Regency Romance: The Viscount's Blazing Love (Fire and Smoke: CLEAN Historical Romance)

by Charlotte Stone

  He fell asleep thinking of the look of hurt on Jane’s face the last time he saw her. He dreamt of her lips on his. When he woke, cold and itchy from straw, it hit him worse than any of his father’s punches that he had left her, given her up. It was like losing her all over again, since in his dreams she been warm and real and loving, her lips against his.

  He borrowed clothes from one of his brothers and helped in the fields in the morning. When they came back for a rest during the hottest part of the day, the quiet knock on the front door seemed to surprise the group of them. “Who could that be?” John asked.

  No one had any idea. There was talk of one of his brothers being sweet on the girl down the lane and laughter but someone got the door anyway. “John,” his brother called. “For you.”

  He opened the door, aware of the sweat dripping down his face from the heat and the work. Jane stood on the stoop with Lord Marlington just behind her. Her eyes were wide and blue. “When Tom told us what was going on, I had to come. I had to make sure you were all right.” That she would worry about him after the way he had treated her said a great deal about the kind of person she was. But it was painful to have her here.

  He directed his words to Tom. “How could you bring her here? I was perfectly clear in my note.”

  Tom opened his mouth, but Jane rushed to speak. “I made him bring me.”

  John’s jaw clenched. Could she not see that she did not belong here on this crumbling stoop? He was ashamed and embarrassed and his heart was still broken over her. “I do not want you here,” he whispered to her, looking her in the eye.

  She blinked, a quick spasm of sadness passing over her face before she could hide it. “We were always friends before anything else. And your father…”

  God, could she not see how she was tearing him into pieces? Her kindness and goodness was like a balm to every hurt he had experienced in his life, but he was not good for her. He had to protect her from this. She would find someone better. “We are not friends anymore. That should not be hard for you to understand.”

  She lifted a hand to her mouth as if she might cry, before her eyes hardened. She took a step backward, and Lord Marlington took her elbow to make sure she did not fall from the stoop. “You stubborn man,” she whispered. “It is you who understands nothing.” And then she was off, walking toward the carriage she had ridden in with Tom.

  “How could you bring her here?” John repeated to Tom.

  “Boy,” Tom said as he leaned heavily on his cane. “When love is offered…”

  “I do not want to hear love riddles,” John snapped.

  “I have never seen him in you,” Tom stated after a long moment. “I have never seen his hardness or his ability to hurt others. Not until today. I shall see you Monday.” And then Tom ambled off after Jane.

  John did what his father would do. He slammed the door and cursed.

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  14

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  “HOW COULD YOU?”…

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  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  A Monster’s Last Secret

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  J ohn was woken from a deep sleep brought on by hard labor. “Better come,” his brother said. “He is asking for you. We think this is the end.”

  John stood and walked to the house on unsteady legs. The night was warm and muggy and his head felt heavy and still half of dreams. He bit his own cheek to wake himself completely before realizing that this moment, the breath before his father died, felt like a dream because he had dreamt it so often as a boy. While nursing his own wounds, while comforting his mother, while standing in front of his brothers, it had been his constant refrain, his single hope: someday the monster in front of him would die.

  It appeared as if the monster was dying, and he wanted to speak to John alone.

  “Heard you were stayin’ up at the estate,” his father choked out as he wheezed in a breath and winced in pain all at once. “Heard you took a shine to the youngest Watson girl.”

  “Who told you any of that?” John demanded quietly as he sat on the stool beside his father’s bed.

  “I am dying but I got ears, don’t I?” the man wheezed. “You think I didn’t see you chasing after that little slut’s skirt when you lived under my roof?”

  John imagined wrapping his hands around his father’s throat. He wanted to scream at him and defend Jane. But he would not give the old man the satisfaction. “If you speak of her like that, if you use that language, then I will leave and you will never be able to curse me with your last breath, as I am sure you want to.”

  “Wouldn’t waste a breath cursing ye,” his father spat with more venom that it seemed his dying body was capable of. “I wanted to talk to ye about something else. Confess something, if ye will.”

  John had no intention of pretending he loved his father. He could not even say he hated him either. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest. “This ought to be good.”

  “Do you remember the night of the fire at the Watsons’?” his father asked. John had no earthly idea why he would bring such a thing up. “Speaking of Watson… God, I hated that man. Did ye know when ye were just a boy he saw me strike ye? Grabbed me by the collar and said I was despicable or some such thing for touchin’ ye or your mother. Could see it in his eyes. He thought I was no better than the dirt ‘neath his feet. Couldn’t have that.”

  “No, I suppose you could not,” John replied. He was a bit annoyed that this was what his father wanted to talk about. He wanted to revel in the freedom of his father finally dying without having to think about Jane or her family. He wanted things kept separate.

  His father’s breath hissed in and out. The end was coming. His skin had only grown more yellow. “Do ye remember the night of the fire? How ye came in with a face full of soot and I beat the bloody hell out of ye and said I would kill ye if ye ever spoke of it?”

  Why was this night coming up again? “I remember,” John replied evenly.

  “Always wondered if ye saw me. Did ye see me?”

  John shook his head. He did not understand. “What? What do you mean if I saw you?”

  “The man thought I was nothin’ so I showed him, didn’t I?” His father laughed. “I showed him. His whole family, too. Couldn’t look down on me anymore, could he?”

  “What did you do?” John whispered, suddenly shaking. “What did you do?”

  His father smiled and it was a hateful smile. “I lit that house on fire, and I’m tellin’ ye because it is your secret now. Will she have ye when she knows the truth? Or will you keep your old man’s secret from her and her family? Let it poison you from the inside?”

  John stood as if he himself had been burned. “What have you done?”

  “Ye think I’m a monster,” his father croaked as he held his stomach in pain. “I’m just bein’ the monster you think I am.”

  “You’re lying.” John pointed at the man shakily.

  “I’m dyin’, John.” His father had so rarely used his first name, though they shared it. “I don’t need to lie anymore. I did it. I had a drink, went to the Watsons’ barn, and lit some kindling. Never thought it would be what it was, but I wasn’t sorry about it either.” His father closed his eyes, surrendering.

  “How could you?” John gasped. He felt numb and yet hot all over. Was this what true shock was? “You almost killed someone. You ruined them!”

  But his father could not hear him. He was dead and, as he had threatened, the secret was now John’s to do with what he would. John vomited on the floor and saw stars. When he stood, he crashed into the walls. He heard his brothers, but when his eyes shut, all he could see was orange flames closing in on him.

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  15

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  … OH, GOD. WHAT WAS HE GOING TO DO?…

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  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  An Accidental Interrogation

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  J ohn had always planned on returning for the funeral. He had nothing to guide him, not after that last night of his father’s life full of awful revelations, but his previous plans. So, he would see them through. It gave him something to do. It quieted his head.

  And still, it was as if his own heartbeat was a terrible, awful song. Your father set the fire that ruined her family. Your father nearly killed her sister. Your father. Your father. Your father. No matter what he did, he could not get away from it. He did not know if he was supposed to get away with it or if this was one way he would pay for the sins of his father.

  He did not sleep. He could not eat.

  On the day of the funeral, when he saw nearly all the inhabitants of Pritchford Place lined up in the pews, he thought he would be sick. But lined up, like his own personal support he did not deserve, sat Ben, Cat, Julia, Shep, Tom, and Jane. Do you know you are here for a monster? The question gnawed at him until he turned around to look at them. Their eyes were on him and full of compassion, though he was not brave enough to venture a look at Jane’s face. He realized they were not there for his father. They were there for John. The question changed. Do you know you are here for the son of a monster?

  The church service was more than that monster deserved, but John was doing it for his mother, the woman who had suffered in silence for all those years. At the grave site, John wondered if his mother had known what his father had done. She had always seemed beaten down, as if the man had taken something from her. It was clear she had been pretty once, but would never be so again, not after being married to such a man. John had always seen her as a fellow sufferer, someone who could not help her situation any more than he could. But what if she had known? What if she had kept the secret, too? His stomach pitched and he was afraid he would be sick on the grass.

  What was the right thing to do? He desperately wanted to do the right thing. He thought that was why his father had always hated him so much, because doing the right thing, the sometimes-hard thing, had driven him all his life. If that was true, then it only made telling John all the worse because the man knew it would tie him up in knots. Some people feed on other people’s misery, thinking that it will nourish them. His father had never realized that this nourishment was actually a poison, killing him slowly, degree by degree, making his life worse.

  John lifted his head, feeling the sun on the back of his neck. Was it better to tell them? So they had answers? Or would reviving the past be more harmful?

  He had wanted to protect Jane from marrying him and it gave him no pleasure to know that his instincts were right. After all, his veins carried the same blood of the arsonist who ruined her family’s life. Now, finally, he had the solid reason of why they could not marry. But it gave him no satisfaction. He could not bear to revictimize her family. Oh, God. What is the right thing?

  Feeling a hand on his shoulder after the ceremony, he expected one of his brothers and was surprised to see Ben. “Mind taking a walk with us?” He gestured toward Shep.

  John nodded in acquiescence.

  “We are sorry about your father,” Ben told him quietly as they walked.

  John almost choked, tripping over his own feet. “Please,” he replied, sounding desperate. “Do not be.”

  Shep nodded. “This may not be the best time to bring it up, but we must, as Tom has informed of us that you have plans to return to London very soon.”

  Ben made a sound of agreement. “I know today is hardly the day for it, but I cannot be silent. Not when Jane’s happiness is at stake.” He stopped suddenly. “I need to know your intentions toward my sister-in-law. And before you answer, you should know she has told her sister everything. If you have taken liberties…”

  “I love her.” John closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I love her and would never want to do anything to hurt her.”

  “Then what is the problem?” Shep asked.

  John nearly let out a nasty laugh. What was the problem? Only everything. “I cannot marry her.”

  Without any animosity, Ben touched his shoulder again. “Why not?” He sounded curious instead of angry.

  “I cannot explain. I can only tell you that I cannot marry her. She should find someone else… someone better.” His words were not fluid, but John could not stand here and talk to these men who were clearly in support of the match. If they only knew what his father had done, they would never support the match. They had every right to try and kill him as far as John was concerned. But he could not blurt it out. He had to decide what the right thing to do was. And if he did decide to tell, he had to figure out the way to hurt everyone as little as possible.

  “She does not want to marry someone else,” Ben said at last. “She has made up her mind. And you know Jane. She is not likely to change it.”

  “And why would you want her to?” Shep added. “You love one another. You have a solid foundation. What is the problem?”

  “Please.” John tried to take a deep breath. He did not know how to exit this conversation in the right way. He did not know how to do anything anymore. “I am sorrier than I will ever be able to say that I reintroduced myself into her life. You must know that I love her and only want the best for her and always had the best intentions. But it has become clear to me…” He paused and said in a rush. “We will never marry.”

  “It has become clear to you?” Ben asked with confusion. “You are speaking in circles. Just tell us what the problem is. We may be able to help. After all you have done for my wife, it is the least I can do.”

  That Ben and Cat would still think of John as some kind of hero made everything worse. He shook his head. “I have to go. You have my answer. That is all I can tell you now.”

  “Wait.” Ben grabbed his arm. “There is no quarrel between us but there will be if you cannot explain this to me in a way that makes sense. Jane is my family, and she told us that the reason you gave for not proposing was because you thought Cat and I would not approve. That is not the case.”

  John’s whole body sagged. “Because you think I saved her life.”

  “We do not think it. You did save her life,” Ben corrected. “And we would have approved before that. I know I can speak for Cat when I say that what matters is Jane’s happiness. You can provide that.”

  “Besides,” Shep added. “It would take a blind mind not to see that you are stupid in love with her.”

  “I do love her,” John conceded as he ran a hand wearily down his face. “But I am in no position to marry her.”

  “Are we talking money?” Shep asked as he shrugged.

  He was not speaking of money but he also thought it was interesting that money could be talked about so casually by men who had always had it. Then John shook his head. That was a thought his father would have. He did not want to ever think like his father.

  “Lord Marlington made it clear that your position is fixed and that you could care very well for Jane,” Ben argued.

  “You do not understand.” John lowered his voice, speaking urgently. “I am sorry if Jane is upset but I cannot marry her. It is because I love her that I am saying this. You have to take my word on that.” What was he thinking? His word was useless. “You must put this to rest. She must put it to rest.” His mouth felt dry. He wished he had come to a decision about whether to tell them about the arson or not. “It will be better for her.”

  Ben frowned. He was not pleased. He could tell there was something that John was not telling him. “If that is the case, then it would be much easier for her to put it to rest if you could explain why.”

  John shook his head. “Perhaps you are right but I cannot.” He shook his head again.

  It suddenly dawned on Ben that this conversation had run away from him. He had never intended to interrogate the man on the day he laid his father to rest. “You have my apologies,” he said hum
bly. “Today should be about your father and your family.”

  “It is not that…” John’s sentence trailed off. If he explained that was not the reason for his reticence than what reason could he give?

  “I never meant for this conversation to be so extensive. Again, I apologize. But please, when your head does clear a little bit, think of Jane. If you love her as she loves you, then I beg you to reconsider marriage. But, if at the end of it all, you still feel you cannot marry her, then please do her the courtesy of explaining why it cannot be.”

  “It is only fair,” Shep agreed, slapping a hand to Ben’s shoulder. “It is much easier to move on to a different life when you understand the reasons for leaving the other behind.”

  John nodded, his face pale. Still, no matter how much he wanted to rush off, his thoughts at war within him, he could not forget his manners. “Thank you both for coming. Please communicate my gratitude to everyone else as well.”

  Oh, God. What was he going to do?

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  16

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  YOU WILL NOT EVEN GET NEAR HER! …

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  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A Secret is Told

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  T he first time John realized his father was a bad man, he could not have been more than a few years old. He had watched from his corner of the room as his mother had endured a beating. She had tried to remain as silent as possible, for her children’s sake. John could still recall, if he tried hard enough, which he did not due often, the way she had bit her lip so hard it bled. But her husband had wanted to hear her scream. That was what really convinced John that his father was a bad man. He had thought: just scream and he will leave you alone. And as soon as his childish head realized his thought, realized this was all some sick game, he had known his father was a bad man.