“I do not doubt she will receive the most tender care,” he gritted.
Stefan pushed away from the desk. “Was that not your purpose when you brought her here?”
“I bloody well do not know what my purpose was.” His lips twisted in a grim smile. “Not an uncommon occurrence lately.”
Stefan stepped forward, his expression somber.
“Return to London, Edmond, and your duties,” he commanded. “I will take care of matters here.”
Edmond turned to grasp the frame of the window. “Do you expect that to comfort me?” he rasped.
“It is for the best.”
“I saw you this morning,” he said, his fingers biting into the wooden frame until his knuckles were white. “Holding Brianna.”
“I did not realize until she returned just how much I have missed her. I was a fool not to bring her to Meadowland much sooner.”
Stefan’s words did nothing to ease Edmond’s temper. “It was certainly your duty, just as it is your duty now to recall that you are her guardian.”
“Yes, I am. And being her guardian means more than simply providing her shelter. I must also consider what is best for her future. Such a beautiful, innocent young woman is bound to attract the attention of the most despicable lechers, as Thomas Wade has already proven. Not to mention seasoned rakes.”
Edmond turned, his chest so tight he could barely breathe.
“And just what do you consider best for her future?”
Stefan met his accusing gaze without apology. “I have growing hopes that she will be content to remain at Meadowland.”
“As your ward?”
“As my wife.”
Although Edmond had half expected the words, they still hit him like a physical blow.
Brianna wed to his brother? Always within his sight, but forever beyond his grasp?
“What the devil are you babbling about?” he demanded between clenched teeth. “You have not seen her in a dozen years, and within hours, you have decided you want her as your wife?”
“She is young, healthy and breathtakingly lovely. She also loves Meadowland nearly as much as I do. I can think of few women who would suit me so well.” Stefan narrowed his gaze. “You are the one continually advising me that my greatest duty as a Duke is to have an heir to ensure you are never burdened with the title.”
“Advice that you have continually ignored.”
“I am stubborn, not entirely stupid. I am well aware that I shall have to wed and produce a son. Perhaps several sons and a few daughters.”
Edmond quivered as the feral fury pulsed through him, his control a breath away from snapping.
“Have all the children you want, Stefan, but be assured that their mother will not be Brianna Quinn.”
Stefan refused to back away. “That is hardly your decision to make.”
“Stefan, do not press this issue,” he warned, his words slow and careful.
“Why? Because you have seduced her?”
“Because I do not allow what is mine to be stolen, not even by you.”
“You intend to claim her?” Stefan demanded.
“I already have.”
“No, you have taken what you desired without giving anything. Not even a promise of a future.”
Edmond flinched. “Did she complain to you?”
“Not at all. In truth, she was most anxious to ensure that she did not cause trouble between us. She possesses a conscience, even if you do not.”
Stefan turned on his heel and headed for the door, almost as if he could not bear to be in Edmond’s company.
“Stefan.”
Jerking open the door, Stefan paused long enough to cast Edmond a cold glare. “For once, do what is right, Edmond. Brianna is not just another bored noblewoman seeking a brief diversion. She is a young, vulnerable girl who has been a very important part of this family. Surely she deserves better than what you are willing to offer?”
He was gone before Edmond could respond.
But then, what could he say?
What was he willing to offer Brianna? A few weeks, perhaps months, as his mistress? A handful of pretty jewels to ease his conscience when he was finished with her?
While Stefan was prepared to hand her respect, wealth, position, a family to claim as her own.
Just how selfish a bastard had he become?
Reaching for the ormolu clock set on the mantle, Edmond tossed it against the wall, grimly watching as it exploded into a dozen pieces.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE EXPENSIVE HOTEL SUITE was comfortable enough. There was an elegant sitting room with solid English furnishings that had been covered in a cheerful paisley along with ruthlessly polished walnut tables. Next door was a large bedchamber that included a four-poster bed and French armoire, and connecting rooms for his servants.
Not that Edmond noticed. He had chosen the rooms because they were convenient to Piccadilly and because the back door led directly to an alley where he could slip in and out unnoted.
In truth, since he had arrived back in London three days ago, the rooms had seemed perilously close to a prison.
He had been unwilling to risk spooking Kazakov by being seen in Piccadilly, leaving his servants to keep an eye upon the traitor. Which meant that he had far too many hours to devote to pacing the floors and savagely regretting that rare moment of nobility that had led him to flee Meadowland in the midst of the night, leaving Brianna behind.
He was not a self-sacrificing, noble sort of man. He wanted what he wanted.
The sound of the door to his sitting room opening was a welcome distraction. Edmond turned to watch Boris enter the chamber and cross to pour himself a measure of the whiskey kept on a side table.
“Well?”
“You were right, of course. Kazakov just returned from booking passage on a ship bound for the West Indies.”
“And?”
“And on the same day, he is booked on a ship bound for the North Sea under the name of Ivor Spatrov.” Boris lifted his glass in a silent toast before draining the potent spirits. “Just as you said he would be.”
Edmond shrugged. It was a common enough diversion. One he had used himself on several occasions. “When does the ship sail?”
“Thursday.”
Edmond ignored the heavy emptiness that was lodged in the pit of his stomach. Mon dieu. This was precisely what he had been waiting for. He would soon be back in Russia, and once the threat to the Czar was ended, he could continue with the life he had worked so hard to build.
“I presume we have passage booked as well?”
“Of course. You are Mr. Richard Parrish, an importer of Russian furs. I thought you would prefer to travel as a wealthy merchant, rather than among the unwashed masses.”
“Wise decision.” Although he would have to travel in disguise, he preferred to have a decent cabin to endure the weeks of travel onboard the ship. “Viktor has still not attempted to send a message to his contact in Russia?”
“None that I have managed to discover.” Boris set aside his empty glass. “I must be overlooking something.”
Edmond shrugged, well aware that his companion was doing everything possible to keep track of Viktor Kazakov’s nefarious activities.
“I have every faith in your abilities, Boris.”
“Then what troubles you?” Boris demanded. “Your brother is safe, and soon we shall be back in Russia where we will be toasted as heroes for having halted a devious plot to overthrow the Czar.”
“We have not halted it yet.”
“We will.”
Edmond could hardly argue with his confidence. Not without implying he doubted those who had dedicated their lives to protecting Alexander Pavlovich.
“Yes.”
“So why then…”
The unwelcome probing was interrupted as there was a sharp rap on the door. The two men shared a brief glance before Boris was sliding to stand behind the door, in position to hit the intruder from behind the
moment he entered the room. Edmond moved to stand directly in front of the door.
“Yes?” he demanded.
“It is Jimmy.”
Edmond frowned at the youthful voice. “Who?”
“I work fer Chesterfield.”
Edmond reached to jerk the door open, unconcerned that it might be a very clever trap. After returning to London, he had shifted Chesterfield’s duties from keeping track of Howard Summerville, who was obviously of no interest, to Thomas Wade. For all the chaos, Edmond had not forgotten the man’s desperate desire for Brianna.
A slender lad with rough clothing and a cocky smile strolled into the room, his eyes darting about to locate the various items of worth with the skill of a trained thief. He could not, however, halt his squeak of surprise when Boris’s large hand descended on his shoulder.
“Keep your hands in your pockets, scamp,” the towering man growled.
Edmond stepped directly before the lad.
“You have news?”
The boy swallowed, doing his best to ignore the terrifying soldier holding him captive.
“I was told to come here if the gent I was watching left town.”
“And did he?”
“Aye. Slipped away early this morning.”
“This morning? Why the devil did you not come to me at once?”
“I had to follow the carriage to make certain it was actually leaving town, didn’t I? And then I had to make me way back here. I nearly broke me bloody neck in me rush.”
Edmond did not give a damn what the boy had endured. All that mattered was the fact that Thomas Wade was slipping from his grasp.
“Which direction did he go?”
“South.”
Surrey. The obscene bastard was on his way to Brianna. A sharp fear exploded through him as he dug in his pocket and pulled out a coin.
“Here.” He tossed the coin to the lad, who caught it with practiced ease. “Return to Chesterfield.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, guv,” the lad managed to mutter before Boris had firmly steered him out the door.
Edmond barely noticed as he moved across the room to collect his greatcoat and hat. Wade had well over an hour’s, perhaps as much as two, head start on him. It would take a near miracle for him to catch the carriage before it reached Meadowland.
He had jerked on his coat and was at the door when Boris halted him.
“Edmond.”
With the fear that he might be too late pulsing through him, Edmond barely forced himself to pause and glance toward his companion.
“What?”
“We must be on that boat.”
“I will return before Thursday,” he snarled, not giving a Tinker’s damn at this moment about Viktor Kazakov or his endless plots. He wrenched the door open. “Boris.”
“Yes?”
“Purchase another ticket on that damn ship.”
“You intend to take Miss Quinn to Russia?”
“I bloody well do not intend to leave her here. The woman possesses an unholy ability to tumble into disaster.”
“Which I would think would be a reason not to haul her into the midst of a brewing revolution.”
“At least if she is at my side, I can protect her.”
“But…”
Edmond tossed his friend his leather purse and wrenched open the door.
“Buy the damned ticket, Boris, and make certain that you keep an eye upon Viktor Kazakov. I do not intend to rectify one bout of stupidity only to allow another.”
THE AFTERNOON WAS GRAY AND gloomy with a chilled breeze that whispered of the coming winter. Hardly the sort of day to encourage a shopping expedition to the local village, but Stefan had been insistent and, reluctant to disappoint the man who had offered her nothing but kindness, Brianna had given in to his urgings.
Not that it was a huge sacrifice, she had to admit as they rolled down the narrow lane in the luxurious carriage that was designed for comfort. The village was a charming collection of shops and well-tended cottages with a number of friendly inhabitants that she remembered from her childhood. And despite the nip in the air, it was something of a relief to devote a few hours to something beyond brooding on Edmond.
It was infuriating, she acknowledged. She should be delighted she was free of his arrogant presence. Stefan did not order her about as if she were his devoted hound. Indeed, he treated her with a tender respect that any woman would adore.
At last, she was safe and peacefully settled in a place that felt like home. She had nothing to do but concentrate on planning her future of glorious independence.
Staring out the window, Brianna barely noted the soggy fields and occasional copse of trees. Instead, she was envisioning Edmond comfortably settled in London, perhaps even enjoying the afternoon in the arms of his mistress.
Not until Lady Aberlane leaned forward to lightly tap her ivory fan on Brianna’s knee was she thankfully wrenched out of her painful thoughts.
“Well, I suppose that we cannot hope that the dressmaker can claim the talents of those in London, but the gowns will no doubt be charming,” she babbled, deliberately cheerful. “So very kind of Stefan to insist that we visit her.”
Well aware that the older woman was making a deliberate attempt to lighten her foul mood, Brianna forced a smile to her lips.
“Very kind, but foolishly unnecessary. I have more gowns than I ever dreamed of possessing.”
“Now, my dear, a woman can never have too many gowns.” The woman tugged the carriage blanket more firmly around her shoulders. “And perhaps Stefan wished to ensure that the local seamstress would benefit from our visit. It is not often that Meadowland has female guests.”
“Yes, that is true enough.” Stefan devoted his life to caring for the seemingly endless number of people who depended upon him.
A twinkle entered Letty’s eyes. “But then again, maybe he wished to impress you with his generosity.”
Brianna’s stomach clenched. She had done her best to ignore Stefan’s less than subtle attentions, almost as if by pretending they did not exist they would simply disappear. Cowardly, no doubt, but she had no wish to hurt her dearest friend.
“Stefan has no need to impress me, Letty. We have been friends our entire lives.”
“My dear, I am old, not blind. I have seen the way he watches you and it is not as a mere friend.” She watched Brianna shift on the smooth leather seat. “He is a fine man, Brianna. One of the finest I have ever known. As if being one of the wealthiest Dukes in all of England were not enough.”
Brianna grimaced. Good lord, did the older woman not realize that Brianna would give anything to respond to Stefan? She was well aware that her future could be one of blessed ease and security as the Duchess of Huntley.
It was never to be, however. And not only because of her tangled feelings for Edmond.
For all the luxury and protection Stefan could offer, it still came with the chains of ownership. Granted, they might be golden chains, but she had sworn that she would never, ever place herself in the power of another.
“Stefan is a most remarkable gentleman.”
A faint hint of disappointment touched the lined countenance. “But you do not love him?”
“Of course I love him. I always have. But…”
“You love Edmond more?” Letty demanded.
“I do not know what I feel for Edmond. Most of the time, I want to slap his smug countenance.”
“Ah, my dear.”
Brianna stiffened at the hint of pity in the older woman’s voice. The last thing she needed was sympathy. She had far more than most women.
“It does not matter. Stefan has promised me a home here at Meadowland for as long as I wish. Once I have my inheritance, I intend to purchase my own establishment.”
Letty blinked in surprise. “Do you?”
“Yes.”
“And have you told the boys of your plans?”
Brianna gave a startled laugh. Only Lady Aberlane would con
sider two of the most powerful gentlemen in all of England as boys.
“Once I reach my majority, it will be none of their concern. I shall be free to do as I please. It is all I have ever desired.”
Whatever the woman might think of Brianna’s bold plans was to remain a mystery, because the carriage was suddenly swaying as a passing coach rammed directly into their side.
“Oh, my,” Letty gasped, struggling to stay in her seat. “Some drunken buffoon, I suppose.”
“At this hour?” Brianna peered out the window. Her heart stuttered to a halt as she recognized the blue and gold livery of her stepfather’s grooms. “No. Dear God, no.”
“What is it?”
“That is Thomas Wade’s carriage.”
The words had barely left her lips when the sound of shots being fired echoed through the air. She threw herself to the opposite seat to wrap the fragile older woman in her arms. Her body reacted on instinct, even as her mind refused to accept what was happening.
It was as if her worst nightmare was coming true. And there was not a damnable thing she could do to halt it.
More terrifying shots rang through the air, and both women screamed as the carriage veered into the ditch and slammed to a painful stop. They did not overturn, thank the good lord, but the abrupt motion managed to toss them roughly against the far door.
“Letty?” Pulling back, Brianna studied her companion with a frantic gaze. “Letty, are you hurt?”
Lady Aberlane lifted a shaky hand to straighten her bonnet. “No, no. Just a bit breathless.”
Brianna’s relief lasted less than a heartbeat as the door to the carriage was suddenly wrenched open and the ghastly sight of Thomas Wade appeared in the opening.
Bile rose in Brianna’s throat at the sight of her stepfather’s thick, flushed countenance and pale eyes that glittered with hunger.
“You bitch,” he growled, reaching out to grab Brianna’s arm in a painful grip. “You thought you could escape me?”
Brianna struggled desperately as Thomas pulled her toward the door, but she was barely half the size of her stepfather and there was no means to battle against him as she was hauled ever closer.
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