Elias quirked a questioning brow at her and in response, Beatrice slouched and lowered her head as though she just realized the implications of her actions. James’s own heart screamed in retaliation, while his mind blamed himself endlessly. When he stood, the expression on his face must have been one of anger, for Beatrice moved to stand in front of the scarred man as if to protect him.
He heard the distinct click of the hammer being pulled back on a pistol and flicked his gaze toward one of the guards. Knowing when he had been outplayed, James sat back down. Thankfully one of the men in the room had the decency to speak. Elias, of course, was that gentleman. “My name is-”
“I know…who you are,” growled the scarred man.
Beatrice tucked her arm in the limping man’s elbow and assisted him to the large, wingback chair in the foyer. Even he looked stunned by her kindness, which allowed James to breathe a bit easier. Once he was seated, Beatrice spoke for him.
If he did not know her better, he would assume that she could have cared less that he or her father were present. “Mr. Ripper was not expecting you, James. To what do we owe the pleasure?” she asked in her singsong voice.
“We are here for you, Miss Haddington,” Elias responded.
“And my father? Why did you bring him here?”
James did not miss the way Mr. Ripper’s hand brushed against Beatrice’s wrist for a second, like he had wanted to steady her worries. It was then that he saw the fear in her eyes as she regarded the man who sat across from him. Josiah would pay for what he had done to his daughter.
Maybe he could convince Mr. Ripper that his intentions were in Beatrice’s best interests?
“I love ya’, Honey Bee! That be why I came, nothin’ more. Me heart aches for ya’ it does.”
Beatrice lunged toward her father, but stopped when Mr. Ripper’s grip tightened on her arm. She looked down at him and James wondered if she was drawing strength from the man. He wanted to be that for her: shelter from the storm, her rock, and her anchor. James wanted her to find strength in him as she did with Mr. Ripper.
“Allow…me…to make you...an offer,” Mr. Ripper coughed.
Chapter Fourteen
Fortress of The London Lords of Crime
London, England
Sunlight streamed in through the bars of the windows, filling the room with a light purple glow through the curtains. Teardrops fell from Beatrice’s burning eyes. “Please,” she begged. “I do not wish to be traded any more! Please, Levi…”
“The offer…is not for…them, My Queen. It…is…for you.”
She could have hugged him. Beatrice smiled blindingly at the man who confused her as much as he brought out her empathy. Forgetting about the eyes that watched her in the room, Beatrice began to dance around and laugh happily. She was positively giddy with excitement. “I can choose for myself?”
His only response was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth that she could have sworn was his version of a smile. Beatrice placed a quick, warm kiss on his cheek and turned to the startled faces of the other men in the room. The huff of embarrassment from Mr. Ripper only widened her smile.
She pointedly did not meet her father’s gaze in fear of old memories surfacing, but she looked daringly into the whiskey storm in James’s eyes. “I love you,” she stated defiantly. “And I confessed that love to you before. But I will not tolerate being tossed aside as your arrogance wins the war against your heart. You were hurting and I healed you, James. It is what I do. But you hurt me and left me alone when I needed you most.”
Beatrice heard Mr. Ripper growl low in his chest, just as protective of her as the day they met. She reached over and squeezed his hand in reassurance. “There is no one here, aside from those you brought, who view your titles as superior. You have no influence within these walls; but I do.”
She felt powerful and free for the first time.
“What…do you…wish, My Queen?” Mr. Ripper asked.
“I do not want promises or false declarations of affection. I want what he denied me. I want his heart. This day ends how I decide it should end. London is no place for me and I need to return to Helena’s side, but under certain conditions.”
James’s jaw flexed, but he remained calm. “Conditions?”
“My father stays here and works off the debt he owes to the London Lords of Crime. The Lady’s Rake is mine from this day forward and her cooperation in illegal trade ends with me. And while I am in the process of seizing my destiny…”
She noticed the amused smirk on the Marquess’s lips, the nod of approval from Mr. Ripper, and the hopeful look in James’s eyes. Beatrice released Mr. Ripper’s hand and stepped in front of her beloved. She gripped his shoulders until he took the hint and stood up. He towered over her, but for the first time, no man could intimidate Beatrice.
James looked into her eyes as though he was searching for the quiet, obedient girl she had once been. Purple light bounced off the beautiful shade of gold in his gaze, warming them significantly. “My last condition is that you, James, must give me all of the love and hope that I see in your eyes. I will expect nothing less for all the days of happiness that I can give you.”
Unshed tears glisten in James’s eyes, and he blinked them away quickly. He reached into the pocket of his trousers, paying no mind to the weapons now pointed at his head. He slipped a beautiful necklace around Beatrice’s neck, the weight of it a testament to its value. Beatrice stroked her thumb over the handsome turtle with the emerald shell. He cleared his throat gently, becoming aware of the audience once again.
“I love you,” James whispered. Beatrice simply nodded her head and petted down the front of his coat, just above his heart. “And I, too, would like to make you an offer.”
Her heart thundered wildly, but she tilted her head back to look at his face. “What is it?”
“Be my wife, or be my friend. I would be grateful and humbled by either choice. And should you decide that neither is what you want, I will accept that as well.”
Beatrice knew that he needed her as much as she needed him. She needed his courage and his ability to take the world as it was, without the dazzle and the lies. But she did not answer him directly; instead, she turned to face Mr. Ripper. He gave her a single nod, which gave her the courage to say what she needed to in that moment.
“Ask me,” she demanded, a pure smile lighting up her face. “On one knee, if you would please.” James gave her an equally spectacular grin. He knew it was a power play, a reference to that day in the stables when he had dropped to his knees before her. They had been two broken souls struggling to hang on to one another in fear of floating away entirely.
The air escaped Beatrice’s lungs when she watched the prideful Earl of Winchester drop to his knee before one of his peers, her father, and the King of the crooks who ruled London.
***
He looked up into the most beautiful tear-streaked face he had ever witnessed. She blessed him with her loveliness and broke his heart little by little with each tear. James had all but forgotten about Elias and the others who watched from the sidelines. “Beatrice Ann Haddington, Queen of the London Lords of Crime…”
James paused to hear the majestic sound of her laughter. His cheeks flamed with happiness and discomfiture as her wondrous love lowered him to that of an inexperienced lad pining for a maiden. She shined in the light of the flickering candelabras, not daring to move a muscle.
“Will you do me the greatest honor of being my wife?”
“Clearly you have forgotten ‘beloved captain of the Lady’s Rake’ on purpose, didn’t you?” Beatrice taunted lovingly. He swept her off her feet, enjoying the sound of her started little squeak. If at sea was where her heart wanted to be, he would not deny her that. James knew he could deny her nothing.
Her thin fingers clutched at his shoulders, laughter only easing when he set her back on her feet. Now that he eclipsed her in size once more, she ducked her head sheepishly, only to have her chin lif
ted by the gentle tug of his hand. James let out a strangled bubble of shocked laughter when her finger poked at a rare dimple in his cheek.
James waited patiently while Mr. Ripper conducted his business with Josiah Haddington, securing the documents of ownership and placing the Lady’s Rake in Beatrice’s possession officially. After the papers were signed, Mr. Ripper had Josiah escorted to a room that was out of sight.
There was an eerie silence as Beatrice took her father’s place at James’s side. Mr. Ripper motioned for his guards to leave them to speak privately. The hair that fell over his face shrouded the furrow in his brow.
His eyes never left the spot on the settee where James and Beatrice’s hands were clasped. “Lord Ruteledge…I hope that…you comprehend the…uniqueness…of our…relationship.”
“I have observed that the two of you share a complex bond, yes. The details of which I am not entirely sure of.”
“She is…loved by…many people. Here… in my city, Beatrice is loved. They are people…that would…die for her. No life…is more valuable…to me,” Mr. Ripper confessed.
“He was the only person to notice the pain I endured at my father’s hand. Mr. Ripper –Levi, was a friend from the very beginning. A protector and guardian angel that watched over me until his family betrayed him. It took me this long to realize it.” Beatrice’s words were colored with anger on behalf of Mr. Ripper. James could tell that there was a part of her that believed if the authorities had not taken the man, he would have somehow never fallen into darkness.
James did not have the heart to tell his Beatrice that men like Mr. Ripper would always choose darkness even when they craved the light. “If he protected you, then I owe him a debt. Even so, this day could have ended quite differently. I was ready to fight for you, Beatrice. I was ready to throw away my title and reputation, give up my wealth and honor.”
Her eyes widened dramatically and it caused him to chuckle. The pink flush upon her cheeks warmed his heart like no other. James brushed a lock of hair from Beatrice’s face and turned to see a supportive glance from Mr. Ripper himself. He replied with a nod of his head in silent acknowledgement.
***
Mr. Ripper watched from the window of his bedchamber as the carriage made its way down the streets of his city. He would have a lot to answer for when Bacilli and the others came to question his motivations. He had no idea what he planned to tell them, or if he owed them an explanation at all.
While the laws of underground were much different than those of higher society, there was always that bloody game at play in the dark. The difference was, in Mr. Ripper’s world, the game ended in death. Despite the rumors, there was no honor among the thieves, murderers, rogues, assassins, and pirates that he had ever known.
The aristocrats used respectability, reputation, and wealth as weapons. The London Lords of Crime were once part of that word, but had been shaped by harsh realities. The ways of the underground were strategy, deception, and leverage. It was not until Mr. Ripper’s descent into the belly of the beast that the Order of The Ravens had become allies.
It was not until he brought with him plausible standards and methods of operation that things had begun to thrive in the world of crime. He ruled above them all. It was hollow and lonelier than one would think, but it was his legacy.
Lord Levi Harcourt Ripper, former Earl of Rochester had died the day he was sent to the gallows. And while he still carried the same swagger of arrogance when he walked and wore the same attractive apparel, very little remained of the man of notability that he once was.
The memory of the broken little angel that he had watched over made him want to be a better man. Beatrice made him want to become the man she saw in him back then.
Epilogue
Ruteledge Estate
Winchester, England
Two months later, Beatrice was back to old ways of quietly wandering the corridors of the manor at night. Thunder shook the windows and rain pelted the rooftops, but she was at peace. Every hour she would pop her head into Helena’s room to check on her condition.
After her return to the ill woman’s side, Beatrice noticed a change in her health. Helena was able to keep her meals down and sleep through the night, though she was still unable to move about freely on her own. Beatrice happily informed her friend of the discovery she made during her time in the fortress, surprised that Helena found it all quite romantic.
The delicate fabric at the bottom of her slippers shuffled softly against the halls wooden floors. She eased open the door to James’s chambers, sneaking inside once she knew no one would be watching. Beatrice sat beside his sleeping form as he tossed and turned in his sleep.
James thought the nightmares had stopped, but Beatrice knew they never would. But she would be there for them all, whether it remained a secret or she could do so freely as his wife. Her heart ached for him as she pressed her hand against his chest. She felt his pulse begin to settle as the warmth of her palm soaked into his body and melted even more of the frosty sheen of terror that plagued him.
Beatrice tucked her legs beneath her and, with her free hand, opened the book that sat on her lap. The soothing lilt of her own voice broke through the sounds of the storm and the ragged breaths of her beloved. The crackling fire warred against the shadows of the night.
Fragrant tea sat upon the bedside table, filling the air and mingling with her scent of apricot and mint. It was a smell that James once said soothed his troubled mind whenever he could not see her. As the days grew closer to their wedding, Mrs. Buxton became adamant about keeping them apart.
The announcement of their engagement also came with discouraging statements of her lack of title, the rumors of her using James to further her reputation in society, and the shame that she brought him for making him fall in love with a fisherman’s daughter and a servant in his household.
As if anyone could force James Ruteledge to do anything!
Beatrice could only imagine Mrs. Buxton’s expression should she happen upon them. It would be positively scandalous, and that just made Beatrice giggle. She did not care. She loved James with all of her heart.
Some part of her knew she always had, from the very instant she laid eyes on him in the entrance of the manor. James Ruteledge, Earl of Winchester, had stolen the air from her lungs and taken possession of her heart. He had ruined her for all others with just one look. His golden-blonde hair, honey-colored eyes, and uptight frown had won her affections.
Beneath his title and well-dress demeanor, there was something fractured. Something he had tried to heal on his own, but had never been successful. James was a broken man who could only be loved by a broken woman, and she was a chaotic mess that must be managed. They needed each other.
***
James ran across the battlefields, dodging rounds of lead. The smell of gunpowder was thick in the air as black smoke roiled toward the heavens. Screams reverberated all around. Jellied blood clung to his skin along with several layers of dirt and grime. The mud weighed down his boots as he trudged toward his men. Men he respected, men he promised victory...
Suddenly, he was on his back with the sunlight warming his face, lying in a field of lavender. The familiar scent of home defeated the maddening aroma of war. It was her. James could feel the warmth of her pressing into his chest, but he could not reach her. His Beatrice had found him in the darkness once more.
The story that dripped from her lips just beyond the realm of his sleep faded into a captivating melody. “The stars shine always for you, my little lady. Seas of green beneath the Lady’s Rake, don’ let the dancing of emeralds cry in my little lady’s eyes. Sweet lavender breeze brings home my Honey Bee, forever and always for me, my little lady…”
James slowly realized that he was not in his dream, but in hers. His love had shown him the way to her sanctuary and given him the peace he had always been deprived of. He would give her the moon and the stars, a world of her own. James would protect her and honor her in all ways.
He opened his eyes to see her beguiling smile just the smallest distance from his face. The defiance in her eyes made him brush the pad of his thumb against the pale skin below her bottom lip. She broke away from him as hurried steps came down the hall just outside his door. Her breathy laughter reached his ears from beneath his bed as Beatrice hid from Mrs. Buxton. His meek, bashful mouse was now causing mischief in his household.
Once Mrs. Buxton’s shadow disappeared from beneath the door, James whispered, “You can come out now.”
She lost herself in more childish laughter before crawling up to tap a finger on the end of his nose. The action was obscured and completely out of character, but so playful he could not help but join in her games. James brushed a tickling hand up her arm that caused Beatrice to yelp.
Before Mrs. Buxton could follow the sound and reprimand them both for breaking the rules, Beatrice snuck out of his bedchamber. But not before she mouthed the words that never failed to turn him into a puddle of blabbering admiration.
I love you.
When she went to softly close the door, the same childish nature that had consumed her inspired him to do something just as reckless. “And I love you, Beatrice,” James shouted for the entire household to bear witness.
He could hear how her footsteps quickened and Mrs. Buxton hurried after her. The muffled sounds of his housekeeper scolding of his betrothed for sneaking into his chamber to read him a story would forever be one of James’s fondest memories. A bang on the wall beside his bed was followed by Elias’s own burst of laughter.
James no longer felt the call of sleep. He wanted the week to be over with so that he could finally shower Beatrice with the love she had always deserved.
The Earl's Envy (Scandalous Nobility Book 2) Page 9
