“How terrible!” Victoria exclaimed, moving to wrap her arm around her father’s shoulders. He hadn’t been a close friend to Benford, but she knew that any death having anything remotely to do with his agency would be a decided blow.
“The doctor who examined his body discovered that he’d been stabbed to death shortly before he’d been left to burn up in the fire.”
Love stiffened, spitting out a curse. “Someone is cleaning up their mess, killing anyone having to do with Ethan and his plot against Benjamin.”
Her father nodded. “That’s what it seems like. Which is why we are all leaving London.”
Both Vic and Love gasped. “No!”
“Why?” Love asked, his face as pale as their father’s. “You promised Mother a year, and I’ve just begun making friends.”
Victoria had just heard the tales of what Love had been doing with those friends, and she could tell from the way he spoke of them that they were getting close.
Their father turned to Love, his expression lined with regret. “I know, and I had a devil of a time keeping your mother from flying off to live with Lady Margaret, but I am the earl, the head of the house, and I will not be denied this.
“I must keep you safe, and if that means signaling a retreat and moving to Devonshire to lick our wounds, then so be it. We can regroup there, spend time going over what we’ve learned from Leavenson’s investigations, and plan a course of action that will keep the operation solvent. I’ve spent too many years garnering this opportunity, working to be a part of something that will stand the test of time, to let it fall to pieces because of some insidious group of Cards.”
As their father spoke, his voice had gotten harder, louder, until he was commanding in his presence. This was a man who could lead an army into battle wearing only curtains, and none of the men would think twice about it. Neither would any of the Darings.
“We will go, of course, Papa…” Victoria murmured, pressing a hand to her father’s cheek.
Love looked like he wanted to argue, but his gaze on his father softened. He knew, just as Vic did, that their father only wanted to keep them safe, and removing themselves from the city teeming with potential enemies was the only way to ensure they weren’t next on the House of Cards’ list of loose ends. And, besides that, the Darings could finally set eyes on the country house of their ancestors.
All that space… Grace and Faith would be ecstatic. All that silence and land for gardening, which meant Verity would be in her element. Honoria might not like the quiet or the spaces or the soil, but she wouldn’t mind if there were country parties to attend or darling towns to visit. Love would be fine once he had his horses to ride and his pistol smithy set up and running.
But her… What was there for her in the country other than the same terrible ache that pained her now? Farther from Richard, farther from her mind?
She doubted that. Farther from him, farther from his mind? She had no doubt of that, and it caused the ache to root itself in her very being. That night of the rescue, he had agreed with her admonition that it would be better to go their separate ways. Honestly, part of her wanted him to argue with her, to tell her that he cared for her and would never let her go. But he hadn’t.
Still, she’d allowed ridiculous hope to remain. She thought he would come to speak with her after that, to settle whatever it was that had grown between them, to tell her that he didn’t want their fake courtship to end.
That he really wanted her.
But there had been no visits, no letters. Not a word from the man she had given her heart to.
“When do we leave?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Richard kissed his aunt on the cheek before taking his seat beside her at the breakfast table. Since Elizabeth’s abduction and subsequent rescue, he’d been staying with his aunt and cousin to help them both feel the comfort of having him there. It was also for him…the drive to watch over them, to know that they were safe and unharmed. Despite his inability to be what they needed.
To them, he was a strong male, a potential protector, a bulwark against those who would hurt them. But, in reality, he was a failure.
It was because of him his cousin had been taken, and his aunt experienced the horrible agony of nearly losing her only child. If it hadn’t been for Victoria…
Victoria… His heart lurched at the thought of her.
It had been a week since he’d walked away from her in that carriage. It had gutted him then, watching her face fall as he turned away from her. He told himself it was because he needed to see to Elizabeth, get her settled, and give comfort to his aunt who was, rightly, distraught. He told himself that Victoria was right, it was better for him to walk away—from the Darings, their operation, and the threat it posed to the people he cared about.
Except the person he cared about most in the world was at the center of the very thing he wanted to cut away.
He clearly recalled his desperate pleas, begging Victoria to allow him to remain in her life. To remain close to her, to let them explore what was growing between them. From the pit of his being, he knew there was something there, something beyond anything he had ever dared to hope for. Had he been a fool to think, even for a moment, that she might feel the same?
When they’d kissed, when their bodies had been pressed together, it had felt right. She had felt right. When they’d shared those moments in the park, in the opera box, and during their exhilarating sparring match, he had known that she was an extraordinary woman. Matchless. And he had known, without a doubt, that the look in her eyes had been one of attraction, of deep emotion.
No, she might not have tender feelings toward him—yet, but there was something there they could have built on.
It could not be denied. And yet, she’d denied it. Had called him a hindrance, someone to drag behind her. In that moment, he’d felt unmanned, but it hadn’t lasted long, not once the tears had glittered in her eyes.
He’d known then that she was only pushing him away, and he’d let her.
Because…she’d also been correct.
He had demanded to be a part of Victoria’s life, through her work in Operation Imperial Twilight, and he’d been so blind in his desire for the woman behind the disguises and intrigue that he hadn’t thought about what his involvement with her and her family would cost him.
It had nearly cost him his cousin.
It had cost him his friend, Ethan, a man who’d fallen so far from grace that he’d thought nothing of targeting his friend’s family.
When he’d asked Elizabeth about her abduction and captivity, there had been little she could share. She’d said that Ethan had stopped her carriage, acting as a friend of the family, asking for a short ride to his home in Belgravia. Somewhat awed by the man’s presence in her carriage—she’d always been easily awed—she hadn’t thought to deny him.
But, when he’d brandished a pistol, she knew something was wrong. He told her to command the driver to take her to a back alley in St. Giles, where he left her maid, tied up, and dragged her into a basement room. The driver eventually untied the maid, who made her way back to their house on Park Street, but by then, word had spread of Elizabeth’s abduction. Unfortunately, the maid had been asleep and hadn’t woken until after the pistol had been drawn. She hadn’t known Ethan by sight and therefore couldn’t tell anyone who had taken Elizabeth.
Once Ethan had Elizabeth in that dank basement room, he’d left her there, tied to a crate, until he’d returned to take her to Hedo’s House and the meeting with Richard. She was to be the bait in the trap.
Richard had known it was a trap from the moment he’d read the scrawled words in Ethan’s script. It was the same script he thought he’d recognized on the playing card with the word “sinner” written on it. The S was a dramatically scrolled letter, and Richard knew that Ethan, in particular, loved to turn his S into a work of art, no matter how short the missive.
The suspicion of Ethan’s involvement had been there
, gnawing at the back of his mind, but it wasn’t until he’d heard the man’s voice echoing through that desecration of a chapel that he’d known the truth of it. He’d written a missive to Leavenson to share that information with him—little good it would do now.
His friend, a man he’d known since they were lads at Eton, had fallen on a sword of his own making. He’d become no better than an animal, and it broke Richard’s heart. Ethan had been a lost soul, looking for comfort in the wrong place, and it had cost him his life.
It had cost Lord Benford his life as well.
Word of the man’s murder had made the rounds, some speculating that the housebreaker had finally killed someone, but Richard knew the truth. Benjamin Bennington’s father had been part of the scheme, hoping to manipulate Ethan into ridding him of his enemies, including his own son.
He couldn’t fathom the anguish Ben was feeling, but he couldn’t ask him. Benjamin had quit the country as soon as his father was laid to rest. And Richard had no doubt he would never see his friend again. Michael, as the new duke, had much weighing on him, and Richard did not envy his friend that. He sympathized for him, wishing him a life of blessings.
Yes, Richard had lost much, nearly losing it all. All because he’d allowed the thrill of excitement to drag him toward the flame of Victoria Daring and the promise of intrigue.
It was more than that—so much more.
Victoria had become his heartbeat.
But was he then no better than Ethan, seeking to fill a hole in his life with the iron that struck the hottest? Victoria had been the brightest, hottest, most brilliant person he’d ever known…and he’d walked away from her.
She told you to….
His gut tightened, roiling in concert with the pangs in his chest. There was nothing for it—he just had to put her out of his mind, at least until the moment was right.
And when will that be?
“You are more pensive than usual, Richard,” his aunt drawled from the head of the table, where she was tapping on her boiled egg to remove the shell. Shell gone, she continued, “What has you so deep in thought you haven’t heard a word I’ve said for the last ten minutes?”
Elizabeth dipped her head, peering at her coddled eggs as if they knew the meaning of life. She’d been that way since her return: withdrawn, quiet—quieter than usual—and anxious. She fairly jumped from her seat if anyone shut a door too strongly.
That is my fault…
“Darling, you’re at it again.” His aunt dropped her spoon on the table and pinned him with a sharp glare, cutting through the fog in his brain.
“I am sorry, Aunt Margaret. What is it you were saying?” he intoned, duly chided.
She took her cup of chocolate in her hand and began sipping it slowly, her eyes watching him, probably for signs of frustration. She’d find none. There was no need to hurry her; he had nowhere else to be. No one else to be with.
“I was telling you how terribly unfortunate it was to say goodbye to my dear friend Lady Gadstoke. She’s gone to Devonshire, to the Gadstoke estate,” his aunt said, taking another sip of her chocolate.
His blood froze. “Devonshire?”
Aunt Margaret nodded.
“It’s not a surprise,” Richard continued. “She seemed overwrought with all the busyness of the city. It will be good for her to spend some time outside its confines. Devonshire is lovely.”
The more he spoke, the more his aunt’s face fell. What had her so upset?
“Yes, it will be good for her,” his aunt agreed, “especially since she will have the whole of her family around her.”
Her family. Victoria.
“All of her family?” he asked, hardly able to speak the words.
“Yes. They departed several days ago. They should be there and settled by now.”
Tremors rippled through him, making his breath catch— Victoria was gone.
“I can see by the look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting that,” Aunt Margaret stated.
Unable to find his voice, he simply shook his head.
“Well, I don’t know, but I cannot imagine why you would be upset by this news. You seem to have lost all interest in that darling Victoria Daring.”
His aunt was so erroneous in her statement that he didn’t know where to begin. For the sake of the operation’s anonymity, he was unable to share any information about who had helped him rescue Elizabeth. All his aunt and cousin knew was that he’d gone to where he was commanded to go, he’d fought with Ethan, and someone had come to his aid.
He hadn’t told anyone that Victoria Daring was the one who’d saved them all—Elizabeth, Benjamin, and him.
He owed her his life…and she owned his heart.
And I walked away from her. I let her push me away.
The realization of her departure from the city settled on his chest, crushing him, pressing the air from his lungs like a reverse bellows. He’d been a fool to think that he could survive not having her if only she were still close by. He could see her at balls, in the streets, at the opera, at the park…and that would be enough to keep the searing ache in his chest from consuming the whole of him.
She wasn’t there. He wouldn’t see her beautiful face, hear her glorious laugh, feel the sweetness of her kiss, the heat of her body, the warmth of her spirit. How quickly she’d become a part of him. The best part.
A flickering of fire began in his gut, quickly growing to immolate his entire being.
Fight for her.
“Aunt Margaret, I hope you do not mind, but I find myself in need of the fresh country air,” he finally said, his voice shaky.
His aunt grinned a knowing smile. “I understand completely, dear.”
He rose to leave, but his aunt’s words stopped him. “Tell Victoria hello for me when you see her, will you?”
Smiling, he sent word to Justin that he was leaving town for a while and that he should send someone to visit with Aunt Margaret and Elizabeth every day. Then, he and his valet packed as many clothes as a single bag could carry, while the stable master saddled his horse, Circe.
By the time the bells of the cathedral were ringing the luncheon hour, he was leaving the city on the way to his future.
…
“Oh, Faith, what have you done to that poor dog?” Honoria cried, rushing to the sheepdog Faith had apparently subjected to a session of pampering and beautifying.
“She looked like she could use a new coiffure,” Faith said unrepentantly. The child was smiling impishly, and Victoria couldn’t help but laugh.
Watching Honoria try to wrangle the overexcited dog, Victoria took charge. “Darling, she is a he, and he most certainly does not need a new coiffure. His fur is meant to guard against the cold, not look dashing with globs of pomade—and where did you get the pomade anyway?”
Faith shrugged, her blue eyes flashing playfully. “Love’s room.”
Honoria tsked, fighting back a laugh of her own as she finally got the dog to sit long enough for her to put a lead around his neck. “Love will not be pleased that you used his pomade on that mutt.”
“Lady Abalone isn’t a mutt; she is a princess who has lost her prince and is in search of a new one to marry.” Faith tipped up her chin most adoringly and sniffed. “Would you deny her the chance at true love?”
Her sister’s innocent question pierced her to the quick. Struggling to breathe, Victoria stammered, “N-no, darling. We wouldn’t want that.”
Seemingly mollified, Faith took the lead from Honoria and led Lady Abalone from the morning room where Honoria and Victoria were sitting…embroidering.
Now that she’d actually tried it, Victoria could see why some considered it a leisurely activity. It didn’t require much thought, it calmed the mind, and it could be done while chatting—if one felt like chatting.
“Now, where were we,” Honoria began. “Oh, right—you were about to tell me what heartless lout kicked your puppy.”
Confused, Victoria furrowed her brow. �
�What are you talking about, Honoria? I don’t have a puppy.”
Honoria waved off her remark. “It is a figure of speech. It means, who hurt you so much that you look like your favorite pet died?”
A shaky laugh escaped, and Vic smiled at her darling sister. “You noticed, did you?” Of course she did. Honoria was as perceptive as the rest of the Darings, all of whom had been tiptoeing around her for the last week.
Suddenly, it was just too much: the fear, the aching sadness, the despair, the loneliness, the hopelessness, and the realization that she’d spent a lifetime becoming something she didn’t want to be.
A weapon. A lonely human weapon.
That night, outside the warehouse, the look on Richard’s face as he stared down at her dressed in her training costume, it was like he was looking at something meant to destroy. He was looking at her like she had destroyed him…destroyed any chance of ever being loved. It had gutted her, but it had strengthened her resolve to cut him off.
It is better this way….
Sobbing, Victoria said, “I hurt…” She let the pain envelop her. “I hurt so much.”
Suddenly, Honoria was there, her arms locking Victoria to her chest as Victoria wept like her world was drowning in tears.
“There, there, darling…” Honoria cooed, rubbing Vic’s back soothingly. “Let it out, my love, let it out.”
And Victoria did.
She sobbed until the sobbing made her ache more than the sadness had. The whole of her was tense, stiff…but then it wasn’t. She leaned into Honoria, letting her sister’s strength calm her. Finally, when the sobbing stopped, she just lay in the circle of Honoria’s arms in silence.
The clock in the sitting room down the hall chimed the hour, and Vic realized she’d been sitting with her sister for over forty-five minutes.
Sniffing, she pushed away, and Honoria dropped her arms, sighing.
“I am sorry for that,” Vic said.
Honoria pressed a hand to Vic’s cheek, sliding her thumb over the dried tracks of tears. “You know I don’t mind being here for you. What are sisters for?”
A Lady Never Tells (Women of Daring) Page 27
