Rich Man (Rich Man | Poor Man | Beggar Man | Thief Book 1)

by Laura Landon

  “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you. I just want you to know that you haven’t fooled me. I know you’re up to something. Now, what would you like me to do?”

  Willow faced her brother. “Jane will be here shortly.”

  “Lady Jane?”

  “Yes. And I need you to entertain her for the day.”

  “The day?”

  Willow anchored her fists on her hips. “What are you? A parrot?”

  “No,” Phin said, staring at her with a narrowed gaze. “But why must I entertain Lady Jane? Why can’t you entertain her?”

  “Because I won’t be here.”

  “Then why is she coming?”

  “Because I’ve invited her to come.”

  Furrows deepened across Phin’s brow. He tipped his handsome face at a roguish angle. “Let me see if I have this straight. You’ve invited Lady Jane to come for a visit knowing you won’t be here.”

  “Yes, which is why I need you to entertain her. I’ll order tea for when she arrives. I’d appreciate it if you’d visit with her for about half an hour, then call for a carriage and take her for a drive through Hyde Park.”

  “How long do you anticipate we enjoy our drive?”

  “Oh, at least an hour. Then, perhaps you can stop at Gunther’s for an ice, or go to the museum to see the new artwork they have on display.”

  “And then what do you suggest we do?”

  “Then you can bring Jane back here and wait for me to return.”

  Phin watched her for several long moments. “What are you up to Will?”

  Willow shook her head. “I can’t tell you, Phin. I wish I could. But I can’t.”

  Willow turned to look out the window as the carriage pulled up outside. “They’re here,” she said. “Please, Phin. Just help me.”

  Her brother’s hands rested on her shoulders and she turned to look at him. Her emotions had been very close to the surface all morning and chose that moment to get the better of her, filling her eyes with tears.

  “Be careful, Will. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I’m worried about you.”

  “I’ll be fine, Phin. You don’t have to worry.”

  Before Phin could say more, the door opened and Mary and Jane were there.

  “What’s the matter, Will?” Mary asked when she and Jane entered the room.

  “And why did you instruct me to wear this dress?” Jane asked. “You know we said we were never going to wear our dresses again because people will think we’re trying to be twins.” Jane’s gaze caught her brother’s and she stopped. “Oh, hello, Lord Phineas.”

  Phin executed a perfect bow. “Lady Jane. Lady Mary.”

  Twin dark spots circled on Jane’s cheeks and Willow knew that Jane and Phin would not consider a day in each other’s company a great imposition.

  After everyone had greeted each other, Willow explained what she needed them to do. When Willow was certain they understood, she handed Jane her bonnet. “May I exchange bonnets with you? That will complete the outfit.”

  “Of course.”

  Jane removed her bonnet and Willow put it on her head. When she was ready, she and Mary walked through the door. Willow kept her head lowered until they were safely in the carriage. When the carriage rocked forward, Willow sank back against the squabs and breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then she lifted her gaze and met Mary’s lethal glare.

  “What the bloody hell is going on, Willow?”

  . . . .

  Willow’s jaw dropped. She’d never heard Mary use such language before. She didn’t know her friend even knew words like that. Or where she could have heard them.

  “I’m sorry, Mary. I owe you an explanation.”

  “Yes, you do. What is going on?”

  “You’ll find out in a few minutes. We’re almost there.”

  “Almost where?”

  “Blake Edison’s warehouse. He imports fine fabrics. His warehouse is where Madame Boulereau used to get all her material. When she had a shop that needed fabrics, that is.”

  Mary sat back against the cushions and studied Willow. Willow could see the confusion on her friend’s face. She knew whatever questions Mary asked, Willow wouldn’t want to answer them. And she was correct.

  “Who is this Mr. Edison to you, Willow?”

  Willow lowered her gaze. How could she give Mary an answer when she didn’t have one to give? How could she tell Mary that she loved Blake when Mary new she’d recently agreed to marry Lord Kendrick?

  “Willow?” Mary leaned forward and clasped her fingers around Willow’s. “Answer me, Willow. What is Blake Edison to you?”

  “He’s a friend,” she answered, but she realized how pathetic her answer was the second the words left her mouth.

  “What does that mean, he’s a friend? What kind of a friend?”

  “Oh, Mary,” Willow cried out. “Please, try to understand.” Willow brushed her fingers across her cheek to wipe away the traitorous tears that spilled from her eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. It just did.”

  Mary’s eyes opened wide as her eyebrows arched upward. “You’re in love with him,” she said in a hushed whisper. “But you can’t be. You’re betrothed to the Marquess of Kendrick.”

  “Do you think I don’t know that?”

  Mary stared at her for several agonizing seconds. “What are you going to do?”

  Willow didn’t have an answer. What could she do? She simply shook her head as the impossibility of the situation weighed heavily against her heart.

  Willow was saved from having to answer Mary when the carriage slowed, then came to a stop. The door opened and Liam was standing there to lower the carriage step and help them dismount.

  “Mary, allow me to introduce Mr. Liam McGregor,” she said quickly. “Liam, Lady Mary Franklin.”

  “It’s a pleasure, my lady.”

  “Liam, would you please show Mary inside and perhaps give her a tour of the warehouse?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Liam answered.

  Willow was already rushing to go inside. “How is he?”

  “He’s improved, if his disposition is any telling. He’s in such a bad mood that he bites off anyone’s head who comes near him.”

  “Oh,” she said, then raced inside.

  “If you’ll accompany me,” she heard Liam say to Mary, but Mary’s answer wasn’t the one she’d anticipated.

  “No, Mr. McGregor. I think I’d first like to meet this ogre that we went to such lengths to see. Then I will let you distract me.”

  Willow stepped through the open doorway and hurried to Blake’s bedroom. She heard Liam’s and Mary’s footsteps close behind her, but she didn’t slow down, or tell them not to follow. Mary wouldn’t have paid her any heed if she had.

  Willow rushed into the room. One look at the man on the bed and her heart clenched. His bruises were still a colorful blend of yellows and greens and purples and reds. Although he was healing, his body still showed how severely he’d been beaten.

  “Willow.” He held out his arm for her to come to him. She sat beside him, then leaned against him.

  “I was afraid you weren’t coming back.”

  She lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He turned his head and kissed her on the mouth. The gasp from the doorway ended their kiss.

  Willow focused on Mary’s shocked expression. “Mary, may I present Mr. Blake Edison. Blake, my dear friend, Lady Mary Franklin.”

  “Mr. Edison.” Mary’s greeting was clipped and spoken through clenched teeth.

  “Lady Mary,” Blake said. “Please, excuse me for not rising.”

  “What happened to you?”

  “Mary!”

  “Well, Willow, it’s hardly an everyday experience to find my friend kissing a stranger no one has ever met before when she’s en—”

  “Enough, Mary!” Willow stopped her before she said more than Willow wanted Blake to know. She turned her head. “Blake, I…” She stopped short. Instead of the angr
y frown she expected to see, he wore a smile on his face. She turned to Liam to find him covering his mouth to obviously muffle a laugh.

  “And what do you two find so humorous?”

  “You,” Blake said. “And your friend. You can hardly blame Lady Mary for her questions. What kind of a friend would she be if she accepted what she saw without being shocked.”

  “But you haven’t answered my question, Mr. Edison,” Mary said.

  Her angry scowl made it obvious that Blake hadn’t made it past her defenses. Mary didn’t accept people on face value normally. When presented with someone she found as battered and bruised as Blake was, kissing her best friend, Willow knew it would take much longer than a few first minutes before Blake earned her acceptance.

  “Liam, please find a chair for Lady Mary.”

  Liam brought forward a chair and Mary sat.

  “Very well, Mr. Edison.” Mary sat with her back rigid, her shoulders straight, and her hands clenched tightly in her lap. “I’m ready for your explanation. What did you do to cause someone to do this to you?”

  Blake breathed a heavy sigh. “As Lady Willow didn’t tell you what to expect before you arrived, the story will be up to me to tell. I was attacked several weeks ago by some ruffians who didn’t intend for me to live to tell the tale.”

  “Do you know who attacked you?” Mary asked.

  “Not by name, no.”

  “But you know who sent them. Don’t you, Blake?” Willow refused to let him avoid answering Mary’s question. He knew. He just wouldn’t say.

  The room turned silent. After a few long seconds, Blake focused his gaze on her.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “And you do know why?”

  “Yes, I know why.”

  “Are you going to tell us who it was?”

  “No,” he answered.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’ll be in more danger than you’re already in if you know.”

  “How can you say that?”

  “I can say it because it’s true. Now…” He turned his attention to Mary. “Are you acquainted with Madame Boulereau, my lady?”

  “Yes, I’ve known Madame Boulereau for years.”

  Blake turned to Liam. “Perhaps Lady Mary would enjoy a cup of tea. I’m sure Madame Boulereau would enjoy a cup. She’s in the sewing room overseeing the workers.”

  Mary looked to where Willow still sat beside Blake on the bed. “Do you want me to leave?”

  Willow nodded.

  “If you’re concerned that I might ravish your friend, don’t be. I’m not able to rise from this bed, let alone do anything that requires more effort than simply lying here,” Blake added.

  “Very well,” Mary said, and Liam escorted her from the room.

  When they were alone, Willow turned to Blake. “Kiss me,” he said. “Please.”

  Willow couldn’t refuse him. She leaned close to him and without pressing against his ribs, she kissed him.

  She didn’t intend for the kiss to turn exceedingly ardent, but it did. There were no gentle degrees of progression when their lips met. It was sheer unfettered passion—bound only by the limits of Blake’s physical condition. The attraction she felt for Blake always sent her emotions soaring to levels she couldn’t control, and today was no different. Every time she was near him, every nerve in her body tingled until she had no power over her action. She dared not admit it, but it was a good thing he couldn’t move. If he could, she wasn’t sure she had the will to stop him if he exceeded the bounds of proper conduct.

  One kiss turned into another, and another, until Willow could barely breathe. Blake was no better. His breaths came in harsh, jagged gasps. Through her subconscious, she realized that she heard several moans of pain interspersed with the gasps.

  “We have to stop,” Willow said, separating herself from him. “You’re not well-enough healed.”

  Willow stood, then pulled the chair near the bed and sat. It seemed an unbridgeable distance, and yet it did nothing to still her riotous heartbeat.

  Blake was sitting up in bed and he tipped his head back to rest it against the pillows behind him. Willow took the opportunity to study him. Even bruised and slightly swollen, his handsome good looks were incomparable to any of the young men she knew.

  His hair was longer than she was accustomed to seeing it, but his chest was as broad, and his muscled arms as powerful as they had always been. His years of unloading and lifting heavy bolts of fabric had hardened the muscles of his torso and arms and shoulders. He was a magnificent specimen of lean masculinity. Her heart raced in her breast and that place deep in her stomach swirled with a reaction she couldn’t explain.

  “Why did you send for me?” she asked.

  “Because it had been so long since you’d been here last. I was afraid if I didn’t send for you, I’d never see you again. Was I right?”

  Willow turned her lowered gaze away from him.

  “I knew it,” he growled. “Why, Willow? How could you walk away from what we have?”

  Willow rose to her feet and walked across the room. There wasn’t much of a view from the one window in Blake’s bedroom. Only an empty lot behind the adjoining warehouse. Once or twice Willow had watched area children playing stick ball there, or games of tag. Today it was empty.

  “Talk to me, Willow. How could you walk away from me?”

  Tears filled her eyes and she brushed at the wetness that streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t have a choice, Blake. I never did.”

  “What do you mean you don’t have a choice. I’m giving you a choice. Marry me, Willow. Be my wife.”

  The air left Willow’s body. A lump lodged in her throat and she couldn’t swallow. She shook her head.

  She heard the sigh behind her. It was harsh and jagged, and filled with tortured agony. After a heavy sigh, he spoke with a voice that was almost lifeless. As if he had to gain control over his emotions before he could speak.

  “You asked me about my youth. Liam said he told you some of it. He told you about the man who gave me life.”

  “Your father?”

  “No. I refuse to call him my father. Fathers love their children. They care for them. They don’t do everything in their power to destroy them.” Blake paused. Then he spoke again. “I loved my mother. And she loved me. I never doubted it. She cared for me, and sacrificed everything to provide for me.”

  Willow turned back to where he sat on the bed. Blake’s gaze locked with hers.

  “Do you know how she provided for me?”

  Willow shook her head.

  “She sold her body. She was a beautiful woman. She’d been an actress on the stage and knew how to dress, and style her hair, and put on makeup. When she left the house each night… she refused to bring her… clients… home. She worked out of a fancy brothel a few blocks from where we lived. Anyway… When she left the house at night, I thought she was the most beautiful woman God had ever created.”

  He shifted his gaze so he was no longer looking at her. “When I was small, I didn’t know what she did, or where she went at night. An elderly lady… I called her Granny, and even pretended that she was my Granny… came to sit with me. She told me a story every night when she put me to bed, then when I woke, my mother was there. Life was perfect. At least I thought it was.”

  Willow’s heart ached for the little boy she imagined Blake to have been. Her heart ached for the changes she knew had taken place.

  “Even when I grew older and discovered what my mother did, I couldn’t hate her. She did what she had to do to put food on our table and keep a roof over our heads. Everything she did was for me. If I hated anyone, it was the man who’d used her, then abandoned her when she became pregnant with his child.

  “Did your mother ever tell you who fathered you?”

  A malicious smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Yes. She told me. When I was nine, my mother became ill. She had a cough that wouldn’t go away. She would send me to the doctor for med
icine that helped for a while, but she continued to get worse. Eventually, she couldn’t work. Then the money ran out.”

  “Oh, Blake.”

  “Don’t feel sorry for me, Willow. I was one of thousands of children who lost parents and had to fend for themselves.”

  “I know, but…” She halted the tears that wanted to spill from her eyes and reached for his hand. His fingers clasped around hers. “What happened to you then?”

  “Eventually, the doctor refused to give me more medicine when I couldn’t pay. So, I went to the man my mother told me had fathered me. He lived in the biggest house I’d ever seen. I thought it was a castle. I stood outside the house for hours working up the courage just to knock on the door.”

  Willow’s heart was breaking inside her breast. She knew this wasn’t going to end well. He’d already told her that he hated his father and now she was going to know why.

  “A giant of a man answered the door. He told me to go away and tried to shut the door on me. I sprinted past him before he could grab me but he got hold of me and we fought. I told him I needed to see the duke and fought harder. I screamed when he hit me and fought harder.”

  Blake’s fingers tightened around hers as if he were reliving his nightmare. Her heart tightened in her breast as if she could see the small nine-year-old facing a giant.

  “The duke must have heard the racket I was making because he came out of one of the rooms and stepped into the foyer. He was the tallest man I’d ever seen in my life, and the most terrifying. He told the butler to get rid of me but I fought and screamed and kicked until I got free of the hands holding me. I ran to the duke and told him as bravely as I could that I was his son.”

  Blake closed his eyes as if he couldn’t escape the events of that day no matter how hard he tried.

  Willow rose from her chair and sat beside him on the bed. He lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. She tucked her head beneath his chin.

  “The duke’s face turned red with fury and he screamed for me to leave. I told him that my mother was sick and all I wanted was enough money to buy her medicine, then I would leave and he’d never see me again. Instead, he picked me up by my collar and threw me away from him.

  “Just then, a woman stepped out of the room where the duke had come from and came toward me. She kicked me and told the butler to remove the filth from her house and never let me near them again.”