nodded.
Sharla marched through the servants’ hall, which was deserted, although she could hear people whispering behind doors, their tones hushed. Dane had spoken to them, then.
She went through the back door and out into the cobbled yard where the family carriage stood. One of the coke drums stood in the middle of the yard, with holes in its sides for the heat to emerge, and a concave top. The driver and coachmen would keep warm at nights, around it.
She dropped the whips and crops in the bowl.
Mayerick was close behind her. He had a dark bottle in his hands. “Lamp oil,” he told her. “It will burn far more efficiently.”
“Thank you,” she told him as he poured the thick liquid over the leather. “Did you bring matches, too?”
He stepped back and pulled out a big match from his waistcoat pocket. He struck it on the side of the barrel and held the burning match out to her.
Sharla dropped it on to the leather. The oil caught fire immediately and the flames leapt up high.
Mayerick cleared his throat. “I must return to the hall. There are arrangements to be made, and the doctor will be here shortly.”
“Thank you, Mayerick,” Sharla told him. “I want to stay here until the deed is done.”
“Of course, your Grace.”
A few minutes later, Ben and Dane stepped out into the yard. They moved closer to the flames, watching them silently. Dane was properly dressed once more. He stared at the heart of the flames, unblinking.
Then he rested his hand on Sharla’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he murmured.
Sharla caught his hand in hers.
He gripped her fingers and drew her closer. Startled, she let him pull her around the barrel. Then he stepped out of the way and tugged Ben next to her. “You deserve to be happy.”
Sharla cried out her protest. She whirled to face him. “No! I am your wife. You need me. More than ever. What sort of wife would I be, if I left you now?”
“I am no husband,” Dane said. “I never can be.”
“You’re her husband in the eyes of the law and that is all that counts,” Ben said.
“You support her in this, Ben?” Dane said. “You?”
Ben’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “I know what society will do to her—to both of you—if you don’t stay married. You would lose everything. Although, that isn’t why I stand here arguing against my self-interest and making a fool of myself.” His knuckles grew whiter as his jaw worked. “After Sharla married you, I was broken. The boxing, drinking and more. I was sinking deep and I knew it. The last few weeks, though, everything has righted itself. Everything has worked out, and…” He drew in a breath and let it out. “This morning I was happy. Do you know how long it has been since I was happy?” His smile was crooked. “It all happened because of you, Dane. You and Sharla.”
Dane didn’t laugh or dismiss Ben. His gaze was steady. “What are you proposing?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Ben confessed. “We’re walking upon territory where no one has ever been. I do know one thing, though. You need me. And not th
at way. Don’t look so terrified, both of you. You need a friend, Dane, and I think…I suspect, I am your only one.”
Sharla put her hand in Dane’s. “One of two,” she said. “That’s what you were thinking, when you spoke about parasols, isn’t it?”
“It was a foolish moment of wild fantasy,” Dane admitted. He hesitated. “At least, I thought it was.” Hope was building in his face as he looked from her to Ben and back. “In the last few days, I have felt…I’m not sure what I felt. I have been more of a whole man in the last few days than I have in my entire life. It is true, Ben, the two of you make me stronger. I didn’t dare hope…I couldn’t see how it could possibly work. I still don’t, yet I know I want you to stay. Both of you.”
He tugged at Sharla’s hand again. This time, he pulled her in front of him and turned her to face Ben. “There is just one condition,” he said, his hands on her shoulders. “The two of you must love each other wholly and completely, with no reserves. No guilt must touch you. No recriminations and no reservations.”
Ben’s gaze met hers. The heat was there in his eyes, making her shiver. “I have loved Sharla since before you met her,” he said, his voice low. “I knew I could never have her, commoner that I am.”
“While I, the lord, could not keep her if you weren’t here.” Dane squeezed her shoulders. “Sharla, you must have your say in this, too.”
“I think,” Sharla said, her voice shaking, “that I am too overwhelmed to put a coherent thought together. Can I really stay your wife and have Ben, too? Is that even possible?”
“There’s a saying in our family, Dane,” Ben said, pulling her toward him. “Inside the family—”
“We do as we please,” Sharla finished.
“We’re all family now,” Dane pointed out.
Ben kissed her, right there in front of him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Great Family Gathering. Cornwall, October, 1864.
Everyone gathered around Lilly and Jasper’s twin baby girls, while Blanche tried to catch Neil’s eye as she admired his new captain’s uniform.
Marriage of Lies Page 20
