A Viscount of Mystery

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "Get out of here you vile man," Marcus snarled as he slowly pushed himself to his feet, agony in every part of his leg nearly blinding him with pain. "Or I shall take great delight in throwing you out!" Normally, Marcus was far more creative with this threats, but at the moment, all he could think of was the throbbing, excruciating in his leg.

  "Not wifout what I come for," McTavish snapped, reaching for Caroline.

  "Get away from her, you thug," Marcus ground out as he attempted to push Caroline behind him but succeeded only in buckling his knee a bit more so that he had to grab onto a nearby chair for support.

  In response, Caroline, who had been pressed safely against Marcus' side, now moved in front of him as if to protect him, though Marcus had no idea how she hoped to accomplish a bloody thing. If anything, she had just put herself in grave danger.

  "Now ain't this a familiar sight?" McTavish sneered, clearly taking great delight in the scene before him. "The whore protecting her master. Now where 'ave I seen this afore?" Then he reached out to grab at Caroline's wrist. "Still I've gots other plans fer you, missy. So if ye'll jut come along now..."

  "I would suggest you release the lady should you wish to live."

  Through a haze of pain, Marcus could see Nicholas leaning against the doorframe, much the way he had in Marcus' library earlier in the evening. Or was it now the previous day? At some point, he had lost track of time and his mind was too exhausted to think upon it further. Rosemont, however, looked every bit as sharp as he had earlier. And a good deal angrier - if such a thing was even possible.

  "Ah 'tis da lord of the ever bleedin' land, come to ship me off ta the colonies?" McTavish did little to hide his accent. "Ye couldn'a do it once. What makes ye think ye can do it again?"

  "This time, when we hand you over to the ship's crew, you will be unconscious, you idiotic, ruddy-faced buffoon." Marcus was not surprised to see the Duke of Enwright standing in the doorway as well. They were both better friends to Marcus than he deserved. When this was all over, he would treat them to a night at whatever club, brothel or gaming hell they desired. Not to mention the best bottle of scotch to be found in the Cheltenham cellars. "Now will you come quietly or must we make this messy?"

  When McTavish rounded on both of them with a maniacal gleam in his eyes, Enwright sighed before looking at Nicholas. "Messy it is then. Damn. And these are new boots. Lucy will not be pleased."

  "Somehow, I believe your wife will forgive you," Nicholas tossed back. Then, with the skill that had made him famous at Gentleman Jackson's salon, he landed one good punch to McTavish's jaw and the man went down without so much as a whimper.

  Looking at the man in a seemingly boneless pile of flesh on the floor, Marcus rather thought the occasion warranted something a bit more dramatic. Instead, it had all ended rather neatly. When he looked backup, he found both Enwright and Rosemont watching him.

  "I take it the issues from earlier have been resolved?" Nicholas sent a questioning look in Caroline's direction. It was Marcus who replied, however.

  "Not yet, but they will be. There are things that no longer matter as much as they once did." At this point, Marcus didn't care if he ever knew the truth. The very idea that Caroline was out in the world unprotected had terrified him beyond measure. She was a lone woman in a society that would eat her alive if given the chance. That horrific moment in his home when Glenna had appeared bearing the news flashed through his mind once more. What must Caroline have suffered when she lost her father? And later? With her uncle?

  It was then that Marcus had realized that none of it was important any longer. The only thing that mattered was keeping Caroline safe and never allowing her out of his sight again. Or not longer than necessary, anyway. He rather doubted she would be a particularly obedient bride.

  "Excellent." Then Rosemont smiled. "I would hate to think of injuring one of my best friends." He cast a glance at McTavish who showed no signs of waking up any time soon. "Shall we take this piece of filth to the docks?"

  Enwright nodded with what could only be described as a serene smile on his face. "And this time, we will be certain he stays gone." He nodded briefly at Marcus. "Breckenright. I shall see you at the end of season masquerade at Fairhaven, will I not? You and your lovely wife both?"

  "Indeed," Marcus replied with a bow, a gesture that was stiff, given the pain that still wracked his body. "We look forward to it." Then he looked at Nicholas again. "As a side note, while I thank you for the use of Seldon Park for our impending nuptials, I rather think we will not need the estate. I believe we shall already be long wed by then."

  "Suit yourself," Rosemont replied as he and Enwright pulled the slack form of McTavish to his feet so that they might drag him from the room. "However, my staff is so very looking forward to a house party. Perhaps we shall have one anyway. Rather like a second wedding for you and the lady. It might not be the done thing, but who the hell cares?" He hoisted McTavish a bit higher to get a better grip on him. "Look for an invitation in a few days. I shall host your official wedding breakfast and I will not hear another word about it. Understood? Excellent."

  Then, as Marcus looked on, Caroline by his side, Nicholas and Enwright dragged the unconscious McTavish from the room. Marcus truly did pray that he had seen the last of the wretched man. He was nothing but a force of evil.

  Then Caroline turned to him and laid her hand gently on his arm. As she had been in the process of preparing for bed, she was not wearing gloves and all he could do was stare at her smooth skin as if he had never seen a woman's bare hand before before. Then, she spoke the words that he did not want to hear.

  "Marc. We need to talk."

  Chapter Sixteen

  "No, we most certainly do not." The last thing Marcus desired at the moment was to talk. He had meant what he said moments ago. Caroline's past no longer mattered. What did matter was the woman she was now. If, in time, she chose to tell him about her past, so much the better. It would mean that she fully trusted him. And if she never told him? He could live with that outcome as well. The one thing he could not live without was her.

  "Yes, we do." Then she frowned. "But first, we must get you into this bed. I fear your leg will not hold up much longer."

  In that she was correct, the damaged muscles pounding and protesting as if someone was beating on them with hammers. Despite the fact that he knew it made him appear less of a man, Marcus allowed Caroline to assist him into the bed. He also did not protest when she slid off his boots, easing the ache in his calf a great deal.

  Before reclining, as she was pestering him to do, he slid off his jacket and waistcoat, removed his cravat and loosened the buttons of his shirt. In any other situation, this would be considered the height of scandal. But this was Caroline and he meant to marry her. They had already shared a bed, not to mention their nude bodies. What more of him was there for her to see?

  Once he was satisfied that he might be comfortable, he settled back into the pillows, thankful to give his throbbing leg a rest and praying that there were no bed bugs or fleas or worse. When Caroline moved to drag the chair over to the side of the bed next to him, he shook his head and insisted that she come to sit beside him. She protested at first, but he could see that she, too, was tired and eventually, she gave in to his request, even though it was clear she thought it unwise.

  It was unwise. For after she said whatever she felt compelled to tell him, he was going to ravish her. Bed bugs be damned. They were to be married after all.

  "Happy now?" he asked her when she was settled beside him, though she did still have too many clothes on. That lavender traveling gown, lovely as it was, simply had to go. It showcased her breasts to great effect and made him all the more eager to taste them again. Those luscious breasts of hers had been one of his favorite parts of their all-too-brief evening in his bed.

  "I suppose," she said with a sigh, shifting to make herself more comfortable, which only served to draw her body closer to his. "But Marcus this is important. I
want to tell you the truth about my past. You deserve to know."

  "I told Rosemont that it does not matter. I meant that." Really, he would rather be kissing her at the moment. He rose up on his elbows to do just that, the creaky bed groaning beneath his weight as the ropes were stretched tightly, almost beyond their limits. He assumed - incorrectly, it would seem - that she would be glad not to speak of her past. Instead she merely frowned. That would not do either. He wanted her willing. Not annoyed with him. "Oh, very well, then, Caro. I can see you will not be satisfied until the words are out."

  She eyed him for a moment as if uncertain whether or not he was being serious. When she apparently decided he was, she folded her hands primly in her lap. She also did her best to pull away from him, but Marcus would not allow it. Instead, he pulled her back towards him, settling her firmly at his side.

  Finally, she stopped struggling and began speaking, much to his immense relief. "After my father died, my world was in an upheaval. Everything I knew had changed and I was at a loss. I believe you remember how things were?"

  He did, all too well, and he nodded in affirmation. That seemed to give Caroline the strength to continue her tale.

  "It was not an easy time. For any of us. Then, my uncle appeared as if by magic, and, to me anyway, he seemed like a savior. Lewis Tollston promised me the world and I was foolish enough to believe his lies. He promised to whisk me away to Dunlin Castle, just this side of the Scottish border. He told me I could mourn my father in peace and solitude." She shrugged. "I liked that idea, to be honest. I wanted nothing more than to be left alone to grieve." Then she gave a short, humorless laugh. "Well, what I really wanted was for you to sweep in and rescue me, either by proposing marriage or spiriting me away to Gretna Green."

  "I wanted to." Marcus remembered those days very clearly as well. "I tried. But each time I went to pay a call upon you, I was turned away. I knew that you were in mourning, of course, but we were friends. I could not understand it. That was when I sent Amy in my stead, thinking that the bull of a man at the door might allow a woman inside to comfort her friend."

  Caroline shook her head, knowing all too well that her uncle had kept Marcus, and anyone else who might offer her comfort, far away from her. "I did not know that at the time. I merely believed you no longer cared about me or simply did not wish to deal with a weepy female. Still, I know the truth of it now. My uncle revealed all when he wished to inflict more torture upon me during those times when my body was too beaten to endure more. That was when he taunted me with visions of what might have been."

  "I shall kill him." Rage, pure and hot raced through Marcus and he held Caroline more closely to his side.

  "If he were not already dead, I would point you in his direction with pleasure." Caroline had suspected Marcus would react this way. It was one of the reasons she had not told him of her past. However, when she laid a staying hand on his shoulder, he settled back once more, as if he sensed that she needed to tell him this story, even if he no longer wanted to hear it.

  "Bastard," Marcus snarled, but he did not protest again. Instead he nodded, indicating that she should continue.

  Caroline let out a sigh. This was the hardest part of her tale. "By the time I figured out that my uncle was not the kindly man I thought him to be, it was too late. He had plundered my fortune, what he could access of it of course, before my father's man of affairs stopped him. Tollston had taken me from all that I knew and locked me well away in Northumbria. He informed the people there that I was addle-brained and had fantasies, that I believed I was a princess and he an evil pirate. I believe my penchant for re-reading Mrs. Kingsley and the Black Pirate provided him with fodder enough to make the story believable. Thus, he was able to keep me within his control and assure himself that no kindly local would believe anything that I said should I somehow manage to escape."

  "Oh, Caro." Rage and pain ate at Marcus but he held himself in check. He had to, for her sake. "I am so very, very sorry. I wish I had known."

  Thankful for his strong presence, she settled back against him as if needing the strength of his body. "When I was imprisoned at the castle - which is what it felt like anyway, even if I was not technically locked inside - I was forced to learn all manner of illicit trades. Among other skills, he taught me how to forge signatures, beating me until I perfect the art."

  "The supposed letter from me that Gibson used to fool the ton into thinking he had my permission to escort Amy about town." Suddenly, the last piece of the puzzle that had never quite fit clicked into place. "But how does Gibson fit into this? For I am certain Ardenton knows of your past. Amy has already intimated as much."

  "He does," Caroline confirmed softly, "as do Amy and Julia. I'd wager that others do as well, not just Rosemont and, in all likelihood, Enwright. My uncle was not very careful. He thought himself far too clever. He did not think he needed to be careful." She paused for a moment to gather her thoughts. "But back to Gibson. After one particularly brutal beating, I did not wake up as quickly as I had in the past and my uncle feared he had truly harmed me, that I would no longer be able to forge documents for him. That frightened him far more than any injury I might have sustained. Understand that none of the beatings I or my cousin Norbert received were ever witnessed by anyone and the staff at Dunlin overlooked any evidence of our injuries. This time, however, Tollston called for a physician, fearing the worst."

  "Gibson." Now the truth was becoming clearer still.

  Caroline, however, shook her head. "No. At first my uncle called only for Dr. Hastings, but when it became clear that my arm was severely broken, it was Hastings who called for his assistant, Gibson Blackwell. It was Gibson who devised the plan to make my injuries appear worse than they were, and eventually Hastings agreed. They forced my uncle to assign me a nurse, Glenna, who was charged with my care. They said if I did not receive constant care that I might die of my injuries. My uncle could not abide the idea of losing his master forger so he did as they bade." Caroline laughed humorlessly. "During the time I was at Dunlin, it was Glenna who saved my life on more than one occasion, often coming between me and my uncle when he would have beaten me into unconsciousness again.

  Marcus made to speak but once more, Caroline stayed him. "Please. Let me finish. I am so close, and I need to speak before I lose my courage." He growled, but did not say more.

  "Towards the end of my confinement at Dunlin, my uncle broke my other arm, the one I used to forge, as well as two of my fingers. I think he knew that my skills in that regard would not be the same for some time or perhaps never again. But he was also a greedy man and made me forge one more document, a paper that declared some land that bordered Dunlin Castle to be property of the Viscount Redwing and not the local baron whose family had held the piece of land for a century or more. Once I finished, my uncle took the deed, but he knew it was not as good as my earlier work and might be seen for the forgery that it was. So he made one final plan."

  "He wanted to be rid of you for good. Most likely so that you would not reveal his crimes." Marcus could not see any other outcome that her uncle would have favored.

  At that, Caroline blushed a bright red, her embarrassment and shame at this next confession so great that she did not know how she would find the words. Still, she knew she must if she was to be with Marcus fully and with no more secrets between them. "My uncle's plan was to marry me to a Scottish laird who had property that adjoined Dunlin, the boundary lines in Northumbria being sketchy at best in some of the more remote areas. But the laird would not have me unless he could..." She trailed off, unwilling to share this part of her story.

  This was the one secret no one knew. Not Amy nor Gibson or even her cousin Norbert. Nicholas Rosemont might know, but she preferred not to think about that possibility.

  "He wanted to sample you first, didn't he?" Marcus worked to keep his voice soft and steady, even though inside he wanted to rip something apart. Caroline needed his comfort more than his rage at the moment. "I know
there are men of his ilk, ones who will not take a sassanach lady as a wife without determining how well she will, shall we say, please him in the bedroom."

  Caroline looked away, her face awash with shame. "At first, I think my uncle did not truly mean to force me. He merely locked me in a room with the man and made it clear that the man was to do with me as he wished. I think he believed that I would simply give in to the laird's wishes as I had given in to him so many times before." She gave another humorless laugh. "Even now, I do not know the laird's name. He was older, but not unpleasant to look at. I hoped he would be kind, seduce me a bit, but he did not. He forced me to the bed almost immediately, and even though I fought, I could not... That is to say I was not strong enough to..." She looked down at her hands in abject humiliation. She could not admit the rest, not even to the man she loved.

  Marcus however, knowing Caroline as well as he did, could supply the rest. "He took what he desired from you by force, didn't he? That's why you were not a virgin when I bedded you the other night." He stroked a hand down her arm, attempting in some clumsy way to let her know that he understood. And that he did not blame her.

  She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "Before you, he was the only man I was ever with and even then, not by choice. You must believe me, Marc. Please."

  "I believe you, sweet. I believe you." Marcus did his best to keep his hand steady on her shoulder so that he would not frighten her. Of course, he did not blame her. How could she even think that? He understood precisely what had occurred and that she had merely been a pawn in a very ugly game. He despised the situation, but his current rage was more for her dead uncle who had forced her into such a situation in the first place. "I know you, Caro, and I know that you would not give yourself to a man like that. I know that you were forced." But he had to know the rest. "But why did you not marry this laird? I know you did not wish to, but Tollston could have forced the issue, especially since the man raped you."