Pain of The Marquess: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  “Where are you going?” she asked as he started toward the house.

  He stopped and turned to her. He wasn’t the man who’d called her the most beautiful woman in the world the other night. His eyes had been soft as they’d been when they’d made love. She’d felt connected to that man in every way last night. This man was a stranger and it hurt. “I’ll be busy tonight. I might come in late. Don’t wait up for me. I won’t disturb you.”

  She stood with astonishment, yet even standing was difficult. “Clive, please. We should talk about this, reason with one another. I’m only trying to help you.”

  He scoffed. “So confident. Don’t you understand?” His expression was wild. “I don’t want your help. We don’t all need your help, Irene. I just need you to be a good wife. Keep your mouth closed, legs open, and do as I say,” he said.

  Her mouth gaped in shock. This was not Clive at all. “Clive!”

  “I have to go.”

  She felt panic seize her lungs. Everything was happening far too fast for her mind to process. “Where are you going?” She didn’t like the idea of him leaving like this, leaving her angry. Her eyes burned with tears. “Clive—”

  “It’s none of your concern where I go, wife,” he all but sneered. “Just do as I say. Go nowhere without one of the other men. That is an order.”

  “Don’t leave.” A tear fell from her eyes.

  He held her eyes as if in challenge and then turned his back on her and left.

  Irene watched him go, waited for him to come to his senses and return, but he didn’t. It was only after she was sure he’d left that she wept.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 6

  * * *

  Clive woke with a hand gripping his shoulder and giving him a hard shake. Since the touch was not gentle and the hand was large, he knew it wasn’t Irene. He opened his eyes and his gaze went to a fireplace he recognized. He was not home at all. He was on his best friend’s couch.

  “What are you doing here?” Garrick asked.

  Clive glared at his friend. “There was a time when I was here more than anywhere else. I have a key, or don’t you recall? Do I need an invitation now?”

  Garrick narrowed his eyes. “You know the answer to that is no. You are always welcome here, but what I don’t understand is why you are here and not at home. Irene must be worried.”

  “Irene always worries,” he groaned as he sat up. She simply didn’t worry about the right things. She was just as lost as his mother. She hadn’t even known her own father was a criminal, yet the moment she’d found out, she’d sold his home, his possessions, and even his business.

  It was only a matter of time before she left him, too.

  His headstrong wife would find out the truth and leave him. He might as well leave her first, give her a reason to despise him without knowing the depths of his darkened soul.

  Garrick took a seat in the wingback chair by the empty hearth.

  They’d been like this before. Him in the chair and Clive on the couch, but it had been some time. The last time Clive had spent the night, Garrick had been a bachelor. Times had changed now. Garrick was a husband and a father. He likely didn’t enjoy not knowing who was in his home. “Sorry, mate. I should have announced myself when I came.”

  “I already told you that wasn’t necessary.” Garrick’s fingers tapped on the chair arm. “If it were, I would have taken my key back.”

  Clive smiled.

  Garrick didn’t. “We haven’t spoken in some time.”

  “We speak almost every day.”

  “About Van Dero. About Irene’s assailant, but not about us. Not about you.” Garrick leaned forward. “Why didn’t you tell me that you stole Irene’s hairpin? Why did you lead me to believe it was a lie?”

  Clive paused. “I told you the truth.”

  Garrick shook his head. “You didn’t. Not until recently. I found out with the others a few weeks ago.”

  And even then, Clive hadn’t wanted to admit it. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You, more than anyone else, was upset when you found out I had blood on my hands,” Garrick said. “Don’t you remember? You made quite a scene about the fact that I kept a secret from you.”

  “That was murder and worse, you sought vengeance for a thing that had happened to all of us. You should have told us about the others. We should have worked together.”

  Garrick shrugged. He felt no particular way about what he’d done. The men he’d killed had been vile. Rapists and abusers, yet Clive didn’t understand how Garrick slept so soundly at night. Clive still struggled with the fact that he’d help kill Lord Gregory Jr. “A secret is a secret. If you felt you had the right to know everything about me, you should have told me everything about you.”

  ‘Fine, I stole the hairpin,” Clive said. “I was a thief. I’ve been a thief my entire life.”

  “Why?” Garrick asked. “For money?”

  Clive shook his head. “I took it to give to another woman, Lady Olivia English. She was unwed at the time. I’d hoped to win her by giving her what she desired most.”

  “And what she’d desired most was a hideous hairpin?”

  “It isn’t hideous. I like it.”

  Garrick scoffed. “You like the woman who wears it. There is a difference.”

  Clive said nothing.

  “Have you ever stolen from me?” Garrick asked.

  “No.”

  “The others?” He meant the Lost Lords. “Have you ever taken anything from them?”

  Clive shook his head.

  “What did you steal?” Garrick asked.

  “Anything. Everything. From strangers. From family. I’ve been doing it since I was seven,” Clive said. Anger and fear burned in his chest.

  Garrick seemed unbothered. “When was the last time you took something that didn’t belong to you?”

  Clive swallowed. “Irene’s hairpin. Six years ago.”

  “And before that?” Garrick asked.

  Clive thought. “A brooch that belonged to my sister Clarita. An uncle had bought it for her. I stole it and sold it for money.”

  “Why?”

  “What does it matter?” Clive challenged.

  Garrick’s eyes tightened. “Why are you being such a prick? Answer the question. What did you use the money for?”

  Clive stood. “I’m leaving.”

  “Is it because your family was poor?”

  “Yes.” He looked at Garrick. “We were poor. We were always poor. Lord Edmund worked hard to make sure we stayed that way. He didn’t invest the money he made off my thefts. Instead, he worked very hard to be as useless as possible. I was the heir to Fawley. I was to take care of my family even if I was only a boy.”

  “Then there you go,” Garrick said, leaning back. “You did what you had to do to take care of your family.”

  “I’m a criminal.”

  “And I’m not?”

  Clive dug into his pocket and then walked over to Garrick and held out his hand.

  “What’s that?” Garrick asked.

  “Your key.”

  Garrick cursed. “What am I to do with that? I already have my own.”

  Clive closed his hand and then stuck it back in his pocket. “Don’t act as though you don’t feel ashamed by me.”

  “I am ashamed but not by you,” Garrick said. “I should have known. You were always very quiet about your past. I never asked about it.”

  Clive adjusted himself on his feet. “You rarely asked anything. You couldn’t talk.” Even though Clive was one of the first people he learned to speak fluently to, he still struggled when upset and until Nora, he’d had plenty of reasons to be upset. “You shouldn’t feel ashamed of not asking. I wouldn’t have told you.”

  Garrick stood. “Drink?”

  Clive nodded.

  Garrick went to the sideboard. With his back to Clive, he said, “So why now? Why am I finally worthy to know about your past?” He turned and walked over to Clive, d
rink extended.

  Clive tilted his head back and let the brandy burn his throat. He had to clear his throat before he spoke again. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now.”

  “I used to wonder why, out of all the men in the group, you decided to befriend the young mute with the lowest rank.” Garrick sipped his brandy. “I used to say to myself, why me? There was Marley. A duke who owned a Royal Theatre. There was Kent, the earl, whose every step demanded the respect of everyone in a room. James, the injured marquess, who can likely think circles around the rest of us. And then there was me.” He finished his drink and held Clive’s eyes. “I couldn’t even defend myself until you taught me how to. You learned to speak with signing so that you could translate for me in front of others. You accompanied me to the brothel, though we both knew you hardly enjoyed it.”

  Clive looked into his empty glass. “What is your point?”

  “The point is, I used to wonder. Now, I don’t. Now, I know why you chose me to be your best mate.”

  Clive placed his cup down. “Goodbye, Garrick.”

  “If I found out the truth, I’d have been more likely to forgive you, because I had no one else. That was it, wasn’t it?”

  Clive turned to him. “It was. I chose you because you were helpless and needed me.” He’d never even bothered to think it all the way through until now, but it had been there in the beginning. If Garrick hadn’t been the least fortunate of them, they would not be what they were. “Do you want the key now?”

  Garrick chuckled. “No, I’m not done.” He picked up Clive’s glass. “We’ll have another drink.”

  “I’m done.”

  “I’m not.” Garrick’s gaze challenged him. “You’ll stay until I’m done.”

  Clive decided he owed Garrick at least that much. Anxiety crawled over his skin as he moved back into the room and sat on the couch.

  Garrick poured him another glass of brandy and then handed it to him.

  “Say whatever it is you need to say and then I’ll go.”

  Garrick moved to his chair and fell into it with a sigh. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I didn’t stay to be insulted.” Clive started to rise.

  Garrick’s words made him stop. “I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it weren’t for you, a man able to defend himself and his family. I’d never have found my way if you hadn’t insisted on dragging me about and forced your way into my life. London would be worse off if you hadn’t befriended me, taught me to fight so that I could clean it of the filth that had been residing among us. I trust you with my life, Clive. You are my friend. It doesn’t matter how we came to be. It matters what we are now. So, if you think I’m going to allow you to throw away what we are because you’re feeling sensitive for some reason you’ve yet to explain, be ready for a fight and be ready to lose.”

  Clive narrowed his eyes. “Our friendship is based on a lie.”

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 7

  * * *

  “Our friendship only came to be, because we were kidnapped,” Garrick countered. “And you want to know something else?”

  Clive’s heart pounded in his chest as he swallowed. “What?”

  “I’d take nothing back,” Garrick said. “None of us would. I know you didn’t find Mr. Goody completely terrible to deal with anyway. It was likely the first time you’d had two meals a day and didn’t have to steal for at least one of them.”

  Clive wanted to look away. Shame tightened around his neck, but he didn’t look away. “You wouldn’t take it back?”

  “No. Never. I gained a family from it,” Garrick said. “I gained a wife, the other men, their wives, their children, and I gained you. I’d never take it back.”

  Clive closed his eyes. His chest burned as did his eyes.

  “What happened today?” Garrick asked. “What upset you?”

  Clive cleared his throat, sipped his brandy, and sighed. “My stepfather is keeping my mother away from me again. He’s holding my past against me. He always has been. My mother doesn’t know what I’ve done. She doesn’t know the things I’ve taken from others… from her.” Garrick knew about his stepfather’s malice. He simply hadn’t known why until now. He told Garrick about the note his stepfather had forged on his behalf.

  “In a way, your parents remind me of my aunt and uncle. They are very much in love, so wrapped up in one another that they often forget they have children or that anyone else is in the room when they begin to kiss. But I know my aunt would never allow the things your mother allows.”

  “She was alone.” Clive ran his hands through his hair and then pressed the cool glass to his forehead. “She had a boy and she was lost. She’d never been on her own. Her parents were gone. She didn’t know what to do. Edmund was her savior.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Garrick said.

  Clive glared at Garrick, but the fire wasn’t there.

  “What did Irene do to you?” Garrick asked. “Why are you not home?”

  Clive closed his eyes again. Would he have to tell Garrick everything? “I stole Irene’s hairpin so that I could give it to another woman, the one I was actually in love with.” When he looked at Garrick, his heart stopped.

  Garrick looked… heartbroken. “Seriously?”

  Clive chuckled. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

  Garrick shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s… terrible.”

  Clive stood and groaned. “I know.” He put his glass on the table. “She’s going to find out, Garrick. I told Edmund. Olivia knows, since she’s the one who put me up to it.”

  “We can get rid of Edmund,” Garrick offered blandly. “Can’t kill the lady though.”

  From anyone else, Clive would have believed it to be a joke. “We can’t.”

  “I can.”

  “Don’t.” He gave Garrick a look of warning. “He means a great deal to my mother. I’ll not have her alone again.”

  “She has you.”

  He looked away. “It’s not the same.”

  “I admire Lucy,” Garrick said. “She loves George as if the boy came from her own womb. She went through years of torment for him. She’d have left Kent if she thought he’d meant her boy harm.”

  She had left him, but Kent had gone after her and told her the truth. He loved her and George.

  “Lucy is different,” Clive said. “She’s stronger than my mother.”

  “Your mother is weak,” Garrick said, yet before Clive could speak again, he added, “Irene is not.”

  Clive agreed. There was little weakness in Irene… aside from her love for him.

  He’d watched her cry. He’d stood inside Marley’s home and watched her small form shake in anguish and he’d told himself it was good. His only hope was that she’d one day despise him at the same magnitude she’d once loved him. “I’ll not take the risk. It’s better she leaves me now than later.”

  “So, you’ll let her go?” Garrick asked.

  “Once I’ve found the assailant, she can do as she pleases.”

  “What does the assailant look like again?”

  “Tall. Blue eyes. Likes to climb through windows…” Clive looked Garrick over and a terrible feeling settled in his gut.

  Garrick grinned. “Ask me.”

  Would Garrick have done this? Clive wasn’t sure what Garrick’s limits were. He’s just said he wouldn’t kill Olivia though. Had Kent sent him to do it? Kent had wanted to frighten Irene in order to get the book. It would have been easy for Garrick to do it.

  It could have been Garrick.

  Except, Irene was also attacked while in Clive’s care and Garrick would have never insulted him in that way.

  “If you think I did it—”

  “I know you didn’t,” Clive said.

  Garrick lifted a brow. “Are you sure? I’m tall and blue-eyed. I love windows. They’re more likely to be unlocked than a door.”

  “Shut up.” Clive waved him off. “It wasn’t you.”

  Garrick chu
ckled. “We’ll find him.” He stood.

  “Going to bed?” Clive asked.

  Garrick shook his head. “I’m going out tonight. Hunting for Crows.” He grinned. “You think I’d be talking to you if my wife was upstairs? I only stopped here to change clothes. Nora and Gabby are staying at Marley’s.”

  “Irene is likely there as well,” Clive said.

  “No, Irene left almost right after you did,” Garrick said.

  He panicked. “What? I told her—”

  “Cass took her home.”

  Clive settled.

  Garrick shook his head. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Am not,” Clive said. Then added, “Can I join you?”

  Garrick shrugged and started for the door. “Just don’t talk about Van Dero or that book. It’s all Marley ever speaks of. I’ve had enough.”

  “I agree.”

  “But be forewarned. I plan to encourage you to go home.”

  “I have been forewarned,” Clive replied.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  3 8

  * * *

  Irene didn’t look at the clock until it struck the eighth hour. She and Cass were playing chess. He’d won twice. She’d hardly been paying attention, yet even if she had been, she was certain the score would remain the same.

  At nine, she decided to read. Cass read as well but not a book. Instead, he focused on the reports she’d given him concerning the businesses that were now his. She was glad whenever he asked for her help in understanding some note she or Mr. Crow had made, but otherwise, he left her alone.

  During that time, she’d read the letter her father had left him.

  She wished she hadn’t afterward.

  Cassius,

  It was never meant to be you.

  You were never meant to take my title as the Duke of Van Dero. You have no idea what it means. The life you have led up to this point has left you unworthy of even a quarter of what I’ve built. You were poor, yet now you are to rule what amounts to an empire.

  Such chances rarely exist.

  She looked over to the cousin she knew very little about. Had he truly been poor? Had her father cared at all? Had he helped?