by Sharon Page
He was quiet, driving through the narrow High Street. He accelerated around a plodding horse-drawn cart. “What does Diana want?” he asked finally. “To keep the child? Or move on with her life so she can marry some gentleman and get a fancy title?”
At his side, Julia winced. “She has not thought that far ahead. She still believes she can have the child’s father. She loves him. And she hasn’t accepted yet that he doesn’t love her in return.”
“She’s not gonna listen to me about that,” he said gruffly.
“I know. I simply have to keep trying to make her understand that. At least I can now tell her she will be safe.”
“Why you? Why do you have to take care of things?”
“I am her friend.”
“And you always take care of everyone.”
“You sound as if you don’t approve. As if it is wrong for me to do so.”
Doubt hit him. Could Julia, who worried about anything, really not have had suspicions about Anthony Carstairs? “There’s something I have to know, Julia. Three young women went missing around 1916. Sarah Brand, a woman named Eileen Kilkenny, sister of the local blacksmith, and a maid, Gladys Burrows, who worked for the squire in the next village.”
“Three women? All around the same time?” she whispered. “I—I don’t understand. We searched for Sarah. We completely scoured the estate in case Sarah had met with an accident. We searched the woods for days. When no trace of her was found, it was assumed she had run away. Then stories came out that she was seen riding with a man in a motorcar. Girls did run off to London. It was thought she might have had a secret love who was going to war and she ran off to London for a hasty marriage.”
His hands tightened on the wheel. “I talked to the sergeant at the police station in the village. He confirmed that all three women were seen driving with a man in a flashy red car. They couldn’t describe the man—he wore a hat pulled low and a scarf around his face. But I just found out the make of the car. It was a 1914 Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, painted red. And I saw one this morning in the Worthington garage.”
Julia gasped. “What are you saying? You think it was Anthony, don’t you? Sarah may have vanished before Anthony went away, but he helped in the search, just before he left because he had enlisted.”
“I don’t know. All I’m saying is that a bright red Rolls touring car is in the Worthington garage. I’m going to take a better look at it.”
“Could I—could I accompany you? I don’t want to go to Brideswell now. I want—I want to see.”
Her request startled him. Cal didn’t want her to see. But he knew she would be able to face anything. She was so strong.
* * *
Julia felt sick with fear as Cal drove her to Worthington. It drove all thoughts of Dougal’s return to Brideswell from her mind—she had spoken to Nigel and Zoe and they had all agreed to welcome Dougal back. She still did not believe Anthony could have done something to Sarah Brand and two other young women. She simply couldn’t.
But as Cal’s car turned in at Worthington Park’s gates, a small figure rushed out from behind a thick lilac.
“Jesus Christ.” Cal slammed on the brakes but the car skidded on the gravel. Right toward Ben Lambert. Julia reached her hand out toward the low windscreen as if she could push the boy out of the way. She shouted, “Run out of the way, Ben.”
But the boy was paralyzed, frozen in place, afraid to move.
Cal jerked the wheel hard, cursing with words Julia had never heard before.
The car swerved so abruptly, it lifted onto two wheels and Julia’s heart lodged in her throat. She couldn’t scream.
As long as Ben wasn’t hit, she didn’t care what happened to her.
But she didn’t want Cal to be killed, either.
The car fell back on all four wheels and skidded onto the lawn. Suddenly it came to a lurching stop and Cal’s hand grabbed her shoulder and held her back. He had one hand on the steering wheel and his chest hit hard against it. But with his other hand securing her, she only fell forward a bit.
“Are you okay?” Cal’s voice came tightly, and he was short of breath. He must have had all the wind knocked out of him.
“Yes. But what about—”
Cal got out of the car. She followed but he’d sprinted so fast he’d already reached Ben. Cal dropped to one knee in front of him and held Ben’s slim shoulders. The boy shook his head then Cal pulled the child into a tight embrace.
Ben must have been telling him he wasn’t hurt.
Julia reached them then. “Ben, you aren’t hurt? Are you certain?”
“I’m not. But me mum is,” the boy sobbed. “She’s got hurt bad. I don’t know what to do.”
“Where is she?”
“At our cottage.”
“How bad is she, Ben?” Cal asked, his voice cool and collected. Julia could barely think for the racing of her heart. They needed a doctor. And Dougal had just arrived today—that was why she’d gone into the village. To see him—
“She got knocked out,” Ben said. “He hit her so hard she fell down. She won’t wake up and she’s bleeding. There’s all this blood and I don’t know what to do.”
“Who hit her?” Julia demanded, shocked.
But Ben just mutely shook his head. He was too afraid.
Cal glanced back at the car. Then at the house. “Damn, I need to push the car out. Get behind the wheel, Julia. Put the boy in the car.”
With Cal’s direction, Julia put the car in gear and pressed gently on the gas while Cal pushed from behind. She turned, watching him. His face grimaced, his arms strained, but he made the car rock. She would let off on the gas and give it more, matching the rhythm he was creating.
Then Cal let out a roar and pushed hard. The car shot ahead and two of the wheels got traction on the drive. “Keep going!” he shouted.
She did. Mud sprayed out from behind her. But she kept going until the car was all the way out of the grass. Cal ran to the passenger side and he vaulted in, beside Ben.
“Drive as fast as you can, doll,” he said.
Mud covered his jacket, trousers, shirt. Clumps of it clung to his face. But he obviously didn’t care. And she drove as fast as she dared, her heart in her throat. It was only when they reached Ben’s cottage that she realized they should have gotten the doctor first.
Cal was out of the car before she’d shut off the engine, running for the front door of the cottage. “Stay there,” he shouted at her.
But she didn’t. She reached the front door when she heard him curse again. “Ah hell,” he muttered. “Who in hell could have done this?”
11
Suspicion
Through the haze of shock and fear, Julia watched Cal crouch beside Ellen and press his fingers to her throat. He bent so his cheek was close to her mouth. Julia knew he was listening for breath.
“Is she breathing?” This was her fault—she had pushed Ellen to stop letting that man hurt her and use her and pimp her, and he had no doubt reacted in pure rage.
Cal looked up. She’d never seen a man look so anguished—except Nigel, when Zoe lost her babies. “Julia, I told you to stay outside.”
“What use would I be out there?” But she wanted to be sick and she was fighting to stay on her feet.
“You shouldn’t see this. She’s been beaten to a pulp.” He surged to his feet. “She’s breathing but unconscious. I need to stop the blood flow on the wound on her arm. What she needs is to get to a hospital where she can be stitched up properly. Her leg and arm are broken.”
Now, without Cal’s body blocking her view, she could fully see Ellen. At least, she thought it must be Ellen. Bruises had turned the woman’s face into masses of black and blue. The nose—heavens, it was a mess, and there was blood all over her face. There was blood
on the floor and on the side of the stove.
Her knees wobbled. Don’t faint and be useless. Isobel could look at medical illustrations while eating biscuits. She could cope with this. But Julia felt as if her head was full of nothing but air. Spots danced. She feared she would slither to the floor.
But then rage flooded her. Right now was the time to prove she was modern. And strong. She straightened her back; she regained control as Cal asked, “Can we get an ambulance of some kind?”
“There’s the local doctor. I can get him and we can get a car from the hospital, Cal.”
He looked up at her. His face softened. “Julia.” Next thing she knew, he’d led her away, toward the door.
“No,” she protested. “If you can face this with strength, I can. I’ll fetch Dougal. He’s come back to Brideswell and I know he can help her.”
“I don’t think you’re fit to drive—”
“I am!” she cried. “I can do this.”
She saw the doubt in his eyes and she wanted to scream. It was because she was a woman. Everyone thought she was so weak—
“Okay. Take the child with you,” Cal said, surprising her by showing he believed her capable. “If I could get my hands on who did this, I’d tear him apart.”
She nodded numbly, then stumbled to the door. She believed she knew who had done this. But she didn’t have his name. The man was a monster, but Cal couldn’t tear him apart. The law would make this man pay. She grasped Ben’s hand—he was in the hallway, white as a sheet. “Come and help me get the doctor, Ben—”
“I’m not leaving her!” Ben was going to pull away from her hand, but Cal was there, suddenly, at Ben’s side.
“We’ll get her to the hospital and the doctor will take care of her, Ben. Go with Lady Julia. She needs a strong man at her side.”
She was going to protest—then saw, by the way Ben straightened and held her hand firmly, that Cal’s words were to help the boy. He had known just the thing to say.
But as Cal turned to go back to Ellen, she heard him mutter, “God, don’t let her die. Not like Mam.” He stalked to the kitchen.
His mother had died...like this? Julia felt Ben’s hand squeeze hers. They had to go. She hurried him outside, helped him into the car, putting him in the front seat next to her.
Having Ben beside her in the car made her aware she must hold herself together. Tears welled, blurring her vision, and she wiped the tears away viciously with her leather-clad hand, then drew her goggles down over her eyes. Ben said not a word.
She feared for Ellen Lambert, and young Ben, and she feared she’d learned an awful truth about Cal’s past. She pushed down the accelerator, hurrying to the hospital to fetch Dougal.
* * *
Once Julia had driven away—and he’d watched to ensure she wasn’t weaving the car because she was about to faint—Cal went back in, ripped up some sheets and made the best tourniquets he could. Mam used to pray. He never did, but he was doing it now. Silently praying for Ellen.
Then Julia’s voice called, “Cal, I’m back and I’ve brought Dougal—Dr. Campbell.”
The sound of her voice...it did something to him. It went right to his soul. He couldn’t even explain how he reacted. He’d been with a lot of women, but he’d never been through as much as he had with Julia, and he felt so close to her.
A tall, handsome man with auburn hair strode in, with Julia behind him.
Cal realized it was Campbell, the man Julia had intended to marry.
The doctor got on his knees beside Ellen’s prostrate body. Nodded approval at the tourniquets Cal had made. Cal got to his feet and got out of the way so the doctor could work.
Dr. Campbell tended to Ellen with Julia at his side. And Cal saw the way Julia looked at the doctor. That look hit Cal right in the gut.
Campbell was a different kind of man to Hamilton. No snobbery, no drunkenness. Campbell got to business and concern for Ellen was obvious on his face. Campbell was different from him, too, Cal realized. The doctor’s past included medical school, hard work and saving lives. Not like Cal’s past of crimes and violence.
Campbell examined Ellen quickly, checking her heartbeat and for broken bones. He opened his Gladstone bag and gave Ellen an injection. “For the pain,” he said in a Scottish burr. “The tourniquets are doing the trick for now. This lass needs to get to the hospital.” He frowned. “Assaulted in her own cottage in front of her wee child. What ruffian carried out this misdeed?”
“I don’t know,” Julia said.
“Shouldn’t the police be called in?” Campbell asked.
“I’ll do that,” Cal said. “But I doubt Ellen will be helpful.”
“Surely she will now,” Julia cried.
Cal shook his head. “She’ll be more afraid. And afraid for Ben.” Tires crunched then, and doors slammed.
“That’s the car from the hospital,” Julia said. “We left Ben there, under the care of nurses. He wanted to come back, but I told him to wait there, to be ready when his mother came.”
Cal nodded, seeing how well she handled herself in a crisis. She was perfectly matched to the honorable Dr. Campbell.
The ambulance drove off with the doctor in the back. Julia touched his arm. “I should go to the hospital to watch Ben,” she said. “He’ll need a familiar face.”
“After, he can come and stay with me at Worthington.”
She looked startled. “It would be better for him to come with me to Brideswell. The countess may not be welcoming. And Ben knows me.”
“They’re on my estate. They’re my responsibility. That’s what you wanted me to learn, wasn’t it? I’m taking him to Worthington and the countess can keep her mouth shut.”
Julia’s eyes widened in surprise. “I will gather some of Ben’s things.”
She hurried away from him so fast, Cal knew something was wrong. He followed her. She stood in a tiny room by a small cot. She put her hands to her face.
She was crying. And she hadn’t wanted him to see.
But he had comforted her after Mrs. Toft died...
Yeah, and he’d kissed her.
“Are you okay?” he asked. Of course she wasn’t, but he didn’t know what to say.
With her back to him, she wiped her eyes. She faced him looking collected, except for red rims to her eyelids. “I am fine.”
She wasn’t, but he guessed she didn’t need him. He wanted to touch her, put his arm around her to take her to the car, but he didn’t. He drove her to the hospital. Along the way, he stayed quiet. His gut was churning. Maybe his actions toward Ben made Julia believe he’d accepted his place as earl.
But he hadn’t. He was angry about Ellen, but that had nothing to do with being an earl. He didn’t need the title, the money, the estate. David, his brother, didn’t need it, either. He’d sent a telegram, telling David he was now the earl. Temporarily. Because he had made a vow when Mam died. Julia didn’t know that, but he’d made a promise, and he was going to carry it out—
“You look so angry,” Julia said, breaking the silence as he drove on the rough road.
He could have told her exactly what was on his mind. But he just told her part of it. “I am. I guess you did a good job, Julia. You made me care about these people. I’m going to find that thug and make him pay. I’m going to make him suffer.”
“What? You cannot. He must be arrested.”
“Where I come from, he’d be found dead.”
He heard her sharp, shocked gasp. “That is what they do in New York? I thought those stories of gangs and wars were all exaggerated.”
“They’re not. That’s what the poorest neighborhoods are like. A constant war,” he said bitterly. “That’s the world that the Carstairs family condemned us to.”
“Cal—”
“That’
s why I’m vengeful, Julia. Vengeance made the world go round where I grew up.”
He shouldn’t be doing this, shocking her when she was hurt. But the old anger was coiling in him. Then the look of horror on her face cut right down to his soul. She wanted to think he could be gentlemanly. But he never could. He’d never be the kind of man who came from her world.
He damn well didn’t want to be. At that moment, he actually felt proud of his past. Proud of having survived poverty and fought his way out of the New York slums.
Then he remembered what he’d done to get out and that feeling of pride was replaced with cold, hard anger.
Meeting Kerry O’Brien in London had reminded him that he’d walked away from his past but hadn’t escaped it. Most of New York had read about him in the newspapers. The headlines had screamed things like “American Artist Surprise Heir. The Earl of New York—found penniless in Paris.” That was how O’Brien had tracked him down. He’d arranged to meet Kerry O’Brien in London to keep him away from Worthington Park. O’Brien wanted money—
“Cal, was your mother attacked like this?”
He hit a hole in the road because her question had stunned him. How had she known?
“I overheard what you said as I was leaving to fetch Dr. Campbell,” she said softly.
He was going to say something hard and curt, something to end the conversation, but he opened his mouth and all that came out was a painful sound, like an abbreviated sob of grief.
All he could think of was the last night of his mam’s life. How he had found her. The last words she’d said. After, he’d almost killed himself, he’d been so full of drunken rage and guilt. Painting had saved him. Painting and his responsibility to his brother.
He wasn’t going to break down in front of Julia.
“Cal, I am so sorry. If that is what your life was like when you were young, I would like to summon the old earl’s ghost and give it a damn good slap.”
He’d never heard her swear. It made a laugh come up from deep in his chest. And he knew what he was going to do. Tell Julia Hazelton something that no one else knew. David didn’t even know what had really happened to their mam. He’d kept the truth from his brother.
