by Lenora Bell
It had made her feel powerful, confident, and capable of regaining the upper hand.
Chalk up one round for the Lady Rake, she thought with satisfaction as she entered Jane’s chambers. She’d taken the tray from March, so as not to startle Jane with a male presence.
The effects of the laudanum were wearing off. Jane’s unusual light purple eyes were much clearer and she didn’t have such a bewildered, frightened air.
Jane made a motion as if she were going to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, and then looked surprised when there was no hair to tuck.
It broke Alice’s heart.
“How are you feeling?” Alice asked, setting down the tray on the bedside table.
“Much improved, thank you.” Jane smiled shyly. “Your name is Alice?”
“You remembered. I wasn’t certain how much you would recall of last night. You were very disoriented.”
“My keeper drugged me. To keep me quiet.” Her eyes hardened. “They tried to keep me quiet and docile. But I fought them.”
“My husband told me where you came from. The Yellow House is a . . . lunatic asylum.”
Tears welled in Jane’s eyes. “I’m not mad.”
“Of course not,” Alice said briskly. “I brought you some soup.” She indicated the tray. “Shall I help you?”
“I can manage.” Jane lifted the tray into her lap, her hands wobbling only slightly. “I’m grateful for your attentions, Alice. Am I to assume this is your home?”
“You are in the Duke of Barrington’s house.”
Jane paused with her soup spoon raised. “The Mad Duke’s house?”
Alice nodded. “The very one.”
“Then who were the gentlemen who escorted me to safety last night?”
“One of them was a Captain Lear, whom I know nothing about. And the gentleman you met upon arrival was my husband, the Marquess of Hatherly, the Duke’s son.”
“I’m afraid I was rather rude.”
“You were frightened and unwell.”
Jane lowered her spoon. “They saved my life, Alice. I had been in that forsaken place one month. I thought I would die there, shackled to a bedpost, a hideous thing with tufted hair and bruised wrists.”
Alice winced. “One month. You poor thing. Please, don’t dwell on it right now. Eat some more soup. You need to bolster your strength.”
Jane stared out the window, her eyes gone flat and cold. “My keeper hated me because I was highborn. She forced me to eat in a most cruel manner, shoving a metal feeding tube down my throat. Many choked to death under the care of a keeper. I was nearly one of them.”
“Shh . . .” Alice said soothingly. She took a seat close to the bed. “Don’t think of it. You’re safe now. You’ll never go back there.”
Jane grabbed Alice’s hand suddenly, spilling soup over the coverlet. “I’m not safe, Alice. And neither are you. I must leave here. My presence is a danger to you.”
“Why? No one knows you are here.”
“He will find me.” Jane’s shoulders quivered and the color drained from her cheeks. “He always finds me.”
“Who?” Alice asked. “Who will find you?”
“My husband,” Jane whispered.
A chill swept over Alice. The way she said those words was horrible to hear. “You fear him.”
“He’s the one who had me declared insane and committed to the asylum against my will. I was . . . inconvenient to him. Insubordinate, was his word for me, among other, less polite epithets.”
“But, I don’t understand. If you are highborn, was there no one to save you from such a fate?”
“I’m an orphan.”
“Who is your husband?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You must. Lord Hatherly will be able to help you if he knows the details. Tell me, Jane. Tell me your husband’s name.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t risk it. I don’t even want to say his name aloud.”
“I understand.”
Her violet eyes burned with hatred. “That shivering woman still chained to the bed in the Yellow House is married. Not me.”
“You’re not even alive,” said Alice.
Jane frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Lord Hatherly told me that he and Captain Lear planted evidence of your drowning in the canal near the Yellow House, as if you had escaped and taken your own life out of desperation. I think they mean to help you begin a new life.”
“If that is true, if they have given me this opportunity, I should leave immediately.” Jane tried to push herself upright.
Alice placed a hand on her arm. “You’re not strong enough yet. You’ll have to stay here until your strength returns.”
“I don’t want to be a burden.”
“You’re not.” Alice settled Jane’s pillows more firmly behind her back. “Now have some more soup, before it goes cold.”
Jane relaxed against the cushions. “You’re right. I’m too weak.” She finished her soup with relish. “It’s very good.”
“Only a simple chicken soup.”
“But it tastes like home. I grew up in the countryside. We weren’t too elegant there.”
“I grew up in the countryside, as well.”
“Did you?”
“In Yorkshire.”
Alice waited for Jane to reply and tell her where she’d been raised, but she remained silent. She truly was on edge.
“And how long have you been married?” Jane asked.
“Only a few days.”
“No!” Jane wiped her mouth clean with a linen napkin. “Then this is supposed to be your honeymoon. And here I am, intruding upon it.”
“Oh, it’s not like that. It wasn’t a love match.”
“He’s very handsome, Lord Hatherly. If my feverish rememberings can be trusted.” Jane smiled. “Are you certain you don’t want a romantic honeymoon with him?”
“Funny concept, honeymoon,” Alice mused. “From the Old English ‘hony moone’ referencing the sweetness of honey and warning of the changes of the moon. The first month of marriage is rapturous . . . yet love inevitably wanes.”
She and Nick only had one month. She knew the limits of their relationship.
“Alice?” Jane was looking at her with a worried expression.
Alice laughed softly. “There I go again, always delving into the origins of words when there’s work to be done in the here and now. It’s time you had a nice, hot bath.”
Jane sighed. “That would be lovely.” She touched one of the cheerful yellow daisies. “I used to hate this color. Now . . .” Her eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Alice,” she whispered. “I hope I have the chance to thank Lord Hatherly and Captain Lear as well.”
“You will.” Alice rose. “I’ll go and see about that bath.”
“He’s in the carriage,” Lear said tersely. “Tried to run so I tied him to the hand strap.”
“Where’d you find him?” asked Nick. “I thought he’d be halfway to America by now.” They’d been searching for a month and hadn’t found a trace, but now Lear had Stubbs trapped inside a hired carriage.
He’d have his answers now, Nick thought grimly.
“He’s been hiding in a hovel in Cheapside,” Lear said. “Squandering the duke’s winnings on gin. When his funds ran low, the landlady turned on him and contacted me. Heard I’d been looking for him.”
Nick paused. “That doesn’t sound like Stubbs. I hired him from a respectable agency. I trusted him. He was a good caretaker and a gentle, sober man.”
Lear snorted. “He’s not sober now.” He opened the carriage door. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Stubbs? She sold you out the second you couldn’t pay. No loyalty these days, I tell you. I’ve brought someone to see you.”
Stubbs cowered into the corner when he saw Nick. “I didn’t mean you to be gambled away, Your Lordship, I didn’t know you’d have to marry the girl.”
Nick climbed into the carriage.
�
��I’ll stay outside,” Lear said.
“Don’t leave him in here with me alone,” cried Stubbs. “Help! Murder!” he shouted out the window, though they were far from the crowds, in a quiet alleyway off Fetter Lane.
“There’ll be no murder today.” Nick balled his hands into fists. “Though you’d best start talking, or I may be tempted to use these on you.”
Stubbs cringed. “I didn’t harm the duke in any way. Just a bit of fun. He had a lark, the duke. Loved every second of it. Loved the gambling.”
Nick paused. Could that be true? He’d always thought his father was happiest in the peace and quiet of Sunderland. The few times he’d taken him out, the duke had gone silent and wide-eyed with fear.
“Whether he enjoyed himself is neither here nor there.” Nick grabbed Stubbs by the neck cloth and pulled him closer.
The man reeked like a distillery. It smelled like he’d bathed in gin.
Grimacing, Nick twisted his neck cloth tighter. “I trusted you, Stubbs. What made you do it? Did someone force you into it?”
“It was my idea,” Stubbs said sullenly, his large, fair head lolling to the side.
He was definitely more than three sheets to the wind.
Nick threw him back against the seat cushion in disgust.
How could Nick have hired a secret drunkard to watch his father? Stubbs had never touched a drop of spirits before, not where Nick could see him, anyway. And he’d been so very mild mannered and trustworthy.
Nick could only surmise that Stubbs was lying, and someone had hired, or coerced, him to betray Nick’s family.
“I don’t think it was your idea,” Nick said evenly. “Why don’t you tell me who was behind this.”
Stubbs’s face crumpled and he began to blubber, fat tears streaking his face. “I can’t tell you. If I do, he’ll hurt her.”
“Hurt whom?”
“I can’t tell you. He’s got her there and he’ll hurt her. He made me do it to hurt you. He hates you.”
“Who hates me? Stubbs,” Nick shook him by the collar, rattling his blackened teeth. “I’ll hurt you if you don’t tell me.”
“I can’t, I can’t,” Stubbs wailed. “He’ll kill her. He said he would.”
So he’d been blackmailed. The man who’d forced him to it hated Nick and held some power over Stubbs.
“Captain Lear and I will dispense justice if you tell me who he is. You’ll never have to worry about him again because he’ll be behind bars.”
“It’s no good. You can beat me. You can even kill me. My life doesn’t mean much anymore. I won’t give him a reason to torture her more than he’s already done.”
Torture was a strong word. Maybe this person he was protecting was a prisoner and the man was her jailor. They could begin searching the prisons for a sister, a wife, a daughter, or a lover.
It was something anyway.
Nick could tell he wasn’t going to get anything else out of Stubbs. Cheap gin had eaten him from the inside out. He was a rotting shell of a man now, with trembling hands and bloodshot eyes.
Nick untied Stubbs and swung the carriage door open. “Get out.”
Stubbs scurried down, lurching out of the carriage.
Lear grabbed his collar. “If we need you again we’ll find you.” He shoved Stubbs away.
If he kept drinking like that, it would only be a matter of months for him.
Lear climbed in and pounded on the carriage ceiling with his ebony walking stick and they began to move.
Nick glanced at the sleek, expensive stick, the question flashing through his mind as to whether it concealed a sharp blade.
He wouldn’t be surprised.
“Didn’t know he was so far gone,” Lear said. “The poor devil.”
“You heard everything?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Wasn’t afraid of dying. They aren’t, you know, once the gin takes hold.”
“Where to now?” Lear asked.
“We start with the prisons.”
Lear nodded. “I had the same thought.”
Nick had been so sure that finding Stubbs would be the answer, but the man was too far gone. It hadn’t felt right to beat him. He was harming himself enough.
“How is Jane getting on?” Lear asked.
“Alice said she’s feeling better but needs to build her strength before she can leave.”
“I swear she’s a lady, Nick. She spoke like one. Hawkins didn’t know much about her.”
Hawkins was an underkeeper at The Yellow House, the private lunatic asylum they’d rescued Jane from.
“I’ll speak with her tomorrow,” Nick said. “Find out more about her circumstances. Then we can find a safe place for her to go. Although Patrick’s gone to Brighton with his family, so he won’t be able to help forge her papers.”
“We’ll think of something,” Lear replied. “The main thing is to keep her hidden for now.”
They rode in silence for a few moments.
“How’s Sally, by the way?” Nick asked Lear.
“In my bed as we speak, waiting for me to come home.” Lear smirked. “Has expensive tastes, your Venus. Had to buy her another bauble yesterday. But she’s well worth the price. Won’t cry when I leave though, Sally. Has a heart as hard as marble, she does. Probably already has her eye on the next prize.”
That was the problem. Alice was too tenderhearted. Nick couldn’t give her any reason to care for him.
The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
“Sally says you’ll fall in love with your wife. She said she’s seen it happen too many times to count.”
“Never,” scoffed Nick. “That’s an impossibility.”
“Why? You’ve married her, may as well settle down like your friends Osborne and Harland. Become a family man.”
“Lear. We’ve known each other for at least seven years. Have I ever given you the impression of a man who might ever consider settling down?”
“Not until your wife tied you in knots,” Lear said with an unrepentant grin. “I never saw you so eager to please anyone as the morning of your wedding.”
“Because I needed to keep my house.”
That’s why he’d married her. Plain and simple.
“If that’s what you need to believe, old boy.”
Why did everyone keep saying those words to him? Was he deluding himself somehow?
“So,” Lear gave him a sly look. “How’s wedded life treating you thus far?”
The tart scent of lemons rose in his mind with a clarity that drove everything else away. Alice in the kitchens, steam flushing her cheeks pink, his kiss leaving her lips swollen and red-tinged.
“Never mind,” Lear laughed. “Don’t answer that question. Your foolish grin is the only answer I need.”
Nick groaned. “This has to end, Lear. I’m losing my edge.”
“What has to end?”
“This obsession I’ve developed for my wife. Ever since our engagement, I haven’t even wanted to look at another woman. And I have these terrible, nearly uncontrollable urges to wear flannel waistcoats, smoke a pipe, and read sentimental novels.”
Lear chuckled. “Not novels.”
“Laugh all you want but this is serious. I’ve never been this strung up before. I feel as though . . .” he paused. “Did I just start to tell you about my feelings, for Christ’s sake? Kill me now.” He closed his eyes. “Just end it all now.”
“Said you were in trouble, didn’t I?” Lear chuckled. “I could see it the moment I met the lady. She’s a magnificent creature, your new wife.”
That was it.
She was so much more than he had bargained for.
Nick had sworn he’d seen Alice’s slim figure disappearing down the street ahead of them as he and Lear had crossed King Street earlier.
He’d had to fight the urge to chase after the lady, who couldn’t possibly have been Alice because she’d been holding the hand of a small child in a straw hat with ribbons streaming
down her back.
For some reason, the sight of a trim-figured woman with light brown hair holding her little girl’s hand as they crossed the street had set his heart humming with some strange new tune.
A wordless longing for something.
For Alice.
For her body and nothing more, he told himself.
“She’s making changes, Lear. There are flowers blooming on every table. She wants us to eat vegetables. Even cooked the duke a chicken soup.”
Lear chuckled. “The nerve of that woman. Invite me for supper and I’ll eat your vegetables if you don’t want them. Haven’t had a good home-cooked meal in years.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. She’s very curious. She’d ask you twenty questions about who you are and how you know me and what we do together all day.”
Nick didn’t want Alice knowing anything about his more dangerous pursuits. And Lear was thoroughly implicated in those.
“I understand,” Lear said. “You’re keeping too many secrets.”
“Exactly.” Nick stared out the carriage window at the buildings full of ordinary people living quiet, ordinary lives. “I’m keeping too many secrets.”
She had somehow wrested control away from him. Infected his mind with this need for closeness, intimate conversation, feelings.
And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it because he was going to go mad and hurt her and then she would leave him, as his mother had left his father, and . . . oh hell. How had it come to this?
He couldn’t stop thinking about her.
What happened to wed her, bed her, be rid of her?
Surely, after they made love this growing obsession would evaporate, like spilled whiskey.
She could share his bed, slake her curiosity on his body, but that’s where it ended.
This obsession ended tonight.
Chapter 17
In the pleasure-room, decorated with flowers, and fragrant with perfumes, attended by friends and servants, the citizen should receive the woman.
The Kama Sutra of Vātsyāyana
Nick had never made love to a wife before.
At least not his own.
He rubbed his chin. He should probably shave. He already had several days’ growth of whiskers and they would scratch her soft skin.
