“My goodness.” Patience sighed, standing from the settee where she had been resting. “Is that any way to treat a client?”
“If you think I’ll sleep with you, you’re even more insane than I realized.” He pushed the door shut and stomped toward her. Hell, he didn’t need this… not now. “Alex will try to kill me, and then you.”
She tilted her chin stubbornly. “Nonsense.”
“You can’t be here.” He latched onto her arm and dragged her toward the door. She was a thin thing, but strong, and when she dug her heels into the carpet he found himself stumbling. “I will throw you over my shoulder.”
“You won’t.” She shrugged off his hold. The girl knew no fear, God help them all. He did not envy Alex. “Besides, if I leave now, it will only court suspicion.”
He cursed. Blast it, she was right. Right about everything. When had his life become so insane? He’d been content here making money for his family. He’d been content until… until Eleanor. Now he found suspicion in everyone, trusted no situation, and found himself thinking more and more of escape.
“I must stay, at least for as long as it takes to…” She glanced at the bed and blushed. “How long does it take, exactly?”
Frustrated, he moved toward the windows, as far away from her as he could get. What the hell had happened to him? He brushed aside the green velvet curtains. The afternoon sun was covered by thick, gray clouds, allowing little light to shine upon the fields of lavender. He’d cared about his clients, yes, but he’d always been able to maintain a professional distance for his sake and theirs.
But not with Ellie. No, Ellie had ruined him. Truth be told, when Ophelia had said he had a client, he’d broken out into a cold sweat, the thought of bedding anyone other than Ellie repulsive in some way. Bloody hell, he couldn’t even perform anymore, and all because of Eleanor. Did she have any idea how very much she had disrupted his life?
He spun around, facing Patience and taking his anger out on her. “Does Alex even know you’re here?”
She shrugged. “He knows I’m in London.”
“Of all the utterly stupid—”
“I visited with Eleanor this morning,” she interrupted.
He froze. He’d been trying over and over to forget the woman. For the past three days he’d feigned illness after illness to keep from meeting with clients, until Ophelia had grown suspicious and begun questioning him. Now… here Eleanor was again, shoving her way to the forefront. Blast it all, he couldn’t escape her. “Good for you. Is that why you’re here?”
“Yes, perhaps.” She sighed and settled on the settee. “I’m worried about her.”
“Why?” He was instantly concerned, despite himself, and damn it all if he didn’t head closer to Patience. She had him, and if the sparkle in her eye was any indication, she knew it.
“She had bruises.” She waved her hand toward her face. “She’d done her best to cover it with powder, but I noticed.”
He closed his eyes, lowering to the settee, pain and anger combining. Did her husband know about the gardens? He was torn between leaving her alone and heading to her home to kill the bastard himself. Hell, it had been his fault. He should have known better than to take her in public. His bloody fault. His fault his father had died, his fault his mother had died. His fault.
“Her husband—”
“I know.” He rested his head in his hands, feeling completely and utterly useless. “There is nothing I can do. Nothing any of us can do. He owns her.”
“Fine then.” She tilted her chin stubbornly high and glared at him.
What the bloody hell did she expect? For him to call the man out? He had as little control as Eleanor. He stood and began to pace the room, his mind spinning. Aye, why not call the man out? If he killed Lord Beckett, Ellie would be free. But when he ended up dangling from a rope, who would feed his sister?
“Then let us discuss you instead,” Patience said.
He jerked his gaze toward her, frowning. “Me?”
“Yes. Alex and Grace are offering you a place to stay. You can move in with us until you find a way to make money in a more genteel fashion.”
He almost laughed, until he realized she was utterly serious. Leave the estate? His sister? Leave Eleanor? The thought did not even tempt him. Aye, it was so easy for Alex, Grace, and Patience. But they didn’t understand, they couldn’t comprehend why he needed to remain. “I can’t leave.”
“Why?”
He didn’t trust this chit to tell her the truth. Besides, if she knew, the girl would probably rush off in an attempt to save his sister. And so he lied, using his old excuse. “I owe Lady Lavender my life.” The words came out hollow, empty. He wasn’t so sure he believed them anymore, and if the look on Patience’s face was any indication, she didn’t either.
“You owe her nothing! She’s used you.”
He released a harsh laugh. “You’ve been talking to Alex.” What did this girl know? Good Lord, she should be going to picnics, flirting with local lads, not sitting in a brothel. “You’ve heard only his side. The truth is I have a family to support.”
At least at one time he’d had a family. Now… he wasn’t so sure. Frustrated, he moved to the sideboard and poured a brandy.
“You’re a stubborn man, James. You can’t see what’s in front of you. The woman is using you. Always has been.”
He spun around, facing her. The urge to shake the girl overwhelmed him. “It has nothing to do with Ophelia! I have a sister to support!”
“And do you know for sure she’s getting the money?” She said the words he’d been mulling over for days. When he didn’t respond, she stood, reached into her reticule, and pulled out a stack of letters tied with a blue ribbon.
“Here.” She tossed the packet to him. Instinctively he caught it close to his chest. “Alex was going to send these, but I took them when I left, deciding I would visit you. I have done what I can. You won’t see the truth, but maybe these will help. If you come to your senses, I am staying at the Lucky Horse Inn about halfway between here and London. I’ll be there for the next fortnight.”
She turned and walked out the door. James wasn’t sure if he should stop her or let her go. She’d been in his chamber a mere ten minutes, and her departure would indeed court suspicion. Yet he let her leave, because he’d had enough of the truth for one day. He flipped through the letters, three in all. What could they possibly say that he didn’t already know? Slowly, he sank onto the settee and pulled open the first note.
James,
I’ve repeatedly written to you, yet rarely heard back. I can only assume Ophelia has intercepted my missives. I’ve come into some troubling information.
James took in a deep, trembling breath.
I have found that a Mr. McKinnon worked for Gideon’s father some fifteen years ago. It is my belief that the three of us, me, you, and Gideon, are connected in some way that only Lady Lavender understands.
James settled the note on the settee. A cold chill raced over his body. What the hell did it all mean? He surged to his feet and paced the chamber, reviewing the facts. His father had been a driver for a wealthy family, he knew that much. He’d been eight when his father had been dismissed for a reason he still didn’t know. After, his father had slowly started drinking himself to death, until… “What did you do, Da?”
He had to talk to Patience, must get answers. Frantic, James tore across the room and into the hall, directly into one of Lady Lavender’s guards.
The man latched tightly onto his arm. “Lady Lavender wishes to speak with you.”
“Later,” James growled, jerking away from him. So, the woman had noticed Patience’s departure. He raced down the steps, ignoring the curious glances of servants. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.
As he hit the foyer, the front door opened, bringing him up short. For the second time that evening James was shocked frozen when a familiar man entered the front door.
“Good God, Alex.”
&nbs
p; Alex jerked his gaze toward him, his own eyes widening in surprise. “James?”
For a brief moment he thought he imagined his friend. But no, this Alex was different. He’d changed. His dark hair longer, his skin bronzed. He looked… happy, content, and… troubled. It was an odd moment. James had stayed the same, Lavender Hills had stayed the same, but Alex, that outside world, had changed.
James moved forward, a smile of pure happiness on his face. “Alex, it’s wonderful to see you.”
“And it’s good to see you as well.” He seemed hesitant, worried about something. Suddenly James knew there was more to his friend’s appearance than a visit. Behind Alex another man stood, slim with blond hair and stoic-looking features. There was no sign of Patience.
“How are Grace and Hope? I do so look forward to your letters.”
Did he hear the silent message in his comment? Alex was quiet for a moment, his intense gaze searching James’s face. What the hell was Alex trying to tell him? His heart slammed wildly in his chest, his hands curling as he resisted the urge to demand answers.
“Well,” he finally said. “They’re both well.”
James parted his lips, intending to ask the man why in the world he was here when Lady Lavender’s office door opened. Her gaze fell to Alex first and any warmth faded from her lavender eyes. For a long moment they merely stared at each other, and in that moment they both seemed utterly capable of murder. There were so many things James wanted to know, but before he could ask, Alex took a step toward Ophelia’s office. What the bloody hell were they up to?
“It was good seeing you, James.”
Just like that Alex was gone, leaving James with more questions than answers.
Chapter 10
James knocked on Ophelia’s office door, knowing something was amiss. For two days he hadn’t seen nor heard from the woman. No clients visited the estate. No one but Wavers entered Ophelia’s office. And no one saw her come or leave. Odd indeed.
He’d questioned the servants as discreetly as he could, but no one seemed to know anything about Ophelia. Even the maid who had given him Alex’s letter had disappeared, although no one could give him a response as to why she’d left.
He knocked again, his irritation mounting. Although Wavers had returned the same day Alex and his friend had arrived, James hadn’t heard word about his sister. Had the bull found her? If so, why was Ophelia keeping her whereabouts secret?
The door opened and Wavers stood there glaring down at him. “Vhat?”
“I need to speak with Ophelia.”
“She’s not feeling vell.”
“I need to speak with her now,” James snapped. He would uncover the truth about his sister, no matter what it took.
A thick brow lifted, a brief show of surprise, when he’d never shown emotions before. But then James had never demanded anything. No, he’d been a good little whore, doing whatever was demanded of him. No more.
“Very vell, vait here.”
He started to close the door. James shoved his foot in the way, preventing him. “I’ll see her now.”
Wavers lifted his lips, growling.
“Stand down, Wavers,” Ophelia called out. “Let him in.”
Reluctantly, the bull stepped into the hall. James entered and slammed the door in Wavers’s face, giving them privacy. But as he turned toward Ophelia, he was startled into momentary silence. She sat slumped in a chair, staring unblinkingly into the roaring fire. A tray with soup and bread was on the side table, but untouched, no steam coming off of the surface, as if it had been there for some time. Ophelia did not glance his way as he started toward her. Tucked upon the chair with a blanket over her body, she had never looked more fragile, lost, alone.
“Are you well?” Despite his pride, he was curious. She had manipulated him, controlled him for years, yet he still couldn’t help but care. Damn his protective instinct.
“Gideon has left for good.”
James frowned, confused. “I… see.” He shouldn’t have been surprised. Of the three of them, Gideon had hated Lavender Hills Estate and its owner the most. Yet if Ophelia had secrets binding them all to this estate as Alex had claimed, then how had they both escaped? He settled in the chair next to hers.
“You’re sad because he’s gone?”
She didn’t respond.
“Perhaps this is a blessing,” he tried, wondering how in the hell he could get the truth from her lips. “You never did get on well. It would be better to have a man who truly wants to be here than someone you are… forcing.”
She released a wry, bitter laugh. “He belonged here. Belonged with me.”
He thought her response odd indeed. Belonged here? Gideon had never belonged here, surely she knew that. Or did her words mean something deeper, darker? Hell, the woman he had thought he’d known was gone. He had a feeling he was seeing the true Ophelia, buried under the weight of her own bitterness and pain.
“We uncovered the whereabouts of your sister,” she said, surprising him.
“Where is she?”
She picked up her sherry, and he didn’t miss the way her hand trembled. Was it his imagination, or did she seem to be drinking more often? “She’s living in a small cottage in Bath. Actually has two adorable children. Is quite content from what I heard.”
She painted a serene and beautiful picture. Too bad James didn’t believe her in the least. “And my mother?”
“She did not give word about your mother because she did not wish to upset you.”
She didn’t meet his gaze, he realized with suspicion. Whenever they spoke, she always looked directly at him as if she had nothing to hide. Tonight she stared moodily into the flames. “And she still thinks I am working for the government as a spy, which is why I can’t be in touch with her?”
She took another drink. “Yes.”
He settled back in his chair and watched her wearily, bloody tired of the games. “I see.”
For one long moment neither of them spoke. Ophelia stared blankly at the flames in the fireplace, slumped in her chair like one ancient and decrepit. Aye, she was much older than he, but this was the first time she seemed her age. It was only when a piece of coal popped, releasing a spark of embers, that she came awake and glanced at him, startled as if just realizing he was still there.
“I will leave you in peace, but before I go…”
She lifted a brow. “What is it?”
“A client.”
She picked up her sherry and drank. She still hadn’t touched her food. “Yes?”
“It’s obvious her husband is abusing her. She had bruising.” He wasn’t sure why he told Ophelia about Eleanor; perhaps to see if she had any bit of compassion within her.
She sighed, sounding more annoyed than concerned. “Unfortunately it happens often.”
Despite the truth of her statement, it still rankled him. He raked his hands through his hair. Society seemed to agree that it was wrong, but the law did not prove to be in a woman’s favor. In other words, they ignored the issue because actually doing something about it was too bloody hard. “Is there nothing we can do?”
“What, James?” She snatched up the snifter and refilled it. “As the husband, he legally owns her.” She lifted her glass in salute. “All hail the queen.” She drank deeply. “It’s ridiculous that we can have a woman ruler, yet we have no real control.”
Her bitterness was palpable and justified. “There is no one you know?”
“No. I’m sorry.” She lifted her decanter and refilled her glass. “ ’Tis best you learn now, James, that the world is unfair and even more unfair for women. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll bathe and head to bed.”
She stood, and he didn’t miss the way she swayed as she headed toward the door, taking her glass with her. His father had started drinking after he’d lost his position; he’d been fired and humiliated. What was Ophelia’s reasoning? What drove her to numb her pain? Guilt, perhaps?
He stood slowly. She’d le
ft the door open where anyone could stroll by, but he was alone. He waited until the familiar fall of her footsteps faded. Completely alone. She’d lied to him, was lying to him still. He glanced toward the desk where she kept her notes on the clients and men on staff. Dare he? He moved slowly to the desk, keeping his attention on the door. He could hear the soft voices of other men who worked at the estate, the murmur of servants, but no one dared enter her office.
James knelt before the desk. Of course the drawers were locked, that was no surprise. He grabbed the mail opener atop her scheduling book and slid it into the keyhole. He closed his eyes, pressed his ear to the drawer, and concentrated. Moments later he heard the click of the lock. Perhaps he was slower than he’d been as a youth, but he hadn’t lost his talent after all. The drawer slid open easily, but he was disappointed to see the typical books of business. Nothing personal.
“Damn,” he muttered, shutting the drawer.
The fact that he’d never seen anything personal of Ophelia’s troubled him. He unlocked the bottom drawer a little more quickly. He’d never let himself wonder much before, but now his mind was constantly spinning. Who was Lady Lavender? Where had she come from? What was her purpose in bringing him here? He knew she was from France. He’d uncovered that much years ago, even though she’d spent years trying to hide her accent. Other than that she remained an elusive mystery.
Frustrated, he shoved aside a book, and there they were… letters. At least five, all postmarked from Alex and addressed to him. Open, read, but not by James. He swallowed hard, anger and confusion burning through his chest. With trembling hands, he reached out and touched the missives to make sure they were real. She’d lied. Alex and Gideon had been right all along… Ophelia had never had their greater good in mind.
“I see I can no longer trust you.” Her voice snapped through the room, but it didn’t startle him. No, nothing could surprise him any longer.
James lifted his head, meeting Ophelia’s gaze. There was no pain or guilt in her voice; she didn’t bloody care if he betrayed her. Had she ever cared?