“M’lord, if you remain close to my family for a while, you will find that many a person has that feeling and, yes, it is sad.”
He stood up, and when Andras did the same, shook the young man’s hand. “Thank you. Send the bill and,” he hurried to say when Andras began to protest, “I will hear no argument on it. You have, in a way, saved my sister. This will also give me power over my mother again and who knows how many that will save. I have a nicely full purse as well so can well afford to pay my bills. You earned your fee. You have also earned my hearty recommendation if anyone ever asks me about a solicitor.”
“Thank you, m’lord. Oh, and how fares young Ilar?”
Brant stared at the younger man in surprise. “How do you know about what happened to Ilar? Olympia and I have been back in the city for only a short time.”
Andras just grinned. “We have our ways.”
“Ilar is fine. More than fine. As he told me, he discovered that, with his gift, he has the ability to protect himself from ones bigger and stronger than he is. I suspect that was a discovery that came as a great comfort.”
Brant stepped out of the carriage and stared up at the façade of the family town house. It was clean, well maintained, and gave off the air of wealth. He could not complain about how well his mother had tended this piece of property. She was going to hate the fact that he actually had the full legal power to kick her out on the street now and he savored that for a moment.
He went up the well-swept steps and rapped on the door. When the butler opened the door and then hastily tried to shut it in his face again, he just grinned and kicked it open so hard the man went stumbling backward and fell on his backside. Brant stepped in and looked down at the man.
“I suggest you find yourself a new position as soon as possible,” he said. “I would not be comfortable having a servant who once tried to keep me out of my own home. Oh, and do not think to weigh your pockets down with my goods as you flee this place for I have an exact accounting of all that is here.” It was a lie but he was not very concerned about that. “So, I believe, does my mother.”
When the man paled and then scrambled to his feet to run to the back of the house, Brant shook his head. It was sad when a man’s threat carried less weight than the threat of his mother. He grabbed the arm of a young footman who was cowering in an alcove a few steps away from the door. There had to be a reason the servants were all so terrified of the countess but he would dig for the why of that later.
“Where is my mother?” he asked.
“In the conservatory, m’lord. Just down there and to the right.” He blushed. “Oh, suspect you know that.”
“I might have except that I suspect this conservatory is a very new addition to the house.”
“It is about two years old, maybe a few months less than that. Do you want to be announced?”
Brant smiled and when the footman paled and stepped back a little, he suspected it was a very predatory smile. “No, thank you, lad. I will show myself in. Since she will not be in a very good humor soon, you might wish to find some place to be out of her reach. Name?”
“James. James Tompkin. I was just hired last week. Seems the last footman disappeared all sudden like.”
“Ah, I understand. Hide for a while, lad.” He paused and decided he could trust the boy, and boy he was for Brant doubted he was much over eighteen. “If anything happens that you think is wrong once I leave here, I can be reached at the Wherlocke Warren which is number 10 Bennington Road.”
The boy nodded and ran off. Brant continued down the hall until he came to the door the boy had indicated. He stepped into the room and nearly swore. He was not one who knew much about the cost of things such as conservatories or furniture, but he recognized when something was expensive. He did not want to think of how much his mother had spent to add this room to the house. There was even a small fountain somewhere in the midst of all the plants for he could hear the water as he stood there studying the green marble floor.
Shaking his head, he began to wander through the place until he found his mother. It was not that she sat there wearing what was no better than a nightdress and robe made of silk so fine he could actually see the shape of her form through it. Not something a son wishes to see, he thought, and averted his eyes. It was the shirtless man sitting at her feet being fed grapes that shocked him. He had never considered his mother a sensual woman but then he realized it was not an act of lust he was seeing so much as an exertion of a woman’s power over a man. The Countess of Fieldgate had discovered a way to keep a man enthralled. It did not surprise him to see that the man she currently had at her feet was the huge footman she had been seen with many times.
“Hello, Mother,” he drawled as he stepped into her view. “Enjoying your morning, I see.”
The fact that she did not even look embarrassed disgusted him. She simply waved the footman away. It was only the man who revealed any hint of emotion and that was with a glare of such frustrated anger that Brant thought he might be drawn into a fight. Instead the man grabbed up his shirt and boots and walked out, never hesitating to obey the countess.
“What are you doing here?” She smoothed her hands over the skirts of her scandalous outfit with all the calm and poise of one wearing a proper gown. “I believe I made it clear that I do not want you in this house.”
“And I believe I made it clear that you are here on my sufferance.”
“Ah, yes, well, I am working to change that.”
“Too late. I have it all in writing. I also now have full parental authority over the boys and Agatha.”
For a moment there was such fury on her face that he had to beat down the urge to take a step back. And, then, just as quickly, the cold, aloof expression he was accustomed to returned. It was, perhaps, small of him, but he was going to thoroughly enjoy taking this house away from her. She had made it her own, done just what she pleased with it even though she had always known that she had no claim to ownership. He had allowed it simply because it had been too much trouble to do otherwise. The little house he had bought to house his occasional mistress had suited him more.
“You are an unwed man and one whose profligate ways are well known. No one would give you full power over a girl of sixteen.”
“The girl is my sister and I am head of this household. Now, I am willing to give you a few weeks to get your affairs in order before you must retire to one of your dower properties, but that marriage contract you are negotiating with Minden is ended. There will be no negotiations with that man and he is, in fact, forbidden to come to this house.”
“I will see your proof of power first.” She held out one hand, the rings on her fingers heavy with jewels and gold.
Brant showed her the papers. The way her hands tightened on them, her knuckles whitening, made him pleased he had asked for two copies for himself. There was a good chance this copy would soon be in shreds. Nevertheless, the moment her grip eased on the papers, he took them away from her.
“I do not recognize that name,” she said.
He was not sure how but he knew she was lying. “You do not need to know him. The only thing that matters is that he is higher up the ladder than the man you used to usurp my place in this family. He is also incorruptible.”
“No one is.”
“Except perhaps a man who had his woman’s child stolen and placed in Dobbin House by you.” He noticed she did not even attempt to deny her part in the evil of that house. “I would like to see Agatha now.”
“That will have to wait. She is out for her morning ride with her friends.”
He wanted to question that but decided he had pressed her enough for now. “Then tell her when she returns that I will come calling on her at three.”
“As you wish.”
That bland acceptance sent a chill down his spine, but Brant again decided it would be wise not to push. His mother was not completely sane and he did not want to cause Agatha any more trouble. He had no doubt his mother woul
d make Agatha suffer in her anger at her loss of the house and her power over the girl. Brant could see the coldness Olympia and Artemis had talked about in the gray eyes fixed upon him now. If his mother had had a weapon he knew he would have been fighting for his life.
“I will leave you to plan your retirement to the country now,” he said and, after giving her a bow that was so shallow and quick it was equal to a slap in the face, he started out of the room. He could not resist pausing just within her sight one last time and smiling at her. “I approve of this room and am certain I shall enjoy it to its fullest when I move in after you are gone.”
He heard the first crash of something breaking before he shut the door behind him and smiled. There was no one near her that she could hurt so her anger could be enjoyed for now. The footman who had been at his mother’s feet slipped past him, obviously hurrying back to her side. Brant was eager to return to the Warren so that he could share his good news with Olympia and, pushing all thought of his mother’s fury from his mind, he hurried back to his waiting carriage.
Chapter 16
“Bastard!” Letitia picked up the small pot of flowers she had set on the table and hurled them across the room. “He thinks he has won? He thinks he can do this to me?” She found another pot, a little bigger than the first and hurled that as well but the sound of the destruction did nothing to cool the fury burning within her. “We shall see who holds the power.”
“M’lady?”
She turned to see the big man she had taken as a lover standing a few feet away watching her as if he expected her to do more than throw pottery around. “Has he gone?”
“Aye, m’lady.”
Letitia took a deep breath and carefully pushed the hot fury down until it simmered just below her skin. She had learned at a young age that anger should be kept cold. Hot rage made one make mistakes. She needed to plan now. Brant had found a way to take away her power and that could not be tolerated.
She looked around at the room she had built. Such places required a lot of money to build, were a new fashion just beginning to take hold and so expensive that few could really afford them even amongst the most prosperous of the aristocracy. To her it was a sign that she had succeeded, that she had the fortune and the power to do as she pleased. That she did not need a man to become a person one feared. She could not allow Brant to place her back in that position where her only power came from the man who was her husband, father, or, in this case, son.
It was going to take time to reverse this setback, however. Her son had already cost her too much and she had lost a number of her most useful people. With the fall of Dobbin House, the raid on the ship, and even the rescue of the marquis’s son, she had suffered too many losses to recover too quickly. Worse, the ones she dealt with were now wary of doing business with her, afraid that somehow her son had discovered all of her dealings and would soon be coming for them.
Brant and that Wherlocke bitch he was rutting with needed to die, she thought viciously and, again, fought to cool the heat of her anger. Until she could find a way to accomplish that she needed something to set him back for a change, to let him taste the bitter flavor of defeat. She also had to do it in such a way that no one could prove she had any part in it.
She looked at John, her current lover and, she admitted, slave. One thing she had learned from her lecherous bastard of a husband was how to play upon a man’s true weakness—his lusts. John could refuse her nothing. Even if he grew enough backbone to try, she could see him hanged a dozen times over for the blood on his hands. He was a reluctant killer, however, and would need persuasion when the time came to send him after her son and his woman.
Letitia actually wondered for a moment if she should just burn the house down. It would deprive her son of the pleasure of it. She looked around again and knew she could not do it. This was her monument to her success and she fully intended to keep it, even if she was forced to give it up for a little while.
That left the other prize Brant had stolen from her. Agatha, her soft, weakling of a daughter. Or, perhaps not as weak as she had thought, for the girl had somehow managed to get her brother to London to help her. However, Minden desperately wanted the girl. He had convinced himself that such a young, innocent girl, one of excellent breeding, would be the cure of the pox that was eating away at his body and mind. It was a foolish belief, for nothing could save the man now, but Letitia had seen a chance to gather a hefty purse from the man. Now she both would get the money and spit in the eye of her arrogant son.
“John,” she said, and smiled at him in a way she knew would stir his lusts, “I have something I need you to do.”
“You know I will do anything for you,” he said as he stepped closer and pulled her into his arms.
Letitia swallowed the wave of distaste that always swamped her the first time any man held her close. She hated sex. Hated the mess of it, the sweat, the smell, and the need to have a man so close to her to achieve what she needed. It had taken her a long while to sharpen her seductive skills and learn how to hide the fact that she hated everything to do with lovemaking and even hated men themselves. But the first time she had realized that she had something that men desired, she had begun to use it to her advantage and it had worked very well for her.
She slid her arms up around his neck. “I need you to go and find Minden. You must tell him that unless he acts quickly he will lose Agatha. All he needs to do is bring me the sum we last agreed on and he can take her away today.”
“I know right where he is, m’lady.” He kissed her neck. “You want me to leave right now?”
She could feel the hard ridge of his manhood pressed against her and nearly cursed. There were a lot of things she would require of him in the near future, the sort of things he always needed to be persuaded to do. It would be best if she began the persuading now.
“No, I believe we have time.”
Brant found Olympia in her bedchamber at her writing desk. By the look of it, there had been a lot of letters recently delivered. Her family was proving to be frighteningly skilled at unearthing every secret his mother had as well as the ones she had used to force people to do as she wanted. Very soon they would have more than enough to get the woman hanged or transported. He was thinking the latter would be good for, even if she managed to escape her chains, it would take her a very long time to get back to England.
He walked over and kissed her on the side of her neck, breathing in the scent of her and feeling his body tighten with need. “Busy as always. Do you know, you, with the help of your family, could be a very good investigator?”
Olympia laughed. “So I could although my family might soon get weary of my requests for information on various things.”
“Maybe not. You told me they all love to pry into people’s secrets.”
“True.” She turned in her seat to look at him. “You are looking very pleased with yourself. Have you found out something that will finally end your mother’s games?”
He took the papers out of his pocket and handed them to her. He was eager to give her the gift he had taken time to find before coming to the Warren but that could wait until a more appropriate time. Right now, it was a pleasure to watch her face as she read. The smile she gave him when she was done made him even more eager to get her into his arms.
“You have done it,” she said and leapt up to throw her arms around him and kiss him.
“Andras has done it,” he corrected. “When I first went to him I thought him too young, perhaps even too gentle of nature, to deal with this but I trusted in your judgment and am very glad I did. He knows what paths to take to get information and, in this case, where to go when the authority you need to circumvent is corrupt.”
“So she did have a secret she held over the man’s head.”
“She did and he refused to change his decision because of the fear that she would tell his secret to the one person he did not want to know it, a young wife he loves very much. Your cousin accepted his ref
usal, told him he needed to get the secret told or he would always be used as a pawn by someone, and then sought out a man with the power to change the decision the other man had made. Mother will soon have to leave the town house and she has no authority over Agatha from this day on.”
Olympia kissed him, unable to resist him when he looked so pleased and relaxed. It took her only a moment to realize that both of them were far too hungry for each other to be satisfied with only kisses. She had wanted him very badly when they had been at Myrtledowns, wanted the pleasure he could give her to wash away the fear she had felt for her son. Yet they had had to sleep apart and could not even attempt to steal a little privacy for themselves in order to feed their need for each other.
Brant knew he had to have her now. It was not going to be any sweet and tender bout of lovemaking, either. He was too hungry for her. The look in her eyes told him she shared that greed.
“Door needs to be latched,” he said, reluctant to let go of her and move to do so.
“Hurry then.” The moment he stepped back she began to unlace her gown.
He secured the door and, even as he removed his coat and waistcoat, he walked back to her. “Not sure I want to wait until you undress no matter how much I like to see you naked.”
“Fast then.”
“Very fast. So fast I should probably be ashamed of myself.”
He kissed her and picked her up in his arms. The moment she twined her arms and legs around him, he walked until she was pressed up against the wall. The little pantalets she wore were easy to remove and when he slid his hand between her legs he found the hot, damp welcome he needed so badly. He growled his approval against the hollow at the base of her throat as she undid his pants with her long, nimble fingers. The moment he was free, he shifted her against his body until hers was wide open to him, and then thrust inside.
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