by Cheryl Holt
“So I heard,” Sebastian said.
Judah kept on as if Sebastian had denied the event. “If you don’t believe me, ask Shawcross. He witnessed the whole thing. Just so you know,” he blustered, “I’m considering having Nathan arrested.”
Sebastian wasn’t willing to have that discussion, and instead, he said, “I have to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About Africa.”
“We’ve been over this a thousand times. The men who were with me verified my story. If you’ve decided to question it, bring in a Bible, and I’ll swear to the facts.”
Sebastian didn’t accept the offer, but opened a drawer and pulled out an object wrapped in a leather sheath. At first, Judah couldn’t discern what it was, but when he recognized it to be Nathan’s knife, his eyes widened with astonishment—and no small amount of fear. He watched as Sebastian withdrew it from the sheath and placed it on the desk.
“Would you care to explain why this was tucked away in the bottom of your traveling trunk?” Sebastian asked.
“I’ve never seen that knife before in my life,” Judah stridently said.
“Let me kill him!” Shawcross seethed. “Let me take him out into the woods.”
Judah blanched. He had no doubt Shawcross would do exactly that. Of the entire team, he was the most dangerous, but Sebastian stayed him with a wave of his hand.
“My father gave this to Nathan for his eighteenth birthday,” Sebastian told Judah.
“Oh, yes, I remember it now,” Judah said.
“You cut it off him when he was dying. You cut it off and walked away with it.”
Judah vehemently shook his head. “I didn’t!”
“Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying! I demand we ride to Selby so I can call Nathan a cur to his face!”
“I’ve been busy, so I haven’t had the energy to deal with you, but I’m dealing with you now. We’re through.”
“I have no idea what you mean. You’re speaking in riddles.”
Sebastian tsked with exasperation. “Then I’ll be clearer. You found Nathan alive.”
“I didn’t, Sebastian.”
“Your actions cost me my best friend, but they also disgraced me. Because of you, I abandoned him.”
“It wasn’t just me who thought he was dead. Ask the others! They’ll tell you.”
Shawcross jumped in. “Shut your mouth, Judah, or I’ll shut it for you.”
“You chatted with Nathan,” Sebastian accused. “You claimed I wouldn’t have him slowing us down.”
Judah would refute the truth forever. “You’re wrong. You’re so wrong.”
“When he initially told me, I was sure he was confused about what had transpired. I assumed that trauma had addled his wits.” A lethal calm settled in, then he said, “I am so ashamed. Both of myself and you.”
Judah didn’t understand. “Why would you be ashamed?”
“I’m a fool. I believed you. I believed you over him, so I allowed you to tarry in my home, and every minute of your presence has been an insult to him.”
“I suppose you’d like me to apologize, but I won’t—”
“You can’t remain at Hero’s Haven another second,” Sebastian declared.
They were the most terrifying words ever uttered. The whole crew was residing at the Haven, reveling and waiting for Sebastian to announce his next venture. Judah couldn’t bear to be excluded.
“I can’t be barred from the premises,” he said. “I’m one of you.”
“Not anymore,” Sebastian brutally stated. “You’ll depart immediately, and you won’t ever be welcomed back.”
Judah forced a wobbly smile, as if it was all a big mistake. “It seems as if you’re kicking me off the team.”
“I am.”
“But…but…I’ve been with you for twelve years!”
“By your reckless conduct toward Nathan, you’ve squandered your place.”
“I didn’t harm that pompous prick!”
The slur was too much for Shawcross. He marched over and whacked Judah. His head was throbbing from the beating Nathan had delivered, and he wailed in pain.
Shawcross said, “Your days of whining and complaining around me are over.”
The logical response for Judah would have been to leap up and engage in a brawl, but if he threw a punch, Shawcross would punch back. The pathetic fact was that it would hurt too much to be hit again.
He shifted to Sebastian, and his gaze was beseeching. “How can I fix this?”
“You can’t,” Sebastian said.
“You’re not serious!”
“I’m very serious. Even as we speak, footmen are packing your things. They’re being loaded in my carriage out in the driveway. You’ll be conveyed to town to whatever location you prefer.”
“I belong with you. I’m one of you. You can’t toss me out!”
“I already have.”
“It’s how I earn my living. It’s my life!”
“I hope you saved some of the money you’ve accumulated.”
“Sebastian, please!”
As his reply, Sebastian said, “My sister, Ophelia, informs me that you’ve been flirting with her.”
“I haven’t!” he insisted, as Shawcross said, “You’re joking! Has she been encouraging this oaf?”
Sebastian ignored Shawcross and kept his focus on Judah. “I warn you away from her. You should never meet with her again, and if you dare, there will be consequences.” Sebastian nodded at Shawcross. “Get him out of here.”
There was a charged instant where they didn’t move. Judah was frantically pondering, trying to think of how he could alter the direction they were traveling.
It had occurred too fast! It was ending too quickly! It wasn’t fair!
“I was Sir Sidney’s favorite,” he said. “He wouldn’t like you to treat me so badly.”
“Sir Sidney might have favored you,” Sebastian scoffed, “but when trouble was brewing, I viewed you as an untrustworthy coward. You were still on the crew because he constantly vouched for you, but I’m over it.”
Shawcross grabbed Judah, lifted him up, and escorted him out. Judah dragged his feet, but he was so stunned he couldn’t delay their exit.
They reached the door, and Sebastian called to him. “Judah?”
He suffered a spurt of excitement. Was Sebastian sorry already? Would he relent? “What?”
“Why didn’t you just kill Nathan? I’ve been wondering. He was so grievously wounded. Why didn’t you simply slit his throat and put him out of his misery?”
Judah could have answered in a hundred different ways, but Sebastian was staring at him as if he were vermin, as if he, Sebastian, had been soiled by Judah’s presence.
His temper flared. “Why would I have bothered killing him? Why waste the energy? Who would have ever imagined the conceited ass would survive?”
Sebastian bristled with offense. “Just as I suspected.”
Shawcross yanked him away, and Judah’s legs could no longer support him. Shawcross half-carried him down the hall, through the foyer, and down the steps.
They stopped at the carriage, and Judah attempted to resist, to not climb in, but he was bewildered and off balance. An hour earlier, he’d been loafing in his bedchamber, a respected member of the Sinclair expedition team. Now he was no one at all. How had that happened exactly? He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it.
Shawcross had always been strong as an ox. He pitched Judah into the vehicle, but he thudded onto the floor and was huddled on his knees.
Shawcross leaned in and said, “Sebastian never liked you, and neither did I. I’m not sorry to see you go. My sole regret is that it wasn’t much sooner.” He slammed the door and told the driver, “Take him to town. Drop him at whatever spot he requests, and if he won’t pick one, dump him off wherever you like.”
The driver cracked the whip, and the horses lurched away so rapidly that, by the time Judah could brace himself a
nd crawl up onto the seat, they were already down the lane, the manor swallowed up by the trees. He didn’t catch a final glimpse of it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“It’s finished?”
“Yes, all done.”
Gertrude Sinclair stared at Sebastian and nodded. “How long will it take for interest to wane?”
“I think it will continue for quite some time.”
She sniffed with offense. She loved her status as Sir Sidney’s widow, but she hated to have her name in the newspapers. That kind of notoriety was never appropriate.
“Can’t we tamp it down?” she asked.
“I don’t wish to tamp it down,” he maddeningly said. “I like it that people remember Sir Sidney. I hope they’re fascinated for decades. In a small way, it seems as if he’s still alive out there somewhere.”
She too liked having him remembered—it elevated her own position—but the public’s obsession was focused on the lurid portions of what had occurred. The family hardly needed that type of gossip swirling.
“When will the report be published?” she asked.
“In about a month.”
“Will there be any problems with the findings?”
“No.”
They were in her parlor, having tea. For once, she was alone with her children, which she always enjoyed. Veronica was out on social calls, but Ophelia had stayed home. She was being a brat though and was in a snit over an issue she declined to clarify.
After Sebastian had shown up, Gertrude had requested Ophelia come down to chat with him, but she’d refused so vehemently that Gertrude had had to insist.
Ultimately, Ophelia had slinked in, but she wasn’t happy about it. She was over on a small sofa in the corner, pouting and shooting rude glares at her brother. Were they quarreling? They rarely saw each other. What could they possibly have to fight about?
Was it because he wouldn’t permit her to attend the inquest? She’d claimed, if Sir Sidney’s son could be there, his daughter should be too, but Sebastian had rebuffed her demand to accompany him. Occasionally, she spewed the strangest nonsense, and Gertrude couldn’t imagine how she developed such untenable, modern ideas.
As if a son and daughter were equals!
“How is Nathan?” she inquired. “I trust his testimony was acceptable?”
“He was terrific, but the spectators were disappointed because he wouldn’t explain how he survived.”
“I heard he hasn’t ever talked about it,” she said.
“And I doubt he ever will. He’s been traumatized.”
“How was he?”
“He was fine, Mother.”
“Well…good.”
“Did I tell you he married?”
“We read the announcement in the paper, but I didn’t recognize the woman’s name. I take it she wasn’t anyone we would know.”
It was a polite way of describing his wife as common, but Gertrude wouldn’t voice that depiction. She’d tried to be fond of Nathan, but he’d been a difficult boy to like. Yet Sebastian and Sir Sidney had doted on him, so she had to tread cautiously in uttering any derogatory remarks.
“No, we don’t know her,” he said, “but when I went to Selby last week, I met her.”
“What was your opinion?”
“She’s extremely charming. I like her very much.”
“You would,” Ophelia mumbled.
“Were you commenting, Ophelia?” Gertrude sharply said. “If you would like to join our conversation, please feel free. But if it’s your intent to mope and fume, then be silent.”
“He just loves lowborn women,” she said a tad louder.
Gertrude couldn’t guess what her daughter was intimating. In the past, Ophelia had never exhibited any of the unsavory signs of adolescence, so perhaps her foul temper was merely a sort of delayed growth spurt.
Gertrude decided to ignore her, and she shifted her focus to her son. He was unfailingly civil and seldom in a bad mood.
“What are your plans now?” she asked him.
“I’m debating. My crew is bored, and they’re pressuring me to arrange another trip to Africa.”
She wouldn’t argue that he shouldn’t return to the Dark Continent. She’d often engaged in that battle with her husband—and always lost it. Africa was an addiction the Sinclair men couldn’t shake.
Instead, she said, “What are you telling them? Will you go?”
He shrugged. “It wouldn’t be the same without Sir Sidney or Nathan.”
“You’re suffering a few of your own ill-effects from the prior journey. As the months pass, matters will become clearer.”
“It’s what I’m hoping.”
“In the meantime, Veronica is here.”
He sighed. “Yes, she is, Mother.”
She repeatedly wound any discussion to his betrothal, which he hated, but he had to be pushed. If he wasn’t, someday he’d be fifty and still a bachelor.
“Before you ponder Africa, you must consider subjects a bit closer to home. You can’t traipse off again and assume Veronica will wait for you.”
“She doesn’t have to wait. If she would like to find a beau who’s ready to proceed—as I am not—I’m fine with that.”
In any matrimonial deliberations, it was his trump card.
He’d never officially agreed to wed Veronica, and he would be happy to let her escape. If Gertrude nagged about it, he’d be even more recalcitrant simply to prove he couldn’t be bossed.
In that, he was exactly like his obstinate father.
“If you depart on an expedition,” Gertrude said, “where you might be away for years, you owe it to her and the family to resolve the issue before you leave.”
“I suppose.”
He downed his tea and stood, and she was so exasperated to see it. The minute she raised a topic he didn’t like, he fled. Apparently, Veronica and marriage were on his list of what was forbidden.
“Must you go so soon?” she asked, when the answer was obvious.
“Yes, I’m weary from the inquest, and I’d like to sleep in my own bed tonight.”
“When will you grace us with your presence again?”
“I have no idea.”
“Veronica will be sorry she missed you.”
“I’m certain she will be.”
Was there sarcasm in his tone? Didn’t he like the accursed girl? Was that the problem? She was beautiful, educated, trained, and gracious. If he hadn’t wanted Gertrude to pursue the match, why hadn’t he spoken up long ago? Was she expected to read his mind?
He marched to the door, but he paused to glare at grouchy Ophelia who was still pouting. So far, they hadn’t conferred directly.
“Are you heeding me in that situation I mentioned?” he asked her.
“What situation would that be?” she snottily inquired. “Would it be the one where you think you can pick my friends for me?”
“Yes, that would be it. You haven’t been meeting with anyone I would dislike, have you?”
She flashed a tight smile. “I’ve been an absolute saint.”
“Keep it that way.”
He sauntered out without a goodbye, and Gertrude could only shake her head. What on earth had that odd exchange been about? Was Ophelia socializing with unsuitable companions? Could it be?
“You have to stop badgering him about Veronica,” Ophelia said. “He doesn’t like it, and it simply makes him more stubborn.”
“I wasn’t badgering. Besides, I’m his mother, so it’s perfectly appropriate for me to counsel him regarding matrimony. He’s a dedicated bachelor, so he must be urged to get on with it. He won’t travel that road on his own.”
“He’s too busy to contemplate matrimony.”
The manner in which Ophelia pronounced the word busy was disconcerting, and Gertrude asked, “What is it you mean?”
“I mean he’s distracted by someone who’s prettier and much more interesting than Veronica, so he doesn’t need to worry about her.”
“
What are you telling me? You’re spewing riddles, and I can never figure them out.”
“He has a mistress, Mother!” Ophelia brazenly declared. “What do you imagine I’m telling you?”
Gertrude was amazed that Ophelia would blurt out such a scandalous fact, but she wasn’t surprised by it. After all, Sebastian was thirty, and he was Sir Sidney’s son. But she was surprised that Ophelia would be aware of an illicit liaison.
“It’s not proper for us to discuss such a sordid subject,” she sternly said.
“I’m exhausted from listening to you pester him. I’m furious too that he’s being so disrespectful to Veronica.”
“Men have affairs, Ophelia. It happens.” Her own husband had been the worst of the lot. “If Veronica never discovers it, he can hardly be accused of disrespect.”
“The doxy is living at Hero’s Haven!” Ophelia fumed. “He’s opened the valet’s cottage for her. Why, I was shopping in the village one afternoon, and she was there too. Veronica almost bumped into her!”
Gertrude felt faint. “She’s living at Hero’s Haven?”
“Yes! So don’t pretend Veronica isn’t being disrespected.”
“What is the trollop’s name? Were you able to learn it?”
“It’s Miss Sarah Robertson.”
“Sarah Robertson…” Gertrude mused, and she scowled. “I know her from somewhere. Where?”
“She used to run an orphanage in London.”
Gertrude blanched. “An orphanage?”
“Yes, and she brought two of her…ah…urchins with her. They’re residing there too!”
A flicker of rage ignited as Gertrude vividly recalled how she was connected to the odious Miss Robertson, and she had no doubt as to the identity of the waifs she’d dragged to the Haven. Some of her dead husband’s sins had come home to roost.
“Have you seen the two urchins?” she asked. “Have you learned their names?”
Suddenly, Ophelia was quite a bit less sure. “Ah…I only observed them from a distance, so I don’t recollect any details. And I never heard their names.”
With a nauseating clarity, Gertrude remembered who Sarah Robertson was. The shameless woman had tried to pressure Gertrude into paying the support bills for a pair of Sir Sidney’s bastards, and she’d ended the harassment by having her lawyer send a threatening cease-and-desist letter.
