2Rakehell
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She shook her head, taking in the bruises on Benedict’s face, his cut and bleeding lip and the tear in the sleeve of his frock coat.
He checked to see if the pistol was loaded and then aimed it at Hamish. “Move and I will shoot you.”
Hamish lurched onto one hip and covered the bleeding wound on his thigh.
The sudden pounding on the door made Primrose jolt. Stepping carefully around Hamish, Benedict reached to unlock it. The valet and the physician rushed in and started toward Hamish.
“Not him,” Benedict said, his voice dry and devoid of emotion. “He can wait.”
* * * * *
Primrose sat in the parlor, a warm throw around her shoulders and a comforting mixture of warm milk and brandy in her hands. She was hardly cold but she couldn’t stop shaking.
She glanced expectantly toward the door, hoping for news from the physician attending Adam. She hadn’t wanted to leave his side but the physician had all but forced her out of the room and told her they’d come for her as soon as he was conscious.
Benedict sat in the chair next to hers.
An investigator sat in the chair opposite. Two constables stood behind him, guarding Hamish who sat on an ottoman and barked orders at a shocked and tearful Fidelis.
Dressed in a brown houndstooth suit, the investigator looked and acted like the sort who could move easily among the working class but seemed wholly out of place with the aristocracy. He cleared his throat. “Mr. Forbes,” he directed at Hamish. “If you refuse to cooperate I will have my men remove you in shackles.”
Hamish sneered.
Two more constables appeared with Irene. “I told you this was a fool’s errand!” she wailed at Hamish.
“Shut up,” Hamish snapped.
Primrose’s lips parted at the woman’s veiled admission of guilt. She looked to Benedict.
“It appears your suspicions were correct, my lord,” the investigator said, his face grim.
“I would have come to you sooner of course,” Benedict said. “However I had no proof until recently when I learned the spoke on the coach wheel had been cut.”
It was true. And yet even faced with the evidence, Primrose could hardly believe Hamish had wanted her and Adam dead.
“I believe you’ll find Mr. Mathers in the carriage house,” Benedict said.
“Mathers?” Primrose blurted. All these people she’d trusted had betrayed both her and Adam.
Hamish’s head dropped while Fidelis’ head jerked around like a bird looking in every direction.
“Why didn’t you say something?” Primrose asked Benedict.
“He did, ma’am,” the investigator offered. “He came to me about the carriage just yesterday. Forgive me but I asked him not to make his suspicions known to Lord Black until Mathers could be questioned. We were coming out to Scarborough Hall to collect him today.”
Benedict looked down into his own brandy. He swirled the dregs of the liquid around his glass. “I feared for your safety and told Adam of my suspicions earlier today. If I’d known either of you were in imminent danger I would have done everything in my power to stop it. I never imagined Hamish would drug him.”
Hamish snorted. “He drugged himself. He’s addicted to the stuff, you know.”
Primrose squeezed her glass to keep from slapping him. How could she have ever doubted Benedict?
She couldn’t sort it all out. Her thoughts were on Adam and it was all she could do to sit here a moment longer. She eyed the door again. Her heart sank when no one appeared to take her upstairs to see her husband.
Irene piped up. “Mr. Forbes never told me what was in them vials! He jus’ told me to be generous in givin’ the tincture to Lord Thorley.”
Hamish’s head snapped up. “Shut your damned mouth, you stupid chit.”
The investigator inhaled and looked apologetically at Primrose. “I think this sort of questioning would be better handled in my office.” He turned to his men. “Take them out.”
“I must excuse myself.” Primrose shot to her feet. Benedict and the investigator stood as well. She continued. “I’m terribly worried about my husband.”
“I’ll take you up to see him,” Benedict told her.
She barely acknowledged the slight bows and farewells as she took Benedict’s arm and left the room.
“I don’t need this blanket,” Primrose said, shrugging the throw off and passing it to a servant. She turned to Benedict. “I want to see Adam.”
Benedict winced as her fingers curled around his arm. Primrose gasped and lowered her hand. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “When the physician is finished with Adam you must get him to look at that. It could be broken.”
“I’ll be all right,” Benedict told her as they started up the stairs. “And so will Adam.”
She searched his gray eyes. Before she’d found those eyes so cold, so calculating. Filled with lust and diabolical intent. Now she saw something different. Genuine concern. Affection.
“Thank you, Benedict.”
“I did what anyone in similar circumstances would do. He was trying to kill you for God’s sake.”
“Well for that, but more for what you did last night.”
The hint of a smile played on his lips. “If I remember correctly I didn’t do anything.”
“But you did. Because of you I told Adam how I felt. I told him that I… Oh, if anything happens to him…at least he will have died, knowing…knowing…” Her tears came out of nowhere. She swatted them away.
Benedict brushed his hand down her back. “There, there. He’s going to be just fine. Don’t fret.”
Everything seemed to rush over her at once. She couldn’t draw a deep enough breath. Her heart thundered and she thought she might be consumed by all this turmoil.
They stopped at Adam’s door. Benedict tapped on it and then opened it.
Adam sat, propped on several pillows. His lips drew into a tired smile when he saw Primrose.
She flew toward him, weaving past the doctor and through the staff who tried to acknowledge her presence as they carried basins and wet towels out the servants’ door. Cautiously she eased onto the bed. “Darling, are you all right?”
“Are you?” he asked, his voice hoarse and sluggish. He reached for her, his eyes darkening as his gaze fell to her neck where she was certain purplish bruises had appeared.
“I’ll be perfectly fine.” She turned to smile at Benedict. “Thanks to our cousin.”
“His lordship needs his rest, Lady Black,” Gallagher said.
“I very much agree,” Primrose said, taking Adam’s hands in hers. She kissed each one. “Thank heavens you’re all right.”
“It was Hamish—” Adam began.
“I know, I know,” Primrose said, brushing her cheek against Adam’s knuckles.
“The amount he consumed would have killed him had Lord Lashwood not switched the earl’s medicine,” the doctor declared.
Primrose swallowed thickly, forcing away the possibility that she could have lost him.
“When I began to suspect his nurse of having some involvement I started switching out the vials every time I paid my uncle a visit,” Benedict said.
“We all owe you a great debt of gratitude,” Adam said, his speech still slurred.
“There’ll be time for that later,” Benedict said as the last of the servants departed. “Dr. Gallagher and I will see how Thorley is doing.”
Gallagher lifted his eyebrows. “I imagine the earl will make a full recovery now that he’s not suffering the effects of slow poisoning.”
Adam’s face softened. “He’ll be…well?”
“In time I expect so,” Gallagher said. “I hope you can forgive me for misdiagnosing him but the symptoms of the poison mimicked brain fog…and his age. I’ve never seen such a diabolical plot. You have my deepest sympathy, my lord.” He bowed his head and left with Benedict who closed the door behind them.
Primrose sighed with relief and cradled Adam’s face in her hands. �
��I never would have thought Hamish would stoop so low.”
“It’s my fault,” Adam muttered.
Primrose shook her head. “The circumstances of your birth have nothing to do with it. Thorley accepted and acknowledged you as his own. He raised you as his own. Hamish would have killed us all. Just for the title.”
Adam threaded his fingers into the hair at her nape and drew her down so that her head rested on his chest. He crushed her in an embrace for several seconds before he released her. “How did you know that I hadn’t simply fallen back into old habits? Why didn’t you walk away and leave me to die?”
She lifted her head far enough to look into his eyes. “Because I love you. I do, Adam. I love you.”
He caressed her cheek. “And I love you. I always have.” He folded her in his arms again so that her ear was pressed against his thudding heart. “I always have.”
About Debra Glass
Growing up in the south, where the air is thick with stories steeped in legend and truth, Debra came by her love of romance novels honestly. Well…sort of. At an early age, she pilfered from her grandmother’s extensive library and has been a fan of the genre since.
A full-time freelance writer, Debra especially enjoys combining history, mystery and a touch of taboo to weave stories with unforgettable, haunted heroes.
She lives in Alabama with her sexy real life hero, a couple of smart-aleck ghosts and a diabolical black cat.
Debra welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Debra Glass
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Phantom Lovers 1: Gatekeeper
Phantom Lovers 2: Shadowkeeper
Phantom Lovers 3: Watchkeeper
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Print books by Debra Glass
Behaving Badly
Bound and Determined
Ellora’s Cavemen: Flavors of Ecstasy I anthology
Phantom Lovers 1: Gatekeeper
Phantom Lovers 2: Shadowkeeper
Phantom Lovers 3: Watchkeeper
Scarlet Belles
Some Like it Sweet anthology
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Rakehell
ISBN 9781419939259
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Rakehell Copyright © 2013 Debra Glass
Edited by Julie Naughton
Cover design by Syneca
Cover photography by CURAphotography/ fotolia.com, David Hughes/Shutterstock.com
Electronic book publication December 2013
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