Sandra Owens

by The Letter

  She removed her nightdress, picked up a candle and went to the mirror. For so long, she had refused to look at her body. It was a crude roadmap of a madman’s descent into darkness, ugly to see. Now she was doing so for the second time in less than a month. She touched the puckered skin on her breast where Leo had sunk his teeth and tore away a coin size piece of flesh.

  The punishment had been due to her not instructing the cook to have his favorite dinner prepared the first time he arrived home unexpectedly. Unfortunately, he was never forthcoming on his comings and goings, so the next time he left, she and Jamie had eaten beef, potatoes, and peas every night should he make a surprise appearance.

  When he next returned home, it turned out his favorite meal had changed to sole in a butter sauce. It was then she finally understood he was deranged, and there was no possibility of ever having the right answer.

  She did have one thing to be thankful for in that Leo had only discovered his liking for cheroots shortly before he died. For that blessing, she bore only one burn mark. The rest were the results of his beloved knife.

  She would never forget the look of revulsion on her husband’s face when he had come into her room one day and found her in the bath, could never forget how he had ordered her to stand while he looked her up and down.

  His smile had been cruelly satisfied. “You are uglier than a well-used street whore, my dear wife. I can hardly stand to look at you. You can be sure even your precious Michael would not have you now.”

  Though she knew better, bitter words had flowed from her mouth. “It is by your hand I am as ugly as you say, my dear husband, but know this. Every scar on my body is a reminder of my deep hatred for you.”

  He came close to killing her then, and it had taken months to fully recover. He had forbade the servants to call a doctor and then left for London. Her only aid had come from Jamie, a child too young to know what to do and much too young to have such a burden on his shoulders. The butler was Leo’s spy and the house servants were afraid to come near her, lest the man told the master. Only the kindly housekeeper had dared to instruct Jamie on her care.

  Every scar on her body told the story of a time she had it wrong, but she was too weary to relive the tales tonight. She put on her nightdress, blew out the candle and went to the window seat.

  She believed Leo. Michael would not want her.

  ****

  For thirty minutes, Michael waited in the Marquess of Rotharton’s drawing room. He had not seen Diana’s parents since he ordered them to remove their daughter from his house. Rotharton and his marchioness rarely came to London since the scandal their daughter caused by eloping with Baron Brantley. Michael had been prepared to travel to Rotharton’s estate, but learned from Johnston that the marquess was in Town. He considered it a good omen.

  He decided he would give his future father-in-law five more minutes before running the man to ground himself. The door opened, saving him having to battle the butler and his footmen.

  “If you will come with me, Lord Daventry, his lordship will see you now.”

  “About bloody time,” Michael muttered under his breath.

  The butler led him to Rotharton’s study, and Michael walked up to the desk. Rotharton did not greet him or offer a chair. Michael took a moment to study Diana’s father. There was an unhealthy pallor to his face, and he had aged greatly since Michael had last seen him.

  “Lord Rotharton,” he said and bowed. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

  “I would have refused, but Morton said you stated you would not leave until you talked to me. Say whatever it is you came here for and then leave me in peace.”

  Although he had not been invited to sit, Michael did so. “My lord, I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand.” He paused. “Again.”

  Astonishment crossed Rotharton’s face. “I have no daughter, Daventry, so I see no need for this conversation.”

  Michael bit back an angry retort. Adding steel to his voice, he said, “Oh, but you do have a daughter, my lord. You also have a grandson.”

  The marquess turned red in the cheeks. “I have had enough of this conversation and will ask you politely to leave before I have you thrown out.”

  “You may try.” Michael removed Leo’s letter from his pocket. “Nothing that night was as we thought, as you will see when you read this.” He held out the letter, but the marquess refused to take it. Michael slid it across the desk. “If, after reading this, you still wish me to leave I will go and never bother you again. But I am not leaving until you are aware of the great wrong done to my future wife.” He took a breath and added softly, “And your daughter.”

  The marquess gave Michael a long hard look, then picked up a pair of reading glasses and put them on. Michael intently watched Rotharton’s face as he read Leo’s vile words, looking for any clue to the man’s reaction, but he gave away nothing.

  Rotharton put the letter down, removed his glasses and looked at Michael. “My God.”

  “Yes, my God. She recently told me, and rightly so, that I should have known she would have never done such a thing. But it occurs to me that as her father, you also should have known she wasn’t capable of such treachery.”

  The marquess closed his eyes. “What have I done?”

  “No, what have we done? I am no more innocent of hurting her than you, my lord. My aunt made sure to awaken you and Lady Rotharton. You saw the same thing I did. Brantley could not have done a better job of setting the stage. Our mistake was not believing in her.”

  “After recovering from the shock, her mother questioned the events of that night, but I wouldn’t listen and forbade her to speak of it. Will my daughter forgive me?”

  Michael smiled. “If she can forgive me, I am certain she will you.”

  “Thank you, Daventry, for finding her. And now you say you want to marry her?”

  “I love her, my lord. I offered for her, but she is resisting. My cousin convinced her that she is undesirable, so I am doing my best to show her the error of her thinking.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She and Jamie are living at my townhouse.”

  “The boy is truly your son?”

  “He is and a fine son, too, thanks to his mother. It hurts that I can never acknowledge him as mine, but for his sake we must allow the world to believe he is Brantley’s.”

  “Regretfully, you are right. At least he holds a title, but it enrages me he was cheated out of his rightful inheritance.”

  “You are no more enraged than I, my lord, but it can’t be helped. Diana and I concur it is best not to tell him, at least until he is older and understands the importance of keeping it a secret.”

  “It isn’t seemly for them to be living with you. They need to move here until you marry.”

  “No. I’m sorry, but they are mine, and I’m keeping them.” Nothing and no one was taking them from him again, including her father. “My mother is also here acting as chaperone to Diana. As far as the world knows, Jamie is my cousin so there is nothing unseemly about family living with me.”

  A sly look came into the old man’s eyes. “Suppose I asked her to come home? Would you refuse her if it is her wish?”

  “No, not if it was what she wanted and I think it would appeal to her. I am asking you not to, however. She had a very difficult life with my cousin, and I think if she moved here, it would be too easy for her to hide away. Is that what you want for her?”

  “Perhaps it would be for the best. After the scandal, she cannot expect to be welcomed back into the haute ton.”

  “With all due respect, Lord Rotharton, I beg to differ.”

  “Oh, and why is that?”

  Michael leaned forward. “I have a plan.”

  A look of interest crossed Rotharton’s face. He stood and went to the side table. After pouring two brandies, he returned and sat in the chair next to Michael, handing over one of the drinks. “Tell me your plan.”

  Ten minutes later, the marquess lea
ned back. “It just might work.”

  Michael set his empty glass aside. “I believe it will, but if not, then to the Devil with them all. As long as Diana and my son are by my side, I can be just as happy living out my days at The Park.”

  “Hopefully, all will go according to your plan. I’ll leave this afternoon for my estate, and will return by Friday with my wife. Since the scandal, she has refused to come to London, but that will change once I tell her this.” He smiled. “I daresay, I will no sooner get the story out before she is packing a trunk and ordering up the carriage. She has missed her daughter immensely, you see. And now, she has a grandson she has never met.”

  “Will you be able to return in time to pay Diana a call Friday afternoon? It is going to be an emotional meeting for all of you, and you will need time to recover before Saturday’s ball.”

  “We will. Also, I’m certain Lady Rotharton will want to visit Lady Marcus-Homes and thank her for her kindness.”

  “Indeed, she was most gracious when I called on her earlier. She also remarked that her ball would be the talk of the Little Season, and that she was more than happy to play her part. She is not aware of the details of Brantley’s scheme, but claims your daughter was always a favorite of hers. She said she never believed Diana would have willingly left me for Brantley.”

  “The countess was always an astute one, and a very good judge of people. She wrote to Lady Rotharton several times after the scandal, but my wife was too embarrassed to reply. My only wish is that your cousin was still alive so I could slap a glove in his face. I know I’m an old man, but I would be so filled with righteous fury that he would stand no chance against me.”

  Michael shook his head. “No, my lord, the right to kill my cousin would have been mine. One thing I wonder about, however, is why you turned her dowry over to Brantley.”

  “Is that why you are marrying her now? Hoping I will still honor the settlements?”

  Michael counted to ten. “I take insult to that, my lord. Not five minutes ago, I told you I love her. I would pay you a hundred times the worth of her dowry if need be.”

  “My apology, my words were uncalled for. I am unsettled and my mind is not working properly. As to her dowry, I did not intend to give Brantley so much as a shilling. The man threatened to parade my daughter in front of my home ‘bare arsed naked’ until I came across. I believed him. The last thing Lady Rotharton needed was another scandal.”

  Michael left the marquess with another reason to hate his cousin. As if he needed more. He prayed he had heard the last of Leo’s dastardly deeds. After making two more calls, he stopped at his club for a considerably late lunch.

  “From across the room, I thought I was seeing the dead. Upon closer inspection, you are not Brantley, so you must be his cousin. May I have a seat, my lord?”

  Michael looked up from his beefsteak. By his accent, the stranger was American. “Taking into consideration the tension between our two countries, sir, it is a surprise to see you made it past the front door. Have a seat if you must, but do not be offended if I pay you no attention. I have much on my mind.”

  “I will guess it is the delectable Lady Brantley who occupies your thoughts. I saw you in the park with her a few days ago. Tasty bit of fluff. Or perhaps you prefer Lady Hartwell. I am hoping it is the former as that will work more in my favor.” The stranger put his hand on the table and spread his fingers.

  A dare? Michael’s steak knife landed next to the man’s thumb, catching a bit of skin. “I would proceed with care when speaking of Lady Brantley were I you. My next thrust might be…lethal.”

  The man looked at his bleeding thumb, then at Michael. “Do you want an apology, my lord? You have it. I crossed the line, but I wanted your attention and hoped that would do it. I was married once and understand the need to protect a lady’s honor. My wife, she up and died on me. I’ve never quite forgiven her for it, but that is neither here nor there. What matters to you, is this. I sat in on a card game one night and your cousin wagered his wife.” He pulled the embedded knife from the table and handed it back to Michael, hilt first.

  Michael sat up straighter. Who the hell was this man?

  “Unfortunately, he lost.” A folded piece of paper appeared, held between the stranger’s fingers. “It is because of my wife and what she meant to me that I never tried to collect on this. Regrettably, I now find myself in need of funds. Twenty thousand to be exact. That is the amount Lord Brantley sold his wife for.” He put the note on the table and slid it close to Michael’s plate. “I feel like the lowest of men for saying this, but it is her or the money.”

  Michael unfolded the paper and stared at Leo’s signature below Diana’s name. Bloody bastard. If Leo were here now, he would tear his cousin apart with his bare hands, limb by limb, piece by piece, and would do it as excruciatingly painfully as possible. He put the marker in his pocket, and as he did so, an idea came to him.

  He was not sure what looks in a man appealed to a woman, but to his eye, the stranger sitting across the table would catch a female’s attention. His black hair and striking green eyes, along with his height and broad shoulders, would certainly interest a lady. Realizing he was assessing a man’s looks, he almost snorted. If anyone had ever told him he would think a man attractive it would have been pistols at dawn.

  “What name should I put on the draft?”

  “Dryden Chaucer Marlowe.”

  Michael raised a brow. “You jest.”

  The man named after three poets shrugged. “I wish. My mother was English and loved poetry. As our surname was Marlowe, she thought it a clever thing to add two more of your finest.”

  “Interesting. Tell me this. Why have you waited until now to collect?”

  Marlowe lifted a hand to the passing waiter and was brought a brandy. “I never intended to. Brantley was deep in his cups that night and losing badly. When he wagered his wife, there were three others at the table including me. One was Lord Dangler, the other Sir Geoffrey.”

  Michael growled.

  “I see you know of both. I had never met Lady Brantley, but even if she was a harridan and smelled like a fishwife, I couldn’t sit back and allow her to be put in either man’s clutches. As I said, I never planned to collect on the note. I knew Brantley didn’t have a thousand pounds to his name, much less twenty, and for reasons of my own, I make it a rule not to touch another man’s wife. Things have recently taken a turn for the worse, however, and I find myself in dire need of funds. I’m counting on you preferring to satisfy the debt with the money rather than the lady.”

  That Leo would have wagered Diana in a game with Dangler and Sir Geoffrey lit a burning fire in Michael’s gut he feared he could never extinguish. He had heard unsavory stories about each. Were there other markers with Diana’s name on them held by other men? All the more reason to marry her as soon as possible and give her the protection of his name. A sword through the heart of any man who dared touch her was still a part of his plan.

  “It seems we both have something to be thankful for today,” Michael said.

  “How so?”

  Michael picked up the knife and ran his finger down the blade. One thing you could say about White’s, they kept their knives sharpened. He looked up and met Marlowe’s gaze. “Me, I’m thankful you never thought to claim the lady. You, be thankful for the same reason, otherwise you would be dead.”

  Marlowe shrugged. “I’m not a stupid man, Lord Daventry.”

  Michael was beginning to like the American. “No, I don’t think you are, and you may address me as Daventry. I may have a little proposition for you. Tell me, why are you in dire need?”

  “Yes, about that. I’ve had a streak of bad luck, although I suspect my competitors had a hand in some of it. I have a shipping company consisting of four ships, although it is beginning to appear I’ll have to adjust that number to three. One is missing. It should have arrived a month ago. The profit I expected to make has not happened and my creditors are getting nervous.
I have a ship at the docks now, sitting empty because the goods I expected to fill it with burned when my warehouse caught fire, one that appears to have been set. That is the part I blame on my competition.”

  Splendid. Not that he would have wished Marlowe bad luck, but a man in need would be open to opportunities. “Call on me tomorrow, and I will have a draft ready for you.”

  “You said you had a proposition. What would that be?”

  Michael loved to fish for trout. They were wily things and hard to catch. The trick was to tease them to the hook. He judged it wasn’t quite time to tell Marlowe exactly what he had in mind. “You didn’t remarry after you lost your wife?”

  The man’s expression blanked. “No, but what has that to do with anything?”

  It had everything to do with it. He needed Marlowe to be unmarried. “Nothing, just curious. I’ve always been interested in shipping and have often thought to invest in the business.” He stood. “Do you have my direction?”

  Marlowe rose and gave Michael a questioning look. “I know where you live. I told you I’m not a stupid man, Daventry. What are you about?”

  It might be better if the man were a bit on the stupid side. Michael grinned. “A little fun and games, nothing more. If you are agreeable to what I have in mind, we will discuss terms. Come tomorrow at three.”

  Marlowe sketched a perfect English bow. “I’ll be there to collect my draft, if nothing else.”

  He turned to leave and Michael walked out with him. “I see your mother taught you English manners.”

  “She wanted to be sure I knew the proper way to behave when I inherit.”

  “And just what are you to inherit?”

  “I’m heir to the Earl of St. Clare, something I prefer to stay confidential at the moment. Although my paternal grandfather was English, the earl isn’t pleased a savage American will step into his shiny Hessians.”

  Well, that was interesting. “I know of St. Clare. He wouldn’t think the Prince of Wales was worthy of his boots.”