“That would be Keiller in York?”
“You do know most of it, don’t you?”
“I found the account at the Bank of England. I saw the early dispersals to Keiller’s bank account.”
Ben stilled again. He did not glance back at the bank across the street, but his mind seemed to snap alert to the symbolism of their current location.
“I realized the danger then. Most of those funds sat there forever. Most were in trust. But there was always the chance someone would actually want to sell, after I had already done so. That would be awkward.”
“That is how I learned you, not Timothy, had devised the scheme. Sir Matthew Rolland came to Darfield and wanted to sell.”
“Sir Matthew? Who would have guessed. He rarely even came to town. Well, I knew that just such a situation could be my undoing.”
“Is that how Suttonly learned the truth?”
Ben glared at him. “Hell. You did not let any of it go, did you? I hope that you confronted the bastard. He ruined everything. He kept bleeding me and bleeding me—it amused him to see me cornered, to see me sweat. Damnation, Hayden, for a smart man you have some bad judgments in your choice of friends. Suttonly is a bloody rogue.”
Hayden smiled at the irony of Ben’s indignation. It was a sad amusement, however. He would lose two old friends because of this sorry business and gain nothing at all.
That was not true. He had gained Alexia. But for this knot of crimes, he might have never come to know her. She more than balanced the accounts.
“I should never have gone near Suttonly’s funds,” Ben said. “It was careless. But it was such a damnably small amount. A thousand. A mere token, thrown in when you asked your friends to help me get established. I assumed he would never remember it was even there. Nor did I dream that when I asked for time to produce the securities, he would send his solicitor to demand them immediately. I had no choice but to admit what I had done and offer to make him whole.”
“He refused?”
“He knew one utterance was enough to send me to the gallows, no matter how small the amount. He could bleed me and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”
Except die.
“I paid him fifteen times what I had taken, and he only demanded more. It seemed all I gained went to him. I was stealing just to satisfy him.”
“Terrible.”
“I know that tone.” Anger crystallized his eyes. “Are you enjoying this? Approving of how that devil made my life hell? You think I deserved it, don’t you? You are sitting there in that damned moral superiority paid for with Easterbrook money, thinking I was lucky to get bled only symbolically.” He looked away in disgust. “Hell, the older you get, the more you are like your father.”
It was an old goad, the one sure to get a reaction. Hayden barely controlled what it did to him. “Since I am his son, it is not surprising some of him is in me.”
“More than some. More than in the others. Some of his sons escaped his legacy better than you ever will.” Any attempts at hiding his frustration disappeared. “Why are we sitting here, in this tavern, at this table? What is your game? Are we waiting for a magistrate? Are you enough like him to do it? Hand me over in the name of justice and right?”
Hayden could not answer that. He had not decided that part yet.
His silence stunned Ben. “Damnation, man, are you really thinking of doing it? How can you? You owe me better. You would have been flayed alive in that farmhouse, and no one, no one, was willing to attempt to get you out. Except me. You like calculations, work that one out. What were the chances I would survive that day?”
Poor. At best one in five odds. But Ben’s pistols were loaded and the Turks were busy enjoying their torture, and once a shot was fired, others had rushed to help too. Still—
It would have been a terrible death. Ignoble. The kind where the last conscious thought is horror and the last sound is one’s own screams.
Ben leaned forward, pressing his advantage. “No other friend would have charged in that day.”
“I accept that I owe you a debt of honor,” he said. “I protected your brother because of it. I am protecting your name as well. There are limits, however, to what I will give you and what I will do in payment.”
“You don’t have to do anything except stay out of my way.”
That was not true, but a movement across the street arrested Hayden’s attention. A man with straw-colored hair beneath his high-crowned hat sauntered toward the entry of Ketchum, Martin, and Cook.
Ben stiffened as he recognized his brother. “What is he doing?”
“Looking for the money. He has been visiting all the banks in town. He must have guessed that the money sent to Bristol was not to repay one of your father’s debts but to hide your treasure.”
Ben watched his brother’s progress with an expression of concern and indecision.
“He came to this bank first, because it is a corresponding bank to the Bank of England and would be easy for you to use while in London,” Hayden said. “Of course, there was no account under the name Benjamin Longworth.”
“So why is he returning?”
“He has realized you may have used a different name. He did not dally in London to examine that old account to see the dispersals, so he doesn’t know the name. However, he revisited at least one bank already today, describing you, explaining the situation, providing the information on the London account. He is asking the banks to investigate those early drafts and where they went. He hopes to prove the account was yours, opened under an alias, and claim it as your heir.” Hayden took a good drink of ale. “Unfortunately, it is an active account and one that Mr. Pennilot has used recently. If he convinces them you opened it under an alias, he unknowingly proves that you are not dead.”
“Hell.” Ben was out the door in an instant. Hayden followed.
Ben hurried across the street. He came up behind Timothy just as Tim was about to enter the bank.
Ben grabbed his brother’s arm. Tim swung around, ready to fend off an assault.
They both froze. Timothy stuck his face close to Ben’s, then reared back in shock. He shook the hand off his arm.
Another frozen moment passed while Ben said something. Hayden approached and saw Timothy’s distorted expression as the implications of this resurrection sank in.
Just as Hayden was about to reach them, Timothy grabbed Ben’s shoulder with his left hand. With his right fist, he landed a solid punch square on Benjamin’s jaw.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Dark had fallen by the time Hayden returned to Alexia.
“Did you find Timothy?” she asked.
“We found him. He has gone to Sunley Manor with Benjamin.”
“I expect they have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes, they have many things to discuss.”
By the time he pulled Timothy off Benjamin, the most important one had been settled, however. The talk at Sunley Manor would be very practical now.
He had decided to let them deal with it alone. He preferred not to know what Ben would explain to his brother. Since Tim had been waylaid before entering the bank, no one might ever know that Benjamin Longworth and Harrison Pennilot were one and the same.
And Tim might never know that Mr. Pennilot had removed all that money from Ketchum, Martin, and Cook this morning.
Ben was going to bolt. He was sure of it. It would resolve many things very neatly, but he could not shake a worry about it. Nor could he keep his mind from calculating all kinds of odds and probabilities and weighing whether he could afford to allow it to happen.
You owe me. Up to a point, yes. But not everything. There were limits to any debt.
Alexia went to the wardrobe and removed a shawl. “I am glad that you made Ben see Timothy. I have decided to tell Rose what we discovered here. It is only right. Perhaps Ben will agree to have her visit at Sunley Manor, so she can see him again too.”
She might be chilled, but he
was not. He removed his frock coat. “Ben’s wife, Lucinda. While you visited yesterday, did you see a warm marriage?”
“I was an unexpected visitor, and the situation was hardly normal. He spoke of being a prisoner of his circumstances, but perhaps now that he can contact his family, he will not feel that so much.”
She put more fuel on the fire. He watched her efficient movements. They were very elegant despite their practical purpose. The light from the fire illuminated her profile with a golden haze. Her eyes appeared a dark, royal purple.
“Do you want me to call for dinner? Or should we go below?” she asked.
“I am not hungry now. Are you?”
“I have been too unsettled to be hungry.”
She hid it well, how unsettled she was. He sensed it in her, beneath her serene expression. Last night it had owned her, but perhaps she was accommodating the shock and all it meant.
Did she weigh it all as she brushed his coat and hung it in the wardrobe? Was she thinking of Ben while she told him to sit and insisted on helping him remove his boots? He was glad she did not call for a hotel servant to tend to these domestic details. He did not want anyone else here with them tonight.
“He will not see his sisters. He is going to leave England, Alexia. Very soon.”
She set the boots beside the wardrobe, closed its door, then rested her back against it.
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. However, I am sure he will.” Ben had to leave now. He could not trust Hayden with his life. He had made the decision not to four years ago. The only question was whether he would go alone or take someone with him. Timothy, whose neck was also in danger? His wife, Lucinda?
Alexia?
“Why will he leave? Not because of an old debt, the way he says. What frightens him? He is very afraid, Hayden.”
Her perception impressed him, but then it always had. She had a story that fit the facts she knew, but she saw more subterfuge than they warranted.
There was much he wanted to say to her. Not only about the knot of deceptions that began that day in the drawing room, but about things that caused other knots, in his heart and soul.
“You said on our wedding day that there was more to Timothy’s ruin than I know. I would like to believe you would have explained it to me if you could.”
“I have often cursed that I cannot.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I have had most of the day to think about that, and about finding Benjamin, and these bank accounts that Timothy looks for. I have been thinking about you, Hayden, and the man that I now know you to be.” She cocked her head. “You cannot tell me about my cousins, but you can tell me about yourself, can’t you?”
“That depends on whether I know the answer. We don’t always know ourselves well.”
She laughed lightly. “How true. I am learning much about myself of late. My question is very simple. If you can answer it, I will know that some of what I concluded today is correct.”
“Then ask it.”
“Did you remove your family’s money from Darfield and Longworth? Or was Mr. Darfield waiting for you that day that I visited him?”
He calculated what he could say and still honor his word of honor. “I removed Aunt Henrietta’s trust.”
She strolled across the chamber and sat in the chair by the writing table again. “I have done you a disservice in believing you wronged my cousins, haven’t I?”
“Your trust in Timothy and your concern for your cousins were understandable. They are your family.”
“But you are my husband.”
The solid way she said it touched him. How strong would this new loyalty be if tested by an old one? He wished he were certain that duty would guide her, if nothing else did.
He could make sure there was no test. He had it in his power to ensure that Ben could never lure her, could not exploit her nostalgia, could not tug at the old memories and pull her away. He need only call for the justice of the peace and lay down information about Ben’s crimes. No Longworth would get on any ship in the harbor then. And no appeals could be made to Alexia’s long-held love.
She would hate him if he sent Ben and Tim to the gallows. He would still have her, but she would despise him. His father had held on to a wife through power and force. He had made every day of her life a punishment for loving another man. He hated his father for that. He hated even more that he now understood why it had happened, how pride and possession had brought it about.
It had never before occurred to him that it had been love, not cruelty, that caused that misery. The passion of a man for a woman who loved another could be dangerous. He was trying to control just how dangerous.
He went to the chair and knelt on one knee in front of her. He took her hand, so small and elegant, and pressed a kiss to its warmth. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation of her skin beneath his lips.
She stretched her fingers through his hair. “You are so pensive. Do you regret that he must leave so soon after you got him back?”
Do you? “It is not that. I was admiring how beautiful you are and noticing how your smallest movements are graceful.”
She quirked a skeptical smile and ruffled his hair. The gesture dismissed what he had said.
“You do not believe me.”
“I know I am not beautiful. It is sweet of you to flatter me, though.”
“You are very beautiful. Just seeing you stirs me. Your beauty has left me helpless from the start, darling. Reckless. It is more than pleasure that draws me. I am in love with you.”
Surprise and disbelief shimmered over her face. The declaration made his heart too full, but he did not regret it. He needed her to know.
He did not wait for a response. He was not sure he wanted one. He caressed down her leg, lifted her skirts, and raised one of her legs to his knee. He slipped off her shoe and began rolling down her hose.
He pressed a kiss to the smooth white skin of the leg that he unveiled, then began on the other.
“You appear embarrassed, Alexia. I have undressed you before.”
She smiled weakly. “That was different.”
“How so? Because you accepted it as my courtesan in marriage before? Is it more embarrassing to be the wife I love?”
She blushed deeply. “Am I allowed to enjoy it if I am the wife you love?”
He laughed. He leaned over her, bracing an arm on the back of her chair. He kissed her and caressed under her skirts to the unbearable softness of her thigh. “If you do not enjoy it, I will be insulted.”
Her hips shifted as his hand stroked her. “That may be the only insult I have failed to give you since we met.”
“Then do not let what I said interfere now, my love. Do not feel an obligation to respond in kind either. Whatever you choose to call it, it was never just duty.”
He released her dress hooks and stood her up so he could lower her garments. She blushed again as he slid off the last one and helped her step out of the pile at her feet. He admired her naked body, washed with the golden haze of the lamplight and fire. She was all soft and pale, like Correggio’s Io, all gentle curves and totally feminine. She was so lovely it made him hurt.
He drew her to him and embraced her hips, his hands cupping her bottom. He pressed a kiss to her stomach, then laid his face on her skin. He lost himself in her scent and warmth.
Desire tensed through him. It arrived with a powerful force and ferocious impatience. He almost pulled her down on the floor to have her at once. To claim her the only way he knew how.
Instead, he stood and picked her up and carried her to the bed. He began stripping off his clothes. She knelt on the bed to help. She plucked at his cravat until it hung loose. With an impish smile, she carefully worked the buttons of his waistcoat.
He decided to let her. It meant he could use his hands for other things, like caressing her breasts. While she handled his garments, he handled her body, whisking the tight tips of her nipples until the pleasure made her balance unst
eady. Her expression turned dreamy with erotic softness.
No one intruded this time. He did not know what the morning would bring, but she was completely with him now. He intended to love her so thoroughly, possess her so completely, that there was no room in her thoughts and soul for anything else tonight.
He began to unfasten his lower garments, but she returned his hands to her breast and reached for the buttons herself. “Do not stop. It is like heaven. I will do this for you.”
He made it as heavenly as he could while she fumbled to release him. She pushed the garments down with sinuous caresses that had his control splitting apart.
He lifted her and stood her on the bed in front of him. He could touch all of her now, from her flushed expression of ecstasy to her feet. She looked down at him while he praised every inch of her with his hands, glossing her curves, saturating his memory with the sounds and signs of her abandon. The scent of her arousal perfumed the air. The slickness weeping onto her thighs said she was ready. Unsteady now, she parted her feet for better balance and held his shoulders.
He guided her head down so he could kiss her mouth, then tasted her skin down a path to her breasts. Her fingers gripped his shoulders harder as he flicked his tongue again and again over those sensitive tips. Her quiet moans entered his blood and made him harder and more determined to make her crazed.
So it surprised him when her body shifted away from his mouth and her own lips began blazing a path downward. Breath and warmth and moisture pressed at his neck and shoulders, then down his chest. She lowered her body until she knelt in front of him again. Her kisses continued their scorching, downward journey.
Roaring hunger crashed into romantic intentions. When her velvet palm encircled his cock and her other hand’s fingers tortured its tip, the howling pleasure left room for no thoughts at all.
She looked down at the caresses she gave, then up at his face and the reaction she commanded. She was not blind to her power. She had recognized it the first night of their marriage.
The Rules of Seduction Page 29
