Oath

by K. J. Jackson

  Liv swallowed hard, her gaze shifting nonchalantly to the rumps of the horses before them. “Lord Shepton?”

  “Yes, Lord Shepton. And you can stop trying to pretend you don’t know the man, Lady Canton.” His head turned to her, but Liv refused to meet the judgmental stare she could feel bearing down upon her. “I make it my business to know everything I can about those I do business with. And I do business with Lord Shepton. At first I thought it was a coincidence, your presence around him during the past month. But now I can see quite clearly you have been stalking him, just as you did Lord Fodler.”

  “You are mad.” Her words were hollow, not truly battling his accusation.

  “Am I?” His focus went back to the street as he turned a corner. “But I have yet to determine what game it is you seek to play with Lord Shepton. Unlike your motives with Lord Fodler, which were to obviously crush the man so completely at the tables that his entire world crumbled.”

  Tieran tugged on the reins, slowing the horses to a crawl.

  He clearly intended to get some answers from her. And Liv intended to not give him any.

  He stared down at her again, no longer judging, but now with a look she thought long lost to the past. It was how he studied her when they first met, like she was a labyrinth he was determined to reach the middle of, no matter how many false turns and dead ends he ran into.

  “But your game with Lord Shepton I have not discerned,” he said. “I have watched you flirt and disappear into dark corners with the man. You have already managed to create a healthy rift in his marriage. Yet that does not seem to be enough. You continue to make yourself available, enticing him. He is not the most attractive man, spits when he talks, and has a certain odor about him. He is not rich, has no holdings that you could not buy yourself ten times over. I cannot think of a single thing he has that you could possible want.”

  Liv manifested a careful smile on her face, lifting her voice to pleasant airiness. “Well then, your first instinct must have been right. It is a coincidence. I have no motive with Lord Shepton. As for a rift between him and his wife, I do not see how I can be blamed. I have only chatted about the most inane topics with the man, and I do find him quite witty.”

  “Witty?” Tieran spewed a chortle. “I have never known a drier personality than his.”

  “Maybe then, Tieran, you should spend less time following me about and more time talking with Lord Shepton.” She conjured her sweetest voice. “It does seem as though you do not know nearly as much about him as you think you do.”

  Tieran’s mouth went tight. “Do not attempt to conceal under your innocent eyelashes the fact that you have turned into a widow coquette. The flutter of them never did work upon me, if you recall.”

  She recoiled, the words an invisible slap. “That is what you think of me? I am a trollop?”

  He stared at her, both eyebrows arching. “I think what I know.”

  She exhaled, the breath turning into a slight hiss. “And you know so very much, don’t you, Tieran.”

  “I know you married for your precious title the first chance you got. I know that now as a widow—out of boredom or sheer wantonness—you have decided to immerse yourself into the indecent shadows of society.”

  “You couldn’t be further from the truth of it, Tieran.”

  “No? How many nights in the past month have you spent gambling?”

  Her mouth clamped shut, her arms wrapping around her belly as she stared straight ahead.

  “Not willing to answer that one?” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “How about this one—how many nights in the past month have you seduced your way into a random gentleman’s bed? Your wake of destruction has begun to precede you in rumors, Lady Canton.”

  The poised smile long since vanished from her face, Liv tried to clamp down on the indignation boiling in her gut. She stared at the empty street, wishing for anything that would make him spur the horses onward. Anything that would give her leave of his company. “I have heard that too many times from your mouth now, Tieran.”

  “What?”

  “Lady Canton. That is the extent of what I am to you now?”

  “That is what you became the second you married that decrepit fossil.”

  She whipped to him, meeting his stare as physically close as she could. Her, he could vilify—but she would not stand for him speaking ill of her husband. “You will stop, Tieran. Lord Canton was kind, and I will not have you disparage his name.”

  He growled, the sound vibrating, wrapping around his words. “He was an old lecher that married a woman young enough to be his great-granddaughter.”

  Liv stiffened.

  Slowly, silently, she turned in her seat, her back to him, wedging herself as far away as she could without falling from the perch.

  He sent the horses onward.

  They rode in silence, and Liv wasn’t surprised when he turned the coach into the mews on her block. Of course Tieran knew where she lived.

  He stopped the horses.

  “This is appreciated.” She motioned to the back of her townhouse. “While I thank you for your assistance tonight, Lord Reggard, I realize now that there will be no need for our paths to ever converge again. Which should not be a disappointment, as it is apparent that you already know everything about me and I can see how much I disgust you.”

  Before he could move, she jumped from the driver’s perch. The impact of the hard ground jarred her cold feet, so much so she wondered if her bones had shattered.

  One deep breath and she looked up at him, giving him a quick nod, her voice as haughty as she could manage with the pain in her feet. “You may leave the carriage here. I will send someone out to help Charles and Mr. Niles. Good eve, my lord.”

  Liv yanked her shoulders back and spun from the carriage, walking through the back gate that marked her gardens and disappearing behind the tall evergreen hedge.

  Tieran made no parting remark.

  { Chapter 4 }

  Liv collapsed against the inside of her rear door, her breaths coming in heaves.

  That she made it into her townhouse without turning back, without pleading with Tieran, without telling him the truth of her motives, without telling him everything that had happened in the past six years, had been a herculean feat.

  She had thought she had put everything Tieran was to her in the past. Locked it away in a box never to be disturbed. Her marriage, his marriage, and the many years apart had forced that.

  But sitting next to him. It was as though no time had passed since his fingers had last threaded with hers. Since she had strolled with him on the cliff above Rosewood Brook the night before he left for war.

  Her head clunked backward onto the wood panel.

  All that she had lost.

  She had convinced herself over the years that she had accepted the oddity that her life had veered into. Long ago, her mother had determined Liv’s destiny would be to become the pampered wife of a peer. To spend her days making calls, with her needlepoint, creating watercolors, practicing her harp, directing servants, and running the household. She had been destined to spend her nights at gay parties, spinning on the dance floor at grand balls, partaking in lively conversations during intermission at the opera.

  A life of ease and fun and charming people.

  A destiny that was obliterated long ago by a cruel twist of fate.

  Within that fate, the only saving grace had been marrying Lord Canton.

  And while she had married into his title, her days bore no resemblance to what she had imagined they would as a lady.

  They had consisted of two things. One, outwitting a nefarious cousin—the heir to the title—bent on creating an “accident” that would result in Lord Canton’s early demise. And two, walking her husband through the last years of his life.

  Loss of strength, loss of body, loss of will. She had watched the deterioration progress slowly, her husband fighting it the whole way. Day after day, she had been humbled by how frag
ile the human body truly was. But the journey to his death had given her things she never imagined the importance of—perseverance, empathy, kindness.

  So those long-ago dreams of what her life should have been—she had long since accepted the loss of those.

  But Tieran.

  Him she had never accepted losing.

  No matter how many pitiful attempts she made to do so over the years. That his words tonight had cut her so deeply, crushing her heart, was only proof of that.

  “Why are you not gloriously giddy at the moment?”

  Liv lifted her head from the door, watching Viola Halverstein bounce along the main hallway toward her.

  “You are here.” Liv could conjure no enthusiasm for her best friend. She wanted bed. She wanted to crawl under her covers and hide. Hide away from seeing Tieran. Hide away from what he thought of her.

  Viola came to a stop in front of Liv. Her round cheeks were rosy, excitement exaggerating all of her movements. “Of course I am here, Livia, how could I not be?”

  “How did you get away from the baron?”

  Viola’s fingers waved flippantly in the air. “I made sure to top off his brandy glass with every sip tonight. He has been asleep for hours now.”

  Liv leaned from the door, standing straight and motioning toward the staircase leading to the kitchen from the hallway. Viola spun in front of her, moving to the stairway.

  “So you obviously heard the news?” Liv followed her friend down the stairs.

  “Of course I did. I could have strangled the baron tonight for not allowing us to go to Lady Desmond’s. We have not left the house in weeks and the stench of the baron’s decay is wearing upon me.” In truth, Viola had been waiting for years for her husband to pass on, but the baron was a stubborn old goat. And while his beatings of Viola had lessened over the years, he still was tyrannical over her time.

  Viola looked up over her shoulder at Liv as she rushed down the stairs. “I had the stable boy hover for hours in Lady Desmond’s stables, waiting for the news of what happened. You must tell me everything.”

  In the kitchen, Viola went into the larder and pulled four apples from the pile. She set them on the long wooden table centering the kitchen and then grabbed two knives, handing one to Liv as they sat down.

  Settling onto the round stool, Liv attempted to wash all memory of the journey home from her mind.

  She should be happy in that moment. She had accomplished what she had set out to do with Lord Fodler. She had destroyed him, and she should be elated. Another one scratched off the list.

  Viola flipped one of the apples upside down, reaching high with her knife, and slammed down the point of the blade into the exact center of the fruit. The impaled apple split in two with the force, both sides neatly falling from the silver blade. The knife stayed upright, the tip of it stuck deep into the wood.

  Liv smiled. Viola had done that the very first night they had met. Liv had been a crumpled shell, alone, sobbing on the stone floor of the kitchen. Viola had come in, picked her up, set her on a chair, and performed that very same trick with a bright red apple.

  The absurdity of it had made Liv laugh, cutting through her tears. From then on, countless hours had been spent in the ensuing years in various kitchens, the two of them cutting up and munching on apples. It was where they talked, where they dreamed, where they planned. All of it over neatly split apples.

  “Tell me—tell me of Fodler’s face, dove.” Viola giggled. “Tell me of the moment he knew he was destroyed.”

  The image of Tieran sending Lord Fodler flying through the air, his body smashing into the brick wall, flashed in Liv’s mind.

  Lord Fodler was certainly destroyed, if not dead from that.

  Liv blinked away the image. Best to not admit to what had happened—not even to Viola. As odious as Tieran had been to her, she didn’t want to cause any untoward inquires to come his way, or gossip to besmirch his reputation—especially after he had saved her.

  Aside from the fact that she didn’t want to talk about Tieran. Not now. Not tonight. She wasn’t ready to revisit the conversation they had on the coach just yet.

  Liv picked up one half of the apple, her fingernails digging into the red-yellow skin. She smiled, looking up at Viola. “Fodler’s face went white, and then mottled into a splotchy red—almost macabre in how it twisted in fury. He knew full well he was done, nothing left to lose.”

  Viola laughed, slapping her palm on the table. “Excellent—you have done so well at this, Livia.” She bit into her apple. “To be honest, I did not think you could do this, that you possessed the temperament needed for destruction, as you are usually far too sympathetic to others. But this is the fourteenth one—and the hardest one thus far to ruin—and you have shown remarkable spine through it all.”

  For the insult she could read into it, Liv knew Viola meant every word she said as a compliment to Liv. She shrugged. “I have learned to reserve my compassion for people who deserve it. And Lord Fodler certainly did not deserve it.” Liv bit into her apple slice.

  “Exactly. I could not be more proud of you, dove. Well, maybe if I had been able to witness it myself, I could be a bit prouder.” Viola took a bite of her apple, set it down, and then started fishing into the bodice of her dress. She exhaled, her green eyes sparkling as she pulled free a folded piece of vellum from between her plump breasts. She unfolded the paper on the table, smoothing out the creases as she finished chewing her apple.

  The list of thirty-three names sat between them on the table, thirteen names scratched out with one thin line, and a fourteenth to get the same treatment.

  Liv glanced at the list. She didn’t need to be reminded of the names—she had committed each and every one to memory. But she was reassured of her purpose, as she always was when she saw them.

  Viola pointed at a name halfway down the list. “I know you have also been working on Lord Shepton in the last few weeks, since he was at several of the same functions as Fodler.” Viola looked up at Liv as she picked up her part of the apple. “How does that progress? Shall we add another target? You do seem to do well managing two of them at once. Possibly one that moves in the same circles as Lord Shepton so you can monitor them at the same time?”

  Liv nodded, chewing slowly. To be honest, every man on the list was a target, and Liv filed away every tiny scrap of information or gossip she heard about any of them, jumping upon every opportunity she was presented with to engage them. Patience was the key, though. They would all receive their justice in due time.

  Viola’s forefinger tapped on the vellum, running down the list of names until she stopped near the bottom of the paper. Liv noticed four more names had been added since the last time she had seen the list. Thirty-seven. Fourteen done.

  Liv inhaled, calming panic. Patience. Patience was the key.

  “There, how about this one?” Viola pointed to a name. “Lord Lockston. He is a recent addition to the list—but I do believe he is an acquaintance of Lord Shepton’s. That may make him convenient. We will have to do some more research into him.” Viola popped the remainder of her apple into her mouth, chewing slowly as she studied the paper.

  Liv stared at the name, burning it into her mind, searching her memory. Lord Lockston. It hit her quite suddenly. Lord Lockston was a childhood friend of Tieran’s. A friend that he had gone off to war with. The brother of Tieran’s dead wife—what was her name—Rachel?

  Lord Lockston. She had not heard the name in many years.

  A chill ran down her spine. Could Tieran possibly know about his friend’s activities?

  “Is something amiss, Livia?”

  Liv shook her head. “No. No bother. It is…” She stepped into her words carefully. “Is the list ever wrong, Viola?”

  Her friend bristled, her eyes going to slits. “No. The list comes directly from the establishment. And then it is verified by two runners. It is never wrong. Do not tell me you know Lord Lockston?”

  “No. I have never met the
man.” Liv spat the true-enough words out quickly, attempting to soothe Viola’s instant ire. She knew her friend wanted nothing more than to be in Liv’s position, to be free of the baron and his harsh control over her life. To be the one to ruin these men. Viola wanted to dispense justice on her own terms. But the baron was still alive—and there was no way he was going to allow Viola freedom from his exacting control.

  Liv offered a dismissive smile to erase her question about the validity of the list. “Lord Lockston is on the list, and that means he needs to pay.”

  “Yes, he does.” Viola’s heart-shaped mouth lifted into a wicked smile as she flipped another apple upside-down and wedged the knife free from the table. With a wild swing that was dead-on, the apple split, slices falling perfectly.

  “I am so very glad to have found you those years ago, Livia.” Viola smirked, stabbing half of the apple and holding it up to Liv. “We are so like-minded, it is uncanny.”

  Liv chuckled, grabbing the slice of apple.

  Thank goodness she had Viola. Her friend always did know how to make her forget her own woes.

  { Chapter 5 }

  Tieran stretched out his legs inside the cramped coach—as much as he could do so without crushing Lady Lockston’s plum-colored skirt.

  His late wife’s brother, Lord Lockston, had married the woman weeks ago, and Tieran had been snagged by Aunt Penelope to run the fool’s errand of delivering Lady Lockston to her wayward husband outside of London.

  If there was one thing he knew about his childhood friend, it was that Fletch floated, skipped randomly through his life depending upon whatever hit his fancy at the moment, and that he would not look kindly upon Tieran delivering his new wife to him. But Aunt Penelope had insisted on Tieran’s assistance, and he had never been able to refuse Rachel’s aunt.

  His knee cracked on wood as he wedged it against the door of the coach. He would have much preferred to ride horses to Wellfork Castle. It would have not only been far more comfortable for him, but they also could have gotten there in an hour and a half from London proper, instead of moving at a slug’s pace on the deep-rutted roads. But Tieran didn’t know enough about Lady Lockston—just what Aunt Penelope had told him—to know if she could suffer the ride on horseback.