Love's Peril (Lord Trent Series)

by Holt, Cheryl

  But then, she remembered that she was barren. It was Archie’s interminable complaint over her failing as a wife. They had been wed for two grueling years, yet his seed had never caught. When no babe was created, everyone insisted it was the woman’s fault, and Caroline never ceased to fume over the indictment.

  Why blame the wife? Why couldn’t people consider that it might have been Archie’s lack?

  Mr. Hook smirked, delighted with how easy she was, how thoroughly corruptible. He drew away and guided her feet to the floor. They stood awkwardly, straightening their clothes.

  “I won’t be at Bramble Bay for long,”he said, “so when I’m in the mood to fornicate, you shouldn’t refuse me.”

  “I’m married.”

  “Just barely.”

  “I can’t be committing adultery whenever you walk by.”

  “Why can’t you? Your husband hasn’t rushed to claim you. The man’s an idiot, and I won’t let him spoil our fun.”

  “You’re putting me in so much danger.”

  “How? I won’t tell anybody what we’re doing. Will you?”

  “No.”

  “You need a few good rides so you can learn what it’s like to fuck a real man.”

  The vulgar term was like a slap in the face. It sounded sordid, driving home how little she knew about him, how wrong her conduct.

  Her knees were weak, from the sexual act but also from nerves. She collapsed against the wall, using it as a crutch, using it for balance. She was ashamed, unable to look him in the eye.

  “Would you go now?”she asked. “I’m just…just…”

  She couldn’t describe what she was. He had an ability to inflame rash tendencies she hadn’t realized she possessed, and she wasn’t sorry for what they’d done. She wanted to feel guilty, but didn’t. Maybe that was the problem. She was suffering no remorse and was eager to misbehave again.

  What sort of woman acted that way? What did it say about her true character?

  “I should have sailed to France with John,”he told her.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I stayed because of you.”

  “You can’t mean that.” Feebly, she repeated, “I’m married.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll probably depart in a month, and I can’t say if I’ll ever return.”

  “I might not see you again?” The notion was alarming.

  “No, you might not. My line of work is hectic, and I never know my schedule or where I’ll be. So while I’m here, you will not hide from me.”

  “No, I don’t suppose I will.”

  “Would you be willing to move yourself into my bedchamber?”

  She gasped with shock. “To live there openly?”

  “Yes. We could be together all the time.”

  The prospect was outrageous and scandalous, but riveting, too. “Mildred would never permit it.”

  “It’s not Mildred’s house. It’s John’s, and he wouldn’t give two figs over how we carry on.”

  She huffed out an astonished breath. “You make me forget myself, Mr. Hook.”

  “Life is short, Caroline, and my employment hazardous. Who can guess what will happen? I try to seize the day whenever I can.”

  “I never seize the day.”

  “Perhaps you should.” He spun and strolled out.

  She staggered to the sitting room and eased down in a chair. For a long while, she stared at the empty fireplace, reflecting on their budding affair, on what the future held.

  In a month, Caroline had to leave Bramble Bay, as everyone else had to leave. Mildred claimed she would write to Archie, to send Caroline home where she belonged. But Caroline wouldn’t accept that ending.

  If she confessed her dilemma with Archie, would Mr. Hook help her? Would he rescue her? And if she cast her lot with him, what new path would unfold? Could she bear to find out?

  She pondered and fretted until a maid’s knock interrupted.

  “What is it?”she called.

  The girl peeked in. “Mrs. Teasdale needs you down in the front parlor.”

  In light of Caroline’s disordered state—and the fact that she could smell Mr. Hook on her skin and clothes—Mildred was the very last person she wanted to see.

  “Did she say why?”

  “No—just that it’s important.”

  Caroline knew Mildred well. The older woman wouldn’t be denied, so it was pointless to refuse.

  She sighed. “Tell her I’ll be right down.”

  * * * *

  Raven stood in an unused bedchamber on the second floor. He was with two of the footmen, completing an inventory of the furnishings. When Hedley and Mildred left for good, he had to be certain he could account for all of John’s possessions.

  He peered out the window and frowned. There was a small carriage in the drive, a single horse pulling it.

  He didn’t like anyone to arrive without his being apprised, and the butler had strict instructions to inform him immediately as to any visitors. The idiotic man must have gone straight to Mildred—as if Mildred was still in charge—and it was an indicator of how he wouldn’t have a job much longer.

  Raven motioned to one of the footmen, and the boy came over.

  “Whose carriage is that?”

  The boy studied it, scowled, then tentatively ventured, “Ah…I probably know.”

  “Well?”

  “It belongs to Mr. Patterson.”

  “Caroline Patterson’s husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why would he be here?”

  The boy glanced away. “I really couldn’t say, Mr. Hook.”

  Raven stepped in, meaning to intimidate with his size, with his authority. “Why not?”

  The other footman answered, “It’s a bad business, Mr. Hook. The housekeeper ordered the staff to stay out of it.”

  Raven nodded, considering the disturbing comment.

  “You two can go to the kitchen for tea. We’ll finish later.”

  He walked out and went to the stairs, and he tiptoed to the landing, where he could see the foyer down below. The servants were conspicuously absent as if—whatever was occurring—they didn’t want to witness it.

  Shortly, the parlor door opened. Mildred emerged, a man with her who had to be Mr. Patterson. He was forty or so, dressed in a fussy suit and carrying a cane. He was tall and lanky and balding, and Raven loathed him on sight.

  “Thank you, Mildred,”Mr. Patterson said. “I appreciate your help.”

  “You’re welcome,”Mildred replied. “She put me in such an awkward position.”

  “I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” He barked, “Caroline, come!”

  There was a lengthy delay, and finally, Caroline appeared. She’d been crying. Her cheeks were red, her eyes moist. She nearly passed by Mildred without a word, but she thought better of it and halted.

  “I can’t believe you betrayed me to him.”

  “You belong with your husband, Caroline.”

  “You tricked me into marrying him. You were aware of what he was like, and you talked me into it anyway. If he kills me, you won’t even care.”

  Mr. Patterson was irked by the insult. “You will apologize to Mildred for imposing on her,”he scolded. “You’re lucky she took you in.”

  “Sarah took me in, not her.” Caroline glowered at Mildred. “You always hated me. I wish Bernard was alive so he could see how you’ve ruined us.”

  Mildred ignored her outrage. “Goodbye, Caroline. Please don’t come back. There’s no place for you here.”

  “I’ll tell Sarah that you sent for him,”Caroline fumed, but Mildred recognized it was an empty threat.

  “Archie is your husband. Sarah has no say in the matter.”

  Mr. Patterson puffed himself up. “My wife will never bother you again, Mildred. I guarantee it.”

  The remark was chilling. It rang off the rafters with ominous intent. He clutched Caroline’s arm, and though she dragged her feet, he simply hauled her off, his grip
tight enough to bruise.

  “Witch!”Caroline hurled at Mildred before her husband pulled her outside and she vanished from view.

  Mildred stoically watched until the butler closed the door after them. Raven marched down the stairs, his boots pounding in an angry rhythm.

  “Why is that man on the premises?”he demanded.

  “Caroline is being evicted with the rest of us,”Mildred explained, “and I’m weary of her foolishness. It’s time for her to return home, and with the way she’s behaved, she’s fortunate her husband will take her back.”

  She whipped away in a snit, and he stepped in her path to stop her.

  “What?”she asked, glaring.

  “Go up to your private quarters. Stay there until I permit you to come down again.”

  “You have no authority over me.”

  “In John Sinclair’s absence, I’m in charge.” He leaned in, letting his fury waft over her like a cloud. “Refuse to obey me at your peril, Mrs. Teasdale. Refuse to obey and see what happens.”

  She hesitated, yearning to defy him, but she prudently relented.

  “Barbarian,”she spat.

  “Yes, I am,”he agreed, and he bellowed, “Now go!”

  She flinched and scurried off like a scared rabbit. Then he stormed over to the butler, approaching until they were toe to toe.

  “What were your instructions about visitors?”he hissed.

  “Ah…that you were to be immediately informed.”

  “Was I not clear? Were you confused by my edict?”

  The man gulped with dismay, but didn’t respond.

  “Wait for me in the library,”Raven seethed. “You’ll have to make a case as to why you shouldn’t be flogged, then fired.”

  Raven hurried out and tromped down the grand stairs to the drive, where the horse’s ass, Archie Patterson, had actually bound Caroline’s wrists with a rope.

  “How dare you shame me!” Patterson had the audacity to whack her with his cane. “How dare you hide yourself!”

  He hit her a second time and a third. Caroline didn’t react. She appeared defeated, resigned to her fate.

  “Haven’t I lectured you?”Patterson complained. “Haven’t I warned you where your stubborn attitude will lead?” He shouted, “Get in the carriage!”

  Raven sauntered over, and Mr. Patterson was so incensed, he didn’t notice Raven. Raven tapped him on the shoulder.

  “What is it?” Patterson whirled around. On observing Raven—a foot taller, a yard wider, all dressed in black—he blanched and weakly inquired, “May I help you?”

  “Mr. Patterson, I presume?”Raven casually said.

  “Yes.” He clicked his heels. “Archibald Patterson at your service.”

  Raven looked at Caroline and asked, “Do you want to leave with him?”

  She voiced the word no, but couldn’t speak it aloud.

  Raven gestured to the house. “Go inside.”

  Patterson stuck out his chest. “Now see here, I am her husband, and I’ve put up with enough of her nonsense. I won’t—”

  Raven drew a pistol from his coat and stuck the barrel directly in the center of Patterson’s forehead. Patterson froze with stunned surprise. The whole world went still. Not a bird flew. Not a tree swayed in the wind.

  “If you open your mouth again,”Raven murmured, “I will blow your head off.”

  Patterson swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, but he wisely kept silent.

  “Caroline, go!”Raven said.

  She ran to the stairs, and once she was out of Patterson’s reach, Raven moved the gun away.

  “You’re getting in your carriage,”Raven tightly stated, “and you’ll pick up the reins and point your horse toward London. You are never—I repeat, never!—coming back to Bramble Bay. Do you understand me?”

  “You can’t just—”

  “Do you understand!”Raven roared at full volume, and Patterson lurched away.

  “I don’t know who you think you are, but I don’t have to tolerate this treatment. A husband has rights.”

  “You can choke on your rights,”Raven spat.

  Patterson glared over at Caroline, where she hovered on the bottom step. “Caroline, I command you to accompany me.”

  Raven sighed with exasperation. “Are you deaf, Mr. Patterson? Or are you stupid?”

  He raised the butt of the pistol and cold-cocked Patterson. Patterson dropped to the dirt, a frantic hand rubbing the spot where the clout had landed. Blood spurted and dripped down his cheek.

  “You hit me! You hit me!”he shrieked over and over.

  “Yes, and if you don’t shut up, I’ll hit you again.” Raven bent down and pulled Patterson to him until they were nose to nose. “This property doesn’t belong to Mildred and Hedley anymore.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying. My employer owns it, and you’re not welcome. If you ride up the drive ever again, I will shoot you as a trespasser.” He yanked Patterson to his feet. “Consider yourself warned.”

  Patterson was dizzy, swaying. Raven lifted him and tossed him into the carriage. He grabbed the reins and wrapped them around Patterson’s shaking fingers.

  “Caroline is never coming back to you, Patterson,”Raven advised.

  “We’ll see about that!”he huffed, but he didn’t sound menacing.

  “Go to London and divorce her. Feel free to cite adultery or desertion. Or use them both. I don’t care what you choose.”

  “Adultery!” Patterson wheezed.

  “But know this: If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. That’s a promise, and I always keep my promises.”

  He walked over and swatted Patterson’s horse on the rump. The animal jumped and raced away, Patterson clutching at the reins so he wasn’t thrown off. The carriage careened down the lane and out onto the road, and as Patterson disappeared from view, Raven spun to the house.

  Caroline was still there, her expression unreadable. What must she think? Since arriving at Bramble Bay, he’d concealed his penchant for violence. He hoped she wasn’t frightened or disgusted.

  He went over and stopped in front of her. With her on the step, and him on the ground, they were eye to eye.

  “How did you do that?”she asked.

  “It was easy.” Raven waved a hand as if Patterson was a bothersome gnat. “He’s a bully, and bullies crumble when threatened.”

  “You told him to go, and he…left! He was afraid of you.”

  “As he should be. I can be quite vicious when the situation requires brutality.”

  “You swore you’d kill him if he returned. Would you?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She studied him forever, and he waited on tenterhooks, terrified over what her opinion might be and whether it would bode ill as to his chances with her.

  “Mr. Hook,”she eventually said, “you and I are going to be very, very good friends.”

  “I believe we are. And you should call me Raven. Since I’m happy to murder your husband for you, we don’t need to be so formal.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  He untied her wrists and led her inside.

  * * * *

  “May I speak with Mr. John Sinclair?”

  “He’s not here.”

  Annalise sat on a sofa by the fire, listening as Raven replied to Phillip Sinclair. It was shocking to have Sinclair pop in and start inquiring about Jean Pierre. He hadn’t yet said why he’d traveled to Bramble Bay, but it wasn’t difficult to discern the reason.

  He and Jean Pierre were definitely brothers. There could be no question as to their close blood relationship. Tall and handsome and imperious. Golden-blond hair. The typical Sinclair green eyes.

  If she could push back his sleeve and scrutinize his wrist, she was sure she would see the distinctive birthmark, the ‘Mark of Trent’ that would indicate Charles Sinclair’s paternity.

  They had always heard that Lord Trent had sired many illegitimate children, but it was a tad disconcerting to
bump into one of them. How had Mr. Sinclair discovered that Jean Pierre was in residence? What else did he know that he shouldn’t?

  “When will he return?”he asked Raven.

  “He won’t,”Raven lied.

  “He’s left England?”

  “I really can’t say.”

  “May I talk to Mrs. Teasdale instead?”

  “That won’t be possible. She’s indisposed and not having visitors.”

  Raven had her locked in her room, and she could only venture out when he was around and available to watch her every move.

  Mr. Sinclair was very bright and obviously grasped that Raven wasn’t being candid. But Sinclair was a stranger and unannounced caller, so he could hardly bluster and demand answers that Raven wasn’t inclined to furnish.

  “May I inquire,”Mr. Sinclair said to Raven, “as to your relationship with John Sinclair?”

  “I am his partner.”

  “Are you allowed to conduct business on his behalf?”

  “If I feel like it.”

  “My father is Charles Sinclair, Earl of Trent.”

  Raven snidely muttered, “Give him my regards when you get back to London.”

  Annalise recognized the statement to be a sort of threat. Raven and Jean Pierre had been whispering about Charles Sinclair, and she presumed the exalted man had trouble coming his way.

  Mr. Sinclair let the remark pass. He kept assessing Raven, peeking at Annalise, as if trying to figure out their game. But she and Raven had lived lives filled with swindles and deceits. Mr. Sinclair would never learn what they didn’t wish him to know.

  “My father received a letter from Mrs. Teasdale,”Mr. Sinclair explained, “which is why I’ve traveled to Bramble Bay.”

  “If the earl would send you on such a long journey,”Raven said, “the issue she addressed must have been quite riveting. What was it?”

  “She claims John Sinclair is my father’s son—and my half-brother. We thought him deceased years ago in Paris, so we were surprised to discover that he was hale and hearty and engaged in mischief in England.”

  “In mischief? What makes you think so?”

  “Mrs. Teasdale tells us that her son, Hedley, gambled away their estate to John. She asked my father to intervene on her behalf.”

  “To intervene in what fashion?”Raven scoffed.

  “To convince John Sinclair to give the property back to the Teasdales.”