The Stranger She Married (Rogue Hearts Book 1)

by Donna Hatch

  “What can I do?” Nicholas asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  So focused on Cole, she hadn’t noticed Nicholas was in the room.

  Stephens shook his head. “Pray.”

  Fully clothed, Nicholas sank into a nearby chair, his gloved hands clenched.

  When Jeffries returned with a small jar in hand, Stephens applied the salve to the wounds. “Grandmother’s special blend,” he quipped in an attempt to appear optimistic.

  They applied bandages using torn cloth. Grant and Nicholas wordlessly lifted Cole so the bandages could be wrapped and secured.

  Scars crisscrossed his body, in addition to the gunshot wound in his arm from the highwaymen’s attack.

  She traced a rounded scar just above his heart. “He was shot here, too?”

  Stephens nodded soberly. “In the war.”

  She ran a finger along a large scar on his side. “And this?”

  “A pirate’s cutlass,” Nicholas said.

  Other scars were even more alarming. All along the left side of his back were white, wrinkled scars that looked as if his flesh had been melted.

  “Was he burned too?” she asked.

  Nicholas replied, “Fire on board ships is a more common occurrence than people realize.” The grimness of his tone reminded her that Nicholas’s burns had occurred while serving on board his own ship.

  Alicia marveled that Cole had survived at all. She glanced at Grant. His expression revealed no emotion. He was handsome in a terrible, ruthless sort of way. He would have made a great model for a statue of the Greek god of war. Grant stood like a soldier at attention, looking as if he cared nothing at all about Cole’s well-being. How could anyone be so cold and unconcerned about his own brother?

  Nicholas, of course, had no expression, but his breathing rasped unsteadily.

  Stephens tied off the last of the bandages. “I sometimes think he was trying to get himself killed to rid himself of his guilt. He got so reckless after the war.”

  “Guilt for what?” Her voice cracked.

  Grant broke his silence. “Living. Hundreds around him died. He lived.”

  Grant spoke sharply, accusingly, but the bleakness in his eyes revealed Grant Amesbury wasn’t as unfeeling as she’d first supposed. He shared his brother’s anguish, but hid it beneath a cold, impenetrable armor.

  When Stephens finished, he attempted a smile. “He’ll be all right, my lady. He’s survived much worse.”

  She nodded, hoping Cole’s faith in his valet had been well-placed. “I pray you’re right.”

  Alicia looked down and realized, belatedly, that she wore nothing but a nightgown and had been thusly immodest in the presence of several men. At the moment, it was so bloodstained that she probably looked more ghoulish than indecent.

  Alicia rang for Mrs. Dobbs. When the housekeeper arrived, agitated and pale, Alicia requested clean bed linens and the assistance of a footman. As Stephens gathered up his things and moved them to a bedside table, Mrs. Dobbs returned with the linens. Jeffries trailed behind. Nicholas, Grant, and Stephens lifted Cole while Alicia and Mrs. Dobbs pulled off the soiled bed linens and replaced them with clean ones.

  When they had Cole resettled and lying on his stomach, Alicia said, “He’ll be all right.” She tried to be assuring but instead sounded forlorn.

  Grant’s face was an impenetrable fortress. Nicholas nodded once. Stephens tried to form a brave smile but his eyes betrayed his concern.

  She drew a breath. “Is Captain Hawthorne dead?”

  “No,” Stephens replied, “but I doubt he’ll live through the night.”

  “If he dies, it’ll save me the trouble of dragging him to the nearest Magistrate,” Grant said savagely. “I’d like to plunge a knife in his heart to make sure.”

  Alicia shivered at the ferocity in his tone and the murderous look in his cold, gray eyes. It was a pity he hadn’t acted an instant sooner than he did, thus saving Cole from Hawthorne’s bullet. Grant must be berating himself for the same thing.

  She touched him lightly on the sleeve. “I’m sure you did all you could have.”

  Grant stiffened and pulled away. He turned to Stephens. “Notify me immediately if Hawthorne rallies. I want answers.”

  “Of course,” Stephens replied.

  Alicia wanted answers, too; why Hawthorne attacked her, and if he had indeed arranged the death of the rest of her family. If he died, she might never know. What possible motive he had, she could not imagine. They’d been acquaintances since childhood and she could not remember any sort of altercation.

  As Stephens headed for the door, Alicia called him back. “Could you look in on my sister?”

  He nodded and left with Phillips behind him. Nicholas moved to sit on the bed next to Cole. With a silent prayer, Alicia coaxed water between Cole’s lips and brushed his hair back from his pallid face. His lashes lay close to his cheeks. Alicia despaired of ever seeing the deep sapphire of his eyes.

  He must not die. He must not.

  “I don’t believe Hawthorne acted alone.”

  Alicia tore her focus away from Cole and onto Grant. She’d forgotten he was there. He stood utterly still, his face immovable, his mouth pressed into a line. Only that brief flicker of pain in his eyes a moment ago hinted that he was in possession of some humanity. Deep, deep inside.

  Grant continued speaking. “Hawthorne’s had many accomplices, most of which he later killed to cover his trail. But there’s someone within the house who’s been aiding him.”

  Alicia turned cold at the thought.

  Nicholas stirred. “Any suspects?”

  “Not yet. I’ll question the servants.” Grant left as silently as a wraith. Whispers conversed in the corridor.

  Nicholas sat hunched on the bed next to Cole, his gloved hand resting on Cole’s arm.

  Stephens returned. “You’d best look in on your sister. I think she’s being slowly poisoned.”

  Alicia drew back in horror.

  “I gave her some herbs that should help. Your abigail is with her now.”

  With a small cry of alarm, Alicia looked to Nicholas.

  “I’ll stay with him,” he assured her.

  Alicia raced to Hannah. Lying in her bed, her sister opened her eyes at Alicia’s arrival.

  “How are you, dearest?” Alicia asked.

  “Is it true? Mr. Hawthorne tried to kill you?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Alicia nodded.

  Hannah closed her eyes but tears squeezed out between her lashes. “I almost lost you tonight.”

  Alicia stroked her hair. “I’m unharmed. He won’t hurt any of us again.” She prayed Stephens’s herbs would fight off the poison and heal Hannah.

  “Why would Mr. Hawthorne want to hurt us? We’ve known him forever. I thought our families were friends.”

  “I’m not sure, dearest. But I hope he’ll tell us. And who his accomplice is.”

  Monique spoke from the corner. “You said he has an accomplice, madame?”

  “Cole’s brother, Grant, thinks so. It could be anyone. Monique, don’t let anyone near her. This may not be over.”

  Monique nodded, her eyes wide and darting.

  “I’m going to go check on Cole. I’ll return shortly.”

  “Madame, take a moment to change,” Monique advised.

  Surprised, Alicia looked down. Only then did she remember that she wore only a badly bloodied nightgown.

  With Monique’s help, Alicia undressed and took a quick sponge bath to remove the blood that had soaked through her nightgown. Monique made an exclamation when she saw Alicia’s neck. Alicia turned to the glass.

  Black and purple bruises ringed her throat. The horror of the night’s events washed over her anew. She relived her paralyzing terror, the feel of his fingers around her throat, squeezing. Silent sobs shook her body and she pressed her hand over her mouth.

  “Lissie?” Hannah called weakly from the bed.

  Alicia pulled herself together. “I�
��m all right.”

  She dried her eyes and drank some water, wincing in pain with the effort of swallowing with a battered throat.

  After donning one of Hannah’s gowns, she added a spencer with a high neck to cover the bruising. She had to arrange the neckline carefully, cautious of her sore and swollen throat. Monique quickly brushed her hair and twisted it into a simple knot. Refreshed, Alicia leaned over Hannah.

  Hannah opened her eyes. Tears slid silently down the sides of her face. “I can’t get over the thought that he tried to kill you.”

  “All is well, now. You just get better.” Alicia kissed her brow and went back to Cole’s room.

  She halted in the doorway. In a chair drawn up to the bed, Grant sat hunched over, bracing his arms on his thighs, and talking softly to an unconscious Cole. Alicia paused, unwilling to disturb him.

  “—and I know we seldom saw eye to eye. You and Jared were always inseparable. But dash it all, Cole, you’re the heir. Think of the family line. Father won’t be around much longer and the rest of us are too disreputable to marry and have children. Except Christian. He’s probably too pure to think of touching a woman.” His head sunk lower and his voice dropped to a whisper. “First Jason, then Mama, then Tanner.” He let out a weighted sigh. “I can’t lose you too, Cole. I couldn’t bear it.”

  Tears burned Alicia’s eyes. She moved to Grant, longing to comfort Cole’s hurting brother.

  He straightened at her approach. As if donning a mask, his expression turned impassive, with no trace of the grief-stricken brother a moment ago.

  She knelt at his feet and touched his arm. “He’ll be all right.”

  Stone-faced, he stood and spoke gruffly. “I’ll finish questioning the servants.” He strode from the room.

  Cole’s moaning brought Alicia to his side. She touched his cheek. As she’d feared, he had developed a fever. She bathed his face with cold water and pressed a cup to his lips.

  Monique brought her a tray of food. “How is he, madame?”

  “Feverish. Who’s with Hannah?”

  “Robert, madame.”

  “Find Stephens for me.”

  “I’m here, my lady,” the Romany valet replied from the door. “I knew he’d develop a fever. We must bathe him in cool water.”

  Using cold water and soft cloths, Stephens helped her bathe Cole’s quivering flesh. When they had cooled his skin, Stephens nodded. “That’s all we can do for now. I will care for him, my lady. Go rest.”

  A knock sounded and Mrs. Dobbs came in, her eyes lined and shadowed. “How is he?”

  Touched by the woman’s apparent concern, Alicia shook her head. “No change.”

  “Captain Hawthorne is awake.”

  Alicia nodded and went to the room where Hawthorne lay. Stephens followed her in.

  Hawthorne’s ashen face turned upon her; his dark eyes, so much like her father’s, flicked to her. She started.

  Her father’s eyes stared back at her.

  Hawthorne was her father’s illegitimate heir. She shook her head at her own blindness. How had she missed the resemblance? But that only raised more questions.

  His mouth twisted into a sneer and his eyes narrowed, glittering with hate she’d never seen from her father. Though tempted to shrink away from him, she watched him unflinchingly.

  Stephens retrieved a gun from his belt and toyed with it. Grant entered, his grim presence filling the room. He withdrew his pistol and cocked it. What harm they thought a dying man could offer, Alicia couldn’t guess. Stephens glowered at Hawthorne, no doubt wishing he could thrash the man for assaulting his employer and friend.

  Alicia drew a breath of relief as Nicholas’s familiar form approached, leaning more heavily than normal on his cane. He came to her at once, and briefly rested his hand on her shoulder. Robert entered and stood next to Nicholas.

  Alicia fixed her gaze upon the man in the bed. The memory of Captain Hawthorne’s hands at her throat made her shiver.

  Grant stood over Hawthorne, his face grim and drawn. “Why?”

  Hawthorne’s mouth twisted into a cruel smile. “Would it be too blasé to say revenge?”

  Alicia sank into a chair near the bed. “What wrong have I done you? What has anyone in my family done to you?”

  His words came pouring out as if he found it a relief to finally unburden himself with the truth. “Your father used my mother, sired me, and then cast us off like trash. All for a ‘proper lady.’ The man who later married her—John Hawthorne—never let her forget that he took her despite her fallen state and claimed her son as his. All my life, I thought my father hated me. That I disappointed him. All those beatings…” His voice faded, his face twisted in pain and hatred. “It was only upon my mother’s deathbed a year and a half ago that I learned the truth; my real father had rejected us.”

  Alicia’s heart felt leaden. “I didn’t know.”

  “Her name was Ruth Scarlett. She both loved and cursed your father until the day she died.” Hawthorne coughed and blood seeped out of his mouth.

  Alicia leaped up to help but he waved her away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. Alicia sank back against the chair weakly, heaviness weighing upon her soul. “If we had only known…”

  “What would you have done? Tried to form a relationship with your illegitimate half-brother? Protected us from the man who called himself my father? I think not.” Another wave of coughing left him spent. His lips developed a bluish tint.

  Robert leaned forward. “So her death prompted you to kill us all?”

  Hawthorne dipped his chin once, his breathing becoming more labored.

  Grant wasn’t finished. “You hired Vivian Charleston to arrange for Armand to duel.”

  “Vivian was so easily persuaded.”

  “Did you poison Armand’s opium?”

  Hawthorne’s eyes took on an unholy glint. “Of course. After I arranged for the dressings to be tainted so his arm would sicken and have to be amputated. I enjoyed watching him suffer through that.”

  Alicia wrapped her arms around herself. Captain Hawthorne, the handsome man with the serious dark eyes, her unknown half-brother, had destroyed Armand. All the time that she blamed Cole, hated Cole, he was an innocent pawn in this madman’s deadly game.

  “And the carriage where the Palmers died?” Grant pressed.

  “I had it sabotaged to fall apart and the coachman drugged so he would not be able to save them. And I personally walked among the wreckage so I could find and kill the survivors. Unfortunately, my father was already dead.” Hawthorne’s eyes turned to Alicia, filled with cold hatred. “I had thought you dead already, as well. I should have made sure and broken your neck, like I did your mother’s when I found her still living.”

  Alicia pressed a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes closed. The depth of this man’s hatred and his capacity for violence left her ill. How could he have coldly wrapped his hands around Maman’s neck and taken her life? She remembered too clearly his hands around her throat, choking her until black spots exploded before her eyes.

  Nicholas squeezed her shoulder. She drew a shuddering breath and ordered herself not to fall apart.

  Warming to the idea of horrifying them with his actions, Hawthorne continued. “Your father—my father—was supposed to have been the last to die. I wanted him to lose everything and everyone that he loved. I wanted him to suffer. He wasn’t supposed to have been in that carriage. Hannah was.” Another coughing fit brought up more blood and halted his confession.

  Alicia moistened her lips, remembering that day. “Father planned to take care of some urgent business before leaving for London. He was supposed to join us late that night at the inn where we planned to spend the night. At the last minute, he decided to go with us instead. Hannah had been too ill to travel and had remained behind.”

  “Did you tamper with Willard Palmer’s investments when he inherited?” Grant demanded.

  Alicia stared. The thought hadn’t occurred to her.<
br />
  Hawthorne’s mouth twisted into a smile. “I made sure all of them failed. It was so satisfying to watch you all suffer through debt and poverty. Then you married and saved them.” He turned a poisonous glare upon Alicia.

  “When your adopted father died,” Grant said, “you learned he’d changed his will and left you cut off. Didn’t want any of his money to go to his wife’s by-blow.”

  Hawthorne’s face twisted in anger and pain.

  “So you decided to finish us all off in revenge,” Robert said in disbelief. “Including my father.”

  “My dear,” he sneered, “sweet half-sisters…” his voice trailed off. His breathing turned into wheezing.

  “You put the snake in the garden where I always walked. And you sent the highwaymen to attack me,” Alicia accused.

  “And I set your bed curtains on fire.” Blood came out of both sides of his mouth. “I am only sorry I did not avenge her fully…” But Hawthorne lacked the strength to continue. He drew a final, rattling breath and went still.

  Alicia left the room and wandered the halls, cold down to her soul. A moment later, she noticed Grant and Nicholas on either side of her. She reached for Nicholas, finding strength in the touch of his large, gloved hand. She turned to Grant.

  “You knew.”

  “I did. But I lacked concrete proof. That’s why I came here. We needed to catch him.”

  “And now your brother—”

  “Lies dying because I thought to trap the killer.” His narrowed eyes, clenched jaw, and the flat tones in his voice betrayed his protected emotion.

  “It was the only way to catch him, Grant. Don’t blame yourself.” Nicholas’s voice sounded oddly hollow, as if he shared the blame he sought to dissuade Grant of bearing.

  When Robert joined them, he looked broken, staring ahead, white-faced and haunted.

  “Mr. Palmer, a word?” Grant had a way of making a polite request sound like a command.

  Robert turned toward him bleakly. “Of course.”

  “Many of your staff are new, correct?” Grant began.

  “Yes.

  “Anyone from the Hawthorne household?”