by Tracy Kay
“Amazing.” Jeremy was impressed and intimidated by the big man and his willingness to help so many.
“You are a bright boy, Jeremy, and I think you understand the importance of keeping our work a secret. We would not be able to help as many people as we do if we were known. While you are with us, and when or if you leave us, you will be expected to keep our existence to yourself.” Conrad leaned forward in his chair, meeting Jeremy’s gaze. “A lot of lives are at stake, Jeremy, and one person can make a difference. While you are with us, you are expected to follow orders for your safety and the safety of others. Do you think you can do that?”
Jeremy nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
“Good.” Conrad leaned back in his chair. “Tell me a little about yourself.”
“There is not much to tell.” Jeremy shrugged evasively.
Conrad gave him a level stare. “Brandon tells me you are pretty savvy. He says you know a lot of the children on the streets. Is that true?”
“Yes.” Jeremy avoided eye contact with Conrad. He didn’t want to talk about this.
“Tell me why a young lord, such as yourself, wanders the streets of London?”
“I had nothing better to do, sir.”
“Conrad,” he reminded. “There is more to it than that Jeremy.”
Jeremy shrugged. “I learned things and I made some friends.”
“What did you learn?” Conrad asked and Jeremy shrugged again in answer. “Did you learn how to fight?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Secrets?”
Jeremy nodded again.
Conrad conceded he wasn’t going to get much out of him for now. Those questions could wait. “All right, pup, I won’t press you; although, I would like to know why your family allowed you to wander the streets.”
Jeremy frowned before answering testily. “They didn’t care what I did, as long as I stayed out of their way and out of trouble. I did both and learned how to discover others’ secrets without revealing myself. But you already know that because Brandon told you.”
Conrad smiled patiently and with a little relief. He was finally getting a reaction from the boy other than fear. “You are right. Brandon did tell me about your conversation with him, but I wanted to hear it from you. Tell me about your family.”
“They are dead. What more is there to say?” Jeremy snarled bitterly.
“Do you think they loved you?” Conrad probed, wanting to know the situation and how Jeremy felt about it. From experience, Conrad knew that the more information he had about one of his new members, the easier it was for him to help and to train him, or her as the case may be.
Jeremy shrugged again. “I guess.”
“Did you love them?”
Turning his face away from Conrad, Jeremy nodded, choking back the tears.
“You are allowed to cry, Jeremy,” Conrad told him kindly. “No one thinks less of you here.”
“This is embarrassing.” Jeremy angrily wiped away his tears.
“There is no reason to be embarrassed, son. Tears heal the grief and it doesn’t make you any less of a man,” Conrad reasoned with care. He wanted Jeremy to accept his grief, not be ashamed of it.
“Zachery said tears are a sign of weakness.”
“Zachery was your brother?” At Jeremy’s nod, Conrad added, “He was wrong. It takes a strong man to show his grief or his joy. Cry out your grief, son. No one here will think less of you,” Conrad repeated. He stood and pointed at the large bed across the room. “See that big bed over there?”
Jeremy nodded, unable to speak.
“Use it. I will check on you in a few hours.”
When Conrad exited the room, Jeremy wiped away his tears, walked towards the bed, and tentatively sat on the edge. He wondered if he was required to sleep in it with the Captain. Although it was large enough to accommodate at least three people comfortably, Jeremy was skeptical. He had never shared a bed with anyone before, well except with the few women he had lain with, but he had never actually slept with someone. Jeremy ran a weary hand through his hair. He was tired and he didn’t want to disobey the Captain’s first order. With resolve, Jeremy took off his boots and lay on the bed. Within minutes, he was fast asleep.
Brandon stood brooding over a glass of brandy staring into the empty fireplace. The bright, afternoon sunlight streaming into the study didn’t add any warmth to his mood. Brandon was mad at himself for allowing Farrington to get the better of him, and he was worried for Madeline. He hated not being with her, protecting her. He hoped he did not make a mistake by giving her to Damon, not that Damon couldn’t protect her. He had complete faith in the man and he would be a good husband for her, but Farrington was a dangerous foe. Until he saw Madeline again safely at home, he would worry. He knew it was for the best. The farther away Madeline was from England, the safer she would be.
He wished that he could have kept Madeline safe at home and Joselyn alive. He should have been more careful. He should have kept the guards. He should have insisted they not go anywhere without him. How could he have assumed that Farrington wasn’t still a threat? He should never have left the house. Damn it! How could he have been such a fool to think they would be safe after Marshall’s death? He should have been more diligent.
“Damn it!” Brandon yelled and threw his empty glass into the cold fireplace, shattering it into tiny pieces.
“You know, Brandon, causing such a mess is not going to solve the problem.”
“No, but it sure as hell felt good.” Brandon turned to Cassandra who stood in the doorway of the study, watching him. He was blaming himself for something that he had no control over.
“It is not your fault, you know.” Cassandra shook her head as she walked into the room. He was angry and frustrated. Brandon rarely blew up like this.
Brandon ran a hand through his black hair. “Yes, it is. I should have never taken the guards off this house. I should have . . .”
“Stop.” Cassandra placed a hand on his arm. “Cat, you can’t protect everyone all of the time. Yes, you let your guard down, and Farrington found his advantage, but you can’t blame yourself for Joselyn’s death. Farrington killed her, not you. You did everything you could to protect her. If Joselyn had waited for you to return home instead of acting rashly, she would be alive.” Cassandra stroked his arm affectionately. “Brandon, love, let it go. The only thing you can do now is protect your family, especially Madeline since he has targeted her.”
Brandon sighed. “I am doing my best to keep them safe, Cassie. Maxine is going to stay here with Nicholas to help him protect Deirdre, Jared, and Stephen. And Madeline, I gave her to Damon.” Brandon ran a frustrated hand through his hair, too worried for his sister to think straight. “I should have kept her with me. I shouldn’t have given her to Damon.”
“Nicholas and Maxine will keep your family safe. And as for Madeline, you made the right decision. Damon will take good care of her.” Cassandra placed her hand lovingly against his cheek. “You worry too much, my love.”
Brandon took her hand in his, pressed it to his lips, and leaned forward to nuzzle her hair. Hmm, she smelled good. She was his sunshine in the midst of a storm. He loved her. “I know Damon will take care of Madeline. It is a good match and Raven approves, but damn it, Cassie, I should have kept this from happening. Joselyn would be alive and Madeline safe. Deirdre and Jared wouldn’t have to be so closely guarded and everyone put into danger.” Brandon’s anguish and self-blame laced his words, and he had to swallow back the lump forming in his throat.
“How? By chaining Joselyn to you. Brandon, you can do only so much. You did all you could do for her. Brandon, put it behind you,” Cassandra chided. “And you and Raven made the right choice for Madeline and Damon. They will do well together, so stop second guessing yourself. This isn’t like you.” She moved away from him to meet his eyes and to emphasize her point. “Self-pity is not going to help and it may hinder your judgment. We need you to be ready to help us strike back at Farring
ton when the opportunity arises. Our plan is a good one. It will keep Madeline and Jeremy safe and Farrington guessing. He won’t know who to follow.”
“As long as he follows me or you, the plan will work. Otherwise, it won’t.”
“His ship is still in the harbor. There is no way he can follow Damon or Conrad now. They are safe, Brandon,” Cassandra consoled him. She knew that she had to get Brandon thinking with a level head and not with worry, self-pity and self-loathing; otherwise, he would be useless to them and himself.
Brandon pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “You are right, sweet. He couldn’t possibly know where they are going. I can always count on you to make me sane, Cassie.” He leaned away from her to meet her gaze and changed the subject. “When are you leaving?”
“With the evening tide.”
Brandon raised one black brow and smiled wickedly. “That gives us a little time.”
Cassandra giggled and wagged her finger at him. “You are incorrigible, and no, it doesn’t.” She grimaced. “I have to prepare my ship, as do you, not to mention set the trap for Farrington. He has to think I am Madeline boarding your ship.”
Holding her close in his embrace, Brandon whispered in her ear. “We will have plenty of time for all of that.” Brandon nuzzled her neck.
Cassandra put her hands on his chest and pushed him away. “No, we don’t,” she laughed. “You will simply have to wait until the next time we see each other.” Taking his hands, she gave him a serious look. “Take care, Brandon, and try not to worry so much. I know that is almost impossible for you, but do try.” Cassandra gave him a tight hug and a long kiss before walking out of the room.
Brandon poured himself another drink, swirling the amber liquid in the glass before taking a drink. “I always worry, Cassandra, particularly about you,” he growled under his breath before tossing back the rest of the drink and leaving the room to prepare his ship for departure.
Maxine stood in the foyer of the Cathcart manor waiting to be announced. She had surprised herself by actually looking forward to spending time with Brandon’s family. She hadn’t expected that. She was mostly a loner and avoided people if she could, but well, Brandon had made her assignment appealing. He had asked her to do a favor by teaching Deirdre how to defend herself, and damn it, if Maxine didn’t love to teach others her skills. She didn’t like to show off so it wasn’t that. It was the imparting of knowledge that gave her the thrill. Maxine smiled. From what she knew of Deirdre, she would make a lovely pupil. Deirdre was even-tempered and wanted to learn from what Brandon had told her. As for the rest of her assignment, keeping an eye on Brandon’s family was only a small way Maxine could repay him for all the things he had done for her over the years. Besides, she could use an easy, non-exciting assignment as this one. Her journey to China had completely exhausted her, although she would never admit that to anyone, and she needed the rest.
Maxine glanced up when the Cathcart’s butler indicated that she should follow him into the study where Nicholas awaited her. He was standing by the window with a bottle in his hand, obviously intoxicated. His clothes were rumpled as was his blond hair, and it was evident from the dark circles under his eyes that he hadn’t slept since Joselyn’s death. Under the circumstances, she could understand. Drinking away the pain of fresh grief was how some could deal with it. She breathed in a calming breath to collect herself before approaching him. “Lord Nicholas, I am Maxine Stuart.”
“I know who you are,” Nicholas slurred and fell into a nearby chair. “You are my mighty protector.”
“If you want to view it that way, go right ahead.” Maxine lifted one corner of her lip in a wry smile.
Nicholas took a drink and rudely examined her appearance, taking note of her slight frame and short, black hair. “A little bit of fluff for a protector,” Nicholas grunted drunkenly. “Can’t protect my own fiancée so what should I expect. Not surprising Brandon doesn’t trust me with the rest of my family. I will probably get them killed too.” Nicholas took another deep drink from the bottle.
Maxine grimaced at him in irritation and took the bottle from him. “That is it. You are done. Self-pity and drinking will not solve the problem, but sleep will.” She placed the bottle on a nearby table, took Nicholas’ hand and dragged him out of the chair. Tugging on his arm, she led him to the staircase and up. “Which room?” Maxine asked.
“Third on the left,” he mumbled and followed her as she continued to pull on his arm, taking him into his bedroom.
Maxine pushed him onto the bed and he sat down hard, staring down at his hands resting on his knees. He was unable to think of anything but the spinning of the room. Maxine leaned down in front of him and took off his boots. Once that was finished, she unbuttoned his coat and slipped it off his shoulders. With one hand in the center of his chest, she gave him a little shove and watched him fall back onto the bed. She tossed a blanket across him as he drifted off into a drunken sleep. Maxine grunted at him and frowned. Why men drank themselves into such a state, she would never understand. She walked to the door and glanced back at the sleeping man as he began to snore. “Sleep it off, Nicholas, for tomorrow is going to be a long day for us both.” She closed the door soundlessly and went searching for Deirdre.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
He seethed with anger. That stupid twit got herself killed. His plans were ruined.
He glared with hatred and malice at the group of people grieving at Joselyn Parker’s grave. That haughty bitch, Madeline, wasn’t there. Neither was her brother. He took her away to keep her safe. Too bad. He wanted her dead. It should be her in that grave, not his Joselyn. Joselyn had been perfect and he had only one more family member to kill before he had her. Madeline had ruined everything, he seethed. Madeline would return, and then, he would kill her, slowly. He would have his vengeance. He growled deep in his throat and hit his thigh with his fist over and over again as he watched the funeral.
That was when he noticed her. He tilted his head as he stared at her, observing her every move. He hadn’t paid attention to her before. She faded into the background when Joselyn and Madeline were there. She had been insignificant. But now, he watched her intently as she wiped away her tears over her lost friend. She was as self-absorbed and conceited as Joselyn, he was certain of it. She, too, would think she was better than him and others beneath her station. He would take great pleasure teaching her how insignificant she truly was in the world. He smiled with satisfaction, unclenching his fist.
Gretchen Malany. She was little, a mouse of a girl. Not as regal and beautiful as his Joselyn had been, older too, but she would do. She had pretty hair, he noted. He nodded, his smile transforming into a cruel, malevolent smirk. Yes, she would do.
He glared at the man who had put his arm around Gretchen, Simon Malany, the Marquess of Morelyn. Her many brothers would make things difficult. He shrugged it off. He would handle them, one by one. He would start with the youngest brother and work his way up. The young ones would be easy pickings. Simon, the eldest brother, may pose a problem, but with patience and the right timing, he was confident he could kill them all. He smirked again. With them out of the way, Gretchen would inherit the family wealth, and possibly her brother’s title if there weren’t any uncles or cousins.
Ahh, yes. Gretchen was perfect, even better than Joselyn. She had wealth, good social standing, and he was sure her brothers would be desperate to get her married by now. And when they were all dead, she would need a supportive man to take care of her. She would be devastated and would fall right into his hands. Then when she trusted him, possibly loved him, he would slowly torture her, destroy her. Yes, she was perfect.
He breathed in deep, curling his lip with intense loathing. But first, he had to eliminate Madeline Cathcart.
The man stood there in the shadows watching his new prey, giving no further thought of Joselyn Parker.
Gretchen looked up as Henry Cummings was shown into the Malany parlor. She truly was not in the moo
d for him. She had too much else on her mind to be polite. She was terribly worried about Madeline and grieving for Joselyn. She had decided to bury herself in household work to keep busy and she was currently going over the list of potential grooms to replace Guy Randolf, her current groomsman and stable master. Losing him was another blow to her heart. He had been with the Malanys for years and she was quite fond of him. The morning had been filled with interviews for the position, and so far, the candidates were disappointing. Gretchen had too much to think about. Why did Lord Henry have to visit her? She sighed, put aside her list, and put on a cheerful smile before greeting him. “Lord Henry, so good of you to call.”
Sitting across from her, Henry watched her intently. “I was concerned for you, Lady Gretchen. It seems Lady Madeline has abandoned us at this sad time.”
“She didn’t abandon us, Lord Henry,” Gretchen explained in exasperation. “Her brother thought it would be a good idea for her to take a holiday. She was very distraught over Joselyn’s death. She felt it was her fault.”
“Why ever for?” Henry was taken aback. He could not imagine the unflappable Madeline Cathcart feeling at fault for such a thing.
“Her aim was off,” Gretchen replied simply.
“What do you mean?” Henry was puzzled by what she meant.
“She shot Farrington, but she missed and he killed Joselyn. Lady Madeline was devastated, poor thing.”
“I was unaware of that,” he mumbled, bowing his head to hide his shock. It was inconceivable that a lady such as Madeline would wield a gun, let alone attempt to shoot a lord. “When will she return?” Lifting his head up, Henry glanced at her intently, anxious to know the answer.
“It was left indefinite. Most likely when she is ready.”
“I will miss her company and Lady Joselyn’s,” he uttered morosely. It was almost too much for him to endure, the loss of his beautiful Joselyn.
