He must head to Standon immediately and warn Aidan. If Aidan would even see him. But what caused his heart to skip several beats was the fact that the bully knew of Abbie and Megan and where they lived. Stop fretting, no harm will come to them, Sutherhorne had said. As if he could trust what the putrid marquess claimed. Garrett soon found himself surrounded by his family.
“What did the despicable miscreant want?” Riordan asked.
Hell, what to reveal. They were in London. The gossip could reach their ears while he traveled to Standon. They should be prepared. Obviously the story that Aidan was in Italy recovering from a chest infection would soon be questioned and parsed over by society.
Hang it, they were alone in the room; might as well tell all. But Jonas should not hear this, for it was private family business and would be difficult to explain. “Jonas, wait for us in the hallway, if you please.”
“All right, Garrett.”
Once the young man stepped outside and closed the door, Garrett relayed what Sutherhorne said, word for word. Julian and Oliver blanched, while Riordan sprinted toward the door. “I will kill the old reprobate!” he yelled. Julian and Oliver grabbed his arms, halting his action. Tears trailed down his cheeks, his face grim and sorrowful. “It is not true. Sutherhorne made up this scandalous story to discredit the family.”
“It is possible he fabricated the entire story. However, Dr. Bevan did tell me that those gripped by an opium addiction will sink to unknown depths in order to obtain the narcotic. When I found him, Aidan was living in squalid conditions with dubious company.” Garrett would not mention the injuries, not until he heard Aidan’s side of the tale. If Aidan would even see him. To hell with it—he would insist that his nephew give him an audience.
“Blast the gossip, we can weather the storm, but what has Aidan gone through?” Julian whispered.
“Perhaps one day he will tell us. I believe it prudent that I leave for Standon immediately. Alone.” The men all protested, speaking over each other, but Garrett firmly shook his head. “We cannot swoop in on Aidan like a convocation of white-tailed eagles. But if I go alone, he may see me.” Garrett patted his coat pocket. “I have all your letters and I will leave them with the doctor, or with Aidan himself. Besides, I also need to talk to Abbie. It is private, and if she refuses my suit, I’d rather be alone for the trip home.”
“Son, while I am glad you are allowing love into your heart at last, you have not fully recovered. Even now you are pale and perspiring,” Oliver stated.
“Then I will make one concession. I will take Jonas with me. He will be a strong arm to lean on. Plus I will have Laddie to keep me company.”
“Allow me to go instead,” Riordan urged.
“You must return to Sabrina and to your occupation.” He gave Riordan a sympathetic look. “He is your twin brother. I understand the need to be there for him. Trust me to stand in your stead.”
Riordan nodded, but his devastated expression tore at Garrett’s heart. “If you will permit, I will leave with Jonas in the carriage right away. You came on your own horses and have transportation home. One day soon, when the country is rife with railway tracks and steam engines, getting about will be a damned sight quicker.” Garrett tried to lighten the mood, but the brooding men of his family were having none of it. “I cannot believe that you are allowing my plan. I thought you would all insist on coming with me.”
“Believe it or not, Brother, we trust your judgment. Riordan told me more than once that you are the rugged stone on which our family’s foundation is built. The mortar that holds us together. Never was it as true as here in this moment.” Julian clapped him on the shoulder while Riordan and Oliver nodded in agreement.
Emboldened by the touching words, Garrett would do all he could to protect those he loved. Now to head to Standon with all haste.
Chapter 21
Abbie ultimately decided to return to her volunteer duties at the sanatorium. Enough feeling sorry for myself. Besides Aidan, there were three other men in residence from various walks of life. She had thought to tell Gethin and Cristyn about Garrett’s proposal for training new physicians to treat addiction, but thought it best that it be left to him to reveal. Besides, the doctor and his daughter had no clue of her connection to the Wollstonecrafts—or Megan’s. As far as they were concerned, she’d gone to Kent to visit an old friend. They knew of Aidan and Garrett by the name of Black. It was not for her to divulge their true identity.
She had toiled most of the morning in the kitchen with a new employee. Thanks to Garrett’s generous contribution, Gethin had hired a woman to do the cleaning and cooking. Mrs. Williams already had a pot of beef stew bubbling on the stove. When the kind woman had offered her some for lunch, Abbie had politely refused, stating that she would head home for a light luncheon and return afterwards to assist with afternoon tea.
Stepping outside the rear entrance, Abbie slipped on her gloves. When she had arrived home, she should have returned to volunteering right away. The work kept her mind busy, and kept her from dwelling on her sadness. Taking a deep breath of cold air and exhaling, she headed for her small house about a half a mile away.
Not far from the sanatorium, Abbie observed a large man partially hidden by a cluster of pine trees. Never seen him before; who could he be? He watched her intently, and a shiver of warning curled about her spine. Though she was not able to make out his features, what she could observe worried her. The arrogant way he stood with legs apart, the scowl on his face. Abbie looked away from him and hurried along the lane. Slowing, she chanced a glance. Thankfully he did not follow her, but instead turned his attention to the sanatorium. Perhaps she was being too apprehensive. Regardless, she picked up her pace toward her home.
“Samuel, I will be fine. There is no need to accompany me.”
The young man held Abbie’s arm while taking in their surroundings with a wary and suspicious eye. “Mr. Garrett and the lordships would have my guts for garters if anything happened to you, Mrs. Hughes, begging your pardon. I should’ve come with you this morning. Especially since you told me at lunch of the strange man lurking about the clinic.”
“No doubt my wild imagination, nothing more.”
“Still, after you’re settled, I’ll reconnoiter the property and the woods surrounding it.”
Once they arrived at the sanatorium, Abbie introduced Samuel as her cousin, who had come to stay for a short visit, and to do odd jobs for her. She despised lying, but everyone accepted her fabrication. Gethin even asked if Samuel would like to earn extra money and take on a couple of repair jobs for him. He agreed, then ducked out to inspect the grounds.
With her duties completed in the kitchen, Cristyn asked, “Would you deliver a cup of tea and a bowl of stew to Aidan Black? I have another patient to see to.”
“Of course.” Abbie had not seen Aidan since the first week of January. She wanted to see if there had been any improvement.
Entering the room, her heart squeezed with compassion at the sight of Garrett’s nephew. In truth, there was not much improvement at all. Aidan sat in a wheeled chair, a wool blanket spread across his lap and another gathered about his thin shoulders. His hair had been cut, though it was still longer than the current fashion. Though his color had improved slightly. The sickly gray shade was now more of an alabaster white. “Good afternoon, Mr. Black.”
He did not reply, but stared at her as she placed the tray on the small table before him. Aidan regarded her shrewdly. “Have we met?”
“I was here the first few days of your stay.”
“No, that’s not it. We have met before. Did we have an affair?” His intense gaze moved over her. “You look my type.”
“From what I’ve heard, any woman drawing breath is your type.”
“Abigail Wharton. I’d recognize that tart tongue anywhere. The years have been kind; you are still lovely.” Aidan didn’t smile, nor d
id he act particularly thrilled to renew the acquaintance. His tone was disinterested, but he flirted nonetheless. He was still a rake, even in faltering health.
“I didn’t think you would remember me, since you were all of twelve when last we met.” She poured him a mug of tea. “Milk? Sugar?”
“No. Just give me the blasted cup. God knows what strange herbs are in this, as my Welsh keepers will not give me a straight answer. As for the damned stew, I’m not hungry.”
“You must eat,” Abbie replied, in a kind but firm tone.
“If you knew how weary I am of hearing that statement. I will eat it shortly, if I must. I take it you haven’t revealed my real name?”
“It is not for me to expose your secret.” She passed him the mug, then pulled up a chair.
“I’m not in the mood for conversation. Allow me to drink this swill in peace.”
“I have just returned from an extended visit in Kent.”
Aidan sipped his tea, grimacing as he did. “I don’t really care.”
It was obvious from the bored expression on his face, and the equally bored tone of his voice, that he truly did not care. No use revealing any current events, such as Megan’s existence or Garrett being shot. Abbie had volunteered here long enough to understand that the patients needed to be kept in a tranquil environment to hasten along their recovery. Shocking reveals would not be prudent. “It is obvious you do not care about much of anything, else you would not be here.”
“How astute,” Aidan snorted sarcastically.
“My late husband started this sanatorium. His dear friend, Gethin, is carrying on his work along with, Cristyn, his daughter. She is a lovely young woman, eager to help others. Compassionate. From what I’ve observed, she has given you particular attention.”
Aidan glared at her over the rim of his mug, one eyebrow arching. “I am hardly in any condition to notice a pretty girl. What do you want, Abigail? Trying to play matchmaker? This from the woman who broke my uncle’s heart.” He scoffed and continued to sip his tea.
Well. Aidan was certainly nothing like Riordan. Twins they may be, but their personalities could not be more dissimilar. His younger brother was a serious young man committed to making the world a better place. Aidan? Out for his own pleasures. Yet she could see the pain in his eyes. The stark loneliness. “And how do you know of Garrett’s broken heart?” she asked in a soft voice.
“I may have been ‘all of twelve,’ but I was observant enough. I also heard the two of you in the hayloft one night. You were not particularly quiet, considering that you were meeting in secret.” He snorted. “Quite shocking to my young sensibilities.”
Abbie’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment.
“How did I know of his broken heart? Garrett was miserable after you left. He refused to talk about it or you. Swore me to complete secrecy.”
As she was about to speak, the door burst open and the imposing man Abbie had seen on her way home for luncheon stepped into the room. He closed the door behind him. He was well over six feet in height, though not as tall as Garrett. But he was broader, if it were possible. The stranger was a lurking brute of a man with a strange countenance. A few scars, a crooked nose, yet a cruel handsomeness skulked beneath the well-worn features. It was hard to ascertain his age. Late thirties? Early forties? When the man’s gaze landed on Aidan, his eyes took on a fiery heat.
“Who are you, sir?” Abbie demanded. Goodness, this man exuded an aura of danger. She stood. Should she scream for Gethin? Was Samuel still looking about the property?
“Leave us. I’ve come to talk to Aidan.” His voice was rough, gravelly, and demanding. He also had a slight accent. Irish? Scottish? Hard to tell.
“I do not know this man,” Aidan replied, looking away.
“You know me,” the man barked. “Intimately.”
Aidan swung his gaze to him and his eyes widened in recognition. He dropped the mug and the remaining tea splashed across the wood floor. “No. You belong in my nightmares. You are not real.”
“Oh, aye. I’m real enough.” The man shifted his gaze toward Aidan. “We need to talk. About what happened between us at that damned house party.”
Aidan visibly paled, becoming almost ghost-like in appearance. “I don’t wish to discuss it.”
“I had to see for myself you’re all right. That it wasn’t because of me that you’re here.”
Abbie looked back and forth between the two men. The conversation had her riveted. And curious.
“Do not flatter yourself,” Aidan replied in a disinterested tone. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Missus, get out. Aidan and me need privacy to talk,” Delaney barked, giving her a cursory but menacing glace.
“I will not,” Abbie replied defiantly. “He wants you to go, and I would suggest, sir, you do exactly that.”
He slipped a knife with a jagged blade from his coat pocket. “I didn’t come here to hurt anyone, but I will, if pushed and provoked.”
Abbie gasped at the sight of the blade. A thought struck her. Was this Delaney, the Marquess of Sutherhorne’s ‘bullyboy,’ as Riordan had called him? What did he mean about a house party? What had happened between the two men? “Your name is Delaney, isn’t it? Haven’t you done enough to this family? You shot at my daughter and me. Injured Garrett. How dare you come here and threaten a sick man?”
“I didn’t shoot at anyone. It was the bloody marquess and his quest for revenge. Nothing to do with me. I’m just his hired muscle.” He looked Abbie over. “Mrs. Hughes. I recognize you now. I thought that you were still in Kent. No matter, I—”
The door gave way from its hinges, and Samuel entered, with Garrett right on his heels. Hovering in the doorway was a shocked Gethin and Cristyn.
Abbie’s breath seized at seeing Garrett. He was not fully recovered, judging by the sling and his pale and drawn features. Before she could muster another thought, Delaney lifted Aidan from his wheeled chair, as if he weighed nothing at all, and held him close, one large arm across Aidan’s chest. The tip of the knife touched Aidan’s throat.
“Mrs. Hughes, come stand next to us,” Delaney barked. “Now.”
Abbie looked to Garrett and Samuel, unsure of what to do.
“Delaney, drop the knife,” Garrett urged.
“I think not. Come here, missus, or blood will be spilled,” Delaney demanded.
Abbie, with shaking legs, stumbled over and stood next to Delaney and Aidan. Delaney nuzzled Aidan’s neck as he stood behind him, as a lover might do. How shocking!
“I only came here to talk to Aidan. Nothing more. This is being blown out of all proportion. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t shoot at you and missus and the girl. That was all Sutherhorne.”
“I know. The marquess admitted it to Prince Albert. Your employer is about to be banished from the country,” Garrett stated, his voice dripping with anger. “So there is no need to carry out any further retribution. Not hurt anyone? You say that with a knife at my nephew’s neck?”
Delaney snorted, but he pulled the knife away from Aidan and kept it at his side. “I’m not here to exact revenge. To hell with Sutherhorne and his feckin’ stupid plans.” He rubbed his nose against Aidan’s neck and whispered in his ear, low enough only Abbie could hear, “Remember me now? Come away with me, let me nurse you back to health. Give you whatever you need. I promise I won’t hurt you.” Delaney’s voice dropped another octave. “Not ever.”
“You were a means to an end,” Aidan murmured. “It meant nothing. Leave me alone.”
A pained look crossed Delaney’s features, as if Aidan’s words hurt. Grunting, he released Aidan, who slumped to the floor. With a swift move, Delaney brought Abbie against him, holding her tight. He still held the knife menacingly, but did not threaten her with it. “I’ll be leaving. The missus here will allow me to get to my horse. Do not foll
ow us, or I will be forced to use violence. Christ almighty, I just wanted to feckin’ talk to…”
Abbie wriggled, trying to escape, but he held her with an iron grip. In turning her head, she saw Delaney glance at Aidan, still lying on the floor. Concern knotted the man’s brows and he seemed to hesitate. But his moment of disquietude passed, and he pulled Abbie with him as he backed up toward the door. “Be gone!” he bellowed to Gethin and Cristyn. They scurried away. “Hear me. Neither you nor your man will follow me. If you chase me, I’ll cut her.” He pressed the tip of the blade against her side to emphasize his point. “Allow me to leave, and no one will be hurt, now, or in the future. I will let Mrs. Hughes go.”
“You miserable bastard. Hear this: if you have any contact with any member of my family or anyone I care about ever again, it will be me cutting you.” Abbie had never seen Garrett this dangerous and intimidating.
Before Abbie knew it, she and Delaney were moving toward the rear entrance. Then they were outside, the cold air causing her breath to catch. The man was swift; his long-legged stride pulled her along toward the thickest part of the woods. She struggled, even kicked at his leg, but it was futile. Delaney was as strong as an ox, and he carried her under his arm as if she were a wrapped package. Her feet were not even touching the ground.
Through the cluster of pines, Abbie spotted a horse tethered to a large tree. Good Lord, the horse was as much of a beast as the man who held her. The horse, which must be a dray crossbreed, had to be seventeen hands tall. Delaney pushed her away and vaulted onto the back of the animal. He slipped his knife in his pocket, then gathered up the reins. “You’re free to go, missus.” He stared at her, and his expression turned melancholy. “Look after Aidan. Tell him…I’ll see him soon.”
“Leave Aidan alone. He’s suffered enough,” she cried, still shaking from the cold and from fright. Her hands were turning red and numb.
Scandal with a Sinful Scot Page 24
