“Michael, I say, be a good fellow and come out with me to the Bellows’ recital tonight.” Theo entered and stared down at his friend whose clothing was disheveled. Michael had obviously not shaved or bathed in many a day.
The man sprawled on the couch opened up one eyelid and peeked at the intruder. “Theo. It’s you. Get out.” The eye closed again.
Theo was able to take in the number of empty bottles laying around the floor. “I don’t recall ever having seen you shoot the cat before. The ever-secretive, charming, and disciplined Sir Michael Tidley, has finally lost his edge.” Theo stayed where he was and waited.
“Leave. Please.” Michael ground out through gritted teeth. His eyes were open slits as he viewed his old friend.
“I came to have you join me. I think you need to get out of here and embrace the world again.”
Michael’s foot came down off the arm of the chair, the boot hitting the wooden floor with a thud. He struggled to sit up and then leaned forward with his head in his hands. He gave a low throaty groan. “I can’t go anywhere. She jilted me. I thought she wanted me all along, but it wasn’t true. I was pursuing the wind and she destroyed me.”
“Nonsense. Katrina has always adored you. I don’t know what happened to the two of you. I am sure you can work it out if you only try.”
“She ran from me earlier after a glorious welcome home. Later that night, when she approached me, wanting me, it was only because she was drunk. I do not need a wife who needs a drink to tolerate or desire my company.”
“Surely you exaggerate.”
“I wish I were. I gave up everything that defined my life to have her, Theo. Worst decision I ever made. Don’t do it. Never fall in love. It’s miserable. I almost wish I hadn’t returned from France alive. Death would have been preferable.”
“Now you’re talking utter nonsense. Or have you finally embraced Marcus’s and Phillip’s Jesus? They have talked about how wonderful heaven will be according to the Bible. I haven’t completely figured it all out yet.”
“Heaven. I thought it would be heaven to own a small estate and raise kids with Mouse. But if I can’t have her I couldn’t stay around to watch her choose another man. I think I would go mad and be tempted to kill him.”
“No, you wouldn’t. You are too good a man for that.” Theo sat across from Michael.
“You don’t really know me and what I’ve done in my life. Believe me. I would be more than capable. But to what end? If she were happier with someone else, why wouldn’t I desire that for her? Wouldn’t love want what’s best for the object of desire?” Michael laughed. “I’m not a big enough man for that.” He rose to his feet and staggered around to the fireplace to stoke the flames up higher. He squatted down and held his hands to the flame. “So cold. My heart is so cold.”
Theo watched closely.
Michael continued. “You asked about Jesus. Yes. I now count myself a Christian and that makes this worse. I cannot act out on my base desires. I struggle to forgive her for the hurt and pain I feel. I go through the motions, but the ache doesn’t leave. Why would God lead me to her only to slam the door in my face?” Michael fell to his knees and placed his hands on his knees as he gazed into the flames. “Hell. This has to be what hell is like.”
“Describe it to me.”
“Hurt. Lonely. A knife in the chest that is twisted and withdrawn. Bloody.”
“Yet you choose to stay there. Why?”
“I don’t choose it. Hell chooses me.”
“I think you are creating your own place of torment. God doesn’t ask you to beat yourself up when you stumble and fall. At least not the Jesus I’ve heard our friends talk about.”
“I asked you before to leave, Theo. I’m asking again. Go. Leave me alone.”
Theo rose.
“Theo?”
“Yes, Michael?” He started for the door, but turned to look back.
“Thank you for caring.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Theo said as the door closed behind him.
~*~
Michael sat by the fire for a long time. He rose and went to his desk and pulled out a drawer. Inside was a small leather bound book. His mother’s journal. He held it in his hands and slowly opened the cover. He slumped into his chair by the desk and started to read.
How could I ever have been so deceived by someone? And now this little man in my arms looks up at me with those same dark eyes as his father. I love him but it hurts to look at him and be reminded of my sin. Will God and my father ever forgive me? Will Michael ever forgive me for being unable to give him a proper heritage? I’ve lost everything for love. My purity, my reputation, and my future. And for what? For a baby boy whom I struggle to love because he reminds me of what I lost. God, where have You gone? Why have You abandoned me? What good could possibly come of this little boy’s life?
Michael put the journal down in his lap. Over the years since his mother’s death and his discovery of this journal, he had read these passages and wondered again at why his mother chose to keep him in spite of the ostracism and shame she bore until the day she died. What kind of man deserved that protection? Had she been threatened? Had she been paid to keep him? Why was he really here?
Michael closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. The world spun between the raw emotions inside and the quantity of alcohol he had consumed. Mouse. His memory recalled protecting her precious journal of her father’s and then when his own life was threatened, sacrificing her one last treasure to the flames. To save him.
Pain ripped through his heart. He imagined her embrace when he had finally returned. The unmitigated joy in that kiss. Oh, what a kiss! And then she ran at the mention of marriage. He frowned and shook his head. The same girl, hours later after avoiding him, approaching him more forcefully. As drunk as he was at this very moment.
Why had he reacted so strongly? It wasn’t the drunkenness. He would be the last person to judge that, although this was not a state he embraced often in his life. A spy could not afford to be inebriated. It could be deadly. Why did he storm away? He could have gotten her to commit. They could have married quickly.
No. He didn’t want some hole-in-the-wall affair. He wasn’t ashamed of Mouse. He would have gladly taken her to wife even if they had never proven her father’s innocence.
So why had he run after sharing his heart with her?
Panic seized him. He dropped the journal to the floor, gripped the arms of the chair tightly and struggled to breathe. Something was terribly wrong, but what was it? He did want to marry her. Didn’t he? So why did he all of a sudden feel so shaken? Why did the hair begin to stand up on the back of his head? He heard a click and his eyes slowly opened to look into a pistol aimed closely at his head.
Oh, Lord.
~*~
Katrina fidgeted as she waited with the other young ladies at the Stanford ball. Her dress was the requisite white with pink trim and pink ribbon woven into her hair that had been crimped and curled, but was slowly straightening in the stifling heat of the crowded ballroom. The orchestra sounded slightly out of tune and she winced whenever the violin squeaked. Her head hurt and she squinted to see as she had been instructed to leave off her spectacles. She was tempted to pull them out of her reticule anyway. Why should a man consider her as a potential bride but not realize she was basically blind without her glasses?
She was bumped from behind and a deep voice said, “Pardon me, miss,” as an arm reached out to grab her to keep her from falling forward. She spun to discover who had been so clumsy, although it would be hard not to bump into someone in this crowd.
She turned around to glance at the other young ladies standing near her. All silently watched the dancing. Katrina saw more of a kaleidoscope of colors twirling together. Faceless men and women. Dark suits and some brighter colors mixed in with the whites. Candlelight reflecting off mirrors around the room magnified the brightness and made the space appear larger than it was.
Why did
they think she belonged here? Why did Marcus insist that if she refused Michael she needed to secure her future with someone? Why would she want anyone other than Michael? She grew warm with embarrassment as she remembered throwing herself at him. Putting her hand up to her mouth she cleared her throat, excused herself to no one in particular, and went to seek the ladies withdrawing room.
After taking care of her needs and trying to do something with the long strands that were no longer curling so beautifully, she pulled out her spectacles and put them on. She needed to be more assertive with Josie and insist on wearing them. Something crinkled in her reticule and peering inside again, she found a piece of paper. She turned to read it and paled. She sat down for a few moments and prayed.
How she managed to get through the dances and the supper that evening, she couldn’t remember. All she could think of was that Lord Hughes had another assignment and she needed to be at her designated place by two of the clock. She only hoped she could convince Lord Remington to leave the ball before then.
Feigning fatigue wasn’t far from the truth. Katrina stifled yawns even in the carriage ride home and wearily did go to her room, longing for her pillow. Dismissing the maid, she waited a brief amount of time before changing once again into a disguise for her mission. The dark cloak stuck to her overheated skin. Even though London was cooler at night, there was still a mugginess in the air that was uncomfortable. She shoved her spectacles in her reticule and departed. As much as she preferred wearing them, they didn’t go with this particular costume. She knew her way around Michael’s house well enough to not bump into things.
Staying to the shadows, she moved through the back alleys and gained entrance to Sir Tidley’s townhouse, and as quiet as the mouse she was, found her way to his study. She slipped in and was confronted with the awful smell of vomit. The door to the garden was open and she tiptoed across the room to close it. She turned to discover two things. One, she’d not been careful enough as a large strong hand clamped over her mouth and another wrapped around her, immobilizing her. The second was the prone body of Michael, unconscious on the floor at her feet, blood pooling from a wound in the back of his head.
A trap.
17
Foul smelling breath washed across her cheek as the assailant whispered in her ear, “There is no one to hear you. Do as I say or the same fate will befall you. Do you understand?”
Katrina nodded.
The grip loosened and she was shoved forward, almost tripping over Michael. She quickly knelt by his side and felt for his pulse.
“He’s alive. For now. Bind his wound if you wish. The Black Diamond would not want blood to sully his coach.”
Very little moonlight entered the room. Katrina could not make out the features of the man holding the pistol trained on her.
“I need bandages and my spectacles so I can see.”
“You cannot leave the room.”
“The spectacles are in my reticule.”
“No fancy moves or he will die.” The gun shifted to aim at Sir Michael’s chest.
Katrina shook her head. She pulled out her bag and put her glasses on. She shoved back her cloak but did not remove it. “I need to rip my petticoat to make a bandage.”
“Get on with it.”
Katrina turned and ripped the fabric. She spied a red book and suspected it was important so she shoved it into her bag. Turning back to Michael she wound the fabric around his head. It wasn’t enough. She untied his cravat and gently removed it, exposing the upper part of his chest and the dark hair there. She shook her head. There was no time to be dreaming of anything more than the moment’s crisis. She wrapped Michael’s head and tied off the linen. She moved his upper body so he wasn’t lying in the pool of blood.
Michael groaned.
Katrina looked up at the burly man still aiming a gun at them both. “Now what? You have us in your power. Do you take us somewhere or kill us now?”
“We will take a journey. Someone wants to walk down memory lane and desires company.”
Another man stepped out of the darkness to pull Katrina up. She was shoved toward the first man. The second built like a boxer, lifted up Michael and threw him over his shoulder as if he were a sack of potatoes. Silently the four of them headed out to the back alley.
Only Katrina noticed Fidget managing to come along for the ride.
~*~
The rhythm of the horses’ hooves and the bumps in the road jarred Michael and he moaned. He didn’t know where he was, only that something soft cushioned him. He dared to open his eyes and was surprised to see a vaguely familiar blonde. There was something he couldn’t seem to remember. He instantly wished he could kiss her.
“Beautiful.” He croaked out, suddenly feeling the reality of how incapable he was of following through on any amorous intentions that had fleetingly raced through his mind.
The woman peered down at him, her brow furrowed as she frowned. Her hand lay on his chest and he reached up to clasp it.
“Whatever it is, it will be all right,” he assured.
She shook her head in response and looked away. The windows were shuttered and little light came in.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Her gaze snapped back to his quickly and she studied his face in silence. “You don’t know who I am?”
“Not unless you tell me. But I can keep calling you beautiful if you prefer.”
Was that a look of sadness that flickered in her eyes? She pulled back her hood and yanked off the blonde wig, loosening the pins holding her long brown hair in place. Locks unfolded. He reached his hand up to touch one and wrap it around his finger as if it were a hidden treasure. “I always did prefer brunettes.” He must be losing his touch. Why couldn’t he charm her? “You look familiar, but I still cannot place you.”
“Perhaps I resemble someone close to you.”
“There is no one close to me. At least I don’t think so.” It hit him. He had no recollection of this beautiful woman who held his head in her lap, cushioning him against the roughness of the carriage ride. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten here or even what he did. His family, his home, his past. It was a blank wall.
He let the hair go and groaned. “I don’t know. I can’t…”
“Michael.” Her hand came up to sooth his face with a loving caress.
“Is that my name?”
She nodded.
“Are we well acquainted?”
“Yes.” Her lips were pursed together and tears formed in her eyes.
His heart raced. “Are we—married?”
She shook her head and looked away.
A tremor shook his body. “Am I married to anyone?”
“No.” She refused to look at him.
“Where are we going? What happened?” He struggled to rise but pain created a strong dizziness and this woman gently held him down.
“Don’t move. Someone injured your head. I don’t know where we are going or why, only that someone desires you and possibly me, dead.”
“Dead? What did I do to deserve that?”
“Michael, you did your job and you did it well. You were a successful spy for the British government and aided in our war against France. My suspicion is that somehow your cover was blown and—” She gave a big sigh.
“—and, now they seek to eliminate me.”
She nodded.
“So how do you come into this?”
Her eyes searched his face again. She was not telling him everything.
“I was your partner on an assignment. We succeeded in our mission.”
“Did I fall in love with you then?” He grinned.
“Only you could tell me that and you don’t remember.” Her tone was flat, emotionless.
He sensed a tension inside her.
“I wish I could. I can’t believe I’d ever forget someone as lovely as you.” His eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep.
~*~
Loneliness filled Katrina’s
heart. She ached for the man lying in her lap. She feared for his life and now, she feared even more because he couldn’t remember. How long would it last? With Michael injured and lacking his memory, how much help would he be in trying to escape the clutches of the Black Diamond? Would they be killed outright? No. Probably not. They could have easily done that already. So, was it only being delayed? And why? Why did he need them both? Did he think that they could torture her again to get him to crack? She gave a quiet laugh. A lot of good that would do when he didn’t even know who she was. She still hadn’t given him her name, either.
She pulled out the journal that had been on the floor next to Michael. She felt a little guilty trying to read it in the darkened carriage but she wondered why he had it. She realized within a page or two that this was a series of entries by his mother.
Katrina remembered only meeting Miss Tidley once or twice and that she had been a graceful but timid woman, almost afraid of her own shadow. She had never conversed much with her but now, reflecting back, she remembered how this lovely young woman seemed to care deeply about her son. She died many years ago. Katrina wasn’t quite sure when. Her passing had been as quiet and withdrawn as her life. Did anyone other than her father and son attend her funeral, she wondered? How sad to have gone through life so lonely. Set aside. Abandoned.
Katrina swallowed a lump in her throat as she fought to take a breath. Michael had run away from her the last time. She couldn’t let his current state of need and dependence stir any affection she had for him.
Foolish girl. Your heart is already lost to this man, even if he doesn’t know you. Maybe that would make it easier to bear? She thought not.
Would he love her now? But what would happen when he came to his senses? He’d feel tricked. She couldn’t do it. She needed to give the appearance of being as uninterested in him as possible, even as her heart broke. She would provide him the necessary care but that was it. She gazed down at him. Blood had soaked through the linen wrap but had not spread further in the last few hours.
Sir Michael's Mayhem Page 17
