A Hero and A Gentleman

by JoMarie DeGioia

  “Good morning, sister,” Robert said.

  Was that a smile that quirked one side of Robert’s mouth?

  “Good morning,” she said. “I take it you’re feeling better?”

  “Yes.” His eyes focused clearly on her face. “Now you can’t avoid my questions.”

  Taylor opened her mouth to argue, at last closing it with a snap. She settled herself in the chair at his bedside. “What questions, Robert?”

  “What is the state of your marriage?”

  Her heart raced in response to his question. “I don’t . . . Oh, it’s fine.”

  “Don’t lie to me. You’re miserable.”

  “You always could see through me,” she grumbled. “All right. I love Blake and he doesn’t return the affection. At least he won’t admit to it, and that’s the same in my mind.”

  It was Robert’s turn to open his mouth in protestation. She held up a hand to silence him.

  “I will persevere,” she said. “Your welfare comes first at present.”

  Robert sat up then, wincing visibly.

  “Does your leg pain you?” she asked.

  “It always shall, I wager,” he said. He quirked her a wry smile. “I will persevere. Where does Blake go each day?”

  “He doesn’t confide in me. He never has.”

  “That speaks volumes, sister.”

  “And you see too much in my words, as usual. Blake’s never spoken of his work. It’s fitting he keep this from me now.”

  “Blake will see Trevor punished. I have little doubt of that.” A scowl furrowed Robert’s brow. “Bloody rotter! How I wish I could be the one to wring his scrawny neck.”

  “No!” Her heart raced. “I want you safe, Robert. I won’t lose you too!”

  That turned her brother’s concern in a different direction. “You won’t lose me, too? Elaborate.”

  “I told Blake I love him, but he did not react in the way I was hoping he would. And since, as I just told you, he has never made any declarations to me then all I can assume is that he does not love me. And never will.” Taylor let out a breath. “More fool me.”

  Robert shook his golden head at her. “I don’t know who is the bigger fool.”

  To her chagrin, he didn’t elaborate. A pounding was heard downstairs, and she hurried from Robert’s chamber. Her breath caught in her throat as she glimpsed the slender man standing below her in the entryway.

  God, no! Trevor.

  Chapter 26

  “I demand to see my cousin!” Trevor shouted at the butler. “He is my responsibility!”

  “The devil, you say,” Taylor muttered.

  “Hush,” Blake said in her ear. She turned to him in obvious surprise. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the stairs, urging her into a doorway just off the landing. “I’ll see to the bastard.”

  Knowledge lit her eyes. “You knew he’d come.”

  Blake nodded and motioned her to be silent. He knew now that Reggie imparted the false news of Robert’s continued unconsciousness. Yes, Trevor would have to act before Robert could ‘revive’ and give his accounting of all Trevor’s sins. Blake straightened his jacket and slowly descended the stairs.

  “Hello, Shelby,” he said.

  Trevor looked up in alarm, quickly schooling his expression. Blake didn’t miss the motion as the man’s hand slipped into one pocket. “I must see to Robert’s welfare, Thompson. You can’t deny me.”

  “Robert isn’t receiving,” Blake said. “Truth be told, he hasn’t been lucid since we found him.”

  “What a horrid place to be kept!” Trevor said.

  Blake hid his recognition of that little piece of evidence. He didn’t let any knowledge about Robert slip.

  “His sister is distraught.” The lie nearly caught in Blake’s throat. “But she believes she’ll see him well. I find I can’t dissuade her.”

  “She always was a tenderhearted creature,” Trevor said. “Pity she felt the need to leave Shelby Manor. I would have taken care of her.”

  Blake clenched his hands into fists. “Yes. But as I said, I can’t allow a visit at this time.”

  Now Trevor showed his pique. His face reddened and his nostrils flared. Blake eyed that hand in the pocket clenched beneath the fabric.

  “You can’t keep me from my family,” Trevor sputtered. “The fool girl went to you, damn you to Hell! Well, you won’t keep me from my duty.”

  Trevor launched himself at Blake, but Blake was prepared for it. In one smooth move he grabbed Trevor’s wrist and twisted his arm up behind his back. Blake held Trevor’s knife to his neck, right below his bobbing Adam’s apple.

  “Don’t do this, Thompson,” Trevor said. “My people won’t stand for it.”

  “Your people or Martin’s?”

  Trevor’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

  “Taylor grasped the connection.”

  Trevor narrowed his eyes. “The girl was always too smart for her own good.”

  “Perhaps,” Blake acknowledged. “However, I suspect that your people would gladly see you bobbing in the Thames, you worthless son-of-a-bitch,” Blake said. “Do you know the penalty for attacking a Peer of the Realm?”

  “Y-you don’t make use of your title!”

  “Only when it suits me.” He pressed the point into Trevor’s neck, just enough to dimple the white skin. “Now talk, damn you.”

  Trevor swallowed. “You kept me from my duty, Thompson.”

  “Duty?” Blake asked. “Did your familial duty lead you to harm Robert? To try to kill his sister not a week ago?”

  Spittle hit Blake in the face as Trevor gasped. “I was aiming for you!”

  “Son-of-a-bitch.” His suspicions were right on the identity of the shooter. Bastard. “You tried to kill Robert!”

  “No.” A mulish cast appeared on Trevor’s face. “He learned of my business and would have turned me in, bloody honorable fool. I had to keep him hidden.” Trevor raised his chin, leaning as far away from the knife as Blake’s hold allowed. “I would never kill a member of my family.”

  “No,” Blake spat. “You would merely cripple Robert and usurp his position as head of the Shelby family. You would disgrace Taylor and ruin any chance she had at a contented life. You dared to strike her when she refused you.”

  “I never wanted the chit,” Trevor said in his defense. “I had to get her the hell out of my house before she got a notion to look into my activities. None of her business, really. And then she runs to you? Bloody foolish girl.”

  “What activities?”

  Trevor’s eyes darted about as if looking for escape. He stilled and looked Blake squarely in the eye. “My clients are my business, Thompson. I find the items and deliver them.”

  “And just where do you find these treasures?”

  “Rich folk down on their luck. Smugglers with more loot than they can sell themselves.”

  “Lovely.”

  “It’s my business and I’m damn good at it. Until the bloody girl started getting suspicious about my associates. I had to do something!”

  “So you crawled into her bed and struck her?”

  Trevor opened his mouth to make some sort of excuse but Blake had heard enough. He let loose a sharp whistle and Jason stepped into the entry.

  “What have we here, brother?” Jason drawled.

  Blake palmed the knife. “I take it you heard all, Jason?”

  Jason smiled, a mirror of Blake’s feral expression, and grabbed Trevor’s arms behind him. “Yes. I sent for the Watch.”

  “You won’t win in this, Thompson!” Trevor whined. “I won’t allow—”

  Blake punched Trevor squarely in the jaw. “Shut your mouth.”

  A short while later Blake watched as two men from the Watch dragged a subdued Trevor Shelby out of Jason’s house. And out of Taylor’s life.

  “Blake!” Taylor cried.

  She ran down the stairs and clutched at him.

  “I’m all right,” he sa
id.

  She stepped back from him. “When Trevor lunged at you, I . . . My God, I thought he’d kill you.”

  He’d pay any amount of money to never again see such fear on her face again. “I knew he’d try. No familial connections would stop him.”

  “Will he truly see justice?” she asked.

  “He won’t last in prison, that’s certain. Let the thugs, the guards or the prisoners, pound him into a pulp.”

  She nodded, a fierce look in her blue-gray eyes. “That’s too good for him.”

  Blake hugged her briefly and set her aside. “I’ll return you and Robert to the manor on the morrow, if Hendricks gives his approval.”

  “Robert and me?” she asked. “But—”

  “I need time to tie things up here,” he cut in. “You just got your brother back. The two of you deserve this time together. You can do that in Sussex.”

  The resignation in her beautiful eyes cut him but he couldn’t think about that now. She’d be better off in Sussex, away from him. At least until he could figure out his life and her place in it.

  “Go ready your things, Taylor,” he said. “I daresay that shouldn’t take overlong.”

  Shoulders stiff, she climbed the stairs to pack her meager valise.

  * * *

  Taylor stood on the steps of Thompson Hall, her hands folded to keep from twitching. A month had passed since that awkward, awful day Blake had banished her from his life. No dramatic words, no grand gestures. Just the simple statement that she and her brother belonged in Sussex. And he didn’t.

  She didn’t know if they’d find each other again. But she’d make certain that whatever rift kept him from his family home would be dispelled. He needed family as much as she did. Perhaps if she was able to get this for him, he could go back home and maybe just maybe they could have a life together. She rapped sharply on the glossy blue door and held her breath.

  A slender butler stood in the open door. “Yes, Miss . . . ?”

  “Lady Thompson for the earl,” she said.

  The comical surprise on the skinny man’s face struck her. He stepped aside and ushered her into the wide entry and hurried to advise the earl. Taylor glanced around, recalling the last time she’d visited the hall. Four years ago, on the night of Blake’s engagement party. She’d been too melancholy over Blake to notice, but it seemed as though nothing much had changed since. The paneled wood glowed from polishing; the wide expanse of marble flooring shone with care. Fine furnishings, gold and silver accent pieces, showed both wealth and taste.

  The butler returned. “Right this way, Lady Thompson.”

  Taylor handed her pelisse to the butler and followed him into the morning room. The earl stood as she entered, his handsome Thompson looks still evident beneath his gray hair. He no doubt sought to glean her identity as he stepped closer. Recognition soon rounded his dark blue eyes.

  “Taylor Shelby?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You wed Jason?”

  Taylor shook her head. “I’m married to Blake.”

  Pain and dismay filled the man’s gaze. “Blake.” His voice was thick. “He . . . he is well?”

  She knew from that simple question that the man cared deeply for his younger son. “I haven’t seen him this long month,” she admitted. “But there’s something of his life you must know, my lord. Of his work. And of his bravery.”

  “His work,” the man scoffed. “Sordid business.”

  “No, my lord,” she said. “With all due respect, you don’t know the true nature of Blake’s work. He is honorable and courageous. He puts his welfare last when seeking to right a wrong.”

  The earl arched a brow, mimicking her husband’s frequent expression of challenge.

  She met it willingly. “In the short time I resided at The Hideaway—”

  “You were at that . . . that public house?” he cut in.

  “So you know more of his life, then?”

  The man admitted nothing, merely grunting at her assumption.

  “I went there to escape the horrid manipulations of my cousin, Trevor,” she went on. “But I won’t speak of that now. In the time I was at The Hideaway, I knew Blake to restore a stolen child to her mother and to spirit a battered wife to a safe place where her brutal husband couldn’t find her. All of this he did. He tried to tell me it was for the money. But I knew the truth of it.”

  The earl shook his head, dismay clear on his face. “I . . . I truly had no notion. I believed he took advantage of those who came to him. To gain in finances from solving their trite concerns.”

  “He earns money, yes. But I know that’s not what compels him.”

  His eyes shimmered, no doubt with unshed tears. “He is like his mother, then. She was always helping others. How could I have been so wrong?”

  “I’ve told you the truth, my lord. What you do with the knowledge is your concern.” She took a breath. “I lost my father nearly three months ago. I’ll miss him for the rest of my life. I’d hate for Blake to suffer the same fate.”

  Tenderness showed in the earl’s eyes. “You love him.”

  Taylor swallowed threatening tears and nodded. “I do.”

  “I promise I’ll do my part to begin to mend this rift.” He shook his head. “Blasted long time, I wager.” Blake’s father took her hand in his. “But . . . you’re no longer at The Hideaway?”

  “I reside at Shelby Manor with my brother.”

  “Robert Shelby.” The earl smiled. “And what, pray, is that rapscallion about these days?”

  Taylor returned the earl’s expression, then sobered. “He was injured, my lord. Done poorly by our cousin. He is not well at present. Blake helped save his life.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes, and I have faith Robert will make a full recovery.”

  Blake’s father studied her a bit too closely for her sensibilities. She dropped him a curtsey and turned to go when he took her hand again.

  “Taylor,” he said.

  She faced him. “Yes?”

  “I sense all isn’t well between you and my son at present, either. But I’m very happy that he is wed to you. I believe you’ll be good for him.”

  Inexplicably, her throat tightened and her eyes burned with tears. She withdrew her hand from his. “Good day, my lord,” she whispered.

  She left the man to make amends on his own terms, in his own time.

  She wouldn’t think about her own tangled life now.

  * * *

  Blake looked over his ledgers, a glass of brandy close to his elbow. He traced his fingers over the last entries Taylor had made, the delicate swirls of the pen, the gentle indentations on the page. The numbers swam a bit before his eyes, but their meaning was clear. He had his money and he had his work. He picked up the glass and took a long drink. And he had his brandy.

  Thankfully, Jason wasn’t here any longer. He visited soon after Taylor and Robert left London. He’d asked after Taylor but once, wearing his disgust on his face as Blake had offered a terse explanation. Let Jason keep his jaded opinions to himself. He was no one to judge. Jason loved a friend’s wife; Blake loved a woman who was better off without him. Which, pray, was worse?

  A knock came at the door.

  “Yes,” he said.

  Annie entered and handed him a missive, this one, crisp and proper and bearing a crest well-known to him. Without a word, the girl left. Little surprise there, as all at The Hideaway had made their displeasure known regarding Taylor’s absence this long month.

  Blake broke the Thompson family seal and read with growing amazement.

  My Dear Son:

  Pray, forgive me for misunderstanding your work. You’re much like your mother, who always took on the problems of others, never thinking about herself. I thought you were a selfish gadabout, seeing to your own wants and needs at that public house of yours. It took a sweet girl to show me the right of it, and the prickly road of recompense I must take now.

  I’m so sorry for that
Pamela debacle as well. It seemed I couldn’t get you to listen to me so I had to show you. I never meant for my actions to send you from Thompson Hall. You belong in Sussex, Blake. And bring your wife to the Hall. I know not the circumstances of your particular estrangement. But do not let the matter go on as I foolishly have. Time does not heal the breach. Believe me.

  Yours,

  Father

  He didn’t need his father’s words to convince him. This past month’s loneliness proved he needed Taylor more than he’d dared imagine.

  He glanced at the pile of folders holding his attention, knowing escape awaited him there. He lifted his glass, finally frowning at the amber liquid within. Setting the glass down, he stood and gave a slow nod. Well, he wouldn’t let his marriage fall apart like his relationship with his father had. His cases could wait. He’d return to Sussex.

  To Taylor.

  * * *

  Taylor sat on an iron bench in the gardens of Shelby Manor, her arms wrapped around her waist. There was no denying the truth of it. She carried Blake’s child. Many weeks had passed since her last monthly flow, and nausea met her each morning, brief but consistent. If she were to place a date of the child’s conception, that night in Jason’s townhouse—their last together—would be a likely candidate. The Lord knew he hadn’t touched her since they’d found Robert.

  “Sister,” Robert said.

  She turned to find him leaning on his ever-present cane, framed in the doorway to the parlor. She rose and smiled at him. “Yes, Robert?”

  He grinned at her. She noted with relief that he bore little resemblance to the man they’d found in that dank room at the waterfront, having filled out this past month on the Shelby cook’s fine fare and the care of their devoted servants, who all came back once Taylor had sent word out of their homecoming. Their father was sorely missed, though all readily gave their loyalty to Robert, whom everyone was fond of.