“It’s to be like that, is it?” Waverly said.
She just needed an unguarded moment to make her escape. She daren’t call the servants. It was too late for that option.
“Let. Me. Go!” she whispered.
Waverly laughed, cruelly.
Emma was yanked back—away from Waverly—so fast she lost her footing and fell onto her rear. All the air rushed from her lungs with the impact to the floor. When next she looked up, Waverly was sprawled on his back, holding his bloody face and laughing maniacally.
She gathered up the material at the front of her ruined dress and looked at the man who stood beside her. Her husband. Tears leaked down the side of her face. Silent tears because there were no hysterics, no sobbing. She couldn’t bring herself to speak. To apologize. Beyond Richard, she saw Mr. Lioni. Grace tripped into the room behind him.
The sight did not help quell her tears. They flowed more freely. More abundantly.
Consternation lined her husband’s expression. Mr. Lioni was tense. His actions defensive. Waverly pushed up onto his feet. Swaying where he stood. His right cheek was split open where her husband had hit him. Blood ran down the side of his face, splattered across the white collar of his shirt.
“Why, hallo, Grace.” Waverly snickered. “Come to renew our friendship, too?”
Mr. Lioni stepped in front of Grace, his fists clenched at his sides, his stance strong and menacing. Even the muscles seemed to strain in his neck as he visibly tightened his jaw and clenched his mouth shut, his lips a tight, thin line radiating anger.
* * *
Richard shook with rage. To think what could have happened had he arrived a few minutes later. Had he not heard the commotion …
His fists tightened at his sides. He was ready to strike down Waverly again if need be. How dare that man accost his wife!
Emma was visibly distraught, her color almost waxen and her hands shaking where she clutched the torn material of her gown.
Grace came to his wife’s side, wrapped her arm around Emma’s shoulders, and helped her stand. He should be the one looking after his wife. But he couldn’t. Not with Waverly in his home. The man needed lessons in how to treat a woman.
His eyes met his wife’s. He’d talk with her later. Find out how she knew Waverly and find out why Waverly had been pawing at her. The man looked ready to rape her. Had been about to, had he not …
He was going to kill Waverly.
When the women exited the room, Richard breathed a sigh of relief. Waverly wasn’t a steady man. This was a fact he’d known for many years. A long bout with opium smoking had ruined Waverly’s mind, and filled it with paranoia and madness.
“Why are you here, Waverly?”
Waverly sneered. “Unfinished business with that pretty wife of yours.”
Richard took a menacing step forward. He’d beat the man into the ground for such slander. His wife had no business with Waverly. End of story.
“My wife is no longer here. As I see it, you now have unfinished business with me.”
Waverly eyed Richard’s midsection, approximately where the knife had bitten into his side. The glance told Richard one thing: There was no question as to who had arranged the love slice that had nearly taken Richard’s life.
Waverly was the mesmerized asp waiting for the shift in music to come out of his trance. Waiting for the moment to strike down anyone unlucky enough to get in his way. That had been a good quality in the man years ago when they’d initially taken up trade in a cutthroat business. One never knew what side of the knife you’d get with Waverly.
“Do stop posturing, Asbury. You’ve stolen the business out from under me. You had no right.” His mad gaze turned to Dante, his eye twitching on the side of his face that was swelling up. Waverly stood on unsteady feet. “I want our old empire back.”
“You signed the papers releasing your rights in trust for fair value,” Richard pointed out.
“You caught me unaware. You knew damn well what you were doing to me.”
Yes, he’d known what he’d done to Waverly. He had no regrets. Especially since it seemed his old friend had tried to have him killed and then tried to hurt his wife.
“What were you doing here with my wife?”
Waverly rubbed at his temple and shook his head like a dog come in from the rain. “Headaches come and go these days. Strange thing. What was I thinking, now? Hmm…” As though he had flipped some mental switch in his mind, he turned into a different man. His eyes appeared foggy, all lucidity gone.
“Your pretty wife. She owes me something. Mayhap you should ask her what she’s been up to while you’ve been away.” Waverly chuckled, obviously thinking himself clever. “She’s a most interesting woman. More interesting than the plump one.”
Dante took a step forward. His lips were tight, nostrils flared; the throbbing vein in his temple indicated he was liable to strangle Waverly at any moment. Richard shook his head and intervened. “Whether he deserves it or not, you cannot kill a lord of the realm, no matter your social standing in Italy.” He cared not that Waverly heard the threat. It took a lot of control not to lash out at the man himself.
“You”—Dante pointed at Waverly—“I let live because I remember a time when your mind was intact.”
“This is the last time I’ll ask, Waverly. Clearly state your business with my wife.” Richard’s patience was growing thin.
“You know, I previously set my eyes on the dark-haired one. She’s a widow. Fair game, don’t you think?” Did Waverly babble as a way to avoid answering the question? “But your wife, on the other hand … she’s a pretty piece. Full of passion, if you catch my drift.”
“Stick to your own wastrel, half-drunkard kind,” Dante growled.
“Feeling a bit defensive, aren’t you, Dante? Have you a vested interest where the dark beauty is concerned? Or have you had a taste of Richard’s wife, too?”
It took everything in Richard’s willpower not to pummel the man. He had no idea why he held back. Waverly had it coming to him.
Dante cracked his knuckles. “I’m happy to show you the error of your thoughts.”
“We’re done, Waverly. We might have spent our formative years together as the best of chaps, but those days died the day you stopped bothering to pick yourself up and out of the harlot-filled opium dens you made a home of. Do you even realize you’ll never be quite sane again?”
Waverly clucked his tongue and shook his head as though he were about to scold a child. “Don’t sound so glum, Richard. I’m quite content with how things turned out. I’m of sounder mind than you’re willing to give me credit for.”
They could go back and forth with this banter all day.
“You’ll have your funds from the sale. Piss them down the gutter if you so wish it.”
“I don’t care about the funds. The two of you have pulled the rug out from beneath my feet. I was more than willing to continue on as we were. We owned that part of the world.”
“You are too busy living in an opium haze to see the new dangers we were facing. Unlike you, we have a care for our futures. Feel free to watch yours roll farther down into murk. Your life has long been worthless.” Dante uncrossed his arms and looked down his great Roman nose at Waverly, as though the man were no more than a pestilent insect.
A shame they couldn’t squash the irritation as easily as squishing a bug.
“We’re done,” Richard announced.
“Trying to scare me off, are you?” Waverly wobbled where he stood, his hands visibly shaking. Waverly waved them away when they stepped forward to grab him should he fall over. “Bugger off. Happens from time to time. I don’t need no one’s help. Especially from you two. We were all friends. Now you’ve gone and ruined everything.”
“You ruined it yourself.” Dante grabbed the other man’s arm and manhandled him to the double doors.
Once in the hall, Richard beckoned over the butler. “Tell the stable hand to have the horses harnessed and the ca
rriage ready to go in ten minutes.”
“It’ll get done in less time than that, my lord.” The man plodded quickly off. He must have sensed the unease congesting the air with their unwelcome visitor.
“You think you’re sending me off packing.” Waverly tittered. “Not so easy, never so easy.”
“I’ve known you for eight years. Six of those years you’ve been a useless appendage to our company and our reputation. I’ve no compunction in shooting you square between the eyes, you damn blackguard,” Dante said matter-of-factly.
“Spoken like a true gypsy heathen, you great brown bastard.”
Dante was on Waverly before Richard could react. The bigger man’s hands wrapped about Waverly’s neck, strangling the breath out of the lesser man. The sick man’s only reaction was to choke out more laughter, as though this were a great lot of fun.
“Let off, Dante.” Richard made no move to intervene. “He’s not worth the hassle he’ll cause in the end.”
“I’m more blue-blooded than this shitpot,” Dante spat.
“Now is not the time to prove that fact.” Richard watched as Dante’s white-knuckled grip slackened from his assailant’s neck. Waverly did not cease that maniacal laughter. The man truly was on edge, or over it as it were.
“See, you won’t kill me.” Waverly straightened his waistcoat, even though it couldn’t be made to look better. “Haven’t got it in you.”
“Shut that prattle-brained mouth of yours before I do what he can’t,” Richard shot back.
“Just like old times, I say. Never could agree on much ’cept wenching and turning a profit.”
“You lost the ability to turn a ha’penny into quid when you ceased to pull yourself out of the gutter,” Richard said.
“Always so prickly—” Waverly didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence. Richard had had enough. He brought his fist down on the other man’s temple. The momentum of the punch aided by Richard’s fury had Waverly slumping to the floor like a pile of dirty rags.
“That was for my wife, you prick.”
Dante said not a word as he hoisted Waverly up and over his shoulder.
“What do you want to do with him?” Dante wasn’t the slightest bit disturbed that Richard had knocked Waverly unconscious to get his mouth to stop running off.
“Put him in the carriage. We’ll send him to his estate.” Why he showed any restraint in dealing with Waverly was a mystery. “We’ve washed our hands of him.”
“Will the sisters be better off in London?” Dante asked suddenly.
“We might want to send Abby and Grace somewhere else.”
Richard watched Dante’s reaction closely. Whatever it was the man felt for the middle sister, he kept it under wraps because there was no betraying expression when he suggested removing the women to a different location. Waverly was now a threat. The women would be safer elsewhere.
Or maybe not, in light of this afternoon’s events.
“They should stay together,” Dante finally said.
Richard nodded. “London it is.”
“We can leave in a few days, then. Send letters ahead to arrange extra men for the town house.”
Dante meant to hire mercenaries. People who would strike down an assailant or enemy first, think about the consequences later. A safe move for the women. Probably for him and Dante, as well.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the manor. Dante climbed the carriage steps and flopped Waverly down on the leather seats. Richard sent two of his more burly servants to help clear out the trash when they arrived at Waverly’s estate.
Chapter 15
I’ve been longer without you than with you. There never was going to be more than this, was there?
There she was, sitting pretty in the parlor. Alone. Richard watched his wife from the open door, not quite ready to interrupt her solitude. She’d changed from the tattered pink dress to a soft buttercream yellow. Her hair was half up, half down.
What did it say about him that he enjoyed watching her when she was unaware? She fidgeted with her hair, plucked at the bows on the sleeves of her dress. She reached forward and centered the tea tray on the table for the third time. Endearing traits if one were inclined to romanticism. He shook his head. He was not the romantic type.
His wife was never supposed to mean anything to him. He wasn’t supposed to want anything other than her pregnant and unable to petition for a divorce. When had that goal changed? Hell, he didn’t know what his purpose in this marriage was anymore.
What was he going to say to her? How should he broach the subject of what had happened? There was no way that Waverly had ever been a lover of hers. It wasn’t possible. No, she’d never shared herself with Waverly. She’d refused the other man and it had been then that Waverly had turned on her.
He straightened his cuffs, pulled down his vest, and stepped into the room.
On hearing his entry, she stood. “I had Brown send up some treats and tea.” She paused. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long.”
He sat on the sofa next to her. She took that as a cue to pour the tea. She handed him a dainty, vine-painted teacup on a matching saucer, which he promptly set in front of him on the oak table. He didn’t want tea. His wife loaded a dish full of sandwiches, a few sweetmeats, and passed it to him. She remained quiet as she served him. She didn’t meet his gaze, just kept her hands busy. Her mind focused on the task at hand.
He needed to assure her that he wouldn’t let that snake, Waverly, within ten feet of her. Maybe that would settle her nerves? Make her more at ease.
“What did you do with Waverly?” Her voice was cool, but he heard the tempered anger edging it. He could hardly blame her. Better for her to be angry than distraught, he supposed.
“Sent him home.” She didn’t actually care, did she? He snapped his mouth shut before he could make a caustic remark. He was edgy this afternoon. He had no right to bark at his wife.
Her chin rose up defiantly as though she was waiting for a scolding from him. That was not something he would do. Waverly’s actions hadn’t been her fault.
Chewing the cucumber sandwich, he thought carefully on his words. Emma picked at the edge of one of her sandwiches, uninterested. He looked at the mantel clock and checked the hour. He faced his wife again. Words escaped him.
Setting his dish of sandwiches next to his untouched tea, he stood and walked over to the window and looked down to the maze of flowers that filled the grounds. Grace was pruning the rosebushes. Yanking out long stems. Anger radiated off her.
He adjusted his necktie and found the courage to ask, “What is Waverly to you, Emma? Do you realize what he would have done?”
“He was overwrought. I would have eventually calmed him.”
Was she so naïve to think that? He smacked his hand against the frame around the window. There was no question in Richard’s mind that Waverly would have raped her. He wanted to shake some sense into her.
“Don’t fool yourself in that matter, Emma.”
The chink of her teacup on the saucer made the room feel deathly silent and uncomfortable. “What is your association to Waverly? He never mentioned knowing you.”
“He was once a business partner.”
“Business partner?”
Did he imagine it, or did business partner roll over his wife’s tongue as though the words tasted sour? He tried for patience, went so far as to close his eyes, stretch his neck, and crack his knuckles before facing his wife.
“Yes, a business partner. Do you want to know what type of man Waverly really is?”
No response.
“Or what I’ve done with my life since we married?”
Still no response.
“It’s not a discussion fit for delicate ears, so perhaps not.”
She stood from the settee. Her chest puffed out like a swan angered by his mere presence, and likely to nip at him if he didn’t calm her ruffled feathers quickly.
&nbs
p; “I’m not some flower that will wilt at the first hint of rain.”
“No. You appear to be stronger than that. Why is it that you ask after Waverly as if he were a longtime friend? As if he didn’t attempt to rape you.”
“I didn’t know how to handle him! I wasn’t expecting him to be so forceful,” she shouted, then promptly clapped her hand over her mouth.
At least she was showing some sort of emotion over the whole ordeal. He didn’t like her holding everything in. If she was angry, she should shout at him. If she was upset, she should cry. Whatever it was she felt, she should express it.
She flopped back down on the sofa, the fight suddenly gone from her. “Are you really going to tell me what you’ve done for the past ten years? Where you’ve been?”
“No grand, noble adventure, I assure you. No, much worse, I’m afraid.”
“Your profession doesn’t bother me, Richard. I don’t care what’s bandied about with you dirtying your hands in trade. Had you been around at any point in our marriage, you would know that I take little stock in what people disapprove of.”
He stepped away from the window and loosened the buttons on his vest. He hated the fripperies men had to wear to fit into London society. “People like Waverly on the whole are worse than me, but you can judge me for yourself. Regardless, Waverly is not the kind of person you want for a friend. He can’t be trusted.”
She said nothing in reply, didn’t even nod in agreement. Though her eyes were wide, probably in wonderment at what he could possibly impart. If only she could understand what he’d done, really understand the depravity he’d sunk to in the name of profit.
“I’m a scoundrel of the worst sort,” he said. “My investments and my business in the opium empire have always been about exploiting weaknesses in human nature. Waverly and I set out to make a fortune off the backs of others. It was at the cost of others’ lives that we achieved that goal. We took advantage of those who couldn’t say no to an addiction that slowly destroyed their lives.”
Richard loosened his necktie and placed it on the side table. Divesting himself of the fripperies he’d always despised. He wasn’t really a gentleman, was he? Would a gentleman commit the crimes against humanity that he had committed?
The Seduction of His Wife Page 17
