A challenge. Trust, understanding, respect. He did respect her. But trust? He didn’t think there was much he wouldn’t entrust to her. And perhaps he was coming to understand her frustration with this arrangement of a marriage … somewhat.
He worried with a family like hers—affectionate, close—she might expect more than he could give. But more than ever, he believed it was time to try. Because the prize was greater than any ever offered, and if he lost … it didn’t bear thinking about.
He could tell by her breathing that she slept. Good. He slipped from bed. With stealth, he went to his room and donned his father’s clothes. To fetch Faith’s gift for Christmas, in two days time, he must walk—God grant him the strength—to the opposite wing of the house and his parents’ apartments.
As he approached the stair at the centre of the house, he remembered when he and Vincent slid down opposite rails, their mother frowning at the bottom. She explained later that she couldn’t catch them both, so she had chosen to catch Justin.
He could still hear Vincent’s scream as he landed and broke his arm. He was three years old, the younger by four years. Truth to tell, Justin had been surprised that the reigning queen of society had elected to catch either of her sons. But she’d shipped them off to old Fishface soon after, for an education said she, though it was more of a hell-raising, and they did occasionally come home for holidays…at her whim.
Eventually, Justin entered the queen’s jasmine-scented sanctum and was transported to the event that led to this midnight excursion.
“Maman, you sent for me?” ‘Twas so odd to be summoned to this room, Justin expected to be expelled, but he saw her smile in her mirror, her dressing-table a forest of glass bottles and enamel jars. Then to his shock, the lady with the rouge-pot lips stood and kissed him, clasping him to her breast.
She stood him away and examined him. “Ah, my son, you are soon a man and do not appreciate a selfish, clinging mother.”
He was not a man yet. And she had never been a clinging mother. Selfish, yes; even then he knew that. For years, he’d hidden his yearning for this mother he hardly knew. Now he allowed himself to be held for a moment, pretending it was one of those dark nights he’d called for her, when she never came, because she wasn’t there.
But he was not a halfling anymore, so he pulled away.
Tears silvered her cobalt eyes. “There is something I must say.” She placed the palms of her hands against his face. “Never let it change you, my son. You will feel the same for me, and your brother, and your father. Do you promise this?”
He answered as she wished. “I promise.”
“You, Justin, are your Papa’s only son.”
He was glad she no longer touched him as he tried to absorb her words, but they made no sense. He looked at her, really looked, her smile as false as her beauty. A mask. “Vincent—”
“Is my child by another man. Your father was not faithful, so neither was I. You remember your cousin who lived with us?”
“Justin Reddington. He was sent to America.”
“He was your father’s bastard. Your father named him Justin to spite me and brought him here to throw him in my face.”
Justin reeled. “Why was he sent away?”
“Because, if he was not, I told your father I would present him with more bastards. A wife pays for her sins as well as her husband’s. Someday, you will understand. Eh bien. Now you know. And you still love your maman?”
“Yes,” he’d said, because she wanted him to, but something in him broke. A child had paid for his parents’ mistakes. Children. For he and Vincent were not immune to the damage.
Sweating, hand trembling, Justin pulled himself from that horrible time in his life and concentrated on his purpose here. Sixteen was young to become world-wise, but it happened to him that night. Sometimes he hated his mother for that, even now.
He’d hated his parents for betraying each other and their sons, all three of them. Mostly, he hated them for casting Justin Reddington, an innocent child, adrift in a harsh world.
Justin Devereux’s ability to trust had died in this room. He’d known it even then, and he couldn’t change any of it.
Lady Madeleine Beaumont Devereux’s pedestal had toppled.
Justin remembered her taking his hand—as if she had not just rocked the ground beneath his feet—and she led him to her fireplace. “Here, my love, is a secret and a gift.” She felt beneath the mantle and pushed at the eye of a bronze gargoyle.
The fireplace swung away from the wall. Behind the structure hid a landing and a stairwell. She led him inside, located a knob, turned it, and took a pouch from a drawer. “Here is my gift. My mama’s and her mama’s emerald ring.” She replaced the pouch and patted the drawer when it was shut. “It waits for your bride, Justin. Choose her wisely.”
At this moment, the sea-wind battering the windows, Justin’s heart was cold and heavy. He looked around the moon-lit room, dead now like the beautiful Madeleine. She’d kissed him for the last time here, beside her fireplace. She had never kissed him, that he could remember, but she had twice that day.
She died in her sleep two days later. A canker of the stomach. She’d known she was dying and the ring was her parting gift. As were her words. She loved him.
He’d forgotten the ring, until he began to drive himself insane looking for a Christmas gift for Faith. His children—assuming they would ever create any—would never know the need for affection he’d experienced. He saw daily how much she loved and showered that love on Beth.
How surprised Faith would be when he gave her the ring. “Thank you Maman,” Justin whispered, understanding her better, perhaps, if not precisely forgiving her. He understood human imperfection so much better now.
It took a while to locate the correct gargoyle. “Ah,” he whispered, pressing the creature’s eye. Icy air galloped into the room as the fireplace opened on a groan. Inside, he located the knob he must turn to open the casket, but it did not budge.
He fetched the poker from the fireplace and rapped, recoiling at the echo in the stairwell. A dog barked somewhere in the house. The knob turned. And in the drawer, he found his mother’s emerald ring. He slipped it into his pocket.
The dog’s bark growing louder gave testimony to its approach. Justin pulled the hearth panel, closing himself inside. In the pitch-black passage behind his mother’s fireplace, he waited.
An echoing flutter grew fast and clamorous. A bat—no two —dipped by his ear. “Terrific.” That damned barking cur stood beside the fireplace, now. Too close.
Voices called to the beast. A man and a woman.
Justin glanced at the stairs. It would be the devil to re-enter the house if he took them. It was freezing out and he didn’t know if he could manage the stairs. His legs shook from walking.
The noisy hound must have his scent. He opened the panel and let the beast in, closing them both in. The dog set up a low growl. Justin hoped he was snarling at the bats.
Justin saw gleaming white teeth, while that snarl became louder, more threatening.
With little choice, Justin moved toward the stairs.
The dog lunged.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Knocked to the floor, Justin rolled to protect his face. And that’s when the cur licked his ear. A tail slapped his leg, a slobbering whimper accompanied the dog’s joy. “Toby?” The damned dog whined in ecstasy. “Shh, shh.” Justin scrubbed behind the canine’s ears. “Good boy,” he whispered, getting his face washed. “Shh, boy.”
The bickering voices dimmed and a door closed.
Faith woke when she heard a dog bark somewhere in the house.
Justin no longer slept beside her.
She checked his room, Beth’s, and her dressing room, her heart pounding madly. Had Vincent discovered Justin’s recovery? Was Hemsted, his man of affairs too curious? Had she been careless? Had Vincent sent someone to abduct Justin … to finish the deed?
Her imagination was getting the bes
t of her.
Likely a stable dog. Perhaps Justin got up to investigate the barking … and then he was accosted. If she wasn’t so frightened, she’d laugh at herself.
One thing was certain, she couldn’t sit around waiting. She had to do something, so she checked Beth, made sure she slept soundly, donned her wrapper, and left the room.
Justin sat behind the fireplace scratching Toby’s ears and belly ‘till quiet reigned and they emerged. In the hall, Justin scratched one last time. “Back to your kitchen rug, Friend.” But the mongrel he’d rescued in a storm, six years before, would not step from his side. He slapped Toby’s rump. “Off with you, now.” But to no avail. Justin shook his head. “Come along, then. You’re twice Beth’s size, but she’ll love you.”
Approaching the centre of the house, Justin stopped to rest in an alcove, on a gilded chair he’d once pretended was a throne, when Faith came running from the opposite wing, stopped at the top of the stairs, looked down, and gasped.
Justin stood, but it could be a costly error to show himself.
A man appeared at the top of the stairs, nodded and smiled at Faith. “It’s me. Hard to see in the dark, I know.”
Faith relaxed visibly. “Mr. Hemsted Good evening.”
“Are you all right, Miss Wickham?”
Mr. and Miss. Good, they didn’t know each other that well. Justin leaned into the shadows.
“I’m fine, I … wanted something to drink. I can’t sleep.”
Justin frowned. Foolish thing to tell a man. When the blighter touched Faith’s arm, anger stiffened Justin’s spine. Somehow sensing it, Toby charged the pair like a rabid beast.
Hemsted saw the dog, grabbed Faith, and to Justin’s horror, Faith crumpled to the floor.
Justin made to run, but his legs didn’t remember how, and they buckled. He caught himself and fell back into the chair. Toby sat at the top of the stairs wagging his tail.
Bloody dumb dog.
Hemsted lifted Faith in his arms and carried her toward her room. Their room, damn it. Justin swallowed his roar of rage. Faith would kill him, herself, if he gave them away. So he remained hidden until the bounder came back and went downstairs.
Justin reached their room in record time.
Faith lay on her bed, unconscious, her gown and wrapper loosened—nearly to her waist! He’d kill the bastard! He locked the door and went to her. “Faith?” he whispered, unable to accept that his bastion of strength had crumbled. True, she hardly knew Hemsted—though Hemsted seemed to think she should—and Toby could be frightening, but to faint. Faith?
Toby settled on the hearth while Justin bathed Faith’s face and neck with cool water. Finally, she whimpered and turned her head. Justin raised her and put a cup of water to her lips. “Drink sweetheart, that’s right. Just a little. There.” He placed the cup on the bed-table.
Faith opened her eyes and turned ashen. In a blink, she was up and running. In her dressing room, she was abominably ill. He held her head while she retched, bathed her face, and gave her water to rinse her mouth. “You’re safe, sweetheart. Everything will be all right. I’m here.” He walked her back to bed and tucked her in. “I could strangle that man for touching you.”
“He didn’t touch me.”
Justin trailed a finger down the exposed valley between her breasts and tugged a hanging bodice ribbon. “Who did this?”
“You should worry about him learning the truth about you, not about … are you jealous?”
Justin ran his hand through his hair. “Of course not. He could be dangerous, that’s all. And he unfastened your gown.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Miss Wickham. Are you all right? I have brandy. May I come in?” Hemsted tried the knob, making Justin glad he’d locked the door.
Faith sat up, pushing him off the bed. “Go to your room,” she whispered. “I’ll open the door and tell him I’m fine.”
He shook his head. “No.”
Her hands on his chest, she backed him into his room. “I have to answer him,” she whispered. “Or he’ll force his way in.”
Justin huffed in resignation, but he retied the ribbons on her gown and shut her wrapper to her neck. “There.”
Faith’s smile, as she shut the door, calmed him.
Certain Justin was listening, Faith cracked her door open. Hemsted was, indeed, holding a glass of brandy. He smiled with relief. “Good. You’re looking better.”
“Thank you. I am. I’m sorry, I—”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I frightened you, though it was not my intent. I have a ridiculous fear of dogs and thought to protect you.” He looked at the hearth. “That him?”
Faith was surprised to see the creature, nose on paws watching them, brows raising at opposite intervals, and she giggled. “Guess he isn’t as dangerous as we thought.”
Hemsted had a nice smile. “I guess not. Do you need anything before I go?”
A moan came from her patient and Faith’s face warmed. “I have everything I need. Thank you. My patient needs me.”
Hemsted stood there ‘till she shut and locked the door.
In Justin’s room, she glowered. “That was stupid.”
“I’d like to wring his bloody neck.”
“Shh. He’s a nice man, and he was worried about me.”
Oh what a look Justin gave her.
“Jealousy is beneath you,” she said.
“Jealous? I’m mad as bloody hell.” His look softened. “And worried, about you.” He examined her face. “When you fainted, I thought my heart would stop. Faith, you frightened me.”
“I frightened you? Someone is trying to kill you and you go missing.” She crossed her arms and stepped from his entreaty, fisting her hands so she wouldn’t reach for him. “Where the devil were you? I thought you’d been kidnapped. That Vincent took you…to murder you. Don’t smile, you half-wit. And no excuses, if you please. I awake from a sound sleep to hear a dog barking…and you are gone! Gone, Justin.”
He looked like a child with a purloined kitten. “Faith, I realize that exploring at night was probably stupid—though I could hardly do so during the day. I couldn’t sleep, and it’s not like I had anything to occupy me, after all.”
When Faith cuffed him, he chuckled, opened his arms, and she stepped in, hating herself for liking it.
“I thought if I knew where Vincent put us, I’d have an escape route, if we needed one. It didn’t occur to me you’d wake and find me gone. I’m sorry I frightened you.”
“You were a thoughtless idiot.”
“I was … am.” He chuckled.
“How dare you laugh at such a time.”
“You’re beautiful angry, all fire and spirit. I may inspire you to fury in future just to watch your eyes spark like that.” He teased her top lip with his bottom one, ran his hands down her back.
Those sparks he’d mentioned were travelling now, touching down in the oddest places. She shivered.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you never forgave me,” he said, kissing her. “I beg your pardon, truly,” he whispered, warming her, and Faith supposed there was nothing to do but forgive.
After that kiss, Justin declared a victory of sorts with his grin. “Am I forgiven then, for being so foolhardy and thoughtless?”
“My heart near stopped when I couldn’t find you.”
He frowned. “Am I asking too much to continue this farce? Perhaps we should just deal with Vincent in the open.”
“No! He’ll find another way. I’m fine. Really. I was frightened, that’s all. You have to stay hidden until Vincent’s fate is sealed. It’s the safest way.”
Christmas Eve arrived, almost by surprise. Faith dressed Beth in a red velvet frock for their secret family Christmas, while Jenny and Sally primped for the servants’ party.
“Sally, did you have someone purchase the d-o-l-l?”
“I walked to the village yesterday while Beth was with you.”
With Beth in her arms, Faith saw Jenny and Sal
ly on their way. “Now we can have our Christmas party. You, me, and Poppy.” When someone rapped on her door, Faith set Beth down and opened it. “Mr. Hemsted. Good evening.” Justin was not going to like this.
“Happy Christmas, Miss Wickham. May I come in?”
Satan, Hemsted’s shadow-cat stepped inside. Good thing Toby was with Justin. “Well, I … we were just about to have Christmas—”
He stepped into the room. “I’ll stay but a moment.”
Captive Scoundrel Page 16
