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Mark of Caine Trilogy: Book One: Hidden in the Shadows (Victorian Villains)

Page 2

by Catherine Lloyd


  It was a little known fact that Queen Victoria blamed her son Edward for the death of her husband. The Prince Consort became deathly ill after Edward kept him walking the Cambridge grounds for hours in the rain. After Albert’s death, she broke off contact with her eldest son, refusing to speak to him, but Victoria was unwilling to let go of the reins completely. She hired Tanner to follow Edward on his nightly escapades, pretend to be his companion—even lie to him to gain his confidence.

  Tanner performed his duties without qualm. He was sympathetic to Victoria’s need for control, and he respected her mental toughness that put the Crown before her offspring. The Queen was his commander now and a far better one than those he had disobeyed six years ago.

  The Prince Regent did not make Tanner’s job easy. Edward was greedy, highly sexed with an explosive temper that was coupled with great personal charm. When ugly rumours surfaced regarding Bertie’s sexual proclivities, Tanner managed to suppress them all. Quite often, he’d had to use force. His service to the Crown had never extended to murder before.

  Tanner packed a few of his personal belongings in a leather satchel and thought of a plan to pull it off. The consequences if something went wrong would be heavy and he could not call on the Crown to avoid prosecution he was caught. The best Tanner could hope for would to be shipped off to Australia on a convict ship. The worst was the hangman’s noose.

  He tucked the forged letter in his satchel. Despite the risk, he never would refuse the Queen. Unconditional trust commanded unconditional loyalty in a soldier. By nightfall, Tanner Caine was riding to Somerset to put his plan in motion.

  Chapter Two

  Windemere Village, Somerset ~ May 1868

  THE MARRIAGE ceremony of Branson and Clara Hamilton concluded with applause and fiddle music. Tanner left the church ahead of the crowd, and waited on the lawn under an apple tree in full bloom for the newlyweds to emerge.

  They stood on the stone step in the hard spring light. The bride was noticeably pregnant. Obviously his stepbrother was as licentious as his father before him.

  Tanner recognized him immediately. Just seeing his stepbrother’s face again, unchanged from boyhood, provoked him. The old resentments simmered too near the surface. Branson Reilly was harder about the eyes and the mouth, but he still had that quiet, assessing stare.

  There would come a day when he would tell Branson about their fathers and the oath they swore before their ship was lost to the sea. Today was not that day. He was not here for Branson but for his wife, Clara. To pull off his plan, Tanner would need to know as much about Laura Mayhew as possible, including the reason for her committal to the asylum.

  Though he appeared unenthused by the reunion, his brother came forward to greet him.

  “Tanner Caine. It has been too long. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to wish you joy, brother. Although from the look of your bride, you were not given much choice. I am to be an uncle. How jolly,” he said flatly.

  Clara Hamilton stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Caine, and how good of you to come. You must join us at Windemere Hall for the festivities.”

  “I thank you, madam, but my time is severely limited. In truth, it is you I have come to see regarding your friend, Miss Laura Mayhew.”

  “Miss Mayhew? Has something happened to her?”

  “No, she is well. I have been sent by her father, Sir Horatio Mayhew to bring her home from Gateshead Asylum. My employer is restrained by the politics of court; he cannot demand his daughter’s release given the circumstances that led to her commitment.” Tanner offered a brief mirthless smile. “I think you know what I am referring to, madam. I am in a difficult position. I cannot simply walk into Gateshead and remove the lady from the premises.”

  “You are indeed,” agreed Clara. “This change of heart on the part of her father begs the question: if Laura Mayhew is not mad, then how did she come to be confined to an insane asylum?”

  Tanner Caine’s eyes flickered. “You shall have to school your wife in the politics of court, Bran. Laura Mayhew was lady-in-waiting to Princess Louise. She took an oath of confidentiality when she assumed the position. When she broke her oath, the Crown owed her nothing. Sir Mayhew was given the choice of prison or treatment at Gateshead Asylum for his daughter. He made the kinder choice.”

  Clara glanced quickly at her new husband and then back at his frightening older brother. “Today is not the day for school, sir. It is my wedding day. If you genuinely mean to get Miss Mayhew out of Gateshead, I am willing to help. But there is little I can tell you; I was there for so short a time, we conversed on only two or three occasions.”

  “What was the topic of your conversation?”

  “Very droll, I’m afraid. Miss Mayhew had lived at Windsor Castle for a time, as you know. She was fixated on a scandalous story that involved Princess Louise and a missing baby.”

  “Oh?” He settled a cold unblinking stare on Clara. “What was it about?”

  Tanner was broad in shoulder and tall like Branson, but he was as dark as Branson was light. His black eyes and olive complexion were strikingly beautiful, like the black jagged rock of a wild coastline is beautiful.

  But there was dark menace in his manner. Tanner Caine posed a threat that Branson, for all of his wicked ways, did not. Branson’s villainous disposition was behind him now that he was married and expecting a child. Her beloved’s sins were rooted in the wrong that had been done to him, and a cruel deception. Nurtured by resentment, his heartlessness had flowered and borne fruit. But that was all in the past. Branson Hamilton had chosen love over hate.

  Clara could see little of her husband’s redemptive qualities in Tanner Caine. Though one side of his face was cruelly deformed, it was his very soul that repelled, or rather, did not invite human contact, warmth or pity.

  “You are not here to help Laura Mayhew; I know the manner of work you do,” Branson cut in testily. “Your notoriety is whispered about in the back rooms of London.”

  “Branson, darling, let’s not jump to conclusions about Tanner’s motives,” Clara said warningly.

  “Listen to your wife, brother.”

  Branson stepped nearer, speaking in a low even voice. “When I first heard your name, I wondered if the man of rumour could be the same Tanner Caine with whom I’d spent six miserable years of my life. I heard you were close to the Crown, but the service you provide is not the sort a monarch would be proud to have known.”

  “I am bound to serve Queen Victoria by something far more powerful than an oath of office. When no one wanted me, when I was cast aside, my sovereign took me in and gave me a purpose. I am loyal to the one who is loyal to me and I make no apology for it.”

  Branson’s jaw twitched threateningly and his hands balled into fists. “I have no objection to your job—the less I know about it, the better. I object to you using my wife to obtain information about your mark.”

  Tanner’s mouth tightened. “We’ve not seen each other in sixteen years and I’m not here to renew our acquaintance. Neither am I here to explain myself to you, Branson Reilly.” His black eyes flicked to Branson’s face. “You wouldn’t take my father’s name, the man who raised you from infancy. I hear you go by the name of Hamilton. I assume this other father had a fine house and an even finer bank account.”

  “Leonard Hamilton had fine manners as well,” Branson said. “He did not beat his children. After what I experienced in your father’s house I would have taken the name of any man who would call me son without beating me half to death first.”

  The crushed side of Tanner’s face twitched and his stare became unreadable. Clara had some notion of what the man suffered. Recently recovered from a debilitating stammer, she knew what it was like to be sealed up inside oneself for fear of the world’s ridicule. But whereas she had sought approval, Caine seemed to hold good opinion of him in contempt.

  He claimed he wanted to help Laur
a. Though she had no reason to credit his claim, Clara was determined to see her friend released from Gateshead by any means necessary. “What is it you would like to know, sir,” she hastily interjected. “I am eager to help Miss Mayhew.”

  He turned his attention on Clara as a predator discovering new prey. “What stories did she tell you? A detail or two will suffice. I will approach the director as a friend of the family to secure her release. You know what I am talking about, eh, Bran? You got your wife out on the same grounds when clearly Mrs. Hamilton was not your wife as you claimed.”

  Feminine intuition told Clara that Tanner Caine would meet his match in Laura Mayhew. Few ladies were as clever or as courageous; this plan of his could be made to work to her advantage.

  “You are correct, sir. Branson convinced the director that I was his wife. However, the plan worked because I knew Branson and I could play along with the deception. You say you were sent from her father? Even with proof of that claim, Dr. Rutledge will not release Laura Mayhew without her agreement. He will not force a frightened, disorientated patient into the custody of a stranger.”

  “What do you suggest? How can she be persuaded that I am there to help her?”

  Clara calculated the possible outcomes. “You asked what the lady is like,” she murmured. “It is true she suffers from delusions but she is a gentle person with a sweet disposition. An asylum is no place for her. She will become quite ill there if something is not done. Madness has a way of burrowing in and eroding even the soundest of minds.”

  Clara rested her hands on the moving baby inside her body and offered Branson a conciliatory smile. She was annoying him by helping Tanner but in this case she knew best. Clara had spent time at Gateshead and had firsthand experience with the danger Laura was in if she was confined there much longer.

  “The only way to convince my friend of your goodwill is to credit her story, sir. Do not attempt to persuade her it didn’t happen. I’ve said she has a gentle nature; I should add—when she is not provoked. Do not contradict her or attempt to argue with her. Her delusion has caused no real harm as far as I can see. I couldn’t make head or tail of it, but I indulged her fancy. I suggest you do the same.”

  “Her delusion is this story of Princess Louise and an infant? Sir Horatio Mayhew was not specific on the subject of his daughter’s indiscretions. He felt the letter would be enough to get her out.”

  Clara shook her head. “It will not. Dr. Rutledge will have his own ideas about Laura’s fitness to travel, to live in society, and the gentleman he will be trusting with her care. Be sure to mention to Laura that you have spoken to me and your relationship with Branson Hamilton. That will help your cause. She delights in hearing news of the outside world. Do not disappoint her. And please communicate my best wishes for success in her endeavours.”

  “And what might those be?” Tanner asked sharply.

  He did not miss anything, this mysterious brother from Branson’s past, Clara thought.

  Tanner Caine’s brow lifted on the handsome side of his face as he met her eyes. It was a fascinating transformation. He appeared genuinely interested in her answer but there was not a flicker of concern in his face. He had the cold, calculating look of a hired assassin.

  “Pray, what is your plan after you have secured my friend’s release? Will you return her to Dorset? Tell me that and then I will answer.”

  “No, Clara,” Branson cut in. “You’ve said enough and heard enough. To say more will make you an accessory. Mr. Caine can do his own dirty work.” He turned to his brother. “If you want to know about Laura Mayhew, I suggest you talk to the lady yourself.”

  The two men eyed each other with growing hostility.

  Clara opened her mouth to protest, and then thought better of it. If Tanner Caine was indeed an assassin sent by Her Majesty, Laura was already expecting him. She would know how to deal with the likes of Tanner Caine.

  Clara lifted up and planted a kiss on Tanner’s paralytic cheek. This beautiful half-formed man had a diabolical other side, just as his stepbrother had. Perhaps their villainy been forged in childhood. If so, it was not too late. Clara was determined Branson should not lose sight of his brother. He might be Tanner’s only hope for salvation.

  “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I shall leave you to get reacquainted. It was a pleasure to meet you, Tanner. Please call on us again; I would like to get to know you better.”

  Tanner gazed after the girl in disbelief. He suspected her of what he did not know. Clara Hamilton was not insincere but he did not believe for a minute that she was on his side.

  “Your wife has a curious way of not doing the very thing one wants her to do, but giving every impression that she has. Have you noticed?”

  “Yes. She agreed with me that I should not marry her, and yet here I am.”

  “And happy to be so I should think. You always were the lucky one of the two of us.”

  “Where have you been, Tanner? The last I heard, you were in the Navy.” Branson’s voice was clipped and dry.

  Tanner crossed his arms over his chest. “Where did you hear that? I thought you never left the hallowed halls of commerce in London.”

  Branson ignored the barb. “Why did you give it up? I should have thought you would enjoy following in your father’s footsteps.”

  “I might’ve done, but I was dishonourably discharged for reasons I do not wish to go into.”

  He hesitated for a moment as though making up his mind about something. And then:

  “Did your mother ever tell you how your father died?”

  “He was drowned at sea, a common enough hazard for a sailor. Why?”

  “There is more to the story. Our fathers were on the same whaling vessel when it went down. There were four of them; my father, your father Tobias Reilly, and two others. They were trapped in the cargo hold when the ship took on water. The seawater was rushing in around their ankles and they climbed the crates and barrels, pounding on the floor above for someone to rescue them. But no help came. It was your father who proposed then that they take an oath. They were facing death and each of them had a son who would be left fatherless that day.”

  “Allow me to guess. The oath stated that if one of them lived he should assume responsibility for the other sons. And your father was the lucky survivor.”

  “No, none of them expected to live. The water was up to their necks when my father remembered there was a hatch for loading rum barrels cut into the side of the boat. It was hidden behind a stack of crates; they had to swim down to reach it. He thought his companions were right behind him when he escaped, but they were not. Bartholomew Caine watched the boat sink, dragging his cohorts to the bottom of the sea. The water was frigid; he was convinced he was about to join them in death when a small fishing vessel came into view. My father was rescued.”

  “Where is all this leading?” Branson asked impatiently. “I have no desire to relive your father’s past history. I wish it was him at the bottom the ocean and not Tobias Reilly. The knowledge that my father called him friend only makes me hate Bartholomew Caine even more.”

  “Why—do you fancy your father was morally superior to mine? You have not asked why four sailors were shut up in the cargo hold of a whaling ship in distress. They were prisoners, Bran. They’d been caught stealing, and one of them had committed murder to cover up the crime. All four were being transported to back to England where they would stand trial. The murderer in the bunch was your father—Tobias Reilly.”

  Tanner fixed his black soulless stare on Branson. “You are no better than me. You may fool yourself with family and respectability for a time, but you’ll revert to your true nature. What is bred in your bone is the same thing that is bred in mine. Those four criminals on the whaling ship swore an oath in their final hours. Unrepentant to the end, they vowed their sons would follow in their footsteps. Murder, greed, and ruthlessness are the gifts our fathers bestowed on us with their dying breaths. We have inherited their evil. We have be
en baptized with a curse.”

  Branson grabbed Tanner Caine by the lapels and shook him. “You are lying. You are your father through and through—as vicious as he ever was.”

  “As you are like yours,” he spat. “You have one or two bodies to your credit, do you not? I attended your mother’s funeral. Did you not sense me there? I learned of her death through a notice in the paper. I kept well out of sight. She was my mother too for six years; the only mother I’d ever known. But she had taken you and left me behind. She chose you. Even so, I loved her. After my father died, I thought she would send for me. You call Bartholemew Caine vicious. What was Ida Reilly when she walked out, leaving a boy in the care of a vicious drunk? What were you when you were living in your fine house while I was begging for bread on the streets of London?”

  Tanner shook himself free of Branson’s grip. He had said too much. The horror of those years was returning and he still had a job to do. He executed a short contemptuous bow and moved rapidly to his horse.

  “The other two sons,” Branson shouted after him. “What are their names? Where may I find them?”

  “Oh don’t worry about them, brother.” Tanner swung astride his horse and caught up the reins. “When you need to find them, they will likely find you first, just as I have done. Your pregnant bride awaits you in the carriage. You are a lucky bastard. Of the four of us, perhaps you will be the one to break free of the curse!”

  Tanner Caine rode off in a cloud of dust, his husky laugh carrying on the sweet spring air.

  Chapter Three

  “WHAT WAS that all about?” Clara touched Bran’s cheek. Her husband’s eyes were troubled. “You were conversing with your brother for a long time.”

 

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