Baron of Blasphemy

by Tammy Andresen

  “Abigail?”

  Chad. She spun, her husband in the doorway. “There you are.” Relief washed over her as she stepped toward him, reaching out her free hand. “I was just cutting some flowers for our table tonight and then I thought I heard something. I think today has just wreaked havoc with my senses. I—”

  But she didn’t get a chance to finish that thought.

  With a sudden movement that left her breathless, Chad grabbed her about the waist and lifted her, spinning her into the house behind him, his large frame blocking the door.

  She’d barely had a second to contemplate what had happened when three men rushed toward them. She screamed as Chad dipped into a predatory crouch, his fists clenching in front of him. “Abby, run,” he barked. “Lock yourself in a room.”

  Abigail gasped before she dropped the flowers and then turned, springing into action.

  “Abby,” another voice called, not Chad’s, and the sound of it trilled down her spine like a memory of a ghost.

  “Papa?” she said as she spun back, her hands flying to her mouth.

  The three men had stopped, not four feet from Chad. She blinked several times. The man in the middle was older, greyer, with a bushy beard. He was thinner than she remembered her father, but those were his eyes. There was no mistaking it. Surprise jolted through her.

  “Papa?” Chad asked, still standing between her and the men. “Your father is dead.”

  “I’m not,” Lucas Carrington answered. “Though I could see why you might think so. I’ve done my best to make the whole world believe it was true.” Then her father straightened. “Now who are you, young man, and why do you have my daughter here, flying from London as though you were up to no good?”

  “Papa,” Abigail said again as though she wasn’t able to say anything else. She stepped closer to Chad, her hand touching his back. She needed to touch his solid form because the entire world had shifted. “This is the Baron of Blackwater, my husband.”

  “Your husband?” Her father’s rough voice grated. “But he stole you out of a ball, visibly carrying you, loaded you into a hack, and hurried straight out of London without any luggage or…”

  “It was you,” Chad interrupted. “That I saw outside the palace.”

  “It was,” her father answered, crossing his arms. “Why did you leave London in such a rush?”

  “Dishonor…your partner.” Abigail moved closer to Chad and he straightened, wrapping an arm about her. She should run to her father and hug him, but something held her back. She’d missed her father, of course. But also…

  Her mind was struggling to make sense of all this, and as Chad pulled her closer, she settled against him, drawing from his strength. “He flushed out the London thieves. One of them tried to kidnap Emily.”

  Chad squeezed her closer even as her father let out a rush of air. “Where is Emily now?” he asked.

  “On a ship somewhere with Dishonor. And Eliza left with her husband, The Marquess of Milton, and Isabella with hers…the Duke of Devonhall.”

  Her father scrubbed his face. “You’re all married. All of you?”

  Abigail swallowed. “I don’t know about Emily. There were plans, of course.”

  Her father ran his hand down his face. “I’m sorry that I left you. I hope you understand I was trying to protect you.”

  And then she understood why she hadn’t run to her father. Her hands tightened around Chad. “I hope you understand how much Eliza and Isabella sacrificed because of your choice.” Her hands clenched into Chad’s side.

  All this time, he’d acted in his own best interest. And as his favorite, she’d been molded into his likeness. Demanding without giving. Until now. She’d be like Eliza or Isabella. She’d give to her family, not just take from it.

  Her father lifted his hands. “Abby. I had to protect the business. Our legacy.”

  “We are your legacy,” she cried out. “And Isabella and Eliza were both nearly ruined for it.”

  His face paled. “I came as soon as I could.”

  Chad’s hand massaged her back, as he silently watched. Her voice trembled, but she pushed out the words. “Go back to saving your business. We’ve saved ourselves. I’ll tell my sisters that you’re alive and allow each of them to decide if they want to see you again. But you’ll not visit them until I’ve told them.” This was her moment. Her time to protect them.

  His eyes crinkled. “Abby. How could you hold them and yourself away from me? I—”

  “You left us to fend for ourselves. We did. Congratulate yourself. We’ve all learned that the people in this world we can count on are each other.” Then she looked at Chad. “And our husbands.”

  * * *

  Chad felt her trembling next to him. Being hurt by those that, by all accounts, should be giving love was something he understood deeply. He wished he’d actually punched the man before he’d learned who he was.

  He knew that Abigail and her sisters were capable of fierce love. The sort that would lift up those around them.

  But her father had tossed that away.

  “Abby,” her father pleaded. “I didn’t abandon you. I was protecting you. These men were capable of hurting you.”

  Chad felt Abigail stiffen. “I’m aware they are capable of great harm. We faced that alone.”

  “When I left your mother…”

  “Our mother—your wife—died. I know you knew. We sent you missive after missive.” Her voice grew louder with every word.

  He winced. “I had to free our family from their clutches.”

  Abigail shook her head. “We’re getting nowhere.” He squeezed her tighter. “When I return to London, I will tell them all that you’ve said.”

  He grimaced. “There is so much more I need to say.”

  He felt her shaking as he held her close. He’d tried to allow her to face her father on her own. Hours of listening and he knew that she’d struggled with her relationship with this man. He’d loved her but he’d also created distance between her and her sisters with his affection. He couldn’t listen any longer. “My wife doesn’t want to hear it.”

  But she shook her head as she looked up at him. “It’s all right, Chad. I’ll hear it all. For them.”

  His breath caught. She was going to take on the hurt, so they didn’t have to. Because she loved them.

  She’d said she loved him too. His heart squeezed. Did she love him like this? Would she attempt to protect him too? It made him weak to think about it and as his hands splayed out on her back, he knew he’d return that affection with his every breath. “Come inside.” He pointed to her father. “Your goons can wait outside.”

  “They aren’t goons,” her father replied but the two men nodded, already turning to the woods. “They are the only two men I could trust to help me. I put my life and theirs in danger.”

  Turning, Chad saw the flowers on the floor, and he bent down to scoop them up. Then, with his arm about Abigail still, he led the way into a sitting room, pulling the bell cord for tea service.

  Truly, the situation might have called for something stronger, but tea would have to do for now.

  He set the flowers onto a side table as he gestured for Carrington to take a seat across from them.

  Lacing his fingers through Abigail’s, he sat next to her, determined to hold his tongue as she navigated this meeting with her father.

  But the man’s eyes were trained on him and not his daughter. “You’re the Baron of Blackwater? For how long?”

  “Just a few years,” he answered. “My brother held the title for eight before that.”

  Carrington gave a single nod. “I met him. Didn’t like him.”

  “Not many did,” Chad answered.

  “But you,” the man asked, his eyes squinting. “You hold an affection for my daughter?”

  “I do,” he answered honestly as Abigail drew in a sharp breath next to him.

  “Did Malcolm give you permission to marry?”

  “Uncle Malcolm
is dead,” Abigail answered. “Avery is in the care of the Duke of Devonhall, and he is the man who arranged my match to the baron.”

  “Dead?” Carrington’s eyes widened. “How?”

  Chad did speak up then. “He was found stabbed in the Thames. A partner of Dishonor’s infiltrated the thieves and he told us that it was because Malcolm failed to deliver Eliza as a bride to one of the men in the criminal ring.”

  Carrington pressed a hand to his chest, his fingers gripping his clothes just over his heart. “Eliza married to one of the very men who was stealing from me?”

  Abigail held his fingers, her grip frighteningly strong. “That’s not even the worst of it. But today is not the time for me to tell you our story. Where have you been and why have you come back now?”

  Carrington started talking and he kept on as tea was served, and then refreshments, and finally into the dinner hour.

  He’d taken a routine trip to the Orient, intent upon taking a new client, but also, he’d suspected the theft went far beyond the local branch who’d been working with Malcolm. When a group attempted to take his life, he allowed them to believe he’d been killed and had started investigating the men who’d attempted the murder.

  What he’d found was that the man he’d been buying his goods from had set up a ring to steal a percentage of them back and then resell them to the very vendors he’d originally stolen them from.

  “It took me a year and half to find them and then to eliminate the threat.” His head dropped. “You know that I loved your mother deeply. But by the time I learned of her death, I had a choice. I could come back here and undo all the work I’d done, or I could stay and finish. And I knew full well, if I resurfaced, they’d try to kill me again. I was worried I posed far more danger to you alive and back in London than I did gone.”

  Abigail rested her head on Chad’s shoulder. “I understand.”

  “I’m glad,” Carrington replied.

  “But you need to know that you left us at the brink of starvation and at the mercy of Uncle Malcolm’s schemes. When I think of some of the things my sisters had to do to survive…”

  Her father leaned forward. “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but I always knew you girls could do it. You’re strong and smart and savvy too. And you love each other in a way I’ve never seen before.”

  It was the truth.

  Chad swallowed. He had to tell Abigail how he felt because, deep down, he was damn lucky to be part of that love.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Back in their room, Abigail sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the far wall. She’d been like that for at least five minutes, Chad realized.

  It wasn’t every day a person found out her father, believed dead, was alive and well.

  And a selfish bastard.

  That was Chad’s official stance on the matter, which made him wonder how the man had created such amazing daughters.

  He looked at the woman who’d become his wife. The one who’d stood up to the man she’d idolized to protect her sisters.

  Had he ever thought her silly or spoiled? She was amazingly resilient, loyal, fierce, and hurting terribly in this moment.

  He climbed into the other side of the bed and rolled over to cradle her lower back against his abdomen. Then, one at a time, he pulled the pins from her hair. As the luxurious locks released, they fell and brushed his shoulders, arm, and side. He leaned up to kiss her back through the silky strands. “Abigail. My princess.”

  She looked back at him. “You haven’t called me Princess in ages. What have I done to deserve your ire?”

  “Not ire.” He smiled at her, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

  “My sisters think I’m spoiled too. They actually think that my father gave me whatever I wanted. They don’t call me Princess, but I know you meant the same as them when you used that name.”

  He sat up, pulling her into his arms. She was stiff and he frowned. “I will confess to meaning the words then, but now, I see it differently. You are a woman who is as stunningly beautiful as she is strong.”

  She gave a nod, her cheek pressing to his. “Thank you for all your help this evening.”

  “Of course.” Chad cupped her face in his hands. “You’re my wife. It’s my duty to stand next to you, no matter what.”

  He saw her eyes shudder, pain pulling at the corners as her mouth turned down into a frown. “Your duty.”

  He winced. He hadn’t meant it like that. He was bad at sharing feelings. He hugged her tight, willing her to relax in his arms. “What will you tell your sisters?”

  “The truth,” she murmured. “I’m just deciding how. Do I send a letter? If so, where? Do I return to London and wait for them?”

  He shook his head. “Not London.”

  She pulled back then, her brow crinkling. “My father has returned, and he’s eliminated the head of the operation, or so he says.”

  “The local criminals could still be at large. We have to be careful, yet.”

  She pulled back, sliding from his embrace. “Right. You provide protection, and in return you get my dowry.”

  A prickling moved along his skin. “That is the way in every marriage in our class. Marriage is always an exchange.”

  She rubbed her arms, looking away. “It’s so…cold.”

  He tried to reach for her, but she pulled further away. “It’s not.” He drew in a breath. He wanted to tell her that he’d never felt anything warmer in his life. But as she pulled away, he didn’t know how to say the words. He scrubbed his neck. “I would lay my life down for yours.”

  Her head snapped up then, and she tilted her head as she stared at him. Tentatively, her hand reached up and touched his cheek. “Forgive me. I’m being petulant. It’s just that…”

  “What?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her shoulder.

  “I thought my father loved us. And maybe he does but…” She tapered off. “He loves the business he’s built far more. It’s a selfish love.” Her head dipped.

  He pulled her close again, and this time she allowed him, melting into his arms. As her cheek nuzzled into the hollow of his neck, he felt wetness hit his bare shoulder. He lay back with her still on his chest. “What you need is some sleep.”

  “I’m so tired,” she murmured. “Odd since I slept this afternoon.”

  “It’s been a long day,” he answered.

  “Will you stay with me?” she asked, her head lifting again.

  “Of course.” He stroked her hair as he settled her against his body. “I’ll always be here.”

  “You won’t leave me?”

  “Never.”

  * * *

  Abigail woke in the dead of night, the only light in the room the glowing embers in the fire. She was tucked securely against Chad’s body.

  Her chest ached as she looked at his relaxed face. He’d been nothing but supportive today. But hearing her father justify his selfish actions had cut her deep inside. She’d been accused of being selfish a great deal and it made her wonder…was she like her father?

  She wanted love but did she deserve it?

  Did Chad not love her because she wasn’t worthy of the emotion? Her insides ached.

  Chad was devoted. There was no question.

  But he used words like duty, not feelings and emotions.

  She’d said she’d only marry for love, but the truth was, she’d always wanted to prove she was worthy of inspiring the emotion.

  Her stomach twisted. And now she didn’t want any man’s love, she wanted this man’s heart but…

  She was trying, attempting to give to him without asking for herself. She rolled away as more tears burned in her eyes.

  She wanted to be like her sisters, like her mother, not like their patriarch. Obsessed with his business and ignoring the people who loved him most.

  But as she turned, her cheek hit something hard.

  Lifting up, she looked down at a small box, resting on the pillow. Where had that come from?


  Picking it up, she cracked open the lid and gasped as a sparkling emerald reflected the dim light in the room.

  Her hand trembled as she pulled the ring from the box and then slipped it onto her finger.

  And then she noticed the note.

  A folded sheet, that she nearly missed because it blended into the pillowcase.

  She grabbed the note and crossed to the fire, its light just enough to read Chad’s bold scrawl.

  More tears filled her eyes as she scanned the words, but these were tears of joy. She crouched down, swiping at the drops of water on her cheeks and then covering her mouth with her hand as she read the words again.

  “I didn’t have a family that showed any sort of affection.”

  Her head snapped up as she realized Chad was awake. He was propped on one elbow, staring at her. “I had to tell you I loved you in a note because I didn’t know how to say the words out loud.”

  She stood, her hands dropping to her sides. “You just did.”

  He gave her a half smile, one side of his mouth curling up. “I suppose I did.”

  “Did you mean what you said? That I’ve taught you how to love?”

  “Every word.”

  She took two steps toward him. “It’s just that I’ve always worried I am the princess you accused me of being. That I don’t know how to put my own wants aside to—”

  “Abby.” He sat up, his feet coming to the floor, the blankets falling away, completely naked. “I understand why you don’t like the nickname, Abby, it’s what your father calls you. But I hope you’ll let me use it. It’s just, I’ve never been close enough to anyone to warrant that sort of affection.”

  She nodded as she took another step toward him.

  “And I’ll call you Princess for the rest of our lives because you’re the most wonderful woman I know. I was wrong about you being spoiled. You are so giving, and so loving, and you’ve taught me what it means to love and—”

  She didn’t let him finish. She didn’t need any more words. With one movement, she pulled her night rail over her head and started toward him.