by Lisa Reisner
Liam’s explanation and apology tapped into the faint memory of Jordan telling him of the passing of Liam’s sister. Marcus did not know all the details, but knew the situation had been an ugly one, involving gentlemen with high ranking titles. Jordan explained that although several years had passed since her death, Liam never seemed to fully recover from the devastating loss of his sister.
Marcus was no stranger to loss and this man’s pain was almost palpable. Liam’s circumstances doused Marcus’s anger and he unexpectedly felt a twinge of pity. “I guess we are all guilty of mistakes in judgment.” Marcus reminded himself he was on the brink of proposing to a woman who was already married. “Your mistrustful nature is something I should probably emulate. Maybe next time, I will not be so easily duped.”
“Abigail never meant any harm, Lord Everton. She was forced into lying about her identity,” Liam asserted.
“Is that so? My eyes must have deceived me, because I never saw anyone holding a gun to her head,” Marcus said with a sardonic grin, but despite his flippant tone, he still wanted answers. Who was Abigail and what did she want to achieve by tricking him? Before he heard Liam’s full explanation, there was still one thing nagging him the most. “Do you still deny having an affair with her?”
Liam almost chuckled. “I give you my solemn word that nothing of an illicit nature occurred between Abigail and I, our relationship was strictly professional.” When Marcus still looked skeptical, Liam added, “Especially since it is my firm belief that Mrs. Bainbridge is very much in love with you, my lord.”
Marcus rolled his eyes. “Do you expect me to take your statements seriously when you declare Abigail is in love with me in the same breath that you use her married name?”
“You make a good point, but once you hear the rest of the story you may have less doubt in my assumptions,” Liam conceded as he poured himself another cup of coffee and refilled Marcus’s mug. “Moments ago, you mentioned never seeing anyone put a gun to Abigail’s head. Correct?”
Marcus was wondering where Liam was going with this. “Correct.”
“Well, you were right. Abigail’s life was never threatened by a gun. Her life was threatened by the routine physical and emotional persecution she endured at the hands of her husband, Clayton Bainbridge.” Liam noticed Marcus’s hand instinctively flex and then rotate into a fist. “In my opinion, if she had stayed with him, he would have eventually killed her.”
For the next thirty minutes, Liam went into explicit detail of everything Abigail endured during her marriage, while Marcus sat in silence, absorbing every word. Liam painted a picture of almost unspeakable suffering and violence. He outlined ten separate scenarios his investigator had gathered from several of the Bainbridge servants which were especially brutal.
Liam was in the middle of relaying aspects of an incident in which Abigail sustained a broken wrist, when Marcus slowly came to his feet. He stopped talking when he noticed Marcus’s unhealthy pallor.
“What have I done?” Marcus asked himself. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, as pure self-loathing washed over him. “How could I have been so blind?” He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the images Liam had brought to life.
“There is no way you could have known,” Liam said with conviction. “You had no reason to suspect anything else. If it were not for the Applewoods, Abigail would still be gainfully employed as your governess, and no one would have been the wiser.”
Marcus sensed he did not have every piece of the puzzle. “I am not sure I understand everything correctly.” He assumed Clayton had been looking for Abigail all this time and would have eventually found her, regardless of the Applewoods’ intrusion. “Hasn’t Abigail’s husband been searching for her ever since her disappearance?”
Liam let out a hearty chuckle, which seem to ease the tension in the room. “Perhaps that would have been the case if Lord Bainbridge still thought she was alive.” Liam’s smile turned into a frown. “Of course, he must know the truth by now. I am quite positive the Applewoods have already made every detail known to him.”
“I am not following,” Marcus said with confusion. “Why would he assume she was dead?”
Liam grinned. “Because Abigail went to a great deal of trouble making everyone believe she died of lung fever. The entire village partook in her funeral. I heard it was a lovely service. Nobody appeared to realize they were burying a coffin full of sand.” Liam observed the ghost of smile emerging on Marcus’s face and continued, “I am not quite certain how she pulled it all off, but she did.”
Marcus was well aware of how Abigail could pull off such a feat. Abigail was capable of anything if she put her mind to it. She was by far the smartest woman he had ever known.
Marcus closed his eyes and let the sweet memories of Abigail run through his mind. He could still visualize Abigail’s coy smile and shining violet eyes when she implied she would beat him at chess. Perhaps we should play some time...That would be inappropriate, my lord...What would be so inappropriate about it? I have never seen a rule written anywhere about an employer not being allowed to play chess with an employee...I have never seen that rule either, but it would be inappropriate for an employee to beat her employer at chess.
He remembered Abigail’s haphazard attempt to spy on him the night of the Crowley masquerade. It had been jealously that had driven her to take such a risk; little did Abigail realize she had nothing to worry about. She had looked like an angel that evening, draped in silver and crystal, and he knew instantly when he saw her. He was deeply in love.
Marcus’s heart constricted as he recalled her costume and the person she was trying to be. You must not keep me in suspense. Who are you...I am Hygeia, the Greek goddess of health. She carries around jars of medicine and her serpent’s venom has the power to heal. Then his mind shifted to their stormy lovemaking afterward. Abigail had always given herself to him with such unaffected warmth. Please, Marcus, take me now. I cannot wait any longer. I need to feel you inside me.
Marcus never expected to fall in love, but he did, nevertheless. He should have known he would lose his heart the moment she began her diatribe of the reasons why he should hire her. I can make your cough disappear or your knee stop aching. I love nature. I believe most answers to life’s big questions can be found in the great outdoors and above all I am a good listener with a great deal of patience. If you give me the chance, I will do my best to make your niece happy again.
Abigail had not just made Olivia happy. She had introduced him to the true meaning of bliss. Why didn’t he believe her when she told him she was innocent of an affair? Marcus silently asked himself. But Marcus already knew the reason. Besides being blinded by jealously, his sense of trust had been terribly damaged by Marissa and he did not truly believe in Abigail’s goodness at the time. Abigail had been so perfect in every way that a part of him almost expected to eventually find flaws, but Abigail was exactly as she seemed. Perfect.
In contrast, he had been an absolute ass. When she needed his protection the most, he had turned his back on her. He had failed Abigail the same way he failed his brother. God only knows where she is. In addition to the impending threat of her sadistic husband, London was a dangerous place for an unaccompanied female, particularly for a woman of exquisite beauty like Abigail.
An alarmed sense of urgency overcame Marcus. He needed to find Abigail before anything terrible happened to her. “Mr. Stone, I need your help.”
“Your impeccable reputation as an investigator speaks for itself. I am going to try and find her myself, but I also want you to search for her. We need to find her before Lord Bainbridge does.”
“It would be my pleasure to assist you.”
Marcus felt slightly better knowing he had the best investigator in England searching for Abigail. Marcus strode toward the door, but before he left, he faced Liam and said, “I owe you an apology for assuming the worst of your character. I shouldn’t have behaved in such a juvenile manner. It was beneath me.”
Liam leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows in an understanding gesture. “If I had someone as special as Abigail in my life, I would have acted the same way.”
“God help me if I lose her,” Marcus said to Liam as he strode through the door.
Marcus boarded the carriage. He needed to return home to get a fresh horse and formulate some kind of plan. He refused to acknowledge the fact that Abigail was legally bound to a mad man, or that anything dreadful would happen to her. His only thoughts were of finding his precious Abigail and keeping her safe forever.
Chapter 23
Jordan’s eyes squinted at the early sunrise as he stood in front of Marcus’s door. He was greeted by a very sleepy Grumman. “Can I help you Mr. Stockdale?”
“Yes, Grumman, I think you can.” Jordan had planned an evening chock full of good old-fashioned debauchery to distract Marcus from his troubles. He had invited two of his female ‘friends’ to join them. They were both gorgeous actresses in the Covenant Garden Playhouse, and both were up for a good time. The four had strolled through Vauxhall and eventually ended up at Smithy’s. Smithy’s was a noisy establishment that specialized in buxom waitresses who were always eager to refill their patron’s glasses. Several whiskeys later, Jordan noticed Marcus had disappeared. Jordan knew Marcus was a grown man and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but an uneasy feeling gnawed at his gut and he wanted to make sure Marcus was alright. “Did Lord Everton return home?”
Grumman yawned. “He did, sir, but then he ventured out again.” A troubled expression appeared on Grumman’s face. “Lord Everton has not quite been himself as of late.”
“I think that is putting it mildly. He has been a complete wreck. Do you mind if I wait for him in his study? I need to speak with him when he arrives.”
“Of course, Mr. Stockdale.” Grumman showed him to the study. “I will bring you some tea and fresh cinnamon rolls.”
Jordan plopped down on the leather couch and reclined into the soft cushions. He stared at the stack of untouched business proposals on Marcus’s desk. They would remain untouched if he didn’t get over Abigail.
Jordan wished he had been able to detect the treachery in Abigail’s character sooner and warn his friend against involving himself with her. All women, in Jordan’s estimation, were devious creatures who only cared about money and status. He had only met Abigail briefly, but she seemed different somehow and he had never seen Marcus happier, so he held back his usual cynicism.
Of course, Jordan knew better than to ever let his guard down. In his opinion, women made wonderful bed companions, but they were never to be trusted. It all seemed so ridiculous to Jordan, to lose your head over a mere woman. It was by far the most preposterous notion imaginable. And then, as if he tempted fate, he heard the familiar sounds of the voice belonging to the woman who had managed to haunt his dreams for the past five years. The woman he had wanted to be the mother of his children, the woman whose laugh made his heart melt, the woman who shattered all his hopes and dreams. It couldn’t be Jane Whitworth. That would be simply impossible!
He could hear his heart pounding as he went to investigate if his suspicions were correct. They were dead on.
Jordan suppressed the urge to rub his eyes, as if he was seeing a mirage, but it was not a hallucination. Jane was even more breathtakingly beautiful than he remembered. She still had the loveliest green eyes he had ever seen and the most striking head full of red-gold curls.
She had been barely seventeen when they first met and the years that passed only seemed to have added to her appeal. Her womanly curves appeared riper and her cheekbones were more prominent, giving her a more exotic allure. His gaze shifted to her lips. They were still the same full lips he had kissed with hungry passion.
Jordan took control over his growing arousal. Time had made him wiser. He could see past her divine exterior and clearly recall Jane’s devastating betrayal. His mind sharpened as he began to listen to the conversation taking place between her and Grumman.
“You are positive you have no idea where Miss Jenner may have gone?” Jane asked with desperation. “It is imperative that I find her immediately. She is in grave danger, sir.”
“I’m sorry miss. We were all terribly sad to see her go, but even if I knew where she was, I could not tell you. Lord Everton made it perfectly clear when he threw her out days ago we were no longer to discuss Miss Jenner.”
“Yes, Abigail explained to me the circumstances of her dismissal in a letter I received. I must speak to Lord Everton at once so I can clear up this matter.”
Jordan stepped out from the shadows. “You will do no such thing, Jane.”
Jane was momentarily speechless, her mouth wide open as if she were seeing a ghost. “Jordan,” Jane whispered. She shook her head in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same question,” Jordan sneered. “But I’m not surprised you are involved with that imposter. I guess you are living proof, birds of a feather do indeed flock together.”
She recovered from her temporary shock. “How dare you insult me or my friend?” Jane defiantly put her hands on her hips as she squared her shoulders. “Abigail has more morality in her pinky finger than you have in your entire body. You are not even fit to touch her skirts.”
Jane’s words hit their mark. Jordan was furious. It seemed unfathomable to him that Jane would have the nerve to insult him after everything she had put him through. “Don’t you think a lecture on morality coming from a she-devil such as yourself is a tad preposterous?”
Jane took a deep cleansing breath, trying desperately to gain her composure. “If I am a she-devil, then you are Satan himself!”
“That’s it! I have had quite enough of your pleasant company to last me an entire lifetime.” Jordan turned to Grumman, who at present appeared quite dumbstruck by the heated exchange of words. “Please show Lady Whitworth to the door and see that she is never allowed back in.”
Jane ignored Jordan’s thunderous expression. “You have no right to throw me out of a home that is not yours!”
“Well, I guess I am just going to have to remove you myself,” Jordan announced with a triumphant smile. With lightning speed, he grabbed Jane by the waist and unceremoniously threw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
∞
Marcus was deep in thought, trying to map out a plan to find Abigail, when he noticed the front door of his townhouse was wide open, which was quite unusual given the early hour.
His ears caught the sounds of a fiery argument. Marcus went to investigate the matter and couldn’t have been more shocked by the scene that was unfolding.
Jordan looked as if murder was on his mind, but the petite young beauty standing in front of him did not seem to care. Instead of being intimidated by Jordan, like most people were, she dared to insult him. From the little he heard of the quarrel, it appeared that the two knew each other in the past.
Even more peculiar was the fact that Jordan was actually angry. Jordan never got angry. More specifically, Jordan never showed much of any emotion. On the battlefield, the man was the epitome of strength and composure. In risky business ventures, in which most men would have been nervous, Jordan was the embodiment of calm. Most of all, to the chagrin of half the female population in London, Jordan was never affected by a woman’s antics. He gladly enjoyed their physical charms, but treated them with the same jaded indifference he was known for.
Marcus almost laughed at the spectacle of the tiny Miss Whitworth giving Jordan his long overdue comeuppance, but decided against it when Jordan flung Jane over his shoulder. Apparently, it was time to intervene and put an end to this spectacle.
“Put me down, you insufferable beast,” Jane demanded, flailing her arms and kicking her feet. “I will report you to the magistrate at once, if you don’t put me down this instant!”
“I’d like to see you try, but first you will have to explain the trespassing charg
es I plan to file against you!”
“Put her down, Jordan,” Marcus commanded. Jordan’s head shot up at the sound of his voice, clearly unaware of Marcus’s presence. “It is of vital importance that I speak to Miss Whitworth.” Jordan placed Jane back on her feet without hesitation.
“Thank you, Lord Everton. It is refreshing to be in the company of a true gentleman,” Jane said as she glared at Jordan. “It is easy to see why Abigail thinks very highly of you.”
Marcus was hit with another wave of guilt. “I am not certain if I deserve such praise, Miss Whitworth. My behavior towards your friend has been quite abominable.”
Standing in the entrance way of his townhouse, he recalled every ugly detail of Abigail’s dismissal. Marcus shuddered at the awful memory. Can I at least say good bye to Olivia? I will not have my niece consorting with a woman such as you.
Jordan chimed in before Jane had time to respond to Marcus’s guilt riddled statements. “Marcus, what are you talking about? After the way that woman treated you, I can barely understand how you can speak of her so easily.”
Jane could no longer hold her tongue. “Lord Everton, I must explain Abigail’s behavior. It is not what you think.”
Marcus held up his hand to silence another one of Jordan’s outbursts. “She is right, Jordan. I had the entire situation dead wrong. There was no affair between Liam and Abigail.” Jordan looked confused and Jane looked relieved. “Let’s all step into my study and I will explain everything.”
Jordan and Jane nodded the affirmative and followed Marcus into his office. They both took their seats and Marcus filled them both in on his meeting with Mr. Stone. He spared no gruesome detail of the cruelty Abigail had endured. Jane seemed to already know everything about Abigail’s plight, but Jordan was genuinely shocked by the truth and appeared disgusted by Lord Bainbridge’s behavior. He was the first to speak. “I owe Abigail an apology for thinking the worst of her.”
