Wounds of A Viscount: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book)

by Deborah Wilson

  There was a knock on the door and Clive, the Marquess of Fawley, all but fell into the room. “I saw you come in. Where have you been?” Two women hung on his sides, laughing, but they knew better than to cross the threshold. They let go of Clive, and he closed the door behind him without even bothering to look back. He knew the girls. They’d find another victim before the minute had passed.

  “Luke.”

  Clive fell into a chair opposite of his own and grinned. The man’s stave, a long black stick, sat against the desk. He picked it up and twirled it in the air. His clothes and blond hair were disheveled. Clive was Garrick’s closest friend and was often here. He also always paid for his services just like anyone else. Not even Garrick took a woman without paying. He needed the transaction just as much as the women did. It set boundaries. He was often offered free nights, especially from the newer prostitutes who’d heard about his virility.

  Clive scoffed and rolled his blue eyes. “He’s outside again? You should make him leave and stop feeding him. In this area of town and in this cold, only the inevitable will happen.”

  The inevitable was Luke’s death, at least according to Clive.

  But Luke had his reasons for staying behind the brothel and one of those reasons was to be a watchman, not for the brothel, but for Garrick.

  It was a part of Garrick’s life that his friends were not aware of. Not even Clive, who he told almost everything, knew what Garrick had been up to.

  Currently, he sat behind a desk, but Garrick’s true occupation rested in delivering death.

  When Garrick was not in the brothel, he was hunting for the final men who’d been involved in his kidnapping a few years ago.

  Garrick, Clive, and three of their other friends had all been taken and held against their will for a time. Anyone responsible was dealt with. From footmen to lords alike, Garrick had been slowly dismantling the last of the group that had ruined his life.

  He knew the others would wish to know what he was up to, but aside from Clive, everyone was settling down. They’d taken wives. They were happy. They didn’t need to know the truth.

  But more than keeping the truth, Garrick simply wished to do this on his own.

  He’d been kept with Mr. Goody the longest, fundamental parts of his growth impeded.

  At sixteen, he’d been taken off the path that would have led to him becoming a merry and jocular lord. Instead, he’d been raised by a monster and had thus been led down a much darker path.

  One he wasn’t sure that even Clive would understand.

  He had blood on his hands. Men were dead because of him, and he couldn’t bring himself to tell his best friend.

  But Garrick would tell him about Nora.

  “Honora was here.”

  Clive lifted a brow. “Did you just say Honora was here?” He used the word ‘say’ loosely, since Garrick had actually used his hands to speak. Clive tapped his chin. “Honora.” He didn’t understand. Or rather, his mind would not allow him to believe it.

  Garrick couldn’t blame him. He wouldn’t have believed Honora had been on this side of the city if someone else were telling the story.

  “Honora?” Clive asked again. “Did you hire a new girl?”

  The name was common.

  “George,” Garrick said.

  “George? Our nephew?” A rotating set of emotions flashed across Clive’s face before understanding dawned. “Our Nora! She was here?”

  That was one way to describe her. They had no true knowledge of any other Nora. Did she belong to them? In a way. She’d been a part of their fold for two years now. She knew about the tragedy that had brought him, Clive, Kent, and the other lords together. They’d been kidnapped and held captive by a madman. When they’d gotten out, they’d clung to one another, becoming brothers.

  London called them The Lost Lords, though Garrick didn’t think it an appropriate description of what had taken place. He’d been held like a prisoner, beaten and chained for years. Lost didn’t begin to encompass his existence from the age of sixteen all the way to the age of twenty.

  Garrick had always had trouble speaking, but that time at the hands of Mr. Goody had crippled his tongue even more. Garrick was only now starting to speak. There were moments he could speak without incident, but only when he relaxed his mind and there was no confusion about.

  That was not often.

  He nodded at Clive to confirm his words.

  Clive’s mouth gaped open. “Lady Nora was in the brothel?”

  Garrick sighed and shook his head. “The alley.”

  “She was in the alley? Why?”

  He took a breath. “Don’t know.”

  “Did you ask?”

  He shook his head again and then signed, “She was hidden.” He added the motion of cloaking himself.

  “She hid her face? Are you sure it was her?” Clive had started to relax, but he must have seen something in Garrick’s eyes that made him think better of his statement. “Our Nora? You’re sure of that?”

  It was odd hearing him call her ‘our Nora,’ yet it felt right.

  But why wouldn’t it?

  Nora’s daughter Miriam had gotten into the habit of calling them uncle as well. Kent had encouraged it, telling the men a girl as pretty as her would need protection. None of them had objected. Only Nora, but she’d been outvoted by the wives.

  Miriam looked like her mother, though because her face was so small, her blue eyes were huge. With her pale skin and blond curls that reached the back of her knees, she looked like a garden fairy.

  Kent was right. She would need protection.

  As would Nora. Though Miriam’s mother didn’t resemble a fairy, the sight of her had left men spellbound in other ways. She was a beautiful woman, and Garrick didn’t know if Miriam was the cause for the lady’s astounding curves, but Garrick was thankful to the girl either way.

  He and Nora didn’t speak often, but he would always remember the first time she’d ever sought him out with a purpose. He’d known why she’d approached. She’d seen him standing off by himself and was trying to be kind.

  Yet everything about that moment had left him intrigued for days.

  He was still intrigued, amazed at her words. At her audacity to say to him what she’d said.

  You’re the strongest man in the whole world.

  He’d known she’d been trying to lift his spirits, but in seconds, she’d done so much more than that. She’d made Garrick feel as though he could fly. In a way, she’d changed him.

  Nora often tried to blend in with the other servants, but Lucy hadn’t allowed it and now, in a few days’ time, Nora would be without employment.

  Was that the reason she needed the money? He’d overheard that while Nora would no longer be on staff, Lucy wished to keep her around. She was becoming a companion for lack of a better word, but she wouldn’t be called a companion. Instead, Lucy made it clear she was to be treated like family, which no one protested. She was a lady, after all. A lovely lady.

  During her first year of working for Kent and Lucy, Nora had been in mourning. Garrick had been certain she’d have married by the second season, but she hadn’t. Strangely, in the last few years, it was the last people he thought would marry who married. Garrick’s friends, except for Clive, had all found the loves of their lives. It was probably watching the contentment of his friends that had started Garrick on the road to looking for more.

  He could hear his Uncle Alex, the Earl of Paxen, telling him that love would change him, make him whole. He hadn’t believed it a few years ago, but when he thought about the wives his friends had found, he could see what Uncle Alex meant.

  “What was she doing in the alley?” Clive asked. “Was she lost?”

  He liked that Clive was giving her the benefit of the doubt and not assuming her to be up to no good. Garrick lifted his hands. “I don’t believe she was lost, but she came down here for something. She seemed nervous.” When it came to signing, Clive was picking it up faster th
an the rest, likely because Garrick spent so much time with him.

  Clive read the gestures and even gestured in return while he spoke. “Do you think she was in trouble?”

  The conversation continued in the same manner. Garrick signed again, “I do.”

  “We should speak to the others.” Clive didn’t have to say who the others were. The Duke of Astlen. the Marquess of Denhallow, and the Earl of Ganden. “Kent should be informed before he and Lucy depart.”

  Garrick nodded.

  Clive leaned forward. His expression became hard. It wasn’t often that Clive got serious. “Do you think it has anything to do with Miriam?” The girl held a special place in Clive’s heart, likely because it was clear that of all her uncles, she loved Clive most. The sweet girl had a tendre for him, though no more than George everyone knew.

  Garrick didn’t know if she was in trouble, but if that were the case, he’d be sure to make the problem go away.

  ∫ ∫ ∫

  0 4

  * * *

  “He is looking at you again.”

  “What?” Nora pretended to not hear her friend over the crush of the ballroom. Either that, or she pretended she didn’t understand who the Countess of Ganden could be referring to. She looked around the crowd, avoiding a certain corner of the place entirely. Lords and ladies strolled in and out of the room, taking to the galleries and open parlors of the Duke of Astlen’s home. Politics were on every tongue.

  It was a political party. While the women had come to learn the newest on-dit and to create a little gossip of their own, the men were discussing a bill of some sort, but Nora hadn’t bothered to pay much attention.

  In another part of the room, she saw the Countess of Ganden’s husband, Lord Ganden, and his friends. She focused on one man in particular.

  Garrick. He was in profile again, just as he’d been the previous night. He was the youngest of Ganden’s friends, years younger, yet stood just as tall as the others. A pair of ladies walked past him, and Garrick’s eyes followed their retreat, but she didn’t see interest in his gaze. If anything, his gaze was indifferent.

  From the first time Nora had seen him, she’d felt something different about Garrick. Years of her brother Meri had taught Nora to read the emotions of those around her and though Garrick always looked calm, she could sense a storm inside him. Dark clouds and lightning. Terror and beauty.

  Even now, his every motion was graceful, unhurried, yet his eyes watchful.

  Then those eyes lifted and caught hers.

  She jerked her head away and in horror, she met a pair of different eyes.

  Meriweather.

  She looked down, but she’d seen his leer. Never had a greater monster than him existed.

  He was who she truly needed to avoid.

  How had he received an invitation to the party? She hadn’t known Ganden’s friends to even be aware of his existence. But if the past was any indication of the future, he would avoid her. Over the last two years, she’d seen him many times and not once had he approached.

  Yet his eyes made her ill. Nora regretted not bringing her gun, but with a party overflowing with guests, she was certain she was in no danger.

  At least, not in danger of anything more than Lucy’s attempts at matchmaking. “It’s warm tonight.”

  Lucy never steered from a topic she truly wished to discuss. “Lord Rodell is staring at you as we speak.” Her golden eyes glittered. “Promise me that you’ll dance with him if he asks.”

  Nora’s heart quit on her. “What?” This time, she truly was confused. “I am not here as a true guest but your companion. My duty is to stay at your side unless you need me to get you anything.”

  “But you’re not my companion. I won’t need you to get me anything, since I’m completely able and willing to get everything I want on my own. Also, you’re a lady, so don’t you dare try to pretend otherwise.”

  “Then what am I?” It was the question Nora asked frequently.

  “My friend.”

  “Then I refuse to allow you to pay me a shilling more. Friends do not pay for friendship.”

  “Very well, I’ll talk to Kent about it.” But she wouldn’t. She said it over and over again, yet Nora knew she wouldn’t.

  Lucy’s voice warmed again. “Besides, no one will think you anything but Lady Honora Baxter in that gown.”

  The coral gown Lucy was referring to was one of Nora’s newest purchases, and she’d only bought it at her employer’s insistence. The skirts were cut in a way that made her hips seem wider than she wished, and the color was so close to her skin tone that one had to guess if she wore anything at all. It was lovely though.

  Now that she was no longer employed as the family’s governess, Lucy had told her she’d have to dress in a manner that reflected her regal attributes… whatever that meant.

  But she knew Lucy’s aim. She worried about Nora and wanted to see her happy. She couldn’t have asked for a better employer. Nora wished to be happy as well, but she’d not be happily wed to Lord Rodell.

  She looked at the older gentleman and was not surprised when their gazes locked. “He’s old enough to be my father.”

  “And rich enough to be the king.”

  Nora giggled in spite of her wish to run.

  “You have a kind heart,” Lucy said. “Marriage doesn’t always have to begin with love. It could start with friendship. I’m sure you both would get on well.” Lucy believed that Nora needed money, which made sense since Nora had given her that impression on the day she’d been hired.

  Her throat closed as Lord Rodell made a gesture that told her he was about to move in her direction.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “What?” Lucy asked.

  “You wished to speak to your lady’s maid?”

  “Nora, what are you—”

  “Of course, my lady. Allow me to get her for you.” Nora lifted her skirts and sprinted away before Lucy’s protest could grow.

  She left the ballroom and started for the dining room, which was downstairs. She smiled at those she saw on the steps and in the foyer. She’d hardly stepped into the hall when someone grabbed her.

  “Rah Rah.”

  Nora cringed with dread as she turned around to meet the Earl of Thinbrook’s eyes. Or rather, Meri’s eyes.

  “I’ve missed you, Rah Rah,” he said.

  She hated the nickname. She always had. Thankfully, only Meri had ever called her that.

  Her brother took her hand in his. “Have you missed me?” His eyes watched her intently. Meri had brown eyes. His skin always had a layer of fresh dew upon it and was always flushed as though he’d been misbehaving right before you found him. His face had hardly matured since he was sixteen, lacking definition in his cheeks and chin. She wasn’t even sure he’d grown facial hair. His skin was simply too smooth. The youthful look, while flattering for many, was simply odd on Meri. It was as though his ailing vile mind had decided his face should reflect it.

  “Meri,” she whispered, taking back her hand. “What are you doing here?” Even though they both wore gloves, it took everything within her not to wipe her hand against her skirts.

  His eyes widened. “I heard about your husband’s death, so I returned. I knew you’d need me.” After Nora’s marriage, Meri had moved to France. At her request, Nora’s husband, Lord Nathan Baxter, had made it clear to Meri that he was not to speak to her ever again. Nathan had also made certain it sounded as though Nora had had no say in the matter. Instead, it had appeared as though Nathan were simply a heavy-handed husband, when, in fact, that had not been the case. Nathan had been kind. He’d only ever asked Nora once why she didn’t want Meri around, but she’d been unable to tell him the truth. To do so would mean to tell him her part in the crimes her brother had committed.

  Still, it had worked. Their parents were dead. So, Meri, believing there was no one in London left for him, had gone to France.

  Then Nathan had died, and a week later, Nora
had received a note.

  Meri was coming for her.

  She’d had no choice but to look for another protector, but she couldn’t marry. Nathan had just died. She would never dishonor his memory in such a way.

  So, instead of marriage, she found employment.

  And Meri had kept away.

  Until now.

  He smiled again. “I thought we could have fun together again. You know? Like we used to.”

  Nora narrowed her eyes and shook her head. “No, Meri. You and I were never playing the same game.”

  “Of course, we were.” He laughed lightly, almost childlike. “It was fun. We had fun together. I want us to have fun again.”

  “I can’t. I’ve work to do.” She started away. When she heard him following her, she turned around. “You shouldn’t be here, Meri.”

  “You’re my sister, Nora. I should be providing for you. Leave your employer and come home with me.”

  Never. “I’m a widow. I can do as I please. Please, leave, Meri.”

  Meri looked sad for a moment then angry. “I hear Lord Ganden is not a good man. None of them are good.” ‘Them’ had to be the Lost Lords. “You could not prefer their company to mine.” Then his expression cleared. “Unless it is Lady Ganden you stay for?” Dark humor entered his gaze. “She is pretty. All that golden hair. The sun blooms from her head. You always did choose the prettiest friends. Even Miriam is pretty.”

  Nora choked on a sob. “You s-stay away from her. Both of them. Don’t you hurt them.”

  Meri looked offended, and she knew the expression to be genuine. He was like a child. No one would guess him to be older… at least, not until he wished them to think so. Nora had no clue how Meri’s mind truly worked. She could never understand it. When he was around others, he was different, mature. Yet he took one look at Nora and became something else, someone else.

  Someone who made her wish she’d never been born.

  “I’d never hurt Miriam.” He didn’t say the same for Lucy.