He stumbled to his feet, nausea rising to his throat. “No,” he whispered. “No.”
He hadn’t sold his soul for nothing. He couldn’t stand to even think of such betrayal. She was wrong… had misunderstood… James’s entire body trembled; the roar of blood rushing to his ears drowned out any noise but his own harsh breath. He hadn’t heard the door open, but suddenly Patience was in front of him, her lips moving, her worried gaze on him.
“James? What is it?” Patience asked, her voice sounding muffled, strange. “Is Ellie well?”
She left him, rushing to the bed, where she checked Ellie’s pulse. “She never sent the money,” he managed to get past his numb lips. It was true, he knew it to be. His mother, his sister, had practically starved. They’d been no better after he’d left, and in fact were probably worse off.
Patience turned toward him, shaking her head in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Mr. Smith entered the room slowly, a tray of food in hand. “What do you mean, Mr. McKinnon?”
“Lady Lavender.” James raked his hands through his hair, his fingers trembling so badly he could barely control his hands. Unable to sit still, he paced. “Eleanor said that the money Lady Lavender was supposed to be sending to my mother had never been sent.”
Patience started hesitantly to him. “She was never your friend, James. She never cared. She only wanted to destroy you all.”
The pain of the woman’s betrayal cut deep, so very deep. “You’re saying that she starved my sister, allowed my mother to die, lied to me, and all because of what my father did, or didn’t do?”
Patience nodded. “Yes.”
He sank onto a chair. If Ophelia had set out to seek revenge only on him, James might have been able to forgive her. But she had destroyed his mother, ruined his sister’s chance at happiness. And he had no doubt she would try to ruin whomever he loved.
“Vengeance,” he whispered. “All for revenge. She’s destroyed everything. My hope, my family, my life… all… gone.”
“But not Ellie,” Patience reminded him optimistically. “You still have her, and you can leave, you can run away together. Start anew, James.”
But he knew the truth… it would never end. She would continually hunt him, find ways to hurt his father through them. His gaze went to Ellie. She looked so damn fragile and innocent his heart lurched.
“I can stop this madness.” James went to the chair and picked up his jacket. “I can end it all now, here.”
“James, no!” Patience turned toward her friend. “Mr. Smith, please, stop him!”
James started for the door, feeling oddly calm. He knew what he had to do, and nothing would stop him. Lady Lavender and Lord Beckett must die.
“You can’t live your life for revenge,” Patience said.
“It’s not revenge, it’s merely what needs to be done,” he said, reaching for the door handle.
Patience pressed her hands to her mouth. “Oh, James, don’t, you’ll ruin whatever chance you have left.”
But he was deaf to her words. He looked at Ellie one last time. He would do this for her… for his family. He would end the torment now so neither Lord Beckett nor Lady Lavender could ever hurt anyone again.
Mr. Smith rested his hand on James’s shoulder. “If you kill Lady Beckett’s husband, then you have destroyed your life and given Lady Lavender exactly what she wanted all along.”
Perhaps, but at least Ellie would be free, and at least the world would be free of Ophelia and her vengeful ways. He pulled open the door. “Take care of her, promise. And tell Ellie I… I…”
He couldn’t say the words; it hurt too much. James briefly closed his eyes, ignoring he twist of guilt he felt in his gut. Taking in a deep, trembling breath, he stepped into the hall and closed the door behind him, knowing that if everything went as planned, he would never see Ellie again.
Chapter 15
“Take care of her, promise. And tell Ellie I… I…”
Eleanor could hear James’s voice from far, far away, the words muffled and confusing. James was leaving? Where was he going? She parted her lips, trying to respond, but nothing would come out. The darkness pulled on her, tugging her down… down, promising relief from the pain and torment of life.
The sound of a door shutting broke through the darkness and she had a brief moment of clarity. James had left. He wasn’t coming back. Panic gave her the strength she needed. Eleanor forced her eyes open. She was in a room, a small, plain room. But where?
“You must stop him, Mr. Smith!” a woman cried out desperately in a voice that sounded somewhat familiar.
Eleanor shoved her hands into the bed and sat up, trying to make sense of the situation. The entire room spun as wave after wave of pain rolled over her body in a torrent that sent bile to her throat. Through the fog of despair she realized a man and a young woman she vaguely recognized were standing near a small table. Where the hell was she? Although darkness called, she refused to fade into the shadows until she had answers.
Seeing her, the young woman’s eyes widened in dismay. “Eleanor, no, just lie still.”
Patience… it was Patience at her side. Patience trying to gently shove her back into the bed where she would slip into unconsciousness once more. With a cry, Eleanor shoved the girl’s hands away. Everything came rushing back on bittersweet memories. She’d thought she was going to die, had wanted to. But James… magnificent James had saved her.
“James,” she got out through parched lips, desperate to see him. “Was he here?”
“Yes.” Patience pressed her hand to Ellie’s forehead.
It hadn’t been a dream. Eleanor shoved the girl’s hands away. She had to see James, she must know that he was well. Most importantly, she had to make him see reason. If he killed her husband, he’d end up in jail. Or worse, he might end up dead.
But Patience was holding her back, her firm hands on her shoulders. “You can’t! You’re too ill. Mr. Smith?” She glanced back at a tall, sinewy man with light hair and a hard, unreadable face. “Do tell her that she can’t leave!”
If this Mr. Smith wanted her to rest, Ellie had no doubt he could force her to stay. Eleanor gripped onto Patience’s hands, knowing she had a better chance with this woman than that cold man standing near the fireplace. They’d worked together for days trying to uncover the truth; she could trust this woman. “Please, help me.”
The girl might be as bold as anyone, but Patience’s indecision showed her age. She’d been thrown into a life of sin and debauchery since coming to London. Ellie swore if Patience helped her now, she would never ask her for anything again.
Finally, Patience sighed. “Fine. Only because I worry he’ll end up getting himself killed.”
The relief Ellie felt brought tears to her eyes. She wrapped her arm around Patience and managed to get to her feet. She was wearing a day dress she didn’t recognize, a pretty pink thing most likely borrowed from Patience. Ellie didn’t feel much of the pain as her broken body moved; the drugs had dulled her senses. She felt nothing. Utterly numb, as if she floated toward the door.
“Mr. Smith, see if you can stop him.” Patience breathed heavily, taking much of Ellie’s weight.
“You’re all mad,” the man muttered as he headed toward the door.
Ignoring him, Eleanor managed to slip her feet into her slippers and walked alongside Patience with painstakingly slow movements. The only one insane was her husband. If he harmed James in any way, she’d kill Lord Beckett herself.
“Eleanor, are you well?” Patience asked as they moved into the hall. “Your face looks utterly fierce and it’s worrying me. You look exactly like my sister, Grace, when she’s set her mind to something and will let nothing get in her way.”
Ellie couldn’t help but laugh. “I think I might like your sister.” She grimaced as her head pounded, making the corridor outside the room fade. “If it eases your mind, then yes, I’m well. Please just hurry.”
She was determined to speak
to James. But her body was not her own, her voice mumbled and dull. It was sheer stubbornness and love that kept her going when all she wanted to do was curl up and cry.
“I promise, I’m trying to hurry,” Patience grunted, taking the brunt of her weight as they headed down the steps. “But I worry James has already left.”
“Where was he headed? You must tell me.”
They made it to the common room, where a variety of travelers were seated by the fireplace, warming themselves or dining on the rich and heady stew.
“I fear he’s planning to kill Lord Beckett or Lady Lavender, perhaps both,” Patience whispered.
“No!” Ellie cried out so loudly that they drew more than one curious gaze. She flushed, feeling highly uncomfortable. She could imagine the sight they made. At this rate her husband would hear about her whereabouts in a matter of hours. Eleanor ignored the attention and focused on the door. Just a few more steps. Just a few more…
“We will find him.” She chanted the mantra. She had to believe; hope was all she had left. Patience reached for the door and pulled it wide. A gust of cool air billowed into the room, fluttering the curtains and Eleanor’s dress. The air felt wonderful against her bruised and fevered skin. There, in the middle of the dark courtyard, she saw James’s familiar form, Mr. Smith at his side.
“Thank God,” she whispered, her knees going weak in relief.
“Just a bit more,” Patience murmured reassuringly.
As if sensing her sudden presence, James turned toward them. “What the hell is she doing out here?” It wasn’t exactly the reunion she’d been hoping for. “You’ll injure yourself even more.”
“I need to speak with him—help me get closer.”
Patience nodded. “You’ll be better than any of us at talking him out of this.”
Eleanor would have thanked the woman if she hadn’t been too bloody tired. Together, they made it down the front stoop and into the muddy garden. It was still dark, but the lanterns and torchlight around the patch of dirt that claimed to be a lawn gave the area enough light. It was only as she reached James and saw the despair in his gaze that she realized he wasn’t alone.
Three men sat on horseback behind him, a wagon close by.
“Eleanor,” James hissed, his gaze frantic. “Go back inside.”
“James McKinnon,” the largest man called out. “You’re wanted for attempted murder of one Lord Beckett, as well as the abduction of his wife.”
“No,” Eleanor cried.
Mr. Smith rushed to her side, taking her arm none too gently. “Hush, you’ll make things worse.”
She struggled to get away from his tight hold, anger and desperation clashing within. “I hardly see how they can get worse!”
“If you do not be silent,” Mr. Smith muttered. “Then she will know how much you both care about each other and use it against him.”
“She?” Confused, Eleanor jerked her gaze from Mr. Smith and followed his line of vision. She realized with a start that it wasn’t the men on horseback who were the real threat. No, it was the beautiful woman in the lavender gown who sat atop a mount not far from them, a smirk of satisfaction upon her beautiful face. A woman who held them all in the palms of her gloved hands.
Ellie felt ill. Lady Lavender, the woman James had vowed to protect, the woman James had considered a loyal friend, had turned him in to the authorities. Ellie had never felt such hatred, not even toward her husband. It boiled deep within her, threatening to pull her into an ocean of darkness and revenge. Yet she had to merely stand there and watch as the one person who meant anything to her was lost.
James did not run, he didn’t deny the accusations. Instead, slowly, he turned to look at Mr. Smith, and in a low voice he said, “Hide her. Promise me you’ll protect her.”
Mr. Smith clenched his jaw and nodded. James started toward the men and the wagon that rested near a crop of trees.
“No,” Eleanor whispered. She felt as if someone had reached into her chest and torn out her heart. What little strength she had left fled her body and she sank into Patience. She couldn’t even go to him, couldn’t even kiss him good-bye.
Mr. Smith slid his arm around her waist, taking her weight from Patience. “Shhh,” he whispered, holding her gently. “He’s doing this for you. He knows this is the only way to protect you.”
Ellie shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. “No, no, I don’t want him to protect me.”
They shoved James unceremoniously into the wagon, and just like that the carriage jerked to life and James was gone. Eleanor wrapped her arms around her waist as tears trailed down her cheeks. Still they stood there as the crunch of wheels faded and the only sound was merry laughter coming from the common room in the inn.
“You’ve destroyed the only person who cared about you!” Eleanor screamed as Lady Lavender started to leave on her mount. She’d done what she had set out to do… destroy lives. But Ellie would not let her slink away like a snake.
The woman paused, turning her mount, and heading back toward them. The smug look upon her face made Ellie tremble with anger.
“I play to win, my dear.”
“You’ve won nothing but your own bitter loneliness,” Patience hissed, tightening her grip around Ellie. “Come, she’s not worth our attention.”
With Patience on one side and Mr. Smith on the other, Ellie allowed them to lead her back toward the inn, too spent to fight. She followed because she had nowhere else to go. Everything was gone. She had her freedom thanks to James, but nothing, not even freedom, was worth him sacrificing his own life.
James wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the cell. Hours? Perhaps days? It seemed like years. Utter darkness surrounded him, making it impossible to tell time. Barely any noise reached him, only the occasional moan and cry of other prisoners, but even that had tapered off, leaving behind the eerie scratch of rats.
One meal of bread and water had come hours ago, but even without the lantern he’d known the meager meal had been filled with weevils and worms, insects he could feel crawling onto his hand when he had reached for the food. He supposed it didn’t much matter. He would hang anyway.
If there was an afterlife, perhaps he’d see his mother soon. His sister was safe with the nuns, and Mr. Smith would keep Eleanor hidden. He could die in peace. He rested his head back against the damp stone wall. But he still worried. Worried that Ellie would return to her husband. Worried that his sister was unhappy and unloved. Worried that Ophelia would continue to ruin the lives of innocent lads.
He drew his knees closer, trying to get warm. They’d taken his coat and his boots, intending to sell the fine objects, but he didn’t care. He didn’t bloody care. The scent of rotting flesh and death hovered in the air, crawling over his skin like the rats across the floor. He closed his eyes and thought of Eleanor. Dreamt about bringing her close, kissing her lush lips, and telling her everything would be well. If only he’d had one more moment with her, one more moment to tell her how much he cared. But he hadn’t dared to tell her the truth of his feelings, hadn’t dared to kiss her good-bye because he knew better than to let Ophelia see his weakness. And Ellie was most assuredly his weakness.
“Ellie,” he whispered. The name tore from his heart, leaving him chilled and trembling. “Ellie.”
He’d wanted to save her, he’d wanted to protect her and provide for her. Instead he’d only failed. His body felt oddly numb, his mind buzzed with an odd clarity. They would not have their happily ever after, but as long as Ellie was safe, he could die in peace.
“I’m James.” The words whispered softly around him, and suddenly he was a lad once more, tossed in a similar prison so many years ago.
“Will they hang us?” Alex whispered.
“Most likely,” Gideon said.
“Blast it! I didn’t do anything!” His voice echoed around the small room, the lad still here after all these years. “Do you hear me? I didn’t do anything!”
But he had broken the l
aw this time, and he knew no one would come to his rescue. How ironic that he should end up here once more. Hell, maybe he had never truly left.
“No matter what happens,” Alex’s voice whispered around him, “I say we fight together.”
From somewhere down the hall a door creaked open. More bread? Despite the state of his previous meal, his stomach clenched, grumbling in need. As the light came closer, piercing the small window in the solid door, he stiffened. Three men? No, four. His hanging party then? Would they kill him without a trial? Perhaps Lord Beckett held that much power.
“On yer feet,” one man growled as he unlocked James’s cell and swung the door wide.
James thought about ignoring him but realized he still had some fight left after all. He stumbled upright, the chains around his arms clanking with the movement, and wondered if this was it… the last few breaths he’d take. And then he saw him… Eleanor’s husband hovering behind the guards.
He no longer wondered; he knew without a doubt that this would be the day he’d die. He would not cower. He would not plead. He would take his fate like a man. And chains or not, he sure as hell wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Come for a visit?” James sneered. “Or would you rather hide behind the guards?”
Eleanor’s husband shoved his way between the two men. James had the bastard precisely where he wanted him, within arm’s reach. “You honestly thought I’d let you fuck my wife and get away with it?”
James flexed his forearms, testing the strength of the chains. “Her education was sadly lacking. Someone had to show her what a proper tupping felt like.”
James didn’t even try to block the man’s fist. He’d wanted to draw him closer, and it had worked. His knuckles hit James in the gut. The air burst from his lungs and the cell went black for a brief moment. He could punch, but then he’d had lots of practice on Eleanor.