by Cheryl Holt
“Yes, he was my uncle’s servant. He and his wife were supposed to take the twins to the school my uncle had arranged.”
“Why didn’t they simply go with me?”
“My uncle was afraid of your relatives, and matters were hectic. As with your mother, I don’t believe he was thinking clearly. He was the only one who’d stood by her through the trial and sentencing, and he felt it would be safer if you were separated. Plus he couldn’t find a headmaster who would accept all three of you boys when you were so young.”
“They never arrived at their destination?”
“No. They stayed overnight at a coaching inn, but there was a terrible fire.”
Evangeline and Bryce gasped, and with a huge amount of dread, Evangeline asked, “They perished in the fire?”
“No. The servant and his wife passed away though.”
“And the twins?”
“Vanished off the face of the Earth.”
“Your uncle searched for them?”
“Until the day he died, but there was no trace.” Miss Etherton pointed to the satchel. “There are notes about the fire and about the leads my uncle pursued.”
“They could be alive then, couldn’t they?” Evangeline’s hope flared again, and she prayed it wasn’t misplaced.
“Yes, they could be alive,” Miss Etherton replied, “but you should proceed cautiously. I’d hate for this to cause more heartache than it already has.”
“I’m grateful for your uncle’s assistance,” Bryce told her. “He was good to us.”
“He tried to be, but he always felt he’d failed you—and your parents. He went to his grave feeling he’d failed.”
Miss Etherton sighed again, and they were silent, reflecting on the enormous implications of the news they’d received. Bryce posed a few more questions, and Evangeline posed a few more too. They finished the tea then prepared to depart.
While they waited for a maid to retrieve their cloaks and hats, Miss Etherton said, “Oh, I have one more thing for you. Two things actually.”
She hurried out of the room and down the hall. Momentarily she returned, and she’d brought two portraits. She gave one to Bryce and one to Evangeline.
“Our parents?” Evangeline asked.
“Yes. Your father had them painted to celebrate their marriage.”
“Can we…have them?”
“Yes, yes, of course. They’re yours. I’ve been keeping them for you all these years.”
Bryce had the one of their mother, and he held it out so Evangeline could see. Their mother was blond and blue-eyed and very, very beautiful.
“You look just like her,” Bryce said.
“What a precious compliment, my dear brother.”
They studied the picture of their father who was tall, fit, handsome, and imposing. He looked like Bryce, and he had their same striking blue eyes, but he had dark hair rather than blond.
“They were so young,” Bryce murmured.
“Your mother was twenty when they met,” Miss Etherton said. “Your father was twenty-five.”
“It was love at first sight, don’t you imagine?” Evangeline couldn’t help asking.
“I’m sure it was,” Miss Etherton agreed.
They made their goodbyes and walked out to their carriage. It was late in the afternoon, and they had booked lodging at a nearby inn. They would leave for London in the morning.
“What do you think of that?” Evangeline queried once they were sequestered inside the carriage.
“I think I’m a bloody earl. You can call me my lord.”
She chuckled. “It suits you.”
“When I was a boy, I’d brag that my father was an aristocrat, but I thought it was an orphan’s boasting. There were so many wealthy students at my school, many of whom had fathers who were members of the peerage. I was desperate to believe my own father was a man of status and not a fisherman or butcher.”
“It doesn’t surprise me to learn you’re highborn. I’ve always deemed you to be remarkable.”
He froze, then smiled. “I just had a memory.”
“What was it?”
“Of Father. He was tossing me in the air and saying, ‘how’s my little lord today?’”
They had memories that came on them in bits and pieces. Sometimes they made sense, sometimes not.
“That’s lovely, Bryce. Really. It’s very lovely.”
They beamed with pleasure, and Evangeline asked, “What now?”
“My head’s spinning, and I’m bewildered. I suppose I should travel to Scotland and take a peek at Radcliffe. It might be interesting to see what I lost because my grandfather was an obnoxious cur.”
“I’ll travel with you. Aaron can join us, and we’ll—”
“No, I’ll go alone the first time. I’ll decide if you should eventually visit too.”
Evangeline was in the family way, her condition not yet overly visible, and everyone expected her to tiptoe around like an invalid.
“It wouldn’t kill me,” she scoffed.
“It might.”
“I’m not a shrinking violet, you know.”
“Yes, I know.”
“What is your guess about Mother? Is she still alive?”
“I wouldn’t speculate, but you can start investigating while I’m in Scotland.”
“What about the twins?”
He lifted the satchel Miss Etherton had given to him. “I’ll read Mr. Etherton’s notes and figure out how to proceed from there.”
“We’ll find them, Bryce. We’ll find all of them.”
“Here’s hoping, my eternal optimist. Here’s hoping indeed.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ramsey stood in front of the Vicar Sterns Rescue Mission and watched Rebecca’s carriage approach. At least he hoped it was her carriage. If it wasn’t, he’d slink away and pretend he hadn’t been waiting on pins and needles like a besotted idiot.
He had no decent intentions toward her, and if Michael ever learned what Ramsey had set in motion, there’d be hell to pay, so Ramsey had no idea what he was thinking. He blamed it on his rash nature.
As a boy, he’d grown up poor and hungry. Now though he was tough, wealthy, and cocky enough to feel that he should have whatever he wanted. He took what he wanted, and for some reason, Rebecca Wells had wound up on the top of his list.
Magdalena Wells had volunteers in charge while she was off with Michael, and it had been easy to lie to them and claim her sister was coming to stay while Miss Magdalena was away. Ramsey was well known in the neighborhood, and none of them had questioned his story.
Rebecca’s sister would be gone for a month and perhaps much longer than that if she pleased Michael. Why shouldn’t Ramsey take advantage?
By the time Michael brought Miss Magdalena back to London, Ramsey was sure he and Rebecca would be sick of each other. He’d have sent her home, or she’d have left on her own. Why not misbehave while he had the chance?
He’d given her money so she could travel to town. He’d been curious to discover how serious she was, if she was the swooning sort, which she didn’t seem to be. Would she actually come? Would she dare? How anxious was she to escape the misery at Cliffside?
The hackney rattled to a stop, and she popped up in the window.
“My goodness, am I glad to see you!” she gushed. “I couldn’t decide if you’d be here or not.”
“I told you I would be.”
“Yes, but I don’t exactly know you, and I don’t especially suppose you’re very reliable.”
“I’m reliable as hell.”
She glanced up at the mission and wrinkled her nose. “That has to be the dreariest building in the kingdom. I can’t believe my sister’s lived in it for seven years.”
“It’s nicer now than it was in the past.”
Ramsey had resided there off and on when it was old Mr. Scott’s orphanage. When Scott had owned it, it had been an awful, decrepit place. But he’d passed away, and Vicar Sterns had shown up wi
th a fistful of money for remodeling. It was clean. The roof didn’t leak. The chimneys worked.
Ramsey walked over and opened the carriage door. She fell into his arms, and he whirled her and set her on her feet.
“You didn’t bring a ton of luggage, did you?” he asked.
“You said not to.” She pointed to a portmanteau on the floor. “I just have the one bag, so I hope you’re not expecting me to attire myself like a society lady.”
He expected her to be naked—if he could coax her out of her clothes.
He reached inside and grabbed the portmanteau. “Look around. Does it appear as if you’ll be dressing all posh and going to the theater?”
She wrinkled her nose again. “This street is horrid.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
“No. I’ve lived at Cliffside all my life. I’m afraid I’m a snob.”
“It’s not so bad after you get used to it.”
“What if I never do?”
“I’ll send you home. Or you can leave. It’s not as if you’re my prisoner.”
He threw a few coins to the driver, and the fellow clicked the reins and scooted off. It wasn’t an area where he’d want to linger.
She sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
“The docks. The sewer. The rats.”
“Ew!”
“Like I said, you’ll get used to it.”
She leaned nearer and whispered, “Are you certain my sister is gone?”
“For at least a month.”
“Where is she again? From your letter, I didn’t understand where she was.”
“She’s in the country with Michael.”
Rebecca frowned. “With Michael Scott? What for?”
Ramsey wasn’t about to explain the devil’s bargain between Michael and Gaylord Farrow. He shrugged and lied. “He has a grand house, and she didn’t believe he’d own something so fine. She demanded to see it.”
“For a whole month? It must be really big.”
“It is.” Luckily she didn’t press the issue, so he didn’t have to invent any further stories.
“If she comes back early and I’m still here, what will I tell her?”
“Tell her the truth. You couldn’t abide Farrow another second.”
She grinned. “That will work, and it’s definitely the truth!”
Ramsey had promised to find her lodging, and he probably would, but he hadn’t decided. Was she worth the bother? If she was spoiled and impossible, if she was dull in performing her bedroom duties, he wouldn’t want to be saddled with her for very long.
He gestured to the open door of the mission, and she strolled inside. For all that she purportedly cared about her sister, she didn’t exhibit much curiosity.
“Where is my bedchamber?” she asked.
“This way.”
He went to the stairs and climbed, and she clomped up behind him.
He’d already snooped through Miss Wells’s private rooms, and they’d suit for Rebecca and what he intended while her sister was away. He entered and walked straight to the bedchamber, dropping her portmanteau on the bed.
She peered about, taking in the dilapidated furnishings. “Is this my sister’s apartment?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose it will do.” She plopped her bottom on the mattress, her blue eyes alight with mischief. “What now?”
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Are you tired?”
“A little.”
If she was nervous it didn’t show, but then she’d traveled to town specifically to ally herself with him in an illicit fashion. It was too late to fret.
She shed her cloak and bonnet and tossed them on the chair, but her hips were still balanced on the mattress. It was a small room—the whole place was small—and he was a large man, so with one step he was right next to her.
“What did you tell Pamela about coming to the city?” he asked.
“I claimed I’d been invited to watch over things while Maggie is away.”
“She didn’t try to stop you?”
“She tried, but I told her to stuff it.”
“That’s my girl.”
She flashed a sly look. “Am I your girl, Mr. Scott?”
“We’ll see what you turn out to be, but you should call me Ramsey. It’ll save us from being confused over whether you mean me or Michael.”
“I imagine you’d like to call me Rebecca.”
“Don’t be a shrew about it or we’ll get off on the wrong foot. If you hitch your wagon to mine, you’ll need to lower your standards. I don’t care for snooty manners or putting on airs.”
“I can’t have you thinking me a snob, so you may call me whatever you like.”
“I will. Now let down your hair.”
“Why?”
“Because I want it flowing down your back.”
“Then I certainly will. I’m here to make you happy.”
“Yes, you are.”
“How’s that?” she asked as she tugged out a few combs, and the brunette mass tumbled down.
“Perfect.”
“Ramsey?”
“Yes?”
“What if I don’t make you happy? Will you send me back to Cliffside?”
“It won’t be yours to go back to.”
“But Gaylord claimed it was settled between him and Mr. Scott, and we don’t have to leave.”
“I wouldn’t take your brother-in-law’s word for anything.”
“He was lying?”
“Not exactly, but the conclusion he’s envisioning won’t be the one that actually occurs.”
“Why is that?”
“Because he’s a vain prick, and Michael loathes him, and that’s all I’ll say about it. So don’t ask me again.”
“Yes, sir, as you wish, sir.” She gave a jaunty salute—as if she was a private in the army.
She was wearing a pert little jacket, with a row of fussy buttons down the front. He started unbuttoning them, and her first fit of nerves was displayed.
“Are we about to…to…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence, and he finished it for her. “No, not this afternoon. I have to get back to work.”
She sighed with relief. “I realize you expect some intimate behavior from me.”
“In my world, there’s a price for everything. You have to pay it to reimburse me for my trouble.”
“I understand,” she hastily said. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
“I’ll show you.”
“All right.”
“But it will be tonight. I live my life in the dark and sleep the day away, and I have to make sure matters are running smoothly at the club. With Michael away, it’s my responsibility.”
“That’s fine.”
“So you should nap, because it will be the wee hours when I arrive, and we’ll likely be up into the morning.”
He was suffering some qualms over deflowering her on her sister’s bed. Typically he wouldn’t have worried about it, but he liked Magdalena Wells, and he was preparing to use her sister in awful ways. For an instant, he wondered if maybe he shouldn’t, which was ridiculous. He never hesitated, never refused to take what he craved.
He pushed the jacket off her shoulders to reveal a gown with a neckline that was cut very low. Her corset was laced tight, so she was exhibiting a spectacular amount of cleavage.
The sight had him considering a delay in his return to the club. But no! He wouldn’t rush this event. He had to ease her into the sexual activity. If he didn’t, she’d be unenthused whenever he wanted to fornicate with her, and he suspected he’d want to quite a bit.
Her dress buttoned in the back. He drew her to her feet and quickly undid the fastenings, then he shoved the garment down to her ankles so she was attired in her corset and petticoat.
As he studied her, he had to give her credit. She didn’t flinch from his salacious assessment.
“Turn
around,” he told her.
“Why?”
“I want to unlace your corset.”
“I thought you had to get back to work.”
“I do, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun first.”
She glowered as if he might have finally pushed her too far, but in the end she spun and let him remove it. She had a faded chemise underneath, and he tugged it off too, so her upper torso was bare and she was clad in just her petticoat and shoes.
He snuggled himself to her back, reached around and grabbed her nipples.
She gasped with surprise and complained, “You might have warned me what you were about.”
“Get used to it. I plan to touch you when it suits me, but you’ll like it.”
“I’d better, or you won’t have your way for long.”
He snorted and twirled her so she was facing him. Her cheeks were flushed, and she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s too much too soon.”
“It will be worse tonight.”
She scowled. “Why?”
“I have to train you as if you’re a filly learning how to be ridden.”
“That doesn’t clarify anything.”
“I guarantee you’ll like it though.”
He eased her hips onto the bed and tipped her so her body was lying on the mattress, her feet on the floor. He spread her thighs and stepped in, her petticoat bunched up and providing a fine cushion to cradle his cock against her private parts.
He clasped her hands, shackling her wrists over her head, and he stared down at her breasts. They were just the right size, pert and round, the pink nipples jutting out. He dipped down and sucked on one, then the other, keeping at it until she was squirming and moaning with pleasure.
As he drew away, he realized he was desperately anxious to dawdle in her company, and his heightened interest was frightening.
He never grew attached to women—in his world, they were all doxies—but for some odd reason, he wanted a connection with her. He’d already played the role of knight gallant to save her from her dastardly brother-in-law. If he wasn’t careful, what insane acts might she spur him to in the future?
He pulled away and she sat up.
“Are we done?” she asked. “Is that it?”
“For now, but I’ll be back. You can fall asleep if you like, and I’ll wake you after I’m here.”
