by Meara Platt
“The elder, not the son?”
“The elder,” Homer said with a nod.
“Are you certain?” Douglas clutched the edge of his desk as thoughts began to whirl in his head.
He owed Julia an apology for doubting her integrity and resolved to speak to her tonight. Twombly was another matter. He was at a loss what to do about him. Why would the Eastbourne family solicitor risk his livelihood and reputation on an extortion scheme? To have suspected Twombly’s involvement was one thing, but to have it confirmed, deeply saddened Douglas.
“I saw ’im myself. That’s the bad news,” Homer said, clearing his throat and seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. “Old Twombly hired the young woman to impersonate Julia, gave her a small cut of the takings, and took a small cut for himself.”
“A small cut? What did he do with the rest of it?”
“Well, m’lord. That’s the very bad news. Ye see, he delivered it to yer mother.”
“Are you suggesting my own mother is the villain behind this scheme?” Douglas tightened his grip on the desk, fearing to let go and take his rage out on the Bow Street runner. “What game are you playing, Mr. Barrow? What possible reason would she have to steal from herself?”
“’Twasn’t from ’erself, m’lord,” he said, taking a step back. His eyes grew wide as saucers and his hand moved to the doorknob, no doubt preparing to beat a hasty retreat should the need arise. “She was stealin’ from you, and before that, from your father. You see, she’s a gambler and not a very good one. She used the funds for the gaming tables.”
Douglas closed his eyes as his heart twisted into a knot. His own mother! She must have sensed an opportunity years ago when Julia wrote to the Eastbournes about Charlie’s illness. His father had refused to help Julia at the time but, with a little coaxing from his callow wife, he must have changed his mind and agreed to pay. Oh, not so much to help the boy, but to purchase Julia’s silence about the boy’s existence.
“Well, there it is, m’lord. Truly sorry how it turned out for yer family.”
Douglas winced. “Don’t be. We were never much of a family.”
*
Julia was told to expect Lord Eastbourne later that evening, but she hadn’t expected to see him march into the salon looking quite so handsome in his formal evening attire. The ebony-dark jacket against the crisp, white lawn of his shirt accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist. There was a slight, sensual droop to his eyes and his chestnut hair was lightly ruffled.
She set down the box of tin soldiers she and Homer had just gathered off the floor and turned to him with a genuine smile. “Good evening, my lord. You look quite dashing. Are you off to a party?” Though it was late by her standards, the Upper Crust would often revel into the wee hours of the morning. The earl was just as likely to be on his way to a party as coming back from one or he might simply have stopped off between social engagements.
Homer let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t think I’m needed here. I bid ye good evening, m’lord.”
“And to you, Mr. Barrow,” he replied, his tone surprisingly amiable. Julia noted a lightness to his expression, as though a great weight had been lifted from his heart.
Homer departed with astonishing swiftness and closed the door behind him.
Julia, not expecting to be left alone with the earl, was curious as she motioned him to a nearby chair. “Won’t you have a seat?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, appearing not quite as cheerful as he had a moment ago.
“It isn’t a trick question,” she teased, “or a particularly difficult one. Would you care to sit?”
“No.” He moved to her side and enveloped her small hands in his much larger ones. “I don’t quite know how to say this, so I shall simply say it straight out. I owe you an apology, Julia.”
“Oh, dear,” she said with a grin, loving the strength of his tender grasp. “What have you done this time?”
“This is no jest,” he said, absently caressing her palm with his thumb, unaware of the tingling sensations now running up and down her body because of his touch. “I ask you to forgive me, though it won’t be easy for you. I understand if you can’t right now. But I hope, in time, you will find it in your heart to forget the past and allow us to move forward as friends.”
Her grin faltered. He had treated her and Charlie very well since leaving Borrowdale. Indeed, too well, which had prompted her to question his intentions toward her last night. Was he now asking for forgiveness because he had wanted to take her on as his mistress?
Julia’s heart began to pound. “Friends? Are you referring to our earlier conversation about… about…?” She felt the heat of a blush creep up her cheeks as he gazed at her in confusion.
Then a look of understanding suddenly sprang into his eyes and he let out a soft, rolling laugh. “Goodness, no.” He released her hands. “This is serious, Julia.”
“Oh.”
He nudged her into a chair and began to pace beside it. “I’ve been an arrogant fool, thinking only of myself, and heedless of the pain my actions have caused you. I lied to you.”
“More than once, I imagine,” she said, arching an eyebrow and careful not to make light of his words. His voice sounded brittle and his heart seemed to grow heavier as he spoke.
“I lied about our purpose in coming to London. I didn’t trust you and didn’t believe you’d been used badly by my parents. Nor did I believe you and Charlie were in danger from King Cadeyrn or his faerie realm. Despite all that happened before my very eyes at the vicarage, despite those bluebells that seemed to follow us from Borrowdale to London, I still doubted you. I tricked you into coming here.”
“With the promise of a fine wardrobe and a tour of the London sights.” She had enjoyed these past days, had started to trust him. What was the purpose of his trick? She suddenly felt angry and hurt, and quite vulnerable. “I thought you cared about Charlie. How could you deceive that sweet, trusting boy?”
“I came here tonight to make amends,” he said, taking a long, ragged breath. “In truth, I began to doubt myself from the moment I first set eyes on you and the boy. But when one is as stubborn and arrogant as I am, it’s difficult to admit the possibility of an error. It was easier to convince myself that I was the wronged party, not you, and to cling to that conviction despite all you’ve done to prove me wrong. I brought you to London to set a trap for you.”
“A trap?” She stiffened, wondering just how the modiste, the allowance, this house fit into his loathsome plan. “You assured me I was free to come and go as I pleased. You went out of your way to tell me so and I thought it was out of kindness, a friendly gesture to allow me an afternoon to myself. What did you think I’d do?”
“Extort more funds from the Eastbourne family.”
She gasped. “And you think I did? You engaged the modiste, not I. You ordered the extravagant gowns, not I.” She glanced down at the lilac wool she was wearing, a magnificent creation of Madame de Bressard’s. “I offered to show you receipts for my expenditures, but you refused. Do you think I care about keeping any of these clothes? You can have them all back. Give me a moment and I’ll change out of this very gown. And take back Charlie’s tin soldiers, if the expense matters so much to you. But I warn you, he’ll be bitterly disappointed. He loves those toys.”
“Julia, kindly be quiet and listen to me,” he ordered, holding her back when she sought to run upstairs to change into one of her dismal, old gowns.
She didn’t struggle very hard, realizing that he’d earlier apologized to her, so there had to be more to his tale. “Very well, go on.” She forced herself to remain calm as he proceeded to tell her about the young woman who had assumed her identity, about his trusted solicitor, Twombly, and, finally, about his mother. “Lady Eastbourne? Are you certain?” Her head was awhirl, reeling from the damage caused by the senseless, petty acts of those closest to him.
“Not only did my mother keep Charlie’s existence a secret f
rom me for years,” he said, his voice revealing his own hurt and frustration, “but she concocted this scheme for the single-minded purpose of indulging her fondness for gambling. She threw away a small fortune at the gaming tables, knowing Charlie was ill, knowing you’d be blamed for the blackmail scheme, knowing Twombly’s career would be in tatters once the truth came out.”
He shook his head and let out a sharp, pained groan. “She lied to my father and to me. Do you know what she said when I confronted her this afternoon?”
Julia put a hand to her heart, sensing from his manner that their meeting had not gone well at all.
“She showed not the slightest remorse for the damage she’d caused. Indeed, she asked if I would increase her allowance to make up for the funds no longer available to her! I wanted to strangle her, then and there! Probably would have, had I not been angrier at myself for being her willing dupe. Whatever she did, it does not excuse my abominable treatment of you. So that’s why I came here tonight.”
She tipped her head upward to meet his gaze, hardly daring to breathe.
He swallowed her hands in his once more. “Forgive me, Julia, though I don’t deserve it. I can’t undo the harm of the past, but I give you my word that from this day forward you and Charlie shall have my friendship and protection, and all the benefits those may provide.”
“No, no,” she murmured with a shake of her head, the years of struggle and fear overwhelming her. Her lips began to quiver and her legs began to shake so badly, she feared to lose her balance. “I won’t hear any more of your empty words.”
“Julia, I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you. I know mere words can’t atone for all the suffering the Eastbourne family has caused you over the years. Tell me what I can do to make things right, to make things better between us.”
“You just told me that you’ve lied to me all this time. How can matters ever be better between us?” She was angry, but also weary and feeling so empty inside. He was the only friend she’d had in years. And despite all, she didn’t wish to lose that meager connection. “It isn’t fair.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been fighting on my own for so long,” she said in a strangled whisper, angry at the earl. At the same time, she wanted to run into his arms, rest her head against his chest and revel in the warmth of his body and strength of his protective arms. “I’ve been so worried about Charlie.”
“You’ve been wonderful to the boy.”
“It was easy. I love him.” What was harder to explain were the feelings she had for Lord Eastbourne, strong and aching tugs to her heart whenever he was near. He overwhelmed her, fascinated her. At the same time, he frightened her with the powerful yearning he stirred within her breast. She’d trusted him with her life on that last night at the vicarage. She’d given him her body, allowed him to unlock her passion. Yet, even though he’d seen her naked and at her most vulnerable, she’d never felt used or cheap. Quite the opposite, he’d made her feel treasured.
But he’d just admitted that it had been a lie on his part. How could she trust him ever again? And yet, how could she not? He was the only one who could save Charlie.
As he ran his thumb along her palm, she realized she hadn’t drawn away. Nor did she wish to. But she wasn’t ready to give in so readily. “Thank you for telling me, but I think you ought to go now.”
“Not yet, Julia.” He caressed her cheek and spoke with exquisite gentleness. “You’ve carried an impossibly heavy burden on those slight shoulders of yours for a very long time. But you’re not alone now, nor shall you ever be again. I give you my word. What can I do to prove it to you?”
She wasn’t ready to forgive him or his family. But at the same time, no matter how frustrated and betrayed she felt, she couldn’t deny that she needed him, nor could she deny her own attraction to him. “Just hold me,” she said, surprising herself and him as well, but she couldn’t bear to be alone any longer. She wanted to rest her head upon his shoulder, wanted him by her side to face whatever dangers – or pleasures were ahead, together.
“Aye, Julia. For as long as you wish.”
He took her into his arms. As he held her, the hideous blue faerie webs on her arms and legs began to tingle as they melted from her skin.
She hadn’t told him that they’d suddenly reappeared today.
Despite his apology, despite the heavenly warmth of his embrace, she still feared to trust him completely.
*
Douglas stopped by his club on the way home, finding himself in need of a drink and hoping to find Saron there. He’d learned that his cousin had just returned to town. While Douglas had an appointment to see him tomorrow, for Julia’s sake, he preferred to catch him this evening, for he no longer had any doubts that those odd happenings at the vicarage were real. She and Charlie were in imminent and extreme danger and he wasn’t certain that he could save them on his own.
He entered the club and had just handed over his cloak when Saron strode toward him. “Douglas, good to see you. I know we’re scheduled to meet tomorrow, but you look worried. Is it something serious?”
“Very. Do you have time now?”
“For you? Of course. Let’s find a quiet spot to talk. Care for a drink?” Saron ordered one of the finer blends of whiskey to be delivered to one of the private reading rooms and led Douglas there. They settled into a pair of overstuffed chairs, the leather soft and worn in, and waited for the club’s steward to set out the bottle and glasses on the small table between them before discreetly leaving the room. “Now,” Saron said as the door shut behind them, “what’s this about?”
“I need to ask you about the Draloch dragon.”
Saron arched a dark eyebrow, not bothering to hide his surprise. “What do you wish to know?”
Douglas had known Saron a long time. They were not only cousins but good friends. In truth, Douglas was his only friend, for Saron kept his distance from everyone. That had Douglas now wondering at the real reason for his aloofness. Since he and his cousin respected and trusted each other, he decided it was best to reveal all that had happened at the vicarage. However, he held back a few details, for he wasn’t about to explain how he’d cured Julia of those blue spider web threads crawling inside her skin.
If Saron were somehow connected to these strange goings-on, he’d know what Douglas had done to “save” Julia, and there was no need to draw attention to it. “The drawings I saw of King Cadeyrn resemble you. One of those dragons in the boy’s depictions is identical to the dragon on the Draloch crest. I suppose you think I’m mad as a hatter, but it’s all true. I was hoping you could shed some light on what is happening and help me save Julia and the boy.”
Saron said nothing for a long moment, just ran a hand along the back of his neck and sighed. “You may be able to save the boy, but I don’t think there is anything you can do for the girl.”
Douglas’ heart shot into his throat. Lose Julia? Those damn faeries would have to kill him first. “I need to save them both.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t.”
Bloody hell. What did Saron mean by that?
“Douglas, there are forces at work that neither you nor I can understand. Evil forces that cannot be defeated. Believe me, if it were possible, I would have destroyed them long ago. You’ve been straightforward with me and so I’ll be honest with you. I would tell you if there was any hope and I’d help you if I could, but you and I are powerless in this matter.”
“Then who can save Julia?”
“No one. She’ll probably die. If you interfere, the Fae king will kill you.”
Douglas stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Is this your idea of a jest? So help me, if you’re making this up–”
“The prophecy is known among the Fae as the Draloch Prophecy, etched in the Stone of Draloch.” Saron rose and began to pace. “As a Draloch, I’m somehow bound to this prophecy, though I don’t know what my role is in this scheme yet; only that it involves the Fae, us mort
als, and creatures known as the Dragon Lords. I wish it were all a fable, but it isn’t. If you repeat anything of what I’ve just told you, I’ll deny it.”
Douglas rose as well, his hands balled into fists.
Saron glanced at his fists and sighed again. “I’d like to meet your Julia. She sounds admirable.”
“She is.”
“Then fight for her. Take her and the boy to Eastbourne. Your powers are strongest there, and that’s where Julia and Charlie will find their strongest connection to the world of man. That’s assuming their connection to you is as strong as yours appears to be to them.”
“I think it is.” But in his heart, he knew it was a lie. He was still holding back the secret of Charlie’s birthright. He had to tell them before it was too late. But in revealing the secret, would he lose their trust forever?
Saron placed a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful. The Fae king isn’t your enemy. In truth, he’s the least of your problems. The Dragon Lords are the creatures to be feared.”
Douglas withdrew several dragon drawings from the inner pocket of his overcoat.
Saron perused them, then looked over at him, appearing genuinely surprised. “Charlie drew these? Finish your story. There must be more you haven’t told me.”
Though reluctant, Douglas resumed his seat and explained the rest of the family situation, Charlie’s birthright, and what his mother had done to support her gaming habit. He knew Saron would not spread these family secrets around town. Saron was one of the few men, possibly the only one, he did fully trust right now.
“Damn, that’s pretty low.” Saron finished his whiskey and poured himself another. “As you well know, my parents were little better. Worse, actually. But that’s a discussion for another day. You wanted to know more about Fae and dragons. As I mentioned, there is a legend concerning the Draloch family. We’re connected to one of the black dragons the boy depicted in this drawing.” He pointed to the first of three drawings that Douglas had shown him. “That dragon is known as Bloodaxe.”
