“You’ve no need to make excuses for my sake. It is not my place to ask.” The very conversation about bed and sleep was taboo with Society. Though, everything about Garrick seemed taboo at the end of the day.
He sighed and dropped his shoulders. “Who did you sell the pocket watch to? I’ll get it back for you.”
Her eyes widened. “No, that’s not necessary.”
“Yet, you feel safer with me here. At least, admit that.”
She hesitated and wondered how he’d found her out. Perhaps, her desperation had been slightly obvious. “I do feel more comfortable with you and Clive about.”
He smiled at her emphasis but then grew serious again. “Who do you fear?”
She stood. She’d said too much. “This conversation is over.”
He moved in front of her. “Who is it?”
“No one.” She caught herself right before she shouted the words. Her lie had been a good one. How in the world had Garrick come so close to the truth so quickly? He was dangerous in every way.
His nostrils flared. “You said I was strong.”
“What?” she whispered. She knew exactly what he was talking about. She was simply surprised he remembered.
“You said I was strong, so why not believe in me now?”
She had called him strong. It had been over a year ago on a day like this in this very garden. She recalled the event and every word she’d said to him, but never had she thought he’d remember it. She’d been teasing him that afternoon, though the words had been true. She smiled. “I do think you strong, which is why I need you here.” She touched his arm. “Miriam and I would like for you and Clive to stay until Kent returns, but as to my problem… it is mine. It is something I must handle. I can’t give it away. Do you understand?”
She thought he’d refuse, but instead, his expression cleared, and he nodded. “Yes.”
∫ ∫ ∫
1 6
* * *
Garrick understood Nora well. He was dealing with his own problems; he had his own battles to face and knew he could give them to no one else. In that, they were the same. However, they were very different where it mattered. Garrick suspected that Nora’s soft form didn’t contain a single violent bone. She would not know how to handle herself in a truly dangerous situation. She may have strolled through the shadows of Covent Garden on her own, but he had a feeling that whatever Nora was dealing with was of a truly dark nature, especially if she wanted him and Clive to stay.
And they would. He’d not leave her unattended. When he went out tonight, he’d make sure Clive stayed behind and stayed close.
She wasn’t a petite woman, but his Nora was small to him. Nothing had ever felt more perfect than when she’d pressed herself against him. As he stared into her dazzling blue eyes, he couldn’t help but think about what it would be like to spread her across his bed and lay his body against hers. He would crush her. She’d enjoy it.
As he’d changed his clothes, he’d thought of nothing but the way she’d touched him.
It had been she who’d reached out to him. She’d placed a hand on his shoulder. Surely, she knew what she was doing. She wasn’t the first aristocrat to try and charm him, but she was the one he wanted above all others.
“Thank you for… understanding my need to do this on my own.” She blushed and her gaze lowered. He had no doubt his thoughts were obvious in his eyes. He thought about the way she’d touched him upstairs. He’d flirted and she’d returned it in kind, but perhaps that was all it was. Harmless flirtations. They meant nothing.
Or rather, they meant nothing to her. Her every touch meant a great deal to him and since touching the tender skin by her wrist and playing in the warm corners of her mouth, he’d become unable to stop himself from reaching out to her over and over again. He was obsessed with the way she gasped and blushed underneath his caresses. She was unmistakably sensitive. She’d make the perfect lover.
He wondered why she hadn’t taken one as of yet. Society would not blame her if she did. She was a widow. She was free to do as she pleased. She could have her pick from many gentlemen. If she truly needed a man’s protection, she should become someone’s wife.
But perhaps, she didn’t wish to marry.
He put that thought out of his mind, since it was likely only hopeful thinking on his part.
But why, when she was clearly a passionate woman? He didn’t want to think about another man touching her. He shouldn’t even think about touching her himself, but that would be impossible.
“Will you tell me about Rosa?” She lifted her head with the question.
He nodded. “Later.” But not now. He was feeling far too pleasant at the moment.
The air in the garden smelled sweet and the warm air on his skin felt just as good as having her eyes.
And then his earlier thought began to press against his mind again, the question he had no right to ask. He told himself not to but couldn’t help himself, “Do you plan to marry again?” If she didn’t, then Garrick had a proposition for her. She could become his mistress, and she and Miriam would have nothing to worry about ever again. She’d also have his protection, and he’d have someone to spend his nights with, someone he could talk to. There wasn’t a single girl in the brothel who knew how to sign and even if they did, they would never have the same appeal as Nora.
Nora turned a brighter red and laughed. He smiled, sure she’d say no. After all, she hadn’t married in the last year and this Season was halfway through and still, she remained unattached. It was possible that they belonged together, that she would turn out to be a gift he never deserved.
“Oh, well… I don’t know,” she began. “I suppose one day, a great time from now, I might consider it… if a gentleman will still want me by then.”
Her words and the hope in her voice crushed him. Would a gentleman still want her? Even ten years from now, she’d give younger women a challenge. If marriage was something she wanted, it meant Garrick could not have her. Not in any permanent way, at least, but it was something he could think of later.
“Let’s go see about Clive and Miriam. She may convince him that the only way she’d feel better is if he would run away and marry her.”
Nora laughed as they started toward the fountain. “She does have a tendre for Lord Fawley, I suspect, but I think she loves George. I mean…” She sighed.
“I understand.”
“No, I mean, I think…” She stopped. “I believe she’s truly in love with George.”
“I believe everyone is aware of it, including George himself.”
She sighed. “Of course, but she’s young now. The feeling will surely fade.”
“Will it?”
She smiled. “Well, they are children. Have you ever been in love?”
He shook his head.
“Never? There has never been anyone special for you?”
“No. What of you? Did you love your husband?”
She bit her lips. “We had a pleasant marriage. Yes.”
“How did he die?” Garrick asked.
Sadness touched her eyes. “He was sick for a long time. It started as a bad cough and it never left him. Believing it to be contagious, they took him away. He was gone for months and died alone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Her smiled returned but not fully. “I’m only glad that Miriam didn’t have to witness the worst of it. She was seven when he got ill and went away.” She looked at him. “Do you have any family? You never mention it.”
“I have my uncle, aunt, and their children, but no one else. My parents are gone, and they never had any other children.” Though they’d tried repeatedly. They’d loved Garrick, but he’d always known that they thought him an error, something that needed fixing. They needed to prove that they were not the reason for his shortcomings.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “My parents are gone as well. Were it not for Miriam, I, too, would be alone.”
“She is wond
erful. You should be proud.”
Her cheeks colored and made her blue eyes shine brighter. “Thank you, though I’m honestly not sure where Miriam gets her convictions.”
“You,” he said confidently. “She is brave and tenderhearted. That is because of you.”
She seemed to struggle to speak before she said, “Thank you.” The words came with great feeling and with something close to wonder and admiration in her eyes.
Garrick changed the subject before his thoughts of kissing her turned into action.. “Did you love anyone as a child?” He wondered what she’d been like as a young girl. Had she been like Miriam?
“Did I love anyone as a young girl? It’s hard to say.” She looked up at him and grinned. “I suspect I loved a different boy every day.” Then she lowered her voice. “But don’t tell anyone.”
He chuckled. Her playfulness reminded him of the first time she’d sought him out, the day she’d shattered his resolve to hide in the shadows of his life and rarely make any efforts to join in with Society. Andreas accompanied him to parties and dinners, translating for him as though he were an ambassador of some foreign country. It had been awkward at first, but Society was known to be polite, especially to a gentleman with his sort of wealth.
They reached Miriam, who was laughing, and she turned to them and said, “Clive is going to take me to get ribbons today. He said I can get as many as I want.” Her eyes shined with warmth. Already, Garrick could imagine the thousands of ribbons the girl would collect.
It was only then that Garrick realized just how much the girl lacked compared to other young women. She deserved ribbons and hats and gloves and a dress for every occasion.
Miriam’s cheeks were pink, but her happiness seemed to fade as she met her mother’s eyes.
Nora did not seem happy. Garrick could feel her about to deny the girl her greatest wish, much how she’d denied him at every turn.
“Nora,” he called.
She turned to him and he gave her what Clive called ‘his look’. He didn’t put much effort into it. He stared, keeping his visage relaxed, but his gaze intent. Slowly, Nora blushed and smiled.
“Let her have the ribbons.” Then he turned his back so Miriam wouldn’t see his hands. “She needs a reason to smile.”
Nora sighed and then turned to Miriam. “You’d do best to profusely thank Lord Fawley and you can have no more than three ribbons.”
“Huzzah!” Miriam shouted. It had been George’s favorite term, but she’d picked it up swiftly. “Thank you, Uncle Clive.” She hugged him and then, in a surprising move, she stood and hugged Garrick’s side. “Thank you, Uncle Garrick.” Then she popped away and said, “I’ll go get ready. I wish to leave immediately.” She all but skipped into the house, the thought of ribbons seeming to give her the means to find joy.
“We won’t be long,” Nora said before she followed her daughter.
Clive moved to stand by Garrick. “Perhaps my senses have mistaken me, but I believe I smelled you upon Lady Honora. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Garrick could not.
Clive moved in front of him and crossed his arms. “What did you do?”
“Not much.”
“I watched you while you were speaking to her over on the bench. There’s something going on. Tell me the truth.”
Garrick lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his hair before he put the hat back on. “We kissed.”
Clive’s eyes widened. “I didn’t mean for you to take it that far, but hopefully, you gained from information from it?”
He allowed Clive to think that was the reason he’d kissed her. He told Clive what he knew, which wasn’t much, only the part about the watch. “She might be in danger. She wishes us to stay until Kent returns.”
“Then we stay,” Clive said. At the sound of footsteps, he turned and smiled at Miriam. Then he said in a low voice, “We’ll keep them safe.”
Undoubtedly.
∫ ∫ ∫
1 7
* * *
Garrick glanced around the shadowed yard. On the other side of the townhouse, he could hear the buzzing and chatter of those highborn lords and ladies who’d gathered on the street and were entering the home for a party.
“My lord.” Andreas stood at his side. The night was so dark that Garrick couldn’t make out his face. “Really, I have to ask if this is necessary. Can’t we simply use the front door?”
Garrick didn’t answer. Instead, he looked up at the trees whose branches stood black against the midnight blue sky. He jumped and grabbed one of the stronger limbs before he hoisted himself up. Then he moved to the second-floor balcony and climbed over the iron rail. Andreas huffed along and joined him.
There was a light shining in the room. The lamp cast a shadow across the pale curtains that kept Garrick from seeing what was inside, but he knew the layout of the bedchamber. He’d been here many times.
He slipped his hand over the doorknob and pushed it open. Then, with a bold gait, he walked into the room.
Lord Van Dero stood by the door. He had one hand on the handle to the door that would lead out to the hall where his son’s party had gathered. His other hand gripped a cane. He looked tired. His skin had fallen with age. His dark eyes were sunken. He seemed paler every day that Garrick saw him. Death approached, but it seemed that Van Dero managed to avoid it at every turn.
Van Dero was the true enemy of the Lost Lords, the reason they’d been kidnapped in the first place. It had been his idea. The others had followed and, one by one, the Lost Lords had seen that they paid for that decision.
It started with Mr. Goody himself, the man who’d drugged and kept the men in chains for years. He’d died by the hangman’s noose along with Lord Maltsby and his son Mr. Maltsby.
But there were others. Lord Maltsby’s bank, the Gentlemen’s Society, had been the connection. Ten men in total had made Garrick, Kent, Marley, James, and Clive disappear so that they could use their money to fund a war in order to take control of a diamond mine.
The war had been a success. The ten had all become wealthier than the king.
Yet when the scandal came out and Lord Maltsby was taken down, the others had scattered. Fearing being caught, they’d all hidden their wealth and continued with life with none the wiser.
It was only by chance that Garrick found out the truth.
He’d heard a gentleman whispering about it at the brothel, bragging to the women about a mine he owned a share in and about how he’d had to swindle five lords in order to get it. Lord Morburg had been inebriated as he’d given his female companions the details.
That night, he’d become Garrick’s first victim, but before he’d suffocated the life out of Morburg, he’d gained useful information. He’d gained the name of the leader.
Lord Van Dero.
Van Dero only lived for one reason and one reason alone.
He held a list of the other names and every few weeks, Garrick required another.
Eight, including the three who’d hanged, were gone. Society had yet to catch on. They thought their lords simply missing. They were the new Lost Lords.
Garrick saw no reason to change that opinion.
The blood of five men stained Garrick’s hands and he planned to add two more, including Van Dero.
Tonight, he’d receive the final name.
Andreas was there to interpret, which meant he knew everything Garrick was involved in. He’d assisted in more ways than one.
Andreas had become very useful indeed.
Garrick signed.
“The final name, if you will,” Andreas said.
Van Dero’s throat wobbled. “There… is no final name. There is only me left. Do to me what you will.”
He was protecting that final name.
For the last few months, Van Dero had never been without company in his house. He knew Garrick would come for him eventually and was trying to fight off the inevitable.
“The name,” Andreas said. “Lord Morburg sai
d there were ten.”
“He was wrong. There were nine.” Van Dero’s hand tightened on the doorknob. “So, if you’re not going to kill me, I must return to my guests.”
“Is it your son?” Andreas asked, continuing to translate. Garrick had asked this question before. “Or your daughter?” Garrick had yet to kill a woman. He wasn’t sure if he could.
“No. Neither Irene nor Gregory have anything to do with this.” Van Dero was breathing hard. He lowered his gaze. “This is all my fault. The only one responsible is me. Please, we must end this.”
Garrick believed Lady Irene was innocent. He’d already had someone spy on the woman. Apparently, an event from the past made the woman believe Clive to be in love with her. It wasn’t true, but Irene’s beliefs made it hard for Garrick to think she’d have anything to do with his capture.
“Your time will come,” Andreas said for him. “For now, I require the final name. Is it Gregory?” Gregory was harder to figure out, since he rarely let anyone close.
Van Dero lifted his head. “If you hurt my son, you know what happens. I’ll reveal your friend’s secret. Society will know Lord Ganden is not the heir. He’s the son of a footman. A bastard. A by-blow. Is that what you want?”
Garrick put down his hands. That secret was the only thing keeping Van Dero alive. He’d never asked Kent about it, but from the moment Van Dero had told him about it, he’d known it was true. Kent’s parents had hated him. He’d grown up with the love of no one but his younger brother. His mother hadn’t even wanted to look for him when he’d disappeared. The former earl, who’d raised him, had tried to kill him by keeping him outside in the harshest nights during the winter.
It all made sense.
Anyone who knew his parents would believe it.
Also, Van Dero had a letter from the former earl that confessed it all, how he’d married Kent’s mother only to find out she’d been with child on their wedding night.
This left Garrick in a fixed position. He wasn’t sure what he should do.
Wounds of A Viscount: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 9
