by Laura Landon
“You bastard! You stupid, ignorant bastard! You could have killed him!”
Colin arrogantly shrugged his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. “What did you think I intended to do, darling? Pay him a social call?”
“You said you only wanted to threaten him.”
Colin smiled. “I did. Unfortunately, he survived.”
“That was not our agreement.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn what we agreed to. I want Northcote dead, and I won’t give up until there’s six feet of dirt on top of him.”
“No!”
Before Rosalind could protect herself, Colin had her in his clutches. His fingers grasped her arms with a force that made her cry out.
“Don’t you tell me what I can and cannot do, bitch. You are not the one who makes the decisions. I am.”
Rosalind stood up to him with as much bravado as she could gather. She hadn’t gotten this far by cowering before this maniac. She’d be damned if she’d show him any weakness now. “You are in control of nothing, Colin.” She twisted out of his grasp. “You’re deluding yourself if you think you are. Without me you can accomplish nothing. Simon has so many runners watching your every move, you can’t even visit that filthy trollop at the Boar’s Head Inn without him knowing exactly how many times you use her.”
“Shut up!” He raised his hand to hit her.
Rosalind lifted her chin and laughed at him.
His hand halted in midair.
“What’s the matter, Lord Tanhill? Are you finally tiring of Northcote besting you at every turn?”
“Shut up!”
“You can no longer make a move without Northcote knowing about it first. And you’re so desperate to get your hands on your stepsister’s inheritance you’re starting to make mistakes.”
He slapped her hard, then pulled her up against him. “That money should have been mine.” His face contorted with rage. “I should have had it when the old man died.”
Colin pushed her away from him, and she stumbled against the corner of the desk. He stormed from one side of the room to the other. “I can’t wait any longer. I need capital and I need it now.”
He stopped to fill a glass with brandy and threw it down the back of his throat. “The men I borrowed the money from want a down payment on the notes or they will offer them to that little weasel who is Northcote’s solicitor.” He filled his glass again.
Rosalind straightened the sleeves on her gown, then reached for the glass in his hand. “That is why you need me.”
Colin was not a patient man. Unfortunately, Simon had toyed with him longer than he could stand. He was becoming more desperate and more violent each day. It would not be long before he snapped. He had almost gone too far tonight.
“Tomorrow I will take care of your problems like I did before.” She rubbed her hand down the front of his shirt, then took a drink and handed the glass back to him. “Your notes can be extended for a price, Colin. I’ll make sure of it.”
Colin threw back his head and laughed. “You’re nothing more than a titled whore, Rosalind.”
Rosalind slapped him. The stunned look on his face was worth the risk she took. She was not a whore. She was a survivor. She did whatever she had to do to survive. She always had.
“You need me,” she hissed. “And don’t you forget it. Without me you will lose every one of your notes.” Rosalind lifted her lips in a smile of satisfaction. She had Tanhill over a barrel and he knew it. “I’m the only one who can save you.”
“That money is mine, and don’t you forget it.”
“You have no money, Colin. You only have debts.”
Colin bristled. “It won’t be long and I will. My opium shipment will come in soon. It was supposed to be here before now.” He took a swallow from his glass. “And I’ve made some investments in a new company that everyone guarantees will show a profit. Between the profits from the opium and the new company I’ve invested in, I’ll have enough money to clear every one of the notes and take care of that demented stepsister of mine forever.”
Colin stepped closer to her and cupped his hand against her cheek. “Then, you’d better watch out, my sweet,” he said, squeezing her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You won’t be nearly as valuable to me then.”
He moved his hand to her neck, wrapping his fingers around her throat.
Rosalind grabbed his arm and tried to pull him away from her, but he only smiled a sinister grin. “And Northcote will be six feet under, while my dear stepsister languishes in an asylum. I will have every pound of her inheritance to do with whatever I want.”
He moved his hand up and down the narrow column of her neck, and then with the unsuspected violence of a man demented, he grabbed the neckline of her gown and tore the material in two, baring her breasts.
Rosalind tried to cover herself, but she was not strong enough to push his hands away. He shoved her against the desk, then with one hand, grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back. The look in his eyes was vile, evil—insane. She had reason to be afraid of him.
“Let me go, Colin. You’re hurting me.”
“Northcote is a dead man. If you ever even think of taking his side against me, you won’t live long enough to enjoy any of the money I’m going to take from my dear stepsister.”
Rosalind pushed against his chest, trying to free herself from his grasp. Every day she feared him more. She was not afraid he would kill her—yet. He needed her. But when she no longer had a use…
Rosalind was as frightened as she’d ever been in her life.
Chapter 22
Simon stood out in the garden, alone, contemplating the attempt on his life the night before. Tanhill had almost triumphed again.
He rubbed his shoulder, the ache a bitter reminder of how close he had come to losing his life.
The bastard would die.
A picture of Jessica’s pale face flashed before him, the look of stunned shock when she realized that neither of them was safe. He could not believe she hadn’t realized before now that her stepbrother had no intention of letting either of them live.
She knew it now.
Simon recalled how pale she was when she rose this morning. Dark circles rimmed her eyes as if she hadn’t slept all night. She’d shied away as if what happened had been her fault. As if she’d pulled the trigger herself.
More than once he’d caught her staring at him, her eyes brimming with self-condemnation and regret. Bloody hell, what had she thought her stepbrother would do when she married him?
He’d tried to make up for his short temper and thoughtless words last night. He’d gone to their bed after Sanjay had taken care of his shoulder and reached for her. He needed to hold her, to have her lie beside him and wrap her arms around him as if she needed him to be close to her.
Her reaction had startled him.
She came to him willingly enough, but the stiffness did not leave her body. The coldness he felt when she lay in his arms was unmistakable. As unmistakable as the wall she’d erected to separate herself from him.
Damn Tanhill. Simon wouldn’t rest until he was dead.
At the sound of footsteps, Simon turned. The Duke of Collingsworth walked toward him with Ira on his heels.
James began his interrogation even before he reached the stone bench where Simon sat. There was a look of concern on his face.
“Are you all right? Ira came to me because he’d heard you’d been shot.”
“I’ll live.”
Both men stared at him in worried silence.
“It seems Tanhill has taken exception to my actions of late.”
“What actions?” James asked, sitting on a bench opposite him.
“It’s a game he and I have been playing. He has obviously tired of it.”
“What have you done, Northcote?”
Simon clenched his hands. “I have men watching him. He hasn’t made a move that I don’t know about. He’s scrambling to come up with enou
gh capital to make payment on his outstanding notes and is running out of people to whom he can turn. A simple word in the right places discourages even the most indiscriminate lender.” Simon took a deep breath. “I’ve also set up a bogus company and let it be known that any investor will double their capital almost immediately. Colin has invested every pound he could lay his hands on into it. When it fails, he will be destitute.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?” Collingsworth asked. “I could have helped. We both could have,” he said, looking at Ira.
Simon shook his head. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t give a bloody damn about danger. You can’t handle this by yourself any longer. You need our help.”
Simon hesitated, then pounded a fist against his thigh. “He has to be stopped, James. He puts himself deeper in debt every day, but it’s not enough. He’s borrowed money against my holdings in East Sussex and Ridgeway Estate and Sutterland Manor. They will fall first.”
“What about Ravenscroft?” James asked.
Simon shook his head. “Ravenscroft will fall, too.”
“Rumor has it,” Ira said, “financially, Baron Tanhill is already ruined. He can borrow no more money from any quarter. He has left a string of debts all over London. No one knows how he’s managed to hang on as long as he has.”
“He’s got someone working with him, someone who manages to get his loans extended whenever the holder gets nervous about receiving their money,” Simon said.
Both men lifted their heads and frowned. “Maybe Sydney Carver or Mottley?” Collingsworth said.
“No. I’ve had men watching them, too. It’s someone else. Someone who has secretly gone to his creditors to negotiate the terms of his loans. Every time I think I should be able to get my hands on some of my notes, Tanhill receives an extension.”
“He can’t do that indefinitely. Just be patient, Lord Northcote,” Ira said. “He’s on the brink of ruination.”
“Only if I can stop his opium shipment from coming in. If that shipment arrives before he goes under, I’m done. With the money he receives from the sale of the drugs, he’ll have the power to fight me God only knows how much longer. Long enough to try to kill me again. Long enough to get at Jessica.”
Simon raked his hand through his hair. “I married her to make sure Colin could never touch her or her money, but if that shipment comes in…” He ran a worried hand across his jaw. “He will not stop until I’m dead and Jessica is locked away. She’s not safe.”
“Do you have any idea when the shipment is due?”
“I’ve had informants working the docks for weeks now, and no one has heard even a hint about an opium shipment arriving.”
The Duke of Collingsworth leaned forward. “I’ll see what I can do on that score. Ira will delve deeper into Colin’s finances. Maybe we can come up with something to help you.”
The three men held silent for a moment, and then James questioned Simon with a worried look on his face. “Is there anything else, Simon?”
“Tanhill is supporting a mistress.”
Collingsworth smiled. “Let him. It will further deplete his cash flow.”
“It’s Rosalind.”
Collingsworth’s eyes opened wide. “Bloody hell. Are you sure?”
Simon prayed he was wrong. It was one thing to exact vengeance on Colin. That had been his plan from the beginning. Tanhill would pay for what he’d done to him. What he’d done to Sarai. What he’d do to Jessica if he wasn’t stopped.
But involving Rosalind was another matter.
All of society would assume he’d exacted his revenge because of their relationship in the past. Because he was a lover scorned. Because Rosalind had chosen his father over him.
Simon straightened, resigned with what he must do. She’d made her bed. He could not do anything to help her now.
“We have to hurry,” Simon said. “I’m running out of time. Last night was but his first attempt. Heaven help us if he goes after Jessica.”
Simon knew he could stand anything but that. He wouldn’t survive if anything happened to her.
James looked toward the house. “Where is she?”
“She hasn’t slept well of late. I made sure she went to her room to rest before I came out here. There is too much I don’t want her to know yet.”
“Like what?”
The words burned in his throat, and saying them didn’t make them any less painful to admit. “That I did not marry her for her money but because she was Tanhill’s sister. My hatred for him runs so deep I would have married her even if she was demented as well as deaf.”
Simon knew how harsh his words sounded, but they were true. Neither he nor Jessica would survive as long as Tanhill was alive.
Chapter 23
Jessica twisted the key in the lock to her private room and then turned—and came face-to-face with her husband.
Simon slowly lifted his arm and opened his fist. “Give me the key, wife.”
Jessica tightened her fingers around the key in her hand and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Why?” she asked, tucking the key into the folds of her gown.
“Because I will not have you lock yourself away in a room where I cannot reach you. What if you were in danger?”
She turned her face away from him and closed her eyes. She was so tired. She was so worried about what would happen to him, she was past finding the courage to stand up to him. Past finding the courage to care if he found out about her designs. What did she care if he opened the door? It was too late now.
She slowly raised her arm from her side and held out the key.
Simon put it in his pocket and then placed his hand around her waist and led her to the room they shared each night. When he’d closed the door behind them, he stepped close to her and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “What’s wrong, Jessica? Talk to me.”
Welcome heat spread from where he touched her skin and melted to a place low in her stomach. His touch always did that to her. She cursed her traitorous body for letting him have such an effect on her.
She tried to turn away from him, but he held her firmly in his grasp. “You will not turn away. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Every nerve in her body prickled in defense. She stepped away, stopping when her back pressed against the wall. “What would you like to know, Simon? What is it you want me to say?”
“I want you to tell me why you’ve been acting this way. Why you’ve avoided me. Why you stiffen in my arms each time I hold you. You can start by enlightening me on those few mysteries.”
She looked down at the floor. “I’m tired. That’s all.”
Simon touched her beneath the chin and raised her face until she faced him squarely. “That’s not it. Please, Jess. Talk to me.”
The words of regret she’d kept unsaid since the night Simon had been shot formed in her mind, threatening to squeeze the breath from her body. She could not face him. She could not be this close to him, knowing what had happened was her fault. Knowing every second she’d spent as his wife put him in danger. Knowing their marriage was a sham.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. Jessica raised her arm and leaned against the wall to support herself. Dear God, she hurt.
She ignored the strong hands she felt around her shoulders and walked away from him, taking refuge in the room they’d shared since they married. “I would like to be alone, Simon.”
She turned and focused on where he stood.
“No.”
The room that had always seemed huge now closed in around her like a small, explosive tinderbox. Her precarious world, which for months she’d struggled to hold on to, crumbled around her, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.
She stared into the unyielding expression on his face. He left her no choice.
“Very well. Perhaps it’s best we get everything into the open before…”
She couldn’t face him. She didn’t want to see anything he had to say. She went to the window
and kept her back to him.
“Believe me, Simon. If I could undo what I have done, I would. If I could relive the night I came to you, I would. What is happening is my fault, and it’s too late for me to change it.”
Strong hands clamped around her shoulders and turned her toward him. The shadowed look on his face startled her. “Nothing is your fault, Jesse.”
She shook herself free from his grasp and laughed. “I was a fool, Simon. From the very beginning I was so naive I didn’t even suspect. I thought I was giving you something special, making a noble sacrifice. I thought you would not mind taking a deaf woman for your wife if there was enough money. But it was never really the money. Was it? You only married me because I was Baron Tanhill’s stepsister. You intended to use me and the money to destroy my stepbrother. That was always your intention.”
He gaped at her, his eyes gleaming as she revealed every word he’d spoken. “Bloody hell! You were watching. You saw Collingsworth and Ira with me in the garden.”
Jessica laughed, knowing it came out as a demented cackle. “At least I like to think I’m not demented. You were spared that embarrassment.”
“Bloody hell, Jesse. I—”
Jessica raised her hand. “It’s just as well, Simon. I would have discovered it sooner or later.”
She walked to the window and then turned to face him. “How long did you intend to put up this public charade of our blissful marriage? How much longer did you intend to suffer presenting me to your peers as if you were proud to have me at your side? How much longer could you have pretended it was me you wanted instead of…”
She couldn’t finish her question. Jessica warded off the stabs of regret. “I didn’t know my stepbrother would try to kill you, Simon. If you can believe nothing else, believe that.”
She lifted her gaze, but Simon no longer stood behind her. He’d walked to the fireplace and stood with his head lowered between his outstretched arms.
The ache inside her breast hurt more. Dear Lord, she’d come to love him.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I thought if I took your name, it would solve everything. You would have the money to save your inheritance. I would have your protection. My stepbrother could never bother us again. I didn’t know what I was asking you to give up. I didn’t know about Rosalind.”
