“Of course.”
“He’s a simple soul, Thomas is. Something happened while I carried him and he was born that way. But he’s a nice boy.”
“Tell me about the men, Rosaria.”
“They are powerful,” she said. “Nobles.”
“The familia is comprised of nobility? English nobility?”
“English and Italian and French. Mostly English and French. They want a new regime.”
Nathan’s fingers flexed. “They want to overthrow the crown?”
Rosaria nodded, fear creeping into her eyes. “By combining England and France they feel they could rule all of Europe. No one will touch them.”
“Does this familia still exist?” His father died sixteen years ago. The men would be older now but not necessarily incapable of treason.
Treason. He could barely think it without flinching.
Rosaria was crying quietly. “I told him not to go.”
“Did he know what they were about?”
She suddenly grabbed his shoulders in a tight grip, her fingernails digging through the fabric of his coat and waistcoat, biting into his skin. “I begged him not to do this. There had to be a different way.” She stood. Her face twisted in anger and fear. “Let them go, I said. This has nothing to do with you. If you do not want to think of me, think of our bambino, I said to him. These men, they are molto dangerous.”
He remembered the names of the men who were on that mountain with his father. Some were minor nobility, some higher, all still active in society and the government. Were they a threat even now, all these years later?
Burnbaum had been on that mountain. Burnbaum was on the same ship as Nathan and Claire. He’d been in Place Dauphine as well. Nathan hadn’t seen him since then but that didn’t mean that Burnbaum hadn’t followed them here or didn’t know where they were headed.
Bloody hell.
“I loved him but my love wasn’t enough. Our bambino wasn’t enough. He left us, so confident he was invincible.” She laughed, a harsh, dry sound that ended on a sob. “They killed him, just as I tried to warn him they would.”
“Why did you contact me now?” Nathan asked. “Why wait sixteen years to tell me the truth?” Had they been watching her all these years? Monitoring her movements? Did they know the moment she sent the letter to him? Or, worse, had they been monitoring him?
Rosaria’s lips thinned. “Look around. We live in poverty. No denaro has come from Michael’s solicitor in years. I do not care for me but I care for Thomas. He is a simple boy but he still needs to eat. He still needs new shoes and clothes.”
Guilt ate at him that these two people had so little due to an oversight by his father. That his half brother lived in poverty while Nathan didn’t. There had been times when he feared his life would come to this. There had been lean times. Times of fear. But there had never been hungry times, or cold times. He’d always had food, clothing and a roof over his head, even if it had been that of a gaming hell or a brothel.
“He left us destitute,” he said, knowing it didn’t make a difference now. “We had no money after his death. Nevertheless, if I had known about you and Thomas, I would have sent what little money we had.”
She blinked rapidly. “You are like your father. Kind, caring.”
Nathan nodded once, pleased even though speaking of his father brought on a fresh wave of grief that he’d thought buried long ago. “He was a treasure hunter, how did he come across these men?”
Rosaria frowned. “He wasn’t a treasure hunter. He worked for your king.”
Not a treasure hunter? All these years Nathan believed his father thrived on the adventure and excitement of finding lost artifacts. He’d convinced himself that these artifacts meant more to his father than his own son had. It had all been a ruse? A disguise so that Michael Ferguson could travel undetected and infiltrate secret societies? And why had he not been told of this after his father’s death? Why did the crown allow him and his mother to suffer near financial ruin?
“Rosaria, you must tell me of these men. If I mention names would you recognize them?”
“I believe so, although there were many.”
“Even if we had just a few, it will be enough. What about proof? Documents? Anything that will help.” He burned with the desire to see justice done, to avenge his father’s death.
“There is something he left with me. A letter for you.” She shrugged as if anticipating his next question. “I did not tell you because I feared the men. I had Thomas to protect. But it’s time now.” She stood and made her way out of the room in a way that indicated her old bones ached. He would rectify that as soon as possible by moving them to a better apartment in a better part of town, where the wind didn’t whistle through the cracks in the walls.
He could hear her rummaging around. Drawers opening and closing. Muttering. The swish of her skirts as she moved about.
He waited motionless, but impatient, wary but with restrained excitement. For so many years he harbored a deep, secret disappointment in his father—for leaving them destitute and for being so reckless as to die because of a foolish thirst for ancient artifacts.
Finally Rosaria emerged with a folded and sealed parchment clutched in her hand and a smile on her face.
Just as she reached him and he was about to take the letter from her, the door burst open and Claire walked in.
Rosaria made a surprised sound and stepped closer to him, her hand going to her throat.
Claire had a strange expression on her face. She looked at him steadily, her lips without color. So shocked was he at seeing her that it took him a moment to realize her hands were behind her back. Then Burnbaum stepped into the room, one hand clutching Claire’s bound wrists and the other pressing a pistol into her back.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Nathan took an involuntary step forward, dropping the letter. Rosaria grasped his arm, holding him back.
“Stay where you are,” Burnbaum said.
The entire scenario was completely incongruous. Mild-mannered Burnbaum with a pistol pointed at Claire. Claire so still, so pale.
“This is between you and me, Burnbaum. Put the pistol down and let Lady Chesterman go.”
Burnbaum smiled a chilling smile. “I don’t think so.”
Nathan’s fingers curled into fists. His stiletto and pistol were still in his boots, unreachable, although it didn’t matter because he wasn’t about to shoot while Burnbaum was holding Claire.
“I want the document,” Burnbaum said.
Nathan’s gaze jumped back to Claire. She was standing absolutely still, as if she were afraid to even breathe. Pain etched her features and Nathan knew an undeniable rage. A rage he had to control if he was to get them out of this. He couldn’t risk Claire’s life by giving in to his impulse to rush Burnbaum and kill the bastard.
“I need the letter, Blythe.”
“And then what?”
“Then this is over. I release Lady Chesterman to your … ministrations. And I disappear.”
“I can still go to the king, even without the letter.”
“On what proof? That of a delusional old woman and her idiot son?”
Rosaria cursed in Italian and spit toward Burnbaum. Nathan placed a restraining hand on her arm, afraid to anger Burnbaum who might take it upon himself to shoot Claire.
“The king will believe me.” Nathan had no idea if this was true but he was fairly decent at bluffing. And he was also wholly conscious that this was the biggest bluff of his life.
“The king will require proof and you have none,” Burnbaum said. “Give me the letter and Lady Chesterman will walk away unharmed.”
“Think of what this will do to your wife and daughters.”
Burnbaum barked out a laugh. “Why do you think I’m doing this? They threatened my family if I didn’t comply. If I fail in this, we’re ruined. Destitute.”
“Like you left my family when you killed my father?”
Burnbaum winced. “We knew
nothing about that. It wasn’t our fault your father had no control over his finances.”
Fury churned inside Nathan, hot and dangerous. Too dangerous. Deadly dangerous.
“This could have been avoided,” Burnbaum said. “All you had to do was marry my Elise. She’s a good girl with a considerable dowry.”
“That’s why you wanted me to wed her? Did you think you could control me if I took her for my wife?” Bloody hell. Were they that desperate that they thought to control him? There was no way in hell he would have ever been controlled by Burnbaum.
“Give me the letter, Blythe.”
Nathan looked at Claire’s shocked, pale face. Her hair fell about her shoulders in an unkempt, yet beautiful, mess. She’d never been able to keep it up. He liked that about her. Loved that about her. That and so many more things. Her fortitude. Her nearly transparent layer of courage that masked the unsure woman inside. And yet in so many ways she was so much stronger than she believed. Stronger than him.
However, he also had to remember that the crown was depending on him, whether the king knew it or not. What Burnbaum and his friends had planned, what they were doing, was wrong, and they needed to be stopped.
This was so much bigger than him and Claire.
“How did you know I would be here?” he asked.
Burnbaum smiled. “We knew that eventually she would contact you. It was only a matter of time.”
“Why? What do you hope to gain from this?”
Burnbaum’s brows creased. “Power. A combined England and France would be unstoppable, and the people, who bring it all together, powerful.”
“So this familia is still active? They still believe in this rot?”
“Not rot. At least not then.”
“Now?”
“Now I have a wife and children. My priorities have changed but there’s no getting out of the familia. We can’t allow you to go to the king with this information. It will ruin all of us.”
“I can’t give you the letter, Burnbaum.”
He looked at Claire, his eyes filled with all the love he had for her. She must have noticed because her expression softened and she blinked rapidly.
“What did you say?” The weapon wavered. Burnbaum’s voice was shocked outrage touched with defeat.
Nathan tore his gaze from Claire. “I’m not giving you the letter. Now let Lady Chesterman go. Shoot me if you want it so badly.”
“I have my orders.”
“And I don’t think you have it in you to carry out those orders. Come, Burnbaum.” Nathan stepped forward. Rosaria clung to the hem of his coat, stepping with him. “You don’t want to do this. You want to live your life peacefully. You want to visit your wife’s family in France and find suitable husbands for your daughters. All of this familia, all of this overthrowing of the crown for a better government is nonsense and you know it. Deep inside, you know it.”
Burnbaum lifted his chin. “The hell you say.” He swallowed, the action belying his tough words.
Nathan quirked a brow until Burnbaum looked away. He seemed to think for a bit and Nathan allowed the silence to drag on until Burnbaum looked at him with eyes swimming in tears. “Mayhap you’re right. At least you would have been correct a few weeks ago but things have changed, Blythe. My family has been pulled into this and that I cannot have. I love my girls and so I must do whatever it takes to protect them.” He pulled the hammer back on the pistol and raised it to Claire’s head.
Claire went rigid. Nathan stilled. Rosaria started muttering prayers in Italian.
“Don’t do this,” Nathan said, his voice low. “I beg you, Burnbaum.”
“Give me the letter.” His voice rose. His hand shook. If it shook much more the pistol would go off.
Nathan slowly bent down, swept the letter off the ground and held it out to him.
For a long moment Burnbaum looked at the letter, his dilemma clearly showing on his face. If he took the letter, he would have to let Claire go. If he let her go, she could escape, and if she escaped, Nathan would attack.
“Put the pistol down, Burnbaum.”
Everyone turned to the sound of the voice coming just beyond the door. Even Claire’s head snapped around. Slowly the barrel of another pistol appeared. Then the steady hand holding it, the arm, the shoulder and finally Sebastian, his face set, eyes narrowed to deadly slits. He pressed the pistol into the back of Burnbaum’s head.
“I have no qualms with pulling the trigger and ridding the world of refuse like you.”
For long, tense moments the tableau was frozen. It seemed that no one even dared to breathe.
Finally the light went out of Burnbaum’s eyes and he released the pistol. It clattered to the ground. Sebastian grabbed Burnbaum’s arm. Nathan rushed forward and grabbed his other arm.
“Rosaria, find us something to tie him up with,” Nathan said.
“The polizia are on the way,” Sebastian said.
Nathan nodded, looking Claire over critically. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head, opened her mouth, then closed it. Her chin trembled but she held herself together. Rosaria took her by the shoulders and led her to the couch where they sat, Rosaria with her arm around Claire, Claire listing to the side.
The polizia arrived, led by Thomas. Apparently Thomas had left Rosaria’s and returned to Gabrielle’s house. He’d been standing outside when he witnessed Burnbaum leave with Claire. Thomas alerted Sebastian who ordered him to find the polizia.
The entire story, beginning with the familia and Michael’s death and ending with Burnbaum’s kidnapping of Claire, was told numerous times and from many different points of view. Except for Burnbaum who remained curiously quiet, which was fine with Nathan for he was certain that if Burnbaum so much as opened his mouth, Nathan’s tightly controlled fury would snap.
Hours later, Sebastian, Nathan and Claire left, Nathan promising Rosaria he would return the next day. Already he was thinking of what needed to be done to ensure Thomas and Rosaria’s comfort and security for the rest of their lives. At some point he would sit down and think about that—the fact that he had a half brother.
When they arrived at Gabrielle’s home, Gabrielle whisked Claire away, leaving Nathan and Sebastian alone in the hallway.
“Your father was a hero,” Sebastian said.
“You heard?”
“I was outside the door for a bit of time.” Sebastian hesitated. “If you’d like, I can accompany you when you bring this to the king’s attention.”
Why would Sebastian do that? And why did he think he could get to the king any better than Nathan could? And then he knew.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you? A spy.”
Sebastian cut a quick glance at the closed door. “No one knows except those in the service of the crown who need to know.”
“Did you know my father?”
“He died before I became involved. I had heard of the familia, of course. They’ve been silent for a few years but the crown is still interested in them.”
So this night was filled with revelations, most of which Nathan was having a difficult time digesting. Spies. Both Sebastian and his father. “I will gladly accept your help in getting what information I can to the king.”
Sebastian nodded.
“Just so you know, I’m going to marry Claire. If she’ll have me.” He was damned if he would ask permission.
Sebastian’s lips twitched but he held his smile and nodded once. He looked at the closed door, then down the empty hall. “Gabrielle asked that I rouse the servants so they can prepare a much-needed meal for all of us. I best do that.”
The Earl of Claybrook taking orders from an Italian contessa? Nathan found that very interesting, but instead of asking questions he knew he’d receive no answers to, he simply nodded and watched Sebastian walk away.
It seemed that people were not what they appeared and it left him feeling disoriented and out of place. Addison a spy. His father a spy. Thomas his brother.
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He sat in a chair and heaved out a sigh, feeling peculiarly exhausted. He looked down at the letter in his hand, turned it over and stared at it. The seal was old and cracked but unmistakably the seal of the Blythe earldom. A seal he still used to this day.
He slid his thumb under the faded red wax and broke it. When he unfolded the letter, another fell into his lap. He picked it up and noted it was addressed to King George II. He laid that letter to the side.
It was like a punch to his gut to see his father’s handwriting. Nathan had seen it so many times in the financial ledgers that Michael Ferguson kept, the letters written to solicitors and banks and acquaintances that had never been sent. It’d taken weeks to go through his father’s study after his death, searching through every piece of paper, every correspondence in the hope of finding the reason why he left his family destitute. Nathan hadn’t found anything, but had become intimately acquainted with his father’s handwriting.
He began to read.
Son—if you are reading this then I have perished and was not able to complete my mission. I won’t go into the details here for that is explained in the missive sealed with this one and addressed to the king. You are a smart lad. I know you will do what needs to be done to bring justice to the overreaching men who dare to threaten our good country.
More than likely you have met Rosaria. My Rosa. I’m certain her presence was quite a shock to you.
I love her. She is the woman I was destined to be with if it weren’t for duty and obligation barring my way. I’m certain that by now you are aware that my marriage to your mother was not a love match but a merging of two noble families for wealth, privilege and all that other rot people spout when trying to justify forcing two people to spend the rest of their lives together.
Your mother is a fine woman and I mean not to disparage her good name. However, Rosa is the light of my life. She is carrying my child and my hope is that you don’t despise her so much that you won’t look out for your brother or sister when the babe arrives. Rosa is innocent in all of this save for loving a married man whose commitment to his king shadowed all else in his life. Even you, my son.
I regret many things, but my biggest regret is not watching you grow to become the man I know you will be. You are smart. Almost too smart for your own good. But those smarts will get you far in life.
Loving the Earl: A Loveswept Historical Romance Page 24
