Nora never told Johanna just what evidence she was looking for, but it was, in fact, Lettie’s remains, if they could be found. She recalled Lettie’s attire that day. The girl had been wearing q white dress with pale blue ribbons. Her mother had taken a jeweled tiara from her own head and placed it on Lettie’s right before the game had started.
Nora recalled it, because Johanna had been envious of it. Lettie was often said to be prettier than Johanna. Now Johanna’s sister was gone and every day she said she’d take her prettier sister over no sister at all.
Nora had felt the same about Selena. She’d take a living and distant Selena than no Selena at all. She was very fortunate to have gained another chance at their friendship.
“Perhaps, it’s time we give up,” Johanna said. “It may be time I let the matter go and you move on.” She gave Nora a meaningful look and then a glance in Garrick’s direction that he couldn’t see.
Why was everyone intent on playing matchmaker?
“Either that,” Johanna said, “or we catch Meri in another crime.”
That was another idea Nora had held to herself.
Garrick approached and frowned down at her. “You look upset.” He glanced over at Lady Johanna before looking at her again.
Nora blushed.
Lady Johanna leaned over and whispered, “What is he saying?” Even at a whisper, her voice carried enough that Garrick surely heard her. Yet he didn’t look at her. Only Nora.
“My friend is not the reason I am upset,” she responded.
“Is it me? Have I upset you?” His gaze softened.
“Oh, my,” Johanna sighed, both baffled and amused by their silent communication. Nora was also certain that the woman was falling a little in love with the viscount. Who couldn’t when he looked at a woman as he did now?
Nora ignored Johanna, not because she meant to, but because it was hard to concentrate on anyone else when Garrick was near. “You have not upset me.” He confused her, but she was not upset.
“Then what is it?” He looked truly bothered by her distress. That lifted Nora’s spirits just a little. Here was a man who would fight to make her feel better, though Nora wasn’t sure if she deserved to feel better. Not until she’d dealt with Meri.
At Garrick’s growing unhappiness, Nora stood. “We should go.”
Johanna stood. “You’ll let me know if… anything happens, won’t you?” Her eyes flickered to the viscount. Did Nora’s friend wish to know if anything happened with Meri or Garrick? Either way, she’d likely inform her friend of both.
Johanna curtsied to Garrick. “It was a pleasure meeting you, my lord.” She spoke louder than necessary. People often did that to Garrick, as though because he chose not to speak, he couldn’t hear either.
After bidding Johanna farewell, Nora allowed him to escort her and Miriam from the house.
It occurred to her, as they left the house, the scandal they might have made if the day hadn’t called for the umbrella that blocked their faces. It was one thing for Garrick to trail behind her, but yet another for them to be in physical contact as they strolled down the road.
Blessedly, the road was bare of travelers. She doubted anyone would understand that Garrick was there as her protection and not as a suitor.
Yet instead of worrying about being seen with Garrick, another emotion rose. Happiness. Her fingers barely touched his arm, but she felt like they belonged there and surely, that was reason to worry all the more.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 2
* * *
Nora hadn’t said a word since Garrick escorted her from Lady Johanna’s house. Neither did she say anything during the carriage ride to James’ house. Lady Kim had invited her and Miriam over for the day and Nora had seemed to jump at the opportunity for something to do. She was silent, which Garrick thought to be odd since she was not known for long bouts of silence, but at least, he deduced by her appearance that she was no longer irritated with him for coming with her and shadowing her every move.
He’d almost sent Clive with her that morning, but when she’d continued to insist on going, Garrick had changed his mind. At first, he’d thought she was planning to meet a man and though he had no rights over her person, the very thought made him livid enough to break every neck in sight.
They stopped before the Marquess of Denhallow’s home and Nora saw Miriam out before she followed. When Garrick didn’t move, she looked back at him and stared. A footman held an umbrella over her head.
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.
He shook his head. There was no need for him to watch her while she was in James’ home. The marquess and his staff were more than capable of seeing that no harm came to her, and he was certain his friend wouldn’t hesitate to inflict pain first and ask questions later of anyone who dared hurt her.
“Not even for a moment?” After the way she’d begged him not to accompany her, he was almost startled by the uncertainty in her eyes. Nora had a complexity he had every intention of understanding.
“James won’t let anything happen to you. Either Clive or I will return to get you whenever you are ready.”
She nodded and that seemed to settle her.
“Will you miss me while I’m gone?” The footman at her side didn’t understand him.
She smiled and then laughed, the sound like rich sunlight on such a dreadful day. Aware of their surroundings, she used her hands. “Not even a little.”
Garrick chuckled.
She blushed.
Whenever he signed to her, he felt as though they were sharing a secret, almost as if they shared each other’s confidences. Yet, they didn’t. There were many things they both hid for their own reasons.
“Good day, Lord Coalwater.” She turned and left, walking with the air of a woman who should be wearing a crown. He wanted to tumble her so badly he ached.
It was probably not the best idea that he head to the brothel this way, but there was no avoiding it. He had things to do and they could not be done from anywhere else, not with Nora around. He was intent on keeping her away from his darker side, not that there was anything wrong with a gentleman who visited a brothel. Married or not, they came and went as they pleased at Seat of Venus and no wife would dare make complaint.
But Garrick didn’t anticipate bedding anyone. He only wanted Nora for the moment. She was so sweet and there were parts of her he enjoyed that had nothing to do with the kisses she’d given him. He wanted to consume all of her.
He had to fight to clear his mind of Lady Honora Baxter. Her perfume lingered in the carriage. The scent would have annoyed him on any other woman. Younger girls wore it when they wished to appear more worldly, giving them a false maturity as they tried to catch the attention of rakish gentlemen, but on Nora, it fit.
And they’d fit well together.
Garrick was in the heart of Covent Garden by the time his body cooled. The moment he crossed the threshold into the brothel, he was cold. Thankfully, there was no one by the doorman to greet him as he moved to his office.
Instead, Mrs. Leeland sat at his desk, or her desk actually. Most days, he wasn’t entirely sure where he belonged, which side of the desk he should sit on. She was a woman in her late forties with dark hair that had just begun to gray and hard brown eyes. Her face, however, was striking, the spectacles that she enjoyed looking over the tops of when irritation hit her couldn’t hide that.
And Mrs. Leeland was usually irritated. “You’re late, my lord.” She stood and Garrick couldn’t help but compare her thin form to Nora’s endless curves. Yet retirement hadn’t changed the way she walked.. There was sensual command in the way she twisted and dropped her hips. She didn’t do it on purpose, he knew. It was simply her nature.
Garrick had never touched her. She’d been married for years and as far as he knew, she’d not taken a lover since, but Garrick had heard the tales. The legends. Mrs. Leeland, who’d gone by the name Mercy in her heyday, had been anything but merciful. Apparently,
the woman had liked to dominate her men and she’d dominated Mr. Leeland into marriage.
She stopped when she came to stand in front of him. “I’ve been here for over an hour.”
Andreas, ever present when Garrick needed him, stood in the corner of the room. Garrick began to sign, and the assistant translated, “I didn’t think there any need to hurry. In the last few months, you’ve rarely needed my assistance to go over the books.”
Mrs. Leeland bristled slightly and then glanced at Andreas before turning back to Garrick. “Actually, it is not the books I need assistance with.”
At Mr. Leeland’s departure from the brothel, he’d left Garrick and his wife in charge of it. Until a year ago, Garrick had come solely for pleasure, but as of late, the place had begun to lose its appeal. It no longer enticed him as it had when he’d been little more than a patron.
Not only was there actual money to see to, but there were also the girls and their safety from not only the men who came but from themselves as well. There was bickering and fights. A few had made Garrick consider opening a boxing arena. It was madness and most of the time, he could do nothing about it but growl at them to make it stop.
When he began to growl, the girls grew immediately quiet and waited for Andreas to give them instruction and when that didn’t work, Mrs. Leeland threatened to toss them out onto the street. Why any man would want to deal with all of this, he didn’t know.
Yet he couldn’t blame Mr. Leeland completely for his growing distaste of the brothel. Nora’s words from long ago had gotten Garrick thinking, that for all his bravery, there was still one area in his life where he was surely weak.
Sleep.
He tried to convince himself not to use the women or fencing, or riding, or anything else as a means to exhaust himself before bed, but he couldn’t help but do so. Memories always sought him out in the middle of the night.
Even last night, he’d stayed awake. He’d left Nora and worked his body into exhaustion alone in the fencing room before bathing and returning to her. He’d had to adjust her upon his return. She was soft, but her elbows were sharp. He’d been forced to cover a portion of her body with his own just to keep her still.
She’d not resisted his constraints. Instead, she’d settled and then sighed, and it was the last he remembered before falling asleep himself.
But he’d woken up as hard as a bull. His face had been in her hair. Her body pressed sweetly into his. He’d been forced to slip quickly from her room or wake her in a way he was certain would bring them both pleasure.
Yet he’d made her a promise. He wouldn’t touch her, at least, not while they laid in bed. Garrick thought himself mad at the time he’d made the agreement, yet the intimacy they’d shared through the night had left him feeling far more whole than he’d felt before.
He hoped he could do it again tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so anxious for sleep.
“I wish to know where my husband is,” Mrs. Leeland said, breaking into his thoughts.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 3
* * *
Finally. The sooner Mr. and Mrs. Leeland reconciled, the sooner Garrick could leave the brothel’s business behind and focus on finding a way to end Lord Van Dero.
Garrick and Mrs. Leeland had been dancing around the issue of her husband for months. She’d pretended that she was glad he’d left, disappeared without a so much as a goodbye, besides the letter that instructed her to see over their brothel. The brothel she hated. The brothel that also helped her afford her livelihood. The brothel she thought her husband only kept so he could play around with the younger women when that was far from the case.
But even Mrs. Leeland had grown to wonder what sort of man wanted women who bickered all morning and then wore false smiles through the evening hours, just long enough to secure a patron before their true selves were revealed. Everyone was tired. Including Mrs. Leeland.
Garrick had known it would only be a matter of time before she saw the truth. Mr. Leeland was a happily married man, or he had been until his wife’s suspicions drove him away.
“You mean, you wish to take your husband back?” Garrick asked though Andreas. The only reason Mr. Leeland hadn’t been home or inside the brothel he owned for the last few years was because of his wife.
Mrs. Leeland crossed her arms. “No, I simply wish to speak with him.”
Garrick shook his head and followed the instructions Mr. Leeland had given him. Andreas spoke for him. “If you need any assistance with the brothel, I am here for you.”
Mrs. Leeland frowned up at him. “I don’t wish to speak to you. I wish to speak to Luke.”
Saint Luke was what everyone called him. At night, he sat outside the brothel and watched for his wife, just in case she met some trouble. He tried to protect her from those who would do her harm. The food Garrick took out to his friend didn’t actually come from his own pockets. It came from Mr. Leeland’s. He looked like a vagrant to anyone who didn’t know better, but Garrick knew better, as did the footman who worked the doors.
But during the day, in the last year, Luke went out and followed Van Dero. It was an even exchange of work. If Garrick was to help with the brothel, Luke would help him with his own problem. Luke didn’t know Garrick’s intentions for Van Dero. He didn’t know Garrick planned to kill the man, and when Van Dero died, he’d still be none the wiser. Every man Garrick had killed had seemed to die in unsuspicious ways. Drowning while inebriated. Suffocation, though it looked as though they’d went in their sleep. Too much laudanum could do that. Garrick never once drew a blade, though he wanted to greatly. For every lash he’d received from Mr. Goody, he’d wanted to give them the same, but that would have been too suspicious and likely would have sent the others running.
But the last man had to know that death was coming for him. The others were gone. What looked like a coincidence of a sudden influx of blueblood deaths would not look coincidental to the final man breathing.
Was Lord Van Dero’s son the final man? Garrick would have to ask again, with more force this time. He always made sure he was killing the right man before he did it. Then he’d force them to drink far too much laudanum to fight him as he took their lives. It was mercy to them, he thought. A mercy they didn’t deserve.
He’d find out about Lord Van Dero’s son tonight.
At the moment, he had Mrs. Leeland to attend to. He signed, “I’m sorry, but Luke is otherwise indisposed. If you have need of anything pertaining to the brothel, do not hesitate to call for me.”
Andreas had barely gotten the final words out before Mrs. Leeland cut in, “Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” she asked in disbelief.
“Is there a message you’d like me to get to him?”
No.” She turned away and went to the desk. “That is all. You may leave.”
Garrick groaned. He thought this would end today, but apparently not. Frustrated, he asked, “You know he adores you. Why do you deny him the home he built for you?”
She looked at Andreas and then at him. “Why do you deny me the opportunity to speak to my husband?”
It wasn’t Garrick doing it. It was Luke! Garrick couldn’t imagine ever being in such a situation. Had he been Luke, he’d have taken his wife somewhere far away and bedded her for hours until she was sure to whom he belonged.
Why did the image of Nora slip its way into his mind? Of her body under his. Of her gripping and begging him for more. The image made no sense. He would never marry. He’d traded such a life for the one he led now.
“I must go. Call upon me if you need anything.” He left Andreas to deal with the woman and then set out for Nora. He had a promise to keep to her. He would be at James’ home when he was ready to go.
Yet he also had a promise to keep himself. The more time he spent with Nora, the more he wanted her. He was foolish to think himself capable of taking her body yet never giving her his name. One would have
to lead to the other. Both she and Miriam deserved nothing less than a stable man who could protect them.
He could not be that man. Not for long. He would stand by them until Nora finished dealing with whatever it was she was facing and then he’d let them both go.
* * *
“Miriam, what were you and Garrick doing in Lady Johanna’s hall?” Miriam asked the girl when they finally had a moment alone.
Lady Kim, Lady Selena, and a few other women who’d come together on such a dreary day were assembled across the room drinking tea. There were girls Miriam’s age present as well and they too had dolls. Miriam had been playing with them, laughing, until Nora had pulled her away just a moment ago.
Miriam was combing Monica’s hair and didn’t look at her mother as she spoke. “I’m teaching Uncle Garrick how to speak to people. I think it will help if he reads aloud.”
Nora wondered how she’d become so fortunate to have a child with a sweet and easy nature. She noticed Miriam’s braid had come undone and the ribbon that held it was on the chair, so she reached out and began to put it together, or at least she tried, but really Miriam had too much hair for a single ribbon. Nora had pinned it up once, but Miriam had cried about the weight and the strain on her neck, so Nora had suggested they cut it, but neither had liked that idea either.
If Miriam wanted to keep the long hair, she’d simply have to get used to its weight, just as Nora had, but there was still time for that yet. She wasn’t required to put it away until she’d come of an age where she could join Society. So, for now, it fell in waves.
“But you understand that he already knows how to read, don’t you?” she asked as she braided the hair back together.
Miriam nodded. “He can’t read in public, but he’s getting better.” That made her smile.
“You could learn to sign better.” Miriam had only learned the basics.
“No thank you.” Miriam looked at her mother then. Her answer cut off any other comment Nora meant to make. “Why are Uncle Clive and Uncle Garrick staying at Uncle Kent and Aunt Lucy’s home?”
Wounds of A Viscount: (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 12
