Lord Sinister (Secrets & Scandals Book 3)

by Tiffany Green

  The taller of the two threw back his shoulders. “Apologize? For what, exactly? Telling the truth?”

  With a roar, Alex lunged forward. His fist connected with the larger boy’s jaw, sending him sprawling across the marble floor. Turning to the smaller one, he threw a punch. A howl erupted as blood squirted from the other’s nose. The boy crumpled to the floor, squalling like a little girl.

  Alex turned as the larger boy scrambled to his feet. He stalked forward, chest heaving.

  “All right,” the boy’s hands went out in front of him, “I apologize.”

  A crowd had gathered around them. Whispers and gasps sounded as Alex continued to move forward.

  “Westland is going to kill him,” one of them said.

  “I-I said I apologize,” the boy said, his eyes wild with fear.

  Alex paid no heed to the boy. The apology had come too late. He laced his fingers and cracked his knuckles, producing another outbreak of whispers. As he raised his fist, the boy shrieked and ran, breaking through the wall of boys surrounding them.

  Slowly, Alex turned to the others. He eyed each one, making them take a step back. “Not another word had better be spoken about my mother.”

  Hard swallows and wide-eyed nods were his response.

  “Master Westland, follow me.”

  Alex gave the crowd another hard stare before he turned toward the angry instructor. As he followed the man, some of the rage left him. He would be put in isolation for this, he knew. But he didn’t care. He’d do it again if necessary. No one would talk that way about his mother.

  The journey to the isolation building didn’t take long. Ice crunched under Alex’s shoes and he snuggled deeper into the scarf his Mama had made as the cold wind blasted into him. At least the freezing rain had let up.

  As he waited for the door to be unlocked, he turned, catching sight of someone sweeping frozen brown leaves from one of the sidewalks. The man grinned, the tip of his tongue peeking through the spot where a tooth had once been, then turned away.

  “All right, Master Westland, in you go.”

  With a sigh, Alex shuffled into the building. His mama would not be very pleased.

  ****

  Amelia inhaled the morning’s crispness. The air always smelled fresh and sweet in the winter. In England, anyway. Not like New York, where the white flakes hit the ground and instantly turned into brown sludge. She opened her eyes and glanced around the wintry garden behind the mansion. How beautiful. An icy blanket glistened in the weak sunlight, like diamonds had been thrown across the land.

  The crunch of frozen ground sounded behind her. Amelia spun around, her hand splayed across her bosom.

  He came to a halt. “My apologies, my lady.” His blond head inclined slightly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Her hand slid back to her side. “Lord Fielding.” Glancing around, she saw he had come alone.

  “Would you mind?” He pulled a cheroot from a carved silver holder and held it up.

  She plastered on a polite smile. “No, my lord, be my guest.”

  He lit the tip, sending up a small gray cloud. “You really shouldn’t be out here alone, Lady Amersleigh.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “I’m not alone, my lord.”

  His lips twitched. “I meant that you shouldn’t have come outside alone.”

  Amelia wanted so badly to turn around and leave. But she grew weary of running from the least frightening thing. She had to face her fears. Starting with the one standing next to her. “Tell me, Lord Fielding, about the bet eleven years ago.”

  He choked on a puff of smoke and turned swiftly toward her. “Pardon me?”

  “The bet. It was you who initiated it was it not?” She arched a brow, waiting for his answer.

  Clearing his throat, he gazed off into the distance. “Yes, the fault is mine.” He cleared his throat again. “And I am sorry.”

  Amelia stared at his profile, at a complete loss. His apology stunned her. Perhaps, he wasn’t as utterly vile as she’d thought. As Megan thought as well.

  He raised the cheroot to his lips, the tip glowing for several seconds. “I saw you peeking through the opening in Nick’s library door last June.” He blew out a plume of blue-gray smoke, then faced her. “When Julian was lying through his teeth with that ridiculous tale of why he married you.”

  Her eyes went round. “Lying?”

  “He was protecting you.”

  “Protecting me?” Gracious, she’d better stop repeating everything Lord Fielding said or he would think her a simpleton.

  “Yes.” He cocked his head to the side. “He assumed I’d accept your marriage under those terms instead of the truth.”

  “The truth?” Oh, Lord, she did it again. “What truth?”

  He narrowed his green-gold eyes. “The truth that Julian loves you.”

  Those words warmed her from inside out. She couldn’t resist the smile. “You know, Lord Fielding, you’re not as bad as they say you are.”

  A wolfish grin came to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone, pet. Would ruin my reputation.”

  She laughed and shook her head. “I won’t.”

  “Trying to steal my wife, Jeremy?”

  Amelia turned at the sound of her husband’s voice.

  “Yes, well,” Lord Fielding threw the cheroot to the ground, “she’s being rather stubborn about it.”

  Julian’s arm slid across her shoulders and pulled her into the warmth of his body. “It’s about time you find a lady of your own and have a family, is it not?”

  Amelia wondered at Lord Fielding’s grimace. Obviously, he had no wish to marry.

  “I think not, Julian.” Hazel eyes cut to her and glinted wickedly. “I’m having much too much fun trying to steal yours away from you.”

  She couldn’t resist a giggle. “You are a cad, Lord Fielding.”

  “It’s Jeremy, my dear.” He raised a brow. “And may I call you Amelia?”

  Oh, he was a charming one. “Yes, of course.”

  “Damnation, Jeremy, you should have enough decency not to flirt with a lady in the presence of her husband,” Nicholas said from behind.

  Amelia turned. Both he and Megan glared at poor Jeremy.

  “Ah, another gorgeous flower to feast my eyes on.”

  Nicholas frowned at Julian. “We’re insane to leave our wives with him. You realize this, do you not?”

  Amelia faced her husband. “What does Nicholas mean?”

  “That’s what I was about to tell you, Pixie.” He held her in the loose circle of his arms. “I think it’s over.”

  “Over, how?” She didn’t dare hope until she heard it all.

  Julian cradled her face within is palms. “I remembered something of what the shooter looked like.”

  Her breath caught. “What?”

  His hands tightened on her. “It wasn’t Jack.”

  Jeremy stepped forward. “Without Jack’s involvement, there is no evidence against you.”

  “I must go to London with this new information,” Julian said, gaining her attention. “They will drop the charges against you.”

  Amelia stared into Julian’s eyes, knowing a love so intense, so powerful, it almost frightened her. Surely, the others could feel it pulsating from her body. “You aren’t going alone?” That, she would not allow.

  “No. Nick and Father are coming with me.” He kissed her forehead, then her lips. “Jeremy will stay here.” He gathered her to his chest and rested his cheek against the top of her head. “You’ll be safe.”

  Closing her eyes, Amelia wished she could stay nestled within her husband’s embrace forever. “Be careful, my love,” she whispered, knowing he heard her when he responded with a slight squeeze.

  CHAPTER 31

  Alexander opened his eyes, wondering why his head hurt so badly. He focused on the wall in front of him, staring blankly at the cracked stone several inches from his nose. The pale light made it difficult to see. Lifting his eyes, he noticed th
e shuttered window and the day’s grayness seeping through the cracks. He glanced around and frowned when he didn’t recognize his surroundings. Not the isolation room. Where was he? How did he get here?

  He tried to move, but found his hands and legs bound. Terror slammed into his chest. He remembered entering the isolation building at Eton, then pain erupting in his head. That was all. Someone had knocked him out, tied him up, and took him away. But who?

  Lying on his stomach with his hands tied behind his back and his legs secured together allowed little room to move. At least he hadn’t been gagged. As he sucked in a large breath, about to scream, a thought occurred. It could bring the person responsible for this. Alex swallowed the call for help and cocked his ears for the sound of another’s presence. Only the wind blowing against the stones could be heard. Nothing else. He relaxed.

  The base of his skull pounded furiously. He rested his cheek back against the gritty plank floor and watched puffs of white mist erupt from his lips. Shivers assailed him. Great. Now his teeth chattered.

  How he wished for a fire. A hot, roaring flame to warm him inside and out. His thoughts found the memory of his last summer in New York, playing stick ball with Patrick and Sean in the alley near his old apartment. Sweat had soaked his shirt and drenched his hair. As he wiped his brow with his sleeve, he’d wished for a blizzard to magically appear and cool him down.

  Alex sighed, wishing now for that blazing sun.

  Each second grew dimmer.

  The temperature dropped.

  His eyes grew tired.

  ****

  “When is the child due?”

  Amelia halted from making a stitch in the fabric in her lap and glanced up. Jeremy sat several feet away, a large sketch book on an easel before him, making long strokes with a piece of charcoal. She pushed the needle through the soft material. “Seven weeks.”

  “Have you decided on a name?”

  She shifted slightly on the apricot divan. “Since I took the liberty last time, I was going to leave the decision to Julian.”

  “And if he picks out something truly horrid?” Green-gold eyes glanced up, dancing with amusement. “Like Jeremiah Lucien?”

  A smile sprang to her lips. She couldn’t help it. “Your name is not horrid, Jeremy.”

  “His name isn’t, but he is.”

  Amelia gasped, glancing to Megan who sat near the fire, reading a book.

  “You cut me to the quick, Madam,” Jeremy said softly.

  Megan lowered her book, anger burning bright in her eyes. “And what you did to Evie was despicable, Lord Fielding.”

  Wiping the coal from his fingers, Jeremy stood. “If you ladies will excuse me, I have the sudden urge for some fresh air.”

  When the door closed with a soft click, Amelia set aside her sewing and rose. “What was all that about?” she asked, approaching Megan.

  Her sister-in-law snapped her book closed and sighed. “I’m madder than bloody hell at that man.”

  Amelia felt her eyes grow wide. She nodded. “Yes, I can see that. Why?”

  Megan came to her feet and began to pace before the fire. “I have a good friend, her name is Evelyn—Evie.” She halted, turned, and crossed her arms, staring daggers at the closed door. “And that…that scoundrel was supposed to marry her.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes.” Megan resumed her pacing. “But Lord Fielding cried off.”

  Amelia glanced at the closed door and frowned. She knew Jeremy had to be quite a rogue, but hurting a lady like that seemed out of character for him. Her eyes lowered to the picture on the easel and she sucked in a breath. Her own face stared back, not quite right though. She shook her head. No way could she be that beautiful.

  Turning back to an irate Megan, she asked, “So Jeremy proposed to your friend and backed out?”

  Megan halted, hands on hips, eyes smoldering. Her brows drew together. “Well, not exactly.”

  Now that confused Amelia. “Then I don’t understand.”

  With a sigh, Megan dropped back down on her chair. She patted the chair next to her. “Come, Amelia, let me explain.”

  “It was their fathers who decided the union,” Megan began. “Jeremy claims he didn’t know, which was how he so conveniently got out of it.”

  “And you don’t believe him?” She settled her hands over her stomach when the baby kicked. “You think Jeremy knew?”

  Some of Megan’s anger lifted. “I don’t know if he really knew or not. But that isn’t why I’m so damn mad at him.”

  “Then what is it?”

  Tears sprang to Megan’s eyes. “Evie has been almost completely ostracized.”

  Realization slowly dawned. “Because of his breaking the engagement?”

  Megan nodded. “Those idiots of the ton worship the ground Jeremy walks on. And if he rejects someone…”

  “So do they,” Amelia said softly. That poor girl.

  A tapping on the door brought her out of her thoughts. When Megan called to enter, the butler came in carrying a wrapped parcel. “For her ladyship,” he stated with a bow and brought the pretty gift to Amelia.

  Megan rose and followed the butler to the door. “It’s probably from Julian,” she called over her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to open it in private.”

  As the door closed, Amelia glanced down with a smile. She carefully unwrapped the package to build her anticipation. Julian quite surprised her at times, she thought shaking her head. He hadn’t been gone a day and was already sending her presents.

  She lifted the top of the box and peered down. A folded note sat on a knitted burgundy bundle that had some splatters of mud and bits of hay clinging to the material. Not quite what she was expecting. She frowned and plucked up the note.

  Lady Amersleigh,

  Your presence is required at exactly two o’clock today. Main road, three miles east. Come alone and tell no one or Alexander dies.

  Stunned, Amelia removed the scarf she had made for her son on his birthday. His scent rose up to greet her. She buried her nose in the softness, breathing in Alex’s sweetness. Dread made her feel faint. She lifted her gaze to the clock on the mantle and scrambled to her feet. All she had was two hours. Shoving the note into her pocket, her thoughts clamored around in her head. How would she leave the house undetected? Would someone come looking for her? She closed her eyes briefly. Was Alex hurt?

  Oh, God, she had to hurry!

  The glass doors to her right caught her attention. They led out to the garden. She took a step, but halted. She would need a coat. But how would she get one without someone seeing her? Biting her lip, she lifted the scarf off the ground and wrapped it around her. This would just have to do, she decided, and reached for the door handle.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Amelia gasped at the unexpected male voice and spun around.

  Jeremy moved to stand before her. Disapproval had replaced the flirtatious twinkle usually glistening in his eyes. “Julian would have my head if I allowed you to go so much as one toenail outside this house.”

  “I-I wasn’t going to venture—”

  “Not only is the lie written all over your face, pet,” he lifted one end of the scarf, “but wrapped around your pretty neck as well.” The material fell from his fingers. “And you did have your hand on the door handle.”

  Keep it together, Amelia. For Alex. “I only wanted some fresh air.” She fought to keep her voice steady and convincing. “And to cool down.” Forcing a smile, she added, “I get over warm at times.”

  Jeremy had been about to make a reply when Megan walked into the room. “Jordan is finally asleep, Amelia. Are you up for a game of chess?”

  “A nap is exactly what I need.” She silently thanked Megan for the idea. “Perhaps another time?” She turned to Jeremy. “I’m sure Lord Fielding would be delighted to play a game or two of chess with you, Megan.”

  “Indeed, I would be delighted, Duchess.”

  “Then that settles it.” Amelia hurried
from the room, clutching the note in her pocket. She glanced once over her shoulder, to make sure no one followed, then hurried to her bedchamber for a thick coat.

  ****

  “Allow me to handle this, my lord.”

  Julian paused from entering the inspector’s office and turned to his worried solicitor. “Afraid I’ll lose my temper, William?”

  “That’s it exactly.”

  Behind the solicitor, Nicholas grinned while his father folded his arms and sighed.

  “Not to worry,” he opened the door, “I won’t leave any mortal wounds.” Ignoring William’s groan, Julian stepped into the small office. “Hastings,” he said in a clipped tone as the man rose from is chair.

  “My lord,” the inspector nodded, then turned and greeted the others filing into the room. “Please take your seats.”

  Julian sat on the crude, wooden chair between his father and Nicholas, the solicitor taking the seat to the left of his father. “I recalled something,” he announced, ignoring William’s exasperated sigh. “The shooter has a missing tooth in front. It wasn’t Jack.”

  Inspector Hastings did not seem the least bit surprised by that statement.

  Julian’s hands itched to go around the man’s throat and squeeze. “Didn’t you hear me, man? The shooter’s front tooth is missing. It wasn’t Jack.”

  The inspector leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers over his chest, and gave a speculative gaze. “Is that so?”

  Murder never seemed more appealing to Julian than it did at that moment. “I demand that the charges against my wife be dropped.”

  “My lord, if you please,” William tried interjecting. No one paid him any attention.

  “I concur, Inspector,” his father stated. “You have gravely erred where Lady Amersleigh is concerned.”

  Nicholas nodded. “Indeed.”

  “Then why did she escape from the ship and run?” the inspector asked, lifting a dark brow.

  “Captain Elliott said she was taken from the ship,” Nicholas pointed out.

  Julian, on the brink of an explosion, settled back in his seat with a deep breath.

  Hastings nodded. “By Black Heart.” He straightened in his chair. “It makes perfect sense that her co-conspirator would come for her, especially with having the means of doing so.”